#accompanying me through school and my first years at university

[akikos-tribble-army]

After months of looking, I finally found a potential new bag for university that didn't cost me like 200€ and is only half the size the backpack I am currently using.

Also, my backpack is falling apart on the inside, even though it looks totally fine on the outside.

But the inside isn't.

No.

It really isn't.

It's literally dying on the inside.

[skylin-files]

girl code ⋆ na jaemin

pov: your best friend's former situationship started hitting you up. what could go wrong?

pairing: college student!jaemin x college student! yn

featuring! winter of aespa, nct members

note: this is my first work here. there will be three parts; this is part one. i hope you like it; your comments will be highly appreciated. ♡

check part two here: part 2 | part 3 (final) coming soon..

── .✦

You and Winter have been best friends for as long as you can remember, inseparable since high school. Back then, you were the duo everyone recognized, always having each other’s backs. But now, in college, life has taken you to separate universities.

You’ve remained a consistent dean's lister and an active member of the campus newspaper, carrying the title of "no boyfriend since birth." Your focus has always been on academics, firmly believing that boys would only be a distraction.

Winter, on the other hand, has been part of her university’s cheer team since her freshman year. For her, cheer takes precedence over academics, and she’s had more talking stages than actual relationships. She’s the embodiment of "pretty privilege."

A classic pair of opposites, perhaps a little cliché. Despite your differences, your bond has always been unbreakable—until a boy enters the picture.

Speaking of the boy, there’s Jaemin, Na Jaemin.

“Na Jaemin!” Jeno, Jaemin’s best friend, yells from outside his apartment, accompanied by the relentless blaring of his car horn.

“I’m not leaving until you open the damn door, Jaemin!” Jeno laughs, still pressing the horn.

“Are you insane? It’s almost midnight. Stop honking the car,” Jaemin grumbles over the phone, peering out his window to spot Jeno grinning, clearly amused. Jaemin shakes his head, slipping on his jacket and grabbing his keys before heading out.

“What took you so long? I told you we’re going to Johnny’s party. You don’t have a say in this,” Jeno remarks as Jaemin climbs into the car. “What were you doing anyway?” he adds.

Jaemin takes a moment, lighting a cigarette before replying, “Homework.”

── .✦

“He looks good—flawless. God’s favorite child,” Winter remarks, scrolling through Instagram as she admires a boy on her screen.

“Who?” you ask, leaning in curiously.

“Oh, just my failed talking stage,” Winter replies casually.

“It’s a failed talking stage for a reason, yet you’re still simping over him,” you tease with a smirk.

“You should get a boyfriend,” you suggest for the thousandth time, genuinely concerned by the growing list of Winter’s failed talking stages and situationships.

“No, you’re the one who needs a boyfriend,” Winter fires back.

“No boyfriend in high school, and now we’re in college, still no boyfriend!” she complains dramatically. You roll your eyes, amused by her antics.

“Boys would do me no good,” you counter.

“Yeah? What about Mark and Haechan?” Winter quips, referencing the two boys you’ve been close to since the start of college.

“They’re different—exceptions,” you retort firmly.

“Whatever,” Winter mutters, waving you off.

── .✦

As the typical college student you are, you decided to pull an all-nighter. Currently on a Discord call with your college friends, Mark and Haechan, what was meant to be a study session had derailed—Mark was already fast asleep, lost in his dreams.

While typing up a draft for an article for your campus newspaper and listening to Haechan’s playlist, your phone buzzed with a text from Winter.

Winter: “Please pick me up. I’m at the local club near your university.”

You frowned, puzzled as to why Winter was partying near your campus and not somewhere closer to her own. A quick glance at the clock showed it was already 2:00 a.m.

“I stayed up all night to be productive, not to fetch an alcoholic from a club,” you muttered under your breath. Still, you knew you couldn’t leave Winter stranded, so you began saying goodbye to Haechan. Winter could be a handful, but you weren’t about to let her fend for herself.

“Want me to come with you?” Haechan offered as you started to log off. “It’s late, and I don’t mind. We can just leave Mark here,” he added, the two of you laughing at Mark’s sleeping figure still visible on the screen.

“Sure, so are you driving?” you teased.

Haechan rolled his eyes playfully. “Yeah, yeah, like I have a choice,” he quipped, grabbing his keys.

── .✦

You felt the strange stares as you walked into the club, clad in a hoodie and sweats, phone pressed to your ear as you called your best friend. The line was picked up almost instantly.

"Winter, where are you?" you asked, only to hear a man’s voice reply.

"This isn’t Winter," he said.

"Who are you? Where’s Winter?"

"Smoking area. Come quick," he answered before hanging up, leaving you no time to respond.

When you reached the smoking area, you were greeted by the sight of Winter hunched over, puking. Beside her stood a boy casually scrolling through his phone, holding her bag like it was the most natural thing in the world.

"Winter!" you called, drawing the boy’s attention.

"It’s a school night," you muttered in frustration, moving to help your best friend.

"Right," the boy murmured, barely audible but clear enough for you to hear.

"I ran into her inside," he explained, finally looking up from his phone. "She said she felt like she was going to throw up."

You froze momentarily, caught off guard by his appearance. He looked good—like God’s favorite child, visuals with no imperfection in sight.

"Do you two know each other?" you asked, not directing the question at anyone in particular.

"Yes!" Winter chimed in, her voice still tipsy.

The two of you exchanged a glance as Winter wiped her mouth, straightened up, and grinned as if she hadn’t just been throwing up moments ago—far from her usual composed self.

"Please take me home," Winter slurred, swaying slightly.

── .✦

“Who’s that?” Haechan asked, leaning casually against his car as he spotted you and Winter, who was currently being carried by an unfamiliar boy.

You shrugged. “No idea, but apparently, they know each other.”

“He looks fine,” Haechan remarked, his eyes trailing over the boy. You couldn’t argue with that, but you stayed quiet.

The boy gently helped Winter into Haechan’s car, her giggles filling the air as she pinched his cheek. Haechan grimaced at the interaction.

“Stop being a hater,” you said, nudging Haechan lightly.

Turning your attention to Winter, you asked, “Are you okay? Do you need water?”

Winter cooed dramatically, “You’re such a sweetheart!” Her voice was loud enough to make you, Haechan, and the boy flinch simultaneously.

Winter’s attention shifted back to the boy as she poked his cheek. “You’re a sweetheart too. You should date my best friend,” she said, her words slurring slightly.

Haechan snorted at the comment. “She’s been single since forever,” Winter added with no filter, causing Haechan to burst out laughing.

You rolled your eyes playfully. “Shut up,” you muttered, placing Winter’s bag beside her in the car.

Your cheeks flushed with embarrassment, which didn’t escape the boy’s notice as he smiled at the scene. His smile didn’t go unnoticed by you either.

── .✦

“Where were you?” Jeno exclaimed as he approached Jaemin outside the local club. Jaemin flicked his half-smoked cigarette into the trash as Jeno arrived.

“I ran into Winter,” Jaemin replied casually, prompting a frown from Jeno.

“Winter? As in Winter, your former... situationship?” Jeno asked, his tone laced with curiosity. Jaemin nodded in confirmation.

“Good thing her friend showed up to pick her up,” Jaemin added, earning an understanding nod from Jeno.

“You're lucky because if her friend hadn't shown up, you’d probably have been the one stuck taking her home,” Jeno teased with a chuckle.

Jaemin nodded. “Exactly what I was trying to avoid. You know I don’t want to have anything to do with Winter anymore.”

── .✦

It was just another day on campus when you entered the lab room, which was unusually crowded as your professor had combined your class with another.

“I wonder who my lab partner will be. Will I be paired with someone from the other class?” you mutter as you sat down and got comfortable, but almost immediately, a voice from beside you interrupted.

“Is this seat taken?” a deep voice asked.

Looking up, you were met with a familiar face—the same guy from last night, the one you suspected knew Winter. Once again, you were struck by his looks. He seemed even more handsome now, his features more defined under the bright lighting.

“Oh, it’s you,” the guy said, sitting down next to you without waiting for you response, his neutral expression replaced by a playful smile.

“I didn’t say the seat was free,” you remarked, watching as he settled into the chair.

He ignored your comment, instead glancing at your university ID. After reading your name, he wrote your name and his on a piece of paper.

“What are you doing?” You asked, watching him scribble.

The boy gestured toward the whiteboard at the front of the room, where it read:

"Look for a lab partner—by pair only! Write your and your partner's name on a sheet of paper. " You were momentarily taken aback as he casually wrote your name next to his on the paper, "Na Jaemin," it read, before standing up from his seat and walking to the front of the class to submit it.

As Jaemin walked back to his seat, you felt your cheeks flush for no apparent reason. Clearing your throat, you muttered softly, "I guess we're lab partners now."

Jaemin sat down and glanced at you, his head tilting slightly as a charming smirk appeared on his face. He thought your sudden shyness, which wasn’t there when you were picking up Winter, was quite adorable.

"I guess we are," he says, his smile widening slightly as he looks at you.

This was definitely going to be an interesting lab class for Na Jaemin.

[bluemantics]

here’s a list of all my fics! i won’t be able to post and reblog much since I’m traveling the next week and a half, so I’ll compile all my works here in the meantime :-)

will also update this list as i write more!

klance:

midnight snacks don't exist in space

G | 1.7K | RP/BP dynamics

There are no rules about eating at 3:00 AM if you're in the far reaches of the universe.

In a bright kitchen while the team is asleep, Lance and Keith find each other, as they always do.

Why We Fight

T | 5.7K | truth-telling au

With the Rebels in need of resources, the team ventures to a planet known for its raw materials in hope that they'll join the coalition. Here's the thing: they need to prove that they can be trusted by telling the truth about why they fight.

Lance finds this more difficult to voice than the others. Unfortunately (thankfully), Keith has returned from the Blade and is more than willing to listen.

"This is bigger than any of us alone."

A Keith By Any Other Name

T | 8.2K | coffee shop rom-com AU

Lance McClain was dared to hit on Keith. Keith thought that’d be the first and last time they’d meet. However, Lance keeps coming back, charming Keith with his jokes and charisma.

Here’s the catch: Keith refuses to tell Lance his real name.

“I’m not telling you my name unless you order and move on.” Keith pointed to the register screen.

“Alright, I’ll do a cappuccino.” Lance pulled out his wallet from his jacket pocket and slid his card over to Keith. “Now will you tell me your name?”

“My name is Yorak.” Keith passed the card back to Lance, who looked shocked at that answer, his eyebrows raised to his hairline. Keith was beginning to realize how dramatic Lance could be.

“Really?!” Lance demanded. He looked pityingly at Keith, and irritation welled up in his gut.

“No!” Keith rolled his eyes.

“You’re the worst,” Lance huffed.

a billion light years from here

T | 8.5K | post-canon fix-it

Keith and Lance reconnect over letters. Through their writing, Keith learns to open up, and Lance learns what a home is.

"For all the game I talked on the castleship about missing home, now that I’m back on my family farm, I kind of feel like there’s something missing. Like, even surrounded by all of the juniberry flowers Allura gave us, and even with my parents, I still feel lonely. Or restless."

Or: A post s-8 fix-it AU told entirely through letters between Lance and Keith, both sent and unsent.

out of my head

G | 1.2K | high school au

Keith didn’t even want to watch the spring musical auditions. Forced by Pidge to accompany them, he finds himself surprised at the talent of a particular actor. He also finds himself surprised by his own response. 

OR:

Lance is ridiculously good at singing and Keith is a lovable, impulsive jock.

baptism by fire

T | 1.5K | canon-compliant angst

Prompt: write a private scene between two characters with no dialogue, of just them two alone.

Lance just witnessed the unthinkable. Keith offers his company in wake of the tragedy.

kiribaku:

unstoppably, immovably, unbreakably you

G | 651 | canon-compliant

A character study.

An unstoppable force meets an immovable object.

Katsuki Bakugou’s hand implodes against Eijirou Kirishima’s arm; a flurry of sparks surround them with a sound that rings between his skull.

This is something he knows how to do well. With every blow that Katsuki unleashes, he feels Kirishima retaliate with more, responding like a dance to his every movement. Katsuki is a fine-tuned instrument of destruction, every muscle on his body worked with the intention of winning.

as always please let me know what u think thru asks & comments on ao3!! ill answer asks between travel, but im going to frequently be in spotty service.

[simonsrosebud]

my aftg fox children headcannons (guys be nice to them okay)

Dan & Matt:

They have two boys, Jace and Abram Boyd, one year apart (Abram wasn’t planned hehe) by the time Dan is 32.

Dan/Matt aren’t religious, but they still assign godparents to their kids. Jace’s godparents are Wymack and Abby, Abram’s are Neil and Renee.

At first Neil said no. He didn’t think that responsibility was something he could handle until he eventually got a call from Renee. “I know why you’re calling me” “I figured you would. I warned Matt and Dan that you may not respond in the way they wish, they don’t take it personally,” she’d said. Neil knew it wasn’t personal, but he admitted he also didn’t see the point and couldn’t be cut out for that. “I think you may misunderstand their intentions, may I try to clear it up?” Renee explained that, really, it was only a title, a glorified uncle of sorts, since the boys weren’t getting baptized and they weren’t putting their godparents in their will’s like old tradition did. “It’s a way to showcase the love and trust they have in others; you, me, Coach Wymack and Abby”. “It is an excuse to spoil them rotten,” Andrew had added when he talked to Neil. Renee told Matt to wait a bit, not to push, and a week later when Neil was randomly on the phone w Matt he said “I’ll do it, by the way. The kid thing- The godfather thing.”

Naming Abram was a struggle. They wanted something meaningful since Jace’s middle name was David. It wasn’t until Dan asked Matt what Neil’s middle name was that they got cookin. Neil was in the off season when he was born, so he drove out (accompanied by Andrew) to Atlanta from Columbia and they asked Neil when he got there.

Their backup name was Joshua (aka Josten) in case Neil wasn’t comfortable with Abram. Luckily it only took a few minutes of blue-screening for Neil to shake it off and allow it. Abram was Neil’s one real name, the one thing he’d kept all those years, the thing that made him feel grounded and safe. But Neil was 27. He hadn’t needed the name since he first moved away from PSU at 23 and was alone again. The kid deserved something safe.

ANYWAY. Jace is a certified hetero and goes to University of Miami for college. He grew up playing exy and baseball but once he was a sophomore in high school he quit exy and stuck to baseball all through high school. He’s 5’10.

Abram plays midfielder for soccer and used to play backliner for exy. Abram goes to PSU and rooms with Elliot (Andriel’s adopted kid, just wait it’ll make sense i promise), joins a campus soccer team, then makes the PSU team his sophomore year as a walk on.

Abram is 6’1. Has massive game but doesn’t use it bc he’s kinda oblivious. Very silly and energetic and comes off flirty sometimes when he’s just being nice and goofy. He later attributes it to the fact that he didn’t know he was bisexual until senior year of high school.

Abram fucking fawns over Elliot 3 months into living together bc he realizes he’s kinda in love with him. Never lets it show bc he won’t ruin their friendship and plus they share a room tg. Def foams at the mouth when Elliot comes back sweaty and shirtless from runs. Once Elliot is eating a banana and out of nowhere says “You ever eat a banana and wonder how the fuck girls suck dicks?” in the dining hall and Abram chokes on his drink so bad it comes out of his nose. Horrified.

Neil & Andrew (ik hold on):

Blake (f) and Elliot (m) Nelson.

Andriel had no intention of ever having kids bc no.

However, when Andrew and Neil are 42/43 and living in South Carolina again, Andrew notices that there are footprints in Neil’s garden. Then he sees it again and sees that the footprints continue towards the shed in the backyard. He checks their cameras to see that it’s a young girl coming and going with Neil’s electric bike a few nights a week from 12am-4am. The third time he waits inside the shed and promptly scares the living shit out of her.

QUICK VERSION: Andrew catches Blake sneaking into their backyard shed and borrowing Neil’s electric bike at night a few times a week, lets her use Neil’s old raggedy bike that hasn’t seen the light of day in years, turns a blind eye when she returns it run over, gives her bus money instead, goes back and forth with her for like 1.5 months, points out the bruise & bandages she shows up with one night while he’s sitting outside at 12am (insomnia), doesn’t see her for 2 months, shows up at the 24 hour CVS she works at 3-4 nights a week and sees the bruises on her hand and throat through her turtleneck while she thought no one was looking, threatens to call the police post-shift at 4am and sits with her through a panic attack bc “He’ll- I’m only 15, they’ll make me quit my job and we can’t to afford- and they’ll split us up, and he- Elliot won’t- he can’t- oh my god” and then takes her to his house w consent, briefs Neil bc those kids need to get out of that house but they’re not staying here, Neil who somehow takes it all without a second thought and says “well not forever, but definitely for the night”, takes Blake and Neil (awk first meeting) to Blake’s house and gets Elliot out of the house while their dad is gone (Elliot has a black eye and bruises from rough fingers on his forearm and says dad left in a rampage when he saw u were gone, and i told you that job wasn’t fucking worth it).

Elliot doesn’t trust either of the men after what his sister protected him from and doesn’t know wtf is happening bc he thought Blake had been borrowing her friend’s bike. They stay in Andriel’s guest bedroom for the day, Abby is retired by now but only lives 45 minutes away. Neil takes charge of calling her despite Andrew thinking there’s more pressing matters like kidnapping 2 teenagers. “You didn’t kidnap us, idiot, we came with you” Blake says.

Long story short, the siblings end up staying with them longer than they thought due to lawyers and police and safety.

It becomes kind of a lost and found situation. What was once “while we get legalities figured out” became “until your father’s trial is over”, which stretched into “no way they’re getting sent to XYZ” and “until they can find someone competent enough to handle trainwreck’s, they’re stuck here” and “Dan won’t care if we bring them to Thanksgiving, right?” “Amalia’s been playing exy since she could walk, Kevin, Elliot started a year ago” “Elliot knows Santa isn’t real, right? That stops at, like, 12?” “I’m not teaching her to drive, I’ll get myself killed” “If your mouth gets you kicked out of school, don’t come crying to me” “Addie & Annie keep telling Blake to spend a weekend in Atlanta” “I’m not telling her not to date, she scares me” “Just because your mother wasn’t worse doesn’t mean she was good”

Until one day, two and a half years later, Blake hands Neil an application for adoption, who tilts it towards Andrew, who silently takes it and begins to fill it out.

Blake is 5’0, Elliot is 5’9. Blake is blonde and Elliot has light brown hair, and while they’re not ghostly pale, both of them burn in the sun in .2 seconds.

Elliot does cross country and was training for a 10k when they left their dad so Neil gladly continues that. He’s in awe when he finds out who Andrew and Neil really are, not because he knows their names but bc once he watches their old games it’s like watching gods to him. He’s a true golden retriever which isn’t helped by his ADHD, anxiety and mild dyslexia, which he doesn’t get medicated for until he’s 16.

When Elliot was 13 he almost drowned in a lake bc he was never taught how to swim. When their dad found out he took him back to the lake against his will and kept tossing him in the lake until he kept himself afloat enough to pull himself up onto the dock, nearly coughing up water. It was so traumatic to a young kid that Elliot had a problem with bodies of water after that. Instead of being fine just not going in, he avoids pools or lakes entirely. Beaches are give or take since he can sit far up on the sand.

Elliot watches exy with Neil and feels cool about it; latches onto King instantly and vice versa bc she’s an ESA and his anxiety is through the roof half the time.

Elliot gels very quickly with Jace and Abram when Andriel brings them to Thanksgiving at the Boyd’s house. Once he gets the boys’ numbers they add him and Blake to the groupchat they have with Kateaaron’s, Kevin’s, and Allison’s kids.

Later, when Elliot goes to college at PSU, he and Abram room together. They become even more attached at the hip (impossible) and Elliot becomes infatuated with Abram in a totally normal way that he eventually figures out by spring break is definitely bc he wants to fuck him. But Elliot is chaotic and too anxiety ridden to ever make a move so he bides his time being innocently flirty that comes off as being silly, and doesn’t complain when Abram wraps his arms around him or lets him sleep back to back in Abram’s bed after Elliot has a bad nightmare or can’t turn his brain off at night.

Eventually, sophomore year when they live in a house with 3 other guys, Elliot climbs into Abram’s bed face down after a night out, almost half on top of Abram. They’re literally both so drunk. “You’re in my bed,” Elliot slurs. “S’my bed, babe”. Elliot lifts himself up on his elbow over Abram’s (warm and shirtless) chest. “Who you callin babe?” Abram giggles lowly and Elliot leans down and kisses his cheek, “You can be my babe, babe” he boops Abram’s nose and giggles drunkenly, and his head is dipped low already when he lets his lips lightly press down on Abram’s chin, simply touching, before actually pressing a kiss there after a second. Abram’s hand comes up just as he presses that second kiss down, tangling into Elliot’s hair, and when Elliot pulls his head back up Abram’s grip tightens. Abram tilts his chin up and kisses just beside Elliot’s mouth, pulling him down fully and kissing him deep after the two pause against each other for less than a moment.

Aka, they hardcore make out. We’re talking ass grabbing, lib biting, neck sucking, Elliot straddling Abram, a bit of dry humping, Abram pressing him down into the mattress and moving down to-

Anyway, when they wake up Elliot runs to the bathroom connected to Abram’s room to throw up, and when he notices Abram come to the doorway he says “Dude, you sucked my dick” into the toilet bowl “you’re, like, really good at it, too” immediately wretches again. And it’s probs the hazy hangovers, but Abram says, “Yeah, been wanting to do that for a while” “Thank god, I’ve been dreaming about you doing that since last year… Hey, B?” Abram hums and Elliot doesn’t even lift his face from his arms over the toilet seat before asking “Wanna go out with me?” cue gagging, but luckily Abram splashes his face w water and leans down to just kiss the back of Elliot’s neck “oh that was hot” Elliot mumbles. “Yes, I’ll go out with you” “Thanks… Hey B?” another hum “Can you start the shower and also kill me while you’re at it?” “Whatever you want, babe”

Junior year Abram has to live at Fox Tower but Elliot and the other 3 guys stick together. Except Abram is closer with these guys so he ends up sleeping in Elliot’s bed like 4-5 nights a week. Elliot is an absolute THEIF of clothes too, like if Abram comes over he’s going home without a hoodie.

Elliot calls him B or Bram, most recently babe. Abram calls him baby, El, and sometimes sugar when they’re alone.

Blake is queer too which Neil gets really relieved by because how tf do u give a girl the talk. Turns out Andrew had already done it bluntly and against her will when she first went on a date at 16.

Blake doesn’t go to uni but gets her associates at a community college and Allison somehow gets her an internship with a PR agency, shocking considering her no-filter and sailors mouth.

Aaron & Katelyn:

They have identical twin girls: Annalise and Addison.

The twins are… not planned… they’re 26 and Aaron’s in his last semester of med school while Katelyn is nearing the end of her first year of residency (bc exy players 5th year). Thankfully Aaron had already been matched with the hospital Katelyn was at for his residency.

Aaron gets genuinely terrified when she tells him over the phone like 3 days before he was due to visit. He calls Andrew bc it’s too soon and this isn’t supposed to happen and he doesn’t know how to be a parent when the only one he had was a piece of shit and it’s the first time Andrew hears him audibly diss Tilda without adding “but she was my mom”. Andrew doesn’t say much, but he does say “You had a terrible childhood, yes?” “I mean, yeah” “Good. Don’t replicate it, and maybe yours won’t hate you.” and it’s enough.

All of this is thrown out the window when they find out they’re having twins. Aaron almost faints.

Annalise’s nickname is Annie and sometimes Anna by school friends. She has zero preference between the three options.

Addison rarely gets called her full name other than teachers, gets called Addie.

Andrew calls them both by their full names.

Katelyn has no middle name, so when her and Aaron get married she made Mackenzie her middle name and took Aaron’s surname.

Aaron calls his girls Ad/Addie-baby and Anna-bear.

Addie’s middle name is Mackenzie, Annie’s is Nichola…. you know why🥹

When Katelyn has to full name them she’ll typically yell “Annalise Nick!” and “Mackenzie!”

Aaron didn’t like the nickname Annie bc she’s a redhead and “orphan annie” felt weird bc he and Andrew are orphans. But Katelyn loved the name and it came naturally from others so he got over it.

Addie is bisexual aromantic. Annie is straight.

Addie goes to University of Georgia, and Annie goes to PSU for their really good speech pathology program (the twins are a year older than Jace/Blake and 2 years older than Abram/Elliot so Annie was the first kid to go to PSU).

The twins grew up in Chicago until they were 11, then moved to Atlanta, Georgia. Since they’re close to U Georgia, Addie tells her parents they’re only allowed to visit when she says so she’s not suffocated. Annie is more of a homebody so she not only loves that Dan is at PSU, but would let Kateaaron visit every weekend if they wanted (daddy’s girl).

Allison:

Maybe she gets married maybe she doesn’t, regardless I like to think she doesn’t for a while and ends up adopting a 3 year old named Sabrina.

Sabrina grows up to be a natural honey blonde just like Allison and coincidentally has her same smokey grey eyes.

Queen of nicknames: Sab, Bri, Brina, Briners, Reynolds.

Sabrina never puts a label on her sexuality and is pretty fluid with it, just doesn’t rlly give a fuck.

Grows up in Miami but they go to NYC every winter break and normally 1-2 times every summer. Grew up traveling with Allison but not enough that it affects her childhood.

Goes to NYU. Eventually helps Allison run, design, model for her fashion empire.

Has like a million followers on Instagram, has modeled for Victoria Secret, has been a brand ambassador for Moschino and goes to Paris fashion week w Allison every year once she’s 16.

Since the Foxes go on vacation every summer together, Sabrina grows up very close with the twin girls since they’re the same age. Brina and Addie *experimented* together when they were younger bc they didn’t wanna go to college not knowing anything. Since then, every time they see each other they end up hooking up. They’re very touchy feely with one another, but Brina is kinda like that anyway. Addie only tolerates her and Annie being like that.

They jokingly call their situation “best friends who bone”. Realistically, they’re in a (long distance lol) queerplatonic relationship that just includes sex. Annie secretly thinks Sabrina is aro as well but keeps it to herself bc it doesn’t matter to label it.

Kevin & Thea:

Amalia Day🫶🏼

Youngest of the kids, 3 years younger than Abram/Elliot. They weren’t necessarily concerned with the prospect of kids, so she isn’t born until Kevin is 32 and Thea is 36, not even a full year after she retires due to one too many knee injuries. She goes to Kevin one day after practice and kinda straight up says, “I want a child- No” she cuts him off “I’m 36, I want to be a mother, I want to be a mother with you, and I don’t want to be seventy when she goes off to college” but Kevin just says “She?” “Yes, I’m not bringing another spitting image of Kevin Day into this world”.

Clearly, they do have a girl. Despite Thea’s blunt and sometimes abrasive approach to some things, she takes to being a mother with all the gentle-ness that Kevin remembers of his own, and it’s enough to calm him about being a father (bc we all know Kevin was shitting his pants the whole time).

Amalia is tanner than Kayleigh was, but it’s unnerving how similar she looks to Kayleigh. It makes Wymack a complete pushover for her (though he always says no at first just to say he did).

Amalia grows up playing exy, of course, but also soccer and dance which pains Kevin and Thea reminds him to stfu. Thankfully for him, she’s really fucking good at Exy and gives up dance by the time she’s 8 and soccer by 11.

Plays for the US Teen Exy All Stars team (idk made it up). She plays offensive dealer. Her playing becomes Kevin’s dare I say obsession, but he becomes good (by force of Wymack, Thea, Andrew and surprisingly Jean) at being normal about it- not forcing exy down her throat and pressuring her. It’s good that she’s not a striker living up to Kevin’s legacy.

Amalia makes a Twitter when she’s 16 and it lasts about 3 weeks until Kevin finds out and makes her give him her password to monitor the account. Smart, giving the family’s status and her age, but she acts like it’s the end of the world.

If it wasn’t for Wymack, she would probably be an entitled brat. He keeps her humble along with the other kids.

Terrible fucking driver. Like holy shit.

Thea learned French over the years, so they raise her speaking English and French. As a teen she says she wishes she spoke German instead since Andrew, Aaron, Neil, Nicky, Erik, Annie, Addie, and Blake (eventually) all speak it.

She eventually goes to play for USC Trojans, plays pro, and goes to the Olympics as a 4th year senior in college.

Ages:

Sabrina Reynolds, the twins

Blake/Jace

Elliot/Abram

Amalia

All the kids are one year apart, with Amalia the youngest at 3 years younger than the boys and 5 years younger than Sabrina.

That’s all folks holy shit this was long. Maybe I’ll expand on it soon

[roosterforme]

Right Girl, Wrong Time Part 9 | Bradley Bradshaw x Reader

Summary: It took ten years, but Bradley finally gets to have both of his dreams. Taking you to the Hard Deck shows him how perfectly your life and his still blend together. And if you want to take a marker to his door and claim him permanently, Bradley will hand you the Sharpie. 

Warnings: Fluff, smut and swears

Length: 3400 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader (former fuckboy college student Bradley)

This is a sequel to accompany my story Old Habits Die Hard (you'll want to read that one first)!

Check my profile for my masterlist

Bradley still couldn't believe you were in his house waiting for him. He scooped you up in his arms and held you tight in his lap on the couch. 

"You've been here for three days?" he asked, shocked that Nat had been able to play it cool while she drove him home. And now he understood that you were the something sweet that Nat had left for him. His best friend was far superior to anyone else's best friend, and he'd sing Nat's praises for the rest of his life.

"Yes," you confirmed, running your fingers through his hair and kissing his cheek, "I've been here for three days, all thanks to Natasha. She promised me you wouldn't mind."

"Mind? Baby, you can stay forever. I want you to. I'm just kind of shocked you've been sleeping in my bed without me."

You smiled at him and straddled his lap, wrapping your arms around his neck. "Are you sure you want me here? Your house is immaculate." 

When your lips met his jaw, Bradley softly said, "No, you're a slob. This is never going to work." But his hands were sliding up your bare thighs and under your dress. "You can mess the place up, I don't care, Sugar. Now are you going to tell me more about the schools?"

You settled against him, kissing him between sentences as you played with his hair and told him everything. "The labs at Miami were incredible. And my office would have been huge, but there was one huge drawback."

"What's that?" he asked, rubbing the soft skin of your legs. 

"You don't live there." Your face was calm, and a soft smile was touching your lips, but Bradley let his head rest on the back of the couch."Sugar, you can't make this decision for me," he whispered, and your fingers tightened in his hair.

"Listen to me, Beer Boy," you scolded, and Bradley couldn't help but imagine that this was your lecturing voice. "I didn't make you part of my future plans when we graduated together, and I regretted it. I'm not going to do that again. There's nothing Miami could have offered me that can compete with being in San Diego, working at a great university, and getting to be with you. I went to visit Miami just like I promised you I would, but I made up my mind about us before you left Virginia after the reunion. So you're just going to have to get over the fact that you made my decision easier, not harder."

Bradley just looked at your determined features and squared shoulders. "You really liked San Diego State? And you think you'll be happy there?"

"I loved it, Bradley. And I already accepted the position, so get used to me being here." 

He knew he was grinning like an idiot while you pushed his hair away from his forehead with your soft touch. "Did you visit the study rooms yet?"

"Mmhmm," you hummed next to his ear. "They are very nice."

Bradley closed his eyes as your lips found his Adam's apple. "So you got a little solo action in the library then?" he asked with a smile. 

"No. I was waiting to go back with you. The doors have locks, and the lighting is adjustable. Ten out of ten. I would love to take you there."

When you repositioned yourself so you were straddling his right thigh, Bradley groaned softly. You were running your fingers along all of the insignia pins on his uniform shirt, and he could feel your warm core pressed snug up against his leg. You started rocking your hips against him slowly, and Bradley hiked up your dress to find you skipped underwear. "Feel good, Sugar?" he groaned.

But now you were tracing his nametag with your fingertip. "Bradshaw," you muttered. "Hmm, I never pictured myself as a uniform chaser, but here we are, Beer Boy. You look good in this."

He held your hips in his big hands as you circled them a little faster. The sight of your pretty pussy already making his khakis wet had his full attention. Every time your knee nudged his erection, he wanted to be inside you, but he'd wait until you were done with his leg. Because he'd been thinking about this so frequently at night while he was deployed. He thought about taking you in every position. His mind had covered all the bases while he looked at his Sugar photo folder and jerked off.

You moaned and kissed him, your fingers gently dipping into his collar and withdrawing his dog tags. "Oh, yes," you hissed, grinding down harder on him. "Definitely loving the uniform."

Bradley wrapped his hand around the back of your neck and devoured your mouth as you got close. "If you're a good Sugar, you can mess up my dress blues and dress whites later."

"Oh god," you moaned, fisting his dog tags and pulling him so he was kissing you as you came. 

He could feel the warm wetness through his khakis as your movements slowed and your kisses became languid. As your lips dragged across his mustache, Bradley stood with you in his arms. "Can I take you to bed? Our bed?"

You moaned and nodded as he guided you to the bedroom. "Our bed. Because I live with my boyfriend now," you whispered with a little smirk, running your fingers over the wet spot on his pants.

"I missed you," Bradley promised when he had you sprawled out on the bed. 

You nodded at him, running your thumb along his mustache. "Yeah, deployments are going to suck, Beer Boy."

But he just shook his head. "No. I missed you for ten years. The deployments will be easy. You'll be here when I come home. And I'll love you the whole time."

Your eyes closed at his words, and Bradley kissed every inch of your face. Then he pulled your dress up high enough to get his lips on your tattoos. "I love you, Sugar." 

Eventually you got his zipper down, and Bradley was fucking you while you were both clothed. Your fingers were wrapped around his dog tags as he leaned down to taste your mouth. You held him close by the chain, but Bradley didn't want to be anywhere else.

"I want you." The desperate gasp against his lips as you pulsed around him made him dizzy. "I love you."

"I'm all yours, baby," he promised, slowing his strokes as you clenched harder. "You're so good."

You bit your lip and tipped your head back, looking like the vision of his fantasies since college came to life once more. When your back arched off the bed, Bradley took you hard by the hips and bottomed out, holding your tight pussy around him as your gasps got louder. 

"Feels so good," you whimpered, fluttering around his cock buried deep inside you. When your fingers started to tremble on his dog tags, releasing the chain and going for his hair instead, Bradley started fucking you again. You came with his name all over your lips, and Bradley watched his tags hit your neck and chin as you squeezed his release from him. 

"God damn," Bradley moaned when your lips parted, and you took his dog tags gently between your teeth as he filled you up. You were still moaning softly, your hands warm against his biceps and forearms. "God damn, Sugar."

He snuggled up with you, his cock still deep inside your wet pussy, and he looked at your sated expression as his tags rested on your slightly parted lips. 

"I got both of my dreams," he whispered, running his fingers along your cheek as you turned toward him. "Finally."

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

You fell asleep with Bradley's dick inside you. That's just how right he felt. That's just how happy being with him in San Diego made you.

He had been talking about taking you to his favorite beach and all the best restaurants. He was waxing poetic about a pizza place that kind of reminded him of the one he liked at UVA when your eyes drifted closed. The last thing you remembered was the prickle of his mustache against your temple as you sighed into a blissful nap.

When you woke up with the afternoon sun on your face, you sat up in bed alone. You could hear the distant sound of the washing machine running, and when you went into the living room, Bradley was folding and sorting his laundry, along with the things you'd left in the dryer, in just his khaki uniform pants. 

"Beer Boy," you whispered, and he was instantly off the couch and wrapping his arms around you. You rested your cheek against his bare chest and kissed him. "I could easily get used to this."

Bradley chuckled. "You made out a lot better in this deal. I have a new roommate who is a slob."

You glared up at him, but he was smiling brightly. "Come here, let me show you what I did," he said, taking you by the hand and leading you into his office. The desk was empty except for your purple notebook, a single black sharpie and the Navy desk lamp. "You can have the office. You'll need it for correcting exams and lesson plans and whatever else you'll be doing that I won't be able to understand."

You picked up the sharpie and turned to look at him. "Am I allowed to write on the door?" All of Bradley's doors were white, including his front door.

"You can do anything you want, Sugar. And when your boxes arrive, you can have half the closet in the bedroom. And you can use as much of the bathroom counter as you need." You hugged his naked torso as he said, "Nat wants us to go to the bar tonight."

"We can go," you whispered as he rubbed your back. "I love Nat. I'm going to steal your best friend."

"I'm telling you, she's usually terrible. You'll change your mind soon." He dug in his pocket and handed you a keyring. "This is for you, too. A house key."

You took it in your hand, and turned it over. It was a beer bottle opener that said I LOVE CHICAGO and had one key on it. "Where did you get this?" you asked with a smile. 

He shrugged and kissed your forehead. "I found it at a flea market ages ago. It made me smile. It's been living in the kitchen drawer."

"You really missed me," you whispered, clutching the marker and the key. You felt tears in your eyes. 

"I'm not going to miss you anymore. You're mine again."

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

Bradley gave you a neighborhood tour, taking you on the scenic route to the Hard Deck. Your fingers were laced through his and his Grateful Dead playlist was playing and he was so in love. Fuck, earlier this morning, he wasn't even sure where he stood with you. He thought maybe you had chosen Miami and left him floundering. But now he had a girlfriend who lived with him in the house he owned in Coronado. 

He started laughing. 

"What's so funny, Beer Boy?"

He kissed your knuckles as he pulled into the parking lot. "You live in San Diego now, Sugar."

"Beer Boy, you absolute dunce, I live in your bedroom now."

He laughed harder as he parked his Bronco, and then you were crawling across the seat and onto his lap. "Yeah, I guess you do."

"And you know what else?" you asked, running your fingers along his mustache and making him smile. 

"What?"

You licked the side of his neck, and Bradley held you close as you whispered, "I'm taking you to visit the study rooms tomorrow."

He let his head tip back against the seat as he groaned. "You're too good to me, Sugar."

"And once I have an office, I'll take you there, too," you added, running your hand down his chest to his abs. Bradley was wearing the tropical print shirt you'd had on in the hotel room when he fucked you on the desk. He was greatly looking forward to putting it on you again tonight and fucking you next to his Navy desk lamp just like ten years ago.

"Sugar, I got plans for us. So let's get inside, get a drink, and then go back home."

You climbed out of the driver's door and asked, "What kind of plans? I thought we were going to hang out here for a while so I could meet your friends."

Bradley wrapped his arm around you and kissed your forehead. "My plans involve the desk at home and minimal clothing."

"Oh! Then yes, let's make it an early night."

Bradley was antsy to introduce you to the guys, but as he held the door open for you, letting the noise spill out into the evening air, you paused. When you pulled your phone out of your pocket, you made a surprised noise. "It's Veronica calling me back, but it's late in Virginia! Let me answer so I can tell her I'm moving in with you and get my stuff shipped out."

Bradley nodded and you kissed his cheek. "Come find me by the pool table, Sugar." He heard you answer the phone as he strolled inside and ran right into Nat at the bar.

"Well? Where is she?" Nat asked him, glancing all around. "Shit, did she remember how ugly you are when you got home and decided to move to Miami instead?"

"You're fucking hilarious, Nat. She's outside talking to her friend from UVA who is shipping her boxes out for her." Then Bradley smirked and added, "She agreed to move in with me."

Nat squeaked and threw her arms around him. "I am honestly so happy for you Bradley! You've been in love with her for longer than I've known you!" She released him and patted his chest.

He rubbed his hand through his hair and held up two fingers for Jimmy to get him two beers. "You're right. I wish you had let me know I never got over her. Maybe I could have made this reunion happen sooner."

"Nah, the timing was just right," Nat told him and he followed her to the pool table with both beers. 

"Did you tell the guys she's here?" he asked, knowing he was about to get hugged several more times. 

"No. I haven't told them anything," she replied, and as soon as Fanboy saw Bradley, he was cheering. 

"Rooster's back!" Bradley had them all slapping his back and giving him awkward hugs, and then he had a pool cue in one hand. 

"Good to see you," Hangman drawled. "Next drink is on me." Bradley was just about to thank him, when he saw Jake looking longingly across the room. "Unless I can manage to pull her. Then you're on your own, bird brain."

Bradley couldn't keep the grin off his face when he realized Jake was looking at you as you made your way inside. He couldn't blame Jake; you were gorgeous, your jeans were hugging your body, and your top made your tits look extra amazing. 

You spotted Bradley and moved through the crowd with a soft smile touching your lips, and Bradley knew he was going to love you forever. 

"Damn," Payback sighed, looking right where Bradley and Jake were both looking. "Anyone know who she is?" 

"Never seen her before," Jake answered. "She's beautiful."

Bradley heard Coyote and Fanboy add their two cents about how they'd love to be the one to take you home, and Nat was doubled over in silent laughter next to Bradley. 

"Nah," Bradley said, "she's all mine."

"Put your money where your mouth is, Bradshaw," Jake said. 

"Two hundred bucks," Bradley replied, trying not to laugh. 

He heard Jake agree just as you dodged around a waitress and smiled at Bradley. Then all the guys gaped in wonder as you closed the distance and wrapped your arms around him.

"She's going to ship the boxes out tomorrow," you told him with a smile, leaning up to kiss the corner of his mustache. "She said she can't wait to come visit and go to the beach."

"Sounds good," Bradley said, kissing the top of your head before you released him to give Nat a hug. He turned to the guys who all looked shocked. 

"What in the Twilight Zone is going on here?" Jake asked. "Since when do you have a girl?"

"Since this morning," Bradley answered with a smirk. "But we've been together for a long time. Kind of."

"That doesn't make a damn bit of sense," Jake replied, but then Bob was looking at you with a smile. 

"You're Sugar, right?" he asked you quietly. "You look familiar."

"It's nice to meet you, Bob," you said with a bright smile. 

"Holy shit," Fanboy muttered, and then he was smiling. "This is the famous Sugar!"

"How did this happen?" Payback asked Bradley. 

"It's a long story," you told them with the kind of smile that Bradley knew would have them eating out of your hands from now on. "But I took a job at San Diego State so I could be near the love of my life."

Bradley leaned down and kissed your smiling lips before handing you one of the bottles. "Have one of the good beers, Sugar."

The evening passed in a blur of excitement, and you were never far from Bradley's side. In fact, he made sure he was touching you as much as possible even though everyone wanted to talk to you. When it was time to leave, he guided you toward the door, turning back to yell at Jake. 

"You owe me two hundred bucks!"

Jake just groaned and flipped Bradley the middle finger. "I'll bring it to work."

"Why does he owe you money?" you asked, lacing your fingers with Bradley's as you stepped out into the cool, night air.

"He made an error in judgement," Bradley told you with a straight face.

When he pulled the Bronco into his driveway a few minutes later, your lips were all over him as soon as you unbuckled your seatbelt. When you both stumbled to the porch, unable to walk correctly as you were halfway in his arms, you made a big production of taking your key out. 

"Allow me to unlock our front door," you said, dangling the Chicago keychain in the moonlight before opening the door. Bradley couldn't keep his hands off you as you led him down the hallway to the office. 

But when he tried to lead you inside and over to the desk, you took his hand and kept him in the doorway. "What's wrong?" he asked, brushing his fingers along your cheek.

"Nothing," you replied, the light filtering down the hallway illuminating your face. "Everything is perfect."

Then Bradley's eyes caught on the office door and his lips parted in awe. You had taken the black sharpie to the pristine, white surface, the same way he had done to his bedroom door in his fraternity house so long ago. Back then, he was desperately trying to get you in his life. And repainting his door for you had been the only way he knew how to show you he was serious. Writing the nickname he had given you on his door and begging you for your phone number seemed silly now. But somehow it had worked.

So if you wanted to walk around his house, live with him, and make him this happy all the time, he didn't mind if you took a permanent marker to every surface. 

"Sugar, I love you too, baby," he promised, already considering all the things you and he would do together in the future. Already thinking about how much he wanted to marry you. 

With a smile, you let Bradley lead you into the room, past the door that now said SUGAR LOVES BEER BOY in your handwriting. He would never paint this door.

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

Part ten will act as an epilogue of sorts! That will be posted in a few days. Thank you for reading along with Beer Boy/Man and Sugar; I've been smitten with them since day one! Thanks to @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls

PART 10

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[koishiro]

# - 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐋𝐀𝐊𝐄 𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐒𝐄 📍

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆ — 𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒 : after meeting megumi’s dad, you’ll experience a night at the lake you’ll never forget

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆ — 𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆 : dilf!toji x non-virgin!reader

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆ — 𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐑𝐄 : short smut with the tiniest plot ever

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆ — 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐀𝐈𝐍𝐒 : cumming inside (readers on bc), oral (male receiving), cheating (toji’s married)

=͟͟͞͞ ⌧ 𝐌𝐀𝐈𝐋 : this is in a different universe where toji isn’t a complete dick to megumi and is a responsible parent (shocking I know) but still doesn’t completely get along with megs

Part 1 | 2 | 3

masterlist | jjk masterlist | anon masterlist

He was the first guy to ever get his cock to that place in the back of my mouth where it can slip into my throat.

It was an exhilarating discovery, learning there's a whole new thing out there to try and do. I was surprised no one had tried this with me before, from what I can gather after the fact it seems very popular with men, but they're too intimidated to try it in real life, or at least initiate it.

My friend, Nobara, had a lake house (which was really open to anyone, giving access to fishermen and, like us, a spot for hookups) about an hour away from our school. We'd go there a few times through the years with our group of friends which usually revolved around myself, Yuji, Megumi, Nobara, and whatever guys we were dating/crushing on at that time and spend the weekend playing drinking games and daring each other to go skinny dipping. It was every students dream.

I'd met Megumi’s dad a few times since I'd known him. I met him the same day I met ‘Gumi, walking past his dorm I saw his dad lugging heavy furniture into his dorm, sweaty and attractive — in a rugged, masculine way. I had found out later that his name was Toji.

"Has anyone ever told you your dad is really hot?" I asked Megumi when we were both sat crossed-legged on his bed that night, figuring a little salacious question asking would bond us, "Ha ha, are you one of those girls? I don't get the whole "hot dad" thing. They're just old.”

Figuring I had hit a sore spot, It was the last conversation we had about him, but it definitely wasn't the last time I thought about him. I always made sure to dress my best when I knew he was stopping by. Little dresses only a freshman would wear, low cut tank tops and once — when I was especially bored — a sheer white t-shirt with no bra underneath because, "whoops" I had just rolled out of bed.

It was a fun game to play but I didn't think he ever noticed, or at least he never really acknowledged me until one of those debaucherous weekends when ‘Gumi and his dad got their messages crossed and we all ended up at the lake house together. At first it was uncomfortable when we arrived and saw the trucks, Toji was there accompanied by some other men. They had planned a weekend for drinking. But, Toji gave us a wink and told us to stay on the lower level and he'd stay out of our way. Everyone felt relieved and told ‘Gumi how lucky he was to have a "cool" dad. But I felt something else when Toji winked at us.

That night, after many, many drinks I found myself wandering out to the dock. Everyone else had passed out, but I was wide awake. I saw Toji approaching me from the windy path down the hill from the cabin, two bottled beers in one hand. He handed one to me wordlessly, searching my eyes for something — the reason I was awake and alone maybe.

We stood there silently until he stepped forward and brushed my hair off my face, "You're a beautiful girl, (name), don't think that goes unnoticed" I blushed, could he tell I was harboring a crush on him? Did he notice the way I jerked slightly at his touch, nervous about my body's powerful response to it?

"Thanks Toji," I said, taking a swig of my beer and looking at the moonlight reflecting over the waves. When I dared to make eye contact with him again I realized he hadn't moved, he was still watching me intently. Did this mean — before I could finish my thought, he was on me, one hand placed very firmly on my lower back the other in my hair as he kissed me. His tongue was in my mouth before I knew what was happening, tracing mine. I had the urge to wrap my legs around him, but there was nowhere to balance on this dock.

"Come up to my bedroom" It was a request, but it was also a statement, he was sure of my answer.

I giggled when we crossed the threshold and closed the door behind us. It wasn't just that when he grinned and you could see the wrinkles around his eyes, it wasn't just the physical attraction. It was his demeanor, it was that he was a real live man, not a flimsy college boy. This was going to be a different kind of hook-up.

"You're married," I reminded him, not particularly pleased about remembering this detail myself.

"I can keep a secret," he said, closing his mouth on mine again, and backing us to the bed.

He removed all my clothing fairly quickly and laid on top of me, fully clothed. The rough textures rubbing against my bare skin felt incredible. "I’ve wanted this for so long," he rasped out. "I've waited for a very long time”

I wanted to prove that I was worth it, all this risk. So I reached up and felt him through his pants, staring longingly into his eyes. He pulled his shirt over his head as I unbuckled, unzipped, and released a very healthy looking cock.

I slid off the bed and onto the floor to get a better angle and he stood over me, gathering my hair behind my head as I started blowing him. I looked up at him and was rewarded with a face that was most definitely in ecstasy as I took him in my mouth.

He held my head down on his cock while I took him in deeply. This was a move widely hated by every woman I knew, but it was usually performed by dumb frat-type boys. But Toji was no boy, he knew what he was doing, he was looking out for me and making the experience short — just long enough to add a bit of excitement. When he pulled out of me he gave me his all too cocky grin and leaned down to kiss me, “I knew you'd be good at this”

He pulled me up and walked me over to a dresser placed underneath a large window. I could still see the moonlight on the lake as he bent me over it. Was it really just a few moments ago we were nearly strangers on that dock together? I was brought back to reality by Toji spreading my legs further apart and pushing my upper back down until my bare breasts were pressed against its cool surface and I felt him enter me.

"Oh my god..." I couldn’t help but moan as he thrusted into me. He shushed me by placing his hand over my mouth for a moment as he picked up speed. My moan was apparently too loud but he was willing to risk the loud sound it made as he slapped my ass over and over, groaning and filling me with his cock. I couldn't believe how turned on this was making me. I was no virgin but I'd never experienced sex like this — it wasn't awkward or embarrassing or rushed. I was very aware that I was getting fucked by a Man, not "fooling around" with a boy.

"Are you on birth control?" He asked and when I answered yes he cooed, "good girl, my good girl" The sound of that phrase coming out of his mouth sent me over the edge and I felt myself spasming around his cock as I released myself into my orgasm, even enjoying the sensation of a bit of extra liquid rolling down my thigh.

He was still thrusting into me rhythmically, alternating between kneading my breasts and grabbing — and slapping — my ass. I hadn't had sex last this long before and I loved being able to savor the feeling. "I'm getting close," he groaned and I tensed my body up, holding my place more firmly so that he could get deeper inside me as he unloaded his semen into me.

"You're so good at this, but I can tell you're just a beginner," He began as we laid on his bed to rest. I laughed, it was true. I had this fantasy about being a girl who gave amazing head and being really good at all the sex stuff, like some kind of femme fatale men couldn't resist. "I can sense you want to learn though” I nodded in agreement. I could play out this crush and learn what would drive my next actual boyfriend wild — who wouldn't want to kill those two birds with one stone?

And so, I began a year-long affair with Toji. We'd sneak away for a weekend when I said I was visiting my parents and meet at the lake house for lessons — how to stimulate differently for a long or a slow blow job, which positions let him get in the deepest while still providing some kind of external stimulation for me, how to prepare for and receive anal, how to lie with my head falling off the edge of the bed and allow him to push his cock into my throat (without choking). Occasionally I just gave him head while he drove me around, careful not to drive anywhere too well-lit or populated.

Now, how was I to tell Megumi?

—

Part 1 | 2 | 3

[akaakeis]

room for you -- oikawa t.

synopsis :: you and tooru oikawa have a history. you're known each other for over a decade. as he outgrew sendai, you got left behind while he took leaps and bounds forward, moving to argentina. when you're already a university student, the two of you end up getting back in touch. 

wc :: 1936.ᐟ

gn!reader x oikawa tooru (2nd person)

notes//cw :: named after and inspired by 'room for you' by grentperez + lyn lapid,, im so projecting onto the reader like they are literally me,, fic follows you from elementary -> junior high -> high school -> university (just in little snippets, nothing too long!!),, the school system in this is some kind of japanese school system mixed with the american school system,, kinda hurt/comfort(?) im not even sure if this qualifies actually,, fluffy end <3

a playground. it's filled to the brim with little kids, hanging from the monkey bars and sliding headfirst down the slide. yet here you are, sitting on the sidelines, cross-legged on the sidewalk as you twirl a piece of sidewalk chalk in your little hands. you're alone- till you're not. the sound of quick, loud steps, followed by a final huff, draws you out of your distracted state. the smallest gust of wind blows your hair away from your face as someone drops to the ground to sit next to you.

"heya, i'm tooru. why're you all alone? whatcha doing?" his eyes dart all over your face excitedly. it doesn't seem like he minds the fact that you didn't answer his questions. he finally glances down at the sidewalk below him and is absolutely fascinated with your chalk drawings. he looks at both you and your drawings with childlike wonder. you can't help but wonder why he came up to you, but you're glad that he did.

that was 14 years ago.

a full cafeteria sits in front of you, tables shoved full with kids. it's loud and overstimulating to be there, especially when you have nowhere to be sitting. junior high students rowdily chatter as they mow through their lunches and head outside to play. it's almost as if you're watching a movie play out in front of you as people keep moving about the cafeteria- until you hear a voice call out for you, pulling you out of your daze.

"hey!! over here!" tooru calls out, waving you over to his lunch table. he has a wide grin on his face as he beckons you over. when you get over to the table, he casually slings an arm over your shoulder and pulls you to sit down at the table with him and his friends. maybe junior high wasn't going to be so bad, after all. now you had a friend group, no?

"you fit right in!" tooru comments, nudging you as he laughs. truth be told, it's relieving to hear him say that. you could get used to this.

that was 7 years ago.

aoba johsai's gym. tooru's first high school volleyball match is going on right in front of you. it's amazing, the way that his serves spin across the net with such force. he plays with such agility and honed skill, and it leaves you in awe. the game wraps up quickly- practically in the blink of an eye. when he runs off of the court, you're the first person he comes up to. he jogs to you happily, beaming with excitement.

"how'd i do? did you see all my serves??" he asks, looking at you expectantly. he's very proud of how the game went.

"you did great!" you reply back, just as excited as he is. 

after the gym is cleaned up, you accompany the team to a nearby restaurant for a celebratory dinner. it's a walk, with the silence being filled by tooru and hajime's endless banter. this is comfortable. everything feels right, in this moment. as you walk in silence, listening in on hajime and oikawa's latest disagreement, you can't help but reflect on what you saw at the game. tooru was already playing so well. was it wrong to feel like you were getting left behind? to fear that he would leave you behind sooner or later? 

that was 5 years ago.

seijoh's auditorium. it's now filled with rows of students, ranging from 1st to 3rd years. it's your- it's all of the 3rd years' ending credits. it's all happening too fast. as you hear your name called out, it echos and rings through the auditorium. you automatically fall out of the line of students, and you receive your diploma, bowing to the principal and thanking him. then, you quickly head back to your spot in line. this was really it. it was weird, but it didn't make you feel any certain way. that was, until you heard the principal call out another name.

"oikawa tooru." you pause. all of a sudden, your heart ached. it was truly sinking in, how momentous of an occasion this was, whether it was for better or for worse. as tooru made his way to the front of the auditorium, you found your eyes gravitated to him as he walked. he glanced towards you and flashed a brief smile. he walked up to the principal, receiving his diploma with a bow and a "thank you." this was actually happening. it wasn't something incomprehensible that you would always be working towards. you had truly completed high school, and that was it. you could feel your heart twisting in your chest as he walked back to his spot in line, waving his diploma at you for a moment and grinning. you muster a smile back to him. 

you get a bad feeling about this. what if this is it? what if you never see each other again after this? of course, tooru isn't some mindreader, though. he has no idea you're feeling that way- he's completely clueless. you're probably just getting into your head about it, though. of course you guys would see one another, again. after all, the two of you had plans to go to the same university, anyway.

that was 3 years ago.

a phone is being held in front of your face. argentina national team, it says on the screen. is this some kind of joke? what about all the plans you had made with him? he's definitely joking... but his face betrays that idea. he looks dead serious about this, but at the sane time, he looks so excited. that means you have to be happy for them, no matter how much you feel like going home to process the grief you're now going through.

"oh, wow..." you manage to choke out. "argentina." where even is that? it's sure as hell not close. 

"yeah!" he says excitedly. "isn't that cool?" it's like he's forgotten about all the plans the two of you had made. how disappointing.

you nod slightly, mustering up a happy reply. it sounds forced. "yeah, it's super cool! when are you leaving, then?"

"umm... in a week! and we can stay in touch for sure! i'll message you as soon as i land, and then we can call at night!" he says, shutting off his phone and pocketing it as he looks at you, his ever-excited face still apparent. you need to match his energy- you wouldn't want to ruin the excitement of this moment for him, of course.

"totally!" you reply, smiling back at him. you're excited for him, but admittedly, you felt a little worried over being left behind. what would happen from here?

that was 1 year ago.

after tooru left for argentina, he stayed true to his promise. he texted you once he landed, and he called you every night- for a while at least. then the calls started coming less...

and less...

and less...

and less...

till they altogether stopped.

it only took 2 months for the calls to stop coming. not to mention, when you'd try to call, he'd answer, but he would only say he's busy and would talk to you later. you would be lying if you said you didn't get what could have caused it, though. for one thing, he's now committed to a national level volleyball team. the two of you are also 12 hours apart, time wise. it really does make sense why the calls stopped, but you just can't wrap your head around it. the two of you have been friends since 1st grade, so how could your relationship be falling apart so easily?

you missed him- you missed talking to him, too.

that was 10 months ago.

now, you sit in your university dorm, watching the computer screen in front of you as it plays a live volleyball game: argentina vs. japan. there were a couple familiar faces- amongst them, of course, being tooru. it felt weird, seeing him like this. it was like you had never known each other, seeing the game from here.

you wonder how he is. he was so enamored with the idea of being a part of a national team. he truly put in an effort to become as good as he is now. you miss him.  you resent him for leaving you behind. hopefully, he's okay, though. you still care about him.

the volleyball game comes to a close after long struggle, with japan coming out on top. hours pass as you sit in your dorm room, wasting time with multiple activities. the day feels so slow.

bzzt—

your phone rings, but quickly stops. you pick up your phone and check where the call was from. it was from tooru, and it was followed by a text that read, "oops sorry." you text back a "you're fine dw" and then put down your phone with a sigh, only for your phone to buzz again. tooru texts you again, asking how you are. 

soon enough, a conversation starts as the two of you continue to text back and forth. tooru calls you, explaining, "i figured if we were gonna continue talking... we should just call, right?" he pauses for a moment. "ah- and i'm sorry.. for not talking to you for a while. i don't have any excuse... i just stopped."

your heart twists in your chest. "...it's fine, don't worry. i get it. you're busy." you reply, picking at the sides of your phone case. it hurt to know he didn't even have a reason to stop talking to you,

"no... seriously. i'm sorry." tooru continues, "it won't happen again. i've missed you a lot."

"i missed you too," you reply simply. "i just wish you were still here, y'know? ...i saw your game against japan. you guys did really good. your serves have improved since high school, tooru," you add, feeling slightly better.

"yeah, i've been missing sendai, seriously." he sighs. "and why the hell did you not tell me they tore down the old house?" he groans. "our precious meet up spot..."

you laugh softly. "i figured it would only make you upset. but hey, we can make a new meet up spot. that old house was so school days," you reply, a joking lilt in your voice.

"yeah, you're right," he replies, laughing. "sorry, i won't have time to meet up this time, though. i'll make time next time i'm here visiting, promise."

you smile slightly, still picking at the sides of your phone case. "alright, that sounds good."

"and... hey," he says, his voice softer.

"hm?" 

"you know i'll always make time for you, right? there's always room for you," he says, your name following. it rolls off his tongue effortlessly. you've always adored the way he says your name. it felt comforting.

his words make you freeze up for a moment as you process what he just told you. "...thanks, tooru. i hope you know i will too. there's always room for you," you echo, a smile gracing your features as you realize- maybe your relationship didn't fall apart at all. after all, the relationships that have stood the test of time are usually the strongest, no? distance is just another obstacle for the two of you to overcome together.

while you two may not be fortunate enough to live near one another, neither of you will let physical distance be the reason your relationship fails. the two of you will always have room for each other inside of your hearts.

notes ::

₊ ⊹ guys im gonna be honest w u i heavily fw this fic

₊ ⊹ i hope u guys feel the same way <3

₊ ⊹ I WAS SO CLOSE TO 2K WORDS ON THIS DAMN IT

₊ ⊹ i feel like i get all my fic plot ideas from music i listen to... pls forgive me for that i can't help it 

₊ ⊹ idk what this fic genre would be classified as? but i really enjoyed writing it

₊ ⊹ i was on a plane when i wrote this i was SO locked in

₊ ⊹ i also wrote some of this in a car and i got so sick... that was not demure!!!

₊ ⊹ oh and not proofread are we surprised! let me know if u find any glaring grammar or spelling mistakes PLEASE

₊ ⊹ i'm so tired it's like 3 something itm in my timezone... if u see formatting issues thats why probably??? idk my vision is blurry rn

₊ ⊹ any other works can be found on my masterlist!

🏷️ (sorry for the random tags.. i just really really like this one </3) :: @bokukos ,, @iiwaijime ,, @hatsukeii ,, @causenessus ,, @kuroppiii <3

[joshym]

Le Morte d'Arthur: Chapter 4

Pairing: Jake Kiszka x f!Reader

Summary: It all began with a passion for literature. What was once a dream to walk the halls of the University of Michigan is now a reality.

You thought you were prepared for everything.

A new town, a new school, a new way of life,

but what you were not prepared for…

was meeting the enigma that is Jake Kiszka.

Word Count: 32.3k+ (dear lord)

Warnings: (for this chapter) please proceed with caution if you find any of the following to be triggering. MDNI 18+ ONLY struggles with body dysmorphia/eating (including food restriction & calorie counting), strong feelings of inadequacy, heavy emotions/ talks of an absent parent, *extremely* sick & terminally-ill parent, a parent in the hospital, mentions of sexually explicit scene being shot on film, anxiety/stress/depression, jealousy

SMUT-18+ ONLY: fingering & oral (f receiving), nipple stimulation, heavy petting (m receiving), possessiveness, a lot of hickeys(lol), a little praise (please let me know if i’ve missed anything)

a/n: thank you all for being so patient with me. this story is personal to me for so many reasons, & parts of it have been a little hard to write. but, they’ve begged to be written. i hope you all love it. 🤍

also, huge thank you to @jakeyt for being the best editor & my right hand in helping create this. i seriously couldn't have done it without you. love you SO much. you're the best sister i could ever ask for.

Le Morte d'Arthur Masterlist, Series Playlist

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Christmas Eve: Cherry Tree, OK

The ground was buried under mounds of snow. A fluffy, warm blanket of the softest white, yet it froze your little fingers when you buried your hands into its inviting, bright allure. 

You were bundled so tightly in your winter ensemble that you could hardly move. Your arms were stiff as boards, impossible to lay at your sides. You begged your mom to not make you wear it outside, but she and your dad wouldn’t budge. 

“You’ll get sick.” They warned you. But you didn’t heed them. 

As soon as you were outside and safely out of their sight, you shed your pink puffer and matching mittens, throwing them in a deep bank covering the once vibrant flower beds on the side of your house and freeing yourself of their restrictions.

You’d spent what felt like hours outside in the below freezing temperatures. Intricately rounding out perfect snowballs, building the tallest snowman your six year old body could manage, creating the most heavenly snow angels. 

You hadn’t even noticed the sudden pain and tightness that had developed in your small chest, or the dry cough that accompanied it. You were too busy warding off evil snow monsters from your fort made of icey wonder.

Until you heard your first, middle and last name erupting from the opened back door. 

Your mom and dad were there, their faces as white as the snow your body plummeted towards when your small lungs became too tired to allow for another breath of air. 

You spent Christmas in the hospital that year. The whole week, actually. A collapsed lung due to pneumonia, you were told. It was the most painful thing you had yet to experience in your young life. 

But to this very day, you consider it the best Christmas you’ve ever celebrated.

Nurses and doctors showered you with all the toys your heart could ever long for. You opened gifts from your bed and enjoyed the most wonderfully terrible Christmas dinner the hospital cafeteria could offer. 

You ate more ice cream than what was truly necessary. But no one denied your incessant requests for the frozen treat.

You watched Oliver and Company countless times that week, a favorite of yours and your dads. He hated Disney movies, but he loved this one, only because of Billy Joel’s character and the classic song he featured in the film.

He loved Billy Joel. Loved him enough to sit through hours upon hours of the animated film with you. 

Neither him or your mom left your side that whole week. They didn’t even go home to sleep. They just stayed with you. 

There were no fights between your mom and dad that week. Not even one. It was the closest your little family had ever been, and would ever be again. The love you felt from your parents that week has yet to find a comparison.

Crazy as it sounds, you miss that week. You began missing it as soon as you were cleared to go home. 

Their bickering resumed almost as soon as they put you in your special, tiny wheelchair to take you to the car. Whatever magic that hospital held that forced your family to love each other in a way that was brand new to you, was lost altogether once you were wheeled out of the automatic glass doors. 

You knew, once they situated you in the back of your dads double cab, that you’d never see them love each other that way ever again. 

As the Winter thawed to a bright Spring that year, when the snow melted and ran away to the Deer in Water creek that your home stood proudly beside, so did your hopes of ever seeing your parents love you and each other the same as they had that Christmas. 

That was a time in your life when you viewed your mom and dad in the same light. A time when you didn’t hate your dad, a time when he made you believe a man could love you.

When it wasn’t just your dad that caused problems, and it wasn’t just your mom that showed you love. They both did those things.

It’s strange to think back on it all now, to think about how he’s the one that left, and she’s the one dying. (Or already dead.)

You can’t bring yourself to understand why, but that Christmas you spent in the hospital all those years ago is all that's playing in your mind as Jake is speeding to the hospital. 

He’s asked you a few times how you’re holding up, but you can’t begin to try and answer him. 

You’re unable to communicate more than a quiet nod of your head as you're staring through the tinted passengers window. 

There aren’t any tears. No lump in your throat. 

You want to cry, but you can’t. 

Your mind pleads with you to acknowledge the emotions swirling about, desperate to manifest outwardly. But despite the inner turmoil, your body refuses to show it.

You just can’t.

Everything feels numb. 

You’re not even sure if you’re breathing properly.

⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎

You hadn’t even realized how tightly you’d been clutching the necklace your dad gifted you  all those years  ago. It’s somehow serving as a comfort for you as you’re being driven to the hospital, even after everything he’s put you through. You find yourself running your thumb over the engraved initial, just  as you always had before he left.

As much as you’ve grown to hate him over the last year, you can’t help but wish he were here. Not being able to rely on anyone right now is…it’s fucking terrible.

Well, aside from Jake. 

He’s the last person you’d expect to be leaning on.

But it was purely an accident. Him driving you to the hospital is just a happenstance. He wouldn’t have if your stupid car hadn’t broken down (thanks, dad) and if it weren’t for that, you wouldn’t have had to get a ride from Jake in the first place.

But, you’re grateful to him right now. Grateful that he stuck around at your apartment long enough to know he needed to take you to her. 

If it weren’t for him, you’d still be stuck there desperately searching for someone to take you.

Finally, the brakes come to a screeching halt at the emergency room entrance. You absently thank him as you practically jump out of the car. 

You don’t look back, but you hear the thrumming motor of his range rover become more distant as he drives away.

You can’t bring yourself to care at this point as you’re sprinting to the front desk in search of where they’ve taken your mom. 

The young, redheaded man behind the counter with bright green eyes shielded by thick eyeglass frames looks rather shocked at your frenzied state. He’s watching you with his mouth agape, hands frozen on the keyboard of his desktop as he prepares for your inevitable arrival.

“I–I need to f– find my mom. She was just broug–” You take a second to catch your breath, still clutching your necklace for some sort of grounding. “...she was brought here by ambulance and I—” He stops you with a hand held high, asking you to slow down because he can’t comprehend your rushed words.

You can hardly even understand yourself, your voice breathy and stuttering as you’re gasping for air. But there’s no time to wait to catch it in your heaving lungs. 

“I need my mom and you need to tell me where the hell they’ve taken her. Her name is–”

“Miss,” he interupts, standing up as if to intimidate you with his much taller stature in comparison to yours. “If you can’t calm down I’ll have to ask you to leave.” His voice (that he’s clearly manipulated to sound much more threatening) echoes throughout the entire lobby as he’s looking at you as if you’re the crazy one.

This man has started copping an attitude with you that you’re in no place to put up with. You’ve backed down to people you’re entire fucking life, but right now isn’t the goddamn time.

You’ve decided to challenge him. If he wants to be loud, you can be loud right back.

Your fist pounds the counter with a force that causes everyone in the lobby of the emergency room to gasp and silence their voices. The metal container holding pens is jolted over the edge, the clipboard holding the blank paperwork for patients to fill out tumbles to the floor from the sheer amount of power behind your hand. 

There’s a stinging pain running rapidly up your arm, all the way to your shoulder, ringing through your teeth and  vibrating in your skull. 

You don’t even so much as wince from the pain.

A potential broken hand is the very least of your troubles right now.  

“She may be dying,” you scream, your first still held firm atop the white marble. “And if you don’t tell me where the fuck she is, you may have ruined the last time I’ll ever see her.”

The tears you’ve held in thus far begin flooding your face, falling like a heavy rain shower on the granite where your sore hand lies. 

Before the receptionist can start the process of having you escorted out, a tall woman dressed in a light blue set of scrubs stops him before he can make a single move. 

“Tell me her name, sweetie.” Her voice is quiet and her demeanor is calm, her wavy brown locks tied in a sleek ponytail at the bottom of her neck reminds you so much of the way your mom used to wear her hair before she got sick. 

You tell her your moms name through a shaky voice, attempting to make yourself sound more composed so you don’t get yourself kicked out of here. 

She gently moves the receptionist aside (Eric, according to the name badge clipped to the pocket of his shirt) and begins clicking the mouse around, scrunching her eyebrows in focus. 

“Here she is,” she confirms, the printer behind her humming with the physical version of what she can see on the screen. “She doesn’t have a room just yet, hun.” 

You feel defeated and useless. You’re her primary caregiver, and you can’t do your job from behind this stiff counter— not knowing where she is, how she is, what happened. So many unknowns, so much that’s completely out of your control.

You suddenly feel the intense pain radiating from your fist and you instinctively pull it close to you, clutching it tightly against your chest in hopes that pressure will alleviate just how bad it hurts.

“I’ll let you know when she gets a room. Until then, you’re welcome to wait in the lobby.” The tall nurse tells you. 

You nod your head in agreement, knowing there’s nothing you can say or do to make them move quicker. Still clutching your fist, you slowly walk away towards the stained lobby chairs and plant yourself in the one that’s closest to the counter.

You pull your phone out of your jacket pocket in search of something to distract you, but you're mortified to be met with the dead battery symbol upon trying to unlock it.

Great. Nothing to divert you from your thoughts (or the searing pain) for god knows how long. You feel the tears start to well in your sleepy eyes again, and you just decide to let them fucking fall. There’s no sense in trying to keep them in, you need to feel right now so you don’t explode again with your pent up aggression. 

Crying feels like the safest thing to do right now, and the best way to relieve some of the mental (and physical) pain. 

You let your chin fall down towards your chest, watching as the tears land on your sheer tights. You can’t help but giggle a little at how much thought you put into this outfit, only for the night to end like this. You had no way of knowing. No signs that she was doing so poorly on the night you decided to fucking leave her.

But before you have the chance to become too deep in your pity party, you hear the unmistakable sound of shuffling feet walking in your direction. You don’t bother looking up; you figure if you ignore whoever it is, they’ll also ignore you, which is exactly what you want right now. 

But ignoring them isn’t quite doing the trick. You see a pair of black sweats out of your peripheral standing near you, and as you lift your eyes a little more, you see a hand offering you a tissue. 

When you shift your watering eyes up a bit more, you realize it’s Jake.

“Wha-what are you still doing here?” You ask, the crying making your voice meak and raspy. You clear your throat as you thank him and accept his small (but rather meaningful) token. A sweet gesture that you can’t ignore. 

“I just wanted to make sure you found her okay,” he says while settling down in the seat on your left. “And I couldn’t leave knowing you don’t have a way home tonight. This hospital won’t let people stay overnight anymore since the pandemic. Didn’t want to leave you stranded.”

You hadn’t even thought of any of that. Aside from getting to your mom, you had no plan of action. Anything to come after that just hadn’t crossed your mind yet. You're glad someone thought of all those things, because your mind clearly isn’t capable of considering much at the moment. 

“Well, thank you. But I can just call Nat so you don’t have to stay with me.” Your voice sounds a little colder than you’d like it to. But with the way your emotions are surfacing, it can’t be helped right now. 

“Your phone’s dead,” he challenges, pointing to the quiet device sitting in your lap . “So, I’m staying.” 

You snap your head towards him, wide eyes and scrunched brows in question. “How do you know that?” 

“Been trying to call you for the last twenty minutes,” he explains, taking his phone out of his pocket and scrolling through his call log to prove it to you. “It was going straight to voicemail. I knew there was a chance you could’ve been ignoring me, but I had a feeling your battery had just died.”

You can’t deny the grin that’s threatening to consume your tired features. You’re flattered, to say the least. While you didn’t fully expect him to stay to be sure you were okay, you’re not entirely surprised. (It crossed your mind briefly that he could just let you use his phone to call Nat, be he hasn’t offered. And you’re not going to ask. You kind of like that he’s here.)

“She doesn’t have a room yet. They told me they’d let me know when she does.” You adjust yourself in the stiff, plastic chair to face him while he nods his head.

His eyes are heavier than usual. His drooping lids tell you he’s just as tired. Though he’s probably had a much happier evening than you have had. 

Before you let your mind wander too deeply into the fact that he most likely slept with Stacy tonight, you search for anything to talk about with him.

“So, that spookhouse tonight was–” you begin, but he interrupts your thought before you can continue. 

“Shitty.” He states, putting his phone back in the pocket of his hoodie and letting both hands rest inside the fabric.  “Shitty and not scary in the least.” 

“Yeah.” You huff through a chuckle, grateful for the tiny smile it forced out of you. “Stacy was pretty scared, though.”

The look Jake gives you is one you can’t quite place. He looks…uncomfortable? 

You half expected him to giggle along with you, but he didn’t. Not even close. His eyes shift away from you, gazing across the waiting room. 

Fuck. Why did you have to bring her up?

You pull your eyes away from him as you awkwardly set your sights back on your lap. You’re not sure how, but it’s clear you’ve struck some kind of nerve with him.

It’s probably for the best that you keep your mouth shut. And that’s exactly what you do for the next several minutes. 

Without as much as a single word uttered between the two of you, you’re suddenly longing for the moments prior to his arrival in the lobby. The ones you spent pathetically crying in defeat and helplessness. Alone.

But just as it seems that all hope of having a normal conversation with him is lost, he breaks the silence. 

“Is that what they’re called, where you’re from?” 

As you lift your head, you’re met with his drowsy eyes once again set on you, his right eyebrow cocked slightly as he awaits your response. 

“Is what called…?” you absently ask. Your mind became so filled with the painful lull in conversation that you’d all but forgotten what you were talking about before you mentioned her name. 

“The haunted house,” he says. “You called it a spook house. I was just wondering if that’s because you’re not from here.”

It’s funny, because you hadn’t even noticed that you called it that. Didn’t even think twice about it. 

The memory of Sam pointing out the very same thing pops in your mind. You’re then reminded of how you left him tonight. The guilt is weighing horribly on you, but, sadly, it’s a welcome distraction against the worry (and far greater guilt) you’re feeling  for your mom. 

“Oh, yeah.” You fix your posture a bit, facing him once again as he clearly wants to keep some sort of conversation going. “That’s what we call them back home. It’s so funny how we have different names for things just based on what part of the country we’re from.” 

“It’s pretty interesting,” he mutters, a tiny grin peaking through his sleepy exterior.

You just hum in response, not really sure what to say next. The silence was awkward, but this sad attempt at a casual exchange is almost worse. 

You look over to the counter to see if the nurse who helped calm you down is standing there, but all you’re met with is Eric’s creeping eyes on you from behind the marble that may have broken your hand. 

Your hand suddenly begins to ache once more at the thought, and you instinctively bring it up to your chest again to dull the pain. 

“Is your hand okay?” Jake asks, taking note of your wincing expression after moving your sore extremity. 

You’re not sure you want to tell him about your little meltdown from earlier, so you come up with a quick excuse that sounds slightly better than the full truth.

“I knocked it against the counter when I got here, just by accident.” It’s not a complete lie. The accident addition is a bit of a stretch, but it kind of was an accident that your fist met the granite in a fit of rage. (However justified it may be, it’s still a tad embarrassing.) 

He leans closer to you, attempting to look at your hand that you’re still holding against your chest. With a tender touch, he attempts to pry it away from you. You’re so stunned by this that out of instinct, you hold it even tighter.

“Let me see,” he softly demands. 

After some hesitation on your part, (why does he care so much?) you pull it away from your chest, holding it out in front of you and Jake to get a clearer look.

The outer blade of your palm is swollen and already beginning to bruise. It hurts like hell. (And you’re wondering where on earth that physical strength came from.) 

Jake runs his index finger so gently over the inflammation. Amidst everything happening, your body can’t deny the fire that’s blooming under your skin from his feather light touch. 

Your tired eyes flit up to his face, his features wearing stark concern. When his eyes meet yours, you can’t look away. And he doesn’t, either, his finger still tracing a light pattern around the impact point on your fist. 

…and then he stops. He looks away and jumps up out of his seat without as much as a single word. 

He rounds the corner of the hallway and is out of your sight within seconds. Gone. Leaving you sitting here alone and feeling like you’ve suddenly done something wrong. 

Before you have the chance to worry about that for much longer, you notice the tall nurse out of your peripheral walking in your direction.

Your mom.

You stand up to meet the nurse halfway, ready to finally be taken back to see your mom. 

“Hold on,” she says, stopping you before you take a step. “You can’t go back right now, hun.”

Why won’t they let you go back? What don’t they want you to see?

Is it because she’s dead?

The nurse grabs your arm to keep you stable, your legs almost giving out as your body feels a thousand pounds heavier. The blood from your head rushes down through your chest. The dizzying feeling present throughout your weakened limbs.  

Your legs threaten to give out as your body feels a thousand pounds heavier. The blood from your head rushes  down  through your chest. The dizzy feeling present throughout your weakened limbs.

Your body begins swaying back and forth, threatening to collapse from shock, exhaustion…

She grabs your arm to help stabilize you.

“Hey, hey.” She puts her other hand on your shoulder to hold you still. “Everything’s okay. Just sit down for me, sweetheart.” 

She leads you back down to the chair, helping you lower yourself to sit back down. 

“I need you to know that she’s fine, sweetie. She’s asleep, but she’s stable.” 

The tension leaves your body instantly, like a two ton weight has been lifted off your tight chest. 

She’s alive. 

“Can I go back? Can I see her?” You’re nearly begging. 

“Not right now, honey. I tried to bend the visiting hour rules for you, but the big wigs won’t budge. I just wanted you to know that she’s okay, but she’ll need to stay overnight for some extra testing.”

“Everything okay?” Jake sits back down next to you, taking your hand and gently placing ice wrapped in a paper towel on your swollen fist. The cold nearly shocks your system, but it feels so good against the pain.

That’s where he went. He cared enough to get you ice for your ridiculously obtained injury. 

You turn your head to face him, his sweet eyes locked with yours while he holds the ice steady on your hand. 

This isn’t the Jake you’ve grown accustomed to over the months of knowing him. But this is the Jake you’ve wanted.

“She’s okay,” you say, looking down the makeshift pack of ice he brought you. “She’ll just have to stay overnight.”

“I’m glad to hear it,” he responds, dabbing the frozen compress delicately across the bruise.  

“We’re still not certain what happened to her. She fainted; that’s all we know for sure. We’ll run some tests to get to the root of it.” The nurse draws your attention from Jake back to your mom. You distractedly nod, your mind still consumed with Jake holding your hand the way he is. “You’re welcome to come back first thing in the morning, okay? We’ll take good care of her tonight.” 

A small breath of relief washes over you. At least she’s alive. And she’s stable. But fuck…you just wish you could be back there with her. The immense guilt of not being there when it happened is eating away at you. You want to apologize to her, tell her you’ll never fucking leave her again. But, that’ll have to wait until tomorrow. You’ll just be stuck sitting in your guilt until then. 

The nurse begins wishing you a good night, but before she leaves, she glances at your hand that Jake is still holding in his grip. 

“Is your hand okay, sweetie? Do you need someone to take a look at it?” She asks you, concerned. 

“I think I’m okay,” you tell her, looking to Jake who probably has a better idea about your condition than you do. It’s the least of your worries at the moment, you just don’t really care about it in comparison to everything else. This feels insignificant, you feel insignificant. It just doesn’t matter. 

Jake nods, looking at you and then averting his gaze to the nurse. “A little swollen and beginning to bruise, but it’s not broken.” He lifts the ice to inspect it a little further, running his finger over the swelling. “It’s already gone down some. I suppose just keeping ice on it will do the trick.”

You give him a look that says a silent ‘thank you’ for taking care of this for you. If he wasn’t here, you wouldn’t think twice about it.

The nurse smiles in response, then looks to you again. “I’d say you’re in good hands, then. Better not let that one get away.” 

She once again bids you a good night, reminding you that you can come back first thing in the morning. 

Neither one of you seems to react to what she just said. Not aloud, at least. You both just ignore it as you walk through the automatic doors. 

“I’ll go get the car,” Jake tells you, fishing his keys out of the pocket of his hoodie. “Had to park kind of far away. Be right back.” 

As you watch him walk away, you can’t stop replaying what the nurse said over and over in your mind.

“Better not let that one get away.”

If only she knew.

⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎

The ice is melting all over you and Jake’s floorboard. You’re desperately trying to catch every drop in your lap, but it’s proving difficult. You were freezing when you first got into the car, so Jake cranked the heat all the way up for you, but it’s causing you to make a huge mess. 

“I’m so sorry, Jake,” you utter, fighting back a few tears brimming your eyes. It’s not the dripping water that’s threatening to make you cry, it’s the fact that you feel like such a burden. And here you are, being even more of one by dripping water all over his nice car. 

“What are you sorry for?” He asks, peering over to you. You sniff the tears away, not wanting him to see you crying over something so fucking ridiculous. 

“The ice,” you answer through a cracking voice. “It’s melting all over.”

His brows crinkle, looking over at you to assess the situation. His eyes lock on your soaking wet lap for a spell, taking a deep breath before his eyes are back on the road.

“It’s just water, y/n. I’m not worried about it.” He takes the final left turn onto your street that’s now much more quiet than it was the last time he turned here. He pulls into the parking lot, parking in what would normally be your spot if your car wasn’t sitting worthlessly at his place. 

He keeps the car on drive, just letting his foot rest on the brake as he unlocks the door for you. 

“Just keep ice on it intermittently throughout the night,” he reminds you. “The swelling should be mostly gone by the morning.” 

Staring at the darkened apartment building, you slowly nod your head as you’re suddenly hesitant to leave his car for some reason. Your seatbelt is still buckled, your body feeling almost too numb to even manage that.

The thought of going into the empty apartment isn’t by any means a pleasant one. You hadn’t even thought of the fact that you’ll be all alone tonight. No one to take care of besides yourself. (And that’s not something you're well versed in.)

You’ve gotten so used taking care of her since it’s just been the two of you. Being in the apartment without her just feels…wrong. On every level. And being alone in your guilt feels even worse. 

At this moment, you’re not sure you can do it. But you haven’t a choice. 

“Y/n?” Jake’s calm voice pulls you back to reality, to the fact that you’re still sitting in his car, quietly contemplating. He’s probably ready to get you out of here so he can go home. “Are you okay?” 

“I’m fine,” you lie, not wanting to delve into the turning wheels of your brain. 

Then, he puts the car in park, leaning back in his seat as he looks at you with inquisitive eyes. “Are you sure?” He questions. “Because you’ve hardly said a word since we left the hospital, and you’re not exactly in any hurry to get inside.”

Embarrassed, you force yourself to remove your seatbelt. “I’m fine, just a little tired is all. Thank you for taking me tonight, I really appreciate it.” You begin opening the door to let him leave, gathering the mental strength to prepare yourself to walk into an eerie, empty apartment.

“You know, it’s pretty late,” he says as you're one foot out of the door. “And it’s a long drive back to my place. I could stay here, sleep on the couch. That way you’d have someone to take you tomorrow morning.” 

It’s almost like he could hear the thoughts in your head. He knows, somehow, that you can’t handle being alone tonight. Like there’s something within him that understands. 

“Jake I–I can’t ask you to—” 

But before you can finish, he shuts off the ignition.

“You’re not asking if I’m offering,” he protests. And he’s right. You didn’t ask, but you still feel bad. Because you would love to have him stay. “It’s actually easier for me if I do. Saves on gas.” 

Instantly, the thought of having his company makes you feel worlds better. Even if he’ll just be on the couch. Just knowing he’s there will make things a little more bearable for you.

“Are you sure?” You ask, timidly. 

“If you don’t feel comfortable with it, I can just—” he starts.

“No, no. I’d love it if you did. Thank you, seriously.” 

⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎

You’ve been lying wide awake in your bed for what’s felt like hours. Flipping and tossing about in search of a comfortable spot that you just can‘t seem to find. 

It’s not really the bed that’s the problem. It’s your unabating mind that won’t turn off its wandering thoughts. You’ve tried scrolling on your phone, using every app you can think of to distract you. But the thoughts are domineering your every attempt to silence them. 

Did they give her the right medications? Are they keeping her oxygen on her? Is someone staying with her all night to make sure she doesn’t stop breathing? Who called 911? 

Or, the worst one…the loudest one.

Is she dead and they just haven’t called me yet?

You’re so accustomed to her being here, hearing the humming of her oxygen machine, being able to check on her to be sure she’s okay. At least when she’s here, you know. With her gone, it leaves the floor open for your mind to wander to every terrible scenario that you can’t do anything about. You just don’t know what’s going on. And the unknowing is the worst part.

Your grumbling tummy is just about as loud as your mind, reminding you that you’ve not eaten anything in almost twenty four hours. 

There’s nothing else to do, so you pull yourself out of your unwelcoming bed t o go find a midnight (actually, closer to two in the morning) snack. 

Eating is a little terrifying to you right now, but you figure some popcorn won’t do much harm. 

You slowly open the creaking door of your room, holding your breath as it seems to be louder than normal in the dead quiet apartment. The last thing you want to do is wake Jake up, so it’s vital that you’re as silent as possible as you make the journey to the kitchen.

You tiptoe as gracefully as your tired body will allow across the living room, avoiding coming too close to the couch where Jake sleeps as you walk as far away from him as you can, not even looking in his direction.

A sigh of relief passes your lips as you reach the kitchen successfully.

You know that there’s one more bag of Pop Secret sitting on the second shelf of the cabinet right next to the microwave. Relying only on the soft light above the stove, you shuffle through the various items in search of it until you at last feel the familiar plastic cover. 

Instantly upon finding it, you start looking for the nutrition facts to know just how much you’re putting in your body. An old trait of yours that you’ve not done in years, yet suddenly, as if it’s purely muscle memory you flip the bag over to the side to note the amount of calories you’ll be taking. 

I’m not reverting back. I’m just curious about what popcorn is made of, that’s all, you try telling yourself. (Although, you know yourself in situations like these. When you’re stressed, you seek comfort in old habits. One old habit of choice just happens to be food restriction and calorie counting.)

It won‘t last long. I won’t let it. I just need something familiar.

130 calories, 6 g fat, 14 g carbs, 2 g protein per 4 cups is printed on the back in dark blue ink.

Could be worse. And there’s nothing saying you have to eat the whole thing. Maybe you can split the bag in half, that way you’re only getting half the fat and carbs. That’ll still be enough to quiet your empty tummy. 

You toss the bag in the microwave and set the timer to three minutes, pressing start and cringing at the loud humming from the appliance. You’ve also forgotten just how noisy preparing this little snack can be. 

Each pop of the buttered kernels echoes throughout the open kitchen and you’re praying to every star that this won’t wake him up. 

With two seconds left on the timer, you quickly open the door to avoid the unpleasant ding that’s sure to wake him up if you didn’t catch it in time.

You pour the contents of  the bag into your favorite blue bowl, designated long ago as the official “popcorn bowl.” You can’t go without a little extra salt, so you dump a good amount over top and sift it around so it’s all coated. 

You’ve realized that you instinctively poured the entire bag, even though you decided to only eat half. You’re not happy about the extra temptation, but you’re mentally telling yourself that there’s no need to eat this whole bowl. 

Shutting the door to the microwave as quietly as you can, you begin to tip toe back to your room to safety.

Only now, you’re met with a slightly horrifying discovery.

He’s laying on his back, sans hoodie that's draped over the arm of the couch and the blanket you gave him sitting just below chest. (God he looks good.) The light from his phone illuminates his face as he’s holding it sideways, seemingly watching a video of some kind. But his drowsy eyes flick to you as you begin the walk back to your room.

As you awkwardly stand in the middle of the room, blue popcorn bowl in hand, he pulls out an earbud and sets his phone down. “Trouble sleeping?” His groggy voice asks. 

“Yeah,” you answer, a little embarrassed that he’s caught you in such a state. “I just can’t seem to relax…but what are you still doing awake? I hope I wasn’t being too loud.”

“I’m a bit of an insomniac, I suppose,” he answers. “Popcorn, huh?” 

He swings his legs over the side and sits himself up on the end of the couch, a silent request to have you come sit next to him. You take the hint. The company would do you a little good right now, anyway. 

“Is it okay if I sit here?” You still can’t help yourself from asking if it’s okay, given your less than welcomed history with him. 

“Under one condition,” he remarks, full smirk across his lips. 

You stop before you take a seat, slightly terrified of what his ‘condition’ could possibly be.

“And what is that?” you timidly ask. 

He flashes you a warm grin that looks all the more inviting under the very dimly lit living room, chuckling lazily under his breath. 

“You have to share your snack.” 

You nervously laugh as you situate yourself on the opposite side of the couch, taking a few pieces of your snack of choice and passing the bowl over towards his direction. 

You catch a glimpse of his phone that’s still unlocked and sitting upright, paused on what looks like some professional chef working away on some fancy meal.

Perfect opportunity for an ice breaker. 

“You like cooking?” you ask while tossing a piece of popcorn in your mouth. (You’re really hoping you just got a bad piece, because it tastes burnt to hell and way too salty.)

“I dabble here and there,” he answers through loud crunches.

“I’m the one who needs to watch those videos,” you say, wincing at the second piece you’ve now eaten that tastes just as bad as the last one. “I’m probably the worst cook I know.” 

“I’d say so,” he acknowledges through a soft giggle, wincing as he tries more of your snack. “You’ve burnt the shit out of this popcorn and you didn’t need to add so much salt.” 

Of course, he noticed. 

You’re thankful for the mostly dark room as you can feel the blood rushing to your face over ruining something as simple as popcorn. 

But, it’s making him laugh. And you’ve come to really appreciate the moments that you do get to hear him laugh, because it isn’t often. Even though it’s at your own expense, you’ll take it. 

It’s surely been a great way to combat any awkward silence between the two of you. 

You chuckle to yourself as you set the popcorn bowl on the couch, centering it so you and Jake can both grab some as you please. 

“So,” he begins as he brings his feet up to rest on the coffee table in front of you. “I know you’re from somewhere where haunted houses are called spook houses. Where might that be? If you don’t mind me asking.”

“Oklahoma,” you answer, a little embarrassed. You’ve learned that your home state isn’t much of a popular one amongst people. Although you do understand why, you can’t help but find yourself missing it every now and again. It has its charm, however hard it may be to find. You know it’s there. Parts of it still remain lovingly in your heart. “A very, very small town in Oklahoma called Cherry Tree.”k,

With a soft nod of his head, his hair falls around his face and even in the dark, you can see how shiny it is. You can even see the soft smile over his lips. “I hear it in your voice,” he softly says. You look to him with question, silently asking him to elaborate. With a snicker, he continues. “Your little southern drawl. It’s not very strong, but it definitely stands out around here. A far cry from a Michigan accent.” 

Your whole life, you’d tried to mask your naturally derived, southern accent. You hated it. And you hated when people told you that you had one. It just made you want to unlearn it even more. 

Especially when you knew you would move to Michigan. The last thing you wanted was to stand out as if you’re not from here. 

Clearly, your efforts were useless. And as much as you’ve cringed when people have brought up the way you talk in the past, there’s something about hearing Jake point it out that actually makes you a little fond of it. 

Maybe it truly isn’t something to feel any shame over. It makes you unique, sets you apart, and perhaps that doesn’t have to be a bad thing. 

⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎

Time feels mute, like it doesn’t exist in this realm you and Jake are together in. 

The early dawn is creeping through the window blinds, and when you glance at your phone, you come to realize that you’ve been talking with him for nearly three hours, and that’s shocking  to you—it’s shocking because it doesn’t feel like it’s been that long. 

The conversations have been flowing so naturally, so authentically. He’s easy to talk to. So easy. You would've never guessed how seamless keeping a conversation going with him could be. 

And, to your astonishment, he’s done most of the talking. You’re witnessing a brand new side of him, one that you could’ve sworn wasn’t there. It seems as though he’s finally comfortable with you. Which is a really good thing, considering he’s spending the night in your place. 

He’s been the best distraction for you amidst everything. If he weren’t here, you’d be lying in your bed, probably crying your eyes out and dealing with the anxiety all alone. 

He’s the very last person you’d suspect would be here for you in a time like this. But, fuck, if you aren’t so happy that it is him.

And as time has gone on, you’ve both moved closer and closer to each other. His legs are spread out on the expanse of his cushion and yours, while your legs are slowly coming to rest on top of his, your body facing him. 

Every so often, his hand will find your calf as if he’s done it a thousand times before. An innate gesture that he hardly seems to notice he’s doing.

But you certainly notice, every single time it happens. Each brush of his hand against your skin causes your heart to flutter. It’s innocent, of course. But it’s the fact that he’s finally revealing himself to you, that he’s trusting you. 

It feels good. It feels really good. 

You’re listening intently as he’s telling you more about the music that has shaped his life up until now. You’ve never noticed all of his little mannerisms, like the way he brushes the tip of his nose after he laughs, or how his hands struggle to stay still when he talks. 

And his eyes, the way they beautifully catch the early light. Their color like a glass of honeyed whiskey over ice, glowing against the rays of the young sun. 

“...and that’s when I discovered the versatility of the SG. My dad searched the entire midwest until he finally found one for me.” The palm of his hand comes to rest on your leg again, only this time, it’s a little higher. His fingertips dare to brush the inside of your upper thigh, his thumb tracing delicate circles across your now trembling skin. The fire within you is growing, felt from the pit of your stomach to your swimming head. “That guitar taught me how to challenge myself. My dad encouraged me every day to keep playing and I’ll never be able to thank–” 

Something changes in his eyes, his expression faltering as he falls silent. There’s a sudden difference in him, one you can’t quite grasp.

And then he looks down at his hand still placed upon you, and with a thousand silent words, he removes it. Quickly. Like he didn’t realize it was there in the first place. Or, worse; like he was suddenly repulsed by the fact that he was touching you. 

The room changes abruptly, the air feels heavier, denser. You notice he avoids meeting your gaze, his thought left unfinished.

What have I done wrong?

“Jake?” 

He moves so he’s now sitting upright, as close to the other end of the couch as he can be. Furthest away from you.

“I should…I should probably get some sleep,” he says, the words sounding ever unsure. “And you should, too. We’ve only got…” He takes his phone to look at the time, breathing deeply from his lungs when he sees that it’s nearly six in the morning. “Jesus.” He runs a hand over his face in…frustration? Exhaustion? You can’t be sure. “We’ve only got about two hours until they allow visitors, and I’ve got to go to work right after.” 

You take the hint that he wants you away from him. 

But for what reason? Well, you’ll be left to wonder that for the next few hours, alone. 

You don’t say anything as you stand up, only nodding your head and shielding your face the best you can.

You don’t want him to see the new tears that have begun to surface. 

“Sorry,” is all you can muster as you open the door to your room. He doesn't respond, only pure silence comes from the living room. 

Whatever you did, it was enough to force him to realize he doesn't want to be close to you, emotionally or physically.

It was going so well. But, you ruined it. Just like you ruin everything else in your life. 

You’ve no doubt that you won’t be getting any sleep for the next few hours. Your thoughts are too loud, screaming everything you’ve ever done wrong in your ear. 

And you can’t get the look in his eyes out of your head, how they appeared uncomfortable being in your presence. How he suddenly decided he didn’t want to be around you. 

But, then again, you can’t blame him. Because who in their right mind would want to be around you?

⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎

The alarm on your phone is blaring. You’ve been  counting down the minutes until it was set to go off, laying in complete silence and watching nothing but the clock. Every second felt like twenty minutes in your brain.

When you walk out into the living room, you’re met with an empty space. No Jake. 

Did he leave…? 

The couch is back to normal, the blankets you gave him folded and sitting on the cushion under the pillow you let him use. (Your favorite pillow, but you’ll never tell him that you sacrificed it for him.)

Great. He’s gone. 

And you have no way of getting to the hospital without him. 

Natalia.

You’ll call her, see if she can take you. 

Which you shouldn’t have to do. He said he would take you, and he just fucking left. 

It’s safe to assume that whatever relationship you were building with him last night, has all but left the apartment with him. 

Deciding it’s not worth your time at this point, you grab your phone, unlocking it and tapping on Nat’s contact to call her. 

It’s ringing. And ringing. And ringing. 

Fuck. If she doesn’t answer, you don’t know what you’ll–

“What are you calling me so early on a Saturday for?” She finally answers, her raspy voice a clear indication that she’s just woken up.

“I need your help, Nat. Can you come get me and take me to the hospital?” 

You hear her gasp on the other end of the phone. 

“What? Are you okay? What’s going on?” she asks, her questions coming in quick succession. 

“To make a long story short, my car broke down at the Kiszka’s last night, so Jake had to bring me home. There was an ambulance when we got here, and it were here for my mom. They took her to the hospital, but I had to come separately. So, since I didn’t have my car, Jake took me. I couldn’t stay the night with her and when he brought me back home, he stayed the night to be here in the morning to take me back to her, but he left a while ago and I was hoping you could come get me.”

Even you can’t believe the words out of your mouth. A convoluted mess that you hope she’s comprehending at such an early hour. 

“Holy shit, y/n. Yeah, of course. Is your mom okay?” she questions after a brief moment of silence, probably in an attempt to understand the shit show you’re currently dealing with. “And where the hell did Jake go?”

“Wish I knew,” you say with a cynical tone. “And I don’t really know. They told me she was stable last night but they still needed to keep her. Since I was gone, I have next to no idea of what happened.”

Just as she begins to respond to you, you feel your phone vibrate against your cheek. 

“One sec, Nat. I think I just got a text.”

Jake: I’m outside in the car. Ready whenever you are.

“What the fuck, Jake,” you mutter softly, but loud enough that Nat heard you on the other end of the phone call you’re still on. He couldn’t have communicated this to you? 

No. Instead, he just made you believe he left. 

Either way, you’re glad he’s still here. He’s not that cold towards you. (Although you’re not exactly shocked at the fact that you didn’t question it when you thought he left.)

“What did he do?” You hear her say at a low volume. 

Bringing the phone back up to your ear, you say, “He’s still here, apparently. Just in the car waiting for me. I’ve got to go, I’ll keep you updated.”

With that, you hang up the phone and quickly begin to get ready. 

You take the first pair of leggings you see sitting in your dresser, then decide to throw on your vintage, oversized Billy Joel sweatshirt that you'd completely forgoton you owned. 

The state of your hair is one that you can’t do much with at the moment, you figure a messy claw-clip bun will have to suffice. You put a little moisturizer on your face, grab your belt bag and keys, and run out the door. As much as Jake has upset you in the last few hours, you still don’t want to keep him waiting any longer than he already has. 

He’s sitting in his car, just like he said. Wearing the infamous John Lennon frames that remind you of when you first encountered him. You had no idea at that moment, when he brushed up against you in the hall, when he tried to make you look like an idiot in class, that you’d be here with him. And if you’re honest, given the way he reacted to your closeness last night, you’re not sure this is much better. 

It’s like he wants to be closer to you, but when the time actually comes, he realizes it’s you he’s getting closer to, and backs off. And that effectively makes you feel about a hundred times worse than you did a few months ago. 

“Sorry, I didn’t realize you were out here already,” you tell him as you open the passenger door and take a seat. 

“No problem.” He waits until you’re buckled and settled before he starts backing out of the spot, his right hand grabbing the head rest of your seat while he turns his body to have a better view of the back window. 

⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎

The drive has been quiet, (shocker) save for his music. Something you can’t deny him is his impeccable taste, his taste that is so similar to yours. 

He must’ve taken notice of your Billy Joel sweatshirt, because, ironically, Vienna begins playing over the speakers. One of your favorites. And one that, without fail, makes you cry every single time. He probably queued it up because of your shirt, but little does he know of the deep, deep history you have with this song. 

He doesn’t know that your dad used to play this song while you were getting ready for school in the mornings, how he told you one time that he wanted to name you the title of this track, but your mom wouldn’t agree to it. But, that didn’t stop him from associating the tune with you. 

He called you his little Vienna for a good chunk of your childhood, up until you got to high school and asked him to stop out of embarrassment. You didn’t want everyone privy to your dads nickname for you. Just a normal, teenage thing. 

Then you remember…This was your dad’s sweatshirt that he gave to you a long, long time ago when he left for a work trip. You were devastated that he was going to be gone. He gave it to you for comfort, to keep a piece of him with you while he was away. 

And you chose to wear it today, of all days. When you need the extra comfort. When you know, deep down, that you need him. Your subconscious knew it. That’s why you gravitated towards this shirt without even realizing that you were. 

You’ve not heard this song since he left. Not even so much as thought about Billy Joel’s music, let alone this sweatshirt that somehow made the move to Michigan when you thought you got rid of everything from your dad. 

A single tear falls from your eye, landing on the top of your lip. You taste its salty presence before you wipe it away with the cuff of your (his) shirt. 

The lyrics feel heavier than they ever have. 

Why don’t you realize…Vienna waits for you?

When will you realize…

As the song comes to an end, as Billy plays the final note on his piano, you arrive at the hospital. (Something about it feels poetic.)

He stops at the main entrance of the hospital this time, instead of the emergency room one.

“I have to go into work,” he says while you’re unbuckling your belt. “So just text me and let me know when you’re ready to leave and I’ll come get you.”

“If it’s too much trouble for you, I can just ask Natalia.” You say as you get out of his car. “ I’m sure she wouldn’t mind. She doesn’t work today, so it’d be easier for her.” 

Your tone is awfully cold. Distant. 

You feel like you’ve bothered him enough. So, you want to give him an out. He probably regrets ever helping you in the first place. 

His eyebrows become wrinkled underneath his sunglasses as he’s looking at you. Before you go to close the door, you hear him speak up.

“Well, that–that’s up to you, I suppose. But I don’t mind, y/n.” 

“I’ll let you know,” you say, staring down at your feet as you’re finding it difficult to make eye contact with him right now. “Thank you again.” 

And after that, you shut the door and walk towards the front door, hearing him drive away behind you.

⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎

“She’s in room 430. Just take the elevator to the fourth floor and follow the signs. You’ll come up to locked doors, so you’ll have to buzz in with the phone on the wall. Just tell them your name and who you’re here to see, and they’ll let you in.” This receptionist is worlds kinder than the one you encountered last night. She’s got kindness inscribed in her dark eyes, and a smile that tells you she truly cares about her job. Her long curly locks are beautiful and charming, the color a lovely shade of auburn. Perhaps not natural, as her roots are nearly black. But this shade suits her skin tone perfectly. 

“Are there stairs I could take instead?” You ask the curly headed receptionist. Elevators are not your thing. You’ve had a lifelong fear of becoming trapped in one, and with your anxiety levels higher than usual today, it’s probably best if you avoid them altogether. 

She shows you a warm smile as she guides your sight in the direction of the staircase. Thanking her, you quickly head that way.

The climb up the stairs is grueling and as you finally reach the last step, you’re struggling to catch your breath. It seems you didn’t realize just how many steps there are in four flights. It’s a lot of steps. But, still much better than the chance of becoming trapped in a tiny ass elevator. 

After catching your breath, you take heed of the receptionist's directions and follow the signs that lead you in the direction of her room. And just like she said, there’s a set of locked doors with a phone hanging on the wall. 

As soon as you lift it from the receiver, someone answers instantly. You tell them your name and your moms. They verify her birthday with you and once you tell them the correct date, you hear the doors unlock. You thank them before hanging up the phone and heading down the long, somewhat eerie hallway. 

You’ve always wondered why hospitals look like this. The cold, stark white walls and matching laminate flooring, the harsh fluorescents that are painful to look at. Nothing about it is inviting or comforting in the least, and you’ve always thought they should be. Especially for long term patients that are stuck here for god knows how long. 

It just doesn’t make sense to you. In your mind, hospitals should strive to have a warmer environment, for nothing else other than to make people feel more at ease when they’re in hard situations. 

As you’re nearing the end of the hallway, you see room 428 on your left, 429 a little ways further on your right, meaning 430 is the very last one on the end to your left.

The door is open, and just as you’re approaching it, a nurse is leaving the room with her rolling cart that’s carrying a slew of things to check, what you’re assuming, are vitals. 

She smiles as she walks past you, her squealing cart still audible as she rounds the corner to the unit secretary desk. 

You’re still for a moment, standing just a mere feet from her. Out of her sight, of course. And she out of yours as you’re not standing in the view of the doorway. 

There’s a rush of hesitancy forcing you to stay where you are. You’re not sure where it’s derived from, perhaps it’s from the fear of seeing her in such a state. 

Perhaps it’s something else. But you don’t know what.

Finally deciding that just standing here isn’t doing you or her any bit of good, you put one shaky foot in front of the other and walk towards the open door. 

And then, you see her.

Looking the smallest she’s ever looked in your eyes. She looks too small for all of the devices she’s hooked up to. 

Tangled wires. A mess of tangled wires and tubes and IV bags…

As you walk in a little further, she hears you. Her eyes, ever slow in their movement, blink open and shift to you. 

They’re heavy, almost drooping down her pale cheeks. They look tired. So, so tired.

“Hi, honey.” Her words come through in a sad attempt of vocalization. You hardly understood her, more so relying on reading the movement of her lips than anything. Her hand, complete with an IV needle, raises to motion a weak wave at you. 

I wasn’t there. I wasn’t fucking there when she needed me. I can’t leave her…I can’t leave ever again. It’s all my fault.

“Mom I’m–I’m so sorr–”

“You must be y/n!” You hear a booming voice from behind you, interrupting entirely. When you turn around, you see an incredibly tall man wearing a set of blue scrubs with a white lab coat on top. “Your mom has told us a lot about you. I feel like I know you already.” 

As he reaches out his hand for you to shake, he smiles widely when you take it in yours. “I’m Doctor Roth. It’s nice to meet you.” 

He seems positive. The smile he’s wearing makes you believe that everything just might be okay. “It’s really nice to meet you, too,” you say, a little timid. 

You look back to your mom, who seems to have fallen back to sleep. Rest is probably the best thing for her right now, so you don’t want to wake her. Even though all you want is to talk to her, tell her how terrible you feel that you  weren’t there. But it can wait. As long as she’s resting. 

“Hey, y/n.” Doctor Roth pulls your attention away from her with his James Earl Jones-esque voice. “Would you mind coming to speak with me for a moment?” 

While his bearings have changed a bit, he’s still smiling. But, something is a little off in his tone with the question he asked you. 

“Um, yeah. Of course.” You tell him, although you’re not sure you want to have this conversation. 

Will he tell you that she’s progressed much further than you initially thought? That she’ll never leave this hospital again? She’s dying and will be dead soon? 

As he leads you down the hall, stopping at a little room near the restroom, your heart is thumping rampantly in your tightening chest. 

“Before we begin,” he says while pulling a wooden chair out for you to have a seat. “Is there anything I can get you? Water? Coffee? I believe we have herbal tea, if you’d prefer.” 

Herbal tea always sounds wonderful to you, but you’re not sure you could even stomach a simple cup of water right now, so you politely decline his kind offer. 

“I would just like to ask you a few questions about your mom, if that’s okay.” He takes a seat directly across from you at the round table centered in the middle of the conference room. 

You nod your head, letting him know you’re okay with it. 

“I understand she is prescribed a series of medications for her pulmonary fibrosis. If my memory serves me correctly, she’s on Ofev, Pirfenidone and an anti-inflammatory. Is that everything?” He asks you, taking his rectangle frames off and placing them on top of his head.

“Yes, that’s correct.” You give her those pills every single night. You know their strange names by heart at this point.  “She also uses a few different inhalers to help airflow from her lungs. And she wears her oxygen about eighty percent of the time, of course.” 

“Right,” he says, blowing out a long sigh as he sits back in his chair. “Well, let me ask you this. When was the last time she took those medications? That you know of, of course.” 

“She took them last night before I left.” You answer, confidently. 

“Are you sure she did, y/n?” 

“Yes, of course I’m sure,” you say with a little offense. “I watched her take them before I left—” 

Then, you suddenly remember that you didn’t actually see her take them. You left them out for her and reminded her to take them before bed, but you didn’t see her take them. 

“I guess…I guess she didn’t take them before I left. But, I’m sure she took them before bed. She always does.” There’s a terrible feeling present within you, making your already turning tummy feel a lot worse. “Doctor Roth, why are you asking me this?” 

“There wasn’t any indication of them in her system when she came in. Usually, those drugs can be detected for a few days after they’ve been taken, but there was no sign of them in her bloodstream. Meaning, she hasn’t taken them in at least two to three days.” 

No. He’s wrong.

“That’s not possible. I give them to her every night. With the exception of last night, I always watch her take them. I make sure she takes them. I’m sorry, but you’ve got to be mistaken.” Your offense has now shifted to full on defense. 

He’s questioning your ability to take care of her, and that is not something you will take lying down. There’s a whole list of things you’re terrible at, but taking care of your mom is not part of that list. You know that for a damn fact. 

You’re not going to sit here and take this, so you decide enough is enough and stand up from your chair to leave. 

“Y/n, please. I need you to listen to me. The progression of her disease, it’s…” That word. Progression. It stops you dead in your tracks. You hate that word. “...it’s the quickest I’ve ever seen in my fifteen years of practicing. If she were taking her medication as she’s supposed to, her lungs wouldn’t look as bad as they do. They would still look bad, but those medications help to slow the stiffening of her lungs. But with the state they’re in, it’s clear that she’s taken very little to no medications.”  

You’re not sure what to make of this…what is he saying? 

Well, clearly he’s saying that she’s not taking her medications…but how? 

You give them to her, you see her take them…right?

“Is—is there a chance her disease is just progressing more rapidly than what’s normally expected?” You hate saying those words. They feel like poison coming out of your mouth. But they sound better than “she’s not taking her medication.”  

He stands up from his chair to stand closer to you, taking his glasses off his head and placing an end piece on his bottom lip. “That is a possibility, although that doesn’t explain why we saw no signs of her medications in her bloodstream.” 

“Is she on them now? Is that why she’s so groggy?” You ask him, remembering how she was hardly able to speak or move when you saw her just moments ago. 

“Yes, she is. And that is another sign that she’s not been taking them as prescribed. Her body should be adjusted to the severe lethargy that these are known to cause, and it’s clear she’s not.” 

While you know Doctor Roth has no reason to lie to you, you still can’t bring yourself to believe him entirely. It’s not like your mom to do this, to not take care of herself. 

But there’s no sense in arguing with him anymore. It’s not worth it. Doesn’t change the fact that she’s here. 

And as that terrible thought resurfaces, you’re reminded of a question you need to ask him. 

“How much longer will she need to stay here?”

“I can’t be certain,” he answers. “But we’ll need to monitor her a bit longer, run a few more tests. At least another three days or so, but we’ll let you know when we believe she’s ready.” 

⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎

She’s still fast asleep, having been for a few hours while you sit quietly on the stiff couch in the corner of her room. The room is small, stuffy. Her only source of entertainment is a tiny television mounted high on the wall. 

You know she hates it here. You hate it for her. 

But the one redeeming thing about this room is her giant window that offers a beautiful view of the city skyline. Detroit is always busy, always bustling. 

But it’s lovely, especially from this fourth story view. 

And it's a nice distraction from the beeping monitors and noisy machines. 

Nurses have been in and out every hour to check her vitals, making small talk with you while they record every result. They’ve all been so friendly, each one of them asking if they can bring you anything to eat. You’ve turned them down each time. 

Food hasn’t been your concern today. Wasn’t your concern yesterday, either. 

You’re hungry, that much you can tell. But you can think of a million things you’d rather do right now than eat. Eating would only increase your anxious thoughts, and that wouldn’t do you a bit of good at the moment.

You can just eat when you get home. You’ll last until then. (You’ve lasted a hell of a lot longer than this before.)

You suddenly feel the vibration of your phone still tucked away in the waistband of your leggings. 

To your astonishment, it's a text from Jake. 

You didn’t expect to hear from him, but seeing his name on the screen of your phone does feel nice. It feels really nice, actually. 

Jake: I meant to ask but it slipped my mind. How's your hand?

You’d completely forgotten about your hand. But Jake didn’t.

And it warms your heart that he thought to ask about something so meaningless to you. 

You look down to examine your fist to give him a proper answer. Aside from a slight purple tint on the skin, you wouldn’t be able to guess it was injured at all.

You: It’s much better. Some bruising but no more swelling and I can hardly feel it. The ice really helped!

He responds almost instantly, meaning he probably still had your messages still pulled up on his end. 

Jake: Good. : )

Jake, although he has his moments, is great at forcing a smile out of you when it feels impossible to do so. 

His message is reassuring, especially with how last night (early this morning, actually) ended. 

Before you can type out a response, you notice she’s beginning to stir just a bit. She’s done this periodically throughout the day, but this is the first time you’ve seen her open her eyes since this morning when you first arrived.

She turns her head a bit towards you, so you get up and move closer to her. 

“Hi, mom.” You say softly.

She smiles at you, the best she can despite every obstruction on her face. 

Just then, a nurse walks in for her hourly check. “She’s awake!” He excitedly exclaims. 

He’s young, probably a fresh graduate. You’ve seen him in here once before a few hours ago. He’s very sweet, the kindness you’d expect every nurse to have. 

He runs through her vitals quickly, telling you he wants to give you two plenty of alone time. 

You thank him as he leaves, and he flashes a sincere smile while he turns the corner of the hallway. 

Her eyes are suddenly glued to you, but not just you. Your sweatshirt. 

“Where’d you find that, honey?” She questions. 

“Oh, I don’t know I just— I’m not worried about it. I am worried about you. What happened last night, mom?”

You’re sure she recognizes that it’s your dads…and you feel terrible for wearing it around her right now for that very reason. You just didn’t consider it. So, it’s probably best to change the subject. 

She sits up a bit and you reach out to help her. You place her pillows in a way that keeps her upright without her needing to use much strength to do so. Once she’s comfortable, you sit down in the recliner next to her bed. 

“They’re telling me all kinds of crazy things,” she says. “I’m just fine, I know I am.” 

They’ve more than likely asked her about her medications, how they didn’t find any in her system. You want so badly to ask her about that. But, it’s not the time. Not yet. 

“I feel so bad, mom. I shouldn't have been out that late. I should’ve been there, I could’ve done something, I…” Your throat becomes tight with a lump, your eyes brimming with a hundred unshed tears. It’s just all too much. And you feel like you’re to blame. You just can’t shake that feeling. 

“Don’t be sorry, sweet girl.” Her weak hand reaches out for yours. As you take it, you notice just how clammy she feels. “It would’ve happened whether or not you were there. I think it was bound to happen sooner or later.” 

She’s probably right. But, had you been there, maybe the ambulance would’ve been called sooner.

The ambulance. How did they…? “Mom, I have to know who to thank for saving your life.” The tears are streaming down your hot cheeks at this point. “Do you know who called?”

“Mrs. Sweeney,” she answers right away, as if it didn’t require any thought. “Bless her soul. She’s the sweetest lady. She heard me cry out just as I fainted, and called 911 for me.”

Mrs. Sweeney is your next door neighbor in your complex. She’s been the most wonderful neighbor to your and your mom since you moved in. It makes perfect sense that she’d be the one to call. 

“I’ll have to thank her,” you say, wiping away the tears. “She did what I should’ve been there to do.”

Her eyes suddenly widen, a stark contrast in how they’ve looked all day. “There’s…there’s no need, honey. I already thanked her. Called her last night, she’s been thanked plenty.” 

She could call Mrs. Sweeney…but not me?

“Oh. Well, okay," you say, confused. “I guess it would be beating a dead horse at this point to thank her again.” And with that, her eyes go back to their groggy state, closing slowly as she falls back to sleep.

⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎

“How is she?” Jake asks as you climb in the passenger's seat. He insisted on coming to get you as soon as visitings hours ended. Wouldn’t take no for an answer. He told you he was already on that side of town anyways, so he didn’t see the point in you asking Natalia to make the trip. 

“She’s…I don’t really know, to be honest.” It’s true. You don’t know how she is. You’re leaving the hospital with more questions than you had coming in.

His question…there’s just no easy way to answer it. “She’s okay, for now. But she…she may not be much longer. It’s…complicated.” 

“You don’t have to tell me more if you don’t want to. I’m glad she’s okay at the moment.” He tells you.

You smile at him, then relish in the silence the rest of the way home. 

You’re grateful that he’s not prying. It’s too much to talk about right now, and it seems he’s picked up on that. 

You breathe a deep sigh of relief when you arrive at your apartment, ready to climb in bed and try to get some much needed sleep. 

You thank Jake before he leaves, fishing for your keys out of your belt bag as you head up the stairs to the third floor. 

Once you make it to your door, you see Mrs. Sweeney leaving as you’re about to walk into your place. Your mom told you not to thank her again, but you can’t help it. You still haven’t thanked her, and it’s just not in your character to ignore a good deed from someone.

“Mrs. Sweeney?” You say as she’s locking her door. 

“Hi, dear! How's your mom today? I’m sure you two have had quite the night.”  

“She’s okay,” you say, the words feeling like a lie. “All thanks to you. I can’t thank you enough for calling the ambulance last night. Seriously, you saved her life when I wasn’t here–”

You stop talking once you see her expression change. She looks befuddled, almost disoriented. “Oh honey, I’m not the one who called last night. I thought you did, dear.” 

…she didn’t call? 

“But my mom said— you didn’t hear her call out for help?”

With a contemplative look, she puts her keys in her purse and faces you. “I didn’t hear anything. And I was home all night. This is the first I’ve left since yesterday morning. I’m sorry I didn’t hear her, dear. Were you not home?” 

As if it were even possible, there are more questions filling your head. 

“I wasn’t, but I’m sure one of the other neighbors called. Sorry to bother you, Mrs. Sweeney. I hope you have a good day!”

“Not a bother at all, love.” 

You walk into your empty apartment, in a near state of shock. 

Why did your mom lie to you? And so blatantly, at that? It’s not something you want to let yourself believe. Maybe it was because of her state, she was just confused after everything. But…she didn’t look confused. 

And she told you she talked to Mrs. Sweeney herself, which clearly didn’t happen. 

As much as you want to figure all of this out, you’re far too exhausted to give it much more thought. You need sleep. Sleep first, then you can get to the bottom of it. But for now, the only thing you’re craving is your bed. 

⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎

A pounding on the door  wakes you from the depths of your slumber, nearly startling you off the bed in the process. The post nap disorientation is in full effect. The sun was still up when you laid down, and now your room is in almost complete darkness. 

The pounding on the door persists, forcing you to wake up all the way. Who in the world…?

Hesitant to answer with it being so late and being all by yourself, you reach for your phone in case you need to call someone.

And right as you go to grab, you realize you have four text messages from Nat. 

Nat: Are you home yet??

Nat: If you are, be ready to come outside in about 20.

Nat: Hello?

Nat: COME OUTSIDE! We have a surprise for you. 

Based on the messages, you’re realizing that Nat is the persistent knocker. You love this girl so much, and you’re hoping that whatever her surprise is was worth waking you up for. 

Also, you’re not sure what she meant  by “we,” though you’ve got a hunch it could be her new suitor. 

You: Sorry, just woke up. On my way

Summoning what little strength you have left, you force yourself to get out of bed and head towards the front door. Your feet are literally dragging as you walk across the dark apartment. Turning on the outside light, you swing open the door to Nat’s beaming, beautiful face adorned with a full toothed smile. 

“Hey there, sleepy head!” 

Bringing your hand up, you rub what’s left of your (very little) sleep from your eyes. 

“What’s your surprise?” You ask with a tired voice. 

“Hold out your hand,” she says, an enormous grin still across her face. “And close your eyes.”

With as heavy as your eyes still are, closing them isn’t an issue. (You just wish you were still in bed while doing it.)

You do as she says, and as soon as your eyelids are shut and your hands are outreached, she places something peculiar in your flattened palms. 

“What is thi–'' you begin to ask, interrupted by her as she practically yells for you to open your eyes. 

And when you do, you see a single key. 

But, not just any key. It’s the key to your shitty ass Firebird.

“What the hell? Natalia Delores, what did you do?” You ask her, having a good idea of what this is all about.

And then you hear a honking coming from the parking lot. As you look over the edge of the stairs, you see Danny’s curly brown locks hanging out of the driver's side window of your car. 

“Surprise!” She exclaims. “Dan the handyman fixed your car!” 

Cringing at the ridiculous nickname, you give her a huge hug before sprinting down the stairs to do the same to handyman Dan. 

“Did you realize you were missing your key?” He asks as he wraps you in a long embrace. 

“I had no idea,” you say, still held tightly in Danny’s muscular arms. “How did you guys manage to get it without me noticing?” 

“Jake,” Nat tells you. “He took it off your keyring this morning.” 

You’ve a good feeling that happened before you got up this morning, probably before he went out to wait in his car. 

Danny is the first to break the hug, leaving you on your own against the chilly night air. 

“Can I pay you for this?” You ask him, crossing your arms over your chest to act as a barrier from the cold. 

“Absolutely not. I won’t accept a single dime from you.” He insists, brushing a curl out of his face. 

“Danny, I know this was probably really expens–”

“Nope.” He interrupts. “Not a dime.”

With a fake grunt of irritation, you give in. (Partly so you can get inside and out of the cold.)

“Thank you. Thank you both, seriously. This is such a huge burden lifted.” 

⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎

Despite how things transpired with you and Sam, he’s still treated you the very same. You were terrified that there would be some awkward air with you two after the way you left him the other night, but it’s as if he’s all but forgotten about it. He still fawned over you when you arrived for filming tonight, him and Josh referring to you as “the queen” when you walked in, as usual. 

You haven’t told him about your mom. In fact, the only people who know are Jake and Natalia. You asked them both to not say anything. It’s not because you don’t trust everyone—they’ve all become some of the best friends you’ve ever had in your life, better than any friend you had back in Oklahoma. You just don’t want the attention that would inevitably bring. You don’t need them feeling sorry for you, and you don’t need them asking questions that you don’t want to answer, to questions you can’t answer. And you know it would lead to the fact that your dad doesn’t have shit to do with you. 

It’s just not something that needs to be advertised, not yet. You don’t want it to be the only thing everyone associates you with. You want them to still like you for you. Everything else can be addressed later. 

Of course, that did raise some other questions. Mostly about why Jake didn’t come home that night when your car broke down. His response to his brothers was simple; he just didn’t feel like driving back home that late, so he crashed on your couch. That wasn’t too far from the truth.

They didn’t even bat an eye at it. Just accepted it as fact and moved right on, not giving it a second thought. Jake is a bit distant from his brothers at times, so it’s probably not entirely out of the norm for him to not come home some nights. 

You’re glad that things have been pretty much normal for you and your filming crew.

While you’re not acting tonight, you decided to come over to the Kiszka place anyway, just to get away from your own mess for a little while. The apartment feels much bigger when it’s just you living in it. You love to have your alone time, but it’s been so much lately that your mind is going to some dark places, places that you’re forced to revisit when there’s no one else around to distract you.

So, suffice to say, you jumped at the opportunity when Josh asked you to come over tonight. He often invites you over on filming nights when your scenes aren’t being shot, says he enjoys your company and input on accuracies pertaining to the lore. You normally turn him down on those instances, feeling far too guilty for leaving your mom when you are filming. But with her still being in the hospital, you didn’t see the harm in taking him up on it this time.

Tonight's scene is between Arthur and Camille. Between Jake and Stacy. The first time you’ll see Jake as Arthur, and you’ll finally get to see for yourself what their on-camera chemistry is like. You’ve been told more than once that they’re great together, but now you have the chance to see it instead of just being told about it.

Although, you’re not exactly excited  to see them interact this way. And a huge part of you is hoping that they’ll royally suck together. You’ve been so busy that you haven’t had time to come watch their scenes, not that you’ve really tried that hard to do so. You could’ve if you actually wanted to.

But, you figured you’d rather see it in person than wait until the film is finished. And your imagination has run rampant with what they’re like together and the ‘not knowing’ has been painful. At least after tonight, you’ll know. You won’t have to wonder anymore, and it won’t be a surprise when you get to see the film in its entirety. 

Something you’re a little (more than a little, honestly) happy about is the fact that Stacy doesn’t have her “own” dressing room like you do. Granted, it’s Jake's room that has been designated as your changing space. But, still. She’s stuck using the guest bathroom to change in, and you can’t help the curling of your lips when you see her struggle to carry her costumes in there. 

Nat nudges your shoulder with hers when she catches your grin, letting you know that she saw that. You can tell by her features that she’s thinking the exact same thing.

“You know I need more details.” She says, hushed. 

You know exactly what she’s talking about, but you’ll play dumb anyway.

“Details?” You question with a look of false confusion. “Details about what?”

“Don’t play dumb with me, y/n. Tell me more about Jake spending the night with you.”

You shush her as you lead her over to the dining table for a little more seclusion, both sitting in the chairs furthest away from the commotion in the living room where Josh and Malachi are busy adding the final touches to tonight's set.

“Nothing happened, if that’s what you’re wondering. Neither one of us could sleep very well, so we sat on the couch and talked for a bit, but that’s all.” You stare down at your thumbs as you twiddle them. You don’t really feel like mentioning him physically brushing you off when you both got a little too close for his comfort. You don’t even like thinking about it, let alone talking about it. 

Attempting to come up with something to change the subject, you feel terrible when you realize you’ve not even asked Nat anything about her and Danny. You perk up when at the opportunity to talk about something that isn’t the awkwardness between you and Jake.

“Speaking of details,” you say, sitting both your elbows on the table and resting your face in your hands, giving her your full attention. “I need you to tell me everything about you and Daniel this very minute. And don’t you dare leave out a single thing.”

A beautifully shy smile stretches her plump lips as she tucks a loose curl behind her ear. 

“Well, what would you like to talk about first?” She asks, her eyes lighting up. “The fact that we’ve seen each other everyday since our first date, or the fact that he’s the best I’ve ever had in bed?”

Your hands drop to the table, a stupidly massive smile plastered to your face. 

“Natalia!” You exclaim, scooting closer to her. “I can’t believe it, dude! So, are you, like, official? Or just fucking?” 

“Official,” she says, your mouth dropping from pure excitement for them. You can’t get over it. They make such a stunning couple. And she’s clearly so damn happy. That’s the most important thing. “And fucking,” she continues as you throw a hand over your mouth to muffle the laughter. “ A lot of it, too.”

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She looks breathtaking. Gorgeous. The pale shade of purple they have her in accentuates the emerald tones in her round eyes, the matching flowers in her braided hair look like a halo casted over her shiny, sunshine-yellow locks. 

Stacy’s appearance serves as a stark contrast to Guinevere’s. Her look embodies sweetness, innocence. While your character exudes sensuality as an adulteress with her black and red color palette, Stacy’s is meant to radiate charm and a sense of purity. Purity in the sense that, while she’s cheating with Arthur, she isn’t cheating on Arthur. 

Josh did this on purpose, to make Camille look innocent and unassuming, but in reality, she will be a catalyst in King Arthur's inevitable downfall. The fact that she’s an evil enchantress is hidden beneath her flowery looks. With everyone believing Guinevere to be the horrid seductress, no one would suspect that the true horror lies in the guise of Camille, who’s ever cunning under her false veil. 

Though you’re not surprised, she looks the epitome of sheer beauty. Walking perfection. And it’s a bit painful to see. She’s everything you wish you could be. 

You’re suddenly not sure you’re ready to see her interact with Jake in this scene. But, better now than later. Get it over with so you won’t have to wonder. You can sulk about it later when you have time to really feel your insecurities.

And now, here comes Jake. As if it weren’t hard enough to witness the utter beauty that Stacy carries, it’s an entirely different feeling with Jake’s. 

He looks…just so damn good. 

Tonight, instead of just the usual chainmail top and black trousers, he’s added a touch of regality with black velvet cloak over top, the very same one Josh promised him months ago. He looks like true royalty, exuding an aura of majesty, complete with a sword sheathed at his side. 

They both get settled in their respective places on set, and as soon as Josh yells “action,” a surge of unease radiates within you as you feel your whole body tense up.

As soon as they slip effortlessly into their characters, their obvious chemistry is instantly ignited before the camera. Every touch, every glance they share is loaded with an undeniable intensity. 

The way Jake's hand lingers on Stacy's waist, the way they lock eyes with such intensity…you can’t deny the fact that they’re wonderful together. Aesthetically, they just fit. Much better than you and Jake would, you’ve no doubt. 

When Jake speaks his first line, you’re shocked to hear him use a British accent. A horrible one, at that. 

You have to cover your face to hide the fact that you’re trying not to burst at the seams. But you’re not the only one. Nat has turned her head entirely in the direction opposite of you, which is probably a good thing. One glance at each other and you’d both break with boisterous laughter. 

Sam, however, makes no attempt to hide his true feelings. Standing right behind you, he loudly chuckles his classic, Sam laugh that makes it even harder for you to maintain composure.

Then, you hear a very audible groan from Josh, followed by yelling “CUT!” at the top of his lungs.

“Why did you stop us?” Jake blurts out, his arms flailing in obvious frustration. 

“I told you to use whatever creative liberty you deemed necessary for the character,” Josh confirms, both hands resting on his hips. “But I’ve asked, more than once, mind you, to not use that ridiculous fucking accent.”

Here we go. It just wouldn’t be a normal night of filming without at least several fights from the twins.

“It’s essential to the character, Josh. He is the legendary King of Britain, is he not?” His question is more like a statement, adding extra emphasis on the word “Britain” to secure his point.

“I told you, Sir Jacob.” 

Sir Jacob…?

“It doesn’t make sense if no one else is following suit with your shitty accent.” Josh continues. Jake flips a rather dramatic middle finger towards his twin, with Josh generously showing him the very same affection. 

“Alright. Take two of scene number 67,” Josh pauses a moment, waiting until they’re ready. “And…action.”

Thanks to Jake's “creative liberty,” you have to sit through the scene again, watching them and their perfect chemistry—again. 

And then…

…they kiss. The very moment you were not waiting for.

With the way his lips so passionately intertwine with hers, it’s clear they’ve done this more than a couple of times. And not only for the sake of the film. This kind of intimacy transcends the limits of film.

You and Sam had natural chemistry, but their chemistry goes miles beyond what you instinctively had with Sam. Theirs feels experienced. Experienced with each other. 

If there was any doubt lingering that they slept together that night after the haunted house, it’s all but confirmed for you now. 

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“When will your mom be ready to come home?” Nat asks you as the two of you are packing up the set.  

You quickly look around to be sure no one’s close enough to hear, the hesitancy to let everyone know is still hanging onto you tightly.

“Actually, she’ll get to come home tomorrow," you share with her. “She was good as new when I visited her today, and the doctor said she’s making huge strides.”

Your words carry a little unsureness. It’s not that you’re not happy to have her home, the apartment has been terribly lonely and you’re ready to get things somewhat back to normal. But, you can’t get rid of this feeling that something’s just not right with the whole situation. 

From the Doctor telling you there were no medications in her system to her telling you that she personally spoke with Mrs. Sweeney, thanking her for calling the ambulance, despite Mrs. Sweeney having no recollection of it and having not made the call to 911…There’s a web of uncertainty weaving in your brain. You know Nat can sense your apprehension based on the look she’s giving you as she places all the silk flowers neatly in their box. 

“You don’t sound too excited,” she observes. “Are you still thinking about what the doctor told you?” 

“I just can’t force myself to believe it. I know the evidence is there,” you remark, brows furrowed in confusion as you help her shove the ivy vines in the box with the flowers. “But it just…it doesn’t feel right, you know? Why would she do something like that?” 

Her eyes mirror the same questions plaguing your mind, the empathy ever present in them. You know she understands your confusion, her support has been a comfort during these last few maddening  days. (Though you still haven’t told her about your conversation with Mrs. Sweeney. You suppose that can wait until you’ve had enough time to process it.)

“But, I am happy that she’ll be home. It’s been so weird not having her there.” Once you get the last of the silk plants packed up, Nat takes the packing tape and adds a few pieces along the center to secure it for safekeeping. 

“I’m just worried about getting her up the three flights of stairs to our place,” you continue. “The elevator went out again and she can’t really climb them on her own. And I’m not strong enough to get her up myself.” You look to her with pleading eyes, hoping she’ll pick up on your silent request for help. 

“You know I would help if I could, y/n. But I’ll be out of town all day tomorrow with Danny visiting his family.” She tells you. You can tell by her tone that she feels bad, but it’s not her fault. 

“Well,” she says, contemplating her options. “Maybe I could just drive myself, so that way I could leave and come help you with your mom and then go back when she’s all settled.” Her offer is undeniably kind, but you can’t bring yourself to allow her to do that. You don’t want to be the reason her whole day is disrupted. 

“No, no. It’s totally okay, babe,” you acknowledge, grateful that she’d even consider such a thing. “We’ll manage. Thank you, though. I appreciate you a lot.” 

Just as you’re finishing up, you hear someone shuffling around in the kitchen. Looking in that direction, you see Jake gathering a few things to prepare dinner. 

“I can help you tomorrow, y/n.” He says, back turned to you and Nat. “Just let me know when.” 

You and Nat share a knowing glance that says what you’re both collectively thinking. 

You shouldn’t be surprised that he’s offering, given how much he helped you that night and the next day. But, you still can’t help feeling shocked at his proposition.  

“S-sure, Jake.” You say. “I’ll text you the time.” 

But as you accept his offer, gratitude mixed with trepidation floods your thoughts. You’re suddenly mortified at what he may have heard you and Nat talking about, surrounding your unease with your mom’s situation. 

How long had he been standing there?

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“So this is the famous Jake,” she remarks as you wheel her through the automatic doors to Jake, who’s standing outside his Range Rover ready to help her into the passenger’s seat. Embarrassment flushes your cheeks as she makes it obvious that you’ve talked about him to her before. 

Meanwhile, Jake’s lips curl in a playful grin at her statement. “Nice to finally meet you,” he says, extending a helping hand as you begin helping her out of the wheelchair and onto her feet. You try to avoid making eye contact with him as you and he position yourselves on either side of her, helping to stabilize her as she walks towards the car. But he isn’t trying to avoid it. Each accidental glance his way is met with his mischievous eyes fixed on you, his grin remaining ever present. Together, combined with what little strength she has, the three of you successfully settle her into the car without any issues. 

Taking the middle seat in the second row, you buckle up as Jake starts the engine and begins the drive to your place.

You didn’t consider the fact that she would probably bombard him with personal questions, and that’s just what she does the entire way home. She asks him all the basics, probing into his background and interests with relentless questions. His answers are pretty short for the most part, not getting very personal with her curiosity. (Sounds familiar.) But it’s her next question that has you wishing you were anywhere but here.

“Are you single?” She inquires innocently. (Although it’s perhaps not very innocent, given what you’ve told her about him.)

In the reflection of the rearview mirror, you see Jake’s eyes widen, mirroring pure shock. You bring your palm up to rest against your forehead, silently wishing to teleport to your apartment and end this agonizing drive once and for all.

But when he answers, you feel your heart sink to the pit of your stomach. 

“I, uh, guess you could say I’m single. I’ve been dating casually, nothing serious though.”

At his mention of “casual dating,” your mind instantly begins reeling and going straight to Stacy and the possibility (likelihood) that he’s been dating her. It shouldn’t bother you as much as it does—you’re nothing to him, after all—but the sting of his words still linger in the air, leaving you feeling so small. Perhaps if you looked like Stacy, he’d be just as interested in “casually” dating you. 

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“Would you like to stay for dinner?” She offers once the three of you make it up to the third floor of your complex. “I’m sure y/n could whip up something quick for us.” A bit of annoyance washes over you with her offering for you to make dinner for everyone. She obviously can’t, but the fact that she just decided you didn’t have anything else to do besides making dinner for three people? Maybe you’re overthinking it, but it’s not sitting right with you at the moment. 

Maybe it’s the sleep deprivation finally catching up with you. Or it’s your mind swirling with a million things at once. The doctor's words, Jake dating Stacy, the burgeoning voice insisting that you don’t eat. (And eating around other people right now is just far too much.)

“Thanks for asking, but I have to get back to work,” he tells her as he’s helping her in the door.

“What do you do for work, Jake?” She asks. But before he gives himself the chance to answer, he’s telling you both goodbye as he quickly heads out the door.

…okay? It’s such a simple question, why couldn’t he answer it?

While you’re standing here, confused and baffled by his actions, your mom seems to have not even noticed it as she’s now seated on the couch, mindlessly flipping through the channels to find one of her shows. 

“When will you be ready for dinner?” She asks you, not even looking your way as you're standing dumbfounded in the middle of the living room. Trying to shove down your frustration, you take her hint that she’s ready to eat and head into the kitchen to prepare tonight's meal. 

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You greet Jake with a sincere smile as you take your seat in Movacks class, only to be met with a simple nod as he looks away from you. 

“Mornin, Jake!” You chirp, summoning your best “Oklahoma” intonation like he brought up the other night, hoping to coax a smile from him. But you're left feeling utterly humiliated as he doesn't even acknowledge you, opting instead to focus on his phone. It's as if you didn't say a single word, leaving you feeling like an actual imbecile for the obnoxious display you've just made. It’s rather clear he wants nothing to do with you today, his pissy mood a good indication that you should probably just keep to yourself. No need in furthering his frustrations with the annoyance that is you.

You’ve tried to ignore the fact that he’s become considerably more distant with you since he helped you bring your mom home the other day. You’ve not even heard from him since then, and given how invested he seemed to be with the whole thing, it’s almost like he’s completely left in the past at this point. 

“I trust you all read the poems you were assigned with your project partner last time we met,” proclaims Dr. Movack as he walks into the room just as class is set to begin.

You and Jake were assigned Sir Lancelot and Guinevere by Alfred Tennyson, a poem that delves deeply into the forbidden affair. A bit of an unwitting irony when considering the depths of your project. He seemed out of sorts about it when you were given the poem to analyze last class period, acting as though it was a chore to have to read it. But you were excited about it, for very obvious reasons as it’s yet another layer added to your research on the character you’ve been playing. 

"Alright, everyone," Dr. Movack announces, starting the timer on his phone. "For the first twenty minutes of class, I want you to pair up with your partners and discuss your individual analyses of the piece you were assigned."

With a hefty sigh, Jake pivots his upper body towards you. “Thoughts?” He asks as his hands gesture for you to begin the conversation, clearly annoyed at this whole thing. (As if it’s your fucking fault you’re his partner.)

“Well,” you start, still taken aback but his brash behavior towards you for, as far as you can tell, no logical reason. “It compares their love to that of nature, while also equating Guin’s beauty to the same thing, making it seem as tho–”

“Kay.” He abruptly cuts you off, turning himself around so he’s no longer facing you, arms crossed and a vexed look about his pretty face. Clad with his John Lennon glasses, reminding you way too much of your initial interactions with him.

“I…I wasn’t done, Jake,” you state, sternly. 

“What else do you need to say?” He implores, his tone making sound more like a harsh statement than a question.

“I also need to say that its theme is a balance of pain and joy, of knowing that they can never truly have each other the way they desire, but celebrating the profound joy they do experience in their shared moments,” 

“The poem constructs the idea of Lancelot tending to the needs of Guin much more tenderly and passionately than Arthur could have ever done for her,” you suggest, pushing him to give you more than what he’s been giving you thus far. (Which has been absolutely nothing.)

But… it didn’t work. You lost him. It was as if the last word out of your mouth shut him completely down. You see through the wire earpiece of his staple Ray-Bans as his eyes close. A hand slowly goes up to rub his temple. 

One more shot. 

“What do you think about—?”

“What the fuck did they teach you in Oklahoma?” He fumes, suddenly and unexpectedly, his head snapping in your direction.

“What?” You blink a few times, surely hearing him wrong. 

“This stupid ass shit you’re spewing,” he growls, turning away from you once again. “Just shut the fuck up.”

“Excuse me?” Okay, you were nearly certain you had heard him correctly. And the way his mouth was set in a straight, unchanging line of ire told you as much.

“I’m so tired of this back and forth game where you think your little hick town brain can get you anywhere in a place like this,” he mumbles angrily, ripping open his journal and book to take his own notes. “It’s not cute to use what little knowledge you came here with as a point of intellect. It doesn’t work to prove anything. We all know the backwoods girl who is hiding underneath this fucking charade you’re displaying for everyone.” 

Your throat constricts, growing tighter and tighter as tears wet your eyes, threatening to fall. He rakes his fingers haphazardly through his shoulder-length, waving locks. With fists clenched, nails pinching your skin where they dig into your palms, you want to grab him by his hair and force him to fully face you again. 

He needs to not be a coward when he says shit that makes your heart quite actually break, crookedly down the middle. Your heart that can only take so fucking much.

He turns, just slightly. His jaw is tight, flexing beneath his frustratingly beautiful skin. How could one man encapsulate so much? One second, he’s driving you here, there, and everywhere—making you feel at ease in a time of desolation. And the next, he’s mocking you for your heritage—calling you out and chiding you for something you can’t help or control. 

A state that, in this moment, you realize you’re proud to represent in some way (you grew up there, the place raised you). You’re feeling some strange, burning need to defend it. 

His body is swiveled back around to fully face you when he rips his glasses off of his face. You fear momentarily of him breaking the delicate metal, but you soon forget the thought when you notice his expression. 

His eyes are flaming, indignant — pure fire in the sweet honeyed bourbon hue of his irises. A fire that infiltrates something so sweet and almost pure… almost. It’s Jake, for God’s sake; he can only get so pure. The word doesn’t even come close to fitting his demeanor at this moment.

The way he looks at you, making you want to crawl completely out of your skin.

“I don’t want you to insert an opinion on this material that is founded on the bullshit they teach you in tiny towns like Cherry-fucking-Tree,” he spit. “It’s a waste of my time and energy to even entertain the ideas that circulate in your mind full of, at best, average thought processes.”

Average. Just an average, hick girl. From the shitass town of Cherry-fucking-Tree. 

Average—Worthless. Just like the town you come from. How could you ever be anything coming from a place like that?

The tears begin cascading down your cheeks before you can even think to challenge them. There is no point in stopping the pools that are leaving your eyes in steady tracks down your hot cheeks. You’re shaking—shivering with equal parts twinging sadness and unkempt rage.

You let them fall momentarily, in shock as his eyes stay locked on yours, unwavering and loathsome of you. In his eyes, you watch every negative emotion he feels for you pass through them. 

“Fuck you, Jake.” Your words are stern, louder than you expected. Yet, you don’t care–because your voice conveys all of the hurt you’re encompassed with. 

And as you utter the cold words, you notice that the rest of the classroom is dead silent. A quick glance out of your peripheral vision confirms that all their heads are turned towards you and Jake.

But the eye contact with him doesn’t break. As much as you hate when people see you cry, you need him to see the hurt he’s caused you. 

“I have heard quite enough out of the two of  you!” Shouts Dr. Movack from his place at the podium. Still yet, neither one of you looks away from the other. “You both need to leave my classroom, immediately!”

“Gladly,” you shout, tossing your things in your bag with such a force that causes Jake to wince with each thing you throw in. 

He begins doing the same, matching your frustration with heavy hands. 

You don’t want to walk out with him, so before he can finish, you begin stomping through the classroom, brushing past Dr. Movack once you make it to the door. 

“Expect zeros for today's participation!” He proclaims, but you’re already halfway down the hall. 

Heavy streams of tears drench your face as you pick up the pace to get the fuck out of this godforsaken building before Jake can catch up to you. 

You can’t stand the sight of him right now, you can’t even fathom ever speaking to him again. His words cut deeper than any knife ever could, of that you’re certain. 

It hurts, it really fucking hurts. 

“Y/n, please wait, I–I’m sorry,” you hear in the distance as you’re crossing the street to the parking lot where your car sits. “I didn’t mean—fuck.”

The sound of the voice is unmistakable.

It’s Jake’s. You can discern it from the one he wielded like a weapon, his tool of choice to dismantle and destroy you, word by hateful word.

He calls for you again, but you choose to ignore his pathetic attempt at an “apology,” jumping in your car and starting the engine, wiping the excess tears away that are constricting your vision.

You briefly look up as you shift the gear into drive, catching sight of Jake’s defeated form standing on the last concrete step of the stairway leading to the doors of Angell Hall. 

And as you’re backing out of your spot, he rips his glasses off, tossing them to the ground with a force that very obviously shatters them. 

You know he was probably just speaking out of pure anger, but where that anger is derived from is what you don’t understand. You’ve not done anything so bad to him to deserve any of what he just threw at you.

But no matter where it came from, he had no fucking right to speak to you the way he did. 

Not finding the strength within you to turn back and go to him to hear his apology, you drive away and leave him there to deal with what he’s done alone. 

While there’s a part of you that wants to hear his explanation, you don’t owe it to him to give him the chance. It’s not worth your time at this point. He’s made it known that you’re nothing but a massive pill in his life, that he would probably be much happier without you in it, ruining it with every backwoods word you speak.

He watches you as you drive away, his features as cold as if they were carved in the very stone he’s standing on, unreadable even from a distance.

Tears begin brimming in your ducts yet again as you turn onto the street to head home, him now fully out of your sight. 

It's unfathomable how someone could harbor such hatred towards you, and yet, despite it all, you can't shake the intense desire you still feel for him. 

It just doesn’t make sense. He doesn’t make sense.

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The squeaky wheels of the wooden library cart echo throughout the entire building with each push. The screeching metal wheels send a chill up your spine each time you move, and you’re silently apologizing to everyone in here for the obtrusive noise. With midterms officially over as of last week, everyone has been dropping their books off in piles the past few days. After sorting through them all, making sure to note who returned their books on their account, it’s finally time to put them back on the shelf. 

As much as you hate the squeaky cart, this is your favorite part of the job. It gives you the chance to conduct a very detailed tour of the library on your own terms, truly allowing you to see it all. There’s no lack of discovering something new each time. You love this old building, and you love the smell of the books. The scent was the first thing you noticed when you walked in here for the first time all those months ago, and it still remains your favorite smell in the world.

As you look towards the end of the long Political Science aisle you’re standing in, you suddenly catch Nat peeking her head around the corner, waving at you while her clunky brown boots click as she walks your direction. 

“Need any help? It’s dead as a doornail up there and I’m bored as hell.”

“Sure, Mr. Dickens,” you joke at her nod to a literary classic. “I’ll gladly accept your help.”

She begins helping with your task, finding a certain peace in her company amidst the quiet library.

“I can’t find where this goes, any clue?” You ask, holding up the book on the tools of presenting a good argument. She takes it from you and examines it a bit, reading the faded numbers on the spine. 

“Well, I see why you’re having trouble,” she says, full smirk across her blush pink, glossy lips. “It’s marked wrong. This goes in General Law.”

With a playful wink, she gestures toward the correct section to guide you to its proper place on the shelf.

“How’s your momma?” She asks. “Is she feeling better?”

“She’s okay. She’s home, and she’s alive…it’s all just so strange.” You shelve the last of the political science books stacked on your cart, wheeling it around the corner to the General Law section as Nat follows close behind. “There’s still so many unanswered questions. I just can’t figure out who called the ambulance.”

“Wasn’t it your neighbor?” She asks, helping you maneuver the heavy cart around the tight corner. 

“That’s what I thought,” you answer, eyebrows furrowed in confusion as you remember the strange conversation you had just days ago with Mrs. Sweeney. “But she told me she didn’t make the call. She said the ambulance just showed up. I asked her if she heard my mom calling out for help, or anything from our apartment that sounded concerning, something that would prompt an emergency call…and she said no.”

Nat matches your confused state, stopping to take in everything you’d just told her. “That just doesn’t make any sense,” she says. “Is it possible that she called for the ambulance?”

“My mom?” You hadn’t even considered the possibility. And, she would’ve told you…right? You don’t know why you’re so desperate to know, why it’s keeping you up at night that Mrs. Sweeney told you she didn’t call, that your mom had basically lied to you about the whole thing. “I–I don’t think so, Nat. She was completely unresponsive when they found her.” 

Now the wheels are turning. Maybe it was her, and perhaps she just…didn’t tell you? Is she trying to hide something? It just doesn’t feel likely but…possible, you guess. It wouldn’t hurt to ask her. Putting this whole thing to rest would make it so you can finally rest.

“Well, like you said,” Nat utters, breaking you free of your relentless, turning mind. “She’s alive. And that’s all that really matters, right?”

Of course that’s all that matters. But, you can’t help the feeling that there’s more to this than what you’re able to see, more that’s being hidden beneath the seemingly cracked surface. It could just be your anxious tendencies, telling you to worry when there’s truly nothing to be worried about.

Or, your gut feeling is correct. There’s something you’re not aware of that feels big.

You begin wheeling the now empty cart back to the circulation counter to grab another lot of books, Nat leading the way ahead of the obnoxious wheels. 

“Right,” you answer, deciding to push aside that worry for the time being.

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“Do you have any idea why Jake despises me? Like, has he ever said anything to you or Josh? Or Malachi?” You ask as you fill the cart with the next bundle of books to be put up.

“He doesn’t despise you, y/n. I know his exterior is rough, but there’s not an ounce of hate in that boy's heart. Just give him more time. You’ve seen it, you know he’s a good one.” 

You know deep down that he is, that he’s got a good heart with good intentions. But, there’s something about when he starts to become close to you that forces him to back away, to treat you like you’re a nuisance. He can shove his hatred for you down long enough, until he can’t and it comes out of him like he was accidentally hiding it.

“He does hate me, Nat. You can’t deny the way he acts when I’m around, like I’m the biggest burden that could’ve possibly been placed upon him.” You roughly toss the final book on the cart, wincing at the loud noise it made that you didn’t quite mean to happen. “You didn’t hear the way he spoke to me the other day, Nat. He belittled me in class. I have never been so humiliated and disrespected before in my life. Pretty sure I’m nothing more than walking garbage to him.”

“I hate to interrupt your little drama fest, but you are not the biggest burden in his life. There’s a lot you don’t know about him.” She says, frustration in her tone as she intervenes, slamming a book down on the cart just like you did. “I will stick up for you, y/n. But I also know things about him that you don’t.”

“That’s the problem. I know nothing about him. He doesn’t want me to know him. He’s built this wall around himself and refuses to let me in. He almost did the other night at my apartment, but when he realized he was getting a smidge too close to me, he shut down again. He’s the never ending enigma, one that just so happens to hate my guts.” Your words hang heavy in the air, a tense silence grappling them as you’re left with the realization of just how complex your relationship with Jake is, and it’s not by your choice. 

“I know he can be closed off, and I know he can be an asshole sometimes. Trust me. But you need to know a few things. He’s been through the ringer, multiple times.” She places a comforting hand on your shoulder, stopping you as you begin to walk away to put the books up, silently urging you to consider another perspective. 

“He and his brothers were adopted by their grandparents after their mom and dad were killed in a car accident. Drunk driver. It left all of Frankenmuth completely devastated.”  

His parents.

You’d never even once thought about where they were, or who they were. Being so caught up in your own shit, you hadn’t even considered…

Fuck.

“Their dad was in a local band,” she continues, taking a seat in the rolling chair behind the counter. “They never made it big beyond the area, but god, everyone in town loved them. And when Jake was about ten, he started playing with them. Playing the guitar his dad bought him, the one sitting in his room. He worked his ass off to buy that for Jake. They were killed only a few months after the first time he joined them on stage.”

When she mentioned his guitar, it all of a sudden reminded you of the night at your apartment. The night he became so disgusted by you right before he could finish talking about…

…about his dad. And the guitar he bought him, the very same one Nat is telling you about right now. You know this because you instantly took note of the SG sitting in his room the first night you stepped foot in there, and that’s the exact model he was talking about that night…the one he said defined him as a player, the one his dad searched high and low for. 

Oh my god.

“When they died, they moved in with their grandparents. But they owned an apartment complex in Detroit, so they had to move here with them. That’s when I met them, when they started school at Central High.”

You just nod in response, needing a second to fully absorb her words that are beginning to paint a much clearer picture of Jake. 

“Then, their grandma suddenly died. They were devastated, didn't come to school for weeks.” Her voice softens, her expression reflecting the weight of all the loss they had endured at such young ages. “They had to help their grandpa with the complex, learn how to run the business. Which turned out to be a good thing, because he got sick a few years later. Pancreatic cancer. The boys ended up dropping out of college for a bit to take care of him, to essentially take over acting landlords.” 

“Nat I can’t…I can’t believe it. I had no idea…” Your brain is struggling to process it all. And if it’s that hard for you to imagine, it must have been hell for Jake and his brothers to live it. It was their reality. But to you, it’s utterly heartbreaking. Unfathomable. 

 “They never left his side, especially Jake. He was with him twenty four seven, and when he died, Jake kind of became a recluse.”

The compassion you’re feeling for Jake and his family swells your heart as you’re realizing the depths of his burdens. His guarded nature suddenly makes a lot more sense as everything she’s telling you is fully sinking in. The old saying is true; you truly never know what someone is going through, what someone has been through. 

Regardless of how he’s acted towards you, you’re feeling a lot of guilt for being so quick to judge him. 

“Jake was the only one with him when he died. Matter of fact, he died in the exact same hospital your mom stayed in. I bet it was kind of hard for him to be there, but he stayed for you, y/n. That is the real Jake.”

Jake was committed to you that night. Stayed with you in the hospital that holds so much weight for him. Even in the midst of his own pain, he stayed with you. It explains so much.

“What happened to the complex? After their grandpa died?” 

“They live in it,” she answers with a grin. “They’re landlords. It was their inheritance. And as hard as it was for them to take over ownership as college students, they made it work. The three of them make one hell of a team.” 

You didn’t know what Jake did for work, but owning an apartment complex with his brothers was not on your list of possibilities. An extremely nice complex, at that. 

“Why didn’t any of them mention this to me? I get Jake but, Sam? Josh?” You can’t help the mix of surprise and confusion, wondering why they hadn’t shared such a big part of themselves with you. It’s their job. And you’ve never known anyone to keep something like that from you. 

Although it does make sense if they didn’t want it to lead to a deeper conversation about their losses. Maybe they’re the same as Jake in that aspect. They just don’t like to talk about hard things.  

Then, you remember how you’ve kept your life a secret from them, too. The only reason Jake knows about your mom is because he just happened to be there. But he knows nothing else. Your dad… he hasn’t and will probably never be mentioned with him. With any of them. And it’s not because you’re ashamed; it’s just not something you want broadcasted. 

“They don’t care for the attention it garners,” she explains. “And they probably didn’t want you to treat them any different. The only reason I know about it is because of my brother, and he’s the one that told me everything else about what they’ve been through. They really don’t like to talk about any of this stuff,” she adds, her voice heavy with sympathy. “They don’t want it to define them.”

“I can definitely understand that.” You say with deeply rooted empathy. Your heart aches, for all of them. But, you can deny the extra twinge of softness you feel for Jake. For him to have shoved all of this down the way he has, it’s no wonder he acts the way he does. It doesn’t completely excuse it, but it sure as hell makes a lot of fucking sense. 

The amount of pain they’ve experienced in their lives, losing practically everyone important in their lives. They’re not only bonded by brotherhood, they’re bonded even tighter because of everyone they’ve lost. All of them being so close to them, raising them. They’ve lost almost everyone who was ever important to them, being left with just each other to lean on. It all makes sense, and as much as he’s hurt you, you just can’t bring yourself to keep holding it against him. 

He’s hurting, too. 

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Carrying the third laundry basket up the stairs from the in-building laundry, you’re wondering just how two people have managed to collect so much clothing. You try to designate time each week specifically for laundry, but you’ve gotten so far behind on it that it’s become a little overwhelming. Each basket of clothes you’ve washed and brought back up to the apartment has been overflowing. You’re sure you’ll discover a missing sock or a pair of underwear or two that fell during the journey back to your place, but you’re not about to go back and find out.

You’re finally done washing everything. Now, the worst part: putting it all up. You decide to put that part off for a little while to get caught up on the rest of the chores that need to be done tonight. 

The dishes are next on the list. You usually don’t mind doing them, but your dishwasher decided to quit on you and the landlord is in no hurry to come and fix it. So, you’re stuck hand washing the pile that has somehow accumulated significantly over the last few days. 

With a resigned sigh, you roll up your sleeves and begin scrubbing away at the stack of plates and utensils. The warm water soothes your hands, and you find a sense of rhythm in the repetitive task. 

Your mind starts to drift to the other tasks that still need to be taken care of. The vacuuming, tidying up the living room, perhaps taking out the trash if you can muster up the energy.

But for now, you decide to focus on the task at hand, finding a strange sort of comfort in the motion of washing and rinsing each dish.

Despite the annoyance of hand washing dishes, there's a strange comfort in the routine of it all. With each plate cleaned and set aside to dry, you feel a small sense of accomplishment. 

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You peek around the door frame to see her lying in the same spot she has been for the last few hours, still grazing her plate of food you gave her and watching something mindless on the television. She hasn’t noticed you standing there yet, and just as you’re about to say something, you notice she’s not wearing her oxygen. 

“Mom,” you assert as you storm inside of her room, the frustration in your voice apparent. You grab her nasal cannula sitting on her nightstand and help her put it on. “How long have you not been wearing it?” 

She takes a deep breath as she further adjusts the tube to her face, letting out a dry cough from deep in her chest. “I’m fine, sweetie. I won’t keel over  if I go without it for a little bit. It’s just so invasive, I hate wearing that damn thing.”

“That is not what the doctor said.” You check her tank to be sure she’s getting enough to compensate for however long she’s kept it off. “And based on how horrible your cough sounds, you need it right now. Please, mom. You have to follow their orders. You don’t want a repeat of the other night, do you?”

She sits herself up a bit, as well as she can. Smiling at you and nodding, she says, “I know, I know. Your momma is just a little stubborn sometimes. What would I do without my sweet daughter to take care of me?” You smile back at her, but it quickly fades as you're reminded yet again of the other night and the questionable events that transpired. 

She picks up on your sudden change in expression. “Are you okay, sweetie?” She asks with wary concern. 

You decide that right now is as good a time as any to ask her your burning question. With a heavy breath, you take a seat on the edge of her bed beside her. Clearing your dry throat, you say “I have to ask you something.” 

“Of course, honey. What’s on your mind?” Her eyes watch you with a gentle kindness about them that you’ve always loved about her, but right now, along with the kindness there are a thousand secrets as dark as her pupils. It casts an unease in your spirit that is brand new to you, yet feels oddly familiar all at once. Has it always been there and you’ve just never noticed? Have you just denied it?

You can’t decipher why you’re so nervous to ask her. You shouldn’t be; it’s a simple question. But you feel this heaviness deep within your body that you can’t explain. An intuition that something is awry, perhaps? 

You’ve never once doubted your mom. You’ve always trusted her with everything for the simple fact that she’s never given you cause not to. But you can’t deny that something feels…off. And as she’s looking at you right now, you’re suddenly not sure you recognize the woman sitting before you anymore. Something is different. Everything is different. 

And you don’t know why you feel this way. But you do. And denying it further will only cause you to descend into a maddening cycle of endless wandering.

Her eyes are flicking back and forth between yours, her eyebrows are scrunched and her thin lips are slightly agape. With a curious nod of her head, she quietly signals you to just ask your damn question. 

“Did…” Your tight voice cracks and as she grabs your hand to try and comfort you, you find your voice to continue. “Did you call 911 that night?” The words flow out of your mouth like a river with no end, a strong current that knocks you into the depths of the raging waters. 

Her eyes widen and her mouth falls the rest of the way open. Her hand slowly moves away from yours as her eyes stay steady on you. A look of pure shock washes over her face as she’s quiet for an uncomfortable amount of time. 

“I thought we agreed on Mrs. Sweeney calling.” She finally asserts, her voice suddenly much more strong and clear than it has been in a long time, startling you. “I’m not sure why you’re still on this, y/n.” Her tone is sharp as a blade, penetrating you each time she utters a word. She’s almost defensive, angry. Her eyes are narrowed on yours, unblinking and stilled. 

“I just…you’re right. I’m sorry, I must've forgotten.” You manipulate your tone to sound more sure, more accepting than you truly feel. You decided against telling her about your conversation with Mrs. Sweeney. You’ve a solid feeling it may not go over well if you tell her what was said. There’s a queasy feeling in the pit of your belly telling you to just shut up. A feeling you’ve never felt with your mom before. You’ve always known you could go to her for anything. Right now, you feel like shutting down completely. 

Her gruff features soften back to the way you’re most used to them, her smile taking over her thin scowl. However, the kindness in her eyes that was mixed with secrets earlier, has shifted to the secrets taking command. You don’t know who she is right now. And you’re wondering if you’ve ever truly known.

“It’s okay, honey. I know you’re awfully busy these days. I’m so proud of you.” Her tone has gone back to its weak, hushed quality. What was once a comfort to you, now feels quite the opposite. And something about her compliment felt…forced. Like she only said it as a distraction. And her voice changing on command, like that was forced, too. As if you weren’t feeling off about this whole thing enough, this has made it ten times worse.

Before you can figure out what to say, you catch the time from her nightstand clock out of the corner of your eye. Realizing it’s well after ten o’clock, you immediately step back in your caregiver shoes. It’s over an hour past time for her to take her evening medications. You grab the three bottles sitting next to the clock, dumping one pill out of each in your hand and setting them back down, taking the half-full glass of water in your hand next.

“Take these really quick.” You say as you hand her the pills and the glass. “I’ll get you more water once you’re done.” 

She nods, tossing all three pills in her mouth and downing the rest of her water before handing the glass back to you. 

Standing from the edge of her bed to head to the kitchen, you tell her you’ll be right back with her water. Without a word, she just smiles your way as you walk through the door.

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It’s nearly three in the morning and you’ve still not gone to bed. With as much time as you’ve had to dedicate to your mom, the apartment upkeep, work, and filming all while attempting to maintain a rather poor excuse for a social life, school and homework have been on the very bottom of your priority list. And that is very much not like you. Your grades have suffered the last few weeks. You’re falling behind, nearing the point of no return. So, sleep isn’t much of an option right now. Hasn’t been for several nights. It’s the only time you’ve got to do something for yourself. Even something as grueling as English homework. 

Tonight's task is to complete your paper on Carmilla for your Classic Horror course, but the words aren’t flowing as seamlessly as they should. As much as you want to be able to focus, you just can’t. You can only manage to get out a few sentences at a time before you have to stop and regather your train of thought. You keep checking your phone, scrolling through mindless social media, getting up to get a drink, anything that might keep you from this rather daunting task.

Your frustration with yourself is growing by the minute. You have to get this done by Monday, and you’re nowhere near finished. There’s hardly a conceivable thought typed on your word document and you don’t see yourself being able to form one anytime soon.

The ever burdening worry is all the more present after your talk with your mom. The way she acted when you asked your question, how her entire demeanor changed to one that made her unrecognizable to you…The questions are persistent, their relevance feeling more palpable than before.

As you start typing out your second paragraph, you’ve suddenly come to a realization that keeps you from continuing…

If she’s hiding that she did call for the ambulance, she would’ve had to use her cell phone. That call would still show up in her log, and although you don’t believe in invading someone's personal space, you just need to know. Odds are, she’s right. She didn’t call, and you’ll probably find absolutely nothing in her phone to indicate that she did. But at least you’ll know. And you can check it off your list of possibilities. You’ll be able to confirm that she wasn’t lying to you. (Because she wouldn’t do that…right?)

You’ve decided that checking her phone is the only way you’ll be able to put this whole thing to rest. Is it the right thing to do? Absolutely not. But you can’t focus until you know. 

Her door is always left open just in case something happens, you can hear her easier. So, with a light step, you walk inside her mostly dark room. Her television is quietly playing some old Western film you know you’ve seen a dozen times, but you can’t decipher which one it is. Some desert battle with horses and weapons flashes on the screen, the light illuminating the room in eerie beams. 

She’s fast asleep. Her oxygen tank is a steady hum against the low volume of the film, her breathing heavy but not labored.

Her phone rests on the nightstand closest to the wall, plugged into the charging cord. As you lift and touch the screen, you’re reminded of the fact that she keeps a six digit code to keep it locked. A code that you don’t know.

Although, you’ve got a hunch. With shaky thumbs, you type out the month, day and year of your birthday.

It worked. You’re in. 

Your eyes quickly shift to her sleeping form to be sure that she is still asleep. She’s situated on her back, her head rolled over on the pillow facing you. Her eyes aren’t open, and she’s not moved since you’ve been in here. You make haste in locating her call log and scrolling all the way to the date she landed herself in the emergency room. 

…and she was right. 

There are no 911 calls anywhere on her log. Not even a call made to the hospital…nothing. But as you take a closer look, there is something amiss. 

It was just after 1:30 in the morning when you and Jake arrived at your apartment to the chaotic scene. There’s an outgoing call that was made at 1:16…just minutes before the ambulance must have arrived. She was completely unresponsive when they found her, so how did she…? And why didn’t she call you?

The contact name is only adding to your questions. It’s a name you can’t place, and it’s an odd one.

Dodger.

Who the fuck is Dodger?

You don’t know a single person with that name…not that you can think of right away, at least. 

Whoever this Dodger is, might be the person responsible for the ambulance call. If not them, then who else? And the fact that she was on the phone with them right before…

Finding out the area code might give you some clue as to who this is. If nothing else, you’ll at least have an idea of where they live. After tapping the information icon to the right, you’re shocked when you see the three digits that tell you this is an Oklahoma number. 

There’s no one back home that she’s kept in touch with since the move. At least, not that you know of. She didn’t have many friends. None, actually. She spent all of her either time at home or, when your dad left, with you. Your mind is empty at trying to conjure up a single person she’d need to call from back home. You stare at the screen for a moment, trying your best to make sense of what you see before you. But you just can’t.

You need to call this number. But not with her phone, so you text yourself the contact information and delete the text from her phone so she won’t know. 

And as you’re in her text messages, you decide to see if she and Dodger ever text each other. But, there’s nothing. You’re quite literally the only person she texts, making this whole thing all the more strange. 

You place her phone back on the nightstand, checking on her once more before you quietly walk away. But before you do, something catches your eye. Her glass of water. It’s empty. You may as well fill it for her so she has it in case she wakes up thirsty. As you pick it up, something else catches your eye. Something far more alarming than an empty glass. 

You see the pills you gave her earlier, the ones you saw her swallow down. Or, at least you thought she did. But she didn’t. The three pills you gave her are sitting behind the glass, hidden from plain out of plain view. Had you not moved the glass, you wouldn’t have seen them. 

Suddenly, you’re remembering how the doctor was convinced that she hadn’t been taking them, asking you suspiciously if she had been. 

And you told him yes. Of course she’d been taking them, why wouldn’t she? 

You give them to her every night. You watch her take them every night. But if you thought she took them tonight when she actually didn’t, does that mean…that she never takes them? 

You can't bring yourself to believe that. You don’t even want to believe it. There’s an explanation. Has to be. 

She wouldn’t do that to herself, to you as her number one caregiver. She’s told you time and time again that she wants you to live your life for you, not for her. She’s said that she hates relying on you, but loves that she can. 

No, she wouldn’t do that. She would know to take her medications, because they make her better. And she wants to get better. For her and for you, like she’s said since she got sick in the first place. 

But it doesn’t explain…

…she really hasn’t been taking her pills.

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The cold, wet hair hitting your back makes you shiver before you wrap it up in a towel, taking the matching one to wrap up your soaking wet body. You decided to take an ‘everything’ shower before filming tonight, completing all of your deep conditions and skin scrubs. This is the most refreshed you’ve felt in weeks.

Tonight will be your last intimate scene with Sam, black lace dress included. And also your first with Jake. This will be the first time you’ll share the screen with him as your fictional ‘husband and wife’ characters. But there will be no loving sentiment between them on the screen. 

No. Tonight, Arthur will catch Guinevere in the middle of the act with her beloved Lancelot, his closest companion and best comrade. It’s going to be one of the most intense scenes within the entire project. 

According to what Josh has written in the script, Arthur will walk in on Guinevere and Lancelot making love, thus beginning the downfall of his reign due to his all consuming desires to get rid of Lancelot. 

Something else Josh wrote into the script is that Arthur and Lancelot have quite the heated argument over who is more deserving of their precious Guin. All the while, she is laid out on Lancelot's bed, clad in her most scandalous attire in front of both men whose need for her will end their relationship in one of the worst ways imaginable. Arthur will take one look at his wife, her body nearly on full display before them both, the most intimate gift that she’s offered his once closest confidant. He will then immediately order the death of Sir Lancelot for treason as he has committed one of the most heinous crimes against the king. 

Lancelot won’t argue, as he believes his time with Guinevere, however short, is enough to sustain him, even in death. She was worth it, she is worth it. And he will force Arthur to look upon her and realize the treasure in her that he has taken for granted. He will beg the king to at last show her the love she deserves once he is gone and no longer can. 

Suffice to say, tonight's scene is a big one. It serves as a catalyst for a lot of significant plot points. And you’re hoping that everything you’ve learned about acting thus far will suffice for the heaviness expected from you and your fellow actors. The hard part about this scene for you is the lack of dialogue. Once Arthur becomes privy to the affair between the two, Guinevere stays silent for the most part save for a few lines. Meaning you’ll be relying heavily on your body to convey her every emotion and thought, which you’ve found to be far more challenging than speaking a few lines with a manipulated voice.

Manipulating your body without a single word is a different thing altogether. To be able to convey emotions without speaking is something you’re not the most confident in, on and off  the screen.

But something happens to you once you put your costume on. You become someone else, someone you’ve always wished you could be. And with Jake being present, you’re sure you’ll have a little added inspiration. But that means you’ll be trying a little harder to look nice for tonight's filming session. Hence the ‘everything’ shower that felt like it took literal ages to complete, but felt so incredibly wonderful. (And also felt rather necessary.)

With your body now only a little damp, you remove your towel to start lathering yourself up in your favorite body lotion, fragrant with notes of wild lavender and chamomile, then taking your frenshe body oil in vanilla cashmere and massaging it all over your skin, focusing a little more on your neck and chest, even adding a little to inner thighs. These scents make for the perfect, seductive aroma, and your skin feels so soft, so alluring. Perfect for tonight.

Normally, you’d shy away from looking at yourself in the mirror, especially your nude form. Yet here you are, scrutinizing your reflection, noting each and every tiny thing that you wish you could alter. The years that you’ve spent hiding…years. 

It’s hard to look at your body when it’s not covered by the sweaters that are two sizes too big. You’re forced to accept your body, to accept the things you hate that you’ve felt the need to cover with a security blanket ever since you were a child. 

You stand to the side to see just how much your tummy is pooched from the apple cinnamon oatmeal you ate this morning. It could all be in your head, but you’re almost sure you can see the bloat from your tiny meal. You turn around completely, looking back for the crinkles of cellulite that you know are present in your ass. 

They’re there. Just as you suspected. You’re sure no model. No perfect ‘beauty queen’... 

…no Stacy. 

Fuck. How could anyone find you attractive when you’re so mortified by your own reflection? 

The voice in your head is loud and overpowering. It’s screaming louder than the voice that talked to you through recovery. 

You’re in such a strange place.

While your confidence in yourself has arguably never been higher, the urge to relapse has grown right along with it. Maybe it’s because you’ve suddenly found a version of yourself that you can appreciate. A version of yourself that you’ve always longed for. But she can’t be found in your real life. 

No. She only makes her appearance when you’re pretending to be someone else. She isn’t you.

She lives within you, but she isn’t you. 

You grab the towel and quickly cover yourself back up with it, not wanting to spiral even deeper into your insecurities when you’re supposed to be playing a confident, beautiful queen in a few hours. 

You’ll be fine once you put the dress on, you tell yourself. Please, please don’t do this. Not right now. 

You know shoving down the thoughts, ignoring them with a temporary fix, isn’t the answer. But you can’t deal with it right now. You don’t have time. You don’t have the mental space for it. 

You’ll deal with it later. It can wait. 

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Josh’s room is the set tonight, and it looks incredible. The bed is adorned with a white satin duvet, with red and white rose petals scattered all over. This is your throne for the night, where you’ll be lying for the entire duration of the scene. 

Josh’s walls are painted white, but he and Malachi have worked pure magic with the lighting that has given them a dark red hue. You thought they had actually painted them when you walked in, but Josh showed you the lights, the “wonders of cinematic sorcery,” as he called it. It looks like a brand new room, it looks so good. 

Jake was right when he told you his brother is one hell of a director. Everything he does feels professional. You just know you’ll see Josh’s name alongside the likes of Tarantino and Scorsese someday. His talent and eye for putting together the best scenes will get him far. And Malachi will be right alongside him, designing the perfect costumes for Josh’s films. A dynamic duo, those two. 

But if you’re honest with yourself, the beauty and eroticism of the set has you even more nervous for this scene. You just hope that you can do this set justice and not fuck it all up. It deserves some of the best acting you can offer Josh. You don’t want to let him down with your insecurities that have been weighing so heavily all day. 

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“I still can’t believe it,” Nat says as you’ve just finished applying the final layer of Ben Nye to your secret ink. (You still can’t get over the fact that Sam now knows about it. Not what you wanted, but there’s nothing you can do now. It’s done. It just feels strange that something so personal is now not as personal as you intended for it to be.)

As you dab a little finishing powder over the foundation, you turn your head over your shoulder to Natalia, who’s sitting crisscrossed in the center of Jake’s bed. “Believe what?” you ask her, snorting a chuckle. 

“Your sexy little tattoo, that’s what.” Her beautiful face wears that contagious smile of hers, her right eye throwing you a sly wink. “I would’ve never suspected it when I met you. You’re just full of secrets, aren’t you?” 

You have no idea. 

“Guess you could say that.” You huff a giggle while you secure all of Josh’s makeup back in his bag. Still to this day, he’s yet to ask you what it’s for. Odds are, he thinks you just need a little extra coverage for your face. It doesn’t seem he suspects a thing. (You’re just hoping Sam keeps his mouth shut about this unrevealed aspect of yourself.) 

“Do you think you’ll ever get anymore?” She questions as she’s handing you your gown. 

“Thank you, babe,” you tell her, taking the garment bag from her. “And I don’t know, I’ve not really put too much thought into it.” She helps you secure the hook and eye in the back of the dress, holding your hair over your shoulder so it’s not in her way. “I was pretty drunk when I got this one. But I do love it. So, maybe. It makes me feel mysterious, you know?” 

With the dress fastened, you stand in front of the mirror and adjust a few things. The thing you’re always the most concerned about with this costume is the chest area, naturally. If you situate the lace just right over your breasts, there’s not quite a full view of your intimate area. But there’s still enough to add a little sensuality to it. 

“Damn, y/n.” Nat says, her eyes trailing your chest as you get yourself adjusted just the way you like. 

“What?” You say through a giggle. 

“Oh, nothing,” she says. You can see her devious grin in her reflection of the mirror in front of you as she’s pulling your hair off your shoulder, smoothing out the kinks. “Just that Danny’s lucky he snatched me up when did.” Her golden eyes lock with your reflection as she winks and chuckles. “You’re just too gorgeous, girl.” 

You playfully roll your eyes as you both break out in a fit of giggles. (You wish everyone saw you that way. Jake, mostly.) With a final onceover of your liquid lipstick, blotting your lips and cleaning up the edges, you feel you’re about as ready as you can be for tonight's scene. 

“Well, he better watch his back,” you say, opening Jake’s door and walking through the threshold, Nat following close behind. “I could still steal you away.” More laughter sounds from you two as you head down the hallway, walking past the living room and up the staircase to the loft.

Danny is waiting at the top of the stairs, and when Nat makes it up to him, his toned arms wrap her in a full hug. “What are you two laughing about?” He asks, planting a sweet kiss to her temple.

Neither one of you says a word as you throw a silent wink towards Nat, letting the laughter bubbling within you both burst through yet again. 

“What?” He insists. 

Without an explanation, the two of you lock arms and proceed to the film set, leaving him still asking what the commotion is all about, but letting him sit in his wonder while you walk away together.

⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎

“You ready for this?” Sam whispers to you, his face mere inches from yours. With you splayed out on your back, and he perched on his side right next to you, arm draped across your body, you’re positioned just the way Josh had in mind for the beginning of the shoot.

His smile, infectious and beautiful as always, warms your soul (and your body) and has you feeling very much at ease as you mentally prepare for this scene. You haven’t filmed with him in a while, and you’ve been so busy with the utter shitshow your life has been lately that you’ve just not been able to see him much. Feeling him this close to you again after all this time, you’d hate to admit just how nice it feels. 

It feels really fucking nice. You hadn’t realized how bad you missed it, how bad you missed him.

“I think so,” you mutter, smiling at him while he looks at you with heavy, lust filled eyes. “But, are you ready?”

He brushes a stray strand of hair from your face, tucking it lovingly behind your ear with a peculiar smirk across his lips. You can’t see Jake, but you can hear the prolonged sigh from his lips as he’s positioned just outside the bedroom door, awaiting his cue to barge in on the two of you. 

“I think you already know the answer to that,” he confirms, sending off his words with a wink before he shifts his attention to your director.. “I think we’re good to go, Josh!”

Josh confirms with a nod of his head, gesturing a thumbs up to Malachi to dim the overhead lighting and giving Danny the “okay” to shine a little spotlight on the bed you’re on. 

“Scene 73, take one.” He doesn’t yet have a cue card, so with (a rather loud) clap of his hands, he yells, “ACTION!”

As soon as the scene begins, you’re fully encompassed by your alter, the ever sought after Queen Quiniverre. Every insecurity, every doubt, all but washes away once Josh says the word. You’re not you anymore; you feel as though everything you hate about yourself doesn’t exist within this realm. You’re not you, and Guinevere would never be insecure about the things that you are. 

And that’s exactly what inspires you to be the best Guinevere that you can be. You wish, more than anything, that you had her confidence. But even if you don’t have it, she does. And at least you can know what it’s like, even if the moments are short. 

Once Sam says his few words of dialogue, he leans in to envelop you in a passionate kiss full of burning desire. Bodies tangled, hands searching one another; a moment of pure ecstasy shared between two secret lovers, bound together by a love so deceitful to the King. 

And then, you hear him. He walks through the threshold with heavy feet, his breathing stern and labored. 

“I thought I knew better than to heed Mordred's vile words of my first in command. And yet, I find that I needn’t worry of his lies, only those of my beloved and her dearest, both of whom betray their King.” 

He unsheathes his sword, a motion to take Lancelot for himself. To battle to the death for their prize who lie in the bed before them. 

…his voice. 

It echoes throughout the entire room, the entire apartment. The anger he’s displaying is being pulled from somewhere deep within him, exhibiting itself through the King as he’s finally privy to his wife's infidelity. The volume nearly startles you from your position on the bed. You didn’t expect such vibrancy from him, such passion to be exuded through him. He’s speaking his dialogue perfectly, acting through it as though he’s done it a hundred times over. He’s still using his accent, but it’s believable this time. It’s coming through much more powerful than the last time you heard it. 

“My once most trusted comrade, you must die at my hands for treason. The highest crime against your king, to lay with his precious Guinevere, deserves no less than a death of the highest order.” 

His accent, where it was once convincing and accurate, has now begun to falter under the pressure of the scene. He’s beginning to sound less like the betrayed king, and more like an pissed off Jake.  

He continues to hold his sword out firm, glaring at Lancelot with a fiery anger from the depths of his soul, until he shifts them to you. The same anger geared towards you, only it doesn’t feel as though it’s Arthur looking at Guinevere, it’s more like Jake looking at you. And the extent of it is making you more uncomfortable as the seconds (that feel more like hours) are passing without a word from either of them. 

It’s supposed to be Sam’s turn to speak, but it’s likely that he’s caught on to the tension pouring from Jake, and the tensions that lie in the space between you and him. 

“Sam!” Jake screams, causing you to jolt from the sheer volume. “Say your fucking line so we can get this over with and I can get the fuck away from all of you!”

“Woah, woah,” Josh interjects, motioning for Malachi to turn the lights back on as he cuts the camera. “What the fuck, Jake? What’s your problem?”

Jake tosses his sword to the floor, taking off his cloak and throwing it towards Josh who hardly has enough warning to catch it. “This, Josh. This is my fucking problem!” Jake fumes, gesturing his flexed arms towards you and Sam as you’re both struck silent by his sudden outburst. “I can’t perform with this, I won’t.” 

You look to Sam as he blinks a few times, as if suddenly being pulled out of his state of utter shock at his brother's actions. “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” Sam challenges, getting up from his position and leaving you there by yourself. 

Danny grabs Nat’s arm to take her out of the room, and she’s waving for you to join her. But you don’t want to leave, not yet. You don’t normally stick around for a full blown, Kiszka fight. But you have to hear what Jake is going to say for yourself. 

“It means, Sam, that I can’t stand working with you,” he looks to you, still on the bed but now in an upright position as you watch the scene unfold before you. “Or her.” 

What the fuck–?

Josh is pleading with him to calm down, but he won’t have it. He brushes him off when his twin offers a comforting hand to his arm. 

“Fuck this goddamn film and fuck every single one of you that has anything to do with it! It’s fucking bullshit. I’m sorry, Josh. I’m fucking done.”

⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎

You can’t take it any longer. You storm out after him, heedless of everyone else, ignoring their presence and pushing your way through to reach him. 

He slams his door but you waste no time in opening it immediately after, refusing to let him shut you or anyone else out after such a blow-up.

There’s not much light in his room, save for the lamp in the corner shining a warm hue on the space. The calming aura of his room means nothing in comparison to the tensions between you two— the ever growing tensions that now feel sharper than any blade.

He stands facing his bed, his back turned to you. As soon as you enter the room and shut the door behind you, he quickly turns on his heel to face you. And he does not look pleased, his features etched with irritation. But you continue to stand your ground, not willing to budge anytime soon.

“What the fuck are you doing in here?” He growls, deep enough for your bones to feel it. His cheeks are flushed and there’s sweat accumulated between his knitted brows. That familiar flare of his nostrils makes an appearance and his lips are pursed in a tight scowl.

Normally, you’d cower down to anyone who’d find it in themselves to speak to you this way. You’d hide yourself, hide your feelings, stay quiet and out of the way. Give into them to keep the peace. But right now, fuck keeping the goddamn peace. You’ve kept it for far too long at this point and you’re done allowing yourself to be invisible any longer.

“My clothes are in here and I need to change since you selfishly decided that filming is over for the night,” you simper back, your volume challenging his. “And I’m also here to figure out what the fuck your problem with me is!”

His furious stare is penetrating your very soul, his eyes the darkest you’ve yet to see them. His fists are clenched and his biceps are bulging so much you’re just waiting for the chainmail sleeves to give way. 

But you’ve never seen him look better. 

“Problem?” He begins closing the short distance between you, practically stomping across the carpeted floor, flailing his arms about as he speaks. “What the fuck are you talking about?” The heat behind his tone grows stronger and stronger, his gaze on you darkening by the second. 

You refuse to break eye contact while you snicker and shake your head at him playing stupid with you. He knows exactly what you’re talking about. But he’s clearly choosing to play dumb with you, acting like he hasn’t put you on a fucking roller coaster with him since the day he was shoved into your already messy life. If he wants to keep playing games with you, then you have no problem playing your own against him. 

You’re still in your revealing attire, your breasts nearly on full display, the entirety of your form leaving next to nothing to the imagination— to Jake's imagination. You’re privy to his numerous glances at your breasts. You won’t pretend you’re not, and you can’t hold back the satisfied, devious curl of your lips each time you catch his gaze. You should find the urge to cover up, to hide yourself or wait until you can change to confront him.

But that’s not what you intend to do. Wearing this dress brings out a part of you that you’ve come to cherish— it cloaks you in a confident aura that you’ve lacked all your life. And as much as he tries to pretend it means nothing to him, you know the effect this dress has on him. You’ve seen it firsthand for yourself. He can try to hide it all he wants, but you and him both know what it did to him the first time he saw you wearing it in this very room. You may as well use that to your advantage right now. 

You feel powerful, in control. Those doubtful thoughts you were having earlier tonight about yourself have lowered their volume nearly to a full mute. If he can’t handle talking to you like this, then he can’t handle you.

“You’re fine with me one minute,” you huff a snarky giggle, standing firm and refusing to bring your arms up to cover yourself, even with his continuous gazing.“Then you act like you can’t stand my very existence the next. I’m just fucking confused, Jake. If you hate me so goddamn much, why don’t you ask me to leave? You don’t need me to do this fucking film. Why don’t you find some other unsuspecting girl and rid yourself of me once and for all?”

With as much of yourself as you’ve invested in this film, and the new found sense of self-assurance being in front of Josh’s camera has given you, you don’t want to quit this project. If walking away was truly what you wanted, you would have done so a long time ago. And deep down, you want to believe that if Jake truly wanted you to leave, he would’ve demanded it already. But right now, all you can think about is that conversation you overheard weeks ago. 

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

It’s something you’ve not let yourself forget. Even after everything he’s done for you— helping you with your mom, staying the night with you when it felt like your world was crumbling— none of it seems to matter because of  his words that linger in your mind like a never ending echo. He wouldn’t have said them if he didn’t feel them. That much, you’re certain of.

And after what he said to you in class…it was a harsh reality that you weren’t ready to face. He validated your deepest fears of not belonging, of not being accepted. Every hurtful thing he’s ever said about you, each cutting remark he’s said to you are repeating relentlessly in your head. 

“I don’t hate you, y/n!” He shouts through gritted teeth. He takes a few steps towards you, leaving only inches of space between your bodies. His eyes are still fixed in their vexed glare, yet there’s something different behind their darkened gaze. “I don’t hate you.”

“Then…” Your voice is shaky as you try to raise it. You have to look up at him to see his face, he is so close to you. Your trembling body begins fighting against your accusatory words. “Then why did you say you only asked me because you had to? That you didn’t want to work on something alone with me?” Of everything he’s ever done to you, those words hurt the most.

“Because I can’t…” He throws his arms up in frustration, shaking his head as he looks away from you. “...I can’t trust myself to be alone with you. And I can’t fucking stand it when—” He stops himself before he can continue, his index and thumb tightly gripping his chin, almost and if to physically stop himself. 

“You can’t stand what, Jake?” Your anger surges, overpowering everything else. Your vision blurs and your limbs are tingling with pure rage. “What the fuck do I do that you can’t stand so badly?” 

He snaps his head towards you, his loose waves, making a luscious display around his handsome face. “I can’t stand seeing you with him.” He points to the photo on his dresser, the one of him and his brothers. The one with Sam. “You think it’s fucking easy for me to see you with him like that? Especially knowing what happened between you two the night we all went to the stupid fucking haunted house.” 

Now you’re pissed. Not only is his reasoning ridiculous, he’s also accusing you of something that didn’t happen. This isn’t your fault. None of this is. And for him to treat you like shit because of that?

“You don’t know shit, Jake!” Your voice rises to a near scream, letting go of any pretense of holding back. “Nothing happened that night, and even if it had, why the hell do you care? What makes you think you have any right to be pissed about anything that I do? I wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for you; this is your fault! So your reasoning is, frankly, complete bullshit. And I’m not buying any of it.” You’re yelling so loudly your voice is cracking and breaking, your words reverberating with raw, pissed off emotion. No one has ever provoked you to this level of anger. No one except your dad, when he decided out of the fucking blue to leave you. You hate that he’s brought out this side of you. “You act like that because you can’t stand the very thought of me,” you continue. “Just tell me you want nothing more to do with me and I’ll walk right out that door. You’ll never have to see me again.”

He stands still for a while, silently staring at the floor. He brings his hand up to rub his chin, something you’ve seen him do a hundred times, when his mind is racing about something. Josh almost always points it out. He does it a lot during filming, during your scenes with Sam. Especially during the ones when you’re wearing the very outfit you’re standing before him in right now. 

Then, he takes two more steps, until he’s close enough to you that you can feel his heaving breaths against your already heated skin. His demeanor has changed. He doesn’t seem angry anymore. The way he’s looking down at you…he now seems desperate. 

“I can’t stand the way he looks at you…the way you look at him,” he whispers, his eyes traveling the curve of your breasts as his lungs deflate letting out a deep sigh. His eyelids have become heavy over his whiskey colored eyes that flick back to yours. “I can’t stand it…because I wish it were me.” His voice, once harsh and furious, is now a deep, hushed whisper. It’s low, gravelly in pitch. 

It’s fucking sexy. But you’re still not convinced. You need more. You’re sick of thinking he likes you for a split second, then pulling himself away when he feels you’re getting too close. 

No. Not this time. If he pulls away again, you’re done. Out the door. Gone from his life and free to live yours without him and this film. You’ll take a failing grade if it means you don’t have to go through this anymore.

“I don’t believe you, Jake.” Your words are stern, but your body language begins deceiving your cold statement. You’re trembling, vibrating through to your very core. No matter how pissed you are, you can’t fight this incessant attraction you’ve felt for him for a long time now. You fought fiercely in the beginning, had completely convinced yourself that he was nothing more than a handsome jerk who harbored feelings of distaste towards you. 

But fuck. That made you want him more. His mystery, his demeanor. The kindness that seeped through every now and again. Nat was right; you’d always known it was there. His genuine heart is sometimes too strong to stay masked behind this rough act he's tried to uphold. It's broken before you enough times to know that it’s there. And maybe it’s because of you that it's breaking more and more. His guard is falling. That’s why you’re so fucking pissed that he’s fighting every second to keep it up. And what you just said…it's not that you don’t believe him. A big part of you does. You’ve seen the way he looks at you, the way he was completely dumbfounded the first time he saw you in this lace dress. The way he seethes when you’re with Sam. On camera or not. 

But right now, you need to fucking see it. To see that side of him that you know is buried within. It’s not enough to simply hear his words; you need him to prove it to you. You’re tired of the back and forth with him. This is his opportunity to show you what ever the fuck it is that he wants from you.

There’s a look of confliction as his hand reaches out to you tentatively, his fingers playing with the lace on your shoulder. They move, hovering just inches over your collar bone before his fingertips delicately skate over the skin with such a gentle, intentional touch. Your breath catches in your throat, your heart pounding as you feel the warmth of his touch.

“I’ve wanted to touch you…” His fingers follow the curve of your neck, passing over your pulse point, tracing a path along the curve of your jawline. “...just like this since the day I fucking laid eyes on you. And seeing my brother get to do it…” Your bottom lip is lightly tugged by the pad of his thumb, smearing the dark lipstick. “...it eats me up inside, y/n. I don’t think I can watch him kiss these lips one more time.” His focus is now entirely fixed on your lips, as his tongue gracefully glides over his own. Your craving for him intensifies with every passing moment. Each second fuels the fiery need within you.

“Then…why don’t you just do it?” The words fall straight from your mouth before you can even think twice about saying them, hanging in the air that’s slowly shifting from an angry tension to a much different kind. Your eyes lock yet again, each of you silently pleading with the other to bridge this divide between you once and for all.

With one hand still caressing your face and finding the small of your back, he pulls you flush against him, holding you tight against his warm body. He leans in, his lips brushing over yours, a feather-light caress that steals your breath. 

And as if you’re pulled together by an invisible tether, your lips finally meet. 

It starts slow, almost hesitant. But the intensity begins growing as your emotions are spilling over, fueling the kiss with a passion that is closer to desperation. His hand finds your hair, tangling your soft locks as he pulls you even closer, deepening your embrace with a hunger born of a longing that’s finally being set free.

You can feel his walls crumbling before you, letting break through his barrier. The insurmountable distance that was created between you, not only physically but emotionally, has at last been closed. 

His tongue glides across your teeth, drawing your bottom lip firmly between his. He serenades your mouth with the most beautiful melody, eliciting a yearning that forces your thighs to come together in an attempt to soothe the desire pulsing between them.

He tastes like the sweetest honey infused bourbon. His lips are soft, putting the most sumptuous velvet to shame. 

The hand resting on your back glides upward along your torso, stopping just before he reaches your heaving breast. His lips break from yours before he tugs on the hair at the nape of your neck, fully exposing the expanse to him. 

“Jake…” You start, but he’s already so attuned to your desires that you don’t have to say another word before his mouth meets your taut skin. His tongue traces along your neck, stopping to suckle the skin. A strained moan sounds from deep within you, eliciting a sensual snicker, reveling in the response he’s drawing from you.

“You smell so good,” he mumbles against you, sealing his compliment with a kiss. As if you’re not falling apart enough, you nearly melt into him when his hand finally caresses over your full breast. “This okay? Can I touch you here?” He whispers softly in the shell of your ear, his words both a question and a promise of his respect for you.

“Please, Jake, more” you whimper through heaving breaths. 

He groans deeply against your ear, his hot breath sending shivers down your spine as he teases your hardened nipple through the flimsy lace. You practically cry out for him, your body squirming with anticipation, begging him for more. He shushes you gently. “I’ve only just begun,” he whispers, his index finger tracing slow circles over your sensitive bud. “Let me take my time with you.”

He pinches your nipple, playful smirk gracing his lips as he chases the sounds escaping your parted mouth. 

You clutch his biceps tight, anchoring him to you to keep him from slipping away. He hisses as your nails dig into his skin, only igniting his desire for you.

“Do you believe me yet?” He whispers, his lips grazing your jawline.

While there’s not an ounce of lingering suspicion within you, you dare to toy with him a little further.

“Nuh uh, not yet.” You respond quietly, your body betraying you as your desire is displayed physically. He can sense it, and the mischievous grin curved on his lips assures you he’s privy to your little game.

“Feel how much I want you.” And with that, his hand takes yours, guiding it to his pulsing cock that’s straining against his black pants, imploring you to feel the undeniable need he has for you.

He throbs beneath your touch as you palm him through the satin fabric that still conceals him, keeping in time with your own racing heart. His breath hitches, he whimpers beautifully in your ear as you continue to feel him, and if it were even possible, he’s becoming even harder against your touch, desperate to remove the confines of his pants.

“Holy fuck, Jake…” 

Your legs press together once more at the feeling of him, his sheer size and thickness that is obvious even through the barrier between you. All you can think about is how he’d feel nestled away deep inside of you, filling you with every inch. He’s massive, that much you can tell, even through the barrier.

“Yeah?” He hums through heavy breaths. “That’s all for you, love.”

His words have your arousal nearly dripping down your thighs, your body growing more impatient by the second.

“Lay down for me,” he mutters in your ear. “Just like you were for the scene. Only this time, for me.” 

His words, almost possessive in their wake, leave you speechless and craving him even more. He lightly motions you in the direction of his bed, keeping his eyes locked with yours. 

Once you lie down, just as you did just moments ago, he positions himself at the end of the bed while he looks at you, taking in the vision before him. 

Normally, you wouldn’t have half the confidence for a moment such as this, and it’s for that very reason you’re glad  you’re in this very dress. It’s been the source of most confident moments as of late; it only makes sense that you’re wearing it in real life with Jake. 

As he begins to remove his chainmail top, you tremble at seeing him so bare. You’d seen it before, but not like this. This time, he’s taking it off for you, removing yet another barrier that exists between the two of you. 

You’re breathless at the sight of him. His pecs, sculpted and chiseled, rising and falling with his deep breaths. The smooth expanse of his unflawed skin, begging to be touched and explored. And his broad, sturdy shoulders that beckon you to sink your nails into, to keep a tight grip against while he’s on top of you. 

“Look at you,” he mutters, his eyes tracing every curve  of your body as he climbs onto the bed, hovering over you as though he’s not done looking at you just yet. “You’re a fucking queen,” he whispers, his voice husky and filled with desire. Finally, he leans in, his lips meeting yours with a tender gentleness, leaving you yearning for more as he lifts away again just slightly. “A beautiful queen.” 

He kisses you once again, this time hungrier than the last. His hands roam your body with a newfound intensity, each touch igniting a fire within you that leaves your body arching towards him, begging for more. More of him.

His lips trail down your neck, leaving a path of kisses along your skin as his body slowly lowers down yours. You suck in a deep gasp as his warm, wet tongue follows a slow trail from your belly button, gliding all the way up to your chest, tracing along the curve of your breast. 

His lips suck a mark right where his tongue stops, leaving a bruise right where the fabric ends along your chest.

“So pretty,” he mumbles against the bruise his lips left on your taut skin, marveling at his work. “All marked up from me. Want to mark you up everywhere…”

His focus seems deliberate, as if he’s determined to leave his mark where it will be most visible during your scenes, his attention fixed solely on the skin peeking out amidst the black lace. 

“This…will be hard to cover up for filming, Jake…” you utter, breathless from your purely aroused state. 

“No,” he whispers between leaving his mark right in the middle of your breasts. “Don’t cover them. Let them see.”

Before you can continue your weak protest, he carefully pushes back the lace over your left breast, fully unveiling it before him. He shushes you as his lips instantly attach to your perked nipple, sucking it deep within his mouth, softly nibbling at it all while his hand removes the lace from your right breast, kneading the flesh between his fingers.

But as he does so, you feel your body begin to tense when you discover his fingers are all over the area covered with makeup. The area with your tattoo. It feels too fucking good to make him stop, but that same feeling that overcame you when Sam unsuspectingly saw it is blazing within you. 

Once you shift your eyes to his hand, you notice the makeup smeared almost completely, the red ink bleeding through to present itself, even if you aren’t ready for it to.

“Jake I…” 

But it’s too late. As he lifts to switch his attention to your right breast, he sees it. His eyes are fixed on your etched secret, mouth lazily agape at this small piece of you he’s discovering for the first time. 

“H…holy fuck,” he stammers, leaning in to peck his lips against the word along the tender spot. “This is so sexy I just…” he brings up his finger, tracing the “R”, then the “E”, the “D”

“Do you like it?” you ask him, feeling a rush of confidence wash over you.

Your initial hesitation has all but vanished. It's so different with Jake…something about the way he makes you feel, the way he brings out this part of you that no one else does. Not even Sam.

“I love this, y/n,” his lips meet the ink once more, decorating it with wet kisses. 

“I…I’ve always been so scared for people to see…” Your words would hardly be legible if he wasn’t so close to you. Your mumbled tone is evidence of how he’s affecting you, what he’s doing to you. “... and it’s not exactly accurate for the film,” you mutter through a weak chuckle.  

“Does anyone else know?” he quietly implores. “Does Sam know?” 

“No.” 

The word flies out of you before you can even take a second to think about it. It’s a lie. Sam does know. But that doesn’t matter to you right now. And Jake doesn’t need to know of what you almost did with his brother in a shitty attempt to get to him. 

“Only Natalia knows.”

“Good,” he mumbles between leaving more kisses along your breast, slowly creeping closer towards your erect nipple.“Let’s keep it that way.”

His tongue lightly flicks the sensitive bud, drawing languid circles around it while his fingers follow the same motion of the other breast.

With the way his body is positioned between your legs, you can’t close your thighs together to ease the ache between them. It doesn’t stop you from trying, though, and when he notices, he grins against your supple flesh, looking up at you to see your completely fucked out state. He understands what you need without a word, and he begins to shift his body even further down your own, keeping your legs spread and his mouth trailing down your flesh, until his face is nearly level with your throbbing core. 

The slit in your dress proves to be quite convenient at the moment, enabling your legs to spread easily while the only coverage you have is from the thong that perfectly matches your skin tone.

As his lips brush against your inner thigh, his warm breath leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake, you find yourself instinctively arching your hips closer to him, craving whatever pleasure he can offer.

“You smell so fucking good, love,” he mutters. 

You’re silently praising yourself for thinking to add your body oil to your thighs, not realizing you were doing it for Jake. 

He’s not done marking you up just yet, as he sucks long and deep on the flesh of your inner thigh, eliciting a high pitched moan from deep within your being, your hand quickly flying up to stifle your sounds. 

“This one is just for me,” he mumbles against the bruise, tracing it delicately with the tip of  his finger. “And only for me.”

“Jake, please…I need more,” you cry out, your voice trembling with desperation as he stares deeply into your heavy, longing eyes. 

“What do you need, beautiful?” He probes, peppering your thigh with gentle kisses, following a slow path towards where you crave his lips the most.

“Jake…”  

“Tell me what you need,” he says in a hushed voice, his lips trailing a delicate kiss just above your throbbing clit. “Just tell me and I’ll do everything in my power. It’s the least I can do for you…please, let me make everything up to you.”

“Jake I don’t care anymore I just—” you reach down to brush a loose strand out of his face, fingers grazing over his sharp jawline as he leans in, leaving a sweet kiss in the middle of your palm. “I just need you.”

A devious, sinful smirk graces lips as his attention diverts to your aching heat. 

With his index finger, he traces the wetness you’ve left on the fabric of your panties, drawing slow and lazy circles over your clothed clit. 

“Can I take these off?” He asks, his blown pupils dark with need as his question almost sounds as though he’s begging. “Want to see you, all pretty and wet for me.” 

“It’s all for you, Jake.” 

“Fuck, baby,” he groans. His hands, strong and firm, reach up to your hips, tugging at the sides of your thong as you lift yourself to help him pull it down your thighs. “That’s what I like to hear.”

He helps you lift your right leg out, then your left leg, placing your panties on the edge of the bed once they’re finally off of you. 

Out of everyone you’ve ever been with, no one has ever taken this much time with you. Not once has anyone asked what you need, what you want. It's a side of Jake you never expected to see. In a thousand years, you wouldn't have imagined him being this attentive, this caring toward you. 

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he hums, his eyes longing fixed on your dripping core. “Every single part of you, just perfect.”

You instinctively jolt once his lips attach to your already sensitive clit, sucking it gently, his warm tongue swirling around it. With a tender touch, he holds your hips down in place, keeping you still for him as he explores you.

“Jake, oh my god, plea–”

He cuts off your words with a long glide of his tongue from you leaking entrance to your aching clit, sealing with a deep kiss to your throbbing bud, drawing a sharp gasp from you.

With his middle finger, he prods your entrance before slowly pushing it all the way in, finally filling you as you clench hard around his long digit. His grip on your hips does little to restrain you; you find yourself grinding against him, yearning for more of his touch. His tongue dances over your clit while his finger delves deeper into you, setting an delicious rhythm that has you craving more.

Then, he adds a second finger, filling and stretching you around him even more. His thrusts quicken, driving you closer to the edge with each brush of his fingers inside of you. 

Your hands instinctively find his soft locks, fingers entwining in the strands and tugging. A low moan escapes him, sending vibrations against your core.

“Just like that, Jake, just like tha–” 

But just as you're nearing your peak, there’s a sudden knock at the door that causes Jake’s fingers to still their movement, keeping them inside of you as he lifts his face that’s now glistening from your dripping arousal. 

“Jake? Are you and y/n okay?” It’s Josh. He sounds concerned, distressed. It’s sweet, although his timing is…awful. “You’ve been in there for a while…we’re just worried about you guys.”

Shit.

⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎

a/n: oof. that was a lot. thank you for sticking with me, lol.

who do we think the mysterious Dodger could be?

i'd love to hear your thoughts! don't be afraid to reach out; hearing from you all keeps me going.

if you'd like to be tagged in future chapters, follow this link or let me know & i'll be sure to add you. ☺️ (let me know if i've missed you)

sending all my love!

taglist:

@jakeyt @alwaysonthemend @sacredjake @jakesgrapejuice @misshunnybee @reesetrippingthelight @way-to-go-lad @sinarainbows @ohgodthefeeling-gvf @klarxtr @watchingover-hypegirl @brinlygvf @stardustjake @gretavanbear @gvfmelbourne @sinsofstardust @literal-dead-leaf @gvf-ficreads @jaaakeeey @capturethechaos @neptune2324 @jaketlove @thetroublegetssoloud71 @myleftsock @sanguinebats @jakekiszkapunchmeintheface @joshskittytickler @violet-hayes @aflameforgoinghome @heckingfrick @fitalich @starshine-gvf @audgeppp @jakekiszkasbuttsweat @nina-23-45 @torniturntomyarrow @beautifulcrayola @writingcold @welllauragvf @loveisonaroll @itsafullmoon @gretasfallingsky @i-love-gvf @kiszkas-canvas @mackalah @gvfmarge @sarafrusciante2 @jordie-gvf @gretavansara @highway-tuna @vikingsisthenewsexy @louiseecraigg @hippievanfleet @citylight-delight @blacksoul-27

[bbobpul]

my youth is yours — jeno

NOTE. hey 😮‍💨 sorry for ghosting

PAIRING. jeno x reader

GENRE. hurt/comfort, angst

SYNOPSIS. entering adulthood with you long-term boyfriend, jeno

WARNINGS. dis might hurt bc iz lil realistic 😫

W/C. 3.1k

masterlist ⟵⁠(⁠o⁠_⁠O⁠)

Is love something you can learn, or is it engraved in your bones the moment you open your eyes to the world? Is it something you master, or something you feel on a random Thursday night after spending the day with someone who made your heart skip a beat? Is this something you develop after years of spending every moment of your life with the same person?

Because, to you, love means only one thing. Love can only come from one person. Love can only be felt with Jeno.

No, you didn't grow up together or meet in a special way. He was merely there, but it suddenly felt like more.

The two of you met in high school. It was nothing special. High school brings you into contact with a large number of people. You create a lot of friendships in high school. But it was Jeno, and one day you were paired up with him on a minor project set by your teacher because she would be gone for a short while.

Before long, a bond formed between you, blossoming into a friendship that extended beyond school hours. You'd hang out after classes, help each other with homework, and share late-night thoughts, and the absence of each other during the day would leave the day incomplete.

Everything proceeded at exactly an appropriate pace—it wasn't rushed or fast, nor was it painfully slow. It was just right with Jeno.

Looking back at your first few years with him, it seemed so natural and carefree. Seeing him was like having a ton of weight lifted off your shoulders—of course, the same is true for him. You appear as though you wince at his corny antics, but deep down, you both know that you feel the same way. He kept telling you, "Your love fills me up with so much happiness," at every opportunity he gets, and you love it every single time.

He radiates joy and warmth, and despite his kindness to everyone, he always makes you feel uniquely cherished. In his eyes, you're not just anyone; you're everything.

And it hasn't changed from high school to this point in college. As you approach adulthood, the love that accompanied your growth as an adolescent lingers.

Jeno's voice stops your thoughts with, "Bub, what do you want for dinner?" Glancing to your side, you notice him fixated on the road. After a long day at the university, you are currently headed home to your shared flat. Because you both decided to attend the same college and because it is obviously less expensive to stay in the exact same place, you both saved money for the apartment you are currently residing in. You both agreed that returning home under the same roof is the best choice for the two of you because you will both become busy over time.

When the red light came on, he looked at you and said, "Should we drive by your favorite restaurant and just order so we could go to sleep early?" after noticing that you were spacing out for the nth time.

"Huh? Oh, okay, bub. I'd love that," you replied upon hearing his voice, feeling as though you were suddenly snapped back to reality, anchored by the sound of his presence.

"You must be so tired, hmm? Is it Mr. Chua again?" he asked, his tone filled with understanding.

You chuckled at the mention of the infamous professor you often vented about. "No, he wasn't around today, actually. I was just really tired from all the lab work I did earlier," you replied, appreciating his attentiveness to your daily struggles.

He acknowledged your reply with a hum, and he skillfully threaded the steering wheel through the drive-thru. He ordered you your usual and gave you an affectionate smile. The vehicle filled with the soothing sounds of the radio and the faint hum of the air conditioning as the sun started to set. You felt warm and cozy even if the temperature inside the car was very cold because you knew that you were heading home with the love of your life.

After a few moments of comfortable silence, he reached out for your hand, and in a tender whisper, he said, "I love you," as he began parking at your apartment's parking lot. The simplicity woven into every second spent with each other, filled with love and care, is the kind of love that is true and right.

Your evening flew by, and your early bedtime goal was quickly abandoned as you spent the entire night watching movies with Jeno. However, when spending time with him replenishes you more than a peaceful slumber, what good is sleep?

Sleep is what your body needs, and you just ate your own words when you fell asleep on Jeno’s shoulder.

He noticed that and chuckled lowly. He reached for the remote and quickly turned off the television before positioning himself to properly carry you back to your shared room. He knew that waking you up would be of no use because you are a very heavy sleeper, and you hate it when your sleep gets disturbed, so he tried his best to be as gentle as possible so you would stay in your peaceful slumber.

He laid down on his side of the bed after tucking you in and planting a gentle kiss on your forehead.

A lot of your evenings went by like that. Spending a quarter of your day in college and going home with him. It has become your perfect daily routine. Although there are times where Jeno fails to drive you home because of how demanding his course is, you end up going home alone, and commuting is an extreme sport. Sometimes, it will be too hard to hail a taxi because of the rush hour and all the other students going home at the same time who are also desperate to rest. Sometimes, even if it was Jeno who said he would come home late, you end up arriving home later than he did. But what is adulthood without a bit of suffering?

‘Love won't make you rich,' that's what you heard from your mother when you said you were dating Jeno. Of course, your love hasn't always been a pleasant sight for everyone. You began dating in high school; of course, people would think you're foolish to enter into such a commitment at such a young age.

There are times when you wonder if your mother was right, especially when you and Jeno fail to pay rent on time, struggle to find part-time jobs to feed the both of you, and add your stressful college work to the mix.

But all your worries will soon disappear in the wind because it's Jeno you are facing those problems with, and eight years of sustaining yourself doesn't seem so hard because there is Jeno, who is your lifeline, your anchor, and your foundation. And even if the world turns its back on you, there is Jeno ready to face all of your worries, your fears, and your doubts because it's Jeno, the one who loves all of you.

"Good morning." You heard Jeno talk from the hallway.

You furrowed your brow in confusion. 'Why is he still here? ' you thought to yourself. It's Saturday, and you both have work, but your shift is at noon, so you didn't bother getting up early, unlike Jeno, who has a 9 a.m. shift.

Jeno has been waking up late several times since last month. If he is not absent, he will be late. It's always been like that. You haven't spoken to him about it yet. You have developed an unspoken rule in your relationship that there are situations that you can tackle on your own because you are both adults.

"Why aren't you at work?" You tried to sound as considerate as possible, but it's his life at stake and your apartment. If he doesn't come to work on time or at all, they will deduct his pay and, in the worst scenario possible, fire him.

"I don't feel well." He simply answered.

"You haven't been feeling well for a month. Wanna go to the hospital?" you suggested.

"It's not really that serious for a hospital, bub," he reasoned out.

"But it's serious enough for you to miss work for a month?" You said without looking at him, not being able to contain it anymore.

You heard him sigh before he headed to the bathroom, and you shook your head. Jeno, on the other hand, thought it would be best not to say anything.

You took your last sip of the coffee before heading to the sink, and you saw the overwhelming tower of unwashed dishes. It's 11 p.m., and your work is 20 minutes away from home if you are lucky enough to hail a cab the instant you come out of the building. Washing these plates will take a lot of your time, but if Jeno doesn't have the energy to wash them today because he is not feeling well, then that leaves you no choice. Good thing you already took a bath and wore your work clothes; you wouldn't have to rush later on.

It's times like these when you realize that you two are no longer the teenagers you once thought you'd remain forever. Those teenagers have now grown, with bigger responsibilities and greater disappointments to confront.

You finished the dishes and gathered your belongings before preparing to leave. However, as you reached for the doorknob, you noticed Jeno standing in the hallway, simply gazing at you.

"I will make it up to you," he said, and all you could do was smile at him before heading out.

All day at work, your thoughts were consumed by him—wondering if he had enough food at home and if he was resting well. This wasn't the first time you'd encountered issues between the two. Despite the absence of major fights and screaming matches, deep down, you knew that things were not okay between you.

After long, tiring hours at work, you received a text message from Jeno that said, 'I'll pick you up from work, bub. I love you.'

You smiled at the notification. He really was making it up to you, and you couldn't even be mad at him anymore.

And he's really there. As you closed the shop, not very far from where you stood, you saw him immediately. Suddenly, you are ready to face everything again because he is there.

You walked up to him with a huge smile, as if you hadn't worked for hours without a break. It was worth it when you're coming home with him.

The drive home was eerily quiet, with only the sound of your breathing audible amidst the corny jokes from the radio DJ. Despite the windows being open and the air conditioning turned off, the chill of the night air seeping in was enough to send shivers down your spine.

As the red light halted the car, you turned to gaze at him, only to find that he was already looking at you with the same love and contentment that had been evident in his eyes since your first year of high school. Now, after eight years together, you were both getting older yet still together, sharing each moment with him by your side.

You had hoped the problems were behind you, believing that your love and understanding would be enough to overcome any challenges that came your way. However, a week after your minor argument, Jeno attempted to return to work, only to find that his employer no longer wanted him back after a month of slacking. This turn of events took a significant toll on both of you, adding to the weight of your existing concerns.

"I'm sorry, bub. I'll look for another job next week, I promise."

The rent was due on Monday, and luckily you saved up enough money for three months after working extra hours since the start of the year.

"I told you to tell me if you have problems, didn't I? For a month, I didn't hear anything from you, and look where it got us? Jeno, it's our finals! We also have expenses for school, not just here at home! If you were too exhausted to work, then you could have just told me." All your pent-up frustrations spilled in an instant.

"I didn't want to burden you, love."

"Jeno, since when have you ever been a burden to me?"

He walked over to you and enveloped you in a hug, and that was when your tears began to flow. Both of you were graduating students, each with your own set of responsibilities and numerous financial challenges to navigate. In the face of it all, you couldn't help but wonder: Is love enough?

"Jeno, it's like I don't know you anymore." You began

"Bub, don't say that."

"I just want you to talk to me. Tell me your problems. I know there are things you can handle by yourself, but at least include me. You have me. I am here for a reason."

Both of you became even busier after that, balancing the demands of studying for final exams with juggling part-time jobs. Jeno faced the added challenge of finding work amidst his other commitments.

Your schedules became so hectic that you no longer went home together, and there were nights when Jeno arrived home so late that you would already be asleep, only to wake up to his departure in the morning.

Your entangled nights became two parallel lines. Quiet and comforting evenings grew even quieter without the presence of others. Every night, you realized that you and Jeno were both growing older and, simultaneously, growing apart. It's something inevitable, something you never wished for, yet something you are currently witnessing with your own eyes.

But growing apart is not contextually synonymous with loving each other less. The love is still there, and the care is still present. That is the reason why both of you are working so hard—because you love each other.

Both of you became so busy to the point where your only connection was coming home to the same house. Suddenly, home felt like nothing more than four walls and a mini fridge, lacking the warmth of four limbs and lips to kiss.

But surprisingly enough, after many weeks, he offered to pick you up from work.

"Keep your eyes on the road," you told him when you noticed him stealing glances at you.

"I love you, bub," he said, prompting you to look at him.

You smiled and replied, "I love you more."

"When is your oath-taking ceremony?" he asked, trying to make conversation amidst the silent drive home.

"I don't know yet. Maybe a few months after graduation."

And then it died down again. But does the silence matter to you when, after so many weeks, he is here beside you again?

He is here.

And that's all that matters right now.

"Should we take the long way home?"

But even a single beautiful night couldn't alter the looming storm heading your way. It's a heart-wrenching inevitability—the painful reality of growing apart.

With each "sorry, I can't pick you up" message and every missed call accompanied by a new excuse, the weight of disappointment settles deeper into your heart. Gradually, you find yourself numb to the ache, accepting it as the new normal.

"Bub, please respond," you pleaded, your voice trembling with emotion, as you left yet another voicemail after he missed your calls for the nth time. It's Saturday, and the rain outside matches the heaviness in your heart. You figured he must have finished work earlier than you, so you were counting on him to pick you up. But his cell phone remains unattended, and it's been 20 agonizing minutes of waiting in the pouring rain.

You hated the rain, and he knew that all too well. After a few more minutes of waiting in vain, you were left with no choice but to reluctantly take the train home alone since there are no cabs at this hour. The frustration and disappointment welled up inside you, reaching a breaking point.

"I'll sleep at my mom's house just for tonight. To cool off," you murmured to yourself.

At the train station, your phone buzzed incessantly, and when you finally answered, it was Jeno calling you countless times.

"I'm here; where are you?" his voice came through, accompanied by the sound of the rain.

"I took the train," you replied simply.

"You could've waited," he said, frustration evident in his tone. "I drove all the way here from work; it's almost an hour drive."

"I did wait, Jeno. What are you trying to imply?" you countered, feeling a mix of irritation and hurt.

You heard him sigh heavily on the other end of the line, and you pursed your lips in frustration.

"I'm tired, Jeno," you said wearily.

"So am I."

"Is that so? Okay, I'm sorry for making you drive in the rain. It won't happen again. And just so you know, I won't be coming home tonight."

Through days, weeks, and months of hardly seeing or talking to each other, you both somehow made it through college. Despite everything that happened, there's this overwhelming sense of pride you feel for each other. Maybe, just maybe, it was all worth it in the end.

The high school love you both shared has now transformed into something more significant. The youthful days you once had together are now just memories as you step into this new chapter of your lives.

It feels right with Jeno, but amidst the familiarity, there's a subtle shift, a tinge of bittersweet realization that things have changed.

Both of you have accomplished your dreams, reaching the destinations you once only dreamed of. You've arrived at where you wanted to be.

"Hey!" Jeno called for your attention. You turned and saw him adorned in his gown and cap, and a profound sense of pride washed over you.

You embraced him, exchanging whispers of 'I'm so proud of you' and 'You did well'. Yet it wasn't the same; it was different.

Both of you have grown, realizing that your teenage dreams have come true, and here you are, all grown up.

The love you once held so dearly in your youth has gracefully reached its final chapter. Staring into each other's eyes, there's an overwhelming sense of emotion, an unspoken acknowledgment that what once was no longer is—it's over.

"Thank you for loving me," he said. "Your love brought me here, bub."

[wolves-and-stars]

Beginner's Guide to Wolfstar (Long Fics)

(here's a list of my top 10 favorite long fics ranging from 259k to 59k words)

Momentum by children_of_the_shadows (ao3) 259k

If you have to ready any canon compliant (mostly) marauders through the years fic, this is the one, Children_of_the_shadows is one of the best writers ever, Top 3 fic authors.

2. Text Talk by merlywhirls (ao3) 141k

Everyone knows text talk, it's basically wolfstar bible, Non Magic AU where the boys meet by accidently texting the wrong number.

3. Time is a Fine Invention by bluepeony (ao3) 105k

Brilliant university non magic au, with the most imperfect and human characterization of both Remus and Sirius, read it if only to humanize the both of them and their relationship. Insecurity in a relationship and Coming of age and all the thoughts accompanying it are perfectly described in this. so much foreshadowing if you read it carefully enough.

It'll make you hate and simultaneously empathize with both characters.

4. Slughorn's Sanitarium for Troubled Boys by MelloPie 65k

TW: discussion of mental health, SA, institutionalization, ab*use, s*icide, self h*rm.

Non-Magic AU, set in a mental institution, where both noys have to share a room. Its one of the first long fics i ever read, so maybe i have a soft spot for this one, and every other fic on this list.

5. The Lad That Loved You. by MollyMaryMarie (ao3) 81k

I've said this once and I'll say it again, mollymarymarie is one of the best writers out there, another top 3 author for me, all of her fics are amazing, obviously including dear you holiness, we can pretend, the only living boy in new york, i might have to do a separate recs list for that.

But, if you had to read just one, i would say The lad that loved you is the perfect one, set in their 6th or 7th year? of hogwarts, they hide their new relationship by acting like they hate each other, and let me tell you, they are exactly, perfectly themselves in this fic, and by that i mean exactly how i imagine them.

There is not one single thing about this fic that i would change. Perfection.

6. Discards by picascribit (ao3) 76k words

I can't make a fic rec without picascribit. Cure for nightmares changed my life. Non-magic AU, Remus meets Sirius in the library he goes to study at, real love isn't always perfect and doesn't involve perfect people, is what i've take away from this fic.

7. ten reasons (to go to michigan) by greyeyedmonster18 (ao3) 59k

Top 3 Fics. If you had to read any wolfstar fic, it would be this one. I've read 100's spanning from 2016 - till date, and this is the best one ive ever read.

Remus is newly divorced, and he meets Sirius Black.

If you've ever lost someone one and had to re-learn how to live without someone you never thought you would have to live without, this fic will encapsulate the gist of it in words.

In one of their notes the authors says something close to 'the hardest thing about losing someone is finding out that the earth keeps spinning and you have to keep living'

8. Dating Remus Lupin by Children_of_the_Shadows (ao3) 83k

Top 3 fics. I can't explain this fic in any words, the writing style is brilliant, the characterizations are unique and wonderful and perfect. Everything about this fic is brilliant.

Set in Year 5, Sirius Black wants a boyfriend and James tells him about the only other openly gay boy in in their year, it just happens to be Remus Lupin. Much to his disdain.

9. Remus Lupin's Guide to Successful Courting by Children_of_the_Shadows (ao3) 87k

Non Magic AU, Remus Lupin finds harry in his yard having escaped from school and return him back to Dr. Sirius Black, who's new to town and coincidently doesn't have an inkling about Remus's past, his eyes clear of any judgement are what make Remus fall for him and pursue him, court if you will.

I again cannot explain this fic. Children_of_the_shadows is the most talented writer, i will make a separate fic list for their other brilliant work.

10. Sex Pistol by ArtificialAorta (ffnet) 86k

Musicians AU, Remus is punk rock, Sirius is akin to the prince of pop, how can they not fall in love?

[clarisse0o]

Camp Wiegman-Part 59

Lucy Bronze x Ona Batlle

Alternative Universe : Military School

Words : 7k

Masterlist

———————————————————————

Wednesday, February 24th; 8:30 AM - Lucy's Apartment.

I groaned as the alarm echoed through the room. It’s way too early, especially considering how late we got home last night. I buried my head in the pillow, while my wonderful girlfriend chuckled. Unsurprisingly, when I turned to face her, she was already fully awake.

"Do you think this is funny?" I mumbled.

"A little bit," she teased. "Good morning..."

I smiled as she leaned in to kiss me. I love our morning kiss, even though it’s not the best one of the day. A slight headache began to take hold. It wasn’t the most pleasant wake-up, though far from the worst.

"What do you want for breakfast?" she asked, getting out of bed.

"Stay," I groaned.

"As much as I’d like to, we have to pick up your little brother in an hour," she said, changing from shorts into a new pair of joggers. "We shouldn’t be late, right? You only have yourself to blame for wanting to stay up so late."

"At least I didn’t drink until I was wasted," I teased, hugging the pillow closer.

"You’d better not have. I would’ve made you sleep on the couch if you had."

"I don’t believe you," I teased again.

"You should. I would’ve done it without any guilt."

I stuck out my tongue at her, which only made her smile smugly. She came back over to give me another quick kiss.

"Don’t take too long, okay?"

"I’ll try my best... Can you make me some toast this morning?"

"Of course."

We exchanged smiles before she left the room. I love our life together. It feels like we’ve been living together for years. Everything is so ordinary, far from anything that could bother us. I stretched out once more before lying on my back. Today is going to be long and busy, but so perfect. Our little bubble will be interrupted with Joan’s arrival, but I’m excited to see him again. I forced myself out of bed and, unlike Lucy, didn’t change before joining her. I smiled when I saw her making the toast I’d asked for.

"I expected you to join me much later."

"I had a good teacher for getting out of bed."

"Oh, please. I only threw you out of bed once," she teased.

"After throwing a glass of water on me, if I remember correctly. The other times, you made me run outside. I’m not sure which was worse."

She laughed heartily as I joined her in setting the table. I didn’t find it funny at all. I went through a lot because of her. There’s a reason I didn’t like her at first, now that she reminded me.

"Stop laughing."

"Oh, come on. Admit it, it was funny."

"No, it wasn’t," I pouted. "You really pushed me to the limit."

"Those are good memories. I can’t wait to tell our grandkids about our first meeting someday."

"Of course," I giggled. "Let’s focus on having kids first, before thinking about grandkids."

"You’re right. We’ll get there one day."

"Mm-hmm."

I approached her and hugged her from behind. She leaned back against me, and I took the opportunity to kiss her shoulder. I slowly moved up to her neck, lightly biting a few spots without leaving any marks. Mine had finally faded, and I was glad about that. Knowing Joan, he would’ve asked what it was, and I wouldn’t have known how to explain it to him at his age.

"Thanks for agreeing to have my brother over for a few days."

"It’s no problem. I was surprised your mom let him come alone, though," she admitted.

"Me too... It seems the airport reassured her by saying he’d be accompanied the whole time. Plus, she knows how attentive I am with him, so nothing can really happen to him with us. And, I feel like she trusts you more than she trusts me," I chuckled.

"She shouldn’t, though. You’re way better with kids than I am."

"Nonsense. You work with teens all day."

"They’re students, which means they’re almost adults. It’s not the same at all."

"Well, let me tell you, we’re way worse than innocent kids."

"That’s debatable. I’ve always found kids to be quite devious... Though Joan isn’t like that, thankfully."

I giggled at her thinking. She must not have been around many good kids. I let go of her waist when I saw she was finishing up the toast. I quickly poured her coffee and heated up my hot chocolate. Then I joined her at the table, where she had brought all sorts of toppings.

"So, you don’t like kids, huh?" I asked as I began my breakfast.

"I didn’t say that," she rolled her eyes. "I don’t like spoiled, badly-behaved kids. That’s all."

"Or cheeky ones, huh?" I teased.

She laughed, knowing full well that I was referring to myself. She used to say that about me, and it wasn’t in a pleasant tone.

"Or cheeky ones, indeed. But they can be redeemed after a few laps around the track."

"Ha ha ha!"

"Isn’t it true?"

"Maybe. But I wasn’t cheeky."

"Oh yes, you were," she teased. "You had a comeback for everything I said."

"Well, you were really hard on me. I mean, you were very direct with me... And I hated it. That’s why I didn’t like you at first."

"You didn’t like me because I dared to tell you things to your face, and that’s exactly what you needed, right? You needed someone like me to help you understand and make an impact on you."

"You’re probably right... Your words made me think a lot at the beginning. I felt like crap," I admitted shyly.

"That was kind of the goal... At least, by insisting and being so harsh with my words, I wanted you to realize who you had become. It was obvious you weren’t a bad person. Circumstances made you that way."

I smiled softly at her, nodding. I love when Lucy shares her thoughts with me. She’s so good at reading people, a quality few possess. I, for example, don’t have it. I couldn’t tell who has a good or bad heart. At first, I saw the good in everyone, but since Feli, that’s changed.

"Do you think everyone has a good side?" I asked thoughtfully.

"I think everyone has both good and bad sides. It’s just that one tends to come out more than the other at certain times."

"Yeah, okay. But do you think someone can become good again after being bad? Like Korbin, for example."

She seemed to think for a moment, dipping her toast in her coffee before taking a bite. She took her time chewing and swallowing before replying.

"Well... It’s hard to say with that example. Korbin grew up in a tough environment. The people you saw in Wiegman’s office last time weren’t her real parents, but her foster family. Some people don’t have a choice about who they become. Even though she was taken out of her old neighborhood, I can guarantee that once she feels ready, she’ll go back there."

"You think so?" I asked, surprised. « Why? »

- Because that's what her parents decided. In neighborhoods like that, families have reputations to uphold. If she doesn't go back, she'll be shunned for the rest of her life and disowned by her family.

- That's really not cool, I grimaced.

- That's life... Not everyone has a choice, she replied with a shrug.

- Is that what she told you?

- Yeah. You weren't my only student, you know.

- Really? I thought I was the only one, I admitted.

- No, she shook her head. You weren't the only one, but you were definitely the most important. Wiegman wanted me to focus on you. To do that, she let some go early and reassigned others to Ingrid.

- Oh... What about Korbin?

- Wiegman let her go early. The more I think about it, I believe she took it out on you to get back at me. She must have felt betrayed and abandoned since I was the first person she ever opened up to.

All the hatred I had for her almost turns into pity now. Even though her actions are unforgivable, I can understand them. I would have reacted the same way if I were in her shoes. What I don’t understand is why Lucy was so adamant about her leaving Camp Wiegman, even though she knew about her issues.

- Why did you insist on having her leave Camp Wiegman if you thought she still needed help?

- As I just told you, some people don’t have a choice and decide they don’t want to be saved. That was Korbin’s case. Unlike you, she didn’t want to be saved because she already knew her future. I can guarantee she’ll be on the wrong side her whole life, and keeping her at school would have put you in danger.

- Y-you wanted her gone to protect me?

- Of course, she replied as if it was obvious. You specifically, but also all the other students. Her group of friends will have you in their sights for a while since you got their leader expelled. But don’t worry. You don’t have anything to fear. You’ll be watched, just like them.

- What do you mean, watched? I asked, frowning.

- The entire teaching staff and the instructors are aware. They won’t let anything happen, trust me, they know.

- OK... I murmured. Why are they even here if they’re so dangerous?

- Everyone deserves a chance, right? she smiled. Some of them won’t follow Korbin’s path. Take Athenea, for example. Ingrid was in charge of her, and she plans to continue her studies after school.

- Really? I was surprised. She doesn’t seem very smart... I said without thinking.

Lucy laughed and shook her head.

- Believe me, she’s smarter than she seems. She wasn’t just the little girl following Korbin around. If she let people think that, it was to get Korbin’s protection within their group. I wonder how things will go for her now that Korbin is gone.

- People are really crazy, I sighed.

- Oh yes, she giggled. More than you think. Well, I’m going to take a shower. Can you clean up in the meantime?

- Yeah, but I need to shower too, so hurry up.

- Then go first. You take longer than I do.

- Hey!

- What? It’s the truth, she teased as she headed to the kitchen.

I stuck out my tongue at her while bringing my cup and some topping jars like Nutella and jam to the kitchen.

- That’s mean, I commented.

- Oh, please. It’s not the worst thing I’ve said to you, she laughed.

I was about to pretend to sulk, but she pulled me back and held me firmly against her. Her lips quickly found their way to my neck, which I instinctively tucked in.

- Sorry. I take it back, she said with a hint of amusement.

- You’re only saying that so I’ll stop sulking.

- Is it working?

- You wish, you fool.

She laughed, turning me around so we could face each other. She kissed me so intensely that I stepped back until I felt the countertop against my lower back. I was about to go in for another kiss when we barely separated to breathe, but she gently pulled away.

- Shower, she reminded me with one word.

I groaned in frustration, knowing she was right. We can easily get lost in the moment, and now is not the time given our schedule. Still, I gave her one last kiss before heading to the bathroom. I can’t wait to hug my little brother.

Wednesday, February 24; 10:30 AM - Manchester Airport

My foot bounces in rhythm with the seconds as I watch the display board counting down the minutes until the plane lands. The wait is so stressful for me, and apparently for Lucy too, who finally places her hand on my knee.

- Stop that, she grumbled.

- It’s taking forever!

- Fidgeting won’t make the wait any shorter. It’ll just annoy me.

She raised an eyebrow in a threatening way. I bit my lip and stopped moving my foot. I don’t like it when she looks at me like that, even if I deserve it. She let out a sigh of relief and turned her attention back to her phone. I looked back at the display board to see how much time had passed. Fifteen minutes. I’m definitely going to die before it reaches zero. My excitement is at its peak. I’ve missed Joan so much. I hope his flight went well since he was traveling alone. A flight attendant was supposed to accompany him from the beginning to the end of the boarding process, so everything should have gone smoothly. However, I’m not sure if it’s Shay.

- The girls are asking if we want to have dinner together tonight, Lucy announced, snapping me out of my daydream. Is that okay with you?

- Yeah, of course. Joan will be happy to see them again. We could also invite Alexia and Jenni. I know Ale has always wanted to meet him, so this would be a good opportunity. But I’d avoid inviting the other girls. They might scare him, I giggled.

- Okay. I’ll suggest they come to our place then. It’ll be more relaxed.

- Do you have enough to cook?

- If not, we’ll go grocery shopping or order pizzas. I don’t have to ask if Joan likes them, do I?

- He loves them, I said with a smile. But we already had some this weekend.

- That’s true... We could order Chinese instead?

- Owh. I’m not sure he’d like that. Oh, what if we made crepes? That’s a good idea, right?

- We could, but I thought you wanted to take Joan around the city? We won’t have time to do both.

- That’s true... But it’s not like he’s going to be interested in the city’s architecture at his age. A cooking session would be more fun for him, I think.

- Okay, we’ll go shopping then. Crepes it is?

- Yep. We’ll save your pizzas for next time.

- Alright, she teased softly. We’ll do that next time. I know how much you love them.

I smiled and nodded as she ran her hand through my hair, gently stroking it.

- A lot. If it were up to me, we’d have them again tonight, I confessed.

- You know, you can have them whenever you want now.

- I know, I sighed. That’s why I’m not pushing it. It wouldn’t be reasonable.

- Since when are you reasonable?

- Hey! I protested.

- What? she smiled mischievously. Want to know something? I’ve always loved your innocence.

- Really? I’ve never claimed to be an adult.

- Oh, I know that. Well, your innocence is part of why I love you.

The spontaneity of her words always gets to me. Plus, she continued to stroke my hair as if nothing had happened. Eventually, she stopped and kissed the corner of my mouth before getting up.

- Now that I’ve kept your mind occupied, it’s time to welcome your brother, right?

I looked up at the screen to see, to my surprise, that there were only two minutes left. I quickly stood up. My girlfriend pulled me close, wrapping her arm around my shoulders, and kissed my temple. Instinctively, I wrapped my arm around her lower back.

- Does that amuse you? I murmured into her neck when I heard her chuckle.

- A little. You’re very impatient, but so easy to distract.

- You knew the whole time, didn’t you? About tonight?

- Since we left the house. I said yes and already invited Jenni and Alexia.

Since my head was still nestled in her neck, I smiled freely. I can’t tell if I appreciate or dislike that she always knows what I want in advance. Since it wasn’t the time to debate it, I simply lifted my head from her neck.

- And you’re way too organized and decisive.

- Decisive, really? she laughed. I always gave you a choice.

- At school, you would always let me choose between two options, knowing full well which one I would pick.

"Well, it's true that I didn't give you much choice back there," she chuckles. "But it was for your own good."

I would have replied, but my attention is drawn to the people disembarking from the flight we've been waiting for. I step away from Lucy and move as close as possible to the others. Lucy quickly follows, keeping her hand on my back. I'm scanning for Joan, but I don't see anyone yet. I start to feel impatient as I realize we're nearing the end. Finally, I spot him holding the hand of a flight attendant. I smile, recognizing Shay. The message seems to have been passed along, which eases my mind. At least I know he was well taken care of and likely had a good flight. Shay looks surprised when my brother points me out to her, and he tries to break free to run to us, but Shay keeps hold of him. She only lets go when they're about a meter away, allowing my brother to run toward me. I kneel down to catch him and lift him into my arms, letting him hug me tightly.

"Ona!"

"Hey, sweetheart. Did you have a good flight?"

"Yeah, but it was long!"

"Oh, I bet it was," I chuckle. "Hey," I say, addressing Shay as she approaches, "were you the one looking after him?"

"Yes, I was asked to specifically, but now that I see you, I understand why."

I smile softly, glancing at Lucy, who has been quietly standing behind me this whole time, tracing patterns on my back with her fingers. I remember she talked to my mom about this just yesterday, ensuring Joan would have someone for the flight. For some reason, my mom insisted on having Lucy's contact information. Given what happened last time she found me, I guess it makes sense. Now she wants to be informed if anything unusual happens. I think it was just an excuse, but Lucy didn't mind, so I didn't argue. It’s strange knowing they’re in touch, but at least I know Lucy gets along well with my family. She’s even won over my brother, who is now asking to be held by my girlfriend. Lucy doesn’t hesitate to pick him up. The sight of them together warms my heart.

"Thank you," I say sincerely to Shay. "So, everything went well?"

"Yes, yes. He got very impatient toward the end, but overall, it went smoothly. Is he family?"

"He's my little brother," I reply. "Thanks for taking care of him."

"No problem, it’s my job. He was adorable. When’s his return flight?"

"Saturday at two o’clock."

"I’ll be on that flight too, so I can make sure he’s okay."

"My best friend will be with him, but it’s great to know. Thanks."

"It’s no trouble. Well, have a great weekend."

"Thanks, you too."

I turn back to the two most precious people in my life as Shay leaves. Joan is now on the ground, firmly holding my girlfriend’s hand.

"Are we going, Ona?" he asks, reaching out her other hand to me.

"Let’s go," I confirm. "We’ll just grab your suitcase first, and then we can finally enjoy ourselves."

With a big smile and a full heart, the three of us walk through the airport. I’m so happy to have Joan with us. These three days with them are going to be amazing. My mom couldn’t have given me a better gift.

Wednesday, February 24; 11:30 AM - Supermarket

"Is this good, Ona?" he asks, showing me a pack of gruyère cheese.

"Yep. You can put it in here," I say, handing him the basket. "Okay, let’s go find Lucy now."

After our little battle earlier over crepes, here we are doing the grocery shopping. When my brother heard the word, it was nearly impossible to get it out of his head. According to him, it’s been ages since he last had them, which was funny to hear. Knowing my mom, that’s probably almost true. When I was still living at home, we barely ever had them. To speed things up, we split up to find the ingredients.

"Are your new friends nice?" Joan asks, taking my hand again.

"They are, sweetie. You don’t need to worry," I reassure him. "And Mapi will be there too."

"Really?" he says excitedly. "She’s here too?"

"Yes," I giggle. "And Ingrid will be there. Do you remember her?"

"Mapi’s girlfriend?"

"Yes," I confirm with a smile. "She was nice, wasn’t she?"

"Mm-hmm."

We told him the news for tonight. He was a little nervous at first, but he wasn’t opposed to the idea. As we leave our aisle, I freeze for a moment when I see someone in front of us.

"Damn it," I mutter.

"You said a bad word, Ona."

"Yeah, I know, and that’s not good. Come on, hurry," I say, pulling her along.

"Why?"

I don’t answer and rush into the next aisle to find Lucy. I’m relieved to still see her here, choosing the last of the savory items.

"Lucy!"

"Hmm?" she responds indifferently.

"We need to leave!"

"Why?"

"I ran into Leah."

"What?" she frowns. "She lives in the center. What would she be doing here?"

"I swear, she was—"

"Ona?"

Both Lucy and I freeze. I was sure I saw her correctly, but the voice isn’t Leah’s. I look past Lucy to see Alessia at the other end of the aisle. I couldn’t say which of the two is worse to run into.

"Hey," I say with a forced smile.

"What are you doing here?" she asks, starting to walk toward us. "I thought you were in Barcelona."

Lucy points behind her, and I quickly understand she wants to take advantage of Alessia’s back being turned to slip away. I step aside to let her pass and move toward Alessia, but she groans, making me turn around to see Leah this time. We’re completely trapped, and to make matters worse, Joan tugs at my arm to get my attention.

"Who is that, Ona?" he whispers, pressing himself against me.

"Ona? B-Bronze?" Leah says in surprise. "What are you two doing here together?"

Her voice rises with a hint of anger, making me sigh. Joan starts to get scared of the newcomers and clings even more tightly to me. He asks to be picked up, so I do. Now, we’re face-to-face with both Leah and Alessia, who are staring at us. Alessia is the first to grasp what’s happening, breaking into a huge grin.

"No way! You and Bronze!? Was it her all this time?"

I groan as Lucy gives me a hard look.

"Don’t look at me like that. I never said anything about you."

"Really?" she arches an eyebrow. "That’s not what it seems like!"

"I figured it out on my own that there was someone in her life. She never confirmed it or gave me a name," Alessia defends me.

It’s Lucy’s turn to sigh. I hope she’s not too upset with me, even though I didn’t do anything wrong.

"Sorry," Alessia apologizes. "I just didn’t expect us to get found out here."

"Well, you’re crazy for hanging out together like this!" Leah scolds us. "There are plenty of students from Manchester, including us! Imagine if you ran into someone else!"

"Excuse me, Leah, but this is the first time I’ve ever seen students in my neighborhood," Lucy retorts, full of bitterness. "I should be the one asking what you’re doing here. You live downtown, and we’re in a small convenience store. The odds should have been very slim."

I chuckle at Lucy’s visible annoyance. I knew she wasn’t a fan of surprises, but this must be the last straw for her. My reaction doesn’t seem to please her, judging by the stern look she gives me. Even Joan is scared and clings to me more tightly. I understand him completely; I know how it feels to get on Lucy’s bad side.

"Relax," Alessia responds. "It’s not like we have anything against Ona or that we’re going to snitch on you. We were just surprised, right, Leah?"

"Hmm," she grumbles. "Dating is still risky," she insists.

Her comment earns her an elbow from her sister, as they’ve since switched places. It was unexpected to see them, but on the other hand, I feel relieved not to have to hide such a big secret from them anymore. I’ve gotten close to them since we’re in the same class, so it’s been pretty annoying to keep it from them. Especially since Alessia already had suspicions. I take this opportunity to ask her directly.

"You suspected it, didn’t you?"

"Yes," she admits with a small smile. "I didn’t want to push because every time we talked about it, you’d get angry."

Poor thing, I can’t even deny it. Alessia is very persistent, and it’s hard for me to handle since everyone else gives me the space I need. I remember she hesitated to bring up the topic during our last week of classes. It was probably to talk about Lucy. She was right not to ask me anything. I would have immediately shut down. Lucy sighs again, which prompts me to move closer and kiss her cheek.

"It’s okay, it’s fine."

"That makes three people, Ona," she says discontentedly.

"They’re my friends. Yours know too. I don’t see the problem."

"Mine aren’t at school. That’s the difference. And Leah’s right. I’m starting to think anyone could see us together if they can."

I wince as she abruptly pulls away. Without giving me time to respond, she takes the basket I was still holding and drops the ham inside.

"I’ll finish the shopping. Don’t take too long to join me."

No one dares argue with her as she walks away, clearly in a foul mood. I sigh, running my hand through my hair. This afternoon is likely to be tense now.

"Why is Lucy mad?" my little brother asks.

"Lucy?" Alessia repeats. "Oh... Bronze, I get it."

"Yeah... Another thing to keep to yourself. And don’t worry, Jo. It’ll be okay. »

- "She looks really scary like that," he whispered.

- "You haven't seen anything yet," Leah commented.

- "Stop it. Don’t scare him," I replied, frowning.

- "Is he your little brother?" Alessia asked.

- "Yes, this is Joan. He just arrived today, and he's going to spend a few days with us. Joan, this is Alessia and Leah. They're friends of mine from school."

His head, which was mostly buried in my neck, emerged to curiously look at them before he gave a shy smile when Alessia waved at him.

- "Will they be here tonight too?"

- "Uh... No, sorry," I giggled. "Maybe another time."

I adjusted her on my hip as I felt her starting to slip. Even though he's only six, he's slowly getting heavier.

- "Will everything be okay with Bronze?" Alessia grimaced. "We didn't mean to cause any trouble."

- "It’s fine, I’m starting to handle it," I reassured her with a small smile. "I'll let her cool off, and we’ll talk."

- "Sorry for getting carried away, but what I said was true," Leah continued.

- "I know. I think that's why she's upset, so don't take it personally. It’s just that you've brought up a major issue that didn’t exist before. We’ve been going out for a while, but we’ve never really paid attention to our surroundings."

- "For a while... you two?"

- "No, just a few weeks," I admitted honestly.

I could have gone into more detail, but I held back. After all, it’s a story that only concerns us. People don’t need to know that we went through ups and downs before getting together.

- "I thought it had been longer," Leah responded. "It seemed like you two had been circling around each other for a while."

- "It was a bit complicated for both of us at first," I stayed vague. "The most important thing is that we're together now."

- "And so you see each other outside of school?" Leah asked. "You’re both crazy. What if she dumps you because she's afraid of risking her career? We’ll have to pick up the pieces."

- "That’s not going to happen," I rolled my eyes. "We’re a solid couple."

- "Alexia’s girlfriend got fired. It could easily happen to Lucy."

- "And they’re still together. Anyway, I assure you, Lucy won’t dump me for that. But if you want her to be nice to you, I suggest you stop getting on her nerves. Especially since if we stay together, you'll have to deal with her in private, and it would bother me if you two didn’t get along."

- "Oh my God," Leah muttered as if imagining the scene. "Is she as annoying as she is at school?"

- "Of course not," I giggled. "She’s adorable with me."

- "I find it hard to picture her in 'adorable' mode," she repeated, mimicking quotation marks.

- "She certainly won’t be with you," I teased.

- "Hey, wait. If your brother is here, does that mean your parents know?"

- "My mom knows, yes. She found out when she came to see me after the fight with Korbin. She took it well and loved Lucy."

- "Wow. And she didn’t say anything?"

- "No. She was actually happy. Since my ex, I hadn’t opened up to anyone, and no one thought I’d get into another relationship so soon. She even invited Lucy to come with me to Barcelona three weeks ago."

- "Really?"

- "Yeah, they were on a weekend trip, so she told Lucy she could come along when she found out about us."

- "And what did you do during those holidays?" Leah asked. "I guess you didn’t go home."

- "No, we didn’t. We went to the Alps with her friends last week and then came back here. Alexia and Mapi are here too; they were with us."

- "Really?" she asked, raising an eyebrow. "Even Mapi?"

- "Uh... yeah," I giggled. "She’s dating Ingrid, or rather Engen. So she’s at her place. We’ll see them tonight... hence the shopping."

- "Oh my God," she muttered. "This is all way too complicated. You really have a knack for getting into crazy situations."

- "Oh, please, it’s nothing bad. Anyway, the school year is almost over."

- "Ona," Lucy called out sharply. "Let’s go."

I turned around to see her waiting for us with a full basket. It seemed like my chatting had given her time to get everything done by herself. I looked up to see her expression just as stern as when she left. It didn’t seem like she had much time to calm down.

- "Well, see you soon then."

- "Yeah," Alessia smiled. "Good luck, and see you in a few days."

I thanked them and said goodbye before joining Lucy. Surprisingly, she offered me her hand when I reached her. I took it and let her lead me to the checkout. Despite her gesture, I could still feel her tension. Once again, I kissed her cheek.

- "They won't say anything, I promise."

- "I know. That’s not what bothers me, but the way they found out. Leah is right in what she said. Besides, I would have preferred to wait until the end of the year for your school friends to find out. I don’t want them to see me as anything other than your superior. They’ll think I’m showing favoritism, and we both know that’s not the case."

- "Everyone knows I have a special relationship with you. They won’t think that."

- "Yes, they will. They already do now. How many times have they teased you or made comments about me, huh?"

I blushed slightly, shrugging. Far too many times to count, really. As I just said, they know we have a special relationship. It’s no secret given how she acts differently with me than with other students. So, I often get gently teased about her. When we got to the conveyor belt, I put Joan down, and he was the first to start placing our items on the belt. Poor little thing. I had completely neglected him since our encounter with my friends.

- "Anyway, it’s done now," Lucy concluded.

- "Please don’t be in a bad mood. Not after these past few weeks, and I don’t want Joan to be scared of you. If you need to blow off steam, do it only in front of me."

She gave me a soft smile and surprised me by leaning in to kiss me.

- "That wasn’t my intention... I’m sorry for being so moody, but you can’t really blame me. You know as well as I do that we need to be more careful now."

- "Yes, you’re right. There's no such thing as zero risk, so I’m not going to argue about it, Lucy. If you decide we shouldn’t go out anymore, I’ll accept it."

- "No, I was just joking," I laughed. "I wouldn’t go that far. Besides, apart from coming here or to The United, we haven’t really gone out in Manchester."

- "We’ve visited your secret spots, the park, and even some galleries."

- "Don’t twist my words," she said, rolling her eyes. "If we take the park out of the equation, those aren’t places where we’re likely to run into students."

- "True," I giggled. "Thanks, though. I really expected you to stop us from going out."

- "Of course not," she smiled, gently pulling me into her arms. "Anyway, there are only a few months left. If I get fired, it won’t be dramatic since I plan on leaving next year anyway."

- "But that would bother me..." I admitted.

- "We’ll make sure that doesn’t happen, I promise. But just know that if it does, it won’t be the end of the world. I’ll leave without causing any fuss, and it won’t change our relationship."

I smiled against her lips as she kissed me firmly. This was exactly what I told Leah earlier. Lucy won’t leave me. We laughed softly as we pulled away when I heard Joan make a sound of disgust.

- "That’s really gross."

- "Hey, watch your language," I gently reprimanded him.

He shrugged like a cheeky little boy before turning his back on us and moving toward the cashier when it was our turn. I was stunned. He had never behaved like this with me before. I was starting to think that what Sam or Sofia told me when I left wasn’t exaggerated. Lucy snapped me out of my stupor with a soft giggle.

- "Are you still sure you want kids later?" she teased.

I groaned in displeasure, making her laugh even more. The surprise was such that I didn’t even know how to react. Finally, I moved forward to help pack our groceries. I listened to Lucy continue talking about tonight, but I looked up when I felt someone watching us. I realized it was true when I caught Alessia’s eyes observing us from afar. I gave her a gentle smile before my attention was drawn back to Lucy, who waved a hand in front of my eyes.

- "Are you listening to me?"

- "No, sorry. What were you saying?"

She raised an eyebrow, clearly not expecting that answer.

- "What’s got you so distracted?"

Before she could even look up to see Alessia, Joan chimed in with an answer.

- "It’s her friend from earlier. She’s been watching us since before."

Lucy narrowed her eyes slightly before looking at me as if expecting confirmation. I shrugged indifferently, not finding the information particularly important. She then turned to my brother.

- "Really? And how was she looking at us?"

- "Luce-"

I stopped when I saw her raised hand, signaling me to be quiet. I placed our last item in the basket just as Lucy pulled out her credit card. I felt a bit guilty letting her pay for everything, but she insisted.

- "She was looking at Ona a lot. Kind of like Emma at my school. My friends say she wants to be my girlfriend but is too scared to talk to me."

I didn’t know what to think or what to worry about more after hearing that revealing statement. Joan is only in first grade, so it’s strange that he’s already talking about girlfriends, even if it’s harmless at that age. Lucy, however, seemed to have made her choice on the most important subject to discuss.

- "Is she still interested in you?" she surprised me by asking.

- "We’re friends," I replied. "I’ve always made it clear I’m not interested."

- "That wasn’t my question, Ona."

I sighed, shrugging as she put away her credit card after paying. As I’ve said many times, I’m not the best at reading people.

- "I don’t know," I admitted. "But if she still had hope, I think she just lost it."

She nodded, taking my free hand. The other was busy holding our packed shopping basket. Before we headed toward the exit, she pressed her lips firmly against mine, prolonging the kiss as if to make sure we were seen. That was definitely her intention.

- "I hope so. Because I’m not sharing you. You’re mine."

I blushed, discovering this new side of her that I hadn’t known before. With Feli, I hated her possessiveness, but it’s a different story with Lucy. I felt warm and reassured at the same time.

- "Why do you think I was never interested in her?" I retorted. "If I hadn’t met you first, I might have given her a chance."

My honesty caught her attention immediately. I’d be lying if I said Alessia isn’t my type. Besides her persistence, we have a lot in common. Lucy was about to respond, but I quickly cut her off before she got the wrong idea.

- "You already had too much of a hold on my mind for me to look elsewhere, darling. No matter what I might have done before meeting you, know that no one can compare to you now. You’re the only one I need and want."

I could say so many wonderful things about her to make her understand that since we met, nothing has been the same for me. She managed to fix me and bring back a missing part of my life. If she were to leave, it would be like losing a part of my soul. I realized that when we were apart.

- "I’m sorry. It’s just that I’m afraid you’ll find someone better than me."

- "That’s not going to happen."

The thoughtful expression she had disappeared, finally replaced by a wonderful little smile. She gently pulled me close and kissed my temple.

- "I know, I’m sorry. I love you, my love."

I closed my eyes for a few seconds, smiling in return. I didn’t know what she had been thinking, but it seemed I had managed to change her mind. As for me, I really couldn’t have dreamed of a better new life. If only she knew how much I care about her. She is my everything.

[perfectlyoongi]

BEST-FRIEND!JIN who has matching socks with you. Jin liked socks; and if the socks were colorful or had interesting patterns, Jin loved socks. so, as proof of his love for you, Jin would buy matching socks for you and him, innovating in colors and patterns, making it his personal mission to find the most extravagant socks. “guess what! today i found some socks with cows on them! and they are spotted like cows! of course i had to buy it for us. we need these socks.”

BEST-FRIEND!JIN who watched every episode of totally spies with you more than three times. Jin still remembered coming to your house at the end of high school classes and watching two episodes of totally spies before diving into his studies. in a way, that series brought back to Jin memories of the comfort of your couch and your laughter; as such, you and Jin constantly got lost in the series’ episodes, rewatching your favorite episodes more than six times, the remaining episodes being replayed two, three times. “today everything went wrong. i’m so tired... do you mind coming over to the house so we can watch totally spies together? i really need you and this comfort.”

BEST-FRIEND!JIN who always brings you a dandelion when he finds it just so you can make a wish. when the petals had turned to hope, Jin was quick to pluck the dandelion and carry it carefully to you. the elders said that each hope of the dandelion brought with it the power to make a person’s most complicated dreams come true. as such, the first thought that popped into Jin’s mind when he saw a dandelion was how you deserved your dreams to come true. so, with a proud smile and shining eyes, Jin held out the dandelion in front of you and asked you to close your eyes, blow and make a wish. “look, look, look! a dandelion! quick. make a wish. i’m sure the stars will hear you today and bring you the happiness you deserve!”

BEST-FRIEND!JIN who has a polaroid of you on his phone case. the photograph was old and a little out of focus. against a dark background that you couldn’t recognize, Jin took the photo at the right moment when you were going to start laughing. in a fluke of the universe, Jin had found the perfect photograph. you were simply beautiful. it was your natural beauty that shined through in that old photo, the memories of that dinner in the park making Jin smile every time he picked up his phone. you were beautiful and Jin loved you — he would never part with that photo. “until i take a perfect photo of you again, this one won’t leave here. i like you too much to keep you away from me.”

BEST-FRIEND!JIN who sends you a photo of pingu on all your birthdays. you didn’t know why, Jin didn’t know why, but every year, on your birthday, accompanying the heartfelt message that Jin wrote to you, there was always an image of pingu. it was a small tradition that had come about somehow and it seemed strange if Jin didn’t send it to you. so, every year, in contrast to all of Jin’s kind words, you always received a pingu who was too involved in his adventures to notice you. “happy birthday, my little pingu penguin. first of all, i want you to know that my life is only bright because you are in it. if you knew…”

BEST-FRIEND!JIN who plays tic-tac-toe with you in the fogged-up window of the bus. on the coldest winter nights, when you and Jin would snuggle in the comfort of the bus, Jin would always start a game of tic-tac-toe in the window. never winning you, but not losing to you that often, Jin made that bus trip something interesting, even if only mere minutes had passed. “it’s today that i’m going to beat you and that’s a promise. if i win, you’ll have to cook for me today. those are the rules.”

BEST-FRIEND!JIN who says that the answer to the question ‘what is love?’ is you. ever since he met you it was love. sometimes disguised as curiosity, sometimes bordering the line of friendship, what Jin felt for you was always love. so it was only logical for him to answer that age-old question with your name. so many years spent by your side, knowing all your facets and secrets, Jin didn’t see any imperfection in you that wasn’t worthy of being loved. for years, you were the answer to all of Jin’s questions and it was only now that he was able to confess to you. “whenever people ask me what is the meaning of love, my mind always runs to you. to our memories, to your person, to you. and i think it’s not a simple love of friendship that exists in me. i’m sure i love you.”

[talesofesther]

birthday girl

Wednesday Addams x Reader

This story belongs to the Sweet Calamity universe

Summary: Wednesday tries to make something special for your birthday.

A/N: A sweet little thing for my favorite universe. And also as a birthday gift for my dear friend @eviekensington. <3

Masterlist 

It was a day like any other; the sun was peeking through the clouds, your colleagues had sour faces in the morning, your girlfriend's hand was warm in yours.

Just a normal Thursday.

Or at least you hoped it would be.

You were walking out of your last class with Wednesday, talking with her about the upcoming test. Well, you were talking, she was listening and humming along.

The day went by as normal, the sun just a few hours short of setting, and no one had acknowledged it was your birthday yet.

Just how you liked it.

Honestly, it's not that you don't like when people remember your birthday, you do — it shows they care. Yet the sometimes overwhelming attention that comes with it is not exactly something you love.

One person wishes you a happy birthday and suddenly there are people you don't even know pulling you into a hug to do the same. It feels like the spotlight is on you for the whole day. That, you don't like.

To avoid things like that, you preferred to keep it a secret. Though this year there's something different; you had your soulmate with you. A soulmate who's very good at uncovering secrets.

"I happened to forget my hunting knife at the ballroom," Wednesday suddenly interrupted your rambling, "would you accompany me to get it?"

"Uh-" you didn't know what she was doing with a hunting knife at the school's ballroom in the first place, but there was no reason for saying no to spending more time alone with her, "yeah, of course."

Wednesday gave you a barely there smile and squeezed your hand before pulling you along.

Maybe you should have expected it, what with the way she was being all secretive today, dodging your attempts at making plans for later and sending texts to someone whilst in class — you barely saw Wednesday touch her cellphone on a normal day; that should've been reason enough for you to guess something was off.

You pushed open the ballroom doors and were immediately greeted with chantings of happy birthday. Enid, Ajax, Bianca, Yoko, Divina, Xavier, Eugene, and many others of your friends occupied a small portion of the big ballroom; there was a table with a cake and drinks on top of it and a haphazard cut-out birthday sign taped to the wall along with a few balloons.

Placing a hand over your racing heart, you looked at Wednesday beside you, she had a glint of pride in her eyes.

"You weren't assuming I was unaware, right?" She smirked, then motioned for you to walk further into the ballroom, "you can thank Enid for the party."

You didn't have much time to answer before Enid was pulling you into a bone-crushing hug; "happy birthday, Y/n." She pulled back, half-heartedly glaring at you, "I can't believe you weren't going to tell me it's your birthday."

"Well, I-" you started with a timid chuckle.

"No matter," the werewolf kept going, a bright smile on her lips that you couldn't help but copy, it did feel nice to have people who cared. "Wednesday found out just in time."

Enid was also the first to give you a present after all of your friends hugged you; it was a large pink box that had a knitted sweater inside it, the fabric unbelievably soft, in shades of purple and lilac — it was bound to become your favorite.

For what felt like hours you ate, drank, received gifts, and celebrated with your friends. It was nice — until the attention became overwhelming, until you were craving some fresh air.

Luckily, you had someone who apparently could read you like an open book.

You were putting away your empty cup when you felt nimble fingers touching your elbow. Her presence so familiar to you that you didn't even need to turn to see who it was — your soul knew the shape of hers already — but you did anyway, pursing your lips in a smile.

"Are you not enjoying your festivities, mi flor?" Wednesday spoke with a softness reserved for you only.

"I am, really I am," you reassured a little too urgently, biting your lip when all you got from her in response was a raised eyebrow telling you to be honest. "It's just- I don't like much attention on me as is, and here, I feel like all eyes are on me."

Wednesday hummed, her brows scrunched in thought, "Enid said to me that's what you'd like when I told her I wanted to do something for today. I apologize."

You could swoon. You wanted to kiss away the little pout on Wednesday's lips — so you did, you cupped her face with one hand and gave a peck to her lips; "don't apologize, I loved it. Just the fact that you thought of doing something already means everything to me."

The dimmed lights of the ballroom almost hid the blush on her pale cheeks. Almost. Her fingers trailed down your arm, creating goosebumps on your skin until her hand found yours, "come with me."

"What about them?" You glanced at your friends. They were laughing with each other and stuffing themselves with cake.

"They won't mind."

With her hand in yours, Wednesday took you all the way to the lake just outside the school walls, its water was glistening with the fading sunlight and the few leaves on the trees were rustling with the cold wind. It was gorgeous, straight out of a painting.

She sat down with you on the wooden deck, both your feet just short of touching the water.

"This better?" Wednesday asked, her eyes expectant on you.

"Yeah," you intertwined your fingers with hers and brought her hand up to kiss her knuckles, "it's the best."

Wednesday knew you loved all things nature, she reprimanded herself for this not being her first option. Though you genuinely looked happy, with a soft smile permanent on your lips and the golden sunset reflecting in your eyes.

You watched in blissful silence as the sun slowly disappeared behind the mountains, your thumb gently tracing the skin on your girlfriend's hand.

"Thank you, this really is the best birthday," you said quietly so as to not disturb the atmosphere around you.

You felt Wednesday's eyes on you, "because you're here," you told her. Despite being true, your own words made you smirk as you waited for the reaction you knew they'd cause.

"That's nauseating," Wednesday grumbled, tugging at your hand so it would rest on her lap.

"You love it," you bumped her shoulder with yours, stretching your feet to kick the water underneath you.

Wednesday held back a smile. She did love it.

⋆* ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

Thank you for reading this little story. Feedback and reblogs are literally what keep me motivated to continue posting here, so I'd appreciate it if you could take some time to reblog and comment if you want. <3

Wednesday’s taglist: @milkiane @bookfrog242 @heelaechan @imagine-reblog @sakurarukas @bluetreecloud20 @the-night-owl-blr @imlike-so-gaydude @user284747 @dreifhraniquo29 @emeraldevan @simp4nat @boobabietch @impossibleliv1031 @deadpool-in-a-snood @rainbow-love4ever @maria-403 @pompompuri @halleest @wandaromanova @marveloussimp @rainbow-hedgehog @left-and-right-up-and-down @get-the-fuck-outta-here @awolfcsworld @elduster @alexkolax @georgi-salva @imdumbhi @youralphawolf72 @reginassweetheart @justyourwritter69 @yangsroboarmm @8e-h-e8 @irish-piece-of-trash @femalehomosexual666 @wol-fica @wednesdays-woes @vorsdany

[targaryenrealnessdarling]

It's Who We Have | Part Nine

Summary: It's time for Billy to try and make amends with their friend group, whilst also anticipating the fallout of the incident | Word Count: 6.5k~ | Warnings: connotations of racism, mentions of terrorism, smut, p in v, quickie, mentions of funerals

General Taglist | Billy Washington Masterlist | Series Masterlist

The smell of varnished wood made her nose wrinkle. It made her think of the school’s assembly hall, the one in primary school, scratched to shit, and when the sun shone in on it during the day, it had a mustier quality to it than usual. She still remembers the dust in the air, drifting in front of her face like tiny fairies. It reminded her of those spring days at Cranstead Fields, when the flowers were pollinating, and the yellow haze that clung around her. 

The only time she’s ever liked that smell, was at the Year 6 disco, when she looked out at the others, dancing to ‘Uptown Girl’, with Panda Pop and Wotsit-stained fingers, faces bright with laughter. She felt her chest tight with nerves, only eased somewhat by the squeeze of Billy’s hand beside her. She had to look up at him now, he’d shot up since she first met him. But his soul remained the same.

“Miss?”

Her head shot up, shaking her head slightly of her trance, brought back to the musty smell of the courtroom, her eyes flitting about, the odd familiar face in a sea of unrecognisable ones. Billy to one side on the bench where the witnesses would be, his gorgeous blue eyes wide with worry, but not for him, craning his neck forward at her in concern.

She looked back at the lawyer, her cheeks warm with embarrassment, “I’m sorry…could you repeat the question, please?”

She clutched her dress in her fist, luckily hidden behind the witness box, but the judge might have been able to see.

“Could you describe your relationship with the other witness, Mr Washington?"

She found her mouth was so dry, as if made of cotton for a moment, a hoarse, nervous voice escaped her, feeling the eyes of everyone in the courtroom zero’d in on her alone. 

“Billy and I have known each other since we were kids. We grew up in the same neighbourhood, went to the same schools. We've always been close.” she answered, reaching for the glass of water to take an anxious sip. 

Friends. It felt strange saying that now, in the mere weeks after what they’d done in Billy’s flat on that rainy evening in July. If she’d have looked closely, she would see the faint dusting of pink on Billy’s cheeks as he bowed his head. 

She continued, “When I went off to university, we lost touch for several years. It was only when I returned to London that we reconnected. As for now," she concluded, her voice softening, "I consider Billy one of my closest friends. Someone I trust with my life."

The man before her nodded, his face stern. Unwavering.

"Had Mr Washington ever expressed any extreme or radical views in your presence?"

She glanced out, locking eyes with Lana across the room. As usual her expression was unreadable. And then when her eyes slid back to Billy, he looked somewhat tired, nervous that she would tell the truth, anxious it would sway the Jury's decision on Karl. But all the same, he smiled at her reassuringly, a tiny one, and nodded. It’s okay.

Inhaling deeply, she acquiesced with a firm nod, her voice resolute yet tinged with empathy. "Yes, but only once," she divulged, sensing the courtroom's collective intake of breath. "It happened after the incident with the halal butcher's window. I confronted him about his actions, and he later confessed to me that he had no real understanding of why he'd done it. I didn’t believe he was capable of genuine hatred towards anyone purely based on race, especially as he’d never had these opinions before."

A ripple of murmurs cascaded through the room, accompanied by the rhythmic scratch of pens against paper. Under the weight of the moment, she felt Billy's gaze fixed upon her, a silent plea etched in his eyes, silently beseeching her to be his beacon of hope amid the storm of uncertainty.

"Were you aware of any plans or discussions about a bomb or an attack?"

A flash of confusion passed her face before she replied, “I wasn't.”

"Can you describe in detail how Mr Washington reacted at the exact moment the bomb was found? What were his first words or actions?"

The inquiry hung in the air, weighty and demanding. She hesitated for a brief moment, gathering her thoughts, before beginning her response.

"At the exact moment the bomb was found," she began, her voice steady but tinged with emotion, "he appeared...shocked, bewildered even. His first words were, naturally, expletives, and then he attempted to get out of the car, before I stopped him."

“And why did you stop him?”

Irritation clawed at her, at the way she was being scrutinised for protecting him, “it was Lana, his sister and a member of the bomb squad, who alerted us to the presence of the bomb. She instructed us to remain in the car, and I followed her guidance to ensure our safety, and so when Billy had calmed down, we drove to Cranstead Fields at the MET’s request.”

The lawyer paused for a moment, seemingly digesting her words, before continuing with a slightly sharper edge to his voice. "So, you're saying you trusted the instructions of Lana, despite knowing there was a bomb in your vehicle?"

"Of course," she affirmed, her voice firm. "Lana is a professional, and she knows how to handle these situations. She assured us it was safer to wait for the bomb squad to come to us. In addition, as Billy’s sister, she naturally wanted to save him.”

He paused again, eyes scanning the courtroom before returning to her. "One final question for you," he said, voice steady. "At any point before this incident, did you ever witness Mr Washington associating with individuals known for radical or extremist views?"

The question hung in the air, heavy with implication. She knew the importance of her answer, aware of the delicate thread on which Billy's fate balanced. "No," she said firmly, locking eyes with the prosecutor. "Billy has always been a kind-hearted person, never one to harbour hate or engage in violence. His actions towards the halal butcher's shop were out of character, spurred by manipulation from those he thought were his friends."

The lawyer nodded, signalling the end of questioning. As he returned to his seat, the courtroom buzzed with whispered speculations and the scratch of pens on paper. The witness's testimony had painted a complex picture of Billy, one of a man caught in a web far beyond his understanding or control, a narrative that would undoubtedly play a crucial role in the jury's deliberations.

Her breath trembled as she retreated, the echo of her statement lingering like a shadow. Walking with shaky legs back into her seat, she dared a glance, eyes seeking Billy. In that fleeting moment, their gazes met, a silent exchange fraught with hope and uncertainty. And when she sat down beside him, he was quick to hold her hand, mouthing, ‘are you okay’, to which she simply nodded with a thick swallow.

She thought she was.

She had yet to spare a glance at Karl Maguire, sat in the middle of the courtroom, an impassive expression etched across his face. He sat sideways as if bored, a stark contrast to the way Lana had known him.

Everything just seemed to get more confusing after Cranstead.

Over one particular shouting match that took place in the Washington household, this time it wasn't Billy who was on the receiving end, but Lana. 

When Karl was rumbled, arrested on suspicion of being The Crusader's self-appointed leader and responsible for the multiple terrorist attacks, including Nut and Billy, her parents were naturally fucking furious.

As much as they praised her for how clever she was, her dad would tail it off with ‘well this wasn't very fucking clever of you, was it. Taking a fucking terrorist to bed’.

It was horrendous to watch, nevermind to listen to. How could Lana have not seen this? Billy had been groomed by the Crusaders, yes, but so had Lana. And she had no rebuttal to any of it. She just bowed her head, admitted how stupid she felt, and her guilt was clear as day, thinking about how they could've died in that car that sunny July afternoon.

Naturally, Karl was all ‘no comment’. But the police had plenty of evidence to suggest he was associated, no less with Nick Roberts, showing a clear link from Karl not only to the Farringdon Tube Station attack, but to all the attacks that came before, and right to Billy.

Her presence in the car that fateful day enhanced the seriousness of it, as a person with no association with the Crusaders whatsoever. An innocent bystander. The lawyers took her situation and made a show of it, to convince both the Judge and Jury that this man was dangerous.

It didn't mean the Defence couldn't have a dig at the witnesses though. They'd bought up all the dirt on her and Billy that they could, focussing on Billy's extremism, without divulging the emotional manipulation that had occurred before and during that.

“I believe Mr Washington has an impact statement prepared?” 

All eyes drifted from the judge towards Billy's Mum, who descended from the public gallery to appear before the court. 

The usual softness Val gave off in everyday life, the look of a mother that she had so often saw, was replaced with a tight lipped scornful gaze as she glanced up at Karl and then to the paper in her hands, trembling slightly.

“Judge. 

Before this incident, I led a life unmarred by the shadows of extremism and violence. I was an ordinary person, with hopes and dreams for the future. That future now feels irretrievably altered.

The day we discovered the bomb in my car marks not just a moment of terror but a fracture in the narrative of my life. The realisation that I was unwittingly made part of a plot to cause harm has left me with a profound sense of betrayal and vulnerability. My trust in others, once given freely, has been eroded by suspicion and fear.

In the aftermath, the psychological scars have been deep. Nights are the hardest; sleep has become a battleground for nightmares replaying the what-ifs. My days are punctuated by moments of panic at the slightest reminder of that day. The isolation I feel is compounded by the public's scrutiny and the stigma attached to being involved, however unwittingly, in such an event.

Professionally, the path ahead has become even more uncertain.The stigma from this case has darkened my prospects of finding employment. Already jobless, the widespread publicity now taints every attempt to move forward, casting a long shadow over my future. Relationships that I valued, with friends and loved ones, have been strained or severed, unable to withstand the whirlwind of emotions and the shadow of doubt that follows me.

But perhaps most painful of all is the impact on my relationship. We shared a bond of trust and friendship that was tested in the most harrowing way. The guilt I carry for her involvement, for the danger we faced together, is a weight that I am learning to live with every day.

I stand before you today a changed person. The future I envision now is one of rebuilding – not just my life, but my sense of self. I am committed to moving beyond this, to finding a way to trust again, to sleep without fear, and to live without the constant weight of what happened.

And most importantly to rebuild my life with the woman I love.

Thank you for allowing me to share the impact this has had on me. I trust that justice will be served, not just for me but for all who have suffered at the hands of extremism and hate.”

She felt her whole body get hot, emotions swirling like a storm inside her, raging to break free. And when Billy squeezed her hand and looked sideways at her, his expression soft and dreamy, as if he just wanted to wake up from this dreadful nightmare, she swallowed as a warm tear fell to her face.

The next few hours drained all energy out of them both. She and Billy simply remained like this, hands clasped, desperate to just get out and start fresh. And they half-listened to Lana's testimony, regarding bomb disposal and her personal history with Billy, as well as the forensic analysis and psychologists who worked to enhance the already serious nature of the trauma they had endured.

“The Jury will begin their deliberations. Court is dismissed for today. Thank you.”

Even the judge sounded tired.

The first thing she did when they were all filed out into the foyer was sink into Val’s waiting arms. There were no tears she could shed, not anymore.

“You alright?” Val whispered. And she only nodded, half-tired of the question she'd been asked non-stop since the Cranstead Fields incident. But she knew Val only asked out of love.

That pleasant warmth rolled in her gut, feeling Billy's hand at the small of her back, “d’you wanna go home?”

She nodded, “can we pop by the shop first?” She asked, “need some flowers for the grave.”

The funeral was no big service. As if she didn't have enough to deal with after Cranstead, planning this in the wake of her mother's death was just twisting the knife inside her further. 

Billy, as expected, offered to take most of the emotional weight off her. After waking up in his flat the following morning, he'd barely known what to do with himself. Sure, he'd thought about this for so long, being with her. But now that it was right before him, in his grasp, he didn't know what to do with it. As if it were so precious he was afraid one wrong move would break this newly formed connection.

The day of, she'd begrudgingly met up with her extended family of whom she'd barely seen for years and years. Her mother was a solitary creature, buried deep in her addictions, it was only natural she shut herself away from her own family.

Her mother's brother was surprisingly keen to meet her though, and after the service was concluded with a speech drawn up about ‘she was a mother, a member of the community’ etc etc, she milled about the outside with Billy, making idle chat.

Her Uncle, a whole eight years younger than her Mum, was an image of what she imagined her mum could be like, had she taken help, had she taken those steps to look after herself. Her uncle was bright, happy, fit and teeming with life. It only served to supply her mind with the ‘what ifs’.

Him taking an interest in her didn't soften the blow of all their side of the family feeling like total strangers. People who hadn't seen her mother in years bloody cried, but didn't even know who she was. Her daughter was just a lingering ghost of her mother's abuse.

She invited her dad purely because she wanted to be polite. But he only showed up to pop some flowers down and gave her a nod of the head before retreating into his partner's car.

Her real family had come.

Val and Jeff were the gold stars in the weakened darkness. Making sure she was okay, asking what needed to be done. Everything. And on top of all that, Billy never once left her side, one hand perched on her hip permanently, every now and then leaning down to plant a boyish kiss to the crown of her head.

It was the only time she never felt numb.

And after the long, long day, abstaining from the offer of a lift from Val and Jeff, being much too soon after Cranstead to even think about that, Billy walked back to his flat with her hand in his, entertaining her chatter about literally anything other than her mother.

And the memory of the funeral was quickly shed past the threshold of his apartment, alongside her clothes. And the second time they ever had sex was similar to the first, minds too hazy to think about much else than just each other, and the sensations of this new, unbreakable bond.

There was a lingering sense of unease about the day. London, once bustling with life. Families, friends and people with wide smiles and bright eyes, had made way for a new era of melancholic routine. With summer drawing to a close, but the heat persisting somewhat in the clear, blue skies above, the children had all but gone back to school, and thus the crowds and tourists along with it. And without the excited squeals of children playing outside to fill the silence, all she could often hear was the low hum of traffic and the rustling of foliage in the trees above. 

It was somewhat comforting.

And yet, she felt her body was tight with nerves in the weeks that followed their time in court. She willed her phone to vibrate, to finally find out.

What sentence would Karl be given? Would Billy’s involvement sway the Jury or the Judge?

Who could know.

Her eyes looked over Billy’s bowed head and sullen form as he stepped out the corner shop, having panic-bought a packet of fags to stem the rising anxiety in his system. She leant against the wall, watching as he struggled to open the pack and slide one cigarette between his lips, waiting for him to say something.

There were two reasons Billy was nervous.

“Billy, it’s gonna be fine-”

“Fuck,” he cursed, managing to light the cigarette the second time, blowing smoke between his lips and relaxing his shoulders. He raised his eyes to her then, offering her a drag, to which she shook her head and insisted she was trying to come off them. “Easy for you to say. You didn’t smash up a halal butcher’s window.”

She fought the urge to roll her eyes, “they wouldn’t have invited you if they didn’t want to make amends,” she insisted, “or me by association, for that matter.”

Billy gave her a tight-lipped smile. Lately he was never able to keep his eyes on her for long before looking away. She wished she could somehow peer into his mind, to see what mysterious things he thought about. But the truth was, now that Cranstead had really sunk in, he couldn’t shake the unwavering feeling of guilt– that she, like him, could have died because of the stupid decisions he’d made, because he was too overly-trusting. And that he had foolishly placed that trust into malicious hands. 

She knew him so well. Perhaps too well. And seeing all this doubt swirl around his beautiful mind had her hand seeking his, “Hey..”

He chewed his lip, raising his blonde eyelashes to glance at her calm face.

“You can do this.”

Taking a deep breath, Billy squared his shoulders, steeling himself for what lay ahead. He knew that facing his friends would be no easy task, that their judgement and condemnation would be a bitter pill to swallow. But he also knew that he couldn't continue to hide from the consequences of his actions, that he owed it to himself and to her to confront his past head-on.

So he dropped the half-smoked ciggie to the floor and crushed it with his shoe, his longer fingers tightening around hers, “Okay. Let’s go.”

On an impromptu trip to Portugal, Libby and Abi had finally taken the leap of faith. Or rather, Abi stopped being a bit less scared of her dad, and finally proposed. Nobody was more ecstatic about it than Abi’s Mum, much to everyone’s surprise. Apparently when she found out, she cracked a few ribs with the force of the hug she gave her and stated that she had better start getting used to spicy food if she wanted to be in in.

She’d been berated with texts from the group chat, of which Billy had been removed from a few months before the wake of what he’d done, with Libby trying to organise a little barbeque to celebrate the engagement. 

All of the friend group would be there. And she could feel the heavy anxiety seep off Billy the closer they became to their house.

“Ready?” she asked quietly, looking down the alleyway between houses that led to the back garden. She could already smell something cooking, the clinking of glasses and the soft, airy laughter of Libby, as well as the squabbling nature of Harry and Paddy.

Billy nodded, though his expression remained tense. He took a deep breath, trying to steady his nerves. "As ready as I'll ever be," he replied, his voice tinged with uncertainty.

She squeezed his hand reassuringly, offering him a small smile. "Remember, they're our friends. They care about you, too."

He managed a weak smile in return, grateful for her support. Together, they made their way down the alleyway, the sounds of the celebration growing louder with each step. As they reached the gate to the garden, she gave him an encouraging nod, silently urging him forward.

Stepping into the warm glow, Billy felt a wave of relief wash over him. Surrounded by familiar faces and the comforting buzz of conversation, he began to relax, the weight of his apprehension slowly lifting.

Libby spotted them first, her face lighting up with a bright smile as she rushed over to greet them. "You made it!" she exclaimed, enveloping them both in a tight hug. "We've been waiting for you."

She hugged Libby just as tightly, her eyes glancing over her yellow sundress and handing her a bunch of flowers as congratulations, “You look lovely.”

Libby scrunched her nose, pulling her hand into hers, semi-forcefully, “Mmhm. You, missy, have a lot to tell me.”

She couldn’t have rolled her eyes enough. Libby obviously wanted to know about that day when she and Billy…reconciled. She cringed at the thought of having to give details, “get a drink in me first.”

Feeling the semi-judgemental eyes of the lads on him, Billy swallowed, rubbing the back of his neck as sweat began to form there, “I’ll get us one,” he muttered quickly, disappearing into the kitchen, as a means to hide from the lingering glares.

“Is he okay?” Libby whispered, or rather mouthed it, so he wouldn’t hear.

“He’s nervous. Understandably.”

“Hm…so do you find out the verdict today?” Libby asked, pulling her towards the barbeque where Paddy had taken over from Abi. She only nodded, unable to shield her own anxieties, and insisted on seeing the engagement ring, both out of sheer nosiness and at a desire to change the subject.

All while Billy's hands clasped the kitchen counter tightly, the anxiety of feeling judged made his other vulnerabilities bubble to the surface. And even when he closed his eyes tightly, he could still feel the fear he had felt in the driver's seat of that car, the guilt he still feels for putting her…the woman he loved, in a position of danger.

It was nearly enough to make him break down every time.

Abi entered the kitchen to find Billy standing by the sink, his posture tense and his expression troubled. The clinking of glasses halted as Billy turned, startled by Abi's presence.

"Billy," Abi's voice was firm, tinged with disappointment. "We need to talk."

Billy's shoulders stiffened, a flicker of apprehension crossing his face. "Abi, I..." he began, but Abi held up a hand, silencing him.

“I won't mince words here, Billy. I am beyond fucked off at what you did.” Abi’s gaze bore into Billy's, unyielding. The weight of Abi's words hung heavy in the air, each syllable a reminder of the consequences of his actions.

"I know," Billy murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. "I fucked up, pal..."

Abi's expression softened slightly, a flicker of understanding breaking through his stern facade. "Look, Billy, I get it. I understand that you were in a dark place, but that's no excuse for what you did. Yes, you’ve tested all of our trust, but you could have seriously hurt someone, mate."

Guilt gnawed at Billy's insides, a knot tightening in his stomach as he struggled to find the right words. "I know, Abi. I'm sorry," he said, his voice trembling with emotion. "I never meant for any of this to happen. I was just...lost, you know?"

Billy's voice quivered as he continued, his eyes glistening with unshed tears. He couldn’t even really look at the man in front of him anymore, his vision was so misty.

"I have nightmares, Abi. Every night, I see her in that car, scared and vulnerable because of me," he confessed, his voice choked with emotion. "And the guilt...it's eating me alive. I can't shake the feeling that I've let everyone down, especially her."

Abi's expression softened further, a pang of empathy washing over him as he listened to Billy's words. "Mate, I can't imagine what you're going through," he said gently, his voice tinged with compassion. "But you can't let this define you, Billy. You've got to find a way to move forward, to make things right."

Billy nodded, his shoulders sagging under the weight of his burdens. "I'm trying," he said earnestly, his voice barely above a whisper. "I just don't know if I'll ever be able to forgive myself for what I've done."

Abi sighed, his gaze soft yet determined as he met Billy's tear-filled eyes. "Listen, Billy," he began, his tone firm but gentle. "I believe you when you say you're sorry, and I understand that you're struggling. But that doesn't mean you get a free pass. You messed up, mate, big time."

Billy nodded, a lump forming in his throat as he swallowed back his emotions. "I know, Abi. And I'm willing to do better," he said, his voice filled with resolve.

Abi gave him a reassuring smile. "Good," he said, clapping Billy on the shoulder. "Because we're going to hold you accountable, mate. Not out of spite or anger, but because we care about you. We want to see you learn from this, grow from it." There was a beat before a more teasing smile crept across Abi’s face, “and no more bitching and whining either.”

Billy managed a weak laugh, grateful for Abi's attempt to lighten the mood.

Abi's smile widened, the tension in the room easing slightly to make way for camaraderie. "And who knows, maybe one day we'll look back on this and laugh," he said, a hint of playfulness in his tone. "But until then, come here you mardy fucker."

As the weight of their conversation hung in the air, Abi reached out, pulling Billy into a hard and firm hug. In that moment, amidst the quiet of the kitchen, they both knew that forgiveness would be a long and arduous journey. But together, they would face it, one step at a time. As friends.

“Ummmm, Billy, that’s my fiance!” Libby shouted from the garden. 

The tension broke with Libs' unexpected interruption, her voice carrying through the open door. Billy and Abi exchanged sheepish grins before stepping back from their impromptu embrace.

"Sorry about that," Billy muttered, a faint blush creeping into his cheeks as he wiped away the traces of tears.

Abi chuckled softly, a warmth settling in his chest at the sight of his friend's vulnerability. "No worries, mate," he replied, clapping Billy on the shoulder. "We've got plenty of time for heartfelt moments later. Right now, let's go join the celebration."

“Congrats, by the way.”

Abi gave him a warm smile and gestured with his head towards the two women gossipping by the sun-loungers, “you too,” he replied with a raised eyebrow.

A blush crept again to Billy’s cheek as he shoved Abi’s shoulder casually, “shut up.”

With a shared laugh, Billy and Abi made their way back to the garden, leaving the weight of their conversation behind in the kitchen. As they rejoined the group, laughter and chatter filled the air, a reminder that amidst the challenges and struggles, there was still joy and camaraderie to be found. 

Under the warm glow of the late afternoon sun, the garden came alive with laughter and chatter as friends gathered around the barbecue. The smell of sizzling sausages and burgers filled the air, mingling with a summery aroma.

The other lads had given Billy a ribbing, but had very much followed in Abi’s approval, and once they too became aware that all was forgiven (pending the proof that Billy was going to do better), it was all smiles and gentle banter.

Paddy and Harry, self-proclaimed kings of the barbecue, manned the grill with gusto, though Billy couldn't help but chuckle at Paddy's attempts to get the burgers just medium well, which he was thus failing to do.

It was nice to laugh with them again, after all these months. And he felt the warm afternoon pleasant on his skin, a cold bottle of beer in one hand as he glanced over at the two girls on the other side of the garden. They sat, engrossed in conversation, probably pertaining to Libby's interest in their relationship judging by her wide-eyed expression.

He found himself trailing his eyes over her as if he couldn't believe she existed. Or rather like he couldn't believe that after everything, she was with him. It was like his heart was so swollen with love it ached.

She was like a dream, a breath of fresh air. And he had been through hell and back with her, and yet she still managed to look every bit as beautiful as the day he lost her all those years ago. 

The littlest thing, from the way she slung her hair over her shoulder, to the way she readjusted the hem of her dress everytime she crossed her bare legs. Even, Billy shamefully thought, the little peek of her bare chest between the buttons at the front of her dress.

Torn from conversation, she felt her phone buzz and looked right up at him, “Billy-” she called, ushering him over.

He felt his heart go fast.

The verdict.

Libby, always the saviour, “go upstairs if you want, for some privacy.”

Hand in hand, they ascended the stairs, their hearts pounding with nervous anticipation. Squeezing into the guest bedroom, they stood close together, seeking comfort in each other's presence. Billy wrapped his arm around her waist, holding her tightly as she answered and set it on speakerphone.

“Hello?”

The solicitor's voice came through calmly, giving little indication of the news he was about to deliver. “Afternoon. I've just left court.”

“And?” Billy's voice trembled with anxiety, his grip on her tightening.

There was a pregnant pause, and she could feel the tension radiating from him.

“Three life sentences. And they're whole life orders, so he's not seeing the sun again.”

Relief flooded through them, a heavy weight lifting from their shoulders. Three life sentences meant that Karl would be behind bars for the rest of his life, never again posing a threat to society or to them. It was the justice they had hoped for, the closure they desperately needed. She felt Billy’s chest deflate, a stuttering breath leaking out with a sense of safety replacing the trepidation.

“Thank you,” she whispered into the phone, her voice choked with both emotion and happiness, her fingers shaking with excitement.

The solicitor's voice softened. “You're welcome. Take care, both of you.”

As they ended the call, a wave of relief washed over them, mingling with the bubbling excitement that their future held. She couldn't contain her joy, letting out a squeal of delight that echoed through the room, a pure expression of the happiness that coursed through her veins. Billy's heart swelled with happiness at the sound, his own relief merging with her infectious joy.

In one fluid motion, she threw her arms around his neck, pulling him into a tight embrace that mirrored the depth of their shared elation. He wrapped his arms around her waist, holding her close, as if afraid that this moment might slip away if he didn't hold on tight enough. Their laughter mingled in the air, a symphony of happiness that filled the room.

She buried her face in the crook of his neck, inhaling deeply, taking in the familiar scent that was uniquely him. It was a comforting blend of his natural scent and the faint aroma of beer, a reminder of the simple pleasures of life.

Feeling the surge of emotion coursing through him, Billy couldn't resist the overwhelming urge to express his joy in the most primal way possible. With a sudden, yet gentle movement, he tilted her chin upwards, capturing her lips in a passionate kiss that spoke volumes of his love and longing.

At first, she was surprised by his sudden boldness, but the warmth of his lips against hers quickly melted away any hesitation. She responded eagerly, her arms wrapping around his neck as she deepened the kiss, their bodies pressing together in a rush of desire and anticipation. All the pent-up emotions of the past months spilled over, their kiss grew more fervent, more urgent, as if they were trying to convey all the love and passion they felt for each other in that single, electrifying moment.

Their breath mingled in the air, coming in ragged gasps as they broke apart, their eyes locked in a heated gaze. Billy’s forehead pressed to hers as he glanced down, his hand stealing between her thighs to rub at that sensitive spot over her underwear with infuriating accuracy. Her lips parted, cheeks flushed as a bolt of desire made its way up her spine at his touch, “Billy-” she managed in a breath, voice quivering with a quiet excitement at his brazen desire.

“Fucking love you.”

When his other hand bunched her dress up, he left goosebumps on her skin, but she didn’t complain. Even though it was both incredibly risky and wrong to do this when their friends were likely waiting with bated breath downstairs, it was exhilarating to be wanted like this so desperately. And she couldn’t deny herself, with his touch igniting it, that she wanted it too. She slid her hand down his chest to his jeans and ran her palm over his rapidly growing erection, strained against the fabric, and assisted him in undoing the button.

No sooner was her hand down the front of his boxers stroking his length with a languid touch was Billy hooking her leg around his waist, pressing her back against the wall of the guest bedroom. 

Their lips locked and tongues seeking each other with ragged breathing as she held on onto his shoulder to keep herself stable, only to shudder when he pulled the gusset of her underwear aside and slid into her with one confident thrust. Though aroused somewhat, the spontaneity of the tryst had her lips parting with the pleasant sting as he pushed his way into her, but it only served to heighten her desire for him.

“Fuck-”

He whispered against her lips, bottoming out with a groan inside her, one hand clamped around her leg to keep it around his waist. With every lazy thrust into her, white-hot pleasure hummed up her spine, the feeling of being stretched around him one she'd never tire of. 

His breath batted against her neck, hips pushing her harder against the wall, and when she let out a moan that was far too loud for comfort, a lazy smile made its way to Billy's lips as he shushed her.

“Be quiet-”

The duality of the moment, the wholesomeness of their bond and the fact they were having a quickie here of all places made her erupt in a quiet laugh, “sorry-”

Billy laughed too, until his brows knitted together and his stomach muscles strained at the added stimulation around his length, “fuck, don't laugh-”

“-sorry.”

He surged forward to capture her lips in a searing kiss to muffle her voice, thrusting up into her with heightening intensity. And she tightened her grip on his shoulders and with a stifled moan tightened around him as well, her body trembling with climax, her skin hot and tacky from the primal energy.

She could see the strain of his muscles and how much effort it took for him to clear his mind enough to pull out of her, painting the inside of her thighs with a quiet groan.

Even in the afterglow of sex, being held by him, with his rapidly drying spend on her legs, completely out of breath, all she felt was relief and sheer happiness. And it was impossible to stop the lazy smile on her flushed face, her eyes taking every bit of his face in.

Billy closed his eyes and leaned into her hair when she brushed his moistened hair from his eyes. His lips grazed her palm, and she felt her heart squeeze.

“We should get back downstairs..” she uttered softly.

Billy let out a light laugh and lowered her, pulling his jeans back together to button them up, “right, yeah, sorry-”

She raised on her tiptoes, praising him with a quick kiss, “I'm not complaining,” she smiled, still partly out of breath, “just let me get cleaned up and we'll go down together.”

Neither did a good job of hiding the blushes on their faces as they rejoined the group outside, met with knowing glances and barely-hidden smirks, though she had fixed her hair and made sure there were no obvious hand prints on her legs.

She and Billy slipped back into the group seamlessly, their smiles bright and their laughter genuine. They shared stories and jokes, and added the result of the verdict to the reason for celebration.

Even when the sun dipped beneath the buildings, the air was warm and comforting on their skin, a feeling of contentment warmed their hearts. And every now and then, when Billy showed outward affection, with a hand on her waist or a peck to the cheek, Libby would let out a half-drunk squeal and nearly start bawling about how happy she was for them.

The group felt whole for the first time in months.

While collecting glasses and bottles, as the afternoon turned to evening, Harry elbowed Billy in the ribs, with a boyish and cheeky expression.

“Told her you love her yet?”

Billy flushed, and chanced a glance outside, where she and Libby were setting up the fire pit for the evening. For some reason, something as simple as her raising her arms to tie up her hair stirred that familiar feeling in him, the same as when he'd had her in the guest bedroom not a few hours before.

He wet his lips, and thought with an ache in his heart, that he'd always feel this way about her. And Billy finally responded.

“Something like that, mate.”

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[chibrary]

title: "Pascale Leclerc : Fonce, Charles !" source: monaco-matin series: f1, 2018

There is the big Charles on the track. And little Charles at home.

If the young Formula 1 driver is at the front of the stage, here, at home, in Monaco, his country, in the evening he returns to the family home, to his mother, “to play for an hour on his computer and have a few hours of well-deserved sleep."

The second of three children, Charles Leclerc received a lot of love from his parents, his brothers, but also from his grandparents and his uncle Thierry Manni. Charles Manni, the paternal grandfather, at the head of Mécaplast, the flagship of the Monegasque automobile industry, often spoke of this little boy: not with blind admiration, but with the pride of seeing his grandson giving himself the ways to succeed.

Car enthusiasts know the rising little wonder. The Monegasques and people from here know first and foremost this Fontvieille family: united, loving and also hardworking.

A certainly decisive element in the extraordinary career of this young man for whom everything seems to smile.

Luck ? Not only… According to Pascale Leclerc, his mother, who runs a hairdressing salon on the port of Fontvieille, “we have experienced the trials of life. If we went through them, they made us stronger and allowed us to progress to give our best.”

It is on these values ​​that Charles grew up. That he built himself.

He was only five years old when his dad Hervé put him in a kart. Immediately, there was enthusiasm. “There was a lightness in the way he drove his kart that wasn't there in the others. »

“He received a lot from his dad.”

“Charles on a circuit and Charles at home are not the same man,” explains his mother. With his dad, he only talked about cars. For Hervé, racing was his life. He was a pro. He had it in his blood. Charles was lucky. He received a lot from his dad. With me, none of that. Charles was a little boy his age. It’s true that from middle school onwards, it was more complicated. His grandmother, Hervé's mother, a catechism teacher, was very present to help him follow the correspondence courses. The Charles-III college where he was enrolled was very understanding. It was going very well. »

Pascale Leclerc says she has always been delighted by her son's happiness. “I always knew that Charles, like his two brothers, would go far. He is very calm, thoughtful, determined. I am very proud and happy that Lorenzo, Charles and Arthur, my three children, are realizing their dreams. I would not put any prohibition in their choice. When we see a child who leaves with enthusiasm and a smile on his face, we can only validate his life project. In kart, the first championships scared me a little. I no longer accompanied my son and my husband on shopping trips. I followed things up afterwards. It was my way of preserving the whole family. I'm the type to let my three sons live their lives and pursue their passion. »

And car racing fascinated his three children… “Lorenzo started karts late, at 14 years old. It was the time when Charles was increasingly entering the major championships. And he won all the prizes. A choice had to be made. We couldn't take on the financial burden of going karting for two children. So, for him, in consultation, we favored studies. »

Lorenzo therefore completed a scientific baccalaureate and continued his studies at the University of Monaco. Then he went to Reims for a few years to complete his studies. Today, he is in finance and invests in assets.

For six years, the family's rhythm was dictated by Charles' training and racing. “Free time, vacations, the family budget… everything was for karts when Charles was between 5 and 11 years old. » The young boy progressed and progressed, again and again. For the family, it was an increasingly difficult sacrifice. “When Charles was 11, for us parents, it was no longer financially possible. Nicolas Todt arrived at the right time. He signed a contract and took Charles to where he is today. »

Throughout his adolescence, the little Monegasque continued to progress. Always and always. Today, he is on the starting line for one of the most symbolic races of his career. In addition to training, he had to respond to incessant requests: cocktails, interviews, brand representations... “We ask a lot of them,” emphasizes the mother. He no longer has time for himself. »

In F1 at 20 years old, what's it like to get a big head? “We are simple people. We must give enthusiasts the opportunity to share Charles’ dream. And for that Charles must remain within everyone's reach. He will discover a world that is not as simple as that, I think. I will do everything to keep him himself. »

But this rhythm is part of the profession as he wanted it since his earliest childhood. It may even be an additional engine. “It’s when there are very hard moments that he surprises us the most. He picked up points in the last two races he did. That reassured him. It was important for his mind. He is mentally well today. I am so proud of my son…”

Today, Charles therefore has all the assets to run a very good race. He is a young man in the making. “Everything fell into place for him to be where he is today. He will continue. He will be champion in F1. His goal is the podium. And he's going to get there. For sure. »

Today, Pascale Leclerc will be watching the race, certainly just as focused on the screen or the track of the cars as Charles is on the track at the wheel of his Sauber.

The mother and son both know that Hervé is with them, up there; “like Jules Bianchi”.

Any last maternal advice? “Go for it, Charles!” »

[shysuccubusstuff]

yandere! megumi pt. 1

TW: Bullying (no physical violence tho), yandere behaviour, obssessive, dub-con.

Note: I put green eyes cause apparently his eyes are light green in the manga but dark blue in the anime, but you can imagine him however, idc. I honestly feel that the naughty part is kinda lame... so let me know how can I improve! It is my first time writing this type of content.

So, imagine:

Due to certain circumstances in your life, you were forced to move to a different school, forced to do your last year before university in a place so far away from your old school and your old friends.

At first, you tried to remain positive, I mean, it was just a year, then you could move back to your city, with your old friends close, so of course you could handle having to make new friends!

That was what you thought at first, but this quickly changed during your first week there, the professors were fine, and your classmates had not been mean or anything but since some black-haired boy had set his eyes on you, everyone tried to avoid you, avoiding your gaze and your touch even for something unimportant as giving them a pen back. Despite you tried so hard to act like you didn't care, you sometimes had to take a break, hiding in the library and burying your facc with any book just so you can let a few tears out, cause, just what have you done for people to be so cold towards you? So you start to simply accept it, becoming more silent as the days go by, sitting at the back of the class you can lie to yourself, people just haven't noticed you, of course it is not because each of them are absolutely scared of becoming the target of Fushiguro Megumi, adopted son of one of the powerful persons in the city, having the dissapproval of Megumi meant being rejected from all of the universities that were in a radius of 100km.

The moment when you started to avoid the contact with any other person, that was the moment when Megumi started to appear around you, first, he started to appear in your classes, he was presented as a "new student" (he had been there since he was a child, but you of course didn't know that), he was seated at your side, asking you questions from time to time, getting close to you little by little. He also starts go to the library, he suddenly appears in what you thought was the most secluded and hidden place, his green eyes looking at your teary eyes, and his expression changes, his eyes look worried, his hands slowly caress your cheeks, wiping down the tears that were rolling through your face, and from then he suddenly became your best friend! He accompanies you to all the classes, he eats with you, he hangouts with you, he even buys sweet treats for you when you feel down or sick! So of course you start to warm up to him, opening your heart (and house) to him, telling him how bad you felt when people started to get away from you while he patted your hair, calloused hands moving through your soft hair, how scared you were to start a new life in a new city... He obviously took advantage of the great evolution that your relationship was taken, so when you asked him to go to your graduation together he was overjoyed!

That same evening he was waiting at your front door, his eyes shinning so pretty under the night lights, all dressed in black, hair down, he even brought you flowers! You weren't even able to imagine what would happen that same night...

Several hours had passed, your brain was so foggy from all the drinks you had been given by Megumi, somehow you always ended up with a drink in your hard, the other hand occupied by megumi's hand, tightly gripped around yours. So when you suddenly felt he was tugging from your dress, you obviously followed him, he made way for you, arriving in no time to your home, opening the door as if it was his home and taking off your shoes, your feet hurting from staying too long without sitting. He dragged you to your bed, slowly making his way through all the accessories and the beautiful dress you wore that night, despite the weird situation, cause who would let their MALE best friend get rid of all of your clothes, he slowly gets rid of his tie, letting his jacket somewhere around your room and walking towards you, eyes glistening with a dangerous glow, almost like some kind of predator eyeing a prey... Why was he getting so close to you? Why was your body so heaten up? Megumi was on top of you, his breath smelt just like the alcohol that you had been drinking most part of the night: "Hey bunny... why don't you let yourself go while I take care of you'" Megumi whispered into your ear, making your heartbeat go up and somehow making you feel a bit embarrased... Was it because of the situation? Or perhaps because he was suddenly acting like a male, rather than being almost like a girl best friend? His body was ligthened by the dim light of your night light, his body was fit, not huge, but he was definitely working out, his eyes were a bit foggy as well, shaky breath and dilatated pupils, was he just as drunk as you?

"You know... I've been trying so hard to hide it... I always got so fucking hard when you let yourself lay on top of me... your cute face being so close to me, your sweet smell surrounding me... God... I'm sorry, I don't think I will be able to handle it anymore..." His face was red, his face getting closer to you, his lips shining, he kissed you, softly at first but it quickly turned in something much more carnal, tongues intertwining, saliva dripping a little from your mouth, your body was heating up so much.

"it can be a lil scary to feel like you are in heat, so I have taken the same ammount of drinks... though I think your head is even more dizzy than mine..." He made fun of you, his face showing you how superior he felt as he saw you in that state, completely naked, hard nipples and your face red, foggy eyes... He could definitely cum just from seeing your pretty face making that kind of expression... He wasted no time, taking off his shirt and throwing out to the floor, he slowly unzipped his pants, smiling to you with a cocky expression.

"Let's test if this thing really works, shall we?"