#I'm not a writer so sorry if its like. Not Good lmao

[scalproie]

Inspiration is a loop and @kazamajun's post gave me the motivation to write a little something of my own. So. Yeah :)

---

"What should we name him?"

"Him? " Kazuya whipped his head around so fast that Jun had to raise a hand to hide a chuckle. He never spend much thought on this whole... baby situation until now, but saying it outloud made him realize that he half-expected -and in all honesty, would've preferred- a daughter. "How can you be so sure?"

"A little bird told me." At that, Kazuya raised an eyebrow. Knowing Jun, she could mean this in a very literal way.

Gods have no need for sleep, they can partake in the activity all they want but it is more recreational than necessary, Kazuya certainely has never slept before. Well, before Jun. Taking a few hours every so often to lay down and rest together was a habit she took with her from the surface. She used to hide among mortals, watch them closely and fondly, adopted their life rhythms dictated by the sun. Kazuya never understood it and told her as much, but he certainely won't pass on the opportunity those habits of hers bring to hold onto Jun quietly for long periods of time. And it was another change Jun brought that was welcomed by all denizens of Hell, as it meant not dealing with its ruler for a few hours.

That intimacy was new to both gods, but they took to it quite rapidly. Kazuya always found it easy to talk in those moments before slumber, even easier than it already was to talk with her, and Jun never failed to notice, hence why she brought up the baby topic in the first place.

"Fine then, just name him whatever you want. I've no idea why you would even ask me."

"Is it so peculiar? That I would want you to choose the name of our child?"

He's more yours than mine, he bites down. But she must have felt it either way since she laid a heavy palm on his chest.

"He will be a deity, revered the same as us, tied to the both of us. Are you sure you want nothing to do with the way he will be worshipped?"

Ah, playing with his ego, she knows him so well.

"Is there nobody you'd want to honor?" She asks, much, much quieter. And just like that, she takes him to a place much more dangerous than the heavens where his opposing siblings reside: the past. He closes his eyes in remembrance and she observes him, ready to snap him out should he get somewhere too unpleasant.

"Jinpachi," he finally spoke, she squeezes his hand under the cover. "My grandfather."

"The God of the Sky?"

"You know him?"

It should not have such an effect on him, that she would know of his family; everyone knows of the Sky, of course she would be familiar with him, she used to see it everyday.

"Kazama, the God of the Wind -my own grandfather- always spoke of him with great respect."

"He said he would always watch over me..." At that, Jun was now making soothing circles with her thumb on the hand she was squeezing. "Not that it matters now anyway."

Because his own father, eons ago, usurped the throne of his granfather and started their family's cycle of godly violence. Because the sky was now forbidden to Kazuya.

"I like that name." Her soft voice was like a lifeline, anchoring him to the present. He turned his head so his lips would be on her forehead, but nothing more. "He could be like a piece of sky down here..."

Kazuya hummed in aknowledgement, signaling the end of the conversation. She snuggled closer on his neck, and eventually he felt Jun falling asleep before him. This didn't surprised him: she looked more tired recently, her face was paler, her smile thinner... he tried his best not to think too much about it. Or he blamed it on their unborn child.

He took her in his arms, and took her in entirely, before allowing himself to rest with her, undoubtful that at least she will still be here at their awakening.

---

She was gone.

Has it been hours? Days? Weeks? Millenia?

Even if Kazuya had the ability to tell the time down there, he would feel her absence for much longer than it actually was.

She was gone.

"Then go." Was the last thing he said before turning his back on her, before she could do the same to him. Staying here any longer would kill her? Watching her leave would kill him.

(Nothing would kill him. Nothing could kill him. Never again. He had to remind himself of that.)

He sat motionless in the lush garden. He broke his agreement with Bosconovitch to aleviate his sentence should he succeed in bringing a bit of the surface down here, he send him back to whatever torture the old soul was put through before the good inventor could even plead mercy. It was too late.

That damn garden. He wanted to tear it appart. He wanted to destroy it all.

But something kept stopping his hand, what for? he didn't know, that garden was useless now, it would be better to wipe it all out, to make room for something actually of use. Perhaps his mind was being clouded by thoughts of Jun.

Of course his mind was being clouded by thoughts of Jun.

So there he sat, eyes unfocused and aura lethal, in a garden that was gradually making him feel worse on a physical level. But it didn't bothered him anyway: the pain on his skin and bones distracting him from the pain in his chest.

His scar hurted again.

"... My lord?"

Kazuya couldn't care less whichever of his servant dared to disturb him.

"What should we do with your s-"

"Don't touch it." His voice made the ground shake and the air was electric. From the corner of his eyes, Kazuya could see them jump. Good. "I will deal with it myself."

He rose from his spot, and made his way out of the garden, without so much as sparing a glance at whoever would be unlucky enough to cross his path again, the previous servant already having bolted away at his first movement. When he arrived before the room where the dead infant was placed, various souls poured out of it and scuttled away like bugs, leaving it empty for the King of Hell.

Kazuya entered, and there it was in the middle: the small body, bundled up like a corpse more than a newborn. Kazuya stared at it, this pathetic weakling, too frail, too unworthy, and reached to grab it by the neck.

His hand slowed, a feeling reaching his own neck, warning to dig up old, old memories. Instead Kazuya settled to carry the body in a more appropriate matter.

As he stepped outside of the room, it suddenly hit him that he did not yet know what he should do with it. That no one else but him was supposed to dispose of it, of that he was certain, but how?

He looked again at the grotesque little thing. He could not recognize anything of himself in it. He could not recognize anything of Jun either.

Jun.

You were supposed to fix this, he mentally spat to the unborn baby, his face twisting into a silent scowl, you're the reason she had to leave.

The teary-faced image of Jun sprung into his mind with such intensity it brought back the full disturbance he felt upon seeing it for the first time.

You made her weak.

The realization that he wasn't speaking to the carcass did nothing to quell Kazuya's anger. Quite the opposite. He directed a vicious, vicious stare at the pounds of divine meat in his arms.

"I should throw you down to the lowest levels of Hell so that you may feed whatever monstrous things live down there, maybe that way you could make up for your uselessness."

He recoiled as soon as his venomous words left his mouth. The chill he just felt made him stop dead in his tracks. The thunder booming in his mind was a cruel punctuation. No. No, it bears my blood, he tried to rationalize, it deserves a better fate than this.

Yes, this was about pride, and not about the bone-deep horror he felt at how he just sounded like. Who he just sounded like.

He looked around at a loss, only to see that his feet took him back to the garden. Yes, of course, it was clear now: at the very least, it could be used as a grave, soon to be sealed off, and forgotten about. This felt fitting, this felt right, and right now he desesperately needed something to feel right.

So he entered back into the garden, and didn't need to search for long before finding a proper spot to bury the small body, which he set aside as he dropped to his knees.

To his dismay, that motion brought back more memories.

"Come join me!"

It was just after one of their spar, Kazuya was out of breath, as he often was when he went for extended periods of time on the surface. Jun was as lively as ever, covered in dirt that some would say is unfitting of a goddess, but Kazuya was above such thoughts: she yet again tied with him, she could look however she pleases.

"What for?" He called out to her.

"Helping me shape a new life!"

One could hear the smile in her voice as she gestured to the young tree waiting to be planted in a better sunlit spot.

"I take away life, Jun."

"And is that really all you can do, King of Hell?"

This got a smirk out of him, which only made her smile bigger, as she patted down the spot next to her. When he moved over and dropped to his knees, he could see that she has already worked up a sweat, having digged quite the hole, and they just had a fight before! He gave her a curious look: they're gods, surely there must be a less tiresome way to do this? And as usual, she understood him wordlessly.

"The effort makes it mean something," She held a handful of soil almost to his face and he leaned back ever so slightly. "It's much more satisfying than just willing it into existence."

His look turned from curious to perplexed, so she took his hands into her own (gently, so gently he learned not to jump at the touch anymore) and used them to scoop a bit of the earth.

"The soil is rich here thanks to the volcano," She said, referring to Hell's Entrance, not that far away from here. She kept her brown eyes focused on the ground. "Isn't it amazing? That what is thought to only bring death can help raise so much life?"

Kazuya just looked at her. He only ever looked at her. He could spend eons looking at her.

Her voice, somehow, turned ever softer.

"There is so much more to it than mere destruction."

In the garden, Kazuya felt as if he was digging a hole into his stomach, his throat, rather than in the soft dirt.

When the hole was deep enough, he lowered the unborn child into it, and stayed still for a moment to contemplate the fruit of his labor. Should he say a few words? Make a prayer like a mortal? All options beneath him of course, but sadly for him, that memory of... her brought a vulnerability. He especially despised it now.

Sighing, he began to push back the dirt into the hole.

He thought he dreamt the first sound, that it was just the impact of dust on clothes.

The second sound made him stop in confusion. To his credit, Kazuya heard plenty of last breaths, never a first one.

The third sound was like a great dam finally bursting wide open, a piercing scream that might as well have resonated throughout all levels of Hell. It was as if all the air that was in Kazuya's lungs left him to fuel those of the baby.

Kazuya reached into the hole with an alarming swiftness, as if that loud, irritating, wonderful sound could end at any moment. And he held the child with a gentleness he never thought himself capable of.

He didn't even know where the knowledge of making hushing, soothing noises came from.

He wouldn't dare to tear his shining bright red eyes away from the tiny godling in his arms, who in-between two hiccups started to just slightly open his own. Kazuya looked into them for the first time.

Dark, rich brown.

Outside the garden, a commotion has started to form, loud whispers started to rise, all souls present unsure of what to do, or what even was happening in there. Some were debating if they should enter to offer assistance to their Lord, some were saying it would mean risking punishment for daring to disturb their Master.

Hell embodied, an entity far older than all of Hell's denizens combined, including its Lord for whom she always had a soft spot for, broke away from the crowd to enter the garden, and find the origin of that strange, thundering noise.

It treaded inside on cautious steps, and she immediately felt the same unease Kazuya would when he stayed in there too long. She too was bound to this deep place far below from the surface that is Hell, maybe even more than him, but it was willing to endure the rising discomfort to help the one she had already saved long, long ago, and who she deemed her appointed ruler.

It found Kazuya in the middle of the garden, slowly pacing around, aware of her presence but unwilling to break his attention away from whatever he was holding.

When Hell Embodied came closer, it too felt it's breath taken away from her.

"Implausible," She whispered, awestruck, staring at the first ever hellborn child. "It came back to life."

"Jin."

Kazuya's eyes were shinier than she ever had seen them, even more shinier than when it encountered him for the first time, dying, at the bottom of Hell. They stayed fixated on the boy. He lightly bounced his son to make him more comfortable in his grip. Tiny hands were clasped on one of his much, much larger fingers.

"His name is Jin."

[hivepixels]

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[tea-cat-arts]

LETS GO- Kevin reference!!!

[arlertwhore]

pairing: paige bueckers x fem! reader

warning(s): nsfw/18+, fighting (verbal/physical), toxic relationship stuff, fingering, thigh riding, pussy eating, squirting,

synopsis: the bitchy, possessive, and temperamental gf who paige thinks she can handle proves her right!

word count: 2.4k

Author Note: got my first lil hate comment the other day 😜 i feel like an actual writer now lmao! here goes draft #6, comin’ in lit 🔥

Fuck knows what you're complaining about this time. She's straight from practice — from a rigorous, exhausting, and intense practice, frustrated with her own performance, only to find you waiting at the door, already irritated about something entirely. Perhaps it was how she didn’t answer you at all today—or how you saw her looking too close for comfort to another 'fan' as she claimed, though you never trusted it—or maybe she even fucking sighed at you the wrong way upon entering through the door because the littlest of things ticked you off—you—her bitchy, demanding, and infuriatingly sexy girlfriend, whom Paige has to constantly remind herself she willingly got involved with, knowing full well she was signing up for the being the figurative property of the brattiest, bossiest, most high-maintenance girl on campus.

"Are you even listening to me?!" you fume as Paige storms past you, stripping a trail of her clothes all the way to the bathroom, letting her hair fall loose from its low bun as she saunters away from your chaos, massaging her temples.

"Seriously, Y/N, now's not the time, I gotta-" - "I don't give a fuck!" you explode, chasing after her and grabbing her arm to spin her back around. "I don't care about your shitty day or your shitty excuses. Why the fuck didn't you text me back, hm?" Paige sighs, avoiding your eyes with an air of exasperation, her gaze shifting to the ceiling in an attempt to not roll them. At her silence, you feel your anger boil over, frustration evident in the clenched fist at your sides and the tense set of your jaw. "You're the fucking worst, Paige!" you snap, "You think just because I'm understanding that means you can take pictures with all these other bitches, post all on your Instagram, but then NOT text me back!"

Paige knew she was the man, the kind of person who could handle any challenge, which is why she thought dating someone like you—a real piece of work—would be a good match. She believed you could keep her on her toes, pushing her to become mentally stronger, more confident, and dominant—qualities she hoped would shine on the court, but on days like this, when you demanded drama and chaos, she wondered if she was truly cut out for it. Her honest, no-bullshitting, no-pretense attitude of: My girlfriend is so sexy opinion? Nah. And she promptly proved that stance when she spat out, “Alright, I’m sorry, baby… Is that what you want me to say? That I’m sorry I have things to do and you act like a bitch about it?” her voice venomous and defensive, stunning you. “Man, get the fuck out of my way right now. I don’t feel like fighting with you, for real,” she demanded, trying to brush past you. You couldn’t believe she actually spoke to you like that—she was usually so considerate of your feelings. In a fit of rage, you squared up to her and pushed her back by her shoulders with a strength you didn’t know you had over the 6ft wall of strength she was. Growling, you commanded, “You’re gonna stand here until WE’RE done talking!”

Paige stands with her hands on her hips, clenching at her sides with such restraint that her basketball shorts ride up, revealing her boxers underneath. She warns, "Stop playin' with me, yo. Step aside." and as she advances again, trying to get to the bathroom door behind you, you block her path, arms crossed and eyes flashing. Sneering, you challenge defiantly, "No. What are you gonna do if I don’t step aside, P? Hm? You gonna hit me?"

She takes a deep breath, drops her head, and shakes it exasperatedly before a light chuckle escapes her, broad shoulders bouncing. “Whatever, ma,” she mutters, turning around and picking up the clothes she’d left scattered on the floor. “I’m gonna go shower at Mikayla’s — forget this.”

You don’t have enough time to be angry about her saying she’s visiting Mikayla’s house—the slut you’d warned her to stay away from. Instead, you sprint to the front door, grab her keys off the rack, and hide them behind your back. Coldly, you say, “You’re mine, Paige. Turn around and get your ass in bed, NOW! You ain’t goin’ nowhere.”

Paige knows you and your past well enough to recognize that you aren’t joking about this possessiveness. However, she’s far from intimidated at the moment. Instead of backing down or appeasing you like she usually does for her princess, she glares at you with a fiery defiance. Her voice is firm as she refutes, “Give me my keys, Y/N.”

You gaze at her, a smirk forming on your face as you watch her façade of nonchalance crumble. Her face turns a subtle red, veins bulging in her hands as she holds them open, waiting for the keys, her lips curled inward and cheeks hollowed. She stands there expectantly, like a statue, until you bristle as she seizes your wrist, slamming it against the door while reaching for the keys with her other hand. Instinctively, you counter with your free hand, pushing her away. She’s lost her calm and collected demeanor. It’s scarier how she doesn’t run but still chases you with the relentlessness of a predator. Her eyes blaze with determination as she follows your running with a steady, purposeful stride. You taunt, “Come and get it, doggy! Yeah, you little bitch!” luring her toward the bathroom, the only room in the house with a lock, and Paige knows exactly what you’re up doing. Just before you can slam the door in her face, Paige lunges for it and forces it open, stepping inside and backing you against the door. This time, she tries a different approach to get the keys—she clasps your waist, holding you in place with her knees pressed against your smaller legs, effectively immobilizing you. As she tussles with you for the keys, you keep a tight grip on them. The struggle is fierce, and you're both panting in each other’s faces, exchanging only ragged breaths. You finally manage to break free from the bathroom and run for the bedroom with Paige hot on your heels. As you glance over your shoulder to see where she’s at, you realize too late that she’s no longer focused on reclaiming her keys. With a swift tackle, she takes you down onto the bed, pinning you there and forcing you into submission. The keys fall out of your hand, but Paige remains on top of you, her anger unrepairable as she growls, “Wanna bitch at me like that when I’m tired?” Her big hands begin to untie your nightrobe. “Wanna piss me off when I’m trying to be nice about things?”

She moves with an almost animalistic quality, yanking you down the bed by your legs and sending your clothes flying off with the force of her pull, baring your body to her hungry blue eyes. She hisses against your neck, “Little bitch?” and you nod rebelliously, “Yeah..fuck,” you heave, “look at you, so pissed, hm?” Her words are unbearably sexy when she vows, “I’ll show you a little bitch.” Mere moments later, she’s seated on the edge of the bed, with you draped over her lap like a ragdoll. You’re writhing, still trying to resist, biting and clawing at her thighs, but Paige’s grip is unyielding. Under her strength, you’re completely powerless.

Her hands spread your ass open, giving her a clear view of your dripping pussy. She chuckles cockily, the smirk evident in her voice even though you're not looking at her when she drawls, “This is why you’re really bitchin’ out, huh, ma?”

You whine at her words, stuttering and squirming, “Let me go, Paige, f-fuck!”

She tuts dismissively. “Aw, but that’s not what you really want, baby... you just need this pussy fucked, don’t you? To get fucked back to your senses—make you my good girl again, my princess...” she purrs, her fingers sliding through your slick and teasing your asshole. Then you hear the dirtiest, most sinful suck of fingers in her mouth you’ve ever heard.

Hips arched high with her strong arm restraining you from running, pressed firmly into your lower back, punching pressure deep within and outside of you, all aligning on the inside, she works her fingers into your soaking wet cunt with precision. She curls and bruises against your walls, relentlessly hitting that spot that makes you squirm like a torture puppet and cry out, "Ah!" for your dear life.

Her smarmy, taunting response? “I know, baby, I know, fuck… too tight for it, I know,” she bellows, feeding off your whimpers and whines with a sadistic delight. That smirk on her face—the one you wish you hadn't turned back to see—tells you she's savoring this victory a little too much and has no intention of letting you go anytime soon, even if you've clearly accepted that you're the little bitch. “Please,” you plead, sinking your nails into her thigh, but it doesn’t seem to perturb her in the slightest—if anything, it only eggs her on, makes her devilishly speed up. “It won’t happen again—I-I won’t act like a bitch anymore, daddy, I’m sorry,” you submit, hoping for some mercy, but she’s unforgiving. She chuckles darkly, yanking you up by your hair so you’re forced to look her in the eye, even if hers aren’t fully focused on yours, watching how your tits bounce as she fucks you senseless. “One more time,” she stares at them, biting her bottom lip with a smirk before she refocuses and demands it sternly. Without hesitation, you repeat it louder before she even finishes her command: “I won’t act like a bitch anymore, daddy, I’m sorry!” She smirks, her grip tightening. "I know you won't. Not after I'm done with you." She releases your head, and you fall forward hard, your back arching under what feels like tons of weight as she drives into you overwhelmingly, making you cry out in shock. "Shit!" you gasp, involuntarily pushing back against her long fingers to soften the blow and the jam, so forcefully that your ass claps with each thrust as she fucks into you.

“Say my name, baby, who’s fucking you,” Paige demands. You groan, clenching around her thick, long fingers and spilling spurts of slick arousal as you pant, “You, Daddy!” Paige tilts her head, unsatisfied. “Nah.” Her hand, once forcing down your back, quickly wraps around your throat, clasping firmly as she whispers, “Tell me, Ma.” With the blonde holding you tightly, despite your attempts to escape, with no leverage, she easily grips you by the throat like a puppet, forcing you back onto her fingers with insane speed and force. She thrusts into you even faster, your clit now grinding against her thigh. You hike a leg up in a desperate attempt to run or crawl away, but she's got you firmly in place.

“Paige! Paige, Paige, Paige, you’re fucking me!” you cry out.

“And you like it, baby? Like how my fingers feel fucking that tight pussy?” she taunts, flexing her leg muscles and increasing the friction.

“Aww shit,” you moan strainedly, feeling the familiar coil in your stomach emerge. Your body still tries to crawl away, but your brain forces you to stay put, losing all the air inside you.

“Stop fucking running, ma, take it,” she commands. “Take it, baby, just cum for me, kay? Cum for me, give me your cum.”

You listen to the sound of your cunt, feel it pulsing and clenching around her fingers before you give up and stop fighting and allow all the pleasure crash over you, your body convulsing as your orgasm hits. You gasp and cry out, surrendering to the intense sensation as your cunt tightens rhythmically around her fingers, your clit throbbing against her thigh. She fucks you through your orgasm, continuing even after that, giving you no recovery time, no chance to catch your breath before she has you on your back, legs still spread and a wet mess beneath you. Leaning in, she murmurs, “Be good for me, be still, kay? Let me clean you up—jus' lemme taste you, baby.”

Your hand comes up to cover your face, crying out as you feel her tongue glide through your folds. Gripping onto her hair tightly, you sob—a genuine cry from the overstimulation. Through your tears, you manage to gasp, “Fuck, baby, it hurts so good, ugh!”

You shout and clamp your legs shut, burying her with a guttural scream once her fingers scissor your folds and hold them open, her tongue flicking exactly against your clit, making direct contact.

She pries your legs open inhumanly, like an uncaring monster, her voice resounding and vibrating in your cunt, "Hold your ankles in the air." a command.

You obey, and she’s even nice enough to help, her strong arms holding your legs apart as she laps and slurps up all your cum like she’s parched, her swallows audible and incredibly sexy.

You look down at her and watch her head shake around wildly, losing herself in the abyss, entranced. You try to push her away by bucking into her face, hands occupied, but you end up unintentionally pushing her closer instead. You whine out desperately, your toes, nipples, and cunt especially on fire. "Pl-PLEASE!" you gasp, "I c-can't, I’m gonna—" Her fingers replace her tongue on your clit, while her tongue dips inside you as she murmurs, "Mhm," You cover your face, and the last thing you hear before you pass out is the frantic noise of her tongue fighting to slip even deeper inside you. There’s the sound of a leak, then the subsequent opening of your eyes after what feels like days. You look down at your girlfriend to find her face glistening in a pool of arousal, juices smeared everywhere. Her first instinct? To lick around her mouth, trying to savor the taste as she smiles at you smugly, knowing she’s clearly gotten her point across to your fucked-out self.

Needless to say, Paige has proven herself to you as she knew she would always: she is NOT someone to be underestimated.

MASTERLIST

AUTHOR NOTE #2: uhh so i reread this and i just wanna know if anybody else reading this who writes, is it crazy i reread my own work and blush at it like a viewer 😅 am i a freak guys 😅😅😅 do you do that too?? ANYWAY GUYS PLS INTERACT WITH ME ILY ALL MWAH!

[kiradotexe]

trying to dip my toes into Six of Crows fanfic since i'm not DONE with thinking about them and so far it's mostly been me thinking "they wouldn't SAY that" over and over again

hello my friends i have come from the aether to tell you all that i finished re-reading the Six of Crows duology for the first time in 8 years and I am, as they say, foaming at the mouth

[runningfrom2am]

leveling the playing field II

summary: you didn't meet the requirements for the plinth prize, only to find out that you're not just missing out on that- you're missing out on the opportunity of a lifetime. your friend wants to help, because maybe you can help each other.

pairing: coriolanus snow x fem!reader

wc: 2.8k

tags/warnings: capitol brat!reader, maybe slightly ooc coryo, idk i tried my best. do they love each other or hate each other? who knows. also someone dies (but its not too graphic), mentions of blood and violence you guys get the vibes.

masterlists // nav // requests

join my taglist here

a/n: embarrassed to say this is grabbing me by the cuff of my shirt and yanking me out of writer's block sorry to everyone who followed for drew's characters lmao. anyway idek if any of this is any good but as long as i'm writing something i'm pleased.

next part

Coriolanus clenched his jaw as he watched you eat from the plate of fruit your maid brought up after you called for tea, hoping that somehow you would just miss the sound of his stomach growling. He had said no, but you insisted because you were hungry. You don't even know what hungry feels like- he's already regretting letting you help him.

"So," You start, covering your mouth as you finish chewing so you could get down to strategy. If you were going to help, you had to go at this wisely. "What is your plan? Lay it out for me. I'll give you my thoughts."

"I talked to Tigris, she agreed that I need to get Lucy Gray to trust me." He tells you. "She said she would want someone here to care about her. That will have to be me."

"Okay." You nod, reaching for another slice of apple on the plate, trying to ignore the way his eyes track the fruit all the way from your plate to your lips. "So, I'm doing a more behind-the-scenes thing. I think that's better, for us and her. I don't want her to be overwhelmed."

"Yeah." Coryo agrees, staring at you. At this point, it's driving you crazy.

"Coryo." You state, pushing the dish across the coffee table in his direction. "Eat. Please."

"No, I couldn't." He tries to politely decline and you raise an eyebrow at him.

"I insist. It was made for two, I can't possibly stomach it all. It would be a shame for it to go to waste." You had laid your cards out just minutes earlier, making it clear you both knew more about each other's home lives than you cared to discuss, but that didn't mean you would torture him with it.

He hesitates before grabbing a slice and taking a few bites, looking past you and out the window. He wouldn't want it to go to waste like you said, after all.

"I won't tell anyone, you know." You say, your tone walking a line between joking and being serious. He'll interpret that in whatever way he chooses, and you're okay with that.

"I should be going, actually." He says, dropping the other half of the apple slice back onto the dish and standing up, smoothing the creases in his slacks.

You stand up as well, making your way to the door and ringing the bell that summons your maid. "I'll walk you out, just give me a second." You explain to him, and by the time you're done your sentence, she is there looking at you expectantly. "Take these leftovers and pack them up for my friend." You tell her, pointing to the mostly full plate. "And pack some of those pastries you made for his family as well, if you don't mind. Oh! And that bread, it will go bad soon if someone doesn't eat it." She just nods silently as you speak, walking past you to take the plate before leaving.

"Thank you." Coriolanus mutters through gritted teeth once your maid is out of earshot.

"Like I said," You smile. "I don't want it to go to waste."

The morning the tributes arrived, Coriolanus was late to class. He had never been late to class, not once, and you would know- because you hadn't either. Not that you were worried, but it was almost the only thing you could think about. It was odd, but he must have gone to greet Lucy Gray. That would be the only thing that made sense.

"Your little excursion is in violation of about five Academy rules, Mister Snow." Dean Highbottom says as the blonde boy walks in, uniform disheveled as he finds his seat across the room from you.

You make eye contact only briefly with him as the Dean goes on about how endangering the life of a student is against the rules, and your friend would be accumulating a demerit over the whole thing.

From what you can gather, he did go see Lucy Gray, which went farther than he intended when he ended up escorting her all the way into the monkey cage at the zoo. To you, that was comically appropriate. To Sejanus, it was a crime. Of course it was, his heart never left District Two. As much as you had your differences, Sejanus was a kind boy. You did like him, only after you got it through your mind that if you were to leave the Capitol, you would always be Capitol at heart. You're pulling on a loose string on the hem of your uniform sleeve, more, more, until you've almost undone the whole length of your wrist. When the thread breaks you want to hit something, for little to no reason, and you bite into your bottom lip.

You don't even know why you're so mad. You have a short fuse and you know that, maybe it's about Coryo. Maybe it's about your sleeve that's now slightly longer on one side.

You're drawn from your thoughts as Clemensia stands up from her seat next to Coryo, addressing Dr. Gaul who, as far as you know, had only been in the room for a minute or so. "Coriolanus and I do all our assignments together, I think it would be fitting for us to write up the proposal together too. I have some good ideas for things to be incorporated into the games along with betting." Your eyes roll so hard at this that it makes your head ache.

"I brought her a rose from Grandma'am's garden and she ate it. She needs food." Coryo tells you, walking alongside you down the hall.

"I'll get something together for her. Would you like to come with me to pick it up and then we can go to the zoo?" You ask, adjusting your shoulder bag as he holds the front door open for you.

"Okay. Are you sure you should come?"

"If you would like me to." You shrug, leading him in the direction of your parent's town car.

He thinks on it for a moment. Does he want you to meet Lucy Gray? You were technically also her mentor, even if you were taking a backseat. It struck him again, harder somehow, when he met her in person how similar she was to you. Besides the distinct accent, every word that came out of her mouth sounded as though it could have been written in a script by you. If you were district, that is. It was hard to wrap his mind around.

"I would." He finally answers, more so on impulse than resulting from his thought process.

You smile, linking your arm around his as you approach the vehicle.

"Then we can drop you at Clem's. if you'd like." You offer bitterly and he just gives a curt nod in response.

After getting your maid to pack some food for Lucy Gray with some extra for the two of you, assuming you would be gone for the evening, you got a ride to the zoo. The atmosphere was exciting, with people and children crowding the bars- this time including a few of your classmates. Sejanus, which you had expected, and Arachne- no doubt there to get attention.

"Lucy Gray!" Coryo called out, summoning the girl toward the two of you as you approached the bars marking the edge of the enclosure.

"Well hello, Coriolanus. You brought a friend, care to introduce us?" She smiles, looking between the two of you. Admittedly, you admire her poise, given the situation. Politeness in front of the cameras was a must- she's doing an exemplary job in humanizing herself.

"Lucy Gray, this is my friend Y/N Y/L/N. Y/N, meet Lucy Gray." He nods between the two of you and you reach through the bars to shake her hand.

"Hello. Pleasure to meet you." You smile at her, which she returns.

"You as well." She nods, clearly impressed as she looks between you and Coryo. You had decided back at your home to not introduce yourself as another mentor, just as a friend, after gushing the reaction to the other tributes thinking Lucy Gray was getting special treatment this morning when her mentor was the only one to show up. "Coriolanus, is Miss Y/L/N here your sweetheart?"

His face flushes red as he shakes his head, refusing to look at you. You laugh, not noticing his change in undertone as you answer for him. "No, no. Just a friend." You explain, digging in your bag for her food, wanting to quickly change the subject. "We brought you this." You hold out the napkin for her, containing a sandwich, a couple of desserts, and some plums.

"Oh wow, thank you!" Lucy Gray smiles, accepting it gratefully. "Hey, Jessup! Come eat." She calls out to the other tribute from her district, who you remember was assigned to Lysistrata Vickers.

He comes over, but doesn't acknowledge either of you as Lucy Gray holds out one of the dessert bars to him. "I'm not hungry."

"It won't do you any good to starve now. You need your energy." Lucy Gray insists, practically shoving it into his hand.

"I hope you like blueberry." You cut in. "It's a blueberry biscuit with pistachio filling. Made fresh this morning- I promise it's good."

He doesn't say anything, taking it and retreating to the rock he was previously sitting on to eat.

"Will you be sharing everything with him?" Coryo asks her quietly as he walks away.

"Why? So I can keep my energy up enough to strangle him? I don't think that will matter much in a few days."

"You can't trust anyone once the games start, so why trust them now?" You reply quietly, scanning over the other tributes, eyes landing on Arachne taunting her tribute. Of course she would- her arrogance never fails to impress you.

"Your friend over there seems just lovely." Lucy Gray says sarcastically, eyes following yours as you watch your classmate.

"Not our friend." You and Coryo respond at the same time.

"She's poison with perfect teeth." He continues and you nod.

"One thing I learned in twelve is that hunger is a weapon." Lucy Gray says. You're not sure what she means, but you nod anyway.

"Here, let's sit." You suggest, changing the subject as you crouch down to lay out a cloth on the ground to place the food on.

As you're laying it out carefully between the bars for Lucy Gray, you can feel Coryo's eyes burning into the backs of your hands. Lucy Gray notices this too, handing him a cookie from the pile.

"No, I couldn't." His default response. "You need it more than me."

"You were staring. Here, we'll share." She insists and he takes it gratefully, breaking off a piece and placing it in his mouth.

"Here..." You mumble, digging through your bag again and pulling out the glass container designated for his dinner. You place it in his lap, not giving him the chance to turn it down. "Packed it just for you."

He takes it off his lap, tensely getting up. "I'll be back in a moment." He tells you both, red uniform disappearing behind the small crowd.

"You can see it too?" Lucy Gray asks you, nibbling on half of a sandwich.

You nod slightly, eyes still trying to track him to see where he went, then landing on him talking to Sejanus who's desperately trying to get his tribute, Marcus, to eat some of the food he brought.

"He's quite sensitive about it." You explain. "I appreciate you being kind to him. No one else knows... I think. Regardless, you are very important to him."

She nods a little bit, watching you watch your friend. "Are you just buttering me up?" She jokes and you shake your head, returning your attention to the girl across from you.

"No, I mean it. It's more than the prize for us." You state. "Him." You quickly correct yourself. "I just want to help however I can, if you need anything else just ask, but I'll bring food every day. Or I'll send it with Coryo."

"Coryo, huh?"

"Well, yes. We've been friends for years."

"I see." Lucy Gray nods, both of you watching him make his way back over. You lift up his container of food and hand it to him before he even has the chance to sit down.

"What about you, Lucy Gray? Any friends back home? Family?" You ask, looking away from him as he sits. You want him to eat, but you know he would loathe you for watching, so you direct all your attention to her.

"I'm an orphan, just like Coryo here." She nods to him and his brows furrow at the nickname coming from someone new. "It's just me and the Covey."

"Covey?" You ask.

"Yeah, they're my family and we perform together. It's how we make our change."

"Well, you are a very talented singer. Jaws were on the floor in the Capitol during your performance." You smile. 

"I'm not one to go quietly, that's all."

"I'm not either." You agree. "I think we'll be fine friends."

Just at that moment, the three of you hear a scream that has you turning your heads as fast as lightning over to the source, catching the end of Arachne getting her throat slit by her tribute. You and Coriolanus are on your feet in seconds, running over to try and help her just as gunfire rings out, taking down her tribute for the crime of her murder.

You pull off your blazer, both you and Coryo using it to try and stop the bleeding, but you could tell it was no use. By the time you look up, the crowd of spectators was completely gone having rushed for the exits during the attack.

Just as you both realize it's no use, and that she's already dead, you're being pulled away by peacekeepers.

"Hey! Let me go right this second!" You shout, trying to pull away.

"You kids have to get out of here." One of them answers blankly.

"I have to get my stuff!" You complain, trying to wiggle out of their strong grip. "You want me to leave my knife over within reach too? Are you stupid?"

They stop, sighing as they let you go. "Thank you." You huff, readjusting your shirt before walking back over to where you were just sitting with Lucy Gray, quickly gathering your things but leaving food for her.

"Lucy Gray, are you alright?" You ask, seeing her lying on the ground a few feet away from the bars now, just getting up.

She just nods, the fear in her eyes starting to cease. 

"You're not shot?" You follow up with, looking over her at the same time she does.

"No, I'm fine. You go." She replies, standing up again and dusting off her dress.

"Thank god. Those idiots are awful shots!" You bite, looking back at the peacekeepers over your shoulder, Coriolanus now nowhere to be seen.

You stand up and pull your bag across your body, walking past them toward the exit as they attempt to guide you in the right direction. "Don't touch me!" You hiss, smacking their hands away.

"Coryo!" You call out, running to catch up with him in the academy hall the next morning. He slows down, glancing over his shoulder and stopping to wait for you.

"Y/N." He states, looking at you expectantly. 

"Shall we go see Lucy Gray today?" You ask, reaching up to tighten your ponytail that had come loose in your jog.

"No." He shakes his head, continuing to walk and you follow after him. 

"What? Why not? She needs us to bring her food, and we have to-"

"I'll discuss the games with her at the planned meeting this afternoon. You won't be going back to the zoo."

"Excuse me?" You ask, grabbing his arm to stop him in his tracks. "I know I'm like, your assistant, or whatever, but you will not tell me what I can and cannot do."

"It's too dangerous. They are dangerous." Coriolanus argues. "I won't have you ending up like Arachne."

He had been up all night writing his proposal for Dr. Gaul. It was the only thing that could get his mind off the death of his classmate, and off of you. What if it had been you? He should have known it was dangerous, it was his fault. It was his idea that the mentors get closer to the tributes and someone was killed. Arachne's blood was on his hands, and he was just relieved that it wasn't yours staining his uniform instead.

"No. No, she died because she was stupid." You whisper, looking around. "She taunted her tribute and handed her a knife, at that point it's natural selection. I am not her. I am smarter."

He stares down at you, scanning over your features as you beg him to let you continue to help. "You need me, Coriolanus. Admit that much to yourself."

"I don't need you," He spits back. "But I like you much better alive. You are the one person in this school I can stand, I won't lose you over something so reckless." He pulls his arm from your grasp and walks off.

You look around, seeing your classmates staring and you roll your eyes. "Take a picture or something." You say to no one in particular, prompting people to avert their eyes.

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[cainsau]

Midnight || The Boys Imagine

(Platonic) Hughie Campbell x GN!Reader

Summary: You left something at the office, so you go back there, not expecting Hughie to be there too, crying quietly in the dark.

Warning: [Spoilers?] I like to imagine that he's crying about his dad (in S4E5), but there's really no mention of it, so it could be about anything if you want

Author's Note: The fic writer's curse is so real, i literally got a fever while writing this lmao

You never believed in ghosts, and you're not scared of them whatsoever, but it's a different story when you actually get to encounter one. For example: the faint cries from the other side of the door, you hate to admit, makes your heart beat faster. It takes a while for you to gather up enough courage and enter. Fortunately, there are no ghosts in sight, only Hughie, and yet your stomach still drops when you realize he's sobbing into his jacket near the window.

"Hughie?"

He takes a glance at you, and quickly tries to wipe the tears off his face.

You're reminded of an article from somewhere, stating that in this situation, some people would want to be left alone, while others would want to be comforted by another person. You try to guess which type he is, probably the former since he's sitting alone in the dark like that, but your body doesn't care and moves on its own, taking you closer to him.

"Are you okay?"

"No, not really, to be honest." He chuckles.

"Yeah, that was a stupid question. I don't know why i even asked." You let out a small laugh along with him.

He gives you a sad smile and tries to change the subject, "So, what brings you here?"

"Right." you head to your desk awkwardly, "I forgot something," you then pick up the thing you came for, showing it to him, "My charger."

He chuckles again, but it sounds a lot like sobbing. You're not sure whether to laugh with him or not. "You forgot your charger and decided to pick it up in the middle of the night? Seriously?"

"Well, yeah," You look down, at the rolled up charger in your hands, "My phone was gonna die. I didn't want to miss any emergencies."

You meet his eyes again. They sparkle with sorrow, reflecting city lights from outside the window.

"And this qualifies as an emergency, i believe." You say as you step closer, "Do you want to tell me why you're here like this?"

He stays silent, thinking about it for a moment.

"Or I can leave, if that's what you want."

Still no answer.

You take a deep breath. To be honest, you're worried about him, but if he doesn't want to talk about it, then you can't force him to.

"Okay, i understand." You say as you take a step away.

"Wait." He stops you, his voice cracking, "Actually, can you.. can you stay?"

"Of course."

So, you carefully sit down next to him, your legs crossed and your back against the window. He's still breathing irregularly, wiping away tears with his jacket sleeves every now and then. You can't rush him, so you wait for him to talk more, but he doesn't say anything.

In order for you to say the right things, he needs to tell you what's going on, but without such information, all you can do is gently pat him on the shoulder while he weeps. Since he doesn't thwart your hand away, you assume he's not bothered by your attempt to comfort him, which is good. But, you wish you can do more for him.

After a moment of silence, you decide to speak. "It's okay. Everything is going to be alright. It must've been such an exhausting day for you."

"I just-" he stutters with a sob, turning to face you, "I just wish things were different."

"I'm sorry." You feel a pang in your heart as you listen to his words. "I can't pretend to know what you're going through." You reply, "But, just know that i'm here for you, and i will always be, yeah?"

He nods, and pulls you in for a tight hug, whispering, "Thank you."

[gentil-minou]

why are you making such a big deal about people using ai to write fics lmao you act like its the end of the world. i do it and no ones caught on. there’s bigger things to cry about.

In a few years when you realize how much your "works" lack the intricacies and soul and depth of emotions that make us human, I hope you remember this and use it to grow.

I assure you, the person who is suffering the most from your use of an artifical generator to "write" and "create" is yourself.

I'm mourning the loss of someone who had the potential to use their real experiences and imagination to create something that touches others. I'm sad for you and the way you won't understand the struggle of creating art, and miss the most valuable lesson of all which is that the struggle is what makes art so incredible, so real, so human.

I'm sorry that you think a glorified search engine is a better writer than your own skills. I like to think I would have liked reading what you'd actually write. I think a lot of people who have appreciated that more. I'm sorry that you don't value your own skills enough, that you don't believe you're good enough to write on your own.

I'm sorry that you want so desperately to be liked and clicked on and praised that you are willing to lose what makes you you in favor of hollow attention that will undoubtedly fade away into nothing but empty words from an empty soul

I hope in ten years you realize what you lost by using a machine to regurgitate someone else's words for you. I hope that before then you create something that's all your own, that you share it the way art was meant to be created and shared. That you let yourself truly be heard.

[fuckyeahchinesefashion]

Not a chinese citizen but im obsessed with c-novels. Can I get some recommendations for transmigration novels with wuxia or xianxia genre? If its too much then nvm, still thanks!

@ryv-era Sure, I'm also a c-novels lover. I've read too many of these, sorry I can't think of which ones to recommend rn, they are classified very finely, with various different tags. The general genres are male channel and female channel, I usually read on female channel, of which the subdivision is also a lot, not sure you want to read bg, bl, gl or no cp, I guess you like Heavenly Official's Blessing? or Mo Dao Zu Shi? I apologise if I'm wrong haha. Even within those categories, there are two genres, one focusing on plot twist, and the other that are purely about romance, but there also many good ones between both.

Although I can't think of any specific novels rn, I asked my friend and she recommends an author 时镜shijing who's well known for her transmigration xianxia novels. She's a very experienced writer with a mature and consistent style. Readers recommend her a lot and so it's a minimal risk to recommend her for me lmao. This is her official page on jinjiang晋江(the biggest c-novels platform with women channel only) 时镜的专栏, and her work 我不成仙 (lit I won't be Immortal) will be adapted into a TV series, and the story is about a mortal woman who was killed by her ruthless sword daoist husband just to destroy his roots of love 情根, and then the protagonist is reborn, set out on a long journey to cultivate immortality and get her revenge.

My friend mentions it and I just remember I've read this one, but can't recall the plot because xianxia novels are usually very very long and I didn't finish it. But I remember I do enjoy it a lot. Hope it's a valid recommendation for you haha.

[aliorsboxostuff]

Hi! If your requests are open I have one! Just saw ATSV yesterday and its rotting my brain agsisghagdh anyways-

An M!Spider!Reader who is one of Miguel's trusted agents with a tendency to overwork himself to make sure that his teammates are kept safe and ignoring his own health in the process. This understandably makes Miguel very concerned but this man cannot healthily express this are you kidding? What I'm saying is classic troupe of patching you up while scolding you in Spanish and then maybe they kiss a little bit and well if you want to make it a little spicy I wont stop you >:]

Thank you very much! Genuinely makes my gay little heart happy when I see writers like you who exclusively write for gn/male readers, y'all are the backbone of the x reader community fr 💜

A/N: im so sorry this took so long this was months ago but a mf forgot and wow here i am yippee!!!! As usual, if yall find any spelling mistakes pls inform me as i’m always praciticing this damn 2nd language lmao. Lets see if my writing skills is still any good LOL enjoy!! <333

Careless 

Tags: Miguel O’hara xM!Reader, Spidey!Reader, Lyla, Miles Morales, Gwen Stacy, Spider Society, No Smut, Kissing , Fluff, Reader is another spiderman, Soft!Miguel, slight OOC, patching up, healing fic, non-graphic description of wounds, mentions of blood and cuts 

Yet, with all that said, Miguel likes to remind himself that no spidey truly comes home unscathed.

Ever since the new guy joined the team, he quickly rose in the ranks and became Miguel’s right-hand man. He’d usually go on patrol, jumping from one universe to another with the man as they capture and contain anomalies like the bugs they are. Miguel puts his trust in him, well, as much trust as a man like Miguel can put in someone. But despite the short time the newbie has been in the Spider society, he has managed to capture Miguel and most of the Spider people's hearts so easily. 

He’s a comet that passes by the compound. Each time he returned from a mission, the spiders would gather around him, congratulating him on another successful mission and inviting him to drink or eat together.  A aswarm would always gather around the portal they knew he would come out from and each time, without fail, he would emerge to cheers and smiles. It wasn't like everyone else wasn't doing a good job, they were all doing what they were supposed to, but somehow the newbie was liked all around, solidifying Miguel’s slowly growing infatuation with him. 

But despite the trust and praises he gets, a spidey doesn't come home unscathed, not every time. Sometimes he’d come back from one of his solo missions with a broken rib or two, bruises in more places than necessary, a torn muscle here a twisted ankle there. He’d limp his way into the infirmary, an army of other spideys following him in worry yet he’d dismiss them easily with a simple wave and a; “It’s nothing guys, I’ll be fine,”

Miguel hates it.

Whenever the man goes on missions with the leader of the society, without fail, he will come home with nothing more than one or two bruises that would heal in a couple of hours if not minutes. Miguel would roll his shoulders back and the man would simply shake his head furiously like a dog before prancing to greet his waves of fans. Miguel didn't need to pay attention to him unless they were doing teamwork. He would run around by himself, track down the anomaly with him, and they would contain it easily and transfer it back just as easily. 

He might not look like it, but when Miguel brings a teammate with him on duo missions, he’s expected to cover their back and vice versa. Miguel will break any skull that dares to hurt his team and he hopes for the same response from his teammate. The newbie never disappoints. 

Miguel would find himself enraged, almost cornered by an anomaly, and there come’s Prince Charming with a devastating kick towards the anomaly’s side which sends it hurling into another building. Miguel appreciates their duo missions, the main reason he puts himself with the newbie. 

Not to mention, he makes a great team leader too. He’s carried out several missions with the younger ones, mainly Miles and Gwen, and despite it all, they always return successfully and with a snack in hand. When he goes on missions with Hobie, they’d somehow come back with a new intricate playlist created and when he goes on missions with Pavitr, they’d come back with pockets full of trinkets ready to give them to the other youngins. All in all, a solid team leader.

Yet, with all that said, Miguel likes to remind himself that no spidey truly comes home unscathed.

—

You were on a mission with Miles. One of your duo missions with the boy, rare considering Gwen usually tags along. But today she’s got a mission with Pavitr and Peni, which leaves you and Miles for some quality Dude Time. 

It was a sunny day in the universe Miles and you dropped in. As the two of you swing from building to building, talking about Miles’ thing with Gwen and laughing at how embarrassed he gets, continuing the topic to buying a new Lego set for Pavitr and Hobie as the two of you swung past a Lego shop, when suddenly the anomaly reveals itself.

Another variant of Doc Oct holding themselves up with their extended metal arms. You can handle a Doc Oct alone, and with Miles helping you, the mission was expected to be so easy you were already thinking about what to have for dinner. 

But things don't always go according to plan, does it?

It strikes 8 pm when Miguel gets a notif from Lyla that an arriving portal was opened into the containment site of the compound. The man clicks his tongue, dropping from his platform before making his way to the site. Every step he takes he leaves his foul mood like a repellent, making the other spidey avoid him, cutting the middle path of the other spideys like a blade. His scowl is not helping his case either way.

The last portal should've been at 6 pm.

The door slides open, and a slight hiss rings out into the room. Inside the evenly lit expanse of the room, he easily spots yours and Mile’s spider suits in between all the other anomaly's dingy outfits. Miguel takes a breath before he stalks towards the two men, their backs to him.

“Ugh, my rib is killing me,” You groan, pressing in the code to store the anomaly in its cell.

“You're telling me, this bruise is going to be a pain in the butt to heal,” Miles sighed, holding his left arm. “But if it weren't for you, man, I’d be dead meat,” 

“Oh come on Miles, none of us knew the guy would send a gas truck our way,” You scoff. The terminal beeps and the thrashing anomaly is contained. 

“The fact that it burned on its way towards us was also something we didn't expect.” Miles laughs at what you said as you find yourself cringing. You knew there were going to be burn marks on your leg.

“No, but seriously, thanks for covering me back there, I thought we’d-”

“You thought you’d what?” 

Miles practically jumps into your arms as the both of you screams. You shut your eyes and it seems like Mile’s did the same before a stern cough makes you peek through your eyelids. There, in front of you, stands a solid wall of muscle and anger. Miguel has his arms crossed, eyes so sharp it could cut a mountain in half. The slight scowl on his lips would be cute if it weren't for the pure bloodlust as he gazes down into you, making you gulp.

“Heeeeeey Miguel,” Your pathetic excuse of a smile was met with nothing but him deepening his frown. Okay alright yup.

Miles awkwardly scuffles down your arms. He coughs into his fist, pulling at the edge of his suit. “Hi there haha…”

Miguel stares. “The last arrival portal should've been at six.”

Not a sound from you or Miles. Miguel holds back a growl. 

“You two are late.”

“Right, ‘m sorry Miguel, I promise this would be the last time, it was just that- See me and Miles here; we didn't realize that this Doc Oct was gonna be slightly more insane than the others-” You ramble, Miles quickly nodding along. 

“And haha, well, one truck lead to another and next thing ya’ now, bam! We got uh… hurt,” A nervous chuckle left your lips. Miguel replies nothing.

“B-but! I covered Miles from the fire! So he only got a couple of bruises, I promise the kid is fine and it wasn't his fault either so let’s just-”

“Enough.” He barks. You practically clamped your mouth shut. 

The doors hisses open again and Gwen comes running in, worry on her face. She sighs in relief as he spots Miles hiding beside you. “Miles! Thank goodness you’re okay!” 

Miguel turns as she runs and wraps her arms around the boy. “You came back so late!”

“I’m sorry Gwen, things got a bit out of control,” Miles pats the girl back reassuringly. “I just got a bit beaten up, nothing I can't handle,” 

Gwen pulls back and grabs the boy's face before turning it left and right and up and down, her eyes scanning like a hawk. She deems it enough as she stops, hands firmly holding Miles’ arms. “You always say that,” She sighs. 

You can't help the small relieved smile on your lips as you watch the two teens catch up with each other before Miguel makes a gesture with his hand.

“Gwen, go take Morales into the infirmary.” He says as he nods to Lyla that popped up on his brace. “And make sure he doesn't get out of bed for the next two days.”

“What?! But it’s barely a scratch-” 

“Now, Morales.” The man stares them down until eventually, Miles relents with a sigh and lets the girl usher him into the Infirmary's direction, the two of them shuffling next to each other, Gwen's arm around Miles. 

You hear something along the lines of ‘detention’ from Gwen as she laughs before the door slides close, leaving you with an enraged lion in its territory. You gulp as Miguel fixes his red eyes on you.

“You. Come with me.” 

And that's how you find yourself walking down the halls of the many living quarters of the compound. You followed silently behind Miguel’s broad shoulders, in any other day you would find it hard to resist not ogling those massive arms, but tonight Miguel was practically a walking beacon of rage. The smallest misstep would make him burst and thats the last thing you want to happen. 

“Miguel, I'm sorry, okay?” You try, catching up to walk beside him. “I promise this will be the last time I’ll come back from a mission late, plus, I won't bring anyone else with me too if I ever do it again. I swear this won't hap-”

His sudden halt catches you off guard and you bump against him. You scratch the bridge of your nose with a slight frown from the impact. The dimly lit hallway made it a slight challenge to read the nameplate but you managed to make out ‘O’Hara’ and with that, your stomach drops.

“Um… Miguel, this isn't my room…” 

The door opens. The room is pitch black. 

Miguel makes his way inside. His red eye glows before he commands; “Sit.” 

Fear brought you to sit on his bed, not a crease in sight which only struck your fear deeper into you. You could hear your heartbeat, terrified for what's to come. The worst thing Miguel could do would probably chew you out in the comfort of his room, away from any possible witnesses, and then maybe take you out of commission for a while as your punishment. 

You gulp as the man sets something beside you. It was a box, hard to make out what it was but it seemed heavy. Miguel clawed and the large hand extends towards you and you screw your eyes shut, hell did you pray to any god that was willing to listen to you so please please please-

“Bring your face closer.” 

Huh?

Cautiously, you open your eyes to Miguel’s face inches away from you, a warm light bathes over his features, making the lines of worry and fear evident. “Let me see your wounds.” 

You blink, once, twice, owlishly, making the man before you sigh and cup your jaw softly. He turns your face to inspect it before he brings his other hand which wipes your fringe away from covering any other possible wounds. 

He hums. “Looks like just scratches.” 

The mystery box turns out to be a first aid kit. Miguel flicks it open and rummages around in it before he pulls a couple of bottles and bandages out. 

“Take off your suit top, we need to treat that burn before it gets worse.” He demands. You cough before awkwardly peeling off what's left of your suit before dropping it on the carpeted floor. You need to get that repaired.

You couldn't bear to meet Miguel's eyes. Not when he’s kneeled in front of you, his usually intimidating body looking small as he’s hunched over. He looks tired, his frown is a mixture of worry and annoyance, but there is something beneath it. Something you don't dare to think about but you know. You always knew. From the first day, you finally managed to see that crack in Miguel’s hardened exterior, you’ve been scared to make another move toward him. Behind this wall of a man, is a heart guarded with spikes and what he has in his eyes right now as he’s wrapping a cooling pad around your arm is something that petrifies you. 

“Next time you’ll be doing missions with me and me only. I won't be assigning you to any other spiders until you learn to take care of yourself,” He huffs, unveiling another roll of bandages.  He pulls at your shoulder which makes you turn slightly. 

"Fucking hell, ¿cómo puedes ser tan descuidado? You run around saving everyone else but who’s going to save you, huh?" He huffs, wrapping the last of the bandage slightly too tight which makes you wince. He notices but does nothing. 

Once again, he holds your chin between his fingers as your gazes suddenly meet. Miguel growls with how you won't meet his eyes, firmly pointed anywhere but into Miguel’s red eyes. He sighs before letting you go as he takes out some ointments. He puts the substance on your cheek and under your slowly blackening eye, then down your jaw where you know a pretty bad bruise taints your skin. You feel his movement slow before his hand rests on your nape, sending jolts of warmth through your body.

“Cuídate, ¿eh? Cuídate." His voice devastatingly soft. 

Confusion and a steady wave of feelings start at the bottom of your heart, which only worsens as you finally find the courage to look at Miguel. To your surprise, his eyes are wider than usual, pools of crimson oozing with care as he scans your features. His thumb rubs at the base of your skull. “I can't lose my right-hand man.” 

He sighs. “Please, necesito que estés seguro por mí,"

You inhale sharply. Without realizing it, he's practically inches away from you. Your heart races, beats out of your control when Miguel rubs your nape again. 

“Miguel…?” 

A beat passes. Silence. 

Before Miguel growls roughly and promptly stands, taking the med kit with him. He makes his way to what you assume was his wardrobe. Panic rises beside you, making you wave around your hands. “I- Um- Miguel please I didn't mean to- Oof!”

Something was thrown at you. Something soft and large and is this hit shirt and… boxers?! 

“Change your clothes. You can't sleep in those.” Miguel points out, his scowl now a pout on his lips. 

“But-”

“I'm not saying this twice.” He growls before he slides into the bathroom and leaves you in his bedroom along with the pile of his clothes in your arms. 

You slowly look down at what you're holding. Carefully, you slide off what's left of your suit and drop them in a discarded pile before pulling on Miguel's clothes. To no one's surprise, you're practically drowning in the shirt. His boxers barrel fits you and the first goes over your tighs easily. You feel smaller even for your height and stature, but it feels… safe. 

The door of the bathroom slides open to reveal Miguel standing with slightly damp hair as he's drying it off with a towel and in nothing but gray sweats. Something grows within you and it’s definitely something else besides your heart. 

“Ah, you're done,” He glances toward you before setting the towel down neatly. He saunters to the side of his large bed, pulling the covers off before sliding in. An arm keeps the cover slightly open, before he raises an obvious brow.

“Get in here and sleep,” He huffs. 

You jump and quickly slide beside Miguel, careful to keep an inch of a distance. But that was deemed unsuccessful when the man beside you pulled you to his side, and his arm wrapped protectively around your middle which made you drape your hand over his chest. Before you can squirm, he locks his chin over your head with a content sigh. 

Shit, he really is a giant lion. You sigh. 

“Sleep. You need your rest to heal.” Miguel’s voice purrs through you while you're practically glued to his side. You chuckle slightly before pressing a peck just below his jaw.

“You sleep too.” You smile. “Good night Miguel.” 

You hear Miguel hum before he presses his lips to your crown. “Good night.” 

Translations:

how can you be so careless? = cómo puedes ser tan descuidado

Take care, huh? Take care of yourself. = Cuídate, ¿eh? Cuídate.

I need you to be safe for me, = necesito que estés seguro por mí,

Reblogs are appreciated <3

[bonefall]

So, I'm writing an essay on the whole STATE of misogyny in WC for one of my university classes, and I was wondering if I could ask you a couple of things! No pressure of course, please feel free to say no!

A) Could I reference your good takes with appropriate harvard referencing and links back to your blog?

B) Are there any specific moments from the books that you think should be covered the most?

C) The end result will be a visual essay, so it's like those fun infographics people on Tumblr make on like ADHD and stuff, so when it's done, would you like to be tagged to read it?

(Sorry for anon, I'm nervous lmao, but if you'd be more comfortable I'll resend this off anon)

AAY good topic! You've got a lot to work with. Absolutely feel free to reference anything I've written, and tag me when you're done.

While you're here and about to write something so legitimate, I'm also going to recommend you check out Sunnyfall's video on gender in Warrior Cats. She breaks down the arcs into numbers, directly comparing the amount of lines mollies have to toms, and examining the archetypes women are usually allowed to be.

I think it's a must-have citation in a paper about WC misogyny.

...and, I think it's insightful to look at the WCRP Forum thread about the video. Note how the respondents immediately come into the thread to complain about how the video is too long so they didn't watch it, dismissing Sunnyfall as not being entertaining enough to hold their attention, even whining that she starts with statistics to prove her point, which I'm convinced she did exactly because they would have cried that she "had no evidence" if she didn't.

I am not a scholar, so I don't know how to document or prove that the books have an impact on the audience outside of anecdotes. But I think if you do write a section about fandom, it would be worth mentioning the in-universe and metatextual apologia for Ashfur and its reflection in the real world discourse, the authorial killing of Ferncloud because of fan complains, and the utter defensiveness against the discussion of misogyny you see outside of Tumblr.

You may also want to check out Cheek by Jowl, a collection of 8 essays about sexism in xenofiction by Ursula K. Le Guin. There's a very unique manifestation of authorial bias in animal fiction, having a lot to do with how the author views "the natural world," and it's worth understanding even though Warrior Cats are so heavily anthropomorphized.

So... Warrior Cats Misogyny

I think discussing individual instances can be helpful, but I'd implore you to keep in mind what's REALLY bad about WC's misogyny is framing and the bigger picture.

Bumble's death is shocking and insulting, but it's not just that she died. It's that the POV Gray Wing sees her as a fat, useless bitch who took his mate so she deserves to be dragged back to a domestic abuser, and he's right because the writers love him so much. It's that Bumble's torture and killing only factors into how it's going to hurt a man's reputation.

It's how Clear Sky hitting, emotionally manipulating, or killing the following women,

Bright Stream (pressured into leaving her home and family)

Storm (controlled her movements and yelled at her in public)

Misty (killed for land, children stolen)

Bumble (beaten unconscious, blamed nonsensically on a fox)

Alder (child abuse, hit when she refused to attack her brother)

Falling Feather (scratched on the face, subjected to public abuse and humiliation)

Tall Shadow (thrown into murderous crowd, attacked on-sight in heaven)

Rainswept Flower ("blacked out" in anger and murdered in cold blood)

Moth Flight (scratched on the face for saying denying medical treatment is mean, taken hostage in retaliation against mother for the death of his own child, which he caused)

Willow Tail (eyes gouged out for "stirring up trouble")

Is seen as totally understandable, forgivable, or not even questioned at all, when killing Gray Wing in an act of rage would have been "one step too far" with the ridiculous Star Line.

"Kill me and live with the memory, and then let the stars know it would only matter if a single one of your murder victims was a man."

It's the way that fathers who physically abuse their kids out of their ego (Clear Sky, Sandgorse, Crowfeather) aren't treated anywhere near the same level of narrative disgust and revulsion the series has for "bad moms", even if they're displaying symptoms of a post-partum mood disorder (depression, anxiety, and rage), an umbrella of mental illnesses 20% of all new mothers experience but are heavily stigmatized with (Sparkpelt, Palebird, Lizardstripe).

It's Crookedstar's Promise giving him two evil maternal figures in a single book, while bending over backwards to make every man in a position of power still look likeable in spite of the fact they're enabling Rainflower's abuse. Leader Hailstar is soso sorry that he has to change Stormkit's name for some reason, in spite of leaders being unaccountable dictators the other 99% of the time, and Deputy Shellheart functionally does nothing to stop his own son from being abused or even do much parenting before or after the fact.

It's the way men's parental struggles are seen sympathetically, and they don't have to "pay for it" like their female counterparts (Crookedstar's PPD vs Sparkpelt's PPD, how Daisy and Cinders are held responsible for Smoky and Whisper being deadbeats, Yellowfang's endless guilt for killing her son vs Onestar's purpose in life to kill his own), even to the point where a father doesn't have to have raised their kids at all to have a magical innate emotional connection to them (Tree's father Root, Tom the Wifebeater, Tigerstar and Hawkfrost).

It's less speaking lines and agency for female characters, being reduced to accessories in the lives of their mates and babies, women getting less diversity in their personalities, with even major ex-POV characters eventually becoming "sweet mom" tropes.

You could zoom in on any one of these examples and have an amoeba try to argue with you that "Oh THIS makes sense because X" or "Ah well my headcanon perfectly explains this thing" or "MY mother/girlfriend was abusive/toxic/neglectful and I've decided that you are personally attacking ME by having issues with how a character was written or utilized," but the beleaguered point,

That I keep trying to hammer in, over and over, across books worth of posts,

Is that these are trends. More than just a couple one-off examples. It's the fabric that has been woven over years, showing a lack of interest in, or even active prejudice of, women on behalf of the writers.

LONG STANDING trends, which have only gotten worse as the series progressed. From Yellowfang being harshly punished with a born evil son who ruins her life in TPB and the mistreatment of Squirrelpaw that begins in TNP, all the way up to the 7 Fridgenings of DOTC and Sparkpelt's PPD being a major character motivator for her son Nightheart.

So, I would stress that in your paper, and structure it less as "the Sparkpelt slide" and "the Yellowfang slide," and more as "The paternal vs maternal abuse" slide, and "the violence against women" slide. They're really big issues, there's tons of examples for each individual thing.

Anyway to leave off on a funny, look at this scene in Darkest Hour that I find unreasonably hilarious,

"Everyone who matters to me; my truest friend, my sensible and loyal warrior, the wisest deputy I've ever known, and 2 women." -Firestar, glorious idiot

He can't even think of a single trait for either of them what the hell does "formidable pair" mean lmaooo, when I finished a reread about a year ago this line killed me on impact.

[hedwig221b]

Fic authors self rec!

When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you've written, then pass on to at least five other writers. Spread the self-love ❤

I got tagged by @cozyrosykay, thank you, love!

This is gonna be interesting…

Predators

He was born for this. Nature itself whispered into his ear where he should put his hands, how to twirl his tongue just right and when to bite. Stiles knew well enough that his saliva was currently working its magic on this unfortunate man, making him hungry, lustful, and insatiable. Soon, all his thoughts would be consumed by Stiles.

And, just this once, Stiles would allow Derek to consume him.

I still consider this my best work (yet! bc I'm writing something currently and y'all… it's a contender). But it's so fucking good, I'm sorry, but it is! Each time I finished writing another piece, I closed the doc and told myself that this is the best thing ever. I love how gentle Derek is with Stiles, I love how persistent he is with his love, almost arrogant with his confidence. He's like oh well, Stiles is confused but it'll pass. I'll be here anyway. Forever. !!!!!! I love Stiles as a creature, and I love him embracing the darkness and being unapologetic about it. I love this fic so much.

Eros Mania Amor

“I am just reminding you that Stiles is married. To me. All you can do is imagine, and I get to do all of those things you’re dreaming of to him. Yes, I know. I know everything you and others think,” Hale opened his eyes and leaned forward, his elbows on his knees. His smile was despicable in its selfishness. “I know what you dream of when you look at his lips—”

“Stop it.” Jordan shook his head.

“— because I am the same as you,” the wolf ignored him. “I imagined everything you did, it’s just happened that my dream became the life that I get to live. He is here,” he tapped his own temple, “and here,” he tapped his chest. “And you would have to kill me to get us separated.”

This fucking fic… I was high on reading Dracula, and I love classics, and I definitely put all my love for it here. I love the language in this, the intrigue, the misleading. I also love when sterek's love is so overwhelming and unbreakable. I also kinda ate with the imagery in last sentences... I ate in general with this fic lmao

Torn Apart and Set Anew

“Someone’s here,” Stiles whispered, feeling weirdly numb.

The metal latch clicked. With ice filling his lungs and his fingers shaking terribly, Stiles swiveled his head in the direction of a window and froze for a beat of a second.

There was a face behind the glass.

Forgettable and plain, but at the same time familiar face.

This deserves more attention, and it's probably my fault for putting a weird summary resulting in it not getting a lot. Anyway, I love the suspence. I love Stiles' stubborness and I love the plot twist. About that: I like how I make it obvious who's the villain and (I hope) the reader thinks they already got the plot twist... But then the real plot twist comes and it's like... FUCK. Also Derek in this is soo…. ugh... and the ending!!! Asffgghjjkhgrjsskr

Treasure

“I know you don’t trust me,” Derek grunted. When Stiles inhaled to retort, Derek caught his chin and pressed a finger against his lips, making the boy freeze in place, eyes impossibly wide. “Don’t argue. I expected it. Wolves don’t trust easily, too. I just wanted you to know that… I’m sorry. I was selfish and didn’t see what was in front of me. You don’t need to worry. I’ll take care of everything.”

It was a thought that grew in his mind, spread to his heart and took root there, reincorporating into a deep desire and a vital need. Derek will take care of him and his little pup, he’ll bring the hearts of his enemies and put them at the boy’s feet. He’ll court and he’ll conquer.

I have my issues with this fic but ELI!!!! KIRA!!! DEREK!!! iykyk lol but yeah I often go back to this fic just to reread Eli parts, I loved writing baby Eli, he's gonna come back in Jane Eyre au for sure. I also never cried this hard during writing a fic, not before and not since. That scene... One of the best scenes I've written, the grief is so raw and scolding... shit I might reread this...

your fangs against my skin (the sound of your bones)

This was it, then, huh? It was that easy for Derek to invite someone to his den. Someone other than Stiles.

He healed the wolf. Stiles killed his tormentor, mended his blood and bones, and let him sleep beside him. But none of it was enough.

He wasn’t a spark, after all, but a witch — evil and alone, locked up in his tower.

Witches didn’t get happy endings.

One of my recent gems, I would even call it mild in terms of darkness and angst. It's a comfort fic for me. I love how relaxed Derek is around Stiles, how both of them crave each other's comfort and give it so easily. I also loved Stiles' witchiness, he's so weird and fun lmao, also LYDIA

.

Tagging gently in case y'all already did this: @dear-massacre @renmackree @endwersed @nerdherderette @thotpuppy @invisible-storyteller @eevylynn

[jakeyt]

Covet: Chapter 6

Pairing: Jake Kiszka x f!Reader

Covet Summary:

Life was good. No, life was great. 

Was. 

Until.

Jake Kiszka crashed into the picture.

You welcomed him into your life—your home. 

Yes, he was your best friend’s twin. But, he was also the one who would end up disrupting your whole world with his attitude, his troubles, and the annoyingly natural way he lured you in. 

Jake Kiszka came with so much you really didn’t want.

At least that’s what you tried to convince yourself.

Warnings: MINORS DNI (18+); smutty smutty smut; talk of Reader's anxiety; drunkenness; New Girl spoilers (if you’ve never watched the show and don’t wanna know things!); absent parent thoughts; heavy petting; oral sex f!receiving; fingering; oral sex m!receiving; unprotected p in v sex; spanking (hehe); Reader is stubborn; Jake is stubborn (if i missed any that may have triggered you, please let me know!!)

Chapter Word Count: 24.5k+ (damn. i'm v sorry lmao)

Covet Masterlist

a/n: welllll, after summer school (that shit really took it out of me), one vacation w my whole fam, two gvf shows with my sis @joshym, an extended vaca in nash (bc we just HAD to!!), and INSANE writer's block....... HERE IS CHAPTER 6! finally! i'm insanely sorry it took so damn long. thank you all for being the fkn B E S T and so understanding and the best gresties/readers a girl could ask for! <3333 ("heart eyes, motherfucker" - that's how i feel about u all :) (also if u remember that vine, ily even more now))

i hope you enjoyyyy ;)

-🌼🌼🌼-

At the beginning of July, you were stacking a shipment of some blues records in a bin at work, your mind in a blank space, which naturally moved you to think of the one person who was seemingly always at the back of your mind.

Jake.

He’d really just taken up residence in your brain, as he had in your home.

He was still on his shit. You know, acting like a pouting child, barely acknowledging you. Even after you’d literally bared yourself to him, pussy out, nipples pebbled in the open air. . . 

You blew a breath through your lips, and tucked hair behind both ears, readjusting your thought process. 

Now he seemed set on only acting like an ass after your time in the cramped bathroom had been cut short. Before, he’d taken the time to still seek you out. After the incident in your bedroom, he’d literally shown up at the B&G, begging you to come see him.

Were you just not worth it to him anymore?

You rolled your eyes to yourself, focusing on stuffing records in the bin alphabetically. 

It. Didn’t. Matter. He didn’t matter.

Really.

And you knew he didn’t matter because it wasn’t hard for you when you finally decided to play into his behavior—his little game. You didn’t stop yourself when you started to match his energy. It was easy to act as though you didn’t care about him. 

Because you didn’t. 

All you really needed was to satisfy that itch and then—then, you’d be good. 

But as you came across a re-release of a Howlin’ Wolf record, you suddenly became slightly disheartened at the thought of it all. What if this wasn’t a game for him? What if he was actually so upset that he just decided you weren’t worth it? Would you ever get as close as you had at the gig again? Did he still want you like he had in the bathroom that night? Or in your bed the night before Baby’s?

You shivered as you (once again) thought of his hardened dick pressed up against your leg. You could hear his voice, low and sultry.

“That’s what you do to me.” 

Fuck. Did you still do that to him? You hoped so.

Then there was the feeling of him pressing into you, your bare ass on the cold ceramic of the sink, leaning your body into him, craving more—so close. 

God.

You frustratedly groaned and shoved the vinyl in its place and shook your head. It didn’t matter. Really. But you couldn’t help your heart falling at the idea of him not wanting you like you wanted him. 

All you could do was hope that he still wanted it—wanted you, like he had before. 

-🌼🌼🌼-

You'd also started July deciding that in order to keep some sense of dignity, it would be best to not go see Jake perform. Especially if it was possible he’d completely closed himself off the idea of you. 

It was humiliating to be a try hard.

You would distance yourself from that part of his life, if he was going to ignore you and distance himself in your shared home. 

Did you want to see him play again? Hell freakin’ yes. It had been such an intimate experience that first night. You’d felt so privileged to witness it the way you had then, up close to share his emotions as he played, holding his eyes almost any time he’d looked up at you. You’d been taking in every flick of his fingers, every thrust into the back of his guitar, the concentration on his sweaty face . . . and he’d wanted you to watch. He’d wanted you there, in that moment, with him.

You could still see him clear as day, tanned skin glowing in the B&G, his eyes golden in the evening sun, pleading with you. . .

“I really want you there.”

When you’d gone to their last shows in June, all you wanted was to feel that way again. Connected to him. Close to him. You wanted it so badly—but it seemed he didn’t want it anymore. He hadn’t looked at you once during any of the shows. To be fair, you had been standing so far towards the back that it’s possible he hadn’t even known you were there. But, he hadn’t even tried to seek you out to ask you to come like he had before (if it really was possible he thought you weren’t there). 

Things were just different than before. 

So, yeah. It was best that you didn’t go. You didn’t want to seem desperate or possibly annoy him with your presence just in case he did see you at a show. You’d made up your mind that it was obvious he didn’t want you there. He wanted things like they currently were. 

And it wasn’t so much that it hurt to have him act so aloof and absent and uncaring. It didn’t hurt. Really. You’d tried to convince yourself that he was just making you angry. Nothing more.

So, you just continued to play his game however well you could. It wasn’t that important. 

Though, any time he left the apartment, looking deliciously ready for a performance, all you wanted to do was follow. But instead, all you’d actually do was look at him from wherever he passed you in the apartment. You’d glare at him, matching his pissy behavior as long as he continued to show it. 

But you’d eventually noticed that his eyes weren’t always holding irritation when he passed you. . .sometimes, you could have sworn his eyes held more longing than anything. 

Although, as soon as you’d think you saw it, he was already gone. And you would eventually decide that you’d imagined it.

You couldn’t stop yourself from wondering if it was possible that underneath his moodiness he did still want you?

All you wanted was to understand what he was feeling. 

-🌼🌼🌼-

So, after not going to their shows for the first couple weeks of July, Josh had finally reached out on the night of one, asking if you’d come because he ‘missed seeing you’.

You initially wanted to send a text back that said: ‘No, sorry. Your brother sucks and I’m mad at him right now. And if I go all I’ll want to do is fuck him senseless after watching him play, even though he probably doesn’t want that at all. So, I have to decline.’ 

But, then you guiltily started thinking of how you needed to support your best friend and the other two guys. It was incredibly rude of you to not go see Josh, Sam, and Danny do their thing simply because Jake was a pain in the ass that you couldn’t figure out. 

You wanted to support your friends. Support Josh.

So that’s why you ended up texting an ‘Of course! What time?’ in response. 

And as you got ready that night, you pulled on a cropped Cream T-shirt, thinking momentarily of your roommate. Would he like it if he saw it? Or would it piss him off?

Pushing it out of your mind, you focused on how excited you were now, the idea of getting to see them live again. 

The guys put on a helluva show; they were absolutely magnificent, so magnetic. 

Once you felt totally ready to go, you secured an Uber to pick you up, already planning to have a few drinks to ease your mind at the show.

As you put your shoes on, you thought. . . The thing that made you most excited really wasn’t seeing the band perform again as a whole. It wasn’t even the thought of seeing Josh. It was getting to simply be near Jake again, pathetic as it may sound. And the thought of seeing him play again. . . Fuck. Watching him was so enticing. He was like a drug. . .always drawing you in.

There was no denying the way your stomach fluttered at the thought of watching him perform again. Because even though he was pissing you off and you had no earthly clue how in the hell he was feeling, watching him perform was unlike any adrenaline rush you’d ever experienced. 

(Save for the feeling of your blood pumping erratically at the feeling of him tucked between your legs. That was a feeling unlike anything else.)

-🌼🌼🌼-

Like you had at shows before, you sat at the back to witness the performance. 

It had been great, per usual. Jake had left you wanting him from your seat. And just like it had been at the shows in June, he never failed to make you feel incredibly stupid for stopping things in the bathroom the night of their first show. 

Yet now, while they performed their encore, you hadn’t left the venue like you normally did. You hadn’t tried to get the hell out of dodge. 

No, tonight, you stood at the outdoor bar area connected to the back of the venue. It was set in a huge space covered in bright green turf, a small patio with a couple of tables, and plenty of Edison bulb string lights to set the cool mood of the place. 

There were even a couple of ping pong tables and a cornhole game set up for people to play at. A random sporting event was drawing in a few college-aged men, on a giant flat screen TV.

Although, unlike those men, it wasn’t your choice to be hanging out in the open area. You had wanted to avert to your normal plan of leaving to go home with a quick ‘proud of you!’ text to Josh. 

You wanted to avoid Jake seeing you at all costs. But Josh had inadvertently seen to it that you wouldn’t get away with that plan again.

He’d apparently caught onto your little trick. Before you could begin to type a text, and before they’d even come out for their encore, Josh had sent a text. Or three. 

Josh, 10:23 p.m.: Don’t you dare leave.

Josh, 10:23 p.m.: I really want to see you and give you a hug 

Josh, 10:24 p.m.: I don’t see you nearly enough these days and I miss you dearly and I really want to have just one drink with you after the show. Pleeeeaaaase

So, here you were, outside before the set even totally ended, standing at the bar, downing another lemon drop to calm your nerves. You really just wanted to be home, with Stevie snoring against your calves. 

You were not totally ready to be in the same area as Jake for an extended amount of time.

You were just asking for your another beer when you felt someone sidle up beside you. The nudge against your shoulder, and the familiar hint of patchouli in his cologne, made you grin at your best friend.

“One salty dog for me,” Josh said as he wrapped an arm around your shoulders. After a nod, the bartender went to get his drink ready, and he turned you fully into him to give you a big hug. 

It felt so safe. . . but you couldn’t help the feeling of wanting to be this close to Jake instead.

When you pulled away, you momentarily closed your eyes, collecting your thoughts. When you opened them, you watched as he placed an elbow on the bar and a hand on his hip. His eyebrow went up. 

“Great job tonight. I’m so prou—.”

“Why haven’t you let me know your anxiety’s been flaring up again?” He interrupted, obviously worried.

You blinked once. What? “What?”

“Last month, you kept fleeing before I could even take a breath after a set. I figured you were just trying to get some sleep with your summer classes starting. But then you just stopped coming altogether,” he scooted in closer to you. His voice got lower, his eyes concerned. “I just wanted to put eyes on you. I’ve been so busy; I haven’t had time to check on you like normal. My schedule is shit. I figured this would be a way for me to see you and make sure you’re doing alright,” he continued, reaching his hand up to lightly rub your shoulder. “It came later this time. I expected it to get bad at the end of May, but it never came. What’s going on? Are you okay? Are you eating?”

Your cheeks pinkened. With your concern for avoiding Jake at these gigs, you hadn’t even taken time to think about how your behavior might have worried Josh. Of course he’d been thinking deeply about your absence. He cared so much for you, and was a sole confidant on multiple occasions of your depression induced anxiety flare-ups. And, to be fair, being flighty usually signaled the beginning of your bigger bouts with your superb anxiety-depression combo.  

You’d had a few times in your friendship where it had gotten really bad. Definitely a trauma response, almost always coming with a change in season. For some reason, the change in leaves, flowers blooming — it always made you think of just how much your mom had broken you. You didn’t get to appreciate the beauty without it being tainted by darkness. Your mother's leaving had come right at the turn of fall into winter. 

There had been a few times after Elsie left when it got so bad that Josh’d insisted he stay with you. With your sister around, he wouldn’t always stay the night when it hit you, but he’d check on you at work, and hover with texts, food, and quality time until he felt you were better.

But this had nothing to do with your mother. And really, your anxiety wasn’t bad. Jake wasn’t causing you anxiety for you at all right now. You didn’t know what you were feeling. Were you on edge around Jake at all times? Yes. But it wasn’t anxiety. It definitely wasn’t depression. Sadness that he could possibly not want you, yes. But it wasn’t something dark like the thought your mother might bring. You didn’t know what it was. 

You just knew you had to reassure Josh.

“I’m okay,” you looked into his eyes and reached out to hold his hand on the bar. “Yes, I’m eating. I’m just—feeling a lot right now? I don’t know. It’s weird,” you shook your head and removed your hand to tuck some hair behind your ear. How could you explain this to him? You couldn’t. “Just a lot going on in my head.” 

He studied you, squinted his eyes. “Is there something I should know about?” He questioned, his voice getting crisper as he tried to make pieces click. Your stomach dropped. “You’re being vague. You’re sure it’s not—?”

“No,” you shut your eyes, huffing a frustrated breath. “Yes. I’m—it’s just—I don’t know.” Improvise, improvise, improvise. “When Elsie was in town, we talked about my mom. I’ve just been in my feelings, I guess. And, yeah, summer classes have started and that’s added some pressure, too. But it’s not anxiety or depression or anything,” you connected eyes with him again, and reached to squeeze his hand. “I promise.”

He still didn’t seem convinced. You weren’t surprised. He was an empath after all. He shouldn’t be convinced. He knew better than to believe that was all it was. But you didn’t want him knowing any better than an assumption in his head. And as long as the assumption didn’t have anything to do with his brother, you were okay with whatever he was assuming. And, you being in a weird headspace because of your mom wasn’t a lie. You truly had been. He’d even witnessed it at the coffee shop. 

It just wasn’t the whole truth. The biggest thing was something he absolutely couldn’t know: the way your mind had been swarmed with Jake, Jake, Jake for the past months. And it’d only gotten worse with the past couple . . .events.

The thought of Josh catching on to anything about his brother continued to make you fearful of him possibly being cross with you over it. Or worse, made you fear him feeling betrayed by you. You didn’t want him upset or thinking poorly of you for possibly distracting Jake in any way. 

You couldn't be to Jake what his ex had been. And you feared Josh’s mind would go to that immediately—out of protection for his brother. Rightfully so.

His eyes settled back to normal, accepting your answer for the time being. His eyes curved down with understanding. “I saw you watching that girl and her mom at the coffee shop. I should’ve known.”

All you could do was nod. You didn’t know what more to say to cover your ass. 

You cleared your throat, signaling you were ready for a change of topic. “Enough about me. How are you feeling about all of these amazing shows, rockstar?”

He grinned wide, letting his worries go as a drink landed in front of him. 

And in no time, things were like they’d always been. 

Just you and Josh, not a lingering thought for Jake’s moods as you let yourself listen to his twin’s many thoughts and feelings of this new life of his.

You just had to try your best to ignore the way your heart leapt in your chest at any mention of Jake’s name in a story.

-🌼🌼🌼-

Jake’s POV

I wasn’t prepared for the sight of her as I walked out onto the back area of the establishment. 

And fuck it all, if she wasn’t the first thing my eyes found in that slightly crowded space. It would be impossible for her not to be—she was most definitely the most gorgeous woman I’d ever seen. 

But my heart immediately dropped when it registered that she was holding Josh’s hand, talking animatedly with him. It would be stupid for me to assume she’d come for anyone else but him. 

I had thought for sure that she’d been interested—wanted me—that night at Baby’s All Right. She’d said so much the night before that —her being so open with me at our home, right before we’d kissed for the first time in the hallway. 

Then, that night at Baby’s. . .I’d been so close to her, feeling her swollen pussy, still wet from my mouth, on the head of my cock. The way her body had thrummed around me. . .making my body need more. 

But just before I was inside of her, she’d heard my brother and her mind had gone immediately to him. Only caring what he thought. 

I didn’t know what to think about what they had between them. It was very possible that they were just friends—best friends. I knew that was likely the case. 

(And if I were thinking reasonably—it was definitely the case from how Josh talked about her sister.)

But my ways of reasonable thinking had been shot to shit these days. 

I’d been burned by assuming something similar in the past. The whole “just friends” thing was a cover I wasn't too fond of. Thanks to the woman I’d loved in the past, my trust was shot and I had become a primarily “glass half empty” thinker. My past had bit me in the fuckin’ ass. 

But y/n—she made me feel electric again—full of life. She was the most beautiful symbol of a fresh start. A fresh start I’d been craving—a feeling I’d been chasing for years. 

I truly hadn’t felt so full of possibility since I was 16. Even when we’d bicker, I felt this glimmer of hope for my life. . . She was a natural light. 

I just wanted her so bad, going dizzy at the sight of her . . . And that was a feeling I hadn’t ever felt with any other woman. My brain was almost always fuzzy when she was near. 

She was absolutely breathtaking, every movement she made that had her hair flowing in slow motion around her head, the way her eyes hooded when it was just the two of us. . . but even better, the way her eyes shined, so bright, all the time. She was positively heaven sent. 

And I’d be an idiot to think she’d want me more than my brother—who she’d known for years, who she was instantly drawn to at all times. They had natural chemistry. Anyone with two eyes could see it. 

She deserved a light that matched her own. Could I capture that light? Yes, I knew I could. But I’d been so terrible to her from the get-go; I wouldn’t blame her gravitating towards Josh—feeling safer with him. 

Like he always said, he was the sun, and I was the moon. I naturally came with darkness. I’d made it clear enough by acting like an asshole for the first portion of my time living with her. 

People who knew me knew I was notoriously terrible at reacting to hurt. I didn’t naturally know how to handle my emotions like Josh was practically born knowing to do. 

And the moment I laid eyes on her that first night at the apartment—when she’d opened the door. . .her hair falling against her sweet face, her eyes opening to show me the most beautiful color I’d ever seen. I knew then that I was a goner. 

But it’d seemed to be terrible timing at that instant. Feeling so drawn to her—it was coming right after I’d had the biggest life change. My heart was hurting—not necessarily broken, just . . . lost.

And I didn’t want her to be involved in the hopeless sea I’d been drowning in since my past troubles had come crashing down around me. 

Though, when I’d first seen her, standing there, the evening sun hitting her stunning face in her doorway— I felt like all of the pirates I loved to study. I’d found a hidden treasure I couldn’t even imagine could be so beautiful— just around the bend for so long, finally in my grasp. 

But I hadn’t known her. I hadn’t even met her. She was a treasure that wasn't mine to enjoy.

And I truly needed to heal, without bringing someone else down with me. I was scared of all I was feeling, and I only knew to react with bluntness, rudeness, irritation at every fucking turn. I’d even brought girls to bed to try to get her the fuck out of my mind. 

But it never happened. She was persistently there, in my everyday routine, in the eyes of the girls I'd mindlessly fuck. She'd sealed a sweet spot in my brain. 

But I’d still kept up with the douchebag act.

It was so unfair.

She’d tried so hard to be friendly, and I never greeted it well. I hadn’t known what to make of it all. That first night, Josh had said we were the same. Though, as he’d said this, I’d been watching her—so peaceful and beautiful, deep in a surely dreamful sleep. 

It’d instantly made my stomach dip when he said it. . . I knew well enough that she couldn’t be the same as me. 

But she was the same as Josh—pure, unadulterated bright, yellow sunshine. She was the sun on a spring day, flowers blooming and the grasses so green. Not a cloud in sight. 

But I was the cloud in her flawless sky. I’d been reminded of that when she’d stopped us at Baby's, saying she didn’t want Josh to know. It seemed she didn’t want to take a chance on people knowing we’d been so close.

I could only assume she didn’t want that darkness in her life, and I didn’t blame her. 

So I’d separated myself from her.

After that night, when Josh had told me of her being at our other gigs in June, I’d brushed it off. I knew why she was there—for Josh. I hadn’t even tried to seek her out because I knew that wasn’t what she wanted. She didn’t want me near her. Didn’t want people to know how close we had been. 

How well her body shaped to mine in secret— and it was just that: a secret she wanted kept. 

Especially wanted it kept from Josh. To him, she wanted us to be strictly roommates. So that’s what I’d decided I’d be for her. 

I’d wanted to ask her to come to shows after our little stint, but I fought the urge every time it came on. I wanted her there, I fed off of her energy—she made me play better. But, I didn’t want to rub her the wrong way after she’d put her foot down in the bathroom. I didn’t want to come off too strong. 

I’d also given my best attempt to not let my feelings show in the past weeks. It had been so hard anytime I’d meet her beautiful eyes. Her eyes that, over the past week, had seemed to turn from something hopeful when she looked my way to what could only be called disdain —disdain for me.

I had been an asshole, and she was better than that . . . 

But, still, all I wanted was her. I wanted to take back everything I’d said or done out of hurt, due to not knowing how to handle my mess of feelings. 

I wished I could go back to day one and make things different. I wished I could go back in time to stop myself from becoming a slab of stone to cope with my feelings. If I would have just been myself. . . Maybe I’d have her now— ever-endearing and enrapturing.

Fuck. And as I watched her tousle Josh’s hair, I just wanted to feel her fingers in mine again. My heart twinged with jealousy at the action.

“Look who’s here!” 

Sam’s loud voice snapped me out of my reverie. I continued to watch her, her smile widened at Sam’s voice, looking in his direction, and away from Josh. Then, without warning, she looked over to me as I was still studying her face—the way her full lips stretched to show her beautiful beam. 

But as soon as she looked at me, her smile fell. And all I wanted in that moment was for her smile to get bigger when she saw me, just as it had when she saw Sam.

I just wanted her. 

I decided at that moment, I was going to bite the bullet. I could make one more move to be close to her again. And if there was one moment where she acted as if she didn’t want it, I’d back off. 

But right now? I couldn’t see that happening. Couldn't see her backing off. She didn’t pull her eyes from mine, and I never let my gaze fall from hers. She held me with her stare, and I held her with mine. 

It was just us.

And as I came up on her other side, opposite Josh, she never broke eye contact with me, turning from my twin. And even as Sam and Danny traveled behind me, she only looked at me. 

I watched her chest rise and fall, the swell of her breasts making my mouth run dry from where they peeked out at the makeshift tear at the top of her shirt. The sugary sweet smell of her perfume made all of my senses lurch forward, wanting to take her—all of her— right at that moment.  

I was close enough to see the shine from the Edison bulbs around us, reflecting in her irises. 

Daniel and Sam came up to give her hugs, honestly acting completely oblivious to what was transpiring between us. Josh was chatting it up with the bartender, asking if he heard us from out here. 

And finally, they all left to go play ping pong. They’d offered for us to go play, but she hadn’t even acknowledged them talking. I waved them off, and looked at them with a shake of my head. I felt her eyes continue to pore over me as she let me do the work to get them to leave. 

Then, y/n and I were in our own world, I placed my forearm on the bar, my body curving to be around hers of its own accord. She followed by turning her whole body to face mine. It felt natural as she leaned into where I stood. She wasn’t quite touching me, but she let her own body follow all of my movements. 

I couldn’t help but feel my chest puff as she let her body move with mine as I matched her, moving in time with her. I was the dull moth and she was the bright, alluring flame.

I wondered if it felt as seamless for her as it did for me, she sat her elbow on the bar, and leaned her hip against a stool. She went to sit on top of it, but she struggled with her footing, so I let my instincts take control and I helped her onto it. However I could help her, I wanted to. 

I also wanted nothing more than to touch her, so that seemed like the perfect opportunity to kill two birds with one stone. 

The gasp she released when I touched her, and lifted her the slightest bit to help her situate on the glittery plastic top of the stool, combined with the way her legs spread the slightest bit, her black jean shorts showing so much of her sweet, sun-kissed thighs—it made all of my blood rush through me and to a throbbing halt at the head of my cock.

I wanted to cross my legs to make sure it wouldn’t show what she was doing to me. But she was so magnetic, I couldn’t help the last step I took, towards the stool, to be closer to her. I was so close that my thighs touched her knees. Her knees, which she then crossed, in the process grazing the zipper of my jeans. 

My breath caught in my chest, and my dick pulsed. She was still looking down at where she’d touched me, so I knew she saw what I felt happening in my pants. 

She shot me a look, questioning all of this. And all I could do was look down at her, letting my eyes sweep over her entire outfit. So simple, yet so lovely, as always. She was wearing a cropped band tee (Cream. Fuck—did she do that on purpose?) and those cut off black denim shorts, with her black-colored toenails showing in a pair of cheap black flip flops. 

I swallowed hard, feeling so entranced by her. My gaze went back to her face, the most appealing part of the woman. Her face was so open, so kind, so pretty—it had done nothing but draw me in since day one. And being so close to her again, I saw the familiar dusting of a few lighter freckles that dotted her nose. She was smiling—her eyes were smiling— at me. 

Somehow it seemed she knew exactly what was going through my mind. Crazy how we’d been avoiding each other for the past couple of weeks, but now just clicked back together as if we were back at Baby’s All Right—in the cramped space of that bathroom.

I looked into her bright eyes, feeling something overwhelming come to life in my chest. 

Fucking hell. She was perfect.

I needed this. I needed to feel this with her again. I’d missed it. The closeness.

“Hi,” I said with a nod, just loud enough for her ears to hear. 

She blinked once, her eyes wide and wondering. Fuck. She was so damn cute. 

Then, I watched fondly as her dimples showed in her cheeks with a soft grin. “Hi.”

End of Jake’s POV

-🌼🌼🌼-

It had been a decent amount of time since Jake had come up to stand right next to you, completely ruining any chance for sanity on your end. 

He’d acted so normal, so forward. His actions were exactly what you’d needed to feel relieved—to know that all was okay. 

You’d gotten nervous being around him, like Elsie would say, you were pretty sure you had a ‘good ‘ol crush.’ Nothing more. You focused on complimenting the set when you’d talked, asking simple questions, just to hear his voice explain the same things Josh already had. The raspiness in his tone was just delicious, and you wanted to hear the small things from his perspective more than anyone else’s.

When you weren’t listening to him talk, you pretended to be interested in the game on the flat screen—you had no clue what they were doing on the field, but it was distracting you from how sweaty your palms were getting at Jake being so close.

Though, you were now several beers (and a couple margaritas) in, previously deciding you wanted to make this night like old times where you’d get drunk and have fun with the guys. The boys’d come up to you a few times in your precious time being next to Jake. They’d bump you with a shoulder as they grabbed a drink. . . Josh only coming by once or twice, having been the chosen one to hold off, as he was the DD.

And, per usual, Sammy had chosen a game that would supposedly be much more fun, completely inebriated: ‘drunk ping pong.’ 

“Like normal ping pong, except you’re drunk!” Sam had excitedly said, his signature cackle following his words. He was right there with you on the 'shitface scale'.

Jake had barely left your side all night, and it felt so right to be so close to him, to stay with him. It felt right, just like it had before, except this time, it had nothing to do with anything sexual. . .it was just his simple presence that made you feel good. 

(You weren't going to talk about how you'd felt his dick twitch in his tight jeans. . .because holy fuck. Your panties had been the victim when that had happened.)

By the middle of the ping pong game, you were still drinking. You felt light in the head, completely carefree. You even caught yourself leaning into Jake a few times, the two of you deciding to be a team against Sammy and Danny. Josh preferred being the referee for the game, getting a chance to nonstop talk by narrating the entire game.

At one point, you knew you were leaning back into him, but you were far too gone to care. You’d purposefully pressed your ass against his crotch, and he’d patiently repositioned you. You were grateful for him being so aware, because you knew you’d regret it in the morning if something stupid happened in front of your friends. You just couldn’t control your actions like a sober-you normally could. 

You were in a body that was moving on its own, your brain barely registering what you’d do.

He’d repeatedly asked if you were doing alright, and you’d get so lost in his chocolate gaze you could only breathe a ‘yes’ in response. 

And, now, as you settled into a booth inside the establishment, it was nearing 1 a.m., and you were simply listening to the guys talk about their next performance. And as you had been all night, you were next to Jake. 

At this point, you were cuddled up next to him more than anything else. You felt so cozy with him. His body was a warm furnace for yours. You were sitting in a way that none of the other guys could see what you were doing. Because of them not seeing your bottom half, you situated a leg over his thigh, comfortably draping it the best you could to make it look as inconspicuous as possible (while simultaneously being incredibly drunk). 

But you could barely worry about it when you leaned your head on his shoulder. You were sleepy. And he was warm, right, and close. 

And he smelled so fucking good. Hints of sage and vanilla overwhelmed your senses, mixed with sweat. . .it was the perfect mixture that helped to lull you to sleep, along with the calming vibration of his voice as he talked with his brothers, your head laying on his shoulder perfectly placed for the melodic sound waves from his voice. 

And right before you dozed off, you felt one of his calloused hands lay on your thigh, warm on your cooled skin. You snuggled into him, a small smile finding its way to your lips.

-🌼🌼🌼-

Before you knew it, the same hand was squeezing your thigh, urging you to wake up.

“Y/n. . .let’s go home,” his voice softly said, his minty breath hitting your face. Home. As your eyes wedged open, you looked up at him to find the apples of his cheeks redden with a deep laugh as he reacted to something Josh said.

If only you could just kiss him - right then and there.

You were still too out of it to register what Josh was saying, but you noticed the other three standing around the booth, Jake securely next to you still. 

Your tummy fluttered at him being so attentive to you, and continued on that way as he helped you climb out (or rather squeak out of the booth, your bare thighs making racket against the seat). 

“Y/n. . .,” Sam started, his voice way too high for him to be requesting your name for anything too serious. And still, you looked up at him as you finally edged your way to the very end of the red booth. “Did you fart?!”

The rest of the guys started chuckling with him, and you couldn’t help but join in as you went to punch his scrawny chest. “Shut the fuck up, you fucker.”

Danny whooped, beating a fist in the air. He started leading the way out of the bar. As you all followed, he turned to catch your eye briefly. “Y/n. . . coming in with some nasty ass insults tonight,” he laughed. “You’re killing it, Baby Dragon.”

“Haven't heard that one for a hot damn second,” Josh remarked, right behind Danny, waiting to hold the door open for you, Jake, and Sam. “Baby Dragon.”

Jake looked at you and Sam curiously, wanting an in on the nickname. 

“Baby Dragon?” He questioned, taking the door from Josh to let you into the dark night, under his lifted arm. 

“Game of Thrones,” was Sammy’s explanation, as he started teetering on his feet, balancing himself on the ledge of the sidewalk to keep himself busy. “Baby dragons.”

You could tell he was still wondering why, so you tried to extend Sam’s drunken response with your own woozy one. “I’m a baby dragon.”

Well, that made no damn sense, you thought, giggling to yourself.

The guys started busting up laughing, Jake still dipping his eyebrows in at you, a smile playing on his full lips. He was watching your every motion, continuing as you looped your arm with Sammy, trying to balance with him.

Josh continued, more lucid than either of you. “We watched Game of Thrones week after week at our apartment for about a year. . . binged it together,” he nodded his head toward you, smirking. “One of y/n’s favorite ways to bond is with a good television show. And she had been dying for us to watch it with her. So, we did.”

The curly headed twin then laughed at you and Sammy as you both nearly fell, making the same ridiculous sound as you almost went down. Sam thankfully recovered in time, even with his feet slippery in his Birkenstocks. He held you close to him. It made you laugh even harder as he playfully checked you for bumps and bruises. 

“We deemed her Baby Dragon,” Danny finished.  

Jake nodded, but he still wanted more information, looking left out. You also noticed him looking as though he’d discovered something. And then it clicked that Josh had exposed a bonding tactic of yours. You slapped your forehead, your reactions still slow, even after your nap, where you had snoozed off the tiniest bit of alcohol. 

“Josh!” You scolded him, way past time. You still made no sense, randomly saying his name— you knew this. 

But, the more Josh looked at you dubiously, you thought you’d leave it at that. You didn’t need to correct him for saying anything. Because, well, it really wasn’t that big of a deal, the more you thought of it. Maybe you were okay with Jake knowing you’d used TV to bond with him. 

In this state, you could plainly admit that you wanted him to know your heart—all of your intentions. And you wanted to tell him all of your desires. . . Show him, even. You were craving him, especially after being so close with him all night. It felt nice. 

You looked up to observe him at that moment, but he was checking his phone, his eyebrows crinkled. He looked up from it, clicking it closed and glancing to the street to see a car rolling up.  

“Your Uber AWAITS!” Sam declared, motioning to the car that had pulled up to the curb, the black and white Uber sign in the corner of the window to confirm his words. 

“Jake, you need to get a damn car,” Josh noted, opening the back door for you. “I’m tired of being your chauffeur. And Uber is going to get tired of you soon, too,” He caught your eye and winked, nodding over to your roommate. “Y/n, I’m thinking it’s your turn to cart Jake around everywhere he goes.”

You approached the nice little silver car, rolling your eyes at Josh, but still giving him a hug as you came up next to him. “Love you, Joshy,” you leaned in, giving him a kiss on the cheek. 

“I’m not taking any car advice from you, Mister Clunkerfuck,” he commented plainly. It made you burst out with laughter. “Your car is on its last fuckin’ leg. It’s going to break down on you at the worst possible moment and I’m not going to feel bad. I think you’re the one who needs to get a car—a new one.”

Sam started drunkenly singing a track you hadn’t heard that included the lyrics ‘you’re the one’. His actions were dramatic, only Danny paid him any mind, starting to sing with him, being just as goofy. 

You were still thinking of what Jake had said. It was exactly how you thought of Josh’s car.

“Clunkerfuck,” you smiled in Jake’s direction. Though, when you caught his eye, he looked a little downcast, you just couldn’t pin why. Maybe you were seeing it, all dazed out. “Good one, Jakey.”

Jakey? It did register in time that you’d called him that, and you were instantly embarrassed by your nickname for him. Too far. So, you hurriedly got in the car, your cheeks flushing as you haphazardly yelled goodbyes to the other guys. 

“Nighty night, Baby Dragon,” Josh had said with a laugh, calling you the nickname once more, closing the door behind you. You’d honestly forgotten about the nickname. . .it had been so long since they’d used it. 

Before you knew it, Jake was scooting into the passenger seat to offer an address to the driver. 

He doesn’t want to sit next to me? You thought, sadly. But he chose to be close to me the rest of the night. . . Why not now?

You tried not to look too disappointed on the outside as he was back to ignoring you for the twenty minute drive back to your place. He paid you no mind, and didn’t even care to check on you like he had all night, on the ride back. 

You weren’t able to give it much thought as you looked at the GPS and reasoned you could get a good nap in on the way home. Drinking always made you feel so tired. 

You laid your head against the cooled window next to you. Jake’s naturally husky (fucking sexy) tone as he spoke to the driver, was the last thing you heard semi-coherently. 

You let the car sway you to sleep for the last 10-ish minutes of the drive back, only one handsome man, with long hair and a voice that dripped of sex, waiting behind your lids as they closed. 

-🌼🌼🌼-

You were still feeling loopy as Jake helped you up the stairs to the apartment. 

You’d had way too much to drink. You needed sleep. 

Once you entered the apartment, it was so quiet and dark. . .you needed light. So, you felt against the wall to switch the light on. But, you instantly regretted it, covering your eyes with both hands. 

“My eyes!” You yelped, way too dramatically. And when you peeked through your fingers, you saw Jake stooped down, next to Stevie’s dish, giving her a scoop of food. She nudged her little gray head against his hand. Your heart squeezed at the sight. But it was still too bright. “My eyes!”

With two hands still covering your eyes, you sauntered, on unsteady foot in front of the other, back towards the switch you’d used to flip the lights on. 

But before you could get to the switch, you knocked into a chair, sending you back onto your ass. Yet again, dramatically.

“Ow!” You moved a hand from your eyes to massage your sore butt, and as you did, you saw Jake moving to switch the lights off. You were once again cloaked in darkness, but he turned the lamp on closest to him. You sighed, your ass not hurting as much as you’d imagined it had. Now you only cared about the lights, how perfectly dimmed the room was. “Ahhh. . .Much better.”

Your lids were drooping again, and you were not looking forward to getting back up on wobbly feet to make the trek to your bedroom. 

Deciding the floor was a comfy enough bed for the night, you laid back, curling onto your side, your hands under your left cheek to make a pillow. 

-🌼🌼🌼-

Jake’s POV

Her eyes slid closed. I watched her, a small grin on my face. So adorable. 

But, she was so gone. I felt bad appreciating her being so cute while she was so incoherent. 

So instead of taking advantage, I’d taken it upon myself to watch over her and make sure she was alright all night. I kept my drinking to a minimum so I could keep a careful eye on her.

We’d spent the whole night together, enjoying each other’s company (even if she had been slightly—very—drunk). It’d felt so right. 

My heart had beat at being like that with her in a similar way it did when we’d watch New Girl together. But, it was different tonight. Instead of only sitting on a couch, we’d been together, walking around, playing, her willingly (albeit drunkenly) falling asleep on my shoulder, a smooth leg draped over mine (holy fuck, by the way). 

We hadn’t really gotten the chance to talk a whole lot, thanks to my brothers demanding our attention. The only talking we had partaken in had been very little. And it’d only been about what she’d thought of the set, little questions she had for me. We’d mostly just taken time to be next to each other. 

For me, it’d felt like coming back home.

I had just watched her as she watched the game on a TV in front of us (didn’t peg her as a girl who liked sports, but whatever), occasionally looking over at me to share a secret smile, making my skin hot with want for her. 

I’d hoped, sitting there on those barstools, that she’d felt it with me—the whole cheesy ass ‘coming home’ thing. 

But then, having to stand there and watch her kiss Josh on the cheek at the end of the night . . .that had been a kick in the fuckin’ ass. I’d literally felt my heart sink in my chest as I watched them, their respective energies feeding off of the other so well. . . they were practically one. 

He’d even helped her into the car, once again calling her that ‘baby dragon’ thing that I couldn’t understand at all. I couldn’t understand her the way he could—the way all of the guys could. I hadn’t been around to get to know her with the rest of them. I wasn’t in sync with her like they were—like Josh was. 

I was late to the game. Probably too late. 

Though, when we got home, I still wanted to help her with a few small things . . . It was impossible for me not to try and help her (even if she didn’t fit as well with me as she did my brother).

And at this moment, I could tell that she was going to let herself sleep on the floor. 

But I wasn’t going to let that happen. 

Bending down next to her beautiful body, I couldn’t help but bite my lip when I saw her round ass peeking out from the bottom of her shorts. She was filled out in all of the right places—an absolute fucking masterpiece. 

Then I heard a little whimper in her sleep. A sigh, as she probably started slipping into dreamland. I felt my dick harden just the slightest bit when I thought of hearing those same whimpers through the walls. . . how she’d said my name in her sleep a few times — moaned it, even. . . Off in her dreams where I could have only hoped to meet her.

I’d spent many mornings so sexually fucking frustrated with how close, yet so far she was. So many times—I was there, right next door to her as my name would slip from her lips. And with only a thin wall between us, I’d jerked my cock into a hand I’d imagined was her sweet pussy, having to bite my lip to keep from saying her name.

Fuck. I palmed at my crotch, willing my dick to soften. Now was not the time.

I touched her shoulder, nudging her a bit. “Y/n. . .come on, wake up. You don’t wanna sleep on the floor.”

She sighed again, “Yes, I do,” she retorted. 

And then she moaned as she snuggled further into the carpet. Her moan. Fuck. She was like a damn good drug. 

“No, you don’t,” I scooped my hands under her back, ready to carry her to bed. “I’ll carry you if you don’t move yourself. Come on.”

I saw her lids flutter, eyes still closed. A little smirk graced her features. “Carry me, Jakey,” she mused. 

There she was using that nickname for me again, I thought. It sounded so much better, sweeter coming from her lips than I’d ever heard it.

And when I let both of my hands totally slip under her, scooping her into my arms, and against my chest, her eyes blinked open, still slightly hooded. Her eyebrows curved in, the look she was giving me telling me she hadn’t believed I would do it. 

She wiggled, arguing. “Jake. You don’t have to,” wiggle. “Carry,” wiggle. “Me.”

I gripped her a bit tighter, but did give her a chance to climb out of my arms. “I’ll let you walk if you want to,” I continued, letting my guard down with my next words. “But I really like being this close to you. . .feeling you against me.”

When she looked at me again, it was as if she’d totally sobered at what I’d said (even though I knew better). Her eyes were inquiring, but so full of an emotion I couldn’t fully place in that moment. All I knew was her unnamed emotion somehow perfectly matched the thrum of my heart in my chest. 

“Me too.”

And then she looped her arms around my neck, bringing my face down to meet hers, just as we’d made it to her room. 

I couldn’t help it. I let myself give in to her apparent want in that moment, and met her lips with mine. 

End of Jake’s POV

-🌼🌼🌼-

As Jake carried you further into your room, to your bed, you never let your lips leave his. Even as he laid you down on your bed, you kept kissing him.

Yes, you thought. This. This is what I needed. I needed him.

You knew you weren’t totally sober, but when he’d said what he did about liking the feeling of being close to you. . . it had made your heart leap into your throat with joy. Because you’d been hoping he still felt like that. You’d been hoping so hard to hear words like that, that it had kind of snapped you from your drunken daze. 

And having him on top of you, laying his body between your legs that naturally opened to make room for him. . .the feeling was divine.

Having Jake with you, it was more than the alcohol that still lingered in your system. You wished you hadn’t let yourself get so wasted tonight, wished you'd have taken him coming closer to you as a sign to not make tonight ‘like old times’. You realized that you wanted it to be new times—times where Jake was here. Things were different with him around. 

And now that you were so far away from the beginnings of him living with you, seeing him show bits of himself, outside of his shroud, throughout June. . . knowing what his lips tasted like—you could admit that having him around was a good type of different. 

Your mouth opened, needing his tongue to meet yours. As soon as it entered your mouth, you sucked on it, loving the taste, the feeling of it, safe in your mouth. 

Needing to be closer to him, you leaned up the slightest bit. You had to feel your skin against his. Closer, closer.

You separated your mouth from his, your lips wet, probably looking just like his: swollen and pink. 

His eyes were dark, lids hooded, encouraging you. You tugged at his shirt, and he got the idea. Thanks to not buttoning his shirts all the way, he was able to slip his short sleeve floral button down over his head. As he did that, you reached around the hem of your old T-shirt, taking it off. 

But before you could throw it to the side, he reached a hand out to grab it, turning the front of it to face you. The members of Cream, staring at you from the splotch of white on black material.

“Does it get you off?” He questioned, an eyebrow raised. “Turning me on with these little outfits you wear to the shows?” 

You smirked, your eyes hazing with want for him. He’d liked your choice of shirt. It hadn’t irritated him. You had made progress. You weren’t at square one anymore. Thank God.

“You liked it?” You rhetorically asked. “You were all I thought about when I put it on.”

His eyes glazed over, just like your own. He liked that.

He huffed, his mouth forming a grin before leaning down to nip at your lips, throwing the shirt to the side. His hands found your thighs, lifting them around his hips. He sucked your bottom lip, moving his tongue to lick into your mouth, his mouth following yours as you melted into the feeling, needing more. 

You pushed him away again, using the time he was leaned back to take your shorts off. He helped you so you didn’t have to awkwardly wriggle out of them. You flashed your eyes at him, smiling with them. 

Then once they were gone, you sat up fully, legs falling from around his hips, to help him. You messed with the button of his jeans. 

He placed his hand over yours, stopping you. You looked up to question him. And as you did, he was already laying you back down, honed in on the sight of your chest that hadn’t stopped heaving since you’d kissed him. 

“Did you think of me when you put this on?” He pulled at the strap of your bra- the same bralette you’d had on the night you’d first kissed. His eyes looked down at the rest of your body, palms running smoothly up your thighs, and over the curves of your hips, giving them a firm squeeze that made you thrust up towards him. His eyes found yours, completely dark. “Don’t start with that.”

Okay, I will, you thought, ready to tease him.

You moved a leg to be between both of his, bending it at the knee, causing it to rub against his crotch ever so slightly, then you brought it back down to lay beside your other leg, looking up at him, eyes innocent. 

“Oops,” you smirked, watching his own lips quirk. 

But as soon as his mouth lifted, it fell into a frown. His eyes squeezed shut, brows drew in, his jaw suddenly set as he ground his teeth. . . 

He looked . . . Frustrated? 

He started shaking his head and quickly grabbed his shirt, going to get off the bed. 

What the fuck?

It made you sit up again, like you had minutes before, but out of alarm this time. 

“Jake?” You worriedly asked, getting off your bed to follow him, clothes be damned. 

He didn’t respond, only grumbled something under his breath. You couldn’t understand him and you were wondering what in the hell was going on. 

As you followed him out of your room and a few steps to his room at the end of the hallway, you grabbed his arm before he could open the door to his room. 

“What’s going on? Are you—?.”

He roughly shook your hand off of his arm.

“Y/n. Go to bed,” he gruffly said, his next words made your throat tighten up even more than his initial tone. “It was a fucking mistake and you need to leave me alone. Go to bed.”

Your mind was suddenly on high alert, ignoring any kind of lingering effects of alcohol, you swallowed the lump in your throat. 

What the fuck was his fucking problem? 

A mistake? That's what you were?

“Jake. . .,” you went to grab his arm again, but he turned before you could, facing you. His eyes were stern, dark with anger. It stunned you, so opposite of how he’d been all night. You continued on, not letting his reaction to you, deter you, “You don’t. . .,” swallow the tears, y/n. “You don’t mean that.”

“I do,” he confirmed. Your chest tightened, you took a step back. “We can’t keep—just go to bed. Leave me alone.”

Your sadness quickly turned to bitterness. . . spitefulness. All of a sudden, you were extremely aware of your state of undress. You felt completely embarrassed from the rejection. You covered your body the best you could. 

“Fine,” you turned quickly on your heel, needing to get away from him and back to the safety of your bedroom. You were suddenly feeling anxious, upset, and ready to recluse. “Good-fucking-night, Jake. I’ll give you what you want. I’ll leave you the fuck alone.”

“Wait, y/n,” you heard his voice behind you.

But you ignored him, gave him a taste of his own medicine. 

Asshole. Fucking asshole. How could someone change so quickly? Be two different people in the span of minutes-time? He had just been telling you how he liked being close to you, he’d barely left you all night. . . Even approached you at the bar, for seemingly no reason but to simply be with you. 

But now? Now you were a mistake.

Fuck him.

“Y/n. . .please, I’m just—.”

Sharply, you spun to face him once you’d made it to your bedroom. You cut him off. “Fuck you, Jake.” 

You let your emotions reflect with an icy glare in his direction. 

Just before you shut the door to your room, you saw his face, completely crestfallen.

When you got back into bed, you curled up into yourself, and angry tears were your sad lullaby to get to sleep. You tried to be quiet enough so he wouldn’t possibly hear you. 

You’d had enough embarrassment for one night and you didn’t want to give him any more reason to judge you, be angry with you, or worst of all—pity you.

As you fell asleep that night, you couldn’t help but think that his sorrowful expression had matched exactly how you felt. Had he been sad? What gave him the right to be sad when he’d cut it off? Called it a mistake?

You worked to push him as far from your mind as you possibly could. You didn’t want to think of him.

He was impossible to understand. As soon as you thought you had an idea of the man, he changed, confusing the hell out of you. 

You tossed and turned, wondering why you still so desperately wanted to understand him. Why did it still matter? He shouldn’t matter. 

When you finally faded to a restless sleep,  you made the decision that you were going to try your hardest to not give a fucking damn about your roommate. 

You apparently weren’t worth his time, so he shouldn’t be worth yours.

You’d meant what you told him. 

Fuck Jake Kiszka.

-🌼🌼🌼-

As the week faded into the next, you’d made it your personal mission to make it perfectly clear to him that you were not giving him any of your time or attention. 

You used one of his earlier tactics and didn’t come out for anything except to eat, shower, go to work, go to class. You tried to avoid seeing him when you knew he was home, so thankful for the work schedules that still got posted on the fridge. 

He now had the additional schedule which showed when they had performances or practices, giving you a couple nights within that week to laze around the apartment with no worries of running into him. 

Occasionally, he tried to stop you to talk to you as you would pass each other. But you weren’t having it. You would cut him off with a wave, a short ‘no’ or a curt ‘goodbye’ as you left the apartment to do your own thing. 

You wanted to make it clear that you were done with whatever the hell you two had been dancing around for the past month. What he didn’t need to know was that you were mostly doing it to convince yourself that you were done with it. 

In the moments he tried to stop you, you would just get hurt all over again that he seemed to be so desperate to beat the dead fucking horse—explain his hateful words. That was all he could possibly want. What else?

And you didn’t want that.

Why did he seem so intent on stopping you to just explain what a mistake being with you had been?

Drawing a line was imperative.

You had to convince yourself that you didn’t still want him and that you didn’t have several passing thoughts of him throughout your days. 

It was much harder than you’d anticipated. Being your roommate, he was still everywhere you turned. No matter how hard you tried to escape him, he was there. In your shared home, in your thoughts, in conversations with Josh. . .

And in your fucking dreams. 

Several days during that blessed week of ignoring him, you woke up in a sweat wanting only him. Your body was calling out to be touched by him. 

And then you had the weak moments. The ones when you’d accidentally run into him, and you wanted to let your guard down, let him know you were hurting more than anything. You wanted to talk to him— wanted to know where he stood. 

But every time, you'd bit your tongue to stop yourself.

He’d said it himself—you were a mistake. 

So, that’s why you never gave in to the temptation to let him talk, or let him know your own feelings about it all. 

-🌼🌼🌼-

Classes were a great distraction from what was going on in your heart and home.

Being able to dedicate your time to something completely unrelated to your roommate was exactly what you needed.

Spending more time on things like class work meant less time to think about Jake.

Though, it wasn’t necessarily doing what your family had intended it to. They’d wanted you to take a summer class to get your mind focused back on writing, use the class as a chance to get your passion for writing back.

But just as it had been before the summer class, your love—your passion for writing just wasn’t there anymore.

For some reason, when Jake had come into your life, it'd helped you realize for the first time in years, just how important music was to you. He brought out this spark that had faded. Being able to be around someone so often who was on the same page when it came to a passion for the art of music—it had done something impeccable for you. 

(He’d done it unintentionally—unknowingly—, of course, as he’d hated your guts when you’d started feeling that incredible pull towards music again.) 

And then there was the day in your summer class that pieces started clicking in your head. Slight identity crisis, if you may.

It had come to you when you’d been prompted to discuss and write about inspirations for pursuing writing. And in that moment, you’d realized you couldn’t think of any other reason you’d pursued your degree save for you wanting to be just like Elsie. (And the added bonus of your grandfather encouraging against a pursuit in a musical degree- at all costs.)

You’d set your sights on Elsie years ago as your number one role model. Your mother had left you with only your older sister to inspire you. Elsie loved writing, so in turn, you’d decided that you would also love writing. 

It was her dream. And, unfortunately, you were only just now realizing that maybe it wasn’t fully yours, as you embarked on your senior year of college. 

Terrible timing for Jake to enter your life and bring out that flame you’d always had for music. 

Another strange thing that had come along with Jake entering the picture were thoughts of your mother. More than you’d ever really had before. 

Thanks to Elsie having to use your forgotten past to help you have a better understanding  of Jake, your mom had been in more thoughts than you were comfortable with as of late. 

You hated thinking of her. But after that conversation, every time you saw a child with his or her mother, you had this giant burst of longing in your heart that you couldn’t put a name to.

It was truly odd, but the sight brought you this sense of impending healing. 

Were you finally on a path to figuring out who you truly were in the aftermath of her leaving?

You had no clue what the pull on your heart meant. 

All you knew was, there were a lot of changing feelings that were quite different than anything you’d felt in the past several years of your life. In those many years since your mother had left you broken on the porch step at ten years old—you’d simply gone about everything in life in a sort of monotone style. 

Rather than thinking with your heart, you’d just followed a gray wave. You’d never taken a real initiative to understand yourself. The waves of life had carried you, and you’d let them, willingly. 

It had been easier—more comfortable— than actually taking time to think about yourself and what you wanted. 

But Jake. . .he’d been the cause of bringing about the most feelings you’d had since your mother left in her blaze of glory. He’d brought out pieces of you that you hadn’t come in contact with since you were ten years old and vulnerable, screaming and crying for your mom to come back as she left you, broken.

But with the feelings this time, it truly felt more like a yearning to be more. You felt this sense of understanding for yourself that you hadn’t ever had before.

In some backwards way, he was helping you get to know these pieces of yourself you’d kept in the dark for far too long. Pieces that needed time, attention, and love. 

It was fucking weird. 

You didn’t understand the anatomy of it all. 

But you desperately wanted to learn more about these parts of yourself you were discovering.  

-🌼🌼🌼-

In order to push through the class (and your degree), you decided it was a good idea to pair up with a study buddy. 

You needed someone to help motivate you to keep going—finish with a skip in your step, rather than falling into a pitiful slump. 

It’s why you decided to ask Theo to be that person after class one day.

Surely that was a reason he’d floated back into your life. Help you stay motivated to get this degree. You didn’t know. 

And maybe it could be more. . .he would end up assisting to help you get your mind away from Jake. You didn’t need to be distracted by your roommate. 

Everything happens for a reason, after all. And maybe these were Theo’s reasons in your life.

He’d agreed with no hesitation, which had made a giant smile plaster to your face. 

But why, when you were leaving class, had you felt as though something had fallen to the bottom of your gut? 

-🌼🌼🌼-

“Fiction or non?” 

You were splayed out on your bedroom floor, with Theo across from you. As he’d pored over his textbook, he kept coming up with questions to ask you. 

Sure, it might be cute and endearing in a normal circumstance. But right now, you wanted to focus on studying for a couple of upcoming tests, as summer semesters were the worst at moving so damn quickly. 

There were more important matters at hand than nonsensical small talk. 

Deciding to humor him (and hopefully get back to the task at hand), you responded. “Hmm. . .,” you sat up from where you’d been laying on your stomach to read about Geoffrey Chaucer. “They both have special things about them—both stretch our minds to understand more about other worlds and our own,” you paused, giving it a second to ponder. “Are we talking writing-wise or reading-wise?”

He chuckled, and winked at you. “It doesn’t have to be something you think so deeply about,” he closed his textbook. What was he doing? You still had to make flash cards! “Pretend we’re playing a game and it’s rapid fire questions.”

You didn’t want to be playing a game. You wanted to be sinking your teeth into the intricacies of this author in order to ace your test. 

You shook your head, your eyes stuck on his closed book. “Fuck,” you scratched your eyebrow. Your mind flicked to music: fun to write and read about. You were actually currently reading a book about John Lennon. You had many books on your TBR list about famous musicians. A most intriguing subject, in your opinion. “Non-fiction.”

His face scrunched up. “Nah,” he disagreed. “Fiction.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know,” his stare was blank in response. “Don’t really have to think too hard about it.”

You tried not to roll your eyes at him. In your opinion, thinking hard about what you were writing or reading was what made it most desirable. It made you venture into undiscovered realms of your mind. 

When you went to lean back over your book, the movement made you realize just how badly your bladder was begging to be released. 

Stupidly, you thought of the ridiculous work schedule on the fridge. 

Why the hell couldn’t you just let yourself go to the damn bathroom without thinking about Jake? You knew it was fucking ludicrous. You just didn’t want to see him. When you pulled up the picture of the fridge on your phone, you saw you were in the clear. He should still be at band rehearsal. 

You tapped your open book, giving Theo a sign that he needed to open his back up. “I’m going to the bathroom real quick,” you stood up, the wave of having to pee rushing through you tenfold at the motion. He still hadn’t gotten the hint to open up his textbook. Ugh. “I’ll be back soon and then we will make our cards for the test.”

And as you exited the room, you saw him finally get back to business and open his book back up.

-🌼🌼🌼-

You dried your hands on the towel next to the sink, and took a look at yourself in the mirror.

He sort of annoyed you, but Theo was still cute, and he’d made you happy in high school. You weren’t totally opposed to the idea of kissing him (or maybe more) by the end of the night.

It seemed to you to be another good plan to get your mind off of Jake.

And Theo seemed interested enough. Considering he’d been more interested in learning about you, rather than the material for class all night (irritating, but whatever). 

Deciding you looked good enough to return, you opened the door to go back. And as you went to walk out, you stopped at a chest in your way. You got dizzy at the smell—smelled so fucking good—familiar. . .

You looked up.

Jake.

Your eyebrows pinched together, not happy at all that you’d crossed paths. Fucking hell. Why wasn’t he. . .?

“We’ve gotta stop meeting like thi—.”

You held a hand up to silence him, crossing your arms. “Why aren’t you at band practice?” 

Why the fuck was he cracking jokes? You were not in the mood. 

“Ended early,” his face hardened when he shrugged, stating it plainly. 

“Why didn’t you just stay with the guys?” You asked, secretly glad he didn’t. For whatever reason. “You could have hung out with them instead of coming back here.”

“Oh,” he stuck his chin out at the word and leaned a shoulder against the door-hinge. He raised a brow and crossed his arms to mirror you. “I see.”

You definitely didn’t glance at how his bicep flexed as his fingers wrapped around it. And you didn’t take time to appreciate his beautiful hair. . . had it started getting slightly longer? 

You shook your head, retraining your eyes.

“Tell me, Jake, what do you see?” You snapped, flicking your eyes up to his.

He scoffed, rolled his eyes. “Saw that guy lying on your bedroom floor, waiting for you. He was even sweet enough to wave at me when he saw me pass your room,” he sarcastically remarked, waving his hand to mimic. 

“We’re just studying,” you hushed back, feeling the (unnecessary) need to reassure him.

He scoffed. “You think that’s all it is to him?”

You narrowed your eyes and pursed your lips before you pulled him by his T-shirt into the bathroom. You weren’t going to discuss this in a place Theo could possibly hear. 

“I know that’s all it is,” you released his shirt like you were repulsed by the touch, when in reality you wanted nothing more than to pull it completely off of him. Damn him. "Why does it matter?"

“It doesn’t. Just think it’s funny how you’re so naive to believe he doesn’t want more.”

“He doesn’t.” 

“Do you?”

“Why do you care?”

“I don’t. I just think it’s also a little funny that you might want me out just so you can fuck that guy in your bedroom,” he nodded his head in the direction of your room. 

Oh. He was taking it there. Okay.

“Yeah? And if I wanted to?” You jutted your chin out the slightest bit, bringing your arms closer, to press against your chest. “How is it any of your damn business?” 

He stepped once towards you, eyeing your chest, the tops of your breasts revealed, pushed up to the top of your tank. Your skin flushed, heart racing. 

His voice lowered. “It became my business the night you spread your legs for me at Baby’s,” one more step towards you, his eyes locking with yours. Fuck. “When I had you moaning my name while my mouth played between your pretty legs,” another step. “I think you gave yourself away that night. I don’t buy this little act.”

Oh. 

Fuck. . . If your heart wasn’t racing. 

You blinked, shaking your head. You tried to stand firm. “Wh-what act?” Dammit. Why were you stuttering? 

Stand your ground, y/n, you thought, motivating yourself to stay strong. 

But as he took one more step in, your body was effectively once again trapped between his body and a sink. Thankfully, he hadn’t pressed himself up to your front, so you weren’t distracted by that. 

You tried to hold your own.

But shit. . .he was so close. Your skin flared with heat, your heart still beating erratically in your chest. 

As you were making direct eye contact with the chest of his white t-shirt, you craned your neck to see his face fully.

“What act, Jacob?” 

He shook his head. A little smirk played at his mouth. He brought his hand up to hold your cheek. Your skin was on fire for him and his touch.

You couldn’t help it when you leaned into his hand, letting your cheek press into his calloused flesh. 

He licked his lips. “You tell me,” he whispered lowly, nodding his head once at you. 

And you couldn’t help it, his deep brown eyes pulled you in. He was begging to be touched. You had to feel him. 

Leaning in, you held his cheek just as he held yours. He then took the chance, and captured your lips with his.

Ah. His lips. So soft. 

Your vision was hazy, eyes still open, you saw how his eyebrows dipped in with a moan. You matched the sound, closing your eyes, and slipped your tongue into his mouth, tangling it with his. 

You heard him shut the door with the hand that wasn’t holding your face. 

He then moved that hand from your face, reaching both hands under your ass, giving it a firm squeeze before he lifted you the short distance to sit on the bathroom countertop. 

You bit his bottom lip, getting another small moan from him. He did the same to you and then soothed the spot with his tongue. You sighed into his mouth. 

Reaching both hands up, you sunk them into his dark, brunette locks. He matched every movement of your lips with his own, and then licked one wet stripe on the roof of your mouth. 

You were able to gasp for air when he moved his mouth from yours to give the softest, small kisses to your neck. Though it didn’t last long before he turned his pecks into wet, open-mouthed kisses. The slightest stubble of hair on his lip skimmed against your sensitive skin. He worked from under your jaw, all the way up, to the tender spot behind your ear. 

Shivering with a sigh, you gripped his hair tighter, pulling him in as close as he could be to you, on the counter. You felt his hardening length against your center when you did so, making you immediately grind into him. 

And when he did the same to the other side of your neck, this time, he nipped at the skin behind your ear. You bucked your hips into his. He released a groan that echoed through the small bathroom, making you want to melt into it. 

“More,” you breathed, clutching him closer, making sure the front of you stayed connected to him. Feeling his hard length through the material of his jeans was almost too much, but you craved it. You needed it. 

More.

But, the next moment, you heard a little cough from your bedroom, right next door. 

It snapped you from your daze. You were suddenly hyper aware that it was not just you two in the apartment. You had to stop.

You pushed him back, jumping off the counter. When you looked in the mirror to check your face and neck, your lips were swollen and your cheeks were flushed. Your neck was still pink from where he’d been. You checked where he’d bit behind your ear, and seeing the redness back there made you want to hop right back onto that counter. Let him have his way with you— right there. Theo be fucking damned.

But you knew better.

Tucking some hair behind your ear, you tried to make yourself look slightly presentable. 

From behind you, he was brushing a hand through his hair, when he went to smooth a hand over his cheeks, his jaw stretching with the motion. He was contemplative.

His eyebrows drew together, curious. You couldn’t tell if he was upset. He mostly looked . . .confused. 

He removed his hand from his face when his eyes found yours in the mirror, open and wondering. He looked desperate to understand. 

“What do you want, y/n?” 

You didn’t know what in the hell to tell him. 

You wanted Jake. And you wanted him bad. But somehow saying it out loud seemed too difficult at the moment. 

And how could you say that to him when he’d so recently, blatantly told you that you were a mistake?

“I don’t know, Jake,” you whispered back, still looking at your blushing cheeks, messy hair, and freshly kissed lips. You’d need a minute to let your skin return to its normal shade before going back to your room. 

You turned to face him.

When you saw him, looking so beautiful, so lost. . . You thought of how lost you’d felt for the past couple weeks. His words were once again flashing back through your head. 

“It was a fucking mistake and you need to leave me alone.”

It still hurt as you could see him so clearly in the doorway of his bedroom, angry and insistent that you do what he said and leave him alone.

But tonight? Crowding you in here to make out on the bathroom counter? Did he truly want that? For you to leave him alone?

“What do you want?” You leveled him with a stare, your tone sharp, but keeping your voice low since Theo was one room over. You pointed a finger in his chest. “You say you want me to leave you alone, but then you trap me in here like this?”

He shook his head, a dimple showing again with a sarcastic grin. After tucking a lock of hair behind his ear, he put the same hand in his pocket. 

“Oh, there is no way you are going to turn this around on me,” he matched your quiet tone, understanding. “And trap you? Okay, Little Miss ‘Fuck Me, Jake,’” he used air quotes to remind you of your words from the night at Baby’s. 

Fuck. 

Of course he remembered you’d said that. Why wouldn’t he? 

You decided to ignore it, focusing back on him.

“You’re the one who said it was a mistake! That I needed to leave you alone,” you protested, anger flaring in your chest.

He covered his eyes with a hand, the veins in the hand catching your eye. You’d never noticed how masculine his hands were. And damn if he didn’t know how to use them . . . Even in this moment, debating with him, you wanted them touching every part of you. You wanted his skilled fingers, flexing inside of you.

“I didn’t mean it like that!” His eyes were sad when he moved his hand, when you saw the brown irises again. But there was a fire behind them still. “Dammit, y/n. Why do you insist on assuming the worst about me all the fucking time? I’m not the one who can’t make up my mind about what I want,” he leaned back against the wall behind him, crossing his arms. “One minute you’re kissing me. You’re with me, naked and ready as I’m pressing into you,” his voice was being raspy, along with the picture he was drawing. . . It made your cheeks pink. You could still feel what he felt like, pressing against you, throbbing. . .so close to being inside of you. He went on, “And the next moment you’re shoving me away from you, making sure to tell me that Josh doesn’t need to know what we’re doing.”

Of course some of this had to do with Josh. You’d had the smallest inkling, based on how weird he’d acted when you set the rules. 

Stupid.

“I knew you were making it all weird with Josh. . . is this all about Josh?! You know that he and I—.”

“No! It’s about you and how you make it impossible for us to—.”

“You told me to go away!”

“And you told me to stop,” he said back, his smoky voice still hushed. “More than once.”

Your chest heaved, knowing he was right, but you were so lost on how to explain it all. “There were reasons every time.” 

“Reasons,” he scoffed. “So are you going to keep having these reasons? Keep stopping it? Why do you keep letting it happen if all you’re going to do is make us stop?” 

“Last time you stopped us, Jake!” You defended, focusing on keeping your voice low. “Not me. You walked away and called it a mistake.”

He covered his face with both hands, growling. You shushed him. 

He took his hands away to show his jaw set, clenching with frustration. “You were drunk, y/n!” He begged you to understand, “I wasn’t going to do anything with you without you being in full and total control of yourself.”

You were sure your expression showed it all clicking. You blinked at him. It all made so much sense now. 

And what he’d done? His true intentions? Fuck. Sexy as hell.

Maybe you really did need to stop assuming the worst. You just couldn’t help it. It was a trauma response. Jumping to conclusions, thinking that people didn’t want you. . .

Your mom didn’t want you, so you were always convinced other people wouldn’t either. 

Especially men who were as beautiful and mesmerizing as Jake Kiszka.

Damn. Now it really was all on you. How did you even begin to lay it all out? 

You looked him dead in the face, completely unsure of how to articulate the mess in your head. 

“I don’t know,” you covered your face with both hands, mimicking him and frustratedly groaning into your palms. When you removed them from your face, you tucked them into your front pockets. You decided to assure him of one thing. For whatever reason, you wanted—needed him to know this. “I do want you. I want what we almost had in the bathroom at Baby’s,” You stepped towards him, wanting to be close to him again. You placed a delicate hand on his chest. He looked down at you, as you looked up into his eyes, reaching to hold your hand on his chest. Your skin tingled at his touch. “I need to feel you, to be with you. . . it just never seems like the right time. There’s always something.”

You didn’t know why you’d suddenly felt the urge to be vulnerable with him. He kept your hand on his chest, holding you, his eyes meeting yours in understanding. 

And you knew then that it was just him. Jake Kiszka, in and of himself, made you feel this strange sense of safety, comfortability. 

And it was different from the kind his twin had offered you as your friend for so many years. 

With Jake, you weren’t just friends. You weren’t even really friends. . .it was something else—an intense, unavoidable attraction. The safe feeling came combined with this desire to be with him. 

He felt like a resting ground. 

It was weird.

But you liked it.

He smoothed a thumb over your hand on his chest. You held his deep gaze, getting lost in it. 

And out of nowhere, he leaned down, kissing your lips with his. Just for a moment. 

You felt it all the way down to your toes. The feeling of him so close, with one simple kiss from his soft lips, it felt perfectly intimate. 

He released his hold on your hand, wrapping his hand around your waist instead, eyes connected with yours. It was as though he just wanted to touch you, have his hands on you.

It was what you wanted, too. Just the feeling of his hand, as it moved down to just over your hip, his thumb on the skin underneath the hem of your gray tank top. . .it felt right. 

He penetrated the thickness in the air with his low, gravelly tone. His eyes were vulnerable as he asked, “Do you want that? To find the right time?” 

You reached a hand up, holding his handsome face. You smoothed a thumb over his skin, tracing a freckle on his cheek. “I do. I promise I do,” you blinked up at him, needing his answer to that question. “And do you? Wanna find the right time?”

This was so much, butterflies flew rampant in your tummy. 

The grin he gave you was loose, his eyes relieved and open. “I really do.”

It felt so amazing to hear it straight from his lips. He really wanted it too. 

You’d overthink all of this later.

He leaned down to kiss you again. You reciprocated, for just a moment, letting your lips move with his. 

Then you pulled back, your hand falling from his face.

You nodded at the door. “I gotta get back to studying.”

His hand that was holding your hip squeezed slightly, your skin heating at it. You caught his eye, the intense feeling setting in your beating heart. 

“Is that all you’re doing?” His eyes were dark and questioning, making your head spin. “Studying?”

You winked at him, still holding onto your teasing from earlier. “It’s whatever I want it to be.”

His eyes seemed to darken more, pulling you in so your chest touched his. So warm. “I really don’t want to hear another guy fucking you through these walls.”

You pressed closer to him, your body thrumming with fire. “Funny coming from the guy who told me I could just wear earplugs when he brought women over,” then you pulled back, his hand fell. His eyebrow lifted, a tiny smirk lifted his lips. You continued, “Why don’t you go ahead and get a pair of your own, hm?”

You patted his cheek, reluctantly parting from him. Before leaving the bathroom, you chanced one more glance at your appearance. Not quite as flushed as before, though your cheeks were still blushing. You’d find a way to pass it off. Whatever. You’d been gone too long. 

You were about to open the bathroom door when, from behind, his voice stopped you. You felt a spark as his hand delicately touched yours.

“Hey.”

You swiveled on your heel, raised your brows in question. “Yeah?”

“Do you think you could come to our gig this weekend? It’s a bigger one.”

Did you work this weekend? You couldn’t remember. 

All you knew was that, suddenly, you really wanted to be at their show. 

“I’m not sure . . . Depends on work.”

“I would love—,” he put a fist in front of his mouth and cleared his throat. “The guys and I would love it if you could be there,” he shook his head, seeming to come to terms with an inner battle. “For me, I would just love to look out and see your beautiful face in the crowd.”

Your mind was fuzzy. All of this felt so unreal, yet so real all at once. He really wanted you there? And had he just called you beautiful? 

“I’ll try my best,” you slapped on a small grin, trying to play hard to get, masking your inner shock. You wanted to keep him on his toes, like he’d kept you for the past weeks. 

He scrunched his brows in and messed with his bottom lip. “Yeah,” he nodded, clearing his throat. “Yeah, totally get it. Just text me and let me know.”

Anytime he messed with his mouth, it was a distraction. You had to keep yourself from watching too close. It really didn’t help that you knew the feeling of those full, pink lips. . . 

And as you walked the short distance to your bedroom, you realized something else.

Had he just asked you to text him? 

What was all of this? This new territory you had just discovered?

-🌼🌼🌼-

And a couple nights later, when you were sitting on the couch watching New Girl, Jake came to sit at his end of the couch. 

Once you’d finished the episode he’d sat down to watch with you, he cleared his throat, making you look over at him. 

He was already looking at you. It made your stomach flurry. You decided to look back at the TV, nervous under his gaze. 

He spoke, keeping your ear in his direction, you paused the show. “We should start the series over. You know, start at the beginning together.” 

You smirked, feeling a rush of giddy happiness and excitement buzz through you.

“Yeah, sure,” you coolly respond, starting the show from scratch.

And as Jess began the first episode, you peeked quickly over at him, a content smile resting on his lips as he lounged at his end of the sofa.

-🌼🌼🌼-

And for the next few nights, Jake kept coming back. He would sit on the couch with you, simply to watch your show. 

Just to share that quiet time at the end of each day with you.

Whenever he would come to sit down, your nerves would translate to a dizziness of butterflies in your stomach. 

Though, it felt like the most natural thing in the world to laugh with him, share popcorn or pizza, look at each other when a character would say something particularly hilarious. . .

But neither of you ever moved to kiss the other. You know . . . make it anything more than two people watching a TV show.

It almost seemed like an unspoken rule that you were not doing that again . . .

. . .yet. 

Both of you, seeming to wait for the right time.

But you sure liked those quiet nights.

These nights with him made your house feel like a home. . . comfortable and safe. 

-🌼🌼🌼-

On Friday night, you got off work a little early.

It was the night before the guys’ show, so Jake obviously wasn’t home due to a last minute rehearsal and details. You'd seen as much on the rehearsal schedule on the fridge.

You took your time showering, shaving, exfoliating, pampering yourself fully, with the apartment to yourself. . .

Once finished, you realized you really wanted to watch New Girl. Even though Jake wasn’t home, you were in the middle of one of your favorite parts of the show. You had to watch the next couple of episodes. 

You’d just rewind to watch again when he was home next. 

You couldn’t help it. The two of you had been binging and you'd come to your favorite part in the whole show. It was arguably the best part—what the audience waits for from practically the first episode. 

Jess and Nick were finally about to bite the bullet, get their shit together and get together. 

And as you sat with a couple slices of warmed up cheese pizza from the night before, cuddled up with Stevie purring against your blanket covered thighs. . .something clicked. 

As they looked at each other throughout the whole episode of “Cooler,” you were angry with them. So angry that they were so close to finally being together, yet so far. . .

“Not like this!” Nick said to Jess, stopping her from kissing him. He suddenly sounded and looked very much like you had felt recently.

He looked desperate to make it the best it could be, get Jess to understand that it had to be just right. They’d waited long enough, and he wanted it to feel like it deserved to. 

You couldn’t stop it when it pulled you right back to your real life. Your current situation. 

And if you were upset with Nick and Jess for piddling around and not just acting on their feelings, not letting loose when it was so obvious they needed to . . . Then why the hell were you dragging it out so damn long with Jake? 

You felt like the two of you were essentially Nick and Jess. You were roommates, with so much building between you—everything and nothing to lose all at once. 

You wanted to act on it. You wanted it all. It was time. 

No, it was past time. 

And as Nick and Jess finally kissed, you decided.

The gig was tomorrow. You were off work early enough to go. . .

You were going to the show, and you weren’t going to stop anything that may happen afterwards this time.

-🌼🌼🌼-

As you left for work the next morning, you noticed a piece of paper sitting on the dining room table with your name on it, along with a sticky attached to it with an address and a little scribbled note underneath. 

Just in case 

-J

Your tummy fluttered. 

You’d been running late, so you hadn’t had time to look at it, tucking it into your bag to look at later.

-🌼🌼🌼-

In the quietness of the record store, you opened it up to find the setlist.

Grinning, you checked it over. Every song on the list were ones you knew. Save for one near the bottom. 

Edge of Darkness.

Suddenly curious about the song, you wondered. . . Was this song the reason he wanted you there?

-🌼🌼🌼-

Due to stupid-ass New York traffic and thinking you’d let Stevie run out of the apartment, only to find her hidden behind clothes in your closet, you were running roughly forty-five minutes late for their gig.

You’d texted Jake to let him know you were running late, but hadn’t received a text back. Momentarily, you’d been afraid of him being upset with you for being late, your stomach falling when he hadn’t responded for the thirty-ish minute drive to the venue after you’d sent it. 

Then, you realized he was on stage performing, so of course he wouldn’t respond. 

Whenever you’d sent the text, your hands had been extremely shaky, checking your text a million times for grammatical errors, even after you’d sent it. It was seriously like a ridiculous high school crush. 

Dumb.

You still believed that if you just fucked him and got it out of your system, some of those juvenile feelings would come to pass. 

As an adult woman, you didn’t need to care so deeply for how a man might respond to you. There was no use for that, and you thought yourself ludicrous for it.

Though, you really did feel terrible as traffic took so long, delaying your arrival to the venue. Your normal road rage came out a few times, honking your horn and cursing as people would drive several miles below the speed limit in front of you. 

You just wanted to get there.

-🌼🌼🌼-

When you did get there, the guys were playing their hearts out as you had to squeeze through a mass of sweaty, singing bodies, alcohol sloshing whenever you’d pass through. 

The establishment had two levels, so you decided to climb some stairs to watch from a higher level, hoping for less of a crowd from that vantage point. 

And when you’d made it up there, you realized it was still crowded. But it wasn’t nearly as bad as below. You found a semi-clear space to claim, a thankfully nice view of all of the guys.

The first thing you noticed when you looked at Josh was his hair. He’d told you recently that he was trying to grow it out on the sides, going for a full head of curling hair. You hadn’t seen him recently enough to see the progress, though, and it looked great on him. 

“All right!” Josh had screamed into the mic, hyping up the packed house, receiving screams from everyone watching. Jake strummed a little note which made you immediately hone in on him, but he seemed irritated, strumming a few more times, shaking his head.

Josh glanced over at his twin, sensing the issue, and he smiled back at the crowd. “How we feeling?!” He raised his hands, eliciting more screams as Jake continued strumming, finally gaining some help from someone in their little backstage crew. The curly headed twin gave Jake another look, but Jake’s back was turned as he worked with the crew member to get the problem figured out. 

Josh walked over to his twin, checking out the problem for himself. They were having the smallest conversation before Jake shook his head at Josh, and then the crew member. He turned around, effectively giving up on the issue. He played another chord, checking, but his brows were still drawn in with irritation.

What was going on? Was he okay? You suddenly had an incredibly impulsive urge to go check on him. But you stood your ground as he felt out a few more notes, shrugging shortly and giving a curt nod to Josh as a go ahead. 

Josh once again smiled so wide it looked like it hurt. You could tell he was trying his hardest to alleviate any sort of tension for the crowd. Fortunately, the crowd seemed oblivious, playing into it as a sort of bit, it seemed.

You took a few seconds to send a text to your sweet, empathetic friend to let him know you were there and that you wanted to get a drink after the show.

You hated seeing him stressed- especially on stage. You were feeling it with him and with Jake.

“How about a new one?” He asked, receiving a plethora of yells and screams. You smiled with the crowd. “This next one is called Edge of Darkness. . .and it’s about. . .the edge of darkness.”

You giggled at him. He was a great frontman. The people were soaking it all up, laughing with him, and screaming for more. 

But you had to check back in on Jake. He seemed to be doing better, still upset, but he smiled tightly to a few screaming girls in front. 

He started playing, his face saying that something was not blending together like you knew he wanted it to. But you couldn’t tell the difference, so you knew the crowd couldn’t, either. 

It didn’t stop him from turning to check the amp a couple more times before suddenly, he was ripping through the most erotic guitar solo you’d ever heard him play live.

Fuck. The song was called the ‘Edge of Darkness’, and it was ironic because you felt like you were on the edge of some kind of dark shit. Watching him manipulate those strings with such precision and intent, his hips fucking (yes, fucking) into his guitar. It was unlike anything else he’d ever done with that guitar. . .you were absolutely sure of it.

You were sweating. And you knew it wasn’t from proximity to any people around you. No, it was from watching him go to this secret place that you wanted to join. 

His facial expressions were driving you insane. All you could imagine was seeing those faces above you as your body replaced the guitar. Bent over, with him fucking into you with the same vigor he was giving his instrument.

Then he threw it behind his fucking head. It got you every. time. He made it look so effortless— so easy for him to balance it there (though you knew it wasn’t), while he still played all of the intricate chords. He was a natural—a true rockstar. 

You wondered what else he was a natural at. 

You were squirming underneath your skin, your palms were clammy and when you moved a bit, you noticed your thong was uncomfortably damp between your legs. And your jeans made it impossible to move to fix the issue. 

These solos of his. . .fuck. They were the sole cause for your sexual frustration after these shows. Why you’d had to replace vibrators in the past month. 

But tonight? Tonight, you wouldn’t need the help of your hand or a tool. No, tonight, you planned on going home with him— to take care of it with his help.

-🌼🌼🌼-

But as you waited out in the bar area after the show, after sending Jake a text on how well he did, you were met with radio silence on his end. 

It sat there, glaring at you in the blue bubble. 

You, 10:43 p.m.: You fuckin killed it. So glad I came.

It had now been several minutes since the show had ended and since you’d sent the message, and looking at the time on your phone, you realized it had now been closer to an hour. 

What was taking them so long? Their crew packed their shit up now . . . so where were they?

You weren’t able to wonder too much longer, hearing Josh’s voice come up right behind you. 

But he didn’t have his usual bounce. He sounded super pissed.

“Your roommate’s a dick,” he sat in the seat at the bar next to you. He ran two hands through his growing hair and then put both of his hands over his face. He sat there like that until the bartender came up, removing them when they asked what he wanted. “Strongest thing you have.”

“Josh?” You tentatively reached a hand out to touch his bare shoulder. He’d worn his little brown vest he loved so much, sans a shirt underneath. “You okay?”

When he looked at you, he looked sorry for how he’d been acting. And he said as much. 

“I’m sorry, y/n. Jake just—,” he put his face into his crossed arms on the bar to growl, then he faced you again. “He’s been in a piss mood all fucking night, and when he’s mad, I feel it all the way down to my bones. I also just get really fed up with his little attitude he gets when something goes wrong. It’s annoying as hell and I get tired of it.”

You could relate—you also hated Jake’s pissant attitude when he was upset over something. Though, in this circumstance, you felt inclined to be the devil’s advocate.

“Josh. . .you also get upset when things go wrong. You’re the biggest perfectionist I know.”

“Apparently you don’t know Jake, then. And you’re one to talk!” He spat. Then he groaned again, his eyes sympathetic when he looked at you. “I’m sorry. I know. I agree with you. I’m sorry. He just. . . seemed off all night and it already bothers me when he’s upset over something and he wasn’t telling me everyth— my twin intuition always knows when he isn’t telling me everything. And tonight he sure as hell had something else on his mind that he refused to give any weight to,” the bartender came up with a shot of something. Josh threw it back, and shook his head, coughing just a bit. His eyes bulged the slightest bit.

You couldn’t help your little laugh at him. He needed that. Take the fucking edge off. “Strong like you wanted?”

He gave you a grin, his eyes easier than they were before. You relaxed, realizing you were absolutely feeling that tension with him. You felt especially better when he waved the server back over to ask for a salty dog. That’s more like it.

“Anyway,” he started, swiveling his body to be facing towards you, one arm on the bar. “Sam and Daniel didn’t even have to be subjected to it. They left to meet up with a couple of their other friends before he exploded on me. Just me! And they don’t get those same inklings from him that I do. Being a twin is both a blessing and a curse. I swear we fuckin’ share a brain sometimes.”

His movements, facing you like this on his barstool, made you think of when Jake had sat next to you like this—the night he’d kept you close, taken you home, and then cut things short. Everything you’d felt that night coming back tenfold. 

 . . . Where was he? It didn’t matter where he was. Really. But you were curious. 

“Where is Jake?” You tried to play it cool, because that’s what you were. Cool. It was nothing. You went ahead and softened the question by complimenting his growing hair. “And I like your hair.”

“Thanks. Biotin vitamins, I swear to God,” he patted the sides of his ‘do, giving you a cheeky smirk. “And Jake—. Thank you,” he said to the bartender, giving her a quick wink as she sat his drink on his coaster. “He went back to your place. Didn’t wanna stay around for a good time. He was not in the mood.”

Your heart sank.

What? He’d gone home?

But he'd asked you to come tonight? Had he gotten your texts? Surely he had. There was no reason he wouldn’t’ve. All of a sudden, you felt extremely stupid for sending them. . .for thinking anymore of tonight than you should have. For worrying about him from the balcony. When he didn’t even care to stay to see you. 

He was the most unpredictable asshole and you were foolish to think, for even a split second, that he wasn’t. 

-🌼🌼🌼-

Luckily, Josh was ready to end the night fairly early. 

You were glad because you weren’t in the mood to entertain after having your feelings hurt (stupidly) by Jake leaving and not telling you. It was the smallest thing to be upset over, you knew. Your heart had gotten ahead of you, and into something ridiculous. 

On your drive home, you kept telling yourself that you were done with all Jake related thoughts. You shouldn’t give two shits about the man. Really. He’d been a jerk from day one. And even though he’d had a few instances of being someone so wonderful. . . he kept doing things that just reminded you that maybe he was just incapable of being consistent.

You were worried about what you’d go home to. Afraid of hearing him and a girl from his bedroom, seeing them on your couch. . . You were tired of not being able to keep up with him. It was exhausting. 

And as much as you told yourself he didn’t matter, you knew you were lying to yourself. You’d made him matter the past couple months—let him matter. Too many times you’d let him get to you. And as much as you wanted to regret it, you couldn’t fully let yourself do that yet. 

The stubborn, stupid part of you wanting to give him a chance. Wondering what had happened tonight that got him so upset. 

You cared. . .even though you really wished you didn’t. 

So as you traipsed through your front door, you were relieved when all of the lights were turned off, and there was no sight or sound of a woman. Only Stevie, who came up to purr against your calves. Feeling bad for your hungry kitty, you quickly went to drop your purse to the table so you could feed her.  

But when you looked in her dish, there was already fresh kibble in the bowl. You hadn’t fed her before you’d left. . . 

Had Jake . . .? Obviously. Your heart perked at the gesture.

Then, the sound of a guitar being strummed from his bedroom stopped your thoughts. Stevie went to eat, and you left her to do so as you walked towards the sound. 

You weren’t choosing your path. . . your feet were simply leading you, your mind hardly keeping up with what you were going to do once you got to his room. 

Just felt a want to see him. Talk to him. 

Why?

You’d worry about that later. Didn’t want to think about that for the time being.

Once you got to his door, you noticed it wasn't fully closed. You didn’t think as you pushed it open. 

And then, there you were. And there he was, facing the door, his concert attire still fully on. He looked up at you from his spot, stopping the strumming abruptly. 

But his eyes weren’t kind. He wasn’t happy. He was still feeling the anger Josh had been talking about. 

Not giving two shits how he’d react, you didn’t hold back. You were still pissed, too. At him. 

“It’s not fucking kind to invite someone to something and then leave them there without a damn hello or goodbye.”

He blinked, his lip curling to show a sarcastic smile. “You’re gonna pull that shit?”

You stepped further into his room, coming close enough to him that your knees were almost touching his, where he sat at the edge of his bed, his hand clutching the acoustic with a tight grip. Too tight. 

“What the fuck, Jake? Of course I’m going to ‘pull that shit.’ It was a fuckin’ prick move and I didn’t appreciate it.”

“It’s a prick move to keep someone waiting for a response about whether or not you’ll be somewhere when I can see damn well your schedule on that fridge, saying all week that you didn’t work tonight,” he got up to place his guitar on the stand next to his bed. He kept careful to not touch you as he moved. Wow. He placed it delicately, in stark contrast to his sharp movements. He spun on his heel to face you. “Why don’t you care, y/n? You don’t have to fucking come if you don’t care. I’d rather you stay home if you don’t want to be there when I invite you.” 

“What made you think I don’t care?!”

“You kept me hanging! All week,” he angrily brushed a hand through his hair, growling with the motion when a ring got stuck in the locks. “Fuck!” He started pulling down his bed covers, not looking at you as he argued. “You don’t do that when it’s my brother. He wants you there, you’re fuckin’ there. With me, when I ask you, you’re always late and you barely even tell me you’re coming. It’s obvious who you’re really going to see and I’m tired of you acting like you care about me when you really only care about Josh.”

“What?! First of all, you knew I worked the night of your first show. I didn’t want to. . .I got fucking called in— so don’t you dare hold that against me!” You came closer to him, hitting his arm to make him stop the unmaking of his bed. “Quit doing that and fucking listen to me!”

He went rigid, throwing the covers dramatically, stopping like you asked. He stood stiff as a board with his arms crossed at his chest. He motioned a hand for you to continue, almost mocking. “Go on. Enlighten me.”

You shoved his chest. “Stop it!” You crossed your own arms, your heart beating so hard in your chest. “Stop with the Josh shit. Anytime either of you ask, I’m there. I’m sorry I didn’t let you know sooner about tonight. I’ve just been—I don’t know,” you’d been thinking about him. How badly you wanted to do him after the show tonight. “Distracted?”

“School?” He questioned, seeming genuinely concerned.

You shook your head, not wanting to lie. “No. Not school. I don’t know how to explain—,” you looked into his eyes. They were hardening again. “I don’t know. Just distracted.” 

He shook his head. He was in the dark. There was no way he’d know the full truth unless you told him. But you weren’t sure how to articulate it. He stuffed his hands in his pockets, his jaw set. “Thank you, y/n. I’m going to bed. Goodnight.”

“Jake— seriously. Please sto—.”

“I just—dammit!” He combed a hand through his hair and got the same ring stuck. Having enough, he took the one piece of offensive jewelry off, and placed it delicately on his desk behind him. He locked eyes with you again. “The other night in the bathroom, you—I could have sworn you—but you—you told me— I just can’t keep up!”

“I can’t keep up with you!” You yelled back, momentarily worrying about neighbors. It was very late.

You were at a loss. 

You surveyed him, his chest was heaving like yours. Walking a few steps forward, your chest was almost touching his— you softly grabbed at the front of his light red T-shirt, eager for him to hear. His breathing seemed to slow at you being so close. Your eyes held each other, his were questioning.

It was now or never. The frantic beating of your heart, sounding in your ears. You were shaking. You were tired of him thinking he knew best. 

What you were most tired of was tiptoeing around—the barely missing each other. 

“I’m only asking one more time. What do you want?” He begged, reminding you of Ryan Gosling in The Notebook.

You would have giggled at the similarity if you weren’t feeling the seriousness of this moment. 

There was so much to say, but only one thing left to say, all at once. . .

You stood there, sharing breaths, for a few still seconds. Could have been minutes. You were lost in the beautiful gaze of his deep, dark eyes.

Your heart slowed, your breath catching in your throat while your stomach dropped to your knees.

“I want you to fuck me,” you said lowly, grabbing at his shirt with a sturdier hand. You weren’t scared—only sure. So fucking sure. And beyond ready. 

His jaw went slack. It almost looked like he wanted to say something to challenge you, but he bit his lip. Instead, he grabbed softly at your jaw, curving his hand up to cradle your head, softly under your flowing hair. 

“Well I can fucking do that.” Was all he said as he dove in, securing your lips with his. 

He sucked on your bottom lip and penetrated your mouth with his smooth tongue. He tasted like minty gum and cigarettes. Usually, you found it repulsive to kiss someone with the taste of nicotine in their mouth, but with Jake . . . It was suddenly everything you’d ever wanted in a kiss. 

You lost yourself in the moment. In him. There was nothing stopping you now. 

Continuing to kiss you, he turned you both, until the backs of your legs softly hit the edge of his bed. Taking that as your cue, you went to sit down on the sheets. You unbuttoned and unzipped his pants, his delicious hips right at eye level with you now. He took initiative and pushed them the rest of the way down, stepping out of them.

Then all you could see in front of you was him, bursting at the seams in his pink, AE briefs. Fuck, he was so cute and sexy all at once. You didn’t know how he did it. 

Your mouth watered as you went to pull down his briefs. But he put a hand on yours to stop you, the cold metal of his rings a contrast to your heated skin.

You looked up, your eyebrows dipping in question. 

“Not yet,” he corrected. Then he took his shirt off, exposing his beautifully soft, tanned, and perfectly toned chest. A long necklace laid against his stomach, and you used it to pull him down to you. 

You laid back, his legs coming to rest in between yours as he crawled onto the bed to follow you. He unwrapped the necklace from his neck, putting it on his small bedside table. Using the time he was preoccupied, you pushed his underwear down his thighs, watching his face to see his reaction. 

He teasingly rolled his eyes at you. 

“Damn, woman,” he chuckled under his breath, showing his perfectly straight teeth. Beautiful man. He finished the job, kicking them off. “One track mind or what?”

Rolling your eyes back at him, you gave a quiet grin and clicked your tongue. “Whatever, Kiszka.”

But he wasn’t wrong. You wanted to see him. Fully.

And you were glad you got your way, because fuck. 

He was stunning. Even more so when you could fully see it, without the dimness of the bathroom lights at Baby's. How could a cock be so pretty?

You reached out to touch him. He shivered at the feeling of your cool skin on his heated, swollen flesh. So soft, smooth. . .thick.

Shit.

His precum was already leaking from his pretty pink tip. 

Your mouth was watering. Your need to have your hands on him clouded your every thought. 

But before you could do anything more than run your fingers over him, he was moving his body to be on top of yours, your hands falling from him. You edged up the bed, him following after you. His eyes were hungry, and his hands were purposeful and strong as he quickly unfastened your jeans, pulling them off in one smooth motion. 

Your pussy throbbed at how close it was to happening. How close you were to finally feeling him. Fulfilling the need you’d discovered too long ago. 

Taking off your cropped t-shirt as he stripped you of your panties, you hissed as your wet mound met the air of his room. You made quick work of your bra. 

He sat above you, gently cupping your bare pussy, while watching your naked chest rise and fall as you took several deep breaths, waiting. You ground into the palm of his hand, needing the friction. He then moved his hands, grazing them up your thighs, hips, waist, and finally let them settle on the outer curve of your breasts. 

Your skin grew goosebumps, your nipples hardening to peaks in the cool air of his bedroom. He seemed mesmerized. His mouth was slightly opened, his eyes studying your chest with every breath you took. 

“Jake?” You whispered, breaking his stare at your breasts and making him look into your eyes. 

“Sorry,” he blinked a few times, shaking his head with a little grin, balancing his hands on either side of your head. He leaned down to give your lips a sweet kiss. “It’s the first time I’ve ever seen all of you . . .,” He leaned on a forearm, and reached to your chest again, holding one breast in his hand, massaging it as his thumb skated over the nipple. “Beautiful,” he praised, looking you right in the eye. Oh, Jake.

Then, his mouth attached to the opposite breast, his lips sucked gently, his tongue flicking out to lick the nipple. 

You felt it everywhere, your toes curling at his touch. And with a sigh, you leaned into his mouth, needing more. Needing all he could give. 

“Fuck, Jake,” you whined. “Your mouth feels so good.”

And then he switched breasts, making sure to give each the same treatment. . . Holy sweet hell. You were done for. 

Your body shook, feeling your nerve endings spasm. No one else had ever stimulated you this much, this way. You didn’t know you could feel so much from a man only lapping at your chest. He was magic. 

“Jake,” you keened, your chest pushing further into his mouth. Your hips thrusting up to meet his. Fuck. With both of you having your pants off, he almost entered you at the motion. And damn the temptation was too much. “Shiiiit.”

He continued to worship your chest, and when you met his hips again, he bucked into yours, deliciously rough, matching a thrust. You felt him, hard, and fitting right between your wet folds, so close to being inside you. 

You saw stars, closing your eyes. 

Fuck.

You heard the softest groan against your breast. You looked down at him, lavishing at your supple skin. One thick brow was raised, but then he pulled them in, in concentration, as he rocked into you again. Shit. 

You couldn’t help the cry that escaped you. Or the words that followed. 

“Please, Jake. Please,” you didn’t know what you were asking for. Just needed more of him. You pushed your hands into his hair, growing confidence from your position. You pushed his face further into you, and you felt him bite at your nipple. Your hips naturally came to meet his and with all of it—fuck—your moan was pornographic. “I need you,” you pushed up, grinding your hips into his. “Here,” you did it again for emphasis, your pussy aching for him.

He released the nipple he’d been sucking with a pop. There was a snicker at your chest, and you saw the dimple in his cheek when he smirked. But before he did anything else, he moved back up your body, your chests finally touching. He had a hand still holding snug to a breast. He squeezed it once, your clit thrummed at the motion and you once again pushed your front to his. 

He kissed the column of your neck softly, trailing kisses from there, all the way to the corner of your mouth. You moved to meet your lips with his, your hand still tangled in his wavy hair. 

You kissed lazily for a few minutes, just enjoying the taste of each other. Your pussy still occasionally grazing his impossibly hard front. You’d moan into each other’s mouths every time. . .absolutely euphoric.

When you came up for air, you let yourself get lost in the chocolate pools of his irises. He was so handsome. So pretty. You couldn’t help the hand that came to hold his cheek, the other one still combing through his hair. 

He gave the corner of your mouth one more peck before he rasped, moving to give the same kiss to the swell of each of your breasts. “Your tits . . .,” he blew out a breath against your skin, making the flesh erupt in goosebumps. You sighed. “Fuck, y/n. They’re perfect. So soft and full. . .” One more kiss to each, this time with tongue. “Fuckin’ perfect.”

Then his slick tongue was moving from your chest, down your stomach, and over your right thigh. He hitched both of your legs up, to be bent at the knee. Giving him better access to what you knew he was about to do. He gave your pussy the same long look he gave your breast, admiring what was in front of him. He licked his lips at the sight. 

Your heart was racing. 

And without warning, his tongue found you, flattening on your sensitive clit. It was so hard, with only the slightest direct contact from his tongue, you were bucking your hips into his face. He used two strong hands to grasp and hold your hips to the bed, making sure to soothe your position by making wide, smooth circles with his thumbs in the hidden flushed dips between your thighs and groin. 

He then dipped his tongue to curve into the growing wetness between your folds. You gasped as he lapped at your arousal, occasionally moaning into you as he would lick. He continued like that for long enough that you weren’t sure you could see straight. Your legs were weak from your position. It was almost as if he was enjoying this—simply getting to taste you, feel you against his mouth. 

And suddenly, you felt your body begin to tremble uncontrollably, your every sense becoming heightened. The feeling of him was all-consuming. You couldn’t deny it any longer, the growing sensation in the pit of your belly threatening to give way at any moment. And he knew it. The work of his mouth became more intense, more fervorous, more hungry. His plush lips working your throbbing cunt into a frenzy until you finally gave in. 

He hardly took his mouth off of you, only enough to speak his velvet soft voice against your soaked pussy, his breath hot against the wet skin. “That’s it, baby, that’s it. Let me have it.”

Then it hit you, harder than it ever had. You suddenly realized that you’d been deprived your entire life of this feeling, no man had ever done that to you. Let alone with just his mouth. 

You came back to, arching into him as you felt his tongue make a perfect circle around the still-tight bud of your sensitive clit. You could hardly control your tremors as your body had felt the ultimate test of ecstasy. 

Then you heard a little whimper from Jake, and you looked down through hazy eyes to see his eyebrows were drawn deeper than you’d ever seen them. 

A movement caught your eyes further down. His hips were thrusting, and with each rut of them, he kept forcefully meeting the mattress. You felt his bed shake with each jerk of his hips. Your clit twitched at the sensation of the bed rocking and his mouth on you. You could only imagine what it would be like when he was inside you. You felt the vibration of a growl against your pussy.

“Jake. . .,” you moaned. He hummed against you, which you presumed was a response to you. You hitched your hips up to meet his mouth as he curled his tongue to fit in the small hole between your folds, which gained him an involuntary shake from your body and a whine from you. He then trailed his tongue all the way up from your hidden spot, to hit the sensitive underside of your clit. You groaned loudly at the way his tongue was intermittently flicking against and massaging your overly sensitive bundle of nerves. 

He whimpered again, and his brows creased so closely together. You felt another jolt beneath you as the bed shook with a rather forceful thrust from his hips. You knew he was either really enjoying himself or was getting tired and really wanted his own release. From past experience with men, you assumed the latter. 

“Jake,” you started scooting your body up the bed. You got flashbacks to nights cut too short when you said his name like that. You knew he did, too, as his mouth lifted from you and his dark eyes met your own.

“You said you wanted this,” he grunted in response, his forehead falling to lay on your thigh in defeat.

“I do, Ja—.”

He interrupted you when he dug his fingers into your hips harder, pulling you back down to meet his slick tongue. Your eyes rolled back in your head at the feeling of him lapping at you with the force he was exuding to seemingly keep you in your spot.  

You tugged at his hair harder, trying to signal him to stop. As much as you didn’t want him to stop, it wasn’t fair for you to have all of the attention. He needed his release.

He slowly, hesitantly stopped and looked up at you, and you saw his eyes soften the slightest bit at your face. You knew you probably looked concerned, as that was how you were feeling for him. 

“Are you okay?” He lifted his body from the spot he’d been laying in between your legs. He laid his body beside yours, and his swollen cock came to heavily sit on top of your leg. 

You could have drooled at the sight of it flush against your skin. Fuck.

“You need release, too, Jake,” you combed your fingers through his hair. He wrinkled his brows at that. You continued, “I’ve already finished once; you don’t have to give me any more attention.”

He leaned back a bit, seeming offended. “You don’t want me to keep going?”

You pulled him by his shoulders, back to where he’d been, and reassured. “No, I want you to keep going—Goddamn, babe. . .but I also want to make sure you are able to feel satisfied and taken care of,” you sat up, and moved down the bed, so you were looking right at his thickness. You got him to position himself to be where you just were, his back against the headboard. You stared up at him through your lashes as you spit onto his aching head, then grasped his dick in your hand, all in one fluid motion. 

His eyelids dropped, and his Amber-brown irises darkened. You gave him one slight squeeze and you saw the muscles in his thighs tighten and his head fall back slightly. But his gaze stayed on you. 

Giving him one more pump, you rolled your thumb over the head. He groaned, but you weren’t able to give him any more attention as he flipped your body to be under his again in one swift motion. 

You squinted at him from your new position, “Why can’t I—?”

“You act as if I wasn’t satisfied with what I was doing before,” he retorted, voice low and face right above yours. 

“You were obviously wanting more. You were—I wanted to help because you kept. . . thrusting into the mattress,” you blinked up into his sultry glare. “I could tell—.”

“I was fucking the mattress because I loved getting to tongue fuck the hell out of your perfect pussy,” he snapped. 

Your body tingled at his words. This man. 

But you didn’t want your desire to please him to be ignored. You reflected the glare that was still shading his features. “Why do you always have to get your way?” You argued.

He huffed, “My way?” He went down to bite the inner curve of your right breast. You moaned, feeling your nipples harden even more at the sensation. He continued his way down your body, “If I would have had my way this wouldn’t be—," You thrusted up into his stiff dick again. You smirked when he bit his lip, eyes closing to stave off your distraction. He pinched the bridge of his nose. "Fuck, y/n,” his eyes bore into you, then he worked his way down to where he was, once again, settled between your legs. He gave you one lick up your folds. You whispered his name, shaking. So sensitive. So delicious. “Have I wanted your mouth on my dick for a long ass time? Fuck yes. But I’ve also wanted this again. Give me this. I want this.”

“Jake, you don’t have to say that just becau—.”

He closed his eyes and groaned. “Can you not fucking argue with me for once?” 

“Can you just fucking listen to me? I want to make sure you—.”

He forcefully entered you with one finger, his thumb reaching up to rub over your hard clit. You threw your head back, looking down at him with lust clouding your vision. You wanted to be angry with him for interrupting you, but dammit . . . you just couldn’t be. 

He pumped it in and out a few times before putting the finger in his mouth, closing his eyes and moaning. “You taste so fuckin’ delicious, baby.”

His usage of the pet name made your brain short circuit for a few seconds, but you got distracted from it because suddenly, his face was back, right above yours. His forearms caged you in, on either side of your head. His hair was draping around you like a curtain. It felt so familiar. . .so wonderful.

And now, you knew it was about to happen. 

You felt the head of his cock at your entrance, just as you had at Baby’s. 

But this time. . .this time it was different. So different. You couldn’t pinpoint how or why—it just was.

You looked down to where your bodies were so close to finally connecting. When you looked into his eyes, you noticed he was waiting for you. 

For some reason, you felt as though he’d been studying your face while you were looking away. He seemed so content to simply be watching you, waiting for you, until you found his eyes. 

When your eyes met his, you saw the smile that filled his amber-brown irises. It was a sweet moment that felt like it would forever be locked in time. You stayed there, him above  you. And somehow, you knew he was waiting for permission. So, you nodded your head. 

And without a second thought, his eyes still honing in on yours, he entered you. 

You could’ve sang, you were so relieved to feel him like this. Finally. 

“So fucking tight,” he grunted, letting his tip meet your most secret spot inside. Ohhh yeah. You wanted to fuckin’ purr.

It had been awhile . . . and Jake had noticed by your tightness. But as he rolled his hips the slightest bit, helping you adjust, hitting you right where you needed him, deep inside—there was no questioning that the man knew what the hell he was doing. 

Just like your thoughts earlier tonight. . .he was a natural. 

You continued to wince a little, since he was so thick. It took a second to stretch to his size, and he let you, moving around enough from inside to help you. But he felt so damn good, you didn’t want to stay like that for too long. You needed more. 

You wrapped your arms around his neck, needing to feel closer to him. His hair tickled the back of your hand.

Though, when you’d looked back at his face, his eyes were stuck on you, seeming to be caught in a trance, a relaxed, loose grin fitting to his pink lips.

You moved your hips just a bit. He felt you move, and he seemed to come back, his eyes locking in on your lips. He gave into the urge, kissing you, letting his tongue explore your mouth briefly, you doing the same to his mouth.

Then, when you came up for air, breathing so hard, you shared this look. Such fondness behind the gaze. It was almost too much. But like all things with Jake, it felt right.

You played with the ends of his hair, where your arms were crossed at his back. Maybe you could stay like this forever. 

But then he moved out slowly, and pushed back into you, hard and to the hilt. You felt his balls hit the bottom of your ass and you almost crossed your eyes at the ecstasy of it all. 

He rocked into you like that a few more times, a little slower, moving steadily. 

Then he switched things up. 

He held your body up, his dick still firmly inside of you as he sat up on his knees, leaning back on his heels. He balanced your ass on his thighs and pushed a pillow up behind you, sitting you up, your back against the headboard. Your legs moved of their own accord to be on either side of his hips.  

The position had you completely open to him, as your legs were spread wide, his cock pulsing inside of you. He bit his lip, focusing. It was like he was admiring a piece of art, not able to take his eyes from it. Deep in thought. 

And all of a sudden, you felt extremely vulnerable. Every piece of you on full display, save for your backside which sat perfectly on his bare thighs. So, still. He had every piece of you open to him, around him, or on top of him.

You almost spoke, but he beat you to it. 

“You are so fucking beautiful, y/n. Dammit,” he said with awe laced beautifully in his raspy voice, hitched on his next words. “This is— you are . . .,” he shook his head, and was never able to come up with the words. Instead, he just continued to let his eyes graze over you.

You felt your entire body heat at his words, the intimacy of all this. You felt emotional hearing the words, being like this with him. It was the most open and vulnerable you’d felt with a man in a long time (maybe ever), and he was seeming to treasure it just as much as you. 

His hands held your waist as you tangled a hand in his hair, and looped one arm over his shoulders - both of your chests heaving, needy.

He then brought you forward, until your clit was positioned to rub right below his belly button. You gasped at the full change in position, his cock as deep as it could go. You used the new angle as leverage and went onto the pads of your feet, raising off of him briefly, and then you slowly sank back down onto his throbbing length.

The moan he let out was heavenly. It made you feel like you were on top of the world, the way his mouth hung open. You continued to rise, and sink back down. Long and slow motions that helped you both to feel all of each other. Once you got more confident, you started swiveling your hips as you started to bounce on top of him. 

After a few more swings of your hips, he used his hold on your waist and lifted you off of him. 

You unabashedly let out a small cry at the loss of him inside you, but you moved with him. You positioned yourself to be on all fours, ass facing him— going with his motions and assuming that’s what he wanted. 

The hiss you heard leave his mouth when you were in position, and the way he kneaded your plush ass cheeks with his calloused fingertips made you smirk with victory. You knew exactly what he wanted. 

“You like that?” You breathed at him, wiggling your round ass at him, grinding back on his hardness. You felt him quiver at your movement. Then you felt a hard smack against your right asscheek. “Fuck— Jake!”

He soothed the spot, massaging it the slightest bit, and before you had time to fully process the first hit, he went in for another slap on the other cheek. 

You jolted with a squeak, surprised, but fully welcoming it. 

Fuck yeah. Did he like things rough? If so, you were here for it. 

Tossing your hair over your shoulder, you pointedly made eye contact with his hooded gaze. He had a knowing smirk on his face, matching your own expression. 

He gave you two more slaps, one for each side, and this time you felt the cold metal of his rings with the hits. Oh fuck. 

You pushed back on him, wanting more. His thick cock, snug between your sore cheeks at this angle. 

But instead, he flipped you to lay on your back again. Where was this strength coming from? Dear God. 

How easily he maneuvered your body, wherever he wanted it to go. . . You bit your lip. Fuck. It was like you were his little instrument, moving you every which way, like he threw his guitar behind his head so effortlessly—that was you right now. 

Your core convulsed at the thought. 

Jake set an arm next to your head, and the other above, almost cradling it to not hit the headboard. Then he sunk his pulsing dick into your waiting, dripping cunt. At this point, you were getting fairly acquainted with his size, so you grabbed his perfectly round backside, burying him the deepest he could be in you. 

You also used this position to sway your hips up, each stroke on his dick intentional. Throwing in a little trick of yours, you tightened your muscles to grip his length with each roll of your hips, making him fit even more snug, inside of you. 

“Oh baby,” he groaned at the feeling, the first time you did it. And after a few more, he tapped your hip. “If you don’t stop, I’m not gonna last.”

He was trembling above you. His arm was shaking next to your head. 

“Y/n, baby—fuck,” he grunted, tapping at your hip harder. He wasn’t ready to be done. Neither were you. So you tapped him right back, motioning for him to move off of you. 

After he’d moved, you went to lay partially on your side and partially on your belly. You lifted your ass to indicate you were ready. And in one smooth move, his chest was against your back, his arms back where they were before, but in the new position. He slowly slid in, feeling out the new angle. 

You loved it. One of your new favorites. 

“I love this fuckin’ view of you, y/n,” he groaned, his breath hitting your shoulder. “And the way you feel like this—goddamn.”

He was filling you up, all the way, except this time, you had the combined feeling of him inside, while his smooth sac hit your pussy with each languid pump of his hips. 

You watched how his bicep and fist flexed at the same time, with each thrust, so purposeful. 

Damn him for being so sexy.

His hips started moving quicker, almost of their own accord. And before you knew it, he was pounding into you, his balls slapping hard against you. 

The sounds—the way it felt— perfection.

Your toes curled. Ecstasy. He kept hitting your hidden spot inside; your clit was getting friction from his sheets; and the back of your pussy was getting attention, too. Fuck. This position was going in the books.

Without warning, you felt the arm next to you move, his hand going to sweep swift circles on your swollen bundle of nerves.

“Jaaaake,” you whined, sounding completely pathetic. Sweat was beading at your forehead. Your folds were spasming, your pussy ready to let go. “Fuck, baby.”

You couldn’t hold it anymore. All of it combined—the loud slaps of flesh, the sweat, his hand, the pressure of his pretty dick stretching your tender pussy- hitting every part of you—damn.

You came for the second time that night with a curl from your hands and toes, and a loud sob.

“Doing so good, y/n,” he pushed his chest closer to your back, feeling your release against his hand and helping you ride the wave. And all of a sudden, his hips started rutting, so erratically against your ass, his dick pulsing inside with each roll of his hips. “I’m gonna—where do you—fuck! Y/n—.”

Shit. You almost forgot. You weren’t on the pill. You’d just gone off a few months ago. Shit shit shit shit.

Momentarily snapping from your hazy afterglow, you grasped his hip. “Dammit—on my back!” 

Thankfully, he pulled out in time, and with a small moan from his perfect lips, hot spurts of his cum met your back, shiny from sweat. 

After, he laid above you, one shaking arm still above you, the other now holding your tummy. Okay, now you hated this position. You couldn't easily flip to see his face. And you wanted to see him.

He made quick work of reaching for his T-shirt from earlier to clean off your back. 

“Wanna see your face,” he sighed, rubbing at your shoulder. 

You grinned at the sentiment, wanting so desperately to see him, too. So, you rolled onto your back, letting an arm fall above your head, and the other lay across your stomach, replacing where his had been. In a daze, you watched him as he cleaned up his cock, still glistening from your climax. 

Changing your line of sight, you let yourself watch his face as he cleaned himself. His lips were slightly parted, his top lip curled a bit to show some of his top row of teeth. He was focused. And damn he looked good like that. 

But you already knew that. 

Finally, he was done, and he threw the shirt over the side of the bed, joining the pile of clothes on the ground. 

He went to lay just as you had, but with extended an arm for you to curl into.

You should have left. Gone back to your room. You’d gotten what you wanted.

And this was wrong. If it went too far, it could seriously hurt Jake. Make Josh impossibly angry with you for corrupting his brother. . .

But before you could even begin to move, focus too hard on any reasonable thought whatsoever, your head filled with Elsie’s voice, wise with the conversation you’d had that day, in the entryway. 

“I’m saying. . .what if it’s possible he could just want you in his bed and nothing else?” She’d scratched her head. “Would that hurt anything or anyone? I mean, you’ve made it seem to me that you don’t really have any emotional attachment to him. So if you did that, who would it hurt?”

You glanced up at his face, his eyes drooping to follow the sleep you were also craving. His lids fluttered against his smooth skin - his sharp features. Yeah, you were good on that, still . . . no emotional attachment. But he was nice to look at.

Your voice from that day sprang to your mind, fighting.

“Elsie, that’s a stupid plan that could go horribly wrong,” she’d gasped at your insult to her idea. And you’d leveled her with a stare. “And you know it.”

“I do, I do,” she’d reassured. “But what if you just cut it off when it starts to feel like too much?”

You looked to his hands, drumming mindlessly against his hard, tanned stomach. His mouth hummed an unknown tune. You wanted to sink into him. But you knew you could cut it off. You were a pro at that.

“You think I could do that?” You hadn’t been able to believe you were actually starting to give substance to her idea in your head. 

(And here you were doing it again.)

“You’re pretty damn good at burying things right down to the pits of hell, so. . .,” She’d blinked at you, almost innocently with her savage plan leaving her lips. “What’s the harm in giving it a shot? I mean, just one time, at least?”

So, you used your sister’s words from the past as your pass to let yourself be exactly where you wanted to be right now: in his warm, safe, strong arms. It had been now one time. You'd given it a shot. . .

But what if . . .?

And just as you settled into him, your cheek resting on his toned pec, his heart beating steadily underneath, you heard the last of Elsie’s words from that conversation, inspiring you even more to do this. 

To force some substance on this otherwise ridiculous, horrible idea. 

She’d glanced to the side, letting her eyes wander mysteriously for a second. “I think it would be good for you to live on the edge. Just once.” 

And that was all you needed in that sweet, quiet moment, letting yourself cozy up, right into Jake’s chest. . .feeling him kiss the crown of your head. 

Tomorrow could worry about itself.

Because right now? Right now, you were the most blissed out - the most comfortable you’d ever been. 

You weren’t fucking ready to lose this yet, dammit.

And as you drifted off, seconds later, his soft snores lulling you peacefully, you could only hope that he wasn’t ready to lose this—whatever the hell this was—yet, either. 

-🌼🌼🌼-

a/n: i'm so ready to share what's coming... i wish i could tell you guys (gn)!! it's killingggg me. anywayssss... please let me know your thoughts! you know i love hearing from you all :) &lt;3

(I will say, I've been giving sporadic hints from the first chapter of what's to come. . . hmmm. who thinks they can guess what's going to turn Reader's life upside down?)

if you’d like to be added to the taglist, please let me know!

& as usual, it wouldn’t let me tag some of y’all. :( so please check to see that you’re down there because if you’ve asked to be on the taglist, i tried to tag you. buuuut tumblr wouldn’t let me do it for everyone 🙃 ugh. and if i somehow forgot to tag someone, please also let me know that! (i'm a NOOB and i have terrible memory)

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[burninblood]

guys, I sense a lot of tension about this whole buckynat situation XD ... there is even some hate going on on "X" saying they should have stayed broken and stuff... and, listen, I understand, this kind of reunion wasn't what we was hoping for after all these years (10 years?!?!) and of course we had better scenarios in our mind and we were hoping for more good character work (or any characters work at all!), and we want to hear Nat's version (eheh) and these writers are, let's say, uhm, not so good...

BUT

these are american superhero comics for you in 2024. No greatly written for most part, action focused all the time, little or not at all character development, aiming to reach big sales or them get cancelled, flowing with the MCU synergy and stuff. And I tell you as someone who has read comics her whole life (and I had a loooong life, ok XDDD): bad moments in comics come and go, and poor characters run through a lot of shitty writing, and this happens all the time.

Are Lanzing and Kelly good writers? No. HELL NO.

Do I think Cold War was the worst thing written in the media in the maybe last 5 years? YES with a cherry on top! 100% YES.

Is Thunderbolts a good mini series? ... Well, not really. Better than SOL and CW, but still, we're not quite there yet. It was basically random, with a stretched plot that I can't even recall, and really not a team book since it doesn't focused on any of its characters for real. 'Cause you know, I said it before: no character work, just action action and more action.

Is Bucky written by L&K good? No. He isn't. But to be honest he wasn't good in a lot of other comics too, sadly. He has been worse, he has been better. He will improve at some point, that's the cycle.

All this said, am I happy they brought buckynat back? YES. I AM SUPER HAPPY 'cause it opens for possibility!!!

If they gain some more audience as a couple there are more opportunities for them to get more exposure, to be feautured into other comics (in the current cap run written by Straczynski for example?) more and better content, not only together but on their own too! I think them both didn't have a good comic since... 2018??? Nat even earlier probalby, but it's important they somehow stay relevant in the stories 'cause this is how this whole circus works (sad): the characters who sell better get more stories, more comics, better comics from better writers (... hopefully!)! It's bad, but that's the comic market guys.

Idk, it just feels so sad to me that we have waited for so long for buckynat reunion and when it happened finally it left us with just a bittersweet aftertaste... I think this is inevitable 'cause we had so many hopes and we pushed it bigger than life into our heads, and this is reality XD...But realistically speaking, I was never expecting their reunion to be that different from what we got in the end.

It's good to be disappointed, it's right, but let's turn this into a good occasion then, let's try to stay positive and maybe try to exorcise the bad in it by taking a creative angle on the matter: let's write meta about Natasha's pov, let's write fics, let's do edits, fanarts, let's discuss it. But wishing it never happened and dragging them badly...

I know we all feel like they deserved better, and I agree, but let's consider this just THE BEGINNING. It's a starting point and we should keep our fingers crossed for something good to come!

Let's not give up!!!

I'm sorry if this is so long and a whole lot of useless blablabla bhubhubhu, but some of the stuff I'm reading around is starting to be really depressing and a bit too negative considergin the whole situation, and it's a shame 'cause I feel like we should be at least a tiny bit happier here around <3 :D

Let me know what you think of all this mess (or not, lmao) if you want! <3

[sircantus]

Markus Sircantus my favourite fanfic writer tell me... How does one cope with Technoblades passing?

IM SORRY THIS IS KINDA OF A SERIOUS ASK- I DON'T KNOW HOW TO WORD THIS RIGHT BUT- When the "so long nerds" came out I just balled my eyes out, I cried all night (it was night for me when I received the notification) and I was really wrung out the morning after it in school, and people got kinda worried about it and I explained it but- I was 18, it felt silly to cry over a person I never met before (and with gaming content) I really liked his content and it was all I watched in the pandemic but I just. Like. Stopped watching. because I got self conscious about being sad about it, and I thought I had moved on? Accepted? The grief lasted a day but I never thought much about it bcz I never watched his content again.

But now I catch myself thinking about him, missing to watch his streams, wanting to watch again his videos but- every time I see a bit of him, hear a little of his voice, MY EYES GET ALL WATERY AND SHIT, I CAN'T SEE HIM WITHOUT CRYING AND IT SUCKS. I don't really have time to get all sentimental eeeewww emotions but I miss him, I miss him so fucking much.

I've been following you for a long time now! But I have to admit that I only recently got the courage to read one of your oneshots that got Techno in it, its been a good while I didn't read your fics ;v; (sorry).

So... Sorry for the long ask LMAO, I'm just wondering how you- probably a person that likes Technoblade more than me- got over it and ON TOP OF THAT WRITES OF HIM! Please show me the path, enlighten me with your wisdom....

(sorry if I was rude somewhere- If you don't want to you don't need to give me an answer, thanks for the time reading it tho! And thanks for your fanfics! It was really a comfort for me in the down times :3)

(also sorry this is anonymous I'm a coward)

Well, Im actually not quite sure how to cope with it at all. Only the passing of time has made it easier for me to swallow, and in all honesty, i still havent been able to watch any of his videos since. I still flinch in hearing his voice when it shows up on my feed. But i write about him without a second thought, and i guess a reason for that is because at some point i accepted that my writing was a way of keeping him alive. My stories are a comfort for both myself and others wanting to continue to find joy at the thought of him, and i desperately needed comfort in the months after he passed, so i just kept writing until the bitterness stopped.

Its also like. Im kinda stubborn about feeling Bad. Grieving sucks and i hate feeling it and i hate crying so much that i refuse to let it linger and ill cram my head with anything else to let the worst pass. I dont think about him being dead. i just think about how happy he made me feel. I focus on the fact that he was really fucking funny and how he was an inspiration for thousands, and i focus on the fact that he still continues to inspire me in making more silly family dynamic fanfiction. I just dont think about it too much, thats all. I dont have any wise advice to share, haha, just that i try to keep my habits for his memory and for my happiness’ sake

[tsukasalvr]

hihi I'm starting to hyperfix on tbhk again and the lack of tbhk writers on here is criminally low :,)

sooo could you do teru minamoto x supernatural!reader but the reader is a type of supernatural that's like a vampire but not really like she needs blood and flesh to survive but she can like be in light. maybe she blends into the school to try to regain any type of humanity and teru notices and thinks shes gonna harm a student but when he confronts her she confesses that she just wants to fit in. So teru kinda just drags her around to make sure she doesn't go bonkers and it turns out she actually is nice and not malicious but still seems extremely weak from the lack of blood to maybe teru offers his arm to drink from and he realizes that not all supernaturals are bad

I'm tried while writing this so sorry if the plot seems to complicated or something

also I dont mind if its headcanons or a one shot whichever fits you're schedule <333

AN: FRRRR like the tbhk writers rn are doing amazingggg!!!!!! But there’s literally so few of them and idk if I would consider myself an active tbhk writer cus I’m so inconsistent with my works LMAO but I do have a lot of tbhk works so I guess I’m pretty good

supernatural!vampire!reader

Anime/fandom: Tbhk

Character: Teru Minamoto

Warnings: I don’t proofread

A/n: I love girls and I love girls girls bless all the girls

Tbhk masterlist | Main masterlist

Teru Minamoto

It’s one thing that you’re a supernatural, but it’s another that you’re also a vampire which makes you an even more danger to other students

He watched you sneakily, hoping to catch you alone, but you’re always hanging around other people smiling and laughing that it makes him curious on what’s your motive. Are you getting close to these people so you can feed on them later? But he hesitates on that thought with how real your smile looks, as if you really do enjoy hanging around others and don’t want to feed on them

It’s hard to catch to you alone and is only able to find you alone when it’s the end of the school day, you looked at him worried and explain your situation on how you don’t want to feed on others and just want to be a normal student and how if he wanted, he can watch until he believes her

Teru doesn’t know why he decides to believe and trust you, he’s never hesitated like this. So the next day he never strays far away from you and it isn’t till a week later where he finally believes you but still wants to watch you just for the safety of others, which you agree with

Teru can’t help but want to smile whenever he sees you and even though he knows it’s wrong, it doesn’t take long until the both of you become a couple and he sees how tired you actually are and how you try to hide it but it only seems to get worse every day

He gets worried and without thinking offers his arm and neck for you bite on so you drink some of his blood. But even after he realizes what he said, he doesn’t go back on what he says and reassures you it’s okay and although your hesitant, you agree and at least once a week, Teru lets you feed on him a little and will ask if raw meat will work the same if he isn’t available

Although Teru thinks it feels weird and can’t help but blush whenever you bite him, it’s all worth it to see you better