#danny wagner fan fic | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

joshym · 23 days ago

Text

Le Morte d'Arthur: Chapter 6 (Part 1 of 2)

Pairing: Jake Kiszka x f!Reader

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

You thought you were prepared for everything.

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

but what you were not prepared for…

was meeting the enigma that is Jake Kiszka.

⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎

Word Count: 41.1k+ (deepest apologies)

Le Morte d'Arthur Masterlist, Series Playlist

Warnings: please proceed with caution if you find any of the following to be triggering. MDNI 18+ ONLY. I do want to preface by saying there is a potentially very triggering moment of shame over eating, including thoughts/trying to v*mit. PLEASE, as I stated before, proceed with caution. struggles with body dysmorphia/eating (including food restriction), strong feelings of inadequacy, heavy emotions/ talks of an absent parent, *extremely* sick & terminally-ill parent, anxiety/stress/depression, a few sexual *feelings*, recollections of sexual encounters, sensual scenes shown on film, brief tornado encounter

⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎

a/n: as i said in my warnings, there are some very heavy depictions of what it means to have an ED. i don't want to ignore these moments, as they are so very real. i felt it was only right to include an incredibly vulnerable moment. please, if you're struggling, don't be afraid to seek help. you are always worth it. i love you guys, & i hope you enjoy this chapter. (so far🤭)

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.

Cherry Tree, Oklahoma: A year and a half ago.

You felt it the moment you woke up.

The air was different – thick. Thick and melancholy. You didn’t know what it was that had you feeling that way. Intuition? A bad dream that you didn’t remember anything from, only the feelings it left behind? It worsened as you left your room – walking to the kitchen left you breathless. Though, you still didn’t know why.

When you peered out of the living room window, the sky was dark gray, nearly black. You then chalked up the strange feeling to the weather. A change in the barometric pressure, an incoming storm – a big storm, one that would cause destruction everywhere it hovered over. That had to be it. It was Oklahoma, afterall. The most unpredictable, catastrophic weather is born there. It always left you anxiety ridden, sure. But, it was nothing out of the ordinary.

She was sitting in the recliner next to the front door. A blank, distant look about her eyes. She didn’t tell you good morning, she didn’t even look at you. Though she’s never been the one to offer you a cheerful good morning, you could tell there was something more behind her silence.

You wondered if her mind was just preoccupied with the skies' indication of bad weather. You began asking her if she’d gotten everything prepared yet – the generator, flashlights, candles, a pair of shoes for everyone. But as you were speaking to her, her distant look morphed into one of distress. She didn’t answer a single question, only choking back the sobs that overcame her, tears falling down her pale face. “Mom? Are you oka–,”

You were cut off by her pointing a single, trembling finger towards the kitchen. That was when it finally hit you.

He was usually the first one up. He’d start breakfast each morning before the sun rose. The smell would always infiltrate your room, always waking you earlier than you’d like. But on this particular day, you slept in a little later than usual. You slept in because there was no smell of maple syrup and eggs to wake you.

That thick, dark feeling that you woke up with quickly turned to pure concern. Where was he?

As though an invisible string were tugging at your legs, they slowly yet reluctantly carried you to the kitchen. Upon the first glance, everything looked normal. Everything, except…

It only took you a moment to notice the note on the fridge. The bright, yellow sticky note stood out like a sore thumb adhered to the flat-white freezer door.

“I’m so sorry, baby girl- Daddy”

The words didn’t register right away. You had to read them over and over again before it finally dawned on you; you didn’t see his truck in the driveway when you looked through the window. Only the oil stains it left on the concrete. He was gone. And you knew he wasn’t just gone for the morning, or for the day. He was gone for good. There wasn’t a single thing you could do about it. He made the choice to live his life without you. Given the fact that you, his only daughter, wasn’t enough to convince him to stay, you knew you couldn’t do anything.

A clap of thunder roared around your house, shaking the very foundation it stood on. The bones of the home creaked and screamed with the pressure of the wind while plates and cups in the cabinets rattled. A few photos hanging on the walls fell to the floor, their glass shattering. Then the lights flickered for a moment before they went out completely, leaving the house as dark as it was outside. The sirens began their cry. The rain blowing sideways pushed its way through every window sill in the kitchen, tiny droplets splattering your face. But you kept still. You let it happen; in fact, you welcomed it. You just stood in the kitchen while your mom ran to shelter, keeping your feet planted where they were. You didn’t want to run, didn’t see the point.

The storm came at the perfect moment; it was the physical one that mimicked the one inside of your head. The emotions that couldn’t be released from your body were blowing all around you and your old home. After only a few minutes, (though it truly felt like an eternity) the skies calmed. The rain let up, the wind held still. And it was quiet. Eerily.

The sudden quiet meant you then had to confront the storm in your mind. The relentless destruction of your thoughts created a cyclone of torment within you. Your whole world changed in that single moment. The sole provider of your home left, leaving you, the full time college student working a full time job, to take his place. You could already feel the weight of your new responsibilities, of the new heaviness placed on your tense shoulders.

And you felt grief. Grief over losing someone who chose to leave.

How do you grieve someone who’s still alive? Someone who decided it was best to live the rest of their days without you? Your dad?

Cherry Tree faced an EF-2 that day. They said the winds exceeded one hundred miles per hour, leaving damage and destruction to most of the tiny town. Your home sustained minor damage – a few missing shingles, ripped up siding, the typical wreckage Oklahoma storms leave behind.

Your dad was always there to fix those things. But after that storm, it was up to you to fix them. And that’s exactly how you spent the two weeks that followed – fixing the things that needed fixing. The things you could fix, at least. The physical ones.

All on your own, you fixed the broken seals of the windows, replaced the missing shutters, cleaned up the yard the best you could. That storm forced you to face your new reality head on. You were now working two full time jobs; one during the day at the only restaurant in town, and one at Cherry Tree Grocery for the late shift. And then, there was your mom.

She’d only gotten sick a few months before he left. You hadn’t even fully come to terms with her prognosis yet, and you were thrown into being her caregiver basically overnight. All the things he had been doing for her, you had to learn to do. You essentially had to take a crash course in at-home-nursing. You learned far more about healthcare than you ever thought you’d have to, but you knew you had to do it. You managed all of that while taking classes online, and busting your ass to keep your grades up so you could move away. What had once been a dream to move away on your own, had quickly become getting you and your mom out of there as soon as you could.

You fought hard against the urge to reach out to him in the first weeks after he left. All you wanted was an answer to your one and only question – why? Why would he leave you with so much to worry about, knowing how badly you wanted to get the hell away from Oklahoma? During that time, you became more and more resentful towards him, more angry over the decision he made. So, the urge dwindled over time. It was after the one month mark of him being gone that you tossed your necklace in the trash can, ridding yourself of it – and him – once and for all.

But the letter he gave you along with the necklace…you just couldn’t let it go. You decided to let it be the last remaining piece of your relationship with him. It was painful as fuck to keep it, but you knew it’d be even more painful to not have it. (And yet, you somehow managed to lose it during the move. And, the necklace magically reappeared in your jewelry box, not long after you knew you tossed it. Still makes no sense. But you’re glad you have it, even if how you have doesn’t quite add up.)

There is a part of you that is grateful he left, and it’s the part of you that couldn’t stand living in Cherry Tree any longer. His departure only made the desire of realizing your dream of attending the U of M that much stronger. A new beginning was the best option for you and your mom. In fact, she pretty much insisted on it. She didn’t want to be there any more than you did once he left. The acceptance letter symbolized the beginning you desperately needed. The only loose end that needed tying was the house, and once the burden of that was out from under your feet, you left.

Your Firebird was your only means of getting the two of you there, so any money that you could spare from your savings was spent making sure the clunker would make the journey. Before then, you dad took care of your car troubles. Even promised you he’d help you get a new one before you left home. When he wasn’t there to make that happen, you had to make the best of what you had. The day you packed up the last of your things, the air felt different again – lighter, but still heavy with memories. You drove out of Cherry Tree with a mix of relief and sorrow clinging to you, the dusty Oklahoma roads fading in the rearview mirror as you headed north to your new home.

The storm that ripped through the town that day certainly left its mark; it transformed the tiny community, it transformed you. But it wasn’t just the physical destruction that changed the course of your life. The storm only made you realize that there was nothing left for you in Cherry Tree.

The storm was your dad, creating an unexpected upheaval in your life. It all happened so quickly, so unpredictably. There was no siren to warn you, no safe place in which you could take shelter until things went back to normal. He left his mark that day, much like the storm. Only, for you, it left a scar far deeper than any natural disaster could ever reach.

⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎

Present Day

His desperate attempts at explaining – over explaining – are useless. Every word that leaves his lips feels like a distant echo to you, as though he’s already miles away. It’s like you’re standing in a vacant tunnel, hearing the whispers of those on the outside. You can hear that he’s speaking, but your mind can’t make out the words.

But you’re not in a tunnel; you’re in Jake's room. And he’s standing before you, pleading with you to hear his words.

He’s already a memory to you. A memory – just like your father.

How do you grieve someone who’s still alive?

You hear his every footstep against the carpeted floor behind you as you’re walking around to gather your things, hastily putting on your sweatpants and hoodie that you packed with you last night. You hesitate as you reach for the satin dress he bought you, the one you wore last night, the beautiful gift he wanted you to have for your date…

The hesitation wanes, and you quickly shove it in your canvas bag so as to not have to think about it any longer.

“I need you to listen to me.” You feel his hands grip at your shoulders, stopping you before you can begin your final walk out of his bedroom. His touch forces you to make out his words this time, when before they were mere mumbles in your head while you placed your focus on getting the fuck out of here.

“I need to go home, Jake.” The words are monotone as you say them, void of the storm whirling inside your mind. You keep your back to him, eyes fixed on your bare feet. You forgot to bring another pair of shoes, and you’ll be goddamned if you walk out of here with your heels on from last night.

Nope. Barefoot it is.

“Can I please take yo –,” Before he can finish his question, you quickly turn on your heel, shrugging his hands off your body as you face him. The now dried tears on your cheeks are met with fresh ones falling from your eyes, tears that refuse to be held back, no matter how badly you don’t want to show your hurt.

“NO, Jake!” His eyes widen, his eyebrows furrowed and his bottom jaw becomes slack. You didn’t mean to yell. You didn’t want to yell, at least not as loudly as you did. It just…happened. It was pent up rage, derived from pain and a moment that feels all too familiar, triggering emotions you’ve not allowed yourself to feel.

“I’m sorry, I just–” The tears are now a flood crashing in waves against your red cheeks. You bring your hands, covered by the sleeves of your oversized hoodie, up to your face, concealing and muffling the pain that’s surfaced.

No. You’re not sorry. You shouldn’t be sorry for feeling and expressing what you’re feeling. You’ve done that all your fucking life. He knows that. And he knows how fucking hard this is for you. He doesn’t say anything more, only pulling you in and holding you close, letting you sob into his chest. His scent instantly works to calm you, the scent of last night mixed with leftover hints of his cologne. But feeling his comfort only makes the pain hurt worse. It quickly dawns on you that you won’t have this for much longer, and you pull yourself away from him, wiping your face with your now tear-soaked sleeves. “I don’t want you to take me home,” you snap, your voice cracked and wet from your tears. You can’t avoid eye contact, though it’s not for lack of trying. You just can’t keep yourself from looking into his eyes, those sweet, honey whiskey eyes that drew you in the moment you saw them hiding behind his black frames.

And you’ve seen these eyes before. They’re angry, but they’re a sad angry. Despondent, heavy with heated sorrow. The last time you saw these eyes was in this very room, practically in the very same spot you’re in right now.

The last time you saw them like this served as the beginning for what you have–had–with Jake. Now, they represent the ending.

Those sad, fuming eyes hold yours only a moment longer, then flick downward as he takes a long breath to speak “How do you suppose you’ll be getting home if you don’t want me to take you?” His tone is both quiet and sharp, monotone. And he knows what you’re thinking before you even fully know.

There’s only one person you should turn to right now. And it’s going to piss Jake off. But you don’t care. Not right now.

You choose to not answer his question, knowing that there’s no real point in doing so. The silence laying between you two is broken by the squeaky hinges of his bedroom door when you turn around and open it. You step one foot through the threshold, but there’s one thing stopping you. “I want my book, Jake,” you mutter, your back turned to him as you’re staring down the long hallway. The words almost hurt coming out. They hurt from the tightness in your throat at uttering them, and they hurt because that book that once represented the beginning of so much, feels like it now represents the end all at once.

Poetic. Fucking. Irony. Your entire goddamned life is full of it.

“What book, y/n?”

“Le Morte d’Arthur. I need it back.”

He breathes an elongated sigh when you hear his feet padding towards the bed where the book still sits. You peer over your shoulder, using your peripheral to watch him pick up the book, turning a few of the yellowed pages for a moment before quickly slamming the cover shut. His feet shuffle toward you once more, carefully nudging your elbow with the physical emblem of the last few months of your life. “Here,” he spits, his touch far gentler than his tone that sends a jolt through your spine. “Guess I forgot about it.”

Clearly not, considering that’s where I found everything.

Without a word, you reach your other hand over your body, taking the book from him and letting your feet guide you the fuck out of his room. And where they’re taking you next is what you’re sure will set Jake off indefinitely. Keeping your composure right now is fucking hard. But you have to do it as you’re quickly trudging down the hallway, eyeing the stairs that lead to his room. It’s not until you’re halfway up the steps that you notice Jake at the end of the hall, watching you with hard eyes as you take the last few steps to the loft. You reach Josh’s door first, and for a brief moment, you contemplate knocking on it instead, knowing this choice would avoid upsetting Jake any further.

But you only think about it for a second before you decide to keep walking a few steps further, placing yourself in front of Sam’s closed door. You lift your hand to knock, but you’re hesitant as you remember the conversation you had with Jake about Sam. The one where you promised him nothing had happened with Sam, when he promised you that nothing happened between him and Stacy. The familiar sense of guilt over everything crashes over you. But when you look at the book held tight in your hands, and when you peek over your shoulder to the balcony, seeing that Jake’s body slumped and leaning against the wall, watching your every move, your decision is made.

“S-Sam?” You stutter with a light tap of your fist to the wood, timid and nerves billowing to the surface. A moment passes, and he hasn’t answered the door just yet. Before you choose to knock once more, you look over your shoulder to where Jake was, noticing that he’s no longer there. And it’s then that you hear a loud slam coming from the downstairs hallway.

Sadness weighs in the pit of your tummy at his absence, an absence that you’ll have to start getting used to. You then turn your focus back to Sam’s door, and just as you’re about to knock, the knob begins turning from the other side. He opens it only a little, peeking through the small crack he’s made. His tired eyes widen when they realize it’s you beyond the door.

“Y/n? Hey, what are–”

The look about your face must say more than any words you could utter, because he stops himself from speaking any further, opening the door all the way and inviting you inside. “I just–,” You don’t step in through the open door all the way, only about an inch or so, keeping your bare feet planted on the spot where the hallway meets the carpeted floor of his room. “Do you think you can take me home?” Your voice is shaking far more than you like, and it’s all you can do to keep from crying. His eyebrows scrunch in the middle, so very annoyingly similar to the way Jake’s do, before he reaches over to grab his coat and keys hanging from the hook screwed into the wall. He silently throws his coat over his shoulders, his eyes scanning over your body, trailing down to your exposed feet. His tongue peeks from the corner of his slightly parted lips, though he’s deep in contemplation. Brushing the messy hairs away from his face, his features soften, as though he’s come to the conclusion of whatever he’s thinking. He quickly turns around to go deeper into his room, rummaging through his closet until he finds a pair of white fluffy slippers, donned with a single yellow smiley face on the tops of them.

He walks back toward you, holding the slippers between your bodies as he gets closer. “Too cold to be barefoot,” he says, keeping still until you take the warm footwear from his hands. Setting them on the floor, you slide into them, one foot at a time. They’re much too big for your feet, but they’ll certainly do the job of keeping them warm. “Wanna tell me about it?” He asks as he leads you down the stairs, cupping your elbow should your feet slip out from the oversized slippers. You’re a bit too full of shame to talk about it, though you’re sure he already knows. How could he not be aware of Jake leaving? Certainly he can put two and two together. He notes your silence, opting to keep silent himself as your feet leave the last step. He walks ahead of you to the front door, unlocking it and holding it open for you as you make your way through the living room.

“Thanks,” you mumble as you walk through the front door, not bothering to look back when you take a final step out of the apartment. The air is bitter this morning, biting at the little bits of uncovered skin the moment you’re exposed to it. Your body instantly begins trembling with cold shivers from the elements. The tears that are begging to fall from your eyes will certainly turn to ice sickles the moment they do.

“C’mon,” Sam says, quickly locking the door before coming up behind you and placing his warm hands on your shoulders as you walk to his car. This all feels wrong. It feels so wrong. You’re grateful to Sam, but you’d be kidding yourself if you tried to say you’re glad he’s with you instead of Jake.

In one wrong move, you turn your head back to the apartment, your eyes instantly finding the window to Jake’s room. The blinds are drawn, so you can’t see him. But you know he’s watching. Part of you is glad he is. But the other part of you, the much bigger part, feels like pure shit over it.

Just as you reach Sam’s bright orange VW Bug, his arm extended towards the passenger door, you turn around to face him, stopping him with a grip on his forearm. Those tears that have threatened to fall since you walked outside are now leaking from your ducts as you face Jake’s window.

What you truly want to do is forego this whole thing and run back inside, find Jake’s embrace once more. But, you know better than to act on your impulse. And when you look into Sam’s eyes, you’re reminded of a time when he was the one who showed you the genuinity you were lacking from his brother when you first moved here.

There’s another impulse that’s weighing on you, and this is one you feel is the better option given the circumstances. And as though Sam can read the thoughts running through your mind, he wraps his arms around you, holding you as close to his body as he can. Your sobs are let out into his chest while his lips find the top of your head, a sweet gesture to remind you that you’re safe in doing this. Not that you had any reason to not believe that, but you’ve been worried Sam may never view you the same ever again after everything. So, needless to say, the reassurance is nice, and very much needed. “Let’s get you home,” he mumbles into your hair, thumbs tracing gentle circles at your sides.

Just as you start to pull away, his hand lingers on your back, warm and steady against you. You look up at him, catching a soft, understanding smile that speaks of adoration for you, despite everything. “Thank you, Sam,” you whisper, your tear-soaked voice hardly audible over the morning breeze.

He nods, brushing a few loose hairs that have fallen from his ponytail out of his face as he opens the door for you. As you settle into the passenger's seat, there’s a strange feeling weighing on you – a mix of nostalgia, a sense of relief. Perhaps this is truly where you’re meant to be. At least this morning.

But with a final glance at Jake’s window as the old Bugs engine begins humming, that mixture of complicated feelings turns into one single, heavy emotion; regret.

⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎

Jake’s point of view;

I waited far too long.

I had every intention of telling her—the plan was already in place.

All I needed was to wait for the perfect moment to ask her to come with me. I knew she wouldn’t say yes right away, so I had to take the time to craft the right words, to convey the way her very essence softened my hardened heart.

Goddammit. This wasn’t supposed to happen. None of what has transpired with her over the last few months was meant to happen.

But fate would have it otherwise. And I knew mine was sealed when she chose the seat next to mine on the first day of class. I thought I’d never have to see her bewitching face again after I so callously bumped into her in the hallway. But when that very same, beautiful stranger walked in late through the doors of Movack’s lecture hall, I knew I had to take every measure possible to fend off any infatuations that I felt could arise.

But, as though it were predestined, we were paired on a project she was just as passionate about—if not more—than I was.

I suppose I thought the film would be the best way to keep my distance from her while also keeping true to our commitments to the project. I surmised the addition of my family would keep us from having to be alone, having any real conversations to get to know one another.

I didn’t want to get to know her. Not because of her, because of me. I gathered immediately that she was far too wonderful for the likes of me, far too easy to fall for. Her beauty and complexity, the most exquisite and intrusive storm to my hardened heart.

She truly was too good for me… still is; utter perfection encompassed in the ethos of her femininity.

That fact was all but confirmed on that first day of class. When she checked my ego over a question I should’ve known the answer to, I knew I was utterly fucked. Intelligent, full of the wit necessary to challenge me. I was a fucking dick to her from the outset. But I had to keep my own feelings in balance.

Jesus — who the fuck am I kidding?

I didn’t ask her to help with the film to keep her away—I wanted her to play opposite me. I wanted her to play my fucking wife. I wanted the chance to act on the feelings that were already amassed, without the risk of her thinking they were anything more than for the sake of the film.

But Josh fucked it all up for me. The script wasn’t what we agreed on, no matter how much he’s fought me on that fact. His idea to shift the focus on infidelity, specifically her infidelity with fucking Lancelot was unadulterated bullshit. And when I had to watch her share so many scenes with Sam, scenes that should’ve been with me, the fire it ignited under my crawling skin told me that my attempts at keeping my composure about her were failing. Miserably failing.

Stacy was my escape. She had wanted me for years, and I knew she would be the perfect distraction from my growing feelings for Y/n — and from the agony of watching my brother touch her in ways I could only dream of.

But, fate wouldn’t hear of it. It didn’t fucking work. Stacy doesn’t hold a candle to Y/n; she’s nothing more than a flicker next to Y/n’s radiance. Wasting my energy with someone as dull-witted and mindless as Stacy only made me yearn for Y/n all the more.

Y/n’s mystique, her grace, the very aura she strides with…she’s the most captivating woman I’ve ever set my eyes upon. It took only a few weeks to memorize every minute detail of her face. Her sweet nose that crinkles when she laughs, her glittering eyes that hold the weight of a thousand beautiful lifetimes, her eyelashes that are as dark and full as a ravens wings, her crooked smile, succulent lips…she’s more elegant than any painting the most adept artist could ever render. As though her outward beauty wasn’t enough to lure me in, her endearing southern accent, the one that instantly told me she was miles away from her birthplace, charmed me even further.

I hadn’t found a single reason to stay here, a reason that made London feel like a poor decision until she infiltrated my existence, when her earthy, vanilla aroma inundated me with lust and desire.

And though she tried to hide it, I could tell she was looking at me with the very same eyes I saw her through.

The only thing I could do at that point was push her away, and keep pushing her until she despised her every thought of me. I couldn’t risk what I was afraid it could turn into.

It felt like knives tore through the inside of my throat when I said some of the most revolting words I could think of to her in class. I felt like the biggest piece of shit when her incredible eyes became glassed over with tears, when her round, rose lips downturned at what I had said…and I didn’t mean any of it. Not a single word of it. She didn’t deserve to hear such horrid things.

I fucking hurt her. And that was what my thoughtless self wanted.

I wanted it so I wouldn’t get attached, so she wouldn’t get attached. I’ve needed to get out of this fucking city–this goddamn country–since nearly every person I’ve ever loved died in the places I’ve called home. Other than my brothers, there’s been nothing to keep me here after my time at the U of M is up. And I swore there’d be no way in fucking hell I’d let some girl change that.

But what my imprudent ass couldn’t accept was that Y/n has never been just some girl. I’ve always known it, and I’ve been utterly terrified by it since I let myself watch her—observe her. All it took was one class period for the horror to sink in that she is different from any other woman I’ve ever beheld. She even surmounts every woman in fucking literature.

She’s magic.

And she’s broken me. She’s torn down every wall I’ve built since the death of my parents, then proceeded to destroy the ones that came up after I lost my grandparents. No one that isn’t my own twin brother has been able to see me the way she does.

I mean, Christ, I played guitar for her. Only her. I practically gave her my vulnerability, placed it in the palm of her open hand and closed her delicate fingers over it. I’ve shown her parts of myself, piece by tiny fucking piece, that a mere handful of people have borne witness to.

I assumed she’d be like every other girl I’d known, but the moment I held her for the first time, I realized just how profoundly wrong I was. From the first touch, the first taste, the first time I fucked her...

I can’t explain what she does to me, or how she does it. But she brings forth an animalistic side of myself, engulfed with pure desire for everything that she is.

I knew she was beautiful from the moment I laid my eyes on her, but when I discovered what she was hiding beneath her oversized attire, I felt longing anew. It was a cruel irony for Josh to make my room her dressing quarters. If I knew my brother at all — which I do, better than anyone — the little shit did that on purpose.

He knew of the risks. I knew them — what might happen if I were to open my bedroom door. And it did happen — the day she was trying on her costumes, and though I knew what I’d possibly be walking in on… I wasn’t the least bit prepared for the sight my eyes would behold.

As if Josh hadn’t fucked me over enough with the entire ordeal, he added to my misery by choosing costumes for her that only served to enhance her allure that already held me captive.

That black lace number she was in when I opened my door left my knees weak — my face, numb. I could see every outline of her form, every beautiful part of herself that she’d hidden in my short time of knowing her. The buds of her perfectly shaped breasts were peeking through the embroidered netting, the curve of her exquisite ass was just visible beyond the exaggerated slit of the gown. And her skin, glowing in the dim light, freckled and pristine.

I stood completely still — in awe of her. I wanted to fall to her feet at that very moment, and I suppose I would’ve if it wasn’t for Natalia. I knew it was wrong to stare at her, but no living mortal would’ve been able to avert their eyes from such an ethereal vision.

How fitting that she wore that very gown when I at last got to feel her, glide my tongue over every goddamn inch of her sweet skin, mark her so my brother knew who she really wanted…

I’ll surely never forget the way she melted under my touch that night, the way her skin became littered with goosebumps in the wake of my fingers. And when I discovered her little secret, the sexy scarlet colored ink beneath her breast, it left me stunned at first. Yet somehow, it didn't entirely surprise me. It suits her enchantment, her mystery. And it’s enormously tantalizing.

I simply became intoxicated by her. I needed more, and my futile attempts at withholding my true desires, of delving headfirst into something I knew I’d never be capable of coming back from, would inevitably fail.

Fuck. She made it so difficult. And it didn’t help when I realized how badly she needed it as well. How could I continue to deny her any further when I myself could no longer resist what we both wanted?

I chose to tread slowly, to take the time to learn her body and the ways in which she longs to be pleasured. I knew she was losing patience with me, but I had to wait until the perfect occasion.

I nearly gave in the night she wrapped her gorgeous, velvet mouth around my cock as I drove. I discovered the limitless desires she had been harboring, giving me all she had, keeping her promise of taking care of herself to the thought of me.

The birthday party felt like the opportune time to at last allow ourselves a true taste of one another, but when I discovered her little lie about the tattoo, my adoration for her burst out of my body like ten foot waves slamming against the oceanside.

I was angry. But more than that, more than anything, I just wanted her. And I didn’t want to give her a single reason more that she should find herself choosing the affections of Sam over me.

Fucking her for the first time… nothing in the world could come remotely close to the feeling. And when she’d told me she wished I’d do it — wished I’d fuck her — my heart had catapulted to a place it had never ventured before. Knowing she wanted it so badly… there had been no stopping that shit.

The feeling of her body… No other woman could ever compare — will ever compare. No matter where I venture in the world, there will never be another like her. She's the everlasting dream. My dream.

Every curve of her body — each time her gorgeous cunt would clench around my dick, her falling apart so gloriously at my touch… I found myself transcending space and time as I knew it.

That night was the one of the most glorious experiences I’ve yet to share with another living being, second only to last night.

And when I had her in the library…

Jesus Christ. I just need her. In every way that I possibly can.

And I hate how much I fucking need her. This is a new realm for me. I’ve always been my own unit, seeking the company of others only when it felt necessary. I’ve never known someone who could turn my lonely world upside down and inside out in the ways she has.

But it wasn’t until Natalia confirmed my fears that Y/n hadn’t been taking proper care of herself that I truly realized the possible breadth of my care for her. Something wholly new to me.

I felt the longing threads of my heart rip to tattered shreds. How could a woman of her magnitudinous beauty be so blind to it? How could she ever doubt the effect she has on unsuspecting souls by simply gracing a room with her charm? It shattered me inexplicably when I learned of the way she views herself. And that—that was when I truly realized the depths of my affections for her.

God, the depths… like that of the ocean.

I then sought out ways in which to help her, and the one thing I was certain would bring her peace was having her lend me a hand in preparing a home cooked meal. I had to suppress the rising flood of tears when I watched her eat it, seeming to have no more doubts in her mind as she did so. I saw the very same thing at The Whitney; Not a single burden behind her eyes as she nurtured her beautiful body.

God. She’s evoked feelings from me that I never thought could be mine to feel.

But I just can’t stay here. I can’t bear it any longer, and she has to understand that. It’s what she did herself when she chose to move here, to say a final farewell to the town that bore her own pain.

It isn’t her damn job to have to carry my pain, though. By every measure, I’m a failure. In the truest sense of the word.

I fell for her when I swore to myself I wouldn’t allow for it. I’ve hurt her repeatedly with my pure bullshit. The worthless tries at denying my heart.

And I’ve hurt her yet again by dragging my feet, letting her find out in the most careless of ways by leaving the evidence in her fucking book. And in turn, I’ve hurt my own goddamn self.

God knows how hard I tried to talk to her this morning, but she had already decided to hell with me. I can’t reproach her for it. I just wish she’d listen to me, I need her to hear me. There’s no reason she wouldn’t be accepted to Oxford. Fuck — her mind, so wondrous and brilliant. I want her there with me. I’ve suddenly found myself unable to take this trek across the sea without her. But I fear my time to present that to her is nearly up.

And it’s all my fault. Every bit of it.

But this morning… she had wanted to twist the metaphoric dagger in my already bleeding chest.

She’d gone to Sam. Immediately. As soon as I’d betrayed her trust, she’d gone to Sam. She could’ve at least asked Josh to take her home, though her and I both knew that Sam was the more obvious choice. The choice she knew would hurt me as much as I had hurt her.

But what she doesn’t know is how much I’m already fucking hurting. By my own hand, no less. I never intended for this, and yet, here I am, feeling things I’ve yet to allow myself to feel over a woman, a woman that walked into my life only months ago.

And now, thanks to me, she’s being held in the arms of my younger brother, shedding her tears into his chest right outside of my bedroom window.

Is she wearing his fucking slippers? Jesus Christ.

I could wring his goddamn neck for this. It’s not his fucking place. His bed wasn’t where she laid last night. His body wasn’t the one taking care of hers.

Though, I suppose I can’t fault him–I wouldn’t be able to gather the strength to turn her away, either. Not ever again, if the truth should be told.

I just…I’ve wanted so much more with her than this. So much more. But I must now accept the chance that I’ve fucked it all up. Perhaps I fucked it up from the very start; The fact that she ever wanted anything to do with me after the way I treated her is a remarkable wonder.

My nerves are engulfed in flames as I have to witness her getting into Sam’s car now. Him, shutting the door behind her, racing around to the driver's side so she’s not alone for too long, wiping the last of her tears with the cuff of her sleeve.

Tears that I fucking caused.

I’ve been through immense pain in my life, the kind of pain that feels like shards of glass slicing at my skin at the reminder. But this kind of pain, watching him drive her away because she couldn’t bear the thought of me doing it, it’s brand new to me.

I’m crossing over into untouched realms of misery, of torment.

I can’t let things with her end in this way. I won’t stand for it. As much as I wasn’t prepared for this to begin with her in the way it did, I’m not equipped to accept it ending like this.

I cannot leave for London knowing I was never given the chance to properly fight for her.

But if she won’t listen to me, I fear the choice will no longer be mine to make.

End of Jake’s point of view.

⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎

“I’ve been meaning to ask,” you say, glancing around the car’s interior, charmed by its retro vibe. “What year is this Bug?”

He chuckles, giving the dashboard a little pat. “’66,” he replies proudly. “Picked her up a few years ago and been keeping her going ever since.”

“Of course you did,” you say with a grin. “Somehow it’s just… so you.”

He laughs, shaking his head. “One thing about me: I’ll always pick the quirkiest option.” And quirkiest or not, you have to admit, there’s something reassuring about the old car – a little bubble of nostalgia that somehow makes the morning feel a bit lighter.

“Wanna make a coffee run before you go home?” Sam questions, turning his face slightly toward you, his mustache curled at both ends, his lips tucked into a graceful grin as his fingers tap at the steering wheel. His voice, soft and tender, is enough to make your heart swell amidst the chaos that has been this morning.

One thing about Sam, he definitely knows coffee is the way to your heart, and while it can’t fix the broken pieces, it can certainly make it feel a little better.

“That sounds delightful, actually,” you say with a breath of relief over the promise of a little caffeine.

“Ah, good. Been to Hyperion yet?”

His attempts at making sure this morning feels as normal and not tense as possible are actually doing you some good, though you can’t help but feel a bit…weird about it.

It feels almost wrong to be doing this. Going to Sam when Jake’s upset you, getting coffee with him when you should be doing that with Jake. (When you want to be doing that with Jake.)

But, you must admit that Sam is raising your spirits, at least a little bit. And who are you to turn down a coffee in any case?

“Sure haven’t,” you say, bringing your legs up to the seat and criss-crossing them for a bit more comfort. “Any good?”

“Oh, yes. It’ll change your life,” he says as he flips his blinker to turn left at the stoplight in front of the U of M. Looking ahead, just down the street a ways, you see an old brick building with the Hyperion Coffee Co printed in black on a white background.

“I can’t believe I’ve never come here with how close it is to school and work,” you comment, trying to keep conversation, and just genuinely in shock that you’ve never even heard of this place. If it’s as life changing as Sam claims, this may become a new spot for you. Something different, a change of scenery. (And something in this town that doesn’t make you think of Jake. Even better.)

It looks nice enough from the outside. Quaint and charming. Enough to get your mind off of things, at least for a moment.

“You can stay out here if you’d like. I’ll keep the heat on for ya.” He turns the knob to crank up the temperature just a few more degrees when he notices your body shiver. “The usual?” He asks as he unbuckles his seatbelt and begins opening the door.

The usual. You seemed to have forgotten that Sam cared enough to memorize your coffee order. Though it’s not the most complicated, it’s still so sweet that he thinks enough of you to remember that. Something seemingly so insignificant means an awful lot to you.

Does Jake even know that? Does he care enough to know? Of course he does…right? It doesn’t matter, truly. He did so much for you last night, more than anyone ever has. But, if he’s leaving, does he really care? You shake your head, as if you physically rid yourself of the thought.

Coming back to your senses, you notice Sam patiently awaiting a response from you, his generous charisma as strong as ever.

Coffee, y/n. Tell him what coffee you want.

“I – I think I’ll do something warm this time,” you stutter, realizing he’s probably wondering why it’s taking you so long to answer. “A steamed latte with vanilla sounds perfect.”

He then steps all the way out of the car, winking at you with a kind smile and a nod. “You got it.” He shuts the car door behind him and scurries his way inside, looking back once more before he walks through the door.

A long, exhausted sigh leaves your lips as you relax your body against the cool leather. You let your eyelids shut for just a moment, resting your eyes and your head. But, the moment is cut even shorter than you planned when you feel your phone vibrating in the front pocket of your crossbody.

There’s no need in seeing who it is. You already know. And you’re not going to answer it. After the fourth ring, it stops altogether and you close your eyes once more, awaiting the heated comfort that Sam will bring you soon.

But then, it begins vibrating again, forcing your eyes to jolt open.

No. Just let it ring.

Just the same, it ends on the fourth ring. And you hope that by now he’s gotten the hint that you’re in no place to speak with him. Not right now. Not yet.

Before you can rest your eyes just a little more, you notice Sam using his ass to open the glass door of the coffee shop, a drink in each hand and his shoulder pressed against his ear, holding his phone. He’s basically putting on a juggling act trying to get the car door open with his hands full, so you lean over the center console to open it for him.

“You don’t need to worry about that,” you hear him say to whomever he’s speaking to on the phone, and you sense a bit of annoyance in his tone. But you don’t even think twice about that or his words as he hands you your coffee, too ready to indulge in the warm liquid that you know will take away some of the hurt laying on your soul.

But as you take your first sip, and as Sam positions himself in the driver's seat, his next words certainly grab your attention. “Well, that’s not what she wanted to do, Jake. She asked me to take her, why the fuck would I say no?”

You nearly spit the coffee out of your mouth when it hits you; he’s talking to Jake. And they aren’t just talking, they’re arguing. Over you.

Sam’s desperately trying to speak, but the yelling on the other end of the phone is relentless. You can’t even tell what he’s saying, but you know he isn’t happy. His sheer volume of speech confirms that. And you’re not surprised, given the way you left his room, going to Sam when he’s been a touchy topic with you and Jake.

Yeah, you feel a little bad. Only because you know he’s hurt by your actions this morning. But you’re fucking hurt, too. And the choice to separate yourself from him was made the moment you discovered he’s leaving the goddamn country and didn’t think to tell you.

“I – Jake, it’s not –,” Sam attempts, though his voice is drowned out by the yelling on the other end that you’re still unable to make sense of. “Would you please let me —,” he continues, uselessly. His palm meets his forehead, rubbing away the irritation as he holds his phone away from his ear, letting Jake’s words hang in thin air. And with his phone held away from his ear, you’re able to hear Jake a bit more clear.

“I know what you’re fucking doing, and I’m not okay with it. She’s not yours to take care of! I’m gonna make you regret this, Sam. I know what your intentions are with y/n – “

Sam’s eyes nervously flick to you when he realizes you can hear everything Jake’s saying, and before you can hear anything else, he quickly brings the phone back up to his ear, quickly clicking the volume button down with his index finger.

“I’m hanging up, brother. Need to focus on the road.”

Sam just spoke over the muffled yelling completely before taking his phone from his ear and using his index finger to end the call, tossing it in the back seat so it’s completely out of sight.

“Guess we really ruffled his feathers, huh?” He jokes, turning the key to start the ignition. It stalls for a moment, having a hard time turning over. But with one more turn of the key, the engine hums a low vibration.

You’re silent as he pulls out of the lot, thinking about, well, everything.

What the fuck has this morning been? First, you wake up next to Jake, thinking that most of your days from here on out will begin the very same way. He makes breakfast and brings it to his room for the two of you to enjoy, something so domestic and charming.

Then, it all falls apart, seemingly as quickly as it was put together.

And now, you’re essentially back where you started months ago; with Sam, all for the purpose of making Jake jealous. Only this time, there’s more at stake. A fresh wound festered with the reality of what almost was, what you wanted. What you thought he wanted, too.

Maybe he does want something with you. But he obviously isn’t that invested in you if he’s not been honest this entire time.

What he was saying before Sam held the phone back up to his ear and lowered the volume, about knowing his intentions with you that have Jake very upset…

Perhaps Sam wants to be with you in the ways Jake just doesn’t. Maybe you’ve been wasting your time with someone who can’t commit to you while there’s someone very close by who can give you everything you’ve been looking for. Someone who’s been there all along, just waiting for Jake‘s inevitable storm that would make you realize that.

There’s only one fucking problem – you don’t want Sam the way you want Jake. That’s just a simple fact you’ve had to come to terms with. Sam is so undeniably special, but your mantra since you’ve met the two of them is still very relevant right now; Sam isn’t Jake.

But as it stands, you do feel something for Sam that is far beyond friends-only. And the fact that he hasn’t given up on you, even after you hardcore ghosted him and used him to get to his brother just may be the indicator you need.

He may not be Jake. But he is Sam. And Sam is everything kind and gentle in this world, bottled up in one beautiful person.

But Jake…

The way Jake makes you feel is completely different. No one has made you feel the way he does. He makes you feel beautiful, desirable. He makes you feel sexy, when that’s something you’ve never once felt about yourself.

But more importantly, Jake makes you feel safe. And during this upheaved phase of your life, when everything feels different and scary, safety is what you crave. It’s what you need. He gives you hope, he gives you meaning. Healing only feels possible with him. Maybe that’s why you’ve relapsed so hard since moving here. Aside from the trigger of the many life changes, you got so bad because he needed to see your pain to help you move through it.

Last night felt like the first time in your life that you felt like a whole person. Someone who is worthy of love, of being loved. The worries about eating all but vanished, and as you looked at him sitting across the table from you, you finally saw a future in which you were healed and happy.

That’s probably why this morning has felt so heavy. It seemed like just as your heart became filled with hope, it was ripped away from you at an unprecedented speed.

Aside from all of that, you’re also afraid that you’ve destroyed a brotherly bond, simply by needing them both in different ways. You led Sam on, then pursued Jake, and now you’re back to Sam. And Jake hates him now because of it.

The very last thing you want is to get in the way of the relationship between brothers. Brothers who live together, work together, have been through so much loss together. You can’t let yourself be the reason they hate each other, after an entire lifetime of leaning on each other. It’s selfish of you.

“I’m sorry, Sam. I feel like I’m the reason he’s so upset with you,” you carefully utter, finally finding the courage to say something to him. Because, the truth is, it is your fault that he was screamed at by Jake. This very realization is causing fresh tears to form in your ducts, because who the fuck are you to ruin their relationship? All because you can’t deny your feelings for both of them? As soon as something goes awry with Jake, you’re right back to seeking comfort from Sam. And that is not okay. You know it’s not.

And that’s why you feel like the worst kind of person right now.

But you don’t want him to see you cry again. And you certainly don’t want to have to explain why you’re crying, because admitting what you’ve done outloud isn’t something you’re ready for. So, with the help of another sip of your coffee, you’re able to keep the tears at bay.

“Ah, just a quarrel between brothers. Definitely not out of the ordinary for us,” Sam says, entirely unaware of the vast emotions you’re feeling, a sweet grin on his lips as he takes the final turn down the street your apartment rests on. “Nothing you should be sorry for. I promise it happens more often than you’d think.” He chuckles at this, and whips the Bug into the parking lot of your complex.

He’s obviously ignoring what he knows you heard, but you're okay with that. A conversation about that feels a bit too much right now.

“Thank you for bringing me home,” you say as he shifts the gear in park, letting the door unlock for you. “I really appreciate it.”

“No problem,” he says, his sweet eyes meeting yours, his gaze lingering for a moment. “Need me to walk you up?” He asks with a gentle smile that’s tugging on every string attached to your heart.

“I can’t ask you to do that,” you respond as you unbuckle your seatbelt and open the door.

“Just thought I’d offer,” he says, still smiling as he watches you step out of the Bug. “Take care of yourself, and text me if you need me. I’ll see you later, okay?”

With a wave and a confirming nod, you shut the car door and watch him pull away.

As you head up the steel stairs to the second floor, a memory begins filling your melancholy thoughts. One that was triggered by something Sam had said before you got out of the car.

It’s a memory from the night your mom ended up in the hospital, and Jake stood by your side through it all. Even stayed in your apartment with you so you wouldn’t be alone, opening up to you about incredibly personal things when you couldn’t sleep.

“You know, it’s pretty late. And it’s a long drive back to my place,” he had said as he parked his Rover in complete silence, probably sensing your reservations about spending the night alone after what had just happened. “I could stay here, sleep on the couch. That way you’d have someone to take you tomorrow morning.”

You were utterly shocked by his offer, and you wanted it more than anything else in that moment. You needed him there. And though he tried to play it off by mentioning how far of a drive he had, it was very clear that he proposed the idea because he knew you needed him.

“Jake I – I can’t ask you to –”

“You’re not asking if I’m offering.”

He wasn’t going to leave you. No matter what. And he was right; you never asked him, you didn’t have to – he wanted to stay. And he knew how badly you needed his company.

He just got it. He understood the position you were in, and he understood your need for his presence, even before you understood what you needed yourself.

He’s made you feel safe from the very beginning. Even when you fought it.

And now, as you’re walking inside the quiet apartment, your mom still fast asleep, you’re wishing you could relive that night all over again. Terrible as it was, you had him to make you feel better.

The sadness you’re feeling is almost comparable to the heavy emotions of that night, but at least you had him to give you some peace then, even in the rocky beginnings of the two of you.

You don’t have that now.

And the reality is, you may never have it again.

⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎

The daisies sitting in the vase on your dresser are making a mockery of you as you enter your bedroom. As are the ones sitting on the nightstand next to your bed. One bouquet from Jake, one from Sam. And next to the one from Sam is the photo of you and Nat that she gifted you for your birthday, the photo Jake took.

Fitting. Disgustingly.

You toss your bag on the floor, not ready to take out its contents just yet. A tiny grin graces your lips as you kick off your footwear, the smiley face slippers Sam insisted you borrow for the journey home.

The only thing you can think to do, the only thing you want to do, is take a fucking shower. Wash it all away. Let the night before flow down the drain, along with everything else you’re currently feeling.

But before you can do that, the apartment needs tending to. Conveniently, the living room is a fucking mess. Not at all how you left it last night. Your mom certainly seemed to have no problem making the mess, but she’ll find every excuse possible that would explain why she couldn’t clean it.

It’s frustrating for several reasons. But the biggest one that’s rattling your already shot nerves is the fact that the apartment was spotless last night. And now, thanks to whatever compelled her to ruin all your hard work, it needs to be cleaned. Again.

You can’t shower in peace knowing the place looks this way. So, you’ll clean it first.

At least it’ll be a good distraction from everything. A good way to occupy your mind from the disaster that has been this morning. Everything you’re feeling is far too similar to the things you felt the day your dad left. Eerily similar. Like you’re not worth staying around for, and that’s been proven twice now.

Walking back to the living room, the first thing that catches your eye is the pile of dirty plates sitting on the floor, and the half-full cups of water on the coffee table. And that very coffee table, covered in crumbs from last night's meal. You brush them all off on the floor before picking up the dishes that have been left there, sitting them in the sink to worry about later.

Right now, it’s imperative that you vacuum. Those crumbs from the coffee table that are now embedded in the carpet will be the only thing you can think about until they're gone. And the couch – it’s just as covered in food remnants as the coffee table was. You brush them off on the floor, too, so their fate will be at the discretion of the vacuum’s nozzle.

You grab the vacuum from the coat closet, its cord tangled and twisted, much like the contents of your mind at the moment. As you try to unravel it, it only knots further, becoming a mess in your hands. You can only get a small amount of the cord free from the rest, and that’s all the lead you have to work with as you just decide to give up and plug the damn thing in.

The low hum of the vacuum fills your head with white noise, an intrusion you hoped would drown out the thoughts swirling in your head about everything. But, it doesn’t work. They’re still there, tormenting you as you clean up your moms mess for the thousandth time.

You focus on the crumbs disappearing into the nozzle, wishing you could suck away the thoughts, too. The daisies. The photo. Sam. Jake. The weight of it all presses down, heavier than the vacuum in your hands.

The couch cushions are next. You flip one over, finding a stain you hadn’t noticed before – a dark blotch that looks like spilled wine, or maybe coffee. You can’t be sure. It’s just another mark, another imperfection in your life that you’ll be forced to live with. One that you have no answers to the questions you have about it.

When you finish, the living room is as clean as it was last night. But somehow, it’s not making you feel any better. Like the mess was the only thing keeping you from the reality you can’t escape.

You set the vacuum back in the closet and head for the bathroom to finally rid yourself of any lingering piece from last night. The biggest thing – Jake’s smell is all over you. His sandalwood aroma, covering your body, your hair. You smell just like him, like his room.

And it really fucking sucks. You can’t stand it any longer, it’s too goddamn painful.

The shower is scalding, but you don’t care. It feels good. You stand under the spray, letting the hot water batter your skin until it’s red.

The water dripping down your chest reminds you of what still hangs around your neck; the sword necklace Jake gave you last night. The one that matches his. The sword, a symbol for so much. You grab the sword, clutching it tightly as you prepare to yank it off, break the silver chain in a hundred little pieces to flow down the drain with the water.

But, you don’t.

You let go of it, leaving it dangling between your breasts as the warm water continues to cascade down your body.

You close your eyes and imagine it washing everything away – the mess, the memories, the ache. But when you step out, dripping and shivering, you realize it hasn’t.

It never does.

⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎

It’s not like Jake to miss class. For any reason, truthfully.

So, it certainly caught you by surprise when you arrived at Movack's class and saw an empty seat next to yours.

Class began over five minutes ago now, and he’s still not here. It’s pretty safe to assume he won’t be coming today. And though that should give you some relief that you won’t have to sit in the inevitable awkwardness for the duration of class, you can’t help but feel a little sad about it.

Regardless, at least you’ll be able to focus on school today. Not him. Perhaps his absence is a good thing after all. And, it’ll truly make things a bit easier for you in this class in particular. Movack made an announcement online that you’ll be working with your partners today on an in-class assignment.

It may be for the best that he isn’t here. Of course, it’ll leave you without a partner. But, you’re certain it’s nothing you can’t manage on your own.

“As you all know, today you will work with your respective partners on analysis,” Movack says, finally wrapping up his usual long-winded announcements he makes at the beginning of every class. “I’d like you to analyze the psychological dynamics of characters within the lore.”

Solo it is. And you’re actually okay with that.

“Ms. Y/n,” Movack says, causing you to jolt anxiously in your seat. “Mr. Kiszka informed me before class that he will be a few minutes late and wanted me to make you aware.”

Goddamnit.

Also, why couldn't he tell you that himself?

“O-okay,” you stutter, timidly as you notice everyone in the room glaring at you, Dr. Movack patiently awaiting your response. “Um, thanks for letting me know.”

You’re trying to not take it too personally that he felt the need to have the professor of the damn class tell you he’ll be late. But it isn’t working. In fact, it’s kind of making your blood heat to a near boil at the thought of it. And, him coming to class means you’ll have to interact with him. You’re not ready for that yet. Part of you thought he may avoid class because of that.

But, no. Of course not. This man never skips class. No matter fucking what. He’s also never late, though. And you can’t help but wonder why he’s late today. Not that it’s your business anymore. Or, was it ever really your business?

Just as Dr. Movack is beginning to give you all the details of the assignment, Jake comes through the lecture hall doors. Their squeaking hinges echo throughout the acoustics of the room, the heels of his boots click against the hard surface of the floor as he waltzes in. He’s in no hurry, of course. His walk is a saunter, no sense of urgency in his stride as he makes his way up the steps to his seat.

You try not to observe him too closely, your heart hammering in your chest. It is stupid how one quick, simple glance of the man has your body temperature increasing.

“Welcome to class, Mr. Kiszka,” Dr. Movack says, greeting him with a kind smile. (And all you can think about is your first day of class, when you were late and treated the exact opposite of Mr. Kiszka.)

Jake nods his head in response, taking his final steps until he’s right next to you. And, naturally, ignoring your existence. Not that you expected any less. You aren’t exactly pleased to see him, either.

He sits down with a deep and heavy sigh, glancing at you briefly before looking away just as quickly as his eyes found you. The scowl on his face is rather prominent, his lips pursed and unmoving. You want so badly to say something. But, what? No words feel appropriate, yet you can’t handle this screaming silence sitting in the tiny space between you two.

(This really does feel like the beginning of the semester all over a – fucking – gain.)

You’re angry as fuck with him right now. For reasons on a continually growing list. But all you can think about right now is how fucking good he smells. The scent that’s carried you through so much, the one you’ve found yourself covered in after being entangled within his bedsheets. It’s so close, yet feels further away than ever.

And he looks nice. So very handsome. Salt to the still very much opened and bleeding wound. Your cheeks flush as you eye his chest through the partially open button down.

“As I stated, you will be performing an analysis on characters and their dynamics. This is to bring us back to the root of the lore, while also preparing you for your presentations that are set to begin next week,” Movack continues, his voice now like a distant muttering to you as you’re suddenly finding it hard to focus any further with the addition of the presence to the left of you. “This assignment will be interdisciplinary – I want you to think about the infamous love triangle and how that affects Arthur’s dedication to the court.”

If it were ever possible for a person's heart to completely stop while they’re still living and breathing, right now would be that instance. You know you had a very physical reaction to the premise of the assignment, your body noticeably tensing and the gasp of air that you couldn’t hold in even if you tried.

You didn’t know what exactly to expect with this analysis, but it certainly wasn’t that.

Given Jake’s sudden change in posture that you can see from your peripheral, you’d say he’s feeling roughly the same as you. It’s too ironic. Uncomfortably ironic.

Movack’s had all semester for this. And he picks now to have the class work on it?

Not the fucking time for this, Movack.

“With your partners, I’d like you to discuss this in as much depth as our time restrictions of the class will allow,” he proceeds, as your heart simultaneously feels like it’s going to stop beating, yet rattling the bones in your body with its nervous pounding all at once. “Take notes, detailed notes, and turn them into me at the end of class. You may begin.”

You can practically taste the bile forming at the back of your throat. What the fuck kind assignment is this? God, you wish Jake would’ve just skipped the damn class. You wish you would’ve skipped. Hell, you have it in your right mind to hop out of your seat and sprint your way out of here. Take the F for the day. At this point, you couldn’t give a shit about your grade.

As if things weren’t awkward enough, this will certainly hit the nail on the head.

Neither one of you has said a word – you aren’t even looking at each other. How do you even begin this conversation? How do you pretend that things are normal, just for the sake of this class?

You hear the evidence that everyone else has begun their analyses, talking in depth with their partners while you and Jake have yet to speak to each other. Movack has definitely noticed that you two have yet to start. That much is clear in the way his eyes are piercing the two of you.

And, to make it worse, here he comes. Walking toward you, his arms crossed tightly over his beige sweater vest. His square frames are placed right on the bridge of his nose, his eyes peering above them in agitation as he positions himself before you and Jake. “Is there a problem?” He demands, his salt and pepper eyebrows raised as he impatiently awaits an answer from either one of you.

You and Jake look at each other at the same time, the first time you’ve looked into his eyes since you left his room the other morning. When you left him to seek the comfort of Sam.

And you can see it. Feel it. The very same pain you saw in his orbs that morning. They look the exact same. Only heavier, the bags under his eyes more pronounced than before. You begin to wonder if he’s been sleeping, because it certainly doesn’t appear that way. It can’t be because of you, right? Surely you’ve not hurt him that badly. He’s the one leaving. So, he can only be so hurt by his own doing.

But, still. He looks defeated. And it’s making your heart ache, even though you know it shouldn’t.

“A-hem!”

You both snap your heads back to Movack, who looks far more irritated now than he did before.

“Is there a reason you two aren’t participating? I’d hate to give you two failing grades for today, but that doesn’t mean I won’t –,”

“No, no,” Jake interjects, finally. “Sorry, we’ll get started right away.”

Movack hums as he nods his head, pushing his frames up to his eyes before he slowly turns to walk down the steps. He’s still looking, peering at you and Jake over his shoulder before he makes it to his wooden desk at the front of the class.

“Guess we better at least look like we’re doing something,” Jake mutters, begrudgingly turning the upper half of his body so that he’s now facing you.

You force yourself to do the same, knowing it’ll at least get Movack off your back. But, at the cost, that almost seems like the better option. Now that you’re facing him, looking at him again, it’s almost too much to bear as his downturned eyes are looking into yours once again.

But after noticing the heaviness in his eyes, the next thing you notice is just as devastating.

He’s wearing the sword necklace around his neck, dangling beneath his coins against his off-white button up. Hanging beautifully between his exquisite pectoral muscles. It’s odd that he's wearing it, given it’s identical to the one he gave you.

And what’s even more weird — you’re wearing yours, too. Only, yours is tucked into your sweater, hidden beneath the heavy black knitting. Out of sight, yet still close to you.

The fact is, you’re both wearing them. But he has the nerve to wear his in plain sight. And you immediately wonder if it’s to elicit something from you, perhaps a reminder of the fact that you’ve chosen to cut things off.

And that pisses you off.

“Well, we still need to have something to turn in at the end of class,” you start, your throat constricting at the first words you’ve spoken to him since that morning. Not the words you had envisioned, but here they are. All about fucking class so you don’t say what’s really on your mind. “So, don’t you think we probably need to actually do something instead of just looking like it.”

That came out much more harsh than you truly intended. But, you are right. His idea of just pretending isn’t going to cut it. He knows that, too.

His eyes grow wide, his jaw clenching. He brings his hand up to his chin, his finger vigorously rubbing at the skin.

“Kay,” he snarks, sharply. “Why don’t you get started then, y/n? Tell me the impacts that Guiniverre’s love affair had on the King.” He reaches behind him to his book satchel, rips a piece of paper out of his notebook and grabs the pen sitting in the front pocket of his off white button up. “Tell me how bad it hurt the King to see his beloved with someone else.”

Beloved?

He begins aggressively clicking his pen over and over, the sound of it overstimulating the fuck out of you.

Hell no.

“Let’s first discuss the treatment of the Queen,” you start, feeling every ounce of blood in your body reach your cheeks, your heart palpitating in your chest. “And how Lancelot treated her the way she deserved to be treated from day one, and didn’t lie to her like the selfish King did.”

Oh god.

You didn’t want to say it. But Jesus, the words just kept coming. Spilling out of you like a soda bottle that had been shaken too much.

You regret it. Instantly.

Jake just stares at you for a moment, blankly. You’re waiting for some sort of comeback, but he’s silent. Then, to make it worse, he starts etching everything you’ve just said on the paper. Everything.

“Jake. Jake, stop.” You try reaching across the table to cup his hand, but he quickly pulls away from you, ripping the paper with the point of his pen as he does so.

“What else would you like to say, y/n?” His voice is steady, yet charged and heavy. The weight of his glare is keeping you locked in, your body tense and unable to move. He lets the silence linger for a moment before leaning forward towards you, his tone sharpening further as he speaks. “I’m sure you’ve got more to add.”

The room suddenly feels smaller, empty. Like everyone else in the class has suddenly disappeared, leaving only you and Jake.

He glances at the paper in front of him, staring at the half-written words – your words. “Perhaps,” he says, his voice dipping low before rising with deliberate intensity. “You’d like to elaborate on how the King reminded her she’s a queen – by showing her exactly how indispensable she is to him.”

“Indispensable?” You echo, leaning closer to him, mirroring his body language with defiance. Your voice is sharp, cutting through the thick tension between you. “If that’s so, then perhaps we should discuss how he still wanted to leave her!”

His nostrils flare, his fingers tightening around the pen in his hand until you’re sure it’s about to break in two.

“Perhaps,” he snaps, his voice loud enough to make heads turn. “We should discuss how he bared his heart to her, and it still didn’t stop her from running to fucking Lancelot instead of letting the King explain himse –,”

“Jacob and Y/n!” Dr. Movack’s slices through the room, cutting Jake off from the remainder of his rant about the fictional characters, the rant that you know wasn’t just about them.

You hadn’t even realized how loud the two of you had gotten. Your heart pounds as the Movack’s words pull you back to reality. All at once, you’re acutely aware of the dozens of eyes on you, of the collective silence in the room. It’s like you’d both forgotten where you were, that this wasn’t some private, messy argument but the middle of class. And yet, none of that had mattered – until now.

“Class is dismissed early. Place your notes on my desk, and I’ll see you on Wednesday.” Your classmates begin unzipping and zipping their bags, closing their notebooks, shutting their laptops. “Jake and y/n, I’d like you to stay after class for a moment.”

Shit.

⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔

“This is the second time you two have disrupted my class.” Dr. Movack stands from his desk chair, walking around to the front to lean against the old wood bureau where you and Jake are both awkwardly standing. “I’m not blind to the fact that something is going on between you. I’ve noticed it all semester.”

He takes off his glasses and rubs his eyes, placing the frames on the desk. “You two are the best students in this class. Well, the best students I’ve had in years, actually. I don’t want to see you two fall short in your studies because of something that’s happening outside of this classroom.”

The both of you are dead silent. You can’t speak for Jake, but you feel like you could come unglued at any given second.

“Listen, whatever it is – and let me clarify, I don’t need to know, nor do I want to know – keep it out of this classroom. Let it go before you walk through those doors.” He looks to the large doors that lead out to the hallway, pointing to them. “Because if I hear one more display like I heard today, I won’t have a choice but to kick you both out of this class.”

Here it is. That heartstopping sensation you felt earlier, and that involuntary gasp that apparently comes with it.

“With as late as we are in the semester, and with as much work that I know you two have put into your project, I don’t want to do that. But, it won’t be up to me. This campus has a very strict code of conduct.” He pauses, his eyes shifting back and forth from you to Jake. “As intelligent as you both are, I hate seeing you break that.”

You’ve never heard Movack’s voice like this before. His normally loud and booming voice has softened, almost unrecognizable from what you’ve come to know.

He’s stern, undoubtedly. But, it’s the kind of stern that you’d hear from a loving dad who is disappointed. You feel his sincerity, his softness hidden behind his professor-persona.

It’s intimidating, yet it’s comforting all at once. He cares, deep down.

“Jake, I’ve known you long enough to know that this behavior is not in your character. And y/n,” he starts, looking at you with eyes that are soft and altogether hard as rocks. “I’m aware that I’ve only known you for a few months, but I know you’re better than this. I’ve seen it.”

He then picks his glasses back up, placing them on his face again as he steps away from his desk. “I’ve seen it in both of you,” he continues, placing his hands in the pockets of his gray slacks. “Listen, I’m not just giving you this speech because of today, or because of the last time this happened. I’m telling you both all of this because you’ve both been nominated for the Distinguished Student Award given to English Majors. I am the one that nominated you.”

Your eyes widen, your mouth parting in surprise. Instinctively, you look to Jake, whose face is emitting nearly the same expression as yours.

“I don’t know who will be chosen,” Movack goes on. “But I can’t stand the thought of you two being ineligible because of episodes like today, that I’ve now seen twice.” He moves back to his desk, leaning his back up against it as he crosses his arms over his chest, and one loafer-clad foot over the other. “This award looks really good to grad programs. Jake, I know you’re already accepted to Oxford.”

Fucking Movack knew before you did? Wonderful.

“But this award will guarantee funding through the scholarship only awarded to the student chosen. I can’t give you too many details, but you don’t want to mess up this opportunity.”

He then focuses his attention back to you, looking at you with a softness that is somehow reminding you of the way your dad used to look at you. “And for you, this would be money in your pocket since your tuition is mostly covered by the fact that you’re employed by the university.”

Money in your pocket…something you really need. You’d love to get you and your mom out of that shitty apartment someday, someday soon. Aside from that, this would be really helpful when you begin the process of applying for grad programs next semester.

You didn’t even know anything like this existed, let alone that you would be considered for something like this. You can’t fuck this up. Movack’s lecture is the thing you needed to bring your focus back to why you’re here in the first place; your education. The only thing that’s ever truly mattered to you. The reason you were able to get yourself out of Oklahoma, the thing that will prove to everyone and yourself that you are capable of achieving anything.

This award could open so many doors for you. And for Jake, whom a part of you wants to win it just as badly as you want to win it. He deserves it. Despite everything, he deserves it. He should be recognized for his talents, his incredible brain. He was accepted to one of the most prestigious schools in the world, after all. Painful as it is to think about, it’s not lost on you how impressive that is.

“Do me a favor and consider everything at stake here while you’re on Thanksgiving break,” Movack continues. “You two are shining examples of the brilliance of this department. Don’t let yourselves down by letting things get in the way of that.”

Movack excuses you and Jake, and the walk down the hall is filled with only the sounds of your sneakers and his boots against the carpeted floor. You stop once you make it to the stairwell, letting him continue his walk down the stairs. But when he realizes you’re no longer walking with him, he turns around, looking up at you as you’re standing still on the top step.

He takes a breath, as though he’s ready to say something. But after a moment of him looking at you, of you looking at him, there isn’t a single word spoken. Instead, the silence lingers until he turns away, continuing his trek down the stairs.

Not even so much as an apology over what happened in class, or a single comment about what Movack had to say. And you’re angry about it. He should’ve said something.

But then again, you also could’ve said something. And you didn’t. Couldn’t.

What transpired in class wasn’t all his fault. You’re self-aware enough to recognize that. And you’re aware enough to know that everything he said was rooted much deeper than the Arthurian lore. Maybe he really does care. And maybe you truly have hurt him. Hurt him more than you ever really intended.

But the damage has already been done. You fear there’s no coming back from this. From any of it.

⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎

The smell of charred turkey and singed herbs is rather potent throughout the entire apartment. So strong, in fact, that the freezing temperatures outside didn’t keep you from opening each window to air out the stench.

You had spent hours researching how to properly bake a turkey, what to season it with, how the hell you’re supposed to carve the damn thing. It’s not something you’ve ever had to worry about doing before, and you didn’t want to fuck it all up your first time.

But, as you make the first cuts into the smoky meat, you realize that you may have done just that. It’s cooked all the way through – that’s certainly not something you need to worry about. Cooked a little too well, in fact. It’s way too dry, that much is evident by the way your knife isn’t slicing easily through the meat.

Your mom couldn’t help you with the meal. Her coughing has gotten so much worse; she’s been struggling to catch her breath the past few days. You can hear the rattling in her chest when she speaks, when she coughs – she sounds bad. Really bad. Probably the worst you’ve ever heard.

You can’t be certain, but you’re suspicious that she’s stopped taking her medications again. A thought that simultaneously pisses you off and breaks your heart. You’re doing everything you can to help her, but if she won’t swallow the pills, she won’t be around much longer. And no matter what she’s done, that fact absolutely terrifies you.

So, Thanksgiving was up to you this year. And the sad reality of it is you would’ve been able to enlist Jake for help. He would’ve happily done it in a heartbeat. He’d be here right now, guiding you through the steps of preparing a meal you have zero experience in.

The only thing you managed to not fuck up are the mashed potatoes. And that’s only because they’re the instant kind. A little hot water, and voila. You have perfectly mashed ‘potatoes’ that taste subpar at best.

Even the stuffing you made from a mix didn’t come out right. Without gravy, (because you couldn’t find any instant gravy at the store) the stuffing and potatoes will just be dry and rather lackluster. But, at least it’s something.

The chicken noodle soup is a recipe from your late grandmother. Easy enough to follow, though it just doesn’t taste like it should. It’s certainly not the worst thing you’ve ever made, but you’re a little more than disappointed in the fact that the store was out of carrots. Carrot-less chicken noodle soup just doesn’t feel complete to you. And if you know your mom, she won’t be too thrilled about the lack of carrots, either.

A less-than adequate meal for your first Thanksgiving in your crummy apartment in Ann Arbor. There is a small sense of pride, though. Regardless of how the food turned out, you did it. All on your own, too. You know you deserve at least a little pat on the back for all the work you’ve done. And not just with the food, but how you’ve managed to keep you and your mom afloat. Being the sole provider and caregiver for over a year now, surely she’ll cut you a little slack if the food isn’t up to par with what’s typically expected for a Thanksgiving meal.

For years, you and your parents had gone to your dads side of the family for pretty much every holiday that called for family gatherings. The only family you had left after the passing of your maternal grandparents. And even before that, you didn’t get to see them but once a year for a few days during Summer break.

With your dad having exited the frame of your life completely, that means his family is also non-existent in your world. Last year was your first Thanksgiving without him, and the holiday was spent in a small diner over an hour away from Cherry Tree. It was the only thing open, and it was all you could manage at the time. It certainly didn’t feel like Thanksgiving, but it was the best you could do given the circumstances.

It was your goal this year to give your mom (and yourself) a decent holiday. And even if that means a shitty excuse for a meal, it’s still better than last year. A little, at least. Though, current life circumstances are still feeling rather heavy – some in old ways, some in new ways.

As you're plating each of your dinners, the main thing on your mind right now is your dad. He’s probably in Oklahoma with the rest of the family, enjoying his second Thanksgiving without the burden of you and your mom. You wonder if he’s happier now, if he’s relieved. Maybe he’s found someone else by now, someone that’s worth sticking around for. Maybe this new someone has a daughter that he loves more than you. Maybe…

Enough.

Those thoughts will do nothing but make this day a thousand times harder than it already is. It’s been difficult enough as it is, having to turn Josh down over and over again when he’s asked you to come over and celebrate with them. You’d told him that you needed to spend the day with your mom, and of course, his next idea was to have her come with you. Told you there was plenty of food, that Jake had spent hours preparing the meal.

That sounded even worse than dealing with the guilt of leaving her by herself. The situation would be far too awkward, and you haven’t even told your mom of everything that’s happened. It’s just too much to explain, and going tonight, having her go with you amidst everything…

Nope. You couldn’t bring yourself to do it. Alone with your mom it is. And though it’s not the ideal scenario by any means, it’s the best option. (And the morbid part of you can’t help but wonder if this’ll be the last Thanksgiving you’ll ever celebrate with her.)

“I think the turkey is a tad bit burnt,” you admit, defeatedly. “But hopefully it’ll still taste okay.”

She’s found herself in another coughing fit as you set the plate in front of her. The coughs are deep, heavy. They’re coming straight from her chest. “Try and take a deep breath for me,” you say, rubbing her back until she finally catches her breath. “That sounds bad, mom.”

“I’m…fine…,” she tells you through gasps of air. She sits still for a moment, letting air fully fill her lungs again before she reaches for the plate of food you’ve brought her. “No carrots in the chicken and noodles?”

Of course she noticed.

“Couldn’t find them at the store,” you tell her as you get settled in your dining chair. “I guess I waited too long to go shopping. Just about everything was sold out.” Pulling apart your piece of turkey, you grimace at just how dry looks. “And most of what I did manage to find was from the cheap brands that no one really likes.”

The turkey really does taste terrible. As you suspected, dry as fuck. Without a giant swig of your water, you’re not sure you’d be able to get it down. Gravy probably would’ve helped, you silently ponder.

After a few bites of potatoes, a spoonful of chicken noodles, and a bite of stuffing, you decide you’re mostly done with the meal.

The food is pretty bad. But that’s not the only thing keeping you from it. Eating was already hard; it’s about a hundred times worse right now.

The holidays have always been difficult, simply because they always revolve around food. And Thanksgiving, being the holiday for food, has typically been your least favorite one to celebrate. You have so many memories of family members giving you a look when you filled your plate with less food than they deemed appropriate. And you would get even more looks when you never finished everything on your already scarce plate.

It’s just a lot. Always has been. And this year, it’s just that much harder.

Your mom, on the other hand, has practically finished everything on her plate. Which, to say the very least, is shocking when considering how much she shit-talks your cooking.

“Does it taste okay?” You ask her as she smothers her last piece of turkey in mashed potatoes, shoveling it all in her mouth in one go.

“It’s a little dry,” she utters through a full mouth. “But it’s not half bad. Good job, sweetie.”

“Thanks mom.” Standing up from your seat, you take your half full plate to the kitchen and dump the sad remains in the trash. “There’s plenty more if you’re still hungry.”

“Done already?” She asks while you begin rinsing your plate in the kitchen sink.

“Yeah. The food was pretty filling,” you say, rubbing your tummy to indicate that you’re full. “Couldn’t eat another bite if I tried.”

She hums inquisitively as she sets her fork down on her plate, grabbing her cup and sipping on the store-bought apple cider you poured her. “You’re not starvin’ yourself again, are you?”

The plate in your hand crashes into the sink, slipping out of your grasp. You never truly know what your mom is going to say, but this…it caught you by surprise, startled you. This isn’t a conversation you want to have with your mom; you’ve never really had it at all. She’s always dismissed this part of you, pretending like it didn’t exist. Your dad was the one that got you help. Not her.

So, hearing her mention it is…strange, to say the least. Strange and uncomfortable. Though you don’t like discussing this with anyone, she’s the last person you want to talk about it with.

You’re not sure what to say, or if you should even say anything. Avoiding it feels like the best option – maybe she’ll forget about it, let it go if you change the subject. Just pretend like you didn’t hear it.

“Um, there’s some pie,” you force out, leaving the plate where it landed and turning off the faucet. “In the freezer, there’s a frozen pie. Pumpkin. If you want it, I can preheat –,”

“You didn’t break the plate, did you?”

The plate? She’s only concerned with the fucking plate?

“N-no?” You stammer, confused. Looking in the sink to be sure, you see the plate still in one piece. No cracks beyond the ones that were already there from age and use. “No, the plate’s fine. Do you want pie?” You ask again, finding this entire interaction incredibly odd.

“No, I don’t think so.” She pushes her now cleared off plate to the center of the table, standing and stretching her arms as high as she can. She coughs again, this one even deeper and more rattling than the ones before. “Think I’ll go take a bath and head to bed soon. I’m not feeling too great.”

Do you ask her about her medications knowing she’ll probably just lie? No, there’s no point. You know that. She’s clearly made the choice to forgo her meds again. And you learned the last time she did this that you can’t force her to take them. She’ll do what she wants, even if it means it’s slowly killing her.

And that thought, regardless of everything, absolutely breaks you.

⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎

After helping your mom through a bath, putting away leftovers, and cleaning the kitchen until the laminate countertops were sparkling, you’re at last snuggled up under your covers. Though it’s only a little after eight, being in your bed this early feels like the best way to spend the rest of the night. Your mom is already fast asleep, snoring away whatever Western film she’s chosen for the night, so there’s no reason you can’t hunker down in your room a little earlier than usual.

The apartment is freezing, but you don’t mind. It just gives you a reason to turn your heated blanket up as high as it’ll go, break out your prized pair of purple fuzzy socks, and a giant ass Nike hoodie you thrifted years ago.

This kind of weather begs for a Harry Potter night, one of your favorite things to watch during the colder months. But, of course, you can’t just watch them from the beginning. As of tonight, the Christmas season has officially begun. It’s only right that you watch The Sorcerer's Stone first, the one that, in your opinion, is the most Christmasy of the whole franchise.

The only thing you’re missing are your decorations you’ve always put up in your room. Your tiny tree that could only hold maybe five regular sized ornaments, the string of colorful lights with the big, retro bulbs you’d hang from your ceiling, the wreath you made yourself when you were probably eleven or twelve that you’ve hung on the back of your bedroom door every year.

You moved to Michigan so quickly, and there was only so much room in your Firebird for everything that encompassed your entire life. Decorations just weren’t a priority when you packed up your life in Oklahoma.

So, you’ll just have to make do with your fairy lights framing your vanity mirror, and your cuddly cactus plant that could probably hold a star on top, if you really wanted to get festive.

You’re only a few minutes into the movie, but your eyes are slowly becoming heavier, each blink longer than the last. There’s a certain peace with tonight, thinking about Christmas and watching a movie that has always made you happy. It’s all made you feel so comfortable, and the addition of your warm blanket is the cherry on top of the perfect, cozy night to yourself.

Letting your eyes fully close, you begin to doze off to the sound of the movie, letting it lull you to a restful, tranquil slumber.

Until your phone vibrates.

Initially, it scared the hell out of you, your eyes shooting open in an instant. Sitting on your nightstand made the vibration much louder than normal – you swear you felt your bed shake along with it. You clutch your chest, the intrusion making your heart race.

Reaching for it to see who it is, you’re fully expecting a text from Nat, or another plea from Josh to join them for Thanksgiving.

But reading the screen tells you your thoughts over who it could be are very wrong. It’s the last person you expected to hear from tonight, and you’re reluctant to even open it. You were so relaxed, so close to resting. Why did he have to ruin it?

You let the text remain unopened for a bit, but you know damn well your anxiety won’t let you leave it that way for much longer.

“Fuck,” you mumble under your breath as you click on the message.

Jake: Don’t let the food sit out there for too long, it’ll get cold. There should be plenty for both of you.

Rubbing the sleep from your eyes, you sit up in bed, unwrapping yourself from your heated blanket-burrito and using the remote to pause your movie. You read the text again, trying to make some sense of it.

Did he…drop food off at your front door?

There’s only one way to find out. The chilly air hits your bare legs the minute you get out of bed. The shivers run up and down your body as you quickly leave your room and head to the front door. Keeping your arms in the sleeves of your hoodie, you open the door to see probably five or so tupperware containers, stacked neatly by size in front of your door. Further inspection tells you they’re full with food.

Quickly, so as to not let any more cold air in the apartment, you gather the containers, finding a way to cradle them all in your arms so you only need to make one trip. You use your foot to close the door, hurrying to the kitchen before one slips out from your arms.

Pieces of turkey in one container, mashed potatoes in another, stuffing, the most gorgeous mac and cheese you’ve ever seen, and sweet potato casserole. Each lid you open lets out steam; it’s all so warm and fresh. And it smells absolutely heavenly.

The first thing you have to do is taste the mac and cheese. Grabbing a spoon, you dig into the gooey side dish. Strings of cheese hang off the spoon as you bring it to your mouth.

Jesus. This has to be the best thing that’s ever touched your taste buds. It’s perfectly creamy, and you can taste so many different types of cheese blended in with just a hint of garlic. You’ve never had gourmet mac and cheese, but you’re pretty sure this is about as delectable as it gets.

Next thing to try is the potatoes, which you’re sure were handmashed. Those instant ones you made earlier don’t even deserve to be called mashed potatoes, especially in comparison to Jake’s.

Before you know it, you’ve tried at least a few bites of everything. And, as you presumed before you did a taste test, everything is incredible. Jake is certainly skilled in the kitchen, and it makes you wonder if he’s missed his calling as a prestigious chef.

Then again, his literary brain is one of the things you love most about him. It would be a shame for him to not pursue something in the written arts.

You’ve suddenly remembered you haven’t thanked him. Though you’re not exactly on speaking terms, you can’t let him do all of this, driving over twenty minutes just to bring you and your mom something to eat, go without a proper thank you.

You: Thank you, Jake. That was really nice of you.

You pressed the send button before giving yourself the chance to overthink the tone of your message. (Which, you’ll still do. But, at least you didn’t type the message a hundred times before you sent it.)

After finding a place for everything in the fridge, you walk back to the front door to lock it, remembering you hadn’t earlier. You then go to peek in your moms room to see if she’s awake to offer her some actual good food. She’s still asleep, her snoring now a dull noise as she’s deep in her slumber.

It’ll be a nice surprise for her in the morning, you think to yourself as you head back to your room. You’ve ignored the fact that your phone has yet to vibrate with a text back. No response from Jake, and it’s been a solid ten minutes. (You know it’s not that long, but your anxiety about texting him makes it feel like ten hours.)

Oh well. It is what it is. He doesn’t have to respond, and there’s a good chance that he won’t. You’ll just have to be okay with that.

You crawl back into bed, clicking the button on the control to your heated blanket a few times to ensure it’s up all the way before unpausing the movie. Though, it doesn’t feel quite as relaxing now that your mind is a bit preoccupied with the fact that he’s still not responded. You keep glancing at your phone on the bed next to you, waiting for the screen to light up with his name.

But, it doesn’t.

And that’s okay. Or, at least you’re trying to convince yourself of that. It was, afterall, your choice to cut things off with him. He’s already done more than he probably should’ve done. Though, you still don’t really know why he did it. The fact that he thought of you at all feels good. Really good.

But, did he do it because he wanted to, or because his twin that’s been texting you all day put him up to it?

That’s the question running laps around your mind as your eyes are becoming heavy again, the sound of the movie fading as you’re starting to drift to sleep.

⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎

“I really need your creative mind, y/n,” Josh begs. “I can’t do this without your eye, my dear. You’re the heart and soul of this whole thing.”

You’ve been on the phone with him for nearly fifteen minutes now; he’s been incessantly begging you to come over the entire time. He swears he needs your help with the final edits of the film, making sure everything flows properly, that the story line makes sense. Why a film genius like him needs your help is beyond you. But you’re flattered, nonetheless.

And while you are flattered, and you do want to help, going over there means risking an interaction with Jake. That’s risky territory at the moment, and you can’t help but be a little offended over the fact that he never responded to you the other night.

“Can we just go somewhere else?” You ask him, the phone nearly slipping out of your palm from the nervous perspiration. “I just don’t want to see–”

“I can get rid of Jake,” he interrupts, speaking a little quieter than he was before. You’ve got a sinking feeling that means Jake is in the room, or at least nearby. And that possibility has your tummy doing flips. “I’ll just tell him he needs to take Sam’s shift, let him handle the office for a while. I do have that power, you know.”

He wheezes a chuckle to himself, and it actually makes you smile too. It eases your edginess for a moment, but that quickly fades when you hear another voice on the phone, one that seems to be a bit further away.

“I can take the fucking hint.” He’s yelling, he’s angry. And you suddenly feel like absolute shit. You then hear a rather loud bang, presumably the front door being slammed as he made the decision to leave.

“Well, that takes care of that little nuisance,” Josh says, still giggling. “So, you’ll come?”

“W-was that Jake?” You ask, though you already know the answer. The very mention of his name makes your heart ache, and hearing that tone from him is like a slice to the skin.

“Sure was,” he chuckles. “He’ll get over it. The coast is clear until six o’clock when the office closes. I’ll be awaiting your anticipated arrival, my dear.”

“Josh, wai–” You hear a smooching sound from his end before the call ends, cutting you off completely.

Little shit. He didn’t even give you the chance to turn him down again. It’s only reluctantly that you’ll go. And you may as well go now. Get it over with quicker.

You couldn’t care less about your appearance today. Comfort takes priority over cute as you pull on your clothes. Sweats today instead of leggings, your trusty Billy Joel crewneck – an old relic from the ‘90s that used to belong to your dad. Not that sentimentality has anything to do with it; it’s simply warmer and sturdier than your other options. Men’s clothing always seems to be made better than women’s, and vintage pieces like this remind you of a time when quality mattered. Heavy, durable, and practical – exactly what you need today. The fact that it was once your dad’s? Pure coincidence. (Mostly.)

A little moisturizer and aquaphor for your lips is the extent of your makeup, and a messy bun on the crown of your head is all you care to do for your unwashed hair.

You slip your phone in the front pocket of your crossbody before securing it over your shoulder and heading to the coat closet to grab your puffer. You’re trying not to breathe as you walk past your mom, hoping by some chance that she’ll ignore the fact that you’re leaving. She’s been sitting on the couch for hours now, watching every film Clint Eastwood ever made back to back.

“You know,” she starts, keeping her eyes glued to the forty three inch insignia. “Your grandfather performed a few stunts in his movies. Remember that?”

Pulling your coat from the closet, you hold it under your arm as you turn your attention to her. “Yeah, I do,” you say, smiling softly at the fond memory of his stories. “I really miss him.”

She’s not looked at you until now, and she’s smiling at you. Something you’ve not seen in a long time. At least not a genuine one. Her eyes are smiling, so you know she means the one she’s wearing across her lips. “I miss him, too.”

You’ve not talked about your grandfather in years. Not since he passed. Your mom forbade you to do so, saying it hurt too much to talk about him.

Her grieving process was much different than yours. She felt her sadness by watching movies he loved, but not talking about him while she did so. You felt yours by asking your dad about any memories he had with him.

He’d always warned against asking your mom too much about him, or anything about her childhood altogether. There’s so little you know about her life growing up. You only know the things your dad had told you, and you know a little from what your grandparents felt comfortable divulging, which truly wasn’t much.

Her mother, your grandma, struggled immensely with her mental health. She struggled in a time when the world simply didn’t acknowledge that the brain could be just as sick, at times more, than the body. She never got the help she needed. Though she tried to be the best mother she could be, you’re fairly certain she put your mom through a lot as a kid. From what you’ve gathered from your dad, she would act out and cause quite a bit of disruption at times. She did it purely for the attention it garnered.

But she never remembered doing it. As your dad described, it was like a switch would flip inside of her mind, turning off the logical side of her brain and closing her eyes to what she was doing. She’d even gone so far as to make herself sick a few times, just to get attention from people. When the switch would turn back on and she’d realize what she’d done, she felt terrible.

By the time you came around, she had finally gotten some help. She became the mom your mom always needed.

You loved your grandma. She was as sweet and gentle with you as any grandma should be. Her and your grandpa both were. But they lived in Texas, so you didn’t see them as much as you wished you could’ve.

His passing happened only a few weeks after hers. You’re certain he died of a broken heart. As much trouble as she gave him throughout the half century they were wed, he still loved her.

He couldn’t find the strength to attend her funeral service. Said he’d already gotten his closure, and didn’t see the point in letting the wound fester even more.

He was already gone by that point. A soulless vessel just waiting for the body to give out.

You weren’t able to go to his service. Money was far too tight to make the drive to Fairview more than once in such a short period of time. Your dad did everything he could to make the trip possible. And if you’re remembering correctly, your mom didn’t exactly fight to go. She kind of just…gave up on the idea. Didn’t even try. If you had to guess, aside from the money issues, she more than likely just couldn’t handle attending both of their funerals so close together.

This is the first time she’s mentioned him since then, and it’s…odd. But, a bit comforting. While you don’t have too many memories of him, of either of them, the ones you do have are beautifully engraved on your heart forever.

There’s a longing to stop what you’re doing and sit with her on the couch, take advantage of this rare moment of her wanting to talk about something she’s never talked with you about before.

But you made a promise to Josh. And that promise is quite dear to you. And, it’s not like you’ll be out late. You’ll get home just in time to make dinner and, hopefully, continue this conversation with her.

“I-I’m going to help with some things on the film,” you say, timid over the sudden wave of guilt for leaving right now. “But I’ll be back in just a few hours. Is soup okay for dinner?”

“Sounds good to me,” she responds, deadpanned and monotone, eyes now back on the screen. “See you later.”

“Okay.” Her sudden tone-shift has you a little nervous, that feeling of disappointing her weighing on your chest. “I’ll be back around six thirty. Love you,” you say as you head out the door, and you wait just a moment to see if she’ll respond.

She doesn’t. She essentially waves you off, and you leave in silence, left in complete confusion as to what the hell just happened.

Part of you wonders if she’s attempting to rebuild your relationship. Well, could you even call it ‘rebuilding’? Or… more likely, was it possible she continued to work (like always) to cover up everything that’s happened in your life again? The slightly more cynical part of you wonders, like you often have been lately, if she started the conversation to guilt you into staying home.

In truth, you just don’t know with her anymore. And you may never again. Well, at least you thought you understood her. Thought that your entire life.

But, as you’ve recently discovered, you may have never truly known her. The fact is, you’re coming to the conclusion that she’s manipulated you into believing things that just aren’t true. When Jake played you Stevie Ray Vaughn, reminding you of music that defined your life up until this point… You pondered the music you thought your mom introduced you to. Certain things with him have forced your brain to remember things from your past a bit… differently.

Your mom didn’t listen to Stevie. Your dad did. He played his music, he talked to you about how much he admired him, and your mom took the credit for it. And, your dad being the man he had always been for her, had let her have that. Let her take credit where it was due him. She ‘took credit’ so often that she had you convinced, for years, that it was the truth. And, when he left, she took advantage of the newfound ‘hatred’ you developed for him, and used that to her advantage.

Perhaps you’re just easy to manipulate.

Or, she’s just that good at strategically lying.

Jesus. You just wish Jake wasn’t leaving.

⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎

This is your first time at the Kiszka place since Sam took you home the other morning. And while you know Jake isn’t at home, seeing his Rover outside as you pulled into your parking spot most definitely elicited some strong emotions from you. A bit of a jumpscare to see it, to say the very least.

A helpful reminder that he is technically here as he’s working the front office of the complex. So, avoiding that specific area is necessary. If you do that, you’ll be just fine.

And though Jake may not be at home, someone else most definitely is. As if your life isn’t enough of a disarrayed puzzle, the closest spot to park your car in was an empty one right between Jake’s Rover and Sam’s Bug.

Okay, universe. I fucking hear you.

As you’re getting out of your car, you catch sight of Sam jogging toward his Bug, smiling wide when he sees you. “Hey, beautiful!” He pulls you in for a tight hug once he gets closer to you. His blue Patagonia pullover feels so soft and warm against your cold cheek. And he smells amazing, like eucalyptus mixed with the scent a rain shower leaves behind. “Here to help my brother, are ya?”

“Mhm,” you hum into his chest, reluctant to break the hug as it's freezing outside. As you pull away a bit, you look up at him, his warm smile making the cold air a little less crisp. “Are you helping, too?”

“Well, with Jacob taking up my post in the office, I’m free to head to the animal shelter like I’ve been wanting to.” He shrugs his shoulders, his grin growing even wider. “Kind of been thinking about adopting a puppy. Finally have the chance.”

You’d sort of hoped he was going to stay and help, but the fact that he looks so excited about the possibility of getting a puppy makes up for the fact that he’s leaving.

He gives you one last hug before walking to his car. “I hope you find the perfect baby to bring home with you,” you say as he opens the squeaky driver's side door.

“Me too! I’ll see you later, beautiful.” With that, he hops in and starts the ignition as you power walk your way to their apartment, desperate to get out of the cold.

Josh welcomed you with literal open arms when he let you inside, hugging you tight against his soft beige sweatshirt before you could walk all the way in. The display of affection made you breathe a sigh of relief. You’re glad to know that your friendship with him is okay despite everything. In truth, you have been a bit worried about that, given Jake is his literal twin. It would only make sense he’d choose his side over yours.

But what you’ve learned about Josh in the few months you’ve known him, is he’s the most unbiased, loving ray of pure sunshine who doesn’t hold anything against anyone.

He's the kind of person anyone would be so lucky to have by their side. And you just so happen to be one of those lucky few.

“Talk to me,” he says as he pulls out a chair for you to sit at the dining room table. He then sits at the chair right next to yours, turning it completely so that his entire body is facing you, his way of letting you know you’ve got his undivided attention. “Are you doing alright?”

“I’m doing fine! Stressing about finals, but other than that I–”

“No,” he interrupts, crossing one khaki-clad leg over the other and folding his arms over his chest. “You know what I’m talking about.” He leans his body against the back of the chair, getting himself nice and comfortable as he’s prepared to hear the truth about how you’re actually doing. “You can’t hide from me, y/n.”

Well. Perhaps he’s correct about that. You’ve almost always been able to hide the way you truly feel from people, but when you moved here to Michigan, you found it much harder to do so with the people you’ve befriended.

There’s no answer as to why they are able to see you so vastly different than anyone else in your life ever has. They just do. The fact that they see you at all is a wonder entirely unheard of to you.

In a display of defeat, your body slumps down in your chair, your elbow meeting the table as you move your head to rest against the hand of the same arm. “I’m…a little sad, I guess. I don’t know, I just –,” This new territory of expressing whatever the fuck is happening in your mind is not exactly a comfortable place for you just yet. And you’ve had to do it an awful lot as of late. Jesus. Your emotions could use a fucking rest. “I thought things were going well. Better than they actually were. I can’t – I just don’t really know how to articulate it.”

“Trouble articulating is certainly not something you need to worry about with me,” Josh giggles, unquestionably referring to his slightly long winded rambles that sometimes take awhile to get to the point he’s trying to make. That characteristic just so happens to be one of your favorite things about him.

But just as he’s about to finish his thought, your whole body stiffens in fear as you hear the front door unlock and begin to open. Glancing at your phone, you note that it’s not even two yet, so surely it can’t be him…right?

The door opens a little more, and your breath is held tight in your lungs at the possibility of who’s behind the frame, your body frozen in your chair, entirely unable to move a muscle.

Dear god, please no.

“Well hello, darling!” Josh lovingly boasts as Malachi struggles to walk inside with his hands full of carryout bags from Shake Shack, impressively juggling his keys and phone all at the same time.

Thank fuck.

Not that you don’t love to see Malachi all the time, but you’ve never been happier to see him than you are right at this very moment.

“I know you’re a little busy, babe,” Chi says, struggling to find his footing and a free hand to shut and lock the door with. “But I could really use a little help making sure the food actually makes it to the table.” One of the bags falls from his fumbling hand, but with pure grace and luck, he somehow catches the handle with the tip of his foot, bending his knee so that the bag is suspended from the ground.

Josh yells a monstrous laugh, clapping as he bolts out of his chair with such speed that the whole thing slams on the ground. “That was talent, baby!,” he shouts, jogging his way over to lend Chi a hand before he loses his balance.

He grabs the bag still dangling from Chi’s foot, finally giving the poor man back his footing. You smile as you watch Josh lift on the tips of his toes to plant a big smooch on his cheek. “Thanks for picking up lunch, babe.”

“Mhm,” Malachi hums as they bring the bags over to the table you’re still sitting at. “Wasn’t sure what to get you, y/n,” he says as he and Josh are moving the fast food contents from the bag to the table. “I hope a grilled cheese and some fries are okay!”

You didn’t know food would be involved today, but you are hungry. Extremely hungry, in fact. Needless to say, meals have been even harder since you discovered Jake’s little secret. Just one more thing to add to the endless triggers as of late.

And though eating is hard right now, a grilled cheese is actually one of your safe foods, something you’ve never been too anxious to eat. A childhood staple that’s never been too much, yet just enough. “You can never go wrong with melted cheese on toast,” you say to Chi. “You really didn’t need to get me anything, but I appreciate it.”

“My thoughts precisely. And it was no problem at all,” he remarks as he sets the meal down in front of you, along with a few crumpled up napkins. It smells so wonderful. You’ve suddenly gotten the urge to rip open the foil wrapper around the sandwich and scarf the whole thing down as quickly as you can. Of course, that’s not what you’ll do. One bite at a time like a normal, not ravenous person will do just fine.

“You two get anything done while I was out?” Chi asks as you take your first bite, letting the warm cheddar sit on your tongue for a moment, relishing in the melted gooeyness.

He pulls out the chair on the end of the table beside Josh, digging into his own food once he sits down next to his partner who’s nearly finished his burger already.

“Not quite,” Josh answers, mouth full of food, wiping ketchup globs from the sides of his lips with his napkin. “We’ve been catching up, haven’t we?” He looks to you, smacking his food and winking. “And don’t think we’re done with our conversation just yet, sweetheart.”

Dammit.

“Ah, the Jake drama, I take it?” Chi speculates, examining his burger with a huff of irritation. “They never remember to leave off the damn pickles.” Begrudgingly, he peels them off the patty, one by one, tossing them in one of the bags he brought the food in.

“Picky picky,” Josh teases, tossing his trash in the same bag with the forsaken pickles. “Anyway, as I was saying,” he begins, dusting the salt from the fries off his hands and turning his chair back to face you. “We’re not done talking about this.” His hands reach for yours, cupping one the one not holding your grilled cheese between his two palms. “I don’t want you to let anything that happened with my brother make you feel like you should keep your distance from us.”

You know he’s referring to his multiple attempts at reaching out to you, inviting you over, eliciting your help on the film. He’s certainly been trying to keep you around, and while you’ve never really been able to identify your self worth, the fact that he’s gone to all of this trouble just to maintain a friendship with you truly does make you feel good. Really good, actually.

You’re suddenly feeling incredibly horrible for ignoring his endeavors. Avoiding Jake doesn’t mean you need to avoid Josh, or Malachi, Sam…

They are extensions of Jake, to a degree. But they aren’t Jake. You can have relationships with them without the addition of Jake. If they’re okay with it, then so are you.

“I won’t,” you confirm with a deep sigh, setting your sandwich with a few small bites out of it down on the foil it was wrapped in, deciding you’ve had enough. “I promise.”

You’re glad Josh hasn’t decided to cut you out completely, because losing Jake is hard enough as it is. It would be much worse if everyone decided you were no more than an insignificant fling in Jake’s life (which could still be the case… for Jake, at least.) and chose to cut you off when he did.

But you can’t help but wonder why no one thought to mention it to you, or why it was never brought up. Obviously, Jake’s decision wasn’t on a whim, or some spur of the moment choice to move to another country. This had to have been in the works for a long time now. And you know his brothers knew about it. They’re his brothers, for christ sakes. One of whom literally shares his DNA.

Aside from that, Jake’s job as co-business-runner of this incredible complex is far too important to just leave without warning. There have no doubt been several talks amongst all of the Kiszkas. And surely, they’ve begun the process of hiring someone in his place by now. (The mere thought of all of these loose ends getting tied up sucks, by the way. Makes it all the more real that he’s actually leaving to live in an entirely different fucking country.)

So, a question that’s been sitting in your mind, festering, lingers.

“Can I ask you something, though, Josh? And I want you to be honest with me.”

You’ve certainly piqued Josh’s interest. He sets his burger back down on the table just as he’s about to take a bite, choosing you to give you his full attention. “Of course, love,” he says.

“Why didn’t anyone tell me he was leaving? I’m far past done trying to comprehend Jake’s silence about the whole thing. I cannot wrap my mind around that—.” Shifting your weight in your chair, you try shrugging off the tension forming in your body at the thought. Tugging at the sleeve of your sweatshirt, you let out a heavy sigh as you stare at your fidgeting hands. “But I just want to know how come no one warned me. I mean, I know we weren’t exactly public about…,” you pause, thinking of the right word that describes what you and Jake are – were. “...our thing together. But we didn’t really hide it, either. So, I guess what I’m trying to say is I feel like someone should’ve told me, you know?”

You peer at Josh through your lashes, having felt far too nervous to look at him until you said what you needed to say. His hand is rubbing at the back of his neck, his lips curled in a nervous grin. “Well,” he begins, fluffing the curls sitting on his forehead with the back of his hand. “I can’t argue that, my dear. You’re right; someone should’ve told you. It’s not that I didn’t want to – I was obligated by oath.”

“Oath?” You question, finding yourself awfully intrigued by this now-apparent promise to keep quiet.

“He made me – us – vow not to tell you, or to let on to it until his timing felt right.” He shrugs his shoulders, uncrossing his legs and places his hands in his lap. “I trusted that he’d find the right time and the right way to present it to you. He fucked his entire plan up. The whole goddamn thing.”

Us? Plan?

You’re hearing Josh’s words, but you’re growing increasingly frustrated over the fact that it seems everyone knew before you did. Along with the frustration is the maddening confusion that seems to relentlessly linger. “Who’s us?” You ask, fighting the frustration seeping out through your tone of voice. It’s not Josh’s fault, you know that. He’s not the one you’re upset with, and you don’t want him to think your anger is toward him.

“Well, Malachi and I,” he says as he gestures toward his partner who’s just finished his burger. “And Sam.”

Sam? He talked to Sam about this? Your heart practically skipped a beat at the mention of his name.

“But he hadn’t told Natalia or Danny yet. He didn’t trust those two to not spill the beans,” he giggles, Chi joining him with an agreeing smile.

He’s certainly correct about that. Nat wouldn’t have kept something like this from you, wouldn't have let him keep it from you. She would’ve made him tell you.

So, yeah. He was smart in keeping her out of it. And telling Danny would mean practically the same thing as telling Nat.

But if he asked Sam to keep it from you, wouldn’t that mean Sam was privy to your situationship? He acted like he had no idea you two were a thing…acted? It certainly makes more sense to you that Sam would’ve known this whole time. How could he not? The times you and Jake snuck off together and weren’t seen for the rest of the night, or the unspoken glances and subtle touches you’ve shared in front of everyone. The fact that you completely ghosted Sam when things with Jake were picking up.

Surely he knew before he found out about your birthday date with Jake. It’s possible that he really was naive and oblivious to it, but you also can’t help but wonder if there’s more to it than that. Especially considering what Jake said to him on the phone the morning he took you home.

What if he has known this whole time, but chose to ignore it? What if he was waiting for the moment Jake would fuck up and you’d turn to him once again?

Jesus. That’s a lot to take in, and you’re in no place emotionally or mentally to consider all of that. Your fingers begin rubbing away the ache present in your temples, and you feel Josh’s hand reach for your knee to offer you some comfort.

“I’m sorry, love. You probably feel like you’ve been lied to by everyone,” Josh goes on, the sympathy in his voice touching your heart. “But no one had any malicious intent. We just wanted Jake to take the reins on this one and, well, he blew it.”

Yeah, that about sums it up.

“You don’t need to apologize, Josh. It’s not your fault – or yours,” you add, directing the words toward Malachi, who looks a bit uneasy with the direction this conversation has taken. Definitely not what he bargained for when he showed up with the food, you’re sure. One of the most non confrontational people you’ve ever met. “I understand why you didn’t want to tell me. It makes sense. Really, I get it.”

Josh gives a gentle squeeze to your knee before letting go, offering a sweet, apologetic smile. “I’ll tell you one thing,” he says, chuckling softly through his nose. “I’ve never seen him this…,” he pauses, raising his hands as though he’s reaching for the right word. “...entranced before. And don’t you dare let on that I told you this,” he says, waving his index finger toward you. “But he’s absolutely captivated by you, my dear.”

You cock an eyebrow at Josh’s words, feeling a mix of emotions about it. You know Josh wouldn’t lie to you, but you can’t fight the lingering sense of doubt over what he’s saying.

The way your stomach tightens and then flutters at his words, though… The idea that you ‘captivate’ him in a way his own twin has never witnessed another woman ‘captivate’ him — it makes your skin tingle in a way that has you reminiscing. Reminiscing on the evening of your birthday…

But, when you think about the night of your birthday, when he played Lenny for you and handed you that part of his heart, it does make you wonder if it could be true, that he is captivated by you.

You can’t be certain about how he feels, but what you do know is you are undoubtedly captivated by him. In every way, unfortunate as it may be.

⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎

“My god,” you mutter as you’re seeing the first clips of the film. The picture is beautiful. The cinematography is beyond what you imagined, like a movie with a billion dollar budget, set to be released on silver screens around the globe.

The fact that your group of people, that Josh was able to produce something of this magnitude…

You knew it would be beautiful. But you didn’t realize it would be this professional.

“Josh, this is –,” you say, watching only the exterior shots he grabbed to set the scene. “Wait –, “ You press the spacebar on the laptop to pause the video, looking at Josh who’s grinning into the palm of his hand at your reactions. “I didn’t know you had a drone!”

The footage is of a mountainous landscape, from above it. He’s slowed the video down, letting the powerful cinematic music play over the view of the lush peaks. The camera rounds the mountains, hovering above a crystal lake glittering at their bases. It then turns to the field of trees next to the water, their leaves in full evergreen wonder. He must’ve filmed this at the beginning of August, as the colors of the trees are exactly as they were when you moved here. You remember, because they charmed you instantly.

“You like it?” He eagerly asks, anxious excitement laced in his voice. “I thought the drone footage added a bit of je ne sais quoi to the piece.” He kisses the tips of his fingers in a chef's kiss of sorts, in regards to his work.

Awestruck is the only word that appropriately encapsulates how you’re feeling as you watch this masterpiece, and you’re hardly two minutes in. The quality is perfect. The colors are so rich and deep. How a college student managed to create this is absolutely beyond you. Then again, this is the mind of Josh you’re witnessing. After months of working with him, seeing his gorgeous visions come to life, you really shouldn’t be all that surprised. You’ve been utterly impressed by him since day one of working with him.

“It’s beautiful, Josh. Better than any movie that’s come out in the last few years.”

He laughs shyly, pausing the film with a tap against the space bar. “I can’t accept that, y/n. But, it most definitely means a great deal coming from you.”

“Don’t inflate his ego,” Malachi chuckles, gathering all the trash from lunch on the dining table. He leans down to Josh, whose face is contorted in annoyance, offering an apologetic kiss. Josh lifts his hand just as their lips are about to meet, so Chi’s lips land on his flattened palm. “Awe, c’mon, babe. I just was joshin’ ya.” Chi winks in your direction, grinning mischievously from the corner of his mouth.

You can’t help but giggle, holding your hand up to your mouth to suppress how hard you truly want to laugh.

“You are done,” Josh says, holding back his desire to laugh by brushing down the slides of his mustache. “I believe the costume picker-outer is no longer needed during the process of editing the film. You know, since the costumes are already picked out and filmed.”

Malachi winces as he tosses the fast food trash in the trash can, clicking his tongue. “Ouch, babe. Got me there,” he says, sarcastically, strutting back toward the table and leaning down to Josh once again. “This costume picker-outer is going to take a nap and leave his brilliantly callous boyfriend to edit in peace.” They both giggle, and Josh finally gives in and gives Chi the kiss he went for earlier.

As Malachi heads up the stairs, you notice the blush in Josh’s cheeks as he scrolls through the footage on his laptop. “You guys are sickeningly cute,” you say.

“We are, aren’t we?” Josh replies, the gap in his front teeth on display with the biggest grin you’re sure you’ve ever seen from him.

⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎

You’ve been looking through video clips for over two hours now, lending Josh a hand in editing and arranging them wherever you can. It’s certainly a bit weird and almost uncomfortable to see yourself, well, like this. You hadn’t realized just how much of you you’d see on the screen. Both in the amount of scenes you’re in and the amount of skin you’re presenting.

Especially those scenes with Sam.

Though it is uncomfortable to see yourself tangled up with him like that on the screen, the way it’s filmed is incredibly sexy and perfectly sensual without it being too much of either of those things.

Josh’s camera skills are unmatched, as you’ve discovered by watching everything back. He filmed all the right things, found all the best angles. The ones of you in bed with Sam, the ones you were most nervous to see, are so beautifully done. You don’t even see yourself in them, you see Guiniverre. And when you see her, you see beauty in yourself that you’ve never known before.

Josh paid extra careful attention to the shots of your body, being sure you’re not in a place to be objectified, but admired. Only very small glimpses of your body are shown, but enough that it’s very clear what is and will be taking place with the queen and her secret lover. It’s simply magnificent, cinematically stunning. You’re proud of it, and you have no doubt it’ll guarantee you and Jake a good grade in Movack’s class for this genius adaptation of the lore.

You’re mesmerized by each scene you watch, but your favorite scene you’ve seen thus far is the one in which the queen and Lancelot kiss for the very first time, hidden in their secret sanctuary in the forest.

It was the first scene you’d shot. You were so nervous; you hardly knew everyone at that time. Yet, it’s the most convincing acting you had done in all of the scenes you’ve seen. Not only that, but it’s the most aesthetically beautiful. The place Josh found for it was incredible, and you find yourself thinking about that little hidden gem amongst the trees behind their apartment complex quite often.

Watching all of this has brought back so many memories of filming. Like that day you filmed the first scene, how Jake was pissed and you got to witness your first twin fight.

As you watched further, there were little clips interspersed within the captured film that highlighted times like that. ‘Behind the scenes’ footage, if you will. The candid moments made your heart skip a beat and your eyes well with tears. A smile, pulling easily at your lips as you reminisced. It was as you reviewed these clips that you truly realized how this experience had been one of the best in your entire life. Truly. This group of people, having changed your life so inexplicably… It made you wonder if part of your reason for winding up in Michigan was to simply meet and love all of them.

These small, carefree moments in time you remember witnessing (others you were sure occurred as you busied yourself with costume changes) — they rivaled many cherished family videos of your own. Because, you realized, these times and these people had taught you an authentic appreciation for life like you’d never had before. Every single ‘outtake’ made your chest ache and long for all of it, all over again. A never changing existence with these wonderful individuals you got to call your friends. Chosen family, even.

Giggles and snorts filled the room at the miscellaneous clips, thrown in at the most hilarious times. Extremely serious scenes would end with a ‘cut!’. And Kiszka mischief would immediately follow in the very next break of camera footage.

You snickered watching the clips of Jake and Sam, stealing the cameras and filming each other at the same time. They were flipping the bird at one another and laughing so hard at Josh throwing a fit over them “mistreating the equipment.”

And then one of your favorite days filtered in. When Jake was practicing his British accent and sounded way too much like Jack Sparrow. His little accent, endearing to you in a way you still can’t describe.

His brothers gave him so much shit for the lilted tone. You grinned as you watched film roll back of them telling him he sounded like the drunken pirate, only serving to fan his flames. Acting like a pirate for the rest of the day, yelling “argh!” at least every five minutes and continuously asking where the rum had gone. (Of course, there was no rum to begin with. Only tequila… a Jake staple.)

As well, you heard him yell “parlay” in the background of some of the clips. You remembered he’d done it anytime Josh told him to prepare himself for a scene. At which point Josh would remind him that they were, in fact, not on a pirate ship and, consequently, there was no captain to take him to.

You belly-laughed harder than you ever had that day. Just as you did watching them now. Josh was so frustrated with him and his pirate antics, but after a while he got in on it, too. Jake’s impression, arguably better, probably due to his childhood obsession, (and his adult obsession – his car is named the black pearl for a reason, after all) but Josh’s, heard again in these outtakes… it wasn’t half bad.

Those days were simply the best, and you’re finding yourself reflecting on them with a feeling of pure joy, with that bothersome undertone of sadness. Though those days were only a few months ago, some of them even less than that, you miss them. You always will. You miss the peace they gave you, the new sense of belonging they provided that you’d never known up until that point.

Things are so different now, and you hate it. You’re afraid you’ll never be able to hangout with all of them again. Things would be too awkward, too tense. Those days are only left in your memory as some of the best days of your life. And your memory, sadly, is probably where they’ll stay.

But at least you have something to commemorate those memories; the film will forever exist in the ethos of time, a visual representation of the moments — some bad, but most of them wonderful — echoed in your mind for the remainder of your lifetime.

“The red looks so vibrant, Josh,” you say as you watch him edit a scene in which the queen is wearing her red gown, the most stunning costume you’d ever seen when you put it on the first time. And the red lips, the special Guiniverre red you wore that you’ll always identify with your portrayal of her (and you’ll certainly never forget the smear of it, all across Jake’s face. The two of you, hidden behind the door of his room). The lipstick in every scene is so brilliantly bright – you knew it would be a staple for your version of her, and the red lips, along with the red dress and Sam’s red costumes are suddenly inspiring you.

“I have an idea, and if you hate it, it’s okay. Just don’t tell me you hate it,” you say, still eyeing the suddenly iconic lip color.

Josh stops what he’s doing as he grins and gives you his attention. He squints his eyes as he looks at you, staring directly into yours and biting his lip.

“I see a glint of genius in your eyes,” he says, staring at you almost uncomfortably intently. He then bends his torso and places his elbows on his knees, making a fist with his hands for his chin to rest on.“I’m all ears. Let’s hear it.”

He’s looking up at you with giant, baby cow-like eyes, lashes nearly touching his dark brows. He certainly looks intrigued, and you’re fighting against the nerves to voice your thoughts to someone so talented. But, if anyone isn’t going to judge you for an idea, it’s Josh.

“The color red is really significant in this film – it symbolizes their lust and the intensity behind their passionate affair,” you begin as he cocks an eyebrow, nodding his head while his lips part a little. “Here’s what I’m thinking. We edit every scene with Guiniverre and Lancelot to be black and white, except for the color red. So, her lips, her dress, the bedsheets, anything red is highlighted as an ode to their passion.” He quickly lifts from his bent over position, bringing his hand up to his mouth as his eyes grow wider.

“Brilliant!” He shouts, so loud that your body jolts. “Your mind is a visionary trove, y/n. What a dazzling testament to your pure genius!” He leans forward and cups your face in both of his hands, planting a wet kiss on your cheek. “How very Spielberg of you, my dear.”

⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎

Almost two more hours of non-stop editing have gone by, focusing on the colorization of the scenes that’ll be mostly black and white, save for the red details.

And just as you expected, it looks incredible. Josh has given the scenes an almost noir effect; they’re grainy and contrasted, very low exposure. It’s beautiful, divine, and so sexy. The pops of red are subtle, yet alluringly effective. It looks even better than you imagined, all in thanks to Josh’s eye for filmmaking.

You both decided on only the intimate ones to look this way, that it shows the significance of their ill-reputed affair and sets them apart from the rest of the film. The only scene of this nature that won’t look this way is the first kiss between the lovers, and that’s simply due to the breathtaking scenery surrounding them. It’d be a shame to take away from that, and Josh believes it makes perfect sense that their first encounter be colorized.

Everything is turning out even better than you could’ve ever imagined. And while you’ve only tackled a handful of the scenes in this masterpiece, you know the rest of this film is pure magic.

It’s getting late now, and you promised your mom you’d be home at a good time tonight. (Not to mention, it’s almost time for Jake to get off work, and you don’t want to risk that intrusion.)

“I’m forever in your debt, y/n. Thank you endlessly for your insight today.” Josh helps you put your coat on, handing you your crossbody once you’re situated in your puffer. “You’re the very thing we needed for this film, I hope you know that.”

You thank him with another hug, letting the embrace linger as he sways you back and forth. You then hear the front door open again, and you look over expecting Sam to walk in with his newly adopted baby from the shelter.

As the door opens further, you look down towards the floor in hopes of seeing a dog walking through. But, what you see is no dog. It’s a boot. A black boot. One you recognize rather well.

The way your heart picks up in your chest, your breath catching in your throat… it’s embarrassing. But you can’t help your bodily reaction of his closeness. His proximity, fulfilling secret desires of being with him again. Secret, ridiculous desires.

And as the rest of him walks in, you’re met with the person you tried to avoid tonight. For obvious reasons, but mostly because you can’t trust yourself around him. Jake walks in, seemingly unaware that you’re standing only feet away from the door. He turns around to shut and lock it, kicking off his boots before he finally notices you and Josh.

You don’t say anything, he doesn’t say anything. The two of you stand still for a moment, sharing an awkward glance in complete silence. God, how you wish things were different.

Josh being Josh, can’t handle the quiet tension any longer. He knows the two of you probably won’t say anything unless he breaks the tension himself. “How were things at the office?”

Jake heads toward the kitchen, walking past both of you to get to the fridge. “Fine,” he says as he grabs a Miller Lite from the top shelf. “Pretty slow. Slow enough that I probably could’ve worked from here and just had the phone on me.” Based on his tone, you’d say he’s still a bit angry over having to work tonight. Also, the fact that you’re still here is most likely not helping.

He cracks open the can, taking a large swig of it before he walks out of the kitchen toward the hallway.

“Oh,” he mutters before as he stops midway to his room. He spins back around to face you, taking a few steps closer. Your heart beats at the prospect of him being nearer to you, even if only a little. “Sorry I didn’t respond the other night,” he says to you. “I had just forgotten to.” His voice is gentle and sincere, yet there’s a touch of sadness encompassed in his words. “So, um, you’re welcome. I hope you and your mom enjoyed it.” His lips form a thin, sweet smile. He nods his head as he takes another sip of beer, disappearing back down the hallway.

You ignore the way your heart falls at his sudden lack of presence. Him, being the last thing you wanted to see and the only thing, all at once. Foolishly, you long to follow him down the hallway.

But you don’t.

“He insisted on bringing it to you,” Josh tells you as he gently nudges you, capturing your attention from the last spot you’d been able to see Jake. Fuck. You let his nudge sort of guide you to the door. He takes the hint and begins walking you there. “Said he knew your cooking wouldn’t suffice.” He laughs, and you can’t help but chuckle a little, too. Because, well, it’s absolutely correct.

As you say your goodbyes to Josh, and head out the door and walk to your car, your heart feels like it’s beating in your throat. There was so much you wanted to say to him, but you couldn’t bring yourself to utter a single word. You only gave him a half smile when he apologized for not texting you back. You could’ve at least thanked him again for the food.

But, you didn’t. And all you can think about now is the way he smiled at you before he went to his room.

It was a Jake smile, no doubt. But it was missing something. What was missing, you can’t be sure. Whatever it was, it has you ruminating on everything Josh told you today. Everything about Jake… his ‘plan’ for telling you about London.

You may never know what his plan was, because you’re not allowing yourself to get close enough to him again to find out. One thing you can be certain of is his plan wouldn’t have changed the outcome. He would still be getting ready to leave, and that alone is enough to force you to keep your distance.

Because if not, you fear you’ll fall for him… Further than you already have.

⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎

The coffee tastes bitter this morning. The cold foam on top isn’t as foamy as you normally prefer it, and the vanilla is, well, lacking, to say the least.

Not even Carmen, the most lively girl with her sweet freckles and stylish glasses, could bring you out of your slump this morning when she handed you your coffee. She already had it made for you before you even walked in the automatic sliding doors, and normally her toothy smile always brightens your day.

But, not today. Not for the last few days, in truth.

You told Nat you weren’t coming to the coffee shop this morning. It was a lie, clearly. And you feel bad for lying, but you need a moment of reprieve before the day begins. A moment away from home, from work, from classes.

Any time you can get to yourself, you’ll take it. Even if it means being dishonest to someone who truly doesn’t deserve it.

You could’ve just told her the truth, and you know she would’ve understood. But you also know that she would’ve fought you on it. You need to be around people, you can hear her voice telling you in your head. You shouldn’t be alone right now.

But you want to be alone. Your longing for solitude as your mind wraps around everything is far greater than your need to be with people right now.

Talking to everyone is just too damn much. Every single conversation you’ve had as of late has absolutely drained every piece of you. There’s no harm in telling a little white lie, if only for the sake of balancing and maintaining your own mental peace.

But, that peace is disrupted, shattered, replaced with pure guilt when your eyes catch the person currently walking into the coffee shop. Her pace is quick as she bolts through the door, her normally tamed curls are full of frizz and tangled in a messy bun. She’s wearing her giant Aalyiah t-shirt with an even bigger fluffy cardigan over it, and baggy sweats as if she had just gotten out of bed. But she still looks beautiful. Beautiful as ever. And, she looks mad. Her eyes connecting with yours freezes you in your spot.

“Just as I suspected,” she says as she stomps over, joining you at your lonesome table meant for two. “Had a pretty good feeling I’d find you here.” She slams her book bag on the table, yanking the chair out from under it and planting herself in it.

Dammit.

“Nat, I’m sorry. I just needed to be –,”

“Alone?” She interjects, giving you the most frustratingly disappointed look you’ve ever seen her give, her voice practically echoing around the coffee shop. “You’re alone all the time, y/n. And no offense,” she insists, yet her tone would suggest that she most definitely means to offend you a bit. “But I don’t exactly trust you to be alone right now.” She pauses, her eyes flitting up and down your body that’s slumped down in your chair. “Are you eating? Because it really doesn’t look like it.”

One way to irritate you is to take away something you feel you’re entitled to, like having alone time. No matter how much of it you have or need. And another way to irritate you is when someone insinuates that you’re not allowed to do the things you need to do in order to cope.

Everyone deals with shit in different ways. Some need to be surrounded by people, some need to have time to reflect on their own. You just so happen to be in the latter category. Just because someone doesn’t handle things the same way as you, doesn’t make them wrong in doing so.

And, to bring up your eating?

No. That has quite literally nothing to do with what’s going on right now and you do not want to entertain that at the moment.

You know she cares. She probably cares more than anyone else. But she’s bordering on the line of being downright rude and, with everything else happening in your world, it’s not the time to hear that your best friend doesn’t trust you. That’s the last thing you want to hear right now, and for what? Because you want to be alone?

“Okay, for one, can you please lower your voice?” You say through gritted teeth, the blood rushing to your cheeks from fear that everyone in this blessed coffee shop heard what she said. “And second, what do you mean you don’t trust me, Natalia?”

There’s a lingering, rancid vanilla taste from your coffee sitting in your chest, creeping up and burning your throat. You feel like you could throw up. This isn’t what you want right now, it isn’t what you need.

The palms of your hands slam against the metal table, then reach up to your scalp, fingernails scratching at the roots of your hair. A display of the raging turmoil happening inside, unable to be concealed any longer. “I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself, Natalia. I can take care of me, my mom, anything. Don’t treat me like I can’t.”

Fuck.

That nauseous feeling is even worse, the very thought of taking another sip of coffee sounds revolting. This fucking sucks. All of it.

You don’t want this with her. And you don’t want her to leave you because of this, because of who you are. But you’re clearly causing her vast amounts of unneeded stress, burdening her with your shit self-esteem.

Maybe she’d be wise to leave you, to end this friendship and find someone else to replace you.

“Got it. I’ll let you be alone.” Her voice is sharp as she stands up from her chair, the metal screeching loudly against the floor as she pushes it underneath the table. She turns from you, beginning to walk away, but something stops her feet from moving further. She then turns on her heel to face you again, taking small steps closer to you. “I know you’re upset with him. And I know you’re going to miss him.”

Her once angry eyes have turned softer, more understanding as she’s staring into your own, as yours begin to fill with tears. “But don’t let him be the only reason you care about yourself. Because what will you do when he leaves, hm?”

The tears that were filling your eyes are now streaming down your cheeks, warm and salty to the taste when they reach your lips. She moves even closer, her hand reaching for your shoulder, her touch offering a gentle reassurance. “I love you, okay? Don’t try to push me away.”

With that, she leans down to kiss the top of your head, then walks away toward the glass doors she entered just moments ago. With blurry eyes, you watch her walk to her car through the window.

You shouldn’t have lied. You know that. Being honest with her would’ve made this whole situation fair much better. She’s just looking out for you, and her love is a bit tougher than what you’ve been used to. While you wish she’d show you more careful love, perhaps tough love is what you truly need. And perhaps she is aware of that as well.

Even though it’s something you’re not entirely familiar with, deep, deep down, you are grateful for it. She forces you to question the way you care for yourself, she forces careful self-reflection when it’s not something you’ve ever really done.

One thing you know, undoubtedly, is that you can’t let yourself lose her.

Deciding it’s time to swallow your pride, and when you realize she’s still sitting in her car that hasn’t moved, you gather your bags, toss the revolting remains of your coffee in the trash, and speed walk your way outside.

She’s staring at her phone when you walk up to her driver's side window, lost in a mindless scroll through TikTok, slumped in her seat. She’s aware of your presence, that much you can tell. It’s obvious she’s waiting on you to make the first move. (Though, in your mind, walking out here in the first place was the first move.)

Alas, you’ll give in to her stubbornness. With your fingernail, you lightly tap it against the glass to get her attention. It’s clear she’s fucking with you when she doesn’t acknowledge you right away. So, you tap the glass again, a little harder this time, and continuously until she has no choice but to humor you.

She slowly turns her head in your direction, looking up at you through her beige framed Ray-Bans. Keeping her eyes on you, and making an intentionally slow effort, she presses the button to lower the window.

“Seriously, Nat?” You say in response, giggling at her almost comical pace with lowering the window. “Are you going to let me apologize to you or not?”

“Oh, so you’d like to apologize, huh?” She mockingly states, at last letting the window roll the rest of the way down. “I’m all ears.”

With a roll of your eyes, a deep breath, a one last gulp of what's left of your ego, you begin your plea for forgiveness. “I know what I did was wrong. I should’ve just been upfront with you instead of lying.” She lowers her glasses a bit more down the bridge of her nose, waiting for what she really wants to hear. “And, you’re right. About everything. I don’t take care of myself the way I should, and it’s definitely been much harder lately.”

With a smirk, she takes off her Ray-Bans, fully revealing her golden irises, like sweet honey in the morning sun. “Yep, I am right,” she says through a snorting chuckle, adjusting herself in the seat to face you better. “And you should also know that you’re a really shitty liar. If you’re gonna do it, at least get a little better at it, geez.”

Well. When she’s right, she’s right. You are a shitty ass liar, apparently, given she knew the very place you’d be. The one you said you swore you wouldn’t be at.

“Do you forgive me?” You ask quietly, internally worried that this may have driven a rut in your friendship. And it’s all your fault.

Without a word, she places her sunglasses back on her face and unlocks the car. “Get in,” she says.

Confused, but in no place of wanting to argue with her, you walk around to the passenger seat. Once you’re in the car and buckled, she puts the gear in drive and slowly makes her way out of the parking lot.

“W-where are we going?” You question, far more perplexed than you were before. She takes a left out of the lot, leaving campus altogether. “Nat, we have class, remember? Women in Literature? We need to be there in less than ten minutes!”

She smirks as she continues to drive further away, ignoring your concerns about class. “Hello?” You try waving your hand near her face to get her attention, to which she only turns to you and smiles.

She stops at the red light, completely tuning you out as she digs into her purse, retrieves her phone, and scrolls through her Spotify playlist. After a moment, she chooses Stay High by Brittany Howard. As the smooth melody fills the car, she bobs her head in time with the beat. The light turns green, and she drives forward, her focus entirely on the music.

You can’t help but laugh at whatever she’s planning, but the potential of missing class is certainly gnawing at you. She, however, appears completely unfazed — dancing to the music, belting out the lyrics, carrying on as if you’re not here at all.

“Natalia Deloris!” You do something you hate other people to do, and you reach for the volume button to turn the music down. “Stop ignoring me! What are you doing?”

She says nothing as she stops in front of the Kerrytown Market & Shops, tossing the gear in park and pressing the button that turns off the ignition.

“Listen,” she says, taking off her seatbelt and facing you, smiling at your clearly confused expression. “There’s no forgiving you, because what happened doesn’t require forgiving.” She pushes her glasses up to sit on top of her curls, against her messy bun that somehow enhances her striking features even more. “I’m not mad at you, dude. I get it. I just worry about you.” She lets out a soft sigh, her fingers drumming lightly on the steering wheel. “I’m sorry that I’m a little harsh with my love sometimes. I don’t always think about how to say things before they come flying out of my mouth.”

That is certainly true of her, but you love it. Her extroverted nature is something you truly adore, as well her tendency to love so hard that she sometimes can’t hold it back. Every introvert needs their extrovert, and you’re so happy that you are her chosen introvert.

“I’m sorry if I don’t show you enough how grateful I am for you, Nat,” you say as you stare down at your lap, knowing all too well that you have a hard time accepting when someone truly loves you. Which means, to you, it doesn’t always feel real. So, you don’t show nearly as much appreciation for it as you should. “But, can I ask you a really important question?”

“Don’t, babe. I know you’re grateful. And yes, of course,” she says as she’s putting her phone in her purse and zipping it shut.

“Why the hell are we at Kerrytown and not in class?”

“Told Dr. Lacey we were with each other over the weekend and that we’ve both come down with horrible colds,” she says, sounding as though she really believes herself.

“What? Why would you do that?” You ask, shocked though, a little relieved to not have to worry about that class today.

“Decided we could use the morning for a little girl's day.” She gets out of the car and you quickly follow suit. “You’re going shopping with me. It’s the least you can do after your little trick you pulled on me this morning,” she says with a stone face, though her contagious smile is breaking through her facade as she begins walking towards a boutique.

“You are such a hypocrite, Natalia!”

She stops mid-stride to the store, turning on her heel to look at you. “How the hell am I a hypocrite?”

“You were so upset with me for lying, and you lied to get us out of class!”

She starts to say something in retaliation, but before she does, she ponders what you’ve said, grinning when she realizes. “You may be right about that,” she says, once again taking steps in the direction of the store. “But my lie was better and benefited both of us.”

You roll your eyes, chuckling at the fact that she will always have the last word. “You got me there, babe.”

⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎

You’ve been laying on the floor in the middle of your room for, what you think, has been well over an hour.

Flat on your back. Leaky eyes staring at the ceiling, tears falling past your ears, wetting the hair behind them.

Before you found yourself here, you were trapped by your own hand in the bathroom, doing everything you could to bring your dinner back up. Everything. But nothing worked.

The intense fullness from the salmon bowl you made sent you careening down a massive spiral. You knew you’d feel this way after you took the first bite of the perfectly baked, buttery fish.

But goddamnit. It tasted so good. So fucking good. And you’d been craving it all day. It was all you could think about. It’s one of the few dishes you’re truly skilled at making, and you certainly proved that tonight. It was the best it's ever tasted.

That’s why you just couldn’t put it down. The first bite turned into a second, then a third, and before you knew it, you’d finished the whole fucking bowl full of rice, steamed broccoli, and the best salmon your hands have ever prepared.

It made you feel good at the time. Each bite was just as delicious as the last, garlicky and lemon pepper seasoned to near perfection.

But the stark reality of it all crashed into you the moment you set your empty bowl in the sink to be cleaned. You felt it, felt the thing you despise the most.

It was the kind of full that made you sleepy, groggy. Your skin felt greasy, your arms felt huge. Your face felt puffy.

And your stomach was bloated. More bloated than you’ve felt in a very long time. It felt like a rock sitting beneath your skin.

The shame was instant. The guilt came shortly after, but greeted you even stronger than the shame.

Once you helped your mom into bed, you locked yourself in the bathroom. And you did something you shouldn’t have done — you looked.

I look fucking pregnant, you thought, your fingers gripping tightly at the protruding flesh. There was no amount you could’ve sucked in to mask it. It was just there, taunting you with the reminder that you did that to yourself.

And then, it began.

The manic research on your phone of ways to get rid of the bloat, how to digest your food quicker. Every site said the same things – consume less salt, drink hot tea, avoid processed foods, don’t eat too quickly.

You didn’t have any tea in your kitchen, and the rest of the tips, well…it was just too late to avoid those things. The damage had already been done.

So, when none of those options were possible, your mind took a much darker turn.

You tried to do it. You did what you knew would trigger your gag reflex, but it just didn’t work. You couldn’t get your finger back far enough, couldn’t keep it there long enough for anything to happen.

So, you turned to your phone again, typing something in the search bar that you’ve never felt the need to type before.

How can you make yourself throw up?

Your thumbs typed as fast as they could. In part because you were shameful over what you were typing, and because you were desperate for reprieve from the far more profound shame over eating so much.

But the first thing that you saw upon your search inquiry was something you weren’t prepared for, something that forced you into a much different reality than you wanted to face.

It was the website to the National Eating Disorders Association, with the words Get Help attached to the link below it.

It scared you. You didn’t expect it. And it certainly stopped you, your thumbs held frozen above the link that begged you to click on it.

But you didn’t. Couldn’t.

You’re not that far gone that you have to seek help in that way…right?

Defeat overshadowed the shame as you slumped yourself down on the bathroom floor, letting your phone crash against the ceramic tile.

And you cried. You sobbed. Harder than you’ve ever sobbed before.

And you let yourself do it. You needed to do it. There wasn’t anything left to do.

Minutes went by. Several of them. But exactly how many, you don't know. You didn’t keep track. The tears just kept coming, and you were in no place to stop them. They were old tears that you never allowed to be shed, and new tears that needed to join them.

They were tears from the nine year old you that grew breasts before anyone else in her class and was bullied over it. Tears from the eleven year old you that discovered she could skip the breakfast her dad made in the mornings if she slept in just a few minutes later. Tears from the thirteen year old you that began skipping lunch everyday at school. Tears from the sixteen year old you that was told she was severely anemic from malnutrition and needed the highest dose of iron supplements her doctor was able to prescribe. Tears from the eighteen year old you that refused to take senior pictures because she hated the way she looked. Tears from the nineteen year old you who was told there was a slim chance she’d ever be able to have children.

And tears from today you. The you that misses her dad, the you that is tired of people leaving and lying to her, the you that wants so badly to love her body the way Jake did.

The you who’s going to fucking miss him.

When your eyes decided to let up, you slowly stood from the floor, grabbing your phone and heading to your room.

And that’s where you’ve been ever since. Laying here, letting a few stray tears fall as they please. You’ve no control over them anymore. They now choose when to cascade down the sides of your face. And you’ll let them. They need to be shed.

You want to talk to someone, but at the same time, you don’t.

You can’t bother anyone with this anymore. Especially Nat, who's probably sick of hearing it by now, and whose voice is currently playing on a continuous loop inside your head.

“But don’t let him be the only reason you care about yourself. Because what will you do when he leaves, hm?”

She said those words only hours ago. She probably doesn’t want to be bothered with all of this again, twice in a single day.

No, you can’t do that to her. She shouldn’t have to worry about you, or have to hear about your pathetic triggers again. She’s too good for you, too strong of a woman to be burdened with the likes of you. She would deny that if you told her. She’d tell you she loves you and you’re the best friend she could ask for. But you know she’s too good for you. (And, deep down, she probably knows it, too.)

But more than anything, what's haunting you is the one person you truly want to talk to right now: Jake.

And you can’t do that.

You can’t just call him up, listen to his voice to make yourself feel better. You can’t get in your car and drive to his apartment so he can hold you. You can’t let him be the one who saves you, because you won't have that option anymore once he leaves. Just like Nat was trying to get you to understand earlier, that you now understand too well.

And she’s right; what the hell will you do when he leaves if you only try to heal because of him?

But, fuck. He’s the source of your safety — was. You don’t know how you’ll ever find that again. And in moments like these, you need that the most. You can’t even talk to him anymore.

So, instead of following your heart, you’ll continue to lay here. You’ll lay here as long as you need, keeping your eyes off your body and up towards the ceiling. Letting the tears come and go as the deem necessary.

Relapses happen. You’ve known that for the majority of your life.

But this one…this one is different. It’s darker than any other time before. Admitting that, even if only to yourself, is quite difficult.

And you’re scared you may never be able to pull yourself out of it. Because, while you’ve been able to do that every time before, this time is so very different.

You’ve always been able to do it on your own. But what if…

What if you really need someone by your side this time?

And what if that someone is currently packing his things to move across the world from you?

You want to heal. God knows you do. It’s miserable to live this way. But your fear is that you’re too far gone at this point, that the hope of you ever being able to eat food like a normal person is dwindling with each passing day that you struggle, each year.

You don’t want to live like this anymore. But you also don’t know anything different.

It’s a sad reality you’ve had to face for as long as you can remember, and it’s one that you’ve had to confront even more so since you moved here.

Perhaps there’s a reason for it.

The tiny optimist in you would like to think that, because this season has been so much more difficult than any other, that means you’re closer to healing than you’ve ever been.

But.

The much larger pessimist in you is fearful that the true reason you’re struggling more than ever is because…

…because this may be your final battle.

The battle you’re destined to fail.

⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎

“Why don’t you like this?” Nat asks you, tugging at the green chiffon fabric sitting against your hips. “This looks hot as hell on you.”

“Nat. Are you joking? This looks awful.” The reflection in Nat’s gold framed, full length mirror isn’t one you’re exactly thrilled with. This is the third dress of hers you’ve tried on and nothing is up to your satisfaction. And of all of them, this one is by far the worst. Swamp green, long sleeves made of the most uncomfortable material, and the skirt bunched up at your hips. Not exactly the way you want to look for the premiere tonight.

“I look like Kermit the fucking Frog in this color.”

She rolls her eyes with an exaggerated groan, waving her arms in defeat. “Well, your highness, I’m just about out of options that meet your royal standards of dress wear for the evening.” She comes behind you to help you unzip the horrid gown she’s put you in. “And Kermit, y/n? You seriously think this makes you like an amphibian with some man's hand stuck up his ass?”

“Uh, yeah. I may as well bring a banjo tonight so I can sing about fucking rainbows.” You pull the dress over your shoulders, instantly scratching your arms once it’s off due to the itchy chiffon that was clinging to your skin. It made you feel suffocated and trapped in its green netting.

“I’m convinced that you’ll find something wrong with anything that I give you to try on,” she grumbles as you help her put the dress back on its hanger. “I give up! You’re impossible to please.”

“That’s not true! You just have terrible taste in dresses,” you say, laced with sarcasm because it’s certainly not the case. All of these pieces would undoubtedly look amazing on her, just not on you. Though, you’re convinced she could wear just about anything and make it a fashion statement.

Her outfit for tonight is the epitome of grace and effortless beauty. The soft baby pink of her soft, velvety gown perfectly compliments her glowing caramel complexion. It hugs her body beautifully, and the off-the-shoulder neckline seems designed just for her, highlighting her elegant physique. Her natural curls, sitting just above her collar bone, are lustrous and full of body. It’s rare that she wears her hair down, but you love it when she does. Her gorgeous curls only enhance her striking presence. She truly is one of the most beautiful women you’ve ever seen.

“I really think you should just wear this one, babe.” She points to the dress you brought to her place with you. The one that’s laying across her bed, the red dress Jake bought you. It’s the nicest thing you own, and you love the way it looks on you. But, wearing it tonight feels weird. It was purchased specifically for your date, and what it now symbolizes for you is deeper than just the gorgeous, satin dress you wore for your birthday.

“You don’t think it’ll be weird? I mean, considering it’s —,”

“It will not be weird.” She interjects your thoughts as she takes the dress from her bed and holds it out for you. “If anything, seeing you in that sexy number will make him regret ever lying to you in the first place.”

She’s probably right. No, she is right. (You hope, at least.)

And, aside from the fact that this dress makes you feel beautiful, the color is fitting given its significance in the film.

Deciding to give up on trying on anything else that you know you’ll hate, you slip into the dress and, for the first time tonight, admire your reflection — something you hadn’t done with any of the other gowns you tried.

“Like I said before, babe,” Nat says, fetching her black faux fur shawl she had you try earlier in the evening with something else. You despised it then, but with this dress, it’s altogether different. “This dress was made for you. I mean, look at your ass!” She looks you up and down, biting the knuckle of her index finger, shaking her head in disbelief.

Your face, completely flushed as you giggle at her remark and contort your body to see what she sees. There is a rather pronounced, rounded curve, the material and fit of the dress accentuating the shape. But, it’s not that impressive. At least not enough to warrant her reaction.

She drapes the shawl over your shoulders, pulling it snuggly around the front. The soft, textured fur frames your neckline in a graceful v-shape, elegantly cascading from your back and delicately covering your upper arms, leaving the tops of your shoulders exposed. It's timeless, and so classy. More than that, it promises to shield you from the biting, Michigan air as this dress wasn’t exactly made for such temperatures. “I love this,” you say, running your fingers over the soft warmth of the faux fur. “It really dresses it up, doesn’t it?”

The confidence in her I told you so smile says she knew all along that this would look as good as it does. “You should never doubt my stylistic abilities.” She heads to her closet, bringing out a shawl that almost identically matches yours, only hers it white. A gorgeous fit with the baby pink color of her gown. Her beauty is simply impossible to ignore.

“You‘re so beautiful, Nat.” She smiles, her perfect teeth whiter than the shawl she’s draping over her shoulders.

“So are you, my gorgeous bestie,” she says as she grabs her liquid lipstick to put on one more coat before Danny gets here.

As you watch her paint her lips, you remember the lipstick you brought that you had planned to wear. And, it’s no coincidence that it’s the very same one you wore for your portrayal of Guiniverre. You grab your cross body from her bed and rummage through it to find the lipstick. And as you’re doing that, you’re reminded of one more thing you brought — the sword necklace. You’re considering wearing it, but only for the sake of the film. (Part of you is clinging to the hope that Jake will wear his, too.)

Standing next to Natalia in front of the mirror, you quickly coat your lips in the scarlet shade, using your finger to blot the excess and clean up the sides. “Oh that color is perfect,” Nat says as she’s finishing up her own lips. She makes a kissy face in the mirror once she’s done, leaning over like she’s about to plant one on your cheek until her phone begins ringing.

“I bet that’s my Prince Charming ready to whisk us away to the royal ball,” she says, tilting her chin upward in a regal pose, waving her hand in as though she were a true Princess. “You ready, babe?”

Mimicking her royal stance, you link arms with her and practice your very own Princess wave, thinking of the way Princess Mia learns to do it in The Princess Diaries. “Thou art ready,” you say, in your best (albeit, horrible) British accent. (Jake would certainly be disappointed.)

As you’re heading out of her room, walking arm in arm to the front door, you’ve suddenly remembered something you forgot. “One sec,” you say as you unlink your arm from hers. “I left something in my bag. You go ahead and go out, I’ll be there in a minute.”

She dances her way out of the door, humming some tune that sounds like something from a Disney movie. “Don’t keep us waiting, darling! The King anticipates our arrival!”

Walking as fast as your heels will allow, you reach her room and grab your bag sitting on her bed. The sword charm is the first thing you see as you unzip it, and without much of a thought, you pull it out, placing it around your neck.

The clasp is tricky without someone to help you, but after a few tries, it’s finally secured.

After one more glance in the mirror, finger combing your bangs and adjusting the necklace so it sits just right against your chest, you decide it’s the perfect final touch.

And with that, you head out the door to begin what you’re certain will be an unforgettable evening. (For many, many reasons.)

⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎

The neon lights reading ‘FOX’ can be seen blocks away from the building they’re lit against, practically blinding against the stark contrast of the night sky. Glorious reds and blues glow with the sparkling stars, illuminating the city with their gleam. It’s an incredible sight to behold, adding to the seemingly endless reasons you’ve fallen madly in love with this city.

“Wait, is that where we’re going?” You ask as Danny makes a sharp turn on Woodward avenue, coming closer to the theatre and essentially answering your question as he pulls into the private parking lot across from those neon lights you’d been eyeing for several minutes.

“I’m so excited to finally see this place,” Nat says, her voice high in pitch as Danny shifts the car into park.

You knew the viewing of the film would be at least a little more formal than your typical classroom presentation, but you weren’t prepared at all for this.

Formal is indeed the correct word. It’s comparable to a Hollywood premiere – not that you’ve ever been to one, or anything close to one, but this certainly feels like something you’ve seen in the movies a time or two.

Josh wasn’t bullshitting when he told you to go all out with your attire; everyone is dressed to the nines. Gowns and suits, a true black tie affair. You’re suddenly feeling more grateful than ever that Jake bought you this dress. There’s not a thing in your wardrobe that would fit the bill for a night like this.

There are a few students walking in that you recognize, but for the most part, it feels almost too official for a collegiate event. You didn’t realize anything of this grandeur existed within the realms of the U of M. Apparently, this is an annual thing, just before the end of the Fall semester.

Keeping strictly in the English department, Natalia’s never been to one as you either have to be exclusively invited or a film student. She’s always wanted to experience it, so Josh made sure she’d get the chance to come, even though she wasn’t part of the film. She’s one of the VIP guests for the night, listed right along with the cast and crew of the film. Her eyes are practically as bright as the neon colors in the theatre’s sign as she steps out of the car, taking it all in as this was her very last chance to attend one of these things.

Enhancing the Hollywood-esqu aura, a lush green velvet carpet stretches up the stairs to the entrance, illuminated by spotlights that guide your way. You may as well be a beloved film star, gracefully making her way across the grand carpet to the premiere of a highly anticipated movie directed by the industry's biggest names. That's certainly how it feels, at least. And while this event may not have the global scale of a blockbuster premiere, you are, in essence, the star of one of the films being showcased tonight. College film or not, tonight, you truly feel like you might be someone special.

“Holy fuck,” Nat mutters under her breath as the two of you take anxious steps along the carpet together with your arms linked together and clutching your shawls in the wake of the cold air, Daniel towing closely behind. “This is…insane, right?

She took the words right out of your mouth. “That’s putting it lightly, Nat.”

“I think I’m a little underdressed,” Danny giggles as you get closer to the two ushers in full tuxedos, coat tails and all, greeting you as you approach the doors.

“Welcome to The Fox, ladies,” one of them says before noticing the tall man in a black turtleneck and maroon slacks following behind you, awkwardly waving to get their attention. “My apologies,” he continues. “And gentleman.” They each open the doors on their respective sides, and when you catch the first glimpse of what’s behind them, your breath is completely sucked away from your lungs. You’ve never seen anything more magnificent in all of your life.

East Asian architecture is an art deco lover's dream. The colors are so full, so rich, mimicking the ones glowing on the outside of the building. The intricately designed ceilings, golden and lined with chandeliers, practically reach the height of the stars.

Another staircase, with statues of lions with jeweled eyes guarding the base of the railings, is in front of you, leading where you can only assume will hold the evening's main event. The only thing you can think to compare it to is the grand staircase depicted in the Titanic, though you’ve got a feeling this may be even more majestic than anything James Cameron could ever hope to produce.

“Pretty sweet, isn't it?” Danny says, standing behind the two of you with a hand on each of your shoulders as you’re both left awe-struck by the vision before you. “Been to quite a few musicals here with my family. I promise you, it’s just as beautiful every time I see it.”

Approaching you is yet another usher, dressed in full black tie with a clipboard held in his hands. After greeting the three of you, he glances down at the list attached to the clipboard, taking his pen and making marks. “You’re here as guests of Mr. Kiszka, I presume?” He asks, as though he’d been waiting on the three of you to arrive. He smiles as you each confirm, making one last mark on his list. “Right this way.”

With that, you’re led up the grand set of stairs. Nat takes your arm once more, giggling as Danny is stuck walking behind you two again.

There are hundreds of seats with gold crowning, upholstered with red velvet, facing a giant screen that’s framed by a curtain the same shade of red as the seats.

This is certainly not the kind of theater you had in mind when Josh explained what tonight would entail. You expected a classic AMC or a Regal. Not this.

The theaters back home are nothing like this one. In the almost six months you’ve lived here, you’d never once driven by the Fox Theatre. It was forty minutes away from your home in Ann Arbor, but still. You’d never even heard of it, which is mind boggling considering the sheer history this place must have. Apparently, this place is quite the home for the prestige around here. This city will never stop surprising you, and you fall in love with it a little more each day.

The usher has led you all the way to the first row of the orchestra pit that’s blocked off with red ribbon, a sign reading "Reserved” attached to them. Each seat has a name card on it, and once you find yours, you’re appalled when you read the names on the seats yours is between.

Samuel Kiszka on your left, Jacob Kiszka on your right.

While you’re not entirely certain, you do have a pretty good feeling you know who’s behind this.

Thank you, Joshua.

Jake and Sam aren’t here yet, of course. Nor is your director and his partner. The Kiszkas are notorious for showing up at least a little late everywhere they go, but you thought for sure they’d break that late streak for tonight of all nights. But, no. They have yet to make their grand arrival. And that is only serving to heighten your already shot-to-hell nerves. Not knowing when Jake and Sam will be here, if they’ll show up together, what their reactions to this little seating arrangement will be that you will get to witness first hand.

Aside from all of that, the thing that’s really tying your nerves in knots is what Jake will be wearing tonight. Something regal, you’re sure. He’ll no doubt sport his necklaces, maybe a hat. Perhaps he’ll wear something all black – your ultimate weakness – sleek, irresistibly sexy…

Fuck. Just thinking about it makes your core ache, but also hurts your heart with just as much intensity given the circumstances with him right now.

And then, there’s Sammy, who will be on the other side of you all evening. He elicits an entirely different set of emotions from you. Emotions that are just as complicated as the ones you feel with Jake, but in ways that are completely unique to Sam.

Jesus. Though you know it’s an unrealistic wish, you hope that somehow the two of them just decide to not show up tonight, save you some of the agony of sitting right in the middle of them. But, you know them both better than that. They wouldn’t dare miss an opportunity to support their brother. And that’s why you are here, too. To cheer on Josh, to show him the love and admiration he deserves after pouring all of himself into this film.

You’re just so grateful to be a part of it. The fact that it’s all coming to an end tonight dares to bring a few tears to your eyes.

“Bitch,” Nat whispers as she takes her seat next to the empty one that will be Sammy’s, throwing you a look after reading the names on either side of you. Her hand flies up to her mulled wine-painted lips, muffling a laugh at the pure irony of the situation and the discomfort you’re sure is evident in your features.

Danny, already seated in his assigned chair near the end of the row next to Nat, leans over her to see what the fuss is all about. And when he realizes it, he is having a hard time not laughing at the matter as well. “Big yikes,” he giggles.

“Stop it,” you mumble through gritted teeth, deciding to simply pretend like everything is normal. You want to make things the least awkward they can possibly be when they arrive and discover the situation for themselves.

“Hi, girlies!” You hear in a familiar, high-pitched voice. One that you should’ve expected to hear given her involvement with the film, though you truly hadn’t thought about that possibility until this very moment.

And, here she is. Floor length, completely sequined gown of vibrant pink, a slit running all the way up to her bronzed, smooth thigh. The bust is strapless, of course, and her boobs are basically pushed up to her fucking chin. Her platinum locks are curled and feathered to near perfection, her makeup without a single flaw against her already unblemished skin. And a glance behind where she’s standing realizes a fear you didn’t prepare yourself to have tonight – her name is taped to the seat on the other side of where Jake will be sitting.

So, suffice to say, this little seating arrangement is probably the worst way to have placed everyone.

Josh on the end next to the aisle, then Malachi, Danny, Nat, Sam, you, Jake, and Stacy. You certainly don’t hate the universe, but you do wish it would align a little more in your favor from time to time.

“Hi, Stac,” you say as you plop yourself in your seat, feeling the weight of dread over what events the next few hours will bring. “You look beautiful tonight.”

The words felt like fire against your tongue. But, they’re quite true. And no matter how you feel about her, she deserves to know she looks incredible. Suddenly, you’re feeling like you don’t quite measure up. A familiar feeling, one you wish you weren’t experiencing tonight.

Stacy’s glossed lips become stretched over her pearly teeth in a huge smile as she takes her seat, smoothing down a few sequins and pushing her boobs up even more as she does so. “Awe, thanks, y/n!” She says, almost as though she was expecting the praise. She wasn’t surprised by your compliment, at least. That much is evident in her I know, don’t I? tone of voice.

You glance over at Natalia to gauge her thoughts on the interaction, and to no surprise, her lips are pursed tightly, as if to force them shut so she won’t say what’s truly on her mind. Which is almost always a good thing. She’s one of the sweetest souls you’ve ever encountered, but she can be quite ruthless when she wants to be – not all of her thoughts should be vocalized. And when they are, someone will end up with sore feelings. But, she means well. Most of the time.

There’s only ten twenty minutes until this thing is set to begin, and still no sign of a single Kiszka. While you’re not happily anticipating Sam and Jake’s arrivals, you are beginning to worry a bit about whether Josh and Malachi will make it on time. It is his big night, afterall. Showing up late may not be the best look to all of these scholarship funders, with their pockets full of a promising future for only a few of these anxious students presenting tonight.

Josh always pulls through, you know that. He will be here. It may be nearing the very last second that he makes his grand appearance, but he’ll do it in style. Stylishly late.

“Nat,” you quietly mutter, a failed attempt at getting her attention as she’s whispering in Danny’s ear, the two of them giggling like two kids who’ve just said something they really shouldn’t have.

They’re adorable. And nauseating.

“Natalia Delores!” Your voice has a bit more umph behind it this time, enough that her and Danny both now have your attention. Her face says she’s definitely annoyed by your interruption, but you can’t be bothered with that at the moment.

“What, y/n?” She responds, matching your tone almost perfectly.

“Do you think they’d be mad if I switched spots with Sa–,”

“Here we are, sir.”

“Ah, thank you, good man!”

“What’s up, Sammy?” Danny says, lifting from his seat to greet his friend with a full body hug, offering a playful tap to his ass. “Handsome fucker,” he jokes. “You get all dressed up for me?”

One thing you’ll never deny is just how sexy Sam is. He’s gorgeous. He truly does look handsome as hell tonight. He’s donning a full red suit, tailored flawlessly to his physique. Tight in all the right places.

And, he’s matching you. The hue of his suit is an almost exact compliment to your dress. There’s no way he would’ve known what you had planned to wear, so it’s most definitely not on purpose.

But, Jake may not believe that. He just might think it was a deliberate choice for you two to match. And there’s a chance he’ll even be a little angry about that presumption.

Good.

You’ve always known Sam to have a rather eccentric sense of style, but he always makes it work. His style is so very much him. Most probably wouldn’t be able to pull off a suit of this shade, but he just does. He can make anything look good. Anything.

“Only for you,” Sammy winks as he shimmies his way down the row in search of his seat, Nat standing to give him more room down the narrow way.

“You’re right here,” she says, pointing to his name taped on the back rest. “Right next to y/n.” She looks to you, noting the horror in expression you’re sure your features are screaming. You mouth out the words Thanks, Nat and she chuckles, blowing you a kiss for forgiveness that you can’t help but smile at. Fucking brat.

“Y/n! Look at you!” Sam nearly shouts, leaning down and taking your hand, forcing you to stand up. He pulls you in for a deep hug, holding you close for a few seconds longer than what most would deem appropriate. “I like that we match,” he whispers in your ear, meant only for you to hear. His lips just barely ghost the skin beneath your earring. Every inch of your skin rises in goosebumps, your heart fluttering.

“Th-thank you, Sam,” you stutter, keeping your voice as hushed as his. He leans away, breaking the hug and letting you see the smile across his lips. His grin urges one from you, too. His smile is always contagious.

He pats your arm, then moves to sit down. And just as you’re about to take your seat once more, a well-known cologne overwhelms you, a sexy, captivating scent of musky sandalwood that you recognize all too well as…

“Jake!” Danny shouts, echoing across the acoustics as he leaps out of his seat yet again to embrace his friend. “Looking snazzy as ever, I see.” He pats his exposed chest, twiddling with the lapel of his suit’s jacket. Even as Danny’s hand slides down the lapel, your eyes stay firmly planted on the tanned skin of his chest and abdomen. “Where the hell’d you find this?”

Jake’s famous giggle leaves his smiling lips, his teeth sparkling white against the contrast of his all black garb. “Malachi dug through endless trenches to find it for me.” He brushes at each of his shoulders, adjusting the waist of the jacket as he straightens his posture. “Found it a rather fitting piece for the night,” he says, pursing his lips through a smug grin, acting as though he’s the true belle of the ball.

And you are in an even worse predicament than you’d thought you’d be in.

Nat’s eyes almost instantly find yours. Hers are wide and smiling, faux sympathy for you laced in her golden irises.

You’d already prepared yourself for the chance of him showing up in something that would leave your knees weak and your skin on fire. But nothing could’ve prepared you for what you’re witnessing right now.

“Is that hand sewn?” Nat asks, standing from her seat to give Jake some room to head down the row in search of his seat. He nods his head to confirm what she already knows, scooching his way through as you’re practically frozen in your seat, watching him get closer and closer to you. Your eyes are glued to the impeccable way his expensive, straight-leg, black satin slacks hug his round ass. The suit might as well have been made for his beautiful body.

“You know your brother finds only the pinnacle of clothing. He wouldn’t have let me show up in anything less than the absolute best quality.”

“He doesn’t do that shit for me, damn,” Nat snarls as he passes her, his back just slightly brushing against her, then walking slowly past Sam. You’re certain it’s on purpose, but he’s avoided all eye contact with you thus far. And you’re mentally thanking whoever the hell you need to thank for that, because it would absolutely make things all the more awkward.

But you can’t seem to move yourself from your chair when he turns around finally, body no longer turned towards the front to get through. No, he’s now facing your row of seats. And your poor legs can’t handle his proximity, feeling numb at the fact that he’s now so close to you. The thick silvery stitching embroidered on this suit jacket, in the image of a sword piercing his chest, dark red stones, the color of blood, dripping from the blade, are blinding against the black satin they’re embedded in. It’s the beginning of December – the temperatures are frigid. Yet, his jacket is completely open, exposing his toned (and unseasonably tanned) chest, his tummy, all the things about his body that make your head spin.

And, no surprise, he has quite the collection of coins hanging against his bare skin. Some that you’ve seen him wear many times, some that you haven’t. But there’s something noticeably missing.

He’s not wearing the sword tonight, and you are. And you know he sees it. His eyes confirm that as they’re staring directly at your chest where the necklace rests.

You’re embarrassed that you’re wearing it, wishing you would’ve just left it in your purse. Or, better yet, left it at home. There’s no way to know what he’s thinking, how he’s feeling. But if you had to guess, his thoughts aren’t exactly happy ones at the sight of you wearing the dress he bought and the necklace that matches his own that he deliberately chose not to wear.

The air becomes trapped in your throat as he approaches you, his eyes flitting to yours for the first time tonight. Damn this theatre for not having enough space in the rows of chairs – he can’t get past you, so you have to stand in order for him to reach his seat.

But you’re still stuck. Stuck in fear, in hurt feelings, stuck in awe of him.

How are you supposed to stand when the feeling in your legs has essentially vanished?

How are you still feeling this way about him after he lied to you?

As his eyes are still fixed on yours, he takes the last step towards you. He reaches his right hand down to yours, holding his palm up and open, ready for you to place yours inside.

What – ?

Tentatively, hearing nothing but the erratic beating of your heart pounding in your ears, you take his hand. He helps you out of your seat, his dark eyes keeping tight hold of yours.

You suck in a breath as he begins to walk past you, not speaking a word. With the way he’s now turned, you can’t help but notice… unlike everyone else he’s just walked by, his back isn’t facing you – it’s the front of his body slowly gliding past you. He’s so warm, so sturdy. And you feel all of him. And while you may never get to feel him inside of you ever again, you can certainly feel his cock pressed against your front. It’s taking every ounce of strength you’ve got to not let on to what it’s doing to you. The throbbing in your core is enough to make you want to take him right here. And while you certainly shan’t do that, you can at least play out the scenario safely in your thoughts.

His right hand still has yours in his grip, while his left gently grabs your hip. His hand slides down as he fully passes you, his thumb just barely skimming the top of your thigh. His fingertips linger for just a moment longer, before finally letting go of your hand. It’s then he discovers where his seat for the night is, and you can see the slight downward curl in his lips as he realizes.

Now you’re left to wonder – was the indication of disgust over you or Stacy?

Her squeaking voice pierces your ears as she greets him, having no problem standing to pull him into a hug. Something you couldn’t bring yourself to do.

There’s a tightening in the pit of your stomach as you sit back down, feeling far too many things all at once right now. He does look irritated as he’s hugging her back. But, he’s still hugging her. You know him well enough to know that he wouldn’t hold the embrace any longer if he didn’t have reason behind it. It could be to make you jealous, (a trick you’re all too familiar with) or, worse, it’s because he wants to keep hugging her.

Either way, you’re mortified by it. And if you didn’t have as much self-discipline as you thankfully do, you would've used that moment to unleash all your true feelings about her, to her. Just as you should’ve done a long ass time ago.

⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎

“Are you excited to watch this?” Sam asks, throwing a sly wink and nudging your shoulder with his. “I bet we look pretty hot,” he giggles, his famous laugh that forces one from you. No matter how much you don’t feel like laughing right now. Sam can always make you crack a smile.

You look to Jake out of your peripheral to gauge whether he’s listening or not. He’s sitting stone cold on the other side of you, completely still, looking only at the stage that is set and ready to proceed with tonight's events.

He’s still not spoken a word to you. But to be fair, you’ve not said anything to him either. It hurts. It feels like absolute shit. It’s almost like everything wonderful that happened between the two of you never truly happened at all. The slate has been wiped clean, like you’re in the very same place you were with him when you first moved here.

But, the unfortunate part about that is, there’s a painful history there now… where there wasn’t one before.

You almost wish you could go back in time, rewrite the story of you and Jake and take out all of the beautiful things you shared. At least then you wouldn’t have this weight settled between you two as you’re sat very close to one another. The problems you two had would have remained unspoken and left as nothing more than a mutual hatred.

But, nope. That wasn’t what the stars had written for you.

In truth, he should be your date this evening, your other half as you watch the very thing that brought the two of you together, reminiscing about the last few months spent pouring yourselves into this massive project. Instead, you’re both acting as if the other doesn’t exist to either of you anymore. Heavy silence is all that is left.

And that feels like shit.

But, at least you’ve got Sam. And no matter the situation, he’s a bright light and a calming spirit, one that is able to calm yours at this very moment.

“Oh, yes. I know we look hot,” you respond, speaking loud enough that hopefully Jake heard you. Is it absolutely shitty of you? Yes, yes it is. But at least you can admit that. And at least you know it’s sure to ignite a fire in him, get the wheels in his head turning. Maybe even force him to speak to you. Because god knows you will not be the first one to break the ice tonight. Nope. He can do that if he really wants to.

You sneakily glance over to him just to see if he’s wearing any sort of reaction on his cold features.

But, alas, nothing. He’s still staring at the stage, as if his glare will make this whole thing begin that much sooner.

And that thought makes you realize that Josh and Malachi are still not here. The masterminds behind this whole thing, and they are cutting it way too close for comfort.

Leaning over Sam, you reach for Nat’s arm, tapping her until she looks at you. “Where are they?” You ask, motioning toward the two empty seats at the end of your aisle.

Nat shrugs her shoulders, lifting her hands up. “Fuck if I know,” she says. “Josh probably spent over an hour figuring out what to wear, my brother probably had to have at least five outfits prepared for him to try on a hundred times before he decided on something.”

“Fucking diva,” Sam mumbles under his breath, chuckling to himself.

“He is the definition of diva,” Nat confirms. “Beyonce’s got nothing on that man. And Malachi does nothing but encourage it.”

“Speak of the diva himself,” Danny chimes in, looking over his shoulder as Josh is practically flying down the green carpet toward you all, Malachi speed walking close behind.

All of you have now turned your attention toward him, and he stops just before he makes it to the seats to put on a dramatic curtsey, one from each side of his body.

Now you understand what took them so long.

He’s dressed in full sparkle. Head to toe. Literally.

As he approaches his seat, you note the elaborate pattern of rhinestones glued around his black tight-lined eyes. His cheeks are glowing with an iridescent highlight that the bright lights of the theater accentuate gorgeously.

And his jumpsuit. It’s truly unlike anything you’ve ever seen. Full velvet, with a jacket of the most intricate designs you’ve ever seen sewn with beads and jewels. It almost perfectly mimics the iridescent color on his cheeks. Each time he moves, you see pinks and lavenders in the material. Even some blues as he gets closer. And, as a reminder that he and Jake are in fact twins, the neckline is taking quite the plunge down his chest, hitting just below his sternum.

These boys must never get cold, you ponder.

He looks absolutely immaculate. Not that you expected anything less, but still. Josh is the best kind of unexpected. This man always keeps you on your toes, never knowing his next extraordinary move. The traits of a true, professional director who creates the most revered and timeless pieces.

Malachi compliments him beautifully with his black velvet tux. And god, he looks handsome, too. They both pulled out all of the stops. It looks like they both got fresh haircuts, their facial hair cleaned up and shaped. They are absolutely gorgeous, and it makes you so indescribably happy to see them like this on what very well could be the night that lays the foundation for something even bigger for them. Especially for Josh.

If you know anything about film (and you’re pretty sure you do), you have no doubt that this one will be a crowd favorite. No doubt that it should open every door possible for Josh to have a future in this business. Which he very much deserves.

The house lights begin dimming just as Josh and Chi are taking their seats, proving that they truly did make it just in time. How on earth they did that is nothing short of a damn miracle.

A spotlight hits the master of ceremonies, a tall man without a single hair on his head, appears from behind the velvet curtain to thunderous applause from more than a hundred excited film students. Josh whistles through his fingers, and you’re impressed by how loud he is. While you don’t recognize this man, almost everyone else in this room certainly seems to adore him. “Welcome, my dear students and guests, to the annual University of Michigan Film Fest,” he boldly announces through the microphone. “As many of you know, my name is Dr. Steven Turner, and I am the department head for our film studies program on campus.”

After more applause, and more whistling from Josh, Dr. Turner waits for everyone to quiet down before he announces the films that will be presented. There are only three films that will be shown in their entirety tonight, one of them being Les Sombres Intrigues de Guenièvre et Arthur, under the direction of the one and only Josh M. Kiszka.

You felt the thumping of your heart when Dr. Turner said the (very long) name of your film, and it’s truly beginning to settle in that you'll be watching yourself on the screen tonight. And so will everyone else. A crashing wave of anxiety courses through your veins at the thought, tingling under your skin. Your tummy is twisted in knots, your leg bouncing with nerves. There’s no turning back now.

“At long last, I present to you our first film of the night,” Dr. Turner declares, and you’re silently praying and pleading that Josh’s film isn’t first. You need time to prepare yourself before you watch it like this. “Written, produced, and directed by senior Josh M. Kiszka,”

Fuck.

“Please enjoy the debut of his first short-film, Les Sombres Intrigues de Guenièvre et Arthur.”

As he exits stage left, the spotlight begins dimming until it’s gone. Then, the curtain begins to lift, revealing a huge projection screen. Suddenly, it displays the title card of Josh’s film in an elaborate red font against a stark black background.

This is it.

Your whole body begins trembling with unease. The knots in your stomach have turned into pure nausea that you’re trying your hardest to swallow down. But, as the image on the screen shifts to the opening sequence, the beautiful drone footage Josh captured of the mountains, your throat suddenly becomes too dry to swallow.

At this point, the entire row must be shaking from your bouncing leg. You can’t help it. You’ve seen yourself in this film, but you’ve not seen it like this. On a humongous screen and in front of over a hundred people, no less. You’re fearful of their judgements, what they’ll think of you playing the Queen.

The opening footage starts to fade out, and the first thing that fades in – The Queen. In full color, she’s dressed in the deep, red gown, the first costume you had tried on. As the angle widens, Lancelot, in his white velvet top and red cape, is seen standing across from her in their secret spot hidden in the middle of the forest. They stare into each other's eyes, longingly. Hopelessly and forbiddenly in love with one another.

Lancelot, Sam, begins to speak his first lines, the first of the entire film.

“My love. I accept this token and will wear it as I carry you with me, that with it wrapped around my arm, so as you are wrapped even tighter around my heart.”

And then, the Queen, you.

“With it carries the promise you will return to me, unmarked and whole. Again will you lie with me, again will you hold me as tightly as my token holds you.”

As you’re watching yourself on this screen that is larger than your entire apartment complex, your leg continues to bounce, your teeth biting at your brittle nails. It’s only the beginning; there’s still so much left of this film to witness, and you’re not sure you can find the strength in you to keep watching. If seeing yourself like this has you ready to run out of this theater and never look back, how the hell will you be able to sit through what’s to come?

No. You can’t do it. You’ll ask Josh to forgive you later, but right now, you have to get out of here. As you uncross your legs, readying yourself to make a quick and hopefully unnoticed exit, you feel a warm hand against your trembling thigh. Your right thigh. The side Jake is on.

With a downward glance to your lap, you see the hand you’ve come to know quite well as his. You’d know those hands anywhere. There’s no doubt you’d be able to recognize them instantly, even without seeing his face.

Your leg has stopped bouncing, and your body begins to relax as you no longer feel the desire to escape. You feel like you can breathe again, all from the most gentle, grounding touch from someone you’re supposed to hate right now. At least, you think you’re supposed to.

Without being able to stop yourself, you look at his face as he’s absorbedly studying the screen. His lips are parted just slightly, his brows carefully knit as he’s focusing his attention on his twins project. All at once, as though he really wasn’t paying as close attention as you thought, he looks down at his hand that’s still resting against your thigh. And once he realizes, he removes it.

“Sorry,” he whispers, still peering down where his hand once was. “I didn’t mean to, I just, I knew you were –,” he stammers, his raspy voice hushed and soft so as to not disturb any viewers. He takes a deep breath, the hand that was on your thigh rubbing at his lower chin. “You look beautiful,” he sighs, looking back to the screen.

Whether he’s referring to you on film, or right now, you can’t be sure. Either way, your anxious wave has settled to a warm calm, wrapping you in a quiet embrace.

“Thank you,” you whisper, and you’re almost certain you see the tiniest hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

Though his hand isn’t there to offer you comfort any longer, the effects it left are lasting. As the scene in the forest comes to its end, and as the big first kiss is taking place between the lovers, your nerves have significantly calmed down. You’re still not completely comfortable, but knowing Jake could somehow sense that you needed someone, that you needed him, is giving you a sense of peace over it all. He’s still right next to you, and that’s truly enough to help you get through this.

“We look pretty good, huh?” Sam whispers, nudging your arm with his elbow. If you were to be completely honest, you had almost forgotten Sam was here. You’ve been so focused on watching yourself on the film, letting your nerves get the best of you before Jake intervened. And, while you’re sitting here between both of them, just as close to one as you are to the other, Jake was the one who noticed you were feeling tense.

Not Sam, whose smile is oblivious while eyeing your shared kiss projected on screen. It was a good kiss; it was a great kiss. You’ll never forget the way it made you feel, the way Sam made you feel. The passion is there in this scene; it’s there in all of your scenes with him.

But if your memory serves you right, (and you know it does) you were only a convincing actress when Jake was nearby, when he was watching. His very presence ignited something within you, and the only person who could fan the flame at that moment was Sam. So, with every kiss, heavy and full of emotion, you envisioned Jake. Every. Single. Time. And because he lingered in the background for nearly every scene you shot, watching you as you acted with his brother, your performance is far more authentic than you realized — as you were in the moment. Watching it back now, fully edited and being viewed the way it was intended, the affair does appear incredibly believable.

The heaviest scenes, the ones in black and white have finally been reached. You’re taken aback by how magnificent the editing turned out. On the big screen, it’s an entirely different experience compared to watching it on the laptop. The reds are even more vibrant, more eye-catching and captivating. Every intimate moment between the illicit lovers is a beautiful depiction, where the color red emerges as a poignant symbol of their passionate affair.

But, the beautifully filmed and edited work doesn’t change the fact that you are the one portraying the Queen. No matter how many times you tell yourself that it isn’t really you being pictured across the screen, you still see pieces of yourself that serve as a daunting reminder. As someone who’s never been keen on her appearance, it’s certainly difficult to view yourself in such a manner. You’re just thankful that Josh was so careful in the way he filmed you, and even more mindful of your scenes when it came time to edit.

As this vigorous affair is unfolding on the screen, it’s becoming more intense than it’s been conveyed in the story thus far. The camera pans the expanse of the Queen's body, clothed in black lace. The gown striking within the noir effect. You’ve almost forgotten entirely that it’s your body, feeling as though the camera has truly made you unrecognizable as y/n. And, you’re okay with that.

The camera stills on her torso, and suddenly a hand appears just below her rib cage. A widening angle then reveals the Queen in a passionate exchange with Lancelot. Their bodies become tangled, fully engrossed within one another as their love is about to consummate.

You’re beginning to notice a sharp change in Jake’s breathing. Every time the Queen's lips meet the ones of the King's most trusted companion, you see Jake shift in his seat out of your peripheral vision, breathing heavily through his nose.

You know exactly why. Anxiety begins to creep its way back in as you ruminate on how Jake must be feeling. Watching these intimate moments between the Queen and Lancelot transpire on such a massive display, knowing how he feels about the actors beyond the film. The anxiety is quickly morphing into immense guilt, and a bit of shame. Though you know it’s not your fault, it is certainly making you think of other choices you’ve made as of late.

This moment in the film is one you remember quite well. And it’s not just because of the contents of the film that you have such a vivid recollection, it’s what happened behind the camera that makes your heart flutter. As the scene progresses with the lovers, the King suddenly makes a dramatic entrance through the doors of the boudoir, bearing witness to his wife’s best kept secret with his second in command.

You’ve practically stopped breathing at the sight of Jake as the king, wearing the cropped chainmail top and black pants, his sword attached to his hip. He despised the top at the beginning, having an almost visceral reaction when he wore it for the first time. Yet, you remember feeling as though he was the most enchanting vision you'd ever seen before your eyes. That very same feeling is overwhelming you at seeing him wear it again.

As the King begins to speak, the black and white slowly fades away to color, a decision Josh made to symbolize the ending of the forbidden affair.

“I thought I knew better than to heed Mordred's vile words of my first in command. And yet, I find that I needn’t worry of his lies, only those of my beloved and her dearest, both of whom betray their King.”

The King’s voice, Jake’s voice, is so deep and raw, vibrating the floor beneath your feet from the power behind it. As he speaks his lines, your mind takes you back to the day this was filmed. Jake was the most angry you had ever seen him, and he placed that energy into the King’s reaction to seeing his wife in bed with another. He couldn't even finish the scene at first, as his anger overcame him and he was no longer the king you’re seeing on the screen.

He lost control and stormed off set, and when you followed him to his room, you witnessed his unraveling for the first time.

That moment, while you were filming this very scene, serves as the beginning of what has now ended, and seeing a representation of it through the film makes your heart feel as though it could shatter at any second.

Jake’s leg has now begun to bounce in the seat next to you, and you can’t help but wonder if he’s thinking the same things you are. Unlike he did for you, you choose not to rest your hand on his leg to offer him comfort. It’s not that you don’t want to, you’re just not sure that you can. You fear it’ll only make things worse for him, given how quickly he chose to remove his hand from you just moments ago. The touch would probably cause him even more discomfort, and you don’t want to be any more responsible for that than you already are.

In the film, after the King has threatened Lancelot with his life, the scene then shifts to his infidelity with Camillie. This is one you haven’t watched yet, and now you’re understanding what Jake may have been feeling this whole time watching you and Sam.

As the pair begins to kiss one another, the camera closes in on their faces. Watching Jake lips interlocked with hers in high definition isn’t something you were ready to see. And to make this moment much more difficult than it already is, you hear the infamous giggle that belongs to Stacy from further down the row. As your eyes leave the screen and glance her way, you’re wishing you would’ve just kept your attention on the film. Her hand is on Jake’s thigh, and he is smiling.

The rage you’re suddenly feeling is surpassing every other emotion you’ve experienced in such a short amount of time. What is she doing with her hand on him? Why does she think she has that right? Because of her miniscule little role she played in the film?

You want so badly to get Nat’s attention, but it would be inappropriate to do so during the film. And, Nat is just as enthralled by it as everyone else.

And you should be, too. It’s a true work of art, a magnum opus. Why can’t you let everything else rest so you can enjoy what you helped to create? If not for you, for Josh and Malahchi who labored endlessly over this. It’s not fair to either of them to allow your mind to be so preoccupied with other things that you know don’t matter right now.

As Camille and the King's scene comes to an end, it then fades into the final goodbye between Lancelot and Guiniverre. He’s holding her, telling her that he must put an end to this affair, if only to spare his life from the King’s wrath. In a final display of their love, they kiss one another deeply before he sets off.

The moment is powerful, as it shows the Queen and Lancelot doing what they know is right, while the King has just been shown having his own affair behind the back of his wife. The camera closes in on the Queen’s face, tearfully watching her lover fade into the shadows. You’re enthralled by moment, as you can feel the very emotions you felt as you filmed it all over again.

You hear a sigh from Sam, who nudges your shoulder once more as you’re the single shot on the screen. And with the nudge of his elbow, your body is shoved into Jake’s.

You begin to apologize for it, but as you look at him, his eyes piercing yours, you’ve found yourself unable to speak. His face is close – close enough that you needn't hardly move if you decided to kiss him. And the desire is there, no doubt. His warm breath fans your face, eliciting chills all over your body. His eyes begin to move down to your chest, and you feel your nipples begin to perk at breath touching your skin. You know he notices, as you can see the hint of a smile on his lips, even in the dark theatre.

The longing to lock your lips with his is dire. To feel him again, to taste him again; you’d be damned to say you haven’t wanted that this whole night. His eyes slowly lift back up to yours and his tongue glides over his lips, and before you can say or do anything, he turns his attention back to the film.

Taking a deep breath, mentally brushing away any other thought, you do just as he did and focus your eyes back to the screen, watching the most beautiful film progress before your eyes. Instead of wasting this time worrying about what you can dwell on any other time, you’re choosing to witness the retelling of a King and Queen who loved one another, yet they couldn’t be together for many reasons, most of them beyond the telling of the well-known tales.

You know you have a bias, but this adaptation of a lore you’ve studied for more years than you can count is truly the best you’ve yet to see. Josh’s careful attention to the details of the classic story, while adding his own magical touch to the insight of each of these characters – these incredibly deep and complex characters – it’s done in a way you’ve never seen. To be part of something like this, it’s the biggest honor of your life.

As the film is reaching its final scene, you feel tears welling in your ducts as you watch the King prepare his final speech. Jake’s acting is something to be revered, and his portrayal of this timeless character is award-worthy in itself.

As the King, Jake, holds Excalibur high in the air, the tears begin falling down your face as the King bares his heart to his knights.

“Guinevere, my queen, my love, has forsaken our sacred bond for the arms of my most trusted knight. The pain of this treachery pierces deeper than any sword.”

As he proclaims his love and hurt over his dear wife, and his loyalty to Camelot, this magnitudinous film reaches its ending.

Once the final credits begin to roll, the whole theatre starts rumbling with roaring applause. And as you look over your shoulder, the tears start falling even harder when you see a standing ovation from every person filling the Fox. Josh is nearly beside himself when he notices, a look of pure relief and pride on his tear-stained features.

“You did it, babe!” Malachi shouts, standing with Josh to embrace one another. The rest of the row stands to join the ovation, as the applause seems to be endless from the crowd. Sam’s arm wraps around your shoulder, pulling you into a short side hug. You then catch sight of Nat, who seems just as emotional as you are with streaks of black mascara down her cheeks.

And then, you look to Jake, standing beside you and gazing at his twin with nothing but admiration laced in his smile. To see him so clearly proud of his brother is such a beautiful thing, and it’s certainly distracting you from everything else you’ve felt tonight.

The film, and everything surrounding it, has reached its final closure.

It’s done. The hard work has more than paid off, in your opinion. Seeing it like this, played before an eager audience as though it were being premiered in Hollywood, has made everything about it worth more than gold. You’ll still present it in class next week, but this – this was what it was made for. It’s a crowd pleasing masterpiece, and Josh should be nothing but incredibly proud that he is the creator of something so extraordinary.

⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎

After watching the other two films, each of them far beyond anything you expected tonight, the viewings have come to an end. You didn’t realize the sheer talent present at your school, and it enlists a sense of pride within you. These students, Josh included, are so passionate about what they do, and it’s so very clear in every piece you’ve seen tonight. You’re in awe of every one of them, to say the least. But, putting your clear bias to the side, Josh’s film surpasses the other two by a massive landslide. His is as close to perfection as a short film can possibly be, with or without you.

Dr. Turner, joined by four more faculty members from the Film Studies program, walks back on stage to more applause from the crowd. “Distinguished students and guests, we are pleased to present this year's Hopwood Award for Screenplay and Cinematography,” he announces.. “As you all know, students who earn this award are guaranteed a full ride to The Los Angeles Film school, as well as the opportunity to shadow a world renowned director of their choosing.”

As you look down the row towards Josh, his nerves are present in his body language, a timid smile across his lips. You are filled with nerves, your chest tightening and your palms becoming damp with perspiration; if you are this jittery, you can’t begin to imagine how Josh is feeling. He’s holding Chi’s arm with one hand, gripping Nat’s hand in the palm of the other. Touch is his comfort, and you’re sure he’d be clinging to every one of you right now if he could.

He looks down the row as he’s chewing on his bottom lip from anticipation, locking eyes with you as. He mouths the words “Thank you,” and you respond with a quiet “Good luck!” He nods his head, blowing a kiss as you offer one in return.

“After careful consideration, the board has chosen the student whom we believe has directed the most visually stunning and well-written short film. This has been no easy choice, as each film we’ve seen tonight more than qualifies for such a prestigious award,” Dr. Turner says, holding the physical representation of the award in the hand not holding the microphone. “But the student we’ve chosen has displayed time and time again what it means to be a director in a field that requires the kind of talent and discipline that we’ve seen from him over the years.”

Without even realizing it, your hand is gripping your necklace, something your anxious thoughts decided you needed right now. Your pounding heart can be felt against your hand, beating so quick you’re afraid you’ll faint if the recipient isn’t announced.

“With that being said, the student we feel is the most deserving is…,”

Come on, come on.

“...Josh M. Kiszka, for his impeccable direction of the astounding Les Sombres Intrigues de Guenièvre et Arthur.”

The mention of his name has each of you shooting up from your seats, cheering and shouting for Josh as you fight back the gleeful tears. As Josh stands, he hugs Malachi tightly before the two of them walk hand in hand up to the stage to accept the award. Everyone in the crowd is clapping, rallying behind him and encouraging him.

He deserves this. More than anyone in this room, Josh deserves this.

As Dr. Turner hands him the award, he shakes his hand and pulls him into a hug. Everyone from the board walks by to congratulate Josh, shaking hands with him and Malachi, commending the two of them for their work.

Josh is wiping away a few tears as Dr. Turner hands him the microphone, patting him on the back. “You’ve made a grave mistake in handing me this,” Josh jokes in the mic, cackling to himself. There are quiet agreements from each of you, knowing damn well that Josh will talk forever if given half the chance.

“I promise to keep this short. I would just like to extend my gratitude to a group of people that have been the driving force in seeing this dream of mine come to fruition.” He looks at your row, holding out his hand to you all with heavy emotions present on his smiling face. “My brothers, Jacob and Samuel, my dear friends y/n, Natalia, Daniel, and Stacy –,” Of course she had to be mentioned.

“ – and, lest I forget, my loving partner, Malachi.” Standing beside him, Malachi wraps his arm around Josh's shoulders. “You all are the beating heart of this production. Without each and every one of you,” he tearfully exclaims, holding up his award. “This wouldn’t have been possible. Know that my love for you is boundless.”

He takes a bow to the crowd, blowing kisses all across the theatre. As he hands the mic back to Dr. Turner, Josh pulls Malachi close to him for a hug. The two of them, so proud and full of love. It melts your heart in every way a love like theirs should.

And watching them has you longing for your own hug, specifically from the person to your right. But as you look over, he’s already lost in a hug. With Stacy.

Before you can give yourself the chance to lament on it, Sam reaches for you, pulling you into his arms. “Can you believe it?” He sways you back and forth, turning you both in a circle, to where you’re now facing Jake, who’s no longer in an embrace with Stacy.

He’s looking at you, staring into your eyes while you’re wrapped in his brother's arms. At once, you try to pull away from Sam so you can celebrate with the one you really long to be with.

But, it’s too late.

With a solemn smile, tearing his eyes away from yours, he walks right past Stacy down the other side of the aisle. She tries to get his attention, but he’s paying her no mind. You watch him continue to walk, until he’s gone, completely lost within the sea of people in the theater. You let go of Sam, beginning to follow after Jake until you feel a tug on the back of your arm. “Don’t,” Josh whispers in your ear from behind you, his thumb rubbing circles on your arm. “Just let him go.”

⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎

a/n: i can't lie, i'm a little sad the filming days have ended, too. i know this was a lot, & i am once again offering my sincerest apologies, lol. see you in part 2. 😘

as always, thank you all for your love & support. hearing from you guys makes my heart soar, & it truly keeps me going. my inbox is always open. don't ever be afraid to reach out. 🤍

if you'd like to be tagged in future chapters, follow this link or send me an ask/dm & i'll be sure to add you. ☺️ (let me know if i've missed you!!!) (also, i know tags are being a little weird right now—will you let me know if you did/didn’t receive a notification?) sending all my love!

National Alliance for Eating Disorders. Please reach out if you're struggling. You're worth it. 🤍

taglist:

@jakeyt @alwaysonthemend @sacredjake @jakesgrapejuice @misshunnybee @reesetrippingthelight @way-to-go-lad @sinarainbows @ohgodthefeeling-gvf @klarxtr @watchingover-hypegirl @brinlygvf @stardustjake @gretavanbear @gvfmelbourne @devilat-thedoor @literal-dead-leaf @gvf-ficreads @jaaakeeey @capturethechaos @neptune2324 @jaketlove @thetroublegetssoloud71 @myleftsock @sanguinebats @jakekiszkapunchmeintheface @joshskittytickler @violet-hayes @aflameforgoinghome @heckingfrick @fitalich @starshine-gvf @audgeppp @jakekiszkasbuttsweat @ninas-tearsofrain @torniturntomyarrow @beautifulcrayola @writingcold @welllauragvf @loveisonaroll @itsafullmoon @gretasfallingsky @i-love-gvf @kiszkas-canvas @mackalah @gvfmarge @jordie-gvf @gretavansara @highway-tuna @vikingsisthenewsexy @louiseecraigg @hippievanfleet @citylight-delight @blacksoul27

#jake kiszka x reader #jake kiszka smut #jake kiszka fic #jake kiszka fanfic #jake kiszka fanfiction #jake kiszka angst #greta van fleet fan fiction #greta van fleet fic #greta van fleet smut #gvf smut #josh kiszka #sam kiszka #danny wagner #greta van fleet #le morte d’arthur #greta van fic #greta van smut

85 notes · View notes

asacredthebread · 4 months ago

Text

The Art of Surrender

•☽────✧˖°˖☆˖°˖✧────☾•

Danny x F!Reader - 18+

𝙷𝚎’𝚜 𝚋𝚎𝚎𝚗 𝚊𝚠𝚊𝚢 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚖𝚞𝚌𝚑 𝚝𝚘𝚘 𝚕𝚘𝚗𝚐.

Warnings/Themes: Sub Danny, Unprotected Sex, Riding, Begging, Soft Danny

wc; 9105

taglist - @musicislove3389 @peaceloveunitygvf @jazzyfigz @sarahbethgvf @fleetingjake

You sat at the kitchen counter, cradling a steaming cup of tea in your hands, the warmth spreading through your fingers and enveloping you in a comforting embrace. The soft glow of the light above cast a gentle radiance around the room, illuminating the well-loved pages of the book that lay open in front of you. Words danced before your eyes like familiar friends, but time had begun to slip away, each sentence drawing you deeper into its comforting narrative. Despite your immersion, you couldn’t shake the thrill of anticipation that thrummed in your chest, building steadily with each tick of the clock.

With each minute that passed, your mind drifted back to Danny, recalling the way he had kissed you goodbye, his voice soft yet filled with an infectious excitement, promising he’d be back before you knew it. Those weeks apart felt elongated, every day stretching as you inhabited the space he’d filled, his laughter, his warmth. The nights had been the hardest, when the absence of his presence loomed large and the silence of the house wrapped around you like a heavy blanket. You remembered the way his energy had always made your home feel alive, each corner bustling with the remnants of laughter and light.

You occasionally glanced up from your book, listening intently to the sounds around the house. The creak of the floorboards, the quiet hum of the refrigerator, and the occasional rustle of the wind against the windows combined into a symphony of solitude. Each sound pulled you deeper into your thoughts, reflecting on how much you missed those spontaneous moments—his quirky dance moves in the kitchen and the way he’d brush his fingers along your arm as he passed by. Little reminders that built a life together, now seemingly distant but still close enough to touch in your mind.

Just as you were lost in a particularly vivid memory of the two of you, you heard it—the unmistakable creak of the front door opening. Your heart quickened, breath catching in your throat, and you looked up with anticipation. There he was, stepping inside, worn yet vibrant, the world outside seemingly melting away as he entered your shared sanctuary.

His long, curly brown hair framed his face, slightly tousled from travel, and the moment his tired brown eyes scanned the room, finding you, a wave of relief washed over him. You couldn’t contain the smile that broke across your face, an instinctual response to the sight of him. Your heart swelled, feeling as if a piece of you, lost in his absence, had finally returned home. His expression mirrored your own, relief flooding his gaze as if he were drinking in the familiar surroundings.

Danny shifted at the threshold, a hand running through his hair in that familiar way, and the warmth in the room surged. You noticed the slight weariness etched on his features, the silent testament to the journey he had just undertaken. But as he took a tentative step forward, that fatigue began to dissipate, overshadowed by the joy that cascaded between you. The darkness of the night outside faded away, leaving just the two of you, cocooned in your own little world.

In that suspended moment, the air sparked with unspoken tension, your eyes locking in a gaze that said more than words ever could. The weight of the distance fell away, dissolving into an energy that once again bound you together. Danny stepped further into the room, absorbing the essence of being back, the quiet safety of home wrapping itself around him like a warm blanket. It felt electric, the shift in the atmosphere, as if the very walls held their breath in anticipation.

You rose from your seat, the book forgotten, and stepped closer. In an instant, the space between you seemed to collapse as you drew him into a warm embrace. His arms circled around you, and you melted into him, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat against your chest, anchoring you both in this shared moment. The scent of him—faintly familiar yet tied to all the memories you cherished—washed over you, and you felt tears prick at the corners of your eyes, the culmination of emotions threatening to spill over.

“Hey,” he murmured into your hair, his voice deep and soothing.

“Hey, you,” you replied softly, pulling back slightly to meet his gaze. The warmth of his smile ignited a spark within you, illuminating the shadows that had lingered during his absence. You could see the joy reflected in his eyes as he took in the sight of you, and you both laughed, the sound echoing in the quiet intimacy of the kitchen.

Everything that had felt fragmented during his time away began to coalesce into clarity. You could feel the pieces fitting back together, a puzzle reassembling itself bit by bit. In this little sanctuary enveloped in the soft glow of the kitchen light, the hum of your life resumed its natural rhythm. You found joy in the mundane things, in the way his fingers brushed against yours as he reached for a bowl, or the way he cracked a joke that made you laugh until you nearly cried.

As the warmth of the evening settled around you like a tender embrace, the comforting glow of the kitchen light cast a soft halo around Danny, illuminating the affection in his deep brown eyes. Each moment felt saturated with a sense of renewal and connection, a rekindling of a bond that had been stretched but never truly broken. You could feel the air between you crackle with a tangible energy, and drawing closer to him felt both natural and exhilarating.

With a mix of mischief and tenderness, you leaned in, your heart pounding in your chest as you pressed your lips to the warm, smooth skin of his neck. The taste of him lingered on your lips, rich and familiar, and you let the heat of the moment envelop you. Each gentle kiss was a thrill, a sublime exploration of longing that had been building for weeks apart. You focused on the way his skin responded to your touch, the way he shivered and leaned into you, a silent admission of how much he missed your closeness.

You could sense the way his body reacted to you—how the tension in his muscles coiled tighter with each gentle caress, and how his breaths grew deeper, more staggered, punctuated by soft gasps that made your heart race. It was intoxicating to witness the effect you were having on him, to feel his need for you rise and pulse in the warm air enveloping you both.

“God,” he murmured, the word slipping from his lips like a breath of prayer, laced with desperation that radiated from him. “You can’t do that to me and expect me not to… to want you.” His voice was deeper than usual, thick with the weight of his unfulfilled craving, and each syllable sent a tremor of excitement coursing through you.

You smiled against his skin, a wicked glint in your eye as you pulled back just enough to meet his gaze. “Do you remember what I told you?” you asked, your voice low and teasing, inviting him into a dance of playful tension. You watched as his eyes darkened with anticipation, silently pleading for clarity.

He nodded slowly, the admission hanging between you like a taut string ready to snap. There was vulnerability in his expression, and you loved how he didn’t shy away from it. “I haven’t touched myself at all,” he confessed, the admission falling from his lips as if he had been holding it back for far too long. “It was hard, but I did it for you.”

Your pulse quickened at his words—there was something so intimate about this confession, so raw. The anticipation that threaded through your veins made it feel like the walls of the kitchen were closing in, the world outside fading away until it was just the two of you, wrapped in a cocoon of desire.

“That’s so good of you,” you praised softly, your voice dropping to a sultry whisper. The power dynamic intrigued you; knowing he had followed your instructions perfectly sent a rush of pleasure through your body. You edged closer once more, letting your lips brush against his neck, leaving soft, delicate kisses along the expanse of skin. Each gentle press felt like an incantation, awakening a yearning that had lain dormant during your weeks apart.

“Do you feel how much I’ve missed you?” you murmured between kisses, reveling in the way his breath hitched—each gasp igniting the fire in your own core. “You’ve been so patient, waiting for me. But now…” Your voice trailed off as you felt his body leaning toward you, a magnetic pull drawing you both closer. The simple act of kissing him felt like unwrapping a gift, layer by layer, revealing the deep layers of intimacy and connection that spiraled between you.

“Now, I want to see just how long you can hold out,” you teased, your breath warm against his ear. The way he shivered in response sent delicious sparks throughout your body, heightening the sense of anticipation that crackled in the dimly lit room. “Can you do that for me? Can you be good and not touch yourself?”

He swallowed, and his eyes darkened further with burgeoning desire—swimming in need and restraint. “I’ll try,” he stammered, but there was a hint of helplessness in his voice, a soft surrender to the moment. You could see the conflict within him; his body yearned for your touch, but you had laid the foundation for this delicate game, and he was willing to play along, to suffer a little longer for the pleasure of what was to come.

Feeling emboldened, you pressed your lips again to his neck, trailing lower, mapping the soft contours of his collarbone while reveling in each sigh that escaped his mouth. Your kisses were deliberate, slow, teasingly moving against his skin, lingering at the sensitive spots you knew drove him wild. You could feel his pulse quicken beneath your lips, a testament to the fire igniting between you.

“Just think about how good it will feel when we finally come together again,” you breathed, letting the words roll off your tongue like honey. You could see him react physically to the teasing promise—his shoulders tensed, and his breathing turned ragged.

You leaned back again, finally allowing your eyes to lock onto his, searching for that all-too-familiar spark of connection. "I want you to remember this feeling, every touch, every kiss, as a reminder of how much I’ve longed for you. Let this fire grow inside you, let it build… and just hold on." The weight of your words enveloped the air between you, thick with possibility and allure.

Danny’s gaze bore into yours, filled with a mix of need and longing that left you breathless. He held your gaze, a silent agreement pulsing between you—two hearts intertwining in the moonlit whisper of the moment, tethered by desire, but also by the tender promise of what was yet to come. You both stood at the brink of something beautiful, teetering on the edge of anticipation, poised to let the night unfurl its magic all around you.

As the moment thickened with unspoken promises and electric anticipation, you gently took Danny’s hand and led him to the couch. The soft fabric welcomed him as he sank into its embrace, his gaze never wavering from you. It was as though the world around you faded, leaving only the intoxicating intimacy of the two of you in this sacred space.

“Stay right there,” you instructed softly, a playful yet authoritative tone threading through your voice. He nodded obediently, anticipation shimmering in his eyes as you took a step back, allowing him to take in the entire breadth of the scene. There was something exhilarating about having him in this position, encouraged to simply watch. You could see the tension coiling in his muscles, a reflection of his eagerness and the sheer desire that swirled between you.

With deliberate slowness, you allowed a smile to creep onto your lips. “Now, I want you to keep your hands by your sides,” you said, layering your voice with a sweetness that only deepened the gravity of your request. The obedient glint in his eyes confirmed he understood, a silent promise passing between you.

Taking a deep breath, you centered yourself, feeling the confidence welling up from within. Step by step, you began to undress, each movement infused with a sense of purpose and awareness. You started with the hem of your shirt, drawing it slowly up your body, exposing your skin to the air and his hungry gaze. The fabric slid past your waist and fluttered to the floor, leaving you in just your bottoms.

You glanced at Danny’s face, eager to capture every nuanced expression that danced across it. His eyes darkened further as they roamed over your form, filled with a blend of desire, admiration, and a hint of disbelief. His breath hitched, and the way his lips parted slightly told you everything you needed to know; he was completely captivated.

Feeling emboldened, you transitioned into the next phase of your unveiling. You took your time, ensuring that every motion was deliberate, drawing out the tension in the air. You could almost see the way his mind raced as you moved—how he imagined what was still to come and the depth of his yearning intensified with each small reveal.

With a teasing tilt of your head, you let your fingers glide along the waistband of your bottoms, pausing for just a beat, savoring the moment. “Are you watching closely?” you asked, your voice dripping with playful challenge. He nodded vigorously, his eyes locked onto yours with a fervent intensity that made your heart race.

You slowly began to peel away the remaining fabric, the sensation of cool air meeting your skin awakening every nerve ending. You watched his expression morph into one of sheer hunger, the heat pooling in his gaze as you revealed more of yourself to him. It felt exhilarating to see how your actions stirred him—how the anticipation rolled off him like heat from a fire, igniting a shared connection that pulsed through the space between you.

As you stepped out of the last piece of clothing, you allowed yourself the moment to pause, holding his gaze as you stood before him, completely unveiled. The vulnerability mingled with power, and you relished the thrill of it. You could see the struggle within him; the sheer will it took for him to keep his hands obediently at his sides. Every muscle in his body seemed taut, ready to spring forth but restrained by your instructions.

“Look at me, Danny,” you breathed, your voice a gentle command that drew his focus back to your face. “What do you see?”

“Everything,” he replied, his voice low and thick with unfiltered longing. “You’re… beautiful.”

The compliment sent a shiver running through you, and you allowed yourself to bask in the warmth of his admiration. Each moment felt suspended in time, painted vividly with the colors of intimacy and desire. You were in control, but both of you were equally vulnerable, entwined in the dance of unspoken emotions that swirled around you.

Encouraged by his reaction, you moved closer, allowing your hands to trail lightly along your own skin, every caress a shared invitation for him to drink in the sight of you. As you did, the tension in the room escalated palpably, a rich tapestry woven from both your hearts beating as one. You could feel him leaning forward ever so slightly, as if he couldn't resist the pull of your essence, that magnetic force keeping him firmly tethered to the moment.

“Keep your eyes on me,” you urged softly, a hint of urgency woven within your words. Each motion was intentional; you wanted him to feel the weight of your presence, to etch every detail into his memory. You danced your fingers along your collarbone, letting them drift down your sides, showcasing every curve. When you caught his gaze shifting, eager to drink in every bit of you, you felt a surge of satisfaction.

“Good,” you murmured, watching him swallow, every fiber in his being focused on you, carefully observing, desperately wishing for more. His quiet longing acted like a spark, igniting the flames of your own desire—a delicious, heady warmth that spread through your body, leaving you aching for closer contact, yet fully aware of the power of this moment.

“Can you feel how much we’ve both missed this?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper. The question hovered in the air, turning the silence into something tangible, something that hung between you like a sweet tension—ripe and waiting to be broken. The vulnerability shared in that moment was palpable, creating a bond that felt more intimate than skin-deep, interlacing your souls in the quiet solace of your surroundings.

With that, you let your hands fall to your sides, your expression softening as you gazed at him, letting the moment linger in the air, a luxurious pause before whatever came next. You knew you had drawn him to a precipice of yearning, and he waited—breathless and desperate—for the next chapter to unfold. And in that instant, you could feel the world fade away, leaving only the two of you as you held your breath, poised on the brink of an exquisite adventure yet to come.

The charged atmosphere enveloped you both as you slowly moved closer to him, your heart racing in rhythm with the pulsating energy that hung thick in the air. A silent understanding passed between you, and you could see the raw desire igniting in Danny's eyes as you approached the edge of the couch.

With a deliberate, enticing smile, you gently lowered yourself onto his lap, feeling the warmth radiate from his body beneath you. The moment you settled on him, a wave of heat washed over you, a delicious melding of body and spirit that made everything else fade away. You planted your knees on either side of him, positioning yourself just right, feeling how perfectly your forms connected.

And then, you began to move. Slowly at first, rolling your hips against his with a rhythm that felt as natural and instinctive as breathing. The sensation sent shockwaves of pleasure through your body, igniting a fire deep within. You relished the way his eyes widened, the way his breath caught as he absorbed the sight and feel of you moving above him. Each gentle grind was a sultry invitation, weaving a spell that drew you both deeper into the moment.

With every undulation, you pressed into him, teasingly building tension as you let your kisses trail along his jawline. You started at the base of his neck, planting soft, lingering kisses that trailed upwards, celebrating the contours of his chin and the warmth of his skin. As you worked your way up toward his earlobe, you could feel his breath hitch, a stuttered sound that only fueled your desire to continue this wicked dance.

“God, you’re so beautiful,” he murmured, his voice heavy with awe and longing, a gentle tug at the edges of your heart. Your response was a gentle kiss along his neck, savoring the taste of him, feeding off the way his body responded so eagerly to your touch.

You maintained your rhythm, a slow grind that made the world outside your intimate bubble recede even further. You wanted to be intently aware of his reactions, of the way his body tensed beneath you, muscles shifting as he fought to control himself. You wanted him to feel every shift of your movements, every kiss upon his skin, to drown in the depths of this connection you were forging together.

But then, as you leaned in for a particularly teasing sweep of your lips against his neck, you felt Danny’s hands start to drift. His fingers grazed your waist, a subconscious movement fueled by the longing that surged through him. It was an instinctive reaction, a reflection of the need to pull you closer, to frame this exquisite closeness with the touch of his hands.

In a swift yet gentle motion, you caught his wrist before he could rest his hands on your body, holding it steady at his side. The shift in energy was palpable, accentuating the sweetness of your game. “Ah, ah,” you scolded softly, a playful tone lacing your words. “I told you to keep your hands by your sides.”

His gaze flickered with a mixture of disappointment and disbelief, but he complied without hesitation, clenching his jaw as if trying to hold back the urge to wrap his arms around you. The tension between you escalated, becoming electric, heightened by the small act of restraint. His open vulnerability made your heart race even faster, and you couldn’t help but lean closer, pressing your body into his as an added reminder of your presence.

“Good boy,” you encouraged him, your voice barely above a whisper, laced with a teasing edge that made his eyes gleam with renewed desire. “I want you to watch—this is just for you.” The words slipped from your lips, sweet and sultry, igniting a spark of possessiveness in the atmosphere between you.

As you resumed your movement, you increased the pressure of your grinding, feeling the heat radiate between the two of you. You maintained eye contact, savoring the flush that crept along his cheeks, the way his brows furrowed in concentration. Each movement drew moans from him, his breath racing faster as he struggled to contain the storm of sensations swirling within.

The atmosphere crackled with the anticipation of exploration, and you leaned in closer, letting your lips explore the curve of his jaw, trailing soft kisses and playful bites along the way. His scent enveloped you—an intoxicating blend of warmth and earthiness that sent shivers racing down your spine. You wanted more; you craved the deep, intimate connection that lay just below the surface of your playful game.

With each thrust of your hips, you inched closer to pleasure, the friction between you both stirring a wild fire in your core. His breathing quickened, matching the rhythm of your movements, the way he longed to touch you evident in the tension of his body. You delighted in his struggle, every sound he released, and every flare of heat in his gaze as you held him captive in this moment.

“Feel that?” you whispered, your breath warm against his ear as you leaned closer, sending a shiver through him. “Feel how much I want you? How much you want me?” Your words turned into a gentle challenge, digging deeper into the charged atmosphere enveloping you both.

His eyelashes fluttered, and he pressed his lips together, fighting the impulse to let his hands roam. The mere idea that he had to supress that desire was a delicious turn-on for you both. You could feel the tension build—a silent plea—and it drove you to grind your hips against him with even more urgency, each roll coaxing a low groan from his lips.

“Just stay with me, Danny,” you urged, your voice sultry and soft. “Keep your hands where they belong, and let me show you just how good this can feel.” The words were a promise, dripping with seduction, and as you continued to tease him, your kisses along his neck and jawline interspersed with whispers of heated encouragement, you knew this moment was only the beginning of a much deeper exploration.

Time seemed to stretch around you as you savored each sensation, each breath, each sound. The world outside melted into oblivion; it was just the two of you, caught in this luscious cocoon of desire, where every movement ignited the flames of longing and yearning. You leaned into this beautiful, intimate moment, the anticipation of what was to come stirring within both of you like a rising tide, holding the beauty and vulnerability of this connection close to your hearts. As you continued to grind against him, the intoxicating sensations flooded through Danny's body, pulling him further into a haze of desire and submission. The tension in the air was palpable, thickening with every teasing movement and whispered promise. You reveled in the way he surrendered to the moment, his vulnerability enhancing the connection between you.

With each roll of your hips, you felt him melt beneath you, his breath hitching as you moved with intoxicating rhythm. His head fell back against the couch, giving you access to the expanse of his neck, a vulnerable canvas waiting for the imprint of your desire. You leaned in, your lips brushing against his skin softly at first, testing the waters, gauging his reactions.

As your lips traveled along his neck, you began to let your kisses deepen, turning gentle pecks into playful bites. You watched hungrily as the blush of heat spread across his cheeks, a vivid contrast to his usual calm demeanor. Each mark you left felt like a claim, a possessive reminder of the beauty of this intimate moment. You took your time, savoring the sound of his breath hitching as you nibbled on the sensitive skin, tasting the saltiness of his excitement.

“Please… don’t stop,” he whimpered, the plea spilling from his lips in a throaty whisper, both desperate and filled with longing. Each sound he made resonated deep within you, weaving a spell that captivated your senses as surely as your actions captivated him. You could see the battle within him—the craving for closeness, the need to touch and hold you, shadowed by the reminder of your control over the situation.

“Patience, Danny,” you murmured against his skin, sending vibrations of warmth fluttering through him. “You’ve got to remember your place.” The slight scolding in your tone was playful yet firm, drawing out more whines of frustration from him. The contrast between the pleasure you gave him and the denial of touch only deepened his submission, leaving him utterly at your mercy.

You left your mark, suckling and kissing along the length of his neck, relishing in the soft gasps that escaped his lips. Each time you pulled your lips away, you revealed a new hickey, a rosy reminder of how completely he surrendered to you. You adored the sight of him—his eyes fluttering closed, mouth slightly parted, lost in the sensory overload you had created.

His moans grew louder, more desperate, each sound weaving a rich tapestry of need that enveloped you both. “I can’t… I can’t help it,” he gasped, fighting against the constraints you had placed upon him. The way his body curled toward you, straining against the invisible boundaries, was intoxicating. You were his world in that moment, and the heat radiating off him told you everything you needed to know about the depth of his submission.

“You’re doing so well,” you encouraged, your voice low and sultry. You met his gaze, and the intensity of his desire mirrored yours. “But remember, no touching. Just let me take care of you.” With confidence, you pressed another soft bite to the place just below his ear, and a shudder raced through his body, a physical testament to the control you had over his pleasure.

Danny’s submission was a sweet nectar, intoxicating in its purity. The way he let go of all hesitations, the way he surrendered completely to your ministrations, was a power unlike any you had known. You edged deeper into the exploration of his limits, more comfortable with the knowledge that he was becoming increasingly pliable beneath you.

The hickeys you left were like painted strokes on his canvas, a beautiful display of your shared intimacy. The skin beneath your lips bloomed warmly under your touch, and the more you marked him, the more visible evidence of your connection remained. He was no longer just Danny; he was yours, a willingly vulnerable creation molded by your hands and desires.

“Please,” he whimpered again, the sound threading through the air like a fragile thread connecting your worlds. “I want to touch you so badly.” His voice was strained, raw with yearning, and it sent shivers cascading through you. You could feel the pull of his desire, his desperate wish to claim some part of you as you were claiming him.

You responded tenderly, peppering another kiss along his neck, punctuating your movements with a teasing flick of your tongue. “I know, sweetheart,” you whispered, your words caressing his skin and echoing in his ears. “But you have to learn patience. It’ll only make it better when I finally let you.” There was a certain deliciousness in prolonging the anticipation, in drawing this moment out to its fullest extent.

With each kiss, you could see him growing more and more vulnerable, slipping deeper into the warm embrace of submission. The weight of the world faded, and the only thing that remained was the shared intimacy that flowed between you. He surrendered completely, letting go of all resistance, allowing himself to be lost in the pleasure you wove around him.

As you continued to leave your mark upon him, you found your own pleasure rising as well, an echo of the desperation he felt. The connection was potent and primal, and with every kiss, every bite, you layered on the intimacy, carving out a space where nothing else mattered. The deliciousness of the moment enveloped both of you, creating a sweet sanctuary hinged on trust, longing, and an unspoken promise of more to come.

“Just breathe for me,” you murmured softly, tracing your fingertips along the lines of his jaw, watching as he closed his eyes to escape into the sensations you created. You watched him, an exquisite masterpiece of longing bruised and softened by your touch, and in that moment, you knew you would savor every second as you danced together along the bounds of desire and submission.

In that gentle rhythm, you continued to kiss, to mark, to explore, fully aware of the power you held in your hands as he remained open and willing—an offering of his own free will. The delicious tension between pleasure and restraint sent ripples of excitement coursing through your veins, and you lost yourself in the dance, both of you teetering on the edge of ecstasy, bound by the intoxicating allure of what awaited in the depths of your connection.

The atmosphere pulsed with an electric charge, a heady mix of desire and anticipation that enveloped both of you, closing out the world outside. Danny’s breaths were quick and uneven, every ragged sigh echoing the depth of longing that had built between you over the last few moments. You could see the desperation in his eyes, reflecting the restraint you held over him—a tantalizing cocktail of authority and intimacy that made your pulse race.

Your movements grew more deliberate, teasingly slow as you felt the heat radiate from his body beneath you. “You want more, don’t you?” you asked softly, delighting in the way his gaze flickered with yearning. As you shifted your weight, you couldn’t help but lean closer, offering him the promise of fulfillment, the tantalizing prospect of crossing that final boundary.

With a sultry smile, you let your fingers trail down his abdomen, feeling the taut muscles beneath your touch. You paused just above the waistband of his jeans, savoring the way his body responded to every deliberate caress. “Let’s see just how much you’ve been waiting for this.”

As you expertly unzipped his jeans, the soft click of the zipper felt like a thousand silent promises whispered inside a crowded room. Parting the fabric slowly, you could already see the evidence of his desire—a pulse of excitement that quickened your own heartbeat. You watched as his face filled with anticipation, and you couldn’t resist the urge to tease him just a little longer.

With deliberate slowness, you pushed his jeans down just enough to expose him fully, a breathless moment where you both lingered, hearts racing. Taking the opportunity to gaze at the sight before you, your breath hitched at the intensity of it all. He was completely bare and vulnerable, and the sight only intensified your need for him.

“Please,” he croaked out, desperation lacing his voice as he shifted beneath you. “Let me touch you. I need to feel you.” There was a pleading note in his tone, one that ignited a spark of desire deep within your core. You loved the way he was unraveling beneath your touch, the way the sweet need for you flowed from his words like molten honey.

“Soon,” you whispered, your voice laced with a teasing promise. You perched higher on his lap, your body trembling with anticipation as you aligned yourself above him. “First, I want to feel you inside me.” You watched the instant spark of lust ignite in his eyes, the way his body instinctively tensed, ready and waiting for you to take that sweet plunge.

With a gentle push, you lowered yourself onto him, the sensation exquisite as you enveloped him in your warmth. The world melted away, leaving only the two of you and the intoxicating feeling of connection that surged deeply between your bodies. A low, primal groan escaped from him, an involuntary sound that echoed the pleasure blooming between you.

You paused for a moment, savoring the intoxicating feeling of him filling you, allowing yourself to get lost in the sensation—every inch of him igniting a wildfire of desire that spread through your body like an electric current. Your breath mingled with his, creating a sweet symphony of longing as you adjusted, letting the moment wash over you completely.

Then, without hesitation, you began to move, riding him slowly, deliberately. Each movement sent ripples of pleasure coursing through both of you, drawing out soft gasps and whimpers as you lost yourselves in the rhythm you created together. The sensation of him sliding within you was overwhelming, a heady mix of fullness and indescribable ecstasy that filled the space between you.

“Oh my God,” Danny breathed out, voice strained yet awash with a serene pleasure, “This feels so amazing.” You could see him struggling against the understanding of your earlier boundary, his hands twitching at his sides, longing to touch you—to trail his fingers along your skin, to feel the warmth radiate from your body.

“Please, I need to touch you,” he begged again, urgency coloring his every word, and the straining hope in his tone only made you want to tempt him further. You knew that the denial of that instinct, that sweet yearning, only fueled both of you. It was a dance of patience and unrestrained pleasure, and you intended to linger in this moment, letting him writhe in the tension of it all.

“Just a little longer,” you encouraged softly, entranced by his need for you. Each downward motion intensified the connection you shared, a magnetic pull that blurred the lines of your separate desires. “I want you to feel every second of this. The sweetness of anticipation is part of the pleasure.”

Your movements remained slow and tantalizing, drawing him deeper into the intoxicating ache of submission that you cultivated. The way his eyes brimmed with need only ignited your own hunger, and you wanted to keep that fire ablaze, to draw it out as long as possible.

As you rolled your hips, taking him deeper, the sounds that escaped from him grew more urgent—soft pleas and little whimpers flooding the air like music. The tension of restraint painted his features, so expressive and vulnerable, and you longed to touch him as much as he longed to touch you.

“Danny,” you breathed, leaning in closer, letting your body press against his, the intimacy of your closeness sending tremors through both of you. “Just feel this with me. Let it wash over you.” You cherished the way he strained to hold onto the moment, the way his body reacted to every flick of your hips, sending him spiraling deeper into pleasure.

“God, you’re driving me crazy,” he managed, and the confession ignited a thrill within you. The way he was losing himself in each motion was exhilarating, a reminder of the power your connection held. You loved that he felt this way—so exposed, so vulnerable, and yet so utterly captured by you.

“Let go, Danny.” The words were barely above a whisper, a mere suggestion hanging between you as you continued to ride him, and it seemed to strike a deep chord within him. He shifted beneath you, his breath hitching once again as your words encircled him like a coil, tugging him closer to that edge.

“Just let me touch you,” he pleaded one more time, the urgency climbing higher in his tone, and you could feel your own desire cresting painfully inside you. His restraint was a beautiful paradox—a magnetic force drawing you closer together as much as the pleasure itself.

“Soon, I promise,” you assured, giving his cheek a soft caress as you maintained your slow, deliberate movements. Each rise and fall felt exhilarating, connecting everything in that moment. In the dance of submission and desire, you found the harmony of exploration, deeply entwined in each other’s worlds.

The rhythm escalated, leaning toward a crescendo, yet you held back, savoring the taste of every glide, every kiss, and every tremor shared between your bodies. You could sense the abyss of ecstasy swirling just beyond your reach and hungered to dive in together, twined in a shared bliss that echoed with a deeper sense of connection than you had ever known.

“Just a little longer,” you whispered, your voice melting into the air, becoming part of the moment, the promise of what was to come flickering like a candle’s flame in the passion that consumed you both. Every second stretched, thickening the air with longing, and the delicious patience was intoxicating in its own right. You wanted this moment to last forever, to revel in the sweet lull of desire before the inevitable storm of release unfolded before you. The air between you crackled with anticipation, a silent promise hanging in the charged atmosphere that enveloped you both. Each slow roll of your hips was a tantalizing tease, every moment stretching into an eternity filled with pleasure and restraint. Danny's desperate pleas echoed in your mind, igniting a fire of longing and desire within you that was almost overwhelming.

With every flicker of his gaze, you felt the weight of his yearning, the need for touch that lay just beneath the surface, begging to be released. You could see the conflict dancing in his eyes—a battle between submission and the overwhelming desire to pull you closer, to connect in a way that transcended words. You knew it was time, time to let the boundaries dissolve completely, to allow him the freedom to touch you, to explore this connection fully.

“Okay,” you breathed, your voice tender and laced with excitement. “You can touch me now.” The words hung in the air between you, and in the instant they left your lips, the shift was palpable. You watched as his expression transformed, urgency sparking within him as he processed your permission.

In an instant, his hands shot up, finding their place on your hips, fingers curling possessively around you, pulling you closer in a desperate motion. The moment his warm hands made contact, a delightful shiver raced down your spine, igniting a rush of heat that pooled deep within you. There was something exquisitely thrilling about the way he enveloped you, how your bodies pressed together, merging into one rhythm, one heartbeat.

“God, yes,” he breathed, his voice thick with longing as he guided your movements. The urgency in his grip intensified, and you indulged in the sensation of his hands traveling across your skin, exploring the curves of your body, finding solace in your shared connection. You had relinquished control, and now he grasped the opportunity with fervor, his fingers exploring your waist, your hips, memorizing the outline of you beneath his touch.

Every pull and push of your bodies together sent waves of ecstasy ricocheting through you both, intertwining desire and intimacy like a beautifully woven tapestry. As he pulled you deeper against him, you felt every inch of him pressing into you, the heat radiating from where your bodies met sparking a scorching fire. You could sense his need pouring out of him, raw and unfiltered, and it fueled your own desires, taking you higher with each tender touch.

“Is this okay?” he asked breathlessly, his gaze burning into yours, filled with a mix of hunger and reverence. His fingers dug gently into your skin, as if he were afraid to break the fragile spell of the moment. You nodded, unable to form words as you felt the pull of his intentions, the need to savor every second of this revelation.

“Just like that,” you urged softly, encouraging him to explore, to let his instincts guide him as your bodies flowed together. His hands became your anchor, grounding you in the shared sensation of pleasure as they traversed the landscape of your hips, moving around to the small of your back, fingers tracing the outline of your figure, pulling you closer still.

“You feel so good,” he murmured, his voice a low rasp that sent shivers cascading through you. The desperation in his tone ignited something primal within you, an undeniable connection that deepened with every insistence of his hands, every intoxicating caress. You were both lost in the rhythm of exploration, the slow ascent to the heights of ecstasy.

Encouraged by your signals, he began to guide your movements with more confidence, rolling his hips up into you, matching the cadence of your rhythm. The tension mounted between you as he drew you in closer, the world around you fading into a blur of warmth and sensation. Each thrust was electric, sending jolts of pleasure spiraling through your core, forcing you to gasp and moan, releasing sounds of pure bliss into the air.

His fingers continued to explore, trailing across your skin with a gentle urgency, every brush feeling like a star igniting against the night sky. He pulled you tighter against him, and you could feel his heartbeat quickening, the way his body responded to yours, instinctively yearning to lose itself in the ecstasy you created together. Each movement brought a deep sense of intimacy, a shared understanding that transcended any previous boundaries.

“Please,” he breathed again, that burning need coloring his voice, “I want to feel you more.” The plea slipped from his lips like a mantra, igniting something wild within you. You could sense the desire bubbling just beneath the surface, an eager need that threatened to overflow.

“Then feel me,” you whispered, a hint of encouragement giving rise to that blaze of urgency in his eyes. “I want you to take this.” With those words, you allowed him to guide not just your movements, but your connection, trusting him to navigate the depths of this intimate moment while still relishing the taste of vulnerability.

His hands found their way to your thighs, pushing them apart slightly, encouraging you to settle into a rhythm that was intoxicatingly slow yet electric. The heat pooling where you connected intensified with every deliberate motion, and you could feel the pull of pleasure rising within you like a tide. The sounds escaping your lips were primal, each gasp and moan echoing the sweet urgency that hung thick in the air.

“I—” he began again, every word tumbling out in a rush, barely masking the heat of his desire. “I want to dive deeper with you.” There was a fierce need reflected in his eyes, a sincerity that made your heart race faster, making you ache to take the plunge alongside him.

The way he pulled you closer, the way his hands explored, made you want to lose yourself completely in the moment. It was exhilarating to feel him falling deeper into this connection, his touch becoming more sure, more desperate, fanning flames that had been kindled since your first kiss.

With every thrust of your bodies, you felt an exquisite harmony forming, every second stretching out into an eternity of shared bliss. The boundaries of your desires began to blur, intertwining as the urgency of your connection demanded to be fed, nourished by the taste of one another.

As his fingers journeyed back up to your waist, you could feel his strength, the way he cherished you—it pushed you even higher into the quest for connection. The sensation of his fingers digging lightly into your hips only intensified the urgency within you, merging the lines between pleasure and urgency into one intoxicating experience.

“Don’t stop,” you breathed, urging him on as a ripple of anticipation coursed through your body. The way he responded to your encouragement fueled the flames burning between you both, a primal dance of exploration that threatened to consume you whole. The sweet agony of your joined movements melded into a symphony of desire, every touch igniting more heat, entwining your souls in the elegance of each heartbeat.

Danny’s grip tightened around your waist, guiding your motions as he pushed you closer to him, losing himself in the shared rhythm that surged through both of you. This was a moment of pure adoration, a tapestry woven with threads of trust, intimacy, and longing, and you never wanted it to end.

In that dance of desperation and desire, you felt yourself spiraling closer to the precipice. With every heartbeat, every gasp, it became clearer just how far you had both come in willingly surrendering to this exquisite connection—as if time itself had slowed, devoting an eternity to simply exploring one another’s bodies, heart, and soul. And you knew you would ride this wave of ecstasy together, savoring every moment as you both continued to dive deeper into the bliss waiting just beyond the horizon.

The rhythm of your bodies crescendoed, weaving a tapestry of raw intimacy and shared pleasure that enveloped you both completely. Each push and pull tugged at the very fabric of your connection, driving you both closer to the edge, where euphoria awaited. As the heat mounted, the intensity of the moment took hold, intensifying every sound, every sigh, and every gasp that escaped your lips and echoed within the intimate space you created.

With every movement, you felt the world around you fading away, leaving only the two of you lost in this profound connection. The buildup within you tightened, coiling like a spring ready to unfurl, and you surrendered to the waves of ecstasy that washed over you, carrying you to heights you had yearned for. The sensations overwhelmed your senses, igniting a fire in every nerve ending.

Danny’s hands, ever steady on your hips, guided you as he thrust deeper, the delicious friction sending jolts of pleasure surging through you. You could see the flicker of determination and desire in his eyes, the embodiment of every plea, every whisper that had brought you to this moment. Each gasp that tumbled from his lips only spurred you on, their urgency urging both of you to give in to the sweet surrender that beckoned.

“Oh, yes,” you breathed, the words spilling out in a rush as the tension built higher within you. “Just like that, Danny. You’re doing so well.” The praise spilled from your lips without thought, and the warmth in his gaze told you just how much those words meant to him. They were a balm to his desire, a reward for his submission—a validation that fired up the longing in you, too.

“Please don’t stop,” he implored, his voice barely more than a whisper, thick with desire and the sweetness of vulnerability. Your heart swelled at his plea; the way his composure slipped and gave way to raw, yearning need deepened your desire. You moved together in a beautifully synchronized dance of bodies, surrendering to the rhythm of passion as if it were an art form being painted by the gentle strokes of your movements.

The crescendo approached, the delicious tension building, and you felt yourself spiraling into that exquisite abyss of release. “I’m so close, Danny,” you gasped, feeling the overwhelming waves of pleasure crashing against you as you neared the peak of that euphoric mountain. “Feel me. Feel how much I want this.”

“Me too,” he breathed, eyes wide with an intensity that made your heart race. “I want you more than anything.”

And with the final thrust, everything shattered into a brilliant cascade of sensation. You succumbed to the blissful tide, ripping through you like lightning as waves of pleasure washed over, pulling you both under in the most euphoric embrace. The world exploded into a kaleidoscope of colors and sensations, and it felt as though time itself stood still while you cascaded together into the depths of shared ecstasy.

For those moments suspended in time, you were lost to everything but each other, intertwined in a glorious dance of passion that felt both timeless and achingly ephemeral. Each pulse of pleasure resonated deeply within you, a symphony of sensations that harmonized with the depth of your connection, binding you closer together even as you both surrendered to the bliss.

As the waves receded, you found yourself drifting back down, the euphoric high giving way to a blissful haze. You remained entwined, feeling the heaviness of your bodies melded together, both utterly spent yet exhilarated by the experience you had just shared. The beautiful afterglow settled around you like a soft blanket, cocooning you both in warmth and satiation.

With a tender smile, you brushed a few stray strands of hair from Danny's forehead, your heart swelling with love and satisfaction. Finally, you found your voice, soft yet filled with admiration. “Danny, you were incredible,” you praised, your tone filled with the sincerity that pulsed in your heart. “You were so well behaved for me.”

His eyes flickered with a mix of pride and exhaustion, a contented smile playing at the corners of his lips as he reveled in your words. The adoration in your gaze made him even more pliant, the satisfaction coursing through him amplifying the desire to please you in every way possible.

“I missed you so much,” you continued, each word a sweet caress that lingered in the air between you. “Every moment we were apart felt like an eternity, and I was counting down the seconds until I could have you like this again.”

His expression softened, vulnerability painting his features. “I missed you, too. You drive me crazy in the best ways.” He chuckled lightly, the sound warm and reverberating in the quiet space around you. But deep down, you could sense his submissive side shining through even brighter now—the part of him that wanted nothing more than to cater to your needs, to bask in the warmth of your approval.

“Do you know how much I love you?” you whispered, letting the words hang in the air for a moment, letting them settle deeply in his heart. The impact was immediate, and you watched as his skin flushed with a beautiful warmth, a shy smile breaking across his face as he soaked in the affection you showered upon him.

“I love you,” he replied softly, the sincerity in his voice wrapping around you like a comforting embrace. “More than I could ever say.” The words carried a weight that resonated deep within you—symbols of your bond, tangible and heartfelt, solidifying the connection that had drawn you together time and again.

You tightened your hold around him, savoring the moment, basking in the glow of your shared intimacy. “You deserve to know how well you did for me today. I’m so proud of you.” Your voice was a gentle murmur, sweet as honey, but your words held a gravity that pressed against the very edges of his heart. They caressed him like a balm, soothing the remnants of vulnerability laid bare in your presence.

He leaned into you, nuzzling against your shoulder, a smile on his face that revealed both satisfaction and contentment. The way his body relaxed against you said so much, as if he were finally letting go of all the reservations that had plagued him before. “I just want to make you happy,” he sighed, the weight of his words settling into the space between your bodies like a promise.

“You are making me happy,” you reassured him, your voice steady and full of warmth. You knew deep down that this was the essence of your connection—the ability to bare your souls to one another, to explore the depths of emotional and physical submission, to let love flow unfettered between your hearts.

As he nestled closer, you could feel him growing heavier against you, exhaustion settling in his bones. The satisfaction radiating from his body was palpable, a blend of vulnerability and sweetness that tugged at your heartstrings. It was a heady feeling, knowing that he had submitted to you so fully, that he had surrendered himself to the experience you crafted together.

In that quiet, tender moment, as he drifted into a gentle repose, you kept your fingers tracing little patterns against his skin, whispering soft words of devotion, letting him know how cherished he truly was. “You’re safe with me, Danny. Always remember that.” Each syllable was drenched in affection, echoing the depths of your feelings that only deepened with every shared heartbeat.

His eyelids fluttered slightly, a blissful smile lingering at the corners of his lips as he melded deeper into your embrace, exhaustion giving way to tranquility. You could see it—the way he relished the satisfaction of the moment, the embodiment of submission to your heart that made everything feel complete.

And as you held him like that, with the world falling quiet around you, you knew that this bond—this connection you shared—was something deeply special, something that transcended the physical plane. It was a beautiful intertwining of souls, a serene dance of love that promised the sweetness of forever. You reveled in the knowledge that each moment together would only serve to strengthen the ties that bound you as individuals who belonged together.

In that deep, affectionate silence, you both drifted further into relaxation, secure in the warmth of one another’s bodies, minds, and hearts—a perfect lullaby of love, connection, and harmony.

97 notes · View notes

hailthegodsong · 7 days ago

Text

Hailthegodsong’s Favourite Comfort Fics

This is just a little place for me to organise my favourite hurt/ comfort fics (physical and emotional hurt including sick fics) since it's my favourite genre. I'll probably add to this as I read more, but if you have a fic of your own or fic recs, please send them to me!! A lot of these fics include intense or potentially triggering content (hence the comfort) so please read the content warnings at the start of each story to keep yourself safe <3

Josh

Active Part II by @danakin-skywalker

Just Because I Love You by @hearts-hunger

He's the Sun by @gretavanfleetposts

Lover, Honey, Darling by @danakin-skywalker

The Music is You by @interstellarshores

Unwavered by @autumn-sunflowers

I'll Be Coming Home, Wait For Me by @ourtearsofrain

Hold Me Steady by @madneedshelp

Tender Love by me (sorry)

Beautiful by @gretavanbear

Dimly Lit by @bowievanfleet

Jake

Ache by @bowievanfleet

Safe by @hearts-hunger

Safe by @danakin-skywalker

By Her Side by @kissingkiszka

You Don't Even Know by @sinners-go-to-drink-the-wine

T.K.O by @jakesdeviatedseptum

Honey, it's Alright by @ashisill

You're Safe by @sinners-go-to-drink-the-wine

Let Me Take Care of You by @broken--stardust

Because You Loved Me by @losfacedevil

Sam

Nightingale by @tripthelightfandomtastic

I'll Be Your Medicine by @hearts-hunger

Off To Bed by @autumn-sunflowers

I'll Be Seeing You by @hearts-hunger

Sweet Peach by @hearts-hunger

Also, I'm so sorry Sam laners, but I just haven't come across many Sam comfort fics so if you have any recs please send them my way!

Danny

What You Deserve by @danakin-skywalker

Strawberry Juice by @gretavanfleetposts

Honeyglow by @hearts-hunger

Cold by @sinners-go-to-drink-the-wine

He Would by @chouxsardine

Kiss My Scars by @ageofwagner

Kitkat by @hearts-hunger

That Smile by @danakin-skywalker

Love is Old, Love is New by me! (sorry again)

Reverse Comfort

Lavender Oil by @trip-the-cal-fantastic (Jake)

Sun Still Shines by @samkiszkasfacialhair (Josh)

Fallin' All In You by @losfacedevil (Josh)

Reassurance by @losfacedevil (Josh)

❀

If you like any of these stories, please send the writer some love ♡ Thank you to all the talented people who spend their unpaid time writing these stories, I appreciate you more than you think ♡

60 notes · View notes

pattypanini · 2 months ago

Text

Caught Between Two- Part 1 of 2 Jake Kiszka x Reader Danny Wagner x Reader (No slash)

Summary: Your boyfriend Jake and his band have a end of tour party, and a silly game of truth or drink brings past feeling back to life.

Word Count: 4.3k

Taglist for Oneshots

A/N: Heyyy everyone. We had this one in the chambers for a little bit now but we wanna break this up into 2 parts. So this one won't be super smutty but gives some insight leading into the threesome for the next part. We hope you enjoy, Caught Between Two.

Warnings: 18+, flirting, groping, PDA, alcohol, fluff, freaky talk.

SMUT COMING IN PART 2!!!!!!!!!

You and Jake have been dating for a little over four years. Although you two were very close in high school, best friends some may say, you never dated. You would always be at his house on the weekends, which meant hanging out with his family and friends, who you grew very close with. Even though you never acted on it, you became very attracted to one of his very close friends, Danny. Even now dating Jake you’ll catch a glance at Danny and feel that he is looking at you a little too long. It makes your brain go back to high school and feeds your delusion that he ever felt that way about you.

But you are past that now. You are fully in love with Jake and nothing could ever make you question that. Sometimes you like to think back to how it all started with Jake. You were a sophomore in college at the time. You and Jake loved to sit on his back deck and just talk, long, deep conversations. One night, you somehow got on the topic of first kisses and you never kissed or done anything with anyone. Let’s just say Jake was very eager to be your first kiss, which led to the both of you making out that night. It was nothing short of amazing and a few weeks later the both of you were officially dating.

Here you are now, sitting on the large couch with your boyfriend and friends at their end of tour party. You can’t help but feel so much pride for them all. They have accomplished so much within these past few years. As you sit on Jake’s lap you can’t help but notice his wandering hands that slowly rub up and down your thighs and ass. Something that the group has just come to accept when alcohol was around, especially after your fifth whiteclaw of the night. Not something that everyone enjoyed seeing, especially Danny.

Jake’s hand wraps around your waist grazing your lower stomach, a chill rolls through your body. Your eyes scan the room and land directly on Daniel, who is already staring at you. You try your best to ignore his gaze as you lean back onto Jake, your back completely against the front of his body. His arm is fully wrapped around your waist, while his hand makes its way just under your waistband, not going any further than that. You were so distracted by his hand that you almost didn’t see Danny take off out of the room and into the kitchen. You knew he was jealous, but you kinda liked it.

You turn your head slightly to whisper in Jake’s ear, “I wish that hand could go further Jakey.” Your faces pressed against one another.

“I do too, sexy. But that pretty little cunt will just have to wait until after the party. But I don’t know if you’re in the right state for that doll.” Pointing out the sloshed state you were in. “How about I grab you some water?”

“No it’s okay this is your party, I’ll grab it.” You slur out, pushing yourself off Jake's lap, not leaving without a firm slap on your ass and a smirk on Jake's face. You start to make your way over to the kitchen, before you hear an agitated Daniel talking to Sam.

You hang back a little, still close enough to hear their conversation.

“She’s practically fucking him on that couch out there. I can’t fucking stand it, Sam.” His voice is loud, booming, but you’re not exactly sure if it's just the alcohol amplifying your senses. “And you know what makes it even worse? She looks me dead in the eyes while she does it, like she wants me to watch like she knows how…” Danny feels your presence and stops himself before saying anything more. He rolls his eyes, grabs his beer and leaves pushing you into the doorway, not looking back.

You finally enter through the doorway to the kitchen immediately spotting Sam at the counter mixing himself up a drink. “Damn… what’s his problem?” You chuckle slightly.

Sam just rolls his eyes. “He never shuts up about it. I swear to God it's all he ever talks about. Doesn’t he think it gets annoying?” He scoffs and tips his glass up to his lips.

“Um, okay… I don't really know what you mean, Sam. Care to explain?” You raise your eyebrow at him.

“Whenever we all hangout as a group and you and Jake are like together he just is sooo annoying. Like y/n this, y/n that, and how it shouldn’t be a thing.” He takes another long sip of his drink, seeming a bit uninterested in the conversation at hand.

“What thing Sam? What shouldn’t be a thing?” Confusion is written across your face, you're not understanding and of course he has to be so fucking cryptic.

“I don’t know, god, why so many questions. I’m just trying to get wasted and fuck someone. So excuse me, but I’m gonna go throw up now.” He pushes past you and stumbles to the bathroom.

You left talking to Sam more confused than you were in the beginning. You grab your water bottle and make your way back to Jake. You walk in to see Jake laughing with his friends before his eyes laid back on you, darkening with lust. Before you could even turn to sit back down Jake’s finger wraps around your belt loop, spinning and pulling you down hard onto his lap. As you readjust back into your previous seating position, you can’t help but feel Jake beneath you. His length was pushing into your ass, and not even your jeans could hinder the feeling.

“What’s got you so worked up Jakey?”

“This pretty thing sitting in my lap, been looking at her all night. And I think she wants me too, am I right doll?” He winks at you, before adjusting his seating position causing his dick to poke at your ass.

“She definitely does. It’s been too long.” You lean back into him, kissing him, tongues intertwined, not caring who sees. You break the kiss to look at Jake “Is Danny alright, he kinda stormed off earlier and when I went to get a drink he rolled his eyes and left?”

“Yeah that’s just Danny. Jealous fucker. I know he has feelings for you. He’s never told me, but I can just tell. Sometimes I like doing stuff in front of him just to get a rise out of him.” He laughs to himself. Your eyes widen, hearing information you’d never heard before.

“Uh-what. Since when?”

“Oh I don’t know? Probably highschool. He told me back then, he wanted me to put in a good word for him. But I would’ve never done that, because I knew what was mine before I asked you too.” He kisses your neck, giving you butterflies. “Plus I saw the way you reacted to him, so giggly and flirty. I knew I had to make a move if I wanted you. Poor Danny never got the chance.”

You scoff out of complete disbelief.”I- um. You think I want Danny?” You furrow your brows at him.

“Sure seems like it, doll.” He smirks at you, he loves picking on you.

“Should I go talk to him? Clear the air and explain that as flattering as it is I don’t have any attraction to him and that he needs to stop being jealous.” You felt bad lying, but what were you going to tell your boyfriend? That you have a harmless crush on his best friend? No.

“Sure, now that tour is over we'll all be hanging out a lot, it’s best to make sure there is no tension.” He guides you to stand up, giving you a little smile of encouragement. “You’ve got this, y/n.”

“Thank you, Jake. Wish me luck.” You walk out of the living room, not exactly sure where he ran off to. You decide to check upstairs first. After finding nothing you decide to check outside. Whenever Danny needed space it was known to find him outside on the deck, smoking.

When you walk outside into the cold air, you find Danny with his beer and a cigarette in the other hand. When he realized someone joined him he looked up, but after realizing it was you he rolled his eyes and got up to leave.

“Danny, stop. Can we talk, please just listen to me.” You stick your hand out, stopping him before he can leave.

Danny pushes his tongue to the side of his mouth, deciding on whether or not to stay. Without saying anything Danny moves back to the couch, sitting in the middle, forcing you to sit close to him. You take a seat beside him, your hip just barely grazing his.

Both of you stare blankly at each other for a moment, waiting for someone to talk first. Danny beat you to it, “ So… what exactly did you want to talk about because if you’re not going to say anything I’m just gonna lea-”.

“No. Stay. I’m sorry-” You cut him off only for him to cut you off right back.

“Sorry? What exactly are you sorry for, hm? Because I can think of a lot of reasons you should be sorry.” He slouches further into the couch looking out into the darkness of the night, bringing the cigarette up to his lips.

“If you’re gonna be a dick I won’t say anything Danny. Goodbye.” You go to get up and are promptly sat back down by Danny who grabs your wrist restraining you to leave.

“Ok, ok. I’m sorry. Talk to me, please.” You can tell he is on edge, eager to hear why you scouted him out. You see a tinge of sorrow in his eyes, something you haven’t seen in years.

“I’m sorry for the way I act around you when I’m with Jake. I know you don’t like it.” You look down at your feet, your face flushing from embarrassment.

“Then why do you do it?” He narrows his eyes at you.

“I- I don’t know. I guess, to make you feel… jealous.” You couldn’t believe you were admitting this to him right now. The alcohol was making you reveal things you wouldn’t have otherwise.

“Jealous?! Why do you think that would make me jealous?” He rolls his eyes at you, leaning forward leaving little space between the two of you.

“I don’t know… I hear what people say.” You shrug your shoulders.

“And what exactly are they saying, y/n?” His face is only inches away from yours, you can feel his breath hitting your face.

“That,” you take a sharp breath in, “you have feelings…for me.” You look away from him, trying to distance yourself as best you can in this awkward situation. You never felt this way around Danny. You felt like you could tell him anything in high school, but that feeling is long gone.

Danny grabs your jaw firmly and faces you back towards him. “I have feelings for you? Okay. Well I could say the same about you, I’m sure Jake would love to know that, right? Because what other logical reason is there for you to make me jealous.” His eyebrows are furrowed and he looks a little pissed off. You’re speechless. A few moments go by and you realize you still haven't said anything. “So are you just gonna stare at me with those meaningless ‘fuck me’ eyes like you always do or actually say something.” He lets go of your jaw forcefully, still never leaving your gaze.

“And what makes you think that?”

“Well I don't know, maybe you could ask the millions of people who saw it on a daily basis. Even Jake knew it. Which is exactly why he took you before I could ever make you mine,” he pushes your hair behind your ear, giving him a better look at your face. “That's all I ever wanted y/n.” His eyes were telling you everything you needed to know. You knew he was being truthful, but could you admit that you felt the same back then, and even now.

“There was a time I thought that way with you, Danny.” You can feel your throat tightening and the tears starting to brim at your eyes.

“When did that start?”

“Probably during highschool, 10th grade.”

“And it ended when you and Jake got together?” He looks hopeful?

“I don’t know if that feeling ever left Danny…” You look him deep in the eyes, no longer being able to control your tears you collapse into Danny’s shoulder releasing it all. You felt awful admitting what you did. How could you feel that way while having a perfect boyfriend that you love very much?

“Y/n it’s okay, I promise it’s okay, Star.”

Star.

A name you haven't heard in years. Immediately you’re transported back to 10th grade.

“Come on y/n, the sky is not getting any darker.” Danny reached for your hand, pulling you up the large hill you just ran up.

“Danny, I'm so tired we’ve been walking forever.”

“We are almost there, I promise.” He smiled over at you.

The butterflies are whirling around in your stomach and he just looks so beautiful under the moonlight. He drags you to the top of the hill and your jaw immediately drops. The view was so incredible.

“I told you it would be beautiful and you can see the stars so well tonight. Here, sit down with me.” He pulls you down to sit with him and he lays his back against the cold grass.

“It’s cold out here Danny. Why did you even bring the blanket, it’s literally still in the car.”

Danny looks straight up into the sky, not answering your question. “Well I could give you my sweatshirt, I feel like that would be a better option.”

You turned your head to look at him. “Danny, did you forget it on purpose?”

“I don’t know, maybe I’m just forgetful.” His hands prop behind his head.

“I literally said something when we were getting out, you started running towards the hill. So no, I don't think you're ‘forgetful’.”

“Listen, do you want it or not y/n?” He says, while propping himself up on his hands.

“I would never deny it Danny.” Danny pulled his sweatshirt off, accidentally pulling his shirt up slightly, showing a little bit of his v-line. You couldn’t help but stare before he fully pulled it over his head and handed it to you. You slip the sweatshirt over your head, your body heating up already from the warmth leftover from Danny.

He shoots you a warm smile, the both of you silently admiring each other. “You look so cute in my clothes.”

You can feel your cheeks flame red at his words. “It’s comfy and smells like you.”

“I could just give you all my clothes, then we’d both be happy.” Danny was always flirty, but that was just his personality. He probably didn’t want it the same way you did.

He rolls onto his back again and stares back up at the sky. You continue to look at him, your eyes glued on his beautiful nose and side profile. His perfect side profile.

“Hey. You’re staring.” Danny giggles and it's the most beautiful noise you’ve ever heard.

“So, you stare all the time.”

“Yeah but that’s because you’re so beautiful it’s hard not to.” You and Danny look back up at the sky, taking in a beautiful moment you’ll never forget.

You watched as a shooting star soared through the air. You both grab each other's hands at the same time, not knowing if the other saw.

“Woah, that was so crazy. I never saw something like that.” Danny says, squeezing your hand a little tighter.

“Neither have I.” You look over to Danny to see he’s already looking back at you. “I wish the stars could be closer. They’re so perfect.”

“If I could collect them all for you I would y/n.” He props himself up onto one elbow, looking down to you. “You’re my star y/n. So perfect, shining brighter than anyone else.” He leans down, placing a soft kiss onto the side of your cheek. He lays himself down, placing his head right onto your chest. Your heart was beating 100 times per second and he could probably feel it. But you didn’t care. Everything you’ve ever wanted was right in front of you and you couldn’t be happier.

“My perfect Star.”

You wish you could say anything ever came of it, but it didn’t. You tried to forget about that night, but you knew you never did. Such a core memory you could never share with anyone else, not even Jake.

You feel Danny’s arms wrap around you, comforting you through the tears and heavy emotions you were feeling. You can tell he is hesitant but his hand wraps around your head to soothingly pet your hair.

“I…didn’t think you remembered, it’s been years.” You choke out into his chest.

“I could never forget, Star. It was the most perfect moment in my entire life. With the woman I never got to have. And I regret it every single fucking day. Every single moment I see you two together. I’ll never forgive myself for it, but now I just have to live with that.” You lift yourself off his shoulder, wiping away the tears.

“I’m so sorry Danny, but you know that nothing can ever happen between us. You know how I feel though and our memories together I will always cherish. It’s just not fair to Jake.” His eyes are piercing through you, his beautiful chocolate brown eyes- no. You can’t be thinking about these things anymore.

Tears are beginning to well in his eyes, threatening to spill onto his cheeks. “But Star…” You know he was hurt, maybe even unaccomplished. You knew he wanted you, you wanted him at one point. But it can’t be like that now, it's not fair to you and your relationship. You stood up off the couch beginning to leave the porch and head back inside.

“Please don’t call me that Danny, it hurts too much.” He opens his mouth as if he's about to say something else, but you’re gone before you ever know. You B-line to the bathroom, making sure no one saw you in your current state. You use the bathroom and while washing your hands you hear a knock at the door.

“Who is it?”

“Jake, is that you y/n?” You hear him say in a worried tone.

“Yeah it’s me, come in.” The door squeaks open and you are face to face with the love of your life.

“I finally found you,” he moves to stand behind you, resting his head on your shoulder. “Why are your eyes red, sweets?”

“I smoked a lot and sitting outside was making my eyes irritated.” Lies. You couldn’t tell Jake you were crying over remembering a very sentimental moment with his best friend.

“Okay, did you work things out at least. And did he admit to having feelings for you in highschool?”

“Yes and yes. I definitely wouldn’t have known.” Another lie.

“Oh come on angel, it was so obvious.” He presses a soft kiss to your shoulder.

“I don’t know, Jake. All I care is that things are sorted out now, no confusion…”.

“I get that. Well… since everything is all good now, are you ready to go back to the party? I think we're all going to play a game.” He says while playfully smacking your hip.

“Yes, let's go back.” You walk out of the bathroom with Jake hot on your heels. You retake your spot on Jake’s lap, on the living room sofa.

Right before the game of Truth or Drink was about to begin, Sam rushes in with Danny trailing behind him. Looking nervous, but also pissed off. You can’t help but roll your eyes. You reach behind yourself to grab Jake’s arm and sling it over your waist.

You watch Danny scoff from across the room. You smirk to yourself knowing you were getting under his skin. Eventually everyone gathered in a circle on the living room floor, drinks in hand ready to start.

Josh is the first to open his mouth, “I guess I’ll start. Y/n, have you ever faked an orgasm?” He smirks at himself, looking curious waiting for your answer.

You move your hand up to your lips preparing to drink, before Jake gently grabs your wrist pulling it back down to your lap. “No sweets, answer truthfully.”

You give him a side eye but you knew you could tease him. “Yes I have.”

Everyone erupts with an oooh and Josh reaches over to playfully punch his twin, assuming it had to have been his doing.

“Jake, why aren’t you pleasing our girl ?” Josh asks with a huge smirk on his face. Josh always joked that if he wasn’t into men he would be dating you, and he would have had the balls to ask you out sooner than Jake. Him calling you his and Jake's girl was something you always found humorous.

“I know it couldn’t be me, I always leave her satisfied.” You slap him, not needing him to air out your sex life to everyone in the room.

“Whatever you say babe.” You just laugh and carry on with the game. “Okay my turn, Sam what’s your body count?” You giggle.

Immediately he takes a large swig of his whiteclaw. “Sammy must be embarrassed.” Jake laughs.

“Am not asshole, I just don’t care to count anymore.” He smirks, feeling proud of himself. Everyone rolls their eyes, waiting for Sam to ask someone a question.

“Daniel, are you jealous of Jake?”

“What,” he furrows his brows. “In what way?”

“I don’t know, maybe musical capabilities, talents…” he trails off before looking directly at you, “maybe his love life?”

Danny brings his beer to his lips, not showing any emotion.

You look over at Jake to see him smiling, he knows people want his abilities and he’s aware “people” want you. The look on his face though isn’t a look of jealousy, he almost looks proud. He has always loved the idea of your relationship being very public, and has been very open to the idea of sharing you with others. Not long term, but for a night or two. So he had never gotten jealous of other people wanting you.

As the rounds go on, and many uncomfortable questions being answered, you’ve realized that Danny had not answered a single question. It didn’t help that every question he got was pertaining to his love life, who he last fucked, and other questions along those lines. But it almost felt targeted. He never caught a break, no matter who asked the questions.

“Alright Danny, would you ever have a threesome?” Josh asks him.

Danny lifts his beer to his mouth for the 20th time that night but it had seemed he reached the end of his drink. “Uh oh Danny, looks like someone's lifelines have run out. Now you have to answer.” Sam adds in.

Danny rolls his eyes, knowing he no longer has a choice. “I fucking hate you all, but maybe I would try it. The opportunity never presented itself before.”

“Damnnnn, looks like we have a freak on our hands.” Sam laughs at himself. A small smile cracks at your mouth, but your mind keeps picturing a certain thought over and over again and you can't stop yourself. You would never ask Jake for something like that though, it's too uncomfortable.

Jake, on the other hand, his interest was piqued at Danny’s admission. You didn’t realize it at the time though. When you zone back in, they are onto the next person. Your mind is still continuing to wander, but you know nothing will ever come of it so you push it deep down into the most sacred places of your brain.

It was beginning to get late and people were beginning to file out. You started to help Josh clean up his place since he offered to host. You look around for Jake to help you bring down a banner but are surprised to see he was nowhere to be found. “Sammy, where is Jake? I need help getting this down?” Sam walks over beginning to untie it for you,

“I don’t know, I saw him walk towards the hallway. Maybe he’s talking to our newly found freak that is Daniel. Maybeee he’s setting something up for the two of you, you know, the threesome Danny wants so badly.” You roll your eyes and begin to pick up more trash. “Hey all I’m saying is you could have ended up with him if you wanted to.”

“Yeah but I’m not Sam. I’m with Jake and I’m very happy with that.”

“Yeah… I bet you are.” He jokes. “You could’ve ended up with me shnookums, don’t you want a piece of a Sammy sandwich?” He laughs at himself causing you to laugh too.

“Yeahhhh, hold on, let me go break up with Jake real quick.” You playfully shove his shoulder. Sammy was your wingman throughout highschool, for when you liked Danny and Jake. He secretly was rooting for Danny, but he did not get what he wanted. He was supportive and there for you regardless.

You didn’t know what Jake was doing, but you knew if it was pertaining to Danny it couldn’t be good. You didn’t want to make any assumptions but you had a feeling it was pertaining to the topics discussed tonight. Now you had to wait for Jake to come back out, leaving you only with your dirty thoughts.

Part 2 coming soon...

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

Taglist: @peaceloveunitygvf @jordie-gvf @Gretavanhockey @Mama-likes72 @traffic-was-a-b1tch @cheersdannyx2 @mar-rein12 @jennabobenasblog @terry-66

#greta van fic #gvf #greta van fleet fan fiction #greta van smut #gvf fic #gvf smut #jake kiszka gvf #jake kiszka #jake kiszka fanfic #jake kiszka smut #jake kiszka x reader #jake gvf #danny wagner gvf #daniel wagner #danny gvf #danny wagner #danny wagner smut #gretavanfleet

76 notes · View notes

readyforthegarden · 3 months ago

Text

When the Nightingale Sings - Part One

Pairing: Danny Wagner x F!Reader

Synopsis: Medieval AU! In a world where noble alliances dictate futures, you have been betrothed to Prince Emers, a man you barely know and certainly don't love. As you travel towards the royal palace for your impending wedding, your journey is upended, causing you to run straight into a kind, lonesome hunter. With no choice but to trust him, you embark on a journey together towards the nearest village, navigating through the forest and it's perils. As the solace you find in his companionship builds will you choose to honor your duty, or will you abandon everything you've ever know to follow your heart?

WC: 3424

Warnings: mentions of death, blood, brief depictions of murder, angst, anxiety, fight or flight emotions.

A/N: It's here!! I am insanely proud of this story and all the work I've done on it. It wouldn't be anything like it is without the help of some good friends. A big thank you to @earthlysorrows for beta-reading and editing and helping me along the way! And @joshsindigostreak for always hearing me out when I text her saying 'i have an idea 👀' and always playing dialogue off with me. Love you both so much!

You had always disliked riding in carriages, the juddering and shaking motions of them as they traveled down worn paths between villages, towns and cities always making you feel ill. Today was no exception. You were currently on day three of a two week trip across the country, and a soft rain had fallen in the early morning, ensuring muddy tracks and sinking holes along your path. You rested your head against the wall next to your seat, closing your eyes and wishing sleep would take you. Perhaps death would even be better than the pounding in your head.

“I imagine you’ll have much finer carriages after you marry the prince, my lady.” your handmaid smiled, trying to ease your discomfort. “I hear he has one that’s lined with fur.” What a comfort that would be on such a cold journey. The foot warmer between your feet had already begun to grow cold, the embers refusing to be stoked with life again in the late fall air.

“That would be something to see, Marta.” the handmaid’s eyes glittered at your response. She was young, only a few years younger than yourself, and the niece of the maid that had helped take care of you most of your childhood. Though there should have been a stronger boundary between lady and servant, you had found a form of friendship in her, though it was stiff and formal.

“And imagine all the beautiful gowns and jewels, I cannot wait to help you dress for royal banquets.” Marta slipped into a diatribe about how the balls your family had held would pale in comparison to the ones the royal family had, how glittering you would look in the crown jewels. The unease in your stomach grew. Your parents had worked out a strenuous match between you and the sovereign prince of Farrynden. It was an effort you had no part in, nor wanted. Unfortunately, you had no say in the matter, and after exchanging a few letters back and forth, you were summoned to travel across the country and marry the prince.

It was just you, Marta, and two coachmen making the journey. Your family was well-off for the most part, but could not afford for all to travel to the nuptials. Their presence would not have been a comfort anyway. Your father was too proud of the match he had secured for you, and your mother was far too happy to lose you and gain a title in court. You wished for your older brother, though he had been long gone at this point, to try and talk sense into father. He might have listened to protests coming from him.

The carriage jostled roughly, making you place a hand over your mouth and groan, preparing for the back wheels to follow suit, however, the carriage was stopped. Sharing a confused look with Marta, you glanced out the window. You were surrounded by woods, the path cutting through a dense, large forest. The confusion set in further until you heard the horses whining, the coachmen shouting. Moving back from the glass you glanced at Marta, who met your wide eyes with her own.

The door was ripped open by the same large, grimy hands now reaching into the carriage. Your shriek matched Marta’s, both of you pushing away from that side of the carriage as much as you could. You cursed the large foot warmer, it’s bulk making it difficult to move. Marta’s wrist was taken by one of the hands, it pulled her harshly, yanking her screaming figure from the carriage. Another set of hands entered the carriage, grasping at the hem of your dress, your ankles. Kicking you tried to fight them off, but only succeeded in the assailant grasping your ankle and tugging you closer before grabbing your arms.

You fought against the hands that held you steady, twisting and turning your body, stomping your feet in the mud. Marta’s screams were flooding your ears, and as you looked around for help, you could see why.

The two coachmen were dead, blood pooling around their bodies. One was lying face up, his throat slit, blood still pouring from the wound. The other was face down in, a dark stain on his light blue coat, the blood mixing with mud beneath him.

Tears began to run down your face, the inevitability of your own death coming to light. You thrashed further as the man holding you gripped tighter, bringing you towards the front of the carriage.

“Oi, make that one shut up!” the man’s voice was hard and gruff, sending fear shooting down your spine. He spoke to his accomplice, a younger, greasy looking man, his teeth dark as he grinned.

Marta’s screams were silenced as your own sobs echoed out into the forest around you, unable to look away from the blade that dragged across her throat. You saw the light fade from her terrified eyes, the image burning itself into your memory. You would be next. Oh god, you would be next.

With everything you had in you, you braced yourself as the man holding you turned you in his grasp.

“What a pretty little thing you are.” he smirked, his breath blowing across your face, pungent and sickening. “Maybe we should keep you, have some fun.”

“Lookie here,” the younger man caught both of your attention. One of your trunks was opened, and with his soiled blade he lifted up a nightdress. “She could be our little dolly, dress her up and strip her down.” Bile rose in your throat, and the next thing you knew, you had wrenched your head back, and brought it forward, cracking it against your captor.

The man dropped you, startled from the impact and you slipped in the mud as you realized your chance to escape. Gathering up your skirts as shooting pain rippled through your skull, you bolted, dashing for the forest. You could hear both the men behind you, shouting and giving chase as you hastened through the dead leaves and twigs on the ground.

Your lungs were burning with every breath you could take. You cursed the corset you’d been laced up in, knowing you could run faster without its hindrance. Not daring to check behind you, you kept going, not caring if you could hear them or not. Stumbling, you cursed, getting back up, though your legs were screaming at you. Cold tears whipped down your cheeks and from your eyes, the image of the coachmen and Marta flashing every time you thought about stopping.

Time had escaped you. You knew that at some point you felt a soft flurry of early snow, but didn’t know how long you’d been running. The forest was thicker here, and you began to slow down. It was quiet now, and you glanced around. There was no sign or sound of the men following you any longer. You still kept a quick pace, checking for them behind every tree and branch. Watching over your shoulder, you pressed forward, stumbling but continuing to go.

“Stop! Stop!!” you froze, whipping your head around to see a tall man standing a few yards from you, his hands thrust out in front of him, palms up. He didn’t look like the men that had chased you, he was clean, his dark, curly hair shining in the sun that broke through the trees. Fear still shot through your veins and you started to run, but he yelled again. “Stop! If you move you’ll step in a trap!” freezing again, you looked down. Right in your path, hidden under a few scattered leaves, was a metal contraption, meant for hunting large beasts and animals. You would have stepped right into it, maiming whichever foot landed in it.

The man moved towards you, and you moved back. He took in your pale face, the only color your cheeks and nose tinged pink from cold and tears that were sliding down your cheeks. Your wide, scared eyes regarding him like a monster as he regarded you like a feral creature, scared and confused.

With a breath, you bolted, darting off to your right before he could come closer. You would take your chances with any other traps, refusing to be held captive again.

You had lost the sun, the trees looming overhead blocking out any of the sunset. You were staggering around, a painful stitch in your side mixing with hunger pangs. The headache you’d had earlier reappeared, and you slumped against a tree. The cold was creeping in, your sweat coated body chilling faster.

The bark of the tree scratched against your coat, small bits flaking off and catching on the wool. Surely death by cold and hunger was a better fate than what had been in store for you, whether earlier or with the prince.

The shaking shivers that wracked your body wouldn’t cease as the sky grew darker. Nestling into the tree trunk as best you could, you let your eyes fall closed dreaming of the warm fire in your old bedchambers, and the cozy bed one a few feet away from it.

The sound of twigs snapping jolted you from sleep. Your eyes looked around, but instead of a dark forest, you were in a small, homely cottage. The sound of twigs was not that exactly, it was larger pieces of chopped wood, crackling in the hearth. And instead of a tree trunk, you were nestled into a large, warm bed. Furs were laid over you, their warmth making you feel slightly delirious.

Sitting up, you inspected yourself, raising the blankets. Your dress, though dirty, was still intact. The only thing removed had been your shoes, though long, thick wool socks had been put on you in their wake. Glancing around the interior, you saw few items in the small space. A stack of firewood next to the fireplace, a small kettle hanging over the fire. Two wooden chairs and a small table, seemingly handmade from the rough edges of the items. A rack with various pelts draped over it was in the corner, drying.

Finding you were alone in the cottage, you peeled back the furs on top of you, placing your feet on the wooden floors, you moved to get up from the bed, just as the door opened. A large figure lumbered in, the door slamming shut behind them. They were cloaked in a large coat and hat, both made of dark fur. Scrambling back into the bed, you pulled the blankets over you, clutching them to your chest. Your heart rate spiked as the figure turned toward you, his eyes regarding you anxiously.

“You’re awake,” he smiled, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. You backed up, further in the bed when he stepped forward, pausing as he took in your move. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

He watched as your hand shook, clutching the blanket, your eyes darting up and down his tall stature. Sighing softly, he reached up, his movement slow, and took off his hat, allowing his curls to bounce back to life. It was the young man from the forest earlier, that had stopped you from stepping in one of his traps. He put it on the small table, then unfastened his coat, lowering it from his shoulders and draping it over the back of his chair. Glancing at you, he put his hands on his hips.

“My name is Daniel, by the way.” he paused, waiting for you to reply. When you didn’t, he glanced around the cottage. “This is my home. I found you in the woods while checking my traps. You were turning blue, so I brought you here. Have you been hurt?” This pause was met with an almost imperceptible shake of your head. “Good. Can you tell me why you were running in the woods like that?” Silence. Daniel sighed, watching your eyes cast down to the floor.

Turning, Daniel moved away from you and to the fire, grabbing a small bowl from the mantle, and opening the lid on the kettle, stirring the stew inside with a ladle that had been hanging from a hook by the hearth. The smell of cooked meat and herbs met your nose, and your stomach growled loudly. Daniel chuckled under his breath and ladled some into the bowl, his own stomach softly rumbling as the aromas wafted up to him. Grabbing one of his few spoons from an old tin on the mantle he walked back over to you.

He held out the bowl to you, raising his eyebrows, idly twirling the spoon between his fingers on his other hand. You looked from the bowl to him a few times, before shifting on the bed, letting the blankets go and reaching for it. Daniel pulled back slightly, making you gasp softly in surprise.

“I’d rather not have rabbit stew spilled in my bed,” he explained. “Come sit at the table.” you hesitated, but Daniel moved back, setting the bowl down on the small table by the fire, and plopping the spoon gently in. He sat down on the other side, and waited.

Feeling a spectacle, you slowly climbed from out of the covers, your feet on the hardwood floor again. The socks slid against the smooth wood as you stood, and you brushed down your skirts. Every step you took toward the table, and the man sitting there, was timid. You were afraid that he would pounce at any moment, finish the job of the other two bastards before him.

Yet he sat still, his eyes wary but kind as you gripped the back of the chair, pulling it out somewhat before taking a seat. A soft smile tugged at the corner of his lips as you tucked in closer to the table. Eyeing the stew, you spied chunks of lean rabbit, potato and carrot, a beetroot or two also mixed in. Your mouth watered, but what if he did something to it? What if this was all a trick?

Seemingly reading your mind, Daniel shook his head.

“Go on, eat. I wouldn’t poison my own stew.” he rolled his eyes, but the gentle smile was still present. Still, you hesitated. Daniel moved, his chair scraping the wooden floor, making you jump in your seat. You braced yourself, ready to endure another headache if you had to headbutt your way to freedom again.

Daniel only moved to the fire, taking another bowl from the mantle and ladling himself a serving, grabbing a spoon and sitting back down. He kept his eyes on you, dipping the spoon into the stew and bringing up a steaming spoonful. Blowing gently on it, he raised the spoon to his lips before taking the bite. He did this a few more times, you were sure the food was still too hot, evident by the wince he did on the last before he spoke. “See?”

Your hand raised from your lap, grabbing the rustic spoon. It had been worn over the years, no polishing, showing slight grooves where fingers had held it. Yours fit snugly into those grooves, and you stirred the stew a bit, releasing more steam before taking a bite of your own.

It was delicious. You had to hold yourself back from slurping and sloshing down the meal as your tongue was coated with savory warm broth. The meat was soft but a little stringy, but it was a fine supper. Daniel continued his own meal, the two of you eating in silence until he spoke again, half-chewed bite in his mouth.

“Do you have a name?” glancing up, you nodded, and supplied it to him quietly. “Are you from around here?”

“Where is here?” you asked.

“I take that as a no, then.” he sighed. “Here is my home, in Timberhill. Where did you come from?”

“Indigwall.” you answered. Daniel let out a long, low whistle.

“You’re a long ways away from home,” he leaned forward, elbows on the table. “What are you doing all the way out here? And running through my hunting grounds?”

“I-I,” you stammered, trying to think of a lie. Just because this man seemed kind, didn’t mean he wouldn’t hold you ransom for money, from your father or the prince. As you glanced up to his eyes, you realized how soft they were. Amber flecks hiding in splashes of green mixed brown sparkled in the firelight. You could see no malice in his eyes, and suddenly the truth spilled from your lips. “I am betrothed to the prince of Ferryden. I was traveling to the castle for our wedding.” Daniel stared at you, mouth slightly agape as you continued. “This morning, our carriage was stopped, and these two men-“ you choked on a sob as the images of Marta and the coachmen flashed again in your mind. “They killed them, they killed Marta!” Tears spilled down your cheeks, and Daniel stood, going to a small hutch and rifling through it before coming back with a handkerchief. You accepted it, dabbing your eyes and wiping the tears away.

“I am sorry,” Daniel murmured. “I understand why you were so afraid of me earlier. You do not need to speak of it, if you do not wish.” nodding you tried to compose yourself as he sat down across from you again. The silence fell between the two of you again, but this time there were fewer questions, fewer anxieties weighing on it.

Picking up your spoon, your hand trembling after the images, you continued your meal, swallowing down the stew, your appetite still fighting your nerves.

“I thought from your coat and dress, you must have been a lady of some sort.” Danny cleared his throat. “I have a few things I must do before I can take off, but in a day or so, we can start the journey to the next village, see if we can send word to your prince.”

You knew better than to protest. If your own parents didn’t listen to your pleas not to be shipped off, not to marry the prince, a stranger wouldn’t either.

“That’s very kind of you, sir,” you gave him the best smile you could muster, feeling it barely raise the corners of your lips. “But I don’t have money to pay you. All of my things were in that carriage and with…them.” Daniel didn’t need you to elaborate on whether your belongings were stolen by the murdering bandits or left behind with the bodies laid across the path.

“No need for formalities.” Daniel instead chose to break the ice further. “You can call me Danny. My friends call me that.” he had hoped the more casual nickname would help ease the tension of formality.

“Danny, then.” Nodding, you sat back in your chair, a little easier now that your belly was full and you knew the name of the man across from you. “How far are we from the next village?”

“That depends on the method of travel.” he answered. “Tomorrow after I check my traps, I’ll see about finding your carriage, and if the horses are still there, we can ride those and it would only be a few days. Without them, we’ll be on foot, and that could take about a week.” as he finished his sentence, a large yawn stretched your face. “Go on back to bed. You need to rest after all the running you did.”

“No, I can’t take your bed again,” you shook your head.

“I insist.” Danny got up, walking over to an old, worn cloth that was strung in the corner of the large room. With a jump, he climbed up into it, swinging precariously with a smile. “See? I don’t mind sleeping here.”

Rising from your seat, you moved to the bed, and took one of the furs from it. Folding it over your arms you walked over to him, smiling as you raised it up. One of his large hands reached down, grasping the soft material and pulled it into his hammock as he returned your smile.

“Thank you Daniel-Danny,” you corrected. He merely nodded at you, fluffing out the blanket over his long body, settling in. As you crawled back into the bed, you pulled the blankets back over you, finding its warmth and your full belly already lulling you into sleep.

“Goodnight, princess,”

“I am not yet a princess,” you mumbled, slightly offended by the unwanted title.

“Goodnight, all the same.”

“Goodnight, Daniel.”

Taglist: (feel free to add yourself!)

@joshsindigostreak @sinners-go-to-drink-the-wine @sammysprincess @sammykiszkamyass @belovedsamuel @sunfl0wer-power @indigo-starcatcher @sammyscherub @earthlysorrows @losfacedevil @xserenax-13 @myownparadise96 @watchingovergvff @gretavanfleetposts @josiee-gvf @joshkiszkatoothgap @madneedshelp @myownparadise96 @demonrat444 @dannyandthekiszkas @tearsofbri @paleshadow-ofadragon @happy-harpy-stuff @like-a-woman-in-a-dream @starshine-wagner @objectsinspvce @josh-iamyour-mama @mountain-in-springtime @cal-a-bungaa @capturethechaos @holdingup-fallingsky @gvfpal

@allybjt @hippievanfleet @weightofbrokenbells @joshkiszkasbadussy @malany-gvf @ruby0antlers @samofthedawn @sacredjake @aim4thedoublee @diditallforyouu @gvfmarge @highladyofasgard @sammysvanfeet @gold-mines-melting @earthgrlsreasy @mountain-in-springtime @forcebond301 @stardust-and-shadows @llightmyllovee @gretavangroupie @comesofarsomehow @infinisonicosm @indigofallingsky @hellowgoodbye @hearts-hunger @fwzco @dharma-divine33 @lightsofthe-living-gvf @ascendingtothestarsasone @klarxtr

@musicspeaks @mindastreamofcolours @imleavingyoufornewyork @dammm1256 @jordie-gvf @misshunnybee @valleydollgvf @brookes-so-done @age0fwagner @starcatcherxstevie @amethystars @jakesguitarsolo @lolidontknowwhat @lyndz2names @godly-sinsx @dannythedog @anthemheatwave @samomf @spark-my-nature @scorpiosunsammy @theindigostre4k @jjwasneverhere @couldbefalling @peaceloveunitygvf @wrldabomination @gretavfreaky @kakejiszkas @brujamagik @miradoralbumwhen

@mar-rein12 @laurynnnn125 @maddie-rae @eraofstardustchords @musicislove3389 @starsinmyeyes00

#danny wagner #danny gvf #greta van fleet #danny wagner x reader #jake kiszka #josh kiszka #sam kiszka #danny gvf x reader #danny wagner fanfiction #danny wagner fic #greta van fic #greta van fleet fan fiction #gvf #gvf fanfiction #gvf fic #greta van fleet fic

55 notes · View notes

gretavangroupie · 10 months ago

Text

Edible

Word count: 16.0k

Pairing: Jake Kiszka x Female Reader

Warnings: Language, Alcohol, Drugs. Smut: Kissing, Touching, Oral M!Receiving, Fingering, Oral F!Receiving, Dirty Talk, Unprotected Sex, Rough Sex, Breeding Kink (if you squint), Cum Play. Major Fluff.

A/N: The very last part of our four part Valentine's Day Mini Series I've been working on along with my best pal, @sacredstarcatcher! We had so much fun writing these, and we hope that you enjoy Jake's story to wrap things up! Thank you so much for reading these one shots over the last few weeks, maybe we will do it again soon! ❤️

Usually, Valentine’s day wasn’t a holiday that bothered you. As a single person in your mid 20’s, it’s almost expected that you dread the 14th of February. The years before and between relationships never bothered you, but as you slip into your pajamas at 7:50pm on a Friday night that also happens to be Valentine’s day, the realization that you’re alone hits a little harder.

You shuffle down the stairs in your slippers and matching PJ set, your destination being the bottle of red wine in the fridge. As you stand in front of the door and look at the dry erase calendar on your freezer, you avoid acknowledging the little heart you drew around the number 14 when you were clearly in better spirits. You also happen to see the little sticker that lives permanently above the column of Fridays. Trash day.

Letting your head fall back, you groan at the ceiling before turning on your heel towards the trash can. Lifting the half-full bag out and tying it off, you consider whether or not you really need to take the bin out to the curb… It’s so, so cold, and you’ve had a tough day already.

Shaking your head, you pull yourself out of your thoughts and decide to grow up. You get moving and elbow the door open, wincing as the cold air hits your skin. The short sleeve shirt and matching shorts combination are really not on your side at this moment as you jog down the four stairs towards the spot where your trash bins live.

It’s a minute of wrestling before you get the bag in and flip the top closed, grabbing the handle and beginning to wheel it towards the end of your driveway. The rattling of the plastic wheels is so damn loud you feel like you’re waking up half your neighborhood. Oh, wait. They’re probably all out for Valentine’s day. You can’t help but roll your eyes as you kick the bin upright and position it on the patch of grass near the curb.

As you’re about to turn and head inside, you hear rumbling coming from across the street. When you raise your head and try to focus despite the limited light from the streetlamps and the clouded moon, you see your neighbor from across the street. For a moment you feel a little vulnerable in your pajama set, legs bare and no bra, but then you see he’s shirtless, a thin bathrobe over his shoulders and down his back, but it’s hanging open, giving way to show you his tanned chest and stomach. His sweatpants are hanging sinfully low on his hips, and even though you’re all the way across the street, you can see there’s just a tiny bit of hair peeking out from above his waistband.

He has his head down as he does almost the same exact thing you did- he shimmies the bin into position on the curb and makes sure it’s closed tight, left with some defense against the wind. His hair is in a low, messy bun, some stray strands of hair framing his face.

As you stare at him from the shadows across the street, realizing you’re probably giving off way weirder vibes than intended, you think back on when you’ve seen him and try to remember his face. As you think, there’s a silhouette of a cat in his front window, a warm glow behind it. And then the memory comes to you.

There was one afternoon when you had first moved in, the summer, seven or eight months ago. He came and knocked on your door, a pair of sunglasses on, his shirt unbuttoned and paired with some breezy linen pants. You answered the door in confusion, but were friendly regardless.

“Hi. I’m, uh, I’m Jake. I’m your neighbor. I live across the street?” He said, pointing over his shoulder with his thumb.

“Right, right. Hey. I’m Y/N.” You answered with a slightly concerned smile. “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, um,” he started, wiping the corners of his mouth with his thumb and forefinger as he gathered his thoughts. You watched as he crossed his arms over his chest in almost a nervous habit.

“Do you wanna come in?” You offered, but he shook his head no, waving you off casually.

“No, no. I actually just have a weird and maybe cumbersome favor to ask of you.” He said, his confidence building as the conversation went on. You raised your eyebrows, a little confused, but wordlessly encouraging him to go on.

“There’s this cat that lives in my house and I usually leave him with my brother’s girl when I travel, but she’s actually tagging along, so I’m kind of in a pinch and need someone to feed the thing.” He said. You gave him a look of playful confusion.

“That’s a weird way to say you have a cat.” You quipped, laughing.

“I’m not keeping it! I just don’t want it to get hungry or get hit by a car or something.” He said, laughing through his words. Before you can poke any more fun at him, he keeps talking.

“He’s a grazer, so he really just needs his big ass bowl refilled once a day and he’ll be fine,” he said, flashing you a little smile. “And water.”

You considered it for a moment, but he had such a way about him that there was no way you would be able to say no.

“Okay. Yeah, sure. For how long?” You asked, leaning on the door frame. He fished out a key from his pocket, handing it over as he spoke. It was brass and there was a little soccer ball keychain attached.

“Just for the weekend. I’ll be back Sunday night.” He said with a little excitement in his voice. Holding his spare key in your hand, you nodded and gave him a polite smile.

“I can do that. For sure.” You reassured him as he leaned from foot to foot, almost like he had somewhere to be.

“I fed him just now and I’m about to head out, but when you go in, the kitchen is on the left and his bowl is there. The food is in the bin with… with the food. It’s clear so… you can see it.” He said, taking a few steps backwards. “He also bites, but he’ll probably hide from you anyway, so don’t sweat it!” He added, jogging down the two stairs to the sidewalk.

“O-okay!” You answered, perplexed but charmed. He shouted across the road to thank you before he hopped into his car and backed out of his driveway.

When you eventually went over to his house the next day, you opened the door cautiously, not wanting to sneak up on the cat who you were warned would bite you. After a moment of wondering why you agreed to this, you shrugged and pushed the door open gently. As if the cat was waiting for Jake himself but then realized it was you, he went flying by so quickly you only heard the thump of his paws and the jingle of his collar. Your eyes almost immediately found the big bowl in the kitchen, sitting in the middle of a little placemat. ‘DAVY’ was etched into the porcelain, so you figured it had to be his. Like Jake mentioned, there was the bin of food about a foot away.

You didn’t see the cat a single time that weekend. Sunday morning, after you fed him the last time, you left the key on the hook near Jake’s front door and locked it from the inside. You didn’t hear from him, but one day when you got home from work, there was a bottle of wine on your welcome mat with a card underneath, wax sealed with care. Inside, you found a card with a short note of thanks and his name signed in indigo ink.

You’re pulled back to the present as a car flies down your street, headlights flashing in your peripherals. The light pulls his attention too, and it’s seconds before he notices you across the street. He raises one open hand, giving you a casual wave. You smile and wave your hand back and forth, a polite, neighborly greeting.

“Look at you, all dressed up. Big plans tonight?” He says, projecting his voice all the way across the street. Your eyes widen in embarrassment, realizing he’s absolutely calling you out for being outside in your pajamas.

“Oh! Ha. Yeah.” you say, the laugh incredibly forced, your nerves turning you into an awkward, stiff mess. Freezing cold, nervous, and a little embarrassed, you give him another quick wave and scurry inside your house, disappearing. You close the door and snatch the bottle of wine from your fridge, taking the bottle and glass with you into the living room.

You practically dive under the blanket on your sofa and wrap it around you in a hurry. As you reach for the bottle of wine and pour yourself a little glass, you hear your phone buzz from somewhere in the couch cushions. Fishing it out from under your thigh and some layers of blanket, you squint and turn the brightness down immediately.

You have a few notifications from instagram and other apps, and one text from an unsaved number.

???

8:08pm: Sorry for being weird, lol

It has to be Jake. You hop up from the couch and shuffle to the bulletin board and dry-erase calendar on your freezer to see the torn piece of paper pinned to it. Comparing the two numbers, you confirm it’s the same. That leaves you frozen as you try to figure out how to respond.

You

8:10pm: Oh no worries, you were right. I’m clearly staying in tonight 🍷

When you get back to the couch, nuzzling yourself back under your blankets, you look over your shoulder and out the window at his house. There are a few lights on and the cat’s silhouette has disappeared from the window.

You decide to save his number quickly before finally taking a few sips of your wine.

Jake - Neighbor

8:13pm: Likewise. I’m about to take an edible and spend the rest of my romantic evening falling down a youtube wormhole.

Laughing, you think of something clever to send back. It takes a while because everything you come up with seems to be toeing the line of flirty and friendly.

You

8:17pm: Sounds fun... If you open your curtains a little more I could probably watch along. 🙂

Jake - Neighbor

8:20pm: Or you could accompany me down said wormhole, meaning we both won’t have to lie about being alone on Valentine’s day tomorrow?

You’re immediately conflicted. This guy is your neighbor, and although he seems friendly, this feels like the beginning of a terrible Hallmark movie or even worse, one that went straight to Netflix. You think about the invitation as you stare at your glass of wine on the coffee table next to your kindle. It couldn’t hurt to just go hang out for a little while… right? It would be good to get to know him. Maybe you could convince him to mow your lawn over the summer or something.

Not to mention he’s cute. Your mind flashes back to the way he looked glowing under the streetlights, his messy bun and the tan line on his hips that you need to stop thinking about before your mouth begins to water.

You

8:21pm: Lol are you serious? I don’t want to intrude

You bite at your lip nervously, waiting for him to reply. The little bubbles that indicate he’s typing make your stomach churn as you look over your shoulder and out the window once more. There’s a little bit of a glow coming from the other side of his house now and you see his shadow move across the window.

Jake - Neighbor

8:22pm: It’s not intruding if I’m inviting you.

It doesn’t take much convincing on his end, if any. You down the last of your wine for courage and ditch the blanket on the couch. Heading up the stairs, you grab the cardigan you left hanging over the banister and pick out something to wear. The matching jammies clearly aren’t appropriate, but you don’t want to dress like you’re trying too hard.

You

8:25pm: Should I bring anything?

Standing in your closet for a few minutes, you ultimately land on a pair of yoga pants and an old t-shirt, a soft baby blue Rush tee with the band’s name spelled out in big, rainbow bubble letters. It was once your dad’s, but lives in your wardrobe as a slightly cropped version now.

Jake - Neighbor

8:26pm: Nope. Just yourself. Need the address? 😉

Pulling on the cardigan, you tug the back of it down a little to assure you’re not showing up with your ass on display from the get-go. You stand at the door with nothing but your phone and keys, bracing yourself for however this Valentine’s night is about to go.

You

8:28pm: I think I remember how to get there. I’m on my way 🙂

—

You pull your sleeves down over your hands as you climb the steps to his porch, the freezing cold wind whipping through your cardigan as if it wasn’t even there. You rap your knuckles against the wooden door, a small wave of nerves rushing through your body as you wait for him to answer. You hear his footfall against the wooden floors as he makes his way to the door, and as he opens it you feel a rush of warmth as the heat from inside blows past you.

His eyes subconsciously look you over and as he realizes he pulls his eyes away, letting them dart around for a few seconds before landing on your face. He offers a shy grin and swallows down his nerve. “Any trouble finding the place?” he jokes, giving you a small glimpse of his real smile.

“Oh yeah, traffic was awful...” you quip back, watching his full smile bloom across his face.

“Come in, come in. I know it’s cold out there.” he says, ushering you inside. The house is very different from the last time you’d seen it. More art on the walls, a new rug or two, and most importantly there were lights on. A fire is going in the fireplace, the logs crackling drawing you into his home further.

“Your home is beautiful. I’m suddenly insanely jealous that I don't have a fireplace.” you smile, gesturing towards the beautiful brick hearth.

“Thanks, I try to do what I can here and there. What’s a home if you can’t enjoy the time you spend in it…” he ponders, suddenly flicking his attention back to you. “I could…show you around if you want, it’s kind of a mess at the moment…” he pauses, rubbing his fingers over his lips as his eyes scan the room. You can tell he is feeling put on the spot and your chest warms at his underlying hospitality.

“That’s okay, I know you were totally not planning on having a guest.” you laugh, hoping to ease his anxiety.

“Yeah, I’m not here too often, and when I am, things kind of get strewn around and forgotten. It’s actually a fluke that I’m here now. Which brings me back to the part about enjoying the house while I’m here.” he says, trying to unnecessarily justify his lived in space.

Your mind wanders as you recall his empty driveway the past few weeks, and you try to piece together if you ever remember him mentioning what he does for work, or why he’s gone so often. You hardly ever see him coming and going, just the glow from his windows on rare occasions.

He pulls you from your thoughts and you refocus on him, realizing that he too, has changed into different clothes. He’s added a slightly wrinkled black button down shirt to a pair of equally as wrinkled khaki pants, rolled at the ankle. To anyone else this would seem like a strange choice to hang out on the couch, but on him it seemed fitting, almost like these were his relaxing clothes.

“Can I get you anything to drink, or?” he asks, gesturing towards the kitchen, a tiny little sliver of his stomach peeking from beneath the frayed hem, showcasing an unseasonably dark tan.

“Sure, um I will take some water?” you squeak out, trying to pretend you weren’t just staring at his waist.

“Okay, you can just… sit wherever. I'll be right back.” he says nodding towards the couch. He walks off into the kitchen as you venture into his living room, the fireplace providing the perfect ambience for such a cold night. His couch isn’t huge, but it does seem comfortable. A few throw pillows are tossed to one side, giving you the hint that he was previously occupying the other side. You move a few of the pillows towards the center and position yourself at the opposite side on the chaise lounge, as you let your eyes glance around the room. The walls are dark and covered with art, and bookshelves line most of the walls. A large TV sits just to the left of the fireplace, the video he was previously watching paused and awaiting his return.

You relax into the couch cushions, closing your eyes and listening to the perfect crackling sound of the fireplace. The glass of wine from earlier is seeping into your bones and you’re suddenly feeling just a little bit more relaxed. Jake returns a few seconds later, offering you a glass filled to the brim with ice water.

“I didn’t know if you wanted ice or not, so I just made it how I like it.” he says, falling back into his place on the couch. He tosses a few of the throw pillows between you, down onto the ground so that there is less of a barrier, before kicking his feet up onto the coffee table.

“Where’s your little kitty cat?” you ask, turning to face him. “Or did you find him a home after all…”

“Who? Ol’ Davy Jones?” he asks, an air of underlying affection in his tone. “Ahh, that little vagrant is around here somewhere. Truthfully, I just haven’t even had time to think about finding him a home.”

You smile because you can tell he is lying. “That’s funny, because it’s been what? Almost a year now?”

“Has it… Hmmm.” he says, staring off into space. “I’m sure he’ll be around, he’s a curious little thing.”

“You know they say that you shouldn’t name pets that you don’t plan to keep…” you press, raising an eyebrow in challenge.

“Well…” he pauses. You can see the gears turning in his head as he tries to piece together an excuse. “He wasn’t responding to ‘hey you feline’, so I was practically forced into giving him a name. You know how these things go. I really am going to find him a good home one of these days when I have the time.”

You nod your head with a smile, as he shakes his own head, stifling back a guilty grin.

“So that is why he has a food bowl with his name on it, right?”

“Aye, aye, what’s with the twenty questions, hm?” he barks, tossing a throw pillow towards you. You catch it and hug it to your chest, resettling into your place.

“Oh, no reason. Just trying to get to know my neighbor and his cat, that’s all.” you say with a cheeky smile.

“He’s not my cat. He just lives in my house.” he says finally, feigning arrogance. “Anyways, tell me about you…”

“Not a whole lot to know, I just moved here, well almost a year ago now, for work. I go to work, come home, watch trashy TV and cook, and sometimes on the weekends I catch some friends at the bar. I also occasionally feed my neighbor's cat. Oh, and spend most holidays alone, which is how I ended up here.” you laugh, not wanting to give too much away.

“Well, I’m glad that you did, I’m rather enjoying having company for once. Listen, I was serious about the edible if you…” he trails off, nervously licking over his lips.

“Oh, yeah of course. Let’s do it.”

He stands from the couch, walking across the room and rummaging around in a backpack on the floor. The first thing he pulls out is an eyeglass case, tucking it under his arm. Then he reaches back in, searching for a moment more, before he pulls out a small black bag and returns to the couch, opening it up as he sits. He places the black glasses case on the table, then picks it up again, making sure there are actually glasses inside before closing it and putting it aside for later.

“Oh Jesus, Josh…” he mutters under his breath. He licks his lips and turns to look at you. “Okay, so, apparently they are peach ring gummies. My brother gave them to me, but didn’t specify the variety.”

“That’s actually fine, I love peach rings.” you blush.

“Really? Okay, good. I thought–” he stops himself with a smile. “Okay, ladies first, how much do you want?

“Um, how much are you gonna have?” you ask, letting your eyes flick up to his.

“Dunno…” he says, inspecting the bag for the details. “Okay, probably half. You think you can do half, or do you want a quarter?”

“I think it should be an even playing field, I’ll do half if you do half.” you answer.

“Whatever you say…” he says with a smile, trying to pull apart the sticky yellow and orange gummy. It stretches beyond belief and he stops. “Okay, so. I think you’re going to have to bite it.”

“Are you sure?” you ask hesitantly.

“Yeah, it’s no big deal, you just take half and I’ll take the rest.” he says, leaning over to place it in your hand. You bring it to your lips, biting half of the gummy with your eyes locked on him. He doesn’t dare blink as he watches your mouth, the sugar crystals collecting on your lips. You see him swallow as you pull it from your lips and hand the remainder back to him. He quickly pops it into his mouth and starts to chew.

Both of you look at each other as you swallow it down, sour looks on both of your faces as the flavor of the strain shines through.

“That was… not my favorite gummy I’ve ever had.” he winces, clearing his mouth of the flavor.

“I think it was okay…I’ve definitely had worse.” you laugh, taking a sip from your glass of water.

“I can’t believe I traded my good blunts for that.” he says, thinking back with a shake of his head. “So, what do you think we should watch? A movie? A TV show? Youtube?” he rattles off.

“What would you watch if I wasn’t sitting here right now?” you ask, leaning your body into the arm rest.

His demeanor quickly changes, his cheeks blushing and his tone growing a bit bashful. “If you weren’t here? Um, probably just youtube videos.” he answers, reaching for the remote on the coffee table.

“Okay, but what kind of youtube videos? What fascinates you…”

He fidgets with the buttons on the remote, trying to decide if he should lie or be honest. His eyes flick up to the TV, then over to you. “Mostly history stuff, like old shipwrecks and stuff. Or maybe sailing videos or guitar videos, I don’t know.”

You can tell he chose to be honest, his fingers still scratching at the buttons on the remote as he waits to see what you’re going to say.

“Okay so do it. Show me your favorite shipwreck. Enlighten me a little…”

“Really?” he asks, a look of shock painted across his face.

“Yeah, why not? I like that kind of stuff too. It’s interesting.”

“Yeah, yeah it is really interesting. Okay, hold on.” he grins, clicking the remote to life and returning to youtube. He scrolls to his favorites and makes his way through what has to be a hundred videos, until he finds what he’s looking for.

“Alright, I know this is a little bit boring at the beginning, but I swear it gets better. I actually learned about this first hand at this little museum in the UK last year, and I really fixated on it, and had to immediately consume every piece of media I could find about it. If you hate it we can turn it off, it’s just… really cool if you can make it through it.” he explains, and you smile watching his eyes light up talking about it.

You smile and nod as he clicks on the video titled, ‘Ghosts of the Mary Rose’. He settles back into the couch, balancing the remote on his knee, and slinging his arm across the back of the couch. You can’t help but notice the proximity of his fingertips as they rest just inches away from your shoulder. The fireplace is still roaring, and the edible is starting to kick in, and you come to terms with the fact there is no place you’d rather be than sitting here learning about this old boat.

Oddly enough, Jake wasn’t wrong. This was one of the cooler shipwrecks you’d learned about, and the fact that he saw it in person made it even better. He proceeded to talk through most of the video, further extrapolating on the points they were making, but explaining them better, in a way that was so purely Jake.

It was clear history was a passion of his, his eyes simply glowing with pride as he spoke about what he knew about this wreck and others similar. You could tell that he was dying for someone, just anyone, to ask him a single question about it, and tonight, you gave him that and more.

You wondered if he had people in his life that indulged him on this regularly, or if he kept it bottled up inside. The way he spoke about it so quickly, stumbling over his words just to get them out, had you thinking that maybe it was the latter, and you suddenly couldn’t bear the thought of him ever feeling lonely.

After what had to be an hour or so, the gummy had met its full potential in your bloodstream. The two of you sat almost mute, staring at the TV screen as he selected videos for you to dive into, but little did he know that it wasn’t the TV you were fixated on. It was the glaring image of his hands as they reflected into the mirror hanging over his fireplace. You watched as they moved, the way his fingers wielded the remote, and the way his fingers would twitch every so often, quickly stifled back by the folding of his hands. You stopped yourself from turning your head to look at them, knowing that if you did you wouldn’t be able to pull your eyes away.

They seemed large. Slightly larger than the average man’s hands, but they also seemed well manicured. Perfectly manicured actually, as if they were his top priority in his grooming habits. His nails were perfectly trimmed, no nicks or cuts, just perfectly tanned hands that tapped away against his thighs. You pulled your eyes away from the mirror to reach for your water, the dry mouth starting to take effect.

You drank down half of the glass, and you could almost feel his eyes on you as you did so. You placed the glass back down, and allowed yourself one look at him, finding that you were correct in the feeling of his eyes fixed on you. His entire mood had shifted, you could tell he was feeling completely relaxed as he lounged on his couch. His eyes were a little red, slightly droopier than usual, and his cheeks flushed pink. His legs were crossed on the coffee table, and his bare foot bobbed along to the sound of the video playing in the background.

You’re not sure if it's the fireplace, the edible, or the man sitting next to you devouring you with his eyes, but you start to feel warm and need to remove your sweater before you burst into flames. You pull the knitted fabric over your arms, and toss it to the floor, leaving you in just your cut off tee, and you swear you see his eyes widen a bit as he takes in the sight of your torso.

In the silence, you hear a faint jingling. He doesn’t seem to notice, but you do, and your eyes shoot to the entryway. His cat trots into the room, probably only expecting Jake, but as soon as he lays eyes on you, he puffs up and hops straight up into the air, then bolts back the way he came, his paws skittering across the floor in a flurry.

The sound makes Jake’s head turn, pulling his eyes from your body and over towards the source of the noise.

“Oh my god, he’s real…” You say in amazement, a smile creeping onto your lips. Jake rolls his eyes at the cat’s dramatics, leaning back to see if he can catch where he went.

“Daaaavvvyyyy…” he calls out in a faux-cockney accent, his voice low and gravelly, rumbling through the house. You would be lying to yourself if you said it didn’t make your stomach flip.

“He’s not a fan of me, I don’t think.” You comment, looking in the direction the tiny black cat ran.

“Don’t think he likes anyone but me, honestly. Bites and scratches the absolute hell out of my brother’s girlfriend whenever she watches him for me.” He says with a chuckle, craning his neck to try and see the cat. He makes a quiet pspspsps sound, but Davy is nowhere to be seen or heard.

“When I found ‘em, he was under a dumpster behind a… a bar.” He says, sitting back up to look at you. “He was practically shouting at me as I walked by, like he was calling for help. So I walked over thinking it was like, a fuckin’ baby or something. I don’t know.”

You grin as he tells the story, which you’re finding quite endearing.

“He called you over? Oh, he’s bold.”

“Sure is. So I wrapped him up in my shirt and put him in the passenger seat… he seemed too little to eat the crunchy little cat food, so I went to the store and got some milk… I didn’t fuckin’ know what to do.” He chuckles and itches his nose, his eyes flicking to yours as he realizes you’re invested in the story and listening with bated breath.

“We got home and he drank some… had a little milk mustache and everything. He seemed to feel better when I got him into the heat, so I made him a deal. He could sleep in the bathroom for the night if he hit the road and left town the next morning.”

“I see that worked out.” You quip, giving him a knowing smile.

“Yeah, the five-pound rapscallion didn’t hold up his end. Owes me a thousand souls now.”

You hum with raised brows as you nod, letting him go on.

“I actually…” he starts, fishing his cell phone out of his pocket he taps and scrolls as he talks. “I actually woke up the next morning and caught the poor thing asleep in a pair of me old dirty trousers.” He says, a little bit of that accent slipping in again. He turns his phone around and shows you a photo of Davy curled into a tiny ball inside a pair of patchwork denim pants, a few different shades of blue.

“Oh my god…” you mumble, popping out your bottom lip.

“Lookit his tail over his nose. How was I supposed to show ‘em the door?” He says, flashing you a grin.

“But you’re still gonna rehome him, huh?” You shoot in his direction, your tone accusatory.

“Should we watch something else? Got any requests?” he asks, gesturing toward the TV with the remote.

“Mmm, you said you liked guitar videos, right? What’s your favorite guitar video of all time?” you ask, crossing your ankles as you stretch out on the chaise.

“That is quite the loaded question, lass.” he quips, tapping the remote to his lips. His full, pink, totally kissable lips. Wait, he’s your neighbor. You have to stop.

“Can you narrow it down to a genre?” he asks, flicking his eyes over to you. He takes a deep breath and bites his lips together waiting for your answer.

“How about…I don’t know, rock? Rock n’ Roll, specifically.” you smirk.

“I know a thing or two.” he chuckles, scrolling through his favorites.

“Ahh, okay this one. This one right here. This man was instrumental in my–” he stops, clearing his throat. “He is one of the greatest musicians I’ve ever witnessed.” he finishes.

“Oh, who is it?” you ask, watching him select the video.

“Pete Townshend.” he answers, starting the video. “He is an incredible guitarist, but that isn’t what makes him great in my opinion. He has this special ability to write insanely powerful rock songs where the guitar isn’t the main focus, or even the main instrument. His work with The Who is just… He isn’t flashy just for the show of it, because he didn’t have to be. His skill speaks for itself and that in itself is an accomplishment.”

“Wow, you know a lot about him. Would you say he is your favorite, then?” you ask.

“Ahh, I don’t know. I have a lot of favorites. A lot of influences I suppose. Lots of people who shaped me.” he answers, and slowly but surely you start to realize he is letting you know him more and more with each passing second, and you’re hanging on his every word.

“Shaped you?” you ask, trying to squeeze yourself through the tiny crack in his armor.

“I’m gonna run to the bathroom. You need anything while I’m up?” he says, standing up slowly and effectively shutting you out. His half smile is a little guilty, which tells you he’s well aware of what he just did.

“I’m okay.” You answer, giving him a knowing smile as he shuffles out of the room, the sound of his bare feet on the hardwood the only sound under the music playing quietly from the tv.

It’s a minute or two before he gets back and this time when he comes to sit on the couch, he lays across the cushions on his stomach, grabbing the pillow to your left and tucking it between his arm and his head. He’s so, so close to you now, the smell of his shampoo making its way over to you when he nuzzles his head against the pillow. Once he’s completely comfortable, he takes a deep breath and then speaks softly.

“I’m a musician. So. When I said ‘shaped me,’ I meant it almost literally.” His voice sounds a little different when his cheek is smushed into the throw pillow.

“So I’m guessing you play guitar?” you say, blinking up at the TV as the man on the screen’s fingers crawl across the frets.

“I do.” He says it simply, but not in a way that’s short. You look down at his right hand, bent at the elbow and holding on to the pillow. At this distance, you can see there’s a little indent around his middle finger, like he wears a ring of some sort.

“I don’t really have any… creative talents. So I think that’s really impressive.” Your words are quiet and you’re trying to coax him back out of his shell. He lifts his head from the pillow, and when he’s looking up at you from below, his glassy brown eyes are enough to make your heart melt. You have to blink a few times through the brain fog to really focus on them, and when you do, your pulse quickens.

“I’m sure that’s not true. What do you do?” He asks softly, and luckily, he doesn’t seem to notice the way you’re staring at him.

“It’s very true. I’m an accountant.” You answer, laugh bubbling out of you at the absurdity of it all. “Literally the opposite of creative.”

He breaks into a grin, laughing with you for a second or two, and you think it’s the sweetest sound you’ve ever heard.

“...Alright. You got me there. We can watch something else…” He says, looking for the remote, and you mourn the loss of eye contact.

“No, no! I wanted you to pick something you’d watch even if I wasn’t here, and you did. Plus, I kinda like your commentary. This stuff is all new to me.” You say, and he chuckles softly. He rests his head on the pillow again, his arm grazing yours unintentionally. He pays it no mind.

“If you say so.”

After another two videos accompanied by Jake’s narration, you find yourself so hungry, you think you might be withering away. When there’s a lull in his commentary, you whisper into the dim room from behind him.

“Is it normal to feel like I need a snack so urgently I might pass away?”

He stretches a little, rolling over to look at you again. You give him a slow smile, your eyes squinting as your cheeks push them closed.

“I can go see what I have… It’s been a minute since I’ve been home but there’s probably–”

“No!” You interject, sitting up a little more. He jumps at the motion, a little startled. “I have this tray of chocolate covered strawberries in my fridge! My coworker called in today, and her boyfriend sent her like two dozen of them, so obviously I brought them home.”

“Oh hell yeah.” He answers, smiling back at you.

“I’ll be right back!” You say excitedly, hopping off the couch and swiping your keys off the table. You quickly slip on your shoes and head for the front door, darting out into the cold night.

It’s not long before you’re kicking the refrigerator door shut and sneaking back out into the windy February air. As you cross the street you see his door open, and once you’re close enough, you duck inside. He takes the box from you right away as he shuts the door.

After putting it down on the table near his front door, he reaches for your bare arms, rubbing them to warm you up. He laughs softly as you smile up at him.

“You didn’t bring your sweater, you absolute maniac…” he chides playfully, and you laugh in response, a chill running up your spine. His hands are so warm and his presence so comforting that you find yourself resisting the urge to wrap yourself up in him.

“I didn’t think it would be that cold.” you mumble, trying to keep your teeth from chattering.

“Oh, you thought the cold snap had just let up suddenly?” he asks with a sarcastic inflection, and you roll your eyes with a smile as he lets go of your arms. “Figured it was probably a cozy 27 degrees instead of 22?”

You pick the strawberries back up and walk past him, back toward the living room to take your seat again. Before you can offer him a snarky retort, he’s quickly heading up the stairs of his old house, taking them two at a time as they creak and crack. Footsteps sound from above you, moving in one direction and then the other, before he’s coming back down slower than he had ascended. When he appears in the entryway of the living room, he’s holding the biggest, plushest navy blue down comforter you’ve ever seen in both of his arms. He’s peeking over and around it as he navigates behind the coffee table, careful not to trip or bump into something.

“What’s all this?” You ask, laughing at the sight before you as you sit criss-crossed on the chaise, the container of strawberries still sitting in your lap, uneaten.

“The comforter from my bed, obviously.” He answers, snatching the berries from you once more and putting them on the coffee table. You groan, but it’s short lived, as he drops the entire giant comforter overtop of you. He arranges it to wrap you inside of it, letting your head peek out. He tucks it under your thighs and tugs it closed across your chest.

“Thank you,” you mumble through a tight-lipped smile, finding him a little ridiculous, but also thoughtful and sweet. He plops down next to you, sitting similarly to you with his legs crossed, the box of strawberries between you. He opens them and offers you one by the stem, which you graciously accept.

You take a bite, quickly moving your hand under your chin to catch any of the chocolate cracking and falling. You moan a little at the taste, smiling at him when his eyes cut to yours.

He takes a bite of his own, his approach for avoiding a mess a little different than yours. His bite is so big that it takes him a while to chew through it, eventually speaking with some still in his mouth.

“I don’t know who the fuck decided these are supposed to be a romantic food.” He has a little bit of chocolate in his mustache and you can’t help but giggle, his tongue quickly darting out to lick it. “I’ve never had a more difficult time eating anything in my goddamn life.” He says, a hearty laugh rumbling through his chest.

You’re so far under the influence and feeling so content from finally getting your hands on the sweets you were craving, all you can do is giggle in response. It’s the kind of giggle that lingers, when the joke is probably forgotten. He’s watching you with one raised brow as you cover your mouth and try to stop it.

He eventually joins you, unable to resist the contagious, almost delusional snickering coming from you under the giant blanket across from him. It’s a sweet, silly moment, and it feels effortless. You spend the next few minutes chewing and laughing and stealing glances at him in secret. The edible has you at a point where you’re not sure if you’re speaking out loud or thinking the words in your head. So then, the question you’re considering asking him just slips out.

“Why are you so tan in February?” You laugh, realizing it was a little forward of you to just ask out of nowhere. Luckily, you’re met with a stoned giggle of his own before he swallows and answers.

“I… went to a music festival in South America last week.” He says, eyes flicking up to yours, almost like he’s trying to see if you believe him.

“See anyone good?” You pry, your cheeks a little flushed the more you stare at him and catalog his mannerisms.

“Nobody you’d know.” He says, and you take him at his word. He smiles reassuringly, even though you don’t believe him, and it makes you giggle some more.

Eventually, it settles down and it’s just occasional quiet laughs cutting through the quiet of the room. He reaches for another strawberry and you realize it’s a little too quiet. You turn your head towards the tv, the last video having ended, and the countdown to the next one descending from 15. You squint your eyes a little to see what’s about to play next.

Rig Rundown: Greta Van Fleet [2021] is the title. But what really throws you is the thumbnail. The image is an older guy with coiffed silver hair, smiling and pointing at… Jake? He’s got a smug smile on his face, an arm on this other guy’s shoulder, and his hair down, which you think you’ve seen only once. He’s in a navy blue blazer with a hand on his hip, a guitar hanging across the front of his body.

“...Is that you?”

10…9…8…

“Huh?” Jake says as he looks up at you from the box of strawberries, his mouth full, a stem pinched between his two fingers. He sees where you’re looking and follows your gaze towards the TV as it counts down.

7…6…5…

“Oh, fuck–”

You quickly grab the remote control from the end of the coffee table, trying to find the OK button so it will start playing sooner. Jake panics, tossing the carton of berries onto the table with reckless abandon. He lunges towards you, so you hide the remote inside the comforter along with as much of yourself as you can.

“No!” He shouts playfully, grabbing at the blanket and trying to unravel you. He kneels on the edge of the chaise, knocking you over and trying to get to your hands and arms under the layers and layers of soft, fluffy blankets.

“You have… to let… me watch it!” You argue with a laugh, avoiding his grasp. You finally decide to raise the remote all the way over your head, almost over the edge of the couch. He leans forward over top of you, his weight balanced on his palm next to your head.

“Hand it over.” He says, attempting to be stern, but there’s a smile pulling at his lips. A little jingle begins to play, and you can’t see the screen, but you’re positive the video is starting. You adjust the remote in your hand and crank the volume as he stares down at you. His eyes linger on your lips, then your eyes, then your lips again. His stare is only broken when he realizes it’s getting louder. A riff starts to fill the room, a song you can’t say you’ve ever heard before, and he huffs, reaching for the remote again.

You’re a little distracted watching him on the screen over his shoulder, his long hair and unbuttoned shirt and the way his hands look wrapped around the neck of the guitar. He snatches the remote from you with an extra stretch of his arm and you giggle softly. “Oh my god…”

“Hey, hey! I’m John from Premier Guitar, and I’m here with Jake Kiszka from–”

Jake pauses the video, falling back into his seat on the couch. His head lolls to the side and he looks at you with a playful, annoyed glare.

“Absolutely not.”

“Why the hell are you doing guitar interviews?”

“I told you I’m a musician.” He says, a little short, lifting the remote to exit the video.

“No, no, wait!” You plead, reaching for his forearm to lower it. “Just let me watch, like, a minute.” He doesn’t say anything for a moment. “If you don't, I'll just go home and watch it anyway.”

He groans, mumbling a barely there “fine,” begrudgingly before pressing play and letting the guy continue.

“Greta Van Fleet! Jake, congratulations! Since I last saw you, you won a grammy! Or two grammys?”

“Yeah, one…”

“You have a fucking GRAMMY?” You exclaim as the video continues to play. You turn and look at him, but his eyes are on the screen, squinting with what you can tell is embarrassment.

“Are you gonna talk through your allotted one minute of watching or what?” He says, giving you a little warning look. You grin, turning your attention back to the screen. As the guy goes on and on, you realize this isn’t the part you want to watch.

“Can we skip past this guy? He talks a lot. This is not how I want to use my minute.” You bargain, and he just offers you the remote silently with a smirk.

You fast forward a little until you see he’s about to play. It’s a few seconds of him playing something else you’ve never heard, and then he speaks.

“It’s hotter, it’s a bit hotter…”

You smirk with wide eyes, looking at him in your peripherals.

“Shut up.” He says, closing his eyes like he simply can’t watch any more. You laugh at his dramatics, and when he hears it he can’t help but crack a smile. His cheeks are rosy and you look back at the screen, eyes trying to decide on what part of him to land on.

“This guy…” You start, shaking your head a little.

“He’s a bit much.” Jake says, looking over at you with a half smile.

“He’s so sweaty!” You add, laughing through your words.

He lets you watch for more than a minute. He makes a few comments, scoffing at himself, even running his hand over his face a few times. You can tell it’s a little painful for him, but you’re in your glory. You reach for another strawberry as you look over at his embarrassed face.

“So this is why you’re never here…” you say, turning the volume down a little. “And the music festival…”

“Yep. That would be the reason.” He says softly, sniffing a little as he watches. You turn to look at him and his eyes flick up to yours, his gaze traveling straight to your lips. There's a flicker in his eyes, and you hardly comprehend that his hand is moving towards your face. You feel his thumb swipe softly against your bottom lip, a tiny smear of chocolate on the tip of his digit. Your tongue immediately licks over the place his thumb was, tasting the sugary sweetness of the chocolate that was once there. He places his thumb between his lips, licking the chocolate from his own finger, while his eyes stay locked on yours.

“Somehow, it’s even sweeter.” he breathes letting his hand drop from his lips. He settles back into the couch cushions resting his head on his hand as he looks at you. You can hardly pull your eyes away from his as your heart races in your chest, the video in the background long forgotten.

“Tell me why you’re alone on Valentine’s day…” he murmurs, his pink lips barely parting to let the words escape.

“You tell me why you are…” you counter, blinking slowly as you stare at him.

He bites his lips together as he tosses around the words in his head. He clicks his tongue against his teeth as he starts to speak. “Well, to be honest… I’ve had trouble finding someone that can live with the burden of my lifestyle. It’s a lot to ask of someone. ”

“Burden?” you ask.

“Yeah, that’s the word that always gets thrown around when things go south. And they’re not wrong I suppose. I know that I’m gone more than I’m home. Even you know that.” He says with a humorless chuckle. “Half the time I don’t know the next time that I’ll be home and get to sleep in my own bed. So naturally that sort of…uncertainty doesn’t lend well to relationships. Of any kind really…” he pauses, letting out a sigh. “It’s hard to find, let alone keep, any type of meaningful connection… Especially when I’m halfway around the world. But I swear it’s not for lack of trying on my end. It’s just one of those things that comes with the job whether you want it or not.”

You nod your head slowly, feeling your heart breaking for him. If you weren’t sure before, you are positive now that he is just a little more lonely than he is willing to let on.

“I wasn’t even supposed to be here now. We’re supposed to be traveling to New York right now. Though, everything happens for a reason I guess.” he says, offering you a little smirk as he brushes his hand over top of yours. “Now, your turn. Tell me why such an intriguing woman is all alone on the most romantic day of the year…”

You pull the fluffy blanket up a little further onto your lap, toying with the hem as you look up at him. “I haven’t really dated anyone since I moved here. I thought I would but, I just…haven’t. I thought that once I was settled into a good routine at work I could spend a little more time meeting people, but every time I go out I’m suddenly surrounded by twenty other girls who are by modern standards perfect, and I just don’t even stand a chance against them, you know?” you pause, letting your fingers roll over the stitching on the edge of the duvet. “I don’t look like them, and I never will. So I just work a lot, hang out with my friends when I can, and have zero expectations of ever being the person that is going to stand out in a crowd like that.”

You bite the inside of your cheek as you wait for his response, suddenly feeling stupid for telling this stranger your secrets.

“You couldn't be more wrong.” he breathes, letting his arm fall against the back of the couch. There’s an air of demand in his voice as he speaks. His hand swipes the hair away from your face, letting his fingers brush your jawline. “You’re prettier than all of them. And smarter, and funnier. They have nothing on you. I’d pick you…In a crowd.”

“You don’t have to just say that to try and make me feel better. It’s okay, really.” you say dismissively.

“I’m not just saying that, Y/N. I mean it. You’re so pretty, and you’re so quick witted, and you listen to me talk about stuff no one else cares about...Shit, I can’t think of one person I know that would have sat through even the first video, let alone let me talk through the entire thing. I’m having one of the best nights I’ve had in a long time, with you.” he urges, settling his hand loosely on the curve of your neck. His skin is warm against yours, and you can smell the remnants of the cologne he likely sprayed on his wrist this morning as it wafts towards your nose.

You laugh softly, suddenly feeling shy as he compliments you. You lean into him without even noticing, your eyes closing as you breathe him in. The cushion dips as he leans towards you, meeting you where you were and pressing his lips to yours almost tentatively. His fingers grip into your neck as his tongue swipes against your bottom lip. If the gummy didn’t already have you feeling floaty, you were sure you’d be feeling it now. He pulls away from you and a small whimper leaves your mouth at the loss of his warmth. His hand slides down your neck and over your shoulder, grabbing your hand and pulling you towards him. With his other hand, he picks up the remote and hits pause, not wanting the video to carry on in the background of what you think is about to be another kiss.

“C’mere…” he growls, holding a hand out to you. You tuck your feet underneath yourself in an attempt to push up onto your knees, feeling slightly off-kilter. You grip his hand a little tighter as you reach for his shoulder, moving slowly until you’re straddling his lap. He positions your legs on either side of him, making sure you’re comfortable, and taking the opportunity to run his hands over your thighs. You rest your hands on his chest for some stability, your head in the clouds. His hands immediately find their way back to your face, cupping your cheeks as he pulls you in and kisses you again,though this time there is a little more urgency behind it. You slide your hands up and over his shoulders, letting your fingers weave into his hair, grabbing a handful of the chestnut locks and gripping it in your fists. He tilts his head back slightly in response.

“Oh, fuck.” he groans. He looks at you with his head tilted back, his lids heavy, a barely-there crooked smile on his face. He’s such a sight with his dark eyes and pink lips, you think you might burst on the spot. You know you need to kiss him again, but you also want to hear him moan and curse again, and his exposed throat is calling to you.

Leaning down, you place a kiss to his jaw, the skin soft and warm. You feel like you’re in the passenger seat as someone else, a bolder and less inhibited version of yourself, calls the shots. One minute, you’re thinking about how the textured skin of his throat feels against your cheek, then then the next, you’re kissing and licking at it without a second thought. You feel his skin buzz under your lips as he whines, the taste of his skin and cologne mixed together so good you’re certain you’ll never be able to forget it.

You feel yourself melting into him, your tongue pulling the delicate skin over his clavicle into your mouth as you suck and bite softly without any consideration for the fact that he probably shouldn’t be covered in love bites. When you lift your head, he’s got his own resting on the back of the couch, his eyes closed, his brows knitted together as you shower him in searing kisses.

Sitting up, you lean over him again for another kiss, this time taking it upon yourself to deepen it, grazing your teeth over his bottom lip as you lace your hands in his hair again, taking a bit of control. You feel him shudder beneath you, his hips bucking up in response. His tongue slides into your mouth and you can taste the lingering flavor of the tequila he was no doubt drinking prior to your arrival mixed with a hint of chocolate. His hands travel down your body, sliding underneath the hem of your shirt. He stops as his hands wrap around your waist, his thumbs swiping over your skin. You lean into his grip, feeling him pull you down onto his groin as his teeth nip at your lips now.

You know that both of you are still feeling the effects of the gummy and there isn’t a shred of inhibition between the two of you. You release your grip on his hair and let your hands trail down the open buttons of his shirt, feeling the chest you’ve stared at all night beneath your fingertips. You slide them further down, letting your fingers toy with the remaining buttons, waiting to see if he will stop you, but when he doesn’t, you finish the job and push his shirt open completely. A silver necklace rests between his pecs, and you smile recognizing the coin as one of the artifacts you saw in one of the videos from earlier in the night.

His mouth is like velvet on yours and you can’t help but to want more of him. You roll your hips against him, feeling him growing beneath you and spurring you on even more. Another groan leaves his mouth, his lips vibrating on yours. His hands move up a little further, his thumbs just dusting the underside of your bralette. You can tell he’s doing his best to be respectful, but you simply cannot wait another second to feel his hands on your body.

You reach for the hem of your shirt and pull it over your head, tossing it to the side. He swallows thickly as his eyes roam over you, his lips parting as he looks you over. His mind is struggling to keep up with the pace things are moving. He hums in approval as he runs a calloused fingertip over your navel, which pulls a lazy smile from you. Jake chuckles in response, now moving his hands to rest at your shoulders before pulling you down closer to him so he can press a wet kiss to your collarbone. His lips trail down your skin until they reach the fullness of your chest, and with his eyes now locked on yours, he sucks a hot, audible kiss into the rounded skin.

Your eyes flutter closed as his tongue swipes against your skin, simultaneously feeling his fingers pull the bralette straps down over your shoulders. With the extra support gone the cups fall slightly, revealing a little more of your chest to him. You grab his hands and pull them to your chest, giving him the green light to take things a little further.

“God, you’re stunning.” he mumbles breathlessly, gripping into your tits as you roll your hips against him. You lean forward to press your lips to his again, licking into his mouth as his hands move to circle around your back, resting just at the base of your back. He presses you closer as you roll into him again, this time feeling his fully hard cock pressed against your core. He hooks a finger into one side of your bralette, freeing your nipple. He leans forward and takes into his mouth, sucking softly. You groan at the feeling, a breath of air leaving his mouth as you drag across the length of him. He pulls you closer, dragging his tongue over the sensitive bud as mewls fall from your lips. You usually aren’t as affected by something so routine in foreplay, but all of your senses are heightened and you think you could probably cum from the feeling of his mouth spoiling you with kisses and bites combined with how hard he is between your thighs.

He pulls back just enough to look into your eyes, still glassy and blown out. “I promise this isn’t what I intended when I invited you over...” he breathes, his thumbs swiping against your back as he licks his lips, his blinks slow and lazy.

“I know…” you answer with a bashful smile and lidded eyes, staring into his brown irises. “But it feels too good to stop.”

“Yeah,” he says, more of a breath than a word. “I want you so fucking bad right now.” he adds, a smirk pulling across his lips as he makes the move to roll you to your back on the chaise of the couch. You're giggling as he’s now hovering over you, similarly to how he was earlier, only this time you know he’s going to kiss you and you don’t have to wish for it. He makes quick work of his shirt, pulling his arms from the sleeves and tossing it to the other side of the room. Your head is positively spinning, the room around you seems like a blur and the only thing in focus is him.

He runs a finger over your chest, hooking into the fabric of your bralette. “Take this off for me, sweetheart. Show me.” he mumbles, his lazy eyes slowly raking over every inch of you, needing more.

You practically burst into flames, rushing to pull the fabric over your head. Now completely exposed to him, his eyes flick down to your chest as he bites his lips together. He pulls back again, unbuttoning his pants and pulling the zipper down for some relief. He swallows harshly, letting his eyes meet yours again. You reach your hand up and hook it around his neck, pulling his face down to yours. You press your lips to his and he lowers himself down to his elbows, deepening the kiss as his body lays on top of yours.

You let your free hand circle around his back, your fingers following the contours of his waist, dipping down to his spine as you run the length of his back. He groans at the feeling of your nails against his skin, and you find yourself wondering if he’s usually this vocal or if the high he’s experiencing has lowered his guard.

He shoots up, turning his head around to look at the TV, muttering something under his breath as he grabs the remote from the other side of the couch. He exits the video and you giggle, realizing it was paused on a still of his brother, you assume, in the middle of talking with his hands, sitting behind a keyboard. He tosses the remote to the coffee table, leaning back down over you with a smirk. “Sorry. I just think three’s a crowd.” he smiles, pressing another kiss to your lips.

He pulls away from your lips leaving a trail of kisses down your throat, and over your sternum, stopping just shy of the top of your yoga pants. His eyes flick up to yours, and you offer him a shy nod, silently thanking yourself for that “everything” shower this morning.

He kisses your stomach one more time before curling his fingers beneath the hem, sliding them slowly over your hips and down your legs before letting them fall softly to the floor. You lay there in just your panties, and you think he may notice that you’re feeling exposed as he quickly stands to kick off his pants. Your eyes are immediately drawn to the heavy outline of his dick, visible and straining against the black fabric of his boxers.

His eyes flick to yours but you can’t seem to take your eyes off of the tan line just above the elastic of his boxers, wanting more than anything to peel the black fabric from his hips. He kneels onto the chaise, settling himself between your legs and caging you between his arms. A few strands of his hair hang around his face, and his dark brown eyes are growing darker by the second. You bring your hand up to his stomach, letting your fingers sneak beneath the elastic of his boxers, sliding across the front of his waist causing him to clench up his stomach with a smile.

“You ticklish?” you murmur, continuing to slide your fingers across his waistband.

He drops his head to look at your hand in his boxers before looking back up at you with a smirk. “Not ticklish, just…sensitive…” he growls. You can tell that the gummy has made him a little more responsive to touch than he normally is.

His hips jolt forward on their own accord and you feel the brush of his dick against your fingers. He sucks in a harsh breath at the contact, his eyes connecting with yours. You pull your bottom lip between your teeth as you push your hand further inside, wrapping softly around his hardened length. A hiss leaves his mouth and he starts to breathe a little heavier as you squeeze around him. You slide your hand up and around the tip, rounding off at the end before sliding back down, watching his eyes flutter closed for the slightest second.

“Fuck, wait…” he breathes, pulling back and taking a second to compose himself. He sits up a little more, hooking his fingers into your thong and pulling it swiftly down your legs. His eyes flick up towards the couch then back down the length of the chaise, “Move down a little for me, baby. Rest your feet on the floor. ”

You quickly push yourself further down on the couch, letting your knees hang over the edge of the chaise until your feet meet the rug on the floor. He drops to his knees at the end of the chaise, running his warm hands up the length of your thighs. He kisses the inside of your thigh, humming in appreciation for the position he’d found himself in.

He rests both of his hands on your hips, and as you look down at him, you see a faint silver scar up the length of his left arm. You wrap your hand around his forearm, feeling his veins pulsing against your palm.

His eyes meet yours as he slowly drags his tongue through your folds, hot and slow as you throw your head back into the couch cushion. His grip on your waist tightens, his fingers pressing firmly into your skin pulling you closer as his lips suction over your clit. His tongue swipes against you again, flatter and with more pressure as you writhe beneath him.

“Fuck…” he curses, his warm breath sending a shiver up your spine. “Had I known what I was missing…” he pauses to lick at you again. “I would have pulled you across the street months ago. You taste like heaven.”

You feel as if you’re floating on a cloud as you melt into his comforter, the warmth from the fireplace radiating across the room. A soft gasp falls from your lips as he laps at you, no urgency or strategy behind his method. He seems to just be enjoying himself, his eyes lifting to look at you, a little lazy, a little glassy. You shift underneath him slightly, but he’s not deterred. His mouth doesn’t leave you for even a moment, like you’re his only source of vitality in this very moment.

You whine when you feel his tongue press to your entrance, and you feel the smile that pulls across his lips. Your hips buck up towards him, his nose brushing over your clit, sending you quickly towards a place you’re not quite ready to be yet. His tongue finds you again, pressing forward this time and entering just for a second before pulling back out. His lips suction over you again, and he shakes his head side to side, taking you to that place whether you’re ready or not.

“Jake…” you whine, sliding your hands into his hair.

“Mmm?” he hums into you, his eyes slowly opening to find yours, heavy with lust.

“More…” you beg, shuddering the slightest bit as you see how dark his eyes have become.

He gives you one more slow, long lap of his tongue, like he’s savoring it and committing the taste of you to memory. He stands from where he was kneeling and taps your thigh gently, wordlessly telling you to shift back up on the chaise. You scoot backwards and he follows, nestling himself between your legs, propped up on his palm. With the hand he isn’t using for balance, he frees himself from his briefs. He strokes himself once, but then lets himself go and you feel him against you, his cock heavy and hard, landing on the inside of your thigh with the softest sound. He pulls back slightly and when he pushes his hips forward again, he’s sliding through your folds, slick and lewd. It makes your cheeks hot.

“You’re so fucking wet…” he grunts, his voice strained like he’s in pain. “Just wanna feel you for a second…”

He lowers himself to bury his face in your hair, his breath hot as he pants, gently rutting his hips against you, his thrusts a little uncoordinated and desperate.

“Everything’s just so fucking sensitive.” he says, his now boyish voice cracking as it’s muffled by the pillow behind your head. He wraps his arms tightly around you and under you, like he’s worried you’re about to float away. “Feels so good.”

With a deep breath he releases you, sliding his hand down to fist his base. As he presses the tip to your entrance his eyes lock on yours, wordlessly asking if you’re ready, and when you nod he starts to press forward. His eyes flick down to your center, watching as he slides into you. The stretch is noticeable, but you welcome it. You want it. His eyes flutter closed for just a second and you feel him stop his movement, not pressing into you fully.

“Fuck, give me a second.” he pants, his chest heaving.

You feel him try to slide in a little more, but again he’s holding back.

“I think– I think you’re gonna have to take the reins here.” he admits.

“What do you mean…”

“If I move a single inch more I won’t–” he pauses, shaking his head as he blows out a breath. “I just need you to be on top.”

His eyes are pleading, searching yours, and you can’t possibly fathom the idea of ever denying him.

“I’ll make it worth your while.” he offers, and you can’t help but give him a little smirk, nodding. He withdraws and gives you a little space to get up, ditching his underwear before taking your place. You gingerly climb over him, taking a moment to brush one of the strands of hair that frames his face out of the way. He gives you a soft, lazy smile, his eyes barely open as he welcomes your gentle touch.

His hand reaches between the two of you as he lines himself up, and you waste no time lowering yourself onto him, savoring how full he makes you feel. Intending to fly right out of the gates you lift your hips again, but he slowly settles you down, a soft hum rumbling through him.

“That’s it. Yeah… Lean back for me?” he coaches, and you do as he asks without a second thought. His warm hand brushes down your abdomen until his thumb makes contact with your clit to rub gentle circles while his lidded eyes are open just a sliver to stare intently at where your bodies are meeting. His pink lips are parted slightly, his breathing shallow. You can’t help the wanton moan that escapes your throat at the sight paired with his careful touch.

“Rest your hands on my knees. I won’t let you fall.” he instructs, letting his free hand slide up your thigh. You do as he says, leaning back onto his knees, allowing you to take him a little deeper. “Just like that, baby. Fuck…”

You roll your hips in figure eights, feeling him brush against that sensitive place inside you, eliciting a whine from your chest.

“Yeah? Right there?” he asks, eyes flicking up to meet yours. “You stay just like that. Let me take over.”

He brings his foot up to rest on the cushion, giving himself a little more leverage. His hand firmly grips into your hip as he forcefully flicks his hips and fucks up into you. You gasp as he hits that spot, like he knew where it was the whole time. His thumb never relenting in its work on your clit.

“Yeah, damn. That’s it isn’t it, sweetheart? You feel so good like this... You just keep squeezin’ me, just like that.”

The force of his thrusts cause his silver chain to work its way up his body and into the crook of his neck. Your attention is quickly drawn to the metal coins rattling together with each thrust.

“M’gonna cum…” you warn him so he can decide whether or not to back off, but he just groans and keeps his motions steady. You can’t breathe when it hits you, nor can you help the way you fall forward, gasping for breath. Steadying yourself with weak arms, you grasp at the plush comforter underneath him.

“Fuck me that’s tight,” he groans. “Fuck.” He grabs your wrists on either side of his head for leverage, thrusting up into you so hard you see stars. It’s like your vision goes white as your chest heaves and you meet your end, crying out a desperate wail of his name.

“Slow down for me now, baby.” he coos as you tremble and try to catch your breath. You nod, taking all of him slowly with each roll of your hips. Looking down at him, you can tell he’s struggling to keep it together. Something about the way he’s dewy with sweat, his chest rising and falling, his hair sticking to his face… It makes your head spin. You watch his stoned eyes rolling back each time you take him so deeply the head of his cock brushes against the deepest part of you and it’s almost too much to bear.

He grips your hips suddenly, inhaling sharply. You freeze, knowing what he’s getting at, and you feel him twitch inside you. His brow is knitted up in concentration and a whine leaves his perfect, heart-shaped lips.

“Goddamn… you feel too good. I can’t– I can’t hold it, fuck…” he babbles, his voice pitched higher than you’ve heard it all night. Before you can say a word, he continues on.

“Can I do it inside? Please, baby, can I? Pl– oh, god, please? Wanna cum inside you so bad, so fucking bad… Can I? Baby–”

“Do it.” you urge, desperate to give him anything he wants in this very moment.

“Yeah?” he gasps.

“Yeah, do it. Please. I need it…” you whine, squeezing him with everything you have one last time.

“Oh fuck…” he groans, his grip on your hips tightening as he pulls you down and holds you in place as he pumps into you. “God damn, fuck me…” he cries out, grunting with each pulse inside you. His brows are furrowed and his eyes screwed shut before finally letting out a deep breath and slowing his hips.

His chest is heaving and a sheen of sweat covers his tanned skin. His hand moves from your hips, swiping the sweaty hair from his forehead. You lift to your knees, knowing exactly why his eyes are still trained on the place the two of you meet. He wants to see his work.

As you lift up, you feel his release start to stream out of you and back down onto his cock. A huff of pride leaves his chest, his tongue swiping out over his bottom lip before biting it between his teeth.

“Should we clean up?” he asks, watching the hot white streams drip down to his base.

“I’m working on it...” you say softly, lifting off of him completely and dropping to your knees. You plant your hands on either side of his hips, arching your back and pressing your ass into the air as you lower your mouth over his cum covered cock.

“Fuck…” he groans, watching your lips slide down his length.

Closing your lips over his base, you take him as far into your throat as you can, sucking his release from his skin as you work your way up, dragging your tongue over his every inch. You can feel him growing hard again as you reach the tip, lapping and circling your tongue around the sensitive skin. You drop down to his base again, but this time you feel his hand grip into your hair, holding you there as his hips jerk forward, propelling him further down your throat.

“Look at me.” he demands, and you flick your watery eyes up to meet his.

You gag around him and he releases your hair, his eyes dark and filled with desire. “Mmm…Yeah, fuck. We’re gonna revisit this...” he says, eyes fixed on you as you pull off of him with a pop. “Just needed to see how pretty you look with my cock down your throat.”

You can’t stop the tiny gasp that escapes you as you shoot him a playfully shocked grin. You blink once, raising your brows.

“We have a lot to revisit. Where did that come from?” You ask through a laugh, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand. He chuckles, handing you your shirt.

“Sorry, sorry. The edible’s wearing off.” He says with a smirk, attempting to get himself off the couch. “Let’s go get you cleaned up.”

Jake shows you to the bathroom, then disappears into his bedroom while you freshen up. When you emerge, re-dressed and significantly less sticky, he hears your footsteps and comes out to meet you in the hallway. The two of you smile at each other, feeling the THC and endorphins and feelings starting to settle like you’re standing in a snowglobe.

“I'm glad you came over. Sorry I Jake’d you for a few hours.” He says softly, and there’s some jingling coming from his bedroom, which is probably Davy annoyed that you’re still lingering in his house. Jake hears it, reaching behind him to close his bedroom door without looking away from you.

“Jake’d me? Please don’t tell me that’s what you call–”

“NO, no, no. Oh, no. Getting ‘Jake’d’ is what my family calls it when I corner one of them into talking to me for an extended period of time about something they don’t really care about in excruciating detail.” He explains like he’s reading the definition from a textbook, a charming smile on his face. He seems a little embarrassed but at the same time, he sees the humor in it.

“Well I had a really great time.” you answer genuinely, pushing your hair behind your ear. “You can Jake me whenever you want.” You joke, a laugh bubbling out of you. You wiggle your eyebrows at him playfully and it coaxes a short, loud laugh out of him as well.

“I just might take you up on that.” He says, and there’s a rosy tint to his cheeks even in the dim lighting of the hallway.

“You know where to find me...”

As if he can tell you’re about to try and take your leave, he starts to walk past you and down the stairs.

“...Have you ever watched those videos where they clean out old barns?”

–

The two of you ended up curled together on the chaise, tucked under his big comfy blanket. The exhaustion hits you all at once, and about 10 minutes in, you slip into a deep sleep, your head tucked into his shoulder, his arm around you, his hand gently scratching your scalp.

Hours later, you wake up unsure where you are for a moment. As you shift a little, you feel there’s a heavy weight against you, which you soon realize is Jake’s leg. You’re no longer tucked underneath the giant duvet, a little sweaty, as Jake is asleep on his back. His hand is tucked into his sweatpants resting on his upper thigh, and you have to peel your eyes away once you spot the first sign of him half hard and half asleep. You can see his bold tan line and the slightest bit of hair through the gap he’s created. Sitting up, you try to search for a clock somewhere in the room or even your phone. Feeling around the chaise under you, you don’t find it. You look over on the other side of Jake hoping it’s there, but the only thing you find there is little Davy, curled into a ball and pressed against Jake’s back.

Jake seems to feel you moving around and it wakes him, eliciting a raspy hum from his chest. He pulls you back in towards him, your back to his chest, and you feel him shaking his head against your shoulder.

“Morning,” you say through a breathy laugh, but at the sound of your voice, you hear the jingle of Davy’s collar and the tippy-taps of his feet as he runs as far away from you as humanly possible.

“Too early.” He grumbles, reaching blindly over his head to feel around for the curtains. When he doesn’t find them, he groans and gets up, tugging them closed tight. “Fuck. Slept with my contacts in.” He says, standing over you and rubbing his eyes with the heels of his hands. He stretches his arms over his head, his tanline peeking out again, and you squeeze your eyes closed trying to keep your head on straight. He sighs deeply before sliding back onto the couch with you, pulling you tight to him. The two of you fall back asleep soon after, the only sound you hear is the clinking of Davy’s collar tag against his bowl and some quiet crunching.

–

When you wake again it’s from the feeling of Jake’s fingers moving against your hip. You stretch your legs out along the chaise, feeling the brush of his sweatpants against your legs. You roll your body towards him letting out a yawn. His eyes open, a little red from the dryness of sleeping with his contacts in, but as they fully open you’re once again pulled in by the dark brown irises.

“Still too early?” you whisper, your morning voice thick with sleep.

“Mmm, a bit, but I should probably get up. I’m sure my phone is just completely blown up by this point.” he groans, stretching his own legs out. “You sleep okay? We should’ve just moved to the bed earlier.”

“Actually this couch is pretty comfy, no complaints from me.” you smile, watching a grin spread across his own face.

“Speaking of complaints, your snoring…” he trails off.

“I don’t snore!” you admonish, playfully pushing off of his warm chest.

“No, you don’t. I’m just kidding. You are warm though, but that’s not a complaint.” he growls, tossing the comforter off of both of you. He pushes himself up off of the couch, his sweatpants dangerously low on his hips. “Coffee? You drink coffee?” he asks, searching for his phone on the coffee table. “Or I can order something to the house, though there’s really only one good place that deliv–”

You send him a knowing look and he stops himself.

“But you know that already because you live across the street.” he sighs. “So, coffee?”

“Coffee’s good.” you answer, looking for your own phone.

“How do you like it? Sugar? Milk? I don’t know what I have but–”

“Just sugar is fine…” you smirk.

He leans over the coffee table to grab his phone, stealing a kiss on his descent.

“Hey!” you laugh.

“You said just sugar…” he grins, swiping his phone and disappearing into his kitchen.

You stifle back the smile on your lips, and a morning you thought might be slightly awkward, feels like you’ve done it a million times. You pull on your cardigan, and run your fingers through your hair, straightening up the couch cushions, and repositioning the pillows. You’re finishing folding up his comforter as he walks into the room.

“Ahh, you didn’t have to do that.” he says, placing your mug on the coffee table.

“No trouble, just cleaning up our mess.” you smile, tossing the folded comforter down onto the couch.

“You seem to be rather good at that...” he smirks into his coffee mug.

Your cheeks grow hot as you recall what he is referring to. You grab your mug from the table and take a few sips, finding that somehow it’s made exactly how you like it.

You spot your keys under the coffee table, bending to grab them. “There they are. Always getting away from me.”

He chuckles as he takes his normal seat on the couch, crossing his leg over his knee. You stare at him, just enjoying his coffee on his couch and you want to ask him if you can see him again, but you don’t. You think back to what he told you last night, and decide against it.

You place your empty mug on the table, and bite your lips together before looking at him. “Thank you– for the coffee, and everything. It was nice.”

“Yeah, it was nice, wasn’t it? Same time next year?” he jokes, offering you a wink.

“Oh yeah, I thought that was a given…” you say through a laugh, “I mean, if you’re home of course.”

You grab your phone and keys from the coffee table and stand, ready to make your way towards the front door. He joins you in standing, the mug still clasped in his hand.

“Yeah, you just never know, ya know? I mean, maybe we don’t even have to wait that long…” he laughs, taking another sip of his coffee with a shrug.

“Yeah, I mean, you have my number…” You smile, twisting the front door knob.

“That I do. I definitely do.” he pauses, as you pull the door open. “Hey wait, let me walk you home.”

“Oh, you don’t have to do that, it’s just right there…” you say nervously.

“No, really. I want to. Just give me a sec.” he says, setting his mug on the entry table and rushing to grab a hoodie from his coat rack. He slides on a pair of dirty white Vans that have definitely seen better days, and opens the door further. “Alright, you ready?”

The two of you make your way through his front yard, giggling back and forth all the way to your front door as he quizzes you about the videos you watched last night. As you step up to your front porch mat you pull your keys from your cardigan pocket and start to unlock the door.

“Thanks for walking me home. You’re such a gentleman…” you say, feigning romance. As you peek over his shoulder you see Davy sitting in the window, keeping a close eye on Jake.

“Well of course, I couldn’t miss out on my kiss…” he smiles, a little dimple forming in his cheek.

“What kiss…” you press, all the while secretly hoping for just one more.

He grabs your waist and pulls you close to him, pressing his cold lips to yours. You can taste the remnants of coffee on his tongue, and as he pulls away his lips linger just a second longer.

A hum leaves his lips as he steps back. “That kiss.” He says, stepping backwards off of your porch, taking a few steps before turning to head back to his house. As you step inside your front door you look over your shoulder at the same time as he does, throwing his hand up from inside his hoodie pocket to offer you a two finger wave.

Your heart is beating out of your chest as you close the door behind you, and you feel like positively melting into the ground over the night you just shared with Jake. As you peek out the window you see Davy gone from his patrol post, and you smile knowing he’s definitely happy to have Jake all to himself again.

—

As you scrub away the remnants of the night before, you can’t help but to remember the way his hands felt as they moved across your body. So warm and so intentional, even in his intoxicated state. You wonder if he enjoyed himself as much as you did, and if he’s thinking about it just as much as you are. You think back to every other Valentine’s day you’ve ever had, and not a single one holding a candle to the night you just spent across the street with your neighbor.

You hear your phone buzz on the bathroom counter as you turn the shower off, wrapping yourself in a towel as you pick it up from the countertop. Your heart leaps in your chest as you see his name flash across your screen.

Jake - Neighbor

12:04pm: Probably should have watched the first one before the sequel. 😉

12:04pm: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zWDf_CEkpoU&t=1382s

You quickly hit the link, watching as it directs you to youtube, pulling up yet another Rig Rundown video. This one is much older than the one you saw last night, and as you lean against the bathroom counter the intro music starts to play. You’re met with a much younger looking version of Jake, in a sweater and a bucket hat, looking bright and eager to talk about his craft.

You quickly head towards your kitchen, pulling your own stash of gummies from your pantry. You pluck one of the small black bags from the basket and snap a photo as you pull up your texts and attach it to a message with a giggle.

You

12:10pm: Should I take one of these before I watch it?

12:10pm: By the way, love the bucket hat… 😉

You make your way back to your bedroom, dressing yourself in lounge clothes, knowing you’ll probably spend the rest of the day relaxing and catching up on your shows. Satisfied with your outfit you grab your phone to check for his response, only to be met with an empty screen. You sigh and make your way to the living room, flopping down onto your couch with your leftover take out from the night before, pressing play on the TV.

You try not to think about the man across the street and what he’s probably doing. You know he must be into something since he has yet to respond to your message. That or he has no intention of ever speaking to you again.

Feeling frustrated that it’s probably the latter, you toss your phone to the other side of the couch, catching a glance out your window. Your eyes snap to his driveway, seeing another car taking up the space next to his. Who the hell is at his house?

You stand up and make your way over to the window, taking a closer look at the white Jeep parked next to his car. You’ve never noticed it before…Or have you? You start to wrack your brain for the times you’ve even seen another car at his house, but you come up short. Never really caring before today.

You sit back down on the couch and start the next episode of your show, feeling the soreness from the prior night's activities starting to settle into your muscles. You grab a throw blanket and your favorite pillow and snuggle down into the couch cushions, ready to nap away your troubles, and hoping to wake up to a new message in your inbox.

A knock on the door startles you awake. You grab your phone and see that you’ve slept quite a few hours, and it’s now nearly 6:00pm.

You stand up and run your hands through your hair to combat the bedhead, clearing your throat as you reach for the door knob. Standing on the other side of your door is Jake, looking like he is fresh from the shower, as his damp hair lays long over his shoulders. You can smell his body wash wafting off of him and you practically melt into the door frame.

“Did I wake you up? Did you actually take that gummy?” he laughs, pulling his hands from his pockets.

“Oh, no. I didn’t. I just… I guess I was a little more tired than I thought.” you blush, trying to play it cool, and not like you’ve been thinking about him since the moment he left this morning.

“Sorry I forgot to respond. My brother came over and I couldn’t get him to leave.” he laughs.

His brother.

“Oh, it’s no problem. I was in and out of sleep all day anyways.” you lie.

“So…” he pauses, taking a breath as he reaches into his pocket. “I may have acquired something a bit better than what we had last night.” he says holding a small black bag in his palm.

“I don’t know, I kind of liked what we had last night.” you quip, a little smirk on your lips.

“Mhmm, I know you did.” he smiles, sliding his hands back into his trouser pockets.

“I don’t know if you had plans tonight or anything…” he trails off, kicking his foot against your doormat. “But I was thinking about watching this video I saw about how to make a barbecue smoker out of a filing cabinet. Really riveting stuff…”

His big brown eyes flash up to yours in question and you feel that flame in your chest reignite. You’re already eager at the thought of spending another night like last night. You knew right then that it wouldn’t matter if it was a filing cabinet smoker or a centuries old shipwreck, there was suddenly nothing more important than watching whatever it may be, with him. So with a shy smile, and the tap of your fingers against your chin you meet his gaze.

“You know, I really have been meaning to look into that…”

Taglist: @ageofcj @britney-gvf @bladenotblaze @gretavanfan @peaceloveunitygvf @highway-tuna @anythingforjtk @klarxtr @itsafullmoon @myleftsock @gretavanmoon @aflame4goinghome @ascendingtothestarssasone @jjwasneverhere @sparrowofrhiannon @gvfstuddedmajesty @kiarraaldarondo @oliver-mf-reed @notjordie-gvf @starshine-wagner @starcatcherchords @sadiechar @spark-my-nature @jakekiszkapunchmeintheface @mackalah @stardustofman @eyelinerjake @farfromthehomelands @abby-gvf @writingcold @fleet-of-fiction @stardustjake @sinarainbows @gvfsstardust @ageoflou @jarmonicasweat @jakekiszkasmommy @bubblyjake @jakeygvf21 @starrymoonslut @takenbythemadness @ohgodthefeeling-gvf @m0uthfl13s @floatinglikeaswan @bri-archer @Mama.likes72

509 notes · View notes

gretavanmoon · 5 months ago

Text

A Perfect Ten - Part 2

Josh x Female Reader FWB

10.9k words

+ After befriending your coworker Josh at your new workplace, the both of you realize you need each other in more ways than one. Things might get a little cloudy as an ongoing judge of actions takes place, leaving the both of you wrapped up in a back and forth neither of you saw coming.

Warnings: Drinking, Cursing, Mention of Breakups and Heartbreak, Allusion to Homophobia (dude being an a**hole), Sadness. Smut: Kissing, Touching, Dirty Talk, Praise, Heavy Flirting, Oral F!receiving, Fingering

Read Part 1 here

“...Sure, why not? If you want to, of course. Might be fun to have a little situation we’re both comfortable with… no strings attached type thing…”

It’d been a week since your heated hookup with Josh on your couch, and though initially you thought things were going to be awkward back at work once the two of you were on the same shift again, surprisingly they were the opposite. Day to day activities had gone back to normal, the both of you working your tails off slinging pizzas and beers at Angelo’s.

Since that night, though, you’d found yourself in a constant state of unsettle, your mind and body going through the waves of being attracted to him while also wanting to slap him on the back of the head like a real friend would. His boyish charm continued to shine through his albeit tough-guy exterior, and the smiles he normally would fight to stave off began to show themselves a little more often in your presence.

The more you worked with Josh, and the more that you began to feel completely comfortable in your work position, the more you began to notice the subtle feeling of his hand on your lower back as he’d reach above you to grab the pizza box on the top shelf, or how he’d tell the line guys to fuck off when they’d take back of house banter too far. You’d also noticed how he would hold your gaze as you finished up a story to your coworkers, his perfect white teeth nearly glittering in the low light reflections of the restaurant. It wasn’t hard to miss how his chest would visibly rise and fall with bated breaths until he broke eye contact, shaking his head as though he was physically clearing away his intrusive thoughts.

You know you’d agreed upon this… arrangement with Josh, and though you hadn’t outwardly discussed the details since that night at your house, you knew that the time was drawing near as your pull to him began to come back full force. That same exact notion of wanting to be the holder of all his attention, to be the one that took up space in his mind whether he wanted it to or not, began to consume you once again. You didn’t know where it had come from, and you didn’t know how to make it go away. You were almost embarrassed of yourself to even think it, as strangely possessive as it was to want to be someone’s muse this wholeheartedly.

You caught yourself staring at the way his arm muscles stretched under the tight black fabric of his t-shirt, his hands quickly and expertly spinning roll upon roll of silverware.

“Ya know if you’re going to stare like that, you could at least make it a little less obvious, sweetheart,” he said under his breath as he smirked at you from across the bar.

You blinked away your dry eyes, focusing again on your own pile of flattened napkins in front of you as you cleared your throat. “I wasn’t staring,” you choked out.

“Oh really?” he perked up, sliding his eyes to your fellow coworkers at the other end of the bar finishing up their own side-work for the night. “Then what would you call someone else’s eyes taking in your every movement while you do nothing but mind your own business?” he stuck his tongue against his cheek as he slammed a roll into the basket.

“Shut up, Josh. I was just watching your um. Your technique…” you lied, taking note of your messy and loose rolls of forks and knives haphazardly piling up in your own basket.

“God, you do suck at rolling, don’t you? I never noticed,” he bites back a laugh as he shakes his head, and you suddenly feel extra embarrassed at your lack of one of the most basic skills of serving. “Here, let me show you how I do it.”

“No, I’m fine, I’ve got it. I just– they’re just ugly. But they’ll do the job,” you argue as he comes around to your side of the bar, wiping his hands off on the white towel hanging off the back of his belt.

“No no no, if bosslady sees this shit job, she might actually fire you on the spot. Actually surprised she hasn’t seen this, yet,” he says as he brings himself to stand behind your bar stool, his arms encasing your shoulders as he grabs your wrists, positioning your hands on either corner of the napkins.

“Josh, I swear to god, you’re making me feel like an idiot.” And he was, no doubt. Thinking he can come over here and school you in front of everyone, making you out to look like a fool at your own profession. But you had to admit, you needed a lesson. And you couldn’t ignore the feeling of the warmth of his body pressed against your back, his hands subtly running against the backs of your fingertips as he took them in his own, leaning down to show you how to tuck the utensils down into a pocket before forcing the sides in.

“See? Like this…” his breath was on the shell of your ear, warm and familiar as scenes from a week ago on your couch began to make their uprising again, your body stiffening at his simple touch. “Gotta use some force, little elbow grease to get them where you want. Then… tuck the edges, and roll…”

You huffed an aggravated breath as you accepted the fact that his hands had just helped you to roll the tightest, most perfect roll of silverware. “Show off,” you murmured.

“Hey, I’m just trying to help,” he laughed as he pulled away, his hands squeezing at your arms as he detached himself and stepped away. The loss of the feeling of him was more disorienting than you’d thought it would be; feeling him so close again had taken all the breath from your lungs, and you hadn’t even noticed that you didn’t even take a breath the entire time he was behind you.

“Will you two just get a room already?!” one of your coworkers, Jackson, suddenly yelped from the end of the bar, sending the rest of the group around him into a fit of point-and-laughs. “God, just do us all a favor and break the tension and get it over with, why don’t you?” You could feel your face turning a bright shade of red as you shied away, listening to the laughs and howls of your coworkers who had now become your friends. You had riled up enough gumption to retaliate with something, right before you realized Josh would undoubtedly be the one to take up for you, anyway.

“What makes you think we haven’t, Jack?” Josh asked as he rounded the bar back to his own station across from you. “Think you fuckin’ know it all?”

Jackson was walking toward you, laughing as he placed a heavy arm across the back of your shoulders. “Nah, I don’t know shit. Just thought I’d be the one to break the ice if the two of you haven’t yet, huh?” he bellowed as he forcefully shook your shoulders side to side. You knew he was joking and speaking all in good fun, but it still didn’t stop you from thinking about decking him in the face if he said another word. “Might be a nice little thing for you to try out, huh Josh? Little bit out of your normal practice…”

“That’s not any of your business, Jackson,” you said as you tried to shove his arm off our shoulders.

Your eyes glanced up to Josh from under your awkward stance, finding him clenching his jaw closed as he rolled his eyes. “Leave the girl alone, Jackson,” he warned.

“Or what? You gonna call your boyfriend to come and kick my ass?” Jackson spouted to Josh, making the group beside you cease all their laughter, while sending a shot of rage straight through your stomach. “I don’t think so, pretty boy.” The room fell silent as everyone gawked at Jackson in disbelief of his words. His arm suddenly felt ten pounds heavier on your shoulders, and you felt a burning fury rising up in your throat at his completely rude and unwarranted display.

Josh, though, kept his cool, returning all his attention to the task in his hands.

“No, but I will tell everyone at the end of that bar that you’ve been pocketing tips as you bus their tables,” he said under his breath, leaving Jackson unable to speak.

“The fuck are you talking about?” Jackson refuted, his arm still heavy across your shoulders, making you more and more uncomfortable by the second.

Josh’s eyes confidently skidded across the bar to everyone else before landing back on Jackson, his hands never ceasing rolling his silverware. “You heard me. I’m not stupid, Jack. Matter of fact, why don’t you tell them right now, all by yourself? Go ahead…” Josh raised his voice a little at the end of his sentence, pointing his chin to the group.

“Tell us what, what are you saying down there?” one of them asked, all of their interest suddenly piqued.

Jackson’s head snapped back to look Josh in the eyes, which he returned with an overly-confident expression that said try me. Jackson’s arm slowly slid off the back of your shoulders as he sulked away, mumbling some really nasty words under his breath that you chose to keep to yourself.

Maybe it wasn’t all in good fun.

A full-body chill ran through you as you finally felt his touch leave your body, an overwhelming feeling of disgust overtaking you as you finally made eyes with Josh again once Jackson was far away. “What in the fuck was that?! Is he fucking crazy?” you asked, the rage still heavily present.

Josh shook his head as he rolled his last utensils, sliding his basket to the side as he pulled your pile of napkins to sit in front of him. “Yeah, no, he’s a fucking asshole. He puts on this funny-guy persona, but underneath it, he’s fucking piece of work,” Josh explained. He was keeping his cool, but you could tell that his words hurt him a little.

“Josh, that is not okay, it’s not alright for him to speak to you like that, especially in the workpl–”

“Just drop it, Y/N, okay? I appreciate your concern, but I’m used to it. From all angles. It just rolls off, now,” Josh said with the smallest hint of sorrow in his voice. “He tries to show off what he thinks is male dominance but all he does is make himself look like a fool. Plus he forgets that I have wayyy more seniority than him.”

“Yeah well, that’s all true but you don’t deserve to be spoken to that way. I’m going to say something to him,” you began to stand up, feeling the sudden overwhelming need to stand up for Josh.

“Stop, Y/N, stop…” Josh grabbed your arm, pulling you back down to the stool. “I’ve already taken care of it.” His eyes were telling you to calm down, but his hand on your arm said things were everything but calm.

“What do you mean?” you asked, fighting him off while also trying to flip through your categories of comebacks you could throw down Jackson’s throat.

Josh gripped your arm even tighter as he forced you back down into your seat, leaning over the bar as he brought his face close to yours. His face was hot as it came into your proximity, his hand still gripping hard on the muscle of your arm. “I slipped an anonymous note onto bosslady’s desk telling her I saw him sliding cash tips. She’s probably back there watching the security footage as we speak…” he whispered lowly, his eyes bouncing from your lips and back.

You plopped back down into your seat as he released your arm, sending a quick look back down to the group as they now looked just as uncomfortable as you. Josh resumed his work, acting as though nothing had happened as the redness left his cheeks. “Did he take any of mine?” you asked, suddenly curious.

Josh nodded. “I’ve been suspecting him for weeks, but I just tonight watched him do it. Now you know why I don’t let anybody else bus my tables…” he whispered, shooting his eyebrows up.

“Wasn’t he up for the assistant manager position?” you asked.

“Yeah, he was. He’s been here for a long time. But hopefully she is back there taking this seriously, who knows how much money he’s actually stolen,” Josh went on, running his tongue over his lips. You crossed your arms across your chest, feeling exhausted from the adrenaline rush of wanting to slam that guy’s head against the bar for calling Josh such horrid names and making fun of him like that. You could tell you were still seething.

“Let his karma take it’s course, Y/N. Don’t get yourself too worked up over it, or I’ll be forced to help you relax,” he said with a buttery-soft grit to his voice, almost as if Jackson’s actions hadn’t bothered him in the least bit. You admired his way of staying calm in situations where the normal person would panic and act out… it undoubtedly was the reason he has been at Angelo’s the longest, and why he always has the largest section in the restaurant. He’s level-headed, and probably always has been.

But the insinuation in his words didn’t go unnoticed. Suddenly your adrenaline rush to protect was overtaken by another kind of rush, one that Josh had brought on to you more and more over the past few weeks. “And how would you do that?” you asked, purposefully lacing your voice with the same sweet venom he had just used. The unabashed flirting had finally come to a head, where neither of you could hold it back any longer.

He shrugged one shoulder up. “I dunno, I’d figure something out,” he said with a wink that you almost missed. “Maybe I could let you be the judge this time, hm?” he suggested, circling back to the nearly perfect ten he gave you on your performance just a short week ago. Your chest surged with nerves at his insinuation, the blush rushing to your cheeks as he confidently slid the now full basket of perfectly rolled silverware right in between you. You sat back in your seat as you tried to push down the swirling in your stomach.

“Maybe so. We going to the bar tonight?” you asked with more boldness in your voice than your actual body was feeling. Your entire body was actually already buzzing with anticipation to feel him near you again, and you were eager to get a move on with the night ahead.

Josh shook his wrist as he glanced down at his watch. He rolled his lips into his mouth as his deep brown eyes shot back to yours. “You off tomorrow?”

“I am,” you responded.

He licked his teeth, taking in a sharp breath. “Me too.”

Just then the swinging double doors to the kitchen swung open with force, and your manager, Heather, burst through them with madness dripping from her aura. “Jackson, can I see you in my office, please? Now.”

Oh fuck.

Jackson shoved the broom that was in his hands into the corner, shooting daggers at Josh as he made his way toward her, the group again falling silent as they disappeared into the back.

“Shit, karma hitting a little sooner than we thought, huh?” you said, holding back a vengeful laugh.

Josh chuckled as he untied the ties of his waist apron, pulling the straps from around him as he huffed a breath. “Guess so. Let’s get the fuck out of here?”

—----

You followed closely behind him and the rest of the group as everyone made their way down the street to the bar, watching as he lightly conversed with a few of your coworkers as they questioned him about what the hell just happened back there, and what Jackson could have been talking about. You couldn't really hear the conversation, but you knew that he was likely handling it with ease, just as he handles every other situation he’s faced with with ease and grace.

You’d watched him talk to many-an unsatisfied customer as they yelled in his face about an incorrect order or a mishap, diffusing situations with the charm he had naturally built into him. You knew he probably kicked the most tips out of anyone that worked at Angelo’s, and for good reason. He was a pro.

You watched as Josh’s left hand slipped behind his back as he spoke to them, wiggling his fingers as he searched for your hand to hold his. You followed through, gripping the ends of his fingertips with your own, just to let him know you were there. He squeezed them tightly as he continued to talk, and the sweet gesture let you know that you were on his mind even though he hadn’t been able to speak a word to you since you clocked out.

You and Josh took your normal seats at the bar while everyone else retreated back to their designated booth, the night settling in even though it had only just begun. That inherent craving you had for Josh was always amplified with alcohol, and you knew that it would only be a few strong drinks before you wouldn’t be able to stop yourself from letting your mind wander with the same thoughts that were probably already surging through his.

Roy approached you at the bar, laying out two white bar napkins in front of you. “Evenin’ guys. It’s been a while, where ya been?” You and Josh both exchanged a confused glance, realizing that it had indeed been a while since you’d been here.

“Uhh, just been a few long nights at Angelo’s, most of the time we’re all too tired to function after we leave, you know how it can be,” Josh said as he removed his old flannel and draped it across the back of his bar stool.

“Understandable,” Roy nodded. “Ok so, Josh, last time you were drinking the hard stuff. Want a beer tonight?”

Josh snickered. “Yeah, please. Whatever lager you have on draft is fine.”

“Be right up,” Roy offered as he knocked his knuckles on the bar.

You leaned in to Josh, catching a whiff of the cologne he must have thrown on as you both stuffed your aprons in your lockers. “Has it really been a whole week since we were here?”

He nodded slowly as he knitted his fingers together and leaned on the bar. “Yeah, I guess so… since the night I uh, stayed over.”

“Huh,” you mumbled as Roy set your drinks in front of you. “Why did we go so long without coming back?” A week was actually a good chunk of time to be gone from this place.

Josh hissed through his teeth as he plucked a toothpick from the tiny blue glass container on the bar, sticking it between his lips as he gazed at the TV above you. “Guess we just um… knew where the night might go if we did this again so soon. Wanted to wait it out, give it a few days.”

His admission made you feel all kinds of emotions at once– excitement, confusion, regret… Give it a few days? What does that even mean? The both of you downed your first round as if your lives depended on the alcohol within the glasses, both of you sure of the fact that you will need liquid courage for whatever escapades the rest of the night will hold. Or won’t hold…

You signaled to Roy for another round as Josh avoided your gaze, and you suddenly felt a little uneasy at what he’d said.

You slipped your hair behind your ear, feeling conflicted. “You don’t… You know we don’t have to do that again, Josh, I know we agreed to it, but–”

“No, Y/N, I want to,” he stopped you mid-sentence, bolting his head to the side to look into your eyes. “Believe me, I want to keep to that agreement.”

You sat back a little. “Okay, then… why did you want to wait it out? Are you sure you want the arrangement to be with me?”

His eyes ripped across you again before looking back at the TV, the toothpick still rolling between his thumb and fingers as he gnawed on the end of it. “Of course I want it to be with you… didn’t you want to drag it out a little? More fun when you can make it last, right?”

Again, his words stole all the breath from your lungs, almost making you choke on your refilled fizzy drink. “Um, yeah… I guess, I guess you’re right…” you choke out, unable to hide the fluster that had already overtaken you simply from him saying the words ‘make it last’.

Suddenly he’s laughing at you, gripping your opposite leg in his hand as he turns your body in the stool to face him. Your knees land between his legs as he holds you there, setting his toothpick down on his napkin as he takes a long drink of his new beer. He sets it back down as his eyes land on yours, his hand still gripping the thickness of your thigh.

“What’s with you, baby?” he asks quietly, leaning in as he cocks his head sideways. “Last time we were here you were knocking me over with your wit and confidence. Now it’s like you’re a baby bird who hasn’t found its wings yet… what’s got you all wound up?”

You, Josh. You’ve got me wound up tighter than a banjo string.

Your knees are jutted up into his groin and his face is only inches from yours, the smell of the hoppy beer on his breath mixing with the cigarette smoke from your coworkers on the walk over. He’s right… he’s managed to reduce you into a shell of a woman in the matter of a week, and you have to remember that you are only just friends.

You clear your throat as he forces you to find your true self again. “I dunno, I wouldn’t account it to you teasing me all fucking week, though.”

“Teasing you?!” he all but shouts, causing you to slap a hand across his mouth to silence him. He playfully bites at your hand to make you pull it away. “Is that what you think I was doing?”

“I’m no stranger to passing glances and subtle touches, Joshua. You may not have been teasing me, but you sure as hell acted like you missed the feeling of your hands on me,” you said with a little bit of sass in your tone. “Brushing your hand against me every chance you got, lingering stares… you aren’t slick.”

Josh could hardly help the grin that was growing on his face, his expression now plastered with a look so playfully sinister that you wondered how it was only a week ago that you were tempting him to come over to your house simply by offering to share a blunt.

He pushed his tongue up into the corner of his mouth, amused at your boldness. “There you are. And the funny thing is, I wasn’t trying to be slick, Y/N. I was doing that with all intents and purposes of flirting with you. Outright.”

You lean your body in closer to his, challenging him as you sipped from your skinny straw. “And friends can do that? They can flirt with each other openly?”

“You had your mouth on my cock seven days ago, sugar. I think that constitutes my right to flirt with you,” he replies with an emblazoned growl in his voice, making you feel like you’re melting into putty.

“Did you think it would make me want to invite you over again?”

“I fucking hoped it would, just wanted to put a little time between visits, ya know. Make you miss me,” he says, gripping his hand onto your thigh a little harder now.

“Make me miss you?! Don’t flatter yourself, Josh. I see enough of you at work,” you say with a wave of your hand. His hand sneaks higher on your thigh, and you find yourself thanking yourself for choosing to wear your slitted slinky black skirt to work today. The slit is exposing most of your thigh, of which Josh has wasted no time in reveling in. His hand is warm on your skin as the alcohol suddenly hits your system, immediately swirling your brainwaves with nothing more than thoughts of his hands traveling all over you, gripping at wherever he could get. All his attention locked in on you. The memories of your face between his legs again.

You smile at him as he leans in, shaking his head at you once again. “You can’t tell me you haven’t thought about last weekend every single waking moment since it happened, Y/N…” he growled into your ear. Your entire body shuddered at the feeling of his breath traveling over one of your most sensitive spots, making a slew of chill bumps arise on your skin against your own will.

The music in the joint suddenly got ten times louder as he pulled away, that damned sly smile still plastered across his face. You took a second to really look at him, the way his lips curved, the curls that balanced and framed his face, the way his eyes twinkled no matter how much darkness filled the room. He’d become a man you respected. Not only personally, but professionally, as well, and the respect was slowly but surely morphing into an emotion with a lot more weight to it. You were beginning to truly admire him.

“I have,” you whispered, covering his hand on your thigh with your own, forcing him to squeeze you even harder. Your heart rate had picked up so much speed, you were sure that he could hear it pounding over the sound of the music, but you didn’t care. His fingertips were burning into your skin, surely leaving behind marks that would be singed into your skin for weeks from the mere heat of them. Your actions were becoming blurs, desire overtaking your entire being as you craved the man sitting in front of you. A craving that would indeed be your downfall if you didn’t keep your head on straight.

Suddenly, Josh’s phone was buzzing on the bartop, two or three text messages coming through at the same time and catching his attention. The both of you looked at the screen as he picked it up, announcing it was messages from Heather.

His eyes scanned across the messages as you waited for him to finish reading, his face falling into one of such disappointment that it shocked you.

“What’s wrong, is she okay?”

He nodded as he locked his phone and put it face down back on the bar. “Yeah, she’s fine. She fired Jack.”

“Oh my god!” you exclaimed. “Seriously?! Good! That asshole got what was coming for him! What else did she say?”

Josh shook his head as he sipped his beer again, “Ah, nothing.”

“Not nothing,” you said, lifting his phone from the bar to unlock it and read for yourself. “I know that look you just had.”

“Stop, Y/N, I swear,” Josh said as he tried to wrestle the phone from you. “Don’t–”

“How bad can it be?” you pressed, managing to pull the phone from his grasp and unlock the screen as you began to read aloud.

“Hey Josh, sorry to bother you this late. I’m sure you noticed when I pulled Jackson from sidework tonight that I wasn’t in the best mood,” you read. “It came to my attention that he had been sneaking cash tips for some time now, and I was able to catch him on video this evening doing just that. I’m sending this message to all of you to apologize on Angelo’s behalf and to let you all know that Jackson and I had a conversation about it and he will no longer be working with us. I apologize for not learning of this sooner, and for the fact that I cannot repay or reimburse any of the money that was taken from you or any of the other employees. I told Jackson that if he had any heart that he should find a way to make this right with each and every one of you, so I am in hopes that he does,” you went on reading quickly, taking a breath before continuing.

“On that note, I’m sure you know that Jackson was next in line to be promoted to assistant manager. Since that is no longer the case, I want to offer the position to you, seeing as how you have been here the longest and always show nothing but the best work you can. You’re my most trusted employee, and know this business inside and out. I know this has been offered to you many times in the past, but I thought I would extend it again. Think about it, and let me know your decision at your Sunday shift. Thanks again, Heather.” Your eyes nearly burst from your head as you realize that Josh was just offered the job that Jackson would no longer be taking.

“Josh! Babe! Why do you look so sad?! You just got offered a promotion!” you wailed, waving his phone around in the air.

He stretched his jaw as he ripped the phone from your hand and shoved it in his pocket. “Because, Y/N, I don’t want to be a manager. I want to serve my own tables, make my money, and go home.”

“But Josh, you’re so incredibly good at your job! Heather is right, you always give 100%, I swear sometimes I think that you could run that place better than our management could…” you relayed honestly.

He shook his head. “Nah, they’ve offered it to me time and time again, and I always give them the same response. I’m happy where I am, Y/N. I swear.”

“But I bet you you’d make more money, and you wouldn’t have to work as many shifts, and you wouldn’t have to be on your feet as much and you’d have the opportunity to engage more with customers and actually have time to talk with the regulars–”

“I told you, I don’t want that. I’m content,” he argued, seemingly wanting to end the conversation. “Can we just drop it?”

The disappointment you felt put a hole through your chest. If anyone deserved this promotion, it’s him. And he knows it. “Will you just think about it?” you asked, placing both hands on his shoulders as you gazed into his eyes and pouted out your lower lip. “For me?”

You felt his entire body relax, his shoulders slump and the corner of his mouth tilt into a tiny smile. His eyes locked in on yours once more, making your stomach begin to turn over on itself again. “For you?”

“Yeah, for me,” you nodded. “You deserve to give something like this some thought, Josh.”

He laughed through his nose. “Fuck, alright, alright. I guess. I don’t like how you just did that, though…”

“What?” you played innocent. “Are you mad that I’ve got you wrapped around my little finger?” You hold your pinky up in his face as you sip down the rest of your drink, really feeling its effects, now. He pulled your hand into his, forcing your whole body into his chest.

“No, that I’m beginning to have a harder and harder time telling you no,” he said.

You laughed as he poked a finger into your side. You were absolutely reeling at the fact that all of his attention was yours again, finally. It gave you a high you could hardly contain. You set your drink down and leaned into him, both of your hands rested high on his thighs as your knees still dug into his groin. “Oh, is that right? Then how about we have one more drink. Then we go back to your house… so you can let me be the judge of–”

Josh cut you off with his lips crashing into yours, hot and heavy enough to stop your breathing altogether again. After a second, you inhaled him, the feeling of his tongue running along your bottom lip sending a surge of excitement straight to your core. You kissed him back, but only for a short-lived second as the fuzziness in your brain reminded you that you’re in a very public place. You let your tongue brush against his quickly, tasting the sweetness of him for the shortest second before ripping yourself away.

You’re both breathless as you catch each other’s eyes again, red-faced and tensioned as you fight to put your lips on him again.

“One more drink?” he asked.

“One more drink.”

—--

Thankful that Josh’s house was only a few blocks down the road, you pulled into his driveway behind him, throwing your car in park as you yanked down your sunshield mirror and assessed the looks of yourself. “Not too shabby,” you whispered as you wiped the fallen mascara from under your eyes and ran some fresh chapstick across your lips. You flipped the visor closed just as Josh was opening your car door for you.

“Welcome to my humble abode, my lady,” he announced with an accent, holding his hand out for you to grab to step out of the car. You pulled the keys from the ignition and grabbed your purse before taking his hand, strong and sturdy as it pulled you from your seat. As your eyes adjusted in the darkness, you saw that Josh’s house was small, but quaint, a tiny front porch lined with white Christmas lights and covered with hanging plants. He had neighbors, but they weren’t too close at all, and a rather high wooden fence line surrounded the whole property.

You followed him up to the front where he pulled open the swinging screen door onto the porch, revealing a bunch of old mismatched furniture covered in colorful patio cushions that looked surprisingly comfortable. There was a small radio playing a staticy old country station, and an old blue cooler making a rusty buzzing noise. You watched as he sauntered over to it, lifting up the heavy silver lid. “Want a beer or a seltzer or something?”

“Um, sure. Seltzer, please,” you responded, still taking in the overly-adorable front porch and taking notes as to how you could make yours look the same. He tossed you the can and you cracked it open, watching as he kicked his shoes off onto a rug by the front door. You followed suit and removed your own, not wanting to be rude as he unlocked the door and stepped inside.

The air conditioning hit you in the face in the same way that hotel room A/C does when you’re on vacation, cold and bitter but welcoming all the same. It’s an older home, but you’d never be able to tell it with the way he had it decorated. Salt lamps and old art covered the white plaster walls, white tile underneath all his oriental rugs. A giant couch sat in the middle of the room that connects to the kitchen, filled with cookbooks and open shelves on the walls that were littered with colorful plates and cups.

“Do you have any roommates?” you asked, wanting to fill the awkward silence that had come out of nowhere.

“No,” he sang as he walked you into the living room. “My brother and I bought this place a few years ago, he lived with me for a year then he got a girlfriend and left me here all by myself, so.”

“Aw, Josh… I’m sorry,” you giggled.

He laughed too as he flipped on a lamp. “It’s okay. It was kinda the plan in the first place.”

You take note of the multitude of blankets strewn across the couch and the cabinet full of vinyl near the sliding glass door… the framed photographs of people and places alike that line the walls, and the lack of any television in his living room.

“No TV?” you asked.

“Nah, I’d never watch it anyway. Rather read or listen to music,” he said, his voice almost sounding a little nervous. “You wanna see the rest?”

You nod as you swallow a drink of your seltzer, following him down a short hallway. “Down there is the bathroom and spare bedroom… in here is just a room that catches all my junk… laundry room…” you smiled to yourself as you began to notice that he probably hasn’t had any visitors in a long while, and the last person that came was probably his now ex.

“What’s upstairs?” you asked as you followed behind him, walking through a wooden bead curtain.

“My room. The best room in the house,” he said.

“Oh? And what makes it that?”

He takes your hand in his, warm and soft as he pursed his lips together. “Come on, let’s get out of our work clothes.” It suddenly strikes you that you both still reek of pizza, are probably covered in sauce and spilled beer, sweaty and gross from your fairly busy Friday shift.

“Shit, Josh, I didn’t bring anything to change in to, I didn’t know I’d be–”

“Shh, baby. Friends share clothes, right?” he asked as you both ascend the old squeaky stairs, turning the corner at the top to the A-frame finished attic section of the home. You followed him in the darkness through more hanging plants and across plush rugs before you smelled a sweet earthy smell overtake your senses. Your hand was still in his, leading the way as he opened his door to his bedroom.

The walls were a deep plum color, lined with gold accents and more photographs and art, dim low-light lamps and a giant beanbag in the corner. It smelled heavily of incense, and you couldn’t quite put your finger on just what scent it was.

“Wow…” you whispered out, laughing a little as you did so.

“What?” he asks.

You walk further into the room, taking a seat on his full-sized mattress that’s covered in a plush olive velvet comforter and tons of giant pillows.

“Nothing, I… this is just not what I thought your house would be like,” you say, still in wonder that you kept seeing new, precious things every single place you look.

Josh joined you on the bed, bouncing it a little as he sipped from his own can. “Yeah, I like to think my room is like my escape from the real world, ya know? Come here to unwind, mostly. Oh, I forgot…” he got up and began searching through the drawers of his armoire, pulling out an old t-shirt and pair of shorts for you. “I’ll turn around.”

You laughed as you set your can on his nightstand, quickly getting undressed and changing into the clothing he gave you, while he stripped and did the same. “No peeking,” you said as he pretended to turn around, both of you knowing that you most likely would be seeing more of each other as the night went on. You took a second to breathe in the scent of his laundry, clean and floral as you pulled the holey white t-shirt over your head.

After you’d both changed, Josh took the opportunity and closed in on you again, gently taking your waist in his hands. “Like seeing you in my clothes… you look good…” he mumbled as he let his nose drift down your jawline.

You felt that same familiar chill run down your spine, already imagining him taking off the shirt that you had just put on. His hands gripped into your love handles, pulling you closer as his mouth drifted from your jaw to your neck, lightly sucking on the soft skin and pulling it between his lips.

“This okay?” he mumbled as your hands finally drifted up underneath his shirt, your nails lightly scratching at the skin.

“Mmhmm… very much…” you breathed, rounding your hands behind him to scratch along his back.

He made his way to meet your lips again, catching you off guard in the kiss that got cut short at the bar. His hands were fierce and his lips were fiery, his fingertips pulling at your skin as you kissed him back, letting your tongue push through his lips to show him how much you want him, too. The both of you worked to keep things cautious, knowing that you were pushing the borders of becoming too intimate for an agreement that is based solely on friendship and pleasure.

You broke away, mirroring his earlier actions as you tiptoed just a little to take his earlobe into your mouth, biting at the skin just below it as you blew whispers into his ear. Your hands were wrapped around his neck and you could feel his chest heaving, his hips pressing themselves into you as you finally felt his length pressing up against your core.

You let out a tiny pitiful moan, one that probably wouldn’t have been heard if the room wasn’t so quiet. He took you up in a tight embrace and held you there, your face caught in the nape of his neck as you both took a second to calm down, and breathe each other in.

“You feel really fucking good, Y/N…” he said with a vulnerable tone.

“So do you, Josh,” you agreed, your voice muffled by his shoulder.

“No, like, you just… I don’t know how to explain it. You just… fit right here,” he squeezed you harder in his arms, letting you know that this is exactly where he liked you most. You squeezed him back to let him know that you were in complete agreement, but also felt the need to separate again, not wanting to let things drift too far into waters that you hadn’t even talked about exploring.

So you pulled away, leaving your hands balanced on his stomach as you gave him a genuine smile.

“You wanna see the best part of the house?” he asked, smirking as he ran a recentering hand through his hair.

“Are we not in it right now?” you motioned up to the vaulted ceilings and hanging lights above you, twinkling away and casting warm shadows all over the room.

“Not really,” he said, turning and walking over to a set of tall doors, pulling on the gold handles to open them. You walked up behind him, seeing that the door led directly onto a flat, concave area on the roof. He flicked on a switch, letting another set of string lights illuminate the small space, showing a slew of more cushions and comfortable furniture nearly filling the floor of the whole thing. A tall spider plant took up most of the corner while the floor was littered with plush outdoor rugs, much the same vibe as was throughout the rest of the house.

“Holy shit, Josh… this is, this is gorgeous,” you said, walking outside and up to the edge of the roof, able to peek down into his fenced-in backyard. A giant Oak tree extended its branches all the way above the roof, providing the perfect makeshift covering for the outdoor spot. The crescent moon was hung low in the sky, providing just enough light to make the scene all the more romantic.

“This is the best part of the house…” he said, boasting a little as he removed the glass topper of a citronella candle, pulling a lighter out of nowhere and lighting the wick before replacing the tall glass cover.

“I think I might agree with that,” you say, taking a seat on one of the oversized cushions. “Come back over here,” you beckoned him, suddenly needing to feel his hands on you again. He did just that, placing himself next to you as he took you up in his arms again, peppering your face with pecks. You could tell something was just a little bit off, as it felt as though he was holding himself back.

“You alright, baby?” you asked, hoping that you calling him the pet name wasn’t overstepping too much.

He nodded into your neck. “I’m good. Just trying to find my mojo again,” he laughed.

“Believe me baby, you still have it,” you said with utmost certainty.

He pulled away a little, meeting your line of vision. “Really?”

You nodded, “Ohhh yeah. You do, no doubt about it.”

He laughed again as he trailed a finger along the inside of your thigh. “Well thank you. It’s just been, ya know.” He huffed a heavy breath. “It’s been kinda rough. And finding you, and befriending you, it was a really welcome treat,” he said, adding a few more fingers as he drifted them along your leg. You felt another set of chills overtake your body, wanting more from him.

“I’ll happily be your distraction, Josh,” you said, hinting toward being the person he used to fully get over his ex. “That’s not something I’m above.”

The thought of being that person to him was extremely intriguing, even though it sounded a bit different upon hearing yourself say it out loud.

“No, no, you’re not a distraction. You’re far from it. You’re… really you’re more of…” he struggled to find the words as his fingers drifted higher and higher to where you really wanted them to be. “You’re like a beautiful addition that I didn’t expect. And that might sound stupid, but… I really do appreciate your friendship, Y/N,” he admitted, biting his lower lip in.

It didn’t take much for your hand to find him again, tracing your finger along the column of his neck as you both reclined on the cushions.

“Not stupid, Josh. You’re the same for me. Finding you has been… an adventure, to say the least,” you smiled as you felt his curls fall onto your face, his head lying on your shoulder. And you were absolutely not lying; the day that Josh came into your life changed it for the better, giving you a whole new journey to embark on that you’d never once touched in your life, a new person to feel completely whole and trusting with, building a companionship from the ground up all while intertwining the needs you both had for the benefit of not only yourselves, but for each other. It’s been an experience of selflessness that you never even knew you needed, and if you had to guess, he didn’t know he needed it, either.

You enjoyed the presence of each other for a few more silent minutes, letting yourselves explore the potential of all that each of you held, but having enough self-control to not act on it, yet.

“So, our deal…” he finally spoke up just as you heard the late summer frogs begin to chirp from the yard below.

“Yes…” you urged him, letting your fingers pull at the hem of his shorts.

“I want you to be the judge tonight… if you want to,” he said with his voice low, almost as if he didn’t want anyone else to hear it.

For whatever reason, his insinuation from earlier didn’t click with you at the bar. You hadn’t put two and two together that he wanted to return the same favor that you’d given him a week ago.

“Oh,” you muttered as you felt his hand creep higher.

“Again, only if you’re comfortable with that…” he said. You mulled it over for exactly one second before you began nodding quickly.

“I’m comfortable, but only if you are, too,” you said, wanting to give him the space to back out and not feel pressured.

“I used to be somewhat of a legend when it came to this,” he said with a stretch of his arms, pushing you further back into the cushions. “But that was many moons ago. If you’ll let me, I’d like to see if I still have what it takes… let you give me a true rating, just like I gave you..” he went on.

You bit your lips in, suddenly feeling a little shy, but also completely empowered at the comfortability of it all. “I think I can do that.”

There was a light breeze in the air, stirring up the smell of the citronella and whatever candle or incense he had burning in his room, making for what you felt was about to be a very immersive experience.

He took a deep breath, rolling to his knees as he knelt between yours. He hooked both of his fingers in your shorts and underwear, giving you another look of reassurance as you nodded his way. He swallowed hard as he began pulling them down until they were all the way off, and he tossed them to the side as his eyes finally landed on your completely uncovered lower half. You felt shy, but not in an embarrassing way; the way his eyes took you in made you feel as though you were the most beautiful wonder he had ever laid his eyes upon, soft and sweet and all for him, tonight.

“You’re gorgeous, Y/N,” he whispered lowly again, the flicker of the candle flame lighting up his doe eyes. He pulled your ankles up to his ears, turning his head to kiss the insides of your legs as they balanced on his shoulders. He worked his way down, switching from one to the other as he laid light kisses and pecks all the way down to your knees, sending you little looks of admiration every few seconds. After a few minutes familiarizing himself, he bent down, bringing himself closer to your core as he got comfortable laid out on his stomach.

“I’m gonna go slow,” he whispered as he placed his arms under your thighs, pulling you closer to him. You imagined that he was talking himself through it, so you went along with whatever he wanted to give you. You were fully exposed to him now, and though the feeling was a little uneasy, it didn’t feel wrong, in the least.

“You do whatever you want, baby,” you reassured him, running your hand through his locks. “I can’t believe we’re about to do this on your roof…” you laughed, covering your face as you tried to lighten the mood just a little. You heard his high-pitched giggle fill the air, the one he only let slip out when he thought something was really amusing.

“I know, I’m sorry…” he admitted, still laying wet kisses to the insides of your thighs.

“Don’t be sorry, I’ve just never done this outdoors before,” you cooed, scratching your nails into his scalp as your body was already heaving a bit, in search of the connection it was so craving. You felt your hips buck up a little on their own as they sought him out.

“You’re fucking dripping, baby,” he said as his tongue ran one languid strip along your slit, not yet making its way inside yet. His words sent your mind into a carnal, visceral reaction, and suddenly you pushed all the comfort talk to the wayside as you imagined him fully, admiring the wetness that he created. “You really want me this much?”

“Yes, Josh… been craving you, please…” you pleaded, suddenly no longer able to hold on to anything besides what was in front of you.

“Craving me? That’s a powerful word, lover,” he went on, teasing his tongue around your lips.

“Haven’t you?” you rebutted. “You told me at the bar I’ve been the only thing on your mind since last weekend…”

You heard him hum a sweet laugh. “Patience, sweet thing, I’m getting there.”

His mouth finally connected to you, the thickness of his lips pulling you into him, his hands gripping hard on your asscheeks. Finally his tongue was exploring you, switching between long strokes and pointed pokes into your opening, flitting his tongue as deeply as he could inside you. “Oh, fuck, Josh…” you called out, your hands digging harder at his curls.

He continued on, finally paying special attention to your clit as he brought his hand up to join his mouth, placing one finger on either side of it and alternating them as if he was pushing buttons. The indirect pressure was sending your mind into a frenzy already, even without the direct contact. He continued there for a few seconds before he licked his tongue up along you again, pressing it directly between his fingers and onto the sensitive bud. You felt the long-awaited and new overwhelming sensation, sending your head back into the pillows as he hummed onto you, vibrating his lips against it and sending an immediate convulsion through your body.

“Oh my god?” you perked up, finally looking him directly in the eyes, your knees bending up to squeeze his head. “What in the hell was that?! Fuckkkk….” you cried out, watching as he smiled on you. Cheeky fucker.

It was like he was starving for you, pulling you into him with heavy suction before extending his tongue back into you again, working your clit with his thumb as the top half of his hand added pressure down onto your abdomen. He was right, he knew exactly what he was doing. He just had to get familiar with it again.

He pulled away, out of breath and heaving as you felt the devastating disconnection. “Switch me, babe… want you on top of me,” he barked, motioning with his hands for you to hurry. He helped you sit up to kneel as he took your spot on the cushions, pulling at your thighs for you to come and straddle his face.

“Are you sure, Josh? This is–” you were breathless as you asked, already so close to orgasm and he hadn’t even shown off for you yet.

“M’ sure baby, come on,” he commanded, slapping your legs as he repositioned. Before you knew it his mouth was on you again, pulling you down with force as you cried out in pleasure again, completely uncaring if the neighbors could hear your moans from their back porches. Your hands were balanced on the wall to hold yourself up, his tongue still doing whatever it wanted between your folds. The sensation was overwhelming, all-encompassing as you were sure you’d never felt anyone take care of you like this before.

You could feel your wetness on his beard and mustache, the grittiness of his coarse hairs a bit grating, but you welcomed the bit of discomfort. You felt his hand come up, toying with your entrance as he paid special attention to your clit again, pulling it forcefully in and out of his mouth.

“Can I?” he asked, wondering if it was okay to go that far as his fingers did everything but enter you all the way.

“Yes, fuck, please,” you begged, the immense need to feel him inside you overtaking your decision-making skills. The next thing you knew, his two middle fingers were buried deep inside you, curling and twisting in a way that let you know that he had the fingers crossed, one right over the other. He pumped them in and out of you a few times, taking the breath completely from you as everything became almost too much to handle. You laid your forehead against the wall along with your hands, ignoring your own want to swirl your hips.

“Come on baby, you can…” he growled from beneath you as he tapped your hips again, his free hand still gripped hard on your ass. He’d read your mind, so you did, swirling your hips in a figure-8 while his fingers and tongue continued their work.

“Mmmhmm…” he hummed onto you as your pitiful cries filled the air again, your body weight fighting to keep itself upright. Your mind was blacking out as you felt the pleasure overtaking you in waves, the constant realization that you were outside, on Josh’s roof, letting him devour you making you all the more dizzy. Just envisioning the visual of the scene made you want to cum right then and there.

Suddenly he pushed you away from him, sliding his body down and out from under you, standing up on his knees again. He turned and pulled you backward by the waist as he bent you in half, pressing your head back down onto the cushion as he pulled your legs apart a little. You felt him maneuver himself again, leaning his head down as he gripped your ass in his hands again, connecting his mouth with you from behind.

“Fuck!!!” you yelped at the sudden change in position, and for how downright confident he was being. Intimacy was suddenly out the window. You arched your back for him, giving him greater access to your most sensitive places. His hands worked to separate your folds as his tongue delved deep again, sending you so close to the edge that you almost lost it.

Right then you knew that you needed more, you needed it all. Burying your face in the pillows for him was the only thing you wanted to do, from here on out. In whatever position he wanted… frontward, backward, upside down… You needed it. You needed to feel all of him. But you knew in the back of your mind that going all the way might not be in the cards.

At least not tonight.

Your cries were building up again as you swayed your hips for him, eliciting a heinous growl from somewhere deep in his chest. Every nerve ending in your body was lit up with electricity as you began to see stars, his constant attention directly where you needed it making all of your strings come untied. “Josh, fuck… I’m– close…” you cried out in a slew of breathless words.

He pulled away again, gripping under your belly and flipping you back onto your back. “Errrghhh,” you complained as he edged you again, and you could feel your jaw clenched together with rage.

“Don’t yell at me, baby,” he said. “Am I not giving you what you want?” His eyes were deep and hollow as the light flickered off of them again, making him seem more devious than he had ever looked before. He laid back down in front of you, pulling your knees to rest on his shoulders again. His fingers pressed into you again, and continued flicking deep inside of you, twisting up and curling as he pondered you.

You gripped your hand around the back of his neck, pulling yourself up to kiss him, uncaring of your own wetness now transferred onto you. He moaned into your mouth as your tongue searched for his, his hand never letting up as your body began to tremble again. You could feel the sheen of sweat forming on your head and cheeks as he unraveled you, his fingers so perfectly deep and his thumb still expertly working your clit, you were positive that there was nothing else existing in the world right now, besides him. You pulled away, meeting his eyes with a question that he had no idea you would even ask.

You didn’t even have to speak a word, he knew exactly what you were asking of him.

He broke eye contact, looking down at the cushions as he continued with his hand. “I want to baby, believe me… I fucking want to… I want you, too…” he captured your lips in a sweet and longing kiss again, letting you know he was right there with you. “Just…give me this… let me have you like this… and…”

You nodded, feeling the knot coming undone in your belly, anyway, unable to stop it even if you tried.

“Promise me, Josh… you will, we will… want you, want all of you…”

He nodded hard as he pressed his forehead to your cheek, your body almost completely bent in half as the backs of your knees rested on his shoulders. “I promise sweetheart… one day…”

With his promise and one particularly specific pump of his finger and thumb combination, you were falling over the edge, your whole body shaking and tremoring as you came undone for him, the sounds coming from your body almost embarrassing as you finally were able to hear your own wetness against the slap of his hand.

When you finally came down, his tongue was on you again, cleaning up the mess you’d both made and swallowing it down. “God, you’re fucking delicious, Y/N, I swear…” he praised as he ran his tongue along you again, sending your body into a fit of shaking overstimulation.

He pulled his t-shirt up over his mouth, wiping away any excess as he flattened your body back out, crawling up you to lay one last kiss to your now-soaked lips.

You took a long, deep breath, cleansing yourself of being devoid of proper oxygen intake for the past few minutes. He finally joined you on the pillows, throwing an arm behind his head as he looked at you with a smug grin. “Told you I was a legend,” he said, adding a giant cheesy smile along with his boasting.

“Okay, listen,” you said, slapping your hand onto his chest. “You can’t call yourself a legend, then ask for me to rate you. It doesn’t work like that,” you argued. “Unfair.”

“Okay, alright, whatever. Then what do you give me?” he asked, turning toward you and pulling your weak leg up over him.

You pressed your finger to your chin just as he had done when he was “evaluating” you. “Nine and a half.”

“What?! Now, that’s unfair, you can’t give me the same rating I gave you,” he complained. “Be serious, I’m a perfect ten.”

You swallowed hard, not wanting to tell him the real reason that you didn’t give him a ten was because the only way you know he could reach that level of perfection was if you could have him wholly and completely, though both experiences with him so far had been beyond stellar on all fronts, deep down, your thirst for him wouldn’t be satiated until that day. That, and the fact that you simply couldn’t let him beat you.

“Sorry, that’s my rating,” you shrugged him off, reaching down for your underwear and shorts.

“Well fuck me,” he complained, rolling to his back.

“I tried to,” you said in retaliation with a laugh, causing him to shoot his look your way.

He met you with a look that you hadn’t seen from him yet, one that told you that there was something you were missing, something that he refused to divulge, but you were honestly too scared to ask. He bit his cheeks in and broke away from your stare, taking a choppy breath again. “I know we promised, babe, but… we’ve gotta remember that we’re just friends, yeah? Just friends–”

“Friends with benefits. Right,” you answered for him in a clipped tone, unsure how to take it. You wished that you could put it all out in the open and discuss things how they lied, but what Josh didn’t know was that you shared his same feeling of uncertainty, both of you so swept up in the idea of one another that you were too scared to fall. Too scared to take a leap that the other one might not want to share.

Your feelings for Josh were growing. Sprouting new buds and new blossoms every single day, weaving themselves deeper into your bones than you had ever anticipated. But you could never tell him the absolute truth, it could ruin everything. It could turn your relationship up on its tail, causing the both of you to see the other in a light that neither of you even planned on shining in the first place.

That’s the devastation of it all, the realization of the possibility you might be physically compatible while sharing little to no other characteristics with someone who could end up being more than just a friend.

But the passion was there, you could feel it. It was almost tangible just now as he begged you to fly into oblivion for him, all at the touch of his hand. You couldn’t lose Josh, and he couldn’t lose you. Not right now, at least. The two of you had become dependent on one another, in all ways besides romantically.

If you took that step… if you both let your guard down all the way… would things still be the same? Did he even want you in that capacity? You were too scared to ask, you were too scared to know.

So, you cleaned yourself up, replaced your panties and shorts and followed Josh back into his lavish bedroom, letting him pull you up underneath his protective arm under his sheets and blankets, kissing you on the forehead as the two of you drifted off into a sleep that begged for more. The both of you lying to yourselves right where you were, waiting for the feelings to dissipate.

Or worse, manifest themselves in a way that was much more gruesome than something a friend with a benefit could ever, ever give.

xoxoxo jules

Taglist: @britney-gvf @sacredstarcatcher @wetkleenex-gvf @farfromthehomelands @takenbythemadness @writingcold @builtbybrokenbells @ohgodthefeeling-gvf @fleet-of-fiction @milkgemini @gvfpal @ageofcj@dancingcarbon @highway-tuna @stardustjake @jakekiszkapunchmeintheface @gvfmarge @gracev0609 @myleftsock @literal-dead-leaf @peaceloveunitygvf @ageofbajabule @slut4lando @jordie-gvf @sadiechar @tinydancer40 @rosabellagvf @capnjaket @lyndz2names @thetroublegetssoloud71 @gretavanomens @spark-my-nature @josh-iamyour-mama @anythingforjtk @alwaysonthemend @danieljlmwagner @klarxtr @fortunatelytinybasement @demonrat444 @gretavansara @watchingover-hypegirl @hippievanfleet @digitalnomadz @raviolilegs @lipstickitty @hippievanfleet @klarxtr @strange-whorizons @do-it-jakey-baby @myownparadise96 @gvf-luna @starshine-wagner@cassiesgreta @joopsandjangs @whimsiliz @kiszkas-canvas@whimsiliz @joopsandjangs @broken0mens @scoreofinfantryvines @whereiskeara @do-it-jakey-baby @miravanfleet @heckingfrick @gretavangroupie @dayumclarizzel @lilbitx

127 notes · View notes