#fake it

[hier--soir]

fake it

joel miller x f!reader

rating: explicit, 18+ mdni summary: does joel know you well enough to know when you're faking it? warnings/tags: [18+ MINORS DNI] smut, smut, smut, it's pretty much entirely smut, dirty talk, unprotected piv sex, cream pie, faked orgasm, panty sniffing, cunnilingus. word count: 5.7k masterlist a/n: i've had this idea worming around in my head for days and i just had to get it out so heRE WE GO

“We’ll stop here for the night.”

Your eyes fluttered open at the sound of Joel’s voice, and the truck rolled to a stop as he parked it in the middle of a field, directly on the edge of a thick forest. The three of you had been on the road for hours since leaving Bill and Frank’s place, and you’d drifted in and out of a fitful sleep for the past few hours, painfully aware that it was your turn to take first watch once you stopped somewhere for the night.

“Fucking finally,” Ellie grumbled from the backseat, and Joel shot her an annoyed glance through the rear-view mirror.

It was already dark outside, and you shone a torch ahead into the inky black mass as the three of you spread your sleeping bags out on the ground. You could hear your heartbeat in your ears, adrenaline spiking in the darkness. You’d always been afraid of it; the dark, and what lurked within it. And being in the middle of a field, late at night, unable to make a fire, was surely one of the worst case scenarios you could think of.

“You guys sure we’re safe out here?” Ellie asked warily. You noticed her eyes staring out across the forest, trying to spot anything through the thick mass of tall trees.

When Joel didn’t answer her immediately, his own eyes drifting outward to gaze into the darkness, your stomach dropped. After a second of too much silence you discreetly elbowed him in the side. His head snapped around to look at you, frowning as he rested a hand on his rib. 

“We’re fine,” you assured Ellie quickly, raising your eyebrows at Joel, as if to say, right?

“Yeah,” he said, eyes sliding from you to her. “No one’s gonna find us out here. You should get some sleep, we’re movin’ early in the morning.”

She nodded, still looking somewhat unconvinced, before slipping into her sleeping bag and rolling over so that her back was to the pair of you. You stared at your partner for a moment, chest aching with anxiety, hating the way his tone of voice hadn’t calmed your nerves.

Too anxious to sit down and rest for a moment, you shouldered a hunting rifle instead, positioning yourself close to the truck, where you could see both of them clearly. Every few minutes you rotated your body, watching the trees from every angle, making sure you would notice if there was even the slightest sound or movement. You hands grew clammy where they held the gun, and you had to readjust your grip on it every once in a while.

“What’re you doin’?” Joel’s voice drifted over to you after a little while. You turned, huffing out a laugh when you saw him lazing on his sleeping bag, sipping from his flask of whiskey.

“What am I doing?” you chuckled. “What are you doing?”

“Getting�� drunk on the job,” he smirked, tipping his head back as he drank. You swallowed thickly, smile fading as you stared at his long, thick neck, and the way it was exposed when he tilted his chin up. It had been weeks since the two of you had done anything more than kiss, too preoccupied with Ellie, and getting to Wyoming.

It was as if Joel could sense where your thoughts had travelled, because his expression darkened, eyes squinting greedily at you from across the open space.

“Why don’t you come over here, darlin’,” he said, resting a hand on his thigh.

“Joel,” you warned quietly, but he just patted his thigh in encouragement, taking a long sip from his flask.

“Just c’mere.”

You spared a glance around you, will power hanging by a thread, but ultimately shook your head, refusing. Joel let out a huff and stood up. He moved slowly, eyes never straying from your face as he stalked towards you, like a predator hunting his prey. And you watched him, tongue darting out to wet your lips as he came to rest beside you, leaning against the truck. Doing your best not to look at him, you tightened your grip on the gun and allowed yourself to lean back against the vehicle as well.

Joel held out the flask to you. “What’s got you so worked up, sugar?”

Casting an irritated glance in his direction, you snatched the flask from his hand and took a long swig, welcoming the stinging distraction as the liquid burnt down your throat.

“You know I hate the dark,” is all you said.

He hummed from low in his throat, nodding once. He stretched out a hand and snagged one of your belt loops with his finger, tugging you quickly into his side. You stumbled into his chest with a sharp gasp of surprise.

“It’s not so bad,” his deep voice drawled, plush lips grazing your ear. You shivered, tucking the flask away before placing a hand on his chest, your fingertips digging into the soft muscle there. “Nothin’ scary about it.”

Joel let his nose trace along the shell of your ear, and then across your cheek, and then his fingers were gripping your chin, turning your face to his..

His lips claimed yours in a bruising kiss, sucking and biting, lathing his tongue along your bottom lip until you welcomed him into your mouth with a pitiful sigh. His tongue pressed against yours, stroking slowly, coaxing your jaw open. You were vaguely aware of his other hand gripping the zip on your jacket and tugging it down. Heat flared in your abdomen, and you gripped the collar of his jacket, sucking his bottom lip into your mouth and pulling back, enjoying the way he groaned as you stretched it out before releasing it with a wet pop.

You watched, glossy-eyed and already a little dazed, as Joel pried the gun out of your hands. He placed it gently onto the bed of the truck. His hand traced over your stomach, fisting the material intermittently, and then he was gripping your hips, spinning you so your chest was to the car, and he was pressed firmly against your back.

“Joel,” you muttered nervously, but he ignored you, sponging kisses behind your ear, suckling on the sensitive spot where your neck met your jaw. You could feel him, hot and hard against the curve of your ass. One of his hands drifted along the softness of your lower stomach, toying with the hemline of your shirt, and a stuttered gasp escaped your lips.

Sharp teeth grazed your neck, nipping at the skin and then he was lapping over it with his tongue, soothing the piercing ache he’d caused. You sighed at the feeling, rutting backward against him. You allowed your eyes to drift shut. And then they slammed back open again, as you realised neither of you would be keeping watch if you shut them. Joel’s face was hidden against your neck, there was no way he would see if anyone snuck up on the camp. Your heart thundered in your chest at the thought, and you kept your eyes open from then on.

“You smell so fuckin’ good,” he whispered against your skin, voice rough and wanton with need. “I’ve been missin’ you.”

“What abou-“

“She’s asleep,” he reassured, grip on your waist tightening. You could feel the way he was straining against his jeans, cock desperate and begging to be touched, as if he’d been thinking about this moment for hours, days, weeks. The ache between your thighs grew painful, and you rubbed against him harder.

“We have to be quiet,” you murmured quickly.

His only response was the distinct sound of his belt clinking, and then a shuffling noise as he dragged his pants low enough to free himself from the tight confines of his underwear. Not wasting a second, he gripped the waistband of your jeans and tugged them down as well, only satisfied when they rested around your knees, giving him full access to you.

One of his fingers glided messily between your folds and he sighed into your ear, marvelling at how wet you were for him already.

“Fuck,” he hissed. “Wish I could put my mouth on you right now. Know you’d taste so good for me, baby, always do.”

You groaned. A soft, pathetic sound.

“It’s been so long,” he groused, and you murmured your agreement. It felt like you were suspended in the air, anticipation holding you firmly in its grasp as you waited for him to do something, anything. “Can’t stand it; s’all I could think about today.”

He tapped the rough pad of a finger against your clit and your entire body flinched forward against the car. As if he could sense the way your knees were buckling, his free arm wrapped around you, holding you up. You murmured his name desperately, hips pushing down against his hand.

“Should I fuck you with my fingers first?” he asked quietly, middle finger circling your entrance. “Or should I let my cock stretch you out?”

When you didn’t answer, mind too fuzzy to string a sentence together, he said, “Hmm?”

“Please,” you keened roughly, turning to glance at him over your shoulder. “Just want you, need you inside me.”

You saw the way the muscle in his jaw worked, lips pursed together as tension rolled through his shoulders. And then his cock was gliding through your folds, smearing your slick over his length, before the blunt tip of him nestled at your entrance. A harsh shout left your lips as he pushed himself, bottoming out in one thrust. Instantly, one of his hands slapped over your mouth, fingertips pressing into your cheek. Your eyes widened, darting around the clearing that surrounded you both on all angles.

“This ain’t gonna work if you do that,” Joel said gruffly, adjusting his hips so he pulled out halfway, before pressing himself back into you. The burn was delicious, and you fluttered around him, gripping him tightly after so much time missing him inside you. A garbled version of your name escaped him, and you whimpered in response, bucking your hips backwards, silently begging him to continue.

He set a gruelling pace, pressing into you relentlessly. One hand covered your mouth while the other gripped the front of your shirt tightly, holding your body still as he fucked into you. When your body jolted against the car from a particularly rough thrust, he muttered a gruff apology into your ear, but didn’t let up. Back arching, you contracted around him, revelling in the sound of the muted groans being let out against the back of your neck.

You bit down into his palm, a muffled cry escaping you. The thought of Ellie waking up and discovering the pair of you flitted through your mind and you cringed. But it disappeared from your mind just as quickly, Joel’s movements driving it away.

The air filled with sounds of heavy breaths and an odd squelching sound, as your slick squeezed around his cock and dripped out of you. Low curses spilled into the atmosphere, and Joel was saying something, speaking to you, but you couldn’t hear him over the roar of blood in your ears. Everything was heightening. The muscles in your abdomen tightened and twitched with every movement of him inside you, and your hips strained backwards, meeting him thrust for thrust. It was all so fast, so desperate, and your body was begging for release after being left untouched for weeks.

But right as you felt yourself reach a precipice, as Joel pushed himself to hit the deepest part of you, everything was ruined.

Because a violent image ripped through your mind of someone storming into the camp in that moment and dragging Ellie out of her sleeping bag. Of someone pointing a gun at you and Joel, while you were defenceless. The darkness of the night seemed to crush in around you, reminding you of its presence and suffocating you. Anybody, or anything, could be out there right now, watching and waiting for the right moment to strike.

Goosebumps rose across your skin. You gasped at the thought, icy dread spiralling through your veins, your orgasm drawing further and further from reach. Except Joel took your gasp as a good sign, and groaned in response, hand dropping your stomach to toy with your clit as his thrusts grew jerkier. You jerked against him, mewling into his hand. It felt good. It felt so fucking good, and yet you couldn’t focus, too distracted to lure back the orgasm that had been dancing in the edges of your periphery.  

Your head was a violent jumble of pleasure and panic. A devastated moan tumbled from your lips, mouth hanging open as the head of Joel’s cock angled against your g-spot.

“There?” he asked breathlessly, and you nodded, reaching to grip the back of his neck. He moved faster, pushing and pulling and hitting that spot over and over. And you could feel the coil inside of you burn again, liquid heat spreading through your limbs as your body tried to reach that high again, but it just wasn’t fast enough. The car was cold against the front of your body, and your brain was on such high alert, that you knew you wouldn’t be able to get there.

“Come with me,” Joel encouraged gruffly, fingertips holding your jaw in a bruising grip. “Come on now, let me have it.”

He was so close. You could feel it in the way his rapid heartbeat crashed against your back; in the ragged breaths that were exhaled across your neck. His hips were stuttering against you, thighs tense. And you wanted him to feel good. Wanted him to let go after so long – god, he deserved it. So you did something you’d never done with Joel before.

You faked it.

Your chin tilted upward to the sky, and you let deep, elongated breaths rattle through your chest, singing his name into the palm of his hand. Joel made a deep guttural sound. His fingers rubbed messy circles against your clit, and you bucked against him, heart thrashing in your chest. He said you’resotight, and you said I’m comingohgodJoelohfuck, and through it all, you could feel it growing inside of you. Your lungs burned inside your chest. He was stretching you so perfectly, so deliciously, and you let out a genuine moan at the feeling of his rough thrusts. You could feel him in the bones of your skull, in the tips of your toes, and in every inch of your body in between, and yet you needed more.

Joel trembled, his entire body shaking against yours. You felt his cock jump inside you in quick, jerky movements and clenched around him, and then he exhaled a deep groan, and went still.  

After a few moments, he pulled out, and you gasped at the cold sensation. Rapid breaths left his mouth, he peppered soft kisses down the side of your neck, removing his hand from your face only to wrap both arms around your torso and hold you against him. Your core ached, clenching around nothing as his spend seeped out of you, spilling onto your inner thighs.

Turning in his arms, you offered him a dazed look. Your body was hot, coiled like a string pulled taught, waiting to snap. He kissed you, with less rush this time, and you returned it lazily, reaching down to tug your pants up over your hips again. Your tried not to cringe as your underwear pressed against you. You were uncomfortably wet, and the cold material stuck to your tacky skin. Joel did the same.

Pulling back from the kiss, you rubbed the side of your jaw, flexing your mouth open in an attempt to soothe the ache that had settled there. Joel watched you all the while. His dark eyes flickered over your face, trying to see you through the darkness.

“You good?” he asked quietly, at the same time as you heard a twig snap somewhere in the trees, off to your left. Your head snapped to the side, eyes glaring out through the thick inky black, ears straining. “Baby?”

“Sorry,” you said, shaking your head slowly. “Thought I heard something.”

Strong fingers gripped your chin, turning you to face him once more. A frown had settled across his face, eyebrows drawn tight across his forehead. His lips were a thin line, and his chest still shook as he regulated his breathing, but you could see it there; the understanding. Your heart skipped a beat in your chest as nervousness zipped through your body. He knew. There was no way, you told yourself. No way he could have known. And yet the longer you stared at each other, the deeper his frown got.

Wordlessly, his hand dropped between your bodies, and he pressed his palm against your mound through your pants. A soft sound of surprise escaped your mouth as his fingers curled against you, pressing against where your clit ached. You whimpered softly, numb fingers gripping his hand and holding it against you. Recognition flashed in his eyes, and you stilled, hand going lax on top of his.

“Fuck,” Joel said gruffly. “Fuck.”

You opened your mouth to speak, to deny it, to tell him it was fine, to say anything, but a rustling sound caught both of your attention. It was coming from the same spot as before, only this time it seemed louder, more pronounced. Your breathing paused.

“Get in the truck,” he said.

“Joel,” you tried, panic laced through your voice.

“Get in the truck now,” he said, grabbing the hunting rifle from the truck bed. “I’ll get the kid.”

Blood rushed in your ears as you walked swiftly to the passenger side of the truck, swinging yourself up into the seat and shutting the door behind you as softly as possible. Anxious goosebumps rippled across your skin as you stared out the window into the darkness, trying to catch a glimpse of Ellie or Joel. Minutes passed, and then the doors opened, and Ellie slumped inside, rubbing sleep out of her eyes, as Joel slammed into the driver’s seat, starting the car and tearing out of the field.

“Did you see anything?” Ellie asked from the backseat.

“No,” he said, not looking at either of you.

“Then why are w-“

“Go back to sleep,” Joel ordered her firmly, and you cringed at his tone, turning in your chair to offer her a sympathetic smile. She didn’t return it, laying down across the backseats and turning her back on the pair of you.

The car was entirely silent as Joel drove the three of you back onto a road, and continued heading towards Kansas City. And as much as your body yearned for sleep, you found yourself wide awake, eyes focused out the windscreen, watching the tarnished landscape pass you by, exposed up by the car’s headlights.

After an hour of driving, Joel finally spoke.

“Ellie?” he said, tone even.

No response came from the back seat. You watched him out of the corner of your eye. He repeated her name.

Satisfied when there was no response, he spared a glance in your direction, before turning back to look at the road.

As if against your own will, you whispered his name quietly, pleadingly.

“Don’t,” he practically growled.

“I’m s-“

“You thought I wouldn’t know?” his lip curled upward, a grimace painting his face. “Think that I don’t know you well enough to know when you’re faking it?”

Your entire body stilled. Heat prickled across your skin, and you prayed to a god you didn’t believe in that Ellie was truly asleep in the backseat. Your hands were clammy, and you wiped them fruitlessly against the material of your jeans, unsure of what to say. He waited for you to speak, and when you didn’t, a loose sigh rattled from his chest.

“You do this thing,” he said quietly. “When you come.”

“What?”

“This huge smile,” he frowned. “Like you can’t help yourself. Like it felt so good, that you can’t control your face, and you smile so big I can see every one of the fuckin’ teeth in your skull.”

“Joel—"

“Every time,” he interrupted firmly.

“I-“

“And I didn’t realise,” he whispered harshly. “How much I look for it – that I wait for it, I god damn expect it.”

“I’m sorry,” you murmured feebly, heat flashing through you. You gazed at the side of his tense face, stomach twisting at his words. You’d never known you did that. Never known he would notice if one day you didn’t.

“You’re sorry?” Joel scoffed. His hands gripped the wheel so tight that his knuckles turned white. “You should be angry.”

You watched him with bated breath.

“First time I touched you in weeks, and I didn’t even make sure…,” he trailed off, teeth gnawing on his bottom lip. “Like you’re some fuckin’ toy.”

“It was good, Joel,” you spoke in a hushed tone, glancing over your shoulder at Ellie’s back. “I swear, I was just distracted, and it was dark, an-“

“It’s not good with me,” he said curtly, and you stopped, wetting your lips anxiously.

Before you could say anything else, a soft murmuring came from the backseat, as Ellie started to wake up once more. You cringed, straightening in your seat and returning your gaze to the road ahead.

“This isn’t over,” Joel said, voice rough. And when he turned his head to look at you, just for a second, you nodded in acknowledgement. A dark glint of determination shone in his eyes, and it sent a shiver down your spine.

A long, tense day passed by before Joel could get you alone again. You felt the frustration rolling off of him in waves. Those dark eyes watched you, uncaring of whether you noticed or not, his hands twitching towards you whenever you were close, aching to touch you, to repent. Without a chance to shower, you spent the entire day with a sticky reminder of the night before. You were uncomfortably wet, your own slick mixed with Joel’s come making a mess of your underwear, streaking down your thighs inside your trousers.

It was late afternoon by the time he spotted a house in the distance, and when he pulled up outside of it, he ordered you and Ellie to stay in the car while he checked it out.

“I’m fucking exhausted,” she said from the backseat, as soon as Joel was out of earshot.

“Me too, kid,” you muttered, eyes on the front door until he reappeared, giving the all clear for you both to get out of the truck and go inside.

“There’s a few rooms,” he told you as you looked around the house, eyes drifting over the dusty furniture, bookshelves, dining table. “Two down here, one upstairs.”

“Shotgun upstairs,” Ellie said quickly, heading towards the staircase at the end of the hall.

“Are you hungry?” Joel called out to her back.

Ellie paused at the bottom of the stairs and gave him a look that said what do we even have to eat? But all she said was that she was gonna crash, and grumbled something about him never letting her get any sleep as she marched up the creaking steps.

“I think I’m gonna get some sleep as well,” you yawned, stretching your arm out against your chest. Joel’s eyes flashed to yours, and he huffed quietly.

“Is that right?” he asked, crossing his arms over his chest. You faltered, pulse quickening at the insinuation laced in his words.

“I—”

“First door on the right,” he motioned his head towards the hallway, and you followed him wordlessly towards the room.

It was small, cosy. Late afternoon light gleamed in through a north facing window, and the sun’s rays shone across a double bed in the middle of the room, and a bare side table. Silently, Joel stripped the sheets off the bed, leaving them in a pile on the floor before unzipping his sleeping bag and draping it across the mattress.

“You tired?”

You watched his hands as they spread the sleep bag out, flattening out any lumps in it. Thick, long fingers pressed against the material, and heat spread through your lower stomach.

“Yes,” you said honestly, and he nodded, tilting his head to look at you. You unzipped your jeans and discarded them on the floor before crawling onto the bed.

“How tired?” Joel queried, kicking his shoes off and joining you on the mattress. He rested back on his heels, hands splaying across your kneecaps as he gazed down at you.

You mmm’d from the back of your throat, wetting your lower lip. “Not too tired.”

The muscle in his jaw jumped as his eyes drifting across your body, down your bare thighs, to rest on the dark spot on the front of your panties. His fingers traced down your thighs, leaving a trail of goosebumps in his wake, until he gripped the hem of your underwear.

He pulled them down your legs, tantalisingly slow, and you watched with wide eyes as he lifted the ruined material up to his face. Maintaining eye contact, he held them over his mouth and nose, and you couldn’t bring yourself to look away as he inhaled deeply. Heat soared across your cheeks, and you would have been ashamed, if it weren’t for the way you could see him beginning to bulge against the zipper of his jeans, hot and hard for you.

“I want you,” you whispered brokenly. Joel dropped your underwear onto the bed beside your body.

“I know,” he gritted his teeth, sliding his palms down your inner thighs and prying them apart so he could settle in between them.

One hand raised to cup your face and you smiled, nuzzling your cheek into his palm. His thumb grazed your bottom lip in a silent request, and you parted them for him instantly, welcoming the digit into your mouth. You swirled your tongue around it, wetting it, and watched intensely as he lowered his hand down your body, and pressed the finger between your folds.

“Christ,” he cursed, mouth falling ajar as he felt you. “You been like this all day?”

“Yes, yes,” you whimpered.   

“Then I’m a fuckin’ monster,” he chuckled mirthlessly, staring between your legs with hooded eyes. “Left my best girl all worked up. God, darlin’, look at you; dripping wet for me, desperate for something to come on.”

“Please,” you exhaled sharply. “I need you, want your cock inside me so bad.”

He tutted quietly, shaking his head a little. “You think I deserve it?” his eyes flashed to yours, mouth downturned. “Think I deserve to be inside this pretty pussy, when I’ve been so mean to it?”

Your thighs tensed painfully as his finger started rubbing lightly against your bundle of nerves.

“Because I don’t,” he said ruefully. “Think I need to make it up to you first, what do you think, baby?”

“Okay,” you exhaled.

“And we aren’t finished unless you come,” he said darkly. “Do you understand?”

Your lips felt numb, tongue heavy in your mouth as you stared up at him through hooded eyes. Joel glared down at you, nostrils flared. “Say you understand.”

“I understand,” you finally mewled in frustration, twitching into the mattress as his thumb swiped over your pulsing clit. “F-fuck, Joel, please.”

His finger dragged between the swollen lips of your pussy, spreading you open so he could see your glistening core. He swore under his breath, the tip of his thumb gliding over your entrance where he could see remnants of his seed still easing out of you. His knees thudded against the old mattress as he dragged himself down the bed, and then his mouth was on you.

“Ohhh,” an exaggerated moan left your mouth, leaving your lips parted in an O shape as your head dropped back into the pillow. His tongue flattened to lick a stripe up your core, all the way from your entrance to above your clit and you shuddered into his mouth, crying out at the contact. His hands gripped your thighs and dragged them over his shoulders, pushing his face deeper into you.

Joel’s nose dragged across your clit as his tongue circled your entrance, and slurping noises filled the air as he cleaned the remnants of himself from your hole. You gasped, fire racing through your veins at the idea of him drinking down his own come, and your hips bucked off the bed. The tips of his fingers dug into your thighs in a silent warning to stay still. You clawed your nails into his scalp, raking through his messy hair, doing your best not to absolutely writhe against his face.

He groaned against you, pulling back momentarily to smirk up at you, your slick shining on his lips and beard. It was shameful, the way the noises he made went to your head. The deep, growling moans, the way his hums vibrated against you. You absorbed them and filed them away into your memory, somewhere only for you to ever see. Your hips framed his face, thighs bracketed over his shoulders as he gripped them, no doubt leaving bruises where his fingertips dug into your flesh.

Joel worked painstakingly slowly at first. His hot, long tongue glided along the entirety of you, and then he dipped it inside your weeping hole. Your eyes rolled back as he pumped his hot muscle in and out of you, until you were begging him to just please fuck me Joel please I’m sorry, but then he just sped up, moving upward to flick the tip of his tongue across your clit. You gasped, back arching off the bed as he swiped back and forth sharply, his lips suctioning around it as he abused your swollen clit.

And then one of his hands disappeared, and he eased a long, thick finger inside of you. He stroked along your walls, hooking his finger against your g-spot as you cried out his name, clenching around the digit. Encouraged by the response, he swiftly pushed a second finger inside, scissoring them and stretching you out as he sponged messy kisses against your clit.

Your mind was a blur. “Shit, Joel.”

Every single nerve, every point of feeling in your entire body, was directed to the apex of your thighs, and you trembled with the intensity of it. Every kiss, every lick, every suck was a reverent apology, a vow to never let it happen again. Joel was on his knees at the altar of his god, begging for forgiveness, and you were more than happy to grant it.

It felt like your chest was being ripped open as heavy breaths worked their way out of your burning lungs, heavy panting mixing in the air with the sounds of his tongue gliding through your wetness. Beads of sweat formed on your forehead, and you moaned roughly as he let his teeth skate ever so slightly over your clit.

His fingers pumped inside you, curling against the roof of your channel in a continuous motion as his tongue rolled against your nerves. It sent a familiar fire spreading through your abdomen, warming your entire chest, until you were gasping for air, jaw aching as it hung open, in awe of every point of contact he had with your body.

You clenched painfully tight, pussy squeezing around his fingers as his tongue swiped back and forth across your clit. Joel hummed in encouragement, mouth buzzing against you in a way that sent you careening towards the edge even faster. It seemed like every muscle in your body was tightening. Arms tensed awkwardly, one hand buried in his hair, the other twisted in the sheets beside you. Thighs pressed against the side of his head, stomach burning as he built you up and up and up and—

“Oh, oh my—fucking god,” you sobbed as your orgasm hit, and Joel braced you against the bed, working you through it. Pleasure rushed through you like an avalanche. Stars burst behind your eyelids, and you let go of everything that had ever existed in your world except for Joel. You lost yourself in him; in the glide of his tongue against your core, in the way your fingers twisted in his hair, in the rough scrape of his beard against your inner thighs. He was everywhere, everything.

In time, you were vaguely aware of him pulling back, of only the drag of his fingers inside you remaining, and you knew he must have been watching you, raking in the sight of you so exposed.

“There you go,” you could hear him saying, somewhere past the ringing in your ears. “Give it t’me. That’s it, look so pretty like this, all fucked out just for me.”

And when he dragged his fingers out of you, it was only to make room for his head to drop down once more to suck and lick at where your orgasm dripped out of you, moaning as he went, desperate not to miss a single drop.

Finally, after the final waves of your climax had settled, and your limbs dropped heavily against the bed, he kissed his way up your body, wet mouth leaving a shimmering trail along your skin until he reached your face and kissed you, letting you taste yourself on his tongue.

He pulled back after a moment, and you breathed deeply, lost in the way the sunlight danced across the back of your eyelids. You weren’t aware of the corners of your mouth tilting upward, of your lips peeling back to reveal your teeth as you grinned brazenly, cool relief coursing through you.

“Look at that,” Joel’s voice brought you back down to earth, and you blinked heavily, trying to focus your bleary eyes on his face. His hair was messy, a dark rough halo around his head as the sunlight shone around him. One side of his mouth was pointed upward, a small smirk decorating his features. “There’s that smile.”

[socialbutterfly19]

Be quiet… very very quiet

[transbookoftheday]

Transfem Book Recs for International Women's Day

Happy International Women's Day! Here are some transfem book recommendations for you:

Book Titles:

Light from Uncommon Stars by Ryka Aoki

Cheer Up: Love and Pompoms by Crystal Frasier

Joy, to the World by Kai Shappley and Lisa Bunker

A Lady for a Duke by Alexis Hall

Tell Me I'm Worthless by Alison Rumfitt

Just Happy To Be Here by Naomi Kanakia

Me and My Dysphoria Monster by Laura Kate Dale and Hui Qing Ang

Pet by Akwaeke Emezi

For the Love of April French by Penny Aimes

Fake It by Lily Seabrooke

Detransition, Baby by Torrey Peters

Fierce Femmes And Notorious Liars by Kai Cheng Thom

Princess of the Pomegranate Moon by Emily Wynne

Her Majesty’s Royal Coven by Juno Dawson

The Ojja-Wojja by Magdalene Visaggio and Jenn St-Onge

Galaxy: The Prettiest Star by Jadzia Axelrod and Jess Taylor

Into the Gray by Margaret Killjoy

Little Blue Encyclopedia (for Vivian) by Hazel Jane Plante

[waklman]

Fake it

Chapter One: Kiss me

synopsis: a pair of best friends, one apartment, and one fake dating ploy to get jake’s ex girlfriend back, will end well right? wrong.

pairing: jake seresin x female reader.

warnings: no use of y/n, brief mention of vomit, sexual innuendo/joking, jake and reader are both 20. this blog is 18+

word count: 4.2k

college au, fake dating trope, roommate trope

next chapter | fake it masterlist.

Jake Seresin doesn’t get nervous. In fact, he can’t even grasp the concept. 

He was the kind of guy who flirted with the nearly divorced waitresses at diners while their husbands waited on them. Sure, those men looked like they wanted to rip his head clean off his shoulders, but Jake didn’t care—he just plucked the free milkshake he scored for you from their hands, with a smile on his face. Jake Seresin doesn’t get nervous.

But for some reason, as he stands outside your bedroom door—Jake’s starting to understand that apprehensive feeling you complain about so much. Right now, Jake Seresin is getting nervous. He’s even sweating a bit. 

Jake knocks on the door, lightly, just enough to stir you. “Princess?” There’s no answer from the other side, not a creaking of the bed, not a groan, nothing.

He clears his throat. “You busy? Can I come in?” It’s like Jake’s outside his parent’s bedroom again, unsure if they’re awake for his incoming request—with vomit dribbling down his chin and smeared across the front of his fire truck pajamas. 

“No. I’m busy flicking the bean in here,” your sarcastic reply is muffled by your thick comforter, but Jake catches it.

It’s quiet for a minute, prompting you to pop your head out from under the sheets. You stare at the closed door, confused by his silence. 

“I…Are you actually?” 

“What? No Jake! I…I wouldn’t do that when you’re home,” you mumble that last part to yourself.

Jake lets himself in at the confirmation, swinging the door open with a shrug. “That’s a bummer, cause I do when you’re around.” 

“I—That better be a joke,” you scoff, scooting over in bed, ignoring the heat blooming on your face. 

Jake throws himself onto the space you made for him, extracting a pillow from under your leg to cushion his head. “Don’t you worry your pretty little head. I haven’t gotten the chance to, since we just moved in,” he turns to you in bed with a shameless grin plastered on his face. 

You only flip on your side in response—forcing him to look at the back of your head. “You’re dirty,” you comment, pursing your lips. 

“Not your type? Cause you like those nerdy vanilla guys—ain’t that right,” Jake drawls, poking your spine.

You move further away from him, but he only chases right after you, shrinking the gap between you two. “They’re nice to me,” you defend yourself.

“I’m nice to you,” he challenges. Jake wonders if that stirred you. It was easy to get you flustered—and so, he took every chance to tease you. That was a harmless habit he could never grow out of.

You pause, searching for a way to flip it on him. But you draw a blank, there’s only so much you can come up with. 

“Sure,” you drag out the word.

There’s only a brief moment of silence, after your dismissive comment—but it's long enough for your eyes lids to grow heavy again. 

Jake puffs out a short laugh, seeing how stiff you are already.

Though you ardently denied any mention of it, you were always the first kid at daycare who waddled towards the line of tiny cots once naptime was announced, entirely ready to hit the sack. And obviously, Jake shoved the other kids out of the way to claim the cot next to yours. It was no question who his best friend was. 

He presses the side of his face deeper into your pillow, taking in the warmth provided by your sheets.

“Why is your bed always comfier than mine,” he sighs, rubbing a calloused hand against your back, creasing your sleep shirt into small folds. 

Maybe you won’t get mad at him for his next question if you’re barely conscious, he convinces himself. You shrug, too tranquilized by his soft strokes to remind him that you two bought the same mattress this time. 

Jake takes his time, building up courage while he runs his hand between your shoulder blades contemplatively. 

Worried that you’re about to finally drift off—Jake bites the bullet, blurting out his question. 

“Would you date me?” 

It’s like the world comes to a screeching halt. Jake didn't say that, you’re imagining things. This isn’t happening.  

Assuming you didn’t hear him, Jake decides to repeat himself. “Would you date m—”

Your body jerks at the recurring question, forcing Jake to recoil as well. This must be a dream. You’re stuck in some awfully realistic dream. A sick dream where your best friend is asking you out.

Panic shoots through his veins, seeing you start to slip off the side of the bed in your frenzy. In an instant, Jake pulls you towards him, grabbing you by the forearm—before you could fall onto the wooden floor with a thud. 

Once your back hits his chest, you scramble to sit up, pulling away from him. 

Jake’s already sat up once you are, palm pressed against his racing heart. “Shit—you scared me! Don’t do that—Fuck,” he scolds, trying to catch his breath. 

Your fingers scrunch the bedsheets under you, flustered. “I scared you? You scared me! What kind of question is that?” you ramble, voice pitched in embarrassment. 

Instead of arguing back, Jake’s mouth stretches into an amused smirk. His wet tongue swipes over his lips, making them glisten against the sun shining through your shutters. “You didn’t say no,” he points out, eyeing you up and down.

You pause, blinking at him incessantly. 

“If—If you wanted me to just wake up, you shouldn’t have rubbed my back. You know that tips me over!” You deflect in a shout, crossing your arms against your chest. 

“Hey, don’t shut me out,” he teases, tugging once at your arms, getting you to drop them into your lap. Great. He actually paid attention to the body language chapter in psychology 1001. 

“Don’t joke like that Jacob. It’s not funny,” you look off to the side, trying to ignore the uncomfortable feeling brewing in your stomach.

You knew he wasn’t being serious. It was obvious to everyone that he was still hung up on his ex-girlfriend, Kendall Anderson. But who could blame him? The whole campus knew who she was, even professors that she didn’t even take knew who Kendall was. Other schools in the area knew of her for crying out loud. An unforgettable face, friends that could last her a lifetime, and an effortless air about her—of course Jake can’t let her go. She might as well be factory made to fit his type to a tea.

And even if he wasn’t over her, Jake would never ask you that question, and mean it—like truly mean it. You’ve seen him brush off others extensively, when they joked about him having a crush on you.

And if you were being honest, it stung, just a bit. You had always been too deep in your own head about someone like Jake Seresin being your best friend in the first place. You didn’t need any kind of awful reminder that someone in his radar couldn’t even consider dating you. 

Jake's suddenly hit with guilt, picking up on your fallen expression. “Fuck. I’m sorry, Princess,” he apologizes.

You still won’t look at him, making Jake feel worse. “I won’t joke like that again,” he promises you, lifting himself to sit closer to you, knees brushing up against yours. 

“It’s not funny, and I won’t do it again. That was a dick move,” he confirms intently. 

“Yeah, it was,” you whisper, chewing on your bottom lip.

“I was a dick,” he professes. 

You nod, wordlessly forgiving him. “You were a dick,” you repeat after him. 

After a brief pause, you bravely turn your cheek to face him again, brows puckered together. “..Honestly though, why did you ask me that?” Jake’s never been the type to say anything to muddle your friendship, not if there’s a reason behind it. 

He swipes a hand over his mouth, remembering why he came into your room in the first place. “Kendall,” he pauses. “She has a new boyfriend.”

You grimace at the news.

Their breakup was so fresh, how did she find someone new already? Unless, it’s not someone new at all. “..Is it that older guy she met over the summer? What’s his face…Austin?” You’re shooting in the dark at this point, trying to dig for more information. 

Jake groans, you hit the nail right on the head. “Yeah, fuck that asshole.” 

The only information you knew about the asshole Jake’s referring to is what he’s chosen to disclose to you. And from what you heard, Jake wasn’t his biggest fan. 

Without a thought, you blindly agree with him, arms crossing against your chest again. “Fuck him, Fuck him so hard,” you attempt to disrespect the stranger, but it’s starting to sound awkward coming from you. “…He’s probably not that cute. Well not that I would know but—“ Jake cuts you off, laughing at the lineup of curse words flying out your mouth.

“Love it when you fucking curse, sound just like me,” he ruffles your hair, making you giggle underneath him.

“Fuck. Fuck. Fuck,” you entertain him with disheveled hair, pulling out another laugh from him. 

But the moment dies fast—faster than the spotted hamster you both tried to co-parent in fifth grade. “But, anyway,” Jake speaks again. As he’s saying that, Jake softly brushes the hair out your face, thumb swiping over the baby hairs by your ear for good measure, before finally withdrawing his hand from you.

“I hate that I still like her,” he admits, with a sad smile, arms limp in his lap.  

You bite down on your lip at his gutted confession. 

Keeping a straight face, you try to console him. “So? it was your longest relationship. It’d be weird if you didn’t like her still.”

Despite your aversion to his on and off relationship, you didn't want to step on Jake’s feelings, it’s a force of habit.

“Would it be bad if we just, if we...pretended to date? She’s always been jealous of you.” Jake finally puts forth, biting down on his own tongue afterwards. The apprehension he felt from earlier slowly makes it way back into his chest again.

Bradley warned him against this, this won’t end well for either of you, he told the blond with a grunt. The frat boy—although not the brightest was able to detect the complication in Jake’s plan. But, Jake swatted off Bradley’s pointed complaints to no end. It was like he lost the ability to think straight, with Kendall in mind. There was some sort of invisible stopper that made him blind to the swarm of problems that came with this.

You blink once, after piecing it together in your head. “You want me to help you get her back?” 

“Kinda, yeah. I do.” 

Everything tells you this is wrong, that you should say no. That this isn’t the right thing to do. That Bradley’s going to kill you, kill Jake, kill you both. That this scheme didn’t bode well in the movies you watched. And despite it all, you answer, “I’ll do it.” 

“No you fucking didn’t.” Bradley roars, earning a few stares from your classmates. “Tell me you’re just fucking with me,” he says more quietly, though his definition of quiet is in a form of another harsh shout. 

If your guilty eyes weren't a confirmation in itself, your refusal to give him a clear answer was. Bradley shakes his head disapprovingly as he forcefully massages his temple, trying to relieve an oncoming headache. 

“Would you—tone it down,” you beg, trying to cover your face from the dirty stares you’re receiving from all corners of the lecture room.

You slump in your seat, with a hand shielding the side of your face. “Didn’t Jake already tell you,” you whisper to Bradley through the corner of your mouth, pretending you don’t know him. 

You would assume that Jake has caught him up on the details by now. After all, Bradley Bradshaw was more of Jake’s friend than yours—he was a current member of Jake’s old fraternity. It was just your luck that he signed up for the same class as you, and couldn’t stand anyone else in the room. 

“We can't be seen together right now,” he grumbles, looking around with harsh eyes, scanning the room for anyone in his fraternity. He manages to scare a girl in the process, making her move away from you both. He clicks his tongue at her, annoyed. 

“What? Are you two Romeo and Juliet or something? What do you mean you can’t be seen together?” 

“Prez is still pissed at him for dropping out of the house. I'm working on it,” Bradley adds, jaw clenched. He’s never been berated by a guy shorter than him in his life. Bradley’s large foot begins to tap against the carpeted floor, irritated by the playback happening in his head. 

You sigh, pulling back your legs, allowing a student trying to move through your row, more space to get by. “You know he’s just a president of a frat house, not some dictator.”

“He might as fucking well be, Javy’s got a stick up his—Bob? Where the fuck are you going?” Bradley stops the student, slapping a rough hand against his chest, making him groan.

“Sit with us,” he points his chin towards the seat next to him. Just like that, Bradley’s already dismissing him, expecting him to sit down at his assertion.

You carefully look on as the guy hesitatingly opens his mouth, just to shut it again. There’s a pair of thinly wired glasses framing his face and his eyes just briefly brush over you. He blinks at you once, then twice—until you shyly offer him an apologetic smile in return.

Seeing that he can’t ignore his fellow housemate, Bob gives into Bradley’s demand, with a nod. “I was—yeah I was gonna sit there anyway,” he assures Bradley.

After a lazy introduction, you learn that Bob had just joined the frat last year. He didn’t look like the type, which took you a second to digest. Everyone in that house looked—to put it nicely—they looked like they belonged there. But Bob? You could barely picture him standing alongside those kind of guys. Bob looked nice.

With an acknowledging look shared between you and Bob that Bradley has trapped you both here, the conversation from earlier continues. 

“Jake? As in Jake Seresin?” Bob asks, pushing the silver frames up his nose. 

“Did I not just say that? Keep up,” Bradley remarks, stretching his legs out, kicking the seat in front of him in the process. 

“Yeah, he’s my—well my fake boyfriend now I guess?” You explain to Bob with a shrug, brushing over Bradley’s comment.

Bradley swipes his tongue over his front teeth. “I thought he was an idiot for this whole idea, but here you are, saying yes to it. You two belong together.” In times like these, you like to reassure yourself, putting a pin on the fact that honesty from Bradley was a good thing. 

He wasn’t the type to share his thoughts with others, he spoke with intention—for the most part. It came as a surprise to you, that he even found a liking towards you to begin with. So, him telling you his true thoughts, meant that he was just looking out for you. Well, that's what you hoped.

“Isn’t that—um. Sorry if this is rude but, isn't that weird for you?” Bob questions, leaning over Bradley. 

Bradley’s nose flares, before deciding to lean back further so Bob could stretch himself over his lap to hear you better. 

“I don’t think so—I mean…we’ve been friends for our whole lives. There’s nothing there. Not weird at all," you confirm.

Bradley raises his brow. “Yeah, you definitely didn’t believe that lie either,” he scoffs, pressing his tongue flat against his left cheek. 

Again, you ignore his comment.

Bob nods. “I hope things work out for you then,” he kindly smiles at you, ignoring Bradley’s judgmental glare drilling into the side of his head. 

You wished Bob’s genuine encouragement would bring you relief, but it weirdly doesn't. Even if it wasn’t his intention, the statement serves more as an ominous warning. “Thanks, I appreciate it,” that part you meant though.

All the effort you put towards organizing your closet comes undone, as Jake unrolls every piece of clothing you spent hours folding in search for something. “Where’s that one shirt of yours,” he mumbles to himself, deciding to pull open your storage baskets next. 

“What’s wrong with the one I'm wearing!” You complain, throwing yourself back into your mattress, praying you even packed the top he’s looking for. 

Jake blows air through his nose, giving himself a push to keep digging through your stuff. “Princess, I love you but—you gotta out-do her, have you seen the shit she usually wears?” 

Right as you returned from class, Jake jumped you at the front door, demanding that you two needed to head down to the campus store. He recalled from previous years that Kendall made it a tradition to keep up with the school merchandise, buying all the new school pride crap on the first day of classes. Which only meant you both had to be there too. 

“Oh. Fuck. Okay, that’s your underwear,” he narrates, ears pink at the dusty lace greeting him. 

“I—Move,” you fly off the bed, pushing past him. The havoc that is your closet makes you want to fall over and die. Die right there, right on the ground, and maybe be buried under the piles of fabric scattered across the floor. Maybe then, he’ll feel bad for what he did to you.  

“My closet..” you mumble to yourself with droopy shoulders, taking in its disheveled state. 

Jake’s so set on finding the article of clothing, he overlooks the mess he made. “Your closet,” he mocks you flatly. “Doesn’t have that tiny white shirt I’m looking for,” he complains, scrunching his nose.

Right as he says that, you spin on your heels, facing him with a tight jaw. Jake almost jumps out his own skin from how abruptly you turned around. 

“I have on. the white shirt,” you point out, through clenched teeth, plucking at the fabric clung to your chest—letting it snap back against you.

His eyes flick down to your top, with an empty look.

You’re right.

But it’s too late for him to confess his wrongdoings, Jake's in too deep. “No you don’t," he tuts.

“Oh yeah?” You don’t think before digging your hands into the lightly lined bra you’re wearing—adjusting the way it cupped your chest.

Jake is attentive to the fact that he should be looking away, but he can’t seem to move. His feet are locked in place and his head is unable to turn the other direction. All he can do is hold his breath, while you press your boobs together to fix your cleavage. As if holding his breath meant that he could stop the flow of unsolicited thoughts from leaking into his stream of consciousness. 

Finally realizing what you did out of frustration, you clear your throat, making it seem as though this was normal in your friendship. “How—how about now. Look familiar?” You bite your lip, waiting for an answer.

“Yeah, that’s—that’s the shirt,” he nods, playing along with your unbothered act himself. Trying to pretend like he didn’t just watch his best friend shove her hands down her bra for him. 

Regret is an understatement for what Jake feels. Jake regretted his inability to pick up on the shirt you had on. Jake regretted how worked up Kendall made him feel. Jake regretted not getting here sooner. 

Once you two arrived, out of breath, lungs burning from sprinting across campus—his ex-girlfriend was nowhere in sight. The discovery just stamped down on his annoyance. 

Not wanting to make your trip down here a waste, you suggested that you two should look around for anything new being put out. 

Now, Jake’s trailing behind you as you skim through the new merchandise your college put out for the fall semester.

A year ago, he was here following Kendall around the store, lighting up in laughter as she posed for him in those boxy shirts and corny dad caps. Which he ended up tearing off her body later on. This year though, he’s here with you, his best friend. Jake stops himself from dwelling on it any longer, it's not fair to you if he were to compare.

Spotting a sweater that isn’t relatively ugly—you unhook it from the metal rack, pressing it against your front for him to see. 

Jake looks down at you with pursed lips—but he's distracted by the group pimpled freshman whispering to each other at the far end of the aisle, you’re both standing in. The lot has been eyeing you since you came in, even with Jake by your side. Maybe it’s because Kendall’s racking his every thought, but Jake is getting ticked off. 

“Should I get this one?” There weren’t any mirrors in the shop, all you had was Jake’s opinion to rely on. You tuck your chin, in a failed attempt to look down and see it for yourself. 

He nods. “Sure Princess.” Jake’s trying his best to give you his attention, but he feels compelled to survey the group nearing you both. His eyes narrow down as the tallest of the flock pulls out his phone—while his friends push him forward. Spotting the familiar frat house sticker on the back of the phone case, Jake decides that he’s had enough. 

He’s had enough of them being here. And enough of Kendall not being here. 

Jake’s eyes snap back to you. “Put it on,” he points his chin to the baby blue sweater in your hands. It’s double your size, and one of the threads on the embroidered letters hangs loose—but he doesn’t care enough to bring it to your attention. 

“What?”

Jake takes a step forward, pretending to look down at the price tag with an offhanded shrug. “Just—put it on. I’ll buy it. You look good, Promise.” 

You’re already pulling it off the hanger and over your head, right over that shirt, he asked you to wear. “No take backs,” you gleam at him, stuffing your hands into the front pocket of the hoodie, fingers exploring the soft lining. 

Jake looks at the guy behind you, before dropping his focus onto you again. He playfully tugs at that front pocket, which makes you stumble forward. “No take backs,” he sweetly smiles down at you, keeping his fingers anchored onto the edge of the pocket. 

This isn’t something you’re familiar with. You’ve seen Jake smile at other girls like this, smile at Kendall like this, never you. This smile, it wasn’t ever reserved for you.

You stare up at him, dumbfounded by the sudden boyfriend act he’s putting on. “Is she here?” You whisper, eyes wide underneath him. 

Jake's eyes stretch over to where the group of lame freshmans were previously standing, just to see that they’re backing off now. He casts his gaze back down to you. “Nah, just practicing.” 

Slowly, you nod, remembering that you’re actually doing this. “Right. Just practicing.”

“What do you want from a guy? Like, what do you like?” Jake hits the button for your apartment floor, pondering back on the girl that’s been on his mind all day.

You let out a small laugh, pressing on the ‘close door’ button on the elevator, prompting the metal doors to meet in the middle. 

“You’ve been asking me a lot of strange questions today,” you point out. 

Jake lightly shrugs, pinching the back of your sweater to still you once the elevator shakes to move upwards. Cheap rent came with interesting amenities that you two had to get used to. 

Staring up at the glowing number board, indicating what floor you’re on—you start to think back on guys you’ve liked in the past. “I don’t know. I just like when guys are nice to me, I don’t ask for much.”

The sound of Jake’s airy laugh could be heard from behind you. “Princess, I meant, what would you want me to do for you as a boyfriend.”

As a boyfriend. Right—Jake’s your boyfriend now.

“Oh, um. I liked it when the guys I dated gave me attention, that was nice I guess,” you begin, unconfidently. Sure Jake was your best friend, there was nothing under the sun you two didn’t talk about—but this? This was the one thing you never thought to talk about with him. 

Jake nods, taking in what you said. “I can do that for you. Anything else?” He releases his pointer finger from the clutch he has on the back of your sweater, using it to poke at your spine—encouraging you to continue. 

“They cared about my feelings....It felt good when they flirted with me....They er—they kissed me at the right times,” you list off, unsure why it’s so awkward for you to confess this to him.

Jake’s eyes drop to the side of your face. Even if you’re standing a bit ahead of him, he can see the flustered expression you’re wearing. The need to entertain it, spurs him on. “I can do that.”

You stiffen. “…Kiss me?”

Wanting to pull another reaction from you, Jake removes his hand, letting the wrinkled fabric come undone. With little effort, he flips you from the small of your back, forcing you to face him. “Are you asking me to now?” He tilts his head, looking down at you with a teasing smile on his face. 

You blink up at him. “No—God no. I was asking if you’re gonna be doing that—like if you're gonna be kissing me,” you spit out, dropping your eyes down to his chest. 

There was a point in time where Jake stood at the same height as you. Now, you’re met with his torso rather than his face when you look forward.

“Not without your permission. Why? You wondering how it feels to kiss me?” He eggs on, holding the drawstring of your hoodie between his two fingers. 

The next statement slips out your mouth before you could even process it. “I know what kissing you is like,” you scoff.

Jake’s eyebrows furrow, dropping the braided thread. “You do?” 

He forgot.

“No! I’m joking,” you spit out hurriedly, pairing it with an awkward chuckle. “We should—we should kiss though, it’ll make it believable. Right?”

The elevator doors ding, cutting through your conversation. “Right,” he finally agrees.

note: i know i said this was coming out until next week, but i finished it quicker than i had previously thought haha. thank you for reading, and as always-reblogs are greatly appreciated!

join taglist for this series here or follow me on @waklman-library and turn on notifs to be notified when i post!

tags: @wkndwlff @bubblegumbeautyqueen @averyhotchner @angeliccks @atarmychick007 @Olivia21blunt @s-u-t @hangmanscoming @dempy @geraltsaxii @angelbabyange @milani-marie @blueoorchid @soapysoaply @mamaskillerqueen

[futurebird]

*pretends to sting you*

Female Red Velvet wasps, Dasymutilla occidentalis are not aggressive, but if frightened they will sting.

Males can't sting. (In wasps, ants and bees the sting, if present, is a modification of the ovipositor.)

This doesn't stop males from *pretending* to sting.

If restrained my boy will curl his gaster around & sort of dab at you ineffectually? He's doing his best! This turns out to be a smart move for him. Predators (and annoying, curious humans) will freak out and drop him in response!

I like to imagine that on hymenopteran social media there is "discourse" over the ethics and impacts of pretending to sting.

FRVW Female Red Velvet Wasp MRVW Male Red Velvet Wasp

FRVW: Sting fakers put all our lives at risk. As soon as the Lumbering Beasts notice we can't *all* sting we'll all be less safe.

MRVW: Nonsense! Lumbering Beasts just think we missed.

FRVW: You see this shows you know nothing about how stinging even works. You can't "miss."

Hoverfly: I think it's fine.

FRVW: No one asked you! (mumbling) goggle-eyed, bootleg-ass yellow-jacket.

Hoverfly: EXCUSE ME?

[bastillemxfans]

Yes, more continuous anniversaries… 🤭

8 years of this awesome and fun video that also gifted us the pleasure of get to know the central character of the WW Era played by the brilliant Simon Hepworth 📺

Happy anniversary to the “Fake It” video! 🥳

[eggytugboat]

I can fake it with the best of anyone

I can fake it with the best of them all

I can fake it with the best of anyone

I can fake it all

Who's to know if your soul will fade at all?

[a-reality-dream]

Dan Smith in Fake It music video

released 24/08/2016

[khakilike]

I still have concerns, but this was so much better than KCON Germany! Center Koko is amazing!

[lgbtqreads]

Trans eBooks Under $8!

All links are Amazon affiliate. Each purchase earns a small percentage of income for the site. All prices are accurate as of March 13, 2023. $1.99 Sir Callie and the Champions of Helston by Esme Symes-Smith (Nonbinary MG Fantasy) Caroline’s Heart by Austin Chant (Paranormal M/F T4T Romance) Coffee Boy by Austin Chant (Contemporary M/M Romance) $2.99 A Gym Rat’s Guide to Love by Roan Rosser and…

[worst-room]

Fake It redraw! (old version and alt colors below)

[sunshinede]

Faking Love

Daria Hugley

Nikki Giovanni emphasized the importance of black men valuing and cherishing their women just as they would in any other community or setting. In the video, she told him to lie to her because if he can lie to everybody else in the world, can't he lie to her? And if he doesn't love her, then he should fake it. She doesn't want everyone else getting the good side of him and she gets the scary and angry side of him.

[waklman]

Fake it

Chapter Three: Deja Vu

synopsis: a pair of best friends, one apartment, and one fake dating ploy to get jake’s ex girlfriend back, will end well right? wrong.

pairing: jake seresin x female reader.

warnings: no use of y/n, underage drinking, mentions of drugs, jake and reader are both 20. this blog is 18+.

word count: 6.1k

college au, fake dating trope, roomate trope

previous chapter | next chapter | fake it masterlist

With your afternoon class finally wrapping up, you rush to jot down the last bit of the lecture notes—but your professor’s already begun to erase it off the board. At that, you shut your notebook with a resigned sigh. The amount of content covered within the last hour has nearly distracted you from the knotting pain in your abdomen, but it’s quick to resurface again as you stand up from your seat. 

It couldn’t have come at a worse time. The opening week party—marking the start of the semester was tonight. And the universe must’ve had it out for you, because you woke up with the tightest cramp known to mankind, today. Not yesterday, not last week, but today. Today, your body decided to turn against you. 

Holding your notebook tightly against your stomach, you suck in a sharp breath, failing to hide the discomfort etched on your face. You reach for your bookbag next, tossing back the weight over one shoulder to tread lightly behind the crowd of students heading for the exit. 

As everyone spills out of the room, there’s appreciative whispers of thank you’s that can be heard ahead. Looking past the cluster of students in front of you—there’s Jake, as promised. He’s stationed himself by the door, holding it open and flashing a smile at everyone who steps out, as a polite guise to search for your face amongst the crowd. As expected, he's completely unaware that he’s acting as a distraction to your female classmates—who seem to be in no rush to leave. 

The scene unfolding in front you is almost comical, like something straight out of a sitcom.

As girls pass him, they make sure to furiously bat their lashes—as if they’re in a race with one another, to see who can do it the fastest. For a split second, you’re convinced they might be able to curate a light breeze to blow into his face if they synced up their eye flapping. And though, the sight was amusing, you're suddenly taken aback by one girl who looks like she’s nearing a stroke from the speed her eyes are fluttering.

Jake might’ve been blind to his surroundings but even she catches his attention, turning his polite smile into an awkward one. But, that’s the exact kind of reaction Jake’s able to pull from people—well, girls. So, it’s truly a mystery to you that Kendall was able to break up with him, again. 

Once you finally reach him, Jake lets out a snort. “What’s with the face, Princess? You should be happy your boyfriend’s here to pick you up.” 

Jake grabs the top of your head like he's a claw machine, extracting you from the line of students, and placing you behind him. The swift movement causes another twinge of pain to strike you right in the gut. You wouldn’t even wish this onto your worst enemy as you bite down on your tongue to deal with it.

Turning his body to face you, Jake leaves one foot by the edge of the door, still keeping it open for everyone. And the line seems to move faster as he shifts his attention to you. 

“What’s wrong? Your bag too heavy?” Jake asks with his brows stitched together. 

You straighten up, clearing your throat, now aware of the uneven mass weighing down your shoulder. “Oh,” you gape. “I guess it’s a little—”

Jake cuts you off, tugging on the strap of your school bag, signaling you to pass it over. Wordlessly, you let one hand fall from the notebook in your clutch, allowing him to glide the strap down your arm, transferring it over his broad back like it weighed nothing. And your bookbag just dwarfs in size as it rests over his large frame. 

Behind him, your professor is last to step out, muttering a quick ‘Thanks kid’ as he joins the rest of your class in the hallway. Yet, Jake’s too preoccupied by the discomfort still evident on your face to even acknowledge the appreciation. Instead, he just lets the door shut behind him as he juts his chin at you, pairing it with a look. One that says, tell me what’s actually bothering you. 

“My stomach kinda hurts,” you admit, giving him a limp shrug to conclude.

At your confession, Jake’s eyes flick down to the notebook you’re pressing against your midriff again. While your shirt only reveals a sliver of skin, Jake can already picture how the metal spirals would leave an imprint on your stomach based on how tightly it’s tucked against your body. You’re gripping it as if someone has plans to steal it from you. 

He frowns a bit. “Stop that.”

In saying that, Jake pries the book from you with little effort, your fingers instinctively loosen once his large hands hover over yours. His chest tingles in surprise at how compliant you’re being. It’s a lapse in thought, but Jake wishes Kendall was here to witness this—to witness how cute you’re acting as his girlfriend.

With the notebook now secured under his armpit, Jake presses his palm to your stomach in its place, applying just the right amount of pressure to relieve your pain. “You gonna be okay tonight?” He asks, leaning against the wall. 

You swallow hard—unsure if the goosebumps rippling across your exposed skin was brought on by his mention of the party or by the practiced gesture. “I—Yeah. Think I just ate something bad,” you blink up at him, doe-eyed and neck craning from the height difference. 

Jake’s mouth twitches, unable to hide his amusement for your sudden shyness. Moving off the wall, he rolls back his shoulders to stand up straight—all while keeping eye contact with you. 

With his palm still on your stomach, Jake skillfully guides his hand over to your waist, using it as an anchor to flip you around. Then, he returns his hand back to its original position, palming over your ache again as he draws you in—pressing your back to his front. The bookbag he took from you jostles, jerking around the charms you had hooked onto the zippers at the final move. 

Jake then shuffles forward with you in his arms, forcing you to take uncoordinated steps with him. All that leaves your mouth is a surprised yelp, making a few head turn in your direction. “Jake we–we can’t walk back like this,” you squeak, slapping your hands over your face. You can already feel your cheeks burn up from embarrassment. 

“Oh yeah?” He teases, wetting his lips. Despite the first few unsteady steps, Jake is still mindful of your stomach ache, maintaining a firm pressure there with his hand.

After learning that he could fully knock you over with a simple high five over the summer, Jake made sure to be extra careful with you, because if he wasn’t—your dad will knock him over, with a high-five, to the face. 

You decide, right in this moment, that this had to be the most mortifying thing Jake’s pulled so far—there was no need to uncover your eyes to see how ridiculous this looks. The sound of both of your shoes scuffing the floors of the crowded lecture hall was enough to create a mental image to flash in your mind. 

You’re so sure that you both resemble a pair of waddling penguins—specifically the ones you used to visit at the zoo instead of going to class, back in highschool.

After his morning swim practice, Jake would show up to your locker, hair still damp from the pool and a crunched duffel bag slung over his team hoodie—eager to leave before class even ensued. And who were you to say no to an impromptu day-trip? Especially when your best friend was just so convincing. Seventeen year old Jake always pledged, we’ll get back in time for third period—but you’d spend hours seated in front of the exhibit, watching your favorite set of penguins waddle around on a slab of ice, and calling dibs on which penguin you each were. 

And for some reason, the strange comparison makes your head spin. You and Jake, a pair of penguins, bonded for life, sneakers squeaking against the floors, and heading towards your apartment together. With that, an unfamiliar sensation begins to form in the pit of your stomach. It merges right into the existing pain you had there—making it difficult to discern. The only thing you registered from the sensation was that it felt oddly familiar.

But you can’t put any more attention to it, as Jake’s foot clumsily knocks into your ankle.

The offender tips his head down, a smirk playing on his lips, ready to relish in your flustered response to him—but you’re hiding behind your hands, walking blindly with his guidance. “Oh come on,” he coos. “Quit covering that pretty face of yours. You shy or somethin’?” You almost lose your footing, feeling his chest rumble behind you as he speaks. 

“Jacob—You can’t—,” you stammer, unable to spit out a response. 

All your stuttered sentence does is pull a bass-like noise from his throat, one that signifies that he’s enjoying this. 

It comes as no surprise, but Jake had always loved seeking reactions from you. A part of him knows it’s a tad bit cruel to do so, but another part of him tells to do it anyway.

Sometimes, Jake is undoubtedly sure that he was just born with the life purpose to make you squirm—because why else would it be so satisfying? And it’s not like he got away with it growing up either. His mom made sure to give him an earful whenever he did shit like this—but he took the punishment regardless. And it’s a good thing Mrs. Seresin’s not here to see this, because she would’ve given him more than just a scolding for how fiendish he’s being with you right now. 

Biting his lip with finality, Jake puts an end to his teasing—for now. Because, his mom would kill him—like really kill him for your sake. You’d always been more of a daughter to her in that sense. 

He hums, choosing to redirect his focus, leading your entwined bodies towards the building’s exit. “Let’s get you something for this, Yeah?” He rubs your stomach in a circular motion, hoping it would simmer your humiliation. 

“...Okay,” you concede, still blinded by your own hands. 

While plodding down the hall, with more coordination this time, Jake catches a pair of girls fawning over you two—secretly snapping a few pictures as they whisper to each other. He chooses to ignore it, but his ears slightly flush pink, overhearing them chatter about how you two needed to get married. 

Feigning ignorance, Jake looks down—watching your footsteps sync up with his, your steps are akin to a waddle. And the memory of those penguins crosses his mind, making Jake forget about Kendall—and about his plans to find her tonight. For a brief moment, his mind is full of just you. 

Then, it pulls back to the girl he’s been plagued by, with the self reminder that he needs to stay on track.

For the past week, the boyfriend-girlfriend routine came easier to Jake than it does to you. The only contribution you’ve made so far was barely kissing him in the library, and confirming to girls whom you’ve never spoken to before that Jake Seresin was in fact, your boyfriend. The constant questioning rooted from genuine curiosity, you knew that. But, a part of you shrinks at every inquiry you receive. Thinking back on Jake and Kendall, you distinctly remember the exalt she got on their relationship, there was never skepticism there. So, why are you garnering suspicion, when she never did?

Your inclination to overthink tells you that maybe because it’s just you. That maybe, it’s so hard to believe because you don’t know how to act like a girlfriend. But you can’t help but to feel stupid for struggling with this. All you had to do was suck it up, and act like someone Jake would date. Someone who people actually looked twice at, someone who had more friends than she could count on one hand, and someone people actually caught wind of.

You needed to be someone Kendall could be neck-to-neck with. Yet, everytime you did try to take initiative, you backtrack once Jake starts to play into it even though you had the knowledge that he would. 

And unlike you, Jake’s doing everything he can to keep up the act, and more. If your classes don't clash with his schedule, he’s dropping you off and picking you up right after, carrying your things for you, throwing in flirty comments for eavesdroppers to pick up on, and pulling you close when people come up to him for some small talk. It doesn’t steer away from what you’re used to, besides a tid-bit of bragging—because this is exactly how your previous boyfriends acted with you. 

It was something you chose to keep to yourself, but you secretly hated it—they were so sweet, but so boring. But for some reason, when it comes from Jake, it’s like you’re sixteen all over again. It’s when Jake casually moves you to walk on the inner part of the sidewalk, keeping you away from cars—that you feel like the version of yourself that has a debilitating crush on her best-friend, romanticizing every little thing that he does.

And it certainly didn’t help that Jake’s always reaching to touch you in every way he could think of now. If you accidentally walk a bit ahead of him, his hand will casually slip up the back of the sweater he bought you and travel over to your waist just to pull you beside him. Sure, he’s naturally touchy with you, but never to this extent. It made you begin to wonder if this is how he acted with Kendall when you weren’t around to see, or if he's just over exaggerating to sell this. He’s even starting to do it at home, when there’s not a single onlooker. 

“Is this…really necessary?” 

Jake had thrown you onto the kitchen counter, placing himself in a convenient spot between the crack of your legs. And even in this position, he manages to tower over you still. “What? Me taking care of you?” Jake asks, rolling two pain relievers between his fingers tips, wondering if it could melt from the warmth he’s creating.

“We’re home—you don’t,” you pause, sensing you’re about to stammer. Taking a deep breath, you give it a second shot. “You don’t have to do it this way,” you mumble bashfully.

In response, Jake gives you a lazy shrug, continuing to play dumb. “Dunno what you’re talking ‘bout.” But the smirk he’s wearing is a dead giveaway, that he knows exactly what you’re ‘talking ‘bout’.

“Now. Open wide,” he sings mockingly, holding two tylenols between his thumb and pointer, lifting it up to your lips.

Annoyance starts to sink in, but before you can show any sign of it—you suddenly wince, feeling your stomach twist again. At that, Jake’s expression falls with guilt, knowing he’s delaying you from taking the painkillers. 

“Jake. Not right now,” your voice drops, and so does your shoulders. 

“Okay. Not right now,” he mumbles back to you.

It’s like a flip is switched, he maneuvers with clear purpose now. After dropping the two tylenols into the palm of your hand, Jake reaches for the glass of water beside you, as you toss the tablets into your mouth. Taking the water from him, Jake cups a hand under your chin to catch any leaks as you chase it down, eyes softening as you finish it off. 

It comes as a mystery to everyone, even to Jake—at how you had the innate ability to just turn him off. It’s a side of him that no one really sees unless they’re watching him interact with you.

Setting the empty cup aside, you sigh. “I don’t think I ate something bad,” you share, wiping away a droplet of water that hung from your lips. Jake’s eyes slowly settle on your face. “Is that right?” He mirrors your soft tone. 

“Think I’m just nervous,” you profess, referring to tonight’s party. 

It’s not like you didn’t attend parties, you went to plenty—in highschool. It was easier to stomach the idea of spending the night out with people you grew up with, it was just a plus that you had Jake there too. And at that stage in life, everyone was equally as naive and unassuming, so it wasn’t daunting to know you had parties you were invited to. But this party—the one where you didn’t know the first and last names of every attendee, has been looming over your head for days now. Did they only try thc-treats within the last year like you have? Was their first pull of a vape just as disappointing as they thought it was?

“How about this,” Jake wets his lips, an idea forming in his head. “You wear my hoodie tonight, and I’ll take care of it,” Jake tucks his bottom lip under his teeth, holding back a growing smile.

His solution is so dumb, but it’s dumb enough to make you lightly laugh, putting an end to your stream of apprehension.

You shake your head, smiling at the lame offer. “Right, cause the pheromones wafting off that stinky thing is gonna heal me.”

“Hm,” Jake pretends to give it some serious thought. “Yeah, actually.” Unable to contain his smile, Jake’s lips curl upwards. “You know what else it’ll do?” He prompts you to ask why, with an all teasing glint in his eyes. 

Your head tilts, wondering what he’s up to. “What will it do?”

“It makes sure everyone knows you're mine,” he finally answers, waiting for your reaction to load in. 

You scoff, lightly hitting his chest. “You’re so unserious, Jacob,” you complain, hoping your embarrassment isn’t showing. 

“No,” he’s still smug. “I can be very serious if my girl asks me to,” he moves in closer, pelvis hitting the edge of the counter. 

In an attempt to create some distance, you fold your arms over your chest, but Jake’s hoodie brushes against your forearms once before he fully rests the fabric onto you.

You clear your throat, looking off to the side. You were a girl after all, any normal girl your age would be nervous if a guy had them caged in like this—it doesn’t matter if he’s your best friend or not. “You’re annoying, you know that?” Your voice comes out smaller—weaker than you intended.

There’s a bout of silence that falls onto the conversation, leaving you two to linger off in your own heads for a bit. 

Jake glosses over what you say, with a thin veil of seriousness coating his tone. “Tell me you’ll wear it.”

You swallow thickly at the idea of you showing up in Jake’s hoodie. The hoodie you bought for him last Christmas. The hoodie that he let no one near, not even Kendall. Jake knew better not to give his stuff away to girlfriends, seeing that it’ll never be returned to him. That was something he learned the hard way when he lost his favorite t-shirts to a few exes.

So Jake giving you his hoodie was a big deal. So much of a big deal that it’ll help you get one step closer to the pedestal Kendall sits on—and that's the push you needed to say yes.

“...I’ll wear it.”

This environment is one that Jake’s all too familiar with. There’s red solo cups strewn across the front lawn, stretching into the house, and finally spilling into the backyard. Some of the discarded cups are even decorated into the freshly trimmed bushes, resembling a sprinkle of red flowers.

And not far off, the sound of his former frat brother’s roaring chants towards freshman they’ve coerced into chugging beer kegs can be heard amongst the overlap of drunken conversations being held around him. From where he stands, Jake’s nose wrinkles from the nasuseating whiff he gets of somebody’s body odor. Maybe it’s the two beers he pre-gamed with, but his brain can’t process that he’s actually here. Truthfully, Jake didn't think he’d ever be able to experience this again, as unappealing as it might sound—he missed it. 

Javy hadn’t been the most understanding, when Jake dropped the bomb on him last semester that he’s moving out. He only recently realized that maybe Javy was so pissed because Jake couldn’t offer him a clear reason for his resignation. Just like how Kendall couldn’t give him the time of day before ditching him for some fucking loser.

After their breakup, she disregarded Jake like he was some tiny tank top she didn’t like in her closet, throwing it to the side, opting for one she liked better. So, when Jake went off to grab you a drink, he wasn’t ready to be faced with her again. He knew she’d be here, he knew for an entire week long actually. Jake just didn’t expect to see her right as he left your side. 

When he snuck out to the far end of the house, sliding back the screen doors leading into the yard, Jake meant to grab you one drink. But as soon as he reached the outdoor table, littered with an array of hard seltzers—Jake stomach ruptures at who stands there, forgetting about his task to fetch you something. Her eyes are skimming over the different flavors, fingering the loop of her denim skirt. And when he thought she couldn’t get any more beautiful, she did.

Jake hates this. He fucking hates that his body reacts her like this. He also hates that he’s unable to stay mad at her. His build up of heartbreak is pathetically dropped at the sight of her. It’s like he’s seeing her for the very first time, the pretty girl who renders him breathless. 

But it’s quick to die once he approaches her, tangling himself in a growing argument. 

“Jake, I—seriously,” she pauses, weary as she scans the backyard for any sign of her boyfriend. “I don’t have time for this,” she crosses her arms against her front, clenching her jaw. “Austin’s about to pull up, and he’ll kill you if he catches us together,” her usually sweet voice is lined with agitation. 

Jake shakes his head in disbelief, laughing at her useless warning. “I don’t give two shits about what he’s gonna do to me, Kenny.” The nickname slips out of his mouth so easily, that it makes it difficult for him to not think back on his favorite memories with her.

“Jacob, we can talk another—” 

“One second you’re telling me you love me. Telling me that you would marry me someday,” his voice drops into a harsh whisper. “And the next you’re telling me I can’t be seen with you?” A hurt expression takes hold of his face, and Kendall falters.

What Jake said wasn’t exactly a lie, because she did mean it. It slipped her mouth in a drunken conversation they had right in the house behind them. Kendall said it mindlessly, not thinking that it’ll stick with him—but it did. 

Before she even realizes it, she gives in. “You think this is easy for me?” She turns her back to Jake for a brief second, paranoid that her boyfriend might be here already. The familiar gesture reels Jake’s mind back to you amidst the conversation—you did that when you were annoyed with him.

Kendall faces Jake again at the confirmation that Austin hasn’t arrived yet, “Jake…you know how hard—” She catches the blond looking past her.

“Oh my fucking god. Of course!” She yells, throwing her arms up in the air, bringing his focus back to the conversation. Kendall barely spared him enough time to actually find you amongst the sea of sweaty bodies blocking the screen door. 

“You still can’t pay attention to me. And you wonder why we had problems?” There’s a tinge of hurt in her voice, but she quickly swallows it back.

“Jacob. You have a new girlfriend for fucks sake, and you’re over here begging me to talk to you. Is she even okay with this?” She spits, steering him away from her previous accusation. In front of him, she’s breathless, exhausted, fed up with him—with this. 

Jake stills at her statement. ‘Is she even okay with this?’ Because of course you would be, wouldn't you? If you knew that he was here in the backyard, talking to her, you’d be okay waiting on your own. You’d want this for him. If you didn’t want this—if you didn’t want him to win her back, you wouldn’t have agreed to help him. 

Getting lost in his thoughts, Jake loses his chance—he takes too long to reply. “You know what? Fuck this,” her tone is venomous now, a blend of bitterness and resentment. 

Jake flinches at her words, regretting his search for you. “Talk to me when you learn how to treat a girl right,” she grits, finally. With her closing statement being said, Kendall moves past him, shoulder knocking into his arm with full force. 

Fuck.

Jake’s body seems to move on his own, steering him towards the beer kegs, driven by her words. 

Talk to me when you learn how to treat a girl right.

As pathetic as it was, it didn’t take long for your stomach to start up again once Jake left your side, though he promised you he’ll be back.

But with divine timing, Bradley appeared in front of you like your fairy godmother not a second after. He’d possibly kill Jake in replacement for you at the comparison, but it was true. You blinked just once, and your college aged fairy godmother was there. But instead of a glittery cloak shrouding her shoulders, she had on a pitch black t-shirt. And instead of a dainty little wand floating in her hands, she had the back of Bob’s hoodie fisted between her large knuckles, almost lifting the blond off the ground. 

After that, he communicated to you with a grunt to follow him and Bob along to the front of the house. You had flinched when he nearly growled at you for not getting the hint to stay ahead of him, so he could ensure you wouldn’t escape. The three of you barely made it out the front door together before Bradley scared away the three puny freshmen occupying the stone steps. They were already halfway across the lawn from just sensing Bradley’s dark energy, casting onto their backs.

With a shrug of his shoulders, and an accidental yank at Bob from the movement, Bradley led you to the steps. The hoodie swallowing your figure should be enough to keep you warm from the dropping temperatures, Bradley surmised to himself. 

None of you spoke a word to each other as Bradley silently suggested that you and Bob should sit down in the space he cleared. And right as Bob gathered enough courage to put a question forward, Bradley kind of smiled at you two and left. He just showed you both what it looked like when Bradley Bradshaw isn’t on the verge of killing someone, and he dipped like it was nothing. 

You and Bob had gone through different stages of revelation at the rare sight. At first you two gaped at each other in disbelief, then you entered a stage of denial together, and following that you both confirmed that Bradley actually fucking smiled. To anyone else, you two might have been labeled for having low standards to moved by his little smile, that could, probably use a bit more practice—but at the end of the day it was a smile from Bradley Bradshaw.

“Just to preface, I don’t have my degree yet. But it does sound like an anxiety-induced stomach ache to me.” Bob offers with a small smile, still thinking on Bradley’s gesture.

Since you just had a life-altering experience with Bob, conversation began to flow easier between you two and this was only the second time you’ve ever spoken to him. 

You purse your lips in curiosity. “Have you learned about a solution for it yet?” 

Bob hadn’t actually browsed through that part of the textbook, but he wished he had now. It could be that his empathy was way too high for an average person, but Bob's own stomach started to hurt from your explanation of the pain you were feeling. 

“I–I’m really sorry, but no. I’ll definitely let you know once I do find out though.” And Bob intends to fulfill that promise, in fact he’ll download the electronic version of his textbook after this conversation so he could help you out for the future.

“But, uhm,” he hesitantly puts out his cup towards you, “It’s ginger ale, I haven't even touched it yet I swear. And I’m not saying you should take it. Girls should never really take drinks from anyone, actually. I just–I’m just offering, you have the right to say no.” Bob clamps his mouth shut, stopping himself from saying any more.

You peer into the cup, eyeing the liquid sloshing in there before curling your fingers around the solo cup. The tightness in Bob’s shoulders finally lets up once you offer him a reassuring smile.

A comfortable silence rests over the exchange, with you taking small sips from Bob’s drink as he stuffs his hands into his hoodie pocket. You two linger in the moment, quietly appreciating Bradley for pulling you both away from the chaos that’s going on inside the house. 

Again, you bring the rim of the cup to your lips, but once the sleeve of your hoodie hits your chin—you suddenly still, which catches Bob’s attention. It somehow slipped your mind that you showed up wearing Jake’s hoodie—your supposed boyfriend, who you haven't seen in the last hour.

“Oh god,” you whisper in realization. “I–I have to go. It was really nice talking to you Bob–like actually. I just,” you’re scrambling to stand up, going light headed from rising to your feet so quickly. Bob lightly laughs, looking up at you. “Don’t worry. I’ll see you in class,” he gives you a single nod, ensuring you that it’s okay. 

Storing his assurance to the back of your mind, you go shooting through the doors. The warmth inside the house is a sharp contrast to the biting breeze outside, sending a shiver down your spine. Everyone around you downed more drinks than you have tonight, they knock into you while you struggle to navigate through the living area. As you try to recall the interior of the house—from being here last week, one guy bumps you into a wobbly table, shaking the plates of party snacks on it.

Not wanting to draw attention to yourself, you reach a hand out to still the foldable table by its edge. Then, you take a moment, blinking down at one plate in particular. On it, there’s a load of plastic baggies containing brightly colored gummies, which you assume to be edibles.

Almost as a signal, your stomach cramps again—urging you to grab one for yourself, so you do. You whip your head left and right before doing so. It’s for everyone right? 

With the ziplock baggie safely tucked into your back pocket, you resume your desperate search for Jake. But, you hardly have to take another step, because Jake is already drawing towards you, feet heavy as he drags them across the floor.

His chest buzzes, light warmth scattering through his ribs as he comes to a slow stop behind you. And maybe it’s because he’s done it so many times, but Jake’s fingers mindlessly curl around your waist, right under his hoodie. And like earlier in the day, he flips you around, reveling in goosebumps he’s brought on. 

Jake watches through half lidded eyes as you blink repeatedly at his chest. Acknowledging the large hand hugging your bare waist, you swallow so hard, you cough up a bit—before tentatively lifting your head, to meet the owner of said hand. 

“Oh.” It’s just Jake. 

It’s just Jake who’s staring down at you, with something unfamiliar pooling in his eyes. It’s just Jake whose fingers lightly squeeze your waist, again. It’s just Jake, you remind yourself.

You blink again, eyes wide and glossy underneath him. From this angle, you note the light flush tinting his cheeks. Then, your eyes run across his features, trying to get a read on the unfamiliar expression he’s wearing, and it seems like he’s doing the same.

Hearing a crunch, you both gaze over to the cup in your hands. It takes a moment for you to even realize that it’s your fingers that’s currently wrapped around the solo cup. 

The sight of the crinkled plastic under your nails makes a voice ring out in Jake’s head. You still can’t pay attention to me. And you wonder why we had problems? Kendall’s right. That’s why she broke up with him, he let so much shit fly over his head—It’s no wonder why she had a backup plan after she dumped him. Jake didn’t even pay enough attention to realize some guy was under his nose the whole time, giving his girlfriend attention when he wasn’t.

And it’s happened again. While Jake was blindly walking around the party, with nothing but Kendall in mind—someone got you a fucking drink. Someone who isn’t him. 

Talk to me when you learn how to treat a girl right.

Jake’s body reacts before his brain gets the chance to. Your breath hitches in your throat, watching him swat the cup out of your hand, forcing it to splatter against the wall, and fall flat to the ground with a clink.

Jake knows his limits, maybe too well for that matter. Right now, he’s slightly buzzed at best—he knows he is from his need to prove Kendall wrong. He knows from the way he moves his other hand to your jaw. He knows from the way he wants to get the remnants of that drink out of your mouth. He knows from the way he dips his head down to do it.

Jake feels like he’s sixteen again, kissing his best-friend, barely drunk.

With his hand on your waist, he steadies you, fingers digging into your flesh as you stumble backwards. Satisfaction washes over him, feeling you eagerly slot your mouth into his. You’re just as shy as he thought you’d be—you’re kissing him back with a soft intensity, it’s different from what he’s used to. And as your lips part again, Jake’s mouth tingles at the sensation. 

Talk to me when you learn how to treat a girl right.

Not knowing what to do with your hands, you fist the front of his shirt with one, while the other reaches for the nape of his neck. Feeling your fingers hesitantly scratch at the baby hairs sitting there, Jake’s spurred on to pull a reaction out of you. A sudden need burns into his chest, telling him to make you feel brainless.

But you already do.

Because in his arms, your body is going haywire, legs succumbing to jelly, but Jake holds you still, delving his tongue in your mouth—exploring it, draining that ginger-ale lingering there. And it’s like you’re on overdrive, the dull music playing in the back dies out from the sound of your heartbeat in your ears, and your lungs burn from holding your breath.

With your jaw going slack in his hand, Jake knows you need to catch your breath, because he finally pulls away, lips twitching as he does so.

Jake’s darkened eyes lift open, observing the string of saliva between your mouths, mesmerized by the way it breaks from the distance and settles to glisten on your lips. With his hand on the line of your jaw, Jake extends a thumb to swipe away the shine he produced.

You’re breathless, chest rising up and down underneath his hoodie—mind still processing the practiced kiss.

“W-was she looking?” 

Jake’s brows furrow, but he conceals it before you catch it. Thumbing over your bottom lip, Jake’s mind is half with you and half somewhere else.

He hums, mindlessly assuring you. “Mhm. Did such a good job for me, Princess.”

note: she is lengthy, but it's because i wont be able to update for the next two weeks, due to finals week D: but putting that aside, thank you for reading! and as always, reblogs are greatly appreciated.

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[prfm-multiverse]

2023.12.31 Perfume - FAKE IT (74th NHK Kouhaku Uta Gassen) (NHKG)