#OK ILY BAI

[mutatedangels-a]

(un)official movie posters // charlie + soleil // @ghostfcce

Say you're in love And you'll be my guy If not I'll just die.

[joelsrose]

Guns and Roses: Chapter 5

Masterlist

Summary: You wanted nothing to do with Joel, determined to keep your distance after everything that had happened. But when a new threat to Jackson arises, you're forced to put aside your anger and work together. What starts as a reluctant alliance quickly becomes a test of survival, pushing both of you to your limits and uncovering feelings that are impossible to ignore.

TW: swearing, blood, fighting, broken bones, mentions of death, insinuation of s***** abuse, knives, guns, being tied up and gagged, physical violence, blood

also in this story the dining hall has a bar in it to avoid confusion lmaoo - ALSO to everyone who hates joel i understand he is evil sometimes and reader will not forgive him easily i swear some of yall never want her to forgive him but this is a slow burn!! So pls accept some affection ok ily enjoy

13k words i know im crazy - enjoy

The cool night air hit your skin as you stumbled out into the darkness, but it did nothing to soothe the searing ache in your chest. Each breath came in ragged gasps, your cheeks slick with the tears that refused to stop. The world around you blurred, Jackson's streetlights turning into hazy, shimmering halos as you half-ran, half-staggered your way home. But no amount of distance could drown out the sound of Joel’s voice echoing in your mind—sharp, cutting, merciless: Always in the way. I could never be with someone like that.

The words played over and over, slicing deeper each time, as if trying to carve out whatever fragile hope you had let yourself hold onto. You crossed your arms tightly over your chest, as though the pressure alone could stop the hurt from swallowing you whole, but it was a losing battle. The more you tried to suppress it, the more it surged, threatening to burst out in uncontrollable sobs.

Why did I ever let myself believe things could be different? you wondered bitterly, swiping at your tear-streaked cheeks with trembling hands, the frustration twisting inside you like a knife.

Why did I let myself get close to him, let my guard down again?

You had clung to the small moments—his lingering gaze at the lake, the unexpected warmth in his touch—as if they meant something, as if he had really cared. But it was all an illusion, shattered in a single breath, a single sentence that now echoed like a cruel taunt.

The walk to your house seemed to stretch on forever, each step a reminder of how foolish you’d been, each breath another blow to your already bruised heart. It was embarrassing, too—knowing that Maria and Tommy had witnessed everything, that the entire bar had seen you storm out with tears streaking down your cheeks. You thought you’d grown past this—past letting anyone reduce you to a mess of trembling hands and tear-stained eyes. But here you were, crumbling under the weight of rejection, your mind spinning with a relentless torrent of what-ifs and should-haves.

Why did I ever think I could be more to him? You chastised yourself, your thoughts spiraling. Why did I let him in at all?

You reached your front door, your vision so blurred with tears that it took you several tries to fit the key into the lock. When the door finally gave way, you stumbled inside and shut it behind you, the latch clicking into place with a finality that only seemed to deepen the loneliness pressing down on you. Sliding down to the floor, you hugged your knees to your chest, burying your face as the sobs wracked your body. It was as if all the pain you'd been fighting to keep at bay had come crashing down at once, and now there was no holding back.

You cried until there were no more tears left to fall, until the ache in your chest was replaced by a hollow numbness.

Yet one thought remained, circling endlessly in your mind:

Why did I ever think I could be enough for him?

It wasn't just the pain of rejection—it was the devastation of having let yourself hope, only to be reminded of how small and insignificant you felt in the eyes of the person you had dared to let your guard down for. And that, more than anything, was a wound that cut too deep to heal.

•••

“What the hell was that, Joel?” Tommy’s voice cut through the lingering tension like a knife, sharper and angrier than Joel had heard in a long time. He took a step closer, his entire body rigid with fury. The broken glass still lay scattered across the floor, the beer pooling around the jagged shards, a stark reminder of what had just happened.

Joel rubbed a hand over his face, his voice rough and low as he spoke. “I didn’t know she was there,” he muttered, his gaze darting to the door you had fled through, as if he could will you back to explain himself. But he couldn’t meet Tommy's eyes; shame had already begun to settle like a heavy stone in his chest.

Tommy threw his hands up, the gesture dripping with exasperation. “Well, she was,” he snapped, his voice climbing with each word. “Jesus, Joel, when did you turn into such a goddamn asshole?” He raked his fingers through his hair, the frustration etched in every line of his face. “She didn’t deserve that—none of it—especially after everything.” His voice faltered at the end, the anger breaking, revealing a raw edge of something deeper, something more personal.

Joel’s frustration flared, his hands curling into fists. “You kept pushin' me on it, Tommy!” he shot back, his tone edged with defensiveness. “I didn’t—”

“Stop,” Maria interjected sharply, stepping forward with a look that was equal parts anger and disappointment. Her gaze flicked down to the shattered glass at their feet before locking onto Joel, her voice hardening. “That’s not an excuse, Joel. You didn’t just hurt her—you broke her.” The word hung in the air, sharp as a knife, cutting through the tension and daring him to look away.

Joel's jaw clenched, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he searched for any justification, any explanation that could make sense of what he’d just done. But the words wouldn’t come. The truth was lodged too deep, tangled in a place he didn’t know how to reach without tearing himself open. His throat tightened, and he swallowed hard, the weight of Maria's words landing like a blow. “I didn’t mean to hurt her,” he said quietly, his voice raw and unsteady. “I just—” But even as he spoke, the rest of the sentence seemed to slip away, lost in the silence that followed.

“Then why did you?” Maria's voice softened, though the disappointment still lingered in her eyes. She tilted her head, studying his face as if searching for answers in the lines of his furrowed brow and the shadows beneath his eyes. “What is your problem with her, Joel? Because from where I’m standing, your words and your actions don’t add up.” Her gaze deepened, probing further as his head hung low, the weight of guilt pulling him down. “I saw you at the lake today—whatever’s going on between you two, it’s not nothing. But you keep pushin’ her away, like you’re scared of what’ll happen if you don’t.”

Joel's mind raced, the weight of his mistake pressing down harder with every breath. His hands dropped to his sides, clenching and unclenching in a futile search for something solid to grasp, but they felt heavy and useless. His gaze stayed fixed on the broken glass scattered at his feet, but all he could see was the look on your face, replaying in his mind like a wound that refused to close. He had to physically squeeze his eyes shut, as if trying to block out the image that had seared itself into his memory.

What the hell was wrong with him?

Tommy’s voice broke through the tense silence, softer now but edged with a grim finality. “You better figure your shit out, Joel,” he said, his tone carrying a weight that made the words hit harder. His finger pointed sharply, underscoring the gravity of what he was saying. “Find a way to make this right, because if you don’t, you’re not just losin’ her. You’re losin’ us, too.” There was a quiet threat woven into his words, an ultimatum that laid bare all the bridges Joel was dangerously close to burning.

Tommy's words landed like a punch to the gut, leaving Joel reeling. He gave a small, almost imperceptible nod, his thoughts churning with a mix of regret and something that twisted in his stomach, making him feel sick. But as his gaze fell back to the mess of shattered glass and spilled beer, a grim determination took hold. One thing was certain: he had to find a way to fix this, no matter what it took.

•••

You couldn’t say how long it had been since that night at the Tipsy Bison. The days bled into one another, a blurry procession of empty hours, each blending seamlessly into the next. The only sign that time was still moving was the growing pile of empty cups and plates cluttering your side table—a silent testament to how deeply you’d withdrawn from the world outside. You ignored the calls, the handwritten notes Maria slipped under your door, and even the bowl of fruit Ellie had left on your porch, topped with a cartoon dinosaur exclaiming, “Get up, ya fossil!” It had made you smile, if only for a fleeting second, before the familiar heaviness sank back in. Ellie, blissfully unaware of the events that had unfolded between you and Joel.

You knew you shouldn’t have shut them out. Maria, Tommy, Ellie—they hadn’t done anything wrong. They were your family, the closest people you had in this place. But you couldn’t bring yourself to respond, couldn’t summon the strength to open the door and face their concern. Because if you did, you might have to admit that you weren’t okay.

And the truth was, you weren’t.

You hadn’t left the house in days. The thought of stepping outside, of running into him, twisted your stomach into knots. Some might call it pathetic, and maybe it was—maybe you were hiding from a problem that you should have confronted head-on. But every time you even thought about walking out that door, the memory of Joel’s voice—his cold, dismissive tone—resonated in your mind like a bitter echo, sending you spiraling back into the hurt you’d been trying so hard to avoid.

How could you face the world when his words were still fresh in your ears, like open wounds you couldn’t heal? Always in the way. I could never be with someone like that. They looped in your mind, over and over, until the doubt became something almost tangible, wrapping around your heart like a vine, squeezing the life out of it. You had started to wonder if he was right—if you were a burden, someone who didn’t belong.

So you stayed inside, pacing the small space until you knew every creaking floorboard by heart, staring out the windows as the sunlight shifted across the room, bringing with it the constant reminder that life outside was moving on without you.

Maria had left notes, her handwriting slanted and rushed, as if written between tasks. “We miss you, please call,” one had read. You’d crumpled it in your fist the day you found it, but hadn’t been able to throw it away. It still sat on the table, a small, wrinkled reminder of the people who were trying to reach you. Tommy had come by too, knocking softly and calling your name, his voice gentle. You hadn’t answered. Not because you didn’t want to, but because you couldn’t bear the thought of opening the door and seeing pity in his eyes.

But despite all of their gestures—Maria’s notes, Tommy’s knocks, Ellie’s quirky little gifts—he hadn’t come to see the mess he’d made. Joel Miller hadn’t made any effort to check on you, to face the aftermath of the hurt he had caused. That, in some twisted way, almost made it worse. It was like you weren’t even worth the apology, as if your hurt didn’t matter. The silence from him was deafening, each day that passed without so much as a word deepened the wound.

It felt deliberate. Like he’d said what he needed to say, like he’d hurt you on purpose, and then walked away, leaving you to pick up the pieces alone.

You were angry—no, furious—not just at him, but at how thoroughly he had managed to upend your entire life. Before Joel, things made sense. You had your place here; Jackson was a sanctuary, a place where you could heal, and Tommy and Maria were the family you had chosen. But now, because of him, everything felt off-balance, as if the ground had shifted beneath your feet. Ever since you met him, the way you saw yourself had completely changed, and you hated it. You couldn’t even face the people you loved, not when the thought of running into him hung over every decision like a dark cloud, suffocating any sense of normalcy you’d tried to hold onto.

The worst part wasn’t just that he had dismissed you so easily—it was that you had allowed him to get close enough to hurt you in the first place. You had let down your guard, let yourself almost believe in him, and in doing so, you’d given him just enough space to break you. Now, you were paying the price for that mistake, and it was a steep one. It felt as if he’d reached inside your chest and torn out the part of you that still dared to hope for something more, leaving behind a hollow ache where that hope used to live.

You had decided you were done with Joel Miller.

Done with his gruff indifference, done with trying to make sense of the rare, fleeting moments when he seemed to care, only for him to snatch it all away the next moment. You couldn’t keep going back and forth, couldn’t keep letting yourself hope for something that was never going to happen.

You were done giving him the chance to hurt you again.

•••

It was almost as if they had planned an intervention. Tommy and Maria knocked on your door, and even though you didn’t answer, it didn’t stop them. They knew you too well; knew you wouldn’t let them in, but they came prepared.

The sound of the door creaking open downstairs carried up to your room, followed by Maria’s voice—playful yet edged with firmness. “You shouldn’t leave a pregnant woman waiting,” she called out, her footsteps echoing in the quiet as they made their way through the house, up the stairs, and down the hall to where you lay.

You were sprawled out on your bed, the blinds shut tight, casting a dim, muted glow over the room. It was stifling, the air thick with your despair. When Tommy and Maria entered, they took in the sight of you: hair unkempt, eyes shadowed with exhaustion, the same clothes you’d been wearing for days clinging to you. The blankets were tangled around you, a pile of untouched books and empty mugs crowding your bedside table. You hadn’t even bothered to pick up the crumpled note Maria had slipped under the door days ago, which now lay discarded on the floor.

Tommy’s gaze swept over you, his expression hardening with concern. “Jesus Christ,” he muttered under his breath, his voice just loud enough for you to hear. He stepped closer, kneeling by the bed as if he could physically draw you out of whatever dark place you had sunk into. “Hey, kid,” he said, his voice softer now, but heavy with worry. “How are you?”

You didn’t respond at first, your eyes flicking up to meet his before dropping away again. “What are you guys doing here?” you mumbled, pulling the blanket tighter around yourself as if it could shield you from their concern.

Maria hovered in the doorway, her arms crossed over her chest, her brow creased with worry. She took in the state of the room—the mess, the dimness, the weight of defeat hanging over you—and sighed. “Just checking up on you,” she said gently, her voice laced with that familiar warmth. “We’re worried.”

Tommy nodded, exchanging a quick glance with Maria before turning back to you. “How about we go out tonight, huh?” he suggested, his tone striving for lightness even as the concern slipped through. “Just dinner—nothing fancy, I promise. But you need to get some fresh air.” His brow furrowed slightly, the worry deepening in his eyes. “Have you been eating?”

“Yeah, let’s get you out for a bit,” Maria added, stepping closer to your bedside and gently brushing a few strands of hair from your face. “It’ll be good to get some fresh air, get out of this dark room for a while.” She tried to offer an encouraging smile, but there was a quiet plea in her eyes, a silent insistence that told you they weren’t leaving without you.

You hugged your knees to your chest, turning your face away from their worried expressions. The thought of going out felt overwhelming, like stepping back into a world you weren’t ready to face. It wasn’t just about Joel anymore; it was about everything—the quiet hurt that had seeped into the cracks, the loneliness that had settled over you like a heavy fog these past weeks. It felt easier to stay in the safety of this dark room than to confront everything waiting for you on the other side of the door.

“I don’t know…” You trailed off, the words catching in your throat.

Tommy leaned in a little closer, his voice soft but resolute. “Come on, kid. Just one dinner, that’s all we’re asking,” he coaxed, his tone carrying a gentle insistence. “You don’t have to say a word if you don’t feel like it. We just miss you, that’s all.” There was a quiet sincerity in his eyes, a warmth that reached out to you even as you pulled further inward.

You didn’t need to ask if Joel would be there; you already knew he wouldn’t. They wouldn’t put you through that—not after everything that had happened. But as you hesitated, the anxiety was clear in your eyes, and they noticed the way your fingers tightened around the edge of the blanket, clinging to it like a lifeline.

Tommy cleared his throat, a reassuring tone creeping into his voice. “He’s on patrol,” he said, as if that settled the matter, not even needing to mention Joel’s name for you to know exactly who he meant. “He won’t be around tonight. You don’t have to worry.” His words hung in the air, offering a small measure of comfort, a quiet assurance that at least one thing would be a little easier to face.

You nodded slowly, the tight knot of anxiety in your chest loosening just a little. The thought of facing Joel was still too raw, too close to the surface, but maybe—just maybe—you could manage to face Tommy and Maria. They were trying to help you, reaching out with open hands to pull you out of this darkness, and it wasn’t fair to keep shutting them out. They didn’t deserve to be kept at arm’s length when all they’d done was care.

“Okay,” you whispered, your voice barely audible. “Just dinner.”

Maria's relief was palpable as she gave you a small, reassuring smile, squeezing your hand gently. “Just us tonight,” she promised. “No surprises.”

It should have comforted you, and in a way, it did. But even as you nodded, a shadow of doubt clung to you, the world beyond your door still seeming too bright, too unforgiving. No matter how hard you tried to push it away, the ghost of Joel Miller lingered in the corners of your mind, a reminder of everything you were trying to forget.

But maybe tonight, you could let it go—even if just for a little while.

•••

Dinner was at the dining hall, where the familiar buzz of conversation and the clink of glasses filled the air. You sat at a small wooden table, dimly lit by the flickering glow of candlelight that cast soft shadows across the room. You didn’t say much, and that seemed fine by Tommy and Maria, who carried the conversation with an easy rhythm, filling the silence for you.

The meal was simple but comforting: steaming bowls of hearty stew with a side of freshly baked bread. Tommy and Maria seemed content just to see you eating, casting the occasional glance your way as you slowly picked at your food. Tommy's grin widened as he spoke about the baby, his excitement palpable even though it was still too early for Maria to be showing. His hand rested lightly on her arm, and he beamed like a proud father already, talking about all the things he couldn’t wait to teach their child—fishing, horseback riding, even passing on his collection of bad jokes that made Maria roll her eyes but secretly smile.

You found yourself quietly listening, letting their warmth and hope wrap around you like a safety net, offering a small reprieve from the heaviness that had been weighing you down. For just a moment, you allowed yourself to sink into their joy, let the sound of their voices ease the ache in your chest. You could almost feel the tension slipping away, replaced by the comfort of their laughter and lighthearted banter. Just for a moment, you allowed yourself to forget—forget about the heaviness pressing on your heart, forget about Joel and all the hurt that came with him.

But then, the door to the dining hall swung open, and the moment shattered.

There he was—Joel. He looked awful, with dark circles under his eyes that suggested he hadn’t slept in days, and his hair was a mess, sticking out in uneven tufts as though he’d been raking his fingers through it in frustration. His beard was thicker and more unruly than usual, as if he’d stopped bothering to trim it, letting it grow out in uneven patches.

The mere sight of him sent your heart plummeting to the floor. He hadn’t seen you yet, hadn’t even glanced in your direction as he stood at the bar, his broad shoulders and familiar figure casting a long shadow over the room. He was nursing a whiskey, his back turned to you, and there was something about the way he stood—his frame tense and hunched, as if he were carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders—that made it impossible to look away. The sight of him was a punch to the gut, stirring up everything you’d tried so hard to bury.

Your hand trembled, and the fork slipped from your grasp, clattering onto the plate with a loud clink that seemed to echo through the room. Maria’s eyes darted toward you, concern flickering across her face as she followed your gaze. Slowly, she turned until her eyes landed on Joel, standing alone at the bar, his back still turned.

“Tommy…” Maria whispered, her voice tense and low, a quiet urgency in the way she said his name.

Tommy, who had been caught up in the conversation, turned in his seat to look over his shoulder. His easy smile faded the second he spotted Joel. His brow furrowed as he watched the scene, and he shifted in his seat, angling himself to block your view as if to shield you from the sight.

Maria leaned in close, her voice soft and urgent. “We can leave, honey,” she murmured. “He hasn’t seen us yet. We can duck out before he notices.” Her hand rested lightly on your arm, ready to guide you away, offering a quiet escape from the situation unraveling before you.

Tommy nodded in agreement, his voice gentle but edged with concern. “Yeah, we can head somewhere else. Go back to ours, maybe?” He kept his gaze on you, ready to leave at a moment’s notice, his worry evident in the way he searched your face for any sign of what you needed.

But you shook your head, swallowing hard against the lump forming in your throat. “No,” you said, the word coming out firmer than you’d expected. “I’m not letting him ruin our night.” There was a defiance in your voice, a spark that flared up despite the heaviness in your chest. You weren’t going to let Joel take this from you, not when you’d finally managed to step outside and try to find some normalcy again.

Maria’s hand tightened around yours, and she exchanged a worried glance with Tommy, but neither of them pushed further. You tried to focus on your meal, but your appetite had long since disappeared, the bitter sting of seeing Joel even from across the room making it impossible to ignore the knot tightening in your chest.

You bit your lip, forcing yourself to swallow the flood of emotions threatening to rise. “I’ll be fine,” you whispered, more to reassure yourself than them. But even as you said the words, you couldn’t help but feel the undeniable truth that Joel Miller had already changed everything—and you weren’t sure you’d ever be able to forgive him for it.

As the night wore on, you found yourself glancing over at the bar again, despite your best efforts to focus on anything else. Joel had turned slightly, his profile now visible. His expression was a mix of exhaustion and something else you couldn’t quite place.

It was infuriating—how he could be there, so close yet so distant, as if nothing had happened, as if you weren’t sitting just a few feet away, struggling to hold yourself together. The sight of him drinking alone, looking every bit the picture of the gruff, haunted man he always seemed to be, made your heart clench with a confusing mix of anger and something else you weren’t ready to name.

You turned back to Tommy and Maria, who were watching you closely, their faces etched with concern. You forced a smile, tried to push the emotions back down, and focused on the easy conversation again. But even as you pretended not to care, you couldn’t shake the feeling that no matter how hard you tried, Joel Miller had already woven himself into your life, and there was no going back.

“I’m full,” you said, pushing your plate aside with a dismissive gesture.

Then, a determined edge crept into your voice. “Let’s get drunk.”

It was as if you were daring the night to offer you something else to focus on, something to drown out the thoughts swirling in your mind. Maria and Tommy shared a brief, uncertain look, but they didn’t argue. Maria gave a small nod, and Tommy signaled for another round, silently agreeing to let you decide how the rest of the night would go.

•••

The alcohol dulled the sharp edges of the hurt that had lingered for weeks, numbing the ache in your chest and quieting the voice in your head that kept replaying his words. Deep down, you knew it wasn’t the healthiest way to cope, but right now, you didn’t care. It was working, and that was all that mattered.

Yet, every time you caught sight of Joel—alone in the corner, nursing his drink with a distant look in his eyes—it sent a fresh wave of anger and hurt crashing through you. He hadn’t seen you yet, oblivious to your presence, which somehow made it worse. It wasn’t fair that he could sit there as if nothing had happened, like he hadn’t shattered your heart and left you to pick up the pieces. It wasn’t fair that he seemed so at ease while you were struggling to keep yourself from falling apart, each breath feeling like a battle you weren’t sure you were winning.

You threw yourself into the night—into the drinks, the laughter, and the comforting noise that filled the bar. As you scanned the room, your gaze landed on a familiar face: Sam, one of the residents Tommy had tried to set you up with a few months ago. You hadn’t given him a chance back then, though it wasn’t because he wasn’t attractive. He was—tall and lean, with dark hair that fell messily across his forehead, a boyish grin, and a dusting of freckles that stretched across his cheeks like a constellation. His crooked smile had a way of lighting up his entire face when he laughed, giving him an easy charm that was hard to ignore.

Back then, you’d been too fragile, nursing wounds that hadn’t even started to heal. The idea of dating felt impossible, even unfair—like dragging someone else into the mess of your heartache. So when Tommy had suggested introducing you to Sam, you’d politely declined, knowing deep down that you weren’t ready to let anyone in.

But now, seeing Joel across the bar—his presence stirring up the hurt you were barely managing to keep at bay—awoke something reckless inside you. You wanted him to notice you, to see you with someone else, to know that his words hadn’t broken you. Even if he didn’t want you, you wanted to show him that someone did, that you weren’t just the damaged person he’d left behind - broken and bruised.

The dim lighting of the bar and the haze of alcohol softened the edges of Sam’s face, giving his eyes a darker, more inviting warmth. There was a quiet confidence about him, an easy charm that almost dared you to take a chance on something new. In that moment, all you wanted was to feel desired—by someone who didn’t see you as a burden. Maybe it was impulsive, maybe it was even a little spiteful, but you couldn’t shake the need for Joel to see it.

You leaned closer to Tommy, doing your best to keep your voice steady despite the adrenaline coursing through you. “Hey,” you said, nodding subtly in Sam’s direction. “See that guy over there?”

Tommy followed your gaze, his eyebrows lifting in surprise when he spotted Sam. “Sam?” he asked, a grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Yeah, that’s him. What about it?”

You shrugged, aiming for casual even as your pulse raced. “Think you could introduce me?”

Tommy’s surprise gave way to a slow, knowing smile. “Well, well,” he chuckled, the amusement clear in his tone. “Looks like you’ve had a change of heart.”

“Maybe,” you replied, forcing a playful smile to your lips. “Figured it’s worth a shot.”

Without missing a beat, Tommy waved Sam over, and you watched as he navigated his way through the crowd toward your table. Your heart pounded with a mix of nerves and anticipation—not just because you were about to meet Sam, but because you were keenly aware that at some point, Joel’s gaze would inevitably land on the two of you. There was a certain thrill in that thought, a defiance simmering just beneath the surface. You wanted him to see this, to see you moving on from his words, even if it was just for show.

As Sam approached, you straightened in your seat, a more confident smile spreading across your lips.

For once, you wanted to be the one in control, to be the one who chose to walk away on your own terms.

•••

Sam was kind, cute, and effortlessly charming—the kind of guy who could put anyone at ease. As he settled into the chair across from you, his crooked grin and playful eyes made slipping into the rhythm of conversation almost too easy. He had a way of making you laugh, keeping the mood light and flirty, even as the drinks you’d had earlier started to blur the edges of the night. But beneath the surface, something was missing. You could sense it, a faint tug deep inside, reminding you that despite his charm, you didn’t feel anything real. It was as though you were going through the motions, trying to convince yourself of a spark that simply wasn’t there.

“So,” Sam said, raising his drink with a playful glint in his eye, “Tommy tells me you’re quite the rider. I guess I’ll have to see for myself one of these days.”

You shrugged, a teasing smile tugging at your lips. “I’m alright,” you replied, your tone carrying a hint of challenge. “But I’m not exactly volunteering to give you any lessons.”

He chuckled, leaning in closer, his gaze sweeping over you with a clear spark of interest. “Well, I suppose I’ll just have to earn that, then,” he said, his voice dropping to a low murmur, adding a quiet heat to his words that lingered in the air between you.

It was obvious he was into you.

His hand lingered on your arm, his eyes glinting with something more than casual interest, and his attention never wavered from you. A part of you welcomed it—the way he looked at you like you were the only person in the room. It felt good to be seen, to be desired, even if only for a night.

You wished his words had an effect on you, wished they stirred the butterflies caged in your stomach. But the flutter never came, and you could only feel the emptiness where that spark was supposed to ignite. There was a hollowness there, an emptiness that no amount of attention from Sam could fill. The ache inside you hadn’t faded; it had merely dulled to a hum in the background.

You glanced away from Sam, and your eyes found Joel once more. He was still at the bar, in the same spot he'd occupied for what felt like hours, nursing a whiskey. But now, he wasn’t alone. A blonde woman—pretty, with an easy smile—had appeared beside him, leaning in close, her hand lightly resting on his arm as she spoke. The sight sent a pang through your chest, a sharp reminder of how everything had unraveled. It wasn’t quite jealousy—it was something darker, a bitter realization that while you were struggling to pick up the pieces, he seemed to be doing just fine.

Maybe that was the type of woman Joel preferred. What did it matter? You told yourself it didn’t, but the truth was painfully clear—it did. The thought twisted in your chest, pushing you to act.

“Let’s dance,” you said abruptly, shoving back your chair and reaching for Sam’s hand, desperate to be anywhere but sitting still, anywhere that would let you forget, even if just for a moment.

Sam grinned, springing to his feet as if he’d been waiting for you to make the first move. He followed you onto the small dance floor, where only a handful of others swayed to the music. His hands settled on your hips, pulling you closer as the beat pulsed through the dimly lit room. For a few moments, you let yourself get lost in the rhythm, the thrum of the music, and the warmth of the liquor coursing through your veins. Sam guided you, his body pressing closer with each sway, his breath warm against your cheek as he leaned in.

As you spun around, the world blurred, but through the haze of lights and music, you caught sight of Joel across the bar. Everything else seemed to fall away. His gaze was locked on you, dark and unflinching, with an intensity that sent a jolt through your veins. It wasn’t the indifferent, dismissive look you’d grown used to; it was raw and unguarded, as though he couldn’t quite mask whatever was simmering just beneath the surface. Anger, jealousy, hurt—you couldn’t tell, but the emotion was unmistakable, etched in the hard line of his jaw and the darkness of his eyes. It reached across the room, pulling you into its grip, and a shiver raced down your spine, leaving a trail of heat in its wake.

For a moment, the room around you seemed to dissolve, leaving just the two of you locked in a silent, electric exchange. Joel's gaze seared into you, and your pulse quickened, a volatile mix of defiance and something far more tangled swelling in your chest. You didn’t even know what you were hoping to find in his eyes—regret, maybe, or longing—but there was something there, something that made it hard to breathe.

Without thinking, you turned and grabbed Sam, pulling him into a kiss. He hesitated, surprised for a heartbeat, but then leaned into it, his hands tightening around your waist as if he’d been waiting for this all night.

When you finally broke away, your gaze flicked back to Joel, and for a heartbeat too long, you held his stare. He had seen everything—every movement, every breath—and you knew he hadn’t missed the way you had thrown yourself into Sam's arms, as if trying to prove something. To him, to yourself—you weren’t sure.

And then, just like that, Joel was gone, slipping through the back door and vanishing into the night before you could fully register the emptiness left in his wake.

Sam’s voice broke through your thoughts, concern softening his tone. “Everything okay?” he asked, leaning in closer to catch your eye.

You forced a smile, hoping it didn’t look as brittle as it felt. “Yeah,” you lied. “I’m fine. Let’s keep dancing.”

You kept dancing with Sam, but the moment Joel disappeared from the bar, the illusion of control you had clung to crumbled, leaving you feeling hollow. The music pulsed around you, Sam's hands gripped your waist, and yet it felt all wrong—like you were trying to use him as a lifeline, but the rope had already frayed. You needed air, needed to escape the suffocating haze that seemed to cling to you.

“Let’s go outside for a bit,” you said abruptly, pulling away from Sam.

“Sure,” he replied, his eyes glinting with anticipation, as if he thought this was the moment things would get interesting.

You stumbled into the cool night air, your head heavy from the alcohol and the heat of the bar. You scanned the surroundings, your gaze flicking around for Joel—pathetic as it was, some part of you couldn’t stop searching for him. But he wasn’t there, and you weren’t sure whether that made it better or worse. The sharp breeze did little to soothe the chaos roiling inside you.

Sam was close behind, his footsteps crunching on the gravel. Before you could say anything, he was already there, his hands gripping your waist as he pressed himself closer.

“Let’s find somewhere private,” he murmured, his lips grazing your ear as his fingers tightened around you.

Your body tensed, a cold dread slithering down your spine. “Sam… wait,” you said, your voice barely a breath. “I don’t think this is a good idea.”

He chuckled, a rough, dismissive sound that sent a shiver down your spine, making your skin prickle with unease. His grip tightened as he shoved you back against the wall, the cold surface pressing into your shoulders. “C’mon, sweetheart,” he murmured, his voice hardening with a dangerous edge. “You’ve been all over me tonight. Hell, you just kissed me. Don’t act like you’re not asking for this.” The words dripped with entitlement, twisting the air around you into something dark and suffocating.

Your thoughts swam, disoriented by the alcohol and the sudden, unsettling shift in his tone. It was like a jolt of ice water spilling over you—the stark realization that he wasn’t the charming, kind guy you’d thought he was. His hands moved lower, rougher, pinning you against the wall as panic clawed its way up your throat. You struggled to gather your bearings, but the situation seemed to close in around you, suffocating and dark. Where the hell was Tommy? you thought desperately, your pulse thundering in your ears.

“Stop it, Sam,” you pleaded, your voice trembling with fear. “I said no.”

But he didn’t stop. His mouth grazed your neck, and his grip tightened painfully, digging into your skin as he leaned in closer. “God, you’re all the same,” he sneered, his breath hot and foul against your ear. “Act all innocent, but deep down—”

This can’t be happening. Panic surged through you as you tried to push him away, but your arms felt like lead, your mind clouded and sluggish.

“Get your fucking hands off her.”

The voice sliced through the night like a blade, low and vibrating with barely contained fury. Before you could even process what was happening, Sam was wrenched away from you, his body hitting the ground with a brutal thud.

Joel.

He loomed over Sam, his chest heaving, every muscle tense with rage. His fists were already clenched, knuckles white under the dim light. “She told you to back off,” Joel growled, his voice a dangerous rumble that seemed to shake the very air around you. His eyes burned with a fury so raw it was almost terrifying.

Sam scrambled to his feet, his eyes wide with a volatile mix of anger and fear. “What the hell is your problem, old man?” he spat, stumbling back as he tried to regain his footing. His lip curled into a sneer, a flash of defiance in his gaze. “Go to hell,” he snarled, and without a second thought, he swung his fist at Joel.

The punch connected, snapping Joel’s head to the side, but he barely flinched. In an instant, he surged forward, seizing Sam by the collar and driving him down onto the gravel with a bone-rattling force. The crack of Sam’s head against the ground echoed sharply in the still night air.

Joel didn’t hesitate.

He dropped to his knees, pinning Sam beneath him as he unleashed a barrage of brutal blows—once, twice—the sickening thud of bone meeting flesh reverberating through the darkness. Blood sprayed across the gravel, and Sam’s body began to go limp, his resistance fading under the relentless, punishing force of Joel’s fists. But Joel didn’t let up, a feral rage burning in his eyes as each strike landed with merciless precision, as if he were trying to erase the very memory of Sam's touch.

“Joel, stop!” you screamed, your voice desperate and raw, but it was as if he didn’t hear you. His rage had taken over, his eyes dark and wild, completely consumed.

At last, Joel grabbed a fistful of Sam's shirt, yanking him up until their faces were mere inches apart.

“If you ever come near her again,” he snarled, his voice low and rough with barely restrained fury, “I swear to God, I will fuckin' kill you.” His words dripped with venom, a promise as much as a threat. Then he shoved Sam away, letting him crumple back onto the gravel in a limp, trembling heap.

Panting heavily, Joel straightened, the fury that had consumed him moments ago ebbing away as his gaze fell on you. The sight of you—pressed against the wall, cheeks streaked with tears, your entire body trembling—seemed to drain the fight out of him in an instant.

Concern flashed in his eyes, raw and unguarded, chased swiftly by regret. His hands, bloodied and still shaking at his sides, hung there uselessly, as if unsure of what to do. All he wanted was to reach out and cradle your face in his hands, to wipe away the tears and assure himself that you were okay. But he stayed rooted where he was, afraid to cross the distance, afraid he might break whatever fragile thing existed between you.

“Are you okay?” he asked, his voice low and rough with emotion, a jarring contrast to the violence that had just shattered the night. The tenderness in his tone was almost painful, as though each word scraped against something deeper that he couldn’t quite bring himself to say. His eyes searched yours with a desperation he couldn’t hide, needing to know that you weren’t as broken as he felt.

But the space between you seemed to grow, an unspoken divide filled with all the things left unsaid—the reckless rage, the bruised history, and the unbearable longing he could never quite put into words. His hands trembled with the urge to reach for you, to close the gap, but instead, he stayed frozen, the ache in his chest echoing in the silence between you both.

The question hit you like a blow. How dare he act like he cared now, after everything he’d put you through? The ghost of Sam’s touch still clung to your skin, making your stomach twist with revulsion, and the adrenaline surged bitterly in your throat.

“Fuck off, Joel,” you snapped, your voice cracking as you scrubbed at your tear-streaked cheeks. “I don’t need you to protect me. I don’t need you to save me.” The words came out sharper than you intended, but you didn’t care. Anger burned behind every syllable, masking the pain that roiled beneath.

Joel’s expression tightened, his jaw clenching as a flicker of hurt crossed his eyes before he could bury it. “He was gonna—” he started, his voice rough, as if he was struggling to explain himself.

“I don’t care,” you cut him off, your voice trembling with fury and something deeper, something you refused to name. “You don’t get to just swoop in and play the hero after treating me like I was nothing.” Your breath hitched, words breaking apart like shattered glass. “You don’t get to decide when I need saving, or when I need anything from you.” Each word tasted bitter on your tongue, leaving a raw ache in your throat as they spilled out.

Joel’s face tightened, frustration simmering just below the surface. “You’re drunk,” he said quietly, almost like he was trying to convince himself as much as you. “You don’t know what you’re saying.”

“I know exactly what I’m saying,” you shot back, your voice cracking. The tremor in your hands betrayed you, giving away the storm raging inside as you struggled to hold back the tears. “Just like you knew what you were doing when you said those things.” The sob that escaped your throat made the words rough and ragged, but you forced yourself to keep going.

“You can’t treat me like garbage one day and then show up the next, acting like you give a damn.” Your breath shuddered, your voice breaking again.

“I don’t need your pity, Joel. I don’t need anything from you.”

The words hung in the air, sharp and unforgiving, and you saw the way they hit him by the way his expression faltered, his eyes narrowing as if he were bracing himself against the blow. But he didn’t fight back, didn’t offer a single word in his defense. He just stood there, his breath heavy and uneven, the night swallowing up whatever he might have said. The look in his eyes was haunted, as though he knew he deserved every bit of your anger and more.

You didn’t wait for him to recover. Without another glance, you turned on your heel, stumbling toward the entrance of the dining hall. Each step felt unsteady, the warm night air doing nothing to clear the fog in your mind. It was as if the world had narrowed down to just you and the echo of your own ragged breaths, the silence growing louder and louder the further you walked from him.

Something had broken between you and Joel—something fragile that had barely held together to begin with. It splintered under the weight of all the hurt, leaving shards you weren’t sure could ever be mended. And as you walked away, a voice whispered in the back of your mind, small and bitter: Was there ever anything worth salvaging at all? The question lingered, twisting painfully in your chest, as the distance between you and Joel stretched wider with each faltering step.

•••

A few days had passed since the night outside of the dining hall—since Joel had saved you, yet again. But the anger hadn’t faded; if anything, it had deepened, festering like an open wound that refused to heal. You replayed the events over and over in your mind—the shame, the fear, the helplessness.

It was a vicious cycle, one that left you feeling more fractured with each passing day.

Your thoughts were abruptly interrupted by the sharp ring of the phone. You snatched it up, the tension already twisting in your gut. The voice on the other end was laced with urgency.

"Hey, we got a big problem," Tommy’s voice crackled through the line, sounding uncharacteristically frazzled.

Your stomach dropped. “What is it, Tommy?”

“Some of our patrol didn’t make it back.” His voice was grim, a heavy silence hanging in the air. “They’re hours overdue, and we haven’t been able to reach them on the radio.”

There was a pause on the line, a faint crackle filling the gap. “Could be raiders,” he continued, his voice quieter now. “Could be worse. We don’t know what’s out there.”

He took a breath, the sound faint but telling. “Whatever it is, it’s getting close to Jackson’s perimeter.”

His tone sharpened, urgency seeping through. “We need to head out today and figure out what the hell is going on,” he said, his words heavy with the weight of the unknown. “We can’t afford to wait any longer.”

Your pulse quickened at the thought of the community—your home—being in danger. The idea of losing more people, of watching the fragile safety of Jackson unravel, filled you with a dread that settled like a stone in your chest.

“When are we leaving?” you asked, already moving to pack your bag. You grabbed your rifle from its place by the door, the familiar weight of it a small comfort as you slung it over your shoulder.

•••

By the time you reached the stables, Tommy and Maria were already there, saddling the horses with grim determination etched into their faces. Joel was there too, cinching the strap on his saddle, and the sight of him stoked the simmering anger you’d been harboring. But now wasn’t the time to dwell on it—there was too much at stake. A few of the other men stood nearby, their expressions tense as they readied their own mounts. The atmosphere was thick with urgency and unspoken fear; everyone understood what was at risk.

“I’m coming with you,” Maria said firmly, her tone leaving no room for argument as she adjusted the strap on her saddle.

Tommy turned to her, his face drawn with worry. “Maria, you can’t go. Not in your condition.”

She shot him a stubborn look, crossing her arms over her chest. “I’m pregnant, Tommy, not helpless,” she snapped.

The concern in Tommy’s eyes was unmistakable, and you could see the conflict written all over his face. Maria was strong, no doubt about it, but the risk was too great, and he wasn’t about to put her or the baby in harm's way.

“Maria,” you said gently, placing a reassuring hand on her arm. “Stay here. You’re needed more in Jackson, with the baby—and with Ellie. The rest of us can handle this.”

At the mention of Ellie, Joel’s head snapped up, a reaction you caught from the corner of your eye.

Maria’s gaze met yours, her expression hardening for a moment as though she was ready to argue. But beneath the defiance, you could see the worry—the fear of what might happen out there. After a tense pause, her shoulders sagged, and she let out a resigned breath. “Fine,” she whispered, her voice tight with strain. “But you all better come back in one piece. I swear to God if anything happens to you, I'll finish the job myself.”

You gave her arm a squeeze before turning back to the horses, a sense of urgency propelling you forward. As you swung up into the saddle, you could feel Joel's gaze still lingering on you, but you refused to meet it.

As you rode away from the safety of Jackson, a knot of unease tightened in your stomach, growing with each step your horse took. It wasn’t just the threat looming out there in the woods—it was the unsettling reality that once again, you were heading into danger with Joel by your side.

But this time, it was more than just your life hanging in the balance; it was the lives of people you cared about, people who depended on you to make it back safely. The weight of that responsibility pressed down on you, and the thought of having to trust Joel when so much was at stake sent a bitter taste to the back of your throat. Yet there was no turning back now. Whatever lay ahead, you’d have to face it—and face him—whether you were ready or not.

•••

The silence between your group was unsettling, broken only by the soft clop of hooves on the dirt path and the whisper of leaves rustling overhead. The tension hung in the air, thick and stifling, like the oppressive heat that lingers before a storm. This wasn’t just another patrol; it was a dangerous mission, and you could feel it in the way everyone gripped their reins a little tighter, their weapons kept close at hand.

Your rifle rested against your shoulder, its weight both a comfort and a constant reminder of the stakes. You kept your focus on the path ahead, doing your best to ignore the occasional glances Joel sent your way. His gaze was hard to miss, like a heat at your back, but you refused to acknowledge it, steering your horse closer to Tommy’s for a semblance of reassurance.

As the path began to curve, Tommy raised his hand, signaling everyone to slow. The horses came to a cautious halt, hooves shifting restlessly in the dirt. Up ahead, just beyond a small ridge, you spotted the outline of a structure—a dilapidated farmhouse with boarded-up windows and a sagging barn beside it, both looking as though a strong wind could knock them over.

But there was movement around the buildings. Flickers of shadows, a brief glint of metal in the fading light. Your heart sank as the realization hit you like a cold wave.

“Shit, there’s a bunch of them,” you breathed, your voice low and tense. The words hung in the heavy air as the reality of the situation settled in—there was no turning back, and whatever waited beyond the ridge was about to test every ounce of resolve you had left.

“Could be more,” Tommy muttered, his eyes scanning the area. “Shit, we need a plan.” He glanced over his shoulder at Joel, who had edged his horse closer, positioning himself beside Tommy.

Joel’s voice was steady, despite the tension simmering in the air. “We’ve gotta be smart about this. Can’t just go in guns blazing. If our people are in there, we risk hitting them by mistake.” His gaze swept over the group, calculating the best course of action. “Here’s what we’ll do. The three of us”—he gestured to you, Tommy, and himself—“will circle around to the west and try to get a look inside. The rest of you, keep a lookout here and be ready to provide cover if things go south. Understood?”

The others nodded in silent agreement, the urgency clear on their faces. Without wasting another second, you adjusted your grip on the reins and urged your horse forward, following Joel and Tommy as they led the way toward the ridge. Your pulse quickened, each step drawing you closer to the farmhouse and whatever waited beyond. There was no room for hesitation now; you could only hope that the plan would hold, and that you’d find your people alive.

You dismounted and quickly tied the horses out of sight, then followed Tommy and Joel on foot, moving silently under the cover of the trees. As you approached the farmhouse, the three of you ducked low, creeping closer to the building’s side.

“Jesus Christ,” Tommy breathed, his voice barely a whisper as he peered inside through a crack in the boarded-up window. You crouched beside him, your pulse thundering in your ears, and saw what had caused his reaction.

The familiar sight of your men lay before you—bound and bloodied, their faces pale and bruised. The dim light inside the farmhouse revealed them slumped against the wall, barely conscious, while armed figures paced nearby, rifles slung over their shoulders. Your heart clenched at the sight, a mix of dread and anger surging through you.

Tommy turned to you and Joel, his expression grim. “Alright, here’s the plan,” he whispered, his eyes darting back to the captured men inside. “We split up. Joel, you head around back and take out the guard by the barn. You,” he nodded to you, “stay here and keep an eye on the entrance. If anyone makes a move, you take the shot. I’ll go in through that side door, see if I can get to our guys and cut them loose.”

Joel gave a curt nod, his jaw clenched tight. “Be quick about it,” he said, already shifting towards the barn.

Here's a revised version to heighten the build-up and emphasize the tension:

Tommy glanced at you, his voice low and urgent. “Don’t engage unless you have to,” he warned, his gaze flickering to the farmhouse. “We need the element of surprise.”

You swallowed hard, your throat dry, and nodded. The air felt thick, almost suffocating, as you positioned yourself by the corner of the building. Every breath seemed louder than it should have been, and the seconds stretched into what felt like an eternity. You watched Joel vanish around the back, his silhouette blending into the shadows, while Tommy crept toward the side door, his steps deliberate and noiseless.

You gripped your rifle tighter, the slickness of sweat coating your palms. The plan seemed simple enough, but as the silence dragged on, a chill of doubt began to coil in your chest. What if this was a trap? What if they were waiting for you?

Just as Tommy reached for the door, a sudden crash exploded from inside the farmhouse, followed by the chaotic sound of shouts. Your pulse surged, panic seizing your chest as you saw a figure lunge toward the entrance, rifle raised. Instinct took over—you swung your weapon up, finger tightening on the trigger, and fired. The crack of the shot shattered the silence, and the man crumpled to the ground, but the noise had blown your cover.

The night erupted in chaos. Shouts filled the air, followed by the staccato of gunfire. Two figures burst from the back of the barn, weapons blazing. You fired again, catching one of them in the chest, but the other dove behind a stack of crates, unloading his clip in your direction. You pressed yourself against the wall, heart pounding in your ears as bullets tore through the wooden boards just inches from your head.

But then everything went terribly wrong. As you fended off one of the advancing men, swinging your rifle like a club to knock him off balance, you didn’t notice the other sneaking up behind you until it was too late.

A cold blade pressed against your throat, the sharp edge biting into your skin just enough to draw a thin line of blood. Panic surged through you as you froze, your pulse hammering in your ears.

“Drop your gun!” the voice snarled, his breath hot and foul against your ear, his arm clamped around your waist, trapping you against his chest.

In an instant, Joel whirled around, his gun snapping up, aiming squarely at the raider's head. His eyes were wide, and you could see the fear flashing there, a stark contrast to the deadly calm in his voice. His heart must have been pounding in his chest as fiercely as yours, but his grip on the gun remained steady.

“Let her go,” he growled, the roughness in his voice betraying a hint of desperation, sounding more like a plea than a command. His gaze burned with an intensity that could cut through steel, and you caught the subtle movement of his finger inching closer to the trigger. The tension in his stance was palpable, like a coiled spring ready to snap.

The man sneered, the cold steel of the blade biting into your skin as he pressed it harder against your throat, a sharp sting radiating out from where the edge threatened to break the surface. “What’s the matter? She your girlfriend or somethin’?” he taunted, his breath hot and foul against your ear. His gaze drifted over you with a lewd grin that made your skin crawl, a sickening wave of revulsion twisting in your gut. “She’s a pretty one… bet she’d be real nice to take for a spin.” His voice dropped to a menacing murmur. “Maybe I’ll do you a favor and—”

“Don’t,” Joel cut him off, the word like a whip crack in the night, edged with a barely restrained fury. His voice was a dangerous growl, but you could see it—the hesitation flickering behind his eyes. He couldn’t shoot. Not like this. The risk of hitting you was too great, and the weight of that possibility hung heavy in the air.

"Joel, it's okay," you began, reaching out to reassure him. But before the words could leave your lips, a sudden, searing pain shot through Joel’s leg. One of the other men had crept up from behind, driving a knife deep into his thigh and twisting it viciously. Joel cried out, collapsing to one knee as the world blurred around him. He tried to raise his weapon, but the agony ripped through him, and his grip slackened, the gun slipping from his fingers. His strength was ebbing fast, and darkness crept in at the edges of his vision.

“Joel!” you screamed, your voice raw with panic as you struggled against the hold of the raider dragging you away. You kicked and twisted, desperate to break free, but it was no use. The grip around your arms tightened, pulling you backward as the chaos of the moment swallowed you whole.

The last thing you saw before everything went black was Joel crumpling to the ground, blood spreading like a dark stain beneath him, his eyes flickering shut as he lost consciousness. Then the darkness took you, too.

•••

Joel awoke sometime later, his clothes clinging to him, soaked with sweat and blood, his skin clammy and pale. The cold, uneven ground pressed against his back, and a dull, throbbing pain pulsed from his leg, radiating up his spine. His head pounded as he struggled to piece together where he was, each breath ragged and shallow.

Through the haze of confusion, a voice broke through—Tommy’s. Joel blinked, his vision swimming as he saw his brother crouched beside him, his hands stained red as he frantically wrapped a torn piece of cloth around Joel’s leg, desperately trying to staunch the bleeding.

“Tommy…” Joel’s voice was barely more than a rasp, rough and broken. He tried to push himself up, but his strength failed him, and he collapsed back onto the ground, his pulse racing with a sickening dread. “Where is she?” The words escaped in a desperate whisper, as if they were being torn from his chest. He didn’t need to say your name; the urgency in his voice made it painfully clear who he was asking about.

Tommy’s face was a mask of grim resolve, but his eyes betrayed the pain lurking just beneath the surface. The set of his jaw tightened, his gaze flickering away from Joel’s as though he couldn’t bear to look him in the eye. “They took her,” he murmured, his voice rough and edged with a helpless anger. “I couldn’t—I couldn’t get to her in time.”

The words slammed into Joel like a blow, the breath leaving his lungs in a ragged gasp. For a moment, everything else seemed to fall away—the throbbing in his leg, the cold chill of the air—it all became secondary to the suffocating realization that you were gone. Taken. His stomach twisted with a raw, gnawing fear that was almost unbearable, and a cold sweat broke out across his skin.

“I have to find her,” Joel choked out, his voice splintering with a desperation he couldn’t contain. He tried to push himself up again, his hands trembling as he braced against the ground, but the agony in his leg sent a white-hot burst of pain through him, forcing him back down.

Tommy placed a firm hand on Joel’s shoulder, his grip steady but trembling slightly from the adrenaline coursing through him. His voice was low and urgent. “You can’t move, Joel. You’re losing too much blood.” His fingers tightened, pressing down as if to keep Joel anchored in place. “If we don’t get that leg treated, you’re not gonna make it.”

“I don’t care,” Joel growled, his voice fierce despite the weakness seeping into his limbs. His chest heaved with the effort to draw breath, each inhale laced with panic and fury. “I’m not leaving her out there with them. I’m not—” His voice cracked, the weight of his own helplessness crashing down around him.

But Joel's mind was already spiraling, his worst nightmare unfolding right before his eyes. This was why he’d kept you at arm’s length—why he’d pushed you away with harsh words and cold distance. He’d done it because he couldn’t bear the thought of losing you, of failing to protect you when it mattered most. And now, despite everything he’d done to keep you away, the very thing he feared was happening.

Regret twisted in his gut, more excruciating than the searing pain in his leg, as the truth crashed over him: keeping you at a distance hadn’t saved you. It hadn’t saved either of you. Because now, you were out there—alone, vulnerable, and for all he knew, lost forever. The thought tore him apart, knowing you might never hear the words he’d kept buried deep, the truth behind every harsh word and cold gesture.

He wanted to hold you in his arms, to tell you everything—about Sarah, about Tess, names he couldn’t utter without his insides twisting painfully, without feeling the weight of all that he’d failed to protect. He wanted you to understand how the scars of his past had shaped the man he was, and why he’d been so terrified of letting you in. But more than anything, he wanted to promise you, right there in that moment, that he would never lose you. That if he could just get to you, he’d fight with every last breath to keep you safe.

•••

When you came to, the world felt cold and unforgiving. The rough texture of rope dug painfully into your wrists, and the taste of cloth filled your mouth, stifling your breath and choking off any cry for help. Your hands and ankles were bound tight, leaving you utterly helpless, and each small movement only seemed to tighten the knots, rubbing your skin raw as you struggled in vain.

Then, the pain slammed into you—sharp and all-consuming. As you glanced down, you saw the unnatural angle of your leg; it was unmistakably shattered. The sight made your stomach twist, and the agony radiating from the broken bone was so intense it seemed to pulse through every nerve, setting your whole body alight with a searing, relentless pain that left you gasping for air.

The dimly lit room reeked of damp wood, sweat, and something sour that twisted your stomach. The rough-hewn walls around you suggested this wasn’t a makeshift hideout—it was an old cabin, likely seized by the raiders as a base. The faint light filtering through a cracked window was just enough to cast long, menacing shadows that seemed to close in on you.

You could hear them outside, talking in low, guttural voices. Their laughter was harsh and cruel, mingled with lewd comments that made your skin crawl.

“She’ll fetch a good price,” one of them drawled, his voice raspy and bitter, like gravel scraping against metal.

“Not sure I wanna sell her just yet,” another one added with a twisted chuckle. “Could have some fun first.”

Their words pierced through you like ice, chilling you to the bone. Panic clawed at your throat, and you bit down hard on the gag to stifle a sob, tears burning at the corners of your eyes. You forced yourself to breathe slowly, fighting the wave of dread that threatened to overwhelm you. There had to be a way out—there had to be—but as you tested the bindings, they only seemed to tighten, the rope digging deeper into your skin.

You were trapped, surrounded by men who saw you as nothing more than an object, a bargaining chip, or worse. The reality of your situation crashed over you, heavy and suffocating. All you could do was lie there, helpless, and wait. Wait and hope.

In the back of your mind, a tiny flicker of hope struggled to stay alive, like a candle flame sputtering in the dark. It was irrational, fragile, but you clung to it desperately. You didn’t know if it was because you believed Joel would come for you, or if it was because the thought of never seeing him again without knowing how he really felt was too unbearable. The last real words between you hung in the air, unresolved and sharp, a bitter reminder of everything you hadn’t said.

The memory of Joel’s fierce gaze, the raw desperation in his voice when he had called your name, played over and over in your mind. You didn’t know if he was hurt, or if he was even alive. But the thought of him out there, somewhere, fighting his way to you, was the only thing keeping that flicker of hope alive. It trembled and threatened to die out, but it persisted, just as you did, lying there in the dark, bound and helpless.

You swallowed against the gag, forcing the tears back, and stared at the crack of light in the cabin’s wall. You didn’t know if rescue was coming, but if there was even the smallest chance, you had to hold on. You had to believe that somewhere, out in the night, someone was coming for you. Because if you didn’t hold onto that hope, the darkness would swallow you whole.

•••

The night was pitch-black as Tommy and Joel reached the outskirts of the cabin. They had followed a grim trail—blood droplets and trampled footprints in the mud—that led them deeper into the woods, the sight of it all turning Joel’s stomach with a sickening dread. Each step brought a mounting urgency that tightened around his chest like a noose, pulling tighter with every breath. Time stretched unbearably; each passing minute felt like an hour, and every crack of a branch underfoot was a cruel taunt from the darkness, as if mocking their desperation.

The cabin loomed ahead, its silhouette jagged and menacing against the night sky. Joel’s pulse hammered in his ears, the sound blending with the whispering wind as it rustled through the trees. His focus narrowed to a single, driving need: to find you and get you out alive. He could feel the weight of that need pressing down on him, pushing him forward even as his body screamed from exhaustion and pain. Nothing else mattered. Not the throbbing agony in his leg, not the icy chill seeping into his bones—only the thought of you, somewhere inside that cabin, waiting to be saved.

The pain in his leg throbbed with every step, searing up through his thigh and making his movements stiff and uneven. His face was pale and clammy from blood loss, sweat trickling down his temples, but he ignored it, gritting his teeth against the pain. Tommy had tried to convince him to turn back, to get medical help before it was too late, but Joel had barely listened. Nothing short of being dragged unconscious would have kept him from coming after you.

“Joel, you’re in no shape to do this,” Tommy whispered harshly, grabbing his arm as Joel stumbled over a root. “You can barely walk.”

“Don’t matter,” Joel growled, jerking his arm free. His voice was hoarse, raw with a desperation he couldn’t disguise. “I’m not leaving her.” His eyes burned with a fierce determination, a reckless glint that bordered on madness. It wasn’t just the thought of you in danger that drove him—it was the thought of failing you, of being too late. The idea of losing you tightened in his chest like a vice, suffocating and unrelenting.

Tommy shot him a worried glance, his jaw clenched. “Alright,” he conceded reluctantly, “but we’ve got to do this smart. We go in quiet, no mistakes.”

Joel nodded, his grip tightening on the handle of his knife as they crept closer to the cabin. The faint murmur of voices drifted through the still night air, each muffled word stoking the fire that burned deep in his chest. His hands trembled—not from the cold breeze or the blood loss, but from the sheer, uncontrollable fury that coursed through him, mingled with a fear so deep it threatened to tear him apart. He forced himself to focus, to push down the panic rising inside him. He couldn’t afford to think about what might be happening to you in that cabin. He had to believe you were still alive, still fighting—because the alternative was unthinkable.

Guilt gnawed at him, the weight of his own words echoing in his mind. This was his plan. If you were hurt—or worse—it would be his fault. The things he'd said, the way he'd pushed you away, only made the guilt press harder against his chest.

But there wasn’t time to drown in that regret. Not now.

Shoving those thoughts aside, Joel clung to one truth: he would tear through anyone standing between him and you. There was no room for doubt, no space for hesitation.

As they neared the cabin, Joel crouched low, his breaths coming fast and shallow. The voices were clearer now—gruff, laughing, too casual, as though this was just another night for them. The sound of it made his skin crawl, and a cold rage swept over him. He edged closer, peering through a narrow gap in the boarded-up window.

Tommy laid a steadying hand on Joel’s shoulder, grounding him, pulling him back from the edge. “Looks like there’s six of them,” he whispered, his voice low and urgent. “Three each. Can’t see her—they must have her deeper inside. And who knows, there might be more.”

Joel gave a tight nod, his jaw clenched so hard it sent a dull ache up to his temples. The muscles in his neck tightened, his pulse a relentless drumbeat as his gaze shifted back toward the cabin. Even without seeing you, he could picture you in there—vulnerable, surrounded by danger. The image ignited something primal and ferocious inside him, a raw need that burned hotter than the pain tearing through his leg or the exhaustion weighing down his limbs.

It wasn’t just the instinct to protect; it was a deeper, darker desperation—a refusal to let anything happen to you, to let anyone touch you or harm you. The thought of you in the hands of those men made his blood boil and his vision blur with a barely restrained fury. There was no room for hesitation, no space for anything but the resolve to get to you, to tear apart anyone who stood in his way.

He whispered a silent promise to you there in the darkness—I’m coming for you. Just hold on. I won’t fail you like I did them.

Joel took a breath to steady himself, the burn of his leg wound fading into the background as the raw determination surged through him. With a final nod to Tommy, they moved like shadows, slipping around opposite sides of the cabin. The night was silent but for the faint murmur of voices inside—voices that would soon be silenced.

Tommy signaled from the far side, his fingers held up in a countdown. Three, two, one—

They burst through the doors simultaneously, weapons raised. Joel’s first shot hit the nearest raider square in the chest, dropping him before he even had a chance to react. The others spun around, scrambling for cover, but Joel was already moving, firing with ruthless precision. The cabin erupted in chaos, gunfire cracking through the air, splintering wood and shattering glass.

A raider lunged at Joel with a knife, and he met the attack with a vicious swing of his own blade, slashing across the man’s throat before shoving him to the ground. Blood splattered his hands, but he didn’t flinch—didn’t even slow.

“Joel!” Tommy’s voice called from the other side of the room as he grappled with a raider, slamming the man’s head against the wall until he went limp. “I think she’s in there!” He pointed toward a heavy wooden door at the back of the cabin, reinforced with a rusted padlock.

Joel's heart pounded as he shoved his way past the last raider, slamming him against a wooden beam before rushing to the door. He fired a round into the lock, the metal shattering as the door swung open.

The sight before him made Joel’s blood run cold. There you were, lying on the floor, bound and gagged, your face pale and streaked with blood. Your leg was twisted at an unnatural angle, the bone jutting grotesquely beneath the skin—a broken, mangled mess. The sheer fragility of you in that moment, so helpless and shattered, knocked the breath from his lungs and sent a cold terror coursing through him.

“Jesus Christ…” Joel breathed, rushing to your side and dropping to his knees. His hands trembled violently as he fumbled to cut the ropes binding your wrists and ankles. His movements were frantic, desperate, and when the last knot fell away, he ripped the gag from your mouth, tossing it aside like it had burned him.

“Hey, hey, it’s me,” he whispered, his voice rough and ragged, trembling as he reached for you. He cradled your face in his hands, his thumbs brushing over the grime and blood on your cheeks. “You’re okay now. I’m here. I’m not leaving you.” But the words felt hollow, even to him.

How could he say you were okay when you looked so broken, when your body was crumpled like a discarded doll?

Your eyes fluttered open, dazed and unfocused, and a soft, pained moan escaped your lips. The sound tore at Joel’s chest, and for a moment, the world seemed to tilt, narrowing to the hollow ache in your voice. He could feel the panic clawing at the edges of his composure, but he forced himself to stay steady, his hands cupping your face as though he could will some of his strength into you.

“You’re gonna be alright,” he murmured, the words barely holding together as he stroked your hair. “I’m gonna get you out of here.” But there was a crack in his voice, a desperation that slipped through despite his best efforts. He couldn’t stop looking at the jagged break in your leg, the sight of it making his gut twist with guilt.

I should’ve been here sooner. I should’ve protected her.

He tore his gaze away from you just long enough to shout over his shoulder, “Tommy! We need to get outta here, now!” His voice was raw, urgent, echoing through the cabin like a desperate plea. He looked back at you, and his eyes held a fierce, unspoken promise. “Just hold on for me, alright? Stay with me.”

But he could see you slipping—the way your eyelids fluttered, struggling to stay open, the life in your gaze dimming with each passing second. Panic clawed at his chest as he reached for you, as if his touch alone could keep you tethered to him.

Tommy’s footsteps pounded closer, his voice tight with concern as he entered the room. “Jesus, Joel, she’s in bad shape. We need to move now.”

Joel nodded, his jaw clenched with grim determination. “I know. Help me lift her,” he said, his voice barely steady. His hands were gentle but firm as he slid them beneath you, his touch trembling with the effort to keep his emotions in check. “We’re gonna get you somewhere safe,” he murmured, his voice breaking slightly. “I’ve got you, baby.”

The word slipped out, raw and unguarded, a reflex that seemed to rise from some deep, unspoken part of him. It hung in the air for a moment, catching Joel off guard even as it left his lips. He didn’t dare look at Tommy, but he felt his brother’s gaze shift, a flicker of surprise that didn’t go unnoticed.

But Joel didn’t care. The word was out there now, and it carried with it a truth he couldn’t take back—a truth that had lingered in the space between you for far too long. His grip on you tightened, his breath hitching as he looked down at you, his expression fierce with a mix of tenderness and desperation. “I’ve got you,” he repeated, his voice thick with emotion. “I got you, darlin’. I promise.”

And as he and Tommy lifted you, Joel’s heart hammered in his chest, the realization settling in with a weight that was both terrifying and undeniable. He had called you baby—and, deep down, he knew he had meant it.

You couldn’t speak; you could only manage a weak nod, the effort draining what little strength you had left. Your throat felt parched, each breath rasping in your chest, and the pain in your leg was a deep, throbbing agony that made it hard to think, hard to even breathe.

Joel’s gaze dropped to your leg, and his stomach clenched at the sight. The bone was badly broken, a jagged protrusion pressing against your skin, and blood had pooled beneath you, soaking into the floorboards. Your skin was cold and clammy to the touch, a chill that seemed to seep into his bones as he realized the full extent of your injuries. He’d have to be careful—one wrong move could make everything so much worse.

“Easy, now,” Joel murmured, his voice low and strained as he and Tommy prepared to lift you. He slid his arms beneath your shoulders, supporting your upper body while Tommy carefully took hold of your legs. The instant they moved you, a sharp cry of pain escaped your lips, and Joel’s heart cracked at the sound, a deep ache settling in his chest.

“I know, I know,” he whispered, his jaw clenched so tightly it hurt. “I’m sorry, darlin’. We’re gonna get you out of here. Just hold on for me.” His voice was rough with emotion, each word like a plea.

As they stumbled back through the forest, Joel felt his strength waning, the pain in his leg growing sharper with every step, but he didn’t stop. He couldn’t. He would carry you all the way back to Jackson if that’s what it took.

Tommy’s words echoed in the darkness, but Joel barely heard them; he was too focused on you, on the way your body felt so small and fragile in his arms. It wasn’t lost on Tommy—the desperation in Joel's voice, the raw fear etched across his face. It reminded him of a time long ago, a grief and terror that Joel had carried through the years. And now, as they pushed forward, stumbling over roots and through the underbrush, Tommy saw that same haunted look in his brother’s eyes, the kind that spoke of loss too deep to name.

"Stay with me, darlin’," Joel whispered, the words coming out like a plea as he felt your head loll weakly against his chest. It wasn’t just a command—it was a desperate promise, a vow that he would get you to safety no matter what. Each step through the forest felt like a mile, and the sharp pang in his leg was nothing compared to the fear twisting in his gut.

By the time they reached Jackson, you were barely conscious, slipping in and out of awareness. Your breathing was shallow, your skin clammy to the touch, and Joel had to grit his teeth to keep his own body upright as they carried you into the clinic. The warm glow of the lights felt harsh against the night’s darkness, and the doctor rushed in, barking orders and asking questions, the chaos swallowing him whole.

But even as the people swarmed around you, Joel refused to let go of your hand. He stayed by your side, gripping your fingers tightly as though you might slip away if he loosened his hold for even a second. When Tommy tried to pull him aside, insisting that Joel get his own wound looked at, he shook his head fiercely. “I’m not leavin’ her Tommy,” he said, his voice rough with exhaustion and emotion. “Not for a damn second.”

Tommy didn’t argue. He had seen the look in Joel’s eyes, the raw desperation and guilt that burned there—a reflection of a promise too deep to break. So he stayed silent, watching his brother hold onto you like you were the only thing anchoring him to the world, knowing full well that in some ways, you were.

Tag List:

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[lovelettersforthedamned]

headcannons of having a heated argument with peter please

(500 im still so proud of you!!!!)

word count: 0.4k

warnings: language, mentions of yelling and arguing (duh), a few pecks, crying, peter is guilty for being a little beeyatch.

gif by @lexiresources

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

main m.list ⋆ peter p m.list ⋆ five-hundred follower bash

✮ late nights of saving the city paired with the added stress of work causes peter’s temper to teeter on the edge of a full-blown screaming match. and add an off day coming from you, the two of you aren’t exactly seeing eye to eye. 

✮ it starts with a few sassy remarks from your boyfriend which causes you to raise an eyebrow at his tone. you chose to push it aside at first, blaming it on yourself; maybe i just heard him wrong? 

✮ but when it happens again when you ask him a simple question about groceries, you don’t back off this time.

✮ sure, maybe you could’ve been nicer in the way you asked what the fuck his problem was, but that’s for another time. 

✮ next thing you know, he’s throwing his arms out in frustration as his hands are moving swiftly as he speaks. and suddenly, a conversation about groceries has become a yelling match about everything.

✮ as hard as you try to keep them at bay, tears creep into your waterline while your throat starts to tighten with each word. 

✮ peter can see you fighting off your emotions as you try to keep it together. with each tear that spills over your cheeks, his anger and frustration begin to deplete until all he feels is regret for being the reason why you’re crying. his only priority is to take care of you. 

✮ you can feel peter’s embrace before you see it, your tears clouding your vision. faint whispers of ‘i’m sorry’ are flooding your senses. and though you usually crave his touch, right now though, it was all too much. you sob into his chest, and in response, he pulls you in impossibly tighter. 

✮ you guys will talk about this in the morning, so when you look over at the clock for the time, you feel the night's exhaustion weigh on you. 

✮ for the rest of the night, peter lays next to you, but he’s wide awake. he doesn’t go out that night, guilt eating at his conscience. peppering little kisses on your skin, you doze off into a dreamless sleep, awaiting the conversation to happen when you wake. 

⋆ author's note: another yummy ask omg. thank you guys for being so patient with me during this bash!! i still love writing, i just have been so busy. don't forget to like, comment, and reblog to support me!! and come join my bash and send a headcannon ask!! ok, bye ily!!!

[inkofthebrain]

Hey I was wondering if you still take requests for lee from bones and all. If you do can you do one where reader is a non eater but travels with Lee and Maren (maybe they're in a relationship with Lee Maren as well if you're comfortable) and when they meet brad and jake , Jake says something ( maybe insinuating that he wants to eat her) and they get protective especially lee. If you don't want to write or don't feel comfortable it's ok. Thank you! Have a good day/night!

FOUNDERS’ BLUES

[Lee x Reader oneshot] 623 words

Tags: No y/n, non-eater Reader, lee being protective, no Maren (sorry bae ily)

Warnings: Bones and all typical shit. Mentions of abuse and parental addiction.

A/n: I made this a song fic and idk how I feel about it. Anyway song if from a deleted scene with those mf hillbillies. Enjoy <3

———

———

Beat and bloody, walking along the steaming asphalt of the highway in the peak of summer. Your feet were walked bare and you could feel your pulse behind every cut and bruise.

That was when Lee found you; “all bloody and beautiful.” You had taken enough beatings from your addict parents and when they brought you close to death, you knew it was either that or life on the road.

He took you to a nearby diner to fill your stomach before he started pressing you with questions. You couldn’t hold it in, you told him everything.

He had gotten you a motel for a few nights so you could recover. At first you thought his actions were due to his sincere concern, but when he had snuck into the motel room he booked for you covered in blood; you soon learnt the truth.

I run the roads 'cause I know best.

Leave the highway for to get my rest.

Sleeping o'er the meeting house and dream of who tastes best.

Your parents were declared missing by none other than their drug dealer a few days later. Lee thought you would have hated him, he had only snuck in to take advantage of the shower, but when he said,

“They’re gone.” you just hugged him.

I come to town and I know best.

I greet the day on my two legs.

More months than you could count on your hands had passed and you and Lee had gotten extremely close; physically, emotionally, on every level.

Slide my arms inside these red and grey tails.

Push the window open, find the reverend up and dressed.

I fear the Lord, but I know best.

You and him had ran into another duo, two hillbillies in the woods; Brad, the eater, and Jake, a wanna-be eater. What a gruesome pair.

I clean the floor and stay a day.

Slip in your room, lay my hands on your frame Daughter come and die for me, protesting less and less.

Close your eyes, I'll do the rest.

“You’ve got a sweet one there, dontcha’ Lee?” Brad’s cadence on sweet made chills run down your spine. You, as calmly as you could, gave Lee’s arm a squeeze and he gave you a knowing look.

Midnight comes and it's the best.

Stare the stars at me, the moon to ingest,

“What do you mean by that man?” Lee barked.

“Oh come on, don’t tell me you’ve never thought of it!” Lee sat up and scooted a little in front of you, ready to jump at the creep at any second.

“You are crossing a line man” Lee threatened.

The smile he had on his face when he noticed was sickening, you wondered if he was always this off-putting.

You leaned in and asked Lee if it was time to go and he gave you a subtle nod.

Leave the untold buried in a sack where no one guessed,

and take the ride that runs the best.

You got up and quickly walked to the car until you heard Lee yell, “RUN!”

Your head snapped back and you saw Lee running right behind you, the hillbillies on his tail.

You threw open the truck door and slid to the driver's seat, leaving the door open for Lee.

“KEYS!” You yelled, Lee was one step ahead of you and threw the keys in the bay of the truck.

As you threw your arm down to grab them, Lee jumped in the truck and you started it. You drove off and watched the two men run behind the truck.

I'll take the ride that runs the best

I'll take the ride that runs the best

I take the ride that runs the best.

[jakeyt]

Covet: Chapter 8 (Part 2.2 of 2)

PART 1 OF PART 2

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+); smut (!!); angst; substance use (marijuana); unprotected sex (p in v); CONSENSUAL sex (p in v) under the influence of marijuana; jealousy; negative self-talk; oral sex (f! receiving); anxiety; intense feelings of sadness; abandonment issues (as usual, PLEASE lmk if i missed anything that is triggering to you!)

Chapter Word Count: 21.3k (i’m very very sorry)

a/n: CLIMAX TIME! woooo!! i’m sorry for another mf 2 parter… thanks to tumblr’s fucking paragraph limit (*screams*)🫠. the entire chapter is 43k words long (didn’t mean to do that—sorry 🥲), so this is almost exactly half of it. BUT, never fear, I will be posting part 2 to this tomorrow, as it is COMPLETE and ready to go… but we’ve gotta keep up the anticipation, right? lol <3

please heed the warnings. there is some sex under the influence in this chap, and although it’s COMPLETELY CONSENSUAL, I know some may not like that (we are all different and that’s ok!).

HUGE thank u to my girls @joshym & @alwaysonthemend for putting up w me all the mf time and being dope ass beta readers and friends and agghhh... you two are the realest aaaand ilysm 😭

one more thank u to @welightthefire for being the most beautiful, incredible source for an upcoming situation in reader’s life. ily <333

Please enjoy the playlist as you read 🖤

enjoy!

-🌼🌼🌼-

August 17, 2022

You did your best to ignore the vibrating phone in your back pocket. 

Text after text kept coming in, begging you to check.

You knew who it was. With the way you heard every other brother’s voice except for his from the living room (or kitchen, wherever they were) and how desperate he’d been for you to not find out. 

But, instead of giving in, you just stared at yourself in the mirror, willing the ridiculous tears pooling in your eyes to stay at bay. It would be pointless to start fucking crying. There would be zero sense in crying over this. There was no relationship to fall apart after finding out about this. 

You hadn’t been cheated on.

So why did it feel like you had?

Because you’re a fuckass with your emotions, y/n, the lovely voice in your head told you. You need to learn how to be a stable adult before anything else. Things need to end. None of this is fair to Jake or his budding career, either. Do better.

Fuck. You didn’t want to end things with him. 

But you knew it was right to get out of it before you became any more entangled. You knew going in, that what you had wasn’t meant to last anyway. Being with Jake–fucking him–it was just a temporary thing. 

It wasn’t going anywhere. This was a short season. A blip in time. An indulgence. 

Nothing more. 

But it fucking hurt to be honest with yourself about that. 

Fuck. Stupid.

Jake had done a fantastic job at maintaining the agreement. All he’d done was be a good friend– someone to fuck around with. That was all he was and all he’d done for you. He had not broken any boundaries or any of your ridiculous rules.

The one who had let all of that fall to the wayside had been you. 

So you didn’t want to look at the texts. Didn’t want to see him apologizing for something that he didn’t have to explain himself out of. 

As tears ended up falling down your cheeks (because no matter how hard you tried to get them to stop, there was no stopping them), you realized that you were the only one to blame for the way you were feeling. You’d let him become your safe place. Your anchor. The person you longed to be around (and with) most. . . 

You realized that, most of all, you were angry. Angry with yourself. It would be stupid to be upset with him. He’d done nothing wrong.

If he was fucking her, that wasn’t any of your business. Like you kept reminding yourself, there was no relationship, and he was allowed to do whatever he wanted with other women. And it was definitely not his responsibility to explain anything – make you feel better for something that was your own fault.

You’d let yourself get too attached. Plain and simple. 

It wasn’t Jake’s fault that you’d put your guard down enough to feel so jarred and shocked by this revelation. This was on you. And you weren’t sure if you should apologize to him or just start separating yourself from the situation.

Start separating yourself from him. 

And fuck, there were the tears again.

You got some toilet paper to wipe your face, and took deep breaths. As you were measuring your breaths, you cleaned up the mascara that’d made a mess under your eyes. 

When you had these stupid crying fits, if you could find the strength to do it, it'd always helped you to focus on something that brought you pure joy. But, unfortunately, you’d put yourself in a bit of a hard place at the moment. 

Because the thing—the person—who brought you the most joy in your life currently was the same one you were crying over. 

The only other thing you could think of was your cat. 

Stevie. Who’d, thankfully, followed you into the bathroom, trotting behind you as she’d probably sensed that you needed her. She was a damn smart cat. 

So, you sat on the edge of the tub to pet her where she sat on the toilet seat. You were super fucking grateful for the little fluff ball. Her icy blue eyes found your crying ones, so she leaned her head in your direction, signaling for you to pet her. Then, she started purring, which brought the sort of serene calm that only a cat’s purr could. The vibration from her body to yours was bringing you back down to earth, reassuring you.

Then, as you were petting her, you felt your stomach pinch and twist in a way that usually signaled your least favorite, bloody aunt. 

Of course.

As you sat to pee and assess the cramps, you thought about it all, glancing at Stevie’s sweet face as she now sat across from you on the ground, licking at her paws. Things would be okay. They would. This situation with Jake wasn’t as serious as you were making it out to be.

Right?

You just weren’t fucking ready for the way it was undoubtedly going to hurt first, in order to be okay in the end.

After peeing, you lifted the toilet paper to see if you were truly that unlucky. And, you were met with what you already knew to be true: you were on your motherfucking period. 

Your life was going just great.

-🌼🌼🌼-

You’d thought it best to head to bed early, claiming that your terrible cramping stomach was causing you pain. (It was true– your period was good for something, at least. . . get you out of the room that had been suffocating you all night.)

All of the boys had seemed a little down about you leaving so soon, but you just bid them all goodnight and blew kisses in all of their directions. You were trying very hard to just act like your normal self. It was time to come back to fucking earth.

You had purposefully ignored Jake. You hadn’t looked at him at all after coming out of the bathroom, and your pocket buzzed with texts a couple times. But you kept it hidden in your back pocket.

When you’d gotten to your bedroom, you’d taken a Midol, willing the cramps to stay at bay. And when they started fading, you decided to try to sleep.

But all you did was lay there, staring at the ceiling.  

You could hear the boys talking in the living room. All about their upcoming festival that coming weekend. You were longing to be out there with them, but you just let yourself lay in your bed and listen to the little pieces of what you could hear through the door.

A lot of talking from the three that didn’t live with you occurred (well, mostly Sam and Josh), but Jake stayed oddly quiet. He was always one to jump in on music talk— especially if it had to do with the music he was making.

Every now and then you’d hear his input, but it happened very little.

You’d almost fallen asleep when you heard two hushed, familiar voices talking outside of the bathroom, which sat right next to your bedroom door. Through the blurriness of your opening eyes, you looked at the door through which you heard them.

It was Josh’s you heard first. 

“What is going on?” 

Then, Jake.

“What do you mean?”

A little huff-growl came from the charismatic mouth of the curly-headed twin. “You’ve gotta be fuckin’ kidding me, Jacob.”

When you heard Josh’s little growl through the thick wood of the door, it was a little funny. He was always so fucking dramatic, and you loved that about him. But it was simultaneously why you were scared as hell for him to ever find out about you and Jake. So, through the door, you willed Jake to play it cool. 

Quit wearing your emotions on your fucking sleeve, Jake, you thought, annoyed. There’s literally no reason for you to be upset. 

“I’m not,” Jake persisted, his voice stern enough to convince someone who wasn’t you (or his twin). “I’m just worn the fuck out.”

The last part sounded real, though. You could sense the slight weariness in his tone. Were you wearing him out?

“Is it Maya?” Josh questioned. “You got all up in arms when Sam brought her up. Are you still seeing her? I was honestly convinced you weren’t.”

Huh? Surely Josh would know if Jake was still fucking her. . . And if he didn’t know, surely it wasn’t happening. . .

The hope that momentarily rose in your chest was embarrassing. 

Because, just as soon as it was there, you were reality-checking yourself.

Josh also had no clue about the two of you, so. . .

Maybe Jake was just doing a stellar job at blocking some of the telepathic wavelength they normally shared. Fuck if you knew. 

“I guess you could say part of it is her,” Jake responded. “Saw her the other day, you know.” 

“Oh?” Josh wondered. “I thought you couldn’t date clients.”

“We’re not dating.”

“You’re involved.”

“I guess,” Jake said, relenting. 

Fuck.

“What do you mean you guess?” Josh challenged. “Are you or aren’t you?”

“It’s more complicated than that, Josh.”

Complicated? Goddammit. How had you been so oblivious to him being in a complicated arrangement with another woman?

“No it’s fucking not.”

“Yes it is,” your roommate insisted. 

And there he was, getting sensitive in reference to this woman, yet again.

“Jesus fuck,” Josh exasperated. “Whatever it is, you need to pull your shit together. Get it figured out because it’s clearly a touchy subject. And you and I both know now is not the time to get all up in arms with Sam about something like this.”

“I know,” Jake conceded. You envisioned him nudging at his nose with his pointer finger, shaking his head to himself. You’d spent so much time recently watching his reactions to things. . . you were becoming a pro at his mannerisms (when you definitely shouldn’t be).

“Now is not the time to be getting involved with anyone— especially if it’s just a quick fuck,” Josh emphasized the last part. Your heart lodged in your throat. “You know better, Jake. And you know that now is the time to focus on yourself rather than a woman– focusing on anything besides this monumental time in your life could hurt you.”

“Monumental,” Jake scoffed. “It’s just a festival.”

“You know it’s not. God, this is what I mean!” Josh said, his voice raising a bit. When he spoke again, he was back to using a muzzled tone again. “Quit acting like that. You’ve waited your whole life for this.”

“Josh, I really don’t want to talk about this.”

“You don’t want another Amelia situation— where you become so obsessed with a woman that you move to Illi-fuckin’-nois, put yourself on the fucking back burner, and give up on the thing you love the most. Because when you do that to yourself, you do it to all of us, too.” 

Amelia? There was no question to who Josh was describing. Putting a name to his ex girlfriend was strange, to say the least. By hearing her name, she seemed more than just a figment of history. Giving her a name made her that much more real – and it made everything else feel so much more real along with it.

The reality of your situation. And you’d be damned if you were the reason he gave up his fucking dream again–you’d known it was a possibility for him to do the same with you as he’d done with her. And Josh saying all of this made you feel completely validated in all of your original fears. 

You refused to be the one that ruined everything for them– for him. 

And to be viewed in such a negative light as Amelia was to Josh. . . that fucking terrified you, too.

“How dare you fucking bring her up? This is not the same fucking thing. You know that, Josh.”

“Are you sure? Because based on how you acted when Maya was brought up, I wouldn’t be so sure.” Josh scoffed. His voice softened when he added, “Can you just fucking look out for yourself—just a little bit?” He pleaded, his voice breaking a bit. “I just don’t want to see you get hurt again. Fuck, Jake. I would just really appreciate it if you cared about yourself the way you deserve–.”

You heard another snicker from Jake. 

“Stop it,” Josh sternly stated. You heard a muffled ��ow’ from Jake. Had Josh hit him or something? Damn. “I’m tired of being the only one to care about your happiness, Jacob. You know I will continue to be here for you–always, but I need you to take this time in your career seriously. Don’t let an unstable relationship get in the way.”

In that moment, you knew that where you’d stood since the beginning in believing how important Jake’s career was had not been in vain. It was his dream—his career. . . His livelihood. It was also completely apparent that you had been correct in knowing how Josh would feel about an arrangement like the one you and his brother had going on.

The entire thing had been a foolish, selfish idea. . . 

You could slap yourself for giving into the temptation. 

Eventually, the conversation between the twins faded out. A couple of slightly dismissive “okays” from Jake and “I love yous” exchanged between the two. 

Then, you were met with the noise from the living room again. Planning, planning, planning from the four men. . .

And you were stuck in the still, quiet darkness of your room, making a plan of your own as the moon highlighted your covers and Stevie’s body curled in a peaceful, sleeping state.

Oh, how you envied your cat and her obliviousness to the stark, upsetting reality of life.

The entire interaction outside your bedroom between your best friend and the man you’d centered your life around as of late. . . 

It sealed what you knew you had to do.

-🌼🌼🌼-

August 19, 2022

You were deeply regretting being at this fucking music festival.

The busyness of everything around you was making you feel like a little bug— with fluttering wings that were about to get stomped. Ironically, your body was buzzing like an insect— from the inside out.

Your old friend, Anxiety, was along with you for the ride. Also Elsie.

And your cramps.

Thankfully, you’d waited to come until later in the day. The boys had been there all day, but you’d chosen to not go when they did, and instead wait for Elsie’s plane to get in at the airport so you could get ready, then arrive together. You were slightly shocked that she showed up on a sort of whim. But she’d been insistent on being at the festival to support Josh and witness this “big step” in his career. 

They weren’t performing until early evening anyway, so it would’ve been pointless to stand around while they busied themselves doing whatever the bands were supposed to do beforehand.

By the time the two of you had fixed yourselves up to attend and found your reserved place on the lawn, it was very nearly packed full. The security was, thankfully, super kind in accepting your VIP badges, so your anxiety didn’t flare up as bad as it could have as you made your way to the spot at the front. And having Elsie there helped a ton. 

But, combined with the mass amount of sweaty bodies and non-stop chatter and drunk singing and dancing around you, you felt your skin crawl, and as if you were about to combust from the inside out. These crowded places were not your forte, but you couldn’t pass up being at these shows. 

Elsie was right– this was a big step.

And Josh had been right when he’d told Jake it was monumental.

You’d seen the lineup. You knew who’d be performing at this festival– band names that any random person on the street would know. Not Metallica-type bands. . .not yet. But popular groups nonetheless.

Jake’s dream was coming true, and you had to be there to witness this. To experience it alongside him. While you could.

But, as you looked to your left, on the left wing of the stage, you saw them.

Her.

Her beautiful, bronzed skin on display in her black dress. Her perfectly shaped hourglass figure being complimented by the short length, and the deep V at the neckline. 

No VIP badge like yourself, but she was backstage with him. Did she arrive with him? They were talking animatedly, her hand naturally resting on his arm when she’d say something. Her boisterous laughter every time he would say something. (He is most definitely not that funny. Fucking tryhard.) Even as he tuned his guitar, she stood there. And without fail, he would glance up every now and then to add something. . . or to simply smile at her. 

It made your stomach lurch. You felt like you were going to be sick. 

And, of course, Elsie caught on. Her observatory brain catches everything.

You hadn’t seen her watching them with you, her eyes darting back and forth between you and them as you were stuck in your watchful trance. But you knew, as soon as she grabbed your tricep that she’d been tuned in to your reaction at the entire display.

“Who’s the new fling?” Elsie’s joking voice pulled you from where your stare had been placed for the last several minutes. 

Suddenly, you felt extremely on edge and defensive. Anger heated your blood to a boiling temperature.

“It’s none of our business, Elsie,” you snapped.

“Oookay,” Elsie scoffed, flipping her natural curls back behind her shoulder. She crossed her arms. “You can’t pull that shit on me. I saw you fucking watching them– making it your business. Just answer the question.”

“Bold of you to assume I even know her name,” you rolled your eyes, playing it off the best you could. 

The way she leveled you with her eyes reminded you how stupid it was to attempt hiding anything from your older sister. (Again, her observatory mind misses nothing. Even when you wish it would at times.)

You sighed, pushing a hand through your hair to wave it away from your face. Sweat was accumulating on your forehead, right at your hairline. You felt gross. “Her name is Maya.”

“Hmmm,” she hummed, squinting as she tapped her chin. “Maya. . . okay. How long?”

“Apparently since he moved here,” you replied, trying to keep the emotion from your tone. 

She gave you a look that said she knew better, but didn’t give you a hard time. (Praise God.)

“Wow,” she blew out a long breath through her lips, the color of mulled wine. “And then he fucked you midway through fucking her?”

You flinched at the wording. “Damn, crass much?”

“Shut the fuck up,” she retorted. “You talk the same exact way as me, bitch.”

“Whatever,” you said, annoyed by her, but comforted by the familiar banter. You missed her being around. . . so much. “And yes, the timeline seems to allude to that.”

“Does that upset you?”

You were glad she had the decency to pose the question. . . even though you knew she wanted to outrightly state what she already knew to be true.

“No,” you derided. “It’s just his classic asshole behavior,” the words felt wrong coming from your mouth. You knew he wasn’t an asshole. Moments in time, of him talking to you, comforting you flickered through your mind like a reel. You tried your best to cover it with another dismissive (yet truthful) response. “And, we’re not together now and we weren’t together then. He’s had every right to fuck whomever he pleased.”

“Mhm,” she grinned, still narrowing her eyes at you. But, she played along, her blue eyes catching sight of something behind you for a few seconds. “Well, however you’re feeling— I can tell you right now that he still thinks you're fine as hell.”

It was your turn to scoff, pursing your lips, painted in the same lipstick as hers. “What encouraged you to say something so asinine?”

“Not asinine,” she snarked, looking over your shoulder to the left wing again. “I’m literally currently observing this man devouring you with his eyes.”

Your skin heated, but you didn’t want to turn around. At the present moment, you didn’t know how to feel about him looking at you that way. Did you want that? Yes. Should you want that? Absolutely not.  Especially after you’d found out what had been happening behind your back for the entirety of your escapade– shit. No. Not behind your back. He hadn’t been keeping the fling a secret. He simply didn’t need to make you privy to it. There was no reason. 

In the back of your mind, you heard your obnoxious voice stating your rules for him (and now reminding yourself what had been set in place). 

“No questions or comments about dates the other one may have. It’s not our business.”

The last four words were ringing in your head, whether you wanted them to or not. Still, it made your heart sink to think that he was looking at you and Maya the same way. . .

Fuck. Don’t. Cry.

“Sis?” Elsie’s attentive voice yet again brought you out of your funk. “Talk to me.”

Your sad eyes were impossible to hide. It was getting harder and harder to fake in front of her. But still, you shook your head and mouthed a ‘no’ while also sniffling to dry up the tears.

“Okay,” she soothed, conceding for the time being. “But I’m not going to lie to you and tell you he’s not looking right at you. He hasn’t stopped fucking staring for the last several minutes.”

Truly not able to help it, you glanced over your shoulder to where you’d seen him before.

And she was completely correct. You felt the way his eyes burned against your skin, enveloping every piece of skin he could get his eyes on. 

Admittedly, there was plenty of skin for him to gape at. 

What you’d chosen to wear was pretty hot. A couple weeks ago, you’d ordered a few pieces online for the festival. Funnily enough, Jake had even given his input on some of it as you’d been leaning against him on the couch as you placed the order.

“You’re going to look so fucking sexy,” he had said. 

Those words are like a broken record playing over and over in your mind as you position yourself just so, popping your hip a bit in a way that makes your ass look really good. (If he was going to stare, why not make a little show of it?) It was a white piece that he had ultimately helped you decide on. 

(White was honestly an extremely risky move considering your current, fucking crampy situation.)

You hadn’t planned well according to your stupid ass cycle. Going off of your birth control, months prior, had thrown you ridiculously off track of your cycles.

Nevertheless, this (tiny) outfit was what you wanted to wear– what you’d gotten specifically for this occasion. So you were going to wear it, dammit. Knowing that festivals called for outfits on the more daring side, you’d gone all out in wearing as little as you possibly could.

The shirt was almost a halter top, but completely opened around your back and in the front. The only thing keeping your round breasts from being completely exposed, two pieces of fabric, connected at the neck. Although, your cleavage left little to the imagination. 

A delicate white corded rope wrapped around your body connecting the only two pieces of material that made up the entirety of the top. So, your chest was covered, but very nearly bare, nonetheless. 

Taking advantage of the exposed skin of your tummy, you opted to add a circle of sparkling rhinestones around your belly button. A little something special you planned a while ago that you hadn’t told Jake about, leaving it to be a sexy little surprise for him. 

The wrapped skirt, low-waisted and very short, made it easy to showcase the body jewelry Jake had specially picked out for you. 

You’d asked if he had any requests for the outfit since it was his event. And his only request had been to incorporate a little bit of body jewelry.

“To highlight this beautiful, magical body,” he’d said, reaching a hand around you to reach under your t-shirt. He’d traced a finger from your sternum, then below your breasts, and all the way to cross your tummy and hips. “I wanna see you sparkle underneath that bright sun.”

“And if it rains?” You’d turned, raising your brow and nudging his nose with your own.

He’d played along, and then gave the tip of yours a light peck. “You’ll still sparkle,” he’d smiled, making you feel so warm and cozy . . .

So, here you were, wearing the gold, belt-like chains that twinkled in the summer sun. 

There was one delicate chain that started as a dainty necklace at your throat, and trailed between your breasts, which accumulated in more pieces at your waist. The suns dangling from one piece added to the summertime vibe, and the other sparkly chains glistened against your skin. You’d even sprayed some sparkly body spray to add to the color of your sun-kissed, golden hue. Your makeup, lighter around the eyes, only some sparkly shadow and a slight wing to accompany your long, mascara-coated lashes. Hair in loose curls.

You’d wanted to look good for him.

And your ego was elevated by giving you his attention at the moment— even though Maya was standing there, right next to him. Albeit, she was busy talking to someone hidden behind the curtain, but his gaze was planted firmly on you. She could look up at any moment and see it. He wasn’t trying to hide the way he’d fixed his eyes on you. 

Even from where you stood, looking at him, halfway turned around. . . you could see how dark his eyes were, studying every last bit of you. You’d gotten used to seeing them darken like that. . . You were familiar with the way he was looking at you. His lids were drooping over his eyes, which raked deliciously from your white heeled boots, all the way up to where your own eyes were still watching him.

When your gazes intertwined, you felt your cheeks flare pink. Your breath caught in your throat at how he was intently poring over you. Your stomach tied in knots and your panties got wet when he bit his lip, winked at you, and subtly adjusted himself behind his guitar. 

Fuck, Jake, you licked your lips, biting your lower one softly. 

He looked hot as hell. His long, chestnut locks, flowing perfectly around his face with the occasional breeze. His black shirt, completely unbuttoned, showing you so much of his immaculate, golden chest and abdomen. Your eyes lingered on that solid abdomen— the same one that pushed just right, against you, as he would lay over you, fucking you with all he had. And his black jeans, tight against his glorious thighs.

When you saw him reach in his back pocket for his iPhone, he didn’t drag his lusty stare away until the very last second. Until he had to. Almost instantly, you felt your clear, festival-approved bag buzz against your hip. 

It was definitely embarrassing how quickly you snapped it open and looked at the text awaiting you on the screen. 

I really should turn the previews off, you thought absentmindedly, promising yourself you’d get that done soon, so as not to get caught exchanging these texts with him.

Little bit late for that, the stupid voice in your head shoved itself into your moment. It won’t even matter soon. 

But you pushed that critical voice the hell away. Just for now. 

When you opened your thread of texts, you avoided the texts from previous nights, still not wanting to read where he’d checked in on you. It was pointless to do so. And what awaited you below them was much better anyway.

Jake, 5:45 p.m.: I am rock fucking hard for you right now

Dammit.

Jake, 5:45 p.m.: how am I supposed to concentrate when you look like that in the crowd?

How am I supposed to make it through an entire performance of yours, so close to the stage? Watch you fuck your guitar and wish it was me. . .

Jake, 5:46 p.m.: One wrong move and those tits are out

Jake, 5:46 p.m.: goddamn. I need to bend you over

Fuck, Jake. Quit it. 

You squeezed your legs together, crossing them to alleviate the way you were throbbing.

Jake, 5:47 p.m.: I can’t wait to get you the fuck home after this thing is over

You squeezed your eyes shut, thinking of every bad, horrible, terrible thing you could. And when you opened them, you let out a breath you’d been holding in. But the pulsing happening in your underwear was still making you feel hot, sweating from more than the evening sun.

But when you glanced back up, he was gone. 

Half of you didn’t want to text him back, afraid he’d gone off with Maya to relieve himself. Though, to your relief, your eyes found her, still standing there, talking to a crew member. 

She hadn’t gone with him. . .

You tried texting him, reminding him of the sad, current truth of your body. 

You, 5:48 p.m.: I’m on my period, Jake. Lol. You know this.

Jake, 5:49 p.m.: I know. I haven’t stopped thinking about it, actually. 

Jake, 5:49 p.m.: I want you so fucking bad

Jake, 5:49 p.m.: do you want it?

Fuck. What did you say to that? You’d never had a guy want sex with you during your period. . . And the fact that he wanted it? Was willing to do it? That was fucking hot.

But you were conflicted since your period was your one way of staying abstinent from him. . . Fuck. You’d forced yourself to deny him because you were on your period. You’d even told him you were in hopes that he would be too grossed out to tempt you. But he wasn’t grossed out. He wanted you, still. . . And you needed him. . . so bad. . .

What would the harm be in just giving in to it tonight? Maybe attempting to have sex and forcing yourself to eliminate feelings while doing so would be helpful. . . a way to sort of ween yourself off of sex. (Fucking ridiculous, huh?) You decided you’d take time to think about it. Let the show play through first. 

It was completely against what you knew you should be doing: breaking all things off. 

You, 5:51 p.m.: How about we talk after the show?

You’d waited for him to respond, but he never did. It would have normally worried you, but you gave him the benefit of the doubt. He was at a music festival. Chances were, he was busy. They were also set to perform at six. You knew that much. And, right at 6:00, you were proven correct as you heard the beginning of screams and the beating of a bass drum. Before you looked up, you sent one more text.

You, 6:01 p.m.: Break a leg!

-🌼🌼🌼-

And break a leg he did. 

There’d been a few mishaps. Josh’s mic had gotten turned off midway through a song, Sam’s bass had been overbearingly loud at the beginning of the set, and Jake’s cord had initially had trouble picking up through his amp. 

You’d watched the first two incidents happen, hating it for the guys that they were having technical difficulties. But when Jake’s problem had occurred, you were feeling every bit of anxiety with him. You wanted to jump over the barricade and help him in whatever way you could. Ease his stress. 

But when his face had flashed with anger every now and again (very subtly— his professionalism impressing you), your cheeks had flushed at the way he’d looked so heated. Then, when he’d ended up yanking the cord from his guitar, his hand flexing around the cable, gripping it with all he had. . . You couldn’t stop what accumulated between your thighs. And when his lips had curled with a small growl, right as he turned around to switch guitars, giving up, your heart started beating, quick. Right below your breasts, rising and falling with every sharp breath you took. 

After that, he’d had no more issues, but you’d kept a closer eye on him than before (if that was even possible), for the rest of the set. There was literally nothing you could do from your spot, but just keeping a watchful eye made you feel better.

Though, he never looked out to find you, even though he knew exactly where you stood. In fact, he stayed rather focused on his brothers only. He watched them closely, looking as though he was ready to help if the need were to arise.

But there hadn’t been another problem for the four men. 

In fact, the rest had gone on without the slightest hitch. The way they seamlessly played off the mistakes was incredible, too. It truly showed their dedication to the art.

And the difficulties they’d encountered only added to the grand finale. . . The song you’d always associate with the first night you finally got what you’d so badly wanted. . . 

Edge of Darkness. 

Though, as much as you wanted to look at Jake (and the rest of the guys, of course), you had to look behind you to the hoards of screaming people. All of the women that were shrieking for them— it wasn’t a new thing, necessarily. . . But you were only used to the people who frequented small hole-in-the-wall shows. 

Not full-on festival goers. 

Not actual fans, reaching for one another, pointing their friends in the direction of a certain guy, doe eyes directed at each of the boys they’d scream for. 

Then there were the bras that were being thrown at the stage, over and over again. That was pretty funny— you couldn’t lie. 

But what wasn’t funny was the person watching from the opposite side of the lawn as you. She had her own section, too, maybe? 

From where you were standing, you weren’t sure if she did or if she was just GA. . . Surely if she’d been backstage she had a special place, though. . . If you were right in your assumption of her arriving with him, then you were sure that she had her own designated spot to stand. But why on Sammy’s side? Now your mind pwas running rampant. . .Had Jake been watching his brothers during the show? Or watching her when he’d looked that way?

Fuck— it didn’t matter.

All of this information you were trying to figure out. . . was just making your stomach churn. The way she watched him, biting her lip with a wide smile during his solo. Her eyes trailed his body in blatant admiration. 

Because she knows what’s underneath those clothes, the voice in your head reminded you. You’re not special. Can’t you tell?

But what really got you lost in your head, was when she started singing along with Josh. She knew the fucking lyrics. Every last word. As if she’d heard them a hundred times before.

That wonderful voice in your head suddenly reminded you of the fact that he was teaching her to play guitar. 

What if Jake was teaching her their songs during her lessons? What if she helped him write some of the material? What if. . . some of them were written about her? She had inspired him. . . of that you were almost completely sure. How could she not? She was fucking beautiful. She was not you. He would be insane to not feel inspired by just looking at her. 

Your mind began running far, far away from you with all of the unknowns surrounding the ever present mystery that came with Maya. Wrapping your arms around your body self-consciously, you looked back at the stage to try your hardest to enjoy the rest of the show.

You knew you were probably overthinking it, that it more than likely wasn’t that deep. But, anything was possible. And the way he had kept his involvement with her a secret for so long, (and if it weren’t for Sam, you’d probably still be blind to the fact that anything had ever happened between them) there were clearly things he didn’t want you to know about with her, or he would have brought it up. Despite your stupid fucking rules you had set in place. You knew he would have told you if he wanted to. 

It became increasingly obvious to you at that moment, watching Jake live out his dream on that stage with his brothers that you were most definitely not fit to live out the dream with him. She seemed to be so much more involved in it than you had ever been. Or tried to be. So selfish of you. 

Maya was so enthusiastic, so attentive to him beforehand. All day long, while you’d waited on Elsie, so as not to go to this event by yourself and look strange as the guys did their shit. How stupid was that? It sounded utterly foolish now. Because she hadn’t worried about that, coming no matter what, to be there with him.

Supporting him while you were being selfish at home. You were so concerned with other senseless things that you couldn’t be there with him to show him actual support. The necessary change, which lingered like a dark cloud over your head, just kept becoming more and more apparent. . . It would be foolish for you to not end things when it was obvious they needed to end.

-🌼🌼🌼-

When the show ended, Josh texted Elsie.  

No text on your end from Jake, but you tried not to overthink it. 

Josh had wanted you two to meet them backstage to get the “full experience,” as his message had iterated.

Then you were being ushered by security, who had apparently been told to locate you and transport you, filtering you into the area where the guys would convene after the show. 

Before you had too much time to stand and appreciate the space around you, you noticed Jake pass you, angrily. Storming off somewhere, it seemed. Your eyes followed him helplessly, worriedly. He didn’t even acknowledge you, his brothers trailing after him, but presumably giving up as they stopped in front of you and Elsie instead. 

It was excellent timing, though, because just as they’d come to a stop in front of you, Maya was coming up behind Josh, tapping him on the shoulder. Her long, inky waves billowed out like curtains around her heart shaped face. She seemed just as flustered as Jake had been. But where his was out of anger, hers was with an air of concern. 

“Where is he?” She’d asked, hastily, her brows drawn in with worry.

Fuck. Even her voice was effortlessly majestic. Without being able to control them, you felt the prick of tears behind your eyes. Your heart was going a million miles an hour. What did she know that you didn’t? Why was she so involved? Were you simply the one he wanted to fuck and sext? 

Why did it feel like it was just a little more than that with you? Had it been more than sex, ever? Was that something you’d conjured up in your head?

Josh had just rolled his eyes, motioning over in the direction in which he’d gone. “Over there somewhere, I guess,” he said. “But you’d be wise to let him be. He’s in a shit fucking mood. I told him time and time again he needed to replace that amp cable. He just wouldn’t listen to me.” 

She groaned and placed her open palm on her forehead, she scratched a well manicured finger to her shapely black brow. “I knew he would have an issue with that one of these days. I just hate that it was here.” 

She knew about it? About his amp cable that had apparently bitten the dust? It was like watching an entire new part of his life unfold before you, a part that you were not good enough to be involved with. Mundane things that only the people closest to him were aware of– but not you. 

You started feeling ten levels beneath her rank in Jake’s life. She was stories above you; you were obviously just a free pussy for him to park himself in when he needed it. A warm place for him to come home to, that was it. And you, so fucking willing to give it to him. His beautiful, sculpted body always made you so goddamn weak. 

You had remembered the texts you had gotten earlier– how badly he wanted to fuck you, despite your monthly visitor taking up residence. You’d thought it was so sexy that he still wanted to, that he was desperate to have your body tangled up with his no matter the circumstance. That had turned you on beyond all imagination. 

But now, as you were beginning to realize what you had meant to him in comparison to Maya. . . the feeling disappeared. Hell, she probably received those exact same messages as you, maybe even more. Maybe he had already snuck off somewhere to fuck her before you showed up. 

There was just so much you didn’t know. Your thoughts were swirling like a storm ripping through the sturdiest house, destroying everything deemed safe in its wake. He felt safe. Now, it all felt demolished. Maya was the perfectly ominous storm cloud blocking your rays of warm, shining sun.

All you wanted to do was go home, take a Midol, curl up under your blanket with your heating pad and forget about it all. Forget about Maya, forget about the festival, forget Jake. 

Maya was then gone, running in the direction of Jake while quickly thanking Josh as he gave her a half smile with a “yeah, no problem,” leaving his tensed lips. His love stricken eyes were glued to your sister, relieved to see her. It was obvious he was only concerned with her being there, rather than Jake’s pissy theatrics. 

He also lacked any emotion at what was happening behind him. As if it were the norm. The beautiful woman who was being shown by security where to go, being led directly to the man that had given her more of himself than he’d ever even thought to give you. 

-🌼🌼🌼-

Hours later, as you sat in your bed, face washed and in a giant t-shirt, sweatpants, and fluffy socks, you wished you could just go to fucking sleep.

You’d tried reading a steamy romance to distract you, but that had been a witless idea as all that had done was make you cry. The characters, hopelessly in love, looked like Maya and Jake in your head– so meant to be and written in a way that left them utterly transfixed with each other. Your brain was fucking wired and going crazy.

I knew this was a risk.

I knew emotions were bound to get involved. 

I knew that I was going to get hurt one way or another. 

You’d already cried plenty once you’d arrived home. What had started the onslaught of tears had been seeing his door, hanging open like it had been earlier, as he’d left in a flurry to make it to the festival. He’d kissed you before he’d left, and you’d bid him good luck. Your body had been filled to the brim with reassurance that things weren’t completely off. That maybe you had overthought some of the way you’d felt in the bathroom on Wednesday. Maybe you’d misunderstood him and Josh. 

You felt like a fucking moron, now, for getting butterflies at the interaction. Any time he’d ever kissed you, that same fluttery feeling occurred in your tummy, and it all felt ridiculously in vain now. Completely misplaced wistfulness and giddiness. 

Why had you gotten your hopes up at all?

You had just decided to take an ibuprofen to help with your cramps and hopefully lull you to sleep (as it usually did), when you heard the front door quietly open and close.

You had heard your phone buzz a few times in the past couple of hours, presumably messages from him. Everyone else had heard you say you were going home. And you knew what Josh and Elsie were most likely up to, far too busy to text. . . But you had opted to just ignore them. You hadn't even bothered looking at the bright screen. You didn’t want to talk to him.

After a few moments, there was a soft knock on your door. Then another. “Y/n? Are you asleep?” He had asked, his voice so soft.

You didn’t answer. The tears that climbed your throat made you think better of that.

“Are you okay?”

Again, you didn’t answer. You decided to pretend to be asleep. To avoid him altogether. 

Any other time, you’d be jumping down this throat, picking an argument over literally anything just to satisfy the hurt you’d sustained. But tonight, it was different. You just didn’t have it in you. 

You didn’t have the energy. You were sad, not necessarily angry. And you wouldn’t dare let him see you that way.

Aside from that, you knew that if he advanced you the way he’d said he wanted to earlier, you’d give in to his allure. You knew yourself all too well. And that was the last thing you wanted to give him. You had no clue what you were anymore, so why in the hell would you risk doing that? Continue to give him more of yourself when he wasn’t giving you all of himself? If that’s what he wanted so badly, Maya would surely be more than happy to fulfill that for him. 

“Well,” he started, his voice even softer than it was before. You could have ignored it. But, in spite of yourself, you hung on to each rasping word. “I know you’re probably asleep. I just– I wanted to tell you how beautiful you looked tonight and how glad I was that you were there. I always perform better when you’re there,” he cleared his throat, then continued. “Sleep tight, baby.”

You heard his footsteps lightly step away, heading to his room. You heard his door open and then shut soon after. 

Like a flood with no dam to hold it at bay, heavy tears began streaming down your face. Your pillow was soaked with your emotions in a matter of seconds. You brought your hand up to cover your mouth in an effort to quiet the choked sobs as they came from your throat. You just wanted to sleep. 

-🌼🌼🌼-

August 22, 2022

That following Monday, school started like you had been dreading.

But when the day came, you sort of accepted it as something that could alleviate some of your pent up emotions. Thankfully, you weren’t on your period anymore for your feelings to be raging.

However, they were persistently there. Mocking you for still being involved with him when all signs were pointing to him being involved with Maya, too. She was exactly what he needed.

You were a placeholder. Insignificant. Convenient.

So, when classes came along, they helped to bring some of your sense of purpose back. You were able to count on your coursework, professors, and peers to remind you that you were more than being free pussy for your roommate. You’d let your emotions guide you more into being angry than sad. It helped you to let them melt to a simmering ire. 

For instance, avoiding Jake had been easier. You had been able to rely on your period, the temper that bubbled below your skin, your work schedule on Saturday, and a meeting that he and the guys had participated in the Sunday after the festival.

Of course, he’d asked if you were okay whenever you’d seen him, but you’d given him barely-there responses like:

“Yeah, just tired.”

“Thinking about a lot.”

“Hormones are just insane right now. . .“

“School’s getting ready to start, so I’m just gearing up.”

“Don’t worry about me.”

Every time, he looked at you like he didn’t believe you were telling him the whole truth (how did he always know?). You knew it was a complete 360 from how vulnerable you’d let yourself be with him recently, but you silently relied on how long it had taken you to open up prior. Because you knew that he knew from experience that you didn’t like to overtly open up all the time. So, naturally, that also meant he didn’t push it a whole lot.

But you caught his glances– wondering and worrying about you. It was definitely fair for him to be curious, of course, but you’d just ignored his curiosity– pretended to not pick up on it. Acted oblivious. 

He’d texted you good morning texts every morning, too. Which he hadn’t always done before. . . but it was like he was trying as hard as he could to get you to trust him with whatever was going on in your head.

All you ever did was send a small “Morning!” or “Have a good day!” back, though. . . Mentally all you could revert back to was that he was probably the same exact way with Maya. Acted concerned for her. . . wanted her to trust him and open up to him and sleep with him. . . 

And you were sure it meant more to him with her. She was special. You were not. You were you. 

Average. His roommate. Sometimes maybe a friend.

You didn’t know though. Because any time he had acted like it was more, it had maybe just been a weird ploy. Why he felt the need to deceive you in any regard– like getting to you and figuring you out and being close to you for no reason– that was beyond you. 

You just knew people couldn’t always be trustworthy. Even the ones you wanted to trust most of all.

-🌼🌼🌼-

August 26, 2022

The bell on the door chimed, telling you someone was entering the shop, but you didn’t glance up to see who it was as you were in the middle of unpacking a random box of new vinyl.

You were just ready to get home. So ready to get off work. You weren’t even worried about Jake being there. You knew he had the day off, but you didn’t give two shits. He would cease to exist the moment you crossed the threshold of your home anyway. Your bed was calling your name from here. You were tired as hell.

The first Friday of every school year was normally tiring, but this one was worse due to the stressors of your personal life and the already-searing intensity of senior year.

“Hello, my love.”

That voice. It never failed to make your heart leap with delight. Your eyes were still tired, but your heart, now elated and full when you looked up to see Josh. For some reason beyond you, it just seemed entirely right for him to pop in. Felt like old times– before you worried about all kinds of shit. Him being present made everything feel tranquil in your current, opposite predicament. 

And his next words tempted even more tranquility. 

“I’ve got some fucking exquisite pot,” he beamed, one hand on his hip and the other balanced above his head, on the wooden shelf of records that you were stocking with more. 

You giggled, your eyes blinking tiredly. “Where the fuck is it? You already smoke some?”

“Fuck no, little mama,” he shooed away your words with his hand. “I’m waiting to do that with you.”

How did he know that this was exactly what you needed?

“Way to show up and rub it in my face while I’m stuck at work,” you rolled your eyes, smile still sitting easily on your lips. “That’s just rude, Joshua.”

He snorted. “You’re like ten minutes away from being off the clock, drama queen. I’m just letting you know I’m on my way to your place with it. We’ll be waiting for you.”

“Who’s ‘we’?” You smirked, raising a brow at the Indie vinyl that you were tucking in its spot. “You and Mary Jane?”

“Technically, I guess,” he stated as if he appreciated the slight joke. “But the guys as well.”

You froze with your hand on the record you’d just placed. Fuck. Ugh. No. 

That is literally the last thing I need, you thought, cross.

You grumbled under your breath, smoothing the top of the sleeve, trying to play it off. How could you convince him to ditch the others? The man who was the precise reason you wanted to get high off your ass?  “What happened to the days where just you and I would hang out?”

“Now that would be rude of me to not include at least one of them. . . as Jake was the one to mention you needing something to ease some stress,” he picked at a nail. “And the other two are just always there.”

What? What all had Jake told your curly headed friend? Why was he even talking about you? He needed to mind his fucking business.

“He wanted you to get me high? That’s gentlemanly.”

He cleared his throat, prompting you to look at him. His wide eyes were narrowed at you, a look of judgment swimming in them. “No. . .? Why would you assume that? Jake would never suggest getting a woman high to calm her down. I personally just enjoy feeling like the fuckin’ air to alleviate my worries, so. . . I decided on the weed.” 

His full eyebrows were still crinkled, mildly hidden by his growing hair. The curls touched the arch of his brow now, falling loosely over his ears. He finished with some words that cut through to you in a way you wished they wouldn’t. “He might be a dick sometimes, but he’s not all bad. You really need to stop thinking so little of him.”

Ouch, Josh. Stay in your lane. Don’t counsel me.

“Well, he’s the one who brought it up,” you said, tone still sharp and cutting through Stevie Wonder’s voice, ironically singing of being too shy to say things. “I just figured it had all been his idea.”

“Well, no,” he said, correcting. He backed up just a bit to lean against the front of the counter to talk from there. No one was in the store. Save for the fact you were talking about Jake, this felt so like the past. . . before everything. You could’ve cried (so much crying, Jesus). He crossed his legs at the ankle and arms at his chest. “All I told you was that he told me you were stressed and a little sad.”

Sad and stressed? Also, how did he know you were sad? That was a matter of assumption. Again, he needed to mind his damn business.

“Well, I don’t know why he’d go and assume I’m sad. That seems invasive as hell,” you began. “But I have been stressed. Why he’s telling you, I don’t know. But you already know the beginning of the school year is always a lot.”

Also, your brother and his girlfriend are all I can think about and it’s making me feel like dirt.

“I think he cares about you. Weird as it may seem, he has a soft spot for you,” he says, his eyes glinting and a little smile tugging on his full lips. “I mean, for God’s sake, he went to your grandparents’ house with you. . . He wouldn’t do that if he didn’t.”

Your heart was beating erratically in your chest. It didn’t matter. It didn’t fucking matter. For all you knew, he did the same shit with Maya. You weren’t special. But why did Josh taking the time to tell you this make you feel like maybe you were just a little bit unique? 

You couldn’t help but ask your next question. You were hoping it didn’t give you away. But Josh was the perfect person to ask. . . Nonchalantly as possible, of course. 

Continuing to sort through records in the massive delivery box, you avoided his eyes when you asked, “Doesn’t get soft for people easily?” 

“One could say he picks his people. . . And I guess you’re one of them,” he offered as his answer. Then, you saw his hand grab into the box to help you with the records. You peered up to where he’d positioned himself in front of you. “And who wouldn’t go all soft for you, y/n? You’re one of the most precious humans this world has ever been given. I knew it was only due time until Jake noticed.”

As soon as he said it, he’d smiled, and decided to go about his business helping you. But you just kept staring at him. The tears that welled in your eyes were unavoidable. You needed to hear that. As you felt a few fall down your cheeks, you walked around the box to where Josh was now stocking a re-release of Lana Del Rey’s Born to Die — Paradise Edition on the old, creaking shelf. 

He made a sound of surprise as you wrapped your arms around him in a bear hug, holding on for dear life. It didn’t take him long to adjust to the feeling, though, as he enveloped you all the same. His familiar, strong arms wrapped around you just as they always had in times like these. Times where he’d said exactly what you needed to hear without knowing it. He was an empath through and through. 

And God were you thankful for him. You didn’t deserve him. Your tears continued for a bit, wetting his white t-shirt. Breathing in, and sniffing a bit to rid yourself of the tears, you backed away after squeezing him once more. His eyes were searching yours when you let go of him. Ever-attentive, reading you however he could whenever he felt the need. . . 

“I’d say he was on to something,” was all he remarked, going back to the records. “Let’s get these done and get the hell out of here, what do you say?”

“Yeah,” you responded, your voice still wet.

“Oh, and speaking as someone who loves the fuckin’ shit out of you, I need you to start taking care of yourself and rid your life of what is making you feel so sad,” he softly advised. You glanced over to him, seeing him still going about his task, but talking away. “You deserve to feel happy and whole. . .and I need you to do whatever it takes for you to feel that way. Please take care of yourself, love.”

-🌼🌼🌼-

Once you finished and were heading out the door with Josh, you decided that you were going to try your best to let yourself feel free tonight. It was what you needed. One last hurrah as senior year kicked off. 

And one last night with Jake before you did what you knew you had to do. . . You had to be done with him. All it was doing was dragging you down. And, talking to Josh tonight had made you realize, once again, that you couldn’t chance him finding out about you and his brother. You knew he would feel utterly betrayed by you, and he was far too important to you for you to risk that. 

Jake was also important— his career was shooting off and you were not the right person to join him on that new journey in his life. In your opinion, no one should join him on that journey. . . It was his and his alone. But if he were to have someone on that path with him, Maya was a much better candidate for it than you. 

Chances were, she was probably the one that he wanted on that next step of his life as well. She was the ideal person to take that leap with him. Utterly supportive. Unselfish. Completely beautiful. . . The perfect girlfriend for a rockstar. 

Continuing things with Jake made no sense. There was no use pretending that what you had with him was actually meant to last.

-🌼🌼🌼-

When you got home, you immediately went to the bathroom to refresh. You decided to take off your makeup and wash your face. Knowing yourself too well, you knew it wouldn’t happen later when you were three sheets to the wind. Josh had followed in directly behind you. He started telling the guys what he needed before they began. He started with his long-haired twin. 

“Food, Jacob?!” Josh yelled in the direction of the kitchen, from which you smelled delicious smells wafting. 

“Aye aye, Captain Stick-Up-Your-Ass,” Jake replied loudly.

“And what did you decide to pick from your expansive catalog of recipes?” Josh said, slapping something. You could assume it was Sam when you heard the younger brother’s voice exclaim with an “ow!” 

Then you heard Jake’s voice, like velvet, but loud enough for Josh to hear.

“Ramen bowls,” he called back. “She loves them.”

Your heart leapt at that. Why was he being so sweet? Was he like this with her? Remembering her favorite meals?

Because he was already making the food that Josh was demanding, Jake hadn’t taken notice of you when you'd come in alongside Josh. So you’d been able to slip past unnoticed. No one had acknowledged you, in fact. Sam and Danny had been too busy on the couch, flipping through their phones, showing each other different women on Tinder when you’d passed through the living room.

“Incense. Samuel, your job— did you bring any like I asked?”

Halfway paying attention, you heard Sammy give an agreeing grunt. 

“Let’s start lighting ‘em up, then,” he commanded. He snapped his fingers, probably right in Sam’s face. “No time to waste, Sam. Come on.” 

Then, grumbling, you heard Sam tell Josh to “fuck himself”. But you assumed he’d done as he was told with his aromatics, as you smelled the familiar heady scent of incense. The scent he’d chosen was Godsent. Ideal for your state of unrest.

The lovely scent of lavender was already whirling from the front of the apartment, straight to your room. Even with the door closed, you were catching the relaxing smell.

“God, I love the smell of lavender,” your roommate said, pure admiration in his tone. “Instant serenity.”

Sam responded, pride in his voice as he explained his choice. “We all know y/n has been stressed,” they all know? “So I chose lavender for its properties to cleanse, heal, and bring happiness. I was also considering its elements for peace, harmony, relaxation, and love. I wanted her to feel all of those things. She needs it.”

Your heart felt whole. You did feel the love. 

But your thoughts flew around, bumping the sides of your head. ‘She needs it.’ What is that even supposed to mean? 

“Yeah, she’s just been off. I want her to be able to feel more like herself,” Jake voiced, sighing. “I’m still not sure about the weed. I don’t want her to feel any lack of control— because that might make her worry more.”

Stop showing how much you care, Jake. It hurts and it’s going to give something away.

But keep going, too. . . Please. For me.

It was Josh’s turn to sigh. “Jacob, I’ve told you. This is something she’s done with us before. All of us. Besides you, of course, I’m assuming,” he paused, slowly iterating his next words. “She and Elsie used to do it with us, like, once a fuckin’ month as a ritual to bond and decompress from life.” His tone was exasperated, as if he’d explained a million times what he’d just said. And he wasn’t wrong. You could confirm everything he was saying. 

He continued. “She can handle her green. I promise. I’ve done it with her time and again.” Then, his voice got stern, unwavering. “I would never recommend she partake in something that would make her feel out of control. That’s not me. Take a second to remember that,” he leveled. “But she does need to feel the peace and freeness that comes with marijuana’s natural magic. We all know it works wonders to ease the chaos within the human mind.” 

“Okay,” Jake relented. “I’ll take the bait. I believe you.”

“Thank you. Now, I’m going to start making things cozy, cue up some music. . .,” Josh said. “Daniel, dim the lighting. I’m gonna light some candles.”

You started pilfering through your drawer of leggings. You found your favorite pair. The pair that made your ass pop. Then you sorted through your drawer of cropped tanks. Once you’d found the one you wanted, you felt your cheeks heat. 

Did you want to do this? Dress like this? Was it a stupid idea? Was this foolish? A smart idea? It would be stupid to deny who you were wanting to dress like this for. . . But should you do it? Would it be obvious?

You dress like this all the time, y/n, a kind of voice reassured you within your cluttered mind. It wouldn’t be abnormal for you to wear it. 

Jake’s voice cut through your internal ramble.

“Are we having a fucking orgy, Josh?” Jake asked. His hearty chuckle and the blatant mention of sex made your chest tighten and your stomach flip as you gripped the gray cami in your fist. 

“Jake!” Josh’s voice snapped, offended. He was out of breath, as if he’d been busy working away at his self-given task. “No one in this humble abode has had sex with another, and I don’t plan on starting that tonight.”

Your heart rate sped up. All of a sudden, you were completely aware of your state of undress from where you were squatting next to your dresser. Naked (save for your bra and panties), in your bedroom. And the fact that Jake was out there, alone. 

You suddenly longed to be close to him. For more than one wanting reason. One reason left your heart pumping in your ears and your underwear feeling obscenely constrictive.

The lesser reason being, you were dying to know what Jake’s reaction to that had been. But you hadn’t heard him make a peep. If you were being honest with yourself, you knew his reaction had been subdued, playing it off. He wouldn’t outwardly expose it. You knew him better than to assume that. 

I really do need to be better at giving him the benefit of the doubt, you thought, sadly. 

You knew it was too little too late. 

Then you heard Josh laugh. The same little laugh he’d do when he would think of something he found funny. “Now if Elsie were here. . .”

You heard all three of them say “Josh!” in unison to his remark, having joined in if you were in there, too.

“What?! The girl knows how to twist that tight body just righ—.”

“Lalala,” Sam sang to himself. You imagined him covering his ears, masking Josh’s voice. 

“What?! She is the best I’ve ever—.”

“Josh, with all due respect,” Danny’s soft voice cut through. “Please shut the fuck up.”

Yes, you thought. Ew, Josh. 

“Brother,” Jake chimed in, once again calling from where he most likely still stood in the kitchen. “Dinner is ready. So, please, come stuff your face and let our ears breathe.”

And, as if your stomach truly was in tune with it all, it grumbled.

-🌼🌼🌼-

Dinner was incredibly delicious (as you knew it would be), resulting in it being downed in no time. 

The five of you had sat around your little dinner table to eat, and it’d felt so nice. But the entire time, you never looked across the table at Jake. You’d also avoided him as you made your plate, only glancing at him out of the corner of your eye to give him a small ‘thank you’ as he talked to Josh. He’d blinked a few times and responded with a “Y-yeah, of course.” 

But now, as you sat around the table after supper, you wouldn’t dare look at him. It was a lot to get the courage to do so. 

For one, as weird as it was, it kind of intimidated you to do so. He intimidated you. . . Especially now that you’d gotten a good look at his other pick of women. The ones that weren’t you. Maya was exquisitely stunning. Just like the one he’d made out with months ago on the couch— the day he brought the lavender to you at work. (The day you’d been an asshole to him, yet again, for no reason.)

You knew you weren’t as beautiful as either of those women. He was far too out of your league. You’d known this to begin with. It was all just repeatedly slapping you in the face now. . . Like normal, he made you all nervous and jittery. But it was different now. You knew you didn’t measure up, and it was embarrassing that he’d ever given you a chance, honestly. Embarrassing for him.

Every negative thought that you could have was tearing at you. . . It was as if seeing Maya that first day, and then hearing what you did from Sam had just set everything off. Everything. 

As you watched Josh and Sam pick at one another’s opinions on the most idiotic things, you spaced out, pondering why you were feeling so much all at once. Was this another result of your childhood trauma? The overthinking? Or was this just you, being a complete trainwreck of a human being? 

Either way, it was ridiculous and you wanted to be rid of the thoughts immediately. It was getting really old really fast. But you couldn’t shake them. Because, despite how annoying it was that they wouldn’t leave you be, you still felt they were true. 

And had been true since you were a kid. Practically since you were born. The facts could not lie. You weren’t good enough for your own mother. You’d been relentlessly terrible towards Elsie growing up. You’d been consistently unfair towards Jake. . . 

There was very little good about you, and you were starting to feel it put a damper on all things in your life.

God. You desperately needed therapy. Your struggles with anxiety were becoming all encompassing. The depression was sprouting without welcome.

He’s shown plenty of interest, y/n, your kind, consoling inner medium expressed. Stop acting like you’re less than the other women. Please. You know better. Don’t let your thoughts get ahead of you. . . 

Damn that voice sounded more and more like Elsie any time it managed to break through the darkness of your mind.

Sam’s cackle brought you back to reality from your mess of cluttered, stressful, spiraling thoughts. 

“That’s what I’m saying!” Sam exclaimed, pointing directly at his best friend who was sitting across the table from you, right next to Jake. “Thank you, Daniel!”

Josh’s scoff under his breath would have been highly noticeable even if you hadn’t been sitting next to him. You looked to your right to observe him and his reaction. 

“Birkenstocks are highly, highly overrated,” he insisted. “I seriously thought you were above the trends, Sammy. . . Now all I can assume is that you primarily care to partake in the highly popular things like other, normal people.”

“I’m not normal!” Sam declared, completely aghast at the comment. “Take it back, Josh.”

“Seems that you’re pop music personified. . .,” Jake said, teasing Sam as Josh had. 

Without even meaning to, too lost in everything going on around you now, you shot Jake a glare. And a response. 

“Shut the fuck up, Jake,” you intervened, your tone serious, but voice catching a little on his name. 

Apparently, of all things, talk of sandals were what could break your vow of avoiding Jake at all costs. Honestly, it was just Sam’s doleful reaction to Jake’s words. He’d gasped, his eyes curving down even more than normal, lip sticking out.  

Once you’d connected eyes with Jake, you got lost for a few seconds in the rich pools of chocolate that made up his deep set eyes. . .  It was kind of like a readjustment. You were really looking at him for the first time in days. Your ridiculously hot roommate. The same man you’d memorized in every way you could for the past month or so. . . You were reacquainting yourself with his features. 

You didn’t want to admit it, but. . . It felt like a piece of your heart was clicking back into place— after you’d given him the cold shoulder all week. His eyes felt so familiar and warm.

Initially, his eyes had widened. He’d seemed shocked that you’d spoken to him at all. But, after he’d stared at you for a moment, he raised a smart brow. Your heart rate increased at the action.

Then, he resituated, pushing his chair back from the table just enough to show his spread legs. You couldn’t control it when you glimpsed his crotch for five seconds. It was as if you were unable to resist— you’d finally taken the bait and broken the fine ice between you two. So, it seemed your eyes worked on their own and made up for lost time. . . Just for a few seconds. 

It’s been a fucking week, y/n, the snarky voice in your head mocked. You are too fucking weak for him. Why did you let him in? How are you going to be able to completely cut him off? Weak.

You noticed him push his hips up and out to lean back a bit. The action effectively shut off the voice in your head and made you twitch for him in your leggings.

I sure as hell am weak, you sassed back. And right now, I don’t care. And it’s been nine days. Not a week. 

He crossed his arms over his chest, flexing his strong, skilled fingers into his toned biceps. Not meaning to, you licked your bottom lip. 

Your body was craving him. Yearning for him. You’d gotten used to regular sex with him, and the nine days you’d been abstaining from it were catching up to you. How were you going to be able to cut yourself completely off?

You weren’t ready for that yet. 

But you have to be, the familiar voice reminded you. Enjoy it while it lasts because it’s almost over. You’re only hurting yourself more by extending this ridiculous escapade.

I’m already hurting. Fuck it. I will enjoy it while it lasts, you fought back, shoving the voice off of your shoulders for the time being. Josh is right. Tonight is about me feeling fucking free.

You accepted the challenge. The situation. You were ready to give in to the evening. Your insecurities could wait. They’d have their time soon. Tonight you wanted to ignore all of it. Now that you’d gotten a taste, you wanted to take a damn bite.

Skin now hot and senses tingling with his name, you peeked back at his face and found his waiting expression. Your eyebrow raised, too, darkening eyes trained on his. The way he was watching you, it was like he was testing you. But you weren’t going to give in too easily. Your heart was still hurting, and you weren’t going to bend at just anything. He could work for it. 

Just like you’d convinced yourself earlier. . . This was one last hurrah. Might as well make the most of it. Drag it out. Just for tonight.

“I’m tired of the obnoxious assholery filling up this room,” you stated, looking away from Jake to address the other two Kiszkas. “Let’s burn a few so you guys will shut the hell up.”

-🌼🌼🌼-

The haze had your mind in the clouds, but not so elevated that you weren’t aware of the happenings all around you. A good state, where your mind could still make cognitive sense of everything, but high enough that all of your worries vanished with each wave of smoke you blew from your mouth. You learned from Elsie the ‘proper’ way to get high, as she called it. One long, drawn out inhale of the smoke, fully filling your lungs and holding it as long as you could before blowing it out in one slow exhale. Less coughing that way, and the most effective way to really feel the effects without it being so intense. 

You’ve never loved the feeling of being completely inebriated. Far too often you’ve lost control of your intake, and at that point it would open the hypothetical doors to your past, forcing you to sit in your feelings. Too much of it could be dangerous for your psyche. But, you’ve learned how to control it. You’d discovered the perfect amount that had you feeling weightless and free, your body tickling with the warm fuzzy feeling that allowed you to finally relax. 

All of you had your own designated spot in the room– whether it be on blankets, pillows, the couch, or the armchair. You’d been given the couch to lay upon to smoke (as you’d been given first dibs, per Josh’s requirement). 

And the man who couldn’t escape your mind sat a few feet away from you, perfectly placed in your line of sight on a pile of blankets and pillows. His hands were in his lap, his legs crossed at the ankles, and his broad shoulders eased while his head laid back. 

Josh sat above him on the armchair, his limbs loosened to noodles. Just as Josh started to lay back and close his eyes, he sat up lazily. His eyes, reddened and heavy-lidded, looked around to survey the rest of you.

“We’re in desperate need of some tunes,” Josh said, dragging out the words with a giant grin plastered to his face. “Anyone opposed?

You were laid back against the arm of the couch, sprawled out. And you barely heard him as you’d become utterly transfixed on Jake. . . how he’d balanced the base of his head on the ottoman of the chair, eyes closed as he most surely let the feeling of smoke in him and around him delight his system. 

The other two had agreed, but you hardly paid them or Josh any mind. You didn’t wholly process him searching your vinyl collection, picking one from the top. 

“Ah, yes. Perfection at its finest,” he made an approving sound with his teeth as he placed the disc on the turntable and read the tracklisting. “This woman was spellbinding.”

At once, you heard the silken scratching of the vinyl from the needle as the record began to spin. An all too familiar album began playing. 

Your head perked up as much as it could while simultaneously feeling stuck in the clouds. Sam and Danny were basically gone, just bobbing their heads a little to the rhythm. But they seemed to be fading away by the way they rolled their heads further and further back against their pillows. 

Josh had a goofy smile on his face as he settled back into his chair, his hair fluffing around him as he softly nodded his head in tandem with her voice. 

You let your eyes travel to Jake for a brief moment, and saw that his eyes were still closed, but now his chest was rising and falling steadily. Had he fallen asleep?

Momentarily, you were disappointed. But you soon realized just how nice sleep sounded. . . Especially when you looked away from Jake to see his counterpart, completely zonked out with his mouth hanging open. Quiet snores were emitting from both of them, but Josh’s were louder thanks to his wide open mouth. Jake’s were barely there. . . more heavy breaths than anything. You knew it meant he’d drowsed only moments ago, a deep slumber not fully taking him yet.

You started to doze off a bit, settling into the way her soulful voice could lull you into a sweet slumber. 

-🌼🌼🌼-

You didn’t know what it was that jostled you awake. 

Maybe it had been the song change, and you’d just somehow caught on to this song while in dreamland. . . this wonderful song. . . dammit. 

I will go where you lead

I'll be right there in a time of need

And when I lose my will

You'll be right there to push me up that hill

You sunk into the feeling of it, but your attention was caught again.

There was muffled shuffling happening in the distance, your senses heightened by the smoke, helping you catch on to the smallest of sounds. Motherly instincts to your lovely feline child, who was sure to be causing the ruckus. 

What was Stevie getting herself into?

Lifting your head, you turned it to follow the noise happening in the distance. It was dark due to the late hour. . . you could hardly see. The candles, your only light source. 

From what you could tell, the sound was coming from the kitchen. Curiosity was pushing you into a sitting position. You rose without difficulty, your bearings coming back to you little by little. You’d smoked just enough for the escape, but the clarity was still there. Weed was so miraculous that way. Giving an individual just what he or she might need from it. It could mold to the requirements of its enjoyer. Aware as you were, the air around you still felt slow and heady. . . you felt every energy all at once. It made your head swim just a tad. 

As you stood, your legs felt like air. You rooted yourself into the sureness of the flat ground. The carpet tickled your bare toes, but you concealed the little sigh that threatened to escape you at the sensation. You were doing your best to not bother the snoozing bodies littered around you. 

From your new viewpoint, your eyes swept the room. Dreamily deciding to save the best for last, you started at one side of the room. You squinted at Sammy and Danny first. They were cuddled into their own blankets on their separate pallets, but facing towards one another still.

Next, you looked for Josh, who you didn’t really have to look for since you heard his snores before you saw him. Drool was gathered at the corner of his mouth, opened just as it had been when you’d closed your own eyes. Something caused him to rustle in his sleep, making him jump a little and sniff, one snore resulting in a snort. But just as he’d been shaken, his mouth was opened yet again, snores even louder this time. The drool slipped down his chin. You cringed. He was not an attractive sleeper. 

His twin on the other hand. . .the most beautiful sleeper you’d ever laid sleepy eyes on. So, you finally set your gaze where you'd been desiring. 

. . .To find nothing. No Jake. Where did he go?

Even amidst the wispy cloud of your mind, you immediately assumed the worst.

Had he invited Maya over? Had that been the sound? God you hoped not.

Even still, your feet moved on their own, all the way to the kitchen from the living room. . . you saw Stevie on your way there, asleep on the top of the couch. She’d nestled right above you. Naturally, you just hadn’t caught on because of your brain fog.

Not knowing what you were about to find, you rounded the corner. And what you found made your eyes water so quickly. The sight was so plain, so simple. . .but so incredibly wholesome.

Your whispered voice broke the silence. 

“Why are you watering my lavender?”

He jumped a bit, the tiny, gilded watering pail you’d gotten for it still mid-air when he blinked in your direction, his eyes adjusting to the vast darkness in your shared home.

“I was just putting dinner up and it looked a little wilty,” he said, sounding ‘wilty’ himself. “Have you not watered it recently?”

Shit. While immersed in your unreasonable head for the past several days, you’d ignored the plant. 

“No,” you responded, not providing an explanation. 

“I understand,” he said, a small grin on his lips and honesty in his eyes, even darker in the shadowy lighting. A candle on the bar was the only way you could make him out. “School starting and all. I bet your stress has been high because of that.”

“Yeah,” you absentmindedly agreed. But his words rang again in your head, things clicking slower with the pot. “Also, stop telling people I’m stressed,” you griped, crossing your arms (partially to keep yourself balanced). “Or sad. You don’t know.”

He emptied the rest of the water into the soil, feeling it with his fingers before washing his hands. Then he turned to you, his face pinched with shock. He shook his head a bit, his longer waves swaying at his collarbone. “It’s obvious you have been.”

Fuck. You knew you’d been transparent. It was something you flourished at– wearing your heart on your sleeve. And that also meant you were shit at masking your emotions. But why did he care?

“Okay, say I have. Still not your business to share,” you asserted, with a final nod of your head. 

He nodded, pushing his lip out. He lifted his hand to his chin to rub it a bit, a sign you’d learned to mean that he agreed. “That is fair. I’m sorry.”

You felt your head rock a bit and shut your eyes briefly to reset. The flow of the remaining green in your system was making you a bit dizzy. And while you were still with it and aware of yourself and your surroundings, you knew that it was probably time to go to bed. It was also getting to be too much talking to Jake like normal. 

Things weren’t normal. And you couldn’t pretend they were. It made your heart feel all blue. As much as you missed him–just talking to him, you decided to use sleep as the reason to excuse yourself. Before you told him every tiny thing on your mind. You knew yourself too well– when weed entered the picture, there was no concealing a single thought that crossed your mind. 

“I’m going to bed,” you said, turning away from him and starting the walk to your bedroom, your heart still with him and the fucking lavender in the kitchen window.

But just as you’d made it to your door, opening it just a smidge, you felt a warm hand encompass yours, which still twisted around the knob. You could have fallen into him. It felt so good to simply feel his touch. God, he really was so warm. So safe. So cozy. So Jake.

He doesn’t feel the same for you, the fucking nagging voice said, slipping through the thickness of the marijuana. You aren’t those things to him.

Go the fuck home, you told the voice, pissed beyond belief that it had managed to enter your hazy realm of escapism.

“I am home,” he said, his voice low and hot on your neck. The feeling grew goosebumps immediately. 

Fuck. You’d said it out loud. That was embarrassing as hell.

“I was talking to myself,” you revealed honestly–crazily, angling your head so you could speak over your shoulder to him. And just as you did, it became obvious just how close he was to you. His collar, level with your eyes. You looked up a bit to find him watching you. Carefully. Warily. But intensely all the same. 

“That’s endearing,” he said, the humor in his tone making you suddenly angry. 

You turned on your heel, resulting in him moving away from you a few inches.

No. Come back.

You fought the desperation in your veins. The desperation making your heart beat wildly in your chest.

“Why did you follow me? Acting like you care?” You said, your voice hushed and eyes flicking a bit so you could actually handle looking him in the eyes. “Stop with the bullshit.”

“Woah,” he screwed his eyes slightly at you, his voice level meeting yours. “You know I care.” 

He took one more step back. 

What are you doing? Stop leaving me.

You just left him, you idiot, your familiar, inner monster said, judging you.

“No. You don’t care. Not actually. And if you do, I know it’s not just for me,” the words spilled out, humiliating you. “I’ve had the past few days to realize that.”

Oh, fuck. Here comes honesty hour.

He crossed his arms at his chest. His biceps were distracting. Goddamn.

“So that’s what’s been wrong?”

You gave yourself a tiny moment to evaluate him. He seemed way too sober for this conversation to be an even playing field.

“Are you not high?”

He cracked a smile, nodding his head. “Yes, I am,” he looked down, seeming a little embarrassed. If the lighting wasn’t so dark, you could guess you’d see a blush on the apples of his cheeks. “Just done it enough that it looks different on me. Trust me, my head is fuckin’ swimming. Dizzy and shit . . . just didn’t want to fall asleep in there and get a crick in my neck. And I figured I’d put dinner away since I’m still more present than not. . .,” he paused, looking up at you. “But, I assure you, I’m definitely not all here.”

You had to giggle a little in spite of it all. God, he was so fucking endearing. You couldn’t put it into words at that moment, but. . . damn. The way he was— so many things about him that you lo—. . . fuck.

“That’s exactly how I feel, too,” you admitted, your eyes innocently meeting his. 

His smile widened, face relaxing. But the change in demeanor broke your heart and made your defenses rise. Emotions were breaking loose again. . .

“Okay, so,” you shook your head, rubbing your temples to re-center. You glanced at him again. “If you do care, why did you ignore me on Friday?”

He shook his head once. “Ignore you? I literally talked to you. I’ll go get my phone right now to prove it.” You flushed thinking of the conversation. How badly you’d wanted him. . . still wanted him. He kept going, saying, “I also wanted to talk to you when I got home. But you were already asleep. I didn’t want to wake you.”

I wasn’t asleep, you wanted to say. I was just sad. Crying because of you.

“You stormed off. Didn’t even try to talk to me about how you were feeling,” you said, words quiet, yet cutting the air. “Made it obvious that I matter so little to you that I wasn’t even worth talking to when you were upset. Tell me how little I matter to you. Just say it.”

“Fuck– god, no. I won’t,” he brought the heels of his hands to his eyes. “I don’t ever want you to think you matter little to me– you are literally every– fuck. I don’t know what to say.”

“I don’t matter as much as Maya,” you said, finishing his sentence with a forlorn statement, in a snarky tone of voice. Your heart leapt into your throat at having mentioned her so boldly. There it was. Out in the open. “That’s why you didn’t want to talk to me. Just wanted to talk to her.”

He looked at you, a thousand thoughts swirling behind his bourbon-colored irises. His lips pursed, then he released a tight exhale, his eyes resting directly on you as if he’d decided to tell you something. Ready to break your heart, surely.

“Say it, Jake,” your voice cracked on his name.

Jake huffed. “Y/n, you are the reason I was so fucking pissed that day. I wasn’t going to talk to you about–.”

“Me?!” You blanched, perplexed that he could pin anything on you. All you’d done was be there to support him the best you could. You pointed a finger in your chest, “What did I,” and then at him, “do to you, asshole?!”

The name slipped out. You hated that you’d said it. But, you did. 

“I didn’t say you did anything to me. Will you let me explain?”

“Go ahead,” you motioned your hand, the action feeling slow with the marijuana lacing itself through your veins.

“I was embarrassed as fuckin’ shit that my cord gave out at that festival,” he began, words a little sluggish. I could’ve guessed that. “And for a second, I was embarrassed about it happening in front of so many people. . . but immediately after, before I could think about that, I thought about how you had come out to that festival, so excited and sexy as hell ready to see me perform, and I couldn’t even hold up my end of the deal. I wanted to impress you, and I failed,” he shook his head, looking down, away from you, his hands coming up to cover his face.

You wanted to believe him. But you’d gotten so used to combatting him, that you couldn’t help reject his words. “Sounds fake.”

Instantly, he dropped his hands, letting them slap against his thighs. His eyes were wide. “Are you serious right now?” He sounded sad. Hurt. “I bare my heart to you and all you can do is tell me I sound fake?” 

Putting your defenses down, you truly thought about it. Maybe. . . maybe he was telling the truth.

All your life, you had been so quick to expect the worst of people. You had never let yourself believe anyone could have good intentions. Why would you? After everything you’d been through, after how many people had hurt you to the point of severe trauma, it only made sense that your first instinct would be to not trust that anyone had your best interest at heart. But, staring at the man in front of you, his eyes begging you to believe him, his chest falling and rising with deep, slow breaths. . . all of his emotions, on blatant display. . . you thought of him and the person he’d been for you recently. How you had so openly shared things with him. . . Maybe he felt the same with you? Even if it sounded slightly ridiculous. . . It would be harsh to judge him for that. 

“I’m sorry,” you said, bowing your head. 

You felt two tender, calloused fingers lift your chin. Your body lit up at his touch. Eyes grew tears. . .

You just kept talking, feeling comfortably vulnerable under his stare.

“I thought she was here tonight.”

“Who?” He rubbed his thumb smoothly over your chin, holding your face so gently.

“Maya.”

He let go of you, scrubbing a hand down his face. “Fuck. I knew you would jump to conclusions with Sam saying what he did the other night.”

“I didn’t have to jump to any conclusions. I saw it with my own eyes. Heard Josh–,” you stopped yourself. Even in this dazed state, you knew that telling him you’d heard his conversation with Josh wasn’t a good idea. 

“Heard Josh. . . what?” He raised a brow.

“Nothing,” you shook your head.

He rolled his eyes. “Okay. Whatever you heard any of them say– can you believe me?” He asked, begging you with his profoundly engaging irises. “Please?”

You knew what you felt though. What you’d heard him say in response to Josh– what you’d seen with your eyes. You’d dug yourself a massive hole of winding thoughts. . . you weren’t sure who or what to believe. So, you responded simply. “I don’t know, Jake.”

He put a hand over his eyes, then removed it to question you. “Why?”

“I’m not getting into that right now,” you asserted, looking away and covering your face as he had his. When you looked back at him, and into his eyes, you let your guard down slightly. “You know why. It’s my specialty.”

“Okay . . .,” he accepted, his tone gentle and understanding. “We’ll just let that sit for now. Back to your initial assumption tonight, though. . . have I ever brought her here?”

“I’m assuming.”

“Stop assuming.”

“Don’t tell me what to do,” you bit back.

“I’m only telling you that so you can stop hurting yourself. You spiral. I know this about you,” he reasoned carefully.

“That’s fucking rude.”

“Whatever. It’s true and you basically just said it yourself. I do it, too. So, fair’s fair,” he retorted, his tone indicating annoyance. “But to answer my question to you, for you– No. The answer is no. I’ve never brought her here.”

“What about that night with the sweet, unforgettable earplug remark?”

“Really? Unforgettable? Why do you insist–?” He growled low under his breath, shaking his head a little. “Whatever. Never mind. That was a different woman. I hadn’t even met Maya yet. Sam was exaggerating– per usual. I haven’t been seeing her since I moved here. I saw her briefly. . . from mid-June to, like, mid-July.”

“You continued seeing her after Baby’s?”

“I didn’t think you wanted me,” he clarified. “And I was an idiot. She was a woman who wanted to have sex with me, and I like sex. I was just being stupid.”

“That’s probably all I am to you, though,” you said, making him aware of your surmise. His face said he wanted to insert something, but you kept talking. “I’m just someone you can have sex with– because you like sex. Which, I do, too. But I just. . .,” you swept two feather light hands through your hair. “I don’t know why I want it to be more. But I do and . . . that’s going against everything I said. . .and I. . .” You closed your lids and groaned, irritated with your heart.

The fingers were under your chin again, your eyes opening to look at him at the contact. “Because it feels so natural being more. I get it. It’s not bad.”

“Yes it is,” you said, tearing your face away from his hand. “Because you don’t want that with me. I saw how she interacted with you after her lesson the other day. At the festival. I mean, you invited her to the festival. She was backstage with you. . . acting like a girlfriend or some shit the whole damn time. And then when she ran for you when you were upset. . .acting like she had done it a thousand times.”

“Well, she hasn’t. . .” he affirmed, his voice hard and leaving no room for disagreement. “And, yes, she is sweet and I liked having sex with her because she’s a good person who helped me a lot during a hard time with some much needed pep talks. . . but everything at the festival was her taking too much upon herself. Also, she invited herself to that. I didn’t invite her. And when she got there, Sam saw her and had her come backstage. I don’t know why he’s so insistent on hooking us up again.”

Oh.

He continued. “Y/n. . . I don’t know how else to say it. Anyway I say it, I feel like you won’t believe me. But– god, she’s just not you. I would never be able to feel the things for her that I do for you. It was– I emphasize, was– just sex with her; but with you? It's been. . .it’s more. You are more. I can’t explain it. . .my heart aches for you in ways it never did with her—with anyone.”

His velvet voice sent a flutter to your heart. You heard the genuine truth behind it, and the way his eyes never once left yours. His eyes, that said so much more than his words ever could. 

“I don’t want her. I want you. At my shows. In my bed every night and every morning, waking me with your mouth or your sweet pussy. . .I just—goddammit. Fuck. I fucking love you, y/n. I love you. No one else.”

Your next words couldn’t have been stopped if you tried. 

“I love you too,” fell smoothly from your lips, like the purest golden honey.

He stopped—his reddened, heavy eyes zeroing in on yours. He gave a tiny shake of his head.

“Y–you do?”

You couldn’t believe your own words. Really. Well. . .could you? They’d slipped from your lips so easily, with no time to overthink them, like you always seemed to do. Because you didn’t have to think about it– you couldn’t overthink that—because it was true. It came out so naturally, so authentically, just as it was. You hadn’t even realized you felt it yet; you hadn’t given yourself the chance to fully feel it—but there was no doubt. You did. You couldn’t hide it from yourself any longer. 

His blown out irises penetrated yours—the eyes that confirmed everything he’d just told you to be completely true.

“Jesus, Jake. Of course I fucking do.”

Who moved first, you’d never know.

But your lips met his with unbridled need. You moaned at the feeling of his soft lips enveloping yours. . . the way he sucked your mouth gently into his own– tasting you with the tip of his tongue as he did so. When you moaned again, he pushed you back with his hips, a hand gripping one of yours. You grabbed his ass tightly as if to hang on, never wanting to let go of him. The only place to go was your room, your door ajar just enough that it opened easily on its own. He reached a hand behind him to close it gently– so as not to wake anyone. 

Your lamp, still left on, just as it had been earlier in the evening, shed the perfect amount of golden light. You grabbed his cheeks, pulling him away from you momentarily to appreciate his features. Finally out of the dark you could look at him. And, God, you loved his face. Everything about it, having been so intricately and delicately created. . .making the most beautiful man you’d ever laid eyes on. 

A quiet smirk graced his perfect lips, his eyes tightly locked with yours. “What’s the matter?” he asked, his hushed, now-sultry voice making your need for him that much more heightened. 

You thought a moment before you answered. With all of your feelings for him finally becoming realized in your own mind, there was just so much you felt you needed to say. So much you needed him to know. As you stared in his sparkling eyes, pupils pure black from the weed and his need for you, the only word your mind could conjure up was love. Over and over again. Not just the word, but the feeling; the new desire for him that went far beyond the purely physical one that you’d tried so hard to convince yourself of. 

But it wasn’t new; it had been clear all along. You’d just shoved it down to the deepest trenches of your mind, only to be discovered by the most skilled explorer. There was so much you wanted to say, but you just couldn’t conjure the proper words. For once, you’d been left nearly speechless by your intense infatuation for him that you had finally allowed yourself space to fully realize. 

You decided your body could do all the talking. It could say more than your voice ever could.

“Nothing,” you whispered against his lips as you pulled him in for the deepest kiss you’re certain the two of you had ever shared with one another.

He led you backwards to your bed, your lips staying connected the entire time. With hardly any effort, he swiftly scooped you up and placed you on the bed, his lips only leaving yours to attach to your neck to suck on the tight flesh. His fingers toyed with the strap of your top, teasing it slowly down your shoulder. His mouth followed it with wet, barely there kisses on your skin with each movement down your arm. He then moved to the other arm, doing the exact same thing as his mouth began setting your whole body alight. 

He was taking his time. He wanted to enjoy every part of your body, savoring you in ways he always had but this time, it was different. His need was far beyond just wanting to fuck you; he wanted to love you. 

He dragged his lips across your collarbone, moving to the middle of your chest, then taking the fabric still covering you between his teeth as he pulled a little. 

“Take this off,” he whispered, “need to taste these pretty tits.” 

You groaned, wasting no time removing the barrier. You tossed it across the room with such eagerness you should’ve been embarrassed. But you weren’t. Couldn’t be. Not when he was displaying the same eagerness to please you, to feel your body against his own.

He flattened his tongue over a hard bud, slowly dragging it up until the tip flicked your nipple before he closed his lips around it and sucked. He swirled his tongue around, lifting off of it with a string of saliva that still connected him to you as he blew cold air on it. He tweaked it with his fingers, rolling it between his index and thumb as he moved to the other breast to give it the same attention. 

“Jake— fuck. It feels so good.” You were breathing so heavily that your breathless words just barely broke through your parted lips. 

But he heard you. And he smiled in retort against your chest as he continued lapping and sucking at you, using his teeth to graze your nearly too sensitive nipple. You were already nearing your break, feeling the pulsing between your legs keeping up with the erratic beating of your heart. 

He grabbed both your breasts, pushing them together and licking one long and steady stripe up the middle where his strong hands connected them. 

“Goddamn,” He spoke against your skin; you felt every word from his lips across your supple flesh. “I will never get enough of these, baby. So fucking perfect.” 

As good as he was making you feel, you were becoming increasingly more desperate. You needed him in your pussy. His mouth, his fingers, his cock. Fucking anything. You were throbbing for him. You weaved your trembling hands through his tangled hair, trying to guide him the rest of the way down your body. 

“Jake, please. I need you.” Your labored breathing made it incredibly hard to be able to form a single coherent word. 

He giggled as he made his descent down your heaving belly, stopping to plant an open mouthed kiss over your belly button as your body shuddered almost uncontrollably. 

“Easy, baby,” he said between leaving kitten licks just above the waistband of your leggings. “You know I’ll give you what you want. Don’t I always? Just let me take my time with you– need to worship this glorious fucking body.” 

Your heart swelled at his words. He thought your body was deserving of being worshiped. Who were you to rush him? And he was right. He was always the most generous lover, never stopping until you were fully satisfied with everything you needed. He pulled your leggings down just a little, enough to expose your hip bones and the top of your purple lace thong. He sucked a dark mark on the tight skin of your hip, sending a flood to your already soaked core as you gasped so loud you reached your hand up to cover your gaping mouth. 

“Let them hear,” he groaned as he smiled. “They’re in our fucking place, aren’t they? If they don’t like it, they can leave.” 

Our place. 

Those words that had once felt so poisoned, that would have made you cringe at the mere sound of them— they suddenly felt so right as they comfortably glided off his tongue that was caressing you wonderfully.

Though, you weren’t quite ready for them to know about this. . . Despite your ever-present fear of Josh finding out, there was just something about it only being between you and Jake. Especially now, the way it felt so sacred and special. Just the two of you. No one else. No one. 

Before you could tell him you absolutely did not want them to hear, he tested you a bit further by pulling your leggings off in one swift motion and planting his lips directly on your vibrating clit, still tucked away beneath the purple lace. With how he had perfectly worked you up, you were already so sensitive. You jolted at the contact, nearly screaming “fuck!” into your open palm as the sensation had been heightened in brand new ways. 

“Normally I’d say purple is the most offensive hue,” he ran his middle finger up and down the wet lace, applying a feather light pressure— just enough to have you squirming under his touch. “But you make it look so goddamn magnificent. So fucking beautiful.”

“Fuck Jake. . .” You started bucking your hips up, chasing anything he would give you. 

“I know baby, I know,” he hushed. “I just love seeing you like this. So ready for me, your panties clinging to you. I’m gonna lock that sight away.” 

He hooked his thumbs around the thin string of your thong and pulled it slowly down your hips. The pads of his fingers danced over the skin of your thighs while he rid you of the final hindrance keeping him from where you desired him the most. He lifted your legs over his shoulders as his tongue flicked just once at your swollen clit. You pulled tightly at his hair and he groaned at the feeling, sending a vibration against you as you tried with all of your best efforts to stay quiet.

He took a moment to admire the sight of you, how your trembling body practically begged him to touch you without the need for a single word. As if sensing it, he started leaving the most tender kisses on the inside of your thighs, inching himself closer and closer but never picking up his pace.

He was teasing you to the point of near madness. You were certain the sheets below you were soaked with your arousal. You could hardly stand it any longer. Your need for him had officially surpassed any you had ever felt for him before. 

“J-Jake, please. . .” 

He sucked a few more times on the tender flesh of your thigh before finally wrapping his wet lips around your neglected clit. As he did it, he looked up at your pleasure contorted face with eyes that smiled. You became nearly breathless at the sight of him combined with the feeling of his warm tongue caressing you, devouring you like a starved man enjoying his first meal. 

He pulled you as close to his face as he could with an iron grip on your hips. His eyebrows became creased as he hummed into your sopping and throbbing pussy. The carnal, lewd sounds of him sloppily lapping at you only added to the intensity you felt in the pit of your stomach. . .

. . .until he stopped— leaving you whimpering and squirming for more. 

“Look at me.” His soft, gravelly voice pulled you from your agony of missing his mouth on you, and you did as he said.

Your body shook as you lifted your head to meet his dark, sinful eyes that burned holes straight through yours. 

“You look so fucking beautiful,” he muttered. “And you taste so sweet, baby.” 

He smiled as he leaned down to place a gentle kiss just above your clit, keeping his eyes locked with yours. He lifted off of you and climbed up your quivering body, dragging his lips over any surface area of you he could reach until his nose brushed against yours.

“Jaaake. . .” You nudged your lips against his, feeling his warm breath melt into your skin. “. . .fuck me. Now.” 

He wanted to hear you say it; he needed to hear you say it. 

He lifted his hips up just enough for your wandering hand to reach down between your bodies. You cupped him tightly in your palm, feeling just how desperate he was to get out of the strenuous restriction of his black jeans. 

He hissed as your hand moved up and down his clothed length, teasing him just as he had with you. You reached up and cradled his face with your free hand, drawing patterns into his cheekbone with the pad of your thumb. 

You loved the hitch in his breath, his pleading eyes that begged you to take his jeans off. The sweat that had formed around his hairline. The torment in his eyes that all on their own could have sent you spiraling into the most beautiful release. God, he was so fucking pretty. 

You squeezed your hand around him, feeling him throb as his eyes rolled in the back of his head. He grit his teeth and bite his lower lip so hard you were surprised he didn’t draw blood. 

“Jesus— fuck,” he groaned, the rasp in his voice sending a another wave to core.

You wanted to tease him further, but your own body couldn’t take it any longer. 

You dug into the buckle of his belt and ripped it off of him in one fluid motion, you both gasping at the ‘snap’ sound it made when you pulled it out of the loops of his pants. With one hand, you released the metal button and pulled the zipper of his fly down in record time. Your fingers instantly intertwined with his boxers, reaching inside for his pulsing cock.

“A bit eager, are we?” he patronized, but you knew damn well he needed it as badly as you did. 

“Shut the fuck up, Jacob.”

He huffed a laugh as he aided you in pulling his jeans and boxers down to sit in the middle of his thighs, finally freeing him all the way. 

You wanted to taste him, but the ache in your pussy was far too great to go any longer without him filling you. You wrapped your legs tightly around his hips to angle yourself perfectly with him as he lined himself up with you. Both of his hands settled on either side of your face as he pulled you into a fervid kiss while the tip of his cock nudged your quivering entrance.

He kissed down your jawbone, your neck, pulling your earlobe gently between his teeth. 

“I fucking love you. . .” he purred against your ear, plunging his cock slowly inside of you as he said it. “. . . and god, do I love fucking you.”

You groaned in utter relief when he thrust himself completely inside of you, as deep as he could go. He was still for a moment, feeling your walls clench around the pulsing of his cock. 

“Fuck, Jake. . .” You pulled at the sweat drenched hairs sitting on the nape of his neck while the nails of your other dug into the soft flesh of his hip. 

“I know, baby. . . I feel you. So wet and warm, pulling me in. I fit so well, don’t I?”

You couldn’t even respond to tell him how fucking good he felt buried inside of you. Words had escaped you entirely.

You weren’t sure if it was the weed or if it was because you were finally letting yourself feel everything you’d shoved down for far too long, but the way he felt sitting inside of you was ineffable; he was right. He fit so goddamn well. He had to have been made for you. Fuck. You’d let him stay inside of you for the rest of your life if you could. 

He started pumping in and out of you at a slow pace— you could feel every vein of his thick shaft against your walls as he glided so effortlessly through you. Pulling all the way out to the tip, then back in again, perfectly brushing that wonderful spot within you each time as you felt every inch of him.

He gradually quickened his thrusts, his breaths becoming more and more deep with every calculated movement of his hips. Both of your hands reached behind him to grasp ahold of his back, feeling the muscles beneath your fingertips flex while he fucked himself into you with more intensity. 

“Fuck, baby,” you moaned, clawing at his skin, damp with perspiration from his efforts and the wonderful effects of the weed. You were desiring to feel him as close to you as you possibly could. You were about to finish–you could feel it. Teetering on the edge of sweet relief. . . your walls were fluttering, your clit was pulsing. . . 

The wound-up ball of tension in your tummy was about to let loose. 

His thrusts were getting desperate, his pants and sighs were mixing with yours. And you couldn’t help but look between you, where your bodies met. . . it made your heart beat even more rapidly in your chest, seeing you connected in such a way. It looked so right. You felt full. You felt whole. In your haze, your thoughts couldn’t help but wander as you thought of the final step to feeling close to him. 

Fuck.

As soon as the thought entered your brain, you had to throw your head back in ecstasy. It was almost too much to imagine. 

Your mind was so fucking cloudy– nothing sounded better in that moment than to feel him fully. His release inside of you. . .it would join your bodies completely. And God, you wanted that.

Needed it. And you knew this time might very well be the last. And you had to feel him in that way. Just once. You’d get a Plan-fucking-B in the morning. It would be so incredibly worth it to feel him in that way. 

Just this once. This one last time. It would be the perfect ending to this beautiful chapter of my life, you thought, longing for things to be different. 

“Shit– y/n,” Jake’s voice was needy as he rasped. “You feel so damn good. Fuck. So tight. So wet– smooth as fuckin’ velvet–,” he snapped his hips, the tip of his dick met your tender spot. It was even more tender under the influence– everything was heightened. “Fuck!”

You shook with anticipation, your legs already twitching. And you hadn’t even cum yet. 

“I know, Jakey,” you sighed. You reached a hand down his back, grasping at his firm ass. You held tightly to the plush muscle. It flexed with each push of his hips against you. “Y’feel so good.”

One hand and a forearm was balancing him above you. The hand of the forearm had been tenderly holding your head for the entirety of him fucking you into your mattress. But the other hand that he’d been using for balance moved swiftly to place two fingers below your chin. As he guided your face to look at him, you sighed with relief at the sight of his beautiful eyes– speaking every emotion he wanted to say. 

You felt it with him. Every fucking bit of it. 

His brows were concentrated, pinched with thought and overflowing emotions. 

“I know, sweetie. I feel it, too,” you gasped on the last words. Tears were choking your throat. You didn’t want this to end. But, even now, you knew it had to. Fuck– you wished like hell that you could keep him. But you couldn’t. 

Josh’s words swirled through your mind.

“Now is not the time to be getting involved with anyone.” 

“You know better, Jake. And you know that now is the time to focus on yourself rather than a woman– focusing on anything besides this monumental time in your life could hurt you.”

You knew Josh was correct. You couldn’t be the thing to distract him to the point of him abandoning this dream. 

 “Can you just fucking look out for yourself—just a little bit?” He’d pleaded, his voice breaking a bit. 

Just like your heart now. 

“I just don’t want to see you get hurt again. . . I would just really appreciate it if you cared about yourself the way you deserve.”

You feared he couldn’t do it for himself. Look out for his best interest. If he hadn’t been able to do it before with Amelia, what would stop him from giving himself the short end of the stick for you, too?

And you had to take into consideration how quickly you’d been destroyed by running to any and every conclusion about Maya. . . You could not handle something like this. Emotionally, it was too much for you at this point in your life. Pushing all of the thoughts away, you decided to just let yourself have this time with him. He was everything you wanted, and at this moment you were going to let yourself have him.

Bringing yourself back to the present, you gazed into his irises. But before you could lose yourself further, he shook his head, looking down between the two of you. 

Your brow furrowed in response, and you reached the hand that was still holding his back, up to cup his cheek, lifting his head in the process. When he looked at you again, his eyes were shining. 

Dammit, Jake, you thought, wistful. 

You felt tears prick your own ducts. Your thumb swept across the soft skin and the faint beauty mark that adorned his cheek. Fuck, he was beautiful. You bit your lip, then hushed your next words, repeating your earlier statement. “I know.”

He went to look down again, but your hold was firm on his face. “Look at me, Jake,” you begged. “Watch me.”

He pressed his face into your hand, his eyes shutting for a moment. A singular tear made its way to your chest. He cleared his throat, opening his eyes. He kept them on you, never wavering and following your instructions. His hips continued with their languid movements, his cock never exiting you. But, suddenly, as you felt your walls constrict him again, his slow movements became quicker, desperate. You wanted to throw your head back, completely overtaken with lust. But you kept your eyes trained on his. 

You had to see him finish. . . see his face. You’d never let yourself watch him, subconsciously fearing the intimacy of witnessing it. But you had to see it now. . .just once.

“Stay with me, Jake,” you pleaded, your voice hitching with each hard pump of his dick. He briefly closed his eyes again, and fearful of missing him, you coached him back to you. “Look into my eyes.”

You gasped the last part, the sensation of him throbbing and twitching inside of you, the fullness of his dick filling you completely. 

More.

He whimpered, his Amber-brown eyes, heart wrenching and warm as they stayed locked with yours. “I can’t– I’m gonna– I’m–,” he choked out. His movements slowed, and he went to pull out. But you stopped him, your hand holding tight to his soft, round ass. He looked back at you, quirking an inquisitive, urgent brow. You felt your legs quiver, your heat clenched around him as your clit twitched with need. 

So close. Fuck. 

His eyes rolled, his lids shutting with the feeling. He bit his pink lip. His lips, still swollen from your kisses and shiny from your release. The butterflies in your stomach started fluttering ferociously, the familiar feeling overtaking you as your body trembled– your nerves humming. 

You were about to finish. And you had to do it with him. 

Completely. 

“Y/n,” he gasped, warning you. “I’m going to fucking cum.”

You felt his cock pulse inside of you, confirming his words. 

“I know,” you said, for the third time. “But I need to feel you. I want you to finish inside of me.”

His eyes bugged. “Y/n– fuck. No. No. You are under the influence. You don’t want–.”

You felt your chest flare with irritation at his words. “Jake, I swear to fuck,” you whined, your eyes shutting as one particular nudge of his cock against your folds pushed you nearly over the edge. “Please, Jake. Please, baby. I promise you won’t be taking advantage or some shit. I need it. Please. Let me have it. Just this one time.”

Let our last time be special, you thought. You tried to let your eyes echo your thoughts, willing him to understand. 

He seemed to, because his next words were less apprehensive– an air of eagerness and an air of excitement painting his tone with his next words. “Are you sure?”

“More than sure,” you reassured, smoothing your thumb across his sharp cheekbone. 

And with one last buck from his hips, your clit twitched and your legs turned to Jell-o. All composure was lost–shuddering and heart chanting his name. Then, with a final groaned growl, his eyelids drooped, and his irises hazily watched you. His mouth relaxed to an ‘o’ shape, just the same as it did when he played his beloved instrument. You felt the glorious feeling of his release, as he spilled warm and plentiful inside of you. 

“Jaaaake,” you moved your hips up against him, wanting to feel and catch every last bit of him. “Yes, baby– yes.”

Dammit– until this moment, you hadn’t realized just how badly you needed this. 

You could punch yourself with the anger you felt at ending things with him. But it was for this exact reason. The emotions you were feeling (that you knew he was also feeling), as he slumped against you, thick shaft slowly softening inside of you. . .his head balanced on your shoulder as your fingers lazily played with his gorgeous, growing locks. . . 

It wasn’t uncomplicated. It was more than it was ever meant to become. It wasn’t what you had agreed to in the slightest. This was turning into a relationship. And you were not about to squander his career with any sort of distraction. You refused to get in the way of his career. 

So, when he finally pulled out of you –and you felt the remnants of his seed slipping from between the folds of your fulfilled cunt– you reminded yourself.

Plan B. 

And as you dozed off, after he’d cleaned you so delicately, with him spooning you from behind, his firm chest meeting your relaxed back. . . you swore you wouldn’t forget. 

Plan B in the morning.

-🌼🌼🌼-

a/n: hope to see you back for part 2 TOMORROW!! 🖤

ty for being the best readers in the world and pleaseee never hesitate to send in your wonderful thoughts!

& 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)

Taglist: @joshym, @gretavanfleetposts, @alyson814, @fretaganvleet, @lallisonl, @writingcold, @gvfpal, @twinszka, @jessicafg03, @reesetrippingthelight, @sacredjake, @laurenlovesgretavanfleet, @gretavangroove, @222headedcalf, @dreamssingold, @carbondancingthroughtime, @raviolilegs, @way-to-go-lad, @jakekiszkasmommy, @katgvf, @objectsinspvce, @jaketlover, @vanfleeter, @thetroublegetssloud71, @seditabets, @jakekiszkapunchmeintheface, @jaketlove, @ohgodthefeeling-gvf, @starcatcher-jake, @anythingforjtk, @lucimoo, @indigostreakmorgan, @gretavanbear, @katelynn-gvf, @alwaysonthemend, @aintthatapity, @bowievanfleet, @fwzco, @takenbythemadness, @cherry-icecreamsmile, @laneygvf, @hi-hi-hello11, @sinarainbows, @jakesbarbarian, @mybussyinchrist, @becinabubblegvf, @heckingfrick, @danigvf, @pinkandsleepy1934, @derrangeddumpsterfire, @klarxtr, @josh-iamyour-mama, @abby-gvf, @cassyface, @gretavansabotage, @torniturntomyarrow, @joshsbonnet, @llrosee, @starshine-gvf, @itsafullmoon, @gvfmarge, @creadliz98, @mackalah, @lek-gvf

[screampied]

hi vegasss! this might be a little odd to ask but i feel very safe here and you're like THE smut writer so . do you have any tips for your first time? the concept of sex is so nice in my head but i feel like it's very different when you actually do it so i am so so nervous for my first time. HELP A GIRL OUT :( ok ily bai

hi babie! no worries, you guys can ask me whatever 🎀. but aw :0 thank uuu so much, i’m glad ur comfy to ask me this !!!!

i do have some tips, and i understand your nervousness !!! the first thing i wanna say is take your time. never let anyone pressure you into losing your virginity + having sex. you’ll still be the same person you were before you lost your virginity. it’s your body, and virginity doesn’t have an expiration date. it’s okay to be nervous, i was nervous lol. my first time was actually very awkward n silly.

be smart n use protection !!! be aware you might bleed a little on your first time... or not! it’s normal, it haaaappens. it might sting / hurt a bit at first too. i’d recommend lubricating. also foreplay. every woman‘s body is different so it really depends. educate yourself !!! explore your body, practice on yourself (toys / masturbating), and this is very important—pee after sex. it helps flush out fluids, and protects you from uti's ☝️☝️

communicate with each other 🫂. before and during. make sure that you are comfortable before initiating. it’s okay to say no or stop at ANY time, always remember that. stay safe ily2 💓💓.

[i-cant-sing]

Ok so...

I FUCKING LOVED PART 10, I WAS LIKE "I LOVE MEHMED" AT THE START AND THEN "WTF MEHMED"

LIKE I THOUGHT HE WOULD BE NORMAL BUT WHAT THE FLIPPER FLOPPERS-

AND YK SOMETIMES I HAVE A HARD TIME IMAGINING WHAT THEY LOOK LIKE SO I TRIED TO SEARCH UP MEHMED FIRST AND I SAW A LOT OF DIFFERENT PICTURES AND IDK WHICH ONE WAS THE MEHMED IN YOUR STORY

AND THEN I SEARCH MUSTAFA AND I JUST GOT CONFUSED BC IDK ANYMORE.

I FOUND MIHRIMAH AND I FOUND HER IN A SERIES CALLED "MAGNIFICENT CENTURY" SO I SEARCH MEHMED AND MUSTAFA IN THAT SERIES ALSO I FOUND THEM BUT I'M NOT SURE IF THAT IS HOW YOU PICTURE THEM IN YOUR STORY TBH.

I WOULD REALLY LIKE TO KNOW BC I CAN'T IMAGINE ANY MORE BC MY BRAIN IS BUSY WITH SCHOOL WORK AND I CAN NOT HANDLE ANY MORE RESEARCH BC I ALREADY HAVE RESEARCH FOR SCHOOL ABOUT THE ROMAN EMPIRE AND STUFF!

SO PLEASE SEND A PIC OR REFERENCE ON HOW YOU IMAGINE THEM BC I WANT TO SEE THEM AS THE WAY YOU SEE THEM BC YK-

ILY SO MUCH MWA MWA MWA!

AND THE ENDING SHOCKED ME, THE LADY SQUEEZING MY NECK MADE ME HORRIFIED LIKE POOR Y/N!

AND THE ENDING WAS LIKE "OH MY DAYS, WHAT THE FLIP" BC WAS LIKE WHY ARE WE ALWAYS GETTING NEAR-DEAD EXPERIENCES WITH FIRE

AND THE PAINTING IS MAKING ME NERVOUS LIKE WHA-

MWA ILY BAI

they are pretty close to what i had in mind, definitely mehmed is the most similar one to the show. for mustafa, i imagine him to look more mature and kinder, cause thats the kind of ruler he was in my mind?

for mihirmah, it was more pretty but BRATTY.

Ibrahim from the show is NOT what i had in mind, thats for sure.

[denim-devil]

Ok so, Billy and mating press with smoking and a touch of softness pleaseeeee ily

Appetite | B.H

A/N - I- billy loves how tight it is- honestly this request is short but I love it so here it is, something short but something spicy, we all need some spice!

──────. • ☆:*.☽ .* :☆ﾟ• . ──────

You were easy to manipulate. His hands pushed your legs, knees buried in your chest watching the dirty blonde male above roll his hips into you, slowly, making sure he doesn’t hurt you.

You mewled at his back, nails trailing in uneven patterns, digging hard enough to leave red lines which now began littering the olive skin. Today was different, due to the storm that hit Hawkins unexpectedly, school was closed leaving the two of you home, Billy couldn’t pass up this opportunity

It had been a while, judging how Billy slowly sank into you, allowing one inch at a time to surpass your pucker, you faltered, forgetting just how big he really was and it showed.

“Hey, look at me…” he mumbles softly, breathy almost, stilling his advances, he was half way, half way into you, he was so damn close, close enough to feel the heat practically leaking from his body.

The couch was comfortable, wore and torn by the years it had stilled in Billy’s living room, the rickety structure groaned with each of your movements although, it helped Billy reach depths he couldn’t before.

You catch his stare, his curls falling over his face, necklace following suit. His smile was warm, big, almost angelic, he was never one to be soft but it was given with you, you brought out the best in him it was clear.

“That’s it honey…let, me, in.”

His words encouraged you to relax into his touch, his cock no easily gliding in gently until you swallowed every inch given. Billy couldn’t be more pleased, fuck he was so proud of you.

You clutched onto his tensed biceps, squeezing the muscle, clinging on for leverage, something that kept the burn at bay as-well as the soft, chaste kisses he littered across the crook of your neck.

“Yeah? There you go, doing god’s work doll”

He chuckled at his own words, he wasn’t ever usually cocky but fuck you looked so tiny underneath his looming figure, as if he could squash you with the muddy soles of his aged boots.

Now balls deep, he rested against your body, allowing you to feel him and register the intrusion, the anomaly that your body now had to accommodate.

You released your harsh grip, moving up to his shoulders, placing your hands softly atop of them, preparing yourself for his ensemble.

“Please move- plea- fuck”

Your words ushered themselves out quickly like you had no control over your tongue, as if it had a course it had set eyes on, relishing in your whimper-ish tone, Billy angled his hips before pulling himself backwards, dwelling on the audible squelch that followed with his retreat.

A whispered “fuck” escapes Billy, his baby blues shut completely, squinting almost in pleasure once slowly sinking back into you, every ridge, every vein felt underneath the slow thrust he tortured you with.

You could feel how close he was, how his hands kept your legs drawn up into your chest which not only allowed him to drive impossibly deeper but this way he could be closer to you, his hips now resting against your ass, his balls pressed snug against parted cheeks.

The smirk returns, this time his tongue rolls over those pearly whites before he clicks it, already relieving himself of another thrust, drawing out quicker, sinking in slower…he was punishing you, but for what, you couldn’t tell.

“Big…fuck you’re so big Bill-“

The nickname encourages Billy to begin a undulating pace, one that left you breathless, vision blurred with tears from the harsh burn that slowly began to disperse into waves of pleasure.

The position had Billy practically hungry for your mouth, his lips crashing against your own reflecting his hunger, god fuck was he hungry for you. Smack after smack of your lips matched the heavy thrusts he now participated in, edging his way deeper every-time your tongue rolled against his own.

Billy eventually stalled, still fully sheathed within you before letting go, the coil breaking once he falls into you, his mouth detaching from your own. You both gasp for air, Billy’s growls filling the room along side your incoherent mumbles.

His eyes shut completely, mouth hanging agape once his thighs stop twitching, his cum quickly spilling out once he pulls away, his now limp cock falling softly out with a squelch.

Billy sighed, his eyes lingering on his finished work, focusing on the clear liquid leaking down between your cheeks.

“Fuck…look at that-“ Billy’s finger prod around your hole before pushing his cum back in, slightly thrusting in further before pulling out completely and slopping back into the couch.

You lay dazed before being startled by a click and puff. You watch the smoke slip from his lips, the cigarette resting between his sizzling at the end.

“You okay?” Billy took another puff before resting it between his fingers, turning to you with that cocky smirk.

“Yeah…after that I’m more then okay-“ you quickly remark before scrambling over to his naked body, resting into his side.

Billy allowed you to, his arm occupying the cigarette wrapped around you, pulling you in closer before pecking you on the forehead.

“Your not the only one sweetheart…”

[skyfallscotland]

Hello, welcome back to your running commentary of ToG, where I let you know my every thought as they occur.

Ok so I'm doing the tandem (mostly via audio) and I'm not sure if this is a great idea or a terrible one but I'm worried about getting through ToD if I don't, because of what everyone says...and NGL EoS is seeming more interesting so far, given, you know; Manon.

manooooon, ily 💗

dorian you fool

ugh i don't know who's more uninteresting—chaol or nesrin

the decidedly "vaguely asian" mishmash continent is slightly uncomfortable, like damn get original sis

MANON ILY 😍

still not sure why we care what lorcan did—the guy's so uninteresting right now i couldn't care less what he does

with a bit in his mouth- well OK, NOW we’re talking??? 😏🌶️…except we are not

i give less than zero fucks about nesryn riding a hippogriff tbh

“skull’s bay, it was perhaps the one place aelin would never go” ahahahahaha ok sure, how well do u know her again? 🌚

wi-…did they just say windhaven?? is this a Thing or a lack of creativity? because there’s also the ruhn mountains and what the???

Ok so I think I’m about halfway through ToD, because I kept cruising on, and I don’t know if I can do the tandem thing. It’s A Lot. I might just see if I can get through ToD which interests me the least (except for the final chapter which is apparently where the spoilers are?) and then I’ll switch back to EoS, where the actually interesting characters are Manon is 😇

[tonguetyd]

Stupid things

With the tongue boop

What if I booo your tongue with my tongue wHAT THEN?! HMMMM????

Ok here’s the moon ily bai

[shijiujun]

SPOILERS UNDER FOR EP 8 that was released prematurely and then taken down but damn we work hard but the people who share the eps with us work even harder, can mute the kdtm spoilers tag!!!

and major thanks to two friends who sent me the links to the 8th ep!!! lifesavers ty ily

OMG SO ZHANG TENG AND FAN ZHERUI USED TO BE GOOD BROS WTF THIS IS THE EX TAKING REVENGE WTS

YES OMG WATCHING EP 8 NOW I CRY OMG THEY USED TO BE FRIENDS ☹️☹️☹️☹️☹️ HE LIKES LOLLIPOPS CUZ OF FAN ZHERUI WTF EXCUSE ME WHAT IS THIS REVELATION RN

WHAT IS THIS REVENGE EX PLOT

WTS DONT TELL ME THEY BOTH FORGET EACH OTHER?!?! CUZ ZHERUI IS HIT IN THE HEAD AND THEN ZONGYI GOES TO JAIL WITHOUT SEEING HIM AND GETS HIT IN THE HEAD TOO

Omg I hate Viki for releasing the episode early now I’ll be tortured for like 2 weeks while we wait for yet another angst episode 9

OMG UNCLE DILF U ARE NO LONGER MY FAVE DILF UNCLE WTF HOW COULD U CONVINCE HIM TO TAKE THE FALL FOR ZHANG TENG DEATH WTAF

omg can someone tell me if FZR fucked up his head too because he looks haggard as fuck four years later working under his grandpa or is he lying in wait until he has the ability to protect zongyi and get to know him again LIKE WHAT THE SHIT IS GOING ON

but ok it looks like we do get a bit of four years later plot in ep 9

and he seems to remember his sister so HE JUST SELECTIVELY FORGOT FZR?!

and also FZR looks confused in the second frame for ep 9 preview, like he's shaking his head which i take to assume that one of the guys is asking him about bai zongyi and he doesn't remember

Edit: looks like they DO both get fucked in the head ☹️☹️☹️ LEL where is this synopsis I have literally never seen

[miffybnuy]

hello everypony welcome to our pinned message that we will be editing a lot. probably

our name is miffy / angelo

our prns r he/xe + emoji prns (feel free to ask which ones! theyre usually displayed in our bio) and please use them collectively! do not use they when referring to us as a collective

WE R A TRAUMAGENIC SYSTEM!! WE USUALLY DRAW OUR HEADMATES SO BE NORMAL ABT THEM (ask for permission to sexualize them in any way b4 doing so, we dont label whos an alter and who isnt publicly)

we r bodily 19! while our blog is SPECIFICALLY classified to be 16+ due to our own comfort, we r aware we might follow people who do not meet that age requirement and younger ppl may disrespect that boundary and interact / follow us anyway. if u do happen to do that? we dont care too much as long as u rnt like.. dming us or leaving questionable asks in our inbox. that being said: just pls be respectful and we wont care too much!

however this is NOT a safe space / blog for:

endos, yanderes, proshippers / comshippers or ANY of the sort, terfs (obviously), dream supporters specifically, dd/lg or cnc or r*pe related blogs (regular kink is ok, we dont care), tuplas, fakeclaimers of any sort, cluster b demonizers, zoophiles... uh idk what else ill add more later im sure

we WILL block u if u interact with us (if we find out abt it bc sometimes we dont check)

guh uh what else

OUR SPINTEREST IS HOMESTUCK!! we might post other things here and there and have other fixations but homestuck is our bbg at heart please ask us questions and stuff abt it!!!!! please plewase i beg

we also tag things as "tw (content)" or just "(content)", this may vary from alter to alter tho

special tags we use (or at least try to use):

angel blabbing - regular text posts

asks - just for asks p much! no fancy name

angel art (or just "my art") - art tag

we also have oc tags for our homestuck ocs tho i wont rly bother putting them here since i dont feel like its needed

also u can ask us to tag certain things but we will NOT tag fandoms / medias, characters, ships and swearing

that should be it 4 now! ermmmmmm also pls leave us asks we luvvv talking w ppl so so so much!!!! we will add anything else if we feel like its needed!! tysm bai ily

[adobephotoslop]

im playing minceraft and theres hamsters in this mod i have how do you tame hamsters? like if this was real life and you were punching trees and you saw a hamster what would u do. asking cuz you are the only hamsterer i know and thus my best source of hamster expertize. ok ily bai!!

Sunflower seeds. Or human meat.

[commarogue]

idk even know what the list is but tell me about SO YOU MARRIED A PINNIPED or i will expire thank you for ur service ily

ok ok i suppose you have more than earned it considering how often i've crowed at you about this one, and i do actually have the opening drafted out!

2. so i married a pinniped (cn: death of aging parent, talk of death of parent in the past) modern au attempt at a black comedy wherein brienne comes home to get her dad settled in a senior home except whoops nope he's dead and shenanigans ensue from there:

“The last O’Tarth, now,” one blue-hair nodded sagely, crushing the bones of Brienne’s hand between her own veiny ones. Brienne found herself drawn downward, yanked to the face of a woman who disregarded manners and politeness as allowed by her age. “You’ve spent quite enough time on your quest to save the bloody mainland, certainly. Time to come home now, isn’t it? Find you a nice young man—or woman, of course, I don’t judge. Just someone to help you look after your family’s legacy. Make up for lost time?”

Brienne heard herself croak out some noncommittal reply before Asha, preceded by dissipating cigarette smoke, ushered the mourner on into the living room to leave Brienne holding a warm loaf of probably another zucchini bread. Everyone was emptying out their gardens—what luck they could do it into the O’Tarth household.

The last time her dad’s house was this crowded, Brienne remembers there being less bread. Fewer people, too, for her mother had been an outsider, and they had never recovered her body from the water. Everyone on the island loved her father. Everyone here had probably asked him for something at one time or another. They all probably had experienced her father’s generosity whether they consciously knew it or not. Lucky, and ungrateful.

She thanked another face she wished she couldn’t remember, and followed their eyes down to where she was indenting the loaf such that it seemed to be sprouting a ribcage between her fingers. It gave a hollow thunk as it landed on the top of what used to be her father’s dining table until Asha had dubbed it “Condolence Carb Mountain.”

Her mountain, now, though hopefully not for long. Maybe she could foist the mountain off in the sale as well. Everything goes, complimentary funeral loaves non-negotiable.

An immaculately dressed woman passed through the hallway beyond the arch on the other side of the mountain, followed by her partner, equally immaculate and so entirely out of place here on the island. Here, you dressed for the weather and for pragmatism. And you did so a couple decades behind the mainland, as trends and fashion trickled slowly past the bluster of the bay if at all.

Brienne regarded her own too-big dress pants and wrinkled blazer. Those were her father’s as well. Her own were floating somewhere in that bay. It had been an acceptable loss, before. She wasn’t supposed to have seen anyone. Her dad wasn’t supposed to be dead.

“That crown moulding,” the woman said, loud even as she made her way deeper into the house, past the living room where the viewing was taking place.

“I know, but hush.”

“It’ll have to come down.” Come down?

“Babe, we should have waited for the realtor.”

Brienne bumped the table on her rush into the hallway, sending a plate of cookies plummeting to their carpetty deaths. As she called out to redirect the couple disappearing up the back stairs, the doorbell and subsequent dirty looks from old women gossiping under the pretense of mourning silenced her. At her elbow, Asha sucked her teeth.

“Who’re they?”

“Buyers,” Brienne said. “I forgot about the showings.”

“Holy shit you’re selling the house?”

Her dad wasn’t supposed to be dead, she wasn’t supposed to be here, and the house wasn’t supposed to be her problem anymore. She was supposed to have been back on the ferry to Stormsend by now, her father safely set up in assisted living where he would be less likely to get himself into more trouble. Where he wouldn’t be breaking any more hips or terrifying neighbors he didn’t recognize off of public property. She wasn’t supposed to be eating up two days’ worth of time off dealing with every person who lived in Evenfall who expected that she’d finally be moving back to Tarth.

She was supposed to never have to come back to Tarth again.

The back door opened and a voice commented on the smell of baked goods. Asha swore like she was excited.

“Want me to kick them out?” Asha said, and Brienne got the distinct impression she would be granting her a most fervent wish.

“No.”

“No?”

“I need to get this over with.” She needed to get back to her life, back to Winterfell. Delaying the house viewings would be another day before she could get home, more lost time, would feed the island’s gossip that she was back. Back-back.

“How?”

“I’ll get the door, can you—?” But before Brienne could finish her question, Asha was a shark after immaculately-dressed albacore. It didn’t make sense; the realtor was supposed to have met her this morning so she could turn the keys over before the scheduled appointments.

“But the advertisement said this was an open house?” The potential buyers on the porch regarded Brienne with suspicion as she informed them they were double-booked. Fair, she was actively hiding a dead body from them in her living room. Brienne stepped into their line of sight, though it was obvious they had already seen her crowded living room. Why hadn’t she drawn the drapes?

They grumbled minimally but retreated to their car to wait. The notification drawer on Brienne’s phone stared blankly back at her—despite her father’s passing it seemed the island’s charms remained intact. Had she known she’d be on Tarth for this long she would have brought her old pager. At least then she’d have had some kind of warning from the realtor.

From inside the house came a startled shriek and the murmur of a group of people remarking disapprovingly to each other, followed by heavy hurried footsteps. Three figures emerged in a rush through the front door, two looking alternately like they’d seen a ghost and then vomited, and Asha after them doing a decent impression of the kind of teacher who lets you stick your finger into a socket to teach you a lesson about electricity.

“You’re sick,” the first spewed at her as Brienne attempted to apologize. The second looked like they were holding more vomit in.

Another car pulled up. It was the couple from the porch. The tall one rolled down their window: “Can we go through now?”

Once they realized the viewings would just keeping piling up, Asha parked herself on the porch, a wake-cum-open-house bouncer directing people this way and that.

“Open house or open casket?” turned into “House or body?” turned into “Shopping or mourning?” and eventually Brienne stopped caring. She smiled her most welcoming smile at potential buyers and frowned her grieving frown at people who still called her Little Bri and told her how proud her father had been of her, even though she ran away.

endless wips meme!

[mollyflipssss]

RANDOM EVENT *TLDR* creepy dude in roblox was sexual to everyone in the server including me, was the school principal, and insulted me when i tried to point out his repeated weird behavior to a group.

Some dude in roblox came up to me when i was sitting and started to yknow what to me and i was like WOAH!! but also was on my phone... so i ran into a corner... and HE KEPT GOING. i was like wtf cuz he literally verbally said "oh you like it in the corner." EW WTF. im so grossed out atp and wanna leave, but stay because i lent some girl my gear and id like her to enjoy it. plus there was a field trip in the game they organized coming up, and i love those!!! so whatever. fuck this weirdo, i thought thatd be it.

I overlooked the fact this man is a principal. and he stays in this game for far too long. and he sexually approaches person, after person, after person. and bitch atp i was like is he mentally there??? ANYWAY bro so everything was chill for a while and i was hanging out with a group of people who were decent, and then who walks up? a woman.

This woman though is actually the principal. And none of us realize, until they then change their avatar and people investigate their profile. He then asked the students if they wanted private lessons. I was like oh my god his behavior never ends, so I typed in chat "oh this guy again, hes weird." because that is facts. He comes up to me fuming immediately. Keep in mind, I was across the ways from him stood on a wall. He knew I was talking about him even though I had recently just came back.

The man calls me a pick me, he tells me to shut the fuck up, he says im just trying to get attention, just berating me with insults. I couldnt comprehend everything he said cuz it was so sudden, but I know he said more, and after that I was like .... ok. I just left bro. How do I talk to a man who doesn't respect people?? In a game where you AREN'T ALLOWED to be sexual, he does, continuously. And is such a disgusting way. I have him blocked now and I hope to never encounter this disgusting person again. I shouldn't have to explain, but IN A GAME WHERE THERE ARE CHILDREN... you shouldn't behave that way. Its like hes lost the plot of whats funny. Its not funny to make weird disgusting comments in voice chat while you do these things. The things he said is really what im trying to outline as what irked me.

OK BAI ILY IF U READ THIS its so stupid it doesnt bother me much its just so gross and you know, after playing the game so much you see this same type of man over and over again. i just thought the way this happened was totally unprovoked, since i didnt outright say this without witnessing some odd shit first.

[mins-fins]

hi isa :3 i’ve been so ia lately and i haven’t sent u an ask in sooo long so i thought i’d say hi and i miss u and ily 😊🫶 have u been working on anything new??? currently i’m working on a ricky smau and a jongseob smau :3 i’m excited to work on them more thoo.. also how was ur day!? ok bai ily sotd is city of stars bc i miss them….. i’ll start sending u more asks i promise

HI KARMA!!! shut up i missed you how have you been 🙁?? im currently suffering with worst headache of my life i had to leave work early 😆 (and give my money to a man who cant pick his ass up and get a job) (my uncle) besides that i have been working on this stupid xiaojun thingy where totally NOBODY dies (🥰) (no im serious no one dies actually) and a hyuck smau that will not cooperate with me 👍 my day was good then it got mad and i need ibuprofen anyway…….. my sotd (STAN TALENT STAN TBZ) okay ily sleep well eat good food 🫶