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builtbykittie · 22 days

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Dirty secrets

S.f.k x f!reader

summary: a movie night with your best friend takes a drastic turn after walking in on his insufferable roommate.

Warnings: 18+ mdni, enemies to lovers-ish, SMUT, mentions of masturbation, fingering, slapping, overstimulation, oral(m & f rec), unprotected sex (you know better), sam is kind of an asshole, multiple orgasms

A/N: once again not edited because I'm lazy... Sorry for any mistakes!! Enjoy!

"Heyy beautiful!" Danny smiles, holding the front door open with a wide grin.

"Hi Daniel," you grin, holding out your arms for a hug. You have to admit, you're excited to finally get to spend time with him at his place. You've purposefully avoided going to Danny's house ever since he and Sam moved in together, so most of the time you'd be at bars or parties.

Sam had gone through a breakup not very long ago, he didn't want to stay at his house and moved out. At first, it was just until he got over her and found a new place, but he gets over girls questionably quick and it doesn't seem that he's moving out any time soon. At least not until he moves on to the next girl.

The second you saw that Sam's car was missing from the driveway, you sat up in your seat. You hoped that Sam might've taken off once Danny told him you'd be over. The thought of him being so petty that he leaves makes you giggle, until you remember you'd do the exact same. Is it childish? Absolutely. But maybe you're allowed to be not so mature for once.

But your hopes are crushed as Danny leads you into the house.

"I know you and Sam... aren't the greatest friends," he pauses "but he's at the store getting food. He'll be back sometime soon." You stop in your tracks, all color draining from your face. "What?" is all you can get out.

After a moment, you finally collect your words. "Danny I thought it was gonna be just us?" You try your best to seem calm and act mature, but the red tint covering your entire body tells otherwise. "Y/N, I'm sorry. If I had told you any sooner you wouldn't have come," Danny says, further fueling the fire that is your temper.

He can tell you're about to say something and stops you. "Sam was supposed to be out but after I told him what was going on he got defensive and insisted on staying here," Danny shrugs, looking defeated. You can tell they got in a little argument over this and you decide not to go too hard on him, even though he failed to tell you you'd be hanging out with your sworn enemy. The man at the core of all your arguments.

"I'm sorry, Y/N. I thought it was gonna be just us. I wish it was," he offers you a smile, but it doesn't help. It makes no sense. Why would Sam of all people want to stick around? To torment you? To show you that this is also his house and he's allowed to be around? He does help Danny pay, after all.

It takes about half an hour of scrolling through streaming sites and saying no to every suggestion to finally decide on a movie. Sam still hasn't returned.

The two of you sit around for another thirty minutes waiting for his return, but it doesn't come. Maybe he really did take off. "Let's just start the movie," Danny finally suggests, you didn't want to say it in case he'd take it as you being upset over Sam, which you are.

You grab a blanket, bringing your feet to your side and cuddling up to his arm. The movie starts, and about ten minutes pass until Sam is finally walking through the door. The second you see him you roll your eyes, already blocking out whatever dumb excuse he has for his tardiness.

But he doesn't say anything, just walking over to the opposite side of the room from you and dropping the bag of food on the coffee table. "Jesus, took you long enough," Danny pauses the movie. "We started the movie, hope you don't mind.

"I do, actually," Sam says as a matter of fact. You try your best not to just get up and walk out. Or scoff at him. Or let your emotions get the best of you. Danny just looks at you, silently asking if it's okay to rewind. "I don't care. It's only ten minutes," you say rather bitterly, deciding to avoid as much conflict as possible.

Oh, but that stupid face of Sam's drives you crazy. He's got a smug smile playing on his lips, looking right at you. Heaven only knows how badly you want to get up and slap him right in his dumb, pretty little face.

Something about Sam is he thinks that because he's attractive that he can be an asshole. Because he's attractive, life is 10x easier. Getting a girlfriend is incredibly easy, everyone is nice to him, and he always gets his way.

He never really did anything to you, besides being an asshole. You just hated his pretty privilege, attitude, and presence. Something about him just being around puts you in a bad mood. Drove you crazy. The sight of him. The smell of his cologne. The sound of his voice.

And maybe you were attracted to him. Maybe that's what made you hate him the most.

You tried to ignore him. To enjoy the movie, but you just couldn't. Sam's presence is all too distracting. Danny attempts to break the tension by commenting on the movie but that fails miserably, perhaps even making it worse at points.

Finally, Sam gets up and storms off to his room, his cheeks bright pink. "Jesus Christ," Danny sighs, stretching his arms out. You'd be a lot happier if he hadn't left at the last couple of minutes.

"Hey, Danny can I stay here tonight? It's pretty late and I don't wanna drive home half asleep," you yawn, sitting up and stretching. "Yeah, I just gotta be somewhere in the morning so," he sits up slightly "you done with the movie?"

You feel bad because the entire movie you sat there annoyed and in a bad mood, but it was long and you're tired "Yeah." You stand up, folding the blanket you used "Should I just stay here on the couch or...?"

"Oh, no. There's that guest room by Sam's. If you go down that hall it's the one right across from his. Got its own bathroom, remember?" he yawns, turning the television off, followed by the lamps surrounding you.

"Okay I'm going to bed," he mumbles, placing a hand on your head and ruffling up your hair. "Goodnight, Danny," you place a quick friendly peck on his cheek and pad to the kitchen. You're practically dying of thirst, grabbing a glass from his cupboard and filling it with cold water.

You sit there silently on his counter and sip your water, listening to the faint rustle coming from Danny's room as he gets ready to go to sleep. Slipping off the counter, you gently discard the glass and find the hall that hosts the guest room. You were positive you knew which room it was, but now that you're standing at the entrance of the dark hallway, you have no idea which one it is.

There are three rooms. One on the right side, one on the left, and one at the end of the hall. It occurs to you that you have no idea which room is Sam's. You listen for any sign of life in the rooms, listening to which side it may be coming from. Very faintly, you hear a soft groan, but you can't decide which room it may have come from.

You hear it again, this time you're sure it was from the right, so you head for the left. Just to be sure, you stop and listen again, but you hear nothing, so you turn the knob and open the door.

Instead of finding an empty room with a cold bed, you find shirtless Sam sitting lazily in a sofa chair. His head is thrown back, hair clung to his neck, lips parted, and cheeks bright pink. It takes you a moment to process what you're seeing, even then you can't seem to look away. His hand swirls around his impossibly hard, angry cock as he mouths something you can't quite understand.

His head snaps over to you, movements slowing down but not stopping. It feels as if you're in a daze, your eyes fixated on his sweaty body and your mouth slightly open. "Get the fuck out," he blurts, his voice rough as if he'd been choking it back.

You practically run out, pulling the door but not fully closing it. You stop in the kitchen, trying to process what just happened. Trying to calm yourself down, you grab the same glass from earlier and pour yourself more water, cupping some in your hands and splashing your face with it.

You throw back the drink, chugging the cold liquid and giving yourself a brain freeze. For a while, you stand there fidgeting with the cold glass and staring at nothing. All you can think about is the way he looked, all red and sweaty. Your mind wanders to his cock, the way his hand glided along the incredible length.

You're startled out of your daze once you hear the sound of footsteps in the kitchen. You spin around to find Sam, still shirtless but with boxers on that fail to hide his bulge.

He angrily stares at you for a moment, his arms crossed over his chest. "Sam I- I'm sorry I didn't kn-" you start to stammer, but he cuts you off. "Don't fucking tell anyone, Y/N," he takes a step closer to you. You frantically nod your head, finding yourself motionless against the island as Sam slowly moves closer and closer to you. "Say it. Tell me you won't tell anyone," Sam's voice slightly raises, but still quiet enough to not wake Daniel.

"I- I won't tell anyone, I promise," you practically whine, cowering away from him. "How do I know you won't use that big fucking mouth of yours, hm?" Now his face is only inches from yours and although you're trying your best to avoid his face, he forces you to look at him.

For a moment, you both stand there, silently staring at each other. Your entire body is flushed, the tension is palpable, and the silence is loud.

One of his large hands finds the waistband of your shorts and dips past it, your breaths growing heavier as the rough tips of his fingers begin to trace your hip bone. "Sam.." you mutter, grabbing his wrist, but he slaps you away.

A throbbing sensation pounds at your core, a feeling you know all too well. You hate it. You hate it so much you just wanna slap him. You've fallen into his trap.

But at the same time, you need him. You need him so bad it's embarrassing.

His hand reaches your panties, and you can't help but grab onto the counter behind you, looking down at where his hand is in your shorts. "Look at me," he says roughly, the hand not teasing at your panties coming up to grab your chin, forcing you to make eye contact.

A soft, whiney breath escapes your open mouth once his two middle fingers press against your needy clit. "Yeah, bitchy girl likes that, doesn't she?" Slowly, his fingers begin to massage your clit through your panties, looking into your eyes.

You can't nod, you can't let him know he's right. But even without flat-out telling him yes, he still knows. He can tell by the way your hips buck against his hand, the way you softly moan, and the way your mouth falls open at the smallest movement.

"Doesn't she?" His voice comes out rough, startling you. His finger hooks under the side of your panties. "If you say no, I'll let you go to bed," he slowly moves the fabric to the side. He leans in, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear "if you say yes, I'll give you what you want. Spoil you. Give you something you don't deserve."

His voice sends a shiver up your spine, freezing you in place. He slots his fingers between your folds, just barely brushing against your clit, eliciting an embarrassing whine. He has his answer. He knows. He just wants to hear it.

"Sam," you start with the intention to protest, but quickly realize it's no good once he circles your entrance with his middle finger. "Oh fuck," you struggle to keep your voice a whisper.

It takes you a moment to collect your words and put them into a proper sentence. "Yes," you start, but the tip of his finger just slightly slipping into your entrance interrupts you. It doesn't take long for you to realize that you're not gonna be able to get that sentence out, watching as a smirk grows on his stupid face and his eyes become unbelievably dark.

"Good girl," Sam purrs into your ear, leaning even closer and taking the shell of it between his teeth. That alone could make you whine, so when he shoves his two middle fingers into you, a cry flies past your lips.

His brows furrow and the hand not toying with you clamps over your mouth. His fingers curl harshly up into you before he slides the digits out of you and brings them up to his lips. That pounding at your core grows even worse as you watch him take the fingers into his mouth, licking up your juices and releasing them from his mouth with a pop.

The hand over your mouth moves to be prying your jaw open, shoving his fingers into your mouth. He closes your mouth around the digits, forcing you to taste the mix of your juices and his saliva and you start to gag on his fingers as he shoves them further and further into your mouth.

By the time he finally takes them out of your mouth, you're practically gasping for air, the tips of his fingers keep your tongue sticking out of your mouth. To your surprise, he leans in, his mouth incredibly close to yours for a moment before he sticks his tongue out and licks yours.

You suck in a loud gasp at the action, and you hate yourself for how much you enjoyed it. He hums, dropping his hands to the small of your back, licking along your jawline and sucking a the soft flesh into his mouth. "S- Sam," you whine, trying to push him away but to no avail.

"Don't do that," you push again, your brows knitting together. The last thing you want is to wake up with ugly purple splotches covering your neck. He simply huffs a laugh and you feel him smile against your skin before he takes the flesh between his teeth.

He lifts that same hand up back to your mouth and once again practically shoves his fingers down your throat. You let out a cry of surprise, your eyes growing comically large as you realize how loud it was.

Before you can even blink, Sam takes his fingers out of your mouth, raising his hand up and letting it come down against your cheek. You try to stifle the yelp that threatens to spill past your lips, but you're not very successful. The stinging sensation that follows hurts so good.

His wet fingers squeeze your cheeks and he leans in, his face mere centimeters from yours. "Y/N, you make one more noise, and I'm taping your mouth shut. Got it?" His dark, lust blown eyes stare so intensely into yours that you just want to curl up into a ball and shrink in size.

He lets go of your cheeks and you frantically nod your head. A smirk grows on his lips at your response, his hand slowly making it's way down your torso till it reaches the waistband of your shorts. He uses his thumb to pull the band, creating an opening for his fingers to meet your core.

His other hand comes back up to your mouth, and you whine against his palm at the pressure. Thank God for his hand, because the whimper that slips past your lips once his fingers reach your core could've easily woken anybody near. He's staring into your eyes, but his gaze narrows and his brows furrow in annoyance at every single squeak you fail to hide.

He spreads your arousal around your folds, bringing it up to your clit and drawing small circles over the needy bud. Your hand flies to his wrist, digging your nails into the soft flesh as his fingers speed up against your clit. Every time your eyes wander off or your eyelids start to flutter shut, he forces you to keep your eyes on him.

So many emotions rush through you. Anger. Annoyance. Lust. Frustration. Desire. He's driving you crazy, and he loves it. Every single whine you let out, every time you squeeze him, every time your knees threaten to buckle, puts a smile on his stupid smug face.

He hates you. You hate him. For some sick reason it intensifies your desire for him more than words could ever explain. And he'd be a complete and utter liar if he said he didn't feel the same.

You hate it so much you could cry, but at the same time you can't get enough. You couldn't be able to walk away if you wanted to. He's too alluring. His body is like a magnet.

Your eyes roll back into your head, involuntarily bucking your hips against his hand. Sam lets out a low chuckle at your reaction and presses against your clit. "Yeah, that's right. Feel my fingers. They feel good, huh little slut?" He comes down to your neck, biting the flesh as his fingers speed up against your sensitive bundle of nerves.

You frantically nod your head, grinding against his fingers. Those skilled hands of his work deliciously over your poor sensitive clit and your whines against his hand grow louder. You don't know how much longer you can go before you're sent hurdling over the edge.

A pressure builds right below your belly button and its getting harder and harder to keep your voice down. Even muffled by his hand you're still embarrassingly loud. Your knees buckle and your thighs tremble, his fingers show no mercy for your bundle of nerves as he hums against your neck.

It's just his fingers, but they're so skilled. So incredibly experienced. You throw your head back, mumbling profanities against his hand, ultimately coming out inaudible. As your pleasure intensifies, so does his pace. So does his pressure against the sweet sensitive bud.

"Yeah that's it, cum for me doll," his fingers move from your clit and effortlessly slide into your entrance, flicking against a soft spot. His hand around your mouth forces your head up to look at him. Your eyes widen and you let out an incredibly loud whimper against his hand as that band of pleasure snaps.

"Such a good little whore," he comes down to whisper against your neck, and you feel his shoulders bounce. He's giggling. His fingers don't slow down, and his thumb starts to play with your clit.

You violently shake your head against his hand, your eyes wide as you fight against him. Despite your efforts, he doesn't stop. In fact, he speeds up. Your eyes prick with tears and you watch as he sinks to his knees in front of you.

The hand that was covering your mouth slowly slides down your body, stopping at your navel "take your shirt off." Your brows knit together and your eyes flick to the direction of Daniel's room, but you do as he says. Slowly, you lift the hem of your shirt, hooking your fingers under your bra as you go. Sam's eyes study every second. Every inch of your torso. He watches carefully as you lift the thin fabric over your head and it drops to the floor.

His hand is still toying with your cunt, the other starting to slowly pull down your shorts and panties. As your clothes go lower down your body, so do his kisses. His lips start at your belly button, then slowly move down till they're right at your slit.

Now you're completely exposed. Daniel could walk in at any second and see you and Sam like this. For some reason, the thought goes straight to your cunt, turning you on even more.

His breath is warm against your heat, fueling the fire inside of you. Suddenly, a yelp slips out of your mouth once his tongue finds your clit. His dark eyes angrily flick up to yours and you clamp your own hand over your mouth.

His tongue dances so delicately around your folds, tasting you as if you're the sweetest honey he's ever had. Your entire body shudders, the feeling of his sweet tongue over your overstimulated clit sends shocks of electricity through your body.

His fingers move in sync with his tongue, his other hand squeezing your thigh. Your thighs are trembling and shaking at an immense speed, your knees threatening to completely give out. You're already there. His fingers curl up into a sweet spot that makes your eyes roll. You've gotten over the overstimulation, now you're falling over the edge.

You let out a cry against your hand as your orgasm clouds your head for the second time in a row. Sam withdrawals his fingers from you just in time, because suddenly your legs give out from underneath you and you're collapsing in his lap.

He lets you sit there for just long enough to find your composure before he's forcing you both up. Once he's on his feet, he grabs your hair in a bundle and pulls you up to meet him.

A surprised whimper falls past your lips once he spins you around so that your back is flush to his chest. One arm wraps around your body at your bust, the other holds your ass firm against his body. "Feel that?" His low voice sends a shiver up your spine as he whispers into your ear. "Feel my cock against your pretty little ass?" He presses harder against you.

"This little problem," he growls "do you have any idea how annoying it is?" He wiggles his hips against you, and you feel that pounding return to your core. "Now you're gonna help me fix it. You're gonna take every inch of my cock like the little slut you are."

You don't try to hide the soft, breathy moan that falls past your lips at his words. Your entire body becomes flushed a deep red color, so intense to the point that it starts to give you a headache. Without warning, he's sweeping you off your feet and carrying you off to his room, your clothes still on the kitchen floor.

Everything happens in mere seconds. He's practically running to his room, sending the door flying open and throwing you on the bed. He eagerly climbs on top of you, marveling at your naked body. He leaves a trace of kisses down torso, sucking the skin of your hip into his mouth.

He gets up, frantically closing and locking the door. He turns back to you, sliding his boxers down his legs, his cock springing free. He tossed the fabric off from around his feet and takes himself in his hand. The sight drives you mad. His long, hard cock in his large hand. Just so eager to feel you. Begging for pleasure. You can see every vein, even from where you are. He's so turned on it's unbelievable.

You take your bottom lip between your teeth, chewing on the flesh at the sight of him. His brows are furrowed as he stares at you, his large hand starting to slowly pump his length. It takes everything in you to not give in and touch yourself, the pounding at your core has become so incredibly unbearable just the slightest touch would break you.

Silently, he walks to you, his angry pink tip dripping with precum. "Sit up," he demands, still stroking himself at such a slow pace that it makes you wince. You do just as he says, not even bothering to think about how desperate you probably look.

Sam slowly crawls onto the bed, moving up so that his knees are on each side of your thighs and you're face to face with his cock. He doesn't even give a warning or anything before he grabs your hair in a bundle and forces your mouth onto him. You're just lucky he didn't force his entire length down your throat.

You quickly adjust to his thickness and start to glide your tongue along his cock, his hand guiding you. Sam lets out a breathy noise and his grip on your hair tightens once you start to speed up. "Fuck- that's it, Y/N," he mutters, feeling your mouth as you suck harder around his cock.

His hips start to buck forward, making his cock tickle the very back of your throat. You take him as far into your mouth as you possibly can, your eyes filling with tears at every thrust of his hips. You pull back, wrapping your hand around his cock, squeezing him tight as you start to lap at his slit. His head falls back and strings of profanities escape his plump pink lips, you know he won't last much longer like this.

The hand around his cock starts to stroke along his length, not once loosening your grip as you tease his angry tip. "Oh fuck-" he blurts, his voice rough and his hips jutting forward at the sensation. His hands tug harshly at your hair, and you use it as encouragement, every pull of your hair you reward, sucking harder or stroking faster.

It's almost humorous how fast you drive him to the edge, every profanity in the dictionary is flying past his lips and he's bringing you to tears with how hard he's pulling your hair. Suddenly, he forces your hand off of him and grasps the back of your head, practically shoving his cock down your throat. He thrusts once, and that's all it takes for his hot release to spurt into the back of your throat.

For a few moments, he keeps you there, forcing you to swallow every last drop of him. "Shit-" he speaks, out of breath. "Where'd you learn that?" He removes himself from you, but he doesn't give you enough time to answer before he's forcing you around onto your stomach. His calloused fingertips grab at the supple flesh at the back of your thighs, forcing your legs open.

A loud, surprised moan escapes your lips as his fingers just barely touch your cunt. He collects your arousal on his fingertips, spreading it around your core. "Jesus Christ," he groans "you're so fucking wet." The pillows stifle the moans and whimpers that you make at the slight touch.

"So fucking horny," His fingers start to massage your clit, but before you can even begin to enjoy it, he moves his hand to slap your ass, eliciting a loud yelp. "So needy. Wouldn't wanna have to make you beg for it, would I?" he comes down, and you gasp as he starts to place open mouth kisses to your ass, his tongue lapping at the red skin.

"Please, Sam," you practically cry into the sheets, clawing the fabric. He simply just snickers at your plead, continuing to kiss everywhere but the area you need him to touch the most.

"Sam," you whine, but he's just ignoring you. "Sam Kiszka I swear to fucking god," you say harshly, moving your head so that he can hear you clearly. You feel him huff a laugh against your inner thigh, "fine. If you want it so bad." You let out a sigh, a little squeak following it once his tongue reaches your core.

He circles your entrance with his tongue, the very tip of it prodding you. He repeats this until you're a sweaty mess, your hair clung to your neck, your thighs shaking from trying to create any sort of friction, and your hands grasping onto the sheets for dear life. You can't form a sentence, every word you try to speak just comes out as a squeaky whimper and you can tell he's enjoying this 10x more than you.

You let out a squeaky sigh once he pulls back, and he brings his cock to your entrance. He slides his tip through your core, groaning as he feels the wetness of your folds around him. Pathetic moans roll off your tongue and you try to clamp your thighs around his lower body, but he slaps the back of your thigh and pries your legs apart.

A loud, whiney cry rips through your chest as he sinks into you, and the sting of his cock stretching you out without warning robs you of any self respect you had left. "Oh- fuck," Sam groans, bottoming out inside you and staying there for a moment. You claw at the sheets, a yelp escaping your mouth once he starts to mercilessly thrust into you.

One deep and intoxicating thrust, then another, then another until he's worked up the perfect pace that drives you mad. "Oh Sam- fuck," you cry, arching your back into the bed. "Shit, Y/N," Sam mutters, having to practically rip your hands off the sheets to hold them behind your back.

You cry his name at a particularly sharp thrust, and curse yourself for how much you're enjoying it. He feels too good, you hate it. You hate the fact that you're just like every other girl he's hooked up with. But most of all, you hate the fact that you denied him for so long. Forced down those dirty thoughts that would surface in your mind about him. "Yeah, feels good doesn't it, little slut?" He punctuates his words with sharp movements.

You fail at trying to form a sentence. Every time you open your mouth, a pathetic moan falls past your swollen red lips. You hear him snicker behind you, and the hand not firmly holding your hands behind your back moves to your ass. He grabs at the supple flesh, kneading it in his hands as he fucks his anger out on you.

"yes," you cry out "so fucking good, Sam." You know Daniel can absolutely hear, but you're past the point of caring. "I've seen the way you look at me. You try to act like you don't touch yourself thinking of me but really, you're just as bad as the rest of them. Just dying to let me use you like the little whore you know you are." Sam starts to go even deeper, as if that was even possible, his tip is practically brushing against your cervix. And oh how he's so right.

"holy fucking-" you're on the verge of screaming, tears pricking your waterline once again. "God, who would've known you're so filthy?" You hear the grin in his voice, and his hand grasps your ass so hard you're sure you'll wake up to bruises. "I mean, really. Letting me use you like this. Cumming all over my hands in the kitchen," He breathes, and you can tell he's struggling to keep a steady voice and form coherent sentences of his own.

"You know, Daniel could've walked in at any time. Saw you acting like the little fucking whore you are for me," he sends a sharp thrust into you, hitting a part of you that you didn't even know someone could reach. "But I bet that just turned you on even more, huh? The thought of being so exposed in there just made you cum so hard, didn't it?" With every single word comes a rough movement of his hips, and you can't see him, but you know theres a stupid smirk playing on his face.

"Sam I- I'm gonna," you whine, clawing at his wrist. "Yeah? Little slut gonna cum?" He snickers, his pace slowing down, his thrusts becoming slower as he sinks completely into to, hitting every sweet spot known to woman kind. "Yes. Yes yes," you bite the sheets, your nails still digging into his wrists.

Your cries and moans grow unbelievably loud, intensifying with each movement. "That's it, baby, cum for me," Sam grabs your hips, lifting them up off the bed so that your ass is in the air. With one final thrust, you're coming undone. Completely unraveling beneath him. "Fuck fuck fuck," you moan, burning white flames of pleasure dancing viciously around your tummy.

Sam almost immediately pulls out, your juices dripping down your sweaty thigh. He drops your hips and you fall back down on the bed, softly moaning and whimpering as you come down from the high.

A surprised whimper slips past your lips once he grabs you by your waist and flips you around "don't think for a second that I'm done with you." He grabs you by your waist, picking you up and throwing you against the arm rest of the sofa chair you walked in on him in.

It's as if you regained consciousness because right before you hit the furniture, you brace your arms against the other side of the sofa, catching yourself. "Sam what are you-" you start, but he cuts you off. "I'm gonna make you cum as many times as I want, sweetheart," he grabs his cock, pumping slowly a few times.

"Sam I don't know if I can.." you whine, but this just makes him snicker. He ignores you, and you yelp once he thrusts into you. He doesn't wait. Doesn't give you a moment, he just starts fucking into you. He sets an intoxicating pace almost immediately, you're completely drunk off of his cock.

You repeat his name over and over like a mantra, your moans growing louder and louder with each thrust. His cock rams into you, and Sam's making sure he's going as deep into you as he possibly can. "Shit. You're so fucking-" Sam groans, but he doesn't finish his sentence. He bends over, his chin resting against your bare back and he takes the sweaty flesh between his teeth.

You claw the fabric of the sofa, the lewd sounds of your skin snapping together and your sexes mixing fill the humid air, not to mention the volume of which you're screaming his name. "So fucking dirty," he speaks breathlessly between thrusts "taking my cock like such a good girl."

He stands up again, and your forehead practically slams against the furniture. "Oh fuck me-" you cry, pushing yourself back onto his cock with shaky legs. "But you're so fucking far from that. You're the filthiest little bitch I've ever been with," he roughly thrusts into you after every single word, it's unbelievable how much stamina this man has.

"At least I know how to shut you up now," His hand wraps around your body till it finds your dripping cunt, and elicits a loud yelp once his fingers start to dance over your swollen, oversensitive cit.

"Y'know, I oughta spank you," he groans "dirty little slut." Your eyes roll into the back of your head, the feeling of his skilled fingers working your clit mixed with his cock burying itself deep into your cunt over and over drives you right to the edge. If its even possible, the roaring fire in your tummy intensifies even more.

That same fire burns at the coil of pleasure pulled tightly until it snaps in two, white electricity flowing through your limbs. Despite the fact that every inch of you is trembling and you're overstimulated to the point of tears, you still clamp around his cock, determined to beat him.

"The fuck are you doing?" He slaps your ass and pulls out in one quick motion. Your body goes limp and suddenly, you lose your train of thought. Your words fail you "I- I..." Sam stops you, grabbing you by your torso and flipping you around. "I'll cum when i decide it's time," he speaks lowly, taking your lips in a sloppy, humid kiss before dropping you into the seat.

He hasn't given you any time to cool off, he's already staring down at you with those eyes and stroking his length. "Sam I-" you stutter "Sam I don't know if I can. do another one." You knew you weren't getting out of this one, but the amused look on his face pisses you off.

"It's not that I don't want it I just-" you say rather bitterly, cutting yourself off once you become conscious of the fact that you're almost completely out of breath. "Don't worry, darling. I'll be more gentle this time," he smirks.

You take a deep breath and nod, bringing your legs up to rest on each side of the sofa. His eyes widen at your glistening core, but soon relax as a grin starts to grow on his face. He leans down, breathing heavily on your neck and taking your earlobe in between your teeth. "I still hate your fucking guts," he growls, sending a shiver up your spine.

You let out a breath at the words and reach down to grab his cock, and you start to swirl your hand around his hard length. He nips at your ear again before slapping your hand away, grabbing his cock and dragging it through your soaked folds.

Your head falls back and you grab his arm as his tip starts to tease your clit. "Sam.. please," you whine, arching your back off the arch. He moves himself to like up with your entrance, his tip just barely sinking in. Just that alone elicits whiney moans from you, so when he sinks fully into you a loud cry flies past your lips.

He almost pulls completely out before thrusting back into you, the sensation making your eyes roll back into your head. "This slutty little pussy feels so.." Sam breathes, setting the perfect rhythm. Your hands slowly snake up his body, the tips of your fingers reaching his collarbones, then moving up to the base of his neck.

His deep, slow thrusts are addictive and perfect, but you quickly realize they aren't gonna cut it. You crave more. You need more. Gentle Sam can wait for another time. "Sam... Harder."

Your hands gently wrap around his neck, squeezing slightly as his pace starts to pick up. So much for being gentle. Sam's fingers find your clit, ever so slightly putting pressure on the sensitive bud. "Look at you. Asking for more after complaining about having to fuck me again," Sam purrs, rolling his hips up into you.

"Oh fuck- right there Sam," you mewl. Every inch of your body is trembling and within minutes you're riding the edge of euphoria. "How does it feel, baby?" Sam finds a particularly sensitive spot that elicits the loudest moans and babies it, and his hand that's toying with your clit speeds up. "So fucking good," you whine, your back fully arched off the sofa.

Your moans and cries and mewls grow louder, you're not gonna last much longer. Sam's free hand presses down on your lower tummy, intensifying your pleasure. "Is my little slut close? You gonna cum, baby?" His narrow eyes staring deeply into yours.

"Fuck Sam im-" a guttural moan ripping through your chest cuts you off, and suddenly your vision blurs, your mind fogs, and burning hot white flames of pleasure flow through your limbs. "Oh shit- fuck," Sam grunts, and within seconds his hot release is spurting inside you. Warm ropes of ivory release paint your insides, the feeling making you roll your eyes back into your skull.

His thrusts and fingers slow down but don't stop, helping both you and him ride out the high. Your hands release his neck and drop to your side, the two of you stay just how you are for a while, the sounds of your heavy breathing and occasional whimpers filling the humid air.

"You know. I'm not the little slut you think I am," you roll your eyes. "Well, you certainly fuck like one. I mean, look at you," he looks down at you, and you hate to admit it but you do look filthy. Your legs are as far open as they can go and his cock is covered in your release as he slowly pulls out, juices dripping down your ass.

Your cheeks go a bright shade of red and you look down at the area "Whatever." His fingers collect the release, bringing it up to your mouth and once again forcing you to taste both yourself and him. You moan against his fingers at the taste, a smirk growing on his lips.

His fingers leave your mouth with a pop before he licks up your saliva and the rest of the juices. Sam walks off and you hear his feet pad across the kitchen, coming back with your clothes. He drops them on the floor, walking right past you to the bathroom.

He stops, realizing you're not following him "You wanna clean up or what? C'mon."

#greta van fleet #gvf fanfiction #greta van fleet smut #greta van fleet imagine #greta van smut #gvf smut #greta van fleet fan fiction #gvf #sam kiszka fanfiction #sam kiszka smut #sam gvf #sam kiszka #sfk

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holybananafuck · 13 days

Text

Watermelon Sugar/ s.f.k

Pairing: Sam Kiszka x f!Reader

Word Count: 2607

Warnings: NSFW MINORS DNI 18+ kissing, oral sex (f receiving), spanking (if you squint), fingering, begging, hair pulling, hickies, unprotected sex (wrap before you tap pls!), breeding

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LMK IF I MISSED ANY TAGS!

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🍉🍉🍉🍉🍉🍉🍉🍉🍉🍉🍉🍉🍉🍉🍉🍉🍉

“C’mon, love, time to wake up.” Sam runs his hand up and down your side, bringing his lips to kiss the shell of your ear. His fingers slid under your shirt on his second pass up your side, the gentle pads sinking into the soft skin of your belly.

“Mm, can’t we just stay here?” You whisper and nudge your hips back hoping you could sway his decision.

“Y/n, baby… I mean, we could but I already paid for the pass.”

“Ten more minutes.” You’re not asking, more so telling. Did you really have to leave now, anyways? He had you pack your bags two days ago… and he had put them in the car as soon as they were zipped. All there was left was the drive.

“Ten more.” He repeats in solidarity, his hand laying flat on your tummy. You can feel the beginning outline of morning wood against your ass, if there was one thing to keep you in bed, it was this. You nudge your ass back against his groin, placing your hand over his and pressing his palm harder against your skin.

“Maybe twenty?” You ask this time, trying to sweeten the deal.

“Uh-uh, I know what you’re trying to do. We’re going.” Sam backs his hips away from you, turning to lay on his back.

“What am I trying to do?” You turn to lay on your side, propping yourself up on your elbow as you watch him think of his next words.

“Trying to seduce me, woman!” He moves his hand down to adjust himself in his boxers, bringing his arm back up to rest behind his head. You sit up and straddle his legs, placing your hands on his chest and dragging them across his bare skin. You give him the sweetest eyes you can as you slowly lower your chest to be resting against his. You pepper kisses across his chest before resting your cheek over his heart, listening to the beat it drums. His hands come over your body to wrap around your back, pulling you closer to his chest than you thought was possible. He was getting harder beneath your weight from no efforts of your own, his fingers tracing along your spine.

“Mm, Sammy,” You whined as the sensation from his fingers urged your body to shiver in response. In turn, that meant grinding deeper onto his clothed cock. “Fifteen minutes left should be enough, right?”

“Nowhere near enough time for what I wanna do to you.” He admitted shamelessly, a side of him you wished he'd show more. You lift your head up again to continue kissing his chest, going until your lips reach his nipple. You look up at him through hooded eyes before drawing your tongue towards his nipple and flicking it, the combination of spit and air causing it to pebble. Sam moans followed by an audible swallow.

“How about now?” You teased before continuing to kiss his chest, trailing up to his neck.

“I can do it better, y’know.”

“What?”

“I can flick my tongue better.” He finally moves his hands from your back to resting at the waistband of your panties. “Want me to remind you?”

All you offer is a nod and a short mhm and before you know it he’s inching you up his body until your center is lined up with his mouth. He brushes his fingers over your clothed clit before tucking them into part of fabric that meets the junction of your thigh and center. Pulling them to the side, he blows a stream of cool air against your exposed skin.

“So wet, sweet girl.” He didn’t even give you a second to register or respond to his words before his hands were planted on your hips, pushing you down onto his tongue as he lapped at your clit. His fingers dug deep into the supple skin of your ass as you rode out your orgasm, coating his face in your slick. Even after finishing, he licked between your folds until there was nothing left before ushering your legs from around his head.

“My turn now?” You asked, running your hands down his chest, stopping at the band of his boxers.

“Uh-uh, gotta go.” He sits up and kisses you softly before getting out of bed, tossing you a pair of shorts and one of his shirts from high school.

~🍉~

“I think there’s an extra piece…” You say as you struggle to push the pieces together to the tent. Years of Girl Scouts have evidently failed you as your tent looked more like a pile of polyester and metal poles than, well, a tent. You wonder how he always manages to talk you into outdoor activities. The heat was nauseating to say the least, and you were never successful in your attempts to set up the tent or start fires. But it always makes you feel bad when sets everything up by himself.

“Babe, there probably shouldn’t be extra pieces.” Sam drops your shared duffle bag against the hefty trunk of a nearby tree before making his way towards you.

“Okay, well I’m telling you- there is.” Unlike the pieces you were attempting to put together, you snapped. You watch between your legs and see Sam’s feet approaching you from behind. It’s only a matter of seconds before his large palms find purchase on your hips, his thumbs rubbing soft circles across your lower back.

“Woah, woah, woah. Deep breath, it’s okay. Do you want me to get it?” He almost doesn’t give you a choice as he uses his hands to help you stand up. Your backside rubs against his groin as he slowly brings you upright.

“I just wanna help! You always do everything a-and I just wanna… Ugh.” You frown as you turn around to face him. Sam wraps his arms around your shoulders and you press your forehead to his bare chest.

“Breathe, honey girl, you can still help. Do you wanna set up the hammock? You always pick the best spot,” He pulls away to look you in the eyes, bringing one hand to rest against your cheek.

“Okay, I can do that.” You nod your head yes and place your flat palm against the heated skin of his chest. Sam cups your chin and brings you in for a kiss, pulling away for a second before pecking your lips again.

“Hammock’s over there.” He points next to the duffel bag to a smaller striped bag. You turn to walk away, leaving Sam with whatever you had going on regarding the tent, if you could call it that. As soon as you pass him, he reaches back to smack your ass.

“Go team!”

“Saaaam!” You whine, rubbing your hand over your skin to soothe the sensation.

~🍉~

Finding the perfect spot for the hammock was no issue for you, in fact it was the one thing you felt confident in during these ventures. Sam hums a tune you don’t recognize, probably something off their newest project. You smile and slide the rope through the hoop at the end of the hammock, wrapping the rope around the trunk of the tree, and delicately twisting and tying each knot, repeating the process on both sides until the hammock is safely secured between your trees of choice. Embarrassingly enough, Sam still managed to fix the entire tent before you finished hanging the hammock. In your defense, most of the hard work had been done.

“That part was in fact not extra, by the way.” Sam states while walking towards you. “How’s hammocking going?”

“Good, I think it’s ready.” You rub your hands down your shirt and turn on your heels to face Sam.

“Wanna try it out?” He motions his hand towards the hanging fabric. You stand in front of it and gently position yourself in the middle, sitting on the hammock before throwing your legs up into the nest of cloth.

“It’s perfect!” You ring out into the woods.

“Room for one more, you think?” Sam asks as he makes his way over, following suit. To your surprise he successfully found his way nestled in next to you without any casualties. In a matter of moments, your legs find themselves thrown over his, your arms wrapped around his torso and face buried into his chest. He hums at the contact, bringing his hand to rest on your side, the other under your head allowing you to rest on his forearm.

“You did a good job, I’m proud of you.” He mumbles into your hair as he kisses the top of your head.

“Thank you, Sammy. And thanks for fixing the tent.”

“Anything for you.”

You nuzzle deeper into his side, bringing your leg up further, in turn drawing his hand lower on your waist until his palm rests against your ass. You’re reminded again how his playful tap felt in the presence of his gentle touch. You subconsciously arch your back, pushing your ass into his hand more firmly than he was allowing himself.

“I’m sorry, is there something I can do for you?” He asks as he squeezes your supple skin with his calloused fingertips before gently kneading the flesh.

“Just thinking about that smack from earlier,”

“Yeah? Did it encourage you to be a team player?” Sam drags his fingers under the hemline of your shorts until they meet the lacey edge of your panties. “Hm, think you’re ready for your prize then?” Sam’s fingers inch under your panties, grazing against your clothed bud.

“Please?” You nudge your hips forward, trying to guide his fingers where you wanted them most. Like a magnet, his fingers are drawn to your center.

“Careful, don’t wanna fall out.” Sam guides two fingers through your folds, gathering your slick on them. You lift your leg to grant him access to wherever he pleases. He slowly works his fingers up until his fingertips dance along your sensitive bud, causing more arousal to drip from your core.

“Sam…”

His free hand finds shelter upon your neck, urging your lips to meet his. He shifts his body gently enough so the hammock doesn’t tip, allowing you easier access to his chest. His lips never leave yours, instead working to become one as he licks into your mouth. His hand goes lower, lower, lower down your pants until his fingers are tapping against your entrance. You moan into his mouth at the sensation and with that Sam pushes his two digits into your aching core. You bring your hands up to undo the buttons on his shirt, exposing the rest of his torso to you. His fingers slowly fuck into you as he pulls his face away from yours, maneuvering his hand to tuck stray strands of hair behind your ears.

“There’s my girl.” He whispers into the space between your faces. Your brows furrow in pleasure, compliments to the pads of his fingers against your g-spot and the name he paid you.

“Sammy, please?” You whine, throwing your head back from the stimulation, the slight breeze cooling the sweat coating your exposed throat. Sam drops his head just enough to allow himself access to your neck, dragging his tongue from the hollow of your throat up to your jawline.

“Please what, pretty baby?”

“Need you… in… me…” Your words come out between hitched breaths, nearly unable to be mumbled at all through waves of your pleasure. Sam slowly pulls his fingers out of you and starts to push your shorts down. You help slip them off while you make work of palming his length through his shorts. The more your palm strokes his clothed length, the harder he becomes, the tip of his dick threatening to grow past the inseams of his tiny blue shorts.

Your fingers brush over the zipper, your nimble fingers quick to undo it, hand slipping past his waistband. He whines at the skin to skin contact as you run your thumb over the head of his aching cock. You let go long enough to tug at the waistband of his boxers until his cock springs loose from the restraints of the fabric. Sam hitches your leg over his thigh once again before bringing his hand down to stroke his length. His other hand is still perched against your neck, the sweat pooling in his palm. His fingers grab at tufts of your hair at the nape of your neck, pulling your head back to look at him as he drags the head of cock over your soaked panties.

“Fuck, you’re soaked,” He huffs as he uses the tip of his dick to push your panties aside, running himself through your velvety folds. Sam rests himself at your entrance, tugging your head back further to watch your eyes screw shut as he slowly pushes into you, drawing a hiss from your lips.

“F-faster…”

“Can’t, we’ll fall. Gotta go slow.” He whispers as he slowly moves his hips back and forth, each time feeling slower than the last. Your head falls forward and you press a series of open mouth kisses across Sam’s chest. In some spots your mouth lingers, sucking and nipping at his heated skin until red marks eventually fade to purple. Sam brings his thumb to your clit, rubbing soft circles over your sensitive bud. Your orgasm starts to build, rolling through your body like distant thunder. The feeling starts in your throat, working down until every inch of you is rumbling with anticipation. He slowly moves his hips, pumping his length as deep into your pussy that your body allows. The dusting of hair around his base can still be felt past the barrier of his thumb and it drives you insane. Sam attaches his lips back to your throat and sucks bright pink marks into your skin. You bring your arms between your bodies, digging your nails into Sam’s chest over the series of love marks you left trailed across his chest. He presses his thumb harder against your clit, quickening his circular motions.

“Just like that… Is my pretty girl gonna cum?” His hips find a faster pace, surprisingly one that doesn’t tip the hammock over and end you both up naked on the forest floor. His words push you over the edge, your nails dig deeper into the skin of his chest as your thunderous orgasm finally takes storm. Your once relatively stable breathing turns into uncontrollably whining and whimpering against his neck. “Yeah… you look so pretty when you cum on my cock. Fuck..” Sam follows swiftly behind, his hips stuttering as ropes of his warm release coat your insides. The dominant brunette is quick to succumb to his own desires. His movements come to a halt as he brings his lips to yours again. He kisses you and holds you like an anchor in the storm, as if you’re the only thing tying him down to this earth. After you both come down from your orgasms, Sam finally pulls out, running his fingers between your folds once again. He collects your combined arousal on his fingers, bringing them between your lips and his. You watch as he laps at his digits, tasting your combination.

“Tastes sweet, like strawberries, wanna try?” He hums around his digits waiting for a response. You nod and he brings his hand down again to collect more, patiently waiting as he brings his fingers to your lips and pushes them past the plump, pink skin. You drag your tongue between his fingers, cleaning every drop of your mixed release from between his fingers.

“Perfect spot for the hammock.”

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joshym · 3 months

Text

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)

149 notes · View notes

builtbybrokenbells · 11 months

Text

Picasso

after months of silent pining over the boy across the hall, y/n finds herself face to face with the one person she can’t seem to get off her mind. a friendly dinner and a night spent in the art studio leads to more truth being revealed than either bargained for. a profession of attraction leads to an opportunity for an unconventional hookup, where Sam gets to make her first time unforgettable.

COLLEGE DORM AU

Read aftermath here

Pairing: Sam Kiszka x f!reader

Word Count: 15.5k

Warnings: SMUT 18+, fingering (f!receiving), oral (f!receiving), unprotected sex (wrap it, folks), virgin/virginity talk, losing virginity (sam the v card thief 🫣), praise kink, pet names, sexual anxiety/performance anxiety, soft gentle sex (fuck me up fr), fluff, swearing, anxiety, embarrassing crushes, sorry if I miss any!

😮‍💨 sorry this took so long folks. it’s a lengthy one, so prepare yourself. i got a bit carried away. soft Sam fucks me up real bad. hope you enjoy this as much as i loved writing it!! as always, be kind, enjoy, and don’t mind any grammar mistakes!!

You weren’t sure who he was. You had no idea where he was from, what he was studying, or if he even knew you existed. Still, that didn’t seem to stop the awkward staring, or the blushing cheeks, or even the speeding heart rate every time he came into your line of vision. You hated yourself for the uncontrollable longing you felt for the boy across the hall, knowing that you would forever be too nervous to approach first. The first few months of your university experience were relatively normal; meeting friends, studying relentlessly, and trying to navigate a brand new life that was so foreign from the last. Then, after the novelty of freshman year wore off, and the hallways were routinely more empty than you’d grown used to, you started to run into him.

The first time you saw him, you almost missed him. You only noticed the back of his head as he disappeared around the corner. But, almost as if fate was playing a sick trick on you, he happened to forget something in his room. When he came back around the corner, giving you the opportunity to see his face, it felt as though you’d received a punch to the stomach. Thankfully, he was in too much of a rush to notice your staring. His long, brown hair looked messy, yet perfectly styled around his slender face. His jawline was sharp, angled gracefully into a perfect chin. The space just above held his lips, a permanent upturn in the corner adorned on them, although barely noticeable in passing. His brown eyes looked inviting, a colour you could spend all day lost in. Once he passed you, you knew it was too late; you’d already fallen for him, and there was no escape.

Perhaps it was because you came from a small town, one where all of the boys looked like the same person, just in a different font. You’d never met a boy who caught your eye quite like he did. He had a charming aura without even speaking, which was impossible to attain, according to your standards. You never really wasted time on dating, more or less finding it pointless. You were well aware there was no person to find in your town that would work out long-term. You were never a date for heartbreak type, understanding that there was no need of having a relationship if you start it with a pre-existing condition that it will inevitably end. You had a few bad experiences with the boys you’d given a chance, and never tried again. It wasn’t worth the hurt, or the trouble, so you kept to yourself. But, whatever it was about the boy across the hall, you were certain if you ever got the chance, you’d want it to last a lifetime.

After the initial shock of seeing him, you seemed to notice him everywhere. Every time you left your room, his door was open, or he was in the hallway talking to his friends. He was always running into you at meal hall, taking post in your favourite spots in the library, and even in some of your classes. You had no idea how you’d gone so long without noticing him, because now, he never ceased to exist in your mind and your life. You’d never managed to get the nerve to speak with him, or even muster a wave when he passed by. The most the two of you shared was a smile each morning; which admittedly, made your day a whole lot better every time. As unfortunate as it was, the two of you had mastered the art of remaining strangers despite the constant desire to be more.

You never verbalized your feelings to anyone, not your friends, or even yourself. You thought it was a bit ridiculous to be infatuated with someone solely based on looks. Yet, you found yourself creating a fabricated version of him, one that you deducted based on what you noticed over the passing weeks. One where he was funny, in a sarcastic or a goofy type of way. One where he was very laid back, but very involved in the lives of the people he loved. And the worst one of all; one where he was fantastic in bed. You thought it was alright to daydream, even if you would never know for certain in this lifetime.

Despite your mostly quiet pining, everybody around you was well aware of how you felt about mystery boy. Your friends seemed to take extra measures to point him out in a public setting, or ‘unintentionally’ cross paths with him. They never admitted it, but you knew what they were doing. Instead of fighting about it, which would only give them the answer they so desperately wanted from you, you laughed alongside them at the ‘strange coincidences’. Although, one thing inherently positive that came from the whole ordeal, was that you’d made acquaintance’s with his best friend, Danny. You’d found out that he was also in a few of your classes, and lived on the floor above you.

He occasionally stopped by your room for a quick chat, or some help with projects. He was friendly, and tall, and quite attractive, too. You never mentioned his friend that lived across the hall, and he didn’t, either. As far as you were concerned, your friendship with Danny would remain just as such, with no hidden implications about the beautiful boy he spent most his time with. Never once would you ever want to make him feel like you’d become friends with him just to get closer to his best friend, because you didn’t. Any hello, or how are you, or any of the conversations you’d shared had always been because you wanted to talk to him. You liked him, and just so happened to find it much easier to strike conversations with him, too.

You walked down the hallway, pushing your way through the swarms of people preparing to leave for spring break. That Friday marked the end of classes for a week, meaning that lots of people were either packing up to return home for a few days, or headed somewhere much warmer to drink themselves into oblivion. You had opted to stay for the week, finding no real desire to visit your family, and having no available funds to travel the world. All of your friends were leaving, presenting a fantastic opportunity for you to catch up on some schoolwork. You keyed into your room, dropping your bag on your bed and kicking your shoes off. You threw on your slippers and took your hair down from its clip.

You walked into your bathroom, seeing a note stuck on the mirror. You pulled it off, reading over the scribbled words. Your suite mate had left for the week, wishing you a good time and telling you she’d see you soon. You smiled, slipping it into your pocket to add to your collection of first-year memorabilia. You had an elaborate final project planned for your introductory art class, and you were collecting as many pieces to add to it as possible, wanting nothing more than to make a showstopper. You fixed your makeup in the mirror and combed through your hair with your fingers, trying to sharpen yourself up after a long day of classes. As you returned to your room, you heard a knock on your door.

When you opened it, you saw a familiar, smiling face. “Well hello.” You said, pulling the door open fully.

“Hey, Picasso.” Danny greeted. “What are you up to?”

“Just got back, actually. I stayed late at the studio. Trying to get my practical piece done for my painting class.”

“I see. Have you started the essay for poetry?” You shook your head, stomach sinking at the thought.

“I was going to start that this weekend. I just picked my topic. I’ve got a couple years worth of Shakespeare sonnets to read.” Danny was an English major, and you were an arts major, but your classes seemed to cross due to your minor in writing.

“That’s such a cop out topic,” He teased, leaning against the door frame. “And it’s spring break, aren’t you supposed to be having fun?”

“Fuck you.” You laughed, waving your hand to invite him inside. “Spring break is only fun for rich kids taking business majors.” You joked.

“Us arts kids know how to have fun, too, you know. We don’t have to get on a plane to do that.” He reminded you, walking inside and taking a seat on your bed.

“Well, what about you, then? Any big plans?”

“Frankenmuth.” He said, trying to make it sound more exciting than it was. You raised an eyebrow at him, expecting something more to the statement, but that was all he said.

“Enthralling.” You laughed, taking a seat in your desk chair. You watched the people pass by in the hallway, no real thoughts in your head. “Just you going?” You asked, eyes falling on the door closed just across from yours.

“Yeah, my friends are gonna stay here. Just thought I’d go back and visit the parents for a few days. Don’t think I’m staying the whole week.”

“Nothing wrong with that, Danny boy.” You said, flipping your laptop open that was sitting on your desk. “When are you leaving?”

“Tonight, probably. I like driving at night.” You were okay with that, completely agreeing with his statement. There was something very peaceful about driving in the dark, especially when the roads are mostly barren. It was almost like time stood still. You knew the drive wasn’t too long for him, so you had faith he would be alright. “That’s why I came to see you.”

“You’re so sweet,” you grinned, opening Netflix and throwing on the most recently watched show. “Gonna miss me?”

“Of course, Picasso.” He said as if it were obvious. “Come with me, if you want.” He offered.

“You wouldn’t want me to tag along, your parents might like me too much.” He laughed at your words.

“And that’s a problem?”

“You wanna listen to them ask about me for the rest of your life?” You teased.

“Doesn’t sound like the worst thing in the world.” He shrugged.

“You’re too nice for your own good.” You chuckled. “As much as I would love to spend reading week with you, I very much need access to an art studio and shitty, free coffee refills from the library.”

“I know,” he assured you. “If you change your mind, offers there.”

“Thanks, Danny.” You said, more sincerity in your tone than before.

“The reason I came down here though, was to see if you wanted to grab dinner with us before I leave.”

“Us?” You questioned, cocking your head to the side.

“Yeah, me and Sam. I know you told me your friends already left, so I thought maybe you’d like some company.”

“Oh, so it’s a pity invite?” You smirked. He rolled his eyes.

“No, I want you to come. Thought that was kind of obvious.”

“Just pulling your leg.” You assured him. “Uh, who’s Sam?” You laughed, feeling a little ridiculous for not knowing. He watched you with confusion, waiting to see if you were joking.

“Sam? Kiszka? Like, the guy who lives across the hall?” He asked, completely baffled. “You don’t know Sam?”

“Oh!” Your cheeks turned crimson. “Yeah, I know who he is. That’s your best friend, right?” Danny nodded. “Yeah, I know him. Just didn’t know his name. Never really spoke to the guy.” You laughed, trying to pass off the awkwardness.

“Fuck, y/n, I thought you guys knew each other! I’m sorry I didn’t introduce him to you.”

“No! Don’t be sorry, Danny.” You waved it off. “I never brought it up, either.”

“That’s weird though, cause he definitely knows you. He knew who you were when I mentioned we were working together on that last poetry assignment. I was under the impression that you guys were neighbourly.” He shrugged, confusion still lingering in his features.

“Oh, uh… I guess my names on my whiteboard. Maybe that’s why. He’s definitely seen me around. We smile at each other and stuff in the halls, but that’s about it.” Danny eyed you almost as if he didn’t believe you.

“Well, he seems pretty fond of you for someone he only smiles at in the hallway.” You felt the blush rise to your cheeks again, embarrassed even at the thought of him mentioning your name. “You do know him, don’t you?”

“No, I swear I’m telling you the truth.” You raised your hands in defence. He watched you, scanning your face for a hint of a lie. After a second, his expression lit up.

“You have a crush on him!” He bellowed, feeling accomplished for finally solving the mystery. Your head whipped to the open door, making sure nobody was in the hallway.

“Shut up!” You hissed, making a move to shut the door. “I do not!” You said once you protected the privacy.

“That’s a lie, Picasso.” He let out a disapproving tsk.

“I don’t even know the guy.” You rolled your eyes. “Yeah, he’s attractive, but I can’t exactly like someone I don’t know.”

“Sure you can, and you do.” He grinned. “And you’ll like him even more after dinner tonight.” He decided.

“So now I don’t have a choice if I go or not?”

“No, not at all. I’ll leave you to get ready. He should be back around 6.” Danny stood, not willing to hear any protests.

“Danny, if you say anything to him, I swear to god I will kill-“

“Lips are sealed, Picasso. See you at six.” He sent you a wink before disappearing out the door. You felt your stomach twist in knots, nervous that Danny was going to mention something to him.

You distracted yourself by scouring your closet for something acceptable to wear. You cursed him for leaving so soon; he didn’t even tell you where you were going. You had no idea if you should dress nice, or casual. As you checked the time, you decided that somewhere in the middle would be suitable. A nice shirt and a pair of black jeans, just to dress it down a bit. You went to the bathroom and quickly ran your curling iron through your hair with no real effort, just to give it a bit of volume. You brushed your teeth and touched up your makeup again, spritzing on some perfume before you walked back to your room. You threw on some jewelry, deciding if you were going to properly meet mystery boy, or Sam, rather, you were going to make a good first impression.

When the clock struck six, there was an insistent knock on your door. When you opened it, Danny was beaming down at you once more. “You clean up good, Picasso.” He complimented. Rarely did he ever see you out of your studio clothes; you were always covered in paint, or plaster, or some other sort of artistic expression. You spent more time in the studio than you did anywhere else. Of course, the workload was heavy even for first year, but you spent a lot of free time there, too. It was great for your mental health, and aside from your projects, you made smaller pieces to sell on the side. Unlimited access to art tools was a huge benefit to going to the university you chose, and your talent allowed you to make some extra money. Making a living off something you loved to do made your university experience a million times better.

“Thanks, Daniel.” You laughed. “Ready to go?” You asked.

“Yeah, you?” You nodded. You threw on a denim jacket, finishing off the outfit. You joined Danny in the hall, looking around to spot Sam. When you didn’t see him, you couldn’t help but feel a sense of disappointment.

“Where are we going?” You asked, distracting yourself from the feeling.

“There’s this little Italian restaurant downtown. I’ve been meaning to try it, but never got around to it. Figured tonight was as good as any other night. Is that cool with you?”

“Oh, yeah. I’m not picky.” You assured him.

“Awesome.” He breathed, making a move to the other side of the hallway. He stood before Sam’s door, sending a knock echoing through the air. Within a few seconds, the door swung open to reveal the boy you couldn’t seem to get out of your head. His hair was slightly damp, and the smell of his shampoo hit you almost instantly. He pointed at you without a word, causing you to shoot him a nervous look. He got a small laugh at your reaction.

“You copied my outfit.” He accused, a goofy smile etched onto his expression. You looked down at what you were wearing, then back to him. You were both wearing Jean jackets with a black base layer. After a second, you laughed, too.

“Guess so.” You shrugged, trying to ignore the incessant butterflies running rampant in your stomach. “I’m y/n,” you held a hand out to shake.

“Sam.” He said, reciprocating the gesture. “I guess we’ve never properly introduced ourselves.” He noted.

“Not very neighbourly of us, was it?” You chuckled. His eyes lingered over you, taking in the whole sight before humming an agreement. You desperately tried to fight away the blush rising to your cheeks, but failed miserably. You hoped he didn’t notice.

“I hear from Daniel that you’re quite the artist.” He said, the smile never leaving his face. At his words, the redness on your cheeks completely took over, leaving no doubt that he could see it.

“Modern day Picasso, actually.” Danny corrected.

“You’ll have to show me, sometime.” Sam’s tone was soft, no tone of sarcasm present.

“Maybe I can sneak you into the studio someday.” You offered.

“It’s a date, then.” He said it so effortlessly, like the words meant nothing, but it set every nerve in your body on fire.

“G-guess so,” you tried to cover up your stutter, but they certainly noticed. You were thankful they didn’t comment on it. Sam stepped into the hallway, closing his door behind him. The three of you ventured towards the exit of the building without another word.

The evening was cool, but not unbearable. By the time you’d walked to the restaurant, you had managed to shake some of the nervousness off. The small chatter and jokes eased the tension by miles, allowing you to enjoy the company rather than fear embarrassment. Danny went inside first, Sam holding the door open for both of you. You muttered a small thank you, disappearing inside of the building. The smell of the food was fantastic, and the decoration and atmosphere was incredibly inviting. Danny noticed a ‘seat yourself’ sign, taking it open himself to lead the group to a booth. He slid in one side and you sat across from him. Sam looked between the two seats, ultimately deciding to sit next to you. The booth was tiny, and as he settled and got comfortable, his leg was gently resting against yours. You felt your heart speed, trying not to focus on the constant contact.

You all ordered after taking a good look over the menu. As you were waiting, Sam turned to you to speak. “So, Picasso,” he started. You turned your head to look at him, strangely pleased at the way the nickname sounded on his tongue. “Any travel plans for the week?”

“Oh, no.” You shook your head. “Love them, but my family drives me crazy, and I have too much work to get done to go anywhere else.” You admitted. “You?”

“No, I thought it was best to stay, too. I get what you mean about the family thing. Love them to death, but peace and quiet is nice, sometimes.” He chuckled. “Daniel will have to go on the journey alone.”

“So you guys are from the same town?” You looked between the two. They both nodded.

“Yeah, best friends since, what, middle school?” Danny laughed.

“Pretty much.” Sam agreed.

“That’s cool, actually. Nice that you guys have a piece of home here with you.”

“What about you? Any piece of home here?” You shook your head.

“No, and thank god there isn’t. Wanted to get the hell out of my hometown and start over. It’s worked so far.” You explained.

“Where are you from?” Sam asked, now intrigued.

“Arizona. Small town in the middle of nowhere, where everybody looks and acts the same and you get chastised if you’re any different.”

“Mind-numbing.” He replied. You nodded, unable to agree more. “Everybody needs originality.”

“Not them, apparently. I couldn’t wait to leave, and I never want to go back.” You almost shuddered at the thought.

“So where after this?” Sam never let his eyes leave you, as if he wanted to engrave every detail of your face in his mind.

“Uh, wherever, I guess. I haven’t really thought about it. I may travel for a while if I can before I commit to anywhere.”

“Smart woman,” he gave a small smile. “Know your options before you settle down.”

“Yeah, I suppose you could look at it that way.” Your conversation was interrupted by the waitress bringing drinks and setting them in front of you. You sipped from your straw, pondering what to speak about, next. “What are you taking, Sam?” You suddenly remembered you hadn’t asked him, yet.

“Oh, music theory.” He said. You eyed him in shock, not expecting that answer.

“What instrument?”

“Piano, on the paper at least.” He laughed. “I like playing bass and guitar more, but I figured they’d be more likely to accept me with piano as my focus.”

“Smart move.” You pondered the information for a moment. “Listen to this one,” you caught both of their attention. “So, Picasso, Shakespeare and Billy Joel walk into an Italian restaurant,” you started, causing a chorus of laughter from both boys.

“You play a piano once and you can never escape the Billy Joel jokes.” Sam shook his head, ghost of a laugh still lingering on his lips. You couldn’t help but admire him, feeling the overwhelming curiosity of wondering what it would be like to kiss him.

“You’ll be alright, piano man.” Danny assured him.

“Yeah, you can even sing us a song, if you want. That might make you feel better.” He shot you a look of warning, but there was visible humour laced in it. The both of you were feeling the nervous tension melt away more by the second.

The time passed too quickly for your liking; the meal was fantastic and the company was even better. When the time to leave came around, you were begging the clock just for another minute. You had spent the whole night beating yourself up for not getting over your fear and speaking with Sam sooner. Aside from him being incredibly attractive, he was funny, and charming, and quite sweet, too. You felt like you’d missed out on a lot. Even if nothing romantic happened, you’d could consider yourself content just being his friend. When the waitress brought the bills over, Sam took it upon himself to ensure you couldn’t get your hands on the debit machine. As you all filtered back outside into the cool night air, your feeling of nervousness returned. Looking at Sam, how the glow from the street lights casted over his face, how his hair flowed in solidarity, messy but perfect all in one, made you realize that knowing him only made the desire so much stronger.

Somewhere deep down you hoped he was an asshole, so you could finally shake the hopeless feeling of need for him. The more you talked to him, the more you fell for the goofiness of his aura, the humour he wore so proudly, or the kindness permanently anchored behind his words. He was more than just a pretty face, and to you, it was devastating. The last thing you wanted was to fall for someone, but you were well aware that it had happened long before your night of pasta critique. “You headed back to dorm?” Sam asked, his hand on your upper arm breaking you from your thoughts. You swallowed hard, trying to shake off your brains’ incessant reminders of what it felt like to be touched by him.

“Yeah,” you nodded.

“I’m headed out, now, I think.” Danny said, looking between the two of you. “Packed the car earlier, so I should hit the road.”

“Oh,” you breathed, trying to keep your eyes on him, and him only. “Which lot are you parked in?”

“The one by our building. I’ll walk back with you guys.” You nodded at his words, feeling a sudden rush of relief knowing you wouldn’t have to walk alone with Sam. Not that you would mind being alone with him, more of a fear of embarrassing yourself somehow. The three of you started the short walk with few words exchanged in the process. When you reached the entrance to the parking lot, you all stopped to bid a farewell.

Danny pulled you into a quick hug, thanking you for going to dinner. He hugged Sam, letting him know he’d text him when he was back home. “Might text for poetry help.” You smiled at him.

“You could text me just to say hi, too, you know.” Danny reminded.

“That is my way of saying hi.” You laughed. “Too nervous to be upfront.”

“No need for that, Picasso. I’ll see you guys soon.” He promised. You and Sam waved goodbye as he parted from the trio, leaving the two of you to yourselves. You kept your eyes glued to the ground, wanting to look anywhere other than his beautiful face.

“You have anywhere to be?” Sam eventually spoke. You found the courage to meet his eyes, feeling the butterflies erupt in your stomach once more.

“I was thinking about heading to the studio, actually.” You very much enjoyed your 24/7 access to the art building. It made your usually boring weekends a bit more enjoyable.

“Care for some company?” He smiled.

“You trying to get me in trouble, piano man?” You smirked.

“Nobody will ever know I was there.” He promised. You pondered the idea, realizing that it was more than likely nobody would be there, anyway. It was usually quite barren in the evenings, even more so considering the week-long holiday.

“Okay.” You nodded, holding your hand out for him to grab. “Come on.” He wasted no time slipping his hand into yours. You took off in a run back to the dorm with him following closely behind. You both made it to the front entrance of the building, keying in and immediately running to your rooms. “I just have to change.” You told him before disappearing into your room. You quickly changed into your work clothes, realizing how embarrassing the new outfit was. There was old paint stains on the t-shirt and jeans, years worth of artistic memories begging to be washed away. You didn’t waste too much time dwelling, too eager to be back in Sam’s company.

You were nervous to be alone with him, but the thrill of seclusion with him was overshadowing anything else. You thought maybe you’d be able to unravel some of the mystery, to get a chance to hear about his stories and memories that were hidden away. When you went back into the hallway, Sam was waiting for you. He had also changed into different clothes, a pair of sweatpants and a tattered old band shirt with the logo worn down to just a shadow. He had a sly smile graced his lips. “Ready?” You breathed. He gave a nod, silently hoping you’d reach out for his hand again. When you started walking down the hall, he followed after you, only momentary disappointment taking over.

You walked side by side to the art building, buzzing with unspoken excitement. When you reached the doorway, you scanned your access card on the reader and the lock clicked open. As you pulled on the handle, you looked back at him and pressed a finger to your lips, signalling for him to stay quiet, just in case anyone else was around. Regular students were allowed in the art building during office hours, but art students were the only ones granted access outside of normal school times. You were sure you’d only get a slap on the wrist if someone realized he wasn’t an art student, but you still didn’t want to take the chance. He nodded, ensuring he wouldn’t make a peep. You took his hand again, leading him inside and directly to the stairwell to the basement.

You took a sigh of relief when you let the studio door close behind you. You went right to your small locker where you stored your paint supplies and brushes. You unlocked it with a tiny key you kept around your neck. You pulled out your belongings, nodding Sam in the direction of the main room. The bright fluorescent lights were nothing new to you, but it seemed like it almost caught him off guard. You set your stuff down on a desk and grabbed an easel, carrying it over to where you were planning to sit. “I’ll be right back.” You told him, walking off to a side room. You opened the door, flicking the light on in the small storage space. You grabbed your large canvas, careful not to bump the front of it, worried it still may not have completely dried. You took it back out to the main room and propped it up on the easel, pulling a stool in front of it.

Sam moved a second chair over, sitting beside you. His eyes drifted over the artwork, scanning it intently and drinking up every detail like he needed it to survive. “I see why Danny calls you Picasso, now.” He mumbled, still looking over all of the details. You felt the redness creep up on your cheeks again, flattered at his compliment. “This place anything special to you, or just a stock photo?” There was a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.

“Well, the cabin is. It’s my family’s. We spent a lot of time up there when I was a kid. The background is pretty dramatized, cause my inspiration pictures were a little bland.” You chuckled. “We’ve been working on landscapes, so I figured I would paint something meaningful.” The large oil painting had the image of the aforementioned cabin nestled in a plot of trees. The leaves were radiating the colours of autumn, and the neutral mountains in the background made the colours stand out. A small stream flowed through the mountain valley, and birds floated through the air. There were patches of flowery grass and bushes covering the ground. The outline was finished, and you’d been working on the intimate details of the piece. You were estimating only a few more hours of work, eager to have this finished so you could move on to the next project.

“It’s stunning.” He said, moving back to look at you again.

“Thanks,” your voice was soft, full of gratitude.

“Have you always wanted to be an artist?” He asked. You thought about the question, pondering the appropriate answer.

“I always loved art, but don’t think I actually decided to study it until late into high school. I never thought I’d be able to make it, but then I entered a few contests and won, and I guess it kind of kick started the process of getting here. At first, my parents weren’t super supportive of the idea. I think they’d rather me be a doctor or a lawyer, but they knew it would only make me miserable. Now that they see what I’m doing, and how happy it makes me, they’re a bit more on board. Their encouragement really helped me feel like I was supposed to be here.” You explained. “Deep down, I probably always knew I would do art for a living, but I fought it for a long time. It’s not really regarded as a ‘profession’, and I think that discouraged me for a long time.”

“Don’t ever feel that way again.” He shook his head, looking back towards the canvas. “Someone with talent like this should never second guess themselves.” You swallowed hard, having a difficult time digesting such a compliment. “This is the type of stuff to end up in galleries.”

“You’ll have to let me design your album art when you release your EP, then.” You smiled.

“You haven’t even heard me play yet.” He brushed the comment off, a small laugh lingering in his words.

“Don’t have to, I just know.” You said, pulling out your glass palate. You sifted through your bag of paints, choosing the colours carefully. You squeezed small amounts on the surface, looking back towards the large painting. You started to work, unsure of where the conversation would lead to next.

“What music do you like?” He asked, watching your hands as you painted.

“Everything.” You said, never losing your focus. “Not picky.”

“You have to have a favourite.” He inquired. A smile tugged at your lips.

“Well, yeah.” You rolled your eyes.

“What is it, then?” He laughed, eyes moving to your face.

“Guess.” You thought if he wanted to get to know you, he could work for it, first. At least a little bit.

“You’re a classical person, aren’t you?” You looked at him through the corner of your eyes, furrowing your eyebrows slightly.

“Insulting,” you replied. “You think I’m that boring?” You teased.

“Worth a shot.” He shrugged. “Rock?”

“Yeah,” you nodded. “I like metal, too, but I mostly stick with rock.”

“Never would have guessed the metal part.” His surprise was showing in his expression.

“Yeah, well, I have lots of tricks up my sleeve.” You chuckled, wiping your brush on your apron.

“Can’t wait to figure them out.” His words were smooth, concise, even, as if he was waiting to deliver the line the whole night. Your stomach fluttered with the thought of him wanting to know more about you. You both fell into a silence, eventually playing music off your phone to fill the stale air. You were fine without words exchanged; you enjoyed him sitting with you while you worked. He didn’t seem to mind either, enthralled in your technique. “What’s your favourite thing to paint?” He eventually disturbed the quiet.

“I like nature. It’s always so calming to recreate. So many different options, and imperfections don’t cause an issue, because nature isn’t perfect. I think that’s what makes it beautiful.” You explained. He nodded along, hoping you would keep talking. You noticed, feeling less reserved about your ramblings, realizing you wanted to share them with him. “Nature is the only constant. It was here from the beginning, and it will be here long after we die, even if it’s changed million times. It carries infinite memories from every era, and it’s our only consistency in this lifetime, and the ones previous. I like the idea of a timeless art piece. If someone looks at this a hundred years from now, they’ll be able to appreciate it the same way we can. Nobody will have to wonder about the origins of the picture. People die, animals pass, but the earth always outlives us. When the day comes and it dies, too, we go with it.” He nodded again, studying your face. He had been for a while, although you hadn’t really noticed. He was watching the way your eyes focused when you were doing delicate work, or how your lips pursed when your brush wasn’t doing exactly what you wanted it to. He also noticed every time you let out a minuscule sigh, content with the flow of the paint, or when you smiled when a familiar song came on the shuffle. He’d been studying you just as much as you did, him, admiring you just the same. He was enthralled in your presence, also never expecting to have you this close to him.

The art of your silent admiration had left little room for belief of a chance for it to happen so intimately. He was basking in the moment, in you. The smell of the paint and your perfume was embedding the memory in his brain forever. The beauty in your passion was electrifying, and he was certain he could watch it all day. He also felt the same when he passed you in the hallways, and caught himself peeking into your room when you had the door open. He felt the same fluster when you smiled at him, and awaited the conversations when Danny spoke your name. He also struggled with the idea of talking to you first, worried about rejection or embarrassment. From what he’d seen, you never showed an inkling of interest, and he didn’t want to come off in the wrong way. When Danny brought the idea of inviting you to dinner, he nearly jumped at the opportunity. Sam’s feelings had also remained quite silent, although his childhood best friend was quick to catch on to the situation. Now with a promise to both of you that your emotions would be kept a secret, it was up to both of you to figure things out. All Danny could do was cheer you on from both sides. “You’ve got a beautiful way of seeing the world.” He noted.

“If you don’t love the earth, you can’t expect it to love you back.” You said, finally turning to look over at him. You were caught off guard at his proximity, noticing he had definitely moved closer since you’d started working. He was sitting a little ahead of you, but his body was turned to be angled towards you. When he caught your surprised look, he gave a small smile.

“I thought you wanted to come and see the art, Sam.” You teased, finding the confidence to make a quick pass about his position.

“I’m looking at it.” He quipped back without a moment of hesitation. You opened your mouth to reply, but couldn’t find any words, flustered at the proclamation. Without another word, he turned to look back at the canvas, leaving you to wonder if his words were satire, or if they had meaning. You took a few seconds to recover, but ultimately pushed the statement to the back of your mind. You continued on, dabbing blots of paint onto the picture and blending it gently. “You know, if you’re looking for a customer, I’d be happy to take this off your hands when you’re finished.”

“You couldn’t afford me, Kiszka.” You joked, using the tip of your finger to get a better blend on a saturated area. You fixed it up with a brush afterwards.

“You think so?” He hummed, not bothering to turn and face you.

“I know so.” You told him, wiping your hand on the apron. You weren’t sure if it was the months of tension catching up to you, or the exhaustion, or the smell of his cologne, but you were desperate for him to turn and face you again. “If you want it, it’s yours.” You breathed, deciding to drop the facade. “Once it’s graded, I have nowhere to put it.”

“How much do you want for it?” He asked, still facing away from you.

“Free, for you.” You said softly, a smile creeping up on you.

“Absolutely not.” He turned now, finally meeting your eyes. “You worked hard on it, you used your own materials. I’m giving you something for it.” He said, finality dripping in his tone. You couldn’t help but shift under his gaze, the authority sending a pleasant jolt of electricity through you.

“Think of it as a token of friendship.” You whispered, unable to stop yourself from looking over his features. The admiration in your eyes was impossible to overlook.

“Friendship?” He questioned after a moment of silence, a new sense of confidence washing over him. “Ouch,” he said, the same cocky smirk playing on the corner of his mouth. You bit the inside of your lip, feeling your breath catch in your throat. You weren’t so willing to fall for the idea that he may have felt the same way. Instead of turning away, he watched you, hoping you’d make a notion of reciprocation. After the shock wore off, you started to understand that he was being serious.

“Courtship?” You corrected yourself, feeling your heart drumming against your chest.

“I think I like that better,” he whispered, eyes falling down to your lips for a second before correcting himself. “Do you?”

“I certainly don’t have an issue with it.” You admitted. He watched you carefully, almost as if he was nervous to advance the situation any further. After a moment of deliberation, he reached his hand up and cupped your cheek, using his thumb to wipe off a smudge of paint.

“Some paint,” he informed you.

“Oh,” you breathed, eyes never leaving him. “Did you get it all?” He inspected further, tucking some hair behind your ear as he did so.

“Mm, I think I missed a spot.” He deducted. You set your palate and brush on the table, not wanting to miss a moment of him. He advanced further, but only slightly, pretending to look harder. You couldn’t fight back a smile. “Want me to get it?” He looked back up at your eyes, hand never moving from your cheek.

“Okay,” you nodded, playing into his act.

“You sure?” He asked again, mostly to tease, but he also wanted to ensure you were comfortable.

“Positive.” You promised. Without wasting any more time, he leaned in and pressed his lips against yours.

It was soft, but his lips felt like they were burning into your skin. You reached your own hand out, letting it fall to the back of his neck. You pulled him closer, careful not to get any paint on his clothes in the process. He ran his tongue across your bottom lip, practically begging for more. You were quick to respond, parting your lips and allowing him to deepen the kiss. His other hand slipped to your hip, letting his fingers gently sink into the skin. When he pulled away, you were both breathless and craving more. He let his forehead rest on yours, dreading putting any more distance between your bodies. You gave a smile, unsure of what else you could do to express how you felt. It was like months of torture finally derived into pleasure. No more watching him as he walked past, wondering about his name or what it would be like to say it, or hear him say yours. No more wondering what it felt like to be kissed by him, because now, you knew, and it was way better than you ever imagined. “I’m not sure if I got it.” He admitted, causing a giggle from you. He pulled you in for another kiss, this one shorter and more lighthearted.

“Is it gone?” You asked, intoxicated from the feeling of his lips.

“If I said no, would you believe me?” You could hear his smile in his words.

“Yeah, just because I’d like to kiss you again, though.” His thumb trailed over your cheek as he rested his hand on your jaw. He placed a small peck on your lips, causing you to hum in satisfaction. “I wanted to do that for a really long time.” You said. He pulled back a bit, taking in your expression.

“Me, too.” He chuckled.

“Really?” He gave a nod.

“Since the first time I saw you.”

“Me, too.” You copied his earlier statement. “It’s been a long couple months of admiring you from a distance.”

“Why’d you never say anything?” He questioned, hand still keeping a delicate hold on your face.

“I was scared. Thought maybe you’d think I was weird, or you’d be an asshole. You’re too pretty to be nice, too. It’s not fair.” You laughed. “I didn’t even think you knew I existed.”

“How could I not?” He was almost offended at the thought. You shrugged your shoulders. “You’re the only person I’ve been looking at.” You felt your cheeks heat up again, angry that you couldn’t hide your emotion. “Danny’s been begging me to talk to you for weeks, but I guess I was scared, too.” It clicked in your brain, suddenly making sense why he was so excited when you told him you thought Sam was cute.

“Doesn’t matter,” You told him “We know now.” He nodded, agreeing silently. “Did you want to go back to my room, maybe?” You realized your statement was a bit forward only after you’d said it, but you didn’t really care. You were too caught up in the moment to worry about moving too fast, or any what-if’s. Your small amount of worry was subsided when he immediately stood, holding his hand out to you. You took it, letting him help you stand.

Both of you made quick work at cleaning up the mess you made, buzzing with excitement at the idea of being alone together. Within a few minutes, you had his hand in yours, and you were guiding him back through the unfamiliar building. You checked the main floor before you emerged, making sure there was no security checking out the place. You knew they could be assholes, and almost always asked for an access pass. When you deducted the coast was clear, you pulled him through the lobby and out the front door. You were both in a fit of giggles by the time you reached the dorm building, fumbling with keycards to let yourselves in. The hallways were barren, almost all of the students already gone for their spring trips. It made your journey all the faster, allowing you to make it to your room in record time without any interruption.

You opened the door for him, motioning got him to go inside first. He did so, eyes immediately taking in the sight. He’d caught glimpses of your room, but never got the chance to really see it. There was artwork plastered over the walls, some yours and some from your friends, or even reprints of famous artists. There were ambient lights bordering the ceilings, set to a constant colour. There were paintbrushes and textbooks littering your desk, along with a few empty coffee cups. There were a plethora of Polaroids hung on your bulletin board, a receipt book of memories from the lifetime he wanted to so badly know about. The smell of your perfume lingered in the air and your bed, although messy, looked extraordinarily inviting.

You gave him a small smile, nervous about what he was thinking. “I love it in here.” He said, almost like he could read your mind. You let out a small sigh of relief. His eyes drifted towards the small clay sculptures you’d been messing around with. He leaned closer, smiling at the intricate detail.

“You should come over more often, then.” You smiled.

“I think you’re gonna have a hard time getting rid of me, now.” He laughed. The sound was more beautiful than any you’d heard before.

“Fine by me.” You admitted. “I’m gonna change out of these. Just give me a minute.” He nodded, watching you as you picked some clothes from your closet. You brought them to the bathroom, changing into the shorts and t-shirt. You looked at yourself in the mirror, nearly wincing at the sight. You quickly fixed your makeup with your fingers and brushed your teeth. You sprayed a bit more perfume on the new clothes, and rejoined him. He was still standing awkwardly by your desk, unsure of where to sit. “You can sit on the bed.” You smiled, finding the timidity cute.

“Oh, okay.” He said, looking towards the mattress and sitting down.

“Did you want to watch a movie?” You asked.

“Sure.” He grinned. You went to your laptop, quickly logging in and pulling up Netflix. “I don’t care what we watch.” He admitted. You put on one of the first recommended movies, turning the volume up slightly. You climbed into bed next to him, propping a pillow against the wall and leaning back. He did the same, settling next to you, much closer than anyone else would normally sit.

The intro credits rolled for the movie, giving you a moment to relax from the close proximity. You leaned into him slightly, but not enough to make it obvious. You pulled your comforter over your legs, snuggling into the warmth. You let your hand rest on top of the blanket as you eyed his sitting in his lap. You’d been on dates, but not once since you moved away from your hometown had you felt so adolescent in romance. It felt like you were going through the motions for the first time, completely blind in knowledge. You had no idea how to approach him, how to initiate any of the intimacy you’d been yearning for. You hadn’t noticed you were staring at him, but he certainly did. He looked over to you, giving you a small, soft smile. In response, it made your heart skip a beat.

He took the opportunity to reach over and slip his hand into yours, giving it a gentle, reassuring squeeze. The contact immediately subsided your anxiety, and you finally felt the ability to focus on the screen. After a few moments, you even found the courage to rest your head on his shoulder. The both of you watched the movie in silence, his thumb rubbing small circles over the back of your hand while you did so. As the film progressed, so did your comfortability. By the middle of it, you both had shifted dramatically. He was laying down, and you were resting atop of him, head nestled in his chest. His palm was firmly planted on your lower back, and his other gently tracing shapes into your arm. If you weren’t so energized from being so close to him, you were certain you could fall asleep in that position.

His hand that was on your arm moved to your face, fingers gently pushing your hair away. You closed your eyes, revelling in the feeling. He gently combed through the knots before settling his hand back on your cheek. He guided you to look up at him, sending a smile your way. You returned it, thinking that you would be fine if his face was the only one you could ever see again. “Thanks for inviting me over.” He said, admiring every feature. He knew that you were beautiful from every time he’d seen you before that night, but he realized that he’d been missing out on the best part. Having you laying with him, sleepiness laced in your eyes, made him realize that there was never a time where you were more beautiful. The innocent intimacy was overwhelming in the best possible way, leaving him to believe he could die happy as long as he got to hold you.

“It’s crazy, you know.” You sighed, propping yourself up on your elbow to get a better look at him.

“Hmm?” He replied, fingers dancing in the ends of your hair.

“I spent so long with this stupid little crush. I think because of it, I kind of put you on a pedestal. I forgot you were a person, too. I never believed that I could ever be with you like this. It always felt impossible.”

“I did the same thing.” He admitted, feeling better about it knowing you felt that way, too. “It’s weird. Dating in college is so much different than high school.” He chuckled. You nodded, agreeing wholeheartedly.

“It feels more… adult. In high school, I had to ask my parents permission to go on a date. Now, I can just invite you over whenever I want.” You thought aloud. “But I don’t feel any different. I still feel the same as I did a year ago.”

“Yeah,” he breathed. “It’s strange, knowing that we’re supposed to be adults, now. Especially when I still feel like a kid.”

“I think it’s a good buffer period,” you shrugged. “Pretend to be adults, get the experience, but still be able to make mistakes and learn from them. We get to practice living alone and being responsible, but still get to do stupid shit.” He laughed at your comment, but understood your point.

“I like you, Picasso.” He said, his hand landing on the back of your neck. You smiled at the words.

“I like you, too.” You admitted, eyes trailing over his face in admiration.

“I think it would be cool if we could do stupid shit and learn from our mistakes… together.” He mumbled, gaze focused only on you.

“What are you saying, Billy Joel?” You smirked as he rolled his eyes at the nickname.

“I’m saying,” he paused, eyes flickering down to your lips for a moment. “I would like to do this…. more often.” He articulated his words carefully, a bit nervous to say them.

“I think that would be quite alright.” You deducted. He visibly relaxed at your confirmation. “I… uh, I’m not good at this stuff.” You admitted.

“That’s okay.” He said, tangling his fingers in the hair at the base of your skull. He gently massaged his fingers over your scalp, causing a slight hum of pleasure from you. “That’s part of the making mistakes and learning from them, right?”

“Yeah,” you whispered, entranced in the feeling of him touching you. “I’ve never really had a boyfriend, or anything like that. Been on a few dates, but they ended pretty terribly.” You admitted. He cocked his head to the side, studying you as you spoke. “Like I said before, all of the boys from my hometown are all the same. I learned my lesson, and I realized nothing meaningful would ever come from it, so I just… didn’t.”

“You can talk about it, if you want.” He offered.

“There’s really not much to talk about.” You told him, remembering back to your high school years. “I don’t know if it was just the type of people that lived in the town, or if it was a teenage boy thing, but they just cared about getting laid and nothing more. It was unbearable, and I fell for it a few times, but nobody ever cared about me past the surface. I’ve never met a boy who wanted to know me like you do, or would even admit that they liked me out loud, for that matter. Nobody has ever asked me questions about myself, or my art. It was nice being seen as a person rather than a body.” You muttered the last part, hating saying it aloud.

“They have no idea what they missed out on, then.” He said, bringing you closer and placing a kiss on your forehead. “I’ve only known you, well, really known you, for a day. I already know that I’d be more than lucky to have a chance with you.” Your cheeks turned red, luckily covered by the darkness of the room this time. “They didn’t deserve you. Nobody should make you feel like you can only be loved in privacy. You’re worth more than that.” Your eyes fluttered up to meet his as your brain wondered if the interaction was real, or a grandly fabricated dream. You leaned forward, unable to satiate the need to kiss him again.

He accepted the gesture enthusiastically, using his hands to pull you impossibly closer. You brought your hand to his face, cupping his cheek. After a moment, you couldn’t help but want more. You shifted, trying your best not to break the kiss, placing both of your legs on either side of him. He broke away for a second, just long enough to prop himself up against the wall so you wouldn’t be uncomfortable. He wasted no time, capturing you in another kiss. His hands found your hips, fingers holding you firmly but delicately all at once. You snaked your hand to the back of his neck, holding him like you were scared he would get away from you. When you pulled back, you were both breathless with stars dancing in your eyes.

“We don’t have to do anything if you don’t want to.” He said quickly, mind still occupied with the thought of kissing you. “I’m okay if we just lay here and talk.”

“I want to if you do.” You assured him, finally feeling the months of tension reach the breaking point.

“Are you sure?” He asked, searching your face for an honest answer.

“Positive.” You promised, making sure he saw you were being genuine. “I just… I’ve never…yeah.” You trailed off, suddenly a bit embarrassed. He watched you, trying to piece together what you were saying. “I’ve never had sex.” You blurted out, realizing he wasn’t fully understanding you. “I mean, I’ve done some stuff, but never…” you breathed, your face burning for a whole new reason.

“Hey, it’s okay.” He reached his hand to your face, keeping your head straight so you would look at him. You were a virgin in all technical terms, only having awkward sexual experiences and moments with failed flings in high school. It wasn’t a virtue thing, more of a feeling of never finding the right person. With him, you felt comfortable, and were certain that it would be enjoyable. You didn’t have to have experience to assume that. You could tell just by looking at him, by how he spoke to you. He cared about your comfortability, and that was a major green flag. “We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do.” His tone was firm.

“No, I want to.” You said quickly, making sure he knew. “I just… I want you to have a good time, and I’m just nervous, I think. I don’t want to… disappoint.” He let out a chuckle, shaking his head at the blasphemous idea.

“Yeah, that’s not even a possibility.” He shut the fear down almost as soon as it sprouted. “I’m gonna have a good time because I’m with you.” He promised. “I don’t expect anything, or anything like that. I’m more concerned with you having a good time.” He said, bringing your face down to place a soft kiss on your lips. “We’ll take it slow, okay? Make sure you enjoy yourself.” He mumbled, his mouth only millimetres away from your own. “That sound okay?”

“Yeah,” you breathed, giving a small nod. You could feel his smile from as he kissed you again.

“You can tell me to stop, or slow down, or whatever you need at any point, okay?” He explained when he pulled back. You nodded. “You can tell me what you like, too. Don’t be shy.” You nodded again. “I need to hear the words, baby.”

“Okay.” You verbally confirmed. He tapped your thigh, silently letting you know he wanted you to get up. You did so, allowing him to move over to the side.

“Lay down for me,” he said, his tone had authority but it was incredibly soft, not wanting to make you feel uncomfortable. You laid back, eyes locked on his face. You were still anxious, but he was easing it more by the second. He turned onto his side to face you, guiding your face to his once more and connecting your mouths. You kissed him back with more neediness than before, excited by the idea of his hands on you. He slipped his fingers under the hem of your shirt, letting them dance over your skin so you could grow accustom to the feeling.

As he became familiar with the feeling of your body, he took his chance to deepen the kiss. You couldn’t help but let a few small moans of delight out, only fuelling him further. He went slow, working you up to speed. He didn’t want to rush you, or push you too far. He let you take the lead with progressing any further, waiting until you made a move to take an article of clothing away. When you tugged at the hem of his shirt, he moved back from you so he could pull it over his head. You let your eyes fall over his exposed torso, feeling your stomach flutter at the sight. He smiled at your expression, but didn’t say a word in fear of you feeling embarrassed. He made a move towards your waistband, watching your eyes intently as he did so. You gave him a nod of encouragement, letting him know you were okay. He hooked his fingers through the sides and slowly pulled the shorts from your body. You sat up and removed your shirt, too.

His breath caught in his throat at the sight of you in just your undergarments, having to do for a moment just to appreciate the view. “Gorgeous,” he hummed, lowering his head to you once more. He left a trail of gentle kisses across you collarbones, letting his hands trail over your exposed thighs. The minuscule touches were driving you crazy; you had no idea it could feel so good to be admired by someone. His lips moved downward, skipping over your chest and landing on your sternum. He started to get sloppier the further he progressed downwards. By the time he reached your navel, you were practically a mess. He looked up at you, eyelids heavy, taking in every detail of you. The way your chest rose and fell while you breathed, the way your lips stayed slightly parted, the way your hand felt tangled in his hair. It was driving him crazy.

He moved up again, motioning for you to lift your back from the bed. You did as he wanted, allowing him to snake his arms around you and unclasp your bra. He pulled it from your body, discarding it carelessly on the floor. He sucked a sharp breath through his teeth when he finally saw the full view. He was nestled between your legs, one hand planted beside you on the mattress, holding him up upright. His other hand returned to you, resting on your rib cage as light as a feather. He looked to you for permission before doing anything else. “I’m okay, I promise. I’ll tell you if I’m not.” You appreciated his consideration, but you were beginning to feel a bit desperate for more. He didn’t say anything, just brought his hand to your breast and brushed his thumb lightly over your hardened nipple.

The feeling was new, but very welcomed. The small touch sent a jolt of emotion through you. You watched him intently, anticipating his next movement. He brought his mouth to your nipple and pulled it into his mouth. You let out a shaky exhale at the sensation. He flicked his tongue over it a few times, really becoming familiar with you. When he pulled away, you couldn’t help but feel a bit disappointed at the loss of contact. He smiled at your sigh of discontent. “Feel good?” He hummed.

“Yeah,” you breathed. He sat upright on his knees, bringing both of his hands to your hips and hooking his fingers through your underwear. You bit the inside of your lip, enthusiastic but still a bit nervous. You lifted your hips from the bed, allowing him to pull them off with ease. He tossed them to the floor, not caring where they landed. He was only concerned with you, now fully naked and laying beneath him. He caught sight of your face, noticing that your eyes were looking away from him.

“Hey,” he whispered. You finally found the courage to look up at him. “You okay, beautiful?” You were glad he disregarded your earlier statement, finding it much easier to communicate with him if he initiated it.

“Yeah, just nervous. It’s nothing you’re doing.” You promised.

“You want to stop?” You shook your head, unable to think of a worse idea. He didn’t immediately jump back to action at the expression, but spoke again after a few moments. “We’ll go slow, okay? This is for you. I wanna give you a good time.” You felt a smile growing on your lips at his words.

“Okay,” you affirmed. He leaned down, placing a soft kiss on your lips. You felt like you could live in that moment forever.

“Don’t have to be shy, or nervous. Promise I’m gonna take care of you.” He said as he pulled away. “Just tell me to stop, or slow down if you need to. You’re in charge.” You managed another nod as he sunk back between your legs. He laid on his stomach, head inches from your heat. You felt the anxiety lingering, but it was rapidly overtaken by excitement. He placed a few kisses on the inside of your thighs, one arm snaked under one of your legs and gently caressing the outside of your thigh. He brought his free hand to your cunt, fingers ghosting over the area. He looked up to you as if to ask permission. You gave him another nod, assuring him it was okay.

He slowly advanced, wanting to give you ample time to change your mind if you needed to. When you stayed quiet, eyes watching him with anticipation, he took it as a good sign. He ran his fingers through your folds, letting you get used to the feeling before doing anything else. You bit into the inside of your lip, trying to wrap your head around the unfamiliar sensation. It was definitely different when someone else was touching you, you noted. He gathered some of your arousal on his fingers. He spread the wetness to your clit, bringing his thumb to the sensitive area and slowly rubbing light circles into it. Your breath caught in your throat, the feeling taking you by surprise. His eyes flickered to your face, feeling a bit of satisfaction at the sound. You looked down at him, meeting his gaze and feeling a different type of pleasure at the sight.

“How’s that?” His voice was quiet, barely noticeable if not for your intent focus on his every action. “Does that feel okay?”

“Yeah,” you said, less enthralled in the movement of his hands than you were at the look on his face. He had a small smile playing on his lips, but the admiration for you he held in his eyes was worth more than words. He didn’t speak again, but kept his focus on the pattern of his thumb. He applied a bit more pressure, watching your face for a reaction. You let in a sharp intake of breath, feeling the sensation change from unfamiliar to pleasurable. His jaw clenched slightly, the sound running straight through him and settling in his bones. It was small, barely there, but it was blissful to his ears.

He worked at you for a few moments, gentle and loving with every move. It felt good, the nervousness almost completely gone, but there was enough there for you to hold yourself back. Your noises were limited, mostly from fear of embarrassment. You were so caught up in the worry of looking dumb that you were almost overlooking the scene before you. It didn’t deter him, though. If anything, it only drove him further. He was aching too hear the beautiful sounds begging to be let out, and he’d be damned if he couldn’t get them out of you. You watched him closely, not wanting to miss a moment of his presence. He leaned forward, letting a line of spit fall from his lips onto his fingers. You swallowed hard, the small action sending a rush of pleasure through you.

He ran his fingers through your cunt again, making sure the lubrication didn’t go to waste. His middle finger slowed and eventually stopped just before your entrance. “Tell me if you’re uncomfortable, okay?” He asked, but his tone was more of a demand. You nodded, too caught up in the idea of his fingers almost inside of you to worry about anything else. After a second, he slowly sunk his finger into you, studying you for any sign of discomfort. When you went without protest, he fully pushed his finger in, letting his thumb fall back on your clit. He continued his circles, now adding the stimulation of pumping his finger into you. You let a breathy moan out, unable to hold it back anymore. “That’s it baby,” he practically groaned, ecstatic to hear the noise. “You’re doing s’good.” The praise, although unexpected, was very well received. Knowing that he was enjoying himself solely by pleasuring you was a fantastic feeling. Knowing that he was only concerned with you feeling good was enough to satiate the anxiety.

He continued his pace for a while, eventually adding another finger when you felt you were ready. You were a mess, caught up in the pleasure but worried, too, because you hadn’t felt the creep of an impending orgasm. His hand was steady, never wavering, and his eyes were locked on you. Every so often, he pressed his lips into the skin on your thighs or your hipbones, just as a small act of affection. “Sam, I-I don’t know if I’m gonna cum.” You admitted, voice shaky and a bit defeated.

“You will,” he promised, unfazed by the statement. “Don’t be nervous.”

“I just…” you let out a sigh, frustrated with yourself. “It’s not you, it’s me.” He pulled back, halting his movements.

“I can stop if that’s what you want, baby.” His words were coated with sincerity. “Or are you just worried you can’t cum?” He inquired.

“I don’t want you to stop, I’m having a good time. I just don’t know if I can.” You explained, feeling embarrassment settle in your chest.

“I’ve got all night.” He said, shrugging off the worry. “Can’t think of anything I’d rather be doing.” He gave you a smile.

“I want you to have a good time, too, though.”

“Oh, I am.” His tone changed from gentle to firm. “Don’t worry about that.” You watched him with uncertainty, but the look in his eye was nothing but affirmative of his statement. “Don’t worry about anything. Just lay there and focus on how it feels, okay?” You nodded. “No worries about if you’re gonna cum or not, no worrying about me having a good time, just relax and enjoy the feeling. If you don’t cum, we’ll try again next time.” Your heard sped at the realization that he was planning on this being more than a one-time thing. It was comforting, knowing that he was learning about you so intimately, but wasn’t planning on running. He didn’t want to get your clothes off and never speak to you again like the majority of boys you’d ever known.

“Y-yeah, okay.” You replied. He cocked his head to the side, wondering why the hesitation was so present. “You, uh… next time?” He couldn’t help but grin at your question.

“I mean, yeah, if you want that, of course.”

“Yeah, I do.” You rushed out, hoping you hadn’t made him feel otherwise.

“Then it’s settled.” He hummed. “Not just the sex part, though. The dinner and the hanging out was great, and I’d very much like to do that, too.” You let out a small giggle at his words, finding the explanation cute.

“Me, too.” You assured him.

“Breakfast tomorrow?” He asked, a smirk on the corner of his lips. He started to move his fingers again, taking you by surprise. You let out a gasp at the suddenness, immediately feeling the pleasure return.

“S-sure,” you breathed, giving him a nod. He decided to stop messing with you, wanting to ensure you were as comfortable as you could be. He worked himself back up to his earlier pace, making it nearly impossible for you to think of anything else. He let another trail of spit fall onto his fingers, making sure it wasn’t too dry for you.

After a few moments, you did start to feel a little less insecure. His eyes were watching you, studying every minute detail. He noticed the rise and fall of your chest speed as he continued pumping his fingers in and out of you, the way you occasionally pulled your bottom lip between your teeth in attempt to silence yourself. He watched how your eyebrows furrowed slightly when he brushed over your clit just right, and how your eyes stayed almost permanently shut. He thought you were the most beautiful sight he’d ever seen. Eventually, a blissful moan slipped from your mouth as his fingers hit the perfect spot. His eyes rolled back slightly, soaking up the sound. “That’s it, baby.” He encouraged you, fingers never stopping.

The words of motivation helped ease your tension. Your stiffness dissipated, your shoulders relaxing back on the pillows a bit. Your neck let your head fall back, leaving you completely at ease for the time being. A few more short-lived moans fell from your lips, all hitting him with a stronger force each time. “Doing so good, princess.” He said, noticing the effect his words had on you last time. “Cum for me, baby. You can do it.” He whispered. The demand went straight to your core, and you started to feel a sensation grow in the pit of your stomach. It was a feeling you’d only ever given yourself; it was way more intense when produced by another person.

“Fuck, Sam.” You whimpered, a gentle warning that you were getting closer. His heart drummed against his chest, clearly excited at the obscene proclamation. He took a risk, removing his thumb from your clit and lowering his head until his lips were touching you. You didn’t realize what he was doing until his tongue darted over the sensitive nerves, causing an involuntarily buck of your hips. He used his hand that was hooked under your leg to hold you down on the mattress.

Your fear of not being able to cum was quickly diminished with the new, even more unfamiliar feeling. It was heavenly. You let a low groan out, feeling the knot in your belly tighten. You slipped your hand down and tangling your fingers in the roots of his hair. He pulled his mouth off you only for a second, just to get one more praise in. “Taste so good, princess.” He said, slipping his thumb back in place of his mouth. You could only whimper in response, already missing the feeling of his tongue. “That’s it, baby. Look at you,” he whispered the last part more to himself than anything else. He only let his eyes hover over your expression for a moment longer, returning his tongue to you.

It didn’t take long to get to where he wanted you to be. Within a few minutes, you were gripping at his hair, panting and moaning, your orgasm begging you to let go. His tongue was moving at a steady pace, and his fingers curled with every re-entry, hitting a spot inside you that nothing ever had before. You let your head fall back, feeling the pressure reach its peak. A wave of pleasure overtook you, setting every nerve in your body on fire. You managed his name through the slur of moans, clenching around his fingers as you came. He only tapered his speed when the intensity began to die down. He removed his mouth first, then slowly pulled his fingers from you. His eyes flickered towards your face, lust clouding his eyes as he did so.

He slowly moved upwards, placing a few kisses over your collarbones and up onto your neck. You finally found the strength to open your eyes and look to him. He caught your gaze and gave you a dopey smile, eyelids heavy and your arousal glistening on his lips. “That’s my beautiful girl,” he hummed, wiping his chin with the back of his hand before leaning in for a kiss. “I’m so proud of you.” He whispered as he parted from you. He placed another kiss on your lips, sweet and full of emotion. The anxiety that had been plaguing you on and off was now gone, replaced solely by a desire for him that you’d never felt for another person before. “Did that feel good?”

“So good, Sammy.” You said, your lips still ghosting over his. You could feel his erection straining against his sweatpants, pressing into your leg.

“My name sounds so good when you say it like that.” He sighed, one hand roaming your exposed torso. His touch was light, tickling the sensitive skin over your rib cage as he did so.

“Thank you,” you whispered, resting your cheek against his, basking in the affection.

“Don’t have to thank me, princess.” He replied. “If anything, I should be thanking you.” You let out a small laugh at his words, finding his gratefulness charming. You reached up and cupped his cheek in your hand, lifting your head to pull him into another kiss. He was hesitant to let you go when you pulled away.

“Do you wanna…?” You trailed off, feeling a bit too embarrassed to finish the sentence.

“Do you?” He asked.

“Yeah,” you breathed, never more sure of yourself in your whole life. He gave you a smile, making a move to stand. He undid the drawstring on his pants, then pulled them down, ridding himself of them and leaving himself clad in only his boxers. You couldn’t help but stare at him, eyes wandering but eventually settling on the bulge barely contained by the fabric. He noticed your stare, a smirk making its way back onto his lips.

“Condoms?” He asked, catching your attention. Your eyes widened, realizing that you didn’t have any.

“Oh, I uh- I didn’t really expect… I don’t..”

“That’s okay,” he chuckled. “I have some in my room. I can go get them.” You couldn’t help but feel a twinge of jealousy, realizing that he’d been keeping them for a reason. You pushed the thought away, not wanting to focus on the idea of him being with someone else. He was here with you, and that’s what mattered.

“I, uh, I am on birth control, if you’re clean.” You squeaked, slightly embarrassed at the statement.

“Are you sure? I don’t want you to be uncomfortable.” He said, his tone firm.

“Yeah, I am.” You assured him. “Like I said, as long as you’re clean.” You repeated the earlier comment, just wanting to be sure.

“I am,” he promised. “It’s been a long time since… yeah.” He let out a small laugh. You couldn’t help but feel better knowing he hadn’t been sleeping around, either.

“Then yeah, I’m okay with it.” He gave a nod, making a move to take off his boxers. You watched in admiration, excited to finally see him the same as he was seeing you. He kicked the fabric with the rest of the growing pile of clothes. He stepped back towards the bed, noticing your eyes never leaving him. “You’re… very pretty.” You whispered, unable to find any better words to describe him.

“I think you’re very pretty, too.” He smiled, nestling back between your legs as he grabbed a pillow from beside you. “Lift your hips up, princess.” You did as he said and he slipped the cushion underneath you. “Should make it a bit more comfortable.”

He guided your legs up slightly, not enough to bend you in an awkward position, but enough to make it easier for both of you. “Will it hurt?” You finally blurted out, the question begging to be spoken all night.

“May be a bit uncomfortable at first, but I’m gonna try my best to make sure it doesn’t.” He said, catching your gaze. “We can take it as slow as you want. If you want me to stop, just tell me.”

“Okay.” You replied, voice quiet. You were nervous, but very aware that you were in good hands. It was his only intention to make sure you enjoyed yourself. You watched as he spit on his hand, rubbing himself for a moment.

“You okay?” He asked, wanting to be sure.

“Yeah.”

“Don’t be scared to talk to me, baby.” He reminded. You nodded, eyes only focused on his hand that was he was stroking himself with. He moved a bit closer, letting the tip of his dick rest against your entrance. He let you get used to the feeling before going any further. “You tell me when you’re ready.”

“I am.” You weren’t lying; the anxiety and nervousness was fully expected, but you were more than ready to have sex with him. You were sure of that before you’d even spoken with him, and it was only solidified further when you saw how accommodating he was being with you. He waited for any hesitation, but when none was given, he slowly pushed his hips forward.

You closed your eyes, trying your best to stay relaxed. He only pushed in a few inches, wanting you to adjust before continuing. “That okay?” He asked. You nodded, reaching out for his hand. He took his own from your leg and accepted the offer, intertwining his fingers with yours. He thrusted forward a bit more, studying your expression for a hint of discomfort. When he bottomed out, you let out a small sigh of relief.

“Not as bad as I thought it would be.” You noted. He laughed quietly, happy you thought so.

“You’re doing so good.” He whispered. “You feel so good.” His words sent a jolt of arousal through you, enjoying the praise more than you imagined you would. He slowly built up a pace, moving his hips with caution. Once you’d fully realized the sensation was less than uncomfortable, you relaxed against him. After a few more moments, you began to enjoy the feeling.

“You can go faster,” you sighed, a ghost of a moan in your words. He was hesitant to do so, but he gradually sped his thrusts, admiring your expression. When he clued in to the fact you were enjoying yourself, he couldn’t help but let a groan escape his lips. Your eyes snapped to his face, thinking that was the most beautiful sound you’d ever heard. His pleasure ridden expression was enough to induce an orgasm on its own, you deducted.

He reached his hand between your legs, letting his thumb find your clit again. He continued his pace, now applying light pressure onto the sensitive bundle of nerves as he circled his thumb. The combined sensations caused a moan from you. Your fingers tightened against his hand, a silent expression of pleasure. “Fuck, Sam.” You sighed, letting your head fall back onto the pillows.

“Look so pretty like this, baby.” He mumbled, trying to keep the speed of his hips and his hand the same. The pet names were unexpected, but you loved hearing them come from his mouth, especially when they sounded like that. “Wish I could have you like this forever.” He sighed, losing himself to the feeling a bit. It didn’t take long for another knot to form in your belly. With the consistency of his movements, it was much easier to get there than it was the first time. Sam noticed the slight change in your demeanour, the increase in the noises you were making. He focused on your face, wanting to watch you this time, feeling a bit cheated out of the moment the first time. “You think you can cum again, princess?” He asked, eyes burning into you.

“Y-yeah,” you stuttered, looking up at him. “Feels so good, Sammy.”

“Come on, baby.” He sounded as if he were begging you. “Doing so good for me.” With his encouragement, you felt your orgasm creep up again. You tried your best to keep your eyes on him, wanting to appreciate him as much as possible. He sped his thumb slightly, causing your breath to catch in your throat. His gaze never wavered, an unspoken plea for you to let go. It only took a moment before you came the second time. Your head fell back again, eyes screwed shut and mouth permanently agape. His jaw was clenched, holding himself back from his own release at the sound of you crying his name. “That’s it,” he moaned, wishing he could engrave the picture in his mind forever. As much as he wanted to cum, too, he was hoping to get one more out of you before the night came to an end.

The pressure from his thumb lightened, but his thrusts sped. You didn’t have time to recover, unlike the first time. The sensitivity was overtaken by the pleasure of him inside you, making it the only thing you could focus on. You looked back at him, realizing your mistake as soon as you did. He was still staring at you, eyes now a bit feral. The muscles in his jaw were taut, and he was quite unfamiliar to you, now. Although different, not in a bad way. It was intense, but far from menacing. You were captivated in the details of his stare, finding yourself unable to look away. He was breathtaking, and you couldn’t believe you were lucky enough to have him in such a way. You couldn’t believe that you had the power to drive him to such a feeling.

“You can give me one more, baby, I know you can.” His motivation was clouded with a bit of dominance, giving you the impression that he wouldn’t be pleased with himself if he couldn’t give you another orgasm.

“I don’t know, Sammy.” You groaned, unsure of yourself but still fully immersed in the feeling of him inside you.

“You can, princess. You can do it.” His chest was heaving with every breath, partially due to his movement, but more to do with desire. There was a glisten of sweat on his forehead, illuminated by the dim light flooding through the window. You didn’t think you’d be able to cum for the first time, let alone a second, or a third. The only anxiety you had left in your body was one fearing you’d leave him disappointed. Rationally, you knew he’d be content with whatever happened, but the louder part of your brain craved to give him exactly what he wanted. It wasn’t out of fear, but solely because you wanted to. From the minute he’d given you that first stupid smile all those months ago, you knew you wanted to be exactly where you were at that moment, and you’d be damned if you didn’t give it your all.

His patience and gentleness with you the whole night was endearing, but for you, the novelty of it being your first time had worn off, and the months of sexual tension was reaching its peak. You were both completely starved for each other in the best way possible, neither of you wanting to disappoint. Sam kept his pace steady, his thumb pressing into your clit again. To both of you, the idea of another orgasm not being reached was out of the question. “I can, but you have to cum with me.” You begged.

“That’s what I like to hear,” he grunted, letting out a long exhale. He knew that wouldn’t be an issue, he’d been holding himself back from the minute you’d started fucking. He rationed with himself as another string of moans left your lips, forcing himself to believe that waiting would be far more satisfactory than finishing before you. “Cum for me, angel.” The new term of endearment was unlike the others; this one hit you violently, such a graceful term for such a filthy display. You let out a cry of pleasure, your third climax hitting you without warning. It washed over you with necessity, as if you needed it to survive. He finally let go of your hand, fingers finding your hips to hold you on him as he came, too.

The room echoed with sounds of pleasure and obscene words, the essence of the moment settling into the walls and solidifying its place. The memory would never leave, and you wouldn’t want it any other way. He let out a sigh, finally losing his composure and resting gently atop of you. He placed tender kisses along your collarbones, small gestures of affection and appreciation to let you know he still meant everything he said to you. After you both came back to reality, he slowly withdrew from you. He tried to keep the mess minimal as he did so, wanting to keep the cleanup simple so he had more time to hold you before the night was through. “You should go pee, don’t want you to get a UTI.” He mumbled. You managed a nod, sleep calling to you like never before. Your mind and body were beyond exhausted, unable to keep up with the whirlwind of events.

He helped you up and to the bathroom, leaving you to your business. You cleaned yourself up and removed what was left of your makeup before returning to him. He gave you a dopey smile and a kiss on the head before going to do the same. You took a seat on the bed, mind still buzzing with excitement at the thought of what happened. When he came back out, he pulled his boxers back on and picked up his t-shirt from the ground. He handed it to you, almost nervous of rejection. You took the piece of clothing and slipped it over your head, more than happy to be wearing his clothes. “Did… did you maybe want to stay with me tonight?” You asked, nervous he’d say no. He took a seat beside you, pulling you into his arms and laying you both down on the mattress.

“Was hoping you’d ask.” He mumbled, pulling your back to his chest. He nuzzled his head into your neck, not caring about the tickle of your hair on his face.

“Thank you,” you finally said after a few long moments of silence.

“What are you thanking me for?”

“I don’t know,” you laughed. “That was… fantastic. You were fantastic.”

“I’m just happy you had a good time. That’s all I wanted.” He hummed, hand snaking under your shirt to rest on your stomach.

“I really did. I.. uh, wanted to do that for a while.” You said, rolling your eyes at your own awkwardness.

“Oh, yeah, me too.” He said, as if it were obvious. “All year I felt like I was in middle school again, crushing on the prettiest girl who didn’t know I existed.”

“I knew you existed.” You whispered, calmed at the knowledge you’d both been feeling the same way. “I thought the same about you.”

“Seems like we were both a bit dumb, then, Picasso.” You could hear his smile in his words.

“Guess so, piano man.” You both fell into a silence again, but like all the other ones, it was nothing short of comfortable. You felt yourself melt into his touch, sleep begging you to close your eyes.

“You’re okay, though? You’re not sore, or anything? You’d tell me if you were, right?”

“Yeah, I am, Sammy. Promise.” You reassured him. He’d done an excellent job at taking care of you and ensuring you were comfortable. It was the best possible scenario you could have imagined for your first time.

“That’s good, I just want to make sure.” He whispered. You settled into the mattress, prepared to go to bed. “So, if we’re talking experience wise, like a three star review?” He broke the quiet once more, causing both of you to fall into a fit of laughter.

“Mmm, I was thinking more of a five star, actually.” You pretended to ponder.

“Don’t stroke my ego, Picasso.” He dismissed the compliment.

“Maybe we’ll have to try it again sometime, then I can give a proper review.” You moved your hand under your shirt, too, resting it on top of his. He laced your fingers together, more than accepting of the contact.

“I think that would be quite alright.” He placed a kiss to your neck, just below your ear. It sent a shiver down your spine. “So it was good enough to make you want to do it again,” he noted. “I’ll have to put that one on my resume.” You laughed, shaking your head at his antics.

“Goodnight, piano man.” You said, finality in your voice. He propped himself up, trying his best to lean over you for another kiss. You turned your head back to meet his lips, much more confident in the action, now.

“Goodnight, Picasso.” He settled back in behind you, closing his eyes, too. “I can’t wait to take you to breakfast in the morning.” No more words were exchanged, but you both fell into a slumber with a permanent smile stuck on your lips.

506 notes · View notes

joshsjipple · 2 months

Text

Lions and Tigers and Bears

SAM KISZKA X FEMALE READER

A/N: Thank you so much for the love on my last two posts! It truly means so much, I love you all! As a token of my appreciation, here's some Sam.

Word Count: 3.7k

WARNINGS: 18+ as always! graphic sexual content, angst, rough sex, sassy sam, unprotected sex (i'm awful, i'm sorry) dirty talk, oral sex (m/f/rec), fingering, overstimulation, daddy kink, small sir kink, slapping, slight choking, language, breeding kink, cum play if you squint, degradation, minor cock warming, p in v, some dom sam etc etc.

╰┈•┈୨୧┈•┈╯

Your brows furrow at the man sitting across from you. You should be happier, considering it's your spring break and you and your closest friends pulled together enough money to drive a giant RV across the US. In fact, you’re sitting in Arizona, a beer in your hand, a fire in front of you, and a blanket of stars above you.

But you’re not happy. You’re far from it actually.

It was Grant’s idea to invite Sam Kiszka in the first place. You know Sam, everyone knows Sam. He’s the campus’s princess, half because he’s pretty like a woman, half because he plays gigs for the frat parties. But no one sees how he is with you, the snarky rude comments, and insulting looks. You can barely stand him.

He sits on the other side of the fire, giving you a perfect view of his stupid face. He’s blabbering about something no one cares about, his hands flying around his area. You hope he smacks himself in the face.

You’re usually not this feral towards him. You two clearly don’t get along, but it’s not like you fight like cats and dogs all the time. As you drink from your can of beer and watch Sam continue his story, you think back to this morning.

It’s 8:00 am, and being the only early bird on the bus, you sit sipping your coffee outside the trailer in a lawn chair. The sun is stretching across the horizon for miles, blessing your tan legs with its warmth. Birds chirp around you, the wind barely blowing. This is what you were made for.

As you connect your lips to the rim of your glass, the door opens behind you. You’re surprised to see someone up and quickly turn around to see who will be joining you. Of course it’s Sam. You turn around rather quickly and sigh to yourself. You hear him scoff behind you, pretending to take offense to your actions.

“Ouch, that hurt.” he says.

“Oh please.” you say, sipping from your glass. “What are you doing up so early anyways?”

“Going for a run.” he explains, moving next to you and tossing his dirty running shoes in your lap.

The dried mud from his previous run breaks off the soles of the platforms, falling apart in your lap. A few clumps splash into your coffee and you feel your blood begin to boil. Quickly, you begin scraping the dirt off your black shorts.

“What the fuck, Sam!” you screech, picking up his shoes and throwing them at his stomach. He covers his abdomen and laughs in victory, clearly enjoying the whole situation. His annoying laugh only seems to anger you even more. What the fuck is his deal? “Is this funny or something?” You fume, throwing chunks of dirt at him.

“It’s hilarious.” he admits, still laughing.

“You’re such a child.” you shout, noticing the dirt in your drink. “It’s in my coffee, Sam!”

“It’s in my coffee, Sam.” he mocks you, making air quotes.

“Why the fuck did you even come? No one wants you here, you just always have to interrupt, don’t you?” you yell.

Sam freezes before you, the corner of his lips tugging into a grin. “What do you mean? You want me here.”

“In your dreams.” you roll your eyes although your heart beats a bit faster.

“I came to keep you on your feet. It ruins me knowing you’re having a good time.” he crosses his arm.

You pause. “I can’t even tell if you’re joking or not.”

“Oh, I’m not. You get everything you want. You’re a spoiled brat who treats everyone around you like shit. So yeah, I begged Grant to let me come so I could make you fucking miserable. And look, it’s working.” he spits.

You’re raging at this point, your breathing is noisy. Without thinking, you toss your glass of iced coffee at him. He jumps, but it’s too late. The liquid coats his outfit quickly, his skin becoming even darker with the added residue. His face is a bright red, his teeth gritted together tightly as he stares at you in disbelief.

“I’m the child?” he throws your words in your face, his nostrils flared.

You regret it immediately but it’s too late to go back so you march inside, slamming the door dramatically behind you. You and Sam’s bickering must have woken up your friend, Tiffany, because she’s standing in front of you in her robe. Her jaw drops as she looks out the window to see a very drenched and very pissed Sam. She glares at you like a mother silently scolding her kid.

Just thinking about the situation again makes your heart beat faster. And there he is, sitting so innocently, making everyone laugh at his jokes. Of course he’s the loved one, while you’re getting the silent treatment from half your friends for trying to ‘sabotage’ the trip. Bull shit. This trip was ruined the second Sam got on the bus.

You jump out of your thoughts, deciding to pay attention to whatever is so funny. Sam’s all smiles, his hand resting on the girl’s knee beside him. She laughs loudly. Nothing Sam says could ever be that funny.

“I mean, I didn’t know it happened. I walk out of the shower with my towel around my waist saying ‘where’s everyone at?’”

The girl, Abby, laughs again, her hand covering her mouth. Sam enjoys it, and watches her through the gleam in his eyes. Motherfucker. Without meaning to, you scoff and roll your eyes. It must have been louder than you thought, because the laughter around you subsides and all eyes fall on you.

“Is something wrong, Y/N?” Sam cocks his head to the side. You glance around before settling in on your drink. “No please, enlighten us.” Sam challenges, removing his hand from Abby and leaning on his knees.

You swallow, your attempt of remaining civil disappearing with our patience. You cross your legs and begin to speak. “Everyone knows that story's fake.”

“Is it? Hm, I didn’t know you were there. Then again, you are easy to forget about.”

“Sam!” Grant and Tiffany say in unison. Abby only giggles, scoring another point with Sam.

You grit your teeth together, a sheen of sweat covering your face.

“Fuck you, Sam. Fuck you.” your voice cracks as you stand and disappear into the van for the second time today.

Angry, hot tears line your bottom eye-lid. You’re not upset by his words, you couldn’t care less, but it’s the way you can’t even defend yourself or you’ll be the one in dog house.

You sit on your bed, hands in your lap and take a deep breath. You’re shocked when you hear the RV door open again. Expecting it to be Tiffany, you open the door before she knocks. To your utter dismay (and surprisement), Sam stands in front of you.

“For fuck’s sake.” you attempt to shut the door but his hand catches it and pushes it open, sending you falling backwards slightly. “Get out!”

“Nope.” he says, popping the ‘p.’ “Gotta work this out.”

“What do you mean? It’s literally all your fault.” You sit back on the bed and Sam shuts the door behind you before standing in front of your position.

“Is it?” He cocks an eyebrow.

“Yes!” you shout. He smirks at you, as if he knows he has some form of hold over you.

“I don’t know. I think I’d stop it if it didn’t have such an effect on you.'' His voice sounds like silver. You cross your legs, confused by feeling beginning to ache between your legs again. “Mhm, exactly. You think I don’t notice, but I do.”

He squats in front of you so you’re face to face. His eyes stare into you, burning a hole in your mind. “Notice what?” You hold your ground.

“This.” he taps his finger on your kneecap. The action sends knives shooting up your arm. You suck in a hasty breath and watch as Sam grins. “I bet you’re just pooling in your panties.”

His words make your head spin. “I’m actually drier than I’ve ever been before.” You lie. He knows you’re lying by the way his tongue drifts over his bottom lip.

“Didn’t your parents ever teach you that lying never gets you anywhere?”

“Nope, because I’m spoiled.” you stick your tongue out at him.

“A spoiled brat. Get it right.” he purrs, his face inches from yours.

Your cheeks are a bright red, your stomach dancing with emotions. You’ve never been so turned on before, and the fact it’s Sam who’s causing it has you flabbergasted. Your eyes stare into Sam’s as you both fight for dominance. You cave, your eyes flickering down to his bare chest that his denim shirt leaves exposed. Your mouth falls open, and you pray Sam hasn’t caught it, but you know better.

“Interesting.” he says, placing his hand that was once on Abby’s thigh, on yours. His long fingers dance on your bare skin, fire sprouting wherever he touches. “You’re spoiled and used to getting everything you’ve ever wanted. I bet you’ve never even said ‘please’ or ‘thank you’ before. Am I right?”

You can barely understand him because the feeling of his calloused fingers digging into your thigh has blood rushing to your ears. Instead, you nod slowly.

“So I’m gonna ask you again. Are you pooling between your legs right now, Y/N?”

The shit-eating grin on his face makes your jaw tighten. Still not ready to let him win, you shake your head no. Sam doesn’t like your answer so he grabs your cheeks with one hand and presses his face against yours. His breath is hot and your knees attempt to close. Sam’s leg stops that from happening. Immediately, you open your legs, allowing his knee to sit against your throbbing center. The contact makes you shutter. You move your hips slowly, hoping he will take it as an innocent movement.

“Fine, be a fucking brat. I can feel you on my knee right now, grinding yourself against it. Just say please and I’ll fuck you so good, baby.” he growls.

You’re shaking beneath him, fighting your own conscience on what to do next. After a minute of pooling in your own thoughts–and between your legs– you answer. “Please.” you squeak, barely above a whisper.

“Sorry, gonna have to speak up.” he toys with you, moving his knee just right so it scrapes against your clit.

“Fuck. Please, Sammy. Do something.”

Sam captures your mouth, his tongue slipping into your hot tunnel. They fight for dominance while your hands unbutton his shirt. Sam wins, and tears your top off of your chest, exposing your hard nipples. The cold air in your room has you gasping.

“You’re gonna buy me a new one.” You inform him as he stands above you to unbutton his jeans.

“Yeah right. Just ask daddy to, he’ll do it in a heartbeat.” he mocks you.

Rolling your eyes, you slip your shorts off, revealing a pair of black lace underwear. Sam notices immediately, his eyes engulfing the way you look in the light.

“You’re daddy.” you say, twisting his words. You watch his cock twitch in his underwear and he tosses his jeans to the side, placing a condom on the side of the bed. “Someone liked that.”

Sam growls and grabs you by your waist, flipping you onto your stomach in one swift motion. He pins you down with his arm, his cock brushing against your ass. You squeeze your eyes shut and rest your cheek against the mattress. Noticing the condom, your eyes read the packaging.

“Magnum? You wish.”

Sam hisses as he grinds his hips into your ass, pressing his length against you. You moan at the feeling of him hard against you.

“That mouth gets you in so much trouble. How about we fill it, huh?”

Suddenly, you’re on your back again and being pulled up so you’re sitting again. The sight of Sam pulsating in front of you could make you cum alone. You get on all fours, shaking your ass when you notice he’s looking. Biting his lip, he reaches over you and smacks the fat of your cheek. You half yelp, half moan at the feeling.

“Get up here.” he directs, tilting you up by your chin. “Tongue.”

You shamefully listen right away, sticking your tongue out for him to see. He bends down and lets a line of spit dribble on the flat of the muscle. You swallow it, his cock straining even farther from his briefs.

“Thought I was spoiled and you were gonna make me beg.” you rub your hand over the tip of him.

“Oh you’ll beg, alright.” he pets your head before pulling his underwear down and off his legs. His cock springs free, bouncing in front of you. “But I’m sick of your voice. I’m gonna fuck this shit-talking mouth of yours. The only sound coming from your mouth will be gags.”

You stare at his length. You know he’s feeling pretty damn good about himself as you sit gobsmacked in front of him. You take him into your hand and stroke him a few times, your eyes dazzling at the precum on his tip. He sucks in a tight breath, watching you work him with your hand. He pulls back, your hand mid air.

“Sam-” you whine.

“What do you say?” he asks, taking himself into his own hands.

Sitting in front of him, still on your knees, you roll your eyes and clamp your mouth shut to show him you’re not saying it. He shrugs and begins picking up the pace of his hand. His arms are flexed, along with the muscles in his stomach. He’s gonna make you watch.

“Please, daddy. Let me suck your dick. Gag me with it, do whatever. I want it so bad.” you give in, shaking your ass again.

In one swift motion, Sam’s cock is stuffed down your throat, his hand tucked away in your hair. The gag that leaves your mouth is loud and pornographic, making Sam pull out for a second. It doesn’t last long, and he thrusts his hips back into you. Tears stream down your face, your throat burning as you focus on your breathing. His breaths waver above you, turning you on even more. He pulls himself out entirely, brushing the top of your head.

“Good girl.” he breaths, dragging his finger over your bottom plump lip. “Show me how bad you want it.”

You nod and take him back in your mouth, your hand working the parts you can’t reach. Swirling your tongue, he moans heavenly above you. You cup his balls and flick your tongue over his tip. He leans over your body, stuffing himself back down your throat. Suddenly, the feeling of his fingers running themselves over the damp material of your underwear has your concentration lost and you choke around him.

“So wet.” he smacks your cunt. “I knew you were a fucking liar. How about this? For every lie you’ve told me equals one orgasm. That should teach you.”

With him down your throat and the idea racing through your mind, you squirm against his fingers. Once again, he pulls himself out of your mouth, a string of saliva being the only thing connecting you. You whimper as he takes himself into his hand and smacks the tip on your cheek.

“You’re perfect.” he coos as you lay on your back. “Gonna eat your pretty pussy.”

He pulls your underwear off your legs and instantly dives into your heat. Your back arches into him and he uses this as an opportunity to slide his hands under your ass and hold you closer to his mouth. You cry and dig your hands into his hair, pulling him into you. He hums into you, his mouth kneading your sensitive bundle of nerves. Just as your orgasm approaches, he pulls away for a second to spit on you, his fingertips hitting your clit. You jump and scream his name.

“Sam! I didn’t-”

“Oh, I know. Did you want to?” he asks cockily.

“Yes?!” you say.

His hand meets your cheek before digging into your hair. “Watch the attitude.”

“I’m sorry, sir. Please, let me cum.”

“Fine.”

Without warning, he drags his tongue through your folds, his eyes piercing your soul. You rock into his face as he laps at your arousal. The sound of wet, sloppy noises fill the camper. His tongue pokes at your entrance and you prop yourself up on your arms.

“Fuck, Sammy. Don’t stop. Right there, daddy. Eat my cunt, please!” you beg, under his spell. His arm wraps around your thigh and rubs rough circles into your clit. With one specific sharp jab, an orgasm rips through you.

You kick from under him, his name and a dozen profanities falling from your lips. As you come down from your high, you notice Sam’s motions have only intensified.

“Sam, I’m done. Fuck, Sam!” you try to shove him away, but his mouth is glued to you.

He pulls back. “You’re not done. Not until I say so.” he slips a digit into you. “Cum on my fingers, pretty girl.”

You cry as he digs back in, his mouth skillfully working circles into your heat as his finger jams into you. He adds another finger, and you feel the familiar feeling rise in your stomach again. You’re a moaning, wet, pathetic mess under him as you buck into his face. His fingers hit your G-spot repeatedly, your body jerking each time he does. Without warning, the most powerful orgasm slashes through your body. Your legs shake furiously under you and tears stream down your face.

When you finally come back to earth, Sam’s just removing his fingers. He licks them clean, eyes staring abc into yours. You breathe heavily, your mind racing and heat spreading to all parts of your body. He crawls over you and you instinctively wrap your legs around his waist. He kisses your lips firmly, his hand on your cheek. Moving down, he licks your neck and nips at the skin while you regain your strength.

“So good for me, baby.” he says gently to you. “You look so pretty when you cum and you taste even better.”

He reaches for the condom but you grab his wrists. “I’m on the pill. Cum in me, please.”

“Whatever you say, baby.’

You grind against his skin, marking his groin. He’s leaking onto your leg and you’re horny all over again. Sam reaches down, rubbing your clit a few times before lining himself up with your entrance. He sits there, still as a rock.

“Daddy, please.” you cry. “Please fuck my pussy I’ll be so good for you.”

“That’s it, good girl. Look at you, crying and begging for my cock. Where’s that bratty attitude?”

You let out a long breath, an idea popping into your head. “Jesus, Sam. Fuck me already or I’ll have Grant do it.”

That does it. In record timing, Sam’s stuffed inside of you. His pubic hair brushing against yours. His hand covers your mouth as he slams back into you a few times. You’re shattered below him, your hair sticking to your sweaty face, moaning for more. His hands tug at your hair as he props himself on his elbows above you.

“You think he could fuck you like this? Make you cum and beg for it the way I do?” he growls. He almost sounds hurt. You mumble beneath him. “Could he?”

“No!” you yelp into his ear as he rocks into you. “No one can fuck me like you, Sam.”

“Yeah that's right.” he wraps his hand around your throat as he throws a leg over your shoulder. “So tight. So pretty. My girl. Fuck, I’m gonna cum.”

He pulls out and strokes himself. He explodes on your cunt, drenching it with a hot liquid. You watch him, his eyebrows knit tightly together and his teeth gritted as he cums all over you.

“Fuck.” he cusses. “That’s so hot. I’m gonna fuck it back into you, yeah?”

He drags the tip of his dick through your folds that are coated with his arousal. You moan as he slips back in, dragging his cum back into you. He rocks against you a few times before picking up the pace.

“God, yes!” you cry, the feeling of his cum inside of you. “Use me.”

“My fucking pussy. Fucking it so good, just how you like it. Look at you cum-hungry slut, a whimpering mess as I fuck my cum back into you.” he’s fighting inside of you, and you feel yourself gripping him.

“Yes, Sammy. So close.”

“Gonna get you pregnant so no one else will want you. I’ll have you all to myself.” he continues, lost in the moment. “Say thank you.”

“Gah. Thank you, Sam. Thank you, thank you, thank you.” you cry, nails digging into his back as you cum around him. You’re bucking under him, thrashing and crying as you pulsate around him.

He falls onto you, your breathing synced. You lay there in silence for a few moments, neither of you willing to move. With Sam’s head on your chest, you run your fingers through his hair, gently tugging and massaging.

“Sam,” you say. He lifts his head up in response. “God, you’re so pretty.” You freeze to watch the smile form on his face. “I’m sorry about this morning and earlier.”

“No, baby, no. I’m sorry.” he says, rubbing your skin with his thumb. “I was so awful to you.”

“It was mutual.” you agree.

“I don’t mean it. I mean, yeah you’re a bit spoiled, but not really. I just think I find it attractive when you’re mad at me.” he admits.

“I like when you’re mad at me too.” you giggle, still running your fingers through his hair. “Do you want to stay the night with me?”

“Yes, please. I don’t want to face anyone after this.”

“Why? Do you think they heard us?” you ask.

“Oh baby, I think the whole state heard us.”

#greta van fleet #sam kiszka gvf #sam kiszka #sam kiszka smut #jake kiszka smut #jake kiszka #josh kiszka smut #josh kiszka

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aflame4goinghome · 21 days

Text

Bad Reputation

s.f.k. x reader

chapter one

Series Summary: As a local jazz pianist in Nashville, you never fear being in the spotlight. Living in the same city, you’ve become very familiar with Sam Kiszka, a young musician who’s managed to gain a bad reputation in the city and throughout the country within his band’s fanbase. You’ve always just ignored Sam’s promiscuous and impulsive ways, but when you’re approached by the band to help repair his image, you’re given an offer you can’t refuse.

Word Count: 6k

Chapter Warnings: swearing, drinking, mentions of sex, mentions of smoking (tobacco & marijuana), flirting, arguing, sexual tension… you get it ;) (no smut… yet)

A/N: Hi guys! I’m so excited to share this series with you all. The idea came to me and I think it really ended up so good, I can’t wait for you to read it. Let me know in the comments or in my messages if you want to be added to the taglist for this series! See you soon :)

Listen to the playlist here :)

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The club was dark and crowded as you entered through the front door and made your way backstage to begin setting up. Your shoulders brushed past other people in the crowd, making it difficult for you to get to the back. On your way there, you paused for a moment, deciding to stop at the bar first for a much-needed drink.

“Hey, Sebastian!” you said, leaning over the bar as you greeted the bartender. You’ve been playing here for so many years, these guys were some of the closest friends you’ll ever have.

“Y/N, hey! Need a pick-me-up?” he said, turning his attention to you fully for a moment as the bar was bustling with other customers. Better make this quick.

“Can I just get a double rum and coke? Only a little bit of ice in it,” you asked, smiling politely as he nodded and began making your drink.

You take a second to look around the club as you wait, feeling a bit nervous as you take in how many people are actually there. You’ve played big crowds before, sure, but tonight felt extra intimidating for some reason.

You had sensed for a few months now that your big break might be coming soon, at least that’s what you’d hoped. You’ve grown to be quite popular in the greater Nashville area, but your reach hasn’t gone much further than that. You hope to branch off and move to New York one day, to play there professionally full-time.

For now, though, you make your living by playing gigs weekly, posting your music online, and taking a few brand deals here and there. It’s working well, and you make enough money to get by, but you’re not entirely fulfilled.

“Double rum and coke for the lovely lady,” Sebastian said, sliding your drink across the bar toward you with a smile. You return his smile and take it in your hand, tipping it toward him as a thank you.

“Thanks, Seb. I’ll be back later, you know I’m gonna need it,” you muttered, taking a long swig of your drink before squeezing your way through the rest of the crowd and finally making it to the backstage door.

Pushing the door open, you turned the corner toward your usual dressing room and started to set yourself up. You take your coat off, place it on the small couch with your tote bag, and then turn to the mirror to touch up your makeup before you take the stage in 15 minutes. You hear the door crack open, so you turn your head to look and see who it is.

“There you are, Lucy!” you exclaimed, moving to the door to greet her with a hug. “Where the hell have you been? I didn’t see you at the bar before.”

“Sorry, babe, Seb had me refilling the kegs downstairs for him… lazy bastard,” she scoffed, moving past you to plop down on the couch. “That’s a man’s job! That shit is so heavy!” You chuckle at her, finishing off your drink and then turning back to the mirror to finish applying your lipstick.

“He’s building up your strength, Luce! What happened to equal rights?” you laughed, making eye contact with her in the mirror as she rolled her eyes at you.

“Whatever, Y/N. I don’t see you lifting any heavy things,” she mutters, crossing her arms and throwing her head back.

Lucy was probably your best friend in the whole city. You met her in high school, being in the same jazz band class together, and immediately clicked. She works at Seb’s jazz club part-time as a bartender and server, which is how you started playing there. You play plenty of gigs at other places too, but this place became your regular haunt, thanks to Lucy’s help. She asked Sebastian to give you a chance to audition 4 years ago, and you’ve been playing there ever since.

The two of you live together in a little apartment in Midtown, only a couple blocks away from the club. After graduating high school, Lucy decided to go to Belmont for journalism while you ended up just starting to work on your music full-time. You made ends meet and helped pay rent while Lucy went to school, and she’s worked to make it up to you ever since.

She’s in her last semester of graduate school now at Vanderbilt, getting a business degree with hopes of founding a newspaper of her own one day. At 24, she seems like she’s finally getting her life together, but for you, it feels like you’re only just getting started. You try not to compare yourself to her or anyone else, which was something your mother always nagged you about. You knew she was right, but you can’t help it.

Despite all of that, you’re sure that you’ll break into the industry soon. Seb had planned to hook you up with his buddy who works in one of the recording studios downtown to get you in and record your own stuff. He’s just waiting on your word to tell him that the album is ready, but you haven’t been able to finish it for the life of you. You’re not sure if it’s fear or perfectionism, but it just doesn’t feel finished to you yet. For now, you’re filling your time with gig after gig, hoping to find inspiration.

“Stop sulking in here and get back to work, I have to be out there in 5,” you say, turning around to give her a stern look. She scoffs at you and then stands up, walking out the door.

“Break a leg!” she shouts as she rounds the corner, leaving you alone once more.

You have to admit that you’re feeling nervous. You compiled a few originals to test out tonight with the crowd, hoping to get some excited reactions to some stuff that you planned to include in your record. You had a few classics in the setlist too, including your favorite arrangements of Misty and Lullaby of Birdland, to make sure that the crowd doesn’t get too lost. But you hope that you’re new stuff will keep them captivated.

You take a deep breath, brushing your hands down your dress a few times to straighten it out and taking one last look in the mirror before exiting the dressing room and heading toward the stage. You hear Seb announce your name as you turn the corner and stride onto the stage, flashing a quick smile at the crowd before sitting down at the piano.

The crowd hushed as your fingers plinked out the first few notes, and then you started your first piece. Your hands glided across the keys with ease as you closed your eyes, getting lost in the music. Your first original piece went off without a hitch, the crowd cheering loudly at your extensive solo. They were enraptured by the covers you chose and your confidence was truly shining brightly off of you.

The set ended as quickly as it began and the club erupts in applause as you played the last note and stood up to take a bow. You look out into the crowd and see your friends back at the bar, flashing them a wide smile. Your eyes pan across the rest of the room, seeing all of the people cheering for you. This was what you were made for, you were sure of it. This is what you’re meant to do.

As your eyes stop at the back corner of the room, your expression quickly drops when you see the group at the large booth. It was a group of men from a band that you were very familiar with, bumping elbows at all the music venues in Nashville. It wasn’t the band specifically that you had a problem with, but just one specific man who always gave you trouble. Sam Kiszka.

“Fuck,” you mutter under your breath, flashing one more smile at the crowd before rushing backstage to your dressing room. You were so not in the mood for his antics tonight, not after putting on such a good show. The rest of his brothers, you could deal with, but not him. You refuse to let him tear down the confidence in yourself that you only just built up.

You grabbed your things in your dressing room and then hurried back out to the bar, needing to get a refill on your drink before even attempting to socialize with anybody.

“Seb– another, please. Pour it heavy,” you lament, resting your elbows on the bar and putting your head in your hands. You hear him chuckle as he starts your drink and you let out a low groan.

“I take it you saw them, then?” Lucy said, leaning against the bar next to you. You nodded as your head still sat in your hands, not bothering to look up at her. “Y/N, they’re really not that bad, I don’t understand what your problem is.” Your head shot up and you glared at her frustratedly.

“Not that bad? Sam takes every opportunity he can to belittle my music and talent every time I see him,” you scoffed, taking your drink from Seb and taking a long sip. “And when he’s not berating me, he’s trying to get in my pants.” Lucy rolls her eyes, stepping behind the bar to grab some drinks and put them on her tray.

“As if I’d ever stoop that low. That man’s been in bed with every single woman in Nashville. Probably even taken women, too!” you ranted, crossing your arms and taking another sip.

“Just ignore him, babe. I know the rest of them would like to see you,” Lucy said, lifting the tray to rest on her shoulder. “These are their drinks. Just come with me.”

She walks away with the tray toward the other side of the club to find their table. You linger for a moment and then let out an annoyed groan, throwing back another sip before reluctantly following behind her.

You followed Lucy with your head down, trying not to look too eager or willing to go with her. As you approached the table, Josh was the first one to catch a glimpse of you, a toothy smile growing across his face.

“There she is, the woman of the hour,” Josh remarks, opening his arms wide to pull you in for a hug. You accept, squeezing him tightly before pulling away. You smiled shyly as the others greeted you as well, except Sam, of course. He was distracted, seemingly complimenting the top Lucy had on. Barf.

She’d already been there, done that, which isn’t exactly surprising. Your best friend always had an affinity for one-night stands, never really wanting to settle down or get too serious. You never cared at all, until she told you one morning that she went home with Sam after a show one night. She promised that she didn’t plan to do it again, claiming she used him just as much as he used her, and you left it at that.

She kept her word, never going home with him again, but that didn’t stop him from flirting with her every time he came in here. You rolled your eyes as you watched him glance down at her cleavage subtly, but not subtle enough for you not to notice. He finally notices you standing there, turning toward you with a smirk. Here we go.

“Y/N… that was quite the set,” Sam said, crossing his arms and leaning against the wall next to their booth. Josh and Jake excuse themselves to go outside for a smoke, and Danny takes a seat back in the booth, scrolling on his phone. Alone, great.

“Thanks, I think,” you say sarcastically, taking a sip of your drink as you look up at him suspiciously. You didn’t trust that look on his face one bit, and you were determined to find out what he was up to.

“Oh, that wasn’t a compliment,” he said smugly. “If you’re gonna arrange music, at least write a song where the chord progressions actually make sense together.” He raises his beer bottle to his lips and tips his head back to take a sip. You scoff at him, trying to take a deep breath before you blow this entire thing out of proportion.

“Samuel, you wouldn’t know a good arrangement even if it hit you in your smug face,” you bit out, still doing your best to hold yourself back. You swing back the rest of your drink, letting the cold ice hit your lips before slamming it down on the table next to you. “It was a B flat and E flat blues. Who crowned you the king of jazz composition?”

His smirk grew wider across his face as his back left the wall and he began to tower over you. You sucked in a deep breath, wondering if you should've just kept your mouth shut, but frankly you didn’t care. His long hair frames his face as he looks down on you, his eyes dark and cold.

“I did,” he answered, his face growing uncomfortably close to yours. “You’re sexy when you’re angry.” His tongue skims his bottom lip as his eyes bore into yours. No. No. He is not gonna win this round.

“Is that why you enjoy bothering me so much?” you asked, keeping your eyes locked on his, insistent on not backing down. His lips turn upward into a smug smile as he leans back away from you, placing his back on the wall once more.

“Maybe. Or maybe I just think it’s fun,” he answers, smirking down at you.

“You’re such a fucking freak,” you scoff, crossing your arms. You notice a change in his eyes at your words, and you start to wonder if you took it too far.

“You’ve got no idea, sweetheart,” Sam says, stepping forward again to stand over you.

“Gross,” you mutter under your breath, looking up at him, trying to keep a straight face.

“Now, I don’t think you mean that,” Sam whispered, leaning down further to speak into your ear. “I think you like it, actually.”

“You wish,” you state, still maintaining eye contact. His mouth twitches and turns up into a smirk as one of his arms snakes around your waist.

“All that blushing you’re doing says otherwise, doll. Even in this dark club, you can’t hide it,” he whispers against the shell of your ear. Fuck.

“That’s what I thought,” he smirked. You watch silently as Sam puts his beer bottle down on the table and then reaches into the front pocket of his shirt, pulling out a lighter and a blunt. “C’mon Daniel, let’s go outside.”

Sam shoots you a wink before nodding his head in Danny’s direction and the two of them walk toward the front entrance. They pass the twins on their way out, who both turn to look at you with puzzled expressions as they sit down at the booth. You sit down next to Josh as you try to adjust the annoyed look that is so clearly plastered across your face.

“What the hell was that all about?” Jake asked, raising his eyebrow at you and taking a sip from his glass of whiskey sitting on the table. You crossed your arms and rolled your eyes, not even having an answer to give.

“The usual, of course. Can’t seem to leave me alone,” you muttered. The two of them let out a breathy laugh as Josh reaches over to put his arm around you.

“Don’t worry your pretty little head about him, darling,” he offers, smoothing his fingers along your shoulder. “It’s all just show.”

“For it just being show, it sure does feel pretty insulting,” you say, fiddling with your fingers atop the table.

“You’ll adjust eventually,” Jake says. “We like havin’ you around, so don’t run off just yet.” A smile grows across your face at Jake’s subtle attempt at an olive branch.

“I’ll tough it out, I promise,” you answer. You suppose you can adjust to Sam’s antics to spend time with them. You could use all the friends in the industry as you could get.

“How long have you been playing piano?” Josh asks, taking a sip of his tequila soda.

“Oh, I started lessons when I was 6,” you answered with a smile.

“That’s sick, I started pretty young too,” Jake replies, resting his arms on the table. Bonding with successful musicians has been your dream and the fact that you’re getting along so well made you really happy.

“Yeah, so I’ve heard! Believe it or not, I am actually a bit of a fan of your band. Casually, of course,” you smile, trying to be chill about it. It wasn’t entirely a lie, you are just a casual fan, but you’ve definitely watched an interview or two as well, leading to you knowing more about them than you intended to.

“Oh, yeah? Which one of us is your favorite, huh?” Josh asks smugly, raising an eyebrow at you hopefully. God, the amount of testosterone in this room could be cut with a knife.

“Hmmm… Danny,” you jest, elbowing Josh softly. The three of you break out into laughter before you check your phone to see the time. 12:32 am. Yikes, it’s late.

“Well, I gotta head out, unfortunately,” you say, standing up from the booth. Before you had the chance to walk off, Josh stopped you.

“Hey, uh, we’re gonna be in the studio on Monday for a few hours to work on some new music… would you wanna stop by?” Josh asked, looking up at you hopefully. “It could be a cool way for you to get exposed to how the recording process works.”

“Oh, wow, that would be incredible!” you smiled. “That’s such a kind offer, thank you so much! I’ll definitely be there.”

“Perfect! I’ll text you the details,” he says with a smile, and you wave goodbye to them both and walk over to the bar to find Lucy.

“Ready to head out?” you ask, leaning over the bar toward her.

“Sure, let’s go!” she answers, turning around to grab her jacket and bag.

“God, I have so much to fill you in on…” you say as you walk out the door toward your apartment. You told her all about your brief run-in with Sam, and then Josh’s invitation to the studio as you walk down the street. She quite literally squeals when she hears the news.

“OH MY GOD, Y/N this could be it! This could be your big break!” she exclaimed as you turned the corner to the path to your building. “If you get in with their producers, this could really get you started! You have to make a good impression.”

“Don’t you think I know that? I’m freaking out! I really can’t screw this up,” you said as you turn the key in the door.

“You could never screw it up, babe. They’re gonna love you, I promise,” Lucy reassured you, hugging you tightly before branching off to her own bedroom.

All you had to do was get through the weekend, and then the day of your dreams will be all yours. Fuck, you don’t have anything prepared! As you shut the door to your bedroom, you rushed to sit down at your keyboard, turning it on. You pulled out your phone and opened the voice memos app, pressing start and then setting it down. You have to get a good demo down if you want to impress the producers at the studio and book a session there.

You spent all of Saturday and Sunday recording a few of your originals on your phone, taking dozens of takes to make sure each of them was perfect. This is it, it’s your moment.

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Your alarm goes off at 8 am, giving you two hours until you’re meant to meet Greta Van Fleet at the studio. Josh texted you yesterday with the time and address, emphasizing that you shouldn’t overthink it. He knew that you’d be freaking out, and he was right.

You’re hoping that a cool shower will wake you up and help you shake the nerves off. You get up out of bed, rub your eyes, and then grab your towel and walk out of your bedroom to the bathroom.

As the cold water hits your back, you start to think over the day that you have ahead of you. If everything goes the way you planned, then you might leave today with a record deal, or plans to meet up to make a deal. You appreciated Josh’s help so greatly, you really weren’t expecting it. He’s always been so kind to you, more so than the rest, but you figured that it was just the way he was. Now, it feels like he really has your back.

All you had to do was make it through today without any incidents with Sam. You hope that the other guys have already briefed him and told him to be on his best behavior, but you doubt that he’ll abide by that. You can hold your own, though, and you doubt that he’d pull something too obscene while working.

After drying off and getting ready to go, you find that you still have about 20 minutes until you need to leave. To pass the time, you sat down in your bed and opened up Instagram to scroll mindlessly for a little while until you had to drive downtown.

As you scroll down, your eye is caught by a post by The Nashville Fiddle, which is a local magazine. The Fiddle posts mostly about drama and celebrities, and you usually ignore everything they post, since you try not to give gossip the time of day. But this time, your eyes were stuck on their post, with a video of Sam Kiszka, belligerent and wasted outside of a club downtown Saturday night.

In the video, you can see Sam flirting with a girl outside of the club when a big, burly man comes up to him angrily. Clearly, this girl was taken, and her boyfriend was not happy. You can see Sam hollering back at him, getting in his face as he slurs his words before the man takes a large swing at him. Then, you see Danny show up behind him and pull him back, dragging him down the street, far away from the scene.

How could he be so stupid? Flirting with girls with boyfriends is bad enough, but it’s even worse to get into an argument and get caught on camera. He should know that he’s a public figure and that people can spread this kind of stuff around. What was he thinking?

You check the time and see that it’s about time to go, so you grab your tote, pick up your keys, and then head out the door. As you drive downtown, you take a few deep breaths. It’s not a big deal, you tell yourself. Everything will be fine.

Soon enough, you pull into a parking spot in front of the studio and put your car in park. 9:59 am. Just on time. You get out of the car, throw your keys into your bag, and then head toward the front door. After opening the door, you walked in and told the person at the front desk that you were meeting the band, and they directed you to the right studio.

As you enter the studio, you walk in to only find Danny sitting there. He looks up from his drum set and waves, standing up to greet you.

“Hey, Danny… where are the others?” you asked, hugging him and then taking a seat on a chair nearby. Danny lets out a long laugh, trying to compose himself before answering.

“Oh, they are never here on time. This is considered early,” he answers, smiling widely as he goes to sit back down at his set. “I wouldn’t expect any of them for at least another thirty minutes, if not longer.” You laugh along with him, tucking your hair behind your ear.

“Ah, Josh should have told me! Now I feel embarrassed for being so early,” you say, looking down at your phone for the time. 10:11 am.

“Nah, he just can’t admit that he’s always chronically late. He’s in denial,” Danny jokes. “Do you want anything while we wait? There’s coffee and tea over there.”

“Yeah, that’d be nice actually,” you answered, standing up to walk over to the coffee cart. “I’ll be honest, I’m not much of a morning person.” Daniel laughs, standing up to walk over with you.

“I’m not sure I’ve ever met a jazz player that was,” he says with a smile. “I think it’s just part of your DNA.” You laugh, nodding your head in agreement.

“You might be right. It’s not our fault, we play at night!” you say, pouring yourself a cup of coffee.

“Sam’s the same way, y’know. Stays up ‘til ungodly hours of the night, and then doesn’t roll out of bed until after noon,” he notes, laughing to himself. You laugh awkwardly as you add cream to your cup, cringing at the possibility of having anything in common with Sam Kiszka.

Almost as if he read your mind, Sam walked through the door, sunglasses blocking the dark bags under his eyes. He’s clearly hungover, rubbing his temples as he waltzes over to the cart and grabs the pot of coffee, pouring it into his own cup.

“Rough weekend, Samuel?” you asked teasingly, having already read about his escapades from this weekend. You can see his eyes roll behind the tint of the sunglasses as he takes a sip of his black coffee.

“Don’t start with me today, sweetheart,” he mumbled, pouring more coffee into his cup to make up for what he already drank, and then walking over to the corner to sit down on the sofa. He puts his feet up on the cushions as he takes a sip and then lays his head back against the armrest.

“See what I mean?” Danny asks, laughing as he walks over to his set and starts playing on his own, seemingly practicing. The idea sends a shiver down your spine. Could you and Sam be more similar than you thought? No, no way, you thought to yourself.

Not long after, Josh and Jake walk through the door and things can finally start moving. Josh walks over to make a cup of tea and then takes a seat on a stool, taking a slow sip. You walk over to him, hoping that his usual cheery disposition would calm your nerves.

“Good morning, lovely,” Josh smiled, patting your shoulder softly. “How are you feeling?”

“I’m good, I’m good,” you answered nonchalantly with a shy smile.

“Good. We’re still waiting for our manager, Jodie, to arrive, so just hang tight,” he says, taking another sip of his tea.

“Hey, you know what? How about you play us something?” he asks excitedly, his eyes lighting up. “Could be a good way to wake us up, huh?”

Your eyes shoot open, looking around the room at the rest of the guys. Danny is nodding excitedly and Jake walks over to his guitar stand, picking up his Gibson SG and slinging it over his head. Sam isn’t paying attention, his sunglasses have come off and his eyes are shut as he reclines on the couch.

“Well, okay… I guess it couldn’t hurt,” you answered, walking over to Sam’s keyboard next to the drumset. You turn it on and adjust the settings, giving it a funkier sound before taking a deep breath and starting to play.

You decide to play Higher Ground, by Stevie Wonder, falling into the groove of the intro of the song as your fingers move across the keys. Danny’s face lights up as he listens closely to what you’re playing, then starts playing along. Jake follows suit, adding his guitar into the mix, and playing along with you. Of course, everyone knows Stevie Wonder, but being able to play with a band was just so cool to you.

People keep on learnin’

Soldiers keep on warnin’

World keep on turnin’

‘Cause it won’t be too long

Josh sings along, his voice fitting perfectly in the range of the song. The four of you are really grooving now, and it is so fun for you. It’s been years since you’ve played with others, and you loved it.

You watch as Sam lifts his head from the couch, opening his tired eyes to look over at you all. For a moment there, you almost think that he might be smiling, but you shake it off. You’re surprised to see him rise from the couch and walk over, grabbing his Rickenbacker off the stand and putting the strap over his head. Oh, he’s gonna play along…

Sam starts plucking his bass, along with the rest of the song. You knew that they’d all played in jazz bands before, and this song was a staple, but it surprised you how easy it was to join together and play. It was almost like you belonged there.

As you start a short piano solo, their manager walks through the door and sits down on the couch. She seems to nod at you to keep going, so you finish your solo and then end the song. You’re suddenly caught by surprise as Josh starts applauding, smiling widely as he walks over to you. He stands behind you, putting his hands firmly on your shoulders, squeezing them.

“You’re an incredible talent, Y/N, truly,” Josh remarked, smiling from ear to ear as he left your side and went to sit back down. You smile shyly and get up from the bench behind the piano to go sit down on the couch with Jodie. The rest of the guys start talking cacophonously as you start your conversation privately with her.

“It’s true, you’re really good,” she says honestly, reaching out to shake yours. “I’m Jodie, it’s nice to finally meet you. I’ve heard so much about you.”

“Oh, you have? Thank you so much, it’s great to meet you. I assume it was Josh who told you about me, he’s the one who invited me today,” you answer, smiling shyly at the compliment.

“I first heard about you from Sam actually… he had a lot to say about your talent on the keys,” she says, catching you completely by surprise. Sam? Is she being serious right now?

“Did he now?... Interesting,” you replied, your tone feigning confidence. “Well, I’m honored to be here today. I’ve been meaning to finally get into a studio here in Nashville.”

“Yes, I heard from Josh that you plan on recording an album of original songs,” Jodie remarks. “I’m happy to have you here! Hopefully, we can get you to work a bit! Not to mention, it’s quite nice to have a bit more of a gender balance.” You laugh together for a moment before she gets up to greet the guys, going over the agenda for the session.

They go through a few new songs, trying to get it all down perfectly. You just sit and watch, absolutely mesmerized by watching the professionals work. You even escaped to the booth for a while to see the mechanics of the equipment, talking to some of the sound techs that work there. It was a really rewarding learning experience for you.

“Okay, that’s a wrap, guys! Good work today, we’ll be back here at the same time on Friday,” Jodie says. “Sam, can you hang back for a sec?” She walks back over to sit next to you on the couch, nodding her head to motion for Sam to join you. Once she’s certain that everyone else has left the studio, she starts talking.

“So, I’ve had an idea. Just hear me out,” she started, somewhat apprehensively. “Y/N, I was thinking about how highly the guys speak about you, and how much untapped talent you have.” Okay… this is getting weird.

“And Sam, I’ve been thinking about ways to improve your public image and get you out of your rut,” she finished, trailing off as she saw Sam’s annoyed expression.

“Okay, first of all, I am not in a rut,” he said, rolling his eyes and crossing his arms as he leaned back on the couch.

“That’s not the point,” she snapped back. “My point is that I think I might have thought of a way to solve all of our problems.” You raise your eyebrow at her, still not really understanding what she’s getting at.

“What could possibly solve both of our problems?” you ask suspiciously.

“Like I said, just hear me out…” she says, but Sam interrupts her.

“Jodie, just spit it out already,” he groaned, growing frustrated.

“I think you guys should pretend to date!” she finally spat out, looking nervously at your reactions. Your jaw dropped as she finished her sentence, unsure that you even heard her right. Sam, however, already shot up out of his seat and stood angrily above you both.

“No, fuck no, absolutely not. This is ridiculous,” he starts ranting, but she cuts him off.

“Just listen to me, Sam. You’d improve your reputation by having a charismatic and talented girlfriend, the fans would love her! And Y/N, you’d gain followers and fans for your music career, and our label can get you started in our studio. Boom, both problems are fixed.”

“No! How could I even pretend to be interested in him? It’s impossible,” you complained.

“Woah, okay, try not to sound too disgusted,” Sam said, crossing his arms with a scoff.

“Don’t act like you didn’t react the exact same way, you asshole,” you scoff, staring daggers into him.

“Whatever, it’s not the same thing,” he spits back.

“Whatever, this isn’t productive,” you admit, crossing your arms in your seat.

“Exactly. It won’t even be that bad. Besides, you’re both benefiting here! It’s perfect,” Jodie says proudly.

“Well, I don’t know about perfect, but I guess it does kind of make sense…” you muttered, looking up at Sam nervously. He raised an eyebrow at you, walking toward you.

“You want to be my fake girlfriend, Y/N?” he teased. You roll your eyes and stand up to be more level with him, hating him towering over you.

“Shut up, Sam,” you replied, a hint of pink tinting your cheeks as your eyes locked on his.

“So? You guys are in?” Jodie asked hopefully. You and Sam exchange a look, then look back at her and nod.

“Yeah. Yeah, we’re in,” Sam answered, looking over at you with a smirk before walking toward the door. “Now, are we done here? I’ve got places to be.” You roll your eyes and reach down to grab your bag.

“We’re done here, go,” you mutter, slinging your bag over your arm. Sam walks out the door as quickly as he had came in, and you follow soon after him.

As you drive back home from the studio, you think about all of the day’s events. You almost can’t even believe that you agreed to be Sam’s girlfriend, fake or not. But you have to admit that it’s going to be great for your career, this is exactly the big break you need. You feel confident that her choice to ask you was based on your talent, so the unconventional means of gaining popularity didn’t bother you.

It kind of excited you to be included with such a famous rock band like theirs– going on tour, going to the studio, seeing the magic happen. Having to spend time with Sam was just the price you had to pay to jumpstart your music career and get into the music industry. You’re not sure what type of a commitment this arrangement is going to entail for you, but you’re honestly kind of looking forward to it. You have to admit that “Rockstar’s Girlfriend” kind of has a ring to it.

•┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈••✦ ♡ ✦••┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈• Thank you so much for reading! Please leave a comment or send me a message if you want to be added to the taglist for this story, or if you want to be tagged in all of my stories! See you soon :)

Taglist:

@highladyofasgard @gvfpal @childinthegardenn @myleftsock @peaceloveunitygvf @gretasfallingsky @gretavanfan @itsafullmoon @jordie-gvf

#greta van fleet #greta van fleet fic #greta van fleet fan fiction #greta van fic #sam kiszka #sammy gvf #sam kiszka fic #sam kiszka x reader #enemies to lovers #sam kiszka gvf #greta van smut #greta van angst #gvf #enemies to friends to lovers #bad reputation #greta van fleet smut #greta van fleet fanfiction #gretavanfleet #sam kiszka smut

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shimmerwindow · 5 months

Text

i never really

They call it cuffing season, but you don’t have time for a relationship – finals are coming up, and it’s your junior year at your dream school. But there’s something about this guy, Sam, that makes you forget all about your degree. And his brothers seem to like it when he brings you around.

Pairing: Sam x female!Reader, Jake x female!Reader

Word Count: 70k (wip)

Cover by the lovely @bimbokiszka

This is a WIP that will be updated weekly-ish :)

General Tags: College AU, sexual content, friends to lovers, marijuana use, cigarette use, alcohol use, angst, debilitating levels of mutual pining, this is technically a forbidden twin fic

✧ indicates smut

Part One

Part Two

Part Three

Part Four

Part Five

Part Six

Part Seven

Part Eight ✧

Part Nine

Part Ten ✧

Part Eleven

Part Twelve

Part Thirteen ✧

Part Fourteen

Part Fifteen ✧

Part Sixteen

Part Seventeen

Part Eighteen ✧

Part Nineteen

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ageofnations · 1 year

Text

Carried Away // sfk

Summary: college roommates, friends to lovers

Word Count: ~8.4k

Warnings: 18+ only, smut with plot (and a shit ton of fluff), brief mention of insecurities, oral (f receiving), protected penetrative sex, let me know if i missed anything!

A/N: it’s been a while, i hope this makes up for it <3

“So you’re not going out or anything?”

He was scurrying about the room when he said it, which is why you almost didn’t hear the question in the first place. He was rushing in an organized frenzy, speaking around the toothbrush in his mouth while he slipped into the sleeves of his button-up. Over the television in front of you, you could hear the kitchen faucet turning on, the sounds of his brushing quickly accompanying it. You smiled at the mental image of him behind you, hovering over the sink as he prepared for his night out.

You never understood why he chose to spend his weekends like this, worried about who he’d see, what he was gonna wear, and what pick-up line he’d use first with the other partygoers.

“Nope,” you answered simply, snuggling a little closer to your blanket to solidify your answer. It was much cozier than what he was doing at least.

He spit the toothpaste out - an exaggerated noise that makes you wince - and paused. You imagined the stare he was giving you as he spoke. “You could come with me!”

You rolled your eyes at his weak attempt at persuasion, something you had gotten much too used to throughout your friendship. “And watch you get shitfaced and flirt with anyone that gets too close to you? Yeah, no I’d rather not.”

It wasn’t the first time Sam tried to convince you to accompany him at yet another party. It’s what he always did, on the weekends especially. When you’d try to hide away and catch up on assignments or much-needed sleep, he’d try to drag you out with him. You were beginning to wonder how he manages such a good academic status when he didn’t seem to be in college to actually learn.

He rarely knew what the occasion was that garnered the parties in question. Was it a frat party? What frat was hosting? A house party whose owner was unknown? A birthday party of a friend of a friend’s? The answer never mattered, but Sam was sure to be there. Said it “boosted morale,” whatever that meant.

There was only one time in which you fell victim to his coaxing. One night after a tough week where you were completely caught up, even ahead in some of the projects for various classes. You deserved the time to loosen up and stop focusing on your grades for once, and your roommate surely knew how to do that. He was your number one supporter when you told him you were considering his offer.

The night ended sooner than it began, with you leaving prematurely and telling him to call you when he needed you to pick him up. You tried to leave as quickly as possible, but not before you had seen his advancements on someone you knew was much less than what he deserved.

He was your best friend, and you couldn’t help being a little protective of him.

“Not my fault I have such a charming personality,” he called out.

That was one way to put it.

You couldn’t keep your eyes from rolling at his statement, but the sly smile on your lips showed that you were far from annoyed.

By the time he finished up at the sink, quickly disappearing into the bathroom to deposit his toothbrush, you were able to rid of the rosy color on your cheeks. But when he came back, you instantly felt the blush returning.

“You could at least invite someone over so you aren’t holed up by yourself on a Friday night. What about that friend of yours from chem?”

You tried to hide the fact that your eyes widened when you glanced up at him. He was only buttoning up his shirt, and you had seen him shirtless plenty of times, but there was something about seeing the tanned skin of his torso that would never get old.

Tearing your gaze away from him was the only way you could return to the conversation at hand. You had to take a second to remind yourself of who he was even referring to.

“Yeah?” You sneered. “And do what?”

“I don’t know. Paint each other’s nails and gossip or whatever it is that girls do.”

No matter how hard you tried to hold it in, a laugh escaped you. You hated how easily his comments could amuse you, no matter how immature. “You are a child.”

“Am not!” He whined defensively, letting out a laugh that matched yours. “I just want you to have some fun for once!”

“I will have fun. Right here on the couch with my shitty soap operas.”

It was Sam’s turn to roll his eyes at you, shaking his head as he made his way back to the kitchen and out of sight of you. “You could go pick up some more groceries. I used the rest of the almond milk this morning.”

You twisted your body so you could peer over the back of the couch at him, squinting your eyes in contempt as he nonchalantly sauntered to the cabinet for a glass to drink from. “So it sounds like you should go get some since you keep using it all.”

He waved a dismissive hand at you while he ran the cup under the tap. “Yeah, but now it gives you something to do!”

His head tipped back to take a quick swig before dumping the remaining liquid into the sink. You watched him continue to rush through the room, smiling at him stuffing his belongings in his pockets. “I’ll be back later tonight,” he promised.

“Call me if I need to pick you up.”

It was sincere, your offer. It was something you always said on nights like these, before he left for his next outing and you knew he’d probably be under the influence. He rarely took you up on it, always making friends with whoever remained sober enough to take him home, but he knew the offer still stood.

He also knew how you’d more than likely be asleep by the time he was ready to come home, and he wanted to avoid interrupting your slumber.

“Yes, mother,” he quipped, finally making his way to the door. He paused before stepping outside, long enough to shoot you a genuine smile and playful wink. “Bye, y/n.”

The break in his sarcasm made your face warm for the umpteenth time tonight. “Bye, Sammy. Have fun.”

The door was already shutting behind him as you heard him call out a faint “You too!”

And with a click of the latch, you were left alone in the living room you shared with your best friend, the soap opera on TV your only company.

————

Hours passed with no word from Sammy. You could imagine the fun he was having while you stayed glued to the cushion you sat on. You could see his smile as he flaunted his charisma to whoever would listen. How his pinkie would swipe across the bottom of his cup while he connected with the other partygoers. You knew he was having a good time, but for some reason, you still felt uneasy.

Your phone would wake you up if he called, but the idea of something happening to him while you were asleep worried you more than anything. It was your goal to stay awake for as long as possible, and you tried to do anything that would help you achieve that goal.

You hoped that a snack would give you more energy to endure the night, but you still found yourself dozing off. You even cycled through various channels whenever you felt your eyelids getting heavy, abandoning the series Sam left you with for a marathon of cheesy holiday romance movies.

It wasn’t long before you got bored with those though, the storylines much too repetitive and predictive. Soon enough, you couldn’t find an interest in guessing who the main protagonist would end up with or what the overall resolution would be.

But right before you let yourself succumb to your drowsiness, you heard the front door slowly open. You let yourself glance over at the doorway, the dim silhouette of Sammy barely visible from the soft light of the television.

He smiled once he saw you move, indicating he was waiting to see if you were awake before he spoke. “Hey.”

You returned the smile as a greeting, wiping at your eyes to wake yourself up a bit more. “You’re back already?” you asked through a yawn.

“Don’t sound too excited.” He was smirking through his jesting, shrugging as he continued. “Party was lame, came back to crash this one.”

“Oh yeah, you certainly crashed this party. Soap opera and all.” You rolled your eyes at him, an action that seemed to be routine no matter what you were talking about.

“I’m surprised you didn’t have anyone join you for such a titillating experience.”

He was practically dripping in sarcasm, but that made you feel that much more endeared by him. He still hadn’t moved from where he stood, perched against the wall across the room. It looked as if he were studying you, surveying to see just how good your comebacks would be.

You shrugged. “No one wanted to gossip with me while they got their nails painted.”

You thought your response was funny, inspiration coming back from his earlier quip, but he looked past the humor. His face contorted into something that resembled disbelief, and in one swift motion, he pushed off of the wall and crossed the distance to you.

“Are you joking? I’ll volunteer!” He tossed his wallet and keys on the coffee table in front of you.

“Sam, what-”

“I’ll be right back.” And before you could ask anything further, he had disappeared into the bathroom. You heard him rummaging around in the drawers and cabinets before he came back into view, clutching all of the nail polish and supplies you own. “I didn’t know what colors you’d want so I brought the whole thing.”

“Me?”

He gives you a sideways glance, as if you both had been planning to do this all night. “Yeah? You’re gonna let me do yours too, right?”

“I- I dunno.” It seemed valid to be slightly taken aback by his sudden enthusiasm for such an activity. It felt strange for him to even want his nails painted, even more so for him to want to do the work to paint yours.

“Oh come on, it’s only fair!”

He placed the various bottles on the coffee table before sitting on the cushion beside you, never looking away from you so he could further drive his point. Chipping away at your resolve, piece by piece.

You raised an eyebrow at him incredulously. “Sam, have you ever painted someone’s nails before?”

“I painted my sister’s once for a dance,” he said with a shrug, turning so his body was facing you and his legs were tucked under each other. He continued once he noticed your criticism was still intact. “She didn’t ask me to do her nails after that.”

“Then no!” You laughed. “What color do you want?”

His persuasion didn’t stop there. He perused your collection of bright hues and dark shades, finally landing on a light green polish as his choice. “You’ve got to let me at least try!”

You decided to ignore his statement for the chance to poke fun at his selection. You twisted the bottle in your hand, looking at the liquid with judgment. “Snot green? Really?”

He shrugged. “It looks like Sadie.”

Sadie. The neon pothos plant that sat on a table in the corner of the living room, soaking up the morning sun that would peek through the curtains. It was something you came across during a trip to the local farmer’s market. A plant that was so low maintenance but somehow barely hanging on when you first laid eyes on it. Sammy had insisted that you buy it so you both could nurse it back to health, and within minutes, he was carrying it to the car and discussing potential names for the ‘child’ you now parented together.

The color of the polish did match the plant’s leaves almost perfectly, now that you thought about it, but you had never made that comparison before. It didn’t seem like a color one would want on their nails, hence why it was mostly full and barely used.

You shook your head at him while you twisted to face him, mimicking his position as you shook the bottle in your hands.

“What do I do with these buckaroos?” Sam asked, his hands waving around wildly.

You grabbed his hands just as he began to shoot finger guns at you. “Calm down, cowboy,” you said through a laugh. “Just- here.”

Searching for the best placement for his hands, you finally decided to place one on your knee and the other on your ankle. You tried to ignore the fluttering feeling in your stomach from his hands on your bare skin.

“I can’t believe you just referred to your hands as buckaroos,” you teased under your breath.

The taunt earned you a squeeze to your knee from Sam, who knew the tickling sensation would make you giggle. “Don’t act like you’re too cool for me, y/n,” he warned. “You’re the one who spends your Friday nights watching… whatever this is.”

You followed his eyes to the TV screen, focusing just as the characters had just shared a passionate kiss in the snow, its artificiality painfully obvious.

You returned your attention to the task at hand, readying the brush for the first stroke on his nail. “And you’re the one who abandoned your sick party to get your nails done.”

He scoffed, but in the end, he remained silent. And you took that as a win.

Doing someone else’s nails is much different than doing your own. It takes more focus, awareness of the other individual’s movements and tremors, and precision to get the task done just right. But luckily for you, Sammy didn’t squirm as much as you thought he would. He remained perfectly still so you could finish pretty quickly.

When the polish dried - thankfully not too long after you completed it - you smiled at the job well done, glancing up to the boy in front of you to tell him you were finished.

“That’s it? Oh, this should be easy, then.” He lifted his hands to eye level, grinning to himself as he surveyed the results. He leaned over to the other polishes on the table. “What color do you want?”

You shrugged. “Surprise me.”

“In that case-” His decision was quick, and before you knew it, he was smirking at you and brandishing the same bottle of polish you had used on him just moments prior.

“Oh, not the snot, Samuel. You must hate me,” you huffed through a laugh.

“You don’t want to match me and Sadie? It’ll be like we’re one big happy family!” He seemed too excited for his own good, even if you were only half joking about denying him. And who were you to disappoint your best friend?

So you didn’t. You let him continue with the plan he was so enthusiastic about, watching as he eagerly unscrewed the top and got to work.

He had trouble finding the most practical placement of your hands, on top of the logistics of keeping the polish close without it being in the way. He tried to use the same technique as you, but it didn’t seem to be comfortable enough for him. Ultimately, you ended up holding the bottle in the hand not being painted while your other was held in his own.

With the proximity, you allowed yourself to take in the details of the scene. How his eyebrows were furrowed and eyes barely crossed in concentration. How the tip of his tongue would peek from his lips as he swiped the brush near your cuticles, careful to keep it as neat as possible. How his nose would twitch ever so slightly as if that was the only movement he could spare for the time being.

You also noticed some of his long, brunette locks threaten to shift from behind his ear, and you knew he was itching to tuck them back into place. Even his fingers were trembling a little, making you wonder if the task - despite being completely unnecessary - had made him a little more nervous than he let on.

It all would’ve made you giggle to yourself if you weren’t ordered to stay as still as possible.

“Stop staring at me to distract me.”

You tore your gaze from your conjoined hands to glance up at him again. It felt as if you had been caught in a bad lie, although it would be completely normal to ‘stare’ in this scenario.

Smugly, you answered with “I’m not.”

It wasn’t a lie. Maybe you were looking a little too intensely, but you were definitely not doing it to distract him. God forbid your nails actually look as if they were covered in slime.

“Well,” he said after rolling his eyes at you. “Stop it”

That made you giggle. The sense of frustration in his voice that you couldn’t quite find the basis of. He sounded almost like a child telling a bully to leave them alone.

“Do I make you nervous?”

You were mainly joking when you asked the question. Of course you’d like to know if there was even the slightest possibility that you affected him in such a way, but you weren’t brave enough to ask without the sarcasm.

But there was something about it that made him pause, the hesitation barely noticeable as he quickly returned to his duties.

“You wish,” he mumbled. “I just can’t concentrate when you look at me like that.”

“Like what?”

“Shh,” he cut you off with a swat to your thigh, his own giggles filling the space. “You’re moving too much.”

You glared at him with a halfhearted pout, frustrated at his impeccable ability to change the subject so quickly. Deciding you’d lean into the childish act, you pointedly closed your eyes. “I just won’t look at you at all.”

Maybe you were being a little juvenile, but where’s the fun in maturity?

It would’ve been within his rights to get annoyed with you, but instead, you could sense Sam’s head shaking in feigned disapproval. His voice was almost fond as he chastised you. “You are infuriating.”

Eventually, after a few beats of silence between you both, you felt him twist the cap back into the bottle and remove it from your hand. You waited until after you heard the soft clink of the glass being set back on the coffee table. Deciding he had probably had enough of your act, you peeked open your eyes, chancing to stand down and let him win whatever game you were playing.

What you didn’t expect was to see his lips pursed and approaching your fingers he still held in his hand. You felt your stomach twist into a knot of anticipation and nerves, but it immediately loosened with the realization of what he was actually doing.

Sam blew a cool stream of air on your nails, drying the wet polish more efficiently. The sensation made you giggle softly to yourself, relief bubbling from you.

He paused his actions upon hearing the noise. “What?”

You opened your mouth to speak, but once his lips returned to his previous action, you dissolved into another fit of giggles.

“Y/n, what is so funny?”

“It’s stupid, really,” you squeaked in between laughs, shaking your head in an effort to compose yourself and dissuade his interest in your hysterics. Seeing his raised eyebrow, though, proved you were unsuccessful. “I just- it looked like you were gonna kiss my hand, with the way you had your… nevermind. Just forget it.”

Although you started your explanation with confidence, seeing his expression turn from confusion into something more devious made you second-guess yourself. If anything, you expected him to laugh it off and continue what he was doing. You did not expect him to look almost… curious.

It was as if you had taken him by surprise, but his initial shock had mixed with intrigue. His mouth opened, but closed to form a knowing smirk before huffing a laugh. “If you wanted me to kiss your hand, you could’ve just asked.”

Although you tried to remain unphased by his words, the teasing quality of them made your cheeks flame. “And why would I want that?”

A simple shrug was all you received as an answer before he resumed the task, looking up at you with coy eyes and feigned innocence while air fanned over your fingertips. You noted that his lips were significantly closer to your hands now.

Attempting to regain your footing, you tried to come up with a quip of your own. “I think you’re projecting,” you accused with a humorless laugh.

He rewarded you with an eye roll, a reaction you were hoping for. You hoped he would leave it at that, move on from the subject so you could have the last word. Instead, he added, “Don’t tell me you’ve never thought about it before.”

“About what?”

He chuckled. “About kissing me.”

You could only manage to scoff at him, in utter disbelief at where this conversation had gone. It was supposed to be a joke, just something else for you to share a laugh about. But now, he seemed completely serious. But he couldn’t be, could he? Not about something that would cross every unspoken boundary of your friendship.

And even if he was serious, you’d still never tell him the truth. You’d never tell him that yes you have thought about it, plenty of times. And you’d certainly never tell him that your thoughts have traveled further than just a simple kiss. Not about how convenient it would be to slip into his room when you’re lonely and searching for affection at night. How easy it would be to ease into a routine of spending countless nights cuddled up together, whispering sweet nothings and nuzzling into each other as you leave kisses across whatever skin you had access to.

He was just your best friend, but living in the same residence had only given you a taste of domesticity with him. The resistance to acknowledge your attraction was only made worse when you saw him with messy hair from a good night’s rest or bare-chested after his showers. His charm was inescapable now that he was almost always around you, but his natural flirtiness always made you question if you should try to escape. Or if you should consider leaning into the feelings that were brewing for him.

Of course, in an act of self-preservation, you made yourself avoid and ignore any pining you had ever experienced for him.

But you would never tell him any of that.

“Would it help you admit it if I told you I’ve thought about it?” The question broke the silence that had unintentionally settled between you. He could tell that you were thinking about something, and he liked the thought that he was the cause of your contemplation. You didn’t want to give him that satisfaction, though.

Once again, you tried to laugh it off. To stall and push another joke to escape the situation you had somehow gotten yourself into. “Of course, you’d think about kissing yourself, you egomaniac.”

For a moment, you thought you won, taking his laughter as a good sign. But you should’ve known better. “No, doofus. Kissing you.”

And just like that, the breath was stolen from your lungs. You couldn’t laugh anymore. You couldn’t roll your eyes. You couldn’t run from this. Not anymore.

Of course, you knew what he meant as soon as he said it, but something in you wanted to deny it and continue with your avoidance. But with it in the open, obvious and crystal clear, there was nothing left for you to do but face it.

“I’ve thought about it since the first day in Comms,” he started again, this time a little more hesitant and cautious.

The mention of the communications class almost made you wince - an introductory public speaking course that was required for all students to take. You dreaded signing up for it, and your hatred for public speaking persisted even after you passed with flying colors. But luckily for you, something good had come out of that class, other than a boosted GPA.

It was how you met Sammy, after all. Paired together for a collaborative project, you both bonded over your disdain for the class. As opposed to you, though, he actually seemed to have confidence when he’d present.

“You’d always chew on your bottom lip before it was your time to speak. That’s how I knew you were nervous,” he continued. The mention of your anxious habits made you realize you were currently doing exactly what he was speaking of: biting at your lip to quell the nerves. “You were nervous, but it was like you owned the room, when you got up there. Your passion was… unmatched.”

He seemed to be talking to himself as he reminisced, marveling at something you had never noticed about yourself. You saw him look down at your fingers that he still held in his hands, the nail polish surely dried by now. He had no reason for his grasp to persist, but he continued for the sake of fidgeting and toying with your hand as if it were natural to him. He huffed a laugh before he resumed.

“We were always assigned stupid topics, but even then, I couldn’t look away. And when I tried to focus and pay attention to the content you were talking about, I’d always get distracted looking at your lips… So yeah, I’ve thought about it a bit.” He spoke quietly, another breath of nervous laughter to punctuate. He chanced a look back at you, softening as he saw your watchful eyes on him. “You’re blushing, and that makes me think about it even more.”

It wasn’t until he pointed it out that you realized your cheeks were warmer than usual. You tore your eyes away from him and back down to his fingers.

He was right. Hearing his admission made you want to concede as well. And a deep breath was all you had to take before you muttered your own confession. “...I’ve thought about it too.”

“Will you let me then?” He didn’t miss a beat, seemingly eager to get the question out.

“Sammy…”

“Just once? Just to satisfy our curiosity?” His hands gripped tighter to yours, now completely holding onto them as if they were his lifeline. “And if you don’t like it, we don’t have to talk about this ever again. It’ll be like it never happened.

The sheer anticipation that was building in his voice made it obvious that he was being genuine, that he truly wanted this. But you still hesitated.

If something happened during the kiss, if he realized he didn’t like it as much as he expected, you’d still have to deal with the consequences. You may not talk about it, like he promised, but that didn’t mean it wouldn’t bother him. As tempting as the offer was, you didn’t want to risk your friendship for a moment’s worth of satisfaction.

But it wasn’t that likely with a single kiss, right?

“...Just once,” you finally settled, speaking before you realized your mouth was even open.

You expected him to jump on the opportunity as soon as you gave him your consent, hungry and desperate to avoid you going back on your word. But instead, he was gentle, cautious in how he approached you.

He held a grin as he placed his hands on your cheeks, the skin of his palms somewhat clammy from being in contact with yours for so long. You watched with bated breath as he inched closer to you, trying to give you plenty of time to back out. But once he realized that you wouldn’t, he let go of all reserves.

Kissing him was a little different than you had expected. You imagined stiff and awkward, unnatural and abnormal. You imagined your lips as puzzle pieces of the same cut, destined to be in each other’s company but not necessarily made for one another. You imagined feeling icky and wrong before, during, and after the kiss ensued.

But this… this was unlike anything you could’ve possibly prepared for. This was easy. This was comfortable.

Out of your fair share of kisses, this was undeniably your favorite. And out of all of the ‘first’ kisses with anyone, you knew they could never compare to this.

It felt as if you melted into Sammy’s mouth, instantly falling under a spell that caused you to dissolve into nothingness. He wasn’t forceful in his approach, he didn’t try to take over, he didn’t proceed in a manner to coax more from you. He simply kissed you to revel in the moment. Just for the sake of kissing.

But just like all good moments, it came to an end much too quickly. The separation felt forced, as if he was reluctant to pull away from you. Which might have been why he didn’t put too much space between you when your lips disconnected. His hands fell from your face, landing to rest on your knees, but you were still mere inches from one another.

“Good?” He mumbled.

All you could do was nod, much too entranced in all things him. How he smelled, how his hands felt on you, how he kept shifting his gaze from your eyes to your lips.

He was holding back, trying to keep his promise of “just one kiss.” It was obvious to you that he didn’t want to overstep, that he was trying to follow your lead. But that kiss had sparked an overwhelming desire within you both, and you simply did not have as much restraint as he. All it took was one more fleeting glance at your lips before you found yourself leaning in to meet his again.

This time, you could feel his smile, the remainder of a laugh huffing from his nostrils. He seemed to find amusement in your desperation.

Although you quickly felt yourself falling into another daze, you were hyper-focused on Sam’s hands. Their placement. The way they had involuntarily twitched as soon as you kissed him again. How they had started to move up your thighs. How the tips of his fingers brushed under the fabric of your pajama shorts as they traveled upward and kneaded your skin. It wasn’t long before they found your hips and tugged.

You were in his lap before you knew it, your arms instinctively wrapping around his neck as you tried to balance the push and pull of the kiss that immediately deepened. A gentle nip to your bottom lip caused a soft moan to tremble from you, making him chuckle and pull away again.

“Don’t get too carried away,” he mumbled against your lips, rushing to place additional pecks on the corner of your mouth.

You tried to match the sarcasm evident in his tone. “No, I’d never.”

“What happened to just one?”

“I’d ask the same to you- oh.” His lips had managed to travel down your neck, and a bite to your collarbone had led to your quip drawing out into a whine.

Kisses turned into lips lazily dragging across skin, soft grunts turned to deep, ragged pants. He was letting you take what you wanted from him, what you needed. He didn’t mind that you were unabashedly whimpering into his neck, he didn’t even poke fun at how your hunger had caused your hips to grind against him. It only spurred him on that much more.

His head tipped back as he let out a groan, muttering a simple “Christ...” as if he were begging the deity to give him strength.

You didn’t imagine God would be too happy with the acts being committed, if he were looking down on you right now, but Sammy’s plea seemed to work. His hands stilled your hips as he shifted, and promptly, you were lying on your back with him hovering over you.

You were feeling bold, and sure in your actions. So when his fingertips graced the bare skin that resided under the hem of your shirt, you let him remove it from you. But when he bent to kiss you again, you felt the cool metal of his necklace against your chest, and you soon felt much too exposed.

He felt your body stiffen, and he immediately ceased his actions. “Y/n, what-” he stopped his question as soon as he broke away from you. You had covered yourself and shielded away from his gaze, making him realize just what had caused your apprehension. “Don’t do that. Let me see you.”

Your wrists were bound in his hand and pinned into the cushion above you, a quick move that made you gasp and blush a deeper shade. His pupils were dilated, stare as stoney as ever while he admired you. There wasn’t a hint of disappointment in his expression, but the attention made you more nervous than anything. Your only refuge was to hide your face in the pillows cushioning the back of the couch.

But, of course, he didn’t allow that. After a sound of disapproval, you were pulled into another deep kiss. One that left you dizzy after he pulled away.

“Stop hiding from me, okay?” He spoke softly in your ear, careful to not sound too demanding or harsh. “It’s just you and me right now. You’re okay.”

You sighed as he pressed a chaste kiss to your temple, the hand not serving as your restraint moving back down your body to hitch one of your legs onto his hip. “Friends don’t do this, Sammy. I don’t want to lose you.”

You felt silly to be worried about such a thing when it all seemed to be one-sided, but the thought of losing him after a spur-of-the-moment decision made your stomach twist. It wouldn’t be worth it to you.

Without hesitation, he pulled away both of his hands from their previous jobs, letting them rest on your face to caress your cheeks.

“You’d have to be more than stupid to think you’re gonna lose me after this,” he assured, letting his eyes rake across your features with sincerity. His thumb swiped across your bottom lip just as he added, “And to think that we’re just friends.”

With his confession from earlier still hanging in the air, you shouldn’t have been as stunned by his words as you were. You wanted to believe him, but there was still uncertainty behind the thin line you so desperately wanted to cross. You could feel yourself falling deeper and deeper into the worries that clouded your mind-

Hey-” he interrupted your mental anguish, waiting until he had your full attention and eyes on him. “Do you want me?”

You sighed, hoping to let go of the nerves that plagued you. “You know I do.”

Sammy smiled at the admission, seemingly more pleased now that you had said the words out loud. “Then you have me. In every way, baby. I’m yours.”

Yours. There was something so intimate about the statement, him placing himself in your possession. The knowledge that you would exist in his world, even when you were apart. It was more than you could ask for, yet everything you wanted.

The desire bloomed within you, and soon, you were no longer anxious to be displayed in front of him. Your fingers desperately clawed into the front of his shirt, pulling him back down to meet your lips again. It only took one tug at its hem to encourage its removal.

You sucked in a gasp at the feeling of his bare chest pressed against yours, a noise quickly swallowed down by the man hovering above you.

He seemed to be making up for lost time, each kiss telling a tale of its own and bringing you closer to him. Eventually, his lips traveled to graze the shell of your ear.

“What do you want?”

You sighed, the warm air against you sending shivers down your spine as you answered. “Your mouth.”

Without hesitation, he shifted and repositioned himself between your legs. His fingers looped under the band of your sleep shorts and panties, and after receiving a silent nod from you, he worked them both down your legs. His nose crinkled with a snicker, amused by your wiggling attempts to help him remove the garments. He tossed them to the floor and placed a gentle kiss to your navel as he moved to lay on his stomach.

The first flick of his tongue was languid, slow as if he were savoring the taste of you on his tongue. But soon enough, he found his footing and increased his intensity rather than speed.

You must’ve cried out at the feeling. Sam’s eyes had flickered up to you, peering through his lashes while he worked between your thighs. You were already lost in the haze of pleasure he was sharing with you. His wide, lust-filled eyes looking at you in awe, his hands splayed around your thighs and holding you steady, his perfectly sculpted nose dipping in and out of sight as the tip grazed against your clit. It was something you’d always imagined, but never believed would be right before you.

Your hand had traveled to his hair at some point, unbeknownst to you. Every tug causing a low hum to rumble from his stomach and against your skin, drawing you closer and closer each time.

You could feel it. The crest of the horizon in sight and in reach. But just as you were about to chase it, your fingers tightening in his hair, he pulled away with a lewd pop. The sound was soft, but audible enough to make your cheeks warm. Your frustration quickly surpassed any feelings of embarrassment.

Your head had been tipped back, and in the process of snapping your gaze back to him - ready to whine about his teasing - his lips crashed into yours again.

You couldn’t help but moan at the taste on his lips, a concoction that had only become more sinful as he savored you.

He was distracted, his mind drifting somewhere else while he kissed you. You could feel movement, as if he were rummaging through a crowded drawer for a specific item. The nerves that you had successfully shoved away stormed back to you, filling you with worry all over again. You gently broke away from the kiss, desperate to see what had occupied him so suddenly.

His hand was out of sight, in the pocket of his denim jacket that had been tossed haphazardly across the back of the couch. You heard the crinkle of a foil wrapper, and soon enough, he removed a small square package from the jacket.

The sight of the condom made your cheeks flush and your throat tighten, but you weren’t exactly sure why. It only took a few weeks of living with Sam to know all you needed to about his sexual habits. It made sense for him to bring a condom to a college party. But that didn’t stop the pang of jealousy in the pit of your stomach from the thought of his hands on someone else. He had never expected that you’d be the one under him tonight.

“You okay?”

His voice brought you out of the envy-induced haze you were in. You met his eyes, carefully studying you to make sure he hadn’t already messed up what had barely even started. You looked past your doubts and nodded in response, reaching for him to give you the condom.

He trusted you to tell him if something was wrong, but he gave a look of warning before handing the condom over to you. You knew he was not going to let this go, but you were thankful that he pushed it under the rug for now. You were much too embarrassed to discuss it now.

Sam was already working on unbuttoning his pants by the time you looked at the foil package in your hands.

“Didn't think you’d be a Magnum kinda guy,” you taunted under your breath, hoping to bring a sense of lightheartedness to the situation.

Instead, his hand was wrapped around your wrist in an instant, the sudden movement making you let out a noise of surprise. He pulled your hand away from its task and positioned it so the thin layer of his briefs was the only thing between him and your palm.

The thought made you shiver, but your cheeks burned from your previous taunt.

“Oh…”

He smirked at you, only a little proud of himself for making you discount your teasing. But through the smugness, you could sense a hint of bashfulness. And an attempt to remain humble through the ego boost you provided him.

You fiddled with the package as soon as you were released from his grasp, making quick work of tearing it open and retrieving its contents. By the time you finished, he had removed the remaining articles of his clothing.

You didn’t look up at him, and you tried to not hesitate to take him in your hand.

You relished in the way his silken skin felt against yours as you slowly began to roll the condom down his length. A soft moan escaped him, a sound of sheer disbelief and utter pleasure. His stare was unwavering, watching your every move. But once you tilted your head to look at him, he was already in the motion of leaning to kiss you again.

He used it as a chance to lay you back down and get you comfortable, using one of his arms to hold himself up and hover over you.

“Please let me know if something needs to change or if you want to stop, okay?” He panted, resting his forehead against yours. “I can’t stand the thought of hurting you.”

A loving smile crept on your lips as you nodded to him, giving a quick kiss to his cheek as affirmation.

He didn’t pull away to align himself with you. Instead, his cheek was pressed against yours as he slipped inside you, a low groan rumbling right at the shell of your ear.

At some point, your hands had wrapped around his forearms as a way to ground yourself. Your loosening grip was the only signal he needed before he began a slow, steady pace.

You tried to focus on the feeling of it all – the way his hips rolled against yours, the delicious tension that each thrust added, the grunts that would slip from his parted lips. But you couldn’t get past the simple fact that this was really happening. After all this time of imagining yourself with him, it was real. And it was so much better than you could’ve fantasized.

Your arms wrapped around him, holding him as close as possible and praying that he wouldn’t disappear. As if he were promising that he wouldn’t, he nuzzled further into your neck. The intoxicating drag of his lips against your skin made you whine, digging your nails into his back as if it were a reflex.

Sam sucked in a breath at the feeling, but before you could worry that you had hurt him, you heard a chuckle.

“Easy, baby,” he warned with a smile, pulling away just enough to look you in the eyes. His had already flickered down to your lips before he continued. “Don’t wanna mess up your nails.”

It amazed you how easily he was able to bring you back down. Even in this situation, he grounded you and reminded you that he was your best friend. And all it took was a wink and a bit of banter.

He grasped the back of your knee, hitching it to his side and pushing even deeper into you. The new angle successfully drawing a mewl from you and pulling you out of your romanticized thoughts.

A hum of satisfaction shook from him, almost sounding like a hungry growl as his smirk widened. “Right there? Is that where my pretty girl likes it?”

Everything about the question flustered you, the phrasing, the pet name, the tone. You were nodding your head before you even realized you were responding.

“Just like that, yeah?” He continued. “Fuck…you feel so good.”

If it wasn’t for his pace faltering and his stumbling over his words, he might’ve been able to hide the fact that he was already close. Not that you wanted him to hide it, of course. Seeing him like this was everything you had wanted and more.

Sammy released the grip he had on your leg, his hand soon disappearing between you two. His thumb circled your clit with fervent hunger, as if he were desperate to see you writhe under him. The action made you cry out, his name slipping from your parted lips as a soft whimper.

“Shhh…I know, baby,” he reassured. He smoothed a hand across your cheekbone to wipe a stray tear before it could fall. “God, you look- so fucking gorgeous.”

He was speaking out loud now, voicing each of his thoughts as a way to bring himself closer. He wasn’t looking for a response, but the sentence rang through your ears the entire time he was above you.

The sound of each quickening thrust, the way his forearm tensed while he touched you, his hair shifting with every movement and deep breath. It all fueled the fire in your abdomen, and soon enough, you felt your muscles tighten.

He talked you through your orgasm with filthy words and sultry praise, coaxing you to give in to the pleasure and enjoy it for what it’s worth. His own climax cut off his encouragement, though, and with a huff, his head dropped as the pleasure overtook him. His body trembled with each remaining thrust, and as much as you wished you could watch him at his peak, your eyes were squeezed shut.

It took a while for you to come down from your highs, but eventually, his hips had stilled, and you had no choice but to be reined back in. You could hear that his breathing matched yours - deep, quivering breaths that shook throughout your bodies.

When you opened your eyes, you saw him smirking down at you, a cocky smile that was still kind and gentle in its own way. His free hand had settled on your thigh, his thumb sweeping across the skin to bring you back to him.

His chest was still heaving, and you could see stray marks up and down his torso and arms from you unknowingly clawing at him. Past the hints of your embarrassment, you sensed a feeling of pride. Seeing him above you, with marks that you made. It was as if you staked a claim on him, a mark of unspoken territory.

He was yours. No one else’s.

The thought made your smile widen.

Sammy chuckled at you, bending down to place a kiss on your jaw. “What’s all that for?”

With a laugh, you shook your head, not wanting to give him the benefit of knowing what was going on in your mind.

His teeth grazed against your neck before he began to leave sloppy kisses on your jugular. He only paused briefly to pull out from you, muttering a quick curse under his breath and returning his lips to your skin.

Your fingers had found their way back to his hair, playing with the locks of brunette while his kisses covered every inch of your neck.

As he reached the shell of your ear, he rasped a whisper. “Can I stay with you tonight?”

The question made your heart skip, but instead of letting it show, you grinned at him. “You already live here, Sammy.”

He pulled away from you, lightly slapping your thigh. “Don’t give me that, you know what I mean.”

“Ohhh, you mean in my room,” you said sarcastically, giggling as he rolled his eyes. You waited until his eyebrows raised expectantly before you stopped playing coy. “After you shower. You stink.”

He faked a frown at you before his smile broke through, laughing at your teasing. “If I’m taking a shower, you’re coming with me.”

He had already begun shuffling off the couch so he could stand. You instinctively crossed your arms over your chest, partially to cover yourself, but also to keep up the act that you had going.

“Why do I have to come shower with you?”

For a moment, he looked puzzled, almost as if he believed that you didn’t want to follow him. “Maybe 'cause I’ll miss you if you don’t.”

It was meant to be a joke, but you could see in his eyes that deep down, he really meant it. You were going to go with him anyways, but hearing his excuse made you blush.

“Sammy…” you paused, searching for the right response for something so silly. It was a small phrase, but you could sense the immense amount of truth behind it. “You’re so…soft.”

He smiled down at you, annoyed but enamored by your playfulness. “Anddd you’re done,” he warned, grabbing your wrist to pull you off the couch to your feet. “Come on, up you go.”

“Easy baby,” you mocked, repeating his words from earlier. You were in a fit of giggles as he tugged you to the bathroom. “Don’t wanna mess up your nails.”

Ahead of you, he huffed a sigh. “I hate you.”

“You love me.”

You didn’t have to see him to know that he rolled his eyes at you again. He stopped in front of the bathroom door and opened it, placing a gentle hand on your back to usher you inside. “Yeah…I do.”

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sinsofstardust · 7 months

Text

Sweet to Taste II

blame @ignite-my-fire she asked for it👀

This one is really nothing but forbidden twin filth. But shoutout to these babes for being so supportive💖 @ignite-my-fire @ohgodthefeeling-gvf @gvfpal @jakesguitarsolo

Word Count: 4.6k

Pairing: Jake Kiszka x f!reader x Sam Kiszka

Warnings: Smut 18+ Minors DNI(Voyeurism, Fingering, Pussy Slapping🫣, Oral(m rec), Unprotected Sex, Spanking, Very Mild Edging, Squirting) Dom!Jake & Soft-Dom!Sam deserve a warning of their own, let’s be real. Oh, and the aftercare🥹

🌟🌟🌟

“Y/N, your 5 top at table six needs refills.” Your coworker, Jess, nudged you, yanking you from your daydream, “Are you good? You keep, like, zoning out…” She placed her tray down, eyeing you.

Standing up straight, you tucked your pen into a pocket on your apron and turned around to grab yourself an empty tray, “Yeah, I’m fine… It’s just been a long shift.” You pulled your notepad out, reading over the table six drink orders, and began filling new cups. Putting on the friendliest face you could muster, you picked the tray up and dropped the drinks off, picking up the empty glasses. Walking back towards the kitchen to get rid of the dishes, your mind began to wander again. Every thought, for the past two weeks, has been Jake and Sam and the night you’d shared with them. You woke up the next morning, tangled between the two of them, and though you had no shame about what went down, you couldn’t be sure they felt the same. When you climbed over Jake to go to the bathroom, he grabbed your waist with one hand, weaving his fingers through your hair with the other to pull you in for a kiss. You could feel Sammy’s eyes on you but you didn’t think anything of it until you finally broke away from the older boy to use the bathroom and came back to find both of them gone. When your calls and texts went unanswered that day, you knew something was up. You gave it a couple of days before you tried to reach out again and when you did, you finally got an answer out of Sam, letting you know that they’d be out of town for a bit. That was a week and a half ago and you haven’t heard anything since…until now. Your phone began to vibrate in your apron pocket and you dug it out to read the caller ID. Jake… Dropping the tray of cups by the dishwasher, you rushed out of the kitchen, “Jess, can you cover for me for a few minutes?” You held your phone up, signaling that you had a call, as she nodded in approval.

“Hello?” You held the phone to your ear as you stepped outside.

His voice came through, sending butterflies through your stomach, “Hey beautiful. You busy tonight?”

You tried to play it cool, but you were practically vibrating with excitement, “Depends… Did you have something in mind?”

“I did.” He paused for a moment, “Josh is having a party at his place tonight. Come. I want to see you… We both do.”

You knew he meant he and Sam, but you were a little disappointed that you wouldn’t have them alone, “Umm. yeah, okay. What time?”

“Be there by 9. See you.” He hung up before you could even say goodbye and the confusion in your brain only multiplied.

You had barely gotten a shred of attention from either of them since that night and now you’re being asked to go to a party because they miss you? It was definitely weird, but you were aching to see them, so of course you’d show up.

🌟🌟🌟🌟🌟🌟🌟🌟🌟🌟🌟🌟🌟🌟🌟🌟🌟🌟🌟🌟

After you’d gotten off work at 6, you went straight home to shower and get ready. A bit of mascara and some lip gloss later, you were pulling on your favorite casual dress. Black and form fitting, hugging your body in all the right places, with thin straps that tied into bows on your shoulders. You fastened your hair into a high ponytail, letting it dangle down your neck. Pulling on a pair of boots and your leather jacket, you took one last look at yourself in the floor length mirror before grabbing your phone and keys to head out. You pulled up to Josh’s, his driveway already lined with cars and people scattered around the outside of the property. The music was loud, filtering through the opened front door as you made your way inside. You made a beeline for the kitchen in search of a drink.

As you stood at the counter, pouring tequila into a cup, a pair of hands landed on your waist, snaking around to wrap you in their hold, “I was wondering when you’d show up.” He bent down, lips right against your neck as he whispered, “I like this dress, babe…a little short though.” He pinched the hem between his fingers, letting his knuckles graze your thigh.

“I knew you’d like the dress, Sammy.” You spun around in his arms, slinging your own over his shoulders, “But I expected you to spend the night avoiding me.” You raised an eyebrow at him.

“Avoid you? I could never.” He dropped a hand to your ass, giving it a firm squeeze as he held eye contact, “You and Jake were pretty cozy… I was just giving you the space to explore that.” The smirk on his lips was hinting that he was up to something, “In fact, he’s looking for you now.” His hands left your body as he pointed behind you, “You should probably go say hi.”

You looked in the direction he was pointing to find Jake watching you intently, but even from a distance, you could see the playful smirk on his face. Turning back to Sam, you grabbed his wrist before he could disappear, “You have my attention right now. Jake can wait.” You hooked your hand into the front of his waistband yanking him against you, “Unless you have someone else waiting on you?” Your fingers wiggled against the short bit of hair just beneath his jeans.

“Nobody who’s attention is worth more than yours.” He bent forward, his hand grasping the back of your neck to pull you in for a kiss. You bit down on his lip, drawing a growl from deep in his chest, “Make yourself a drink and come find me.” He broke away from you, slipping through the sea of people littering the kitchen. Turning back to the counter, you picked up your cup, tossing back the clear liquid in it.

“You want some lime with that, mama?” Josh appeared at your side as you poured more liquor.

You put the bottle down, pulling him into a hug, “Nope, having it straight tonight. Have a shot with me!” You handed him the bottle and took your cup.

He fake clinked the bottle with you, “Cheers, Y/N!” He brought the neck to his lips, taking a couple chugs while you swallowed your own. Josh shook his body out with a grimace, “I’ll catch up with you later, mama. Have fun!” He grasped your face, pressing a sloppy, wet kiss to your cheek before skipping into the crowd. You allowed yourself one more shot before going to search for Sammy.

Rounding the doorway out of the kitchen, you saw Jake talking with a few people in the corner or the dining room. His eyes flicked to you for the tiniest second before going back to the girl in front of him, barely acknowledging you. Oh really? You sauntered towards him, a sweet smile plastered on your face, “Not even a hi, Jake?”

He let his gaze settle on you a little longer this time, taking in your outfit, “Hi.” He returned to his conversation as you stared at him. When he realized you weren’t leaving, he turned to face you completely, “I’m having a conversation.” He leaned in, dropping his voice for you and only you, “Be a good girl and go find Sam to keep you company until I’m finished.”

You couldn’t deny the rush you felt at his command as you whispered a “Yes, sir.” and scampered off to look for Sammy.

You found him sitting on the couch in the living room, puffing on a cigarette between his fingers, “Josh would kill you if he found out you’re smoking in his house.” He waved his hands dismissively, unbothered by your claim as he licked his lips, staring at your legs, “You’re an ass. Gimme.” You plucked the stick from his hold and dropped into a random cup on the coffee table, listening to the sizzle as the cherry went out.

“C’mere, babe.” Sam yanked on your hand, pulling you down on his lap, “When can we get the fuck out of here?” He flattened his palm against your abdomen, pushing you to sit back against his chest, “I just wanna peel this dress off…” His breath was hot on your skin as he whispered in your ear, bunching the fabric up in his fist.

You tilted your head to him, flashing a devilish smirk, “Why the rush, baby? Isn’t the party just getting good?” You circled your hips, effectively grinding into him. When you turned your attention back to the rest of the room, you scanned the crowd for the other Kiszka, finding him in a conversation with another man.

“Don’t start something you can’t finish, Y/N.” His teeth nipped at the shell of your ear, “If you think I won’t throw you down in front of all these people, you’re sorely mistaken, babe.” Sam’s hand left your sternum to rest on your leg.

You watched his hand tickle along your skin, squeezing the inside of your thigh, “I think you know I always finish, Sammy?” The music was loud and the lights too low to emit any kind of glow over the two of you, “Don’t make empty threats…”

You felt his tongue glide up your neck, “You wanna make him watch, don’t you?” His hand lingered on your thigh, fingers teasing higher.

You tore your eyes from his hand, looking up to see Jake across the room, surrounded by other party guests but his gaze unmistakably transfixed on you, “I just think he might enjoy the show, Sammy.” You shivered as he finally made it beneath your dress.

His eyes widened as he dragged a finger over you, “You’re not wearing- Fuck, babe…”

“Oops…must’ve slipped my mind.” You shrugged as you held eye contact with Jake, his stare burning deep into your skin. A gasp escaped you as he slid through your folds and you parted your legs just an inch further.

He teeth were just barely digging at your shoulder as he stared down, “You’re so fucking wet, babe.” He was swirling his calloused fingers over your clit, smiling to himself as you fought to keep your whimpers down. He dipped his hand lower, pushing the tip of his middle finger through your entrance to feel you instantly clench around it, “Shit… She needs me, huh? Practically begging for my fingers.”

You struggled to keep your eyes on Jake as Sam pushed his finger deeper. You could’ve sworn you watched his gaze narrow, his tongue darting out over his lip, right before your eyes flitted. All of your focus went back to the younger Kiszka, “More, Sammy.” You cupped your hand over top of his, dropping your head to his shoulder, as he added a second finger, “Hmmm…”

He let out a quiet chuckle, “I bet she’d prefer my cock, wouldn’t she?” His eyes were flicking around the room, making sure your display stayed unnoticed, “If you just sit up a little, I could slip right inside, babe. No one would even know.” The deep rasp of his voice was enticing, making you want to throw all your inhibitions out the window, “He’s getting pissed… You think he’ll stick around to watch you cum on my hand?” Sam curled his fingers, eliciting a high pitched whine from you. His free hand came up to grip your face, turning your head enough to sink his mouth onto your own, swallowing up the noise.

You were completely lost in the feeling of Sammy, you didn’t catch Jake storming through the plethora of people, “Are you fucking done?” His fingers wrapped around your wrist, plucking you from Sam’s lap.

You yelped as Sam retracted his hand before gazing up at Jake with a giggle, “Well, I was almost done.” Looking back at the younger boy, he was laughing as well, but Jake didn’t share the amusement.

“Upstairs, now. Guest room.” He growled the command into your ear, “I need to have a word with my brother. Go.”

“Jakey, we were just-“

His nostrils flared as he stared at you, “One more word and I’ll see to it that you don’t cum at all. Go.” He pointed towards the staircase. You didn’t argue, just turned and scurried up to Josh's guest room, closing the door behind you. You sat on the edge of the bed, unsure of what to do or what was to come, as you fidgeted with your hands. Kicking your boots off, you climbed onto the mattress, sitting with your legs tucked beneath you and waited for them. Several minutes had passed when the door finally opened and the brother’s came through it, both wearing wicked grins, “I hope it was worth it, baby… Didn’t anybody ever tell you that your actions have consequences?” Jake was coming across the room as Sam locked the door.

You swallowed hard, building the courage for what you were about to say, “What’s the matter, Jake? I thought you’d enjoy watching?” You tried to look as innocent as possible.

He was in front of you in a flash, holding your jaw in one hand while he undid his jeans with the other, “You think that was your idea? Think you’re in charge?” He let out a deep laugh, taking his hand from your face to dig into his pocket, “Baby, you’re not the only one who likes to make bets.” He pulled out a hundred dollar bill, passing it to his brother while keeping his eyes on you.

“He didn’t think you’d do it. Not in the middle of the party… But I know you, babe.” Sam took the money with a smile, “To be fair, I was gonna let you cum before he interrupted, but I think he felt left out.” He nodded to the older boy.

Your eyes darted back and forth between them, “You guys- Wait… What was the bet?”

“Well,” Jake grasped the hem of your dress to lift it over your head, “Sam kept going on and on about how you’re always down for anything, never one to shy away from a challenge.” He waited for you to raise your arms, removing the garment to toss it to the floor, “I bet him that he couldn’t get you to open up for him in a crowded room tonight- lay down.” He pushed on your shoulders, guiding you to lay on your back, “Deep down, I knew you’d fold… But I was a bit surprised at how quickly you spread your legs for him.” He pulled you to the edge of the bed, pushing your legs apart, “Putting this sweet pussy on display for anybody to see, no hesitation.” He bit down on his lip, petting your clit with the pad of his thumb.

The light touch made you whine, “No it- Fuck… It wasn’t for-“ Your breath caught as he applied more pressure.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart, what was that?” His thumb continued its movement while he pushed two fingers through your entrance, “Come on. Use your words.”

“You, Jake.” It was a breathless huff, your hands digging at the blanket below you, “It wasn’t for anyone…It-It was for you to see.”

Sam crawled onto the bed behind you, taking your hands into his and holding them, “She was so fucking wet, Jake. She likes being watched.”

“She’s still soaked, brother.” He pulled his fingers from you, rapidly flicking them over your cunt to hear the vulgar, splashy sounds, while Sammy moved his hands to your tits, pinching your nipples between his fingers.

You were writhing on the bed, the stimulation from both of them driving you wild, “Please… I’ve been waiting for weeks.” You were lifting your hips to meet Jake’s hand, “Aaah. Fuck, Jake.” You whimpered as his hand cracked down over your pussy, sending a shockwave through you.

“Normally, I’d like to hear you beg, baby…” His fingers pushed back into you, “But we’re gonna take our time with you tonight and begging won’t move things along, only compliance will.” He thrusted deep, curling his fingers against your sweet spot, “Understand?” He repeated the action a second time.

Acting purely out of feral need, you rolled your hips into his hand, earning yourself another harsh slap, “FUCK. I’m sorry. I-I understand.” You gripped onto Sam’s wrists as he continued massaging your breast.

Jake ripped his shirt off and pulled himself from his already unbuttoned jeans, “That’s good, beautiful.” He grabbed his cock, stroking it as he stood between your legs, “I wanna hear you make all those dirty noises.” He slipped his head through your folds, allowing the wetness to coat his tip, before burying himself inside of you, “Don’t hold out on me.”

You winced at the stretch, digging your nails into Sammy’s arms with a hiss, “Christ, Jacob!” You looked up to see the smug smile planted on his face as he began drawing his hips back. He moved slowly, making sure you felt every fine detail.

He left only the tip in, bringing his fingers back to your clit to draw a series of whines from you, “That’s it, baby. Let me know just how good I make you feel.” Jake slammed back into you without warning, smiling at the cry you let out. He kept this up for what felt like an eternity, drawing out to tease your throbbing clit just to fill you back up for a short second.

Your mind was swimming, unable to form any thoughts outside of release. Knowing you wouldn’t get anywhere with Jake, you turned your attention to Sam, who always had a soft spot for you, “Sammy… Baby, please.” You gazed up at him, brows pinched as shaky whimpers fell from your lips, “P-please, I need-.”

“Shhh. It’s okay, babe. I’ll take care of you.” He let his fingers graze your cheeks in the softest touch before looking to his brother, “Jake, let me have her.”

Jake met his eyes, the two of them caught in a staring contest, before he finally relented, “Fine… You give into her too easily. She’s got you wrapped around her finger.” He pulled himself out of you, allowing the other boy to take his place, “Flip her over, I want to fuck her pretty face.”

Sam gripped your legs, flipping you in a swift movement and placing your feet on the floor, “I think I like this view better anyways.” He kept your chest pressed into the mattress and slapped his palm across your ass, enjoying the way it bounced and rippled, before bending to leave a kiss right over his red handprint. He took note of how your body shuddered from the contact, “Did you like that, Y/N?” He slapped your ass again, adding a red welt to the other cheek.

“Mhmm. Do it again, Sammy.” Your plea was followed up by a dulcet hum.

His palm came down harder, leaving a sharp sting, “Your pussy is fucking dipping, babe. She loves it.” He rubbed his hands over your flesh, soothing the skin, “Let’s see just how wet she can get.”

You heard the sound of his zipper right before he was pushing into you. He had a tight grip on your hip, filling you slowly, “Oh god, baby. You feel so fucking good.” You dropped your face to the mattress, allowing the thick comforter to muffle your loud groan.

His hips began snapping into you, the thunderous sounds filling the room, “I feel better than him, don’t I?” His tone was mocking and you were sure he was looking directly at Jake as he spoke, “I know just how to spoil your sweet pussy…make her cry for me.” He was pounding into you, making it impossible for you to utter anything other than pitched cries.

You felt the bed shake a bit before a hand was twirling around your ponytail to lift your head from the blanket, “I’ll give you something better to muffle those sounds, beautiful.” Jake sat back on his heels, resting just close enough that your mouth was right over his dick, “Open up, baby.” He knotted the hair around his fist, lowering your head back down. You parted your lips, letting him slide into your mouth with ease, “You’re listening so well tonight. Being so good for us.” He allowed you to bob your head, taking him slowly as you moaned around his length. After a few moments, he pressed down on the back of your head, holding it in place as he hit your throat. Tears filled your eyes, gags heaving from the depths of your esophagus as you attempted to push yourself off of him, “Ahh. Sam, grab her hands.” Sammy hooked his hands around your elbows, pulling them behind your back, his thrusts never faltering. Jake lifted your face from his cock, watching proudly as you fought for a breath, more saliva dripping from your mouth with every gasping cough, “Go ahead and breathe, baby.” He gave you a few more seconds before bringing your mouth back, gliding along your tongue as he dragged your head up and down on him.

“Shit… Everytime you make her gag she fucking squeezes me so tight.” Sam’s voice was low and husky, breaking through the groans in his chest, “You’re so fucking close, babe. I can feel it.” He pulled harder on your arms, forcing an arch to your back and eliciting a loud wail from you at the changed angle. His cock was hammering into your g-spot, winding the coil tighter and tight with each pass.

Jake pulled you from his length again and released your hair, “Let her down a little bit, Sam, just a few inches.” He waited for his brother to comply, loosening his hold on your arms. You watched him stroke himself through blurry vision, “Your tongue, Y/N…” His free hand went to the back of your head, guiding your mouth to his balls. You stuck your tongue out, lapping at them hungrily before sucking them into the warmth of your mouth and moaning around them, “That’s- Oh fuck, baby. That mouth is heaven.” His breathing picked up along with the pumping of his hand, “You think we should fill her up, Sammy?” You could tell by the tone of his voice that he wasn’t going to last much longer, “Think she earned it?”

“I think we earned it, brother.” Sam spoke through gritted teeth, “But she’s there, Jake. Any second…”

You let him fall from your mouth, “Pleeeease. I need it, please let me cum.” You pouted up at Jake, begging for the release, “I’ve been good, Jakey, please.” Your moans were becoming more desperate with every stroke of Sam’s dick.

He brushed the loose hairs from your face, “Swallow all of me and Sam will let you have it, pretty girl, I promise.” You gave a weak nod, ready to explode at any given moment. Jake was sliding back into your mouth in an instant, “I could stay here forever, you do so fucking well, baby.” He was guiding your head up and down but when you sucked your cheeks in, tightly suctioning your mouth around him, that was it, “Y/N, fuck-.” He sucked in a harsh breath through his teeth, his cock twitching frantically against your tongue, “Jesus, I- Fucking take it, baby. All of it.” He drove into the back of your throat, cursing under his breath as he held you in place, spilling into your mouth. Jake watched in awe as you gulped him down without a problem, savoring every last drop. He shuddered as he pulled you from his cock with an incredulous stare, “I don’t think anybody could ever compare to you…” He caught the pained expression on your face as you silently prayed for your own orgasm, “Let her have it, Sammy.” His thumb just barely ghosted over your lip when Sam was yanking you up by your arms.

“You’re so close, babe. Just let me have it.” He was in your ear, speaking through grunts as he slammed into you.

The sound of your cries was drowned out by the blood thrumming through your ears as the tension finally broke, “Sammy. Oh fuck, Sammy…” You choked out the words despite the fire spreading through your entire body, “God, I-” Your words were cut off by the flooding gush that forced Sam out of your cunt.

“No fucking way…” Sam kept a tight grip around your torso as he gaped at the puddle on the floor. He stared in awe for a couple more seconds before letting you drop to the bed to grasp your hips. He slid his cock back into you, only getting a few thrusts in before he was inevitably filling you with his release, muttering mindlessly through his heaving breaths. He carefully slipped out of you, watching his seed leak out, before Jake was distracting him.

“Sam, don’t let go of her! She’s gonna-” He was rushing to pull you onto the bed before your legs buckled beneath you. He tugged you against him, holding you close as he looked at your tired eyes, “She’s fucking spent, man. Go get something to clean her up…and a towel for the floor.”

Sam yanked his shirt over his head, giving it to his brother, “Put her in this. I’ll steal a pair of boxers from Josh’s room.” He waited for Jake to pull the shirt over your head, buttoning his jeans back up, before heading out of the room.

“You okay, baby? We didn’t go too far, did we?” He got your arms through the sleeves as you shook your head with a soft hum and your eyes started to close, “You’re tired, I know… Just wait until Sammy gets back with a washcloth and then we can go straight to sleep, pretty girl.” Your legs were still trembling as you curled into him and he rubbed gentle circles on your back.

Sam came barreling back into the guest room, tripping over his own feet, “I grabbed her some water, I think she lost a lot.” He said it with a chuckle as he dropped a towel over the mess you’d made and climbed onto the bed with the rag, “Here, babe, let me see.” He pushed your legs apart, making quick work of wiping you down, taking extra care around your sensitive bits, “Okay, can you just lift a little bit for me, Y/N?” You watched through barely opened eyes as he dropped the cloth on top of the towel and slid the stolen boxers over your legs. You lifted your hips with Jake’s help, allowing Sammy to secure the waistband in its proper place.

“Alright, baby.” Jake broke away from you to climb off the bed, prompting his younger brother to do the same, “We’re gonna let you rest.” He made sure you were nestled snug into the pillows before pulling the duvet over you.

You felt Sam press his lips to your temple and reached for him before he could pull away, “Stay with me. Both of you.” Your voice was raspy, riddled with sleep already, “Please.” You tugged on his hand, dragging him to lay down with you. Once you felt Sam settle in, you held your hand out to Jake, “Jakey…” You mewled, coaxing him towards you. He finally took your hand, sliding into the blankets beside you. Fully enveloped in the warmth of your two favorite boys, you started to drift, sleep taking you fast.

You felt your body relax into the mattress, the last thing you heard as your consciousness slipped away was Sammy’s voice, laced with an arrogant pride, “I made her fucking squirt, Jake.” . . . . .

#jake kiszka #sammy kiszka #jake kiszka smut #jake gvf #sam kiszka x reader #sam kiszka smut #jake kiszka x reader #forbidden twins x reader #forbidden twins smut #forbidden twins #gvf #greta van fleet #sam kiszka fic #jake kiska fic #sinsofstardust

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sparrowofthedawnsworld · 6 months

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Dirty little Sammy blurb, anyone?

WARNINGS: 18+, fingering (f!receiving) below the cut!!

***

I feel like Sam would be the type to just want to make you cum randomly. You could be laying in bed, a comfort movie you both have in common playing on the TV.

Suddenly, his leg is slowly hooking around your calf, pulling your leg away from your other and trapping it in place with his. You know this move too well and it makes your breath catch.

His hand comes to your belly, the back of his knuckles running gently over the skin below your bellybutton, noting the way your body gently trembles under his touch - as it does every time.

“Sammy…” you breathe, letting your free leg fall open a little more. One of your body’s many ways of welcoming him.

“Shhh…” Sam is quick to quiet you, his fingers now dancing along the hem of your shorts. He slides them beyond the hem, sucking in a breath at the absence of any underwear. “You must have known I was gonna play with your pretty cunt.”

“I mean, You… you do it a lot,” you point out. Though, he’s already well aware that he can hardly go an hour without watching your pretty face twist in pleasure.

Sam’s middle finger finally meets with your swelling clit, gently brushing over it as he continues down to your entrance to collect some of the arousal already pooling there.

“What do I do a lot? Tell me.” He wants to hear you say it.

“Y-You play with my pretty cunt a lot…” You answer him, your voice dripping with desperation already.

“And why do I do that?” Sam continues, his middle finger now swirling slowly around your throbbing clit.

“Because you like to watch me cum.” You barely get the words out through a stream of whimpers.

“Atta girl,” Sam praises, resting his cheek against your forehead. He places a quick kiss to your temple, before pulling back to watch your reactions.

Adding another finger, they dip back down to your entrance to coat themselves and return to your clit. He keeps a steady pace, but the pressure is light, only increasing it as your body gradually sinks further into the mattress.

You turn your head into Sam’s chest, muffling your moans that are growing louder and louder with each pass of his fingers.

“Feel good, baby doll?” Sam preens, a cocky smirk dancing on the corners of his mouth.

“So good, Sammy,” you whimper, barely audible. “Please…”

“Don’t rush, princess.” He reminds you. His other arm, tucked under your back, pulls you closer into him, cradling your shaking body. “You’ll get there when it’s time…” he pauses for a brief moment before slyly adding, “… Or when I let you.”

“Samuel.” It’s only a partially firm huff of his name, holding hardly any threatening weight, given the way your voice is higher and breathier.

“Relaaax.” His gravely voice drawls lowly. “Poor baby doesn’t want to be edged tonight?”

“No. No, I don’t…” You whine, squirming as a wave of sensitivity crashes over you, shoving you closer towards your high.

“Alright, okay.” Sam says with a low, breathy chuckle.

You refocus your full attention of the feeling of his calloused fingers stroking over your bundle of nervous, brushing over every spot that makes your body jolt with pleasure.

The burn in the pit of your stomach starts to intensify, a flower of bliss just waiting to bloom within you. It’s ridiculous, really, how quickly he can pull an orgasm from your body.

“See? You’re already close, aren’t you, princess?” Sam questions, his tone holding the slightest, taunting edge.

All you can muster in response is another moan, words and complete sentences have completely left you, lost beneath the pleasure that has clouded every inch of your brain.

With a few more quick passes of his fingers, you’re unraveling, squirming as much as having one leg pinned within his will allow.

“There it is.” Sam smiles down at you, priding himself with how he can make you feel so good. “Let it all go for me. I got you, baby doll.”

“Fuck, Sammy! Oh, fuck-“ You moan and writhe, riding out your high until the pleasure starts to tiptoe into that over-sensitivity.

Sam’s fingers slow to a stop, but rest on your clit in light of feeling it flutter against his fingers as your post-orgasm daze takes over.

#gvf #greta van fleet #sam kiszka smut #sam kiszka #the magician ✨#sparrow’s blurbs #gvf blurb #gvf smut #greta van fleet smut #greta van smut #sfk #samuel francis kiszka #samuel kiszka #sammy nation #sam gvf #sammy kiszka gvf #sammy kiszka #greta van fic #greta van fleet blurb

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ageofbajabule · 14 days

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Cassie’s Fic Recs🤍

I’m updating my fic recommendations list!

All these fics are 18+ and contain smut. So if you aren’t 18+ please move along.🫶🏻

Josh

Something About You - @abeautylives

Errant - @gretavangroupie @sacredstarcatcher

Drift - @gretavangroupie

Valtava - @gretavanlace

Feather Light - @tripthelightfandomtastic

The Meditation Room - @fleet-of-fiction

Absolutely Smitten - @alwaysonthemend

Travelers In Time - @samkiszkasfacialhair

Vengeance - @samkiszkasfacialhair

Brightest Blue - @garbagevanfleet

Abbadon - @garbagevanfleet

Cabin Fever - @hearts-hunger

Praises and a Punishment - @streamingcolors-gvf

Endless Sunmer - @anthemofgvf

Knock, Knock - @kissthesungvf

Jake

Edible - @gretavangroupie @sacredstarcatcher

Voyeur - gretavangroupie

Covet - @jakeyt

The Vanishing - @fleet-of-fiction

Muse - @joshym

Capital Vices - @builtbybrokenbells

Just A Kiss - @aflame4goinghome @dancingcarbon

Watered Down - @spark-my-nature

Lazarus- @garbagevanfleet

Hands To Yourself - @sinsofstardust

Satin - @daisyful-gvf

Danny

Enrapture @gretavangroupie @sacredstarcatcher

Illicit Affairs - @aflame4goinghome @gretavanstink @childinthegardenn

Thrills In The Night - @sparrowofthedawnsworld

Sam

Exposure - gretavangroupie sacredstarcatcher

Pink Lemonade - garbagevanfleet

Union - gretavangroupie

Twins

Kismet @gretavangroupie @sacredstarcatcher

Shake My Faith - @capturethechaos @earthlysorrows

Skin Deep - @streamingcolors-gvf

What Is & What Should Never Be - @sinsofstardust

Shake Your Foundations- @alwaysonthemend

Poppins - @gretavanlace

Lex Talionis - @builtbybrokenbells

Janny

Valor - @gretavangroupie @gretavanmoon

Guilty Pleasures - @builtbybrokenbells

Forbidden Twin

Vigilance - @gretavangroupie @gretavanmoon

Gold Dust Woman - @builtbybrokenbells

Cruel Summer - @sacredstarcatcher

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builtbykittie · 7 months

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Electrified

S.F.K x f!reader

Summary: Escaping an uncomfortable situation at a party, you frantically look for your best friend, just to find he was also searching for you.

Warnings: 18+ per usual, alcohol consumption, SMUT, semi public sex, unprotected sex (y'all know better), this is literally just porn... nothing too crazy.

Words: nearly 4.5k

A/N: Ugh another Sam friends to lovers? Yes. This is a Taylor Swift inspired fic🥰. Every time I hear this song, I think of Sammy (despite the fact he hates pop music) So I finally wrote about it, enjoy! (Disclaimer I literally didn't edit this much at all & I'm so sorry)

"Who are you trying to impress," Sam's eyes trace the shape of your body before looking back to the road. "Nobody," you fix the length of your dress in the passenger seat. "Why? You worried someone might try to take me home?" you smirk.

"Pfft, no," he rolls his eyes, thumbs drumming to the beat of the rock song piercing through your ears. "Then why do you care," you bicker with him as if you're siblings, trying to get each other as annoyed and worked up as possible.

The truth is, you couldn't care less if anyone else saw you. You only wanted Sam to see you, for some stupid reason. Sam is your best friend, and has been for years, so why would you even try to impress him? For the same reason everybody else tries to impress their person of choice, of course.

"Oh thank god. I'm saved!" Sam snickers as he pulls into his brother's crowded driveway. You giggle and roll your eyes "Sam you know I don't like parties, you're gonna have to deal with me eventually tonight."

"Yeah, well, I'm saved for now," he playfully grabs your knee and gives it a shake before pulling his seatbelt away from his body. "Oh shut up, you know you would gladly argue with me for hours," you unbuckle your own seatbelt, pushing the door open with your heel.

Sam helps you down from the passenger's seat, his large hand hovering over the small of your back, then gently grabbing your waist as you slip out of the seat until your heels touch the ground. "You got me," he grins. It's simple touches like these that keep you on your toes, a wave of electricity flowing through your body every. single. time.

You look around at the countless cars lined up in front of Josh's house, starting to grow anxious. "I'll be in there the whole time. If anything happens, just find me," Sam pats your back and gestures for you to follow him into his brother's house.

All you really want is to stay in and watch movies, but Sam wouldn't dare to miss his big brother's party, and you don't blame him.

Sam parts ways with you within just minutes of being in the house, instantly going to mingle with any person who catches his attention. You grow a little jealous, not just of the other people getting his attention but also of his social skills. You wish you could make conversation with people as effortlessly as he could, but instead, you hunt for any person you're relatively close with.

"Y/N!" You hear your name being called by a voice you could recognize from miles away. "Jake?" You locate him in just seconds, walking over and pulling him into a side hug. "You here with Sam?" Jake looks around for any sight of his younger brother.

"Yeah. He left me as soon as we got through the door," you smile, swinging your arm through the air as if to swat away a pesky fly. "Yeah.. Sam's an asshole," he laughs, but he can't seem to mask the look of concern playing on his features.

The unbearable sounds of Sam shouting with others only seem to make you more upset. You should be happy that your best friend can have fun and be himself, but it all just gets caught up in a fit of jealousy. "You don't need to worry about me. Do you know where Josh is?" You look around, having not seen Josh once at his own party.

"Hm, downstairs maybe. You know how Josh is, he's just trying to converse with everyone," you nod your head, giggling as you picture his adorable self going around to every single person here and making them feel welcome.

"Well, I'm gonna go look for him. I'll see you later," you wave, squeezing through and dodging everyone till you reach the stairs. There he is, his slim figure facing away from you as he talks to someone at the bottom of the stairs. You wait there only for a few seconds until Josh discovers you himself, swiftly making his way up the stairs "Y/N! When did you get here? Where's Sam?"

"There he is! We didn't show up too long ago. And Sam's gotta be around here somewhere." Josh pulls you into an embrace, stepping back and complimenting your dress. "Thanks, Sam didn't like it," you giggle "I gotta say, you always have the best parties. You truly are a man of many talents."

You and Josh are rudely interrupted by a woman's voice shouting your name, followed by a cold hand wrapping around your arm. Your brows furrow, giving Josh a puzzled look before turning around to meet eyes with a girl you knew, but not well enough.

She's obviously wasted, her eyes bloodshot, her skin a deep shade of crimson, not to mention the fact you can hardly understand her "I haven't seen you in forever!" You avoid any physical contact, lest she spills her drink on your brand new dress you'd spent all afternoon staring at yourself in. "Hey, Jen. Been a while, huh?" There's no doubt in your mind that this conversation would be 100% less painful if you had something in your system, but you were completely sober.

"Let me get you a drink," she pats your shoulder and gestures toward the counter that is littered with countless alcohol bottles, empty and full. It's as if she read your mind. You let out a sigh of relief, turning back to Josh but he's not there, and now you're surrounded by people you'd rather not be around.

Normally you wouldn't take a drink made by someone else, but these are Josh's friends, and Jen was 100% a girls girl. "Thank you," you take the drink from her hand, awkwardly sipping off the red solo cup filled with what tastes like a mix of vodka and cherry juice.

"We're playing games in the living room, you should come join," Jen grabs you, pulling you in the direction of the living room before you can even say anything.

"Oh no, I'm so bad at games, I'll just embarrass myself," you whine, but letting her drag you into the room of people nonetheless. "Not skill games, silly!" She points at everyone sitting in a circle, familiar faces looking up and insisting you to sit. It all feels so childish, like a bunch of high schoolers that got ahold of their parent's alcohol, playing games to get a rise out of each other.

You find Jake in the circle as well, a defeated smile on his face as he shrugs in your direction. "Fine," everyone cheers, scooting over to make room for you and the dark-haired girl next to you. Jake is sitting straight across from you, his sweet brown eyes calming you down and silently telling you to relax, to have fun.

You're not sure when, but at some point, the questions being asked have taken a sharp turn from being embarrassing yet harmless, to being strictly about the sex lives of everyone in the circle.

All color drains from your face as the bottle slows down, pointing straight at you. You already know the question is gonna be about you and Sam, it always is.

"Have you hooked up with Sammy yet? What's he like in bed?"

"I haven't... which is a surprise considering he'll take any girl home," you fail to hide the venom and jealousy that has laced your voice, everyone giggling and "ooh" ing like little children. "Just spin the damn bottle. I don't wanna hear about Sam's sex life anymore," Jake saves you from any more invasive questions, sending a wink in your direction.

You sit miserably through a couple more rounds and a few more drinks, the constant discussion of sex reminding you that you haven't gotten off in a while. You've been so busy for the past few days, you'd completely forgotten how long you've gone without a good orgasm.

Wetness in your panties becomes evident to you as you adjust your position. For every minute you sit there, the anticipation grows, your heart pounding and your hands trembling as you absent-mindedly search for Sam every other second. Your mind sifts through every possible affair, unsure of how to fix your problem. Do you relieve yourself in Josh's bathroom? Look for someone to go home with?

Finally, you stand up, your legs beginning to carry you away from the circle before your brain can even make a decision. "Excuse me," you ignore everyone's stares and questions, moving through the house as if you're on autopilot mode.

You still don't know where you're going, but when you find yourself subconsciously searching for Sam's face, it becomes apparent what you truly want. Now you're frantic, plowing through people and shamelessly calling his name. You're in a daze as you search every corner of Josh's house, not paying any care to how beside yourself you may look or how desperate you may sound to lingering guests.

Turning the corner to yet another crowded room, you run into someone's chest, exhilaration coursing through your veins and what's left of your inhibitions melting away as you realize it's Sam.

"Sam! I was looking everywhere for you!" you basically throw yourself onto him, smoothing your palms over his chest. "I was looking for you," his tone is sexy, hypnotizing sultry brown eyes stare into yours. You don't know if it's just the drinks, but there's a specific energy radiating off of Sam's warm body. If you stand there for long enough, breathing him in, you're sure that it will get you high.

An overwhelming feeling takes complete control over you, lifting yourself slightly to whisper in his ear "I need you, Sam." You shock yourself, unsure where your sudden bluntness came from.

You watch Sam's eyes widen and feel his chest rise and fall underneath your hands, his body growing unbelievably hot.

Sam's breath significantly picks up as you cup his face, rubbing your thumb across the warm surface. You back him into a dark part of the room, starting to press kisses against his neck.

He looks around in a panic, but luckily no one is looking "Y/N, we're leaving. Now." His lanky fingers wrap around your wrist, and he begins to pull you through the house, nearly running.

You both are far too turned on to say goodbye to anyone or pay attention to comments people make as you pass by. But to your misfortune, Josh stops you.

"Hey! Are you two leaving already?" Josh quirks an eyebrow as he notices something on Sam's neck, a smirk playing on his lips after connecting the dots. "Uh, yeah," Sam searches for an excuse "You know how she is with parties." Sam lifts your arm as you awkwardly smile beside him.

"Okay, well, it was really nice to see you. Enjoy yourselves," Josh doesn't pull you in for a hug like he normally would, instead just sending you on your way. His smug tone and grin would normally send you into a panic, but right now you couldn't care less about anything other than Sam.

You hope to make a beeline straight out the door, but you're stopped by yet another Kiszka brother and Daniel by his side.

"There you are. Leaving?" Jake's eyes flick down to the same spot Josh noticed, now you're curious. Sam nods "She's not feeling great and I'm her ride." Jake snickers and taps Danny with his elbow, a crooked smile growing on his face "I'm sure you are."

"Oh fuck off. Are you gonna let us leave?" Sam doesn't even try to act calm, the more you stand the more the anticipation builds. "You can't stay just a little longer?" Danny smirks, Jake bringing his hands up to rest on his hips.

"No," now you're incredibly impatient and unable to stand still as your arousal soaks your panties "I really don't feel good." "Awh... Well.. you heard the girl," Jake laughs through his words, sending a jab to Danny's side with his elbow. Danny slings his arm over Jake's shoulder as they begin to take steps backward "see ya!"

"Fuck. Finally," Sam breathes, and you look over to him, your lipstick painted all over his neck. "Sam," you whisper, but he's too distracted to hear it, or anything anyone is saying. Suddenly, the room erupts with hollers as Sam shoves you through the door.

"Sam, they all know," you whine, reaching a hand up to massage his scalp as he pulls you into his side. "Good," he pulls his keys from his pocket, unlocking the car and practically running to it. Sam walks around to the driver's side, and that's when you realize you can't wait any longer.

"Sam," you drop your head, fully aware of how desperate you've become. "What baby?" He opens the door, a smug grin pulling on his cheeks. "Sam I- I can't... I need you."

"I thought you'd say that," he snickers, slamming the door shut and pulling the door to the back seat open. You waste no time sending the door flying open and crawling in, locking the door behind you.

Your lips instantly find his, your teeth clashing into each other's as you smash your lips together. "What were you thinking?" Sam sucks in a breath as he backs you toward the door and hovers over you. Before you can respond he starts again "I mean seriously. Wearing this tiny fucking dress. Kissing me in front of those people. Getting me all worked up."

A whiney moan escapes your mouth as he lifts the hem of your dress, his cold fingertips grazing the skin of your upper thigh. "I knew you'd like it," you confess in a moan, lifting your hands and tangling them in his hair, pulling him into you.

Suddenly, he violently pulls the silk black fabric above your head. Your words obviously sparked a fire in him, a vicious one nobody could put out. Sam's fingers rake over your thighs then up to your unclothed breasts, groaning at the sight "You knew full well what you were doing dressed like this."

Sam takes your nipple in his mouth before releasing it with a pop and sucking a bruise to the swell of your breast. "So what if I did, Sammy?" You moan, arching your back into him. You reach down and cup his bulge, palming him as a devilish grin grows on your face.

"Then I'll just have to fuck you until you can't see straight." With that, he begins to trail kisses down your breasts to your navel, his finger drawing lines across your skin so close to where you desperately need his touch.

"Sam, please," you whine, back arching up into his touch as he kisses along the band of your panties. Your pleads are met with a sick laughter against your tummy "you're so needy, you know that?"

You couldn't roll your eyes back further in your head, trying your very hardest to not reach down and pull your panties off yourself. "You can't act like you don't need it just as bad, Sam. I know how bad you want to fuck me," you moan, knowing it'd set off something in him.

You were right, because without warning he swiftly pulls the tiny piece of lace fabric down your legs, leaving you completely naked. "Jesus, you're eager, huh?" Sam hums and brings his lips to your tummy, sucking the skin into his mouth before lapping at the raw skin with his tongue.

"You just can't admit it huh Sammy? You can't admit that I'm right?" You try to get him as worked up as you possibly can, your body rolling into his touch. "Wow. You're right, Y/N. I'm just dying to feel you," he rolls his eyes dramatically, but he's far from lying.

Slowly and painfully, Sam makes a line of kisses down from your navel to the very top of your heat. "Please.." is all you can muster up and your eyes clamp shut in anticipation, just waiting for him to do something, anything.

"Now you're being nice? What happened to the bratty girl who was here just a second ago?" Your breath hitches in your throat as you feel his hot breath against your core. "Sam, stop. Plea-" you're unable to finish your sentence when he suddenly points his tongue, dragging it through your arousal drenched folds.

You suck in a choked gasp, involuntarily pushing yourself against Sam's face, earning a hum against your heat. The vibration sends a shock through your body, your hands mindlessly flying to his hair "oh Sam..."

His tongue quickly warmed up to you, it was as if he already knew your body. Without warning, Sam shoves a finger in you, hitting a sweet spot as he does so. "Sam.. I can- I'm almost-" you're interrupted by your own moan as he pushes another finger in, instantly curling up.

Sam lifts his head to look you in the eye, stopping his movement causing you to whine at the loss of contact "can you do one more?" You're a bit taken back by the question "I- I don't know... Nobody's ever..."

"I know you can," he presses a peck to your clit and slowly slides in a third, stretching you out in a way you've never experienced before. "Oh- oh my god.. Sam,"

"Good girl... You're so tight around my fingers, baby. Are you close?" All you can muster up is a weak nod and a hum, pushing yourself down onto his fingers further. You find yourself holding your breath, a moan ripping through your chest as he presses the flat of his tongue against your clit.

You take the opportunity to grind against his tongue, your hips beginning to shake and your thighs burn when you feel your orgasm approach. Your movements significantly quicken, relentlessly grinding and pushing yourself against Sam's tongue as he viciously rams his fingers into you.

Within a matter of seconds, the burning pleasure flows through your entire body, your eyes shut so tightly you might need to pry them open as you mutter his name over and over.

"Fuck, Y/N," Sam breathlessly snickers, slowly pulling his fingers from you and rubbing the slick all around your core. He returns to hover over you, bringing his face down to your ear "you know... A couple girls tried to take me home.. but I was looking for you, Y/N."

Your eyes widen in confusion and you nod your head, silently telling him to continue. "I couldn't stop thinking about you.. that dress.. your body. I needed you. Only you," he takes the shell of your ear in between his teeth, gently biting down.

The confession sends a shiver down your spine and your mouth falls open once he finds a sensitive spot behind your ear. You reach up and push his head against your neck, you can basically hear your heartbeat in your ears as he continues to nip at and place open mouth kisses to your neck.

"I thought you didn't like the dress," you smirk, your other arm reaches down, desperately trying to find what you need so bad. "So greedy... you're not satisfied with just these?" Sam teases, dragging his fingers through your heat.

"Sam, stop," you moan, your body jolting at the touch. Another wicked snicker leaves his lips as he presses his clothed bulge to your core "that attitude isn't gonna get you anywhere, doll. Ask nicely."

As much as you hate it, you're ready to accept defeat. "Please, Sam. I need you. Please... give it to me," you whine, grinding up against his bulge. An animalistic groan bubbles up from from his chest as he props himself up with one hand, the other fumbling with his button.

"Need help with that?" You giggle, watching as he fails to swiftly undo his jeans. You don't let him respond, his head dips down to rest in the crook of your neck as you reach to finish the task yourself.

Within just seconds you get his button undone and his zipper down, pushing them to his knees and instantly cupping his erection. Suddenly, you start to process just exactly what is happening.

He lifts his head and you look into his gorgeous brown eyes, yours widening as you take in every feature of his face lit by the moonlight. "What is it baby? You nervous?" He smiles at you, his hands running down your body, squeezing painfully at your thighs.

"Well I'd be lying if I said I wasn't, Sammy," you confess, and his face softens, the devious smile that played on his lips visually turning into a fond grin.

"Oh, Y/N. There's no need to be nervous, I promise," he brings his head back down to softly kiss your lips, but you had something else in mind. You take the opportunity to palm him through his boxers, eliciting a desperate groan from him. You can tell he's been holding back, and it's painful.

You bite his lip as he pulls back, every ounce of doubt or anxiety draining from your body. "Tell me, pretty," he pushes his boxers past his hips, his unbelievably hard cock springing free. "You knew I'd like that dress?"

If you're being honest, you completely forgot you had even said that, but it's obvious he'd been working himself into a frenzy over it. "Sammy.. I wore it for you," you drag your fingers over his body, his breath hitching in his throat as you draw a line down his length with your fingertip.

"I wore it because I thought.. I don't know.. it'd turn you on..." You trail off, looking away from him and suddenly hyper-aware of your naked body. "Well it worked, didn't it?" He giggles, grabbing your face and forcing you to look at him "does this mean you've wanted to fuck me before tonight?"

"Well... I mean yeah," you reach down, grasping the base of his cock "are we just gonna lay here and have a conversation or do you want to fuck me, Sam?" A shocked look plays on his face which quickly morphs into a sinister smile "you're feisty."

You grasp the back of his neck, bringing him close to you and sucking on the skin behind his ear as you slowly stroke his cock. "God- damnit Y/N," Sam groans as he involuntarily fucks himself into your hand.

Just as he juts his hips to fuck himself into your hand, you move it, and push him down to be lined up with your dripping entrance. "Fuck me until I can't see straight, Sam," you whisper lowly into his ear, granting him permission to enter you.

"Oh fuck," he groans, your own noises mirroring his as he stretches you out so slow that the sting could become almost too much for you. You arm instinctively flies over his back, pushing him down closer to you "oh my god."

Within just a matter of seconds he begins to roll his hips, snapping them into the meat of your thigh and hitting a sweet spot just right. The moan that tumbles past your lips could disturb the entire first floor of the party still very alive and just feet away from you and Sam.

"Yeah you like that?" He punctuates his words with another sharp thrust, followed by a slow, languid thrust. "Mhm.." your eyebrows knit together, unable to form words as he keeps up this intoxicating pattern.

Your mind grows foggy, your only thoughts consisting strictly of Sam. "M- more," you whine and reach down to unbutton his shirt, desperate to feel his skin on yours.

"More? Are you sure you want that?" Sam struggles to form his own sentence as you clench and quiver around him. You nod your head frantically, pulling his chest down onto yours and arching your back up into him.

The slight change in position allowed Sam to go even deeper, the new leverage giving you everything you needed. "Oh Sam.. right there.. oh," you cry, clawing his back.

He feels too good

He hits an especially sensitive spot with a particularly rough thrust, a shocking wave of electricity flowing through your body. "Holy- holy shit..." you all but shriek, and you violently throw your head back, crashing into the door behind you.

"Woah- you okay?" Sam's movements never falter, keeping that same pattern. "Yes, Sam. Just keep- keep fucking me," you finally get the full sentence out after what feels like forever, and you know you're not going to last much longer.

You try to warn him, but your pathetic attempts to form words fail miserably. "Shit Y/N... you're so-" he interrupts himself with a guttural groan as his own orgasm to approaches.

Just as you requested and he promised, what was left of your vision completely fades away and you no longer fight to keep your eyes open.

Suddenly, fiery white pleasure viciously burns through your body and you're sure you've never felt anything like this before as you cry out his name over and over and over. "Shit. Shit shit shit," Sam's pleasure takes over his mind and you feel his hot release spurt inside you.

You're unsure just how much time has passed, but it's enough to bring you back down to earth. "Sam? You still with me?" You giggle, rubbing his back as you half expect him to be asleep.

"I'm here," he breathes, a wave of melancholy taking over your mind as you realize it's over. "I'm gonna pull out love, you ready?" All you can do is nod, clamping your eyes shut and preparing yourself. You bite back a whimper as he pulls from you, a mix of your juices dripping down your leg.

The last thing you'd expect is Sam going down and licking the mess up. A sharp, yet intoxicating feeling shocking your body as he licks through your folds and over you overstimulated clit.

"Think you could go another round?" You whisper, untangling his sweaty hair. His head shoots up to meet your eyes, a sinister grin playing over his features "go get in the front... We're going home."

#greta van fleet #gvf fanfiction #greta van fleet imagine #greta van fleet smut #greta van smut #gvf smut #sam kiszka fanfiction #sam kiszka smut #sam kiszka #sam gvf #greta van fleet fan fiction #gvf

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holybananafuck · 6 months

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Fic Recs

Finally made one of these for anyone who’s interested!

Reminder that these are fan fiction. These are not accurate representations of the individuals portrayed. It is simply a form of art and expression! All fics listed below contain explicit/NSFW themes, they are intended for consenting adults!

~~~~~~~~🤍~~~~~~~~

haze @milkgemini

august, honey, you were mine @finestoflines

honey you’re familiar @josh-kiszkas-mullet

delectable @jake-kiszkas-smirk

the sex scene @lightmylove-gvf

little fantasy @jake-kiszkas-smirk

it’s never over @builtbybrokenbells

valtava @gretavanlace

vigilance @gretavangroupie

lazarus @garbagevanfleet

anything for you @themoreyou-love

sémillante @profitofthedune

cream & sugar @sacredthefran

the deepest cut @emsfallingsky

karma @sunshinevanfleet

like real people do @alwaysonthemend

gratitude @builtbykittie

body electric @satans-helper

dripping drumsticks @gretavanlace

show me @vanfleeter

spontaneous @jake-kiszkas-smirk

stroke me @hyperfixated-gvf

carried away @ageofnations

picasso @builtbybrokenbells

why don’t you make me? @joshym

35 high @ageofbarbarians

talk @ageofhearingloss

feel it @samkiszkasfacialhair

246 notes · View notes

joshym · 5 months

Text

Le Morte d'Arthur: Chapter 2

Pairing: Jake Kiszka x f!Reader, Sam Kiszka x f!Reader (oops)

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: 13.5k+

Warnings: (for this chapter) please proceed with caution if you find any of the following to be triggering: poor body image, body dysmorphia, mentions of a past eating disorder, an ill parent, (this will include descriptions of struggling to breathe due to illness & mentions of an oxygen mask) drinking, cussing, Jake is jealous? 18+ ONLY: some pretty heaving making out, (but it's not with who you think it is hehe), mentions of an erection, slight nudity, mentions of being turned on. (please let me know if i missed anything. there are a few heavy topics mentioned, & the last thing i want is for anyone to begin reading without a proper warning.)

a/n: i am so sorry this chapter took so long. i truly hope you love it & as always, please don't hesitate to let me know what you think! i love hearing from you guys. 🤍

also, huge thank you to @jakeyt for being the best editor & being 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

⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎

Your morning drives to school are your absolute favorite part of the day. They serve as your singular moment of complete peace to counteract the chaos that can be expected once the day truly gets started. The serenity of the morning air calms your spirit and prepares you for whatever the day may bring.

You’ve managed to find an alternate route to campus, one that keeps you far away from the heavy morning traffic. It adds nearly twenty minutes to your journey, but the cost of waking a little earlier each day is worth the promise of a few spare moments of quiet solitude.

The new path you’ve found leads you straight to school, and the best part– it’s an image right out of a fairy-tale.

Trees line the unpaved road, their leaves in early autumnal splendor. Hues of orange and red greet you in their forenoon charm, catching the rays of the waking sun as they glow in bright iridescence.

This morning, there’s a light rain shower leaving tiny droplets on your windshield. The sun still dares to peek through the gray clouds, illuminating the glittering raindrops as they gently fall to the ground.

You’ve yet to be met with another morning traveler since you discovered this road only days ago. It feels as though you’ve found some secret passageway— a hidden spot with no name, set aside just for you.

Pure tranquility washes over your body as your foot rests on the gas pedal.

It’s the moments like these that remind you of the beauty that still exists around you— that no matter what downfall you suffer, the earth will always be there to offer you her tiny bits of wonder to keep your feet planted firmly against her soil.

Your Firebird putters into the university parking lot, amongst the slew of shining, new vehicles with hardly an imperfection to be seen on any of them. You used to be embarrassed of your old clunker, but as time goes on you’ve learned to be grateful for it and all the places it has taken you.

Your new staff parking spot is awaiting you, of which you are entirely grateful. After your first day, you found that the parking lots fill up rather quickly with commuter students, so having a designated spot just for you everyday has saved you a lot of grief in the mornings. Yet another wonderful perk of being an employee of the university.

The smell of roasting espresso penetrates your senses as you waltz through the doors of the campus coffee shop. You and Natalia had agreed to meet this morning before your classes to study a bit for your course on influential women in literature.

Carmen, your favorite barista greets you as you walk up to the counter. Her sincere smile is always such a pleasant addition to your mornings.

She’s the most lovely vision; her loose curls always tied in a perfect ponytail, her bangs framing the contours of her face beautifully. Her black browline glasses sitting atop her freckled nose that push up past her eyebrows when she smiles, showcasing her sweet dimples.

You’ve made the coffee shop part of your morning routine everyday, so you’re not surprised when she knows your order without you having to say anything more than “Good morning, friend!”

“Large cold brew with oat milk and extra vanilla?” she asks, already writing it on the cup with a Sharpie.

You smile broadly. “You’re amazing, Carmen!” You hand her a ten and a five, insisting that she keep the change. She fights you a bit but realizes she’s already lost the battle.

She hands you your drink and you thank her, telling her you’ll see her tomorrow at the same time.

You choose a table close to a window so as to have a view of the gloomy, morning sky.

Watching the raindrops race each other to the bottom of the window seal, leaving their trail as the others merge to quickly join behind them— it gives you a sense of nostalgia that takes you back to a time when things were simply…easier.

One thing about growing up in Oklahoma— it was always raining. And much to your mom’s discontent, you were sure to be found outside right in the middle of it.

It probably explains why you were almost always sick as a child. Frequent head colds were the norm for you. It never stopped you, though. The rain brought forth a sense of clarity for you—feeling the cold drops hitting your face was the mental reset your mind needed, and it still is to this day.

You’d always been fascinated with weather— but specifically the rain. A poem you’d fawned over in your childhood spoke of rain carrying the ghosts of the past— a sentiment you’ve held onto dearly ever since.

That very poem is the reason you love literature. It’s the reason you’re here, to study the thing that brings you the most comfort.

Each time it rains, you’re flooded with lovely memories…memories of the ghosts that still linger from your youth.

This is the first rain shower you’ve experienced thus far in your new home; it feels as though the earth is trying to tell you it’ll all be just fine. She’s telling you that you do belong here, that you’re right where you need to be.

“Daydreaming much?” Natalia pulls out the chair opposite of you, sitting her usual hazelnut latte down as she takes her seat.

“Guess you could say that,” you say through a smile. “I just adore the rain.”

You each pull out your laptops and Charlotte Brontë books, catching up on your weekends with one another.

“You’ll never believe what I agreed to on Friday,” you say.

She looks at you with a smirk splayed across her glossed lips, her rose colored cheeks still wet from having just walked through the rain.

To your surprise, she asks, “Does it have anything to do with a little medieval film project?”

“How in the hell do you know about that?”

“My brother,” she responds. “He’s helping Josh with it. Doing set designs, costuming— it’s quite impressive, honestly. Those costumes are some of the most beautiful I’ve ever seen, and I’ve done theatre my entire life.” She blows air on her coffee to cool it down a bit before taking a sip, wincing from the heat as she pulls the cup away from her lips. “I knew they were searching high and low for a Guiniverre— guess I should’ve known it’d be you.” Her long, butterfly lashes flutter with a wink as she giggles.

You’re not entirely sure what to make of her last statement. You just chose to ignore it.

“He said it’ll be killing two birds with one stone— that we’ll be helping out his brother for his film class, while also having something for our project in Movack’s class.” You pause to take a deep breath, “But I am no actress. And if it’s all truly that impressive, I may prove to be a bit of a disappointment.” Your hands fall into your lap as you stare down at yourself— your body comfortably covered with your usual oversized sweater and leggings, feeling a rush of insecurities as you imagine yourself being filmed. “I’m more of a behind-the-camera type of gal, anyways.”

You’ve fought this inner battle for as long as you can fathom— your appearance is a topic you tend to avoid. You hide behind people for photos, or offer to be the one taking them to get out of being in it altogether.

Disordered eating had been a side effect of the severe dysmorphic thoughts. But thankfully, after years of receiving help, you’re finally in a stable place in your recovery.

The thing that still lingers, though; the harsh way in which you view yourself. Specifically, your appearance.

“You said you’ve done theatre your whole life— why aren’t you playing Guiniverre?” you ask her. “I can’t imagine they haven’t thought of you.”

Natalia is far more fitting for this film. She carries the beauty required to take on such a role; the beauty of a lust worthy queen. Just as well, she clearly has the experience you so greatly lack.

She scoffs as she sets down her coffee and crosses her arms. “I was not about to kiss Sam. Nope. No way. That boy is a pain in my entire ass.”

Sam?… Kissing?

This is the first you’ve heard of any of this.

“Wait— what?” Your reaction seems to have caught her by surprise. Her eyes become wide and her lips part as she takes in your obvious confusion.

“Jake…didn’t tell you about that? Did he tell you anything?” She leans in closer to you, a slight look of irritation present in her honey eyes.

“He only gave me a vague synopsis— just about the infidelity in Arthur and Guinevere's marriage.”

You suddenly come to a harsh realization that you hadn’t even thought about until now.

Adultery and infidelity— forbidden romance. An entire film all about said romance, of which you are a main component. Of course there will be kissing in this film, perhaps even more.

Your stomach drops at the prospect, and you're silently cursing Jake for leaving this little tidbit out.

Of course, it isn’t entirely his fault. You should’ve guessed when he told you the focus of the film.

You’ve already agreed, and backing out now would mean you’re back to square one with a project for Movacks class.

All you can do now— beg to be anyone but Guiniverre.

“First off,” you question, “who on earth is Sam?”

“Sammy? He’s their baby brother. He also takes classes here— well, when he decides to show up, that is. He lives with the twins.”

You pick up your coffee, taking a large gulp to keep the caffeine running through your system. “And why do I have to kiss him again?”

“I can’t believe he didn’t tell you,” she says, huffing a laugh under her breath. “Josh has…plans.”

You cock an eyebrow at her, having a pretty good inclination about what these plans entail. You nod your head to let her know to continue.

“There will be a few…intimate scenes, between you and Sam. He’ll be playing the knight of romance and chivalry himself, our beloved Sir Lancelot.” She follows suit in taking a few swigs of her coffee now that it's cooled down a bit. “You and Sam will really get to know each other. And from what I’ve gathered about this film, the emphasis will be on Guin and Lance’s love. Arthur will have a different love interest— I think they’ve already casted her? Anyways, I doubt you and Jake will have many, if any, scenes together. At least no saucy ones. Which I’m sure you’re glad to hear.”

You were not prepared in the slightest for intimacy. Intimacy in front of a camera— with someone you don’t know, all for the sake of someone you hardly know. Someone who’s been a massive dick to you, no less.

But her last statement— about not having any special scenes with Jake. She’s right, mostly. It would be incredibly uncomfortable to have any scenes like that with him…right?

But, if you're being fully honest, a small part of you is a bit…disappointed.

You shove that thought down fast. “Uh, yeah. I’m more than thrilled to hear that. That would be awkward as fuck.” You’re doing your best to be sure she doesn’t see right through you.

“But seriously, y/n. Those costumes…” She smiles widely, shaking her head back and forth. “ My brother did a great job finding those. They’re going to accentuate you in all the right ways.”

That is exactly what you’re afraid of.

With your elbows on the table, you throw your face into your open palms with such force that you nearly knock your cold brew to the floor.

“Nat, I– I don’t think I can do this.”

She lightly takes your wrist in her hand, jolting you a little so you’ll lift your face. “Hey, what’s wrong? It’s just acting, love. It’s not that serious, I promise.” Her voice is so sweet and gentle, her eyes have softened and are full of quiet concern.

“I know it’s not that serious,” Out of instinct, you pull your sleeves over your hands and take your hair out from behind your ears, hiding yourself as best as you can. “I just don’t like…this,” Your hands motion to your body covered with the security of your baggy clothes. “I’ve never liked this. I mean, just how much will these costumes… accentuate me?” The thought of baring yourself even in the slightest has your stomach tumbling with somersaults.

“Listen— I know Josh, and he will never let you do something you’re not comfortable with,” she assures, her honest smile making an appearance. “His mind is wide open and his soul is in all the right places. If there’s something you don’t like, just tell him and he’ll fix it.”

You’re racking your brain with the thought of his twin being as wonderful as she described. How could someone who shares the same DNA profile with Jake truly be that amazing?

“And stop worrying about the costumes. I can promise you, y/n, you will look sexy as hell.”

She’s doing her best to reassure you— though it’s not totally working, you act as though it is to change the subject and get started on your studies.

⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎

You frustratedly close the lid to your laptop after having nearly failed your quiz. You had set aside plenty of time this weekend to study, but with how distracted you are right now from your conversation with Natalia this morning, all the time in the world for studying wouldn’t have mattered.

And of course, it’s Movack’s class— the one you most want to excel in, the one you share with Jake.

He closes his laptop only seconds after you.

It’s not a fucking race, Jake.

Movack stated at the beginning of class that once you finish your quiz, you’re free to leave. You quickly pack up your things, trying to make a hasty escape before Jake to avoid any possible conversation with him.

You’re halfway down the hall and as you’re about to turn the corner to safety, you hear, “Hey, y/n! I need to ask you something.”

Fucking hell.

You pause for a moment, dramatically rolling your eyes before you turn around to see Jake walking towards you.

He takes his sunglasses off and places them in the breast pocket of his shirt. He makes eye contact with you, a rarity for him, before he asks “Are you free on Saturday afternoon? Around 4:30?”

…what?

That is the very last thing you’d ever expect to come from his lips.

His gaze has yet to break as he awaits your response. His deep set amber eyes are piercing right into yours. He has an almost desperate look about him— as if he’s anxious for you to reply.

Is he…asking you out?

Your intuition tells you there’s no way, but…why else would he be asking you this?

Suddenly, your body begins to tingle. The butterflies in your tummy begin swarming.

You don’t know what changed— perhaps agreeing to the film? Maybe he’s finally seeing you as more than a scholarly competition, maybe he’s finally seeing you. Whatever it may be, you’re not questioning it any longer.

You’ve decided you’re completely infatuated with him, and getting to know him even better outside of this classroom sounds…wonderful.

“Y-yeah! I don’t have anything going on. I’m totally free!” With a full toothed grin on display and perhaps a bit too much eagerness, you follow with, “Why? What did you have in mind?”

His brows then become furrowed, his slight look of desperation transforming into one that says he’s now… confused.

“Um… okay,” His voice sounds unsure, his inflection coming off as more of a question than a statement. “I’m only asking because my brother wants to go over a read through of some of the script on Saturday…you know, for the film project.”

Oh. My. God.

You’re mentally smacking yourself across the forehead. You want to crawl inside the deepest fucking hole on this planet and stay there with your shame.

What is wrong with you? It’s as though you’ve completely forgotten you have a project to do with him— that that would be the only logical reason he’d ask if you were free. Obviously.

That’s why he looked desperate. Not because he wanted you to agree to some date— because he needs your help with this stupid fucking project you regretfully agreed to.

Your face (noticeably, you're sure) drops. You’re so humiliated at your response. No wonder he looked so damned confused.

“Sure, yeah. I can do that.” You revert back to your initial irritated tone, refusing to look him in the eye now, hoping that he’ll somehow forget you were any other way.

“He also needs you to try on the costumes, too. Make sure they’re the right size.”

The costumes.

This couldn’t get any fucking worse. But you can’t turn him down now, given you were so quick to tell him you’re free on Saturday.

You simply say “okay,” as you nod your head in agreement.

He takes out his notebook, writing down his address before ripping the sheet of paper out and handing it to you.

You tuck it away in your bag, bidding him a quick adieu before turning to walk far away from him.

Tears threaten to fall from your eyes. Not out of sadness, but out of mortification. Out of irritation.

Irritation with yourself, with him. And it’s not even his fault. You’re the one that jumped to ridiculous conclusions— jumped the highest you possibly could.

You feel utterly stupid.

So fucking stupid.

⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎

Your mom looks at you in shock as you walk inside your apartment. Ridding yourself of your bags with a swift toss to the floor, you slump down next to her on the couch.

“What are you doing home so early? I thought you had class until later this afternoon,” she probed.

“Just a little tired,” you say. “Thought I’d give myself some time to rest before work.”

“This isn’t like you, y/n. What’s wrong, sweetie?”

She’s right— this isn’t like you. You normally wouldn’t even think of skipping class, your education being the most important thing to you. But, you just couldn’t bring yourself to do it today.

“Kind of a long day, I guess. And I’m a little stressed out with my classes.”

She then turns the television off and glares at you with the eyes of a worried mother.

“Talk to me, y/n. I know there’s more.”

You should know by now that you can’t hide anything from her. She knows you too damn well.

You can’t hold it back any longer as you begin to spill it all.

“It’s… stupid Jake. I thought he was asking me out today, but he most definitely was not. And I made an idiot out of myself because I misunderstood and—”

She stops you mid sentence, “And who is Jake?” she questions.

You haven’t told her a single thing about him, about your project, anything. It’s not that you were trying to hide it from her, you just really didn’t want to talk about it.

With a heavy sigh, you say, “He’s my partner for this huge semester project in my King Arthur class. We’re doing an Arthurian film with his brother,” you put a palm to your face. Looking up at her with a sarcastic smile, you add. “Oh, and Jake is a major dick.”

“Do you like him?” she asks with a smirk curling at the corner of her lips.

“Absolutely not!” you exclaim— rather loudly, at that.

Even you don’t believe the words that came out of your mouth, so why would she?

She just chuckles at your response, knowing better than that but deciding to not ask you about it any further, switching the topic to your project. “Tell me about this film you're doing,” she says.

“You won’t believe this but, I’m actually acting in it.”

“You? Acting? Okay, who are you and what have you done with my daughter?” she jokes, forcing a smile out of you.

“Just wait. It gets better,” you say. “I’m actually playing Guiniverre and Jake will be Arthur. It’s all about their adulterous marriage, and the focus will be on them cheating on each other. Quite romantic, huh?”

She begins to laugh again, trying not to wear out her weak lungs, but it doesn’t work. She gets caught up in a huge coughing fit, struggling to catch her breath.

This always happens; she can’t even laugh without her lungs giving her trouble. It shatters your heart. She’s always had the most contagious, obnoxious laugh. You miss the pure, unpunctured sound of it so much.

You reach for her oxygen mask and gently place it over her mouth. “Just breathe, mom. It’s okay, I’m here. Just breathe for me, in and out…”

As much as it scares you whenever this happens, it scares her even more. The look in her eyes makes you want to cry. It’s a look that says “please make this stop.”

You wish more than anything that you could.

It’s the moments like these that you want to curse your dad for leaving, for leaving his wife of almost twenty years like this.

She begins to calm down, her breathing slowing as she’s able to take full breaths again.

“You okay?” you ask.

She moves your hand and lifts the mask from her face. “Just fine, sweetie. Sorry about that.” Her voice sounds so frail, like she’s just run a marathon.

“Don’t apologize, Mom,” you lay a hand on your skinny thigh, squeezing reassuringly. “Please.”

She nods, then requests. “Tell me more.”

She doesn’t like to dwell on these things when they happen, so you start talking about the film and Jake some more.

“He’s got a younger brother named Sam, who’ll be playing Lancelot. Apparently, there are a few scenes between him and I in the script that are a bit… sensual, you could say.”

“Well, is he as cute as Jake?” she snickers.

“Mom! I never said Jake was cute.”

“Didn’t have to,” she says. “You think he is, I can tell.” Her grin says she can see right through you, and she’s not wrong. She never is.

“I haven’t met his brother yet, so I have no idea.”

You continue telling her more about the film, telling her about Natalia, but the conversation ends up taking a turn to being mostly (completely, actually) about Jake.

“He’s just intimidated by you, y/n. That’s why he acts the way he does, so you don’t know his true feelings.”

You just shrug it off, knowing she’s obligated by blood to tell you that. She’s just trying to make you feel better.

“Just wait,” she says. “He’ll come around.”

⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎

You look at your phone to check the time.

3:45 am. Ugh.

You’ve been in bed for hours desperately trying to sleep but your body just won’t relax.

You hated seeing your mom like that tonight. Watching her struggle to breathe… it's traumatizing every time it happens. And the episodes are becoming more and more frequent.

You just want her to be healthy again. You want to be able to have a normal conversation with her without worrying about making her laugh. It’s tearing you down, watching her wither away like this. It’s not fair.

You just wish there was more you could do.

Along with the stress of that, you also keep hearing Jake's voice on a loop in your head; “I’m only asking because my brother wants to go over a read through some of the script on Saturday…you know, for the film project.”

“I’m only asking…”

It’s the way he said ‘only,’ as if to say ‘don’t get your hopes up, that’s not what this is.”

Him posing that question (before you knew the true intent behind it) made you realize that— as much as you wish you weren’t— you’re somehow on the cusp of having feelings for him. And your conversation with your mom made that fact even more abundantly clear.

It’s most definitely not because of his winning personality.

No; it’s much different than that.

He brings about an air of mystery everywhere he goes. Every step he takes adds yet another layer to your curiosity about him.

And the way he acted when he asked you to be a part of his brother's film, how his face lit up in a whole new light. There’s a genuine man beneath his exterior— you can sense it. You just wish that were the Jake you’ve come face to face with nearly everyday since classes began a few weeks ago. That’s the side of him (if it is truly there and you’re not just making things up) that you want to discover.

He’s just… different. And you're annoyingly drawn to it. You're completely drawn to it.

You’ve never met anyone like him— let alone anyone that looks like him. As much as you hate to admit it, he is the personification of the female gaze. And his ridiculous attire, complete with his open shirts that display his necklaces on top of his bare chest— and yes, even his sunglasses that you try (but fail) to hate— all make it incredibly difficult to not find him attractive.

He’s beginning to consume your every thought, and you’re so mad at yourself for it.

⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎

Saturday.

You’ve spent the entire week dreading today, contemplating backing out more times than you can count. Jake has been increasingly rude to you since your encounter with him on Monday. He’s spoken one or two words to you throughout the course of the week, but that’s about it.

Again, you're wondering why the hell you agreed to do him any favors.

If it wasn’t for this fucking project in fucking Movack’s class…

Without the consistent convincing from Natalia, you would have backed out. No question about it.

“Just make it through Saturday, y/n,” she said. “And if you still feel this way, tell him you want to do something else for your project. He’ll have to understand.”

You told her you’d do it, but only if she agreed to go with you. Thankfully, it didn’t take much convincing on your part and she happily accepted your terms.

⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎

You bring your fist up to knock and wait a moment; nothing.

You feel as though you’ve given it ample time, so you knock yet again.

Finally, the handle on the door twists and is opened by, of course, Jake.

You embarrassingly stare a few seconds too long, not able to find words.

Unenthusiastically, he breaks the silence, “Welcome to our humble abode.”

He holds the door open as you and Natalia walk through the threshold together. Immediately upon seeing the place, you’re in a state of pure shock.

You’re not sure what you expected of Jake's home, but a two story, industrial loft apartment— massive loft apartment— right in the heart of downtown Detroit, was most surely not the first thing on your list. Natalia told you it was nice, but you weren’t prepared for this.

How do three college students manage to afford this?

The ever plaguing mystery continues.

It’s like walking into a photoshoot for a prestigious interior design magazine. This place doesn’t even look real.

Your eye is instantly caught by the decor. A tasteful mix of bohemian and modern rustic. The red brick walls lead to tall ceilings covered with exposed steel piping, adding so much unique character to the place. Trailing vines line the huge windows, casting the living room in an almost sage glow.

Jake ignores you, (shocker) as he heads into the kitchen and opens the refrigerator. “Well that’s just great,” he says, taking out a can of Miller Lite and turning to face Natalia. “The least your brother could do is restock our beer when he takes the last one.”

She just snickers in response.

Suddenly a loud bang comes from a room up the long staircase, followed by a pair of animated giggles.

Jake turns his head slightly in the direction of the commotion, mumbling “fucking imbeciles” quietly to himself, but loud enough that you heard it.

“What the hell was that?” Natalia asks.

“Our moronic brothers,” Jake grumbles.

Then, a man with a set of wild, messy curls on top of his head jogs down the stairs, giggling while struggling to keep his footing.

“What were you doing up there?” Jake demands.

“Do you really want to know?” the curly haired one says, wiping his shiny lips with the sleeve of his shirt before smoothing down his disarrayed mustache.

“Nope. Not one fucking bit,” Jake scoffs.

Jake then nods his head in your direction, letting him know that you and Natalia have arrived.

“Well hello, my dear Natalia!” he says, pulling her into a hug.

Then, he catches your eye.

“Ah hah!” he shouts, giving you a long look. “You must be our queen! Lovely to meet you, m’lady,” He grabs your hand and kisses it before making a dramatic display of bowing before you. “If I may be so bold, the name is Josh. Sir Josh of the Frankenmuth, Michigan sector— at your service.”

This is Josh? The other half of Jake?

There’s no way. Sure, they have the same face. Well, besides the addition of a mustache and goatee to Joshs, but still. Clearly they’re identical, but so starkly different from one another.

You look over to Jake, noting a slight irritated look from him. Ignoring it, you meet Josh in a hug.

“It’s so nice to meet you!” You throw a little extra emphasis on ‘so’, looking at Jake once more and picking up on his eye roll— even from behind his sunglasses.

You’re remembering your first encounter with Jake—how it was so vastly different from right now as you’re meeting his twin for the first time.

You instantly felt welcomed with Josh, while with Jake, you felt like a major inconvenience. (And admittedly, you still do.)

How can they be so different, yet look the exact same?

He’s even dressed like the perfect contrast of Jake.

Jake is clad in his usual monochromatic look—sunglasses, black button down and all. (How many of these fucking shirts does the man own, for godsake?)

But Josh, on the other hand— he’s wearing a stark white sweatshirt and skin tight khaki pants, pulled together aesthetically with high top tennis shoes that mimic the brightness of his top.

They are the personification of yin and yang standing before your very eyes.

“Would you like a drink?” Josh offers. “We have beer, wine—”

Jake interrupts him, yelling, “There’s no more beer!” as he takes a long sip out of his can.

“Okay then, no beer.” Josh chuckles. “Well we have water, of course. But that’s far too boring. I'd be happy to mix you one of my world-famous cocktails if you’d like.”

“Take it from me— if you don’t want to end up sloshed, do not let him make you a cocktail.” Another man makes his way down the stairs, stopping once he gets to Josh. He towers over him, being at least six inches taller. He’s awfully handsome, with the same kind, honey toned eyes that mimic those of your lovely friend standing beside you.

“My sweet, sweet Malachi. It’s okay to just admit that I make the most pristine drinks known to man.” Josh grabs his waist and tugs him close in an embrace.

“This would be my brother,” Natalia says.

“This is y/n?” He greets you with a hug, nearly lifting you off your feet. “It’s so great to meet you! You’re so kind to help with this.”

“I’m glad to help! I’m a huge Arthurian nerd, so this is right up my alley,” you say to him. “I just hope I can do Guinevere some justice. I’ve never really acted before.”

“I have no doubt in my mind that you’ll be great!” Josh chimes, “If you’re ready, I’ve got one of your costumes set up in Jake's room. Last door, straight down at the very end of the hall.”

Jake’s room?

“Okay! Sounds great. I’m really excited to see these. Nat told me they’re amazing,” you say, heading in the direction Josh told you his room is in.

Josh watches you leave, holding his hands up in a makeshift camera. “Yep. You’re the perfect vision for our Guin. Very pretty,” He playfully nudges Jake with his elbow, “You were right, my brother.”

What does that mean?

Jake’s cheeks become encompassed in a pink hue as he chokes on the beer he’d just taken a sip of.

“Why thank you, Sir Joshua,” you say as you turn around towards him to curtesy.

⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎

You were nervous enough about being in his home, but his room? That is an entirely different story.

A person's room is the most personal, intimate space. The space that holds all their innermost secrets. Walking in feels like the ultimate intrusion.

Your stomach tightens as you turn the knob on his bedroom door.

Immediately, you're struck with the same scent he carries with him.

His whole room smells like it— like him.

You turn to shut the door behind you to have some privacy, catching a canvas portrait on the back depicting an iconic Edgar Allan Poe quote: “Words have no power to impress the mind without the exquisite horror of their reality.”

The room is dimly lit, with blackout curtains hanging over the windows—only a single lamp in the corner next to the bed illuminates the space.

The walls are lined with medieval artwork. Depictions of Ophelia and The Lady of Shalott, with a few famous pieces by the great Edmund Blair Leighton that you’d recognize anywhere. And, of course, no medieval artwork collection is complete without the classic portrait of Morgan Le Fey. She’s illustrated in her quintessential colorful attire, looking as enchanting as ever. A favorite or yours.

Your curiosity is certainly piqued as you notice a few books sitting upon his bedside table.

The Lord of the Rings series. A Tolkien fan— you’re not surprised in the least.

The Two Towers is splayed open to page 316 with the corners very gently dog eared.

Next to the book lies an opened notebook donned with scribbled detailings of what he’d read. Little footnotes and observations, brief analyses of chapters.

A smile dares to creep across the corner of your mouth— finding it incredibly nerdy, yet all at once completely endearing that he places so much care in what he reads.

You know next to nothing about this man, but one thing you do know— he loves literature. And you’d bet he loves it almost as much (if not slightly more) than you do. That truly says something.

On top of the table on the opposite side of the bed sits a small record player, the record sitting under the stilled needle— Electric Ladyland by Jimi Hendrix.

You skim a few other album titles placed on the shelf next to it, seeing the likes of Stevie Ray Vaughan, Eric Clapton, Janis Joplin; he’s a blues kind of guy.

You grew up on that very same music, all thanks to your mom. She made sure you were well versed on music from a very young age.

A dark red Gibson SG is perched on its stand right next to the table holding the record player. The scratches engraved on its body indicate heavy use— you can tell this thing is quite loved.

He’s… a guitarist?

God. The mystery surrounding this man is never ending. There’s so much you don’t know, so much you wish you did know.

Feeling as though you’ve explored far too much of his room, you decide to focus your attention on the garment bag laid out across the black velvet duvet across Jake’s bed.

You unzip it, your nerves exuding through your shaky hands at whatever you’ll discover inside.

You lift the dress out of the bag high above your head as the length reaches clear to the floor.

Holy shit.

When Natalia told you these costumes were amazing, she was understating to the highest degree.

Golden hand sewn lace embroiders the deep burgundy corset bodice. The square neckline is garnished with gold and red gems in the most intricate pattern, with the same jeweled design present on the cuffs of the long sleeves. The skirt, the same shade as the bodice, is silken and heavy and adorned with a similar gold design cascading all the way down to the hem.

Truly fit for a queen.

You can’t help but wonder where they possibly found this. It’s the most gorgeous gown you’ve ever seen— and you get to wear it.

Undressing yourself in Jake's room feels…strange. You feel vulnerable and exposed, but the butterflies in your belly are swarming at the thought— the thought of being only in your bra and panties in Jake’s bedroom.

Taking another look at the corset, you quickly learn that a bra is simply not an option for this dress. You remove it, feeling particularly risqué now being half nude in his room.

You lay the dress on the floor and step into the skirt one foot at time, lifting it up and carefully putting your arms through the sleeves.

You try tightening the laces of the corset, but without being able to see, it’s proving to be rather difficult. You know there’s not a chance you can get this situated yourself.

You decide to text Natalia to come help you, but as you go to look for your phone, you remember you left it sitting on the coffee table in the living room.

“Fuck,” you whisper to yourself.

You open the door and marginally peak your head out, calling for her to come lend you a hand with the dress.

“Sorry— should’ve warned you about that,” you hear Josh yell from across the apartment.

“You rang?” Natalia jokes as she makes her way down the hallway to you.

“This is fucking impossible to get on,” you huff, closing the door as she walks in the room.

She chuckles as she shoves your hands out of the way to take over tying the corset. “You’ve really got yourself in quite the mess here.”

She sinches it as tight as it will go, forcing the breath out of your lungs in one final tug of the laces.

“Jesus, Nat!”

“Oh you’re fine. God, you literature people are so dramatic.”

“You’re one of us too, you know,” you quip back.

She secures the ribbon tightly with a bow before she says, “I think you’re in. Turn around, let's see what we’re working with.”

You run your hands down your torso and up to your chest, feeling the constriction present against your breasts as you turn your body to face her.

“Holy fucking shit, y/n. That’s what you’ve been hiding under those giant ass sweaters?” she marvels with arched eyebrows and wide unblinking eyes.

You haven't seen yourself yet, and judging by how snug the top of this dress is hugging you, you’re not exactly sure you’re ready to.

Pointing to the mirror leaned against the wall, she tells you, “Get your ass over there, you have got to see this.”

Years of body dysmorphia have set you up to hate everything you put on if it isn’t something that hides you. Tight fitting garments are your worst nightmare. You feel safe in things that conceal your figure, and being in something that doesn’t do that is forcing you to come face to face with the thing that terrifies you the most.

With a reluctant sigh, you slowly walk over to the large wooden oval floor mirror standing next to the matching dresser.

The first thing you notice upon lifting your eyes to meet your reflection— your breasts. From feeling them moments ago, you knew they were on full display, but you didn’t realize they’d be this exposed. One slightly questionable movement, and it’s all over.

The sleeves sit off your shoulders, leaving them exposed with the rest of your chest.

Your eyes trail down to your waist that is being held tightly by the corset, your figure finally being exposed.

“O-oh god…” you quietly stammer. “I look…”

“Insanely hot.” Natalia interrupts.

“…I look fucking ridiculous.”

“What the hell are you talking about, y/n?” she demands.

“This isn’t flattering…not in the slightest.” You bring your arms up to fold them over your chest. You can’t hide as easily as you would like to in this get up— and the thought of being filmed in this has your stomach in a nauseous hold.

She walks closer to you and gently brushes your arms, motioning for you to put them down— to stop hiding.“You’ve got to be kidding me, y/n. This dress was made for you.” She adjusts your right sleeve a bit, smoothing down a few wrinkles. With a tender voice, she asks, “What could you possibly not like about this?”

“I’m not you, Nat. I can’t pull this off like you could.”

“Do not start that shit with me, girl.” She sounds more stern this time. “Just because you don’t look like me, does not mean you aren’t fucking beautiful. If I have to spend all night convincing you that you’re gorgeous, I will.”

Natalia is the kind of person you’ve needed in your life, your whole life. She just gets you, and she always has the right thing to say at any given moment.

Not wanting to make this moment any more about yourself than you already have, you simply say, “Thank you, Nat.”

You reach for a hug and she pulls you in, saying “You’re welcome. Now, get yourself out there. I can’t wait to see the look on these boys’ faces.”

Just in time, a knock sounds against the bedroom door. “Uh ladies? Time is of the essence!” Josh jokingly yells from the hallway, snapping being heard through the wall.

You’re standing completely still, fear keeping you frozen on your feet. She notices and motions for you to move.

“You first,” you tell her.

She playfully rolls her eyes and agrees. Opening the door, she says, “Let’s go, your highness. Your kingdom awaits your arrival.”

You follow her down the hallway, hiking the skirt of your dress up as it’s far too long for you. You're so anxious to let Jake (and the other guys— but mostly Jake) see you like this. Petrified, really.

You’re afraid of his reaction, that it won’t be what you want it to be— that he’ll act disgusted.

But all the same, you want him to see. Maybe this will change his mind. Maybe he’ll think you look as good as Natalia says.

You can only hope, anyways.

Natalia pulls out all the dramatic stops to introduce you. “Gentlemen, I present to you, your queen.”

She stands to the side as you walk forward into the living room. Josh is sitting on the couch next to Malachi, both of them with large smiles across their faces at the sight of you. They each fawn over you, telling you how immaculate you look. Josh praises Malachi over and over for managing to get them the perfect gown, “The sizing is impeccable!” he tells him. Then he winks at Natalia. “Thanks for getting her sizes for us, Natty!”

You hear them, but you’re hardly paying them any attention as you’re stuck scanning the room for Jake, but to no avail. He’s nowhere to be seen. To say the very least, you’re full of disappointment.

“Well, fuck me,” you hear a voice say, one that you’re not quite so familiar with.

You snap your head in the direction of the voice to see a man— who looks a little like Jake?— leaning up against the floor to ceiling window in the dining room.

“Seriously, Sam?” Natalia snaps, “Where the hell are you manners?”

Sam— the Sam. The one you’ll be sharing the screen with the most.

It makes sense why he’d be chosen to play ever-romantic Lancelot. He’s a major flirt, quite fitting for the role. And— he’s fucking beautiful. Something you were not anticipating. (And something you hadn’t even thought about, with your mind being so overloaded with thoughts of Jake.)

While he doesn’t share the same similarities with Jake as Josh does, (they’re twins, so, obviously) you most definitely can’t deny the fact that they’re brothers.

Sam is a bit taller than the twins, his body shaped completely differently to accommodate his longer frame. His facial hair is quite similar to Joshs’, with his hair more the likes of Jakes'.

“Sorry, I can’t help myself when I see a pretty girl,” Sam blurts. “You sure you’re at the right place? Seems you should be galavanting in Hollywood looking like that.”

A heat rises to your cheeks at his compliment. You’re sure your face is nearly the color of the gown you’re in. He’s awfully bold— and you kind of like it.

His eyes stay fixed on you as he begins walking in your direction.

“I take it you’re y/n?” he asks, taking your hand and giving your knuckles a quick peck. “I’d say Jake made a good choice for our queen.” He looks into your eyes as he gives the back of your hand yet another kiss— this one a bit more involved.

You smile at the feeling of his mustache ticking your hand as he grins against the skin. “Thank you, Sam. I’m quite flattered,” you say, still giggling like a fucking school girl with a brand new crush.

“Oh Jesus Christ,” Nat quips with a stark roll of her eyes.

“This…THIS!” Josh shouts as he stands from the couch, trotting over to you and Sam. “The exact chemistry I was hoping for. You two just naturally have it— you exude it.” He grabs you both by the shoulders and pulls you both into a three-way embrace. “Sam, go put on your costume. We should run through a quick scene. I just have to see how this will play out.”

Josh is so giddy about it all that he plants a wet kiss to your cheek, saying with a sincere smile, “You really do look wonderful, you know.”

⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎

Josh led you all down a little pathway behind their apartment building that leads to a shrine of towering beautiful, old trees. The sun just barely breaks through the colorful leaves on their full branches, illuminating the mossy ground in a soft and subtle golden glow.

His vision for this particular scene with Lancelot and Guinevere is to take place in a forest setting, a “secret hiding place tucked away in the depths of nature's wonder,” as he put it.

You look around in awe; it’s though you’ve walked through the pages of an old story book. An enchanted forest, right in the middle of the hustle and bustle of the busy city. You would have never guessed this was hiding here. The perfect spot for a film– more importantly, it’s the perfect spot for lovers to enjoy their inconspicuous love affair.

“The lighting right now is unmatched,” Josh exclaims, taking note of the time so he knows when to come out when you’re ready to actually start filming. It’s just after 5:30, and with autumn nearly in full swing, it’s right at the beginning of golden hour. With the way the trees are shading the sun, it makes for the most beautiful, soft scene— almost lucent.

It reminds you so much of the serene road you’ve found for your morning treks to school each day. You feel the same way here as you do on that secret road; this will surely be a new favorite place of yours.

You’ve got the script in your hands, skimming through the scene Josh has highlighted for you.

Guinevere is sending Lancelot off to a jousting match, giving him her red scarf in secret to tie around his arm as a token. He must wear it during the game for good luck, and he’s meant to return it to her once he wins. A common medieval practice amongst lovers.

It ends with her wrapping her arms around him, enveloping him in a “deep, heated kiss to bid a farewell,” according to the script.

Oh god.

You read ahead a little. Apparently, this will be what gives their little love affair away. Arthur will recognize the scarf around Lancelot's arm as his wife’s, and the rest will be left to history. Angsty– wonderfully so.

“Right here,” Josh says. “This is perfect.”

He positions you and Sam in a spot that’s right in the middle of a circle of trees.

Sam's skin is glowing beautifully in this light, his dark eyes now several shades lighter as the sun catches them just right.

You can’t help but stare at him. He’s just so handsome, and he looks particularly regal in his costume. A white velvet, high collar top with white pants that are hugging him in all the right places, and a deep red cape draped over his broad shoulders— the same shade as your dress.

Is it historically accurate? Absolutely not. But it is most definitely serving its purpose of making him appealing to the eye, or making him lust worthy— which is exactly what Malachi was going for when he chose this get up.

His cape is meant to match your dress, symbolizing their affection for one another.

It’s brilliant, honestly.

Josh puts his hand on your shoulder, his perfectly round eyes meeting yours while he quietly says, “If you’re not comfortable with this, please don’t be afraid to tell me or Sam. Promise me you’ll say something.”

Sam looks at you with the same eyes as Josh, wanting to make sure you’re comfortable enough with everything before you start.

You smile at them both, patting Josh's hand that’s still resting gently on you. “I promise.”

“Okay, great. You guys ready?” Josh asks.

“I think so,” Sam says, looking down at you with heavy eyes and a sweet smile. “You ready, y/n?”

As you’d walked the path down here, Josh mentioned that Jake left to go get more beer while you were getting dressed. And… he’s still not back yet.

A part of you doesn’t want to do this without him here. Why? You wish you knew. It just doesn't feel right for some reason.

You look around at everyone once more to see if maybe he’s shown up and you just didn’t realize it.

You see Josh, Malachi and Natalia all standing around you— but no Jake.

Oh well…

Matching Sam's smile, you say, “Yep. I’m ready.”

Neither of you have your lines memorized just yet, so you both read directly from the script.

Sam begins the scene:

“My love. I accept this token and will wear it as I carry you with me, that with it wrapped around my arm, so as you are wrapped even tighter around my heart.”

Then you:

“With it carries the promise you will return to me, unmarked and whole. Again will you lie with me, again will you hold me as tightly as my token holds you.”

You know Sam is acting, but the way he’s looking at you as you say your line— he looks like he’s madly in love. It’s catching you off guard, making your knees weak as your voice trembles with the next line.

“Seal your promise of returning to me with your lips, my love. Kiss me and tell me it’s true that you will hold me again.”

With that, Sam drops his script to his feet. He lifts his hands to cup your face, holding it gently as his thumbs lightly sweep across your cheekbones. Your breath hitches, and you too, drop your script.

This… this suddenly doesn't feel like acting anymore.

He leans in slowly, his lips just beginning to brush over yours. You grip his shoulders, leaning in the rest of the way until, finally, your lips collide with his.

A kiss so sweet and tender. Not too deep, yet a far cry from a friendly peck.

He pulls away from you delicately, the sound of his lips breaking from yours the only one you can hear as silence lingers in the air around you.

As you look into his eyes, you notice something different, something real. Like he’s wanted to do that since he first laid eyes on you just a short while ago.

“Wow, y/n’s got some serious acting chops after all,” you hear Natalia say, slowly clapping.

But it’s abruptly interrupted by someone speaking.

“What— what the fuck is going on?” That voice… you know that voice without even looking away from Sam.

Jake. He’s back.

“Bravo, bravo!” Josh shouts while clapping his hands. “God. Beautifully done, you guys. I’d like to run through it just once more. Give me a little more passion this time.”

You finally look away from Sam, seeing Jake standing next to his twin with a bewildered look upon his face.

In his all black outfit, he really stands out amongst everyone, amongst the golden sun rays that shine down upon him.

He’s not wearing his sunglasses, and you’re once again spellbound by his eyes. Their amber tone heightened in the light.

He just looks so fucking good.

Sam is beautiful, but he’s just not Jake.

“Hello? Is anyone going to fill me in on this?” Jake asks again, motioning his arms toward you and Sam.

“We’re rehearsing a scene, Jake.” Josh retorts.

“Yeah? And what scene might that be?” Jake sounds quite unhappy, much to your confusion.

Josh picks up the script at Sam's feet, holding it open to the page you’re currently working on. “This one,” he says. “The one where she gives Lancelot her token. I wrote this weeks ago, Jake. Why are you acting like you’ve never seen it?”

Jake hastily takes the script from him and reads over the scene in question. “I swear I’ve never read this before.” He continues flipping the pages, going back and finding more scenes that will be shared between you and Sam. “Why the hell do they have so many of these scenes together? When did you decide on all of this?”

“Seriously, Jake?” Josh scoffs. “These scenes have always been there—,” he growls, using his hands to help communicate the emotions in his next words. “You clearly haven't read a word of the fucking script. Guinevere and Lancelot’s affair is the main focus, with some on Arthur’s affair with the maiden. We literally talked about this. Multiple fucking times.”

Jake gives the script back to Josh, fiercely rubbing his chin as he does so.

“Why are you so upset, Jake?” Josh asks.

“I’m literally not, Josh.”

“Uh, yes you are. You only rub your chin like that when you’re pissed.”

With a flair of his nostrils, Jake says, “Just get on with your goddamn rehearsal.”

“Just ignore them. They do this shit all the time,” Sam quietly says to you. “Ready to do this again?” he asks.

With your attention back on Sam, you smile and nod your head.

You do the scene again, much the same as you had before. But this time, with the watchful eyes of Jake, you feel a bit more… inspired.

“Kiss me and tell me it’s true that you will hold me again.”

Sam once again takes your face in his hands, leaning in close to you.

This time, instead of grabbing his shoulders, you opt to run your fingers through his hair.

Locking eyes with Jake, who’s standing perfectly in your view, you lift your face to crash your lips with Sam— much harder this time.

Josh wanted more passion, and he’s getting exactly that.

You push your tongue past Sam's plush lips, eliciting a soft grumble from deep in his throat.

His hands suddenly move from your face to your neck, his fingertips tracing the skin while leaving goosebumps in their wake. He then reaches down to your waist, pulling you tightly against his body.

This is no Guiniverre and Lancelot sharing a secret kiss in the middle of a hidden forest; this is you and Sam enjoying the hell out of each other.

But even as your mouth is fully enveloped with Sams, even with your tongues fighting for dominance with one another— your only thought… is Jake. Fucking Jake.

You situate your face just so, where you’re again able to look Jake in the eyes. He intensely glares as he watches you in a moment of pure desire with his brother— and he doesn’t look happy.

Incidentally, it's only adding fuel to your fire as your lips continue furiously attacking Sams.

You wrap your hands even tighter around his soft locks as his tongue is dancing with yours.

More beautiful, hushed moans escape Sam’s mouth straight into yours as you echo them right back to him.

He tastes like heaven mixed with a delicious honey sweet bourbon, he’s fucking delectable.

With a little hesitancy, (especially on Sam's part) the kiss breaks as you are forced to come back up for air.

Sam is still holding you close, so close that you can feel his enthusiasm between your bodies that’s thankfully being covered by the skirt of your dress.

“You’ve uh, got me in a bit of a predicament here,” he whispers, his lips ghosting over the shell of your ear.

You look him in the eyes, biting your kiss swollen bottom lip. “I can tell. Pretty big predicament, huh.” Your new found bravery has taken even you by surprise.

Sam just smirks at you while everyone is left stunned at your performance.

“I… am so fucking pissed,” Josh says.

“Why, babe?” Malachi asks him.

“Because I didn’t bring my fucking camera. You two… you two were made to do this together. I really hope you can do that again. Holy shit. Bra-fucking-vo.”

“What do you think, y/n? Think we could do that again?” Sam asks you. Although it’s clear he isn’t referring to the film.

Looking at Jake, his jaw clenched and his fists tight, you say, “Yeah.” You tear your eyes away from Jake, looking at Josh to finish. “I think we could do that again.”

⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎

A few weeks have gone by, and most things are going very well with the production.

Josh is a fantastic director (albeit, a little too bossy at times). Their sweet friend Daniel wound up being a great cameraman, getting shots of you that didn’t make you completely cringe at first glance. Then there was Malachi, who is consistently helpful, just like his sister. Sam, the perfect scene partner— so attentive and great at checking in with you between takes.

And Nat, ever the loyal friend, has still been coming to rehearsals with you. She hasn’t missed a single one, and her support has meant the world to you. Each time you feel a rush of insecurity washing over you, she’s there to talk you through it and be the encouragement you need.

The only part of these rehearsals that’s getting extremely old is how much Jake inserts his “constructive creative criticism.”

On more than one occasion, you’d shoot daggers in his direction and remind him that he’s not the director and to leave it to his brother. To which he’d respond with a scoff, palms planted, strong on his hips, and turn to leave the room in a huff.

Then there are the arguments between the twins… which have been growing in intensity. Some days production ends because the two of them just refuse to see eye to eye, making it impossible to get through a single scene.

You have to admit— these two are rather passionate about their work.

You just wish they’d stop arguing long enough to showcase their talents.

The most memorable day on set as of yet was the day Jake's costume had finally arrived.

He’d been taking far too long to get dressed in his attire, causing Josh to succumb to a near full meltdown. The sun was setting and Josh was adamant about getting at least one scene with Arthur shot outside.

Jake, however, was extremely unhappy with the costume that was chosen for him. He refused to walk out in it, claiming it was nothing like what he had pictured for the character. “This isn’t Arthur,” he said. “This is a goddamn see-through crop top.”

And that had instantly piqued your attention. You’d walked around the corner of the hallway, Natalia leading the way. Thankfully— because she did not need to be privy to the fact that you were so curious.

Then, you saw him. Clad in his film outfit that was a cut off chainmail top, with its short, tight sleeves putting his muscular biceps on full display.

His pecks, (which you’ve caught yourself admiring a time or two before) looked particularly perked and rounded.

You also loved how sheer the top was, giving you a fantastic view of his skin underneath.

Jake clearly wasn’t happy about it, but you most definitely were.

“Goddamn…” you whispered to yourself, watching the way his arms flexed each time he adjusted his shirt. You couldn’t help it. He just looked so fucking sexy.

“I’m not wearing this, Josh.” Jake asserted. “Nope. This is ridiculous.”

“Yes you are, Jake. It’s only for a few scenes, then you can wear the outfit you chose.” Josh blurted. “And I told you we’d get you a black cloak to wear. Will that make you feel better?” You noted a bit of sarcasm in his voice.

“Fuck no,” Jake said. “And why the hell does Sam get to have my sword for so many of his scenes?”

The argument continued on, and almost an hour later, Jake finally gave in. But, it was too late. The sun had gone down, and you were all ready to call it quits for the night.

“Well, a fucking wasted day. Thanks an awful lot, Jake.” Josh shouted as he stomped up the stairs.

They were able to shoot that scene the very next day, and as usual, they acted as if nothing had happened.

It’s pure whiplash with these two. One minute they’re cussing each other out, on the verge of throwing fists; the next, they’re making each other laugh so hard they’re nearly rolling on the floor.

Outside of filming, Jake has remained stoic– ignorant to your existence.

At school, he acts as though you don’t exist– only acknowledging you if he absolutely has to. For instance, before you can even try to get a word in before or after class, he’s already shooting up out of his seat before you have time to even think about standing up.

And similarly, at rehearsals, your conversations are limited to one or two words here and there, besides the incessant critiques he tosses around after your scenes.

Sam, however, has given you nothing but praise after praise. His flirting hasn’t let up— and you’ve been dishing it right back any chance you get.

You had ultimately decided if Jake wouldn't give you the time of day, you’d give it to someone who will. Who just so happens to be Sam.

Although, it lends more material for Jake’s reproval. The comments he’d make about it were aggravating at best.

“Can you show us all some fucking respect, please?”

“We’re trying to get work done.”

“Do you want us all to have failed projects because you two can’t stay fuckin’ focused?”

And, to every response, Josh shut him down, scolding him for being an asshole.

“You’re going to chase away my muse, Jake. Please, cut the shit,” he’d roll his eyes, messing with the sides of his hair, fluffing it, cutting a glance at his twin. “I’m tired of you acting like a child. You’re the one causing us to lag with the ridiculous comments.”

The comments did distract you a little from the scenes you knew were coming up rather quickly on the filming schedule… but his remarks also added unnecessary anxiety to the overall atmosphere for you. In which case, Sam would be the one to make you feel better, bringing you right back to him.

The particular scene that’s hurtling towards you is happening later this week. You’re filming a brand new scene with Sam that will be far more intimate than anything you’ve filmed thus far.

Josh wanted to give you time to adjust to everything and feel completely comfortable before he introduced this part of the film.

You’re still nervous about it, but your eagerness to see the film through has you ready to give it a go.

The day before the filming of the scene, you go about things like normal. You have so much fun rehearsing with Sam; Nat and Malachi watch in awe as the scene flows flawlessly between the two of you, like it normally does.

And today, it’s easier because Jake had been strangely absent. But, it hadn’t been better. Because no matter him being so irritating, you had sort of missed looking up at him, mid-scene with Sam. It had become oddly normal to find his eyes while meeting Sam’s lips.

After finishing a rather long rehearsal, Josh reminds you in passing that you’ll be wearing a brand new costume for tomorrow’s shoot.

And you figured today was as good a day as any to give it a peek.

Walking to Jake’s room to locate it, you sent Nat a quick text that you were heading there. She’d slipped away with Malachi to discuss costumes, but you knew if you ended up trying the costume on that you’d need her there to help (or at the very least, encourage).

Jake’s room has become designated for your costumes, of which he has expressed ample irritation about. Just one more thing for the twins to fight about.

You’re actually starting to believe that Josh made it that way just to spite Jake.

Once you make it there, the stark red garment bag is hanging on the closet door, awaiting you. It’s the other one that had been laid out on Jake's bed that first day you came over.

That day had slipped away from all of you with Josh’s insistence that you and Sam re-rehearse the kiss, over and over. So, you never got the chance to try it on.

You had hesitated looking at it since that day, though, because Nat forewarned you that this costume was much more revealing than the last, and knowing that, you haven’t really been in any hurry to try it on.

Lifting up on your tiptoes the slightest bit, you grab the garment bag that holds the brand new, different costume that Malachi has specially picked for you.

Nat had fortunately gotten the text and had made it in time to help you remove the corset dress, carefully placing it back in its garment bag.

Left in your black thong, lacking a bra from your prior costume, you look at the other bag, now laying on the bed. Your stomach sinks to your knees at the possibility of what’s hiding beneath the red canvas.

“Just how bad is it, Nat?”

The anxiety you faced trying on the first dress weeks ago is now creeping its way back in. You’re scared stiff for a moment, staring down at the costume still hidden beneath the red fabric.

“You’re overthinking it, y/n,” she says. “Just open it and find out. All I can tell you is you’re going to look unreal.”

Not wanting to draw this out any longer, you start unzipping the bag, slowly revealing the black lace that was tucked away inside.

You pull on the hanger to take it out of the bag fully.

A long black gown of intricate lace and chiffon— a lavish, luxurious piece of… lingerie. The gown exposes skin, hiding just beyond the cloth. Tight at the bust and waist, and flowing out at your hips.

The neckline is completely open and plunges down to the waist. The mesh material decorated with an elaborate floral design— is utterly see-through. The front of the gown is held together with only a black satin ribbon tied in a bow.

“Holy shit, y/n,” she gasps, admiring every piece of your body she can see. “You look like a piece of fucking artwork. Utterly gorgeous, honey.”

“God, Nat…” You hold it up to your body, running your fingers over the long, bell sleeve. “I really don’t know about this.”

“Josh told you if you don’t like it, they’ll find you something else. But you should at least try it on, see what you think,” she says.

You’re scared of putting it on and absolutely despising your body; you’ll be forced once again to face all of the things you don’t love about it— you won’t be able to hide in this. Not at all.

But, you promised Josh and Malachi you’d try it. And Nat is right— they have assured you over and over again that if you’re not happy with something, they’ll fix it. No questions asked. Josh asks you every single day if you’re comfortable with everything, and he’s made it abundantly clear over the course of the production that you must tell him if there’s anything you don’t like.

Clearing your mind of any more thought, (because you’ll overthink yourself to the death if you don’t) you untie the sash, placing the gown over your body.

As you suspected, there's nothing left to the imagination.

The lace just barely covers your breasts, laying completely open down to your belly button— and you’ve suddenly become hyper aware of the fact that your nipples are peeking through the sheer fabric.

“Please tell me they have pasties for me, because this,” you grumble, pointing to your chest, “is not going to work for me.”

Initially you’re talking about your nipples that you can see through the sheer fabric, but you figure there’s no use in hiding what’s on your chest from Nat. Something you would also like to be covered from eyes that you can’t fully trust yet. So, you lift your breast the slightest bit to also expose the red ink lying beneath the supple flesh.

Redrum, in dark red ink etched along the curve underneath your right breast.

Your best kept secret is no longer hidden with the likes of this dress.

“Is that…. a tattoo?”

You had decided on an impulse one night (after a few too many drinks) that you wanted a tattoo. It had been a hard week of treatments for your mom, while also simultaneously being the week that you found out about your acceptance to U of M. And you had figured you might as well do something for you— both to celebrate and distract yourself from the sad reality of your mother’s decline.

No one knows about it (save for Natalia now). Not even your mom. It was gotten with the intent to be something special for you and only you. A part of your body that you could find comfort in despite your dislike for your build— something about yourself to be comfortable with.

And being the massive Stephen King and Kubrick fan that you are, you decided on a tattoo that solidifies your love for The Shining. Both the book and the film have carried through some incredibly tough times in your life, so you can’t really say you regret the permanent decision. But, you like that it’s something sacred for just you.

“Yeah,” you say, tracing your finger along the flesh like you do nearly everyday. Just to ground yourself. “Important to me for several reasons. No one knows about it. You’re the first to know I have it actually.”

She nods in approval. “I’m honored,” she says, a sweet grin highlighting her features. “And I’m totally here for it.”

You really weren’t ready for everyone to see it yet, though.

“Do you think there’s something that we could cover it up with?”

She is already walking to the door as you ask, ready to help however she can.

“I’m going to check with Malachi,” she says, one foot out the door. Then she steps back inside the room, shutting the door to a crack before she whispers. “I won’t tell anyone about it. I’ll just say I wanna snoop through Josh’s Ben Nye.”

“You’re the best Nat,” you feel tears well in your eyes.

You’ve never had a friend as wonderful as Natalia, and with every small thing she did to help, it solidifies how grateful you are for her.

When the door closes behind her, you decide to bite the bullet and look at yourself once more.

Your thoughts begin to torment you, but you combat them with Natalia’s words.

“You look like a piece of fucking artwork. Utterly gorgeous, honey.”

You wish so badly you could eternally shut the thoughts off long enough to see yourself the way others see you, especially in these stunning costumes that you should feel beautiful in.

Someone as lovely as Nat— inside and out— complimenting you in the way she has, you should feel inclined to believe her; she’s not just telling you what she thinks you want to hear. She’s the most genuine person you’ve yet to meet and the last person to ever bullshit you.

A few heavier tears have begun to form, threatening to fall at any moment as you take in your image in the mirror.

You do look beautiful.

For the first time in god knows how long, you can see your beauty reflecting back to you, effectively telling your ever intrusive thoughts to ‘fuck off’ once and for all. And it’s not just in your body, it’s in you. The beauty within yourself that fully encompasses who you’ve grown to become as a woman.

You’ve been through some tough ass shit— had to go through things that you wish you hadn’t had to… and you’re still standing here to speak of it. That, in and of itself, is an accomplishment that shows some sort of beauty and resilience flowing from inside of you.

It doesn’t feel right acknowledging these things. You’re not used to it. But at this moment, it feels okay. Feels good. You let yourself have it for now.

You normally wouldn’t dare be caught in something like this (let alone allow yourself to be on camera) but now, you’re actually excited. You never would have guessed you had a passion for acting, for playing a character so vastly different from who you are in real life. You’re glad to have somehow stumbled upon this whole thing; it’s helped you find the confidence in yourself that you’ve been desperately searching for your entire life.

Moving the material covering your thighs the slightest bit, you reveal your leg, flexing it and admiring the taut flesh there. The feminine way your body is built complimenting the lean muscle that’s been built from hard work over time— working your ass off to get to where you wanted to be. Then, you poke your ass out, turning the slightest bit, you see the plush skin of your ass through the thin, dark material. You take the briefest second to appreciate the way it looks, round and full at the top of your thighs. Usually you would hate acknowledging that—hate. it.—but right now? It’s something sort of… sexy, seeing it. It’s hidden away beneath the flowing material, but wholly visible as well.

It’s mysterious and you like it. The gown acknowledges parts of your body, without putting it on full display and it’s honestly everything you needed. It helps you to accept the curves you usually curl your lip at.

Just then, as you stand there with your leg completely out of the slit, you hear the handle on the door turn and the door slowly creak as it’s being opened from the other side.

Nat must’ve found the makeup for your little secret. You hold your breast in preparation to cover the ink, but don’t immediately turn around towards the door. Part of you, wanting her to see this new found confidence you’ve discovered within the confines of this gown.

“I am so fucking glad you talked me into trying this on. I would have never if it weren’t for you— “

The sound of a throat being cleared of tension is made, interrupting you before you’re able to get the rest of your words out.

With a slight cock of your head in the direction of the door, your hair waving around your shoulders in the process, you realize… it’s not Nat standing on the threshold.

Stunned, frozen solid in your position that exposes your leg all the way up to the round flesh of your ass peeking through, you realize that standing where Nat should be… is Jake.

He’s as still as you, with one hand still on the doorknob and the other tightly gripping the frame on the other side.

You half expected him to shut the door immediately upon seeing you, but he didn’t. He’s just standing there, eyes trailing your barely clothed figure.

You should say something. You should tell him to get the fuck out and give you some privacy. But as you attempt to open your mouth to do so, nothing comes out.

His eyes linger on your face for a time, but eventually, they start trailing from your feet, up your legs, over your hips and taut stomach. You’re hardly breathing, but your chest is still heaving short breaths…

It becomes obvious to you that you like how his eyes feel on you. How he’s observing every inch of your body that you’re feeling brave inside for once…

You want him to see, to see you exactly like this.

Suddenly, your nipples harden when his dark, whiskey colored eyes (sans sunglasses, thank fucking god) find your shapely breasts outlined by the fabric just barely hiding them. The hand covering the round flesh tightens in an attempt to conceal the tattoo, but you’re longing to release the hand and show him all of you.

But you know better. So your hand stays firm, but you let your erect nipple peek through the fingers splayed across your chest.

You hear footsteps quickly stomping down the hall, becoming louder as they get close to Jake’s room.

“Jake! What the fuck are you doing?” Nat’s hand reaches out from nowhere, takes his arm and shoves him clear of your sight. Successfully breaking your lust ridden trance. “Give her some fucking privacy, godammit!”

And as you stood there, Nat giving Jake a piece of her mind, you can’t ignore how hot and bothered you’d become. You rub your thighs together, searching for a hint of friction from whatever had just transpired between you and Jake, longing for more of it.

Your friend finally comes in, adamantly running her mouth about how irritated she is by Jake’s intrusion, but you don’t hear her words.

Because you feel the complete opposite of her. In fact, you want to push her out of the room and bring Jake back to finish what had just barely begun.

“God, he’s a fucking idiot. I’m sorry about that,” she says as she begins rubbing the stage makeup on the skin of your tattoo, you imagine briefly that her fingers are Jake’s…

Then, feeling your nipples begin to harden from the thought, you clear your throat. Fuck. Too far.

Cover, cover, cover…

She can’t know.

“Damn,” you shake your head, your cheeks hot. “Why do they always keep it so cold in here?”

Thankfully, she doesn’t seem to notice a shift in dynamic as she laughs.

“I know, girl,” she snorts, a curl falling in front of her eye that she blows away. The breath makes your skin prickle with goosebumps. “Malachi is always giving Josh shit about it.”

She finishes blending out the makeup, adding a little powder on top to set it.

“I’d say we’ve got you pretty well covered. Take a look, tell me what you think.”

You turn back to face yourself in the mirror, and right before you’re able to look at your reflection, a picture sitting on the dresser catches your eye.

It’s of the three brothers— Josh, Sam, and Jake… their arms around each other as they smile wide.

But you can only look at Jake’s face, his smile so beautiful and bright in the image.

“Yeah, it looks great,” you say, eyes fixed on Jake’s handsome face, smiling back at you. “Looks really good.”

a/n: any thoughts as to why Jake is being so horrible during this film production? 🤔

buckle up, we've only just begun. ;)

if you'd like to be tagged, follow this link or let me know & i'll be sure to add you. 🤍

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#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 #greta van fleet smut #gvf fic #gvf fanfiction #gvf smut #greta van smut #le morte d’arthur

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