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#I am not done talking about this film yet

tossawary · 19 hours

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So, the Jackson "The Hobbit" movies get rid of the dwarves having musical instruments, rather adding a very atmospheric humming to the "Over the Misty Mountains" song. And I like this adaptational choice just fine, I think it sounds good, and because the question of "What happens to the instruments? Are they taking clarinets and a harp and etc. on the quest?! Are the musical instruments magical?" has bugged me for years. And I do think this choice suits the general *waves hand vaguely* more "serious / grim / lower high fantasy" aesthetic cultivated by the previous Jackson "Lord of the Rings" films.

But I do like the mental image of the Company being a very literal band going on a quest, because I think it's funny and delightful and unique. If I was doing an animated movie in particular, I would not like be rid of the musical instruments during that scene. The vibe is very magical. Very whimsical. And whimsy does not have to be wholly separate from very serious subject matters! I think it would be very cool if the dwarves had more casually magical tools generally, which would do some easy additional worldbuilding for the level of craftsmanship in this world, and could fit in perfectly well alongside hidden doors and invisibility rings and mithril shirts and glowing swords and jewelry that never comes accidentally undone.

If someone did a version where all the dwarves are carrying musical instruments throughout most of the quest in this way and the creator really leaned into the music generally and audio-visual relationship in film specifically, I would absolutely watch it. That sounds amazing. It wouldn't necessarily have to be a musical or an opera as well, though that would also be extremely cool. (Personally, I would even also watch a "Fantasia" version of "The Hobbit" FOR SURE. I am an artsy dork like that. Though it might not be my first choice in my ideal creative project.)

I think you could could do some great, whimsical scenes with the dwarves singing at various points on the road, the musical instruments breaking at certain emotional points, the dwarves trying to do little musical spells at various points, and so on. A lot of this stuff could even just be other members of the Company fussing around with these things in the background (trying to play a musical spell to light a fire) while Bilbo has a foreground conversation with Thorin or Gandalf or something. I LOVE in animated (and live) movies when you can see supporting characters bickering or getting into hijinks in the background of a scene. (Also, this world was sung into being in a way, wasn't it? Why not have more magical music?)

(OHHH, the way that Smaug could be done in a more audio- and music-focused version of "The Hobbit" would be SO COOL.)

Alternatively, generally, I've also imagined that there are other dwarves with wagons nearby to take the musical instruments away again (let's say the instruments are not magical in any way and taking them along would therefore largely just be impractical), and that the night at Bilbo's house was actually also a RITUAL meal/meeting for the members of a long journey. You're going on a quest? You seclude yourself with your company, eat, drink, talk, plan, and sing a little to bond as an exclusive group the night before heading off together. Normally, this would have been done back at their own home or something, but they had to get their burglar first.

I think this would be a cool way to slip in characters like Dis and Gimli even just in the background, as family members come to see everyone off, seen fixing Kili's hair or hugging Gloin as the Company prepares to leave Hobbiton that last morning. Thorin and Balin could be exchanging a couple quick lines about how Bilbo hasn't shown up yet, and in the background, we could see Dis hugging Fili (the true purpose of a well-done adaptation of "The Hobbit" is to break my fucking heart) and Gloin's wife drawing off with a wagon full of musical instruments while young Gimli waves tearfully! You wouldn't even have to have them say anything to slip them in!

Just... I'm listening to the Andy Serkis audiobook of "The Hobbit" right now and I want to see some gloriously artsy visual adaptations of this world.

#tossawary tolkien #tossawary reading #the hobbit #long post

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appleelevengreen · 17 days

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can we talk about the details in challengers though bc yes the churro scene but patrick hooking a foot under the stool next to him so art will sit closer to him. patrick swiping through all the girls but taking a minute to swipe the guy on the app. the beds pushed together. the mirroring action of art spitting his gum in tashi's hand now and in patrick's hand then. everything, just everything.

#I am not done talking about this film yet #also can we talk about the close ups and the smirks and none of them have any right to be that beautiful #I will need like 3 - 5 business days to recover #then I'll be all right #challengers #zendaya #josh o'connor #mike faist #luca guadagnino

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taexoxosgf · 5 months

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1:00 AM

classmate!mark x fem!reader

“Do you seriously not know the meaning behind Netflix and chill?”

warnings: hickeys, dry-humping

— inspired by @1kook ‘s netflix & chill series

Tapping at your thigh, your impatience grows after every second that passes.

You're not typically this horny or impatient, but to set the scene, you met Mark on the first day of classes. As everyone filed into the auditorium and the professor began rambling, he took the seat alongside yours. Throughout the first week of school, you started talking to him, sharing mutual interests and small talk. You think he's awfully cute. So you went ahead and texted him, wanting to "Netflix and chill" this weekend. Maybe you were being too direct, but the deed had already been done, so you might as well embrace it.

He doesn’t hesitate with a ‘for sure’ text back, not asking further questions or details about your request. You smile at that, excited to explore another side of the cute boy who you see in class.

The day arrives, and he walks over to your flat, smiling affectionately as the door swings open. You both laugh and fond over each other while he cooks dinner and joins you afterward at the dinner table. He's so funny and sweet you realize, finally conversing about things other than school; it just influences you to increase your expectations, and you wonder why hookups aren't typically like this.

Now you're both adjacent to each other, your body cuddling up to his side as the movie plays. It's amusing since Mark hasn't made a single move towards you all night. Aside from the arm around your shoulder, he hasn't attempted to sneak his arm any lower. And he hasn't yet attempted to even kiss you. Perhaps he changed his mind? The movie is almost over, and the line has yet to be crossed. But the voice in the back of your head tells you that just because he didn't plan to tonight doesn't mean he doesn't want to, right? A glimmer of optimism just helps to persuade you more, and once you dig a hole, you only dig deeper.

He laughs at a comedic moment in the film and you find it adorable. He’s so invested and that’s when you realize Mark seriously didn’t come here to have sex with you. It’s not his intention at all. His kindness and investment into everything you both did tonight is probably an effort into a full-on date.

But this only made you more horny and attracted to him. Fuck, you want to jump his bones so fucking bad. And you’re cursing yourself but like a bitch in heat you’re already escalating the situation.

“Mark, the movie’s almost over,” you look up at him.

He’s chuckling at your random commentary then looking down at you, “Yeah, it’s almost over.”

“It’s almost over, and I invited you to Netflix and chill,” maybe the phrase ‘Netflix and chill’ flew over his head but it couldn’t be because you literally texted him those three words.

He blinks at you, almost like he’s unable to process your rhetoric.

“Aren’t we doing that right now?” he quirks. Maybe he’s clueless or the facade is running right past you, but you fully believe Mark actually has no idea about the ulterior motive of the popular phrase.

It’s alarming. So alarming, that you have to sit up from Mark’s side to look at him. You’re really attempting to understand how he doesn’t know the popular booty-call slang, head tilted to the side and all.

“Is there something wrong?” he questions.

You smirk, “Do you seriously not know the meaning behind ‘Netflix and chill?’”

He pauses, staring like a deer in headlights, “It has another meaning? What else would it mean?”

“Markie,” you inch closer to him, so much that your noses brush at the nickname. “You’re so cute,” you say slowly as you straddle him with one leg on each side of his thighs. Thankfully, you wore a skirt, so the thin panties are the only things between the rough material of his jeans.

“Why’d you agree to my text, but won’t do just that?” his breath hitches as you slightly move around on him, but it doesn’t do much because you’re not directly on top of where he needs it most.

“W-what?” he stutters slightly.

“It means,” you bring your lips to graze his earlobe. “You wanna fuck,” u purr and he freezes at the revelation.

“You wanna fuck while some movie plays in the background,” at this, your hips move directly above his crotch and the weight of your body forces him to groan softly in pleasure.

“It’s j-just an excuse,” You whimper as you move gently against him. Mark's hooded eyes tenderly glance at you, his erection slowly increasing against his jeans as the scene progresses. Because of his hesitation, his hands have already found homage at your hips, and you almost grab them to move them yourself.

Already, you're dragging your lips against his neck, sucking and biting to leave gentle marks on his flesh. Your fingers tangle in his hair, unknowingly tugging on his locks, only for him to squirm beneath you, hands attempting to steer your hips. And it's not quite enough for you to cum, but the zipper rubbing against your clit sends goosebumps up your spine, and you moan against his neck.

"Will you do it?" You resume licking a stripe up his neck. When you notice the lust on his face, you can't help but beam a grin.

"Yes," he gasps at the sensation of your motions against him.

"I'll do it."

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likeadevils · 6 months

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Midnights Timeline

This is a very long post that puts all the songs on Midnights in order of Taylor creating them. I’ve also included a few other songs she worked on while writing Midnights and quotes from Taylor and her collaborators talking about her process.

If you don't want to read all that, check out this playlist of the album in order, or this playlist of her entire discography. (warning: there is a very large chunk in the middle of Midnights that I have no information on (Maroon-Dear Reader. On the playlist not the album I have guesses for more than one song)).

I’ve also added this color coded scale of how sure I am of the date:

Confirmed: There is some type of official source for the date

Inferring: Nobody has officially said “This is when we wrote it,” but all available evidence points to that date

Speculation: This date is based off pure vibes and guesswork and is highly likely to change.

Unknown: All that is known is the year (from the US Copyright Offices

Renegade: March 7-15, 2021 (Confirmed)

Aaron: “I wrote the music [for Renegade] at some point after we finished [evermore], and sent it to her, because she was inspired by a llot of the Big Red Machine stuff we were working on. And she had already sung on Birch, a song that hasn't come out yet but is one of the major ones on the record. And I think she wanted to write a song for Big Red Machine. She very much feels like part of this community to me. So I wrote Renegade, the music, and sent it to her. And not unlike a lot of the things we've done together, one day I woke up to a voice memo from her and she had written this incredible song about how anxiety and fear get in the way of loving or being loved. And she was clearly thinking about Big Red Machine. And then we recorded her vocals and everything the week of the Grammys, when I was there in LA, and it was really nice to have something to think about that wasn't related to the Grammys - just to make music because you feel like making it." (transcript from jaimie)

High Infidelity and Would've Could've Should've: March 7-15, 2021 (Confirmed)

Aaron: [Would've Could've Should've], we wrote that song together, and recorded it while we were together in LA for the folklore Grammys. It goes back that far. And the same with High Infidelity. Those songs, we actually recorded in her house, the vocals, we recorded them then. And I just kept making music, and it was kind, after we had made folklore and evermore, I started to have ideas which I would share. And eventually, she obviously made most of Midnights with Jack, and it became something different. But High Infidelity, and Would’ve, Could’ve, Should’ve, and The Great War, and we made Hits Different with Jack and Taylor and I also, and it was great to be part of that record in that way. (transcript from @cages-boxes-hunters-foxes)

The Great War and Hits Different: between April-October 2021 (Speculation)

In the above quote talking about his songs on Midnights, Aaron says "Eventually, she obviously made most of Midnights with Jack, and it became something different," implying his stuff was written before the bulk of midnights in fall. He also says High Infidelity and Would've Could've Should've "[go] back that far," which implies they were some of the earliest stuff on Midnights, so it's safe to assume TGW and Hits Different come sometime afterwards.

Summer 2021: Jack has a session with Sounwave, Sam Dew, and Zoe Kravitz, where the instrumentals for Lavender Haze and likely Glitch are written

Rolling Stone interview with Sounwave: Before Antonoff began to work on Swift’s tenth album, he was cooking up tracks with Spears, Dew, and Zoë Kravitz [...] During a brainstorming session, the quartet put together a track that would eventually become “Lavender Haze.”

November 3 2021: It was announced that Joe has been cast in Stars at Noon, alongside Margaret Qualley, Jack Antonoff's then girlfriend now wife. Since Joe was parachuted into the film last minute, filming had already started, making it likely he left as soon as possible.

Taylor: We’d been toying with ideas and had written a few things we loved, but Midnights actually really coalesced and flowed out of us when our partners (both actors) did a film together in Panama. Jack and I found ourselves back in New York, alone, recording every night, staying up late and exploring old memories and midnights past.

November 8: Jack gets back from touring with Bleachers. Let the games begin.

Vigilante Shit: November 2021 (Speculation)

Vigilante Shit is the sole solo writing credit on the album, which implies it was written before her and Jack were holed up together 24/7. Also Scooter and his wife divorced in July. Beyond that there's no evidence this is early in the process, besides it making sense that Taylor wrote this alone, brought it to Jack, and then fell into a creative inferno.

Maroon, Anti-Hero, You're on Your Own Kid, Midnight Rain, Bejeweled, Labyrinth, Mastermind, Paris, and Dear Reader: November/December 2021 (Inferring)

I don't have enough info on the making of any of these songs to give them each their own little blurb, but if anything pops up I will update this post and reblog it letting y’all know.

Question..?: After November 21, 2021 (Inferring)

We know Rachel Antonoff, Dylan O'Brien, and Austin Swift were there the day they recorded it thanks to this behind the scenes footage of them recording the cheering vocals. Dylan was filming The Vanishings at Caddo Lake in Louisiana sometime between October 5 and November 20. I don't know exactly which dates he was filming-- he was in New York for All Too Well filming in late October and to attend the premiere on November 12, but since we know for sure he was in Louisiana on the 20th, I'm just gonna Occam's Razor it and say Question was written sometime after he got back from that.

You're Losing Me: December 5, 2021 (Confirmed)

December 17, 2021: Filming wraps on Stars at Noon, and with it the bulk of recording for Midnights.

Lavender Haze: Early 2022 (Speculation)

Lavender Haze, Snow on the Beach, and Karma are the only songs to have Henson Recording Studios credited (I can't find studio credits for the 3am tracks so there is possibly more on there). This could point to them all being recorded around the same time time, or it could be in reference to Jack and Sounwave's original recording sessions taking place at Hensen. I lean towards the former, since 1) it seems like the Winter 2021 sessions were mostly between Taylor and Jack, and the spring sessions have other collaborators, and 2) the tabloid rumors about Taylor and Joe getting engaged really started heating up in February 2022. On the other hand, Sounwave implies that there was a notable stretch of time between Lavender Haze and Karma, so I totally understand if you want to put it with the rest of the Winter 2021 sessions. Rolling Stone interview with Sounwave: A few months [after Jack and Sounwave wrote the instrumentals], Antonoff reached out to Spears, Dew, and Kravitz to see if he could pitch [Lavender Haze] to Swift, who loved it immediately. She wrote lyrics inspired by a Mad Men scene, numerous tabloid rumors and online gossip about her relationship status, and “1950s expectations.” “When Jack brought us in the hear for the first time, all our mouths dropped. She took it to a whole new world and made it her own. She created different pockets we did not hear.”

Glitch: Early 2022 (Speculation)

Rolling Stone interview with Sounwave: "Glitch,” one of the bonus songs on the Midnights (3am) edition, was born from the same studio session as “Lavender Haze.” I don't know if this means the instrumentals to Lavender Haze and Glitch were done in the same session, Taylor wrote the lyrics in the same session, or both. For the same reason as Lavender Haze, I lean towards this coming later in the process, as well as Glitch mentioning being together for six years, and in November 2021 Taylor and Joe had been together for a little over 5 years. That being said, Taylor could've assume the album was going to come out in 2022, and that she would stay with Joe until then, and bump up that date a bit. It's still very up in the air.

February 5, 2022: Taylor is photographed leaving Jack's house holding a keyboard.

Sweet Nothing: Spring 2022 (Inferring)

Joe is a co-write on this, meaning they likely wrote it after he got back from filming. It also mentions their trip to Ireland in 2021 and refers to it as "last July", implying it was written in 2022. While I was writing this timeline Taylor liked this post on twitter, implying that at least the second verse is in reference to Paul and Linda McCartney. The quote is from his poem Blessed, which you can read in this interview (TWs for death and cancer)

Bigger Than The Whole Sky: March 2022 (Inferring)

Claire Winter, a close friend of Taylor's, posts on Instagram that she miscarried. (I toyed with whether or not to add this, but seeing as Claire Winter made the information public herself, I decided to put it in. If she ever takes that Instagram post down, let me know and I'll delete this part.)

Snow on the Beach: April 1, 2022 (Inferring)

On April 1, Lana Del Rey posts a video on Instagram of Jack in the studio with an unidentified female voice in the background. Two days later she posts this photo, which Taylor and Jack both include in posts about Midnights/Snow on the Beach. Lana: Well, first of all, I had no idea I was the only feature [on that song]. Had I known, I would have sung the entire second verse like she wanted. My job as a feature on a big artist’s album is to make sure I help add to the production of the song, so I was more focused on the production. She was very adamant that she wanted me to be on the album, and I really liked that song. I thought it was nice to be able to bridge that world, since Jack [Antonoff] and I work together and so do Jack and Taylor. Taylor: And with Snow On The Beach, which features the genius Lana Del Rey, very lucky to have collaborated with her on that. And Dylan [O’Brien] was actually in the studio with me and Jack, because a lot of the time we record at his place, and Dylan was just hanging out, drinking wine with us, and listening to stuff, and he was just trying out the drum kit there. He wasn't serious. But we were drinking wine, and we were sort of like, 'We haven't recorded the drums for this one yet! See if you want to...' and he played the drums on the song. Sometimes it just happens like that. (transcript once again from jaimie)

Karma: Spring 2022 (Speculation)

Rolling Stone interview with Sounwave: The bubbly “Karma” came later [than Lavender Haze and Glitch], when Antonoff reached out to Spears for any other ideas he may have to contribute to the album and its synth-pop vision. “‘Karma’ was just a last-minute Hail Mary,” Spears says. “I remembered I was working with my guy Keanu [Beats] and had something that was too perfect not to send to her. As soon as I sent it, Jack was instantly like ‘This is the one. Playing it for Taylor now. We’re going in on it.’ The next day, I heard the final product with her vocals on it.”

April 19, 2022: Elle's interview with the Conversations with Friends cast is released, and when Joe is "asked if he hopes to continue writing songs, Alwyn simply says, “It’s not a plan of mine, no.”" It's possible this means Sweet Nothing was yet to be written, but I think it's more likely Joe was just denying in order to not create hype around a song that wasn't officially announced yet.

May 2022: Taylor teases Labyrinth lyrics in her NYU Commencement Speech and says m i d n i g h t very prominently on this instagram post, meaning by early summer she was likely confident in the album's name and which songs would make the tracklist.

And that's all for this timeline! Check out my others:

TIMELINES: debut • fearless • speak now • red • 1989 • rep • lover • folklore • evermore • midnights PLAYLISTS: debut • fearless • speak now • red • 1989 • rep • lover • folklore • evermore • midnights • entire discography GENERAL: tag

#taylor swift #timeline*#wrote this one in a haze with frequent breaks to pace around cause i was shaking so much #so if theres a typo that’s why #as always lmk if you spot a mistake/want further sourcing on anything/etc #AHHHHHH!!!!!

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dotthings · 11 days

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Let me debunk a few more misinformation things about what Misha or Jensen say about Destiel. (Bolding some particularly relevant things I really want people to notice).

At Darklight Con Nov 8, 2020, Misha firmly said Cas's confession was about romantic feelings for Dean. (Notably, this is a European con, not CE in the US). Misinformation has sometimes been spread that Misha said Cas's confession wasn't romantic. Not true.

Misha then added that in his "interpretation" it was "unrequited" but continued on that "I'm speculating" and "I don't know what's in Dean's head. And Cas doesn't know." Misinformation has gotten around that Misha ever confirmed that Dean absolutely isn't in love with Cas back.

He then said the same things Jensen has said about supporting people's interpretations. They align on this viewpoint. (Antis don't want to listen, it's inconvenient for them).

He confirmed that Jensen was all in supporting Cas's confession scene. And that Jensen was told 3 months in advance. Since some have tried to claim it was sprung on Jensen at the last minute, a week before filming or something, and it was all an evol nefarious plot to lie to Jensen, trick him, and ambush him.

I mean, come tf on.

Jensen had three months to think about it.

And it's not only common practice on TV to have actors not know things too far in advance so their performances can be as spontaneous as possible, Jensen himself has said it's his own practice not to read ahead, so Dean's reactions can be as spontaneous as possible, and Jensen was in fact was given more than the usual amount of lead time about Cas's confession.

And was all in.

But especially interesting to me is how Jensen and Misha's comments mirror each other's take about the other's character.

Jensen and Misha have both told us they talked about Destiel.

Am I being clear enough here? They have talked about it. With each other. Often. They have an understanding among each other. (Yet antis seem to be in complete rampaging denial about this little fact).

And Jensen and Misha's takes often complement each other's, fit each other's on certain points, or even align via different styles and slightly different approaches and takes but actually boil down in essence to the same thing, plus both of them keep saying to fans...run with your interpretation.

It's like...both of them were trying to hand it to us, in any way they could manage, despite all those network shenanigans where it's not going to be acknowledge on any official SPN PR (like DVD set extras...and it seems like Misha kinda went, you know what if the network won't back press about this, I'll do it myself so he said things, here and there, to say what this was, dodging the CW sniper).

Misha's take: Cas has no idea what's in Dean's head and Cas doesn't know whether Dean is in love with him romantically the way Cas loves Dean or not. Jensen's take: in Dean's pov, because of Cas being an angel, assumption that his love is so cosmic and unfathomable no human can grasp it, so Dean has no clue as to the specific nature of those feelings for him. Mirroring!!!

(Side note...there's plenty of room here for an interpretation that Cas did know how loved he is at the moment The Empty took him. And I think that too...but that doesn't mean he knows Dean is romantically in love with him back, just that Dean loves him, period).

BTW, Jensen never said anything about how he played things wrt Dean's feelings for Cas, what he said was he never played Dean knowing Cas was in love with Dean (because Dean didn't know Cas was in love with him!!!!).

(And omfg I am so sick and tired of seeing Jensen misquoted about that, and it's never done with good faith motives, ever.)

It's about what Dean didn't know. It's about what Cas didn't know.

Which is the actual plot!! We watched!!! Dean and Cas not realizing the other one is in love with him is just so *chef's kiss* exactly miscommunication destihell. Was always part of the story, how many times did we talk about this ourselves?

Receipts below.

#Misha Collins #Destiel #Jensen Ackles

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sexydreamgirl · 11 months

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hey heraa, i would REALLYYY appreciate if you helped me out on this one question that has been killing me rn (it’s in bold on the bottom just incase u want to skip the tangent)

honestly, if i succeed in fulfilling myself that you replied, it'll raise my faith a little bit when/if I see that you replied.

I've been on this journey for the longest time I'm talking divineangelbee, planet, cine, bibi, dreamgrlsworld, daphne, the void obsession, the alpha waves, the mindless or just feeling while affirming, the self and void concept challenges for 2 weeks, and now applying states after edward art and neville and having things click with aphroditeapprentice and blushydior etc ; applying for months. But guess what idk what is happening and what's holding me back!

i know that if i was in the state, I obviously wouldn't be sending this message but since it doesn't matter what I do in the 3D and my human self wants to ask for help, I will ask for guidance.

I've even fulfilling myself, returning to the wish fulfilled whenever I think of my desire, I prioritize the inner man over getting physical results but you know, if someone was doing it right, it would reflected by now right? of course it would because it's the law.

I don't why it hasn't done so yet and l'm slowly and at the same time very quickly losing my faith because it's been like what, 2/3 years since I found out about the law from tumblr? I KNOW I'm meant to be living my dream life in a little cottage in Europe or big mansion in LA, I KNOW I was meant to succeed and live a life of my dreams because I deal with hard things in my life, I AM! MEANT TO SUCCEED. but what am I doing wrong if it's been months of fulfilling myself that it should've been my dominant state already? I feel good and every time I doubt, I know and tell myself that I ALREADY experience my desire in imagination and it HAS to reflect?

thank you, if you answer this I really would appreciate it :)

I'm going to try my best to answer this without further confusing you so sit tight and in the case that I do bring forward any confusion, do let me know.

In a nutshell, the point of manifesting (or moreso the purpose of life itself) is to appease hunger. That is, to free yourself from the feeling of desire (wanting something) by giving it to yourself whether it's money, the mansion, the dream life, appearance, I could go on and on because whatever you want to acquire is possible of being acquired (because imagination is limitless). If you know the law, you know imagination creates reality so imagination will always be your workshop and that is essentially how you change self (I AM).

Imagination isn't separate from reality because imagination is reality itself. Man's greatest downfall has been to separate the two as completely independent when that could not be further from the truth. When you turn to imagination and you use it to think about what it would feel like to have the face card and the mansion and the dream life, you are present in that moment to the point where it feels like a real experience. If you allow yourself to bask in the feeling of the wish fulfilled, it's as real of an experience as you reading this very post. Neville has previously discussed procuring the wish fulfilled in a way as if you are traveling through time to the end and witnessing the outcome firsthand, then you make your way back to the present and trust that it will unfold as you experienced. It's like when you watch a film you've previously watched and you already know what the ending is, you don't stop to think what could happen, you already know what will because you saw it yourself.

If time is a relevant concern for you and you're looking around to see if it's there, I'm afraid to say you haven't fully yielded to it. You simply thought of it and not from it. If you experienced it and knew that it was done, you would be appeased from hunger and you wouldn't desire it anymore. How could you want something you already have? Time is an obstacle that is standing in between you and the state of consciousness that asserts you as being someone who has the desire in question already in their possession. When you nail yourself to that state and I mean you fully yield yourself to it to the point where you don't feel separate from it anymore, the feeling of desire will vanish. You don't care about time, you don't care about the senses, nothing moves you. Why would it if you know it's yours? (Hint: this is the Sabbath)

I constantly receive so, so many "I did all of this, why hasn't it happened?" questions and I believe you when you say you really gave it your entire heart, but you should sit and ask yourself genuinely if you actually focused more on the thing itself versus quenching the desire you have for it.

I'm here once again to swear by the State Akin To Sleep and why I love it so much. I won't repeat the process since I went into it quite extensively so I highly suggest you read the post.

“Whatsoever you desire, when you pray, believe that you have received it, and you will.”

When I started understanding the SATS through the idea of it as "praying", it made so much more sense to me. You're not visualizing to get, you're visualizing to feel its reality so desire vanishes. If you use imagination to feel its reality (believe that you have received it), the 3D will follow and it shall materialize. This is one of the reasons why I love the state akin to sleep so much. It's such a simple and easy way to define the end and identify yourself with it.

When I use the SATS, I let myself sit with the wish fulfilled by thinking of what the end would look like, what would I hear, who would I be with, what would I see, etc. and I focus on it until I'm consumed by the feeling and acceptance of it and then bring myself back. I trust that my prayer has been answered because I felt the reality of it, so that must mean it's already mine. If for some reason I would feel doubtful or separate from that state of consciousness, I would simply induce the state again and focus on its reality. Do this as many times as you need to until you no longer feel compelled to because you're certain that your prayer has been heard (See: the Sabbath).

I highly encourage you to assess how you're going about manifesting and to use the State Akin To Sleep to catch the mood so you can nail yourself to it. You said it best yourself, you were meant to succeed and live the life of your dreams. Remember that failure is only an option if you let it be one. Don't give up, my love <3

#hera's greatest hits

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merrybloomwrites · 2 months

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A Podcast Love Story

Summary: The story of Shayne & Y/N, as told through a series of podcasts

AN: This story was inspired by a request from someone that tumblr isn't letting me tag, so that's dumb lol

Also, I tried to follow the actual timeline of when these podcasts were posted but I did take some creative liberty, so some things might not match up with when the were really posted irl

Wordcount: 3.4K

CW: very light mention of smut, talk about pregnancy

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SmoshCast #75 – How Shayne and Courtney Feel About Being Shipped Together

Dating someone who’s in the public eye was not entirely unexpected. You live in Los Angeles after all. When you and Shayne started dating in 2019 you decided to keep it a secret for a while. Neither of you were ready to share your relationship with the Smosh viewers yet.

This became more difficult when you decided to quarantine together in 2020 during the pandemic. Two weeks after he returned from Australia, when you were sure that neither of you had Covid, you packed your necessities and headed to Shayne’s. It was nice being together, but it did get complicated when he needed to film videos.

Sometimes you would go for a walk while he was filming. Other times you would hide in the other room. He’d triple check all his footage before submitting it to make sure you, and any of your belongings, weren’t in frame.

One day, a few months in, he and Courtney are recording an episode of the SmoshCast. He sets up at the small dining table in the corner of the living room. You’re on the couch, meaning you can’t be seen on the camera, but you are in Shayne’s view. It might not have been the smartest decision since you’re now stuck there for the entire time they record, but you have a book and a snack, so you get cozy.

You can only hear Shayne’s side of the conversation, so you’re not fully paying attention. That is, until you hear Shayne say, “If we so much as say hi to each other, Shartney fans poop themselves.” The mention of this ship between him and his castmate has you more focused on the conversation. Not because you’re jealous, because that would be ridiculous, but because all of you find it quite funny how hard the two of them are shipped.

He can’t stop looking over to you for the entire ten-minute segment. It’s subtle, but there’s definitely a connection between the two of you. It’s obvious that he’s reassuring you that there’s nothing to worry about. You especially like when he says, “You can ship me with anything. Ship me with bananas.” And you nearly lose it when he says, “I am begging you, please, make a ship edit of me and Kathy Bates.”

They continue to talk and the conversation steers towards how fans make assumptions based on what they see in videos. Shayne brings up how people were concerned about him for a few weeks at the beginning of quarantine. He starts to explain, “I was very quiet in those early podcasts, but the reason was, one, I was not getting enough sleep. I kept staying up late,” here he looks at you before quickly saying, “playing video games.” You again struggle to keep quiet, knowing that was not the truth. Unless “playing video games” has now become code for “having intimate moments with my girlfriend”.

He continues to talk about how his setup for recording was less than ideal and finishes by saying, “I wasn’t sad at all, I was actually having great days.” Again, you share a quick look, showing that you agree with him about how wonderful it’s been since you started living together.

They wrap up the podcast a little while later and Shayne is officially done with work for the day.

“Playing video games, huh?” you say teasingly.

“Oh yea, totally a pro gamer now,” he replies.

“You think so?” you say with a laugh.

“I mean, I could always use more practice,” he answers as he lifts you from the couch, carrying you to the bedroom.

SmoshCast #85 – American Horror Story: Adulting

A few months later and things are looking better in the world. This means a return to the office for everyone. You’d landed a job at Smosh, working in post-production, so now you and Shayne work together. You were nervous about being around each other all the time, but luckily there’s still a fair amount of the day when you’re apart. Shayne is often filming or in meetings or busy writing, and you spend most of the time at your desk working on the next video.

But sometimes, you get a break to see him. Shayne, Damien, and Coutney are filming a new SmoshCast episode, and you sneak in to watch from the back. The theme is “Adulting”, and they somehow start by talking about how they interact with the younger generation. You can’t help but smile as Shayne talks about his niece, endeared by the relationship he has with her. He also mentions grandchildren, which makes your imagination run away thinking about your future together.

You stay for a little while and just watch your boyfriend. He’s not saying anything crazy, or doing anything special, but you love listening to him give advice. You also love how attentive he is to his friends, how closely he listens to everything they say. When you do go back to your desk you take a moment to think about how lucky you are that this man, with a solid head on his shoulders and more emotional maturity than you’ve ever seen before, is your other half.

Smosh Mouth #5 – Shayne and Y/N Share Their Love Story

“Welcome back to Smosh Mouth, I’m Shayne.”

“And I’m Amanda.”

“And today we have a very special guest. We have my lovely wife, Y/N Topp,” Shayne says, smiling at you as he finished the introduction.

“Hello everyone,” you say into the microphone.

It’s weird being in front of the camera. It’s only happened a few times in the years that you’ve been with Shayne. Even though you also work at Smosh, you’re always behind the scenes. You’ve only really been in videos that highlight the crew, so the focus has rarely been on you.

But today you’re finally sitting down to do a podcast for the channel. They’d just revived the podcast after a nearly three-year hiatus.

So much has happened in your personal life since then. At the time that SmoshCast was airing, your relationship with Shayne was fairly new, and you weren’t ready to share it yet. Within a year of that last episode going live, you two had gotten engaged. This led to you guys getting married, and as of 22 weeks ago, you being pregnant with your first child.

“Well, I for one am very excited to have you here today,” Amanda says. “I cannot wait to grill you on every last detail of your relationship.” You all laugh at that, knowing that while you’re sharing more personal information than you ever have before, no one is going to push you or Shayne too much.

“So,” Amanda continues. “Tell me, how did you meet?”

You look to Shayne, encouraging him to start the story.

“We met in 2019,” he begins. “Someone had recommended a book to me, so I was at the library to pick it up. While I was looking through the shelf Y/N came over and started looking through the section as well. We kind of started at opposite ends and moved to meet in the middle. Turns out we were both looking for the same book.”

“No you were not!” Amanda interjects.

“We really were,” you say to confirm. “We basically have the most cliché meet-cute story.”

“Ya, no kidding! So, what happened next?” she asks.

“Well, I had picked up the book first and noticed Y/N glance at it. So we started talking and I told her she should take the book first and I’d read it when she’s done.”

“And then he very smoothly said he could give me his number so I could tell him when I was returning the book,” you add.

“Look at you,” Amanda says. “Making the bold moves.”

“I had to give it a try,” Shayne says with a laugh.

“And it worked. I texted him a couple weeks later, the day before I returned the book.”

“I didn’t have her number,” Shayne says. “And I was kicking myself for not getting it because waiting to hear from her was pretty torturous I’m not gonna lie. So as soon as she texted about the book I asked her on a date.”

“Which actually shocked me at first. I really though he only was interested in the book.”

“Did you know who he was?” Amanda asks. “Like, had you watched Smosh or seen him on TV before you met?”

“I did know who he was. I had just started watching Smosh, so I recognized him but really didn’t know much about him.”

“Did you start watching old videos and try to get to know more about him after you met? Or after he asked you out?”

“I tried not to. I wanted to get to know him naturally, not through videos online. But there was a video posted after he asked me out but before our date called ‘Why We’re Bad at Dating’ and I couldn’t resist. And I truly think it helped us hit it off on that first date.”

“How so?” Amanda inquires.

Shayne takes that question, saying, “In the episode I talked about what I do on dates that kind of lead to there not being a second date. And Y/N/N called me out on that.”

You chime in, adding, “He said he puts on a ‘CW’ version of himself. I told him not to do that. And I admitted to being just as anxious about the date as he was so we should just forget the pressure and hang out and get to know each other.”

“Well, that’s adorable,” Amanda says. “So obviously you started dating and kept dating. When did you take the next step?”

Shayne takes this question and says, “I asked her to be my girlfriend a couple months later. And then we moved in together shortly after the start of the pandemic. Which was slightly challenging when it came to filming at home for Smosh since we wanted to keep the relationship a secret for a while.”

“Yea, how in the world did you make that work?”

“We were very, very careful,” you say. “I definitely hid in the bathroom more than once to stay out of frame.” At this you all laugh, and you add, “Totally worth it, though.”

“Ok, next juicy question. Shayne, how did you propose?”

“So, I hired a sky writer,” he says before laughing and continuing, “No, just kidding. We’d been dating for a year and a half, living together for almost a year at the time. We rented a cabin in Colorado for a few days and on the second day we went on a hike. Packed a picnic, did the whole thing. And I uh, I proposed at the top of the mountain.”

“You guys are literally a romcom,” Amanda quips.

“Would a romcom do a hike proposal? I feel like they’re always at fancy restaurant or the beach. Or like, yelling ‘Will you marry me?’ As the girl walks away down a street in the pouring rain,” you say.

“Oh, a hike proposal is very Lifetime or Hallmark.”

“Good point, it’s totally been in at least one of those movies.”

“Did you like that it was on a hike?” Amanda asks.

“Yea, Y/N/N, did you like it?” Shayne says, pretending to be truly concerned and worried about your answer.

“Hated it,” you say jokingly. “No, honestly, I loved it. Shayne and I always bonded over how much we love nature, so it was perfect for us. I can’t imagine it being any other way. I know a lot of girls want to make sure their nails are done so they get that perfect ring picture, which totally fine, not judging at all. But it definitely felt right that I literally had dirt under my nails and scrapes on my palms from slipping up the hill. Much more authentic that way.”

“And the wedding, anything you want to share about it?” Amanda asks.

“We actually got married in New Mexico,” you say. “It was the central spot for both our families. It was last April, so, beautiful weather during the day. And we lucked out that the temperature didn’t drop too much at night.”

“Very nice,” Amanda replies. “Shayne, anything to add?”

“We kept it pretty small, just family, and close friends. I feel like it was a very typical wedding, but it was ours, you know? So, it was special.” Shayne blushes and you know that your wedding day means more to him than he’s letting on. And that’s fine with you. It was a private event, and even though you’re sharing your relationship now, neither of you want to give away too much about your wedding.

“Aw, he’s getting red,” Amanda jokes. “Did you go on a honeymoon?”

“We did. We went to Hawaii. Neither of us had been before so we knew it would be special for us. We wanted to experience something new together,” you answer.

“Cute!” she replies. “Now, dedicated fans know you guys are together, know you’re married and all that. But there is some news you two have to share that no one knows, is that correct?”

“That’s right,” Shayne says. He looks at you, silently asking if you want to say it. But you can tell he’s bursting to tell everyone, so you give him a nod to continue.

“Y/N and I are having a baby,” he says.

“Hell yea you are! Smosh baby!” Amanda cheers. “Congratulations to you both! Y/N, how are you feeling?”

“Pretty good right now. I’m in the second trimester so my morning sickness is mostly gone, thank god. We’re very excited, got some classes we’re planning to take and we’re reading all the books so I’m sure we will still be extremely unprepared,” you say with a laugh.

“If there’s anyone I trust to figure it out and be great parents, it’s the two of you,” Amanda replies earnestly.

“Thank you, Amanda,” Shayne says.

The podcast continues with Amanda continuing to ask questions and you and Shayne sharing more stories about your time together.

You wrap up recording by mid-afternoon. You have an appointment with your doctor scheduled and since it’s so close to the end of the day, Shayne was also given time off to join you. Everything goes well and as he drives you both home you can’t help but be grateful that the two of you were brought together.

Smosh Reads Reddit Stories: Office Nightmares

It’s been a month and a half since recording your episode of SmoshMouth, and three weeks since it aired. The news that you and Shayne are expecting a baby spread faster than anything you’d experienced before. You’d both received messages of congratulations from more people than you had ever expected: from Smosh fans to Disney fans, and even Goldbergs fans. You never imagined the amount of support you’d receive.

You had the morning off for yet another checkup with your doctor. You get back to the office early, but technically you’re still scheduled to be off, so you opt to sit in as they record the next Reddit Story video/podcast. It’s one of your favorite series currently, and you love listening to Shayne read all the stories.

He begins the third story, reading the title, “Am I the asshole for telling my wife that I’m not taking off of work to be present at our daughters’ birth?”

They joke around for a bit, and then he dives into the story, reading how the man explains that he couldn’t take off work cause there’s a project and they need him there. The wife finds out that’s a lie, and it mad that he didn’t take time off. He says he wants to work more so they’d have more money after the birth, and that the baby wouldn’t even remember him being there. He finishes by saying he doesn’t know why it’s such a big deal to be there at the birth, and even blames the wife’s hormones for her being upset about it.

Shayne, along with Spencer and Tommy begin to share their thoughts on the story. You smile and nod as Shayne makes the point of, “He keeps saying the baby’s not gonna remember, but you’re fucking wife will!”

They even give reasons why they’d understand him not being there, with Tommy saying, “If they were really desperate for cash then I’d get it,” and Spencer saying he’d understand if he were terrified of being around childbirth.

The boys then look over to you and Spencer says, “Y/N, you’re pregnant, how do you feel about this story?”

“Yea,” Tommy adds, “would you kill Shayne if he did this?”

“Oh, for sure!” you call out.

“C’mere,” Shayne says. “You’re probably the one most qualified to give an opinion here.”

You look to Kiana who’s directing the video and she gives you a nod, so you walk onto the set and stand behind Shayne, leaning down so your face is next to his and your voice will get picked up on his microphone.

“What are you’re thoughts on this?” Tommy asks.

“You guys definitely made a lot of great points. I mean, childbirth is terrifying, and I keep trying to ignore the fact that I do have to actually, you know, birth a human. But I know that Shayne will be there and is studying to be the best support person. I mean, he’s read enough books about it, I think he could deliver the baby himself if necessary,” you say with a laugh.

“I will add, if this was the father of my child, I’d wonder what he actually deems important. Because this is arguably one of the biggest days of everyone’s life. First of all, it should be important to him. It’s literally his child entering the world. It’s a privilege to be one of the first people that baby will ever meet. And then, what will be a big enough deal for him to take off work in the future? Baby’s not gonna remember her first birthday, is he gonna go to that? She has a dance recital at three years old, is he going to think that’s silly and not go?”

“Oh, I didn’t think of that, but it makes sense,” Spencer replies. “He definitely seems to have his priorities and being there for his family isn’t one.”

“I truly cannot imagine not being there when our kid is born,” Shayne says. “My worst fear would be if something kept me from being there.”

“Because you’re a good person,” Tommy says bluntly, and everyone laughs.

You head back off camera as they continue on.

After a few more stories Shayne begins another entry, titled, “And I the asshole for eating the last doughnut before my pregnant coworker could have one?” He looks at you once he reads it and laughs before saying, “Y/N’s face says, yes absolutely you are.”

He reads the story which explains that the young employee ate his allotted two doughnuts, and when the pregnant coworker didn’t show up after half an hour, he ate her two as well. She gets there shortly after and explains she had car trouble and is upset to see everyone had a treat but didn’t save her any. Later, the boss pulls aside the employee to tell him he’d been rude to his coworker.

After he finishes the post the boys discuss the etiquette of eating communal snacks in the office before Shayne says, “Also, if there is one thing I know, it’s that you never mess with a pregnant woman’s food unless you want to die.” You laugh so loudly at this that you know for sure the mics picked it up from across the room.

“Y/N, anything to add?” Spencer says.

You walk over again and state, “Listen, all I’m say is that I’m mad you guys are just talking about doughnuts when we don’t have any. Cause cravings are a bitch and now I am literally not going to stop thinking about doughnuts until I get one.”

After moving offscreen you realize you need to pee, again, so you leave the studio to head to the bathroom. Once you’re out of the room Shayne says, “Hey Kiana, can I have my phone a second?”

“Why do you need your phone?” Spencer asks.

“I gotta doordash some doughnuts.”

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AN: Thanks for reading! Let me know if you have any requests for Shayne stories!

Taglist: @american-girl001 @tatumrileyslover @queenofcaradelle @1nkm0nster

#shayne topp x reader

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agroupiewhore · 3 months

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Some random headcanons about what it would be like to date Enzo and a little imagine with him. I haven't wrote anything in ages so apologies if this is shite. Please no hate but let me know if you like this etc. I am always welcome to feedback/ thoughts/ comments/ concerns. Sorry in advance for grammar and spelling and punctuation

🐟🐳🐙🔵🪱

(THIS MANS JAWLINE IS MORE STRUCTURED THAN MY LIFE)

*Disclaimer: This is my own work and my own self-indulgent ideas, none of this is based in reality. And warnings for making out etc, nothing too explicit (PG-13)

✨️ There is no way you ever have to carry your own bag. This man is rushing in to help you. Whether that's your handbag on date night or all of the shopping bags after your weekly grocery shop run. And yes, he refuses to make 2 trips to the car.

✨️ Speaking of weekly shops runs, Enzo is that boyfriend who always pushes the trolley/ cart.

✨️ Matching Adidas trackies. Never quite knowing whose joggers/ t shirts/ jackets that belonged to.

✨️ Wearing his boxers after sex to go down and make a fresh batch of coffee.

✨️ Is always entertaining you with unusual facts and information about Uruguay and is keen for you to learn and embrace his culture and he is keen to learn more about yours.

✨️ Matching your nail varnish to his bow tie/ tie/ shirt colour etc.

✨️ Midnight beach walks where you tell eachother all your hopes and dreams and desires, all the 'deep stuff' you feel you can't tell eachother when it's daylight as it seems to real.

✨️ This man can dance. He has so much natural rhythm and is such a natural. He'll always be the first one up on the dance floor at parties and cast parties and would much rather spend the time on the dance floor with you rather than talking. Also at home will put on whatever dance music he wants and will just start dancing with you.

✨️ Dressing up as Kylo Ren and Rey for Halloween. "Well I mean... I think we should go as them, it would look good" "Fine"

A Perfect Day

You went to open the fridge to find the pouring cream for your iced coffees but were distracted by the note attached to the front, wrote in Enzo's beautiful cursive handwriting. You smiled to yourself as you read it. He always left the most beautiful love notes and this one was no exception. It simply read "You're my happy place". You took the note off the fridge and folded it neatly and placed it in your dressing gown pocket. You were saving them all, for what you weren't sure, but you pictured a future for you and enzo, maybe one day sticking all the notes down into a scrap book and passing it onto your daughter. To show her how much she should be loved by another. You smiled at the thought and opened the fridge, finally, to find the pouring cream. After Enzo had finished filming, touring and surving the awards season the two of you finally had some time and moved in together. The first thing he had done was gone out and found the most fanciest coffee machine. You guys hadn't even bought a bed yet at that point. You finished making your drinks and went back upstairs. Enzo was sat up in bed, shirtless.

"Well damn, it's hot this morning." You laughed as you sat back in bed next to him, being careful not to spill anything. "Here my angel." You passed him the iced coffee. He carefully took it from you and took that first heavenly sip.

"Hmm, perfecto." He said closing his eyes with a satisfied smile on his face. "I do not know how I survived without having you around, only you can make my coffee right."

"I'm sure there is someone else who could, I could always teach them, it's not too hard. There aren't any crazy secret ingredients." You replied "I just make it with love, I think that's why it's so good." Enzo leaned over and kissed you. "I love you so much, mi amor." He said as he took your hand. "What would you like to do today?"

"We need to go shopping to get a couple things and I was thinking maybe we could have a go at making our own pizzas for dinner?" You suggested, admiring him.

"You always have the best ideas, I have a couple more things to add to the list so please don't let me forget my love." Enzo said as he got out of bed. It would never get old seeing how beautiful he was. It was like he had been sculpted by the world's most incredible artist whose attention to detail no one was able to match. You felt so lucky to not only be with one so handsome but to also have discovered someone with a soul that was equally as beautiful. Enzo gave all of his love and time to you. He was always there, his strength and resilience gave you strength. He was so honoured and humbled to have been given such an important role in the film and the sincerity in which he handled his part was inspiring to you. He never got angry when you would call him in the middle of the night due to the time differences or when he had come home to see that you had used his entire bottle of his most expensive cologne. You had missed him a lot while he was away filming so decided one night to spray a little of it on to the pillow next to you, then a little onto your wrist; just to make it seem like he was there with you, however next thing you knew you'd unintentionally sprayed the entire bottle around the house and it was now empty. Enzo found it to be a most romantic gesture and when he left again to complete filming took a pot of your lip balm to apply each night so it could feel like you'd just kissed him. You heard the shower turn on and got up from the bed again to decide what to wear for today. It was a simple errand day so you grabbed a pair of Adidas joggers and a black long sleeved top.

"Wow, you look so beautiful." He said staring at you.

"What? These?" You laughed. "It's a step up from pajamas."

"You look perfect, I love it so much I will also wear mine." He said as he began looking in the wardrobe.

"Maybe one day you could surprise everyone and wear Nike." You laughed. You admired him once again as he got dressed and then you both finished your coffees. Ofcourse Enzo insisted on driving and you sat in the passenger seat and played DJ. Enzo was a cautious driver, especially whilst you were in the car. He could never understand men who drove dangerously to try and impress their partners. How could he risk your life? He couldn't live with himself if anything happened to you, especially if he was the cause of it. You thought is was sweet how he was always so gentle and careful with you. He parked up outside the supermarket.

"I can get my door." You said quickly, opening it as soon as he turned off the ignition. A few times Enzo had managed to run around to open your car door whilst you rummaged around for your handbag or wallet. He was always the gentleman.

"You know I love opening it for you." He said sweetly as he linked his hand with yours. "I'll push the cart."

"I wasn't even going to try." You laughed. Enzo had to push the trolley. He just had to, it wasn't an option for you ever. It made him feel helpful and supportive. You took the list out of your pocket as you walked in with him and began looking down the aisles.

"We have to get these crisps, you'll love them." You said, standing on your tip toes.

"I got it baby." Enzo said, barely having to extend his arm to grab the pack. There were times when his height came in handy and this was certainly one of them. One time the two of you had a fight that had started off as a result of something so small and petty and then seemingly didn't stop and just kept getting worse and worse. It was the first night the two of you went to bed without apologies or saying how much you loved one another. The next day you didn't say a word to him, you'd returned from work and Enzo had moved all of your favourite snacks and drinks to the top shelves so you had no choice but to talk to him.

"And can you get those ones as well, my love. That flavour looks good too." You said pointing to the packet next to it.

"Anything for you." He said, grabbing everything you asked for. You carried on walking through the supermarket getting everything you needed to make pizza later.

"I'll get this." You said, putting your card on the card reader first.

"No, no!" Enzo insisted. "Baby, we talked about this".

"I'll pay." You said "It's fine honey". Enzo muttered in Spanish about how he should be the one paying. The two of you walked back to the car and together loaded the shopping into the back of the car and drove back.

"Are you going to let me carry any of the shopping?" You asked.

"Not a chance." Enzo laughed and leaned over to kiss you. You kissed him back and gently tugged on the back of his hair to be able to kiss down his beautifully structured jawline.

"I love you so much." You said, between kisses.

"I love you so much more." He said. He kissed the tip of your nose and rested his forehead against yours. His soft eyelashes gently brushing your skin. "I got the shopping, don't worry." You got out of the car and opened the door for him. Enzo grabbed all the bags and followed you in.

"Baby, one day all the bags are going to break and I don't know what you will do." You said as you began putting everything away. "Leave the pizza ingredients out, my love."

"Anything for you, I will cut mine in to a heart shape." He said, doing as you asked him. You smiled at him.

"I might try and do a star or something, I don't know." You said. "Maybe the shape of a coffee bean."

"You know me so well." He said smiling as the last of the shopping was put away. The sun was beginning to set and the sky was turning a beautiful pink colour. You went out onto the balcony and looked out. The view was beautiful, just like your life now. You heard the doors slide open and Enzo stepped outside. You continued to look out as you felt his strong arms wrap around your waist and pull you closer. He kissed your neck gingerly taking in the smell of your perfume and moisturiser. The two of you fitting together perfectly, the final missing piece of the jigsaw to your life.

#lsdln #the society of the snow #enzo vogrincic x reader #enzo vogrincic #imagine

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fancyfeathers · 2 months

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Idea sorta came from @yandere-wishes with Neuvillette having a ballerina darling so credit goes to them for this idea

(A/N- I love when ballet is romanticized, one of my fav things in media, especially since that is what inspired me to become a ballerina. This little idea has darker historical undertones where ballerina at the Paris opera were sort of “entertainment” for the elite after performances. They did this to get money to pay for shoes, room and board, and sometimes these nobles would help them get better roles and teachers for the ballerinas. Ballet these days is much different but it helps if you know the history behind it. Along with that, it will show how painful ballet really is, pretty but painful. All of that said I love this concept and as a ballerina I love my job and would not trade it for anything besides my girlfriend/fiancé, because she is the world to me)

(This short film, LOUISE, displays what the reality of that situation was. Trigger warning, it is dark and has sensitive topics that I mentioned above along with sexual acts and non sexual nudity, but it is very well done, but definitely not for minors.)

Neuvillette would see, not yet meet, his darling for the first time when Lady Furina dragged him along to see a ballet at the Opera House. She was one of the stars of the show that evening, and she was so incredibly beautiful, her movements like glowing water from a creek, soft and flowing from step to step. He would be enamored with her at the first sight, but not yet have the chance to talk to her since after the show she was swept up by the crowd wanting to talk to her after the show. He would go to every show, falling more and more in love with her every time, and every time he would try to go and talk to her but every time she would get swept up in the crowd. Eventually, he decides he’ll go to her dressing room right after the show to meet her personally and hand her the bouquet of flowers Lady Furina had told him to give to her. When he arrives at her dressing room there is talk from inside the door, and he listens in…

“Monsieur, I am afraid I cannot accompany you tonight, my little-“

“I thought you wanted those lessons I promised? It is not every day you get an opportunity like this.”

“Monsieur, please I am so tired-“

“I’ll be outside the opera house, don’t keep me waiting.”

Neuvillette stands there as the man who addressed his darling walks out of her room, a noble, he shoots a glance at Neuvillette but says nothing to the Chief Justice. The door was open to reveal his darling sitting at her vanity, her eyes pained but went wide once she was the Iudex of Fontaine there, holding a bouquet of flowers for her. She stands up before him and offers him somewhat of a curtsy in her panicked state.

“Monsieur, forgive me, I did not know you were there. Is there anything you would like?”

Her voice is terrified as she addresses him and he can feel his heart ache at seeing her like this. There are tear stains on her face to show she had been crying before he came here. He steps forward, into her dressing room and sets the bouquet down, and he quickly notices how many other flowers are in the room alongside his own, but all the others have little notes with them, and when the Iudex reads them it makes him feel disgusted. What was going on here?

“I would like your company.”

“I… I apologize Monsieur, I am already taken for tonight and I am afraid I am too tired for another, my feet are already blistering and-“

“No, I just wish to talk to you.”

“You do?”

And he does, but he does not yet ask about what happens behind closed doors just yet, wanting to gain her trust. He makes a point to come to her dressing room even at night after a performance and gets there first, after all, who would want to bother the Iudex? He soon gains her trust and asks what really happened that night and she explains everything. This is what it is like for the dancers here, a constant cycle that none of them can get out of, if they refuse them they will destroy her so she has no choice but to accept, no matter how much pain she is in after a performance. Her dress doesn’t fit properly, but she can’t afford another so she just has to deal with not being able to breathe. Her shoes are a size too big so she has to tie them even tighter so they don’t come off which just leads to blisters and her toes bruising against the point every time she lands.

He holds her in her dressing room while she cries in his arms. She just wants all the pain to end, it hurts too much…

Not a week later, the owners of the ballet company are called to court for their business malpractices, and they are found guilty. She is left without a job now, but a friend who is the Iudex of Fontaine and is more than willing to take her in.

#yandere neuvillette x reader #yandere neuvillette #yandere genshin #yandere genshin x reader #yandere genshin imagines #yandere genshin impact #yandere genshin x you

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itsmebytch001 · 11 months

Note

Yes, here I am asking myself shit beacuse I am loosing my mind.

(Not really)

Yan Dad Miguel X adpoted daughter who trises to keep out Miguel from his overbeaing love so she baracdes the door to her room????

Hello Me!!! (I'm not mad, just odd)

Miguel Had snatched you out your own universe a few months ago, keeping you in his flat, under constant servelince with the only company you had was LYLA, she was fine but you needed somthing more than her, and Miguel.

When Miguel was home he was lovely, truly unsettling but lovely. He brought you presents like clothing, flowers, jewllery and books! He

would kiss you on your cheek (if You'd let him) and hold you tight.

And at this point Miguel had been gone for three days, LYLA had been good company, shown you films, played games with you, done some dress up all that. And to be honest, you dreaded the time Miguel, or Papa (he made you call him) would come back, it was supposed to be this afternoon, you had made dinner for the both of you as knew it was expected, plus he had been out for 3 days doing god knows what and he must have been tired after all that he should't have to cook for himself aswell.

Honestly you are beggining to feel like a platonic house wife.

Why should you cook, really? You don't owe him aything, he put you here! keeps you here like a dog, treats you like your mad whenever you call him out for how absurd this all is!! You are not his daughter, you are not an alt Gabi and yet he behaves as if you, and almost adult are just a quivering little leaf lost in the wind with out his fatherly guidence!!

The heavily secured door opens, and here you start again to grittedly smile at him as he enters, holding is arms out to you, expecting a hug.

Miguel: "Ahh Y/N! Iv'e missed you dear!

Y/N: "Hey Miguel"

He tiredly sighed and wagged his finger in your face.

Miguel: "Y/N we have been over this, It's Papa"

You turnded around back to the stove to pile up his food, rolling your eyes with your back to him.

Y/N: "Yes papa" You said as genuliey as you could, he bought it!

He sits at the table where you bring him his food, then your own as you sit infront of him acroos the small table, sulking to yourself, my god you were lonely, missing friends, work, your Mum. Miguel in the beggining would always press to you that a young girl having a fatherly mentor was good, so it was fine that he would just appear at your work to pick you, show up at your home to scould you for not cleaning your room, throw out your lunches to replace with the ones me had made for you beacuse his were more nutrious, that it was okay when your boss was being a dick that he then turned up at your work to beat his arse, it was all just his fatherly love!

Now you are here, alone, and trapped.

As you pick at your food he notices your unhappy face.

Miguel: "Mija, why the long face?"

Y/N: " I told you to stop calling me that"

Miguel; "Excuse me?"

Y/N: "I'm not your daughter, I'm not an alternative of your daughter, we aren't even blood!"

Miguel: "Y/n, don't be rude now, we may not be blood but we are family, and as your guardian It is my job to look after you"

Y/N: "Two things, My guardian is supposed to be my Mum, and This-*Gestures to sourdings* Is not taking care of me this is holding me hostage!"

Miguel appears irratated.

Migeul: "I put you here beacuse your mother is reckless, you are reckless! I knew That I could provide you with a batter life!"

Y/N: "THIS IS NOT A LIFE!" You yell throwing your hands up!

Y/N: "And how dare you talk about my fucking Mum! she tried, she was there, she supported me, and YOU just swooped me up, disreagted everything she did for me to sooth yourself for what you are now doing to me!"

Miguel: "ENOUGH!" he yelled slamming his hands down on the table, shaking it, though you ratinally knew he wouldn't hit you, that did't stop you being afraid.

Miguel: "Go to your room"

Y/N: "fuck you Miguel"

Miguel: "Go before I drag you!"

Y/N knew he was serious, so she went begrugged.

Slamming the door behind her, she heard Miguel from the bottom floor yell.

Miguel: "Don't you dare slam my doors in my fucking house!"

Y/N: "I AM NOT YOUR FUCKING GABIRELLA!"

You heard a smash...

Then a silence.

You know, ratinally it's out of cheacter for him to hit you he never would really, but your silly institcs come it.

...barracde the door.

so you did, with chair, a book shelf and a chest of draws the door is slealed.

About half a hour later you hear a soft knock, on the other side Miguel is leaning on the door, full of remorse.

Miguel: " Y/n, I'm s-Listen you were very rude down stairs but I shouldn,t have smashed anything, or swore at you"

You don't answer, you are to angry.

Miguel: "...Y/n?"

...

Miguel: "Answer me Mija"

How dare he call you that, again you think. You remain silent and you hear the door hanlde giggle.

Miguel: "ay, Mija open this door!"

Y/N: Please just go away!"

Miguel knew the door had no locking mechanism, you must put somthinh heavy infont of it.

Miguel: "Not before you open this door right now!"

He knows with his strengh he could really just bust though the door right now, but he wants you to open the door, he wants you to let him in, to him its proof you love him enough as your 'father' to allow him in.

Miguel: "Mij-"

Y/N: "Shut The FUCK UP!" You are so tired of that fucking title!

Miguel snaps, and bursts though the door in one fatal swoop.

The rubble of your bookshelf, chair's and other things clatter aroud your room smashed inot little spliters of wood. You cower on your bed, tucking away from him under a blanket like a little girl. As he body relaxes and he stand's all tall and looming like, he intiannly thinks he'll just yell at you, lecture you about rescepct and saftey for awhile and then cuddle you for awhile, hold you like a baby and carry you around.

But once he actually looked at you he saw how you turtled into yourself, shaking and crying, tensing even more as you heard him walk over to you. truly it saddned him to see you vulnarable, but also awoke a real fathery insticnt to comfort you.

laying on the bed with you he pulled you into him, cowering as he wrapped his arms arouund you, pulling you into his chest as he sighed into your hair.

Miguel: "I'm sorry My love, I'm sorry I scared you so, shhhhhh I say, It's okay, papa is sorry"

if it werent for how truly scared you are, you have told to fuck off again, but until then, all you could do is cry into miguels chest terrified as he tenderily stroked your head and back, shushing you ever so slight.

#yandere miguel o'hara #yandere miguel x reader #yandere miguel #yandere atsv

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hwasdvlly · 11 months

Text

Joy | j.wooyoung

ꨄ summary: as a child at heart, he takes his family to a magical place.

ꨄ pairing: wooyoung x fem!reader

ꨄ genres: romance, family, and fluff

ꨄ word count: 0.8k words

ꨄ warnings/tags: none. established relationship. idol!wooyoung, non-idol!reader, married couple, wooyoung is the cutest father

ꨄ a/n: yay!! i finally got the chance to write again! wooyo made me soft in this one

“Hello, Atiny!”

A bubbly voice from a handsome, cute, sweet, talented, and hot man waves at the phone.

Wooyoung begins to talk about today’s adventure. “I am in the hotel bathroom because I just got done showering and ready to head out with my little family. I would’ve made the members come along, but they denied it because they wanted me to have a good time. Ever since we’ve been touring, I haven’t seen my family for a while. To my surprise and happiness, the love of my life and the babies came out here to see me.”

He sighs softly because he still can’t believe his wife is doing it for him and the kids. Wooyoung continues, “I am truly blessed to have amazing people in my life. So, to make it up to them, I bought Disneyland tickets. Woohoo!” He does a tiny fist bump in the air. “And yes, Atiny. Your Wooyo is taking you there.” He nods his head earnestly with a wide smile.

The video transitions from wet-haired Wooyoung in pajamas to a much dapper Wooyoung. He is dressed in a yellow button-up, ripped denim jeans, and tennis shoes. The man goes for something casual because he wants to feel and look comfortable. He reveals himself through a full mirror in the hotel room.

“I don’t usually wear bright colors, but I figured it was appropriate for a place with excitement,” Wooyoung stated. He gingerly brushes his long bangs that frame his face. “I am keeping this a little longer. I think it’s my favorite out of all hairstyles.” Not only he, but his wife agrees. You like how super soft his hair is.

He then hears high yet adorable singing voices. Wooyoung turns his attention to the noise. A grin etched on his rosy lips. He sees you putting on matching outfits for the kids.

The Jung Twins are the prince and princess of ATEEZ.

Wooyoung moves his attention back to the phone. He still has that smile. “Y/N has Woobin and Wonhee dressed as Mickey and Minnie Mouse.” The father couldn’t stop looking at his angels. He predicts the uncles will die of cuteness once he takes millions of pictures. Woobin and Wonhee have their father’s gorgeous eyes and inherit his playful behavior. As much as the members find it cute, they believe it’s uncanny.

Little Wooyoungs can cause more chaos. However, the guys love them to death.

“Is everyone done?” Wooyoung asked his family.

“Yes, appa!” The little ones answered in unison.

“We are ready!” You joined your kids.

He shifts his gaze from his gaze to his beautiful wife. You are matching his yellow top but with a pretty sundress. Wooyoung is oblivious about being mesmerized by you that he forgets he is still recording. Soon enough, he clears his throat and yells out. “Let’s go!”

The munchkins trailed behind Wooyoung like ducklings in a line. You happily giggled at how they’ll forever follow their dad.

In the vehicle, Wooyoung tells the viewers they are heading to Disneyland while listening to ATEEZ. During the drive, he shows a bit of his kids singing. The twin’s favorite song is Utopia because it brings them comfort. Also, they love to sing along to Uncle Seonghwa’s high-note.

An hour later, the family arrived at the amusement park. Wooyoung got greeted by a few Atinys when entering. Plus, they recognized you and the twins. Wooyoung heard the fans yell they wished them the best of luck as a family.

“Thank you!”

The idol gives his appreciation for his fans’ love. He sends them a finger heart, and they return the gesture.

Wooyoung turns on his phone to film more videos. He has you record him walking with the kids. Woobin and Wonhee hold one of their father’s hands and swing them back n forth. Wooyoung speaks, “I feel like a little boy again. I missed coming to places like this. But I am grateful to experience it with my family."

"Right, guys?” He looks down at his children. Wonhee nods and flashes a cheery smile. “Appa! The castle is so pretty!” Woobin points his tiny finger up ahead. Wooyoung might’ve melted on the spot.

His babies are too cute!

Overall, the four were having endless fun. Wooyoung and his family went on thrilling rides, took pictures with Disney characters, ate delicious food, and gravitated to the park’s beauty. For the final shot of his vlog, Wooyoung records the fireworks.

A rainbow of stars in the galaxy blossoms the night.

Wooyoung stops recording to bring you into a back hug as the kids watch in awe at the bursting colors. He rests his chin on your shoulder. You turned your neck to see him. The fireworks created enough brightness to show your husband’s smiling face. Wooyoung leans close to press his soft, elegant lips onto yours.

“Do you regret marrying me? I haven’t been there for you, Woobin, and Wonhee.” The husband asked his wife in a solemn voice.

You let out a snicker. “Of course not! I vowed to love and care for the biggest baby in the world. Plus, raising the angels of our lives.” Despite his music career, you tell your husband you’ll always be there for him.

Wooyoung's content smile never left his face.

#ateez #atiny #ateez imagines #ateez fluff #ateez x reader #ateez wooyoung #wooyoung #jung wooyoung #wooyoung x you #wooyoung x y/n #wooyoung x reader #jung wooyoung x you #jung wooyoung x reader #jung wooyoung x y/n #wooyoung fluff #jung wooyoung fluff #ateez wooyoung fluff

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mcflymemes · 3 months

Text

PROMPTS FROM THE STAR WARS - THE EMPIRE STRIKES BACK SCRIPT * assorted lines from the 1980 SCRIPT written by lawrence kasdan and leigh brackett (so it might not be accurate to the actual film), adjust as necessary

i've finished my circle and i haven't picked up any life readings.

i'm heading back to the base.

i'll see you shortly.

what's the matter? you smell something?

it's going to be difficult to spot approaching ships.

you're leaving?

you're an extraordinary fighter. i hate to lose you.

well, don't get all mushy on me.

you said you were going to stay. what happened?

don't give me that look.

you're so terrified of your own emotions.

you want me to stay because of the way you feel about me.

i respect you. you're a bold fighter, maybe not the brightest...

you're imagining things.

i say you came running after me because you were afraid i was leaving you without even a kiss.

believe me, you could use a good kiss.

i've had it with your noble mission.

we'll meet again. maybe you'll have grown up a little by then.

i'll see you in hell.

you must survive, [name].

come on, buddy, you aren't dead yet. give me a sign here. don't do this, [name], it's not your time.

we haven't got much time.

nice of you guys to drop by.

we have a visitor.

whatever it is, it isn't friendly.

i'm afraid there's not much left.

now don't panic. we don't know that.

i think we've found them.

how do you know it's them?

does it still hurt?

what would you think if i went away for a while?

what do you mean, you took care of that?

that's two you owe me, junior.

i don't know what he's talking about.

you must have gone completely out of your feeble mind.

we must hold them off until all our ships are safely away.

don't worry. you haven't seen the last of us.

let's get out of here before we become permanent residents.

it's no good! i can't see!

i don't know if there's anyone left alive in there.

someday you're going to be wrong, and i just hope i'm there to see it.

you don't have to do this to impress me.

if you said you thought coming here was a bad idea, i'm beginning to agree with you.

being held by you isn't enough to get me excited.

i must admit there are times i don't understand human behavior.

i'm looking for someone.

hey, that's my dinner!

my hands are dirty.

why are you trembling?

i happen to like nice men.

we've discussed this before.

i will not fail you. i'm not afraid.

that is why you fail.

it's not my fault! i can't understand it!

i'm still not sure what you've accomplished.

not bad, hot shot. not bad.

i feel cold.

i always said you were a gentleman.

sorry, am i interrupting anything?

would you care to join me for a little refreshment?

once you've made this decision, i cannot interfere.

i was worried about you.

i've done what i can for you.

show yourself, or do you fear me?

you'll find i'm full of surprises.

i'll die first.

you are beaten. it is useless to resist.

#star wars #mcflymemes #rp prompt #rp meme #rp memes #roleplay memes #roleplay prompt #rp starters #ask meme #ask memes #roleplay meme #roleplay inbox prompts #rp inbox meme #inbox prompt #inbox meme #sentence starter prompt #sentence starter #sentence starters

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sunflower-lilac42 · 5 months

Text

✧ 𝐅𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐳𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐞 "𝐄𝐧𝐞𝐦𝐲" | connor bedard ♔

summary: dating another first overall pic is certainly an adventure, especially when you play each other and no one knows

warnings: listening to christmas music too early, crying, jack + nico injuries, assumptions, protective jesper and timo, not proofread.

notes: this would've been out earlier but i lost my earbuds (i still cant find them :/) anyways, this is for my connor girlies and this was someone's request, i changed it a little but i hope it's still okay! ‘our/their girl) is used platonically!!

hl masterlist | main masterlist

Sitting on the bus, y/n looked at her phone, biting her fingernail. She was nervous, beyond nervous if you were to ask her. She wasn’t ready for anyone to find out, they had gone two years without anyone noticing and it could be revealed within seconds.

“You okay?” Luke sat down next to her, throwing his arm on the back of her seat.

Y/n and Luke were the rookie two on the Devils, well, because they were both rookies. She was traded from the Canadiens not long after she was drafted, why? She would never know, but she couldn’t care now.

“Nothing, why would something be wrong? Do I have a look on my face? Am I shaking?”

“No, but you’re talking fast and rambling.” Luke pointed out, his eyebrow-raising.

“Oh. I promise I’m fine.”

“Bull shit.”

“Well, you know with Nico and Jack out, I’m just a little nervous about playing by myself.”

When y/n first started practicing with the team and even through her debut, she had always played with Jack or Nico. It wasn’t a conscious thing that Lindy had done but somehow she was always on the ice with one of them. Obviously, when Nico got injured, she had played with Jack but when he got hurt during the Blues game she was nervous. She hadn’t played without them since and the thought of that was terrifying.

What made it worse, is that she was playing her boyfriend, the 2023 first overall pick. What made that worse, was that no one knew they were dating. Everyone had been raving, the past two first-overall picks were both playing on the ice.

“You’ll be okay, promise.”

“Y/n/n! Luke!”

The girl turned her head to see Dawson standing at the front of the bus and they realized they were all alone, “Time for practice you two.”

“Ugh, I don’t want to.” Luke dragged her off the bus, following behind Dawson.

Her phone rang as she went into the bathroom and she answered it, “Hi?”

“Hey babe.”

“Oh, hi Con!”

“You guys here yet?” Y/n nodded her head, forgetting that her boyfriend couldn’t see her, “Hello?”

“Yes, sorry. Luke and I just got off the bus.”

“I heard something about the three of us filming a video or something, I don’t really know.”

The girl groaned, “Of course. Why can’t we-”

“Y/n/n hurry up!” Both she and Connor stopped talking at the voice, “Give me a second!”

Whoever was behind the door, she couldn’t tell, walked away and y/n sat her phone down on speaker as she got changed, the two catching up. When she was done, the two said goodbye and she walked out, startled to see Luke standing there, “Oh!”

“So, who was that?”

“Who was what?”

“The guy on your phone, dumbass.”

“Hey! Unnecessary roughness.” That had become an inside joke with her and the team. Whenever they were at practice and one of the guys accidentally shoved her a little too hard, she would always stop and call it ‘unnecessary roughness’. This happened both on and off the ice.

“I’ll take your clothes, you go find your way to the ice.” Luke grabbed y/n’s clothes that she had changed out of to the clubhouse.

‘Find your way to the ice’ was an easy task, she had been in the United Center plenty of times. However, she purposely got lost in hopes of running into Connor, which was successful. She walked down the hallways, running into staff and other Hawks players who kindly waved at her. When she took a brief look at her phone, going to text the group chat that she was lost she ran into a chest.

“Connor!”

Connor looked down at the girl and smiled, “Hi.” She gave him a tight hug, some tears slipping out.

He pulled away, his smile turning into a frown. He placed his hands on her cheeks, wiping the stray tears, “What’s wrong, baby?”

She shook her head, “Nothing. I’m just so happy to see you. I haven’t seen you in months.” Connor wrapped his arms around his girlfriend once more, practically squeezing the life out of her, “It’s okay, I promise.”

They continued to hug for a few moments and when they finally pulled apart, y/n’s tears were still on her face. She went to dry her face off when a loud voice echoed down the hallway, “Hey!”

The two turned to see Jesper and Timo standing there, faces plastered with anger as they looked at their teammate/little sister with tears falling down her face. The two walked towards them and separated them, “Guys? You okay?”

Both their faces softened at y/n’s voice and looked down at her, “Shouldn’t we be asking you two that?”

“What do you mean?” Connor spoke up, his arms crossing over his chest. Now, the Devils and Hawks were not rivals. They had no affiliation with them and only played them twice a season, once at home and over in Chicago, so really the two shouldn’t have a reason to be mad at the two talking. If anything, they should be glad that their girl was making conversation with other NHL players besides themselves, especially one who was the same age as her, but Timo and Jesper’s faces tensed up at the 18-year-old’s voice, “I don’t know Bedard why don’t you tell us why our girl is crying? What did you say to her?”

Y/n went to defend her boyfriend but the two weren’t having it. Timo dragged the girl away from their teammate and Connor as she tried to get through to the two men. None of them listened once again and she couldn’t do much but give up.

✧༺✎༻∞

Throughout practice, y/n took her frustration out on her teammates and the puck. The boys exchanged looks with each other as practice went on, having no explanation for why she was acting like this. Lindy was confused as well and as soon as y/n ‘accidentally’ shoved Jesper into the boards, which also didn’t bode well with her since Jesper was 5’10” and weighed 175 pounds. As she ran into him, she tripped over both his and her skates, causing her to go flying to the boards as well.

She let out a yelp in pain as she landed on her arm. It wasn’t anything serious but the initial action of her landing on it caused a big enough ache through her arm for her to verbally react to it.

Connor had been watching from the stadium seats and winced when he saw it happen. He went to run down when he remembered Jesper’s words.

‘If I ever see you near her again, I wouldn’t mind getting a suspension.’

Sure it was a little harsh y/n was his teammate, his little sister, of course, he was going to be protective and so was everyone else on the team.

The whole team crowded around y/n, the trainer pushing their way through the hoard of hockey players to asses the girl’s injury. As soon as they went to touch her arm, she shoved them off, “I’m fine.”

The trainer nodded their head, “I understand that but I still need to-”

Y/n got up and through her gloves on the ground, “I said I’m fine!” She skated a little ways away and started moving her arm around, “See, I’m fine. I could punch someone if I fucking wanted to.”

She continued her skate and got off the ice, heading for the locker room. She didn’t mean for her words to come out so harsh, nor did she mean to swear, but she was mad. Who were they to tell her who she could and couldn’t be around? They weren’t her keeper.

Connor met her in front of the visiting clubhouse, “Are you okay?”

She nodded her head, having cooled off from her walk and it wasn’t him that she was mad at, “I’m gonna be so trash tomorrow.”

“Hey don’t say that, y/n/n. You’re going to be great!”

“But, Nico and Jack-”

“Nico and Jack have nothing to do with your performance. Sure they might enhance it, but you control how you play. Tomorrow you are going to kick ass, as much as I don’t want you to- not like that! I want you to do well it’s just that if you do well that means-”

Y/n cut him off with a kiss, “I know what you meant, Connie.”

Connor blushed and nodded his head. The two heard footsteps coming their way and immediately split up, heading back in their respective directions.

✧༺✎༻∞

Throwing on her suit, y/n got ready to head to the UC. She slicked her hair back into a ponytail and put her heels on. She headed down to the lobby of the hotel and waited in the corner, away from anyone else. She hadn’t talked to anyone since yesterday’s practice and she wasn’t planning on talking to anyone until she absolutely had to.

She sat at the back of the bus instead of sitting next to Luke like she always did. She put her headphones in and listened to her holiday music, she didn’t care what anyone else said, holiday music made her happy. She could hear the quiet conversations around her through her headphones even though she tried to drown them out.

Placing her headphones back into her pocket and stood up ready to get off the bus. She was stopped as soon as she was about to get off the bus by Vitek, who handed her a cup of coffee. Vitek was one of the players that she could never be mad at, he was adorable and no one could be mad at him.

“Thanks, V.” She gave him a grateful smile and he returned one right back, letting her get off the bus. She ignored the cameras flashing as she walked to the clubhouse, following whoever had gotten off the bus in front of her.

The team all went through their pregame rituals, getting ready for the game. No one attempted to talk to y/n, mostly because she was always nervous before games and any slight conversation made her even more nervous.

During pregame, as they were practicing, everyone could tell something was off. The Devils knew something was off, Lindy knew something was off, the Hawks knew something was off, and even the fans knew something was off. They chalked it up to just the absence of Nico and the recent absence of Jack, they had lost their two-star players without much time apart.

Y/n stood between Dawson and Nathan during the National Anthem, making eye contact with Connor since he was ironically directly across from her. They slowly got through warmups and soon it was time for the game to start.

Having faith, and assuming that she had a complete reset and she was back to normal, Lindy sent her out for the beginning face-off. She wanted to protest but she knew she couldn’t. She skated toward center ice and faced her boyfriend. The two sighed before bending down into position. Let’s just say, it was not a good start for the Devils.

It was almost two minutes into the game and Taylor Hall had scored already. Y/n wasn’t on the ice when it happened, having changed lines just beforehand. She sighed amongst the others on the benches and leaned over and whispered into, Toffoli’s ear, “Can you get a penalty for checking your own teammate?”

Toffoli laughed causing her to let one out as well. The bench looked at each with smiles on their faces, glad to see their girl smiling once again.

Over halfway into the period and y/n had done jack-shit. No goals, no assists, no nothing. It was like she was invisible out there, well not really. She had gotten a few hits which was no big deal but normally, those wouldn’t have happened. She would have dodged them completely or softened the blow a little bit, but they just happened.

When Dawson scored his first goal of the season she was on the ice with him. She skated fast and hugged him, so excited for him. That was the only other time she was happy during that period. Every other time she came off the ice she was so close to chucking her stick into a board or the bench itself, she was pissed off. She wanted to prove something to everyone and herself that she could do something without Nico or Jack, and right now, the only ones she was proving right were the ones who said she was trash from the start.

✧༺✎༻∞

During the first intermission, the Devils walked back somewhat happy, they were leading 2-1, Dawson had his first goal and so did Max Willman. Lindy spoke briefly about the first period and kept making little jabs towards y/n. None that were hurtful but ones that tried to ignite a spark in her for the second.

That didn’t happen at all. The second period was worse than the last if that was even possible. Everyone could tell she was frustrated. Connor noticed it the most when she was on the ice with him. Her whole body was more tense, her shot was weak and floppy, and her passing was not on point.

The second intermission was when Lindy stormed into the clubhouse, “What was that, y/l/n?!”

The team snapped their heads up at their coach, they hadn’t heard him so mad at y/n before.

“I’m sorry, it won’t happen again.”

“Damn right, it won’t happen again. You’re playing like shit.”

“Jeez, I know I suck, but you don’t have to frame it that way.” Y/n’s eyes watered up.

Lindy knew she could play better, he was determined to make it that way, “You have to man up. You think Hischier gets off all high and dry when he plays like you are? You think Hughes is going to sit on his ass after a game when he did nothing all game? No.”

She looked at the team, looking for some support but she knew she didn’t deserve it, “You have got to put your personal issues aside, this team is what matters now. I don’t care who’s hanging out with who, who’s kissing who, who’s fighting who, I don’t care. You all get your heads in the game and get out there and play some hockey.”

The team was speechless, “Do you hear me?”

“Yes, coach/sir.”

✧༺✎༻∞

Coming back for the third period, y/n was nervous, more nervous than before. Yet it seemed like Lindy’s speech worked.

4:35 into the third period, y/n scored. John assisted and the team was elated for the girl. They patted her head and hugged her before she skated off to high-five the bench. And from the other side of the ice, even though his opponent just scored, Connor held a smile on his face, he was proud of his girl.

Although, that wasn’t enough for y/n. If she was going to prove herself, she was going to prove herself. The team briefly faltered when Donato got his goal but right before the game ended, y/n got herself another goal, unassisted this time.

Everyone was proud of her, especially Nico who was watching from home and Jack would be too when he was able to watch it, not knowing where he was at this moment. After the game everyone got changed back into their suits, doing some post-game interviews beforehand.

They wanted to celebrate but they weren’t going to go without y/n. They were going to go out for dinner but she declined nicely, saying she had other plans. The team looked confused as they stood outside talking with one another, but when someone all of a sudden came behind their teammate and picked her up and spun her around, the realization grew on their faces, Jesper and Timo becoming embarrassed.

They let the two have their moment for a little bit before someone cleared his throat, Luke.

“Yes, Lukas?”

“Ooo, full name bud.”

Luke glared at everyone, “Aren’t you going to introduce us to your, friend?”

“I think they’re more than friends.” Dawson snickered with Nathan as they stood behind everyone else.

“Right, guys this is Connor, Connor this is the team.”

“You watch yourself, Bedard.”

“Okay, we’re leaving, bye everyone!”

The two ran off before anyone could say anything else. They got into Connor’s car and drove to their new favorite restaurant, Culver’s.

✧༺✎༻∞

Bonus:

“I don’t want to go.”

“I know, sweetheart, but think of it this way. The 22 I’m in Columbus, you’re in Detroit. I’ll drive there after the game and we can spend some of Thursday together before our games on Friday. And then about a month later we can visit for Christmas.”

“You’re gonna be so exhausted Connie.”

“You’re worth it.”

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

Connor gave y/n a kiss on the forehead, before kissing her cheek and her nose. She leaned in to kiss him on his lips yet was interrupted by a loud voice, “Y/n! You’re gonna miss our flight!”

She rolled her eyes, “How do they always manage to interrupt us?”

Connor shrugs and smiles, “Go on.”

“But would me missing the flight really be a bad thing?”

“Y/n!!”

“I’m coming, jeez!”

Connor kissed her and ushered her off, “Love you!”

“Love you too!”

#sunny lune writes #chicago blackhawks #nhl blackhawks #connor bedard #cb98 #connor bedard x reader

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calibabii21 · 5 months

Text

|| i never thought || l.hc

pairing: sub!haechan x dom!reader

genre: smut, non-idol au, friends to lovers, Christmas bet

warning(s): bratty sub!haechan, reader learns she has a dominant side, reader is kind of a sadist, both haechan and reader are masochists, overstimulation (m), dirty talk, sexual threats and innuendos, haechan may let "mommy" slip..several times, bdsm club

wc: 2.7k

a/n: suuuuch an honor to be a part of this collab with @jenoslutie this is for you boo💋. thank you so much for your patience and I hope you all enjoy😭 proofread?? not sure💀 mdni

"Come on pleeeease," yet again your friend was begging for the impossible. "That's not even the type of person I am! Not to mention I have to go shopping for Re- my Secret Santa.” Thankfully you caught yourself, “Besides, what could you possibly gain from this?" Funnily enough, that's all it took to quiet him. "N-Nothing," his flustered stutter and sheepish eye contact avoidance were a dead giveaway.

You couldn't help but give in to the cuteness, "Fine. but only if you don't leave my side" His eyes immediately brighten and he's on you with cheek kisses, "thank you thank you thank you– I would never abandon you at a place like that." His seriousness is endearing and you very much appreciate the sincerity in his tone. “Thank you Pookie.”

A twinkle flashes through his eyes at the pet name but he only smiles at you and agrees to give you time to get dressed seeing as he asked you to accompany him on such short notice.

About 45 minutes later you’re walking through the front entrance of the club he begged you to accompany him to. You look around the packed out place, taking in the world of kink you are freshly experiencing first-hand. “Wow.” Haechan turns to you, securing a rose gold wrist cuff, matching his, around your own.

“What is this for?” He gives you a sheepish look, seeming rather nervous now that you study his expression. “Hey, what’s wrong Pookie?” His tense stature relaxes and he allows himself to melt into your palm resting on his cheek. “Well aren’t you two a lovely pair,” someone comments as they pass by, “You’ve got a good, old-fashioned brat on your hands.” You understand the terms, and the bashful look on Haechan’s face stirs something in you.

A smirk finds its way to your lips, “You think so?” your eyes stay trained on Hyuck’s face as you speak, “But he’s always so good for me. And he treats me so well, don’t you baby boy?” The fake pout with a doe-like gaze you give him as you stroke his chin causes a submissive glaze to film over his eyes and a yearning whimper to leave him.

When you turn your back to him, he unconsciously moves his body into your space, “If you’ll excuse us, we’d like to get to the rest of our evening.” Haechan attaches a hand to your hip, guiding you away as you smile at the stranger. “You’re..handling yourself better than I expected.” His tone is full of satisfaction and pride, which in turn makes you roll your shoulders back and walk in pure confidence- naturally boosting his ego.

“You make it so easy Pookie.” His returning blush as you playfully pinch his butt makes you giggle. “You’re being awfully cute..” And quiet. Despite his unfamiliar behavior, you allow him to continue leading the way.

The chains and leather oddly complement the various Christmas themed rooms you pass. Maybe not something you’d have done yourself, but it works. Haechan squeezes your hand to get your attention, “We’re here.” You look up with a soft gasp and wide eyes, “Oh.” Definitely not something you were prepped for.

Here was a platform stage with a submissive straddling a metal chair. Arms bound to the top of the arch, ankles to the legs, nipples flush against the back- and cock between the bars. Seeing as you have goosebumps from simply walking through the establishment, you can only imagine how cold the half naked sub must be. Though their shivers could just be from the anticipation of their dom circling them.

Your eyes drift over to Haechan when his breath hitches as the submissive’s eyes are covered with a sleek blindfold. His responses are intriguingly physical. He isn’t the one being touched or tied up, yet his breathing is shaky and he’s sweating a bit. If you’re honest, it even has you heating up yourself.

The moment the dom ghosts their fingers over the sub’s semi erect cock is when you decide to maneuver behind Haechan. Your hands lightly reston his waist causing him to jump, startled. “It’s okay, it’s just me.” “Hyuck..I want you to keep your eyes on the stage, okay?” Your voice is soft as it reaches the back of his ear, “Just, stop me if you feel uncomfortable.” He immediately nods- almost in an eager manner.

A shocked yelp leaves the sub, quickly followed by a moan as they feel the contradicting warmth of their top’s breath on their chilled nipples. “Are you sensitive here too, Baby Boy?” It’s a rhetorical question but his whimpers as you brush your thumbs over his nipples through his shirt is answer enough. “Oh, you’re a vocal little thing aren’t you, Pookie?”

You continue toying with his nipples as your right hand drifts down his front, a sound of approval leaving you, “Sensitive too.” The subs loud moans drown out the whimpers and whines Haechan releases as you fondle him through his clothes. “Please.” His pleading simultaneous with the ones coming from the stage. “What are you asking for?”

He says nothing, enraptured by the scene of the sub’s painfully hard cock being edged between the cold, hard bar of the chair and the domme’s warm, soft palm. Pinching his nipple you get a louder moan as well as his attention, “If you can’t tell me what you want, I can’t give it to you.” He only whines, his knees becoming wobbly, “Please, touch me p-properly.”

You take your hands off of him and put space between you, “If you can find a private enough space, I’ll even let you cum.” That seemed to kick him into overdrive and he grabs your hand guiding directly to a private room with red carpeting and furniture. His only instruction is to sit as you point toward the lounge seat. “That was awfully fast. Now I wonder if it’s even worth a reward.”

You’re quiet as you slowly pace back and forth, thinking to yourself about this night. It all seems a little too calculated. You pause in front of him, more like you’re looming over him in your heels. You watch his eyes trail from the points of your shoes all the way up to meeting your eyes- and it’s easy to tell that his immediate response would have been to whimper, but he senses you waiting for any wrong move.

“Why did you bring me here?” Nothing. You get absolutely nothing but a diversion of eyes. His squirms increase under your scrutiny. “Haechan. I will touch you until this club closes and ruin your ability to cum for yourself or anyone else if you do not answer me. What. is going. on?” There’s only a mumble you don’t understand before he goes back to feigning innocence.

Fine. You opt for trying an approach he would be receptive of. Wordlessly, you remove his pants, giggling to yourself at his Christmas themed g-string. “Shut up” he mumbles sassily, which for some reason irked you more than it usually would. The sharp sting of his underwear elastic snapping against his skin has him both hissing and staring at you with needy eyes.

You maintain his eye contact, his own widening as your face gets closer to his when you straddle his lap- the fluffy trim of your sexy Mrs. Claus costume tickling his midsection. “If you don’t want to willingly tell me, I’ll get it out of you another way.” His eyes glow with amusement and desire as you glide your fingers beneath his waistband, “You can try all you want but I’m not giving i- mmm.”

That quickly shut him up, you again, giggle to yourself. “You act all big and bad but you’re so weak to pleasure your inner slut can’t help but submit. Even if it’s from your best friend, hm?” He bites his lip to hold his sounds back, but his chest is already heaving as if he’s close.

“Surely Mr. ‘Won’t-give-in’ isn't close already.” Your taunting seems to only spur him closer to climax. “You better not cum Donghyuck or so help me Go-” His head is thrown back, hips thrusting into your hand to fully ride out his orgasm, essentially sending your own body up with them- completely drowning out your words. Whimpering and whining as your hand applies pressure to his now sensitive dick.

He attempts to continue thrusting until your hand comes up to grip his face, body stilling save for the shiver that passes over him at the strong look in your eyes, “If you don’t stop fucking playing with me I will restrain you, tie a vibrator to your dick, stick one in your ass, and walk right out of that door.” Your threats seem to have the opposite effect as you feel him growing harder in your hand again.

Chuckles of disbelief leave you as you begin laughing hysterically, even that has his erection rising further. “My God.” Your faces are close, eyes searching his as your hand begins to move at a slow, steady pace. “You really are a perv aren’t you?” He whines loudly and looks at you pleadingly. “Lucky for you, so am I. Know that I intend to keep my word of ruining you for anyone else.”

Your hand does a 180, now jerking at a speed too incredible for him to keep up with, “That was your plan with me, wasn’t it?” In the middle of his second orgasm, his expression is one of shock at your words. “Fuuuuuck mommy- please please.” Your body heats up at the title and it honestly makes you feel even more powerful. His body is writhing and twitching beneath you as you don’t let up on stroking him. “If you give me one more, maybe I’ll think about stopping.”

“No no no no,” you aren’t too sure what he’s pleading about, but no way are you stopping now. “The club will be shutting down in about five minutes.” Right as you yell “Coming!” in response to the rough knock on the door, Haechan does the same but for completely different reasons. His hands grip your waist when you stop, his face still asking for more. “We have to go now Pookie, but I’ll take care of you when we get home.”

He assists you in cleaning up as you help redress, “You may have been a bit of a brat, but you were still a good boy for me. As a result, I'll let you decide what happens when we get home.” His eyes light up and his confidence immediately resurfaces, “Just know it’s my turn to ruin you for everyone.”

“Hyuck- wait slow dow-” you cut off your sentence with a gasp as you realize you slapped his face with a heavier hand than intended. There’s a moment of silence as you both process what just happened before he’s further backing you into your apartment- lips excitedly attacking your neck. “God you are so sexy.”

You get over your shock, your seductive chuckle reddening his ears, “What a pain slut you’ve turned out to be.” That only makes his hips rut against you as he licks your neck, not separating from you to gauge the direction of your bedroom. “Wait the bedroom’s that way.” He continues feeling you up beneath your costume, “Fuck the bedroom, you’re taking me right here.”

He bends you over the couch, slapping and groping your ass. “Who gave you permission to out-sexy my sexiest thoughts of you.” Your hips grind back on him as he presses his bulge firmly against your core, “How perverted can you be to get this hard over your best friend.” He begins softly rocking, thrusting his hips against yours, “And how greedy does your pussy have to be to grind on my clothed dick like a neglected whore.”

You don’t know why, but his words ignite deep arousal within you. “Just shut up and fuck me already.” He wordlessly pulls himself out of his tight confines and teases his head against your soft thong, “By the feel of your holes clenching through your panties, you wouldn’t even be patient enough for me to prep you.”

“What’s prep when you’re made for me.” You try to contain your laughter as your teasing words make his movements stutter. In the end a sharp slap is landed on your exposed ass with a gritted mutter, “Don’t go putting hopeful thoughts in my head.” Before you can decide whether to continue teasing him or reassure him, he’s easing into you with a stretch so delicious your first moan is drug out.

You’d expect his thrusts to be rapid and shallow with how desperate he’d been to be inside you, but it was the complete opposite. “Paced and deep, just the way you like it right?” His strokes really were perfect. Hips connecting with yours with the right amount of force. One hand caressing your skin while the other unexpectedly spreads your wetness around your unoccupied hole.

His hips come to a sudden stop as he leans over your back. “I-I want you to ride me.” Even through his effort to top you, you can feel that you still have the power. “Okay daddy, come sit.” You patiently wait during his awkward fumbling to circle the couch, but once you sink onto him you both moan in unison. “I must be doing my job with the way you’re squeezing around me. Am I making you feel good?”

“Mmhm, you’re doing such a good job baby.” His head is thrown back as he “guides” your ass to slam back down to meet his thrusts halfway. “I told you I was going to ruin you f-for everyone.” You take that opportunity to lay him flat on the couch, your hands using his chest for support, “It feels so good being stretched by you Hyuck.”

You lean forward now allowing your ass to fully bounce on him faster. “Fuck baby you take my cock so well. Who’s my good girl? Huh?” The second he asks, one of your hands reach forward and caresses his face as you keep bouncing, “It’s you isn’t it? You’re my good boy?” You seal it with a tender yet erotic kiss on his lips and he’s instantly whimpering and tightly gripping your flesh.

“I-I’m close.” But you ignore him and his attempts to thrust up into you as you continue controlling the pace, opting to switch to a slow whining of your hips. “P-Please, mommy. Mommy can I please cum?” A pleasant shudder passes through you at the besotted, fucked out expression he gives you as he begs, “Please PLEASE can I cum? Can I cum inside, please? Mommy I’m so close, please.”

His begs become more adamant and panicked as you clench around him with each circle of your hips, your own climax approaching. “You want to cum baby?” He immediately nods eagerly with hopeful eyes as his hands fervidly touch and grasp every inch of your body, “Please.” His whispered plea seems to be enough to satisfy you, “Can you be a good boy and fill me up?”

“Yes yes yes mommy, I can be a good boy. I’m your good boy.” His moans and cries are anything but quiet as he releases ropes of heat inside of you. Your teeth sink into his shoulder when your orgasm creeps through you as you grind harder onto him, “Oh Fuuuucck. Shit, yes Hyuck.”

There is a flurry of soft moans and breathing as you both come down from your high. Haechan looks at you enamored. “You are so..beautiful.” The compliment caught you off guard, but seeing the sincerity in his eyes you smile at him, “Thank you, Pookie. You are too. Truly.” You plant one last kiss on his lips before getting off of him to move to your bathroom.

He lets out a startling hoot and laughs in a victorious tone causing you to stop and face him. “The hell is so funny?” He turns to you with a cutely smug smirk, “I won.” You look at him incredulously, “Won?”

Now redressed, he approaches you with an air of arrogance, stopping in front of you, “I hit first. So I. won.”

You let his words sink in with silence before smirking at him, “Just remember I’m the one you call ‘mommy’.”

A blush brushes his features at your words as you walk off, “You’re my bitch now.”

tagging:

@thesafecafe

@atinystaypixie

@neoculturecollectives

@multifandomslxt

@haechansbbg

@lovncts

@mrkis

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joshym · 4 months

Text

Le Morte d'Arthur: Chapter 3

Pairing: Jake Kiszka x f!Reader, Sam Kiszka x f!Reader (STAY WITH ME)

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

You thought you were prepared for everything.

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

but what you were not prepared for…

was meeting the enigma that is Jake Kiszka.

Word Count: 24.6k+ (i am so sorry)

Warnings: (for this chapter) please proceed with caution if you find any of the following to be triggering: MDNI 18+ ONLY struggles with body dysmorphia/eating, heavy emotions/ talks of an absent parent, *extremely* sick & terminally-ill parent, mentions of sexually explicit scene on film being shot, anxiety/stress, stressing about college grades, worries/anxiety about failing, test anxiety, over-indulgence of alcohol (drunkenness lol), spook/haunted houses, people in scary clown makeup, mentions of jumps scares, *consensual* relations where people put their mouths in *certain places*(not full smut. yet.), ambulances, someone being wheeled out on a gurney (with a lifeless-looking body), JEALOUSLY. lots of jealousy.

a/n: i apologize for this chapter taking me literal years, lol. this one is a bit heavy & was a little hard to write at certain points. but, it's been my brainchild for over a month now & i had to be sure it was perfect before i posted it. i hope you enjoy & as always, please don't hesitate to let me know what you think. 🤍

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

Le Morte d'Arthur Masterlist

⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎

The midterm pressure is now properly underway. With tests nearly everyday this week, a rigid filming schedule, work, and taking care of your mom, you’re on the edge of being worn completely thin.

Not to mention, you’re awfully distracted these days.

Filming has continued as normal. And you finally tackled that scene with Sam just weeks ago, and it went perfectly. Josh had a vision— to show the first fully intimate moment between the secret lovers. The first time their bodies become entangled in their heated passion. The ‘most significant image of the film in its entirety,’ as Josh had put it.

You’d been scared.

But after the kiss you shared with Sam, the one that moved far beyond the legendary characters you were portraying, the scene was performed to utter perfection. It was seamless; it felt completely natural.

Something ignited within once you put the costume on; something you’ve never felt before. A new kind of assured confidence in your body that has never once exuded from you. Your body that you’ve hated since your first cognitive memory, the body that you’ve opted to shield with oversized clothes to hide yourself beneath their stitched fabrics.

But, something happened.

After draping the thin lace over your frame, you were no longer you. You became a queen with a body worthy of being desired.

Josh and Malachi knew just what they were doing when they chose that (extremely erotic) dress.

For once, instead of being ashamed of your skin, you were fucking proud of it. You looked goddamn good.

And by the way Jake had been frozen solid in the door frame with his eyes locked on your exposed figure, you’d say he thought so, too.

You’d half expected him to drop to his knees right then and there, to fully submit and hand himself over to your will. And he probably would have, had it not been for Nat physically throwing him out of the way. (Had you not been so utterly turned on in the moment, you probably would have busted out laughing at the sight.)

The scene was filmed the very next day (with tattoo makeup, of course) and you used that exact heated tension within you to perform your very best.

When Sam saw you in the gown, his reaction was much the same as Jake’s. He was entirely transfixed by you; his eyes never diverting from your body. Not even once.

You had belatedly decided to forgo nipple pasties, much to Natalia's surprise. There was something about the way you felt, with your breasts still hidden, but your buds peaking through the thin fabric. In a weird sense, it made you feel even more in control of your body.

And the way Jake looked at them…

You couldn’t get his lust blown eyes out of your mind. He was, inadvertently, the reason why you felt so self assured during that scene, why you were able to give Sam such a heated performance… even if only a little. You had to credit his reaction for the help it had given you. It had been what your brain kept going back to time and again, anytime you swept the lace over your body. It was him who had helped you to have this overwhelming, new confidence when wearing the revealing piece.

(And you’d never admit it to anyone, but every time you put the costume on, you only ever thought of Jake. Not even his initial reaction—just him. When you felt sexy, he came to mind. And the thought of him alone helped your nipples to be prettily peaked for every intimate scene Josh would shoot.)

But Sam. Sam is the one who actually uses his words to reassure any unsureness you may have every single day.

Sam is the good one. The sweet one. The brother who never fails to put a smile on your face.

“Y/n…holy fuck.” He had said as you met him on set the first day you’d worn it.

And fuck, he’d looked damn good himself. No shirt, tight satin pants of the purest white. His hair was fixed to look disheveled and tangled, framing his features and giving him a look of pure sex ridden lust.

As heavy as the kissing scene had been, this one was levels heavier.

According to the script, you were meant to be laid out on a bed of red satin. You, sprawled out before him, and he on his feet at the foot of the bed, admiring the vision that is the ever lasciviousness Queen Guiniverre. (The vision of you.)

And admire you he absolutely did.

With the same look his brother gave you the night before, sending flutters to your heart and a pulse to your core. You envisioned Jake, but you saw Sam.

These two have entirely consumed your every thought. Sam has been in communication with you nearly every day, even outside of filming.

He conned you into giving him your number (not that it took much convincing) and he texts you, even calls you, multiple times a day.

Just innocent small talk, usually. Something little will make him think of you and he’ll send a quick message to tell you what it was. Sometimes he’ll send a joke or two that will force a laugh out of you, along with an eye roll. However there have been a few times that he’s taken it upon himself to make sure you know just how much fun he’s having with you on this film, that he knows his body sometimes speaks his infatuation with you louder than his words ever could.

And complain you will not. He’s a fucking dream, the sweestest man you’ve ever encountered. And so outlandishly beautiful.

It would be strange for you to not develop feelings for him, especially given just how close and personal the two of you have become during filming.

But,

Jake.

He wrapped you into all of this. He showed you a side of him that you’ve yet to see since. You couldn’t deny him, although you had every reason to.

It’s like he only wanted you to keep his promise to his twin of helping him find someone to play opposite of him (Sam, mostly, of which he clearly didn’t realize) and he only did so because you’re partners in this blessed project. Not because of who you are.

He buttered you up, to convince you to say yes, and that was the end of it.

Then, he went right back to his asshole ways.

That’s why for the life of you, you can’t fathom the idea that you’ve developed much stronger feelings for him than for Sam. (Who is, obviously, the far better candidate.)

And Sam is the one who gives you the attention you deserve.

But fuck.

The way Jake stared at you in that costume. And the way he didn’t take his fierce eyes off of you during the filming of your scene in that gown.

His jaw clenching with every kiss shared between you and Sam, his fists bunching up with each touch that connected your bodies. You heard deep, drawn signs coming from him when Sam caressed you. Furious sighs from flared nostrils.

He ended up storming out mid scene, slamming the door so loud you all nearly jumped out of your skin. Thanks to that, you had to redo certain parts of the scene. Sam had made a joke about how he “wasn’t upset” to have to do it more than once. (And you weren’t, either.)

But not having Jake in the room made it slightly more difficult to put yourself back in the mood. His presence alone, the deep breaths filling his lungs, his stare casted on you each time you glanced his way— that was plenty of inspiration to perform your sexiest.

But without him there, all you could do was picture him in your mind. Which you did with no problem. But it just wasn’t the same without his body in the same room as yours.

Before you left that night, you heard yet another fight commence between the twins.

“You should’ve told me it would be like this,” Jake fumed.

“I abso-fucking-lutely did, Jake. You just don’t listen worth a single shit.”

Jake slammed his fist on the kitchen counter, “I helped you write the goddamn script and those scenes were not in there. You know that for a fucking fact.”

“Okay— so I took a little creative liberty and added a few things. I am, after all, the director for god's sake. I think I’ve earned the right. But you knew the plot, Jake. Don’t act like you didn’t,” Josh spouted.

You’d gone to walk out the door before more was said. You felt guilty for listening, them both under the impression that you’d left.

But you’d heard something more that kept you from fully shutting the front door on your way out.

Sam was apparently in on this argument, too. And you’d overheard some rather interesting things regarding you— some things you haven’t been able to let go of since.

“Just admit it, Jakey boy. You thought you would be the one enjoying all these scenes with y/n. That’s why you asked her to join the cast, isn’t it? You’re just pissed that I get to share these moments with her and not you.”

Hearing those words come out of Sam's mouth was something you were not prepared for in the slightest.

You needed to just close the door and leave, to stop listening in on this conversation that you were most definitely not meant to hear.

But after hearing that, you just couldn’t bring yourself to take a single step. You had to hear Jake’s response.

“That’s true isn’t it, Jake.” Josh agreed. “That’s why you’re all out of sorts with this whole thing.”

“First of all,” Jake raised his voice with yet another loud crack against the granite countertop, (His fist must’ve fucking hurt like hell that night) “I only asked her because I had to. We were assigned this ridiculous project together and I was not about to work on something alone with her.”

…that was a fucking blow to the heart.

“Secondly, Sam, I don’t give a fuck one about your special little scenes with her. What I’m pissed about is that you’ve made this entire plot about fucking, Josh. That is not the only goddamn thing that happens in the original texts.”

He did make a solid point there. But from everything he’d told you about the plot before you agreed, (which wasn’t much, if you’re being honest) that was the whole point of the film. At least to show their adulterous human desire, that their love for one another wasn’t a strong enough force that others couldn’t break their way through.

“Jesus, Josh.” You heard footsteps coming closer to where you were hidden, so you quickly made your way out the door to conceal yourself. Before fully closing it, you heard Jake say, “I don’t want to be part of a fucking x-rated film. That isn’t what I signed up for. And you’ve basically taken everything I’ve helped you with and thrown it in the trash. Why did you even ask me to help if you didn’t want to use me for anything other than your precious fucking Arthur that you’re ruining with these worthless rags you call costumes?”

You quietly padded your way to the car as you heard Jake coming closer to the door. You felt you had heard enough, and you weren’t sure if you could mentally handle hearing much more.

As you drove home that night, your car squeaking and rattling its way through the middle of Detroit, the sound of Jake’s words in your mind were far louder than that of your beat down Firebird.

“I only asked her because I had to…I was not about to work on something alone with her.”

You couldn’t control the stray tears that fell down your cheeks. You’d always known that was the only reason he asked you, but hearing him say it…was something else entirely.

At that point, you’d decided that you’re not doing this for Jake anymore. Not even for the sake of your class.

You know it’ll get a good grade. That’s no longer a worry of yours.

No; You’re doing it for the friends you’ve made in the process of this goddamn thing that you would regret doing if it weren’t for them.

They way Jake’s family has treated you, especially in comparison to how he has treated you…you’re only sticking it out for them. Fuck Jake and his shit attitude that he’s given you since the first moment he met you.

⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎

You dramatically set your cold brew on the plastic table, throw your bag on the sticky floor and plant your ass so hard in the metal chair you’re sure it’ll be purple in a few hours.

Elbows resting on the table, you let your head fall in your hands as you let out a long sigh.

“That good, huh?” Nat questions.

You peak at her through your fingers, taking in her almost apologetic smile. “I’ve not scored anything above seventy percent on a single midterm. And I still have one more to go.”

True to her character, she pulls your hand away from your face. She’s told you before that she likes to see your full face when she talks to you— just another reason, that even in the short time you’ve known her, she’s been the best friend you’ve ever had.

“And what is wrong with that, might I ask? Seventy percent is a C. And last I checked, that’s a passing grade,” she says with her slim fingers still held tight to your wrist.

You move your other hand away from your face as it falls limp into your lap. “I didn’t move over fourteen hours away to go to the school I’ve dreamt about since I was a child to make C’s, Nat. I want to excel. I want to make the dean's list. I want to leave my mark. I won’t be doing any of that with anything less than all A’s on my transcripts.”

She just smiles at you and softly shakes her head, a few perfect ringlets falling from her silken scarf.

“You will make your mark with or without a perfect 4.0, y/n. Your life is more valuable than a silly cumulative number that isn’t reflective of the person that you are.” She lays your hand down on the table with a soft pat against the back of it, her long acrylics leaving the gentlest, comforting scratches. “You have to stop being so hard on yourself, babe.”

She’s absolutely right, and you know it. In the grand scheme, grades don’t matter as long as you’ve passed. But dammit– that’s just not enough for you. You can’t, you won’t accept anything lower than an A.

You have to prove it to everyone who said you’d never make it. Everyone from your tiny hometown, everyone in this city who expects you to fail.

Everyone. Even your father who left you and your mom when things were at their outright worst. The man who cared more about his own well-being than that of you and your disabled, ill mom. You have to defy the standard, beat the odds. You refuse to become merely a product of your shitty situation.

You have to show him. Show him that you’re worth more than he thought you were. That you can do just fine taking care of your mom and yourself. Without him.

“It does matter, Nat. If I don’t do well now, I’ll never get accepted into a grad school and if that doesn’t happen, all of my hard work has been for nothing. I’ve proved fucking nothing.”

The sternness in your voice causes her to withdraw her hand from yours and sit herself all the way back in her chair, arms crossed in a state of defiance. “Who the hell do you need to prove yourself to? Why do you care so much about what other people think when I’m sitting right here trying to convince you that you don’t need to do that?” Her voice matches your tone perfectly, with seriousness and irritation present in her inflection. (Perhaps a bit more than you had anticipated. She’s passionate, you can’t deny that for a second.)

You pause for a moment, taking in the vast realization that you’ve never gotten that personal with Natalia on your behalf. She knows of your struggles with your body, and she’s done everything in her power to make you see yourself the way she sees you ever since you opened up to her.

She knows where you live as she’s had to pick you up and drop you off a few times for filming, so you’re sure she realizes that you live in a complex for low income, disabled tenants. She knows you leave and come back periodically if filming runs a little late, unbeknownst to her that it’s to take care of your ailing mom. But not once has she ever pried with a wandering mind. She’s been waiting for you to tell her.

Talking about these things is just something you’re not keen on doing. It presents an awful lot about you that you wish you could’ve left in Oklahoma.

It’s just hard.

And it’s hard to know who you can and can’t trust, who will take advantage of you and who won’t.

But as far as Natalia goes, you’re certain you could tell her just about anything and she’d be the last person to use it against you. But that doesn’t make it any easier to say everything out loud.

Suddenly, she stands up from her chair, the sound of the metal legs against the tile floor sending a shiver throughout your body. “W-where are you going?”

“Come on,” she responds, swigging down what’s left of her coffee. “We’re going to my car.”

Instead of arguing, you stand up with her and gather up your things, following her as she takes quick strides towards the glass doors.

“Why are we going to your car, again?” you ask.

“So you can tell me what you’re not telling me.”

At first, you’re a bit confused as to why she’d prefer to go to her car to talk. But as you open her passenger door, you remember that car talks are always the best place for deep, emotional conversations to happen. That’s exactly what she wants from you, and as soon as you take residence on the black leather of her Escalade, you feel the unrelenting urge to spill it all.

She slams the car door before adjusting body so she’s facing you. She rests her elbow on the center console, placing her face in the palm of her hand as she scans you with her chocolate eyes, waiting for you to speak.

“It’s just…” you sigh deeply from your chest before you begin telling her everything. “I’m the sole provider now. My mom isn’t much longer for this earth,” The sting in your heart upon hearing yourself say those words feels like an electric shock to your system. Speaking them feels like pure bile leaving your mouth. But it’s true. And not saying it doesn’t make it not true. “So it’s up to me to take care of her. She doesn’t have anyone else.”

Nat’s eyes soften at your vulnerability. Where they were once inquisitive, they’re now full of warmth and realization.

“I can’t fail her by failing myself. My education is just as important to her as it is to me. She didn’t even question it when I told her I wanted to come here for school. She showed me nothing but support, even coming with me when it was most definitely too dangerous for her to make the move. She did it anyway— she wanted to do it. She wants to see my education through as much as I do, and I’ll be goddamned if she doesn’t.”

“Is that why you go home so often? Why you can’t always stay very late for things?” she asks with a timid, sweet voice that calms your spirit a bit.

“I have to take care of her. Make her dinner, sort out her medications, make sure her oxygen tank is well tended. I’m terrified to be away from her, Nat. But she insists that I still live my life. I feel like I’d be doing her a disservice if I wasn’t, you know? But my biggest fear is that I’ll come home and she’ll be gone…and I wasn’t there to save her.”

“Shit, y/n,” she says, hardly above a whisper. “I hate that there’s so much pressure on you, girl. What about a live-in nurse? Or home health? Is that something you could do?”

“Her insurance won’t cover a live-in, unfortunately. And there’s no way in hell we could ever afford one on my paychecks alone. Her disability plan claims she doesn’t need home health, and that is something I just don’t understand,” you respond.

“Do you have any other family that could step in and help? What about your dad, where is he?”

You haven’t spoken of your dad since he left. You’ve hardly given him a single thought, even. The move was another way of purging him from your life completely— leaving the home you had once shared with him, getting rid of all of the stained memories once and for all.

You know that deep down there are plenty of happy memories of him somewhere, buried, in your psyche. But after the way he just up and left you and your mom as soon as her diagnosis was confirmed, the way he left in the middle of the night with no warning and leaving you to manage it all yourself, it’s hard to muster up a single pleasant feeling towards him.

“I wouldn’t care to know, if I’m honest.” You chuckle rather cynically, “The very moment he found out my mom could no longer serve his needs, that he would have to actually take care of someone for once in his goddamn life, he fucking ditched. Left over a year ago, haven’t seen nor heard from him since.”

Your life changed forever when you woke up that morning to his stuff cleaned out of the house, his oil stained spot in the driveway missing his pickup truck, and nothing but a handwritten note on the fridge that said ‘I’m so sorry, baby girl -Daddy.’

From that very moment, you became your moms entire world. Her one and only ‘person.’ It was no longer your life you were living for. She needed someone to take care of her, and the person that vowed to do that in ‘sickness and in health’ left. Just fucking left.

“He is who I have to prove myself to. That fucking asshole needs to know just how well I’ve done— how well we’ve both done without him. I don’t need him to take care of her, to get myself through school and graduate with fucking honors, and then go on to get my masters. I can do it all without him.”

Heavy tears begin to well in your tear ducts, tears that have been begging to be shed since the day he left. But you haven’t allowed yourself to cry over it. You swore to yourself that you’d be strong for your mom.

“Y/n I–I’m so sorry. I shouldn't have asked.” She most definitely picked up on the sudden onset of your emotions. As much as you try to hold it back, you just can’t any longer. Your flushed cheeks become soaked with your tears. You're sad, but more than anything, you’re angry. Angry for you, angry for you mom. You haven’t allowed yourself to properly feel any of it. From finding out your moms terminal diagnosis, to your dad abandoning you the very next day. You haven’t done a bit of healing since.

But something about her presence makes you feel like it’s okay to show your emotions, to at last let them come to the surface for the first time since everything has happened.

You try to tell her it’s okay, that you actually really needed this. But the words are incoherent behind your sobs.

She takes note and doesn’t say anything more. She reaches her arms out towards you and you lean forward, falling into her embrace.

She rests her head on yours, her own tears falling onto your hair. Her empathy is something you treasure most in your friendship.

She always knows the right thing to say, and she always knows when words aren’t necessary. Right now is most definitely one of those times.

⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎

“I can help whoever’s next!” You shout to the small line of students filling the lobby, each one hugging a pile of books flush to their chests as they patiently await you and Natalia, stationed at the other computer behind the desk, to lend them their study tools.

Work has been especially hectic this week as everyone is cramming in their last minute studies. Each computer designated for student use has been occupied nearly everyday this week, but even with the prominence and accessibility of the internet these days, there have been plenty of students checking out real hard backed, leather bound books as well.

As an avid reader yourself, it brings a spark of joy to your heart to see so many people still reading physical forms of literature.

You’ve loved seeing the mass array of books that have come through the counter this evening, ranging from the iconic literary classics all the way to the Fundamentals of Trigonometry.

Next in line is one you recognize from your beloved (sometimes) class on the mysterious King Arthur.

Toney Carmichael. The six foot something, brawny, platinum blonde wide receiver for the Michigan Wolverines. And one of the most academically scattered people you’ve ever encountered.

You’ve made up your mind that the only reason he’s taking classes is to play football. He couldn’t care less about the school aspect of it all.

He makes the most outlandish, blatantly incorrect comments during class each week. You question how he managed to weave himself into such a high level English course.

Your first thought: rigged. Absolutely rigged. Someone pulled some tight strings for him to be able to continue his education so he can keep his precious football schedule.

From what you’ve heard, he’s quite good. One of the best on the team.

Not that you would know (or give the slightest shit) about a single thing to do with that area of the university.

You’re far too ‘liberal arts’ brained to understand the intense lore behind competitive sporting.

You fight off the urge to roll your eyes as he quickly pads his way to the edge of the counter, plopping a mass amount of books before you, one even falling behind the counter and onto your keyboard.

“Hey, Toney,” you say, with little to no enthusiasm.

You begin scanning the ISBN tags on his books, noting that they are a cumulative of the required semester readings for your shared course, all of them pertinent to the first half of the class.

You snicker to yourself, realizing that he’s waited until the very last opportunity to read these novels before the midterm test, which is tomorrow.

This class is very reading intensive; you can’t fathom waiting until the last moment to tackle all of these incredibly difficult reads.

Nine books in, you’re finally down to the last two to scan into his account. With a limit of twelve books that can be checked out at once, he’s cutting it awfully close.

Sir Gawain and the Green Knight are next, scanned in and bagged with the rest.

At last, the final novel.

It's so torn up and ragged that you can’t even make out the title on the tattered cover.

You scan the faded tag placed on the spine; Le Morte d’Arthur.

Not just that, but the exact one Jake had returned months ago. The one you wouldn’t loan back to him because you had a far better version that you let him borrow in lieu. (That he also hasn’t given back yet, you suddenly remember.) You recognize it as such now, though you didn’t realize it at first. But the computer also conveniently notifies you of the last six students who had possession of the book.

You twinge a little upon seeing the name Jacob T. Kiszka in bolded arial font on the desktop screen.

But, no matter. It isn’t Jake in front of you right now, it’s Toney Carmichael. Star football player. (Sadly.)

You finish the last few steps, placing Mr. Carmichael’s receipt with the date of return stamped on the top in his bag.

“Here you are, Toney. Good luck on the midterm tomorrow!” you say, bidding him adieu while handing him his stuff.

“Shit, that’s tomorrow? I thought it was Friday!”

Idiot.

“Nope, it’s tomorrow. Better get to reading,” you tell him. He flings his plastic bag of books over his shoulder and nearly sprints out of the building. Again, you ask yourself, how the hell did he manage to get enrolled in his course?

You turn your attention back to the led screen, fully intending to clear the display in preparation for the next student. You’re met with the harsh realization that a certain name is still grievously present.

It serves as a reminder of the very night he asked you to do this confounded film for his brother. Where the very seed of his kindness was planted, only to never be watered and die in the soil with his shit personality. (That somehow still hasn’t turned you off entirely. What the fuck, y/n.)

You see a student walking up out of your peripheral, and before you can tell them you’ll help them in just a moment so you can finish ridding your computer of Jake’s name, they slyly place a venti cold brew next to your hand situated on the mouse.

You pause your task to snap your head up to see who in the hell brought you your go-to drink.

What’s the perfect distraction from Jake? His charming and equally stunning younger brother.

And god, stunning doesn’t even begin to describe the vision before you.

This is the first time you’ve ever seen his hair pulled back, tied in a loose messy bun sitting at the nape of his neck with a few strayed pieces framing his cheekbones.

He’s wearing the most lovely blue button up embellished with cream colored flowers, left partially unbuttoned on the top to frame a dainty silver charm hanging from a matching chain, complete with a black and white canvas belt bag draped across his midsection.

Fuck, the way that these colors accentuate his flawless complextion is rather elating. Your heart jumps a few extra beats when he makes eye contact with you.

“Sammy! What are you doing?” you inquire with an embarrassingly huge smile plastered to your face.

He flashes a smile that matches yours, the corners of his mustache curling with his sweet grin, his round eyes crinkling above his cheekbones.

“Figured you could use this,” he says while nudging the cold brew a bit closer to you. “Oat milk and extra vanilla, right?”

You pick up the drink and take a long swig of the cold coffee, sighing in relief at the feeling of the caffeine entering your worn down system.

“I most definitely needed this. How did you know this is my favorite?” you ask him, taking another sip.

He looks to Natalia who’s standing near you behind the counter and throws her a sly wink. “A little bird told me.”

You turn your head to look her in the eye, while she quickly looks away and pretends to busy herself with something useless.

“Natalia Dolores! Are you the little bird?” you say with a shocked tone, a massive smile threatening to make an appearance as she attempts to make herself look as inconspicuous as possible.

“Woah, she middle named you, Nat. This is serious,” Sammy jokes, his lips tucked in a patronizing grin and his eyebrows hiked.

“Don’t look at me, girl! He’s the one that asked!” She wags her finger towards Sam, her other hand planted firm on her popped out hip.

It’s staggering how the smallest act of genuine kindness, something as simple as surprising someone with their favorite coffee, carries a meaning far beyond the gesture itself.

Also, it just so happens that coffee is one of the direct lines to your heart.

You snicker at her response as you shift your attention back to Sammy, catching the twinkle in his drowsy, honey eyes as they set their gentle gaze on you.

You can see so much behind them, so much that he isn’t afraid to hide from you. His unfeigned honesty is captured perfectly beyond his feather lashes.

But the only thought pounding from the screaming voice in your head…why couldn’t it have been Jake instead?

You quickly force yourself to shove that thought down immediately. It’s quite simple; Sammy gives a shit, Jake doesn’t. It’s time to put an end to your sad, unreciprocated little crush on Jake. His disinterest is unequivocally clear, he’s even said so himself. (Even though he had no idea you were listening in.) So why bother with your silly infatuation any longer when there’s someone far better giving you the attention you deserve?

“Thank you, Sammy,” you tell him, the feelings for his insolent brother waning as you catch the genuinity behind Sam’s smile. “You’re truly my knight in shining armor.”

“You’re quite welcome, your majesty,” he counters with a regal bow of his head.

You smile at him as you take another sip of your gifted liquid gold, humming at the bitter sweetness as it falls down your throat. Perfection in a cup.

“You know,” Sam resumes, shifting his body to get a good look of the old building in which he resides. “I’ve never actually stepped foot in this library. Not even once. It’s quite beautiful.”

Nat, still standing behind you, huffs a rather obnoxious laugh that makes you jump a bit. “That’s because you’re never on campus, Sam. It’s a wonder to me that you manage to pass all of your classes.”

“Geniuses rarely have to try,” he retaliates, placing his elbow on the counter in front of him, resting his head condescendingly in his opened palm. “Which one of you ladies wants to give me the grand tour?”

“That’s a big fat hell no for me. Y/n, show the man around. I’ll take care of the front desk,” Nat says, logging herself back into her computer on the opposite end of yours. “But make it snappy. And don’t forget we’re closing early tonight! I want him out of here by 5:15 and not a second later.” she says with a cunning grin.

You grab your coffee and walk around the other side of the counter, giggling as you get a look at Sam’s full outfit. He paired his rose patterned shirt with gray drawstring pants, covered in contrasting white stripes.

Sam matches your giggle, asking “What’s so funny?”

“Sammy,” you say through your almost uncontrollable chuckles, “you look like the fabric section of a craft store.”

Another boisterous laugh echoes from behind you, as Natalia chimes in with her agreement.

Sam looks down at this outfit with knitted brows, smirking to himself while drawing a deep breath to say, “Well, jokes on you both. I happen to love the fabric section at craft stores.”

⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎

“And this is my absolute favorite spot; the British Literature section.” You tug on Sammys arm to pull him closer as he smiles at your unbridled passion. “You’ll find all your British classics here. The Once and Future King, The Mists of Avalon, The Canterburry Tales,” You list them off as you read the titles off the exposed spines, stopping once you get to one you’re sure he’ll be intrigued by. “And, of course, The Adventures of Sir Lancelot The Great.” You pull the book from the shelf and flip through the first few pages, quickly noting the intense worn smell emitting from the bound paper. It’s clear that this book has been sitting here for quite some time. “God, I just love this smell. I could make a candle out of it.”

Sam gently takes it from your hands and takes a whiff himself, making a face that tells you he’s not as entranced by it as you are. “That’s an… interesting scent. Kind of smells like Jake’s musty room when we were growing up. Makes sense, with all of his old books he used to keep in there.”

No. Please don’t say that.

“I know absolutely nothing about our beloved Sir Lancelot,” he continues, glancing at the words printed on the first page. “Well, other than what we see in the Monty Python masterpiece.”

As much as you’d hate to admit it, The Holy Grail is, in fact, a masterpiece. You’re pretty sure you could quote the whole thing word for word.

“And,” he proceeds, “that he likes to bone the king's beautiful wife.”

His eyes flick up from the book to meet yours. You can’t help the flush of pink that encompasses your cheeks upon his brash statement. (Or the heartbeat that is pounding at your very core.)

“I guess you could say that’s a pretty significant trait of his character,” you say, your soft tone cracking a little.

He smiles at you as you smile back, quickly casting your eyes downward to avoid the prolonged contact that’s only intensifying the blood rushing to your face.

You hear his feet shuffle a little closer to yours. That heartbeat you were feeling a second ago has now tripled. He gently takes your chin between his index finger and thumb, lifting it ever so softly so you have no choice but to look in his eyes. “Guiniverre could only wish to be as beautiful as you.”

You move your glare to his lips, so soft and pink. You’ve lost count over how many times you’ve kissed them the past few months. How many times you’ve wished the camera wasn’t there during those moments.

His gravity is pulling you closer to him, urging you to crash your lips with his in a kiss that would put everything you’ve ever done on camera to shame.

But just as you’re about to…

“Sam? Y/n? Where the hell did you go?”

Natalia. Like clockwork. Here to ruin a special moment just as she did with Jake all those weeks ago when he saw you in the black lace gown for the first time. When she removed him from your sight.

You curse under your breath, reluctantly stepping away from Sam as she stomps up the old wooden stairs and finds you both.

“You guys! I told you 5:15 and it’s…” she pauses to pull her phone from the back pocket of light wash mom jeans. “5:21! Sam, you need to leave. We have to close.”

Sam hands you the book and you place it back in its designated spot.

“I can’t wait to hear more about his story,” he says as he walks away.

“What? Whose story?” you ask absentmindedly. Your mind has become so jumbled with everything that transpired in the last few minutes, you’ve completely forgotten what you two had been talking about beforehand.

“Our good old Sir Lancelot. It’ll help me perfect his character on the screen, you know, like you said.” He throws you a little quick wink as he makes his way down the stairs, leaving you alone with Natalia.

“Do I want to know what you two were doing up here?” she asks, her eyes opened wide and her hands settled on both of her hips.

You look back to the book you’d just put away, running your finger along the spine, stopping on the engraved Lancelot in gold lettering. “Just as he said,” you tell her. “We were talking about his character for the film.”

⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎

An air of confidence fills your lungs as you walk into Movack’s class. Finally your last midterm of the semester, and while the others haven’t gone as well as you’d hoped, you feel good about this one.

This is the class you’ve felt the most prepared for. And admittedly, this is the one you’ve studied for the least. But, you feel you can get away with that.

If there’s anything you’re sure of yourself in, it’s your knowledge of this lore. You’ve studied it on an academic and scholarly level for more than half of your life. Needless to say, you’re pretty well versed in it all.

The only issue with this class: Jake.

He’s proven to be a bit distracting during quizzes, resulting in you receiving less than satisfactory grades. But you’ll be damned if you allow that any further.

He’s disrupted things long enough since you’ve started classes, it’s time to forget about him once and for all and focus on what truly matters.

He’s already seated in his spot, books opened flat on his desk as he does a little last minute reading before the exam begins.

You don’t even look his way as you sit in your chair. You simply pretend he isn’t there, a method you’re planning to use for the entirety of his test. (And the rest of this semester, if you’re lucky.)

You sure as hell don’t smell his cologne, vanilla mixed with a musky sandalwood, that has bewitched you since the very day you met him. Nope.

And you certainly don’t care that he’s wearing a white button up that gorgeously flatters the leftover tan he still has from the summer. Or that he’s not wearing his John Lennon sunglasses that you’ve hated (sort of) for months now, allowing for you to see his sparkling, whiskey colored eyes underneath the shadow of his brown leather wide brimmed hat.

No, you don’t care at all about these things. Your heart isn’t racing erratically at feeling his body heat radiate on you in the cold classroom from just how close your seats are.

Fuck. You can only tell yourself that for so goddamn long. And no matter how much you try to fill your head with other thoughts, when he’s sitting right next to you, drawing deep breaths as he’s focused on his reading, he’s the only one you can conjure up.

Of course he would choose today to look the best he’s ever fucking looked.

You hold your breath as you hear the clinking of his necklaces each time he moves to open and close his books, the ridiculous amount of silver charms he wears being one of your favorite things about him.

He seems a bit flustered, sighing and anxiously rubbing his chin (a nervous habit, according to Josh) with each page he turns.

Surely he’s not nervous for the exam…right?

“The exam will begin in one minute. Please place any books you have under your chairs and silence all cell phones. The link to the exam has been sent to your school email through LockDown Browser. Please be sure all other tabs are closed as the system will not allow you to open the test otherwise,” Dr. Movack announces.

You tuck your bag beneath your chair and open your laptop, scrolling through your emails until you find the one from Dr. Movack for the test.

“Good luck,” Jake says in a monotone voice, still so alluring and sexy despite lack of tone.

He’s shocked you almost completely still as you sit there staring at the homescreen for the test. You don’t say anything just yet, giving yourself a moment to register that he actually spoke real words to you. Words that didn’t sound angry or annoyed for once. Something kind of sincere, even.

“Uh- yeah, you too,” you stumble in response.

“The test will begin now,” says your professor.

You try to read the first question, however your mind is turning it into a jumbled mess of incoherent words. You read it over a second time, slower to really focus on what it’s asking.

But it’s no fucking use.

Jake is clicking away at his keyboard, typing his answer with hardly a second thought it seems. You hear his silver bracelet (that you find rather appealing) hitting the side of his laptop and causing a hitch in your breath.

The sound of his heavy breathing as he types should annoy you, but of course, it’s only affecting you further in your distraction.

No. You need to focus.

You shake your head a little to snap yourself out of it, realizing it’s taken you more than two minutes to just read and comprehend the first question of the test.

You're wasting time. You promised yourself you wouldn’t let this happen.

In yet another attempt to reread the question, it finally proves worthy as your brain can make sense of it this time.

Rank and briefly describe the Three Estates of medieval society. Then, describe their individual significance and contribution.

You rub your temple and your eyelids to relieve the tension before you begin writing out your answer, going as fast as you can as you’ve already wasted more than an appropriate amount of time on the very first question.

As you type out your response, you can’t help but notice that Jake hasn’t stopped typing since this whole thing began. Curiosity has you wondering what question he’s on, since he’s clearly flying through this thing with absolutely no problem.

You glance up at Dr. Movack to see him seated at his desk, eyes cast downward at his own computer. You then look around the room a bit, each student fully attentive to their own test.

Turning your head to Jake, you sneak a look at his computer to see what question he’s on.

Number five. Already. And you’re still stuck on the first one. Pathetic.

As you turn your attention back to your screen, you hear someone clearing their throat rather loudly. But it’s not coming from just anyone, it’s coming from Dr. Movack.

“Ms. Y/n.” His deep voice startles you, your body jolting a bit at the aggressive tone bouncing off the walls. He’s now standing at his podium, looking directly at you while every student follows in his suit with nosey eyes cast on you. “This is your first and final warning. Keep your eyes on your screen and off Mr. Kiszka’s, or you will leave my classroom and take a zero for the exam.”

Great. He thinks you’re trying to fucking cheat. And so does everyone else in this goddamn class.

You’re not cheating. Didn’t even think about cheating. But how the fuck do you even begin to defend yourself?

“Sir, I-I wasn’t-“ You trip and stutter your words, trying desperately to make yourself look any better than you do right now. But you quickly realize just how terrible it truly looks as you scan the room to see forty nine sets of eyes glaring at you, judging you. And yes, even Jake’s.

He abruptly cuts you off before you can somehow explain yourself. Although there’s really no good way to explain it. “I didn’t ask for a response. Cheating is strictly not tolerated here and you should find yourself awfully lucky that I’m letting you off with a warning.”

Lucky. That word isn’t even a part of your vocabulary these days.

You nod your head in understanding, shamefully setting your attention back to your laptop. But the words are even harder to read now, as you’re trying to comprehend them between welling tears sitting in your ducts.

The humiliation is settling in as you’re trying to finish your exam, but it all feels in vain now.

Everyone in here, including Jake, thinks you were cheating. On Jake’s test, no less.

So much for your fucking method of pretending he isn’t there. In no way did you manage to be even remotely successful in that pursuit.

And not only did you fail yourself in that aspect, but now the whole class, including Jake, knows it was his screen you were peering at.

Humiliated doesn’t even crack the surface.

You can’t win in this class, nor can you win with fucking Jake.

⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎

Walking out of class feels like the ultimate walk of shame. Worse than a walk of shame. Like utter defeat— an ignominy.

The most painful part is this is now the third time you’ve been the center of attention in the class— for the worst reasons.

And to add even more salt to the wound, you only received a sixty eight percent on the test. A fucking D. In the subject you’ve considered to be your best since you can remember.

And it’s not for a lack of knowledge. It’s because of the string of shit luck and continuous distractions that seem to follow you as of late.

The uncontrolled tears are soaking your cheeks as you speed walk down the halls of Angell Hall, considering never coming back as you run down the concrete steps outside.

You heard footsteps following closely behind you, but you couldn’t be bothered to turn around to see who it was. In fact, you were hoping that whoever it was would just fucking give up and stop following you. You thought that if you ignored them long enough, they’d just give up.

But, no. They followed you all the way out the door, and now you hear them continue down the fucking steps after you. Relentless.

You stop on the last step, having every intention of turning around and giving whoever the fuck is behind you what for.

But just as you’re about to, you hear, “Y/n. Will you please talk to me?”

Of fucking course.

With the sleeves of your U of M hoodie, you wipe away the streaks of tears sitting on your face, looking at the black marks staining the cuffs from your running mascara. You don’t want him to know you’ve been crying, but the state of your makeup is most likely a dead giveaway and there’s not much you can do about it right now.

You snap around to see him standing at the front door of the building, hands tucked loosely in the pockets of his blue patchwork pants.

“What, Jake? What is there to talk about?” you say, your voice quivering from the tightness in your throat.

He walks down to the step you’re standing on, and you catch his eyes widen at your confrontational tone before he takes his sunglasses from his breast pocket and places them on his face, tucking a few hairs behind his ear.

“Well, first,” he says, using his index finger to push his glasses up the bridge of his nose the rest of the way. “Movack can be rather gruff at times, so just turn a blind eye to him. But second, I just want to know why you were looking at my test. You’re smart as fuck with this stuff, I can’t fathom why you would need to read my answers.”

You’re struggling to think of an answer. You want to explain yourself, to defend yourself. But where do you even begin?

Do you tell him that you were so fucking distracted by him that you couldn’t focus, inevitably causing you to take far too long to answer even the simplest questions, and that you just wanted to see how far along on the test he was to compare to your sudden ineptitude?

No. Not a goddamn chance. While the whole thing looks terrible, you find the true reason behind it all to be much worse than the cheating allegations.

“I wasn’t reading your answers, Jake.” Your voice is still restricted from the lump in your throat that just won’t go away. But you shove it down as much as you can. The only thing that would make this entire thing worse is to cry about it in front of him. “It wasn’t anything more than my eyes needing a break from my own screen for a tenth of a second. Movack already has it out for me, so I’m sure he was eyeing me the whole time, waiting for the perfect moment to strike.”

He chuckles softly to himself, and you can’t help but watch the way his adam’s apple bobs up and down. And his pretty smile that illuminates his entire face, his cheekbones sitting high atop his glowing features… it sends an electric shock to your heart. You don’t get to see him smile nearly enough, and you wish so much that you did.

“You’re probably right about that one,” he agrees. “I swear Movack picks and chooses students each semester to single out. And you made it easy on him with those first few days in class.”

There’s his sweet smile again, prompting goosebumps to rise on your skin and forcing out a smile of your own.

You can’t tell if he’s being genuine or not; being the utter enigma that he is makes him incredibly difficult to read.

And after hearing him angrily spit out his true feelings for you a few weeks ago, your brain won’t let you forget his harsh words. Of course, he doesn’t know that you heard. And you’ll continue to act as if you don’t know.

But, knowing what he said makes you wonder if anytime he’s being “sincere,” it’s just a facade.

Still yet, you’re appreciative of the fact that he’s not outright accusing you. Almost coming to your defense, even. Not only that, but he sort of complimented your knowledge and academic abilities.

At this point, you’ll take whatever you can get from him.

“If you have any tips on how to survive his class the last half of the semester, I’m all ears,” you tell him, nervously twirling a strand of your hair between your fingers. This is the closest you feel you’ve ever gotten to a ‘normal’ conversation with him.

“At this point,” He places his hand on your shoulder, gripping it tight. You don’t even notice the breath you sucked in at his touch, feeling like you’ve suddenly forgotten how to blow it back out. “you’ll have to go above and beyond to put yourself in his good graces.”

He wraps up his advice with a soft squeeze of your shoulder before he steps down onto the sidewalk.

“Above and beyond?” you repeat, matching his tone with an added sarcasm. “Got it. No problem.”

Although it would be a lot easier if you weren’t there to distract me.

“You can do it,” he says as he’s beginning to walk away, adjusting his leather satchel over his shoulder. “Remember how you put me in my place on the first day?” he recalls through a laugh. “Yeah, just keep doing that.”

You dramatically cringe at the memory of your first day of classes, not really in the mood to ponder that mess just yet.

But he is right. That’s the only memory you have of Movack actually being somewhat kind to you.

“Yeah, you’re right. I shouldn’t have any problem doing that,” you say with a devious smile.

“That’s only if I let you do it,” he remarks with a smirk as he’s already halfway down the sidewalk. “See you tomorrow.”

Your tummy immediately fills with butterflies as you watch him saunter away. You weren’t sure how to feel about him being a decent human being… you just know you wanted more of it. More of the Jake you’d come to fantasize about from time to time in your cluttered mind.

Like the one who throws one more small (devastatingly handsome) smile over his shoulder at you, still standing in the same place where he’d left you, before he turns the next corner.

⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎

Filming has just ended for the night. Jake filmed one scene and left just as you arrived for your shots, so it’s just been you, Josh, Sam and Malachi for the better half of the evening.. Things tend to go much more smoothly with this crew; you quite enjoy nights like these.

You’re seated on their fluffy beige couch in the living room next to Sam, Josh and Malachi perched on the opposite end. With filming ending a bit earlier than usual, (given that Jake wasn’t here to cause any delay with his constant arguing) you’ve got a little time to sit around and enjoy a movie with everyone.

Josh did ask everyone what they wanted to watch, however it’s clear he never intended to let anyone's preference determine what would actually be viewed.

Once he turned on the television, he’d already had A Clockwork Orange queued up on the roku— it appears it was predestined for that to be tonight's film of choice. Not that you’re complaining, though. You do rather enjoy the madness that is this classic Kubrick film.

You’re no more than thirty seconds in the beginning of the movie when Josh says, “You know, Kubrick never really wanted to make this film. He thought the book was a yawn fest when it was presented to him. Just didn’t find much interest in it.”

Sam and Malachi basically ignore him, merely nodding their heads while their eyes stay fixed on the blue lit screen.

Still yet, he continues. “It was only when he imagined Alex being played by Malcom McDowell that he decided it’d be worth a shot. Can you believe McDowell didn’t even know who Kubrick was? He’d seen 2001: A Space Odyssey, obviously, but didn’t know Kubrick by name. It’s mind blowing, truly.”

Now that is a fact you most certainly did not know. And being the massive Kubrick fan you are, you’re surprised you didn’t know that.

“Wait, really?” you ask with genuine curiosity to discover more that he might know.

Sam places a hand on your knee and squeezes ever so gently. “Don’t encourage him, y/n. Or he’ll never stop,” he says with a half grin.

From where you’re seated, you can see Josh’s face perfectly. And even with nothing but the bright screen illuminating him, you see him roll his eyes and toss his hand in Sam’s direction.

“Yes, really! Isn’t that wild?” Josh proceeds despite Sam’s interjection. “I bet you also didn’t know that his nod to Gene Kelly was improvised.”

“It was?” you respond with a bit more shock in your tone than you had wanted. You can’t help it; this stuff fascinates you.

“Indeed my dear, it was. Kubrick directed him to do anything that would serve as a major contrast to the violent and sinister nature of the scene, told him to dance around or something. So, that’s exactly what he did. Took one of the most convivial moments in cinematic history and turned it into an example of Hollywood’s gift of euphoria, using it against the very corporation it came from.”

“How on earth do you know all of this, Josh?” you question.

“Because he spends all of his time studying this useless stuff,” Malachi jokes. He pulls Josh in by the shoulders and hugs him tight to his chest while they both bust up in a fit of laughter.

“Watch the hair, please!” Josh says, his voice muffled by Malachi's shirt.

You’ve truly come to admire their relationship over the short time you’ve known them. The love they have for one another and the love they each give to everyone around them, so selflessly and without condition— they are just wonderful, beautiful people.

You still can’t help but question how Jake carries the same DNA in his body as Josh, because they are so vastly different from each other.

The movie continues while Josh throws in a few more tidbits, piquing your interest and subsequently annoying Sam. (That’s almost more entertaining than the movie.)

Sam seems to be a little antsy. Antsy over something else other than his older brother talking away about mindless things.

You’ve noticed him glancing your way periodically out of your peripheral, and he keeps taking a breath as if he wants to say something but stops before he gets a word out.

You can’t take it any longer. “You okay, Sammy?” you ask in a hushed voice, trying not to disturb Josh and Malachi.

“Y- yeah, I’m okay,” he whispers. But you know better. Something is plaguing him, and you will get to the bottom of it.

“Are you sure?” you ask, a little bit of inflection on the last word.

He nods his head and hums in confirmation, setting his eyes back on the sci-fi film while you shrug him off and do the same.

As many times as you’ve seen this movie, you still can’t help but cringe during the infamous torture scene.

You verbally express your disgust over the torture being inflicted on Alex, holding your hands over your face and barely peeking through the space between your fingers.

The guys all snicker at your squeamish recoil, opting to watch you versus the movie as your reaction is probably more riveting than the horrid images on the screen.

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The early evening has now cast a full, lunar glow as time has drawn on with the movie now running its ending credits.

Josh and Malachi have long since fallen asleep, cuddled up in an impressive knot together.

You peel yourself up off the soft cushion and stretch your stiffened limbs as Sam remains tucked deep between the pillows, still awake as he scrolls mindlessly on his phone as you suddenly remember you haven’t checked yours since filming came to an end hours ago.

You reach in your bag to fish it out, only to find that the battery is now completely dead.

“Shit,” you mumble more to yourself than anything else.

Your mind is instantly filled with the worst case scenario. Is your mother okay? What might have happened in the time between your phone dying and now? If she was in trouble, there is no way you would’ve known.

“You okay?” Sam hushes from his cocoon in the couch, lifting up a bit as you give him a sideways glance.

You had just tried to turn your phone on, to no avail. Only being met with the red battery telling you that you’re shit out of luck. Deciding to play it off, you do your best to not overthink it as you toss your phone back in your bag.

You feel your heart plummet with the phone the slightest bit. “Y-yeah,” you stutter, keeping your tone quiet for the sleeping lovers. You throw a thumb towards the door, connecting your eyes with his again. His expression is so concerned, his eyes mimic that of a baby calf. “I’ve just gotta go. Just a grade I’ve been dying to check and my phone is dead,” you lie through your teeth, starting to head to the door.

But just as you get to the door, his hand is over yours on the handle. Your heart rate admittedly speeds up at the proximity. Cute, sweet guy who you’ve been sitting closely with all night? Touching your hand?

You turn your head back and upwards to get a look at where he is standing behind you.

“Let me walk you out,” he offers, his tone kind but leaving no room for argument. “I don’t like the idea of you being out there at night by yourself.”

Little does he know where I fucking live. This place is nothing.

But, again, you play it off. Company on the way to the car wouldn’t be bad.

“Okay,” you grin. And he’s so close, you can’t help but blush as you open the door under his hand, still covering yours.

Once you get out to your car, you’ve built up a little bit of nervous energy from Sammy following you out. You would be lying if you said you didn’t have a bit of a crush, and having him so near was doing funny things to your heart.

You turn to the driver’s side door and go to put your key in the lock.

“Thanks for walking me out, Sam,” you look over your shoulder, trying your best to look as cute as possible in front of your beat up, jank-ass car. “I really loved hanging out with you tonight,” then you turn back to open the door. “Have a good night, Sa—.”

“Wait—,” you hear him say, his voice anxious. You follow the tone of his voice, and turn to face him front on. You can’t help the grin that flutters to your features as you wait for him to finish. “I’ve—I’ve actually been wanting to ask you something. I just wasn’t sure how to do it, but— fuck it. Do you want to go out this weekend? With all of us, I mean. Well, with me, but everyone else will be there too.” he utters, stumbling all over himself as he does so. “Josh wants to have a party here with all of the cast and crew to celebrate being halfway done with the film, and then we’ll all go out afterwards. Well, just my brothers and I. Of course Malachi will come. And you, I hope.” He’s spitting this all out so quickly, it’s like whiplash trying to keep up with everything he’s saying.

He seems…nervous? That is quite shocking to you given how close you two have been for filming. He seems to never have an issue in those circumstances. He’s incredibly confident and sure of himself while he kisses you like no one has ever kissed you before. All for the sake of a silly college project.

You smile at him and grab his hand before you respond, attempting to reassure him and make him feel more comfortable. “I’d love to, Sammy.”

You can visibly see the anxiety wash away from his body as he relaxes a bit, loosening his stiffened posture. “Great! How do you feel about haunted houses?”

“Haunted houses?” you question. “Like, spook houses?”

Your Oklahoma is showing, y/n.

Sam chuckles, “I forget you’re from down yonder,” he jokes with the worst fake southern accent you’re sure ever heard. “Yeah, like those. We go every year to them, kind of an annual ritual for my brothers and I. I’d really, really love it if you joined us this year. It’s a blast. That's what we’re planning on doing after the party. There’s a new one we’re wanting to try out for size.”

You’ve been so caught up in the chaos of everything consuming your life at the moment that you’d completely forgotten that Halloween is this weekend. Time has utterly flown by since your move. It still feels as though you’ve just begun classes at the U of M only days ago, when in fact, it’s been months since the semester started.

“God, I haven’t gone to a spook hou– sorry, haunted house, in years.” you tell him.

His face scrunches up in a tenderhearted grin at your correction.

“It’s a date, then!” he exclaims with an enthusiasm that swarms your belly with tiny butterflies.

He opens your car door a little wider as you climb yourself in the driver's seat. “It’s a date,” you repeat through a full toothed smile. He matches your grin as he gently shuts your door, bidding you a farewell with a sweet salute.

⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎

Each outfit you put on just doesn’t flatter you in the slightest. Every shirt is either too tight or too low cut, each pair of jeans has a weird gap in the crotch, your leggings only look good with a baggy sweater. And even though that’s your go-to comfort outfit, that is not the vibe you're going for tonight.

No; you have to look damn good tonight. You want to look good for Sam, for him to see you in something cute that’s not just a film costume. (But there’s also the incessant part of you that desperately wants to impress Jake, too. And your usual attire just won’t do the trick.)

You dig through to the deepest crevices of your closet in hopes to find something that looks good, but also makes you feel confident in your body.

The only thing you do feel confident in these days is your seductive wardrobe for the film. But, for obvious reasons, you can’t wear those to the party or the spook house. That is not the kind of attention you’re attempting to draw this evening.

You stumble upon a black velvet skirt, short with a small slit on the left thigh. You’ve never worn it. You bought it years ago for a reason that you can’t seem to remember at the moment. But it’s managed to withstand the multiple closet purges you’ve done over the years, so part of you has clearly always thought it would come in handy at some point.

Holding it up to your hips, you figure it’ll probably still fit. (Fingers and toes crossed that it does.)

It’s supposed to be a bit chilly out tonight, so you rummage through the second drawer in your dresser for the pair of black tights you have tucked away at the very bottom under all of your other undergarments.

You sit on your bed as you pull the tights over your calf, up to your thigh before repeating the same thing on the other leg, standing up to awkwardly pull them the rest of the way up over your hips and ass, covering the cute black boy shorts you chose to wear underneath that match your black t-shirt material bra. These particular tights have some serious tummy control— something you’re quite grateful for.

Now, for the brutal moment of truth. Will the skirt fit?

You certainly hope so. Trying on anything can be incredibly difficult for you. You live in fear that nothing will fit you. Too big or too small, it doesn’t matter. Dealing with the size of your body in any aspect is paralyzing and far too triggering. So, doing this right now is a massive step for you. But, if it fits, it’ll be worth it.

You undo the zipper on the back and step into the skirt on one foot at a time, sucking your stomach in fiercely as you zip it back up at your waist and clasp the small hook and eye at the top.

As you let out the breath you’d been holding, you’re delightfully shocked to find that the skirt fits. Not too tight, not too loose— it’s perfect. A wonderful surprise that you truthfully weren’t expecting.

You walk over to your small vanity to take a look in the mirror sitting on top of the white wooden table. You bend down a bit to get a better look at the skirt, and holy hell.

Your ass looks fantastic. And the little slit sitting on your left thigh is tastefully sexy as hell. The tights were a great choice as they make your legs look smooth and complement the black velvet beautifully.

Now, to find the right top.

Giant sweaters are your comfort, but you’re feeling like trying something a little different tonight.

You have a dark gray, long sleeved mock neck that’s been hidden away almost as long as your skirt has. The fit of it has always given you wild amounts of anxiety. It’s tight. Like, skin tight. Yet, it’s remained part of your wardrobe for a long ass time. So, why not give it a try? You’re feeling a little more brave at the moment, and it might surprise you just as the skirt did.

Shifting through the hangers holding your shirts, you finally find it. Still brand new with the tags. You can’t remember why you bought this, either. Perhaps past you was looking out for future you to have something hot to wear on this very night? Who the hell knows.

You rip the tags off of it, figuring it’s probably much too late to return it now. You stretch out the mock neck a bit before pulling it on over your head, smoothing it over your breasts and down your stomach, tucking the length into your skirt and tights.

You adjust the arms a bit, feeling a tinge of apprehension at just how snugly the material is clinging to your biceps. A body part of yours that you’re not so keen on accentuating.

But as you take a look in the mirror, you’re shocked yet again— over just how good this looks on you, too. The tight-fitting fabric is actually doing you a lot of favors, particularly in the region of your breasts.

The shirt isn’t cut in a way that would show any cleavage, but the way it fits around them emphasizes their shape, making them look rather perky as they sit perfectly upon your chest.

The whole outfit is flattering you in ways you’ve never explored. The anxiety about trying something so far outside of your comfort is still ever present, but as of late, you’ve convinced yourself that it’s okay to do that every once in a while.

You’re tired of being trapped in the prison cell that is your self conscious brain. It’s time to break free, and the confidence that filming has brought to you feels like the very key to unlocking the bars that keep your thoughts in confinement. And so does this moment as you’re seeing yourself in yet another new light. It makes you feel utterly silly for feeling as shitty as you always have.

You glance at your phone to check the time, and you still have over an hour until you have to be at their apartment. You’re thankfully making good time, so you have plenty to dedicate to your hair and makeup to perfect it.

You decide to throw a few loose curls in your hair, letting the waves fall around your face to frame it. Keeping your makeup a bit on the light side, you choose to go with a small, subtle black wing and black mascara to accent your eyes. You decide on a daring red lip, but not just any red lip– the same shade of red you’ve been wearing while you’re portraying the highly coveted Guiniverre. You grin as you swipe the scarlet color across your lips, thinking back to all the times it’s become smeared on yours and Sammy’s. The giggles that you two have broken out in over the mess you’ve created on his face.

Digging through your jewelry box, you find some silver and gold chains you like to pair together. You place them meticulously around your neck, making sure they’re stacked to perfection. Then a pair of big hoop earrings that show beautifully through the loose curls around your face.

But just as you’re closing the lid to the floral painted ceramic box, something catches your eye.

A little golden charm in the shape of a heart with your initial engraved on it. Your fifteenth birthday gift from your dad. You used to wear it every single day, up until the very day he walked out of your life for good.

You threw it away that day. Tossed in the garbage the second you realized what he had done.

While you’re not entirely sure how it made its way to Michigan with you, you’re willing to bet your mom dug through the trashcan to salvage it for you, hiding it in your box for you to discover later on.

As much as you’ve struggled to contrive a single memory of your dad that doesn’t involve him leaving, looking at the necklace has your mind venturing back to the moment he gave it to you. Wrapped up so elegantly in a red velvet bag, with a letter from him that told you the story behind your name, how he chose it special after his grandmother that helped raise him when his parents gave him up. (Seems a little ironic.)

You suddenly begin to panic. Where did that letter end up? Did you throw it away, too? God, you really hope you didn’t. But it seems like something you definitely may have done in the midst of your unforgiving anger with him.

But you loved that story. You used to make him tell you about your name all the time, and having it written down in his handwriting was something you held rather close to your heart until he up and left.

You start scrambling, pulling your tangled jewelry out in handfuls to see if it’s buried in there, but it’s no use. It’s not here, and you truly feel in your heart that it’s somewhere in the landfills of Cherry Tree, Oklahoma. Disintegrated to near nothing.

It breaks your heart to think of it in that state. But maybe it’s for the better. Maybe that’s the universe trying to tell you that it was meant to stay back in Oklahoma with the life you no longer have with him.

One thing is for sure, there’s no use in shedding tears over it. It’s in the past, and that’s probably the best place for it.

You check your phone once more, realizing that you have to leave in no less than twenty minutes if you want to be there on time.

You begin rushing around, looking for your black thigh length leather jacket (faux, of course) that you know will match your outfit perfectly.

You find it buried under a few other coats on the shelf of your closet. You swiftly grab it and start heading out of the door of your bedroom, realizing that you’re still clutching the heart necklace in your right hand’s grip.

Mindlessly, you slowly place it around your neck, lining it up with your others so it sits in just the right place. You hold tight to the engraved charm, swiping your thumb over the initial a few times, just as you always did for comfort in the years that it was worn.

The comforting feeling is still there, strangely. Everything has changed since you last wore this, yet somehow it all feels the same.

The memories start to flood back like a tsunami, but you don’t have time for them right now. You don’t want to overwhelm yourself with it all. Wearing the necklace is just one step towards forgiveness, and that’s all you have the mental capacity for at the moment.

Throwing your jacket on your shoulders, you walk down the hallway to the living room to search for your purse and keys.

Your mom is seated on the couch, watching her favorite television show and cleaning up the plate of food you made her. She starts to get up to take her dishes to the kitchen, but you stop her before she can stand all the way.

“Let me get that, mom.” You take them from her, rinsing them off in the kitchen sink before placing them in the dishwasher. “Are you sure you’ll be okay with me gone for so long?”

Tonight will be the longest you’ll be gone from her since you made the move, and the worry sitting on your heart is almost too heavy for you to truly feel okay with leaving her tonight.

Your biggest fear is playing over and over in your head like a damaged record. But when you told her about tonight, she wouldn’t accept anything less than you going and having a great time.

“You look beautiful, sweetie. Does my poor heart some good to see you like this,” she says as you saunter your way back into the living room to meet her warm, smiling face. “And I told you, honey. I will be fine. Don’t you dare fret about me tonight.”

Triple checking that all of her nighttime medications are out and within her reach, you also take a moment to check that her oxygen tank is full and that her mask is nearby should she need it.

“Y/n.” She takes your hand away from the tank and pulls it close to her. “I am just fine. Now get on out of here and enjoy yourself, sweet pea.”

She pats the back of your hand with her other, something she’s done since you were a child.

“Okay, mom,” you utter through a deep sigh. “But please promise you’ll call me if you need me for anything, okay?”

She nods her head in agreement, sending you a warm smile yet again as she lets go of you and softly nudges you in the direction of the front door.

“Love you, mom,” you tell her as you step through the threshold.

“Love you more, y/n.”

⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎

You nervously pull your car in the lot of their complex. It’s been clanking around more than usual tonight and there’s an odd smell emitting from the engine. You’re counting your lucky stars that you’ve made it here in one piece. You’re hoping that having it sit and rest for a while is just what it needs.

Your dad was always your right hand in fixing any issue that arose with your old piece of junk. Without him, you don’t even know where to begin. What shops to take it to, who will overcharge you and who won’t. Car mechanics are a foreign concept to you.

He even promised you a new one by the end of your junior year. It’s a pretty safe bet that that won’t be happening.

Josh answers the door before your fist even collides with it. “Y/n, my sweet dove! I’m so happy to see you!” he exclaims, clearly more than a few drinks in as he holds one tightly in his hand.

He practically pulls you into their home, wrapping you in a Josh-famous hug while nearly spilling his glass filled to the brim with some stout, honey colored liquid. The same one that you smelled on his breath as soon as he opened his mouth.

“Joshua!” you huff, laughing at his loose state. “The night has barely begun and you’re already drunk?”

“Ah, yes! The night is still young, and there’s plenty more trouble to get into!”

Your hand covers the sound of the giggle that erupts from you. “It sounds like you’ve gotten into enough already, Josh,” you say through your fingers.

His drink meets your empty hand in a clumsy ‘cheers,’ a few drops of his drink landing on your skin before he lifts his glass to take a big swig.

“The queen is here, everyone!” he shouts while stumbling through the crowded living room. You cringe at the sudden influx of eyes staring at you from Josh (loudly) announcing your arrival.

You flash an uncomfortable smile, waving stiffly at everyone while you take your jacket off and hang it on the coat-stand in the corner of the foyer.

“The queen, the queen!” Sammy roars from the kitchen, setting his glass down on the granite before swiftly padding his way across the living space to meet you. He instantly envelopes you in a warm, soft hug, digging his chin in your shoulder. His coarse facial hair tickles your neck as you playfully squirm away from his embrace.

He takes a step back, amorous eyes flicking up and down your form. “You look intoxicatingly lovely tonight,” he whispers, taking your hand as he gives the tops of your knuckles a quick peck.

Although he’s not quite as inebriated as his older brother, you can tell he’s had at least a few. Enough to sustain a pretty decent buzz. So, you don’t think his actions are completely due to the alcohol. Perhaps a bit, though.

“Come with me,” Sam says while he drags you by the same hand his lips just met. “Your lack of beverage is deeply concerning.”

As he leads you to the kitchen, your eye is caught by Jake standing by the array of finger foods intricately splayed out on huge charcuterie boards.

And fuck, does he look sexy as hell.

His dark beige collared jacket over his loose, worn white t-shirt is something brand new to you, and his denim button up tied around his waist above his black skinny jeans shouldn’t be nearly as inviting as it is.

You instantly notice the slightly cropped nature of his top, revealing just enough skin. Even the slightest vision of his lower stomach has your head spinning.

But then you realize… he’s not alone.

And she’s pretty. Really fucking pretty.

Her sun bleached hair falls just below her impossibly tiny waist. Her green eyes are complemented beautifully by her mulberry sweater, the deep neckline emphasizing her perfect breasts.

He’s smiling, laughing, and she’s laughing right along with him, making doe eyes as he talks to her. She’s holding some bright pink concoction, of which she’s taking the daintiest sips, never breaking contact with his eyes.

You’ve never seen him so outgoing, so talkative. And it’s all thanks to her.

Sam notices your stare in their direction, and switches directions so you’re now heading towards them.

“I don’t think you two have properly met!” Sam interjects. “Y/n, this is Stacy. She’s playing the woman that steals your man.”

He laughs ridiculously loud at his own joke, obviously not understanding where your mind is at all. (How could he possibly know? But, still. Poor taste, Sam.)

She is Stacy. Of course she is.

You’d heard about Stacy, but you hadn’t met her yet. All you knew was that she was the one cast as Camille, Arthur’s very own secret lover who will later turn out to be as evil as Morgan le Fey herself.

Nat has mentioned her briefly, telling you that she’s “kind of a moron, but a fantastic actress,” whatever the hell that means.

Her availability has been much different than yours for filming, so your paths have yet to cross. And since Josh has a strict ‘no pre-edit viewing’ rule, you haven’t seen any of her scenes with Jake.

And part of you isn’t entirely sure you want to. With how titillating your scenes with Sam have been, and the rather exposed nature of your own costuming, your wandering mind can only imagine how similar Jake's scenes are with Stacy and the costumes they’ve chosen for her.

The script you possess only includes scenes with you, so you haven’t even been able to read any of Jake’s that don’t include you, which also means you haven’t even read any of hers.

You’d already made it up in your mind that she was probably quite beautiful. That Jake probably believes she’s quite beautiful, too.

And you were unfortunately right. She’s a fucking goddess. You can’t hold a candle to her. And given the way Jake is looking at her, it’s safe to assume that he would agree.

Does he feel the same things for her that you feel for Sam? Why does it seem he gives her the attention you so desperately crave from him? Is she the reason why he has next to nothing to do with you?

It shouldn’t matter to the extent that it unfortunately does, but the thoughts are deafening nonetheless.

You’re jealous. And there’s no reason to be jealous, but you can’t begin to help it.

Out of instinct, you bring your arms up to fold them over your chest. You suddenly feel like hiding once again.

The thrumming bass from the loud music is keeping perfect time with the amplified beating of your heart.

Why do you have to care so much?

You swallow it all down, breaking free from your thoughts to be cordial with her. Because she has yet to give you a reason not to be, and you don’t want to be that jealous bitch.

“Hi, Stacy!” you exclaim with a forced smile and a reach of your hand to shake with hers. “It’s so great to finally meet you.”

She disregards your outstretched hand, opting to pull you in for an unexpected hug in lieu and nearly causing you both to topple over.

She smells fucking incredible. Like fresh cherries and oranges.

She breaks from the hug, still grasping hold of each of your shoulders as you’re standing completely stiff in shock over the way she’s greeting you, as if she’s known you all her life.

With a giant smile, (displaying her perfectly white, straight teeth) she says, “I am so happy to see you! The boys have told me so much about you— well, mostly Sammy. He told me you’re a super awesome actress and has gone on and on about how pretty you are.”

Sam wraps his arm around your waist, giggling and blushing at her statement. You find his sudden onset of embarrassment to be absolutely adorable. You catch yourself smiling at the thought of him speaking of you in such a way. His sweetness more than makes up for the lack thereof from his older brother, who is standing stiff as a board behind Stacy.

His eyes flick to yours, and they burn a hole through your own gaze before they land on Sam’s arm that’s hugged tightly to your body. His nostrils flare and his jaw clenches before he gives Sam a look that you’re pretty sure could actually murder him if it were possible.

You can’t discern how he’s feeling, but whatever is on his mind, he certainly does not appear to be happy about it.

You look up to Sam to see that he’s staring right back at Jake, even throwing him a sly wink before Jake abruptly walks away from the three of you without a single word.

What the fuck is his problem now?

You all stand there in silence for a moment, Stacy’s head quickly whipping around in the direction he left in.

“Well,” you say, clearing your throat to draw the attention elsewhere. “I’ve heard plenty of wonderful things about you also, Stacy. I am so excited to see you in the film. I bet you’re absolutely great!” You’re more so telling her this in an effort to relieve the tension that Jake so lovingly left behind.

She smiles before taking a few sips of her drink, licking the rememints off her full, rose colored lips. “Jake is just a dream to work with. He’s so patient and kind with me. And he’s just the sweetest guy! When he asked me to come to the party tonight, there was no way I could say no.”

No. There’s no way she’s using ‘patient’ and ‘kind’ to describe the same Jake that’s been a rude, arrogant pain in your side for the past few months. He is most definitely not the ‘sweetest guy.’

You’re practically biting your tongue in half to stop yourself from saying anything.

Why the hell has he been treating her so much better than you? What is so special about her that you’re lacking?

Well, aside from her Barbie-like beauty. That is something you can’t compare to, sadly. You’ll never equate to girls that carry her kind of flawless, graceful allure.

And that is probably why you don’t receive the same respect as her. It makes perfect sense.

What a vain, fucking asshole.

⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎

You’ve been subtly eyeing them all night, watching as they’ve kept themselves tucked away together in a desolate corner of the living room, completely separated from the rest of the party.

He’s been ogling the hell out of her while she rambles on and on, talking his ear off for what feels like hours. (About something mindless and irrelevant, you’re sure.)

But whatever it is has acquired his full attention as they’ve basically not lost sight of one another since the night began. (Aside from the numerous times you’ve caught him glancing your way tonight. Maybe this outfit was a good idea.)

Sammy thankfully hasn’t taken notice of your wandering eyes. In fact, he’s been just as glued to you as the two of them seem to be.

And if you’re honest, he’s been a welcome diversion.

The drinks have made him a little extra clingy to you, and even more complimentary, as if that were even possible.

You’re asking yourself yet again why you care so fucking much about what Jake is doing, when you have Sam practically falling all over himself for you. (Almost literally, thanks to the alcohol flowing freely through his system.)

You’re still working on your first drink that Josh mixed for you, and you now know what Malachi meant when he told you to beware of an infamous Josh cocktail. There’s just a hint of lime juice swimming in an endless sea of Camarena tequila. (A Kiszka staple, you’ve come to find.)

You can only sip on it gingerly as a full gulp would probably cause your blood alcohol levels to rise rather quickly, so taking it slow is necessary.

“I think I’ll go pour myself another refreshment. Anything I can get you?” Sammy asks, effectively pulling your attention away from them again for the umpteenth time tonight. (Thank god he hasn’t noticed.)

“I think I’m good. Thank you, though.”

He gives you an inquisitive look as he downs the last few drops of what's left of his drink. “And you’re sure you don’t want something to eat? There’s plenty up there.”

You’ve turned down his offer at least three times now. He’s been questioning you all night about eating, but you just can’t right now.

The fear of becoming bloated while in an outfit as tight as this, clinging to every square inch of your body, is far too great to allow yourself to indulge.

If you want to look good, especially around the likes of Stacy, food is out of the question for tonight.

“I ate with my mom before I came over, so I’m really not very hungry.” That’s a lie. And you hate to lie to him, to anyone. But you don’t want to be tempted by him bringing you a plate of food. You’ve hardly stepped foot in the kitchen for that very reason.

He just smiles and says “okay” as he stands up from the couch to grab his refill, leaving you sitting there by yourself.

Normally you’d be grateful for the moment of solitude amongst the wild party goers as they dance and galavant around.

But all it’s doing is setting your attention right back on Jake, who’s still conversing with Stacy.

Only now, it’s much worse.

Your stomach tightens and drops when you see him mindlessly run the backs of his fingers up and down her forearm, landing loosely on her waist as their proximity has become even closer somehow.

You shouldn’t care. You really shouldn’t fucking care. But goddamnit— how you wish it were you.

You’ve told yourself over and over again to let go of this idea that he could ever possibly like you. It’s pointless, useless. He’s made it plenty well known that he isn’t and never will be interested.

But suddenly, he makes eye contact with you again as he’s wrapped up with her, and she doesn’t notice. She just keeps talking to him as if he were still listening.

But you can tell he’s not. His eyes are tightly fixed with yours, and this time, neither one of you are quick to break the contact.

There’s close to twenty people between the two of you, yet they all suddenly disappear. The music has turned into a muffled, incoherent beat. It’s as though you’re both standing on either end of a tunnel, the rest of the world stuck on the outside, unbeknownst to what’s occurring beyond the cylinder walls that encompass only you and Jake.

Your trance is broken by Stacy taking hold of his face and turning it back towards her. You can’t hear what she says, but based on the movement of her lips, you’ve gathered it was something along the lines of, ‘who were you looking at?’

She turns her head in your direction, looking around intently to answer her own question.

But she doesn’t look at you. Because in her mind, why would Jake ever look at you when she, perfect and beautiful as can be, is standing right in front of him?

No. She’d never suspect it.

And maybe she’s right, anyway. You turn to look behind you to see a slew of beautiful girls standing close by. Friends of some of the crew for the film, you assume.

He was probably just looking at them. Not you.

Never you.

You feel the couch cushion sink in next to you with Sammy sitting back down, clutching his newly fresh drink, completely oblivious to everything happening within your mind.

You suddenly feel your phone vibrate from your purse, and you unlock the screen to see a text message from Natalia.

It’s suddenly registered with you that she isn’t here yet, which isn’t like her to be late to anything.

Nat: “So, about tonight…”

You: “Are you okay?? Where are you, dude?”

Nat: “I *may* have a date planned, & I *may* not be making it to the party because of said date. ;)”

You: “A date?? With?? SPILL IT!”

Nat: “A certain curly headed boy who was also supposed to be there tonight. :p Any guesses?”

You glance around the room to determine who should be here but isn’t.

You still don’t know very many people in this town just yet, so the possibilities of who it could be are rather limited.

It clearly isn’t Sammy. And it most definitely isn’t Jake or Josh.

Then, it hits you.

Daniel. Sammy’s best friend who has been nowhere to be found all night, who was most definitely supposed to be here.

You’ve loved getting to know him over the last few months. Everything runs extra smoothly when he’s around to help with the camera work, and he serves as the best mediator for the twins. (And Sam when he’s feeling extra ruthless.) Fights are almost non-existent when his presence is looming.

And he is absolutely sexy as fuck. The tallest of all the boys, and the most muscular.

With Nat’s unmatched beauty along with her kind heart, the two of them would make the most ideal, movie worthy couple.

You’re sad she won’t be here tonight, but the thought of her going out with Danny has you far too excited to care. She deserves this.

You: “Danny?? SHUT THE HELL UP? I’m so happy for you!”

Nat: “Maaaaybe. ;) I’ll keep you updated! Sorry for ditching you tonight, love you & have fun!”

You: “You’re such a shit. Love you!”

“What are you so smiley about?” Sam asks, nudging your shoulder playfully with his as you grin at your phone.

You lift up your screen to show him, his smile matching yours once he discovers what has you so giddy,

“No fucking way!” he shouts, taking your phone from your hand to get a better look at the messages. “He’s been wanting to ask her out for ages. Way to finally grow some balls, Daniel!”

Sinking into the cushions a little further, you accept your fate of not having Nat with you for the night. You’re going to miss her. You are not sure how you’re going to make it without her perfectly timed buffering. And tonight of all nights is the one where you need her as a distraction. A distraction from the continuously ridiculous display that Jake and Stacy are giving with their secret giggles in the corner.

Next to you, Sammy’s small, drawn out cackle pulls you back. It brings a small smile to your face as it’s an honestly endearing sound–reminiscent of a laugh influenced by weed. You’ve gotten used to hearing it often, as Sam is always laughing if there’s a laugh to be had.

He’s a good distraction. A good buffer. You’ll have him to lean on all night. You’re assured of this as he looks down at you with his big, beautiful, deep brown eyes. He’s pulling you in, making you feel safe in this overly crowded room.

But another drink would be nice. Just to alleviate any tension that could unintentionally make its way into your muscles. It’s a humongous risk as Jake and Stacy leave their cocoon in the corner to make their way back to the kitchen.

Yeah, you don’t want to go back there. You need a drink, but you don’t want to accidentally see them canoodling when that’s the last thing you want to be privy to. The drink’s a necessity, though, you realize as you already feel irritation flare in your veins at the thought.

“You need something, hun?” Sam asks.

You bring your eyes, zoning out on nothing, back to him. God, he’s so sweet. Why can’t he be the Kiszka you want most?

Not knowing what else to say or do, you figure asking him to run to the kitchen for you might be a good idea. You need the alcohol, and he would surely love to help. Perfect combo.

“I need a drink,” you say, a shy smile taking over your features. “And I’m too comfy to get up.”

You really feel bad making him be your errand boy. Especially when his face lights up at the prospect of possibly helping you.

“Yeah!” He eagerly responds, getting up in no time. “Whaddya want? Mixed? Beer? Wine?”

“Glass of wine, maybe?”

“Dry? Sweet? Sour?”

“Sweet,” you respond, without thought. Sweet wine is always the only route. “Thank you,” you offer, blushing with the quiet thanks.

“Sure thing,” he winks. Then, he’s crouching in front of you, his hand landing on your thigh. Your skin heats under his touch. He’s so fucking gorgeous. And he’s so close. And he’s leaning in.

You lean forward, too, and capture his lips in an effortless kiss. So soft, his mustache tickles your upper lip just right.

He sucks your bottom lip into his mouth and your tummy does a funny twirl before he’s standing back up with one more wink and a little grin that makes your cheeks flare red. “Be right back, sweet thing.”

As long as you can without having to move from your spot, you watch him lazily (and sexily) walk to the kitchen for your beverage. You’re biting your lip, still, when you turn back to face the rest of the party in front of you.

Then you see Jake leaving the kitchen right as Sammy enters it. And with Stacy momentarily distracted, he lets his eyes wander. But, you realize, they don’t really wander– no, they go immediately to you.

You’re still biting your lip, but you let your teeth slip just the slightest bit with the look he’s giving you. It’s haunting–almost as though it’s a best-kept secret. He looks…pensive. But his eyes are open, wondering and curious with his lips parted just slightly– so prettily.

You let your gaze stay on his face–continue looking in his mysterious eyes–until Sam is the one exiting the kitchen. So, you turn your attention back to his face. He’s smiling at you, holding up a clear plastic cup, holding what looks like Pink Moscato. Your lips turn up at the sight, but let your eyes float back to Jake’s of their own accord… but he’s no longer looking at you.

No, he’s looking at Malachi, who is still engaging in conversation with Stacy.

But he’s not smiling along with their conversation. He’s scowling, his jaw clenching enough to make your skin feel hot. Why’s he so mad?

You choose not to think about it, instead averting your eyes to Sam, now back in front of you with your wine, setting his new drink on the table. You let your eyes settle on his ass in his gray jeans and you can’t help but appreciate the view.

Then he’s turning around and his phone is getting clicked open from his pocket.

Peering at the screen, you wrinkle a brow.

“What’s–?”

“Twenty Questions!” He excitedly says as he hands you your wine and settles in next to you again. “Thought it could keep us busy for the next bit of time.”

Your eyes twinkle. He’s adorable.

“Okay,” you smirk, taking a drink of your wine, which settles immediately into your cheeks. Warms you right up. And, yes, it’s Pink Moscato. “How did you know I love this type of wine?”

“Lucky guess,” he chimes, the apples of his cheeks pink after a swig from his brand new mixed drink. “You wanna play?” He flashes his screen at you again, lit up way too bright with the questions he’d found online.

“Yeah,” you reply with a sure nod. “Give me your worst.”

And, without being able to help it, you’re peeking over your shoulder once more.

You find Jake’s eyes, dark and waiting for you, before you’re both turning back to your tasks at hand.

Your tummy is positively fluttering as Sammy asks his first question.

“What’s one of the craziest things you’ve ever done?”

Not helping the giggle that bubbles out of your chest, you know exactly what your answer is.

Ironic.

“Craziest things I’ve ever done…” you hum, already knowing what you’re going to say when you give him a tiny smile. “Well, one of the craziest things I’ve ever done is definitely agreeing to star in a project film with a bunch of people I really didn’t know worth shit.”

His signature cackle comes to join your giggle, and you feel totally at ease in the moment.

God, he’s easy to talk to.

“That’s fucking hilarious,” he responds. Then, there’s a wholesome smile under his mustache, his eyes encompassing a brand new emotion. “But I’m really glad you did it.”

And, with Sam’s precious face making you feel a little giddy, and the feeling of eyes burning into the back of your neck making your stomach feel heavy with want, you say the only thing you can think of.

It’s simple.

“Me too.”

⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎

The chill of the night is nearly unbearable as you’re waiting in the line for the hayride that takes you to the haunted house, and you’ve found yourself regretting your choice of attire.

Your pleather jacket isn’t doing a damn thing to block the crisp breeze, and the small amount of alcohol you had ingested earlier has completely worn off, so you can’t rely on that to warm your system.

Your arms are crossed tightly over your chest in a desperate attempt to use your own body heat to warm up, but there isn’t any heat left to be used. You’re sure everyone can hear the incessant chattering of your teeth and the jingling of your jewelry from your uncontrollable shivers.

Michigan cold feels different than Oklahoma cold. Your body clearly hasn’t adjusted to the northern weather as of yet. (It also doesn’t help that you haven’t eaten a single thing since you woke up early this morning, but you turn that thought away fast. You’re not ready to confront that just yet.)

You half expected Sam to offer you his coat by now, but he’s too busy cutting up with Josh and Malachi at the moment to pay you any mind. You feel too awkward to ask, so you’ll just stand here and wait for your body to completely ice over while you wait for this fucking hayride that won’t allow you to be any warmer than you are right now.

Hell, even Jake gave Stacy his coat, and she didn’t even have to ask for it. He just did it.

And it doesn’t help that she can’t stop making her ‘pick me’ comments about how his coat is so big on her that she looks so tiny in it.

You’re annoyed as fuck that she’s here. The way she chimed in before you all left, nosing her way in to figure out where you all were going, just to get Jake to ask her to come. And of course he did. Of fucking course.

So, she’s here. Bumbling about and talking about whatever comes to her dull mind. But, her looks give her a pass. You’ve found yourself wondering more than once tonight why they didn’t cast her as Guiniverre. Her beauty alone makes her more than qualified for the role. And if her acting is as good as everyone says, it just doesn’t make sense why she wasn’t chosen.

You’re really wishing Nat was here. She would just get it and share along with your annoyance. But she would definitely say something along the lines of what you’re thinking. She’s not one to hold back like you are.

(And you’re starting to understand why she referred to Stacy as a ‘moron.’)

The line has been still for well over forty five minutes at this point, and you’ve not even moved a quarter of an inch since you’ve been here.

This better be worth it.

Stacy decides to join in on the guys’ fun, making an obnoxious show of herself as she does so. You know she’s only doing it for the sake of Jake’s attention.

And apparently Sam’s, too.

She’s got her arm interlocked with his as they stand in front of you, making ‘jokes’ with one another that might actually make you hurl.

Sam is too naive (and still a bit too inebriated) to understand her little game, but you’re not.

And it should be pissing you off that she’s suddenly all over your date, but at least it’s keeping her from clinging to Jake.

The vexed look on Jake’s face says everything you’re thinking— his annoyance isn’t quite as subtle as yours.

You’re a little relieved to find that he is also not thrilled about the situation. Everyone else seems to be enjoying themselves, and it’s not that you’re not, you just wish you weren’t so damn cold.

A sudden gust of wind hits you like a frozen freight train. It’s nearly painful, piercing through your skin to your chilled bones.

“Jesus!” You exclaim from the sharp gale, causing everyone to startle and snap their heads in your direction.

“You alright?” Jake asks.

You notice the bright pink hue on his cheeks and the very tip of his nose, and you’ve heard him sniffle every few minutes since you’ve been here. You kind of feel bad for him. Having given up his coat to the little blondie keeping Sam’s attention far away from you, he must be as cold as you are.

“I’m fine,” you fib through your jittering teeth. “I’m just so fucking cold.”

“Yeah, it’s pretty bad out tonight. Actually this whole month has been much colder than normal, I believe.” He cups his hands, bringing them up to his lips to blow warm air on them before sticking them back in the pockets of his skinny jeans.

You’re definitely not used to this kind of simple, small talk with Jake. And his annoyed demeanor has suddenly vanished. He no longer looks completely miserable, probably because he’s now ignoring Stacy’s obnoxious, forced laugh as she’s still messing around with Sam, Josh and Malachi just a few feet in front of you.

You’re absolutely over her at this point. The way she will snort out a fake laugh and casually peek over at Jake to see if he’s looking at her— it’s nauseating to watch, really.

“I think there’s a hot chocolate stand over there if you wan-” Jake starts, but he’s interrupted by Sam.

“I’m sorry, y/n. I didn’t realize you were so cold.” Sam says, wrapping his arms around your frigid body and rubbing his hands up and down your back to warm you up.

You’re grateful for his body heat, the way it instantly puts your endless shivers to rest.

But you wish he would’ve waited until Jake finished his thought. (And you wish Jake were the one warming you up instead.)

But while in Sam’s embrace, you catch Jake watching, glaring.

His jaw becomes tightly clenched, his chest rising up and down rapidly with his deep breaths, his eyes narrowed in on you wrapped tightly in his brother's arms.

And even as Stacy waltzes her way to him, tucking herself into his body, seeking his warmth, (quite literally just mimicking you and Sam) Jake's burning gaze doesn’t cease.

You’ve stood like this for so long that you don’t even realize you’re all next in line for the hayride.

Sam helps guide you in the back of the wagon, being sure you don’t slip on the unstable wooden step. Josh and Malachi pile in shortly after you, then Jake and Stacy.

You wince as you take a seat on the sharp hay, wishing even more that you would’ve chosen something thicker than your skirt. The hay is stabbing you through your clothes, and no efforts in situating yourself to find a comfortable spot are proving to be successful.

“Here, “ Sam says, patting his thigh. “Sit on my lap, you’ll be a lot more comfortable.”

The dry hay may as well be needles poking your ass, so you don’t turn down his offer. Plus, his body heat will also come in handy as you’ve got a pretty substantial way to go before you reach the haunted house.

He holds you close to him by your waist as you situate yourself on his warm thighs, but you hear a rather unpleasant scoff coming directly from Jake’s mouth as you do so. And so does everyone else, apparently, as everyone looks his way at the sound.

Sammy snickers, asking “You good over there, Jacob?”

His condescending tone catches you completely off guard. And clearly has pissed off Jake.

“Sam, it’s in your best interest to shut the fuck up.” Jake angrily retorts.

Stacy is seated next to him, a ridiculous smile splayed on her unaware, perfect face. Giggling and laughing when she has absolutely no clue what’s going on between the brothers.

(If you’re completely honest, you’re not entirely sure you do, either.)

But the tension is evident, nonetheless. And she is obviously incapable of picking up on it.

But what she does pick up on, is how you're seated comfortably on top of Sammy's lap, giving her the idea to also do that. Because for some fucking reason, she feels the need to always do the exact same thing you and Sammy do.

You have to hold back your laugh as she moves to sit on Jake, and he tells her it’s not a good idea and makes her sit back down on a dirty piece of hay.

Serves her fucking right.

⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎

A slew of bloody, killer clowns lead you all out of the hay covered wagon. Their makeup is…mediocre at best. Not the most realistic you’ve ever seen but you can tell there was at least a little more than minimal effort put into their costuming.

Stacy, of course, is screaming at the top of her lungs with each move they make, attaching herself to Jake in an obnoxious manner that almost prohibits him from being able to walk. The look on his features tells you he’s less than pleased with her actions, but he doesn’t stop her.

They then lead you all to the beginning of their ‘Three Ring Maze of Horrors,’ guiding you through the dark black lit entrance. The sounds of exaggerated screams and wails can be heard through their less than adequate sound system, playing on an endless loop along with circus music in an eerie minor key.

A typical cliche; nothing you haven’t seen adapted a hundred times before. The concept is a bit overdone in your eyes. Being the horror fan that you are, you’re pretty desensitized to things like this. It takes a lot to scare you anymore. But, you still enjoy the atmosphere nonetheless.

Not only was Jake chosen to be the designated driver tonight, it was a collective decision to have Jake lead the whole group through the haunted house. Of course, Stacy is close behind, clutching his back and burying her face into his jacket, seeking her pick-me attention yet again from him.

You and Sam are close behind, with you in front of him. He’s not quite as brave as you are, closely mimicking the reactions of Stacy, much to your annoyance.

Josh and Malachi are the tail end, clinging to one another as they both share in their fear together.

You and Jake seem to be the only ones who aren’t phased in the least. He’s hardly even winced at a single bloody clown threatening to have him for dinner.

But with every jump and yell of a clown, comes a blood curdling scream from Stacy that is far more dramatic than necessary.

Again, you have to fight back your laughter at the fact that Jake quite literally shrugs her off and ignores her every time. It appears he’s not buying any of her shit anymore tonight.

Sam, on the other hand, is much more fearful than you would have initially thought. (Especially considering they do these every year. Surely he doesn’t think this one is bad, right?)

He’s basically using you as a human shield everytime a clown reaches for him, squealing and bending down to your height to hide himself behind you while you simply look at the clowns and wave, being the pretentious asshole you are.

You’re thankful that both him and Stacy can’t see the ceaseless rolling of your eyes each time they make a fuss over something that is not as scary as they’re making it out to be. Yeah, you’ve jolted backwards from a jumpscare or two, but the whole thing is planned out in a way that you can almost guess exactly when and where an actor will strike. It’s textbook for spook houses. Some of them (including this one) are incredibly predictable.

As you’re finally nearing the end of this poor excuse of a fear seeking thrill, you catch the smallest glimpse of a grotesque clown's meticulous hiding spot. But he’s not hidden as well as he thinks, since you can still spot him even with the neon lights flashing about in an attempt to disorient your vision.

Jake is walking closer and closer to his spot, and you have a pretty good feeling that he’ll strike once Jake is within the appropriate distance.

You see the clown prepare himself and just as Jake is in the perfect spot, he jumps out in front of him, letting out a rather deafening wail.

Jake clearly did not see him, having the ever loving shit scared out of him and raising his fist to throw a punch at the actor.

Thankfully, the clown tucked himself back away in his little hiding spot before Jake could throw his self-defense punch.

Why was that so fucking hot?

⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎

After a rather interesting time out, you’ve all finally made it back to their apartment.

The night ran a little later than you intended, so you’re making haste in preparing to leave so you can get home. Sammy isn’t too keen on you leaving just yet, offering hug after hug in an attempt to keep you here a little longer with him.

I don’t deserve him.

“Do you really need to leave?” Sam asks, his tone of voice telling you he’s got something special in mind. You’d be lying if you said that wasn’t intriguing to you. “It’s pretty late, you know. I’d hate for you to drive all the way home at this hour. You’re more than welcome to stay here.” His wink sends a swarm of butterflies to your undeniably eager tummy.

You hear Josh agree that it’s a good idea as he and Malachi are making their way up the stairs to their room. You instinctively look to Jake to try and gauge his thoughts, but, as usual, you can’t read his stone cold face.

If circumstances with your mom were different, you might agree. But you’ve been gone from her for far too long. And being away from her overnight just simply isn’t an option.

“I wish I could, but I’ve got piles of homework sitting on my bed waiting for me.” Again, that’s a lie. But telling everyone the true reason is a task for another night.

“Will you at least text me that you’ve made it home safe?” Sam asks. His request sends a wave of warmth to your heart. The fact that he just fucking cares about you, and makes it evident.

“I will, Sam. I promise.”

You start gathering your things that you left on the couch earlier, and as you’re about to open the front door, you hear something that sends a boiling heat to your blood.

“Sam's right, Stacy. It isn’t safe to be out driving at this hour. I’m going to insist that you stay here tonight.” Jake tells her.

Don’t stay, don’t stay, d-

“I’d love to, Jakey!” her squealing voice answers.

Jakey?

“You can just sleep in my room, if you want,” he continues.

As if your blood wasn’t heated enough, now it’s blistering.

You cock your head in Jake’s direction, and his eyes are frozen solid on you.

He’s doing this on purpose. He’s getting even with you for all of your antics with Sam tonight.

Fuck you, Jake.

She follows him down the hall to his room, and when you hear his bedroom door shut after they walk in together, you decide that enough is enough.

You throw your stuff back down on the couch and stomp your way towards Sammy who’s staring at you with wide eyes.

Non verbally agreeing to his inquisition, you wrap your arms around his neck and attach your lips to his with everything you’ve pent up from the entire night, letting it all out on Sammy who’s willing to take it with no question.

He doesn’t break away to ask what changed your mind, he just reciprocates the same passion you’ve bestowed upon him. He’s practically clawing at your body to bring you closer, shoving his tongue past your lips and moaning straight into your open, hungry mouth.

With no more thoughts running through your mind, you leap into his ready arms, wrapping your legs around his waist as his hands reach to cup your ass.

He starts carrying you up the stairs, holding your body as if you weigh nothing. His lips only detach from yours long enough to open his bedroom door and carry you in, carefully letting you to fall on his mattress.

He wastes no time crawling on top of you, sucking the skin of your neck before finding your lips once again.

You grab hold of his white button up and tug on it until it reaches his shoulders, digging your nails into the now exposed skin of his back.

He lifts up to take it all the way off his body, tossing it across the room somewhere before gracefully flipping you both so you’re now on top, straddling him, your skirt now fully bunched up around your hips as his hands begin kneading the flesh of your thighs over your black tights.

You grind yourself on his body in desperate search for a release to ease the built up tension tonight has caused you.

“Shit, y/n,” he hisses, moving his hands to your hip bones to help guide you even further into him.

The moan you let out is one you’re sure everyone else in the apartment heard, but you couldn’t begin to care even if you wanted to.

I hope he fucking heard that.

You lean yourself down, your lips flush against his once again, making a show of sticking your ass out as much as you can.

“Y/n,” Sam pulls away from you. You chase after him, but he stops you again. “Hey, are you sure you want this?” he whispers.

You find his question to be utterly ridiculous. Of course you want it.

Even though it may not be for the right reasons…

You lift yourself up to look him in the eyes, “Do you not want this?” you ask, a bit of defensiveness in your tone.

His hand reaches out to pull you back down to him, enveloping your lips with a long, drawn out kiss that steals every breath of air from your lungs.

“I have wanted this since I fucking laid eyes on you,” he utters against your parted lips. “I just want to make sure that you are ready.”

You don’t want to think anymore, you don’t want him to think anymore.

Instead of using words to tell him just how badly you want this, you lift back up to tear your shirt off your body, leaving just your black bra on your top half. There’s no use in overthinking that, considering he’s already seen your breasts due to the sheer nature of your black lace piece for the film.

“Fuck,” he whispers, running his hands up your bare stomach, reaching to gently cup your still clothed chest. His thumbs trace delicately over your hardened nipples through the fabric, a rise in goosebumps enveloping your body. “You are so goddamn sexy, y/n.”

Just as you’re about to lean back into him, you notice something catching his eye. You instantly realize what it is.

Fuck. You weren’t ready for that yet.

“What’s this?” He traces the outline of your tattoo etched under your right breast, no longer disguised under the heavy stage makeup you’ve used during filming. Your body stiffens at the realization.

Now that he’s officially witnessed the most personal part of you, it suddenly registers what you’re doing.

And the anxiety becomes all consuming. All you want to do is cover up, to hide.

At this point, you’re only doing this to get to Jake. It’s absolutely not fair to Sam, using him and his affection for you like this. It’s not fair to yourself, either.

This isn’t what you want. But you’ve convinced yourself that it is, letting it go so far that your best kept, most intimate secret has officially been revealed.

You begin feeling a loss of your sacred identity, a piece of yourself that you weren’t ready to share just yet.

It’s much deeper than the tattoo at this point.

What the fuck am I doing?

You swing your leg over Sam, removing yourself from his body and searching frantically for your shirt.

You have to get out of here. You should’ve just fucking gone home.

“Y/n?” His voice sounds shaky and unsure. “Shit. I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have taken it so far.” He stands from the bed to meet you, the concern painted on his features shattering your heart.

As bad as you feel right now, you would’ve felt a thousand times worse had you continued this whole thing for all the wrong reasons.

“You didn’t do anything, Sam. I need you to know that. I just—“ Fuck. You don’t want to hurt him. And you don’t want him thinking any of this is his fault because it absolutely isn’t. “I thought I was ready, I don’t think I am. I’m so sorry, Sammy.”

You swallow down the massive wave of tears threatening to fall, but you can’t help the wetness forming in your ducts.

You’re angry with yourself for letting it get this far. You’re angry that you almost used someone who’s been nothing but kind to you to get to someone else, for your own selfish purposes. And you’re angry that you almost gave yourself fully to him without being ready to do so.

And for allowing him to see a part of you that practically no one knows about.

“Hey, hey,” he says, cupping your cheek. You know he can see the tears welling in your eyes, as much as you wish he didn’t. “Please don't be sorry. I’m only into this if you are. You call the shots, okay? I don’t want you to ever feel rushed.”

“I think I’ll just go home, if that’s okay.” You pull your shirt back on over your head, wanting nothing more than to be in one of your giant sweaters for just a semblance of comfort right now.

“Of course that’s okay. Do you want me to walk you out?” He asks. His sweet, quiet voice is comforting you a little, but you can’t shake the guilt you’re carrying heavily on your shoulders right now enough to find enough solace.

You tell him no, that you’re okay to walk out on your own. You can’t bear letting him do anything else for you. You just need to go.

He hugs you goodbye, telling you to be safe and reminding you once more to text him when you get home.

You tell him you will, and walk out of his room, shutting the door behind.

As you run down the stairs, you’re immensely hoping that no one is down there to see you leaving but as you reach the last step, that hope you were clinging to is no more.

It’s Jake. Rummaging through the fridge in the dark kitchen, and to make matters worse, (and slightly more awkward) the only thing on his body is a pair of black sweatpants.

And when he turns to face you, you realize how low they’re sitting on his waist. Low enough that you can see his hip bones and a small trail of hair sticking up from the waistband. Fuck. His hair is an absolute mess, tangled and sticking to his sweaty, flushed face.

You would enjoy the view, but you know good and well why he looks like this. And you know Stacy is still in his room, probably in a very similar state.

He watches you while your hurriedly head to the door, not stopping to say a single fucking word to him. He mutters something to you as you shut the door, but you don’t bother turning around to catch what he said. You just ignore him, practically racing to your car to get the hell out of here.

You throw the driver's side door open, slamming it shut once you’re seated. You sit in silence, laying your head on the steering wheel while the levees in your eyes finally break. The tears are uncontrollable, and leaving right now would prove useless as your vision is completely blurred.

The disappointment in yourself is ripping your soul in two.

And you feel so fucking bad for Sam. You made him feel as though he was to blame. But the real reason for everything that transpired is so terrible. This isn’t like you, to take advantage of someone for the sole purpose of making someone else jealous.

Someone as lovely as Sam who absolutely doesn’t deserve something so cruel.

You’ve successfully lead him on in ways you never intended, all for the sake of someone who can hardly hold a normal conversation with you.

You feel like you’re beneath the lowest levels of the earth right now.

You’re just ready to be home. All you want right now is to be tucked away in the comfort of your bed, to finally go to sleep and forget about everything for a while.

And the reality of how long you’ve been away from your mom is setting in, yet another thing to feel guilty about.

You choke back your sobs, fanning your eyes with your hands to dry them enough to see.

You take your key and turn it in the ignition, waiting for the car to start.

Nothing.

You pull it out and try once more. It almost starts to turn over, but the laggy engine isn’t doing anything other than sputtering and heaving.

You wait a minute before you try again, giving it a second to breathe and praying to every god in the universe that it’ll start.

In one last ditch effort, you hold the key as long as you possibly can this time until you hear a loud pop from under the hood. Then, total silence.

This isn’t happening…

You try the ignition once more just to see if by some miracle it’ll start, but it won’t even try to turn over now. There’s no more power.

Your car is fucking toast. And there’s not a goddamn thing you can do about it.

The last thing you want to do is go back inside to ask for a ride. But at this point, your options are rather limited.

Your first thought is to try and call Natalia. But both times you try, it goes straight to voicemail.

Great.

You have to get home, even if that means swallowing your shame and going back for Sam’s help.

With a reluctant and heavy sigh, you leave your car and drag your feet back to their apartment.

You turn the knob of the front door to find that it’s still unlocked. (Thank god you don’t have to knock.)

But when you quietly step in, you’re mortified to see Jake and Josh now awake and in the kitchen, snapping their heads sharply upon you entering.

“Jesus Christ!” Josh shouts, his whole bodying jolting forward into Jake’s in a dramatic display.

You feel bad for scaring him so bad, but his comical reaction does bring a hint of a smile to your face. Although you’re far too upset to laugh right now.

“You okay, love?” Josh asks with a gentle voice while he quickly walks over to you, looking at you with sweet concern.

You know for a fact that your mascara has left streaks of black down your face, so you’re sure you look absolutely insane right now but you couldn’t be bothered to fix it before you came back inside.

“Um, my car-“ you start, clearing your throat to strengthen your weak voice. “My car broke down and I need a ride. I really have to get home.”

Without as much as a single question, Josh takes his coat off the rack and grabs his keys off the hook beside the door, but he’s promptly cut off by Jake swiping them away from his hand.

“You’ve been drinking, Josh,” he says while hanging the keys back in their spot. “Driving isn’t a good idea.”

“She needs to get home,” Josh argues, ripping his keys off the hook yet again. “I’m completely fine. I’ll take her.”

Jake takes the damn keys back again, this time shoving them in the pocket of his sweatpants to ensure Josh can’t get ahold of them. “No. There’s goddamn liquor running through your blood. I’m not letting you drive. Don’t be a fucking idiot.”

“Do you want to take her, then?” Josh asserts, rubbing a frustrated hand across his forehead.

God, please no.

The thought of being in a car alone with Jake is enough to make you put your foot down on that idea. But you’re also not too keen on him seeing that you live in one of the most rundown, shitty complexes in the entire city.

But Jake is right, as much as you’d hate to admit. With as intoxicated as Josh had been earlier, it’s not smart that he drives you. You can still smell the alcohol on his breath and he’s not even standing that close to you.

“Just go get Sam,” Jake responds, stomping off to his room.

Josh grunts and matches his heavy footing up the stairs to Sam’s room, leaving you standing there alone and wondering what the fuck this whole night has become.

A few minutes pass, and as Josh is heading back down the stairs, you notice he’s alone and appearing even more irate than he was previously.

“I’m so sorry, y/n. He’s completely passed out and won’t move. I’ll just have to get Jake to take you since he’s so insistent that I can’t drive.”

Fuck.

Before you can oppose, he’s already knocking on his door.

“Jake, put a goddamn shirt on and take her home.” He yells, not caring enough to quiet his voice for the sake of the others who are fast asleep.

You take a peek down the hallway to catch Jake tossing open the door, damn near slamming Josh with it while aggressively putting on a Jimi Hendrix hoodie.

Stepping into a pair of black vans, he takes what you assume are his keys from the hook, already halfway out the door before he asks, “Are you coming, y/n?”

His tone pisses you the hell off— he’s not hiding the fact that he’s not thrilled about this. Both with his tone of voice and his assertive body language.

Sorry to inconvenience you so goddamn much.

You’re not in any mental state to argue; getting home is your only goal right now.

“Yep.” You sneer, grudgingly following him out the door to his car.

You had seen the practically brand new, matte black Range Rover sitting in the parking lot plenty of times, but you never gathered that it was his.

Although you should have guessed, given the way it so perfectly matches his aesthetic. You recently discovered his affinity for all things piratical, learning from Josh that the medallions he wears around his neck are ancient coins found amongst the ruins of old shipwrecks. He also told you about Jake’s childhood obsession with Johnny Depp's famous portrayal of the beloved Jack Sparrow character, so you’re not the least bit surprised when you see ‘BLK PRL’ engraved in the metal license plate. Clearly a nod to that part of himself. (That you can’t help but find awfully endearing.)

It’s nice. Really fucking nice. And clearly very well taken care of as there’s not a single flaw to be found.

The question remains– how the hell does a college student afford one of the nicest apartments you’ve ever seen and a new Range Rover?

You still don’t know what he does for work, but you don’t care enough at the moment to find out.

To your shock, he pulls a pure gentleman move by opening the passengers door for you and helping you in his car. Something you certainly hadn’t planned on but found rather charming.

Once he verifies that you’re in and secure, he shuts the door and heads to the drivers side, letting himself in and starting the engine.

He begins backing out of the driveway, one hand on the steering wheel and one on the headrest of your seat, his bottom lip is tucked between his teeth in concentration. You find it all to be inexplicably attractive and you can’t take your eyes off of him.

But when his eyes catch your stare, you look away, hoping he doesn't realize just how long you’d been watching.

“Where do you live?” he asks while putting the car in drive.

You don’t want to tell him. You don’t want him knowing that you live in one of the worst areas in the entire Detroit, Ann Arbor area.

But you no longer have a choice.

“Redwood Apartments,” you say quietly, wishing that this whole thing wasn’t happening. “Down on north Highland, just a block away from Meijer down the road.”

“Yeah, I think I know where that’s at.” He nods his head as he begins to take off in the direction of your home.

The car is completely silent, the rumbling tires against the pavement being the only thing you can hear. Neither of you says a word for what feels like hours, but when you look at the clock, you realize your trek began only ten minutes ago. It’s a solid twenty minutes between your place and theirs, so you still have another agonizing ten minutes left to go.

Once you hit a red light, Jake reaches to the center console for his phone and unlocks it, handing it to you with his screen open on his Spotify page.

“Pick something to listen to,” he says as the light turns green once again.

It feels utterly illegal to be in charge of his phone right now. But you’re also a fan of having something to listen to that isn’t your combined breaths and the sound of his heavy tires rolling against the road.

You take the opportunity to scroll through his playlists, seeing literally hundreds of them categorized quite specifically.

Picking the one titled ‘Fave Psychedelic,’ you scroll through until you find Voodoo Child by Jimi Hendrix. An old favorite of yours and the song you instantly thought of when you saw him put on his hoodie.

You set his phone back down as the song begins, feeling your spirits beginning to lift upon hearing the transcendent tonality that can only be described as the Hendrix experience.

Even Jake can’t sit still, nodding his head to the beat and tapping his fingers to the rhythm of Jimi’s strumming.

“Good choice,” he mutters, humming along to the classic tune.

“I must say, though,” he continues. “I actually prefer Stevie Ray Vaughan’s take on this one, especially when he played it live. He just exuded the very essence of Jimi, took everything he did and amplified the hell out of it while showing nothing but respect to the original masterpiece.”

Stevie is another favorite of yours. God, the hours you spent during your childhood watching him play, appreciating the passion and time he put into his art.

You went through years being bullied relentlessly for your taste in ‘old people’ music, having never found anyone else who shares the same musical palate with you.

Until now.

Having this conversation with Jake is something you so desperately needed right now.

“I completely agree,” you say, searching for his cover on Spotify and adding it to the queue. “The way he could make his guitar sing, like you can hear his emotion through his strings. One of the only guitarists worthy of being compared to Hendrix.”

You’re thinking about Jake’s style, his hats and choice of mostly black attire, his mass amounts of jewelry… it suddenly dawns on you that he must really love Stevie because his style is so closely linked to his. A style you’ve been attracted to since you can remember.

You’re shocked that you’ve not picked up on that until now, but it perfectly explains your instant infatuation for him.

“Absolutely,” he responds. “They’re both my biggest inspirations with my own music. I have so much admiration for them, and Clapton, Petty, Harrison, all the rock and roll greats who incorporated the deep roots of the blues in their playing.”

Imagining him playing like some of your favorites… it’s nothing but elating. Your imagination is running rampant with picturing him playing the kind of music you’ve spent so much of your life deeply appreciating. The music that connected your soul to things far beyond the physical realm.

“I’d love to hear you play sometime,” you say, turning a bit shy at your sudden valiant request.

Stopped at another red light, he looks to you with the most genuine smile you’ve yet to see from him. “Yeah?”

“Of course.”

⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎

You suck in a deep breath as Jake makes it closer to your apartment complex.

Lights. Flashing of blinding red and blue.

In the parking lot of your complex.

Fire trucks, police cars, an ambulance. All situated in front of the run down building.

“What the hell is going on? I can’t even make it in the parking lot, jesus.” Jake is driving around in slow circles trying to find a place to enter that isn’t blocked by cops.

It’s all beginning to set in. You feel your heart plummeting to the depths of your stomach, your breaths barely filling the capacity of your lungs.

Your worst fear.

You shouldn’t have fucking left her.

“Jake. Pull over. Now.”

You pull your seatbelt off, grabbing the handle of his passenger's door but it won’t open. You try tugging on it further, realizing it’s locked.

Jake picks up on the urgency in your voice and abruptly slams on the brakes, throwing the gear shift into park to unlock the doors.

“Y/n, what are you–” he tries to ask, but you’re already out of the car and sprinting towards the maelstrom of lit up vehicles.

But as you’re stepping over the curb into the lot, an officer stops you.

“Ma’am, you need to stay back. They’re about to carry someone out and we can’t let you over there just yet,” he says, holding your forearm to stop you.

Using every bit of strength you can muster in the moment, you pull away from him and continue running. You hear him yelling for you to stop, but his shouting is muffled by the voice in your head telling you to get to your mom now.

As you make it closer, you see them pulling a gurney down from the second floor.

The floor your apartment rests on.

They pull it down the stairs slowly, and they’re angled in a way that you can’t see who they’re carrying.

All you can do is stand there and wait amongst the paramedics and EMTs who are trying to tell you that you’re not supposed to be here.

But they’re blurred images to you. The only thing you can see clearly is the gurney being wheeled in your direction, squeaking metal being the only sound that fills your ears.

And as it finally reaches you, your fear is imagined.

Her swollen face is distorted by an oxygen mask, her weak body bound to the flat table by straps holding her tight to its cold metal.

Her right hand dangles off the side, swaying back and forth lifelessly with every push and pull of the wheels.

You lunge yourself forward towards her, being stopped forcefully by two officers who’ve been telling you this whole time to step back. The weight of their bodies against yours knocks the wind from your lungs, hardly allowing your choked cry for her to be heard.

“I have to go with her!” You scream as they situate the gurney in the back of the ambulance.

One of the paramedics steps between you and the cops, taking your hand and looking you in the eye. The kindest gesture you’ve encountered in the midst of this whole thing.“Honey, you can’t be in there when they take her. You can drive yourself and meet them at the emergency room, okay?” she tells you.

But your car. You don’t have your fucking car. It’s sitting completely useless at the Kiszka’s complex. Without it, you have no way of getting there.

You suddenly feel another hand on your body, your left shoulder. It’s warm. Firm. Yet soft and assuring all at once.

It pulls you from your disorientation, grounding you. You peek over your shoulder to see Jake standing there, his presence crashing in like a wave of peace over the chaotic storm that has become your reality.

Your eyes become wet at the mere sight of him.

He’s still here.

“Come on,” he utters calmly, moving his grip down to your hand, interlocking his fingers tight with yours. “I’ll take you.”

a/n: i'd love to hear your thoughts about everything! as i said, this one was tough for me to write, but it was something i desperately needed to do.

i hope you all love it as much as i do. 🤍

(i would also like to apologize again for taking so long with this one. i promise the next chapter won’t take nearly as long.)

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

sending all my love!

taglist:

@jakeyt @alwaysonthemend @sacredjake @jakesgrapejuice @misshunnybee @reesetrippingthelight @way-to-go-lad @sinarainbows @ohgodthefeeling-gvf @klarxtr @watchingover-hypegirl @brinlygvf @stardustjake @gretavanbear @gvfmelbourne @sinsofstardust @literal-dead-leaf @gvf-ficreads @jaaakeeey @capturethechaos @neptune2324 @jaketlove @thetroublegetssoloud71 @myleftsock @sanguinebats @jakekiszkapunchmeintheface @joshskittytickler @violet-hayes @aflame4goinghome @heckingfrick @fitalich @starshine-gvf @audgeppp @jakekiszkasbuttsweat @nina-23-45 @torniturntomyarrow @beautifulcrayola @writingcold @welllauragvf @loveisonaroll @itsafullmoon @gretasfallingsky @i-love-gvf @styles-canvas @mackalah @gvfmarge @sarafrusciante2 @jordie-gvf @gretavansara @highway-tuna @vikingsisthenewsexy @louiseecraigg @hippievanfleet @citylight-delight @blacksoul-27 @hippievanfleet @jazzyfigz @sirjaketkiszkasharmonica @smoking-jakelane @hernameis-heaven

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

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