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beomiracles · 6 months ago

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「 PRETTY PRINCESS 」 part X ─ "you're prince enough for me"

SYNOPSIS taking a wrong turn in the 4th dimension Beomgyu finds himself two centuries behind his own with no way back, though meeting a pretty princess like you, does not seem so wrong.

pairings timetraveler beomgyu x princess female!readerwarnings angst packed. like big time sad.

#serene adds ✎... you guys. it's actually ending :( I've developed a severe attachment to this series it is quite unreal. But as with everything, things come to an end! I hope you guys will enjoy this chapter too, even if it's the last! ↳ chapter index I've made a few changes to the chapter index, hence to why this part is called 'X' rather than 'XI' !

PREVIOUS CHAPTER 🩰

“We have to get back soon”, you mumble as Beomgyu presses soft kisses to your neck. “Mhm, just five more minutes”, he sighs against your skin. You smile as you gaze up at the clear sky. Early that morning you and Beomgyu had left the large castle walls behind as you ventured out on a small walk. Having found yourself a quiet meadow, you spent the forenoon laying in the tall grass as the light breeze caressed your skin.

It was now nearing midday and soon you would have to get back to the castle. It was your last day together and by early afternoon you were to set out and meet Endora once more. The month had passed all too quickly and a small part of you wanted to stay like this forever, entrapped in the large ocean of flowers with him, only him. Though you knew that such a thing was impossible given your situation.

Beomgyu looks up at you with a small smile, the soft wind makes his hair fall in front of his eyes and you instinctively reach out to brush it back. His hand finds yours as he presses his lips against your knuckles lovingly. The subject of his inevitable departure was something the two of you had yet to discuss. Part of you knows that neither of you are ready for said discussion and you didn’t want to be the one to bring it up; at least not now, not here.

With a small sigh, he sits up as he runs a hand through his hair — it had grown longer during his time here, now creeping down the nape of his neck. “You ready, princess?” he grins as he extends his hand for you to take. No. You weren’t ready. Not now, not never. Still, you let him take your hand, thumb softly caressing your fingers as he guides you through the open field. With each step your heart grew heavier.

The news of Beomgyu’s departure had spread like wildfire through the castle. “Is the prince really to leave so soon?” one of your maids had asked, the others tuning in to hear your answer with much interest. You had swallowed a small gulp as you nodded, “I’m afraid so.” Your meek response was immediately met by more inquiries, “but why?” You gave a small shrug of your shoulders, “his older brother fell ill, he has more responsibilities now.” Your lies may have settled the worry of your maids but it did little to ease the lump in your own throat.

No one asked why you climbed in the carriage with him that afternoon; you knew what they were all hoping for — oh how disappointed they would be.

It wasn’t until the large castle finally disappeared behind you that the silence was broken. “I…I am to miss you dearly”, you whisper, keeping your gaze downcast; afraid that if you looked at him, you’d crumble. Beomgyu is quiet beside you and it takes him a moment to reply. “I’ll miss you too, princess.” His voice sounds thick, you wondered if he, too, held back tears.

The next silence that falls over you is heavier than any you had previously felt. Even the once bright forest feels gloomy as you dwell deeper in, the sounds of nature have quieted down and all that was left were your thoughts, the thoughts you longed to escape. Suddenly Beomgyu speaks once more, his voice low and hesitant. “Would it…” he begins but stops himself as he bites his lower lip.

“Would it be selfish to ask you to come with me?”

His question catches you off guard and you blink up at him. Keeping his gaze ahead, his expression seems tense as he awaits your answer. You swallow as your eyes drop to your hands once more. “Yes..” you whisper and he sighs next to you. “But it would be even more selfish for me to accept such an offer”, you say, your voice shaky. Beomgyu nods, “I understand.”

You wanted more than anything to stay by his side. But it was not so simple, he did not belong in your world, nor did you belong in his. Even if you managed to rip out all of you that was rooted here…would you ever be able to make do there? It was not meant for you, no matter how much you wished for it to be.

The carriage ride seems to go on forever as you try and savor what is to be the last moments in his presence. If only the circumstances that allowed you to exist in the same universe were different, if only… Yet you were grateful for the little time you got to spend with him, grateful for the chance at love the universe sent you.

Endora was supposed to meet you halfway, making your journey shorter — you had yet to decide if you were thankful or not. But when your horses suddenly come to a halt in front of a small wagon by the side of the road, your stomach plummets.

Beomgyu gets down from the carriage first as he extends his hand for you to take. “What a gentleman”, you sigh and he gives you a light-hearted grin, “only the best for my princess.” His princess. The words escaped his lips so easily, why were things so easy for him? You envied his favorable approach to things and you knew that you would miss it. You would miss him.

Hand in hand, you make your way toward the old wagon. Beomgyu gives the withered wood a curt knock and soon you can hear the sounds of shuffling coming from inside. A few moments later, Endora’s hoarse voice calls out, “who is it?” — “Who’d you think, old lady?” Beomgyu retorts and you give his shoulder a harsh smack, earning a grin from him as he squeezes your hand.

The door squeaks open as Endora pokes her head out, “ah, I only know one such ill mannered man.” The old witch urges the two of you inside the cramped space of the wagon and Beomgyu has to slightly duck his head to accommodate for his full height. Endora tsk’s as she flicks her wooden cane, the small space immediately increasing in size. Blinking as the environment around him contorts into grander scales, Beomgyu huffs, “I’m never getting used to that.”

You can’t resist a small smile as you watch him, making sure to memorize every little detail about his appearance. — His warm brown eyes, the dimple on his left cheek as he grinned, his unkempt dark hair, his soft pink lips. You couldn’t forget about him, you wouldn’t.

Upon noticing your blatant stare, Beomgyu smirks, “like what you see, princess?”, he teases to which you roll your eyes, “maybe.” His hand around your waist pulls you closer as he presses a chaste kiss to your lips. You smile as your fingers find their way to his hair.

A loud cough startles you as you break apart from the brief intimate moment. Endora shoots you a glare as she purses her lips, “I see the two of you have gotten rather comfortable.” Her words have your eyes widening as Beomgyu chuckles beside you, “I told you I’d win her over, ma’am.”

The old witch rolls her eyes as she digs around in the pocket of her robe before throwing Beomgyu a small sack which his free hand easily caught. You frown as you watch their exchange, “what was all that about?” You wonder as Beomgyu stuffs the sack in his own pocket, it made a rattling sound and your gaze dropped in disbelief.

“You bet on me?”

Giving a small shrug of his shoulders, Beomgyu pulls you closer. Endora hums as she prepares a small bottle, “a little betting has yet to harm anyone dear.” You turn your gaze back to the time traveler who raises his hands in defense, “it was her idea, not mine.” — “Sure it was”, you mutter skeptically.

The small witch turns around to glance over the two of you, her fingers drumming against the wooden countertop. “Now, what remains would be…” — “The drop of faith”, you interrupt to which Endora nods. “Exactly, dear.”

You glance over at Beomgyu who gives you a look of reassurance before you turn back to the witch. “I do believe we have found it”, you say and the witch raises an eyebrow in curiosity. “Well do go on”, she motions with a wrinkly hand for you to continue. You clear your throat as you consider how to go about the subject, “well it’s not exactly an obtainable substance…rather a feeling of sorts..”

Endora gives you a skeptical look and you suddenly grow doubtful of your discoveries. “And what feeling may that be?” You part your lips to reply but Beomgyu beats you to it, “hope.” Your heart flutters at the acknowledgement and the witch’s eyes flicker toward him as a small smile tugs at the corner of her lips, “how would one convey said feeling?” You bite your lip as you hesitate, “we already have.” — “I mean we…we do have faith in each other don’t we?” You stammer as you glance between Endora and Beomgyu, your voice growing meek.

Beomgyu’s hand on your waist pulls you closer, “what kind of question is that, princess?” You look up to find a small grin displayed on his lips and you instantly smile as you let yourself lean further into his warm embrace. “Very well”, Endora’s hoarse voice speaks as she presents a small bottle. Taking it from her hand, Beomgyu studies its contents closely.

A shimmery blue liquid swirlied inside the glass and your eyes marveled at how pretty it looked, quite frankly it almost looked inedible. Seemingly sharing your thoughts, Beomgyu scoffs, “a month for this?” he questions as he eyes Endora with disbelief. The witch merely shrugs as she leans against the small wooden countertop. “If you do not wish to drink it I shall take it ba..” — “That won’t be necessary”, Beomgyu quickly interferes, “after all you’ve gone through so much for this, old lady.” He winks and Endora snorts as she averts her gaze.

You swallow a small gulp as you eye the bottle in his hand. “You are really leaving”, you whisper as realization slowly sinks in. Setting the small potion down, Beomgyu’s arms wrap around you as he pulls you to his chest. The steady beating of his heart does little to calm your anxious one as you cling to him.

“A month ago you would’ve been overjoyed to see me gone”, he mutters and you give his chest a weak slap, “a month ago I did not know how important you would become.” You retort as Beomgyu chuckles, his chest rising and falling against your head. The arms around you tighten their hold as he presses his lips to your forehead. “A month ago I didn’t know that a princess could make me feel so important”, he whispers against your skin.

Your voice cracks at your next words, “why did you have to lose that watch? Why did you have to make things so hard?” Tears now fell freely from your eyes, wetting his shirt as you pressed your face against him. Beomgyu doesn’t say anything as his hands caress your back, fingers running through your hair soothingly.

“A month ago…” you hiccup, the action quickly followed by a sniffle, “a month ago I did not love you.” The words linger in the suddenly gloomy air as your quiet sobs fill the room. “But now…now I do — and it’s so unfair!” you wail as you screw your eyes shut in an attempt to hinder your tears.

“Princess..” Beomgyu’s calm voice only makes your heart ache further — this would be the last time you ever got to hear it. You tried your hardest to memorize the way words rolled off his tongue, afraid that you would one day forget. You didn’t want to forget. “Princess”, Beomgyu repeats as his hand cups your face, turning your glossy eyes to meet his warm ones.

The small grin on his lips didn’t reach his sorrowful eyes as his thumb graced your wet cheek. “Hey now, we both knew this day was gonna come”, he mumbles as he brushes away the strands of hair that stuck to your damp face. You shake your head, your eyes fluttering closed as you lean into his touch. “Not like this…” you protest.

“You can’t leave me.”

It felt as if your whole world was being taken from you, just when you had found it. Just as love had made its way to your grasp it was slipping through your fingers again, and there was nothing you could do to stop it.

“You and I both know that I don’t belong here”, he whispers as his lips ghost over your forehead. Refusing to hear his words, your fingers curl around the fabric of his shirt, as if forcing him to stay, to not move even as much as a muscle. “Don’t go..” you plead, your voice frail as you glance up at him. “Please don’t go.”

His soft hands cradle your face as he leans back to look at you.

“I love you, princess”.

He smiles but you can feel the despair radiating off of him as he tries to appear strong for you. The thought alone makes your tears resurface — tears that he quickly kisses away, his soft lips brushing against your cheeks.

You had imagined this day far too many times, going through multiple scenarios of how your last goodbye would look. None of them ever hurt this much. No matter how hard you had tried to prepare yourself, to come to terms with the fact that you would have to let him go, you couldn’t. You wished you had never opened your balcony for him that night, you wished he had appeared on the doorstep of anyone else, anyone but you.

You wished you had never met Beomgyu.

But you didn’t. You wouldn’t trade your time with him for anything in the entire world. You wouldn’t trade him for anything. You would live through a heartbreak like this one a thousand times over just to see his face once more, to hear his voice, feel his arms around you. You wanted to listen to his bad punchlines, laugh at his mediocre jokes, scold him for cursing in front of the nobles. You wanted to run your fingers through his hair, kiss his lips, hug him tight, you never wanted to let go.

There was so much more you wanted to do but your time was already up. It was unfair. It was unfair that the universe forced you apart like this, unfair that you didn’t get to experience all the things you wanted to experience with him, unfair that you fell completely in love with someone who was never meant for you to begin with.

It was unfair that you loved Beomgyu.

“Do you trust me?” His voice brings your gaze back to him. He had asked you this question before, and you him, your answers would always remain the same. “I do.” Beomgyu smiles as he reaches for the small bottle once more. “Prince or not, I hope you won’t forget me”, he says in a lighthearted tone.

You shake your head as your trembling hand graces his cheek, the same way it had so many times before. “You’re prince enough for me”, you whisper as a small smile tugs at your lips. Beomgyu grins, the same grin he had given you on your balcony the night you met, that grin you had grown to love.

He glances behind you and you follow his gaze, Endora had gone quiet as she leaned by the wooden countertop, fiddling with the twigs of a herb as she avoided bringing any attention to herself. If you squinted you could make out the glistening tears pricking in the corner of her eyes.

Popping the lid off the bottle, Beomgyu turns to the witch, “you sure there ain't poison in this?” he teases to which she rolls her eyes, “a tempting thought indeed”, she retorts. “But I wish to remain on good terms with the princess”, Endora adds as she gives you a small wink. Beomgyu chuckles before bringing the glass container to his lips. In one go he empties the bottle and as the shimmery liquid passes his throat you can’t hold back the cry passing your lips as you cling to him. For the last time, his arms wrap around your waist as he presses a final kiss to your lips.

Tears cascade down your cheeks and you taste the saltiness on your lips — you know that he is crying too as his breath hitches against yours. “I love you too.” The words are only loud enough for him to hear and Beomgyu smiles against your lips.

If one could travel back and forth through time, then why couldn’t one stop it too? You wanted this moment to last forever, for it to be frozen in time, preserved for forever, yet it felt like mere seconds before the grip on your waist grew weaker as Beomgyu slowly faded from your universe. The feeling of his lips against your own were the last to leave, but when they did you knew that he was gone.

When you opened your eyes once more the small wagon held no trace of him. He was gone.

Beomgyu was gone.

You spent weeks crying, weeks that felt like years. Your bedchambers did not see the sunlight for at least fourteen nights, and neither did you. You did not wish to see the sun, you did not wish to continue on with a life that did not involve Beomgyu.

By your seventeenth day spent in your chambers, your father came to visit. He rarely visited you. But as he sits on the edge of your bed, a small sigh escaping his lips, you couldn’t think of anyone you’d rather see. He rubs his wrist as he gazes ahead, he doesn’t make a move to open the curtains shielding you from the world, he knows that you will do so when you’re ready.

“A shame things did not work out with Prince Choi”, he mumbles and you wince at the mention of his name. Still, you give him a small nod. “I really liked him..” you whisper in a hoarse voice. The King turns to you with a flicker of surprise that soon morphs into a smile, you rarely saw your father smile. “I liked him too.”

The two of you spent the remaining day in a comfortable silence, but as the sun set, you withdrew the curtains from your windows.

A week later you ventured out into the large gardens. The feeling of the sun on your skin eased the tension that you had allowed to build in your body during the past weeks. And as you stumble by the tree under which Beomgyu had kissed you for the first time, your heart suddenly filled a warmth it hadn’t felt for weeks.

Time was an inevitable concept, a concept that even a time traveler couldn’t avoid. And one should know not to mess with the inevitable. — But time wasn’t merciless, no, time healed. And as you walk along the multiple flowerbeds, you can’t help but think of how lucky you were, even if it was for only a brief moment.

You stop by a pair of familiar bushes, and as you gaze up toward the balcony of your chambers, the image of Beomgyu sitting there seems clear as day. You imagine the sun kissing his smooth skin, the wind playing with his soft hair, you imagine him grinning as he tells you a corny joke.

Your gaze is drawn from the balcony as something shimmering catches your eye. Frowning you make your way toward the very edge of the bushes. As your knees hit the soft grass your eyes widen; there it lay, the shiny metal reflecting in the sun and the smooth leather almost burning to the touch.

A wrist watch.

You smile as you bring the item to your face, studying it closely. It reminds you that perhaps Beomgyu wasn’t so far away.

read epilogue here.

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joshym · 1 year ago

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Le Morte d'Arthur: Chapter 2

Pairing: Jake Kiszka x f!Reader, Sam Kiszka x f!Reader (oops)

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

You thought you were prepared for everything.

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

but what you were not prepared for…

was meeting the enigma that is Jake Kiszka.

Word Count: 13.5k+

Warnings: (for this chapter) please proceed with caution if you find any of the following to be triggering: poor body image, body dysmorphia, mentions of a past eating disorder, an ill parent, (this will include descriptions of struggling to breathe due to illness & mentions of an oxygen mask) drinking, cussing, Jake is jealous? 18+ ONLY: some pretty heavy making out, (but it's not with who you think it is hehe), mentions of an erection, slight nudity, mentions of being turned on. (please let me know if i missed anything. there are a few heavy topics mentioned, & the last thing i want is for anyone to begin reading without a proper warning.)

a/n: i am so sorry this chapter took so long. i truly hope you love it & as always, please don't hesitate to let me know what you think! i love hearing from you guys. 🤍

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

Le Morte d’Arthur Masterlist

⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎

Your morning drives to school are your absolute favorite part of the day. They serve as your singular moment of complete peace to counteract the chaos that can be expected once the day truly gets started. The serenity of the morning air calms your spirit and prepares you for whatever the day may bring.

You’ve managed to find an alternate route to campus, one that keeps you far away from the heavy morning traffic. It adds nearly twenty minutes to your journey, but the cost of waking a little earlier each day is worth the promise of a few spare moments of quiet solitude.

The new path you’ve found leads you straight to school, and the best part– it’s an image right out of a fairy-tale.

Trees line the unpaved road, their leaves in early autumnal splendor. Hues of orange and red greet you in their forenoon charm, catching the rays of the waking sun as they glow in bright iridescence.

This morning, there’s a light rain shower leaving tiny droplets on your windshield. The sun still dares to peek through the gray clouds, illuminating the glittering raindrops as they gently fall to the ground.

You’ve yet to be met with another morning traveler since you discovered this road only days ago. It feels as though you’ve found some secret passageway— a hidden spot with no name, set aside just for you.

Pure tranquility washes over your body as your foot rests on the gas pedal.

It’s the moments like these that remind you of the beauty that still exists around you— that no matter what downfall you suffer, the earth will always be there to offer you her tiny bits of wonder to keep your feet planted firmly against her soil.

Your Firebird putters into the university parking lot, amongst the slew of shining, new vehicles with hardly an imperfection to be seen on any of them. You used to be embarrassed of your old clunker, but as time goes on you’ve learned to be grateful for it and all the places it has taken you.

Your new staff parking spot is awaiting you, of which you are entirely grateful. After your first day, you found that the parking lots fill up rather quickly with commuter students, so having a designated spot just for you everyday has saved you a lot of grief in the mornings. Yet another wonderful perk of being an employee of the university.

The smell of roasting espresso penetrates your senses as you waltz through the doors of the campus coffee shop. You and Natalia had agreed to meet this morning before your classes to study a bit for your course on influential women in literature.

Carmen, your favorite barista greets you as you walk up to the counter. Her sincere smile is always such a pleasant addition to your mornings.

She’s the most lovely vision; her loose curls always tied in a perfect ponytail, her bangs framing the contours of her face beautifully. Her black browline glasses sitting atop her freckled nose that push up past her eyebrows when she smiles, showcasing her sweet dimples.

You’ve made the coffee shop part of your morning routine everyday, so you’re not surprised when she knows your order without you having to say anything more than “Good morning, friend!”

“Large cold brew with oat milk and extra vanilla?” she asks, already writing it on the cup with a Sharpie.

You smile broadly. “You’re amazing, Carmen!” You hand her a ten and a five, insisting that she keep the change. She fights you a bit but realizes she’s already lost the battle.

She hands you your drink and you thank her, telling her you’ll see her tomorrow at the same time.

You choose a table close to a window so as to have a view of the gloomy, morning sky.

Watching the raindrops race each other to the bottom of the window seal, leaving their trail as the others merge to quickly join behind them— it gives you a sense of nostalgia that takes you back to a time when things were simply…easier.

One thing about growing up in Oklahoma— it was always raining. And much to your mom’s discontent, you were sure to be found outside right in the middle of it.

It probably explains why you were almost always sick as a child. Frequent head colds were the norm for you. It never stopped you, though. The rain brought forth a sense of clarity for you—feeling the cold drops hitting your face was the mental reset your mind needed, and it still is to this day.

You’d always been fascinated with weather— but specifically the rain. A poem you’d fawned over in your childhood spoke of rain carrying the ghosts of the past— a sentiment you’ve held onto dearly ever since.

That very poem is the reason you love literature. It’s the reason you’re here, to study the thing that brings you the most comfort.

Each time it rains, you’re flooded with lovely memories…memories of the ghosts that still linger from your youth.

This is the first rain shower you’ve experienced thus far in your new home; it feels as though the earth is trying to tell you it’ll all be just fine. She’s telling you that you do belong here, that you’re right where you need to be.

“Daydreaming much?” Natalia pulls out the chair opposite of you, sitting her usual hazelnut latte down as she takes her seat.

“Guess you could say that,” you say through a smile. “I just adore the rain.”

You each pull out your laptops and Charlotte Brontë books, catching up on your weekends with one another.

“You’ll never believe what I agreed to on Friday,” you say.

She looks at you with a smirk splayed across her glossed lips, her rose colored cheeks still wet from having just walked through the rain.

To your surprise, she asks, “Does it have anything to do with a little medieval film project?”

“How in the hell do you know about that?”

“My brother,” she responds. “He’s helping Josh with it. Doing set designs, costuming— it’s quite impressive, honestly. Those costumes are some of the most beautiful I’ve ever seen, and I’ve done theatre my entire life.” She blows air on her coffee to cool it down a bit before taking a sip, wincing from the heat as she pulls the cup away from her lips. “I knew they were searching high and low for a Guiniverre— guess I should’ve known it’d be you.” Her long, butterfly lashes flutter with a wink as she giggles.

You’re not entirely sure what to make of her last statement. You just chose to ignore it.

“He said it’ll be killing two birds with one stone— that we’ll be helping out his brother for his film class, while also having something for our project in Movack’s class.” You pause to take a deep breath, “But I am no actress. And if it’s all truly that impressive, I may prove to be a bit of a disappointment.” Your hands fall into your lap as you stare down at yourself— your body comfortably covered with your usual oversized sweater and leggings, feeling a rush of insecurities as you imagine yourself being filmed. “I’m more of a behind-the-camera type of gal, anyways.”

You’ve fought this inner battle for as long as you can fathom— your appearance is a topic you tend to avoid. You hide behind people for photos, or offer to be the one taking them to get out of being in it altogether.

Disordered eating had been a side effect of the severe dysmorphic thoughts. But thankfully, after years of receiving help, you’re finally in a stable place in your recovery.

The thing that still lingers, though; the harsh way in which you view yourself. Specifically, your appearance.

“You said you’ve done theatre your whole life— why aren’t you playing Guiniverre?” you ask her. “I can’t imagine they haven’t thought of you.”

Natalia is far more fitting for this film. She carries the beauty required to take on such a role; the beauty of a lust worthy queen. Just as well, she clearly has the experience you so greatly lack.

She scoffs as she sets down her coffee and crosses her arms. “I was not about to kiss Sam. Nope. No way. That boy is a pain in my entire ass.”

Sam?… Kissing?

This is the first you’ve heard of any of this.

“Wait— what?” Your reaction seems to have caught her by surprise. Her eyes become wide and her lips part as she takes in your obvious confusion.

“Jake…didn’t tell you about that? Did he tell you anything?” She leans in closer to you, a slight look of irritation present in her honey eyes.

“He only gave me a vague synopsis— just about the infidelity in Arthur and Guinevere's marriage.”

You suddenly come to a harsh realization that you hadn’t even thought about until now.

Adultery and infidelity— forbidden romance. An entire film all about said romance, of which you are a main component. Of course there will be kissing in this film, perhaps even more.

Your stomach drops at the prospect, and you're silently cursing Jake for leaving this little tidbit out.

Of course, it isn’t entirely his fault. You should’ve guessed when he told you the focus of the film.

You’ve already agreed, and backing out now would mean you’re back to square one with a project for Movacks class.

All you can do now— beg to be anyone but Guiniverre.

“First off,” you question, “who on earth is Sam?”

“Sammy? He’s their baby brother. He also takes classes here— well, when he decides to show up, that is. He lives with the twins.”

You pick up your coffee, taking a large gulp to keep the caffeine running through your system. “And why do I have to kiss him again?”

“I can’t believe he didn’t tell you,” she says, huffing a laugh under her breath. “Josh has…plans.”

You cock an eyebrow at her, having a pretty good inclination about what these plans entail. You nod your head to let her know to continue.

“There will be a few…intimate scenes, between you and Sam. He’ll be playing the knight of romance and chivalry himself, our beloved Sir Lancelot.” She follows suit in taking a few swigs of her coffee now that it's cooled down a bit. “You and Sam will really get to know each other. And from what I’ve gathered about this film, the emphasis will be on Guin and Lance’s love. Arthur will have a different love interest— I think they’ve already casted her? Anyways, I doubt you and Jake will have many, if any, scenes together. At least no saucy ones. Which I’m sure you’re glad to hear.”

You were not prepared in the slightest for intimacy. Intimacy in front of a camera— with someone you don’t know, all for the sake of someone you hardly know. Someone who’s been a massive dick to you, no less.

But her last statement— about not having any special scenes with Jake. She’s right, mostly. It would be incredibly uncomfortable to have any scenes like that with him…right?

But, if you're being fully honest, a small part of you is a bit…disappointed.

You shove that thought down fast. “Uh, yeah. I’m more than thrilled to hear that. That would be awkward as fuck.” You’re doing your best to be sure she doesn’t see right through you.

“But seriously, y/n. Those costumes…” She smiles widely, shaking her head back and forth. “ My brother did a great job finding those. They’re going to accentuate you in all the right ways.”

That is exactly what you’re afraid of.

With your elbows on the table, you throw your face into your open palms with such force that you nearly knock your cold brew to the floor.

“Nat, I– I don’t think I can do this.”

She lightly takes your wrist in her hand, jolting you a little so you’ll lift your face. “Hey, what’s wrong? It’s just acting, love. It’s not that serious, I promise.” Her voice is so sweet and gentle, her eyes have softened and are full of quiet concern.

“I know it’s not that serious,” Out of instinct, you pull your sleeves over your hands and take your hair out from behind your ears, hiding yourself as best as you can. “I just don’t like…this,” Your hands motion to your body covered with the security of your baggy clothes. “I’ve never liked this. I mean, just how much will these costumes… accentuate me?” The thought of baring yourself even in the slightest has your stomach tumbling with somersaults.

“Listen— I know Josh, and he will never let you do something you’re not comfortable with,” she assures, her honest smile making an appearance. “His mind is wide open and his soul is in all the right places. If there’s something you don’t like, just tell him and he’ll fix it.”

You’re racking your brain with the thought of his twin being as wonderful as she described. How could someone who shares the same DNA profile with Jake truly be that amazing?

“And stop worrying about the costumes. I can promise you, y/n, you will look sexy as hell.”

She’s doing her best to reassure you— though it’s not totally working, you act as though it is to change the subject and get started on your studies.

⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎

You frustratedly close the lid to your laptop after having nearly failed your quiz. You had set aside plenty of time this weekend to study, but with how distracted you are right now from your conversation with Natalia this morning, all the time in the world for studying wouldn’t have mattered.

And of course, it’s Movack’s class— the one you most want to excel in, the one you share with Jake.

He closes his laptop only seconds after you.

It’s not a fucking race, Jake.

Movack stated at the beginning of class that once you finish your quiz, you’re free to leave. You quickly pack up your things, trying to make a hasty escape before Jake to avoid any possible conversation with him.

You’re halfway down the hall and as you’re about to turn the corner to safety, you hear, “Hey, y/n! I need to ask you something.”

Fucking hell.

You pause for a moment, dramatically rolling your eyes before you turn around to see Jake walking towards you.

He takes his sunglasses off and places them in the breast pocket of his shirt. He makes eye contact with you, a rarity for him, before he asks “Are you free on Saturday afternoon? Around 4:30?”

…what?

That is the very last thing you’d ever expect to come from his lips.

His gaze has yet to break as he awaits your response. His deep set amber eyes are piercing right into yours. He has an almost desperate look about him— as if he’s anxious for you to reply.

Is he…asking you out?

Your intuition tells you there’s no way, but…why else would he be asking you this?

Suddenly, your body begins to tingle. The butterflies in your tummy begin swarming.

You don’t know what changed— perhaps agreeing to the film? Maybe he’s finally seeing you as more than a scholarly competition, maybe he’s finally seeing you. Whatever it may be, you’re not questioning it any longer.

You’ve decided you’re completely infatuated with him, and getting to know him even better outside of this classroom sounds…wonderful.

“Y-yeah! I don’t have anything going on. I’m totally free!” With a full toothed grin on display and perhaps a bit too much eagerness, you follow with, “Why? What did you have in mind?”

His brows then become furrowed, his slight look of desperation transforming into one that says he’s now… confused.

“Um… okay,” His voice sounds unsure, his inflection coming off as more of a question than a statement. “I’m only asking because my brother wants to go over a read through of some of the script on Saturday…you know, for the film project.”

Oh. My. God.

You’re mentally smacking yourself across the forehead. You want to crawl inside the deepest fucking hole on this planet and stay there with your shame.

What is wrong with you? It’s as though you’ve completely forgotten you have a project to do with him— that that would be the only logical reason he’d ask if you were free. Obviously.

That’s why he looked desperate. Not because he wanted you to agree to some date— because he needs your help with this stupid fucking project you regretfully agreed to.

Your face (noticeably, you're sure) drops. You’re so humiliated at your response. No wonder he looked so damned confused.

“Sure, yeah. I can do that.” You revert back to your initial irritated tone, refusing to look him in the eye now, hoping that he’ll somehow forget you were any other way.

“He also needs you to try on the costumes, too. Make sure they’re the right size.”

The costumes.

This couldn’t get any fucking worse. But you can’t turn him down now, given you were so quick to tell him you’re free on Saturday.

You simply say “okay,” as you nod your head in agreement.

He takes out his notebook, writing down his address before ripping the sheet of paper out and handing it to you.

You tuck it away in your bag, bidding him a quick adieu before turning to walk far away from him.

Tears threaten to fall from your eyes. Not out of sadness, but out of mortification. Out of irritation.

Irritation with yourself, with him. And it’s not even his fault. You’re the one that jumped to ridiculous conclusions— jumped the highest you possibly could.

You feel utterly stupid.

So fucking stupid.

⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎

Your mom looks at you in shock as you walk inside your apartment. Ridding yourself of your bags with a swift toss to the floor, you slump down next to her on the couch.

“What are you doing home so early? I thought you had class until later this afternoon,” she probed.

“Just a little tired,” you say. “Thought I’d give myself some time to rest before work.”

“This isn’t like you, y/n. What’s wrong, sweetie?”

She’s right— this isn’t like you. You normally wouldn’t even think of skipping class, your education being the most important thing to you. But, you just couldn’t bring yourself to do it today.

“Kind of a long day, I guess. And I’m a little stressed out with my classes.”

She then turns the television off and glares at you with the eyes of a worried mother.

“Talk to me, y/n. I know there’s more.”

You should know by now that you can’t hide anything from her. She knows you too damn well.

You can’t hold it back any longer as you begin to spill it all.

“It’s… stupid Jake. I thought he was asking me out today, but he most definitely was not. And I made an idiot out of myself because I misunderstood and—”

She stops you mid sentence, “And who is Jake?” she questions.

You haven’t told her a single thing about him, about your project, anything. It’s not that you were trying to hide it from her, you just really didn’t want to talk about it.

With a heavy sigh, you say, “He’s my partner for this huge semester project in my King Arthur class. We’re doing an Arthurian film with his brother,” you put a palm to your face. Looking up at her with a sarcastic smile, you add. “Oh, and Jake is a major dick.”

“Do you like him?” she asks with a smirk curling at the corner of her lips.

“Absolutely not!” you exclaim— rather loudly, at that.

Even you don’t believe the words that came out of your mouth, so why would she?

She just chuckles at your response, knowing better than that but deciding to not ask you about it any further, switching the topic to your project. “Tell me about this film you're doing,” she says.

“You won’t believe this but, I’m actually acting in it.”

“You? Acting? Okay, who are you and what have you done with my daughter?” she jokes, forcing a smile out of you.

“Just wait. It gets better,” you say. “I’m actually playing Guiniverre and Jake will be Arthur. It’s all about their adulterous marriage, and the focus will be on them cheating on each other. Quite romantic, huh?”

She begins to laugh again, trying not to wear out her weak lungs, but it doesn’t work. She gets caught up in a huge coughing fit, struggling to catch her breath.

This always happens; she can’t even laugh without her lungs giving her trouble. It shatters your heart. She’s always had the most contagious, obnoxious laugh. You miss the pure, unpunctured sound of it so much.

You reach for her oxygen mask and gently place it over her mouth. “Just breathe, mom. It’s okay, I’m here. Just breathe for me, in and out…”

As much as it scares you whenever this happens, it scares her even more. The look in her eyes makes you want to cry. It’s a look that says “please make this stop.”

You wish more than anything that you could.

It’s the moments like these that you want to curse your dad for leaving, for leaving his wife of almost twenty years like this.

She begins to calm down, her breathing slowing as she’s able to take full breaths again.

“You okay?” you ask.

She moves your hand and lifts the mask from her face. “Just fine, sweetie. Sorry about that.” Her voice sounds so frail, like she’s just run a marathon.

“Don’t apologize, Mom,” you lay a hand on your skinny thigh, squeezing reassuringly. “Please.”

She nods, then requests. “Tell me more.”

She doesn’t like to dwell on these things when they happen, so you start talking about the film and Jake some more.

“He’s got a younger brother named Sam, who’ll be playing Lancelot. Apparently, there are a few scenes between him and I in the script that are a bit… sensual, you could say.”

“Well, is he as cute as Jake?” she snickers.

“Mom! I never said Jake was cute.”

“Didn’t have to,” she says. “You think he is, I can tell.” Her grin says she can see right through you, and she’s not wrong. She never is.

“I haven’t met his brother yet, so I have no idea.”

You continue telling her more about the film, telling her about Natalia, but the conversation ends up taking a turn to being mostly (completely, actually) about Jake.

“He’s just intimidated by you, y/n. That’s why he acts the way he does, so you don’t know his true feelings.”

You just shrug it off, knowing she’s obligated by blood to tell you that. She’s just trying to make you feel better.

“Just wait,” she says. “He’ll come around.”

⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎

You look at your phone to check the time.

3:45 am. Ugh.

You’ve been in bed for hours desperately trying to sleep but your body just won’t relax.

You hated seeing your mom like that tonight. Watching her struggle to breathe… it's traumatizing every time it happens. And the episodes are becoming more and more frequent.

You just want her to be healthy again. You want to be able to have a normal conversation with her without worrying about making her laugh. It’s tearing you down, watching her wither away like this. It’s not fair.

You just wish there was more you could do.

Along with the stress of that, you also keep hearing Jake's voice on a loop in your head; “I’m only asking because my brother wants to go over a read through some of the script on Saturday…you know, for the film project.”

“I’m only asking…”

It’s the way he said ‘only,’ as if to say ‘don’t get your hopes up, that’s not what this is.”

Him posing that question (before you knew the true intent behind it) made you realize that— as much as you wish you weren’t— you’re somehow on the cusp of having feelings for him. And your conversation with your mom made that fact even more abundantly clear.

It’s most definitely not because of his winning personality.

No; it’s much different than that.

He brings about an air of mystery everywhere he goes. Every step he takes adds yet another layer to your curiosity about him.

And the way he acted when he asked you to be a part of his brother's film, how his face lit up in a whole new light. There’s a genuine man beneath his exterior— you can sense it. You just wish that were the Jake you’ve come face to face with nearly everyday since classes began a few weeks ago. That’s the side of him (if it is truly there and you’re not just making things up) that you want to discover.

He’s just… different. And you're annoyingly drawn to it. You're completely drawn to it.

You’ve never met anyone like him— let alone anyone that looks like him. As much as you hate to admit it, he is the personification of the female gaze. And his ridiculous attire, complete with his open shirts that display his necklaces on top of his bare chest— and yes, even his sunglasses that you try (but fail) to hate— all make it incredibly difficult to not find him attractive.

He’s beginning to consume your every thought, and you’re so mad at yourself for it.

⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎

Saturday.

You’ve spent the entire week dreading today, contemplating backing out more times than you can count. Jake has been increasingly rude to you since your encounter with him on Monday. He’s spoken one or two words to you throughout the course of the week, but that’s about it.

Again, you're wondering why the hell you agreed to do him any favors.

If it wasn’t for this fucking project in fucking Movack’s class…

Without the consistent convincing from Natalia, you would have backed out. No question about it.

“Just make it through Saturday, y/n,” she said. “And if you still feel this way, tell him you want to do something else for your project. He’ll have to understand.”

You told her you’d do it, but only if she agreed to go with you. Thankfully, it didn’t take much convincing on your part and she happily accepted your terms.

⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎

You bring your fist up to knock and wait a moment; nothing.

You feel as though you’ve given it ample time, so you knock yet again.

Finally, the handle on the door twists and is opened by, of course, Jake.

You embarrassingly stare a few seconds too long, not able to find words.

Unenthusiastically, he breaks the silence, “Welcome to our humble abode.”

He holds the door open as you and Natalia walk through the threshold together. Immediately upon seeing the place, you’re in a state of pure shock.

You’re not sure what you expected of Jake's home, but a two story, industrial loft apartment— massive loft apartment— right in the heart of downtown Detroit, was most surely not the first thing on your list. Natalia told you it was nice, but you weren’t prepared for this.

How do three college students manage to afford this?

The ever plaguing mystery continues.

It’s like walking into a photoshoot for a prestigious interior design magazine. This place doesn’t even look real.

Your eye is instantly caught by the decor. A tasteful mix of bohemian and modern rustic. The red brick walls lead to tall ceilings covered with exposed steel piping, adding so much unique character to the place. Trailing vines line the huge windows, casting the living room in an almost sage glow.

Jake ignores you, (shocker) as he heads into the kitchen and opens the refrigerator. “Well that’s just great,” he says, taking out a can of Miller Lite and turning to face Natalia. “The least your brother could do is restock our beer when he takes the last one.”

She just snickers in response.

Suddenly a loud bang comes from a room up the long staircase, followed by a pair of animated giggles.

Jake turns his head slightly in the direction of the commotion, mumbling “fucking imbeciles” quietly to himself, but loud enough that you heard it.

“What the hell was that?” Natalia asks.

“Our moronic brothers,” Jake grumbles.

Then, a man with a set of wild, messy curls on top of his head jogs down the stairs, giggling while struggling to keep his footing.

“What were you doing up there?” Jake demands.

“Do you really want to know?” the curly haired one says, wiping his shiny lips with the sleeve of his shirt before smoothing down his disarrayed mustache.

“Nope. Not one fucking bit,” Jake scoffs.

Jake then nods his head in your direction, letting him know that you and Natalia have arrived.

“Well hello, my dear Natalia!” he says, pulling her into a hug.

Then, he catches your eye.

“Ah hah!” he shouts, giving you a long look. “You must be our queen! Lovely to meet you, m’lady,” He grabs your hand and kisses it before making a dramatic display of bowing before you. “If I may be so bold, the name is Josh. Sir Josh of the Frankenmuth, Michigan sector— at your service.”

This is Josh? The other half of Jake?

There’s no way. Sure, they have the same face. Well, besides the addition of a mustache and goatee to Joshs, but still. Clearly they’re identical, but so starkly different from one another.

You look over to Jake, noting a slight irritated look from him. Ignoring it, you meet Josh in a hug.

“It’s so nice to meet you!” You throw a little extra emphasis on ‘so’, looking at Jake once more and picking up on his eye roll— even from behind his sunglasses.

You’re remembering your first encounter with Jake—how it was so vastly different from right now as you’re meeting his twin for the first time.

You instantly felt welcomed with Josh, while with Jake, you felt like a major inconvenience. (And admittedly, you still do.)

How can they be so different, yet look the exact same?

He’s even dressed like the perfect contrast of Jake.

Jake is clad in his usual monochromatic look—sunglasses, black button down and all. (How many of these fucking shirts does the man own, for godsake?)

But Josh, on the other hand— he’s wearing a stark white sweatshirt and skin tight khaki pants, pulled together aesthetically with high top tennis shoes that mimic the brightness of his top.

They are the personification of yin and yang standing before your very eyes.

“Would you like a drink?” Josh offers. “We have beer, wine—”

Jake interrupts him, yelling, “There’s no more beer!” as he takes a long sip out of his can.

“Okay then, no beer.” Josh chuckles. “Well we have water, of course. But that’s far too boring. I'd be happy to mix you one of my world-famous cocktails if you’d like.”

“Take it from me— if you don’t want to end up sloshed, do not let him make you a cocktail.” Another man makes his way down the stairs, stopping once he gets to Josh. He towers over him, being at least six inches taller. He’s awfully handsome, with the same kind, honey toned eyes that mimic those of your lovely friend standing beside you.

“My sweet, sweet Malachi. It’s okay to just admit that I make the most pristine drinks known to man.” Josh grabs his waist and tugs him close in an embrace.

“This would be my brother,” Natalia says.

“This is y/n?” He greets you with a hug, nearly lifting you off your feet. “It’s so great to meet you! You’re so kind to help with this.”

“I’m glad to help! I’m a huge Arthurian nerd, so this is right up my alley,” you say to him. “I just hope I can do Guinevere some justice. I’ve never really acted before.”

“I have no doubt in my mind that you’ll be great!” Josh chimes, “If you’re ready, I’ve got one of your costumes set up in Jake's room. Last door, straight down at the very end of the hall.”

Jake’s room?

“Okay! Sounds great. I’m really excited to see these. Nat told me they’re amazing,” you say, heading in the direction Josh told you his room is in.

Josh watches you leave, holding his hands up in a makeshift camera. “Yep. You’re the perfect vision for our Guin. Very pretty,” He playfully nudges Jake with his elbow, “You were right, my brother.”

What does that mean?

Jake’s cheeks become encompassed in a pink hue as he chokes on the beer he’d just taken a sip of.

“Why thank you, Sir Joshua,” you say as you turn around towards him to curtesy.

⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎

You were nervous enough about being in his home, but his room? That is an entirely different story.

A person's room is the most personal, intimate space. The space that holds all their innermost secrets. Walking in feels like the ultimate intrusion.

Your stomach tightens as you turn the knob on his bedroom door.

Immediately, you're struck with the same scent he carries with him.

His whole room smells like it— like him.

You turn to shut the door behind you to have some privacy, catching a canvas portrait on the back depicting an iconic Edgar Allan Poe quote: “Words have no power to impress the mind without the exquisite horror of their reality.”

The room is dimly lit, with blackout curtains hanging over the windows—only a single lamp in the corner next to the bed illuminates the space.

The walls are lined with medieval artwork. Depictions of Ophelia and The Lady of Shalott, with a few famous pieces by the great Edmund Blair Leighton that you’d recognize anywhere. And, of course, no medieval artwork collection is complete without the classic portrait of Morgan Le Fey. She’s illustrated in her quintessential colorful attire, looking as enchanting as ever. A favorite or yours.

Your curiosity is certainly piqued as you notice a few books sitting upon his bedside table.

The Lord of the Rings series. A Tolkien fan— you’re not surprised in the least.

The Two Towers is splayed open to page 316 with the corners very gently dog eared.

Next to the book lies an opened notebook donned with scribbled detailings of what he’d read. Little footnotes and observations, brief analyses of chapters.

A smile dares to creep across the corner of your mouth— finding it incredibly nerdy, yet all at once completely endearing that he places so much care in what he reads.

You know next to nothing about this man, but one thing you do know— he loves literature. And you’d bet he loves it almost as much (if not slightly more) than you do. That truly says something.

On top of the table on the opposite side of the bed sits a small record player, the record sitting under the stilled needle— Electric Ladyland by Jimi Hendrix.

You skim a few other album titles placed on the shelf next to it, seeing the likes of Stevie Ray Vaughan, Eric Clapton, Janis Joplin; he’s a blues kind of guy.

You grew up on that very same music, all thanks to your mom. She made sure you were well versed on music from a very young age.

A dark red Gibson SG is perched on its stand right next to the table holding the record player. The scratches engraved on its body indicate heavy use— you can tell this thing is quite loved.

He’s… a guitarist?

God. The mystery surrounding this man is never ending. There’s so much you don’t know, so much you wish you did know.

Feeling as though you’ve explored far too much of his room, you decide to focus your attention on the garment bag laid out across the black velvet duvet across Jake’s bed.

You unzip it, your nerves exuding through your shaky hands at whatever you’ll discover inside.

You lift the dress out of the bag high above your head as the length reaches clear to the floor.

Holy shit.

When Natalia told you these costumes were amazing, she was understating to the highest degree.

Golden hand sewn lace embroiders the deep burgundy corset bodice. The square neckline is garnished with gold and red gems in the most intricate pattern, with the same jeweled design present on the cuffs of the long sleeves. The skirt, the same shade as the bodice, is silken and heavy and adorned with a similar gold design cascading all the way down to the hem.

Truly fit for a queen.

You can’t help but wonder where they possibly found this. It’s the most gorgeous gown you’ve ever seen— and you get to wear it.

Undressing yourself in Jake's room feels…strange. You feel vulnerable and exposed, but the butterflies in your belly are swarming at the thought— the thought of being only in your bra and panties in Jake’s bedroom.

Taking another look at the corset, you quickly learn that a bra is simply not an option for this dress. You remove it, feeling particularly risqué now being half nude in his room.

You lay the dress on the floor and step into the skirt one foot at time, lifting it up and carefully putting your arms through the sleeves.

You try tightening the laces of the corset, but without being able to see, it’s proving to be rather difficult. You know there’s not a chance you can get this situated yourself.

You decide to text Natalia to come help you, but as you go to look for your phone, you remember you left it sitting on the coffee table in the living room.

“Fuck,” you whisper to yourself.

You open the door and marginally peak your head out, calling for her to come lend you a hand with the dress.

“Sorry— should’ve warned you about that,” you hear Josh yell from across the apartment.

“You rang?” Natalia jokes as she makes her way down the hallway to you.

“This is fucking impossible to get on,” you huff, closing the door as she walks in the room.

She chuckles as she shoves your hands out of the way to take over tying the corset. “You’ve really got yourself in quite the mess here.”

She sinches it as tight as it will go, forcing the breath out of your lungs in one final tug of the laces.

“Jesus, Nat!”

“Oh you’re fine. God, you literature people are so dramatic.”

“You’re one of us too, you know,” you quip back.

She secures the ribbon tightly with a bow before she says, “I think you’re in. Turn around, let's see what we’re working with.”

You run your hands down your torso and up to your chest, feeling the constriction present against your breasts as you turn your body to face her.

“Holy fucking shit, y/n. That’s what you’ve been hiding under those giant ass sweaters?” she marvels with arched eyebrows and wide unblinking eyes.

You haven't seen yourself yet, and judging by how snug the top of this dress is hugging you, you’re not exactly sure you’re ready to.

Pointing to the mirror leaned against the wall, she tells you, “Get your ass over there, you have got to see this.”

Years of body dysmorphia have set you up to hate everything you put on if it isn’t something that hides you. Tight fitting garments are your worst nightmare. You feel safe in things that conceal your figure, and being in something that doesn’t do that is forcing you to come face to face with the thing that terrifies you the most.

With a reluctant sigh, you slowly walk over to the large wooden oval floor mirror standing next to the matching dresser.

The first thing you notice upon lifting your eyes to meet your reflection— your breasts. From feeling them moments ago, you knew they were on full display, but you didn’t realize they’d be this exposed. One slightly questionable movement, and it’s all over.

The sleeves sit off your shoulders, leaving them exposed with the rest of your chest.

Your eyes trail down to your waist that is being held tightly by the corset, your figure finally being exposed.

“O-oh god…” you quietly stammer. “I look…”

“Insanely hot.” Natalia interrupts.

“…I look fucking ridiculous.”

“What the hell are you talking about, y/n?” she demands.

“This isn’t flattering…not in the slightest.” You bring your arms up to fold them over your chest. You can’t hide as easily as you would like to in this get up— and the thought of being filmed in this has your stomach in a nauseous hold.

She walks closer to you and gently brushes your arms, motioning for you to put them down— to stop hiding.“You’ve got to be kidding me, y/n. This dress was made for you.” She adjusts your right sleeve a bit, smoothing down a few wrinkles. With a tender voice, she asks, “What could you possibly not like about this?”

“I’m not you, Nat. I can’t pull this off like you could.”

“Do not start that shit with me, girl.” She sounds more stern this time. “Just because you don’t look like me, does not mean you aren’t fucking beautiful. If I have to spend all night convincing you that you’re gorgeous, I will.”

Natalia is the kind of person you’ve needed in your life, your whole life. She just gets you, and she always has the right thing to say at any given moment.

Not wanting to make this moment any more about yourself than you already have, you simply say, “Thank you, Nat.”

You reach for a hug and she pulls you in, saying “You’re welcome. Now, get yourself out there. I can’t wait to see the look on these boys’ faces.”

Just in time, a knock sounds against the bedroom door. “Uh ladies? Time is of the essence!” Josh jokingly yells from the hallway, snapping being heard through the wall.

You’re standing completely still, fear keeping you frozen on your feet. She notices and motions for you to move.

“You first,” you tell her.

She playfully rolls her eyes and agrees. Opening the door, she says, “Let’s go, your highness. Your kingdom awaits your arrival.”

You follow her down the hallway, hiking the skirt of your dress up as it’s far too long for you. You're so anxious to let Jake (and the other guys— but mostly Jake) see you like this. Petrified, really.

You’re afraid of his reaction, that it won’t be what you want it to be— that he’ll act disgusted.

But all the same, you want him to see. Maybe this will change his mind. Maybe he’ll think you look as good as Natalia says.

You can only hope, anyways.

Natalia pulls out all the dramatic stops to introduce you. “Gentlemen, I present to you, your queen.”

She stands to the side as you walk forward into the living room. Josh is sitting on the couch next to Malachi, both of them with large smiles across their faces at the sight of you. They each fawn over you, telling you how immaculate you look. Josh praises Malachi over and over for managing to get them the perfect gown, “The sizing is impeccable!” he tells him. Then he winks at Natalia. “Thanks for getting her sizes for us, Natty!”

You hear them, but you’re hardly paying them any attention as you’re stuck scanning the room for Jake, but to no avail. He’s nowhere to be seen. To say the very least, you’re full of disappointment.

“Well, fuck me,” you hear a voice say, one that you’re not quite so familiar with.

You snap your head in the direction of the voice to see a man— who looks a little like Jake?— leaning up against the floor to ceiling window in the dining room.

“Seriously, Sam?” Natalia snaps, “Where the hell are you manners?”

Sam— the Sam. The one you’ll be sharing the screen with the most.

It makes sense why he’d be chosen to play ever-romantic Lancelot. He’s a major flirt, quite fitting for the role. And— he’s fucking beautiful. Something you were not anticipating. (And something you hadn’t even thought about, with your mind being so overloaded with thoughts of Jake.)

While he doesn’t share the same similarities with Jake as Josh does, (they’re twins, so, obviously) you most definitely can’t deny the fact that they’re brothers.

Sam is a bit taller than the twins, his body shaped completely differently to accommodate his longer frame. His facial hair is quite similar to Joshs’, with his hair more the likes of Jakes'.

“Sorry, I can’t help myself when I see a pretty girl,” Sam blurts. “You sure you’re at the right place? Seems you should be galavanting in Hollywood looking like that.”

A heat rises to your cheeks at his compliment. You’re sure your face is nearly the color of the gown you’re in. He’s awfully bold— and you kind of like it.

His eyes stay fixed on you as he begins walking in your direction.

“I take it you’re y/n?” he asks, taking your hand and giving your knuckles a quick peck. “I’d say Jake made a good choice for our queen.” He looks into your eyes as he gives the back of your hand yet another kiss— this one a bit more involved.

You smile at the feeling of his mustache ticking your hand as he grins against the skin. “Thank you, Sam. I’m quite flattered,” you say, still giggling like a fucking school girl with a brand new crush.

“Oh Jesus Christ,” Nat quips with a stark roll of her eyes.

“This…THIS!” Josh shouts as he stands from the couch, trotting over to you and Sam. “The exact chemistry I was hoping for. You two just naturally have it— you exude it.” He grabs you both by the shoulders and pulls you both into a three-way embrace. “Sam, go put on your costume. We should run through a quick scene. I just have to see how this will play out.”

Josh is so giddy about it all that he plants a wet kiss to your cheek, saying with a sincere smile, “You really do look wonderful, you know.”

⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎

Josh led you all down a little pathway behind their apartment building that leads to a shrine of towering beautiful, old trees. The sun just barely breaks through the colorful leaves on their full branches, illuminating the mossy ground in a soft and subtle golden glow.

His vision for this particular scene with Lancelot and Guinevere is to take place in a forest setting, a “secret hiding place tucked away in the depths of nature's wonder,” as he put it.

You look around in awe; it’s though you’ve walked through the pages of an old story book. An enchanted forest, right in the middle of the hustle and bustle of the busy city. You would have never guessed this was hiding here. The perfect spot for a film– more importantly, it’s the perfect spot for lovers to enjoy their inconspicuous love affair.

“The lighting right now is unmatched,” Josh exclaims, taking note of the time so he knows when to come out when you’re ready to actually start filming. It’s just after 5:30, and with autumn nearly in full swing, it’s right at the beginning of golden hour. With the way the trees are shading the sun, it makes for the most beautiful, soft scene— almost lucent.

It reminds you so much of the serene road you’ve found for your morning treks to school each day. You feel the same way here as you do on that secret road; this will surely be a new favorite place of yours.

You’ve got the script in your hands, skimming through the scene Josh has highlighted for you.

Guinevere is sending Lancelot off to a jousting match, giving him her red scarf in secret to tie around his arm as a token. He must wear it during the game for good luck, and he’s meant to return it to her once he wins. A common medieval practice amongst lovers.

It ends with her wrapping her arms around him, enveloping him in a “deep, heated kiss to bid a farewell,” according to the script.

Oh god.

You read ahead a little. Apparently, this will be what gives their little love affair away. Arthur will recognize the scarf around Lancelot's arm as his wife’s, and the rest will be left to history. Angsty– wonderfully so.

“Right here,” Josh says. “This is perfect.”

He positions you and Sam in a spot that’s right in the middle of a circle of trees.

Sam's skin is glowing beautifully in this light, his dark eyes now several shades lighter as the sun catches them just right.

You can’t help but stare at him. He’s just so handsome, and he looks particularly regal in his costume. A white velvet, high collar top with white pants that are hugging him in all the right places, and a deep red cape draped over his broad shoulders— the same shade as your dress.

Is it historically accurate? Absolutely not. But it is most definitely serving its purpose of making him appealing to the eye, or making him lust worthy— which is exactly what Malachi was going for when he chose this get up.

His cape is meant to match your dress, symbolizing their affection for one another.

It’s brilliant, honestly.

Josh puts his hand on your shoulder, his perfectly round eyes meeting yours while he quietly says, “If you’re not comfortable with this, please don’t be afraid to tell me or Sam. Promise me you’ll say something.”

Sam looks at you with the same eyes as Josh, wanting to make sure you’re comfortable enough with everything before you start.

You smile at them both, patting Josh's hand that’s still resting gently on you. “I promise.”

“Okay, great. You guys ready?” Josh asks.

“I think so,” Sam says, looking down at you with heavy eyes and a sweet smile. “You ready, y/n?”

As you’d walked the path down here, Josh mentioned that Jake left to go get more beer while you were getting dressed. And… he’s still not back yet.

A part of you doesn’t want to do this without him here. Why? You wish you knew. It just doesn't feel right for some reason.

You look around at everyone once more to see if maybe he’s shown up and you just didn’t realize it.

You see Josh, Malachi and Natalia all standing around you— but no Jake.

Oh well…

Matching Sam's smile, you say, “Yep. I’m ready.”

Neither of you have your lines memorized just yet, so you both read directly from the script.

Sam begins the scene:

“My love. I accept this token and will wear it as I carry you with me, that with it wrapped around my arm, so as you are wrapped even tighter around my heart.”

Then you:

“With it carries the promise you will return to me, unmarked and whole. Again will you lie with me, again will you hold me as tightly as my token holds you.”

You know Sam is acting, but the way he’s looking at you as you say your line— he looks like he’s madly in love. It’s catching you off guard, making your knees weak as your voice trembles with the next line.

“Seal your promise of returning to me with your lips, my love. Kiss me and tell me it’s true that you will hold me again.”

With that, Sam drops his script to his feet. He lifts his hands to cup your face, holding it gently as his thumbs lightly sweep across your cheekbones. Your breath hitches, and you too, drop your script.

This… this suddenly doesn't feel like acting anymore.

He leans in slowly, his lips just beginning to brush over yours. You grip his shoulders, leaning in the rest of the way until, finally, your lips collide with his.

A kiss so sweet and tender. Not too deep, yet a far cry from a friendly peck.

He pulls away from you delicately, the sound of his lips breaking from yours the only one you can hear as silence lingers in the air around you.

As you look into his eyes, you notice something different, something real. Like he’s wanted to do that since he first laid eyes on you just a short while ago.

“Wow, y/n’s got some serious acting chops after all,” you hear Natalia say, slowly clapping.

But it’s abruptly interrupted by someone speaking.

“What— what the fuck is going on?” That voice… you know that voice without even looking away from Sam.

Jake. He’s back.

“Bravo, bravo!” Josh shouts while clapping his hands. “God. Beautifully done, you guys. I’d like to run through it just once more. Give me a little more passion this time.”

You finally look away from Sam, seeing Jake standing next to his twin with a bewildered look upon his face.

In his all black outfit, he really stands out amongst everyone, amongst the golden sun rays that shine down upon him.

He’s not wearing his sunglasses, and you’re once again spellbound by his eyes. Their amber tone heightened in the light.

He just looks so fucking good.

Sam is beautiful, but he’s just not Jake.

“Hello? Is anyone going to fill me in on this?” Jake asks again, motioning his arms toward you and Sam.

“We’re rehearsing a scene, Jake.” Josh retorts.

“Yeah? And what scene might that be?” Jake sounds quite unhappy, much to your confusion.

Josh picks up the script at Sam's feet, holding it open to the page you’re currently working on. “This one,” he says. “The one where she gives Lancelot her token. I wrote this weeks ago, Jake. Why are you acting like you’ve never seen it?”

Jake hastily takes the script from him and reads over the scene in question. “I swear I’ve never read this before.” He continues flipping the pages, going back and finding more scenes that will be shared between you and Sam. “Why the hell do they have so many of these scenes together? When did you decide on all of this?”

“Seriously, Jake?” Josh scoffs. “These scenes have always been there—,” he growls, using his hands to help communicate the emotions in his next words. “You clearly haven't read a word of the fucking script. Guinevere and Lancelot’s affair is the main focus, with some on Arthur’s affair with the maiden. We literally talked about this. Multiple fucking times.”

Jake gives the script back to Josh, fiercely rubbing his chin as he does so.

“Why are you so upset, Jake?” Josh asks.

“I’m literally not, Josh.”

“Uh, yes you are. You only rub your chin like that when you’re pissed.”

With a flair of his nostrils, Jake says, “Just get on with your goddamn rehearsal.”

“Just ignore them. They do this shit all the time,” Sam quietly says to you. “Ready to do this again?” he asks.

With your attention back on Sam, you smile and nod your head.

You do the scene again, much the same as you had before. But this time, with the watchful eyes of Jake, you feel a bit more… inspired.

“Kiss me and tell me it’s true that you will hold me again.”

Sam once again takes your face in his hands, leaning in close to you.

This time, instead of grabbing his shoulders, you opt to run your fingers through his hair.

Locking eyes with Jake, who’s standing perfectly in your view, you lift your face to crash your lips with Sam— much harder this time.

Josh wanted more passion, and he’s getting exactly that.

You push your tongue past Sam's plush lips, eliciting a soft grumble from deep in his throat.

His hands suddenly move from your face to your neck, his fingertips tracing the skin while leaving goosebumps in their wake. He then reaches down to your waist, pulling you tightly against his body.

This is no Guiniverre and Lancelot sharing a secret kiss in the middle of a hidden forest; this is you and Sam enjoying the hell out of each other.

But even as your mouth is fully enveloped with Sams, even with your tongues fighting for dominance with one another— your only thought… is Jake. Fucking Jake.

You situate your face just so, where you’re again able to look Jake in the eyes. He intensely glares as he watches you in a moment of pure desire with his brother— and he doesn’t look happy.

Incidentally, it's only adding fuel to your fire as your lips continue furiously attacking Sams.

You wrap your hands even tighter around his soft locks as his tongue is dancing with yours.

More beautiful, hushed moans escape Sam’s mouth straight into yours as you echo them right back to him.

He tastes like heaven mixed with a delicious honey sweet bourbon, he’s fucking delectable.

With a little hesitancy, (especially on Sam's part) the kiss breaks as you are forced to come back up for air.

Sam is still holding you close, so close that you can feel his enthusiasm between your bodies that’s thankfully being covered by the skirt of your dress.

“You’ve uh, got me in a bit of a predicament here,” he whispers, his lips ghosting over the shell of your ear.

You look him in the eyes, biting your kiss swollen bottom lip. “I can tell. Pretty big predicament, huh.” Your new found bravery has taken even you by surprise.

Sam just smirks at you while everyone is left stunned at your performance.

“I… am so fucking pissed,” Josh says.

“Why, babe?” Malachi asks him.

“Because I didn’t bring my fucking camera. You two… you two were made to do this together. I really hope you can do that again. Holy shit. Bra-fucking-vo.”

“What do you think, y/n? Think we could do that again?” Sam asks you. Although it’s clear he isn’t referring to the film.

Looking at Jake, his jaw clenched and his fists tight, you say, “Yeah.” You tear your eyes away from Jake, looking at Josh to finish. “I think we could do that again.”

⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎

A few weeks have gone by, and most things are going very well with the production.

Josh is a fantastic director (albeit, a little too bossy at times). Their sweet friend Daniel wound up being a great cameraman, getting shots of you that didn’t make you completely cringe at first glance. Then there was Malachi, who is consistently helpful, just like his sister. Sam, the perfect scene partner— so attentive and great at checking in with you between takes.

And Nat, ever the loyal friend, has still been coming to rehearsals with you. She hasn’t missed a single one, and her support has meant the world to you. Each time you feel a rush of insecurity washing over you, she’s there to talk you through it and be the encouragement you need.

The only part of these rehearsals that’s getting extremely old is how much Jake inserts his “constructive creative criticism.”

On more than one occasion, you’d shoot daggers in his direction and remind him that he’s not the director and to leave it to his brother. To which he’d respond with a scoff, palms planted, strong on his hips, and turn to leave the room in a huff.

Then there are the arguments between the twins… which have been growing in intensity. Some days production ends because the two of them just refuse to see eye to eye, making it impossible to get through a single scene.

You have to admit— these two are rather passionate about their work.

You just wish they’d stop arguing long enough to showcase their talents.

The most memorable day on set as of yet was the day Jake's costume had finally arrived.

He’d been taking far too long to get dressed in his attire, causing Josh to succumb to a near full meltdown. The sun was setting and Josh was adamant about getting at least one scene with Arthur shot outside.

Jake, however, was extremely unhappy with the costume that was chosen for him. He refused to walk out in it, claiming it was nothing like what he had pictured for the character. “This isn’t Arthur,” he said. “This is a goddamn see-through crop top.”

And that had instantly piqued your attention. You’d walked around the corner of the hallway, Natalia leading the way. Thankfully— because she did not need to be privy to the fact that you were so curious.

Then, you saw him. Clad in his film outfit that was a cut off chainmail top, with its short, tight sleeves putting his muscular biceps on full display.

His pecks, (which you’ve caught yourself admiring a time or two before) looked particularly perked and rounded.

You also loved how sheer the top was, giving you a fantastic view of his skin underneath.

Jake clearly wasn’t happy about it, but you most definitely were.

“Goddamn…” you whispered to yourself, watching the way his arms flexed each time he adjusted his shirt. You couldn’t help it. He just looked so fucking sexy.

“I’m not wearing this, Josh.” Jake asserted. “Nope. This is ridiculous.”

“Yes you are, Jake. It’s only for a few scenes, then you can wear the outfit you chose.” Josh blurted. “And I told you we’d get you a black cloak to wear. Will that make you feel better?” You noted a bit of sarcasm in his voice.

“Fuck no,” Jake said. “And why the hell does Sam get to have my sword for so many of his scenes?”

The argument continued on, and almost an hour later, Jake finally gave in. But, it was too late. The sun had gone down, and you were all ready to call it quits for the night.

“Well, a fucking wasted day. Thanks an awful lot, Jake.” Josh shouted as he stomped up the stairs.

They were able to shoot that scene the very next day, and as usual, they acted as if nothing had happened.

It’s pure whiplash with these two. One minute they’re cussing each other out, on the verge of throwing fists; the next, they’re making each other laugh so hard they’re nearly rolling on the floor.

Outside of filming, Jake has remained stoic– ignorant to your existence.

At school, he acts as though you don’t exist– only acknowledging you if he absolutely has to. For instance, before you can even try to get a word in before or after class, he’s already shooting up out of his seat before you have time to even think about standing up.

And similarly, at rehearsals, your conversations are limited to one or two words here and there, besides the incessant critiques he tosses around after your scenes.

Sam, however, has given you nothing but praise after praise. His flirting hasn’t let up— and you’ve been dishing it right back any chance you get.

You had ultimately decided if Jake wouldn't give you the time of day, you’d give it to someone who will. Who just so happens to be Sam.

Although, it lends more material for Jake’s reproval. The comments he’d make about it were aggravating at best.

“Can you show us all some fucking respect, please?”

“We’re trying to get work done.”

“Do you want us all to have failed projects because you two can’t stay fuckin’ focused?”

And, to every response, Josh shut him down, scolding him for being an asshole.

“You’re going to chase away my muse, Jake. Please, cut the shit,” he’d roll his eyes, messing with the sides of his hair, fluffing it, cutting a glance at his twin. “I’m tired of you acting like a child. You’re the one causing us to lag with the ridiculous comments.”

The comments did distract you a little from the scenes you knew were coming up rather quickly on the filming schedule… but his remarks also added unnecessary anxiety to the overall atmosphere for you. In which case, Sam would be the one to make you feel better, bringing you right back to him.

The particular scene that’s hurtling towards you is happening later this week. You’re filming a brand new scene with Sam that will be far more intimate than anything you’ve filmed thus far.

Josh wanted to give you time to adjust to everything and feel completely comfortable before he introduced this part of the film.

You’re still nervous about it, but your eagerness to see the film through has you ready to give it a go.

The day before the filming of the scene, you go about things like normal. You have so much fun rehearsing with Sam; Nat and Malachi watch in awe as the scene flows flawlessly between the two of you, like it normally does.

And today, it’s easier because Jake had been strangely absent. But, it hadn’t been better. Because no matter him being so irritating, you had sort of missed looking up at him, mid-scene with Sam. It had become oddly normal to find his eyes while meeting Sam’s lips.

After finishing a rather long rehearsal, Josh reminds you in passing that you’ll be wearing a brand new costume for tomorrow’s shoot.

And you figured today was as good a day as any to give it a peek.

Walking to Jake’s room to locate it, you sent Nat a quick text that you were heading there. She’d slipped away with Malachi to discuss costumes, but you knew if you ended up trying the costume on that you’d need her there to help (or at the very least, encourage).

Jake’s room has become designated for your costumes, of which he has expressed ample irritation about. Just one more thing for the twins to fight about.

You’re actually starting to believe that Josh made it that way just to spite Jake.

Once you make it there, the stark red garment bag is hanging on the closet door, awaiting you. It’s the other one that had been laid out on Jake's bed that first day you came over.

That day had slipped away from all of you with Josh’s insistence that you and Sam re-rehearse the kiss, over and over. So, you never got the chance to try it on.

You had hesitated looking at it since that day, though, because Nat forewarned you that this costume was much more revealing than the last, and knowing that, you haven’t really been in any hurry to try it on.

Lifting up on your tiptoes the slightest bit, you grab the garment bag that holds the brand new, different costume that Malachi has specially picked for you.

Nat had fortunately gotten the text and had made it in time to help you remove the corset dress, carefully placing it back in its garment bag.

Left in your black thong, lacking a bra from your prior costume, you look at the other bag, now laying on the bed. Your stomach sinks to your knees at the possibility of what’s hiding beneath the red canvas.

“Just how bad is it, Nat?”

The anxiety you faced trying on the first dress weeks ago is now creeping its way back in. You’re scared stiff for a moment, staring down at the costume still hidden beneath the red fabric.

“You’re overthinking it, y/n,” she says. “Just open it and find out. All I can tell you is you’re going to look unreal.”

Not wanting to draw this out any longer, you start unzipping the bag, slowly revealing the black lace that was tucked away inside.

You pull on the hanger to take it out of the bag fully.

A long black gown of intricate lace and chiffon— a lavish, luxurious piece of… lingerie. The gown exposes skin, hiding just beyond the cloth. Tight at the bust and waist, and flowing out at your hips.

The neckline is completely open and plunges down to the waist. The mesh material decorated with an elaborate floral design— is utterly see-through. The front of the gown is held together with only a black satin ribbon tied in a bow.

“Holy shit, y/n,” she gasps, admiring every piece of your body she can see. “You look like a piece of fucking artwork. Utterly gorgeous, honey.”

“God, Nat…” You hold it up to your body, running your fingers over the long, bell sleeve. “I really don’t know about this.”

“Josh told you if you don’t like it, they’ll find you something else. But you should at least try it on, see what you think,” she says.

You’re scared of putting it on and absolutely despising your body; you’ll be forced once again to face all of the things you don’t love about it— you won’t be able to hide in this. Not at all.

But, you promised Josh and Malachi you’d try it. And Nat is right— they have assured you over and over again that if you’re not happy with something, they’ll fix it. No questions asked. Josh asks you every single day if you’re comfortable with everything, and he’s made it abundantly clear over the course of the production that you must tell him if there’s anything you don’t like.

Clearing your mind of any more thought, (because you’ll overthink yourself to the death if you don’t) you untie the sash, placing the gown over your body.

As you suspected, there's nothing left to the imagination.

The lace just barely covers your breasts, laying completely open down to your belly button— and you’ve suddenly become hyper aware of the fact that your nipples are peeking through the sheer fabric.

“Please tell me they have pasties for me, because this,” you grumble, pointing to your chest, “is not going to work for me.”

Initially you’re talking about your nipples that you can see through the sheer fabric, but you figure there’s no use in hiding what’s on your chest from Nat. Something you would also like to be covered from eyes that you can’t fully trust yet. So, you lift your breast the slightest bit to also expose the red ink lying beneath the supple flesh.

Redrum, in dark red ink etched along the curve underneath your right breast.

Your best kept secret is no longer hidden with the likes of this dress.

“Is that…. a tattoo?”

You had decided on an impulse one night (after a few too many drinks) that you wanted a tattoo. It had been a hard week of treatments for your mom, while also simultaneously being the week that you found out about your acceptance to U of M. And you had figured you might as well do something for you— both to celebrate and distract yourself from the sad reality of your mother’s decline.

No one knows about it (save for Natalia now). Not even your mom. It was gotten with the intent to be something special for you and only you. A part of your body that you could find comfort in despite your dislike for your build— something about yourself to be comfortable with.

And being the massive Stephen King and Kubrick fan that you are, you decided on a tattoo that solidifies your love for The Shining. Both the book and the film have carried through some incredibly tough times in your life, so you can’t really say you regret the permanent decision. But, you like that it’s something sacred for just you.

“Yeah,” you say, tracing your finger along the flesh like you do nearly everyday. Just to ground yourself. “Important to me for several reasons. No one knows about it. You’re the first to know I have it actually.”

She nods in approval. “I’m honored,” she says, a sweet grin highlighting her features. “And I’m totally here for it.”

You really weren’t ready for everyone to see it yet, though.

“Do you think there’s something that we could cover it up with?”

She is already walking to the door as you ask, ready to help however she can.

“I’m going to check with Malachi,” she says, one foot out the door. Then she steps back inside the room, shutting the door to a crack before she whispers. “I won’t tell anyone about it. I’ll just say I wanna snoop through Josh’s Ben Nye.”

“You’re the best Nat,” you feel tears well in your eyes.

You’ve never had a friend as wonderful as Natalia, and with every small thing she did to help, it solidifies how grateful you are for her.

When the door closes behind her, you decide to bite the bullet and look at yourself once more.

Your thoughts begin to torment you, but you combat them with Natalia’s words.

“You look like a piece of fucking artwork. Utterly gorgeous, honey.”

You wish so badly you could eternally shut the thoughts off long enough to see yourself the way others see you, especially in these stunning costumes that you should feel beautiful in.

Someone as lovely as Nat— inside and out— complimenting you in the way she has, you should feel inclined to believe her; she’s not just telling you what she thinks you want to hear. She’s the most genuine person you’ve yet to meet and the last person to ever bullshit you.

A few heavier tears have begun to form, threatening to fall at any moment as you take in your image in the mirror.

You do look beautiful.

For the first time in god knows how long, you can see your beauty reflecting back to you, effectively telling your ever intrusive thoughts to ‘fuck off’ once and for all. And it’s not just in your body, it’s in you. The beauty within yourself that fully encompasses who you’ve grown to become as a woman.

You’ve been through some tough ass shit— had to go through things that you wish you hadn’t had to… and you’re still standing here to speak of it. That, in and of itself, is an accomplishment that shows some sort of beauty and resilience flowing from inside of you.

It doesn’t feel right acknowledging these things. You’re not used to it. But at this moment, it feels okay. Feels good. You let yourself have it for now.

You normally wouldn’t dare be caught in something like this (let alone allow yourself to be on camera) but now, you’re actually excited. You never would have guessed you had a passion for acting, for playing a character so vastly different from who you are in real life. You’re glad to have somehow stumbled upon this whole thing; it’s helped you find the confidence in yourself that you’ve been desperately searching for your entire life.

Moving the material covering your thighs the slightest bit, you reveal your leg, flexing it and admiring the taut flesh there. The feminine way your body is built complimenting the lean muscle that’s been built from hard work over time— working your ass off to get to where you wanted to be. Then, you poke your ass out, turning the slightest bit, you see the plush skin of your ass through the thin, dark material. You take the briefest second to appreciate the way it looks, round and full at the top of your thighs. Usually you would hate acknowledging that—hate. it.—but right now? It’s something sort of… sexy, seeing it. It’s hidden away beneath the flowing material, but wholly visible as well.

It’s mysterious and you like it. The gown acknowledges parts of your body, without putting it on full display and it’s honestly everything you needed. It helps you to accept the curves you usually curl your lip at.

Just then, as you stand there with your leg completely out of the slit, you hear the handle on the door turn and the door slowly creak as it’s being opened from the other side.

Nat must’ve found the makeup for your little secret. You hold your breast in preparation to cover the ink, but don’t immediately turn around towards the door. Part of you, wanting her to see this new found confidence you’ve discovered within the confines of this gown.

“I am so fucking glad you talked me into trying this on. I would have never if it weren’t for you— “

The sound of a throat being cleared of tension is made, interrupting you before you’re able to get the rest of your words out.

With a slight cock of your head in the direction of the door, your hair waving around your shoulders in the process, you realize… it’s not Nat standing on the threshold.

Stunned, frozen solid in your position that exposes your leg all the way up to the round flesh of your ass peeking through, you realize that standing where Nat should be… is Jake.

He’s as still as you, with one hand still on the doorknob and the other tightly gripping the frame on the other side.

You half expected him to shut the door immediately upon seeing you, but he didn’t. He’s just standing there, eyes trailing your barely clothed figure.

You should say something. You should tell him to get the fuck out and give you some privacy. But as you attempt to open your mouth to do so, nothing comes out.

His eyes linger on your face for a time, but eventually, they start trailing from your feet, up your legs, over your hips and taut stomach. You’re hardly breathing, but your chest is still heaving short breaths…

It becomes obvious to you that you like how his eyes feel on you. How he’s observing every inch of your body that you’re feeling brave inside for once…

You want him to see, to see you exactly like this.

Suddenly, your nipples harden when his dark, whiskey colored eyes (sans sunglasses, thank fucking god) find your shapely breasts outlined by the fabric just barely hiding them. The hand covering the round flesh tightens in an attempt to conceal the tattoo, but you’re longing to release the hand and show him all of you.

But you know better. So your hand stays firm, but you let your erect nipple peek through the fingers splayed across your chest.

You hear footsteps quickly stomping down the hall, becoming louder as they get close to Jake’s room.

“Jake! What the fuck are you doing?” Nat’s hand reaches out from nowhere, takes his arm and shoves him clear of your sight. Successfully breaking your lust ridden trance. “Give her some fucking privacy, godammit!”

And as you stood there, Nat giving Jake a piece of her mind, you can’t ignore how hot and bothered you’d become. You rub your thighs together, searching for a hint of friction from whatever had just transpired between you and Jake, longing for more of it.

Your friend finally comes in, adamantly running her mouth about how irritated she is by Jake’s intrusion, but you don’t hear her words.

Because you feel the complete opposite of her. In fact, you want to push her out of the room and bring Jake back to finish what had just barely begun.

“God, he’s a fucking idiot. I’m sorry about that,” she says as she begins rubbing the stage makeup on the skin of your tattoo, you imagine briefly that her fingers are Jake’s…

Then, feeling your nipples begin to harden from the thought, you clear your throat. Fuck. Too far.

Cover, cover, cover…

She can’t know.

“Damn,” you shake your head, your cheeks hot. “Why do they always keep it so cold in here?”

Thankfully, she doesn’t seem to notice a shift in dynamic as she laughs.

“I know, girl,” she snorts, a curl falling in front of her eye that she blows away. The breath makes your skin prickle with goosebumps. “Malachi is always giving Josh shit about it.”

She finishes blending out the makeup, adding a little powder on top to set it.

“I’d say we’ve got you pretty well covered. Take a look, tell me what you think.”

You turn back to face yourself in the mirror, and right before you’re able to look at your reflection, a picture sitting on the dresser catches your eye.

It’s of the three brothers— Josh, Sam, and Jake… their arms around each other as they smile wide.

But you can only look at Jake’s face, his smile so beautiful and bright in the image.

“Yeah, it looks great,” you say, eyes fixed on Jake’s handsome face, smiling back at you. “Looks really good.”

a/n: any thoughts as to why Jake is being so horrible during this film production? 🤔

buckle up, we've only just begun. ;)

if you'd like to be tagged, follow this link or let me know & i'll be sure to add you. 🤍

love you all so much.

taglist:

@jakeyt @alwaysonthemend @sacredjake @jakesgrapejuice @misshunnybee @reesetrippingthelight @way-to-go-lad @iffypanic @sinarainbows @klarxtr @brinlygvf @stardustjake @gretavanbear @gvfmelbourne @sinsofstardust @literal-dead-leaf @livkiszka @gvf-ficreads @jaaakeeey @capturethechaos @neptune2324 @jaketlove @thetroublegetssoloud71 @myleftsock @sanguinebats @jakekiszkapunchmeintheface @joshskittytickler @violet-hayes @aflame4goinghome@heckingfrick @fitalich @starshine-gvf @audgeppp @jakekiszkasbuttsweat @nina-23-45 @torniturntomyarrow @beautifulcrayola @writingcold @welllauragvf @loveisonaroll @itsafullmoon

I’m fairly certain I’ve included everyone but if I’ve forgotten you, please let me know! (& i sincerely apologize)

#jake kiszka x reader #jake kiszka fanfiction #sam kiszka x reader #sam kiszka fanfiction #jake kiszka smut #sam kiszka smut #jake kiszka fic #sam kiszka fic #jake fic #jake kiszka #josh kiszka #danny wagner #greta van fleet fic #greta van fleet smut #gvf fic #gvf fanfiction #gvf smut #greta van smut #le morte d’arthur

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adastrael · 2 years ago

Text

Cod: mw ii characters as type of kisses (pt.3)

Pairing(s): gender neutral reader / könig, kim "horangi" hong-jin, alex keller, farah karim

Word Count: 2.7k

Warnings: mentions of canon typical violence, talk about anxiety and insecurities

A/N: the last part is finally here! I know most of these guys aren't technically mw2 characters, but I couldn't just leave them out of the fun haha! On another hand, I'm sorry if this seems more rushed than the previous ones, I haven't had the chance to get to know these characters as well as the others yet. Anyhow, thank you for all the love on this series, it means a lot to me! :)

König - "breathy kiss"

One of your favorite things was to share kisses with him. He was always so responsive to your touch, whole body reacting to every slight brush of your skin on his. It felt like he was comfortable enough to show you how he truly felt through them, not even trying to find a way to deny his love. It never failed to drive you crazy in the best way.

If there was someone easy to fluster, it was definitely König. Those times he happened to be confident were limited to when he was out in the field, so during the time you two spent alone together, it wasn't difficult to make him bashful. You tried not to take advantage of his reactions and contain the giddiness you felt when he got into such a state, but it was a feat; he always looked adorable tripping over his words, cheeks a nice shade of red and hands fidgeting as he tried to come up with an answer to you. You couldn't get enough of his shyness, but you made sure to never cross any lines and boundaries you two set up. Sure, messing with him was entertaining, but the most important thing was to never make him truly uncomfortable or upset. Not to mention, you could spend time with him without trying to make him crumble with cheeky words, and have just as a great time — if not even better.

A regular Friday forenoon, the weather was perfect for taking a stroll and visiting the markets nearby your house. There were a few things that needed to be replaced anyways, so you had a good reason to go out, besides the fact that you wanted to enjoy the Sun on your skin of course. Since your boyfriend was back home from his latest deployment, it was natural you wanted to ask him to accompany you. Any chance you had, you wanted to take and spend time with him, especially since he was away from home a lot. However, there was one little problem with that: the company of strangers put him into a heavily uneasy state.

It wasn't correct to say he was terrible with crowds; König always swore he was, but you knew he handled himself just fine. Of course you knew how bad his anxiety spiked when put into situations like that, but from the outside he usually looked like he didn't have a problem in the world — you always made sure to let him know how well he did every time you two went out, no matter what situation he had to ease into. You knew it was difficult for him to read and react to social situations, but he tried his best and you were more than grateful and proud of him. The longer you were in a relationship together, the more often he joined you for outdoor activities, and it made you extremely happy to see him make an effort to become better. And flattered for sure, knowing he wanted to get better at this for your benefit.

So, with the knowledge that he wouldn't say no to you this time either, especially since this would be a short and easy trip, you went to talk to him.

Quickly finding König in your shared bedroom, you softly knocked on the door to get his attention.

"Hey König?"

"Ja?"

"Would you come along with me to the market today?"

Sitting on the king sized bed in his worn out comfortable clothes, he looked so much smaller, no matter the fact that he was a 6 feet something giant of a man. As he started to fidget with his hands a little, gaze directed to the sheets under him, it was hard to resist the urge to join him on the beddings and caress his knuckles to reassure him.

"How far are we going?"

"Just to the end of the street, I only want to visit Dominik's and then Sophia's on the way back."

You knew it was important for him to know exactly where you would be going and who you had to meet, because it helped him prepare mentally in advance. It wasn't a bother to share your exact plans with him in any way, and it made him feel better, so you were always happy to make sure to share the needed information.

After a few seconds of him considering it, pointedly looking anywhere but you, you received a little nod from him.

"Okay."

In your defense, he looked too irresistible sitting there all shy, you just couldn't help yourself; flashing him a bright smile, you skipped over to the bed, gently cupping his face in your hands.

"Thank you. I promise I will be quick."

Leaning in, you intended to give him a chaste kiss, just something to show your gratitude besides words. König seemed to have other plans however: pushing his lips onto yours a little more firmly, he sighed through his nose and made a little sound in the back of his throat. He was usually clumsy when it came to kissing, but this time he seemed to get the handle of things. Pulling back only a few millimeters, gasping for air, then diving back to connect your lips together, his body was slowly melting under your touch, the previous uneasiness leaving him. You loved when he got passionate like this; anxiety absent from his mind, body shivering where your hands wandered, harsh breaths leaving his mouth as he poured his emotions into the kiss. You knew this was a way for him to let all the worries go, to show you how genuinely he felt, and it never failed to make your head fuzzy and heart warm with fondness.

Truly, you could have stayed like that, interwined with him forever, but unfortunately there were still things to do. So, with a gentle hand on his cheek, you managed to pull away. Gazing into his eyes and softly stroking his heated face, König was almost panting into your embrace, quick breaths leaving his mouth and a dazed expression on his face. He really was a beautiful sight to see.

Kim "Horangi" Hong-jin - "hesitant kiss"

He was confident in every sense of the word. His cocky, sometimes too narcissistic attitude should have been annoying, but it looked good on him, fitting if you got to know him. You never noticed a thing he did without his usual courage, not up until you two got into a relationship. Funnily, he wasn't such an egotistical man when it came to showing affection.

Finally finding the motivation to get up from your place on the couch, you popped your joints after sitting for so long. The TV show you've been watching just ended for the night, and as much as you would have loved to stay in a lying position, you still had to shower and get to your actual bed to sleep. It was better to avoid back pain after all.

"Where are you going?"

Looking down at the voice, your boyfriend was blinking bearly at you from between the pillows, clearly having just woken up. He always offered to keep you company while you watched your shows, even when he himself wasn't interested, but that sometimes resulted in this; him sleeping peacefully next to you, tucked under the blankets and pillows. You didn't mind too much to be fair: he was quiet when asleep, the opposite of what he was like when awake. You didn't mean it in a bad way of course, he just had a habit of commenting on whatever you were watching, often making you slightly irritated. Lucky for him that he was good at making it up to you, so it was hard to stay mad at him for long.

"Taking a shower."

"Come back."

You almost laughed at the way he reached his arm out towards you, then let it uselessly flop back onto the couch. You barely understood what he was mumbling, but you had the routine of these nights to help.

"Sorry baby."

"Why not?"

"We can sleep in our bedroom, you know?"

"Please?"

It was rare he begged, so taking pity on his pouting form, you sighed and turned your body back towards him.

"Fine. But what do I get?"

"Come here."

Plopping yourself down into his open arms, Horangi leaned up with the intention of kissing you. Before you could appreciate his affection though, he stopped suddenly, just barely before your lips could have met in the middle. His body went still under you, eyes more awake and blinking uncertainty up at you.

"It's okay, go ahead."

At your soft encouragement, he seemed to come back to himself. Blinking a few times he moved, finally cutting the distance between your lips short.

You knew he was insecure about the scars adorning his face, as much as he tried to hide it. Horangi always acted confident, no matter what he did or who he was with, but when it came to showing you who he really was, sometimes he seemed to shrink into himself and try to hide. You weren't giving up however; he's been doing much better with showing his love openly for you and not letting his insecurities get in the way of his actions, so you were proud of him for trying. You knew it wouldn't get solved from one day to another, but he has already given you much to love and believe. It was only a matter of time before he was his usual self-assured self when it came to kissing you too.

Alex Keller - "passionate kiss"

Any chance he got, he managed to make physical contact with you, one way or another. A hand on the small of your back, an arm across your stomach, forehead resting on your shoulder; you name it and he has done it before. This might have been because of the fact that he spent a lot of time away from home, but physical touch was simply just his love language really. Besides, you didn't mind how touchy he was, enjoying the closeness just as much as he did.

Thankful for the previously cut up vegetables on the wooden board, you turned just in time to catch your boyfriend entering the house. Closing the front door behind him, Alex looked a little rugged; he's been mowing and watering the lawn all morning, so it wasn't anything you haven't expected. Still, the sight made you shake your head with a fond smile, directing him to the bathroom upstairs for a cleanup before he even considered touching and dirtying you. He complied easily enough after some good-natured banter, promising to come back down clean a few minutes later.

Just as you were ready to put every ingredient into the pot placed on the stove, two strong arms wound themselves around your middle, pulling you into a solid chest behind you. As kisses found their way onto your neck, you couldn't help but laugh at the feeling of a mustache tickling your sensitive skin.

"Alex! Come on, you know that tickles!"

"But I'm clean now, so it's free game!"

"No please."

Slightly pulling away while giggling, you turned in his hold and laced your arms around his neck.

"You might be clean, but I have a soup to cook. If you distract me, lunch won't be ready anytime soon."

"Would that be such a bad thing?"

At his cheeky reply, you let one of your hands hit his chest gently, shaking your head at him. You couldn't deny how happy you were however, a smile ever-present on your face.

"It would. Now, let me work please."

"Just give me a minute."

Before you could reply, his left hand came up to hold your face tenderly. Leaning down, Alex kissed you, silencing whatever protest was on your mind at that moment.

Humming into his mouth, you reciprocated immediately, not caring too much about the food behind you anymore. As you deepened the kiss, enjoying the feeling of your lips on his, you let more of your body weight rest against him, making his hold tighten slightly. His other hand soon sneaked up from your waist, grasping into your hair lightly. He made sure not to pull and hurt you in any way, he was just anchoring you to himself even closer — more securely. It was a habit of his you learned to love very quickly, and he wasn't one to bother hiding how much he enjoyed it every time either.

After a few minutes have passed locked together like that, you finally pulled away and put some distance between the two of you.

"Don't think I will let you get away with this."

"I wouldn't dream of it."

Farah Karim - "forehead kiss"

Constantly fighting wasn't an easy thing, not for the body nor the soul. After days, weeks of being on the field and putting up with everything happening around you, it wasn't a surprise when relaxing and letting go became difficult to anyone who has experienced it. For her, it seemed especially hard, but with your help, she found there was a way to calm the storm inside her.

Your girlfriend wasn't big on showing signs of affection in public and you didn't blame her for that in the slightest. As a Commander and highly respected soldier, Farah had a front and reputation to uphold, and there wasn't really a place for being openly emotional. That didn't mean she didn't love you, and you always got reassured by the little things she did for you — waving when leaving from base, giving you a subtle nod to let you know something, sending you a little smile in a private way. It was hard to stay loving and affectionate when operating a whole Force, and you understood it enough to not demand anything she couldn't give or do.

Routinely, when Farah finally came home after a long period of time, it took her a few days to ease back into a calm state. She was always level-headed, out in the field or in everyday life, but all the fighting took a mental toll on her. She didn't like to let you know when she was doing bad or just had a difficult time getting used to the quiet and calm of home, but you always noticed anyways. It wasn't hard: when you know someone as deeply as you two knew each other, it was nearly impossible to miss signs like those. Fortunately, you had a good way of helping her, one that didn't require more than a little patience and your love.

"Love?"

You stepped into the bedroom while calling out for your girlfriend, putting a mug on the nightstand.

"I'm here."

Feeling her presence behind you, you turned and greeted her with a smile.

"Can I read to you?"

It was usual for you two to end up under the soft covers tangled up together, but free just enough to read one-one book by yourselves. It wasn't unheard of either that one of you offered to read aloud, because both of you found it calming and a good way to spend time effectively together. Now, Farah had a slight frown on her face, visibly considering your offer. Her stance was still stiff, gaze often darting back and forth in any room she stepped in. You understood of course; she was barely back from a long mission, it was tough to get back to your usual routine. After a few seconds though, her expression softened and with a nod, she closed the door behind her.

Turning around, you made quick work of the sheets and pillows, laying down in a way your back was still propped up onto the bed frame. Grasping a book you were half finished with, you opened your arms in an open invitation.

"Come here."

It didn't take long until you were both comfortably under the blankets, legs interviewed and her head on your shoulder. The room was quiet except for your soft words, and within minutes, Farah was breathing steady next to you, body finally relaxing.

It went like that for some time, and when you went to turn the page and start a new chapter, her voice stopped you.

"Thank you."

Untangling herself a little, she pulled herself up and gently kissed your forehead. It was unhurried and entirely chaste, just like her kisses usually were; in this form, they meant more than anything else in her book, and by default, in yours too. Sensing how grateful she was, you gave her a warm smile, and with a gentle hand on her back, you directed your attention back to the book in your other. It wasn't long before she was snoring softly against you, quiet breaths rhythmically hitting your chest.

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