#but LEGENDARY PLEASE!!! PLEASE!!!! ITS ONLY RIGHT!!!!!!!!!!!!! | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

lalunanymph · 5 months ago

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I BET ON LOSING DOGS

୨୧ an unexpected surprise throws a wrench in your relationship with ken

✧.* ken sato x fem!reader, reader is an uriko (beer girl for japanese baseball games), unprotected s/ex, accidental pregnancy trope, angst with comfort, reader gets harassed, mentions of alcohol, mentions of violence, mentions of injuries, slight ooc!kenji but this is MY interpretation of him, emi makes an appearance, talks about fatherhood, relationship context, flashback heavy, 8k+ words i am so sick for this man

✧.* dawn says: i am absolutely in love with this pathetic milf </3

Life as the girlfriend of Japan’s number one baseball player wasn’t as easy as people think it is.

The news portals and papers call you a modern day Cinderella, swept from her life of being a simple beer girl, and right into the arms of Japan’s best player, Ken Sato.

Looking back, you never thought you would catch his eye.

You, a simple Uriko girl trying to get enough commission to pay off your literature degree at a community college, and him, one of the best baseball players to ever grace Japan’s shore. The both of you were a mismatch made on the verdant fields of the biggest game in Ken Sato’s life—and you will never forget the day you first met him.

“Ladies and gentlemen, the game will begin shortly! Please get to your seats and hang on tightly for the match of your life.”

The announcer’s voice booms across the stadium, echoing the cries and cheers from over 10,000 baseball fans coming to see this legendary playoff between the Giants and the Tigers.

Working as an Uriko girl—or better known as a baseball girl—came with plenty of challenges.

There were the heavy bags full of beer that you had to carry up and down the stands, sometimes weighing up to 10kg. The smiles you always have on, the makeup you wear to hide your eyebags from working two part time jobs so you can afford to pay off your literature degree; sweltering heat and a loud, rowdy crowd fuelled by beer from the other keg girls working this cutthroat job.

Many of them were wannabe idols who perfected the art of cultivating a following on social media and had regulars in the palm of their hands. Only a few handful shared the same fate as you did.

The truth was, you thought it was just another ordinary day at work when you overhear someone whispering excitedly behind the stands.

“I heard Ken Sato has come out of his break to play this game.”

Your attention slips from adjusting the straps of your beer keg and you try to listen in on their conversation.

“He is so cute,” one girl with braided pigtails swoons.

“Totally,” another agrees, wearing a baseball cap backwards to show off her petite features and pouty lips. “And he’s never dated anyone since coming back to Japan. Maybe one of us could change that for him.”

She giggles, as if it's the funniest joke she’s ever told.

You try hard not to roll your eyes. A man like Ken Sato would never go for one of these girls. He was the type to exclusively date models and actresses, not struggling Urikos selling beer on the stands.

But, you don’t dash their hopes, and you follow the rest of them in a line, plastering on a smile and mustering up the courage to charm potential buyers into being regulars.

“Ladies and gentlemen—let’s put our hands together for the Giants!”

The roar of the crowd behind the doors shakes through your sneakers, in tandem with the tripling speed of your heartbeat. Electricity sparks through the air, and you can feel it in between your teeth when the stadium doors open and everyone rushes forward, pushing you along the stream of girls ready to break their sales target.

“And Sato-san steps foot into the pitch!”

You step out of the shadows, into the piercing bright light of the open air stadium, its magnetic dome rippling above.

“Ladies and gentlemen, Ken Sato is back in his element!”

You take a deep breath and catch a man’s eye. He nods at you and you smile, making your way towards him with a red cup in hand and frozen beer on your back ready to be poured.

Let the game begin.

“Ladies and gentlemen, Ken Sato is back in his element!”

The announcer’s voice booms across the stadium, echoing the cries and cheers from over 10,000 baseball fans coming to see this legendary playoff between the Giants and the Tigers.

It’s the game of his life, and to say that Ken is nervous would be an understatement. He twists the bat in his hands, adjusts his batting helmet and steps onto the pitch.

“Oi, Sato—remember, don’t lose your cool,” Coach Shimura sternly warns him before he enters the game, flinty eyes never once softening even when Ken shoots him a reassuring smile.

“I got this in the bag, coach. Just wait and see.”

Shimura doesn’t scoff, though the corners of his mouth lifts slightly. After months of watching him play in the leagues, the older man can be assured of his star player’s credibility.

Giving him a two finger salute, the young man picks up his favorite bat and high tails it to the edge of the pitch.

The crowds cheer, their cries reverberating right into his bones. He’s focused, eyes on the pitcher who assesses him from head to toe like he’s vermin on the bottom of his shoes. Ken resists the urge to smirk behind his visor, eyes on the ball and head in the game.

“Sato! Sato! Sato!”

He tunes out the cheers, breathing deeply when the pitcher winds his arm back, and the ball goes flying. Narrowing his entire mind on the incoming white blur, he bats and it collides with the hardwood, flying off into the distance.

“And Sato nails it right out of the park!”

“Here we go,” Ken mutters under his breath, lurching across the bases until he finally hits a home run.

The crowd swells like his erratic heartbeat, cheering out his name. Ken gives them a wave, his handsome face plastered all over the big screens, and in the front of the stands, right in the VIP center, his father whoops, raising his cane in exuberance.

Just the sight of the old man fills him with warmth, and Ken doubles back, about to return to his position when a movement on the second bleachers catches his attention.

His sharp, keen eyes catch sight of a man pushing an Uriko girl, goading her on as she backs away, apologizing profusely. He pushes her again, and she stumbles back, dangerously close to the edge of the staircase where she could take a tumble and break her neck.

Ken doesn't know what compels him to lurch right towards her, jumping over the barricade and straight into the stands, much to the crowd’s horror.

“... you rejected me over and over again…”

“I’m sorry but this is just my job!”

The red-faced man puffs his chest, and if looks could kill, the poor beer girl would’ve been dead twice over. He’s twice as big as her, and the other spectators are too afraid to jump right in due to his sheer size. But, that’s never stopped Ken Sato before—in fact, bigger opponents were his speciality.

“Oi! Back away from her,” he growls, and before anyone can blink, he’s grabbing the poor, shaken girl and shielding her behind his body.

The crowds are murmuring, the commentators having a field day announcing every movement of his diversion from the main game. The referee repeatedly blows his whistle, but Ken ignores it, his instinct to protect the weak more important than some league title.

Shimura muscles his way through the crowd, and for a second, Ken thinks he’s gonna blow up on him when the older man glares at the bulky man.

“Get out of here before I call security on you,” he sneers. “Bullying some poor girl because of your delusions. Tch. Away with you!”

The onlookers jeer him, and he has no choice but to scurry away from the game, tail tucked in between his legs unless he wants to face the wrath of every Ken Sato fan.

Later that day when you’re washing your face in a nearby restroom, trying hard not to have a full on breakdown that your reputation and sales were ruined, you stumble into a familiar figure who gives you a once over, his mellow voice resonating through you.

“Hey—you’re the beer girl from before, right?”

Ken takes one look at your red-rimmed eyes and clicks his tongue. “Ah. Crap. Must’ve been a horrible experience for you, huh? You’re making me feel bad, angel. You wanna get some food and then we can talk about it?”

Sliding your eyes over his handsome face, you’re momentarily stunned by those high cheekbones and deeply unnerving violet eyes. His shapely lips and messy dark hair, coupled with his tall, slender build and broad shoulders, makes you suddenly realize that those girls outside the stadium doors were right.

Ken Sato is so cute.

“I-I—” you stammer, and flush, looking away. Did he just call me angel?

He gives you a sheepish smile, devoid of the cockiness and pride you’ve heard most baseball players possess.

“Sorry—too forward? I heard girls in Japan were more shy and reserved so you don’t have to say ‘yes’ if you’re uncomfortable—”

“No!” You exclaim, and then start to panic when the rejection settles in for him. “I mean—yes! Yes. I would like to get some food. With you,” you add lamely. “A-are we going now?”

Catching himself before he bursts into laughter, Ken nods, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Sure. I know a great ramen place.”

“Sold,” you say, a smile playing in the corners of your lips.

Maybe you might’ve messed up your commission for the week and would have to defer your dorm payment for another month, but none of it matters to you right now.

All you could think about was how sweet it would be if you could bring back the smile on Ken Sato’s face—perhaps make him laugh for real this time.

“Let’s go for dinner, then,” he gestures for you to follow him, and you swear there are stars in your eyes; you can’t stop staring at him. “What’s your name, by the way?”

“Y/N,” you mumble, and blink when he extends his hand, an easygoing grin on those perfect lips.

“I’m Ken. Sato Ken.”

I know, you want to say, but tame down the fangirling, taking his hand. His palm is smooth, but his fingers have calluses on them from one too many rough tumbles on the pitch.

“Y/N,” he turns your name over in his mouth and you think it’s never sounded as beautiful as it does now. “It’s nice to meet you.”

You let go of his hand, feeling his warmth sinking past your skin, making your heartbeat kick up a notch.

“It’s nice to meet you, too… Ken.”

The rest, as they say, is history.

His large palm smoothes down your tummy, drawing you from the brink of sleep and back into a barely illuminated room.

You crack your eyes open, one lid at a time, feeling him pushing your hair aside to kiss down the nape of your neck.

“Mhm,” your boyfriend’s sleep-drenched voice, still husky and rough, makes something deep inside of you throb. “Morning, angel. Did you sleep well last night?”

Stifling a yawn, you nod, much too comfortable in his luxurious king-sized bed. Since coming clean on the dating rumors, Ken had whisked you away from your cramped dorm room to live with him right on the Azabu hills in his expensive, high-tech mansion.

You still went to school and did your assignments, but the biggest difference was you didn't have to worry about food or accommodation like before.

“Like a log.” You lean into his embrace, loving how sturdy and warm his chest is against your back, making you feel protected and safe.

“Good morning, Kenji and Y/N. Shall I prepare breakfast for the both of you? Eggs and toast or some pancakes?”

Mina’s robotic voice chirps from somewhere behind Ken, and you feel him grab a pillow, tossing it over his shoulder. It thuds onto the floor, and you don’t have to look to know that the Sato family’s robot assistant has deftly avoided it.

“Give us some space, Mina,” Ken groans, burying his face into your hair. “It’s cuddle time. We’ll call you when we need you.”

“Alright. But, don’t forget that you have an interview with Tokyo Today at 11AM. Enjoy your morning, Kenji and Y/N.”

You muffle the urge to laugh, turning around and drinking in the sight of his hazy, adoring violet eyes and sleepy face. Booping the tip of his nose with your index finger, you click your tongue. “Don’t be too mean to Mina. She was just doing her job.”

He grabs your hand and presses it to his cheek, breathing in a deep sigh. “Not my fault someone’s being so enticing today.”

“How can I be enticing?” You tease. “I’m just laying right next to you.”

Ken rolls his eyes, drawing the blanket down to expose your naked shoulder. “Um, duh. My super cute girlfriend is naked in bed with me. What else do you think is on my mind?”

He loves how your nose crinkles when you laugh, fighting against the urge to kiss you all over for being so adorable.

You place a palm flat on his chest, exerting the slightest bit of pressure and he yields, shifting onto his back. The look of adoration on his face never wanes when you straddle his lap, your hair falling across his face. He pushes it aside with surprising tenderness, a huge palm cupping your face as he strokes the fullness of your mouth with his thumb.

“I love you, you know that?”

You kiss the pad of his thumb, basking in his adoration and your pure devotion for him.

“I know.”

Ken arches one dark brow. “Not gonna say it back? How rude.”

You giggle at his petulance, gathering his hands into yours and leaving soft kisses on his knuckles. Ken sucks in a sharp breath when you guide his hands to your chest, encouraging him to palm your heaving breasts. Those violet eyes darken with desire, shooting a dirty thrill right up your spine.

“Already so filthy in the early morning.” He doesn’t protest when you lift your hips, finding his stiffening length and giving it a few good pumps before lining it up to your soaked entrance.

“Just for you,” your feathery whisper gets him harder.

Tease. You take him inch by inch, and he has to bite down on his lower lip to keep from springing a high-pitched whine when your velvet walls choke his length.

Your tender nipples turn into hard nubs underneath his palms, the planes of your body a feast for his eyes.

Kenji thinks he’s never seen such perfection up close.

His large palms fold around your hips, and you let him guide you up and down his cock; controlling the speed and depth, completely pliant in his grasp.

Ken makes love to you exactly like how he plays on the field: focused, determined and with a firm grip.

Oh, baby. You mewl, crumpling forward so he can catch you, strong arms vining around your shivering form.

The scent of sex and skin permeates the room, and you’re close enough that you’re starting to see stars behind your closed eyes.

Baby, I can’t hold back, he grunts. Need you to come with me—for me. Let’s do it together, okay?

Your thighs begin to tense, head tipping back.

His violet eyes darken imperceptibly, drinking you in.

Ken Sato is so fucking in love with you he doesn’t know what to do with himself if you ever got hurt.

Your soul reaches out to twine with his, your bodies impossibly close until you’re sure your skin is melting into his.

A burst of white light rocks your entire world, and your universe goes black, filled with only the sensation of his lips on yours and his warmth filling you up.

Ken holds you tightly in the seam of his embrace, kissing your hair and rubbing his cheek all over you like an overgrown cat. You giggle and he joins you, hazily laughing at your hair poking out everywhere.

The moment doesn’t last because Mina pops her head back in, clearing her robotic throat.

“Kenji. 11AM. You have half an hour left to get ready.”

He groans, head thumping back onto the pillows, both your bodies hidden under the blankets so Mina can’t see what he’s been up to, though you’re pretty sure the super smart computer can sense the pheromone shifts in the air.

“Fine. Fine.”

Gently, he nudges you off of him, giving you a kiss on the forehead. Rummaging inside his night stand, he procures a sleek black card and hands it to you without a second thought.

“I’m gonna be busy all day, angel face, so I can’t keep you entertained.” His boyish grin sends flutters in your belly, making you instantly smile. “Go buy something nice and have a good day. I’ll see you tonight.”

You nod and pull him in for another quick kiss; this time, Mina hovers by the doorway, her thin robotic arms arranged like a disappointed mother’s hands on her hips.

“Kenji—”

“Coming, coming,” he groans, and slips on his pajama pants and shirt, giving you a wink.

“Dinner tonight, angel face?”

“Like you need to ask.” You blow him a kiss and he catches it, pressing his palm flat over his heart, simultaneously walking backwards out of the bedroom.

Once he turns the corner, you exhale, unable to scrub off the lovesick look on your face.

Bringing his pillow to your face, you inhale the soft scent of his shampoo, forgetting the card and just wanting to bask in his presence a little while longer.

After a day of interviews, Kenji can’t wait to see you again.

He’s asked the chefs to prepare something special for you, a chirashi bowl and your favorite mochi to welcome you back from a day of shopping and classes.

His front door beeps open and you waltz right in, though he can tell something’s off. Your smile’s a little too tight in the corners, and he isn’t sure if the lighting is playing tricks or if your eyes are red-rimmed.

“Baby—”

“Ken, I need to tell you something.”

The truth was you’ve been feeling off the whole week—sleeping in too much, having rapid mood swings, going light-headed whenever you stood up too fast. But, the final strike was when you walked into a ramen shop this afternoon for a quick bite and literally gagged at the smell of freshly cooked rice—which never happens because you love rice more than life.

“I’m pregnant.”

Fumbling in your backpack, you don’t look up, rummaging for the small test which has changed your life in a matter of minutes. You bring it to him, noticing his wide eyes and bloodless lips; looking like he’s gone into shock.

He plucks the test from your hands, scrutinizing the double pink lines that cut through him with more pain than any Kaiju claw ever could.

Without another word, he sets the test down, storming past you and grabbing his leather jacket.

Your world falls apart at the seams when he can’t even look at you, the tufts of dark hair falling across his face being angrily pushed back. Agony rips through your soul, leaving you shell shocked at his reaction, your hands falling uselessly to your side.

“Ken—”

“We’ll talk about this later,” he cuts you off.

You hear a mechanical whirl behind you, Mina coming to your rescue.

“Ken? Aren’t you going to have dinner with Y/N—?”

“Later,” he snaps at her, and you don’t think you’ve ever seen your tender-hearted boyfriend look this angry; a dark cloud hangs over him, thundering across this room and bringing you right into the eye of his disappointment.

Tears sting behind your lids, and you dash at those pesky droplets before they could fall, running after him.

“Ken, I’m sorry—”

“I need time to think.”

You grab at his sleeve, wishing he would just tell you what was bothering him.

“About what?” you shout in despair.

You’re being unreasonable with his request for space, but you can’t see beyond the fear of losing him after you’ve already lost so much: your parents to a Kaiju attack, your sister to a painful drug addiction.

You can’t lose Kenji, too.

He tugs at his sleeve back, nearly making you stumble and fall flat on your face. You catch yourself in time, staring at him in pure shock.

Ken curses under his breath, and despite his cruelty, he steadies your shoulders, clasping onto you tightly. Those violet eyes are brimming with anguish, a pain he is unwilling to share with you. From being an open book whose pages you love to read and reread again, he’s now a subject you can’t possibly understand.

“I need time to myself to think about what to do.” Glancing at the hovering robot, he sighs. “Mina, make sure she gets to bed on time. I’m going for a drive.”

Though she’s programmed to check her Master on orders that do not make sense, her sensors record the cadence of his tone, registering it as pure frustration.

“Of course, Ken. Y/N—come and have some dinner—”

You storm past him, ignoring his squeak of indignation.

“Where are you going?”

Turning back, your lips pull into a terrifying sneer. “Doing you a favor and leaving first.”

“To where?” His exasperation makes you see red, and you don’t reply, huffing and pushing the door open, speed walking towards your old Camry.

“Come on. You can’t be serious.” Kenji uses his longer legs to effortlessly catch up to you, grabbing your arm.

The drizzle outside turns into a light rush of rain, steadily soaking you from head to toe. Ken can’t help the flash of panic at the thought of you driving in such bad weather conditions. But, you’re understandably upset with him and can’t think straight—it was his fault for hurting you first.

Heartbreak radiates across your face and he flinches at the sight of tears welling in your eyes. His shoulders sag and he wants nothing more than to reach out to you and hold you tightly to his chest, but you pull away with a sniff and a shake of your head.

“I can’t believe I thought you would be there for me when I needed you the most.”

You tug yourself free from his grasp, opening the car door and rushing inside; giving him one last, stinging look.

Droplets of icy cold water trickle down his face, illuminated faintly by the green neon of your car’s dashboard.

“Y/N, I…”

He wants to open his heart to you, tell you everything about the man behind the facade.

The wounded son, the struggling young baseball star, the giant hero fighting monsters and the dangers that haunt his waking moments…

But, he clams up, holding you back from the truth.

You exhale brokenly.

It was just like Ken to always keep you at arm’s length—hovering just out of reach. You’re not sure how long you can stay faithful and patient for him to finally let you into his heart.

“Goodbye, Kenji.”

He watches your car speed down the driveway, round the bend and out of his life. His broad shoulders curl forward, and he wants so badly to kick his bike into gear and chase after you, apologizing for his mistake.

But the part of him that would always remain selfish, the one untouched by your goodness and the harsh lessons he’s learned in this life, nails him to the spot.

If he doesn’t chase after you, maybe you might change your mind and get rid of it yourself.

He shakes his head, a wave of disgust rising in him.

Is this who you really are, Ken Sato? A coward?

“Ken? It’s raining. Don’t you want to come in?”

Mina’s concern breaks through his destructive thoughts and he sighs. “Mina, do you have a view on her? Where is she going?”

The robot pauses, scanning through the city’s data systems. “She’s right on Odori-chome. Rounding the bend to Takayo Dorms. It looks like she’ll be staying with a friend tonight.”

As much as he loathes the idea of you being pregnant and having to sleep on some poor college student’s floor, Ken knows he has to give you space or else you’ll implode.

“Okay. If she calls, let me know immediately. She’s pregnant—” He chokes on that word, and Mina gives a concerned whir. “And I’m worried. I’ll see her tomorrow and…” The young man trails off, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Mina, I’m scared.”

She extends one robotic arm, guiding him inside to warmth and dryness, the doors automatically closing behind him. Ken staggers to the couch, kicking the bottom compartment open and finding a can of his favorite Asahi on hand.

He cracks it open, drinking deeply while Mina floats next to him, vigilant and listening.

“Was dad ever scared when mom broke the news to him?”

To his surprise, Mina chuckles. “Why don’t you call him up and ask him yourself?”

Ken considers it, glancing at his watch. Professor Sato was probably already in bed by now, and he didn’t want the old man grilling him on his poor life choices so late in the night.

“... I’ll do it tomorrow. After the playoffs.”

Mina titters and floats in front of him.

“Whatever mistake you think you’ve made Ken, I know you will have the courage to solve it. You are not like the person you were before—you’ve grown. Changed. And when the time is right, everything will fall back into place.”

Her words marginally comfort him, relieving him of the heaviness in his chest. Ken flashes her a weak smile, drooping his head back against the sofa. He hopes to every god above—both baseball and Kaiju deities—that she’s right.

That no matter how things ended between you two tonight, it will never leave a permanent scar on the future.

“Hey, isn’t that the guy you said you were seeing?”

Chisa, your roommate from months ago when you still lived near campus, points at the shoddy screen of her twice broken down TV. She’s sipping on a beer while spreadsheets and blueprints litter around her—remnants of last night’s cramp study session which was interrupted by your unexpected return.

You lift your head from her couch and true enough, the devil in the form of Ken Sato’s confident smile appears on the screen, making your stomach turn and heart twist.

Flopping back onto the hard couch, you sigh. “Yeah.”

Chisa rakes a hand through her platinum blonde hair, stifling a yawn. “You know what—I get it. I would be absolutely shattered too if a hot, successful and rich man dumped me for getting pregnant. You just can’t win everything in life.”

You want to throw a pillow into her face for such harsh words, but a part of you—that small, terrified part—has to agree.

“So, are you going to keep it?”

Her sudden question makes you wish you never asked her for a favor in the first place. While Chisa was friendly enough, it was her sharp tongue and blunt nature which often led you two into mini arguments back when you were still living with her.

“I don’t know,” you tell her truthfully, sitting up and feeling a pang of hunger course through you. “It’s not like I can afford a baby right now without—” Your throat swells, the words caught behind a lump.

Chisa has enough grace not to comment on the tears glossing in your eyes. She turns her attention back to the screen to let you rub them away, raising the volume to drown out your quiet sniffles.

The both of you watch the sports segment—her, completely engrossed, and you numbly tracking Ken's every movement on the pitch. It’s a livestream from one of his games happening this morning, the very first game you won’t be cheering him on from the stands.

Without much thought, you touch your belly, wondering if the little life in there could see his or her daddy on screen. The reality that this would be the only way they could meet their own father makes you tear up again, and you reach for your dead phone, needing to at least hear his voice again.

It didn’t matter if Ken Sato didn’t want you in his life or if he refused to acknowledge the child you’re carrying as his. You just needed to know he would still be there for you.

Hooking it to a cable, you switch your phone back on, and instantly, a stream of messages swarm in.

I know you never liked it whenever I asked Mina to keep an eye on you, but she told me you’re rooming with a friend. Chisa, right? I hope she doesn’t make you sleep on the floor.

Another text.

Yikes. Reading that again, I sound like an absolute dick. What I meant to say was that I hope you’re comfortable and you can rest well. I know the way we ended things was messy to sum it up, but I really hope this wouldn’t be the last time we see each other.

The last text, sent around one in the morning, three hours after your epic fight, reads:

I miss you. Goodnight, baby. Sleep well.

You lift your gaze to the TV again, and start to notice the dark circles under his eyes. The hard set of his mouth. Ken still loves me—he still wants this. Your heart leaps, and you turn your attention back to the screen, typing out:

I miss you. I’m sorry. I

A sudden tremor rocks the house, and your phone goes clattering to the ground. Chisa’s loud yelp rings through your mind as the shakes get more and more intense, as if it's getting closer.

Outside the dorms, screams erupt and alarms blare. The symphonic pattern of the warning is unmistakable: there is a Kaiju nearby.

You lurch to your feet, dragging Chisa by the arm, jolting her into action.

The sound of hundreds of feet running in one direction burns through your mind; Chisa’s arm is a constant around you as she drags you down the road, trying to find shelter from the impending danger.

It’s a lizard or moth hybrid with a wide wingspan and sharp rows of teeth. You’ve seen news reports of Kaijus before, but you’ve never dared to think you would see one up close. Spikes adorn its tail which goes crashing into buildings and houses, debris raining to the screaming crowd below like a reckoning halestorm.

Car alarms blare, in tandem with the rising panicked screams of hundreds of students and teachers who were caught off guard by this sudden attack.

“Look!” Someone yells, and in the distance, you see a human-like shape approaching fast.

“Ultraman!”

“He’s here!”

“He’s here to save us!”

Chisa, whose lips are bloodless and cheeks pale with fright, leads you up the stairs of the business school building, where you both can find higher ground to avoid the falling debris.

In your panic, you trip on a large rock and tumble to the ground, a loud, ominous crack resounding throughout this concrete cube you’ve both locked yourselves in.

“Shit!” Chisa bends down to inspect your ankle. She tries to lift it, but a searing pain cuts through your entire body, your shriek of agony making her flinch. “Fuck. Oh, fuck. This isn’t good. This isn’t—”

Boom!

The doors of the building fly off, and the monster sticks its muzzle inside, sniffing around for its prey. Having scented you and Chisa, it releases a loud screech, and before both of you could even blink, the roof flies off, its sharp talons reaching inside and grabbing you.

The sudden loss of gravity strains your broken foot and you scream in agony and fear.

“Y/N!”

As the monster lifts you right to its face, you think—this is it.

Every nerve in your body is frozen, your mouth falls open and you might’ve screamed—you can’t hear yourself or feel your body or your hands or even your broken foot anymore.

This is how I will die.

“We interrupt this game to announce that there’s a Kaiju attack nearby. All civilians are requested to proceed to the nearest emergency exit. We interrupt this game to announce—”

As the stadium erupts in chaos, Ken hears the worst news his nightmares could conjure when someone screams: “The Kaiju—it’s attacking Takayo University!”

His mind goes into overdrive, his body catching up as he feels the familiar muscles stretching and pulling, turning him into a 50-foot gargantuan hero. Mina chirps to life, and he’s never heard a robot sound so serious before.

“Ken, Gigan is approaching Takayo University. I can’t seem to get a hold on Y/N’s signal. I think her phone is switched off.”

Damn it—damn it all to hell!

He pushes his body to the max, racing towards your direction, hoping against all hope that you were somewhere safe.

The young hero wouldn’t know what to do if he lost you.

“Her messages were all gray yesterday. Her phone’s out of juice,” he snaps back. “Run a search on Chisa’s signal. They should be together.”

“Alright,” Mina whirs. “Chisa’s signal: located. They’re at the Business Faculty Park. I have sent you the coordinates.”

A flash of numbers and lines appear in front of him. Ken reads them quickly and nods. “Got it. Mina, alert dad and tell him Y/N might be harmed. Prepare the base, if needed. If she’s gone, I’ll lose my fucking mind.”

Mina doesn’t comment on his language—she chirps back, “Noted. Calling Professor Sato now.”

He sees it then—Gigan the monster who’s stomping around and has something in its grubby claws.

“Mina, I see it. I—”

Ken thinks the light is playing tricks on him. There’s a flash of a familiar sheen of hair, a smaller figure held inside Gigan’s monstrous grip.

“Mina, enhance visibility—what is it holding?!”

The sight enlarges, and Ken gasps. His shock turns into anger, and he’s taking off towards the beast, not caring of anything else in his path as he summons all his anger into a fist and knocks the giant lizard’s head backwards. Gigan’s grip loosens and Ken rushes forward to catch you, holding you tightly to his chest with one hand.

With the monster down for a moment, he glances at his palm, unfurling his fingers to find your pale, frightful face staring right at him.

“Ultraman,” you gasp, and his heart breaks when he notices streaks of tears running down your face.

You must’ve been scared shitless for your life.

“Are you alright?” The tenderness seeps through his tone, and he can’t fight back the cresting wave of loathing and self-hatred when you wrap your arms around your midsection, nodding tearfully.

“I-I’m fine—look out!”

He holds you to his chest, careful not to crush you in his grip as he spins around, deftly avoiding Gigan’s tail as it careens right into his face. The Kaiju raises itself on its hind legs, releasing an earth shattering roar.

Ken cringes back. He needs to find you a safe spot; he can’t bring you into battle like this.

Sprinting away from the carnage, all the screams and fear fade into the distance, his mind hellbent on getting you to safety.

Finding a relatively high rise building that’s been torn apart by the Kaiju and left for ruin, he gently unfurls his hand, placing you back on solid ground as if you’re a Lego figure he needs to safekeep.

You drop to your knees, unable to hold yourself up. Ken sweeps his gaze over you, and without thinking, says: “Mina, run a scan on her. Is she safe?”

Loyal to a fault, she follows his orders, coming to a hard pause when your screech reaches both their attention.

“Mina?! Hang on—”

Despite his sheer size and how tinier you are in comparison, Ken flinches when you march up to him, looking right into his glowing eyes.

The masked hero whose identity has been hidden since the day he assumed the role of Tokyo’s protector, freezes like a deer caught in headlights and for a moment, nothing exists in this world besides your eyes on his. You reach out, tips of your fingers caressing his armored cheek.

As if an unspoken truth comes to light, your eyes widen, and you touch both hands onto his cheek, skimming them across his nose. Those wide, luminescent eyes slip close, like he's enjoying your touch.

“It’s you.” Your choked gasp tears at his soul, and Ken opens his eyes to find you crying, a palm pressed right to your mouth. “Oh my God. It really is you. It—”

Your knees buckle, unable to hold yourself upright to such a heavy truth. You slide to the ground and he reaches out a hand, letting you lean against his much bigger palm. His heart is beating so fast, he has to remind himself to breathe so he doesn’t transform in front of you and can’t protect the rest of the civilians from Gigan.

“Ken,” you say his name like a prayer, curling your much smaller fingers around his ring one, feeling the smooth armor of his alien skin under your touch. “Ken. I knew something was off about you but I—”

This pure moment of ecstatic discovery is cut off by a loud screech.

Ken hears Gigan approach and he’s about to urge you to be safe when you lurch to your feet and stumble towards him.

It’s a split second of unadulterated heaven opening its white, pearly gates when your head touches his gargantuan forehead. You breathe and he breathes, the both of you suspended in this time and space where it's just the two of you in this world—human and beast, lover and monster.

“Come back to me.”

That’s all you say, all you have the time to elucidate before he’s ripped away by Gigan’s claws.

Your cry pierces through his soul, and before he falls, he casts a protective shield around you, trapping you in a blue bubble of safety.

But, it’s a miscalculated move.

Gigan’s tail whips around, knocking the base of the building. One second, Ken’s eyes are locked on yours, and in the next moment, the entire roof falls on top of you.

“Nooooo!”

Ken fights out of the monster’s grasp, using his sheer strength to dig his fingers into the creature's mouth and tear its entire head clean off by its jaw.

Ending its life for daring to hurt yours.

This is it.

He doesn’t care that his father would call this cruel—doesn't care for the mess and press comments calling him unhinged or for the KDF commending him on his efficiency in killing off a Kaiju.

This is his entire universe coming to an end.

The tap tap tap of Professor Sato’s cane on the steel floors of the family’s underground base barely rouses Kenji from his vigil by your sickbed.

From his vantage point, Hayao easily notices his son’s sunken eyes, the unshaven chin and exhausted slump in his shoulders. Ken is holding his phone in one hand, occasionally glancing at a message on the smeared screen. His sharp eyes catch an unfinished message, glossing over it as Ken finally hears his footsteps and pockets his phone hastily.

I miss you. I’m sorry. I

A heavy weight settles in his chest like grease, and the older man exhales a sigh.

Without another word, he takes a seat next to his weary son, placing a hand on his shoulder.

“Kenji, you’ve been down here for days. You need to see the sun—stretch and eat a proper meal.”

He turns those solemn, violet eyes he passed down to his son onto the faint pallor of a young woman resting in a medically-induced deep sleep inside the emergency pod, her chest rising and falling slowly.

Your vital stats on a holographic board floats in front of him, and Hayao stifles a sigh when he sees a tiny, bean-shaped blob hovering in another panel, its features barely formed but already so dear to him.

Kenji can barely look at the vitals of his unborn child, eyes closed and head hung heavily as if the weight of the world drags his shoulders down. It might as well have, judging from the mess Hayao had to clean up when his son was too emotionally strained to handle the aftermath of Gigan’s attack.

“I can’t leave her side,” he replies monotonously.

Hayao recognizes that despair Kenji exudes, having experienced it many, many times over his twenty plus years of being a father.

Unexpectedly, he chuckles, and Kenji raises his head, finding his father’s expression faraway, nostalgia glistening in his rheumy eyes.

“Oh, I remember the time your mother broke the news that she was expecting you.”

Any mention of Emiko would draw Kenji’s attention like a moth to a flame. His son listens, patiently waiting for him to reveal the next part.

Hayao smiles and shakes his head. “Just like how you reacted, I was stunned. I had to sit down when she passed me the test. It was the first time she’s ever seen me speechless.” Grasping his son’s shoulder and giving it a squeeze, the older Sato sighs.

“Kenji, there comes a time in every man’s life when he has to sit down and evaluate if he’s the right fit for fatherhood. Any man can be a father, but it takes a noble, patient, and kind-hearted man to be a dad.”

He continues. “Children aren’t easy. Human children, that is. Kaiju ones grow too quickly and already have a set path due to their nature,” he chortles at the memory of Emi, and Ken can’t resist smiling at that.

“But, babies… They test us. Show us what we lack and how imperfect we are. They have their own dreams, needs and wants. They’re loud, messy and take up so much of your heart, thoughts and peace. But, despite all of that, they’re our hopes and dreams.” Hayao chuckles. “If anyone were to ask me what my greatest legacy is, I would never say ‘Ultraman’ or the research I’ve done over the years.”

Ken listens to him raptly, violet eyes wide and waiting.

Hayao finally looks at him, and in those similar purple orbs, he finds a kindred spirit—someone who knows his burdens inside and out because he’s lived through them all for half of his life.

“My greatest legacy is you, Kenji. My son.”

A wizened finger taps on the screen, and the room fills up with the echoing pulse of a second heartbeat, fainter like its coming from the bottom of the ocean. But, it’s as strong as his own, and in that, Ken feels the anger, despair and disappointment he holds for himself slowly dissipating like steam on a hot day.

“And after seeing how much you’ve sacrificed and learned from raising Emi, I know this baby would be so lucky to have you as a dad.”

Hayao gets to his feet with slight difficulty, patting Ken’s shoulder.

“Don’t be too hard on yourself, Kenji. It will all work out just fine. Take it one day at a time, alright?”

Ken wants to ask about the neverending dread, if his father ever feared putting his family in danger—the perils of parenting and how he’s going to juggle baseball, Ultraman and being a dad (a real one, this time) all at once.

Like he’s heard his son’s uncontrollable thoughts, Hayao turns back to give him one last piece of sage advice.

“Everything will be okay. You are Kenji Sato—your mother’s son and my son. You will never be alone.” He glances at your resting form. “And she will never leave you. A woman who readily accepts our family’s duty and burdens is a rare gem indeed, son.”

“But, mom did the same,” he blurts out, brows knitting together. “She accepted you with open arms, too. How can you say it’s rare when it has happened before?”

Hayao’s eyes sparkle as if Ken has finally found the answer to his perpetually troubling question.

“That’s why I married her.”

He leaves Ken alone to ponder his words, the doors closing behind his frail form.

The young man turns back to your pod, placing a hand over the reinforced glass, right over your belly.

Before he can stop himself, he presses his forehead against the cool metal, sighing.

“Well, you heard him,” he mutters. “The second you wake up, baby, I’m locking you down—there’s no shaking me off this time.”

A click. A whir.

The world slowly comes back to focus and you furrow your brow, biting back a groan. Your body faintly pulses with pain, like it’s remembering the trauma you suffered through a five year memory fade.

But, your limbs work, and it doesn't hurt to breathe.

“Hey, you’re awake.”

That voice…

You pry your eyes open and the second you recognize his face, you think you could break down and cry. Soft violet eyes appraise you, slender fingers reaching out to tenderly graze your cheek.

“Ken…”

He catches your embrace, holding you so tightly you think you might suffocate. The feel of his arms around you is like coming home after a long day, and you think he might feel the same way, his heartbeat thudding erratically under your cheek.

“I’m so sorry. So, so sorry,” he apologizes over and over again. It takes all of your willpower not to tear up at the look of defeat on his face. You cup his cheek, bringing him closer so both your foreheads can touch.

“It’s alright, Ken,” you murmur, free hand running through his thick, raven locks. “It’s okay. We’re okay.”

He cradles your tummy at the reminder, looking like a puppy that’s been kicked to the curb.

“I was so mean to you. And to Peanut. I’m so sorry—”

“Peanut?” You blink, and he doubles back, scratching the back of his head.

“I, um… may have given the baby a nickname while you were, uh, recovering.”

Your lovely, silly boyfriend thought you would be angry when it is the furthest from the truth. “Peanut, huh?”

You place your hand over his, drinking in this moment of having your entire family right here, safe and sound.

“I like it. Peanut.” Your smile is saint-like, warm like the first sun rays breaking through a long, dark night. “Peanut is perfect for him or her.”

He doesn’t deserve the grace and forgiveness you’ve shown him and Kenji thinks that for the rest of his life he wants to atone for all the wrongs he’s ever committed.

Your health is his priority, and kick-starting this renewed promise to you, he’s there every step of the way during your recovery—feeding you, bathing you, helping you regain your ability to walk without needing a crutch, taking you to physiotherapy classes so you would be mobile again after breaking your leg.

He even shows you Kaiju Island with his dad, Professor Sato and him catching up with a now one year old Emi who’s grown into her wingspan and new abilities. At first, you were terrified to meet the Kaiju baby your boyfriend once raised, but the moment she scented you, she was all over you like an overly-friendly cat.

Her beak presses against the barely-there swell of your belly, and she coos in delight.

Looks like Emi is happy to be a big sister. Professor Sato laughs at that, thumping his son on the back.

Siblings—Kaiju and a human—I’ll have to trash my entire research thesis because nothing can compare to this!

You move back in with Ken, ditching your old dorm and studying from home to accommodate your growing belly and fatigue. Your lecturers were understanding enough, though you suspect the Ken Sato’s reputation was enough for them to give you some leeway.

Ken reduces his time spent on the pitch to be home with you and the baby, catching the press’ attention who start to wonder if the great Ken Sato is cracking yet again. Eventually, it's his old frenemy, Ami, who spots him leaving a prenatal clinic with you one rainy morning after tailing him for days.

Your boyfriend literally has to bribe her with two months worth of free Tonkatsu dinners on his card before she lets the scoop go, giving you a sympathetic look that makes you laugh and Ken indignant.

Life was back to normal—or, as normal as it could be after finding out your boyfriend is literally a 50-foot alien superhero who fights monsters.

One night where you’re both just lazing around on the sofa, Ken decides to show more of his world to you, and tugs your hand, leading you to the underground base which he affectionately dubs his ‘mancave’.

There, he asks Mina to pull up an old recording of Emiko on the stands and officially introduces his girlfriend to his mother.

“She’s beautiful, Ken.” You approach her with a fond smile, and his arms wrap around you; heart filled with pure happiness at the sight of his two favorite women in one room. Ken kisses the top of your head and then sighs.

“I wish you could meet her, baby. She would’ve loved you to the moon and back.”

He tells you of the efforts to retrieve her from a wormhole; how he spends everyday wondering if the next time he sees his mother, he’ll be just as old and gray as her. You’re there for his every rumination, every fear.

“My parents separated when I was really young,” he confesses while you’re both lying in bed in each other’s arms, giving you another piece of his childhood that you welcome with no judgment. “I don’t want to be like my dad—putting Kaijus or my career first that I lose the both of you.”

At those words, you take his face in your hands, looking him in the eye as you shake your head. “You will never lose me, Kenji Sato. I’m yours and you’re mine. We’re in this as a team and we’ll see this through.” Echoing his father’s advice, you grin. “Let’s just take this one day at a time, okay?”

With his past revealed and double identity known, it’s your turn to be there for him in a different way.

When the voices of doubt get too loud for him, you don’t let him wallow in his misery for long, encouraging him to teach you how to bat a ball or letting him press his cheek to your growing tummy so he can feel Peanut moving around.

You meant every word you said to him that night in the tender darkness: you were both a team. No matter how bad the storm hits, you would weather it together.

One day, without you expecting it, Ken proposes to you while you’re both watching a movie.

“I can’t walk down the aisle!” You pout, and he’s taken aback, thinking you’re flat out rejecting him when you point at your nose. “My nose will be all squished and the photos will come out ugly,” you whine. “Pregnancy noses are a thing,” you try to convince him as he bends over in laughter.

“Baby,” he wipes the tears from his eyes, broad shoulders shaking with repressed mirth. “Squished nosh or not, I still love you, squirt.”

He removes a simple, velvet box from his pants pocket and reveals a ring with your birthstone and his on it. You whisper about a hundred ‘yes's’ in response to his “Will you marry me, sweetheart?”; tearing up when he slips the ring onto your left hand and brings it to his lips, kissing your knuckles affectionately.

“Have I ever told you I love you so, so much, baby?”

Though you have no idea what’s in store in the future with a man who can turn into a superhero, and a whole new world of monsters, baseball and parenthood to navigate, you thank your lucky stars that he’s right beside you for the journey.

“Maybe it wouldn’t hurt to hear it again.”

He chuckles and kisses your cheek, the feel of his smile on your skin like the embrace of home.

“I love you.”

“Hah,” you look up, starry-eyed and in love as you push his bangs out of the way. “I love you, too, Kenji Sato.”

— feedback and reblogs are appreciated <3

©️ all works belong to lalunanymph. do not copy, repost or claim my plot points, structure and elements of work as your own.

#🦢 writes #kenji sato x reader #ultraman rising x reader #kenji sato #ken sato #kenji sato smut #kenji sato angst #ultraman x reader #tw pregnancy #tw unprotected sex #first ultraman post let's go !!

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cool-fancier · 2 months ago

Text

Running into You

Synopsis: You're just an ordinary person, but your life is about to take an extraordinary turn. Your friend Somi, a die-hard Blackpink fan, drags you to their concert. You stumble upon a quiet backstage area and bump into none other than Rosé, the main vocalist.

Word Count:6.9K (long one)

The afternoon sun filtered through the curtains of your living room, casting a soft, golden glow over the space. You were curled up on the couch with a book, trying to lose yourself in its pages, but your attention kept drifting. The words blurred together, the story losing its grip on you as your thoughts wandered.

Lately, everything seemed to have fallen into a predictable pattern, one that you couldn't quite break free from. Work, home, the occasional hangout with Somi, and then back to the routine. It wasn't that you were unhappy—just... stuck. There was a restlessness growing inside you, a need for something different, something that would shake up the monotony of your life.

"Why do you look like you're about to fall asleep?" Somi's voice cut through your reverie, pulling you back to the present. She was sitting cross-legged on the floor in front of the coffee table, her laptop open with several tabs displaying concert dates, fan forums, and YouTube videos.

You glanced up, startled by her sudden question. "I'm not about to fall asleep," you replied, closing the book with a sigh. "I'm just... not into this book, I guess."

Somi's eyes sparkled with that mischievous look she often had when she was up to something. "Maybe you need to do something more exciting tonight," she suggested, her voice light but full of energy.

You raised an eyebrow, curious but cautious. "Like what?"

"Like coming to a concert with me," she said, her grin widening as she leaned forward, clearly excited about whatever she had planned. "There's this band I've been dying to see live, and I've got an extra ticket. You should totally come with me!"

You frowned slightly, hesitating. "A concert? I don't know, Somi. You know I'm not really into crowds, and I don't even know who this band is."

Somi rolled her eyes, clearly having anticipated your reluctance. "Come on, it's Blackpink! Even if you're not familiar with them, I promise you'll have a good time. Their shows are legendary, and the energy is just insane. Plus, it's been forever since we did something fun together outside of this apartment."

"Blackpink?" you repeated, the name vaguely familiar, though you couldn't place it. You might have seen it online somewhere, but you couldn't recall ever listening to their music. "I don't know..."

Somi wasn't one to give up easily. She moved closer, her tone becoming more persuasive. "Please? It'll be a blast! And who knows, maybe you'll even meet someone interesting." She winked, the playful grin on her face impossible to resist.

You chuckled, leaning back against the couch as you played along. "Oh yeah? You think I'm going to find the love of my life at a concert?"

"Hey, it could happen!" Somi teased, nudging you with her foot. "I mean, you're single, ready to mingle, and you've been in a bit of a rut lately. What better place to shake things up?"

You rolled your eyes, but the smile tugging at your lips betrayed your amusement. "Right, because that's exactly how these things work."

Somi's grin only grew wider. "You never know! Besides, I've got a good feeling about this one. Who knows, maybe you'll even catch one of the members' eyes. There's this one, Rosé—I think you'd really like her."

"Rosé?" you repeated, trying to remember if you'd ever heard that name before. "Is she famous or something?"

Somi nodded eagerly. "Yup! She's the main vocalist, and she's absolutely gorgeous. I've always thought you two would be a perfect match."

You laughed, shaking your head in disbelief. "Now you're really dreaming. What would someone like her see in someone like me?"

"Don't sell yourself short," Somi said, her tone becoming more sincere. "You're smart, kind, and beautiful. Anyone would be lucky to be with you."

You smiled softly at her words, feeling a warmth spread through your chest. Somi always knew how to lift your spirits. "Thanks, Somi. But still, it's not exactly realistic, is it?"

"Maybe not," Somi admitted with a shrug. "But hey, at least come for the music and the experience. If nothing else, you'll get to see what all the hype is about."

You considered her words carefully. The prospect of something new, something different, was tempting. Maybe a night out was exactly what you needed to break the monotony.

"Alright," you finally said, giving in with a smile. "I'll go with you."

Somi's face lit up with excitement. "Yes! You won't regret it, I promise."

— — — —

The days leading up to the concert seemed to fly by, with Somi's enthusiasm never wavering. She tried to introduce you to Blackpink's music, playing their songs while you both worked around the apartment or during your commute together, but the details mostly flew over your head. The melodies were catchy, but with your busy schedule, you never really took the time to learn the names or faces behind the voices.

Each evening, after work or on lazy weekends, Somi would excitedly share a new song or music video, pointing out her favorite moments, but you only half-listened. It wasn't that you weren't interested; it was more that the music felt like background noise to everything else happening in your life. There was always something else to focus on—work deadlines, family obligations, and the usual demands of daily life.

But as the concert date approached, you couldn't help but notice a growing sense of anticipation within yourself. Maybe it was Somi's infectious excitement, or perhaps it was just the idea of doing something out of the ordinary, but you found yourself looking forward to the night more than you had initially expected.

The night of the concert arrived faster than you expected. As you and Somi got ready in your apartment, the excitement in the air was palpable. Somi was practically bouncing off the walls as she applied the finishing touches to her makeup.

"You look amazing," you said as you watched her in the mirror, genuinely impressed by her ability to transform her look for the occasion. Somi had gone all out, wearing a stylish outfit that perfectly captured the concert vibe—bold, chic, and a little edgy.

"Thanks! So do you," she replied, turning to give you a once-over. "See? I knew you'd get into the spirit of things."

You glanced at your reflection, feeling a bit more confident in your outfit. Somi had helped you pick out something that made you feel good—something that was still very much you but with a bit of flair. For the first time in a while, you actually felt excited about going out.

As you slipped into your jacket, you caught a glimpse of yourself in the mirror. There was something different about you tonight—a spark that you hadn't seen in a long time. It wasn't just the outfit or the makeup; it was the idea of stepping out of your comfort zone, of embracing something new.

"Okay, let's go before I change my mind," you joked, grabbing your jacket as you headed for the door.

Somi laughed, linking her arm with yours as you left the apartment. "No backing out now! We've got a concert to catch, and who knows? Maybe you'll even run into Rosé.”

You rolled your eyes playfully. "Yeah, because that's totally going to happen."

The journey to the concert venue was filled with a mix of excitement and nerves. Somi kept the conversation light, chatting about her favorite songs and how incredible the band was live. You listened with a smile, feeling more at ease with each passing minute, even if you couldn't quite keep track of all the band details she was throwing at you.

As you got closer to the venue, you could feel the energy around you intensifying. The streets were crowded with fans dressed in various shades of pink, holding signs and light sticks, all buzzing with anticipation. The atmosphere was infectious, and despite your earlier reservations, you could feel your own excitement starting to build.

"This is crazy," you muttered as you and Somi made your way through the throngs of people.

"Isn't it great?" Somi replied, her eyes sparkling with excitement. "This is what it's all about—the atmosphere, the anticipation, the music. It's going to be amazing."

The crowd outside the venue was massive, with fans buzzing with anticipation as they waited to get inside. The energy was contagious, and for the first time, you felt a genuine thrill of excitement.

As you approached the entrance, you could feel your nerves creeping in again. The noise, the crowd, the unfamiliarity of it all—it was a lot to take in. Somi must have sensed your apprehension because she gave your hand a reassuring squeeze.

"Hey, if it gets too much, just let me know, okay?" she said, her tone gentle. "We can take breaks, step outside if you need to. I want you to have a good time, not feel overwhelmed."

You nodded, grateful for her understanding. "Thanks, Somi. I appreciate it."

Once inside the venue, the atmosphere was electric. The stage was set up with massive screens and lights, and the anticipation in the air was almost tangible. You and Somi found a spot with a decent view, and as you settled in, you started to feel a bit more comfortable. But as the minutes ticked by, the noise and the crush of the crowd began to get to you.

The venue was buzzing with life, the energy palpable as fans eagerly awaited the start of the show. You glanced around, taking in the sight of people decked out in merchandise—T-shirts, hats, light sticks—all proudly displaying their love for Blackpink. It was a world you didn't fully understand yet, but there was something exhilarating about being a part of it.

Somi was in her element, chatting excitedly with a group of fans nearby who were just as hyped as she was. You tried to focus on the conversation, but the noise and the sheer volume of people were starting to feel overwhelming. The venue, which had felt so thrilling moments before, was now beginning to press in on you, the weight of the crowd a little too much.

You took a deep breath, trying to ground yourself. "I'm going to step outside for a bit, just to clear my head before the show starts," you told Somi, hoping she wouldn't mind.

She looked at you with concern but quickly nodded, understanding. "Sure thing," she said, giving you a thumbs up. "Just don't take too long! You don't want to miss a second of this."

You smiled, appreciating her concern, and started to make your way through the crowd. It took longer than you anticipated, weaving through the throngs of people all eagerly chatting and finding their spots. But eventually, you reached the exit and stepped outside, into the cool night air.

The contrast was immediate and stark. The noise of the venue was replaced by the quiet hum of the city at night, the air cool against your skin. You took a deep breath, savoring the stillness, the way the world seemed to slow down out here. It was a much-needed reprieve from the overwhelming energy inside.

You walked for a bit, letting the tension in your shoulders ease as you moved further away from the noise and the crowd. The streets around the venue were quieter, less chaotic than you expected. You turned a corner and found yourself in a small, dimly lit alleyway. It wasn't particularly scenic, but it was peaceful, and right now, that was exactly what you needed.

Leaning against the wall, you closed your eyes for a moment, letting the quiet wash over you. The city sounds were distant, muted—cars in the distance, the faint murmur of voices, the occasional breeze rustling the leaves of a nearby tree. It was a soothing backdrop, one that allowed your mind to slow down and process everything.

You hadn't realized how much you needed this, this moment of solitude. The excitement of the evening, while exhilarating, had also been draining. But here, in the stillness of the night, you could finally breathe, let go of the nerves that had been building up.

Your thoughts began to wander, unbidden, back to Somi's words earlier. About Rosé. You couldn't help but smile to yourself. It was a sweet thought—Somi's belief that you and a global superstar could somehow be a perfect match. It was unrealistic, sure, but it was nice to have someone believe in you like that, even if it was just in jest.

The idea of meeting someone like Rosé felt like a distant dream, something far removed from the life you knew. But in the quiet of the alley, with nothing but your thoughts for company, it didn't seem so far-fetched. You let yourself imagine it for a moment—what it would be like to meet someone who could see you, really see you, beyond the surface. Someone who could connect with you in a way that felt real and meaningful.

You shook your head, laughing softly to yourself. "Get a grip," you muttered under your breath, pushing off the wall. This was silly, getting lost in such thoughts. It was just a concert, just a night out. Nothing more, nothing less.

But as you began to make your way back toward the venue, something caught your eye. The door to a side entrance was slightly ajar, light spilling out into the alleyway. Curious, you hesitated, wondering if you should take a peek inside. It was probably just a maintenance entrance or something equally mundane, but the idea of stepping into a quieter part of the venue was appealing.

With a quick glance around, you gently pushed the door open and slipped inside. The hallway was dimly lit, the sound of the concert preparations muffled in the distance. It was a stark contrast to the chaos outside, a pocket of calm in the midst of the storm.

You wandered down the hallway, the cool air inside a welcome change from the warmth of the crowd. There was something almost surreal about the quiet here, like you'd stepped into a different world entirely. It was a world where the noise and chaos of the concert didn't exist, where you could just be, without any expectations or pressures.

As you rounded a corner, lost in thought, you collided with someone. The impact was gentle but unexpected, and you both stumbled slightly, caught off guard.

"Oh, I'm so sorry!" you exclaimed, your hands coming up instinctively to steady the other person. "I wasn't paying attention, and—"

"It's okay," a soft voice interrupted, gentle and reassuring. "Really, no harm done."

You looked up, and your breath caught in your throat. The woman standing in front of you was stunning. She had long, blonde hair that cascaded over her shoulders, and her eyes sparkled with a warmth that immediately put you at ease. There was something ethereal about her, something that made the world around her seem to blur at the edges.

"Are you sure?" you asked, still flustered as you took a step back to give her some space. "I wasn't paying attention, and I—"

"I'm sure," she said, a smile tugging at the corners of her lips. "I've been in your shoes before—lost in thought and bumping into random people. It happens."

You let out a small, relieved laugh. "Well, I'm still sorry. I don't usually run into people like that."

"It's no big deal," she replied, her tone soft and kind. "Like I said, it happens. You're not hurt, right?"

You shook your head, still a little stunned. "No, I'm fine. Just... a little embarrassed."

"Don't be," she said, her smile widening a fraction. "It's actually kind of nice, having a normal interaction for once."

You blinked, caught off guard by her words. "Nice?"

"Yeah," she said, her voice taking on a thoughtful tone. "It's not often I get to just... be, you know? Without all the noise and expectations."

You nodded slowly, trying to process what she was saying. There was something about her, something in the way she spoke, that made you feel like you were in on a secret, like she was sharing something with you that she didn't often share with others.

"So, are you here for the concert?" you asked, hoping to steer the conversation into safer territory.

She nodded, her smile returning. "Yeah, I'm here for the concert."

"Me too," you said, relaxing a little now that the conversation had found its footing. "Well, sort of. My friend dragged me along. She's a huge fan of this band, but I don't really know much about them."

She chuckled softly, the sound warm and comforting. "That's actually kind of nice. You get to experience it all for the first time, without any preconceived notions.”

"Yeah, I guess so," you agreed, though you still felt a little out of place. "It's just a little intimidating, you know? Everyone else seems to know so much about them, and I'm just here trying to figure it all out."

"That's the beauty of it," she said, her tone light but sincere. "You get to see everything with fresh eyes. It's a rare thing, and it makes the experience all the more special."

You found yourself smiling at her words, feeling a warmth spread through your chest. There was something about her that made you want to keep talking, to keep this conversation going, but you weren't sure what to say next. The silence between you was comfortable, though, filled with a sense of understanding that didn't require words.

"So, what do you think so far?" she asked after a moment, her eyes curious.

"About what?" you replied, a little caught off guard.

"About the whole experience," she clarified, her smile softening. "The concert, the music... everything."

You took a moment to think about it, trying to put your feelings into words. "It's... overwhelming," you admitted. "But in a good way, I think. I didn't expect to feel so much... energy."

She nodded, her expression thoughtful. "It can be a lot to take in, especially if you're not used to it. But that's what makes it so powerful, I think. It's this shared experience, this connection between everyone in the room, all feeling the same thing."

You looked at her, really looked at her, and for a moment, it felt like the world had narrowed down to just the two of you. There was something in her eyes, something deep and genuine, that made your heart skip a beat. You wanted to ask her more, to keep this connection going, but the words didn't come.

Finally, she broke the silence, her voice gentle. "I should probably get back. The show's going to start soon."

You nodded, though you felt a strange reluctance to let this moment end. "Yeah, I should too."

She smiled at you, a smile that seemed to hold a thousand unspoken words, and for a moment, you thought about asking her to stay, to talk a little longer. But before you could find the courage, she turned to leave.

"Maybe I'll see you around?" you found yourself saying, the words slipping out before you could stop them.

She paused, turning back to look at you, her eyes soft. "Maybe," she said, her voice holding a promise that made your heart flutter.

And then she was gone, disappearing down the hallway and leaving you standing there, wondering what had just happened. You felt like you'd just experienced something rare, something precious, but you weren't sure what to do with it.

You stood there for a moment longer, trying to collect your thoughts before heading back to the concert. As you made your way through the crowd to find Somi, your mind kept replaying the encounter, the way her eyes had seemed to see right through you, the way her smile had made you feel like you were the only person in the world.

When you finally found Somi, she was practically vibrating with excitement, her eyes wide as she talked to a group of fans. "There you are! You almost missed it!"

You forced a smile, trying to push the encounter out of your mind, at least for now. "Sorry, I got a little lost."

Somi waved it off, too excited to care. "No worries! Come on, the show's about to start!"

You followed her into the crowd, but your thoughts kept drifting back to the woman in the hallway. There was something about her that you couldn't shake, something that made you feel like you'd just missed out on something important.

As the lights dimmed and the crowd erupted into cheers, you tried to focus on the stage, on the music, on the experience that Somi had been so eager to share with you. But your mind kept drifting back to the woman in the hallway, to the way she had looked at you, like she had seen something in you that even you hadn't noticed.

And then the music started, and the stage lights came up, and you found yourself staring at the group on stage. The woman from the hallway was standing in the center, microphone in hand, her voice soaring over the crowd. Your breath caught in your throat as you realized who she was.

She was Rosé.

And she had been singing just for you.

— — — — —

You stood frozen, your eyes glued to the stage as Rosé sang. The realization of who she was—and who you had just been speaking to—sent a shockwave through you. Her voice was even more powerful in person, filling the entire venue with a warmth and intensity that made your heart race.

Next to you, Somi was cheering loudly, completely caught up in the performance. But you were still processing everything, your mind racing as you watched Rosé move effortlessly across the stage. She was captivating, her presence commanding every bit of attention from the audience, yet all you could think about was the conversation you'd had just minutes ago.

You hadn't recognized her. How could you have not recognized her?

The thought was both embarrassing and oddly exhilarating. You'd spoken to Rosé, not as a fan, not as someone who knew everything about her, but as yourself. And she had spoken to you, not as a celebrity, but as a person. The memory of her eyes meeting yours, the warmth in her voice—it all felt so surreal now.

As the performance continued, you found yourself unable to tear your gaze away from her. Every note she sang, every movement she made, seemed to resonate with you on a deeper level. It was like she was speaking directly to you through the music, and for a moment, the crowded venue and the thousands of fans faded away, leaving just the two of you.

But then the song ended, and the crowd erupted into applause, snapping you out of your reverie. You glanced at Somi, who was practically glowing with excitement, completely oblivious to the inner turmoil you were experiencing.

"This is amazing!" Somi shouted over the noise, grabbing your arm. "Aren't they incredible?"

"Yeah," you replied, your voice a little shaky. "They really are."

Somi didn't seem to notice your unease, too caught up in the next song as it started. But you couldn't shake the feeling that something had shifted. Rosé was right there, on that stage, singing her heart out—and yet, all you could think about was the brief, fleeting connection you'd shared with her backstage.

As the concert went on, you tried to focus on the music, on the energy of the crowd, but your thoughts kept drifting back to her. You kept replaying your conversation in your head, analyzing every word, every look, trying to make sense of what had happened.

Had she recognized you? Did she know that you didn't realize who she was? Was that why she had seemed so intrigued by you?

The questions swirled in your mind, making it hard to focus on anything else. Even as the concert reached its peak, with the crowd singing along and the lights flashing in time with the music, you felt a strange sense of detachment, like you were watching everything from a distance.

It wasn't until the final song that you finally managed to pull yourself back into the moment. The music slowed, and the stage lights dimmed, casting the group in a soft, golden glow. Rosé stepped forward, her voice filling the venue with a hauntingly beautiful melody that sent chills down your spine.

You watched her, completely mesmerized. There was something raw and vulnerable in the way she sang, something that seemed to echo the conversation you'd had earlier. It was like she was laying herself bare for the world to see, and yet, somehow, it felt like she was singing just for you.

As the song came to an end, Rosé's eyes swept over the crowd, and for a brief, heart-stopping moment, they met yours. You held your breath, wondering if she recognized you, if she remembered the conversation you'd had. But then her gaze moved on, and the moment was over, leaving you with a strange mix of emotions that you couldn't quite untangle.

The concert ended with a final burst of energy, the crowd erupting into applause as the group took their bows. You clapped along with everyone else, but your mind was still elsewhere, lost in the whirlwind of thoughts and feelings that Rosé had stirred up.

As the lights came up and the crowd began to disperse, Somi turned to you, her face flushed with excitement. "That was incredible! I'm so glad you came with me!"

"Yeah, it was amazing," you agreed, though your voice lacked the enthusiasm that Somi's held.

She didn't seem to notice, still buzzing with the afterglow of the concert. "We should totally do this again sometime! I can't believe how good they were live!"

You nodded, forcing a smile. "Definitely."

But as you made your way out of the venue, your thoughts kept drifting back to Rosé. The concert was over, but the memory of your encounter with her lingered, leaving you with a sense of unfinished business, like there was something more to be said, something more to be done.

You couldn't shake the feeling that you'd missed an opportunity, that there was something important that had been left unsaid. And as you and Somi walked through the crowd, your mind raced with possibilities, wondering if you'd ever get the chance to speak to her again.

— — — — —

The ride home was a blur of neon lights and distant chatter. Somi was still gushing about the concert, replaying her favorite moments and showing you clips she'd captured on her phone. You tried to engage, to share in her excitement, but your mind was elsewhere, still stuck in that dimly lit hallway where you'd spoken to Rosé.

By the time you arrived back at your apartment, Somi had finally started to wind down. She flopped onto the couch with a satisfied sigh, scrolling through her phone for more Blackpink content.

"That was seriously one of the best nights ever," she said, glancing up at you with a grin. "Thanks for coming with me."

"I'm glad I did," you replied, and you meant it. Despite the overwhelming emotions, there was something about the night that felt... significant.

Somi yawned, clearly exhausted from all the excitement. "I think I'm going to crash," she said, standing up and stretching. "But we should totally talk about this tomorrow. I want to hear all your thoughts about the concert."

You nodded, watching as she headed to her room, leaving you alone with your thoughts. The apartment was quiet now, the only sound the faint hum of traffic outside. You sank onto the couch, finally allowing yourself to process everything that had happened.

Your mind kept drifting back to Rosé, to the way she had looked at you, the way her voice had sounded in that quiet hallway. There was something about the encounter that you couldn't shake, something that felt unfinished.

Without really thinking, you pulled out your phone and opened up a search engine, typing in "Rosé Blackpink" out of curiosity. As the search results popped up, you were greeted with countless images of her—performing on stage, attending events, posing for photoshoots. She looked just as stunning in the photos as she had in person, but there was something different about the woman you'd met.

In the photos, she was polished, poised, the image of a global superstar. But the Rosé you had spoken to in the hallway had been different—more relaxed,

more real. There had been a vulnerability in her eyes, a warmth in her smile, that you hadn't expected.

You found yourself scrolling through the images, searching for that same warmth, that same realness, but it wasn't there. In the photos, she was Rosé, the idol, the star, but in the hallway, she had just been... herself.

As you continued to scroll, you came across a video of the concert you had just attended. Curious, you clicked on it, watching as the camera panned over the crowd before zooming in on the stage. The energy of the concert was palpable, even through the screen, but your focus was solely on Rosé.

The video captured the final song, the one where Rosé had looked out into the crowd, her voice filled with emotion. You watched as she sang, her eyes sweeping over the audience, and for a moment, you could almost convince yourself that she was looking at you.

But as the video continued, you noticed something that made your heart skip a beat. Just before the song ended, Rosé glanced off to the side of the stage, her expression shifting subtly. It was a brief moment, barely noticeable, but it felt significant.

You replayed the video, watching that moment over and over, trying to decipher the meaning behind it. Was she looking for someone? Was she thinking about your conversation? Or was it just a trick of the camera, a coincidence that meant nothing?

The questions swirled in your mind, making it impossible to focus on anything else. You tried to push them away, telling yourself that it was just a chance encounter, that it didn't mean anything, but the doubts lingered.

Finally, you set your phone down, running a hand through your hair with a frustrated sigh. You needed to stop overthinking this. It had been a moment, a brief, fleeting moment, and nothing more.

But as you lay in bed that night, staring up at the ceiling, you couldn't help but wonder. What if it had been more? What if there was something deeper, something that you hadn't fully grasped?

The questions haunted you as you drifted off to sleep, leaving you with a strange sense of anticipation, like you were standing on the edge of something important, something life-changing, but you didn't know what it was.

— — — —

The next morning, you woke up feeling restless, the events of the previous night still fresh in your mind. Somi was already up, humming to herself as she made breakfast, but you couldn't bring yourself to join her. Instead, you grabbed your phone and headed out to the small balcony attached to your apartment, hoping the fresh air would help clear your head.

As you stood outside, your thoughts drifted back to the concert, to Rosé, and to the way she had looked at you. There was something about that moment, about the way she had spoken to you, that you couldn't shake. It felt like there was more to it, something left unsaid, something unfinished.

You stared out at the city, trying to piece together the puzzle of the night before. Why had Rosé taken the time to talk to you? Why had she seemed so different from the image you had of her—a global superstar with thousands of fans at her feet? The encounter felt significant, but you couldn't put your finger on why.

Somi's voice pulled you from your thoughts. "Hey, you okay out there?" she called from the kitchen.

"Yeah," you replied, though your voice lacked conviction. "Just thinking."

Somi appeared in the doorway, leaning against the frame as she looked at you with concern. "You've been quiet since last night. Did something happen?"

You hesitated, not sure how to explain what you were feeling. "It's nothing, really. Just... processing, I guess."

She gave you a knowing smile. "The concert was pretty intense, huh? I saw the way you were watching the stage. It's like you were in a trance."

You nodded, your thoughts drifting back to Rosé's performance, the way her voice had wrapped around you, pulling you into a world where only the two of you existed. "Yeah... something like that."

Somi grinned, pushing off the doorframe. "I knew you'd come around! I'll make a Blinks fan out of you yet."

You forced a laugh, trying to match her enthusiasm, but the unease lingered. There was something more to last night, something you couldn't quite grasp. And it was gnawing at you, refusing to let go.

After breakfast, you decided to take a walk to clear your head. You needed to get out, to think, to figure out what was bothering you so much. Somi offered to come with you, but you declined, telling her you needed some time alone.

The streets were quieter than usual, the weekend morning lulling the city into a slow start. You wandered aimlessly, your feet carrying you without direction, your mind replaying every detail of the night before. The way Rosé had looked at you, the way she had smiled—there was something there, something that made you feel seen in a way you hadn't expected.

As you turned a corner, your thoughts still tangled, you nearly bumped into someone coming from the opposite direction. You looked up, an apology ready on your lips, but the words died in your throat when you saw who it was.

It was Rosé.

She was standing right in front of you, dressed casually in jeans and a simple jacket, a baseball cap pulled low over her eyes. For a moment, neither of you moved, both caught off guard by the sudden encounter.

"Hi," she said, her voice soft, almost hesitant.

"Hi," you echoed, your heart pounding in your chest. You couldn't believe it—what were the chances?

Rosé looked around, as if checking to see if anyone was watching, then back at you, a small smile tugging at her lips. "I didn't expect to see you again so soon."

"Me neither," you replied, your mind racing to catch up with the situation. "Are you... are you following me?"

Her eyes widened in surprise, then she laughed, a sound so genuine and warm that it made your heart flutter. "No, not at all. I'm just... I don't know. I guess it's fate or something."

"Fate?" you repeated, the word hanging between you like a question that neither of you could answer.

She nodded, her smile fading into something more serious. "Yeah, maybe. Or maybe I just... I don't know, wanted to see you again."

Your breath caught in your throat. There was something in her eyes, something that made you feel like this moment was teetering on the edge of something bigger, something you couldn't quite grasp.

Before you could respond, she glanced around again, her expression shifting. "Listen, I know this might sound strange, but... would you mind walking with me for a bit? I'd like to talk, if that's okay."

You hesitated, still trying to wrap your mind around the fact that Rosé was standing in front of you, asking to spend more time together. "Sure," you finally managed to say, your voice barely above a whisper.

She smiled, a genuine smile that seemed to reach her eyes, and motioned for you to follow her. The two of you started walking, side by side, the city moving around you as if in a different world. Neither of you spoke at first, the silence between you comfortable, but charged with anticipation.

As you walked, Rosé glanced over at you, her expression contemplative. "You know, I don't get to do this often," she said quietly.

"Do what?" you asked, curious.

"Just... be myself," she replied, her voice tinged with a hint of vulnerability. "Away from the cameras, the expectations. It's nice to have a conversation without all the noise."

You nodded, feeling a deep sense of connection to her words. "I can imagine. It must be exhausting, always being in the spotlight."

"It is," she admitted, her eyes distant for a moment. "But last night... talking to you, it felt different. Like I could just be me."

There was a softness in her tone, something that made your heart ache with a strange mix of emotions. You wanted to say something, to tell her that you felt the same, but the words were stuck in your throat.

The two of you continued walking until you found yourselves in front of a small, cozy café tucked away in a quiet corner of the city. It was the kind of place that looked like it was straight out of a postcard, with ivy creeping up the walls and a charming little sign that swung gently in the breeze.

Rosé hesitated at the entrance, then turned to you with a smile. "Do you want to grab a coffee? My treat.”

"Sure," you replied, feeling a mix of excitement and nervousness.

The café was warm and inviting, with the scent of freshly brewed coffee filling the air. Rosé led you to a table in the corner, away from the few other patrons, and the two of you sat down, the atmosphere between you comfortable, but still tinged with something unspoken.

As you both sipped your drinks, the conversation began to flow more easily. Rosé was surprisingly down-to-earth, sharing stories about her life, her travels, and the little things that made her happy. You found yourself opening up as well, sharing stories from your own life, laughing at shared experiences, and finding common ground in unexpected places.

The connection between you grew stronger with each passing moment, and for a while, it felt like the outside world didn't exist—just the two of you, talking and laughing over coffee.

But then, just as you were beginning to relax completely, Rosé's phone buzzed on the table. She glanced at it, her expression shifting slightly, but then she smiled at you and put the phone face down on the table, clearly not wanting to interrupt your time together.

"You're popular," you teased lightly, trying to keep the mood light.

Rosé chuckled, her eyes twinkling. "It's probably just work stuff. I try not to let it interfere when I'm enjoying myself."

"Well, I'm glad you're enjoying yourself," you said, feeling a warmth spread through you.

She looked at you, her gaze softening. "I really am. This is... nice. Just being able to sit and talk like this."

There was a moment of comfortable silence between you, and then Rosé's phone buzzed again. This time, she let out a small sigh and reached for it.

"Sorry, let me just check this quickly," she said, her tone apologetic.

"Of course," you replied, trying to ignore the slight pang of disappointment.

Rosé glanced at the screen, her eyes widening slightly as she read the message. A small smile tugged at her lips, and then she looked up at you, her expression somewhere between amused and mischievous.

"Everything okay?" you asked, curious about what had caused her reaction.

She nodded, biting her lip as if holding back a laugh. "Yeah, it's just... do you trust me?"

The question caught you off guard, but there was something in her tone, in the playful glint in her eyes, that made you smile. "I think so... why?"

She leaned in slightly, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "Because I just had a crazy idea, and I think it could be a lot of fun."

You raised an eyebrow, intrigued but wary. "What kind of crazy idea?"

Rosé grinned, her excitement almost contagious. "How do you feel about a little adventure? Something spontaneous?”

Your heart skipped a beat at the suggestion, the idea of doing something completely

out of the ordinary both thrilling and nerve-wracking. "What did you have in mind?"

She looked around the café, as if making sure no one was listening, then leaned in closer. "Well, I just got a text from one of the girls in my group. They're doing something kind of wild today, and they dared me to bring someone along. Someone... unexpected."

Your eyes widened in surprise. "You mean... you want me to come with you?"

"Yeah," she said, her smile widening. "If you're up for it. It's nothing dangerous, I promise. Just a little spontaneous fun."

You hesitated for a moment, your mind racing with possibilities. This was definitely not what you had expected when you woke up this morning, but the idea of spending more time with Rosé, of being part of whatever adventure she had in mind, was too tempting to resist.

"Okay," you said, feeling a rush of excitement. "I'm in."

Rosé's eyes lit up with excitement. "Great! Let's go before we change our minds."

As the two of you quickly finished your drinks and prepared to leave the café, your heart raced with anticipation. Whatever was about to happen, it was sure to be something you would never forget.

#blackpink x reader #blackpink #blackpink imagines #blackpink scenarios #blackpink x fem #blackpink x you #blackpink fanfiction #blackpink x fem reader #rosé blackpink #blackpink rosé #blackpink reactions #rosé x reader #park chaeyoungxfem #rosé fluff #rosé x fem

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jigeuminunbich · 8 months ago

Text

new look | lee jeno

synopsis in which you become acquainted with your boyfriend’s new haircut.

genre nonidol!au, fem!reader, established relationship, and fluff

warnings reader is a bit bratty, pet names (baby, pretty), and a man having the audacity to cut his hair instead of growing it out :((

word count less than 1k

a/n wrote this as a love letter to the legendary jullet (jeno mullet) BUT also an appreciation of his short cut because i think he’s rocking it right now. though nothing, and i mean not one thing, can touch the hot sauce jullet (r.i.p bby)

Trust, Jeno knew the weight of this situation. Your attachment to his hair was no secret between the two of you. You loved it. Threading your fingers in the hairs around the nape of his neck, continuously running your hands through his raven locks, attentively fixing the lengthy strands that fell into place in front of his sight. Sure, in your lonesome together, your hands were always on Jeno but your number one comfort place was having a hand constantly glued to his hair.

“___, baby, please open the door,” Jeno pleaded, gently laughing against the wood of your bedroom door. Of course there was a way he could finesse the knob himself but he found your unnecessary, yet completely anticipated temper tantrum— cute.

“No!”

“Baby,” Jeno bit back laughter, pressing his freshly exposed forehead to the door.

“How could you do this to me?!” Though muffled, he heard your dramatic query. His shielded laughter pushed its way past his lips, leaving you to hear his harmonious snickering as you stood on the opposite side of the threshold.

“What was that, pretty?” Jeno’s smile stretched, expecting his question would pressure you to let him in. The stretch of his lips could only double when he heard the lock click— stepping a few paces back for your reappearance just before your exasperated face was peeking through the minor crack you purposefully left in the door.

“I said,” you began. “How could you do this to me?” You whined, the sight of your boyfriend promptly making you upset all over again.

Jeno chuckled at your state, taking you the least bit seriously. “You’re being dramatic,” he countered.

Before you could hide from him again, Jeno wedged his hand between the door and the sill. Obviously, you were no match against his strength so you gave up control over the door without a fight.

“Thank you, finally.” Jeno smiled triumphantly, his tone dripping in sarcasm as he stepped into your shared bedroom where you had been hiding yourself for the past half hour upon witnessing his new haircut.

You presented yourself as less than ecstatic to see him, to say the least. By the time Jeno had entered, you were already shrouding yourself with your comforter to avoid him once more.

A sigh left Jeno while he wondered to himself how long you two were going to play this game. “Pretty, you can’t still be upset…” slowly, Jeno crept over to the edge of the bed to sit next to your hidden form.

He heard you huff from underneath the blankets before you quickly flipped it off your head. “Well I am.” And your head was covered again.

“You don’t like it?” Jeno probed you, of course he knew what your answer was but playing with you was just so much fun.

Like a game of catch-a-mole, your head peaked from beneath the covers like before to deliver him a quick qip but this time your boyfriend was time enough, catching the comforter with his hand to keep your pouty face in view.

“Jeno,” you cried.

“___,” Jeno mocked your whiny tone, maneuvering up the bed to hover over you. Though you feigned discontent with your boyfriend, you’d be stupid to ignore the kiss he pressed to your lips. You allowed your lips to mesh, it was swift, but effective in turning your once rigid form into something like jelly.

He pulled back, his handsome face still peering down over your own.

“Jeno,” you parroted yourself, this time your voice was softer as you reached a hand up to gently brush against his newly chopped fringe.

“Yes, pretty?”

You sighed at the usage of your nickname, it was twisted that he knew exactly how to use it to his advantage. Wordlessly, your opposite hand came to grip at the front of Jeno’s shirt, effectively pulling him down on top of you. He followed through, giggling as he situated his weight comfortably overtop of you.

This new position allowed you to adjust yourself along the crook of Jeno’s neck. “I don’t hate it,” you reluctantly whispered into his skin.

Shocked, Jeno changed the angle to where your faces were nearly touching. “No?” He whisper-shouted.

“No.” You giggled at the sight of his wide, stunned eyes, your hand still roaming the expanse of his cut.

Jeno smiled at this, bringing his lips back to your own and inevitably closing the gap between you. This time you gave more of yourself to him, arching your front into his. Sighing when you felt his hand place itself along your side.

He cut the kiss short once again, your faces still close as ever.

“I happen to like it. It suits you,” you admitted shamefully, it was disappointing to yourself that you had caused all this uproar to finalize that the change, though drastic and sudden, wasn’t all that bad.

It framed his face and highlighted his sculpted features. Lord knows he was still as handsome as ever, and this new cut gave you more opportunity to marvel at him. Though your fingers had less to work with, you were still able to play in it nonetheless.

“Thank you, baby.” Freshly flustered with your change in tune, Jeno pressed a peck to your nose, garnering a giggle from you.

“No problem.”

With your situation finally reaching a resolution, Jeno situated himself to lay on his side, holding onto you while his head was placed on your chest. Giving you the perfect opportunity to let your fingers linger in his hair like you’ve become accustomed to.

“More than my mullet?” Jeno mused.

“Don’t push it.”

#nct dream x reader #jeno x reader #lee jeno x reader #nct x reader #nct x y/n #nct dream x y/n

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violettduchess · 5 months ago

Note

I would like to request Chevalier and the prompt lullaby!

A/N: Here you are, anon! This is an entry for me and @lorei-writes Sunshine and Starlight Creation Challenge.

Chevalier x Reader

tw: pregnancy, baby

WC: ~1k

Baby mine, don’t you cry / Baby mine, dry your eyes / Rest your head close to my heart / Never to part, baby of mine

The sun sets, running its pink and orange fingertips across the darkening sky. You lean further back in the cushioned rocking chair, resting your hands on the swell of your midsection, deeply content.

Chevalier had noticed how often the fresh air and view of the exquisite palace gardens seemed to soothe you when you felt ill or especially tired or when you just needed a moment away from the chaos of the day. He decided he would make sure to give you a comfortable way to enjoy the outdoor respite from the wide, stone balcony off your bedroom. Without informing you of his plan, he had commissioned an extraordinary rocking chair from a master woodworker, a man whose name was almost legendary throughout Rhodolite for his craftsmanship and attention to detail. In the end, he presented the king with a pale wooden rocker inlaid with soft, green velvet cushions and adorned with delicate carvings of roses and small garden creatures peeking out from behind the delicate petals. The king was pleased.

The rocking motion usually helps calm the restless baby stretching its limbs in its limited space, but tonight, despite the gentle rocking, it still continues its fidgety movements. “Oh, little one, what’s wrong?” With a sigh, you begin singing quietly, a song about treetops and cradles and breaking boughs, while rubbing over the spot on your bump that a tiny foot keeps insistently kicking.

You’re so lost in the moment that only the shifting of the shadows alerts you to the fact that Chevalier is there. He’s been watching you, head tilted as if studying a curious riddle or an interesting passage in a book. “Does singing really help calm the child?” Smiling while still continuing to sing, you reach out for him, taking his hand when he is within reach and placing it on your belly. Sure enough, the movement has slowed, the uneasy thrashing having faded away to a mild shifting of position. He glances from his hand to you, listening to the gentle sound of your singing. It seems he has more preparations to make.

Little one, when you play / Pay no heed what they say / Let your eyes sparkle and shine / Never a tear, baby of mine

He has many music books delivered to join his already impressive collection. Lullabies from Jade, Obsidian, Iolite, Benitoite, and Amber, just to name a few. His elegant fingers drift purposefully over piano keys, learning their melodies, the valleys and peaks of their notes. He can play them all impeccably, without sheet music, within a week. You watch him from the doorway of the sunlit music room, taking in the lines of his broad shoulders, the curve of his hands as they play, the fall of his pale hair across his forehead. As the last notes fade into nothingness, he turns to look at you. “And? Which children’s song do you think our child will favor?” He reads the expression that crosses your face before you can school it into something neutral. His lips turn down in a slight frown. “You’re not pleased.”

Sighing, you make your way over to the piano bench, placing your hands on his shoulders. “It’s not that. I think it’s really wonderful that you’ve learned so many songs for our baby.” He turns to look over his shoulder, blue eyes questioning. “But?” You give his strong shoulders a light squeeze, your baby bump brushing against his back. “It’s too perfect. Too practiced. A lullaby doesn’t have to be so flawless. It should come from the heart.”

Again a small frown. You answer it with a tender smile, cupping his cheek. “Nevermind. Our child is so very lucky to have such a thoughtful father.” You place a kiss right on the line of his cheekbone. “Come, let’s go and see what treasures the new delivery of books has for us.” Chevalier allows his wife to take his hand and pull him from the bench, but your words echo through his mind.

And suddenly, he knows what he must do.

If they knew all about you / They’d end up loving you, too / All those same people who scold you / What they’d give just for the right to hold you

Three Months Later

You’re in the exhausted, deep sleep of new parenthood. So tired that the natural, internal alarm that usually shakes you awake when your daughter cries doesn’t work. You remain in the dark void of dreamless slumber. Instead, it's Chevalier who pushes back the covers, crossing the darkened bedroom to where she is stirring, mewling like a kitten as she kicks her tiny legs. He reaches down into the white cradle, carefully lifting her out and with a glance at your sleeping form, gently lifts her to him, resting her against his shoulder before walking out onto the balcony and into the warm, summer night. Above, the stars twinkle, bright and diamond-like against an indigo sky. The scent of roses lingers in the air.

“You were fed not an hour ago, child.” He speaks softly as he lowers his long body into the rocking chair, one hand patting her little bottom. “And it seems everything is still dry.” She lets out a sigh, a shudder rolling through her as she wiggles in his arms. Chevalier begins rocking slowly back and forth, running his large hand up and down her small back. “Perhaps a song, hmm?”

Closing his eyes, he breathes in her newborn scent, still surprised by how comforting it is, how the feel of her in his arms fills his heart like an explosion of summer roses. Laying his cheek lightly against her downy hair, he starts singing, his voice low and tender like the warm wind through the branches of a willow tree.

“From your hair down to your toes / You’re not much, goodness knows / But you’re so precious to me / Sweet as can be, baby of mine.”

The words Clavis taught him, the very same lullaby his mother Leticia always sang when putting her golden-eyed son to bed, live on, drifting up into the summer sky to join the cavalcade of stars.

Note: The lullaby is from the movie Dumbo and you can find it here (have tissues ready)

Taglist: @alexxavicry @queengiuliettafirstlady @bellerose-arcana @thewitchofbooks @aria-chikage

@redheadkittys @tele86 @dear-mrs-otome @olivermorningstar @writingwhimsey

@mxrmaid-poet @silver-dahlia @wendolrea @nightfoxqueen @myonlyjknight

@ikesimpleton @ikemenlibrary @namine-somebodies-nobody @whatever-fanfics @justpeachyteastea

@chirp-a-chirp @got7igot7family @kookie-my-little-sunshine @mastering-procrastinating

@portrait-ninja @starlitmanor-network @sh0jun @queen-dahlia @themysticalbeing

@nightghoul381 @whitelittlebunny @chi-the-idiot @bubblexly @ozalysss

#ikemen series #ikemen prince #ikepri #chevalier michel #ikepri chevalier #ikemen chevalier #ikemen fanfiction #ikemen fanfic #otome fanfiction #sunshineandstarlightcc #violettwrites #tw pregnancy #tw baby

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zaceouiswriting · 2 months ago

Text

Fairy Prince - Hearts of Leviathans - Ch.34

Character: Sky x male reader, Riven x male reader, Brandon x male reader

Universe: Somewhere in Winx Club/Saga

Warnings: Non-consensual advances

(Please welcome our beloved, golden retriever-like, loyal, maybe a little possessive guy, Brandon…I mean…Sky.)

When we finally get to the house, I ask the soldiers to let us down again. Although my new friend's knees were still pretty wobbly, she could stand mostly independently with some help.

“I give you permission to leave!” The two soldiers salute once more before disappearing into the ground and returning to where they belong.

“They were good men, weren’t they?”

I couldn't help but sigh heavily. "According to legend, they were the best in every sense of the word," I tell her, unable to hide the sadness in my voice. "Apparently, there was once a ritual where the best soldiers of each generation were sent to join the ranks of the legendary hidden military unit of the Deep Rock Legion in case we needed an army of incorruptible and fiercely loyal soldiers. But in the long run, it ruined our population. Of the ten million we had left after the orbital crash, there are now just over seven million left, and my grandfather isn't helping."

"Your grandfather? But that would mean-"

I quickly realize my mistake. Until now, everyone thought I was trying to boast about myself by calling myself a prince. But now that I've talked too much and I'm desperate to make new friends, I know I can't lie to her anymore.

“I am the crown prince of Gyonos and, therefore, its guardian fairy, the last fairy in my world after my grandfather.”

She gasped when I shared my revelation with her, and before I knew it, she had come over to me and pressed her slightly plump body against me in a way I hadn't experienced often in my life: a hug so warm that a few tears rolled from the corners of my eyes.

For the first time in ages, I feel like I can let myself be seen crying in front of someone, and maybe it's selfish, but I take full advantage of it. I cry into her head, as she is tiny compared to me. To my surprise, she doesn't walk away but stands there and speaks in a warm, comforting voice, telling me that everything will be okay in the end and how much I want to believe her words, but I know better. I have seen the truth behind people's attentions, fallen victim to the betrayal of those closest to me, and experienced death many times. I didn't cry when he died, not after I had to let him leave my arms when our posts were overrun by those monsters. I will never be able to forgive the Scallierds or forget what they did and what they forced me to do.

I hold her for what feels like an eternity. But when I finally let go of her, she looks straight into my watery eyes. Her blue-green eyes shimmer with what I can only describe as a motherly concern, a desire to be there for me emotionally, and I couldn't be more grateful.

“You should go inside, it’s late and cold,” I tell her quietly.

She smiles kindly. "You should, too. After all, you're probably just as exhausted as I am." Her voice is warm, really like a mother's.

"Sure, but I would like a few minutes to myself before I return to my personal dark world or, more commonly known, my dorm room.“

She nods understandingly, wishes me goodnight, and goes inside, leaving me under the star-studded night sky. I wait until she's gone before turning around and looking across the large, empty field into the forest beyond. I take a deep breath, raise my right hand, and see it shaking. My magical reserves feel depleted; the healing processes and summoning of those soldiers were too much for my fairy core. I need to train; I can't even fight a specialist like this without being knocked to the ground in seconds.

I feel frustration building up inside me. How could it be otherwise? I've gone from being a prodigy in magic and weapon combat to this pathetic excuse of a fairy. I would be unstoppable if only I could access the abilities contained in the crystallized cores of my ring. But how? I hold out my hand holding the ring and marvel at it. Somehow, it only looks normal now that the two cores are in it, surrounding my family's crest in its center. Many have an initial letter, but my family decided to fill it in with our entire crest, as detailed as possible in this small form, with the only exception being that the two sword-shaft-like pieces of metal always hung off the sides. I always thought that happened over the eons the ring was used, but now that the two cores are safely clammed underneath them, I realize there should be something in them. But what? If it's for magic cores, then why aren't there three? What does my family or planet have two of?

I ponder these questions for a while, only coming back to myself when a cold breeze sends a shiver through my body. This is the best time to go back inside. As soon as I step into the building, a fleeting sigh of relief comes over me.

With my eyes closed, I enjoy the warmth heating my cold bones. But when I open them again just a minute or so later, confusion fills me. I try to reach out to protect myself, but before I can, I'm pulled off my feet, my rear end grabbed, and my front pressed against a warm, muscular body. Before I know it, my legs are wrapped around that person's waist, and we are no longer in the foyer. He carries me around until he finally forces open a door and mindlessly slams my back against a metal shelf and then my head against some boxes. A groan of pain escapes my lips as the metal stabs into my back.

But before I could react, soft lips were on mine. Shock floods through my entire being as the moment has taken me completely by surprise. My eyes widen, forcing me to stare at him. There, pressing me against the shelves and trying to push his tongue into my mouth, is Sky. I couldn't believe it. He was always so gentle and kind, but now he's carrying me around and kissing me without my consent. I try to push him away, but he feels like an immovable object, heavier than a mountain. I even punch at his rock-hard pecs as I feel myself slowly falling into him. And before I know it, our lips move in perfect harmony; my mouth even opens slightly as he grips my ass a little tighter. His tongue swallows my moan. My hands land on his back. But suddenly, I can feel him smirking against my lips, making me wonder if this is what he wanted.

My hands quickly move from his chest, where I have only shown him aggression, to his neck and pull him closer to me. What is that feeling—this warmth deep in my stomach? Or this tingling further south?

Even though hundreds of these thoughts of the strangest feelings are racing through my head, I can't let go of him. His woody smell, mixed with the sweetness of something in his mouth, intoxicates my senses. I feel the desire rising for him to continue and take what he wants.

This time, not even the thought of him and his senseless death could spoil my mood, as I feel safe and even desired in Sky's arms.

"I fucking knew it." I hear him suddenly grumble. When I open my eyes from the daze, I see Sky's blurry image, his pale face flushed and his expression serious, if not angry. When I try to say something, he pushes me roughly against the shelf, his legs pushing up. "You've wanted me since you first saw me."

I can only stare at him in confusion, but he is already kissing my neck, biting me gently, and whispering things in my ear that were dirtier than anything I'd ever heard before. Something was clearly wrong.

I hold his face in my hands and try to get him to look at me, but when he finally does, his expression turns angry. Before I know it, his hand is around my neck, his grip is tight, and he is choking me painfully.

"But then I saw you with the girl and these two huge men. I couldn't believe it! Before I could make a move, you had already gone out and found yourself some toys."

When he calls my stone soldiers "toys," my heart starts to burn. How dare he call honorable men that? He has obviously misunderstood something, but when I open my mouth to clarify, his grip on my neck tightens even further, so much so that I can hardly breathe. He seems to have lost his mind, but what can I do?

"Sky!" I barely manage to say, but he's not listening. Instead, he talks about me, telling me what a selfish wanker I am for allowing both Riven and Sky to touch me and defile my body for him.

I can't believe the Gaul of him thinking I would stay pure for him, and then suddenly, something bursts out of him that he probably didn't want to say. He shouts out what I already suspected, namely that he and Sky have switched identities.

The fact that he lied to me for so long hits me the hardest. I thought I could trust him; after all, he always came to my cell when I was a prisoner, cleaned me, and fed me one by one to torture me like the wild animals they are, but that was obviously just wishful thinking. It makes me angrier than I probably should have been, so I turn the tables. Finally, I grab him by the neck and hope he lets go, but he starts grinning in a sinister way. It sent cold sweats down my spine to see something so vicious on the face of a man who always seemed like a puppy.

"I fucking dare you," he said through pursed lips, staring madly into my eyes, "Squeeze harder, I dare you!"

I've never felt so intimidated before. Is there something wrong with him? Suddenly, his grip on my neck tightens enough to easily snap it; no doubt there will be many bruises afterward. I have to make a decision. If he keeps this up, I will surely die.

"Brandon!" I yell, making him stop. Confusion is clear on his face, his eyes glowing with dawning realization. His hand quickly withdraws. As I gasp for air, he holds me upright, one of his hands behind my head and the other trying to protect as much of my spine as possible. He begins to apologize endlessly, like a child found with his hand in the cookie jar.

I try to breathe, but my throat burns painfully. Yet, I push against his chest again; this time, he lets me down but still holds my body upright for a minute. My body is at its limit from the rapid healing before, and the now compromised state is just too much. Thankfully, it only takes a short time before the rest of the healing magic still coursing through me at least helps to ease the swelling in my throat, just enough to let me breathe evenly.

I want to lecture him, scream at him, and let all my feelings out, but his glassy eyes tell me he's not there. Hopefully, it's just the clearly smuggled alcohol and not something more serious.

I try to get past him, but he quickly tries to hold me back. He mumbles something about me catching my breath, giving me hope that even in this situation and condition, he's still trying to help me. But it feels wrong because none of this was consensual, as if he's trying to clear his conscience of what he did to me here in this... in this supply closet.

Somehow, the place we ended up in while making out makes me feel even worse. Am I just a toy to him? Did I misjudge his personality? Is he really a player who breaks people's hearts? I feel so stupid, so silly. Why did I let this happen? I could have prevented everything, but I didn't. Why?

"Please, I- I was just so overwhelmed-"

Before he can spit out his lies, all I see is red, and anger shoots through my veins, just like it did on the battlefield. Can I control it this time? My anger had always been uncontrollable, like I was an explosion just waiting to go off. But this time, in this small room, surrounded by Brandon's intoxicating scent, it doesn't seem to be able to happen, even though my anger threatens to boil over. The overall emotions just weren't there. It was almost as if the last explosion had balanced me unknowingly out.

But that couldn't be. How could the death of my true love be the catalyst for my anger to subside?

[Masterlist]

#male reader #x male reader #male reader imagine #winx club #winx saga #winx saga x male reader #brandon x male reader #brandon imagine #brandon #riven x male reader #riven imagine #riven #sky x male reader #sky imagine #sky #winx club x male reader #winx saga imagine #winx club imagine

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skz-streamer · 1 year ago

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Sensitive S/o

Pairing: Skz x fem!reader

Genre: Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Angst/Misunderstanding?

Warnings: Sensitivity? Slight crying, weights, frustration, small arguments...Im not really sure what to put here so lmk if I missed anything :)

Notes: ARGHHHH I HAD SUCH A HARD TIME TO COME UP W DIFF SCENARIOS SO IM SORRY IF ITS A LITTLE WORDYYY :((( Suchhh a cute ask though thank you lovely anon The Ask :)

Summary: Skz and their sensitive s/o

-please read responsibly, and remember that this work is fiction and meant strictly for imaginative fun. the idols used in fics are more accurately faceclaims and personality outlines for imaginary characters, and should not be interpreted as factual representations of existing people

Full word count ~4.8k ;)

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

Chan:

"So, Y/N," Chan began with a cheeky grin, "did I ever tell you about the time I tried to cook dinner for the members?"

You chuckled, your heart fluttering at the familiar tone of his voice. "No, you haven't! Do tell."

Chan launched into a hilarious account of his culinary mishaps, imitating his fellow members' shocked expressions as they took their first bites of his concoction. You couldn't hold back your laughter, and your eyes sparkled with delight as you listened to his animated storytelling.

As the sun dipped lower in the sky, the two of you settled onto a park bench. The conversation flowed effortlessly, jumping from one topic to another. Chan's arm rested casually around your shoulders, and you leaned into his comforting presence. His jokes and lighthearted banter continued, wrapping you in a cocoon of happiness.

A mischievous glint danced in his eyes as he leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "Hey, Y/N, did you know that you're the only person who can keep up with my terrible puns?"

You laughed, rolling your eyes playfully. "Oh please, Chan. Your puns are legendary. I just try my best to match the greatness."

He grinned a warm and affectionate smile that made your heart flutter. "Well, you succeed spectacularly"

As the conversation flowed, your heart felt light, and the world seemed to slow down around you. But just as the laughter and stories continued, there was a shift in the atmosphere. Chan's teasing took a slightly sharper edge, and a comment that was meant to be a joke struck a chord in you.

"Come on, Y/N, don't be such a crybaby," he teased lightly, not realizing the weight his words held for you.

Your smile faltered, and you felt a pang of hurt deep within. You knew he didn't mean any harm, but sometimes, even the lightest remarks could trigger a sensitive nerve. You tried to shake it off, forcing a chuckle as you replied, "Yeah, yeah, I know. Just can't handle the master of puns, that's all."

But Chan noticed the change in your demeanor, his keen eyes picking up on the shift in your tone. His expression softened as he realized his words had landed differently than intended. "Hey," he said gently, his voice a warm reassurance, "I didn't mean it like that, Y/N. You know I'm just messing around, right?"

You nodded, your throat tightening as you struggled to keep your emotions in check. You hated how easily certain comments could bring tears to your eyes, even when you knew they were meant in jest. But it was hard to shake off the sensitivity, a part of you that you sometimes wished you could control better.

"Hey," Chan's hand cupped your cheek, his thumb brushing away a stray tear that had escaped. "It's okay, really. I didn't mean to upset you."

Your lips quivered into a small smile as you looked into his eyes, grateful for his understanding. "I know, Chan. It's just…."

He sighed softly, pulling you into his embrace. "Y/N, you don't have to help it. Your feelings are valid. If something bothers you, it's okay to feel that way."

As his arms encircled you, a warm sense of comfort enveloped you. Chan's soothing words seeped into your heart, reminding you that you were allowed to feel whatever you felt. You leaned into his chest, tears wetting his shirt, and he held you tight.

"You're strong, you know," he murmured into your hair. "Being sensitive doesn't make you weak. It means you care deeply, and that's a beautiful thing."

You sniffled, laughing softly through your tears. "Leave it to you to make me feel better, even when I'm being silly."

Chan's fingers brushed gently against your back as he rubbed soothing circles. "I'll always be here for you, Y/N.”

❀。• *₊°。 ❀°。❀。• *₊°。 ❀°。❀。• *₊°。 ❀°。❀。• *₊°。 ❀°。

Lee Know:

As the credits rolled on the screen, Lee Know let out a content sigh. "That was a good movie, huh?" he said, his voice a soothing rumble against your ear.

You nodded, a small smile tugging at the corners of your lips. "Yeah, I enjoyed it. Thanks for picking it."

He pressed a gentle kiss to the top of your head. "Anything for you, babe."

You felt a rush of warmth at his words. It was moments like these that made you appreciate how considerate and caring Lee Know was. He had always been attentive to your needs, and you cherished the way he understood you.

But just as the credits faded to black, your blissful moment was interrupted by a sudden noise from outside the window. It was a car alarm going off, and the loud blaring sound pierced through the tranquility of the room.

You winced at the sudden noise, and Lee Know tightened his grip around you, his protective instinct kicking in. "Ugh, that's so annoying," he muttered, annoyance evident in his tone.

You nodded in agreement, but something about the noise seemed to have unsettled you more than you anticipated. Your heart raced, and your eyes began to sting with unshed tears. You tried to shake off the feeling, reminding yourself that it was just a trivial noise and there was no reason to get upset.

Lee Know sensed the shift in your mood and looked down at you, concerned furrowing his brow. "Hey, are you okay?" he asked gently.

You sniffled, your voice barely above a whisper. "Yeah, I'm fine. It's just... the noise startled me, I guess."

He frowned, his thumb gently wiping away a stray tear that had escaped your eye. "You sure that's all it is?" he asked softly.

You nodded, avoiding his gaze. You knew your reaction was disproportionate to the situation, but you didn't want to burden him with your irrational emotions. You had always been sensitive, and sometimes it felt like a weakness.

Lee Know's eyes softened as he cupped your cheek, turning your face to meet his gaze. "You don't have to hide anything from me, you know," he said, his voice filled with sincerity. "If something's bothering you, I want to know."

Your lips trembled, and you felt another tear slide down your cheek. "I know I shouldn't be this upset over a stupid noise," you admitted, your voice cracking.

Lee Know's expression turned gentle, his thumb brushing away your tears. "Hey, it's okay to feel things deeply," he said softly. "That's just who you are, and there's nothing wrong with that. You're not weak for being sensitive, you're strong for embracing your emotions."

You sniffled, feeling a mix of vulnerability and relief wash over you. "But I feel like I'm burdening you with my emotions," you confessed, your voice barely audible.

He shook his head, his eyes unwaveringly locked onto yours. "You could never be a burden to me, Y/N," he said, his voice filled with conviction. "I love every part of you, even the parts you might consider flaws. And I'm here to support you through everything, even the moments when you feel overwhelmed."

As he spoke, you felt a warmth envelop you, like a protective shield against your own insecurities. His words were a balm to your wounded heart, soothing the self-doubt that had been festering within you.

"I don't want you to ever feel like you have to hide your emotions from me," he continued his voice tenderly. "We're a team, and that means sharing both the good and the tough moments. So, if something's bothering you, let me in. I promise I'll always be here to listen and support you."

You nodded, tears still trickling down your cheeks but now with a sense of acceptance. Lee Know pulled you into a warm hug, his arms cocooning you in a sense of safety and understanding. He held you tightly, letting you know that he was there for you, no matter what.

❀。• *₊°。 ❀°。❀。• *₊°。 ❀°。❀。• *₊°。 ❀°。❀。• *₊°。 ❀°。

Changbin:

Amid the bustling gym, the clanking of weights and the steady rhythm of treadmills formed a backdrop to the scene. You were there with Changbin, trying your best to push through a particularly challenging exercise. The weights felt heavier than usual, and frustration began to bubble up within you as you struggled to complete the set.

Changbin, ever attentive to your emotions, noticed the change in your demeanor. He had a knack for picking up on your subtle cues, the way your brows furrowed just a bit more, and the determined set of your jaw turned into a slightly defeated slump. As you lowered the weights and sighed, he could sense that something was bothering you beyond just the physical challenge.

"Hey, you're doing great," he said gently, his voice a soothing presence amid your turmoil. "Remember, progress takes time. We all have our off days, and that's completely okay."

You managed a weak smile, appreciating his support even if it didn't entirely erase your frustration. "I know, but it's just frustrating. I used to be able to do this without any issues, and now..."

Changbin's hand found its way to yours, offering a reassuring squeeze. "It's natural for things to change over time. Our bodies adapt, and sometimes that means facing new challenges. But you're not alone in this. I'm here with you every step of the way."

As you attempted the exercise again, a combination of fatigue and your emotional sensitivity made your eyes prickle with tears. You couldn't help but feel frustrated with yourself for getting so worked up over something that seemed trivial in the grand scheme of things. But that was the thing about emotions—they didn't always follow a rational path.

Changbin noticed the glistening in your eyes and immediately put down the weight he was holding. He gently cupped your cheeks, his thumbs wiping away the tears that escaped. "Hey, it's okay. You don't have to be so hard on yourself. Your feelings are valid, whether they're about something big or small."

You sniffled, embarrassed by your vulnerability. "I know it's silly, but I can't help feeling like this."

Changbin's warm gaze never wavered, his fingers tenderly brushing against your skin. "You're not silly for feeling things. We all have moments when certain things hit us harder than they should. It's part of being human, and it's what makes you, well, you."

You appreciated his words, his understanding, and the fact that he didn't dismiss your emotions. It was something you loved about him—the way he allowed you to feel without judgment, even when you were grappling with feelings you didn't quite understand yourself.

Leaving the weights behind, Changbin led you to a quieter corner of the gym. He sat down with you, his arm draped over your shoulders as you leaned against him. "You know, sensitivity can be a strength too."

You sighed, feeling the tension slowly melt away as his comforting presence enveloped you. "I guess so. I just wish I could control it better."

Changbin pressed a soft kiss to your forehead. "You're doing just fine, trust me. And if there's ever a time when something bothers you, all you need to do is tell me. I'm here to listen."

❀。• *₊°。 ❀°。❀。• *₊°。 ❀°。❀。• *₊°。 ❀°。❀。• *₊°。 ❀°。

Hyunjin:

You and Hyunjin find yourselves in the midst of a painting session. The room is drenched in soft, natural light, casting a warm ambiance that should have fostered creativity and joy. Hyunjin is passionately absorbed in his work, brushstrokes gliding across the canvas with determination. You, however, struggle to bring your vision to life. Frustration simmers beneath your surface as you attempt to replicate the vibrant image in your mind.

You swipe the brush across the canvas, the result falling short of your expectations once again. A sigh escapes your lips, caught between the desire to excel and the feeling of inadequacy. Hyunjin glances over, noticing the shift in your demeanor. Concern creases on his features as he puts his brush down for a moment.

"Hey, everything okay?" he asks, his voice a mix of genuine curiosity and worry.

You look up, forcing a smile. "Yeah, I'm just having a bit of trouble getting it right."

Hyunjin steps closer, his gaze softened by understanding. "You know, it's not about getting it perfect on the first try. Sometimes you have to let go of expectations and let your instincts guide you."

As he speaks, you feel a mix of gratitude and frustration. You appreciate his attempt at encouragement, yet the weight of your self-criticism is hard to shake off. You nod, trying to absorb his advice.

But as time passes, your painting continues to deviate from your vision. With each misstep, your frustration mounts. Hyunjin, noticing your growing agitation, offers more guidance – albeit in a way that inadvertently fosters further frustration. His words come out more as critiques than suggestions, and before you know it, your patience snaps.

"Why can't you just let me figure this out on my own?" you burst out, the words carrying a tinge of hurt that takes Hyunjin by surprise.

He freezes the brush still in his hand. "What? I'm just trying to help."

"I know, but it feels like you're just criticizing everything I do!" Your voice wavers, anger and hurt tangling in your chest.

Hyunjin's frustration is palpable, too. "I'm not criticizing. I'm just trying to guide you towards improvement."

"Well, maybe I don't need your constant guidance!" Your voice quivers, the sting of your sensitivity gnawing at you. You hadn't meant for your emotions to escalate so quickly, but here you were – caught in a one-sided argument, tears pooling in your eyes.

Hyunjin's features shift from frustration to confusion as he registers your tears. "Hey, why are you getting so upset?"

Your gaze drops to the floor, shame mingling with your tears. "I don't know, okay? I shouldn't be reacting like this, but I am."

Hyunjin's expression softens as he takes in your vulnerable state. He realizes that this isn't just about the painting; it's about something deeper – a sensitivity that you both know you possess. He lowers his brush, stepping closer to you.

"I didn't mean to make you feel this way," he says, his voice gentler now. "I forget sometimes that not everyone responds well to the way I communicate."

You sniffle, wiping away a tear. "It's not just you. It's me too. I know I shouldn't let things like this affect me so much, but I can't help it."

Hyunjin sighs, his gaze sincere. "You know, sensitivity isn't a weakness. It's just a part of who you are. And I should've been more considerate."

Your eyes meet, a mixture of emotions passing between you. "I'm sorry I snapped at you," you mumble.

Hyunjin places a hand on your shoulder, a warm smile forming. "It's alright. We both have our moments. Let's just take a breather and come back to this later, okay?"

You settle on the couch, the unfinished canvas a silent reminder of your earlier frustrations. Hyunjin wraps an arm around you, pulling you close. "You know, I admire your sensitivity. It means you care deeply about things, and that's a beautiful trait."

You lean into his embrace, finding comfort in his words. "Even when it leads to moments like this?"

He chuckles softly. "Especially then. We're both a work in progress, learning how to navigate each other's emotions."

You smile through the lingering tears, feeling a weight lifting off your shoulders. "I'm lucky to have you."

Hyunjin presses a kiss on your temple. "And I'm lucky to have you. We'll figure this out together, one painting stroke at a time."

❀。• *₊°。 ❀°。❀。• *₊°。 ❀°。❀。• *₊°。 ❀°。❀。• *₊°。 ❀°。

Jisung:

You and Jisung are having a fun-filled game night at your apartment. The coffee table is covered with an array of board games and card decks, and laughter fills the air as you and Jisung engage in friendly competition. It's supposed to be a lighthearted evening, a chance to unwind and enjoy each other's company.

As the game progresses, Jisung's playfully competitive side shines through. He throws out witty comments and playful jabs as he wins rounds and makes strategic moves. His remarks have you laughing alongside him, but one comment catches you off guard and hits a nerve.

"Wow, you're not having a good luck streak tonight," he teases, a grin on his face.

You force a chuckle, but the comment stings more than you'd like to admit. You've been feeling emotionally sensitive lately, and the comment, while meant in jest, resonates with your current state of mind. You glance down at the game board, your enthusiasm waning slightly.

Jisung notices the shift in your demeanor, his expression softening with concern. "Hey, are you alright? I was just joking."

You offer a small smile, "Yeah, I know. Just got lost in thought for a second."

He nods, but his gaze lingers on you for a moment before returning to the game. Despite his attempt to move on, you find yourself feeling more affected by his comment than you expected.

You try to push aside the sensitive emotions that have been triggered. You focus on the games, engaging in the banter and laughter just as you always do. But in the back of your mind, that comment lingers, creating a subtle discomfort.

As you play another round, you notice that your thoughts are a bit scattered. You make a strategic move, but it doesn't quite go as planned. Jisung's playful teasing takes on a different tone in your ears, reminding you of the earlier comment.

"Ouch, looks like you're having an off night," he remarks, a grin on his face.

You glance at him, forcing a smile, but inside, you feel a pang of sensitivity. You didn't want his comments to affect you so much, but here you are, struggling to shake off the emotions they've stirred.

As the game night continues, you feel the weight of your sensitivity growing. You try to brush off the discomfort, but it's becoming increasingly challenging. You want to enjoy the evening and the company, but the comment has struck a chord you can't ignore.

Eventually, you decide that a break is in order. You put on a smile, hoping to hide your feelings and excuse yourself to the bathroom. You get up from the table and make your way to the restroom, closing the door behind you with a sigh.

Inside the bathroom, you lean against the sink, trying to gather your thoughts. The emotions you've been suppressing finally spill over, and you find yourself sniffling softly. You hadn't anticipated that a lighthearted comment during game night would trigger such a strong reaction.

Outside the bathroom, Jisung's concern hasn't faded. He knows you well enough to sense when something's wrong, even if you try to hide it. After a few minutes, he decides to check up on you. He approaches the bathroom door, his hand gently resting against the wood.

"Hey, is everything okay in there?" he asks softly.

You take a moment to compose yourself, wiping away your tears. "Yeah, I just needed a moment."

He doesn't sound convinced, and you hear a soft sigh from the other side of the door. "You know you can talk to me, right? If something's bothering you?"

His words resonate, and you realize that he genuinely cares. The vulnerability you'd been trying to suppress feels overwhelming at this moment. With a shaky breath, you open the bathroom door, revealing your slightly teary-eyed state.

Jisung's concern deepens as he takes in your appearance. Without hesitation, he pulls you into a comforting hug. "Hey, it's okay. You don't have to pretend with me."

Tears escape despite your efforts to hold them back, and you bury your face in his shoulder. Jisung holds you close, his touch a soothing balm for your frayed emotions.

"I'm sorry," you manage to whisper, your voice shaky.

Jisung pulls back slightly, his fingers gently wiping away your tears. "Don't be sorry. It's okay to feel how you feel."

You take a deep breath, the weight of your sensitivity slowly easing as he offers his understanding and comfort. "It's just that... your comment earlier, hit me harder than I thought."

Jisung's expression shifts from concern to realization. "Wait, the thing I said during the game?"

You nod, feeling a mix of relief and vulnerability in sharing your feelings with him.

He lets out a sigh, his thumb gently brushing against your cheek. "I'm sorry if I upset you. I didn't mean to"

You offer a small smile, touched by his genuine concern. "I know you didn't mean it that way"

Jisung's gaze softens as he holds you close. "You don't have to go through this alone, you know? I'm here for you, always."

❀。• *₊°。 ❀°。❀。• *₊°。 ❀°。❀。• *₊°。 ❀°。❀。• *₊°。 ❀°。

Felix:

You and Felix are spending an afternoon together, exploring a bustling shopping district. The sun shines overhead, casting a warm glow on the streets as you stroll hand in hand, occasionally stopping to peek into storefronts that catch your interest. It's meant to be a carefree outing, a chance to enjoy each other's company and the city's charm.

As you walk, a group of girls pass by, casting a quick glance in your direction before bursting into laughter. Your heart sinks as you catch the tail end of their mocking glances. You feel exposed as if their laughter is directed at you, even though you can't be entirely sure. You clasp Felix's hand a bit tighter, a mix of discomfort and embarrassment pooling within you.

Felix continues chatting about something he spotted at a nearby store, seemingly oblivious to the brief encounter. He's always been the kind of person who radiates positivity and doesn't let minor things affect his mood. You don't want to ruin the day with your sensitivity, so you offer a small smile and nod as he speaks.

As you browse through a store, Felix's genuine concern hasn't waned. He can sense that something is off, even though you're trying your best to hide it. He decides to address the issue and approaches you, his voice gentle.

"Is everything alright?" he asks softly.

You hesitate for a moment before admitting, "Honestly, something kind of bothered me earlier."

Felix's expression shifts from curiosity to attentive concern. "What happened?"

You take a deep breath, summoning the courage to share. "When we were walking, I noticed a group of girls looking at me and laughing. I don't know why, but it made me feel self-conscious."

Felix reaches out, gently tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. "You're a wonderful person, and those girls' opinions don't matter. If anything, their behavior says more about them than it does about you."

"Felix," you begin, your voice soft but resolute. "There's something I want to tell you."

He shifts slightly, his gaze meeting yours with unwavering attention. "What is it?"

Taking a deep breath, you find the courage to speak your truth. "I love you."

Felix's eyes widen ever so slightly, his expression a mix of surprise and tenderness. The moment hangs suspended between you, a pause filled with emotion.

Then, a heartwarming smile spreads across Felix's face, his gaze never leaving yours. "I love you too, more than words could express."

❀。• *₊°。 ❀°。❀。• *₊°。 ❀°。❀。• *₊°。 ❀°。❀。• *₊°。 ❀°。

Seungmin:

You and Seungmin have always had a strong bond, but like any couple, disagreements are a natural part of your relationship. One evening, a difference in opinions leads to a heated argument that tests both your emotions and your sensitivity.

The topic at hand is trivial, something that wouldn't usually escalate into a conflict. But somehow, the conversation has spiraled into a full-blown disagreement, each of you holding your ground with growing frustration. As words are exchanged, your sensitivity to certain tones and remarks heightens the intensity of the argument.

"Can't you just see it from my perspective for once?" Seungmin exclaims, his voice tinged with exasperation.

You feel your heart clench, the sharpness of his tone cutting deeper than he intended. Your sensitivity to emotional nuances has always been a double-edged sword, allowing you to connect deeply with others but also making you more susceptible to feeling hurt.

"I am trying to see your perspective," you reply, your voice strained. "But that doesn't mean my feelings don't matter."

Seungmin's expression shifts, a mixture of frustration and regret flickering in his eyes. "I didn't mean to dismiss your feelings."

As the argument reaches a temporary impasse, you struggle to rein in your emotions. The sensitivity that runs through your veins makes it difficult to shake off the lingering hurt caused by the heated exchange.

Seungmin's brow furrows as he takes in your expression, his frustration fading into concern. He realizes that the argument has taken an emotional toll on you, and the realization dawns that his words have impacted you in a way he hadn't anticipated.

"Hey, are you okay?" he asks, his voice softer now.

You struggle to hold back tears, your emotions bubbling over. "It's just... sometimes the way we argue... it gets to me."

Seungmin's gaze softens as he comprehends the depth of your sensitivity. "I'm sorry, I didn't realize..."

Seungmin takes a step closer, his eyes unwavering. "We'll work through this together, okay? I'll be more mindful of your sensitivity, and you'll let me know when things get tough."

A small smile tugs at the corners of your lips, touched by his willingness to bridge the gap. "Deal."

❀。• *₊°。 ❀°。❀。• *₊°。 ❀°。❀。• *₊°。 ❀°。❀。• *₊°。 ❀°。

Jeongin:

You and Jeongin find yourselves on a quiet rooftop, the city lights below casting a soft glow against the night sky. The stars twinkle above, and a sense of tranquility settles over the two of you. Stargazing has always been a cherished activity for you – a time to reflect, share thoughts, and simply enjoy each other's company.

Tonight, however, there's an underlying weight tugging at your heart. Lately, you've been feeling emotionally sensitive, and specific comments and situations are affecting you more than they should. You had hoped that tonight's stargazing would provide a moment of solace, a chance to open up to Jeongin about your feelings.

As the two of you lie on a blanket, gazing up at the constellations, you feel a mixture of contentment and apprehension. You decide to seize the moment and express what's been on your mind.

"Jeongin," you begin softly, "sometimes, I get a little more affected by things than I let on."

He turns to you, his eyes curious. "What do you mean?"

You take a deep breath, trying to put your feelings into words. "Well, like when certain things are said a certain way, or when I'm feeling overwhelmed, it gets to me even if I try not to show it."

Jeongin nods, but his expression doesn't change much. "I get it. We all have our moments, right?"

You feel a pang of disappointment – it's as if he didn't quite grasp the depth of what you were trying to convey. Nonetheless, you press on, hoping he'll understand better with a bit more explanation.

"Yeah, but sometimes it feels like the sensitivity is a bit too much. Like, I wish I could just brush things off, but I end up overthinking."

He offers a sympathetic smile. "It's okay, you know? You're allowed to feel how you feel."

His words are reassuring, yet you had hoped for a deeper connection, a moment of shared vulnerability. You let out a soft sigh, the stars above seemingly reflecting the emotions swirling within you.

As the night progresses, you both continue to share stories, laughter, and quiet moments of contemplation. It's a beautiful night, but there's a part of you that longs for a more profound understanding from Jeongin.

The conversation turns to dreams, aspirations, and fears. You listen intently as he speaks about his hopes for the future, his determination to succeed, and his worries about letting people down. He talks animatedly, completely immersed in the conversation.

You seize the opportunity to dive a bit deeper. "You know, Jeongin, I've been feeling a bit lost lately too. Like, I'm not sure where I'm headed."

He grins, nudging your shoulder playfully. "Don't worry, you'll figure it out. You're amazing at whatever you do."

You smile back, but a part of you aches. It's as if your words were merely skimmed over, not fully comprehended. You had hoped that sharing your uncertainties would spark a more profound exchange.

He yawns and stretches, a contented smile on his face. "Tonight was nice, huh?"

You nod, feeling a bittersweet smile tugging at your lips. "Yeah, it was."

As he gathers the blanket and begins to pack up, he glances at you, his gaze lingering for a moment. "You okay?"

You hesitate, then decide to voice what's been on your mind. "Honestly, I wish sometimes you could pick up on the things I don't say. Like, understand when I'm struggling even if I'm smiling."

Jeongin's expression shifts from confusion to realization. "Wait, are you saying… you've been feeling more sensitive lately?"

You nod, relieved that he's finally connecting the dots.

He lets out a sigh, his features softened by understanding. "I'm sorry if I missed that. I guess I assumed you were always strong, that you didn't need anyone to worry about you."

You let out a chuckle, a mix of amusement and fondness. "Well, even strong people have their moments."

Jeongin's hand finds yours, his grip gentle and reassuring. "I promise, from now on, I'll pay more attention. I want you to know that you can always talk to me."

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

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clanwarrior-tumbly · 10 months ago

Note

hihi !! kinda a specific request i apologize- can i get a pre-terapagos confrontation kieran having beef with the readers ‘raidon please? (also if possible i wanna claim 🧃as an anon emoji)

"So...you're a legendary too, huh? Brought here from the past/future?"

"Agia.."

"I bet [y/n] loves parading you around. Everyone in the damn school can't stop talking about you....if only I had a Pokémon like that."

"Agiii?"

"No, not you. I want one like Terapagos..assuming it even exists."

Overhearing the obvious beef Kieran had with your 'raidon made you frown a little, especially as you, him, Carmine, and Briar were supposed to be enjoying a picnic right now.

Exploring Area Zero's underdepths became quite exhausting, so you suggested taking a small break from the Terapagos hunt. There weren't many safe spots down here, but after you eventually defeated a Garganacl with a mysterious tera type, you settled for the small island where a beautiful crystalline tree stood.

Apparently, the type was coined "Stellar" by Professor Sada/Turo, and it wasn't anything like the ones you've seen on Paldea's surface.

Its crown was certainly beautiful to look at, yet the lights were blinding as your Pokémon shattered it into pieces.

Carmine and Briar didn't get the chance to see it, and neither did Kieran...not that he really cared to begin with. But they all came over after you called out to them, before (mostly) everyone agreed to a picnic.

But even as you finished splitting up a sandwich, Briar was documenting some more stuff in her book, and Carmine was cleaning off the ceramic cup Sinistcha was in...all you could do was look at the boy who was still sitting alone by the water. He only took a bag of chips from the table, albeit scarcely munching on them.

This whole time, he was still sulking over you beating him back at the academy...so much so he didn't let any of his Pokémon out.

You didn't know whether that was because he felt like "punishing" them for losing, or that he simply didn't want them buddying-up with the ones who defeated them, being fully convinced you two are enemies and rivals. Nothing else.

He's still resentful of you...but isn't being as loud about it as before.

For whatever reason, though, your 'raidon decided to forgo drooling over the sandwich you were crafting in favor of keeping him company. But he didn't really seem to understand or care too much.

If anything, he couldn't stand to look at it.

Back in Kitakami, Kieran was stunned that something like an ancestor/robotic copy of Cyclizar could even exist in the first place. Watching you drive it around the land and fly on its back was the coolest thing in the world, and while you offered..he was far too scared to try it for himself...

Now?

To him, it's just another Legendary you could brag about.

Another Legendary that chose you and not him.

Just like-

"Giiiaoooo?"

"What the..? No. You can't have this. It's mine." He scowled, trying to push back the 'raidon's snout as it tried grabbing at his snack. "Go away, dumb lizard."

"Hey. Watch what you say to [Koraidon/Miraidon]."

Tensing, Kieran looked up to see you approaching him. Although he didn't move from his spot even as you sat down next to him, his brows still furrowed with annoyance and disgust.

"But that's what it is...a dumb lizard begging for scraps." He scoffed, watching as your companion rested its head across your lap, your hand on top of it. "Can you even call that a "Legendary?" I bet I can train it better.."

"We've..already taken care of that, but thank you." You huffed, shifting your gaze to the Carbink that were hovering nearby, before glancing back at him. "I left you half a sandwich if you're hungry."

He blinked, at first a bit surprised by your kind gesture. But he just shook his head, refusing to let his guard down. "Just give it to your 'raidon. I don't need it...b-but thanks anyways." He quickly added, seemingly flustered as he grabbed a rock and skipped it along the water.

Both you and the 'raidon seemed to notice this, smiling a little. It seems his politeness hasn't totally gone down the drain just yet. "You're welcome."

"So you told us the professor managed to bring two of 'em into the present, right?"

"Yeah."

"...well, where's the second one?"

Your smile faded a bit, and that was all that he needed to know.

'It's not fair...why do they get to have two?'

"...I see, of course. What a stupid question for me to ask." His shoulders became slumped. "I don't get what's so special about you, [y/n]. You can catch any Pokémon you want..even ones that shouldn't even be here in the first place." Once again, he was directing his frustrations at your 'raidon, who just chuffed at his remark.

"Agiiaaaa.."

"Shhh, easy.." You soothed, petting its head, before you frowned at the boy who was holding onto so much hatred and envy for you, wishing things didn't have to be this way. "Kieran, I swear there's nothing "special" about me. You think I'm some "Pokémon magnet", but that's not true. You don't know what-"

"I'm ready to go. Here, [Koraidon/Miraidon]. Since you want them so badly." Without warning, he threw down the bag of chips in front of the 'raidon's face, getting up and storming back to the picnic table.

Briar and Carmine wondered what was going on, although the latter hoped that you would've snapped her brother out of this "funk" of his by now, seeing as you went over to talk to him.

Instead he seemed even more pissed off, insisting upon packing up and continuing further down. You just let your 'raidon eat the chips and listened in on the siblings' conversation.

"Jeez, there's no race to get to Terapagos, Kiki. If it's been down here for 2 million years..I doubt it's going anywhere."

"Well we should get a move on anyways. Getting too relaxed here. I wanna see it--no, I need to see it." You heard him mutter under his breath, seeing the way his fists clenched.

Despite them being literally two feet away, Briar was still off in her own little world, writing down more stuff in her journal. And she was more than ready to jump up and continue the journey if it meant seeing Terapagos for herself, too.

If anything, you, Carmine, and Kieran all felt like the adults here..making sure she didn't rush into an unknown section of the winding caverns the moment you cleared them of crystals.

"Agii.."

Looking back at your 'raidon, you noticed that it also upset by Kieran's attitude--especially when it was just trying to cheer him up and be nice.

"Don't worry about him, bud. You did nothing wrong, he's just...lashing out." You cradled its head, touching noses affectionately. "Yknow, Arven kinda acted the same way when we first met him, didn't he?"

The Legendary nodded.

"And he eventually came around to liking you. So...I'm sure Kieran will, too. He just needs more time."

"Agias!"

#they 100% had banter in canon #full stop #clanask #juicebox anon #pokemon x reader #pokemon sv x reader #pokemon scarlet x reader #pokemon violet x reader #pokemon kieran #miraidon #koraidon

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yanderes-galore · 10 months ago

Note

Hi, can I please request yandere Groudon pokemon with a trainer reader? Thanks very much.

POV: Your Legendary Continent Pokemon gets jealous and proceeds to burn someone to cinders 😰

Overprotective! Groudon with Trainer! Darling

Pairing: Platonic

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Overprotective behavior, Clingy behavior, Violence, Mass murder implication, Abduction, Possessive behavior, Jealousy, Dubious companionship.

This would all no doubt take place after you stop the cataclysmic disaster caused by Groudon's awakening.

You catching the legendary in charge of creating land mass allows you to control its power.

You can now control the large Pokemon in battle, even activating its Primal abilities if you need it.

The whole idea is a little... comedic, actually.

Think about it.

You are a skilled trainer who manages to tame a large volcanic giant once it awakens.

The beast towers over you using both game and Anime heights.

Yet despite the fact Groudon could easily crush you... it doesn't.

Instead the titan of a Pokemon acts like a giant puppy with you.

People are of course surprised by this.

After all, Groudon is a Pokemon who has slumbered for years in magma.

It's a Pokemon of destruction.

Yet here is is, practically on its back as you stroke it's head and chin.

While the pair may seem odd and cute, you can all see how things can go wrong, right?

Groudon may happily accept treats and training from you...

But it's at a price.

Groudon feels a sense of ownership towards you.

You may befriend and control it, but it feels an obsessive attachment over you.

Unbeknownst to you this volcanic titan is inseparable from you now.

Chaos will soon follow once you part from the legendary.

Think of it like this...

Your partnership with Groudon is keeping its destructive tendencies at bay.

It has fought for a long time with Kyogre, it's used to fighting.

The urge to fight causes a destructive fire within it.

Groudon feels said fire flare within it when it sees you drift from it.

Groudon is possessive of its trainer.

This is something you have to take note of as you're the only person who can soothe Groudon.

That is unless you plan on hunting down Rayquaza to help your issue.

When you look into the Pokemon's yellow eyes you can tell there's restrained power there.

This Pokemon could quite literally level cities if it wasn't given its way.

Truthfully, Groudon should've been sent back into a deep slumber.

You can't control the beast.

It may act like putty in your heads, growling softly as you pet it.

But what happens the moment things get out of hand?

Volcanic blasts... magma... overwhelming heat... perhaps even a Primal Groudon situation.

You'd have to train Groudon well if you're going to keep it.

You'd have to discipline jealousy, get it used to other humans and Pokemon... and teach it the fact it can't stay beside you 24/7.

While these lessons will help, the threat of Groudon going rogue is always there.

It's really only a matter of time before Groudon decides to ditch all these other humans.

Its human is the only one that matters.

Due to it being a Pokemon capable of creating land, Groudon may create a private island to keep you on.

You're given a cave to live in along with resources.

Once Groudon feels it's time... it takes you there.

Then, to soothe its jealousy, it may go back to a rampage.

Now, you thought Pokemon like Houndoom were destructive to be protective of their trainers?

Forget that.

Groudon would remodel the entirety of this world for its trainer.

It cares little for the other humans or Pokemon around you.

Truth is, destruction comes naturally with this Pokemon.

The only thing that can stop Groudon's rampage fueled by jealousy is Rayquaza.

Guilt seeps into you when you smell fire and magma in the distance.

When you see Groudon return to you, looking like some sort of eager pet, you find yourself sobbing.

A Pokemon this powerful being obsessed with its trainer is a force of nature... or maybe even beyond that.

Not putting Groudon back to sleep will be the death of everything you know... and the guilt eats at you.

#yandere pokemon #yandere groudon #overprotective pokemon #overprotective groudon

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joshym · 11 months ago

Text

Le Morte d'Arthur: Chapter 3

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

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

You thought you were prepared for everything.

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

but what you were not prepared for…

was meeting the enigma that is Jake Kiszka.

Word Count: 24.6k+ (i am so sorry)

Warnings: (for this chapter) please proceed with caution if you find any of the following to be triggering: MDNI 18+ ONLY struggles with body dysmorphia/eating, heavy emotions/ talks of an absent parent, *extremely* sick & terminally-ill parent, mentions of sexually explicit scene on film being shot, anxiety/stress, stressing about college grades, worries/anxiety about failing, test anxiety, over-indulgence of alcohol (drunkenness lol), spook/haunted houses, people in scary clown makeup, mentions of jumps scares, *consensual* relations where people put their mouths in *certain places*(not full smut. yet.), ambulances, someone being wheeled out on a gurney (with a lifeless-looking body), JEALOUSLY. lots of jealousy.

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

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

Le Morte d'Arthur Masterlist

⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎

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

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

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

You’d been scared.

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

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

But, something happened.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And the way Jake looked at them…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And admire you he absolutely did.

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

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

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

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

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

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

But,

Jake.

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

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

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

Then, he went right back to his asshole ways.

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

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

But fuck.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

…that was a fucking blow to the heart.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎

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

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

“That good, huh?” Nat questions.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It’s just hard.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

At last, the final novel.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Idiot.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎

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

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

No. Please don’t say that.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But just as you’re about to…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎

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

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

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

The only issue with this class: Jake.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But it’s no fucking use.

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

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

No. You need to focus.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Everyone in here, including Jake, thinks you were cheating. On Jake’s test, no less.

So much for your fucking method of pretending he isn’t there. In no way did you manage to be even remotely successful in that pursuit.

And not only did you fail yourself in that aspect, but now the whole class, including Jake, knows it was his screen you were peering at.

Humiliated doesn’t even crack the surface.

You can’t win in this class, nor can you win with fucking Jake.

⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎

Walking out of class feels like the ultimate walk of shame. Worse than a walk of shame. Like utter defeat— an ignominy.

The most painful part is this is now the third time you’ve been the center of attention in the class— for the worst reasons.

And to add even more salt to the wound, you only received a sixty eight percent on the test. A fucking D. In the subject you’ve considered to be your best since you can remember.

And it’s not for a lack of knowledge. It’s because of the string of shit luck and continuous distractions that seem to follow you as of late.

The uncontrolled tears are soaking your cheeks as you speed walk down the halls of Angell Hall, considering never coming back as you run down the concrete steps outside.

You heard footsteps following closely behind you, but you couldn’t be bothered to turn around to see who it was. In fact, you were hoping that whoever it was would just fucking give up and stop following you. You thought that if you ignored them long enough, they’d just give up.

But, no. They followed you all the way out the door, and now you hear them continue down the fucking steps after you. Relentless.

You stop on the last step, having every intention of turning around and giving whoever the fuck is behind you what for.

But just as you’re about to, you hear, “Y/n. Will you please talk to me?”

Of fucking course.

With the sleeves of your U of M hoodie, you wipe away the streaks of tears sitting on your face, looking at the black marks staining the cuffs from your running mascara. You don’t want him to know you’ve been crying, but the state of your makeup is most likely a dead giveaway and there’s not much you can do about it right now.

You snap around to see him standing at the front door of the building, hands tucked loosely in the pockets of his blue patchwork pants.

“What, Jake? What is there to talk about?” you say, your voice quivering from the tightness in your throat.

He walks down to the step you’re standing on, and you catch his eyes widen at your confrontational tone before he takes his sunglasses from his breast pocket and places them on his face, tucking a few hairs behind his ear.

“Well, first,” he says, using his index finger to push his glasses up the bridge of his nose the rest of the way. “Movack can be rather gruff at times, so just turn a blind eye to him. But second, I just want to know why you were looking at my test. You’re smart as fuck with this stuff, I can’t fathom why you would need to read my answers.”

You’re struggling to think of an answer. You want to explain yourself, to defend yourself. But where do you even begin?

Do you tell him that you were so fucking distracted by him that you couldn’t focus, inevitably causing you to take far too long to answer even the simplest questions, and that you just wanted to see how far along on the test he was to compare to your sudden ineptitude?

No. Not a goddamn chance. While the whole thing looks terrible, you find the true reason behind it all to be much worse than the cheating allegations.

“I wasn’t reading your answers, Jake.” Your voice is still restricted from the lump in your throat that just won’t go away. But you shove it down as much as you can. The only thing that would make this entire thing worse is to cry about it in front of him. “It wasn’t anything more than my eyes needing a break from my own screen for a tenth of a second. Movack already has it out for me, so I’m sure he was eyeing me the whole time, waiting for the perfect moment to strike.”

He chuckles softly to himself, and you can’t help but watch the way his adam’s apple bobs up and down. And his pretty smile that illuminates his entire face, his cheekbones sitting high atop his glowing features… it sends an electric shock to your heart. You don’t get to see him smile nearly enough, and you wish so much that you did.

“You’re probably right about that one,” he agrees. “I swear Movack picks and chooses students each semester to single out. And you made it easy on him with those first few days in class.”

There’s his sweet smile again, prompting goosebumps to rise on your skin and forcing out a smile of your own.

You can’t tell if he’s being genuine or not; being the utter enigma that he is makes him incredibly difficult to read.

And after hearing him angrily spit out his true feelings for you a few weeks ago, your brain won’t let you forget his harsh words. Of course, he doesn’t know that you heard. And you’ll continue to act as if you don’t know.

But, knowing what he said makes you wonder if anytime he’s being “sincere,” it’s just a facade.

Still yet, you’re appreciative of the fact that he’s not outright accusing you. Almost coming to your defense, even. Not only that, but he sort of complimented your knowledge and academic abilities.

At this point, you’ll take whatever you can get from him.

“If you have any tips on how to survive his class the last half of the semester, I’m all ears,” you tell him, nervously twirling a strand of your hair between your fingers. This is the closest you feel you’ve ever gotten to a ‘normal’ conversation with him.

“At this point,” He places his hand on your shoulder, gripping it tight. You don’t even notice the breath you sucked in at his touch, feeling like you’ve suddenly forgotten how to blow it back out. “you’ll have to go above and beyond to put yourself in his good graces.”

He wraps up his advice with a soft squeeze of your shoulder before he steps down onto the sidewalk.

“Above and beyond?” you repeat, matching his tone with an added sarcasm. “Got it. No problem.”

Although it would be a lot easier if you weren’t there to distract me.

“You can do it,” he says as he’s beginning to walk away, adjusting his leather satchel over his shoulder. “Remember how you put me in my place on the first day?” he recalls through a laugh. “Yeah, just keep doing that.”

You dramatically cringe at the memory of your first day of classes, not really in the mood to ponder that mess just yet.

But he is right. That’s the only memory you have of Movack actually being somewhat kind to you.

“Yeah, you’re right. I shouldn’t have any problem doing that,” you say with a devious smile.

“That’s only if I let you do it,” he remarks with a smirk as he’s already halfway down the sidewalk. “See you tomorrow.”

Your tummy immediately fills with butterflies as you watch him saunter away. You weren’t sure how to feel about him being a decent human being… you just know you wanted more of it. More of the Jake you’d come to fantasize about from time to time in your cluttered mind.

Like the one who throws one more small (devastatingly handsome) smile over his shoulder at you, still standing in the same place where he’d left you, before he turns the next corner.

⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎

Filming has just ended for the night. Jake filmed one scene and left just as you arrived for your shots, so it’s just been you, Josh, Sam and Malachi for the better half of the evening.. Things tend to go much more smoothly with this crew; you quite enjoy nights like these.

You’re seated on their fluffy beige couch in the living room next to Sam, Josh and Malachi perched on the opposite end. With filming ending a bit earlier than usual, (given that Jake wasn’t here to cause any delay with his constant arguing) you’ve got a little time to sit around and enjoy a movie with everyone.

Josh did ask everyone what they wanted to watch, however it’s clear he never intended to let anyone's preference determine what would actually be viewed.

Once he turned on the television, he’d already had A Clockwork Orange queued up on the roku— it appears it was predestined for that to be tonight's film of choice. Not that you’re complaining, though. You do rather enjoy the madness that is this classic Kubrick film.

You’re no more than thirty seconds in the beginning of the movie when Josh says, “You know, Kubrick never really wanted to make this film. He thought the book was a yawn fest when it was presented to him. Just didn’t find much interest in it.”

Sam and Malachi basically ignore him, merely nodding their heads while their eyes stay fixed on the blue lit screen.

Still yet, he continues. “It was only when he imagined Alex being played by Malcom McDowell that he decided it’d be worth a shot. Can you believe McDowell didn’t even know who Kubrick was? He’d seen 2001: A Space Odyssey, obviously, but didn’t know Kubrick by name. It’s mind blowing, truly.”

Now that is a fact you most certainly did not know. And being the massive Kubrick fan you are, you’re surprised you didn’t know that.

“Wait, really?” you ask with genuine curiosity to discover more that he might know.

Sam places a hand on your knee and squeezes ever so gently. “Don’t encourage him, y/n. Or he’ll never stop,” he says with a half grin.

From where you’re seated, you can see Josh’s face perfectly. And even with nothing but the bright screen illuminating him, you see him roll his eyes and toss his hand in Sam’s direction.

“Yes, really! Isn’t that wild?” Josh proceeds despite Sam’s interjection. “I bet you also didn’t know that his nod to Gene Kelly was improvised.”

“It was?” you respond with a bit more shock in your tone than you had wanted. You can’t help it; this stuff fascinates you.

“Indeed my dear, it was. Kubrick directed him to do anything that would serve as a major contrast to the violent and sinister nature of the scene, told him to dance around or something. So, that’s exactly what he did. Took one of the most convivial moments in cinematic history and turned it into an example of Hollywood’s gift of euphoria, using it against the very corporation it came from.”

“How on earth do you know all of this, Josh?” you question.

“Because he spends all of his time studying this useless stuff,” Malachi jokes. He pulls Josh in by the shoulders and hugs him tight to his chest while they both bust up in a fit of laughter.

“Watch the hair, please!” Josh says, his voice muffled by Malachi's shirt.

You’ve truly come to admire their relationship over the short time you’ve known them. The love they have for one another and the love they each give to everyone around them, so selflessly and without condition— they are just wonderful, beautiful people.

You still can’t help but question how Jake carries the same DNA in his body as Josh, because they are so vastly different from each other.

The movie continues while Josh throws in a few more tidbits, piquing your interest and subsequently annoying Sam. (That’s almost more entertaining than the movie.)

Sam seems to be a little antsy. Antsy over something else other than his older brother talking away about mindless things.

You’ve noticed him glancing your way periodically out of your peripheral, and he keeps taking a breath as if he wants to say something but stops before he gets a word out.

You can’t take it any longer. “You okay, Sammy?” you ask in a hushed voice, trying not to disturb Josh and Malachi.

“Y- yeah, I’m okay,” he whispers. But you know better. Something is plaguing him, and you will get to the bottom of it.

“Are you sure?” you ask, a little bit of inflection on the last word.

He nods his head and hums in confirmation, setting his eyes back on the sci-fi film while you shrug him off and do the same.

As many times as you’ve seen this movie, you still can’t help but cringe during the infamous torture scene.

You verbally express your disgust over the torture being inflicted on Alex, holding your hands over your face and barely peeking through the space between your fingers.

The guys all snicker at your squeamish recoil, opting to watch you versus the movie as your reaction is probably more riveting than the horrid images on the screen.

⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎

The early evening has now cast a full, lunar glow as time has drawn on with the movie now running its ending credits.

Josh and Malachi have long since fallen asleep, cuddled up in an impressive knot together.

You peel yourself up off the soft cushion and stretch your stiffened limbs as Sam remains tucked deep between the pillows, still awake as he scrolls mindlessly on his phone as you suddenly remember you haven’t checked yours since filming came to an end hours ago.

You reach in your bag to fish it out, only to find that the battery is now completely dead.

“Shit,” you mumble more to yourself than anything else.

Your mind is instantly filled with the worst case scenario. Is your mother okay? What might have happened in the time between your phone dying and now? If she was in trouble, there is no way you would’ve known.

“You okay?” Sam hushes from his cocoon in the couch, lifting up a bit as you give him a sideways glance.

You had just tried to turn your phone on, to no avail. Only being met with the red battery telling you that you’re shit out of luck. Deciding to play it off, you do your best to not overthink it as you toss your phone back in your bag.

You feel your heart plummet with the phone the slightest bit. “Y-yeah,” you stutter, keeping your tone quiet for the sleeping lovers. You throw a thumb towards the door, connecting your eyes with his again. His expression is so concerned, his eyes mimic that of a baby calf. “I’ve just gotta go. Just a grade I’ve been dying to check and my phone is dead,” you lie through your teeth, starting to head to the door.

But just as you get to the door, his hand is over yours on the handle. Your heart rate admittedly speeds up at the proximity. Cute, sweet guy who you’ve been sitting closely with all night? Touching your hand?

You turn your head back and upwards to get a look at where he is standing behind you.

“Let me walk you out,” he offers, his tone kind but leaving no room for argument. “I don’t like the idea of you being out there at night by yourself.”

Little does he know where I fucking live. This place is nothing.

But, again, you play it off. Company on the way to the car wouldn’t be bad.

“Okay,” you grin. And he’s so close, you can’t help but blush as you open the door under his hand, still covering yours.

Once you get out to your car, you’ve built up a little bit of nervous energy from Sammy following you out. You would be lying if you said you didn’t have a bit of a crush, and having him so near was doing funny things to your heart.

You turn to the driver’s side door and go to put your key in the lock.

“Thanks for walking me out, Sam,” you look over your shoulder, trying your best to look as cute as possible in front of your beat up, jank-ass car. “I really loved hanging out with you tonight,” then you turn back to open the door. “Have a good night, Sa—.”

“Wait—,” you hear him say, his voice anxious. You follow the tone of his voice, and turn to face him front on. You can’t help the grin that flutters to your features as you wait for him to finish. “I’ve—I’ve actually been wanting to ask you something. I just wasn’t sure how to do it, but— fuck it. Do you want to go out this weekend? With all of us, I mean. Well, with me, but everyone else will be there too.” he utters, stumbling all over himself as he does so. “Josh wants to have a party here with all of the cast and crew to celebrate being halfway done with the film, and then we’ll all go out afterwards. Well, just my brothers and I. Of course Malachi will come. And you, I hope.” He’s spitting this all out so quickly, it’s like whiplash trying to keep up with everything he’s saying.

He seems…nervous? That is quite shocking to you given how close you two have been for filming. He seems to never have an issue in those circumstances. He’s incredibly confident and sure of himself while he kisses you like no one has ever kissed you before. All for the sake of a silly college project.

You smile at him and grab his hand before you respond, attempting to reassure him and make him feel more comfortable. “I’d love to, Sammy.”

You can visibly see the anxiety wash away from his body as he relaxes a bit, loosening his stiffened posture. “Great! How do you feel about haunted houses?”

“Haunted houses?” you question. “Like, spook houses?”

Your Oklahoma is showing, y/n.

Sam chuckles, “I forget you’re from down yonder,” he jokes with the worst fake southern accent you’re sure ever heard. “Yeah, like those. We go every year to them, kind of an annual ritual for my brothers and I. I’d really, really love it if you joined us this year. It’s a blast. That's what we’re planning on doing after the party. There’s a new one we’re wanting to try out for size.”

You’ve been so caught up in the chaos of everything consuming your life at the moment that you’d completely forgotten that Halloween is this weekend. Time has utterly flown by since your move. It still feels as though you’ve just begun classes at the U of M only days ago, when in fact, it’s been months since the semester started.

“God, I haven’t gone to a spook hou– sorry, haunted house, in years.” you tell him.

His face scrunches up in a tenderhearted grin at your correction.

“It’s a date, then!” he exclaims with an enthusiasm that swarms your belly with tiny butterflies.

He opens your car door a little wider as you climb yourself in the driver's seat. “It’s a date,” you repeat through a full toothed smile. He matches your grin as he gently shuts your door, bidding you a farewell with a sweet salute.

⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎

Each outfit you put on just doesn’t flatter you in the slightest. Every shirt is either too tight or too low cut, each pair of jeans has a weird gap in the crotch, your leggings only look good with a baggy sweater. And even though that’s your go-to comfort outfit, that is not the vibe you're going for tonight.

No; you have to look damn good tonight. You want to look good for Sam, for him to see you in something cute that’s not just a film costume. (But there’s also the incessant part of you that desperately wants to impress Jake, too. And your usual attire just won’t do the trick.)

You dig through to the deepest crevices of your closet in hopes to find something that looks good, but also makes you feel confident in your body.

The only thing you do feel confident in these days is your seductive wardrobe for the film. But, for obvious reasons, you can’t wear those to the party or the spook house. That is not the kind of attention you’re attempting to draw this evening.

You stumble upon a black velvet skirt, short with a small slit on the left thigh. You’ve never worn it. You bought it years ago for a reason that you can’t seem to remember at the moment. But it’s managed to withstand the multiple closet purges you’ve done over the years, so part of you has clearly always thought it would come in handy at some point.

Holding it up to your hips, you figure it’ll probably still fit. (Fingers and toes crossed that it does.)

It’s supposed to be a bit chilly out tonight, so you rummage through the second drawer in your dresser for the pair of black tights you have tucked away at the very bottom under all of your other undergarments.

You sit on your bed as you pull the tights over your calf, up to your thigh before repeating the same thing on the other leg, standing up to awkwardly pull them the rest of the way up over your hips and ass, covering the cute black boy shorts you chose to wear underneath that match your black t-shirt material bra. These particular tights have some serious tummy control— something you’re quite grateful for.

Now, for the brutal moment of truth. Will the skirt fit?

You certainly hope so. Trying on anything can be incredibly difficult for you. You live in fear that nothing will fit you. Too big or too small, it doesn’t matter. Dealing with the size of your body in any aspect is paralyzing and far too triggering. So, doing this right now is a massive step for you. But, if it fits, it’ll be worth it.

You undo the zipper on the back and step into the skirt on one foot at a time, sucking your stomach in fiercely as you zip it back up at your waist and clasp the small hook and eye at the top.

As you let out the breath you’d been holding, you’re delightfully shocked to find that the skirt fits. Not too tight, not too loose— it’s perfect. A wonderful surprise that you truthfully weren’t expecting.

You walk over to your small vanity to take a look in the mirror sitting on top of the white wooden table. You bend down a bit to get a better look at the skirt, and holy hell.

Your ass looks fantastic. And the little slit sitting on your left thigh is tastefully sexy as hell. The tights were a great choice as they make your legs look smooth and complement the black velvet beautifully.

Now, to find the right top.

Giant sweaters are your comfort, but you’re feeling like trying something a little different tonight.

You have a dark gray, long sleeved mock neck that’s been hidden away almost as long as your skirt has. The fit of it has always given you wild amounts of anxiety. It’s tight. Like, skin tight. Yet, it’s remained part of your wardrobe for a long ass time. So, why not give it a try? You’re feeling a little more brave at the moment, and it might surprise you just as the skirt did.

Shifting through the hangers holding your shirts, you finally find it. Still brand new with the tags. You can’t remember why you bought this, either. Perhaps past you was looking out for future you to have something hot to wear on this very night? Who the hell knows.

You rip the tags off of it, figuring it’s probably much too late to return it now. You stretch out the mock neck a bit before pulling it on over your head, smoothing it over your breasts and down your stomach, tucking the length into your skirt and tights.

You adjust the arms a bit, feeling a tinge of apprehension at just how snugly the material is clinging to your biceps. A body part of yours that you’re not so keen on accentuating.

But as you take a look in the mirror, you’re shocked yet again— over just how good this looks on you, too. The tight-fitting fabric is actually doing you a lot of favors, particularly in the region of your breasts.

The shirt isn’t cut in a way that would show any cleavage, but the way it fits around them emphasizes their shape, making them look rather perky as they sit perfectly upon your chest.

The whole outfit is flattering you in ways you’ve never explored. The anxiety about trying something so far outside of your comfort is still ever present, but as of late, you’ve convinced yourself that it’s okay to do that every once in a while.

You’re tired of being trapped in the prison cell that is your self conscious brain. It’s time to break free, and the confidence that filming has brought to you feels like the very key to unlocking the bars that keep your thoughts in confinement. And so does this moment as you’re seeing yourself in yet another new light. It makes you feel utterly silly for feeling as shitty as you always have.

You glance at your phone to check the time, and you still have over an hour until you have to be at their apartment. You’re thankfully making good time, so you have plenty to dedicate to your hair and makeup to perfect it.

You decide to throw a few loose curls in your hair, letting the waves fall around your face to frame it. Keeping your makeup a bit on the light side, you choose to go with a small, subtle black wing and black mascara to accent your eyes. You decide on a daring red lip, but not just any red lip– the same shade of red you’ve been wearing while you’re portraying the highly coveted Guiniverre. You grin as you swipe the scarlet color across your lips, thinking back to all the times it’s become smeared on yours and Sammy’s. The giggles that you two have broken out in over the mess you’ve created on his face.

Digging through your jewelry box, you find some silver and gold chains you like to pair together. You place them meticulously around your neck, making sure they’re stacked to perfection. Then a pair of big hoop earrings that show beautifully through the loose curls around your face.

But just as you’re closing the lid to the floral painted ceramic box, something catches your eye.

A little golden charm in the shape of a heart with your initial engraved on it. Your fifteenth birthday gift from your dad. You used to wear it every single day, up until the very day he walked out of your life for good.

You threw it away that day. Tossed in the garbage the second you realized what he had done.

While you’re not entirely sure how it made its way to Michigan with you, you’re willing to bet your mom dug through the trashcan to salvage it for you, hiding it in your box for you to discover later on.

As much as you’ve struggled to contrive a single memory of your dad that doesn’t involve him leaving, looking at the necklace has your mind venturing back to the moment he gave it to you. Wrapped up so elegantly in a red velvet bag, with a letter from him that told you the story behind your name, how he chose it special after his grandmother that helped raise him when his parents gave him up. (Seems a little ironic.)

You suddenly begin to panic. Where did that letter end up? Did you throw it away, too? God, you really hope you didn’t. But it seems like something you definitely may have done in the midst of your unforgiving anger with him.

But you loved that story. You used to make him tell you about your name all the time, and having it written down in his handwriting was something you held rather close to your heart until he up and left.

You start scrambling, pulling your tangled jewelry out in handfuls to see if it’s buried in there, but it’s no use. It’s not here, and you truly feel in your heart that it’s somewhere in the landfills of Cherry Tree, Oklahoma. Disintegrated to near nothing.

It breaks your heart to think of it in that state. But maybe it’s for the better. Maybe that’s the universe trying to tell you that it was meant to stay back in Oklahoma with the life you no longer have with him.

One thing is for sure, there’s no use in shedding tears over it. It’s in the past, and that’s probably the best place for it.

You check your phone once more, realizing that you have to leave in no less than twenty minutes if you want to be there on time.

You begin rushing around, looking for your black thigh length leather jacket (faux, of course) that you know will match your outfit perfectly.

You find it buried under a few other coats on the shelf of your closet. You swiftly grab it and start heading out of the door of your bedroom, realizing that you’re still clutching the heart necklace in your right hand’s grip.

Mindlessly, you slowly place it around your neck, lining it up with your others so it sits in just the right place. You hold tight to the engraved charm, swiping your thumb over the initial a few times, just as you always did for comfort in the years that it was worn.

The comforting feeling is still there, strangely. Everything has changed since you last wore this, yet somehow it all feels the same.

The memories start to flood back like a tsunami, but you don’t have time for them right now. You don’t want to overwhelm yourself with it all. Wearing the necklace is just one step towards forgiveness, and that’s all you have the mental capacity for at the moment.

Throwing your jacket on your shoulders, you walk down the hallway to the living room to search for your purse and keys.

Your mom is seated on the couch, watching her favorite television show and cleaning up the plate of food you made her. She starts to get up to take her dishes to the kitchen, but you stop her before she can stand all the way.

“Let me get that, mom.” You take them from her, rinsing them off in the kitchen sink before placing them in the dishwasher. “Are you sure you’ll be okay with me gone for so long?”

Tonight will be the longest you’ll be gone from her since you made the move, and the worry sitting on your heart is almost too heavy for you to truly feel okay with leaving her tonight.

Your biggest fear is playing over and over in your head like a damaged record. But when you told her about tonight, she wouldn’t accept anything less than you going and having a great time.

“You look beautiful, sweetie. Does my poor heart some good to see you like this,” she says as you saunter your way back into the living room to meet her warm, smiling face. “And I told you, honey. I will be fine. Don’t you dare fret about me tonight.”

Triple checking that all of her nighttime medications are out and within her reach, you also take a moment to check that her oxygen tank is full and that her mask is nearby should she need it.

“Y/n.” She takes your hand away from the tank and pulls it close to her. “I am just fine. Now get on out of here and enjoy yourself, sweet pea.”

She pats the back of your hand with her other, something she’s done since you were a child.

“Okay, mom,” you utter through a deep sigh. “But please promise you’ll call me if you need me for anything, okay?”

She nods her head in agreement, sending you a warm smile yet again as she lets go of you and softly nudges you in the direction of the front door.

“Love you, mom,” you tell her as you step through the threshold.

“Love you more, y/n.”

⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎

You nervously pull your car in the lot of their complex. It’s been clanking around more than usual tonight and there’s an odd smell emitting from the engine. You’re counting your lucky stars that you’ve made it here in one piece. You’re hoping that having it sit and rest for a while is just what it needs.

Your dad was always your right hand in fixing any issue that arose with your old piece of junk. Without him, you don’t even know where to begin. What shops to take it to, who will overcharge you and who won’t. Car mechanics are a foreign concept to you.

He even promised you a new one by the end of your junior year. It’s a pretty safe bet that that won’t be happening.

Josh answers the door before your fist even collides with it. “Y/n, my sweet dove! I’m so happy to see you!” he exclaims, clearly more than a few drinks in as he holds one tightly in his hand.

He practically pulls you into their home, wrapping you in a Josh-famous hug while nearly spilling his glass filled to the brim with some stout, honey colored liquid. The same one that you smelled on his breath as soon as he opened his mouth.

“Joshua!” you huff, laughing at his loose state. “The night has barely begun and you’re already drunk?”

“Ah, yes! The night is still young, and there’s plenty more trouble to get into!”

Your hand covers the sound of the giggle that erupts from you. “It sounds like you’ve gotten into enough already, Josh,” you say through your fingers.

His drink meets your empty hand in a clumsy ‘cheers,’ a few drops of his drink landing on your skin before he lifts his glass to take a big swig.

“The queen is here, everyone!” he shouts while stumbling through the crowded living room. You cringe at the sudden influx of eyes staring at you from Josh (loudly) announcing your arrival.

You flash an uncomfortable smile, waving stiffly at everyone while you take your jacket off and hang it on the coat-stand in the corner of the foyer.

“The queen, the queen!” Sammy roars from the kitchen, setting his glass down on the granite before swiftly padding his way across the living space to meet you. He instantly envelopes you in a warm, soft hug, digging his chin in your shoulder. His coarse facial hair tickles your neck as you playfully squirm away from his embrace.

He takes a step back, amorous eyes flicking up and down your form. “You look intoxicatingly lovely tonight,” he whispers, taking your hand as he gives the tops of your knuckles a quick peck.

Although he’s not quite as inebriated as his older brother, you can tell he’s had at least a few. Enough to sustain a pretty decent buzz. So, you don’t think his actions are completely due to the alcohol. Perhaps a bit, though.

“Come with me,” Sam says while he drags you by the same hand his lips just met. “Your lack of beverage is deeply concerning.”

As he leads you to the kitchen, your eye is caught by Jake standing by the array of finger foods intricately splayed out on huge charcuterie boards.

And fuck, does he look sexy as hell.

His dark beige collared jacket over his loose, worn white t-shirt is something brand new to you, and his denim button up tied around his waist above his black skinny jeans shouldn’t be nearly as inviting as it is.

You instantly notice the slightly cropped nature of his top, revealing just enough skin. Even the slightest vision of his lower stomach has your head spinning.

But then you realize… he’s not alone.

And she’s pretty. Really fucking pretty.

Her sun bleached hair falls just below her impossibly tiny waist. Her green eyes are complemented beautifully by her mulberry sweater, the deep neckline emphasizing her perfect breasts.

He’s smiling, laughing, and she’s laughing right along with him, making doe eyes as he talks to her. She’s holding some bright pink concoction, of which she’s taking the daintiest sips, never breaking contact with his eyes.

You’ve never seen him so outgoing, so talkative. And it’s all thanks to her.

Sam notices your stare in their direction, and switches directions so you’re now heading towards them.

“I don’t think you two have properly met!” Sam interjects. “Y/n, this is Stacy. She’s playing the woman that steals your man.”

He laughs ridiculously loud at his own joke, obviously not understanding where your mind is at all. (How could he possibly know? But, still. Poor taste, Sam.)

She is Stacy. Of course she is.

You’d heard about Stacy, but you hadn’t met her yet. All you knew was that she was the one cast as Camille, Arthur’s very own secret lover who will later turn out to be as evil as Morgan le Fey herself.

Nat has mentioned her briefly, telling you that she’s “kind of a moron, but a fantastic actress,” whatever the hell that means.

Her availability has been much different than yours for filming, so your paths have yet to cross. And since Josh has a strict ‘no pre-edit viewing’ rule, you haven’t seen any of her scenes with Jake.

And part of you isn’t entirely sure you want to. With how titillating your scenes with Sam have been, and the rather exposed nature of your own costuming, your wandering mind can only imagine how similar Jake's scenes are with Stacy and the costumes they’ve chosen for her.

The script you possess only includes scenes with you, so you haven’t even been able to read any of Jake’s that don’t include you, which also means you haven’t even read any of hers.

You’d already made it up in your mind that she was probably quite beautiful. That Jake probably believes she’s quite beautiful, too.

And you were unfortunately right. She’s a fucking goddess. You can’t hold a candle to her. And given the way Jake is looking at her, it’s safe to assume that he would agree.

Does he feel the same things for her that you feel for Sam? Why does it seem he gives her the attention you so desperately crave from him? Is she the reason why he has next to nothing to do with you?

It shouldn’t matter to the extent that it unfortunately does, but the thoughts are deafening nonetheless.

You’re jealous. And there’s no reason to be jealous, but you can’t begin to help it.

Out of instinct, you bring your arms up to fold them over your chest. You suddenly feel like hiding once again.

The thrumming bass from the loud music is keeping perfect time with the amplified beating of your heart.

Why do you have to care so much?

You swallow it all down, breaking free from your thoughts to be cordial with her. Because she has yet to give you a reason not to be, and you don’t want to be that jealous bitch.

“Hi, Stacy!” you exclaim with a forced smile and a reach of your hand to shake with hers. “It’s so great to finally meet you.”

She disregards your outstretched hand, opting to pull you in for an unexpected hug in lieu and nearly causing you both to topple over.

She smells fucking incredible. Like fresh cherries and oranges.

She breaks from the hug, still grasping hold of each of your shoulders as you’re standing completely stiff in shock over the way she’s greeting you, as if she’s known you all her life.

With a giant smile, (displaying her perfectly white, straight teeth) she says, “I am so happy to see you! The boys have told me so much about you— well, mostly Sammy. He told me you’re a super awesome actress and has gone on and on about how pretty you are.”

Sam wraps his arm around your waist, giggling and blushing at her statement. You find his sudden onset of embarrassment to be absolutely adorable. You catch yourself smiling at the thought of him speaking of you in such a way. His sweetness more than makes up for the lack thereof from his older brother, who is standing stiff as a board behind Stacy.

His eyes flick to yours, and they burn a hole through your own gaze before they land on Sam’s arm that’s hugged tightly to your body. His nostrils flare and his jaw clenches before he gives Sam a look that you’re pretty sure could actually murder him if it were possible.

You can’t discern how he’s feeling, but whatever is on his mind, he certainly does not appear to be happy about it.

You look up to Sam to see that he’s staring right back at Jake, even throwing him a sly wink before Jake abruptly walks away from the three of you without a single word.

What the fuck is his problem now?

You all stand there in silence for a moment, Stacy’s head quickly whipping around in the direction he left in.

“Well,” you say, clearing your throat to draw the attention elsewhere. “I’ve heard plenty of wonderful things about you also, Stacy. I am so excited to see you in the film. I bet you’re absolutely great!” You’re more so telling her this in an effort to relieve the tension that Jake so lovingly left behind.

She smiles before taking a few sips of her drink, licking the rememints off her full, rose colored lips. “Jake is just a dream to work with. He’s so patient and kind with me. And he’s just the sweetest guy! When he asked me to come to the party tonight, there was no way I could say no.”

No. There’s no way she’s using ‘patient’ and ‘kind’ to describe the same Jake that’s been a rude, arrogant pain in your side for the past few months. He is most definitely not the ‘sweetest guy.’

You’re practically biting your tongue in half to stop yourself from saying anything.

Why the hell has he been treating her so much better than you? What is so special about her that you’re lacking?

Well, aside from her Barbie-like beauty. That is something you can’t compare to, sadly. You’ll never equate to girls that carry her kind of flawless, graceful allure.

And that is probably why you don’t receive the same respect as her. It makes perfect sense.

What a vain, fucking asshole.

⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎

You’ve been subtly eyeing them all night, watching as they’ve kept themselves tucked away together in a desolate corner of the living room, completely separated from the rest of the party.

He’s been ogling the hell out of her while she rambles on and on, talking his ear off for what feels like hours. (About something mindless and irrelevant, you’re sure.)

But whatever it is has acquired his full attention as they’ve basically not lost sight of one another since the night began. (Aside from the numerous times you’ve caught him glancing your way tonight. Maybe this outfit was a good idea.)

Sammy thankfully hasn’t taken notice of your wandering eyes. In fact, he’s been just as glued to you as the two of them seem to be.

And if you’re honest, he’s been a welcome diversion.

The drinks have made him a little extra clingy to you, and even more complimentary, as if that were even possible.

You’re asking yourself yet again why you care so fucking much about what Jake is doing, when you have Sam practically falling all over himself for you. (Almost literally, thanks to the alcohol flowing freely through his system.)

You’re still working on your first drink that Josh mixed for you, and you now know what Malachi meant when he told you to beware of an infamous Josh cocktail. There’s just a hint of lime juice swimming in an endless sea of Camarena tequila. (A Kiszka staple, you’ve come to find.)

You can only sip on it gingerly as a full gulp would probably cause your blood alcohol levels to rise rather quickly, so taking it slow is necessary.

“I think I’ll go pour myself another refreshment. Anything I can get you?” Sammy asks, effectively pulling your attention away from them again for the umpteenth time tonight. (Thank god he hasn’t noticed.)

“I think I’m good. Thank you, though.”

He gives you an inquisitive look as he downs the last few drops of what's left of his drink. “And you’re sure you don’t want something to eat? There’s plenty up there.”

You’ve turned down his offer at least three times now. He’s been questioning you all night about eating, but you just can’t right now.

The fear of becoming bloated while in an outfit as tight as this, clinging to every square inch of your body, is far too great to allow yourself to indulge.

If you want to look good, especially around the likes of Stacy, food is out of the question for tonight.

“I ate with my mom before I came over, so I’m really not very hungry.” That’s a lie. And you hate to lie to him, to anyone. But you don’t want to be tempted by him bringing you a plate of food. You’ve hardly stepped foot in the kitchen for that very reason.

He just smiles and says “okay” as he stands up from the couch to grab his refill, leaving you sitting there by yourself.

Normally you’d be grateful for the moment of solitude amongst the wild party goers as they dance and galavant around.

But all it’s doing is setting your attention right back on Jake, who’s still conversing with Stacy.

Only now, it’s much worse.

Your stomach tightens and drops when you see him mindlessly run the backs of his fingers up and down her forearm, landing loosely on her waist as their proximity has become even closer somehow.

You shouldn’t care. You really shouldn’t fucking care. But goddamnit— how you wish it were you.

You’ve told yourself over and over again to let go of this idea that he could ever possibly like you. It’s pointless, useless. He’s made it plenty well known that he isn’t and never will be interested.

But suddenly, he makes eye contact with you again as he’s wrapped up with her, and she doesn’t notice. She just keeps talking to him as if he were still listening.

But you can tell he’s not. His eyes are tightly fixed with yours, and this time, neither one of you are quick to break the contact.

There’s close to twenty people between the two of you, yet they all suddenly disappear. The music has turned into a muffled, incoherent beat. It’s as though you’re both standing on either end of a tunnel, the rest of the world stuck on the outside, unbeknownst to what’s occurring beyond the cylinder walls that encompass only you and Jake.

Your trance is broken by Stacy taking hold of his face and turning it back towards her. You can’t hear what she says, but based on the movement of her lips, you’ve gathered it was something along the lines of, ‘who were you looking at?’

She turns her head in your direction, looking around intently to answer her own question.

But she doesn’t look at you. Because in her mind, why would Jake ever look at you when she, perfect and beautiful as can be, is standing right in front of him?

No. She’d never suspect it.

And maybe she’s right, anyway. You turn to look behind you to see a slew of beautiful girls standing close by. Friends of some of the crew for the film, you assume.

He was probably just looking at them. Not you.

Never you.

You feel the couch cushion sink in next to you with Sammy sitting back down, clutching his newly fresh drink, completely oblivious to everything happening within your mind.

You suddenly feel your phone vibrate from your purse, and you unlock the screen to see a text message from Natalia.

It’s suddenly registered with you that she isn’t here yet, which isn’t like her to be late to anything.

Nat: “So, about tonight…”

You: “Are you okay?? Where are you, dude?”

Nat: “I *may* have a date planned, & I *may* not be making it to the party because of said date. ;)”

You: “A date?? With?? SPILL IT!”

Nat: “A certain curly headed boy who was also supposed to be there tonight. :p Any guesses?”

You glance around the room to determine who should be here but isn’t.

You still don’t know very many people in this town just yet, so the possibilities of who it could be are rather limited.

It clearly isn’t Sammy. And it most definitely isn’t Jake or Josh.

Then, it hits you.

Daniel. Sammy’s best friend who has been nowhere to be found all night, who was most definitely supposed to be here.

You’ve loved getting to know him over the last few months. Everything runs extra smoothly when he’s around to help with the camera work, and he serves as the best mediator for the twins. (And Sam when he’s feeling extra ruthless.) Fights are almost non-existent when his presence is looming.

And he is absolutely sexy as fuck. The tallest of all the boys, and the most muscular.

With Nat’s unmatched beauty along with her kind heart, the two of them would make the most ideal, movie worthy couple.

You’re sad she won’t be here tonight, but the thought of her going out with Danny has you far too excited to care. She deserves this.

You: “Danny?? SHUT THE HELL UP? I’m so happy for you!”

Nat: “Maaaaybe. ;) I’ll keep you updated! Sorry for ditching you tonight, love you & have fun!”

You: “You’re such a shit. Love you!”

“What are you so smiley about?” Sam asks, nudging your shoulder playfully with his as you grin at your phone.

You lift up your screen to show him, his smile matching yours once he discovers what has you so giddy,

“No fucking way!” he shouts, taking your phone from your hand to get a better look at the messages. “He’s been wanting to ask her out for ages. Way to finally grow some balls, Daniel!”

Sinking into the cushions a little further, you accept your fate of not having Nat with you for the night. You’re going to miss her. You are not sure how you’re going to make it without her perfectly timed buffering. And tonight of all nights is the one where you need her as a distraction. A distraction from the continuously ridiculous display that Jake and Stacy are giving with their secret giggles in the corner.

Next to you, Sammy’s small, drawn out cackle pulls you back. It brings a small smile to your face as it’s an honestly endearing sound–reminiscent of a laugh influenced by weed. You’ve gotten used to hearing it often, as Sam is always laughing if there’s a laugh to be had.

He’s a good distraction. A good buffer. You’ll have him to lean on all night. You’re assured of this as he looks down at you with his big, beautiful, deep brown eyes. He’s pulling you in, making you feel safe in this overly crowded room.

But another drink would be nice. Just to alleviate any tension that could unintentionally make its way into your muscles. It’s a humongous risk as Jake and Stacy leave their cocoon in the corner to make their way back to the kitchen.

Yeah, you don’t want to go back there. You need a drink, but you don’t want to accidentally see them canoodling when that’s the last thing you want to be privy to. The drink’s a necessity, though, you realize as you already feel irritation flare in your veins at the thought.

“You need something, hun?” Sam asks.

You bring your eyes, zoning out on nothing, back to him. God, he’s so sweet. Why can’t he be the Kiszka you want most?

Not knowing what else to say or do, you figure asking him to run to the kitchen for you might be a good idea. You need the alcohol, and he would surely love to help. Perfect combo.

“I need a drink,” you say, a shy smile taking over your features. “And I’m too comfy to get up.”

You really feel bad making him be your errand boy. Especially when his face lights up at the prospect of possibly helping you.

“Yeah!” He eagerly responds, getting up in no time. “Whaddya want? Mixed? Beer? Wine?”

“Glass of wine, maybe?”

“Dry? Sweet? Sour?”

“Sweet,” you respond, without thought. Sweet wine is always the only route. “Thank you,” you offer, blushing with the quiet thanks.

“Sure thing,” he winks. Then, he’s crouching in front of you, his hand landing on your thigh. Your skin heats under his touch. He’s so fucking gorgeous. And he’s so close. And he’s leaning in.

You lean forward, too, and capture his lips in an effortless kiss. So soft, his mustache tickles your upper lip just right.

He sucks your bottom lip into his mouth and your tummy does a funny twirl before he’s standing back up with one more wink and a little grin that makes your cheeks flare red. “Be right back, sweet thing.”

As long as you can without having to move from your spot, you watch him lazily (and sexily) walk to the kitchen for your beverage. You’re biting your lip, still, when you turn back to face the rest of the party in front of you.

Then you see Jake leaving the kitchen right as Sammy enters it. And with Stacy momentarily distracted, he lets his eyes wander. But, you realize, they don’t really wander– no, they go immediately to you.

You’re still biting your lip, but you let your teeth slip just the slightest bit with the look he’s giving you. It’s haunting–almost as though it’s a best-kept secret. He looks…pensive. But his eyes are open, wondering and curious with his lips parted just slightly– so prettily.

You let your gaze stay on his face–continue looking in his mysterious eyes–until Sam is the one exiting the kitchen. So, you turn your attention back to his face. He’s smiling at you, holding up a clear plastic cup, holding what looks like Pink Moscato. Your lips turn up at the sight, but let your eyes float back to Jake’s of their own accord… but he’s no longer looking at you.

No, he’s looking at Malachi, who is still engaging in conversation with Stacy.

But he’s not smiling along with their conversation. He’s scowling, his jaw clenching enough to make your skin feel hot. Why’s he so mad?

You choose not to think about it, instead averting your eyes to Sam, now back in front of you with your wine, setting his new drink on the table. You let your eyes settle on his ass in his gray jeans and you can’t help but appreciate the view.

Then he’s turning around and his phone is getting clicked open from his pocket.

Peering at the screen, you wrinkle a brow.

“What’s–?”

“Twenty Questions!” He excitedly says as he hands you your wine and settles in next to you again. “Thought it could keep us busy for the next bit of time.”

Your eyes twinkle. He’s adorable.

“Okay,” you smirk, taking a drink of your wine, which settles immediately into your cheeks. Warms you right up. And, yes, it’s Pink Moscato. “How did you know I love this type of wine?”

“Lucky guess,” he chimes, the apples of his cheeks pink after a swig from his brand new mixed drink. “You wanna play?” He flashes his screen at you again, lit up way too bright with the questions he’d found online.

“Yeah,” you reply with a sure nod. “Give me your worst.”

And, without being able to help it, you’re peeking over your shoulder once more.

You find Jake’s eyes, dark and waiting for you, before you’re both turning back to your tasks at hand.

Your tummy is positively fluttering as Sammy asks his first question.

“What’s one of the craziest things you’ve ever done?”

Not helping the giggle that bubbles out of your chest, you know exactly what your answer is.

Ironic.

“Craziest things I’ve ever done…” you hum, already knowing what you’re going to say when you give him a tiny smile. “Well, one of the craziest things I’ve ever done is definitely agreeing to star in a project film with a bunch of people I really didn’t know worth shit.”

His signature cackle comes to join your giggle, and you feel totally at ease in the moment.

God, he’s easy to talk to.

“That’s fucking hilarious,” he responds. Then, there’s a wholesome smile under his mustache, his eyes encompassing a brand new emotion. “But I’m really glad you did it.”

And, with Sam’s precious face making you feel a little giddy, and the feeling of eyes burning into the back of your neck making your stomach feel heavy with want, you say the only thing you can think of.

It’s simple.

“Me too.”

⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎

The chill of the night is nearly unbearable as you’re waiting in the line for the hayride that takes you to the haunted house, and you’ve found yourself regretting your choice of attire.

Your pleather jacket isn’t doing a damn thing to block the crisp breeze, and the small amount of alcohol you had ingested earlier has completely worn off, so you can’t rely on that to warm your system.

Your arms are crossed tightly over your chest in a desperate attempt to use your own body heat to warm up, but there isn’t any heat left to be used. You’re sure everyone can hear the incessant chattering of your teeth and the jingling of your jewelry from your uncontrollable shivers.

Michigan cold feels different than Oklahoma cold. Your body clearly hasn’t adjusted to the northern weather as of yet. (It also doesn’t help that you haven’t eaten a single thing since you woke up early this morning, but you turn that thought away fast. You’re not ready to confront that just yet.)

You half expected Sam to offer you his coat by now, but he’s too busy cutting up with Josh and Malachi at the moment to pay you any mind. You feel too awkward to ask, so you’ll just stand here and wait for your body to completely ice over while you wait for this fucking hayride that won’t allow you to be any warmer than you are right now.

Hell, even Jake gave Stacy his coat, and she didn’t even have to ask for it. He just did it.

And it doesn’t help that she can’t stop making her ‘pick me’ comments about how his coat is so big on her that she looks so tiny in it.

You’re annoyed as fuck that she’s here. The way she chimed in before you all left, nosing her way in to figure out where you all were going, just to get Jake to ask her to come. And of course he did. Of fucking course.

So, she’s here. Bumbling about and talking about whatever comes to her dull mind. But, her looks give her a pass. You’ve found yourself wondering more than once tonight why they didn’t cast her as Guiniverre. Her beauty alone makes her more than qualified for the role. And if her acting is as good as everyone says, it just doesn’t make sense why she wasn’t chosen.

You’re really wishing Nat was here. She would just get it and share along with your annoyance. But she would definitely say something along the lines of what you’re thinking. She’s not one to hold back like you are.

(And you’re starting to understand why she referred to Stacy as a ‘moron.’)

The line has been still for well over forty five minutes at this point, and you’ve not even moved a quarter of an inch since you’ve been here.

This better be worth it.

Stacy decides to join in on the guys’ fun, making an obnoxious show of herself as she does so. You know she’s only doing it for the sake of Jake’s attention.

And apparently Sam’s, too.

She’s got her arm interlocked with his as they stand in front of you, making ‘jokes’ with one another that might actually make you hurl.

Sam is too naive (and still a bit too inebriated) to understand her little game, but you’re not.

And it should be pissing you off that she’s suddenly all over your date, but at least it’s keeping her from clinging to Jake.

The vexed look on Jake’s face says everything you’re thinking— his annoyance isn’t quite as subtle as yours.

You’re a little relieved to find that he is also not thrilled about the situation. Everyone else seems to be enjoying themselves, and it’s not that you’re not, you just wish you weren’t so damn cold.

A sudden gust of wind hits you like a frozen freight train. It’s nearly painful, piercing through your skin to your chilled bones.

“Jesus!” You exclaim from the sharp gale, causing everyone to startle and snap their heads in your direction.

“You alright?” Jake asks.

You notice the bright pink hue on his cheeks and the very tip of his nose, and you’ve heard him sniffle every few minutes since you’ve been here. You kind of feel bad for him. Having given up his coat to the little blondie keeping Sam’s attention far away from you, he must be as cold as you are.

“I’m fine,” you fib through your jittering teeth. “I’m just so fucking cold.”

“Yeah, it’s pretty bad out tonight. Actually this whole month has been much colder than normal, I believe.” He cups his hands, bringing them up to his lips to blow warm air on them before sticking them back in the pockets of his skinny jeans.

You’re definitely not used to this kind of simple, small talk with Jake. And his annoyed demeanor has suddenly vanished. He no longer looks completely miserable, probably because he’s now ignoring Stacy’s obnoxious, forced laugh as she’s still messing around with Sam, Josh and Malachi just a few feet in front of you.

You’re absolutely over her at this point. The way she will snort out a fake laugh and casually peek over at Jake to see if he’s looking at her— it’s nauseating to watch, really.

“I think there’s a hot chocolate stand over there if you wan-” Jake starts, but he’s interrupted by Sam.

“I’m sorry, y/n. I didn’t realize you were so cold.” Sam says, wrapping his arms around your frigid body and rubbing his hands up and down your back to warm you up.

You’re grateful for his body heat, the way it instantly puts your endless shivers to rest.

But you wish he would’ve waited until Jake finished his thought. (And you wish Jake were the one warming you up instead.)

But while in Sam’s embrace, you catch Jake watching, glaring.

His jaw becomes tightly clenched, his chest rising up and down rapidly with his deep breaths, his eyes narrowed in on you wrapped tightly in his brother's arms.

And even as Stacy waltzes her way to him, tucking herself into his body, seeking his warmth, (quite literally just mimicking you and Sam) Jake's burning gaze doesn’t cease.

You’ve stood like this for so long that you don’t even realize you’re all next in line for the hayride.

Sam helps guide you in the back of the wagon, being sure you don’t slip on the unstable wooden step. Josh and Malachi pile in shortly after you, then Jake and Stacy.

You wince as you take a seat on the sharp hay, wishing even more that you would’ve chosen something thicker than your skirt. The hay is stabbing you through your clothes, and no efforts in situating yourself to find a comfortable spot are proving to be successful.

“Here, “ Sam says, patting his thigh. “Sit on my lap, you’ll be a lot more comfortable.”

The dry hay may as well be needles poking your ass, so you don’t turn down his offer. Plus, his body heat will also come in handy as you’ve got a pretty substantial way to go before you reach the haunted house.

He holds you close to him by your waist as you situate yourself on his warm thighs, but you hear a rather unpleasant scoff coming directly from Jake’s mouth as you do so. And so does everyone else, apparently, as everyone looks his way at the sound.

Sammy snickers, asking “You good over there, Jacob?”

His condescending tone catches you completely off guard. And clearly has pissed off Jake.

“Sam, it’s in your best interest to shut the fuck up.” Jake angrily retorts.

Stacy is seated next to him, a ridiculous smile splayed on her unaware, perfect face. Giggling and laughing when she has absolutely no clue what’s going on between the brothers.

(If you’re completely honest, you’re not entirely sure you do, either.)

But the tension is evident, nonetheless. And she is obviously incapable of picking up on it.

But what she does pick up on, is how you're seated comfortably on top of Sammy's lap, giving her the idea to also do that. Because for some fucking reason, she feels the need to always do the exact same thing you and Sammy do.

You have to hold back your laugh as she moves to sit on Jake, and he tells her it’s not a good idea and makes her sit back down on a dirty piece of hay.

Serves her fucking right.

⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎

A slew of bloody, killer clowns lead you all out of the hay covered wagon. Their makeup is…mediocre at best. Not the most realistic you’ve ever seen but you can tell there was at least a little more than minimal effort put into their costuming.

Stacy, of course, is screaming at the top of her lungs with each move they make, attaching herself to Jake in an obnoxious manner that almost prohibits him from being able to walk. The look on his features tells you he’s less than pleased with her actions, but he doesn’t stop her.

They then lead you all to the beginning of their ‘Three Ring Maze of Horrors,’ guiding you through the dark black lit entrance. The sounds of exaggerated screams and wails can be heard through their less than adequate sound system, playing on an endless loop along with circus music in an eerie minor key.

A typical cliche; nothing you haven’t seen adapted a hundred times before. The concept is a bit overdone in your eyes. Being the horror fan that you are, you’re pretty desensitized to things like this. It takes a lot to scare you anymore. But, you still enjoy the atmosphere nonetheless.

Not only was Jake chosen to be the designated driver tonight, it was a collective decision to have Jake lead the whole group through the haunted house. Of course, Stacy is close behind, clutching his back and burying her face into his jacket, seeking her pick-me attention yet again from him.

You and Sam are close behind, with you in front of him. He’s not quite as brave as you are, closely mimicking the reactions of Stacy, much to your annoyance.

Josh and Malachi are the tail end, clinging to one another as they both share in their fear together.

You and Jake seem to be the only ones who aren’t phased in the least. He’s hardly even winced at a single bloody clown threatening to have him for dinner.

But with every jump and yell of a clown, comes a blood curdling scream from Stacy that is far more dramatic than necessary.

Again, you have to fight back your laughter at the fact that Jake quite literally shrugs her off and ignores her every time. It appears he’s not buying any of her shit anymore tonight.

Sam, on the other hand, is much more fearful than you would have initially thought. (Especially considering they do these every year. Surely he doesn’t think this one is bad, right?)

He’s basically using you as a human shield everytime a clown reaches for him, squealing and bending down to your height to hide himself behind you while you simply look at the clowns and wave, being the pretentious asshole you are.

You’re thankful that both him and Stacy can’t see the ceaseless rolling of your eyes each time they make a fuss over something that is not as scary as they’re making it out to be. Yeah, you’ve jolted backwards from a jumpscare or two, but the whole thing is planned out in a way that you can almost guess exactly when and where an actor will strike. It’s textbook for spook houses. Some of them (including this one) are incredibly predictable.

As you’re finally nearing the end of this poor excuse of a fear seeking thrill, you catch the smallest glimpse of a grotesque clown's meticulous hiding spot. But he’s not hidden as well as he thinks, since you can still spot him even with the neon lights flashing about in an attempt to disorient your vision.

Jake is walking closer and closer to his spot, and you have a pretty good feeling that he’ll strike once Jake is within the appropriate distance.

You see the clown prepare himself and just as Jake is in the perfect spot, he jumps out in front of him, letting out a rather deafening wail.

Jake clearly did not see him, having the ever loving shit scared out of him and raising his fist to throw a punch at the actor.

Thankfully, the clown tucked himself back away in his little hiding spot before Jake could throw his self-defense punch.

Why was that so fucking hot?

⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎

After a rather interesting time out, you’ve all finally made it back to their apartment.

The night ran a little later than you intended, so you’re making haste in preparing to leave so you can get home. Sammy isn’t too keen on you leaving just yet, offering hug after hug in an attempt to keep you here a little longer with him.

I don’t deserve him.

“Do you really need to leave?” Sam asks, his tone of voice telling you he’s got something special in mind. You’d be lying if you said that wasn’t intriguing to you. “It’s pretty late, you know. I’d hate for you to drive all the way home at this hour. You’re more than welcome to stay here.” His wink sends a swarm of butterflies to your undeniably eager tummy.

You hear Josh agree that it’s a good idea as he and Malachi are making their way up the stairs to their room. You instinctively look to Jake to try and gauge his thoughts, but, as usual, you can’t read his stone cold face.

If circumstances with your mom were different, you might agree. But you’ve been gone from her for far too long. And being away from her overnight just simply isn’t an option.

��I wish I could, but I’ve got piles of homework sitting on my bed waiting for me.” Again, that’s a lie. But telling everyone the true reason is a task for another night.

“Will you at least text me that you’ve made it home safe?” Sam asks. His request sends a wave of warmth to your heart. The fact that he just fucking cares about you, and makes it evident.

“I will, Sam. I promise.”

You start gathering your things that you left on the couch earlier, and as you’re about to open the front door, you hear something that sends a boiling heat to your blood.

“Sam's right, Stacy. It isn’t safe to be out driving at this hour. I’m going to insist that you stay here tonight.” Jake tells her.

Don’t stay, don’t stay, d-

“I’d love to, Jakey!” her squealing voice answers.

Jakey?

“You can just sleep in my room, if you want,” he continues.

As if your blood wasn’t heated enough, now it’s blistering.

You cock your head in Jake’s direction, and his eyes are frozen solid on you.

He’s doing this on purpose. He’s getting even with you for all of your antics with Sam tonight.

Fuck you, Jake.

She follows him down the hall to his room, and when you hear his bedroom door shut after they walk in together, you decide that enough is enough.

You throw your stuff back down on the couch and stomp your way towards Sammy who’s staring at you with wide eyes.

Non verbally agreeing to his inquisition, you wrap your arms around his neck and attach your lips to his with everything you’ve pent up from the entire night, letting it all out on Sammy who’s willing to take it with no question.

He doesn’t break away to ask what changed your mind, he just reciprocates the same passion you’ve bestowed upon him. He’s practically clawing at your body to bring you closer, shoving his tongue past your lips and moaning straight into your open, hungry mouth.

With no more thoughts running through your mind, you leap into his ready arms, wrapping your legs around his waist as his hands reach to cup your ass.

He starts carrying you up the stairs, holding your body as if you weigh nothing. His lips only detach from yours long enough to open his bedroom door and carry you in, carefully letting you to fall on his mattress.

He wastes no time crawling on top of you, sucking the skin of your neck before finding your lips once again.

You grab hold of his white button up and tug on it until it reaches his shoulders, digging your nails into the now exposed skin of his back.

He lifts up to take it all the way off his body, tossing it across the room somewhere before gracefully flipping you both so you’re now on top, straddling him, your skirt now fully bunched up around your hips as his hands begin kneading the flesh of your thighs over your black tights.

You grind yourself on his body in desperate search for a release to ease the built up tension tonight has caused you.

“Shit, y/n,” he hisses, moving his hands to your hip bones to help guide you even further into him.

The moan you let out is one you’re sure everyone else in the apartment heard, but you couldn’t begin to care even if you wanted to.

I hope he fucking heard that.

You lean yourself down, your lips flush against his once again, making a show of sticking your ass out as much as you can.

“Y/n,” Sam pulls away from you. You chase after him, but he stops you again. “Hey, are you sure you want this?” he whispers.

You find his question to be utterly ridiculous. Of course you want it.

Even though it may not be for the right reasons…

You lift yourself up to look him in the eyes, “Do you not want this?” you ask, a bit of defensiveness in your tone.

His hand reaches out to pull you back down to him, enveloping your lips with a long, drawn out kiss that steals every breath of air from your lungs.

“I have wanted this since I fucking laid eyes on you,” he utters against your parted lips. “I just want to make sure that you are ready.”

You don’t want to think anymore, you don’t want him to think anymore.

Instead of using words to tell him just how badly you want this, you lift back up to tear your shirt off your body, leaving just your black bra on your top half. There’s no use in overthinking that, considering he’s already seen your breasts due to the sheer nature of your black lace piece for the film.

“Fuck,” he whispers, running his hands up your bare stomach, reaching to gently cup your still clothed chest. His thumbs trace delicately over your hardened nipples through the fabric, a rise in goosebumps enveloping your body. “You are so goddamn sexy, y/n.”

Just as you’re about to lean back into him, you notice something catching his eye. You instantly realize what it is.

Fuck. You weren’t ready for that yet.

“What’s this?” He traces the outline of your tattoo etched under your right breast, no longer disguised under the heavy stage makeup you’ve used during filming. Your body stiffens at the realization.

Now that he’s officially witnessed the most personal part of you, it suddenly registers what you’re doing.

And the anxiety becomes all consuming. All you want to do is cover up, to hide.

At this point, you’re only doing this to get to Jake. It’s absolutely not fair to Sam, using him and his affection for you like this. It’s not fair to yourself, either.

This isn’t what you want. But you’ve convinced yourself that it is, letting it go so far that your best kept, most intimate secret has officially been revealed.

You begin feeling a loss of your sacred identity, a piece of yourself that you weren’t ready to share just yet.

It’s much deeper than the tattoo at this point.

What the fuck am I doing?

You swing your leg over Sam, removing yourself from his body and searching frantically for your shirt.

You have to get out of here. You should’ve just fucking gone home.

“Y/n?” His voice sounds shaky and unsure. “Shit. I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have taken it so far.” He stands from the bed to meet you, the concern painted on his features shattering your heart.

As bad as you feel right now, you would’ve felt a thousand times worse had you continued this whole thing for all the wrong reasons.

“You didn’t do anything, Sam. I need you to know that. I just—“ Fuck. You don’t want to hurt him. And you don’t want him thinking any of this is his fault because it absolutely isn’t. “I thought I was ready, I don’t think I am. I’m so sorry, Sammy.”

You swallow down the massive wave of tears threatening to fall, but you can’t help the wetness forming in your ducts.

You’re angry with yourself for letting it get this far. You’re angry that you almost used someone who’s been nothing but kind to you to get to someone else, for your own selfish purposes. And you’re angry that you almost gave yourself fully to him without being ready to do so.

And for allowing him to see a part of you that practically no one knows about.

“Hey, hey,” he says, cupping your cheek. You know he can see the tears welling in your eyes, as much as you wish he didn’t. “Please don't be sorry. I’m only into this if you are. You call the shots, okay? I don’t want you to ever feel rushed.”

“I think I’ll just go home, if that’s okay.” You pull your shirt back on over your head, wanting nothing more than to be in one of your giant sweaters for just a semblance of comfort right now.

“Of course that’s okay. Do you want me to walk you out?” He asks. His sweet, quiet voice is comforting you a little, but you can’t shake the guilt you’re carrying heavily on your shoulders right now enough to find enough solace.

You tell him no, that you’re okay to walk out on your own. You can’t bear letting him do anything else for you. You just need to go.

He hugs you goodbye, telling you to be safe and reminding you once more to text him when you get home.

You tell him you will, and walk out of his room, shutting the door behind.

As you run down the stairs, you’re immensely hoping that no one is down there to see you leaving but as you reach the last step, that hope you were clinging to is no more.

It’s Jake. Rummaging through the fridge in the dark kitchen, and to make matters worse, (and slightly more awkward) the only thing on his body is a pair of black sweatpants.

And when he turns to face you, you realize how low they’re sitting on his waist. Low enough that you can see his hip bones and a small trail of hair sticking up from the waistband. Fuck. His hair is an absolute mess, tangled and sticking to his sweaty, flushed face.

You would enjoy the view, but you know good and well why he looks like this. And you know Stacy is still in his room, probably in a very similar state.

He watches you while your hurriedly head to the door, not stopping to say a single fucking word to him. He mutters something to you as you shut the door, but you don’t bother turning around to catch what he said. You just ignore him, practically racing to your car to get the hell out of here.

You throw the driver's side door open, slamming it shut once you’re seated. You sit in silence, laying your head on the steering wheel while the levees in your eyes finally break. The tears are uncontrollable, and leaving right now would prove useless as your vision is completely blurred.

The disappointment in yourself is ripping your soul in two.

And you feel so fucking bad for Sam. You made him feel as though he was to blame. But the real reason for everything that transpired is so terrible. This isn’t like you, to take advantage of someone for the sole purpose of making someone else jealous.

Someone as lovely as Sam who absolutely doesn’t deserve something so cruel.

You’ve successfully lead him on in ways you never intended, all for the sake of someone who can hardly hold a normal conversation with you.

You feel like you’re beneath the lowest levels of the earth right now.

You’re just ready to be home. All you want right now is to be tucked away in the comfort of your bed, to finally go to sleep and forget about everything for a while.

And the reality of how long you’ve been away from your mom is setting in, yet another thing to feel guilty about.

You choke back your sobs, fanning your eyes with your hands to dry them enough to see.

You take your key and turn it in the ignition, waiting for the car to start.

Nothing.

You pull it out and try once more. It almost starts to turn over, but the laggy engine isn’t doing anything other than sputtering and heaving.

You wait a minute before you try again, giving it a second to breathe and praying to every god in the universe that it’ll start.

In one last ditch effort, you hold the key as long as you possibly can this time until you hear a loud pop from under the hood. Then, total silence.

This isn’t happening…

You try the ignition once more just to see if by some miracle it’ll start, but it won’t even try to turn over now. There’s no more power.

Your car is fucking toast. And there’s not a goddamn thing you can do about it.

The last thing you want to do is go back inside to ask for a ride. But at this point, your options are rather limited.

Your first thought is to try and call Natalia. But both times you try, it goes straight to voicemail.

Great.

You have to get home, even if that means swallowing your shame and going back for Sam’s help.

With a reluctant and heavy sigh, you leave your car and drag your feet back to their apartment.

You turn the knob of the front door to find that it’s still unlocked. (Thank god you don’t have to knock.)

But when you quietly step in, you’re mortified to see Jake and Josh now awake and in the kitchen, snapping their heads sharply upon you entering.

“Jesus Christ!” Josh shouts, his whole bodying jolting forward into Jake’s in a dramatic display.

You feel bad for scaring him so bad, but his comical reaction does bring a hint of a smile to your face. Although you’re far too upset to laugh right now.

“You okay, love?” Josh asks with a gentle voice while he quickly walks over to you, looking at you with sweet concern.

You know for a fact that your mascara has left streaks of black down your face, so you’re sure you look absolutely insane right now but you couldn’t be bothered to fix it before you came back inside.

“Um, my car-“ you start, clearing your throat to strengthen your weak voice. “My car broke down and I need a ride. I really have to get home.”

Without as much as a single question, Josh takes his coat off the rack and grabs his keys off the hook beside the door, but he’s promptly cut off by Jake swiping them away from his hand.

“You’ve been drinking, Josh,” he says while hanging the keys back in their spot. “Driving isn’t a good idea.”

“She needs to get home,” Josh argues, ripping his keys off the hook yet again. “I’m completely fine. I’ll take her.”

Jake takes the damn keys back again, this time shoving them in the pocket of his sweatpants to ensure Josh can’t get ahold of them. “No. There’s goddamn liquor running through your blood. I’m not letting you drive. Don’t be a fucking idiot.”

“Do you want to take her, then?” Josh asserts, rubbing a frustrated hand across his forehead.

God, please no.

The thought of being in a car alone with Jake is enough to make you put your foot down on that idea. But you’re also not too keen on him seeing that you live in one of the most rundown, shitty complexes in the entire city.

But Jake is right, as much as you’d hate to admit. With as intoxicated as Josh had been earlier, it’s not smart that he drives you. You can still smell the alcohol on his breath and he’s not even standing that close to you.

“Just go get Sam,” Jake responds, stomping off to his room.

Josh grunts and matches his heavy footing up the stairs to Sam’s room, leaving you standing there alone and wondering what the fuck this whole night has become.

A few minutes pass, and as Josh is heading back down the stairs, you notice he’s alone and appearing even more irate than he was previously.

“I’m so sorry, y/n. He’s completely passed out and won’t move. I’ll just have to get Jake to take you since he’s so insistent that I can’t drive.”

Fuck.

Before you can oppose, he’s already knocking on his door.

“Jake, put a goddamn shirt on and take her home.” He yells, not caring enough to quiet his voice for the sake of the others who are fast asleep.

You take a peek down the hallway to catch Jake tossing open the door, damn near slamming Josh with it while aggressively putting on a Jimi Hendrix hoodie.

Stepping into a pair of black vans, he takes what you assume are his keys from the hook, already halfway out the door before he asks, “Are you coming, y/n?”

His tone pisses you the hell off— he’s not hiding the fact that he’s not thrilled about this. Both with his tone of voice and his assertive body language.

Sorry to inconvenience you so goddamn much.

You’re not in any mental state to argue; getting home is your only goal right now.

“Yep.” You sneer, grudgingly following him out the door to his car.

You had seen the practically brand new, matte black Range Rover sitting in the parking lot plenty of times, but you never gathered that it was his.

Although you should have guessed, given the way it so perfectly matches his aesthetic. You recently discovered his affinity for all things piratical, learning from Josh that the medallions he wears around his neck are ancient coins found amongst the ruins of old shipwrecks. He also told you about Jake’s childhood obsession with Johnny Depp's famous portrayal of the beloved Jack Sparrow character, so you’re not the least bit surprised when you see ‘BLK PRL’ engraved in the metal license plate. Clearly a nod to that part of himself. (That you can’t help but find awfully endearing.)

It’s nice. Really fucking nice. And clearly very well taken care of as there’s not a single flaw to be found.

The question remains– how the hell does a college student afford one of the nicest apartments you’ve ever seen and a new Range Rover?

You still don’t know what he does for work, but you don’t care enough at the moment to find out.

To your shock, he pulls a pure gentleman move by opening the passengers door for you and helping you in his car. Something you certainly hadn’t planned on but found rather charming.

Once he verifies that you’re in and secure, he shuts the door and heads to the drivers side, letting himself in and starting the engine.

He begins backing out of the driveway, one hand on the steering wheel and one on the headrest of your seat, his bottom lip is tucked between his teeth in concentration. You find it all to be inexplicably attractive and you can’t take your eyes off of him.

But when his eyes catch your stare, you look away, hoping he doesn't realize just how long you’d been watching.

“Where do you live?” he asks while putting the car in drive.

You don’t want to tell him. You don’t want him knowing that you live in one of the worst areas in the entire Detroit, Ann Arbor area.

But you no longer have a choice.

“Redwood Apartments,” you say quietly, wishing that this whole thing wasn’t happening. “Down on north Highland, just a block away from Meijer down the road.”

“Yeah, I think I know where that’s at.” He nods his head as he begins to take off in the direction of your home.

The car is completely silent, the rumbling tires against the pavement being the only thing you can hear. Neither of you says a word for what feels like hours, but when you look at the clock, you realize your trek began only ten minutes ago. It’s a solid twenty minutes between your place and theirs, so you still have another agonizing ten minutes left to go.

Once you hit a red light, Jake reaches to the center console for his phone and unlocks it, handing it to you with his screen open on his Spotify page.

“Pick something to listen to,” he says as the light turns green once again.

It feels utterly illegal to be in charge of his phone right now. But you’re also a fan of having something to listen to that isn’t your combined breaths and the sound of his heavy tires rolling against the road.

You take the opportunity to scroll through his playlists, seeing literally hundreds of them categorized quite specifically.

Picking the one titled ‘Fave Psychedelic,’ you scroll through until you find Voodoo Child by Jimi Hendrix. An old favorite of yours and the song you instantly thought of when you saw him put on his hoodie.

You set his phone back down as the song begins, feeling your spirits beginning to lift upon hearing the transcendent tonality that can only be described as the Hendrix experience.

Even Jake can’t sit still, nodding his head to the beat and tapping his fingers to the rhythm of Jimi’s strumming.

“Good choice,” he mutters, humming along to the classic tune.

“I must say, though,” he continues. “I actually prefer Stevie Ray Vaughan’s take on this one, especially when he played it live. He just exuded the very essence of Jimi, took everything he did and amplified the hell out of it while showing nothing but respect to the original masterpiece.”

Stevie is another favorite of yours. God, the hours you spent during your childhood watching him play, appreciating the passion and time he put into his art.

You went through years being bullied relentlessly for your taste in ‘old people’ music, having never found anyone else who shares the same musical palate with you.

Until now.

Having this conversation with Jake is something you so desperately needed right now.

“I completely agree,” you say, searching for his cover on Spotify and adding it to the queue. “The way he could make his guitar sing, like you can hear his emotion through his strings. One of the only guitarists worthy of being compared to Hendrix.”

You’re thinking about Jake’s style, his hats and choice of mostly black attire, his mass amounts of jewelry… it suddenly dawns on you that he must really love Stevie because his style is so closely linked to his. A style you’ve been attracted to since you can remember.

You’re shocked that you’ve not picked up on that until now, but it perfectly explains your instant infatuation for him.

“Absolutely,” he responds. “They’re both my biggest inspirations with my own music. I have so much admiration for them, and Clapton, Petty, Harrison, all the rock and roll greats who incorporated the deep roots of the blues in their playing.”

Imagining him playing like some of your favorites… it’s nothing but elating. Your imagination is running rampant with picturing him playing the kind of music you’ve spent so much of your life deeply appreciating. The music that connected your soul to things far beyond the physical realm.

“I’d love to hear you play sometime,” you say, turning a bit shy at your sudden valiant request.

Stopped at another red light, he looks to you with the most genuine smile you’ve yet to see from him. “Yeah?”

“Of course.”

⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎

You suck in a deep breath as Jake makes it closer to your apartment complex.

Lights. Flashing of blinding red and blue.

In the parking lot of your complex.

Fire trucks, police cars, an ambulance. All situated in front of the run down building.

“What the hell is going on? I can’t even make it in the parking lot, jesus.” Jake is driving around in slow circles trying to find a place to enter that isn’t blocked by cops.

It’s all beginning to set in. You feel your heart plummeting to the depths of your stomach, your breaths barely filling the capacity of your lungs.

Your worst fear.

You shouldn’t have fucking left her.

“Jake. Pull over. Now.”

You pull your seatbelt off, grabbing the handle of his passenger's door but it won’t open. You try tugging on it further, realizing it’s locked.

Jake picks up on the urgency in your voice and abruptly slams on the brakes, throwing the gear shift into park to unlock the doors.

“Y/n, what are you–” he tries to ask, but you’re already out of the car and sprinting towards the maelstrom of lit up vehicles.

But as you’re stepping over the curb into the lot, an officer stops you.

“Ma’am, you need to stay back. They’re about to carry someone out and we can’t let you over there just yet,” he says, holding your forearm to stop you.

Using every bit of strength you can muster in the moment, you pull away from him and continue running. You hear him yelling for you to stop, but his shouting is muffled by the voice in your head telling you to get to your mom now.

As you make it closer, you see them pulling a gurney down from the second floor.

The floor your apartment rests on.

They pull it down the stairs slowly, and they’re angled in a way that you can’t see who they’re carrying.

All you can do is stand there and wait amongst the paramedics and EMTs who are trying to tell you that you’re not supposed to be here.

But they’re blurred images to you. The only thing you can see clearly is the gurney being wheeled in your direction, squeaking metal being the only sound that fills your ears.

And as it finally reaches you, your fear is imagined.

Her swollen face is distorted by an oxygen mask, her weak body bound to the flat table by straps holding her tight to its cold metal.

Her right hand dangles off the side, swaying back and forth lifelessly with every push and pull of the wheels.

You lunge yourself forward towards her, being stopped forcefully by two officers who’ve been telling you this whole time to step back. The weight of their bodies against yours knocks the wind from your lungs, hardly allowing your choked cry for her to be heard.

“I have to go with her!” You scream as they situate the gurney in the back of the ambulance.

One of the paramedics steps between you and the cops, taking your hand and looking you in the eye. The kindest gesture you’ve encountered in the midst of this whole thing.“Honey, you can’t be in there when they take her. You can drive yourself and meet them at the emergency room, okay?” she tells you.

But your car. You don’t have your fucking car. It’s sitting completely useless at the Kiszka’s complex. Without it, you have no way of getting there.

You suddenly feel another hand on your body, your left shoulder. It’s warm. Firm. Yet soft and assuring all at once.

It pulls you from your disorientation, grounding you. You peek over your shoulder to see Jake standing there, his presence crashing in like a wave of peace over the chaotic storm that has become your reality.

Your eyes become wet at the mere sight of him.

He’s still here.

“Come on,” he utters calmly, moving his grip down to your hand, interlocking his fingers tight with yours. “I’ll take you.”

a/n: i'd love to hear your thoughts about everything! as i said, this one was tough for me to write, but it was something i desperately needed to do.

i hope you all love it as much as i do. 🤍

(i would also like to apologize again for taking so long with this one. i promise the next chapter won’t take nearly as long.)

if you'd like to be tagged in future chapters, follow this link or let me know & i'll be sure to add you. ☺️

sending all my love!

taglist:

@jakeyt @alwaysonthemend @sacredjake @jakesgrapejuice @misshunnybee @reesetrippingthelight @way-to-go-lad @sinarainbows @ohgodthefeeling-gvf @klarxtr @watchingover-hypegirl @brinlygvf @stardustjake @gretavanbear @gvfmelbourne @sinsofstardust @literal-dead-leaf @gvf-ficreads @jaaakeeey @capturethechaos @neptune2324 @jaketlove @thetroublegetssoloud71 @myleftsock @sanguinebats @jakekiszkapunchmeintheface @joshskittytickler @violet-hayes @aflame4goinghome @heckingfrick @fitalich @starshine-gvf @audgeppp @jakekiszkasbuttsweat @nina-23-45 @torniturntomyarrow @beautifulcrayola @writingcold @welllauragvf @loveisonaroll @itsafullmoon @gretasfallingsky @i-love-gvf @styles-canvas @mackalah @gvfmarge @sarafrusciante2 @jordie-gvf @gretavansara @highway-tuna @vikingsisthenewsexy @louiseecraigg @hippievanfleet @citylight-delight @blacksoul-27 @hippievanfleet @jazzyfigz @sirjaketkiszkasharmonica @smoking-jakelane @hernameis-heaven

i'm fairly certain i've included everyone but if i've forgotten you, please let me know! (& i sincerely apologize)

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