#Welcome to Wayside

[sincerely-sofie]

More funny art of OCs and Whatnottery. Now divided into sections for extra clarity!

Welcome to Wayside:

Winter Came and Went:

Untitled Beauty and the Beast (but with more attempted murder and mistaken identity shenanigans) story:

The Wisewalk:

Starchild (last two are of a "Happy Family" AU I made because the canon story was making me too sad):

Homebound (my Among Us OCs story):

The Creeping Chronicles:

My Pal the Paladin:

A Sincerely-Sofie Lore Meme starring many many projects (the joke is that they're all self-inserts):

#can you guys tell I'm procrastinating making Spindle's backstory reveal comic? it's really subtle right? #I might need to just write out that whole deal. The art aspect of making it a comic is proving itself to be rather intimidating. #I also need to start up a generalized tag for my original projects #I have “stuff by sofie” but that's just what I use for anything I make including fanart / fanfiction #not sure what i'd label it as #so until then I'll tag the individual projects like a maniac #Welcome to Wayside #Winter Came and Went #The Wisewalk #Starchild #Among Us #The Creeping Chronicles #My Pal the Paladin #oc #oc art #oc meme #original character #original characters #original story #original work #original project #stuff by sofie

[sunshowersanddandelionwine]

If you ever send me an ask/reblog something with comments/reply to something and I don’t respond, it’s most likely because I’m either:

- at work and not able to grab my phone

- sleeping/eating/afk

- saw the notification and read what you said (and got really excited) but couldn’t answer and completely forgot that it was there

- a combination of all three

I’ve got a notoriously spotty memory and am dealing with chronic fatigue and headaches. I love all of you so much and don’t want anyone to ever think I’m ignoring you on purpose! I swear I’m not!!!

#wine drunk wandering #I have very low spoons recently so I’m trying my best to stay afloat right now #which means that certain things end up falling to the wayside #but I appreciate every single one of you so very very much!!! #the cod fandom is honestly the first one I’ve ever had people interact with my fics and engage with me so you all make me feel so welcome 💜

[forever-rogue]

hello miss bee 🐝

if you're in the mood to write for joel id love to ask one where he and reader just had a baby of their own and ellie starts to feel left out but they both comfort and reassure her that they won't treat her differently since they already unofficially adopted her anyway 🫶🤲

AN | There may be a new baby on the way, but that doesn’t you’ll ever love Ellie any less. She just needs to be reminded of that💕

Pairing | Joel Miller x Pregnant!Reader

Warnings | None

Word Count | 3.3k

Masterlist | Joel, Main

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“I hate this,” you plopped down in the chair on the back patio with a loud huff. You heard a snort of amusement from behind you and turned around to find Joel watching you in amusement. Your lips pulled into a pout and he pressed a kiss to the top of your head, “this is all your fault.”

“Hmm,” he raised an eyebrow before going back over to the makeshift grill to check on dinner, “pretty sure that’s only half true, sweetheart.”

“Well,” you crossed your arms over your chest and frowned at him, “it’s still partially true. Being pregnant is the worst. Especially with this heat. I should have gotten pregnant in the summer so the worst of it would have been in the winter.”

“Think of it this way,” the way you raised an eyebrow in a way that suggested you were anything but amused, “we’ll have a fresh baby for the holidays.”

“I’m still hoping for a halloween baby,” you grinned, rubbing your belly that seemed to be growing by the day, “how cool would that be?”

“The coolest,” Joel teased as you laughed, an actual laugh that went straight to his heart, “I guess we’ll just have to wait and see.”

“The real question - do you think we’re going to have a boy or girl?” 

“Girl,” he insisted without hesitation, “I’m always going to have my girls. I don’t think that’s changing anytime soon.”

“I guess we’ll just have to wait and see,” you took a sip of the fresh lemonade and let out a soft sigh, “but I have a feeling you’re going to be wrong!”

“Oh yeah? You wanna bet on that?” Joel stood there, hands on his hips as he watched you closely. You stuck out your tongue at him, causing both of you to laugh.

What you hadn’t realized was that Ellie was in the kitchen, getting some plates ready to bring out, listening to the two of you. She loved you, she loved you both immensely. She knew that you and you knew that. But she couldn’t help the pang that settled in her stomach and the way her heart seemed to constrict. It was a feeling that hadn’t left her since you’d told her you were pregnant. You and Joel had been so excited to tell her and despite the shock of the news, she’d been excited too. Ellie Williams was finally going to have a baby sister or brother. Her family was growing.

But as the weeks passed by and your pregnancy became more visibly obvious, the worse she started to feel. And it felt like it was eating her alive. It was a mix of emotions that she was struggling to handle and cope with. She was excited for you and Joel and your entire little family but it left her feeling…lost and confused. 

Ellie knew that both of you viewed her as your daughter and she viewed you as parents. She wondered what it would like when the baby came. Your baby - your and Joel’s flesh and blood. Once you had your own baby, would you no longer care about her? Would she be pushed to the wayside as you welcomed and loved your actual child? 

These types of thoughts had been plaguing her for months now. It was stupid, so fuckin’ stupid, she’d be the first to admit, and yet the feelings remained. Realistically, she could have gone to either of you and asked in order to alleviate her fears or get some simple reassurance. But that seemed silly too. What was she supposed to do? Come up to you and ask ‘hey will you still love me once the baby is here?’ That felt ridiculous. 

Instead, Ellie internalized her feelings, deciding to push them away and act like nothing was wrong. You’d noticed that something was off with your girl recently. Things had just seen so crazy lately, with getting ready for the baby and Joel being off for a while with work to do, it hadn’t been easy. But Ellie really had been your rock and you hated the idea that you were neglecting her in any sense.

“Ellie?” the girl almost dropped the bowl of salad she was holding when she heard you call out to her. She swallowed the lump in her throat and blinked back her tears before heading into the backyard. Your entire face lit up when you saw her and she felt bad for a moment for ever having doubted your love and affection for her, “there you are, Ellie Bean! Everything okay?”

“Y-yeah,” she set the plates and bowl onto the table and nodded softly, “just got caught up cutting the…tomatoes.”

“There’s no tomatoes in the salad, baby,” you gave her arm a gentle squeeze, “we gave the last of them to the Meyers the other day. Are you sure you’re alright?”

She looked away and nodded, staring into the distance as she pleaded with her heart and mind to remain calm and collected. Joel clicked his tongue and caught her attention, giving her a questioning look. Sometimes he hated how well he knew her and how he seemed to see right through her.

“C’mere,” he motioned for her to come over and she obliged, walking over slowly with a heavy tread. She stopped in front of him and he put his hands on her shoulders, leaning down slightly so he was closer to eye level with her, “what’s wrong, baby girl?”

“Nothing,” she replied through gritted teeth. Joel knew that something was up but he didn’t want to push her and possibly cause her to pull away from him. He sighed softly before pressing a kiss to her forehead. It had become such a reflexive action that he didn’t even think about doing it any more, “you’re being gross and showing too much emotion.”

“Someone’s gotta do it,” he teased and that caused her to smile slightly at him, “‘cause it sure ain’t going to be you right, is it? You wanna talk about it?”

“Not really,” she whispered, “not right now.”

“Okay,” he nodded lightly, “I’ll be here and ready to listen whenever you’re ready.”

“I know, old man,” she pushed his arm before turning on her heel and walking back over to you. She sat down next to you, her gaze drifting for a moment to your belly. You reached up and touched her face, gently stroking her cheek, “you’re both such saps.”

“It’s only because we love you,” you beamed at her. She felt her cheeks growing warm and pink as she stared at the bowl of tomato-less salad, “you wanna help me make some dessert while the food’s cooking? I was thinking pudding…ooh or maybe some sort of pie?!”

“Sure,” she perked up at your enthusiasm, unable to deny the appeal of spending time with you and making a dessert, “let’s do it.”

Ellie decided that she’d figure out the rest later. Right now, she was okay and she just wanted the two of you to have some fun. 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“I’m worried about her,” you closed your book and set on the nightstand before turning to your husband with a sad expression on your face. He followed suit and turned so he was fully looking at you.

“The baby?” 

“I - no. And we don’t know if it’s a girl or boy yet so calm down,” you laughed for a moment before moving to sit crossed-legged - to the best of your ability anyway - and gave him a serious look, “Ellie. She seems so closed off lately and it always seems like she’s upset, but when I try to talk to her she changes the subject or finds an excuse to leave. I feel like my poor baby girl hates me.”

“She doesn’t hate you,” Joel took your hand in his and gave it a gentle squeeze before you laced your fingers together, “she could never hate you.”

“But something is wrong and I don’t know what it is and I can’t fix it,” a wave of emotion washed over you and tears stung at the back of your eyes. You sniffled, fully aware that you probably seemed ridiculous right now but you didn’t care, “I just want to make it better.”

“Honey,” Joel’s voice was soft as he put his hands on your sides and gently pulled you towards him. You easily gave in, soft and pliable, as he settled you in his lap. You felt pathetic as you looked at him, tears running down your cheeks. He tenderly brushed them away before taking your face in his hands and turning your face up to his, “she doesn’t hate you and she never will. Whatever she’s going through right now, she’ll come around. She’s still guarded and sometimes these things take time. She’ll come around, she always does. We just have to keep on loving her.”

“Promise?” you whispered as he nodded softly. You leaned into his touch as he rubbed your back soothingly, “I don’t know what I’d do if…I don’t know. If she stopped loving us.”

“That ain’t happening,” he pressed a kiss to your forehead, “I have a feeling I know what’s going on with her.”

“Oh?” you looked at him in surprise and he couldn’t help but grin at the sight of your confused expression. The fact that you were so pouty and pregnant made you even more adorable to him than before. He had to fight back a laugh at your expression, opting instead to kiss you softly, “what do you think it is?”

“The baby,” he answered, putting a hand on your belly and rubbing it gently, “I think she’s worried about the baby.”

“What do you mean?”

“Do you think she thinks that we’re just going…to stop loving her?” the waterworks started again and this time you couldn’t hold back the tears, “she thinks we’re going to replace her!”

“Oh honey,” you wrapped your arms around his neck and tried to hug him as best as possible. You huffed as you buried your face into his chest and he softly cooed at you, “I don’t think she thinks we’re trying to replace her. I think she’s worried that we won’t have as much time and love for her."

"That's not true," you hated the fact that that thought even crossed her mind, "that's like…the farthest thing from the truth! She's my baby too. Nothing is ever going to change that."

"I know that," he gently brushed his fingers along your jaw before resting his hand on your cheek, "you know that. I think she just might need a little reassurance."

"Yeah," you sighed softly, "I can do that. I will do that."

"I have no doubt about that either, honey."

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Ellie startled when she heard your enthusiastic knocking on her door. She groaned as she looked at the old school alarm on the bedside table and saw that it wasn't even eight o'clock yet. 

"Come in," she rolled onto her side so she was facing the door. You almost threw open the door in your excitement, already fully dressed and ready for the door.

"Hi my love!" Her eyes widened at your cheeriness, "good morning, Ellie Bean."

"It's early," she groaned as you leaned against the doorway, causing you to laugh softly, "why are you so awake?"

"I've been up for a while…couldn't sleep well," you shrugged it off, "but I thought it would be fun if we spent the day together, just the two of us!"

"O-oh," she slowly sat up, heart almost constricting with emotion, "are you sure?"

"Duh," you teased, "its been a while since it's just been the two of us and I figured we could have some fun!"

"Okay," she looked at you, an eyebrow raised in question. You clapped excitedly and she offered you a tentative smile in response, "w-wait, am I in trouble?"

"Of course not," you walked over to her and held out your hand to her. She took yours and slowly slipped out of the bed, "I just want to spend some time with my favorite girl."

"Alright," a little bit of a flush crossed her cheeks as she offered you a smile, "yeah, that could be fun."

"Let's go then slow poke, no time to lose!"

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Your day had been filled with doing anything and everything that Ellie wanted - within reason of course. As the day bled into night, the two of you were at the lake, sitting on the dock, feet dangling into the water. 

"Can I ask you something?" You finally couldn't take it anymore and needed to clear all the air. Ellie paused before nodding slowly and turning towards you.

"Sure…"

"I feel like lately…things have been different," you put your arm around her shoulders and gave her a gentle squeeze, "and I want to make sure you're alright. You've been off lately, and I want to know if you're okay and if I can do anything to help."

"Oh. Oh," Ellie swallowed thickly; she thought she'd been better at disguising her feelings, "umm…it's…just. I don't know. Things have just felt different since you've been pregnant."

"Yeah?" You asked as she turned to you with a sad little smile and a nod, "oh, Ellie."

"I just…it feels weird that…umm. Like it's you and Joel, you know? And now you're having your own child and it makes me feel like…where's my place?"

"Baby," you tried to keep your own emotions at bay but it was hard when all you wanted to was to wrap her up in a big hug, "your place is with us - it'll always be with us. We're family. Nothing is going to change that."

"But if you love the new baby more than me?" You hated that she even thought anything like that. You wished you could convey just how very much you loved her, "I keep thinking about…what if you don't want me anymore."

"We will never not want you or love you," you took her hand and held it tightly in yours, "that will never change. Nothing could change how we feel about you. You're our girl, Ellie."

"Are you sure? The baby-"

"The baby doesn't change anything," you pulled her into your body as much as you could, "its another person we're bringing into our family that we can love. It doesn't mean any of us is going to get less love. Okay? I swear on my life. And Joel's life. All of it."

"Every time I've gotten close to people they've been taken from me," Ellie sniffled brushing at her eyes with the back of her hand, "my parents, my family, my friends…I almost lost Joel. I don't want to lose you too and the baby. I'm not sure if I'd make it if I did."

"Ellie," you softened at the young girl, "you are so young and you've been through so much. More than anyone ever should. And I know the world is scary and we don't know what the future holds but we can't let that dictate how we feel about the present or how we act. You're not going to lose us or your brother or sister. Never. And maybe me just saying that doesn't make anything better but I'll show you and I'll keep showing you that we mean it. Honestly, I don't think I'd survive without you. You are the world to me, Ellie."

"Being pregnant has made you so sappy," she laughed through her tears, "even more than normal. Its kind of gross."

"It's because I love you so much, kiddo," you grinned at her, brushing away her tears, "but the hormones definitely aren't helping! Luckily it won't be too much longer before the baby is here."

"Are you scared?"

"Terrified," you confessed with a sheepish grin, "but I know I'll be okay. I've got you Joel and you. Everything will be okay."

"Yeah," she nodded, a bit of confidence oozing back into her, "we'll be okay. I'm excited to meet the baby."

"Boy or girl you think?"

"Girl," she seemed so confident that you were almost convinced of that as well, "Joel's meant to be surrounded by girls."

"Funny, that's exactly what he said too," you shook your head in amusement thinking about the two of them. They were too alike for their own good, "I guess we'll just have to wait and see."

"Whatever," she playfully rolled her eyes, "we all know we're right!"

"Mhmm," you slowly stood up and held out your hand to her, "come on my love. Let's go home and annoy Joel."

She took your hand eagerly, "I love you too, just so you know."

"Yeah," you promised her softly, "I know. I love you more, kiddo."

-

Ellie approached you slowly, almost unsure if she should be coming over. You beamed at her, motioning for her to come closer. She stole a quick look at Joel, who offered her a small smile and nod of reassurance.

"Come here, my love," you held out your hand to her and she came over, staring at the bundle in your arms in awe, "I hate to admit it, but Joel was right. You've got yourself a little sister."

"Wow," she reached over and gentle stroked her chubby little cheek, "she's so small. What's her name?"

"Well, we don't have a name picked out yet," you smiled softly, "we were hoping you'd help us by picking her name."

"Me?"

"You! If you'd like to that is," you could see her eyes watering up, and your heart felt so full, "you can take a bit to think about it-"

"Daisy," she stated softly, looking between you and Joel to gauge your reactions, "I like Daisy."

"Me too," you gave her a hand squeeze, "Daisy it is. It's perfect. Do you want to hold her, Ellie?"

"I-I don't know," she swallowed the lump in her throat as the baby cooed softly, "she's so small and I don't wanna…hurt her."

"You won't," you promised, straightening up as she stepped closer, "hold her to your chest and make sure you're supporting her head, okay?"

"Okay," she reached over gingerly, as though the baby was made of glass. She took her from you and did as you said, holding the small baby protectively. Daisy made a few sounds before yawning and snuggling into Ellie. The girl watched her in amazement, "she's so cute and little."

"Just like you," you teased, reaching over and giving her arm a squeeze. You turned to Joel, who was watching the scene unfold with nothing short of heart eyes, "look at that, Joel. Look at our girls. They're the best."

"Yeah," he agreed, pressing a kiss to the side of Ellie's head, "they are. But you know what else?"

"Hmm?"

"I was right - it was a girl," he threw you a cheeky grin as you snorted in amusement, "wouldn't change it for the world."

"Yeah, me neither," Ellie piped up, "I guess we're a pretty cool family. Daisy and me anyways. You guys are alright."

"We love you too," you sighed contentedly, happy to have your little family all together, "both of you. Lots and lots."

#joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x fem!reader #joel miller imagine #joel miller one shot #pedro pascal #tlou

[ao3commentoftheday]

Hey there! So glad to see you're back! I have a question about replying to comments after a significant amount of time has passed. I was struggling with my mental health, and writing and AO3 in general tends to go by the wayside when that happens. Add onto it, AO3 is kinda covered in ooze for me right now because of some ex friends I used to write with. I would like to get back into fic writing and reading, but I have a bunch of comments that are over a year (posssibly years) old at this point, one of which is incredibly touching and I want to reply to, but I'm afraid it'll be awkward or weird for me to reply at this point?

I know there's never an expiration date for commenting on a fic, but what about replying to comments on your fic? I mean like, I know the site won't forbid me to, but it feels weird at this point and like it might feel rude to the original commenters. Do I reply with a brief explanation of my absence? Do I just not reply and start replying to new comments? I'm at a loss an feel guilty about not replying.

I shudder to think about the number of comments I haven't yet replied to. I literally shudder.

But at the same time, like you, I've been dealing with some personal shit and I just haven't had the spoons. Making myself feel bad for my inability to do a thing won't make doing that thing any easier. What does make doing the thing easier is being kinder to myself and remember that other people are nicer to me than I am to myself.

I have it on good authority (the readers who follow this blog) that a reply is welcome whenever it comes. If it's been a long time, that reply may also prompt the reader to reread the story it's attached to and enjoy it all over again. And don't feel like you need to explain if you don't want to. One thing I think we can all understand after the last few years is that sometimes you just need a break.

A thank you is never unappreciated, even if it comes a little late. ❤️

#asks and answers

[shinesurge]

Webcomic rings run by people within the community are cool and you should support them

I've been loudly struggling a little bit with corporate webcomic Stuff lately so I want to mention something positive to balance it out: webrings run by small groups of creators earnestly trying to support each other are slowly making a comeback and I for one am delighted.

If you weren't around for them in the before times, webrings were just some folks who hang out a lot who feature each other on their websites. That's literally it lmao. There's generally no money involved and it only really functions the way it's supposed to if people have control over their own websites AND genuinely want to participate and get excited about other folks' work, which means the practice has pretty well fallen by the wayside over the years in webcomic culture given. Everything. In the rare event someone decides to do something like this it's usually in the form of a link list somewhere on their website; this doesn't usually indicate any sort of mutual support, it's just a list of what the creator is reading themselves.

A webring, though, is an official banner or hub that people gather under intentionally where each member is more or less on equal footing. It's essentially the concept of "a rising tide lifts all boats" put into practice, each creator brings their own audience to the table in a passive, opt-in sort of way that's different from working for a publisher since there isn't necessarily a Top Spot or a paycheck everyone's vying for, and individuals retain autonomy over both their own work and how (if) they promote each other. You're all at your own tables in an artist alley rather than fighting over the table in the front of the book store, essentially.

I have two rings and one collective for you today!

Webcomic Ring was brought to my attention AGES ago by Holly, one of the artists featured there, and I might have brought it up at some point but I'm doing it again lmao. This is exactly the kind of thing you ought to be looking for; a small group of enthusiastic folks having a good time making their weird little comics. You probably haven't heard of much in the catalog, that's PERFECT in the context of webcomics that's where the GOOD SHIT is. Finding something like this is A Gift go dig around in the longboxes for a while.

Then a few people have pointed me in the direction of the KNIFEBEETLE collective and that's neat too! Most of the comics there are already fairly well-known, but the vibes are excellent and I haven't seen a lot of talk about the collective /itself/ outside folks already in the know. I think it's important for this sort of thing to be more visible to folks who aren't terminally steeped in webcomic culture already so here I am telling you about it. You were probably reading several of these before I suggested it, but that's how a webring works! For it to do its job you should take those bigger creators' tacit recommendation of the less popular titles as a sign to go read something new and strange. Wild, I know these are practices held over from the old internet, but I think we should try and bring them back.

Lastly, I want to mention Spiderforest, which is a collective (slightly different from a webring) BUT still a very cool project readers starved for new stuff should pay attention to.

You've probably seen Spiderforest kicking around for a long time already; they're wonderful and have always been an overall positive force in the community in my experience. They really focus on building up a community, and especially welcoming newcomers and helping them get their feet under them. Full disclosure, I've been asked to apply by a few different folks over the years and the only reason I never did is I don't have the ability to participate in their forums and such as frequently as they want their creators to; it's a very good system (from my outside perspective) that might contribute to the community staying mostly healthy in ways that art communities usually don't and I appreciate it a lot!

ANYWAYS that's all I got for now, just trying to balance out some bad feelings I've been having by talking about some good stuff. Please go binge an archive this week.

#long post #contrary to what i say i do love webcomics so fucking much #there are Reasons i'm fucking angry all the time lmao

[lizordula]

Marg My Words Pt. 2

Pairing: Melissa Schemmenti x Reader

Summary: With the summer break approaching, you're increasingly unsure whether you can content yourself with just being friends with benefits.

Warnings: alcohol, light angst, marking, semi-public sex

Word Count: ~2.8k

A/N: This work is a sequel to this fic, but it can also be read on its own ^^

AO3 Link

"Alright, ladies. Have a good summer break!"

Barb swings the backdoor shut and leans down at your window, seeing Melissa and you off with a beaming smile on her face. You have never seen Barbara Howard this relaxed and carefree since—well—ever. She even surrendered her precious front-seat privileges to you.

"Have fun in Jamaica! I can't wait to hear about the adventures of Sea Barbara," you respond excitedly.

"Yeah, and watch your shoes," Melissa interjects, leaning over into your space to look pointedly at Barb, "My cousin doesn't work the cruise line no more."

"Yeah, yeah, I can handle myself, Melissa," Barb waves off and starts retreating into her driveway.

"I know you can, hun," Melissa replies with a fond smirk while putting her park in reverse. You silently observe the two older women's banter as you often do when you carpool together. Things are so easy between them, something you have appreciated ever since they welcomed you into their twosome. You will surely miss their company over the summer break.

(The thought of not seeing Melissa, in particular, devastates you, but you try not to dwell on it.)

After Barb disappears into her house, Melissa gets back on the road, making headway to your apartment. The twists and turns are so familiar that you get lost in the routine, closing your eyes and enjoying how the balmy breeze of the wind brushes along the skin of your outstretched hand.

When you stop at a red light, Melissa glances over at you and can't help but smile at the content expression on your face. She has witnessed you blissed out, tangled in her sheets, many times before, but seeing you like this feels much more intimate. Before she can fight the urge, she takes her right hand off the wheel and places it on your knee.

You open your eyes when you feel the weight on your leg and glimpse at Melissa in surprise. Her gaze is focused dead on the road. Sitting on the passenger side is a rare occurrence since Barb normally calls dibs, which is why you're not used to Melissa driving next to you, much less openly touching you. It feels surprisingly affectionate, like something couples would do, but you find you don't mind it.

You hesitantly inch your left hand toward Melissa's and take it in yours, squeezing lightly. Strangely, your heart flutters at the action. You have done much more explicit things than holding hands—hell, you've been between the woman's legs—but seeing your hands slotted perfectly together sends an inopportune pang of yearning through you.

Neither of you turns around to acknowledge the gesture. Instead, you fix your eyes on the road, smiling timidly to yourselves.

The rest of the ride passes in comfortable silence, but then Melissa unexpectedly takes a left turn instead of turning right toward your apartment complex.

"Mel, you missed the turn," you pipe up and press your nose against the window, looking after the familiar scenery of trees and buildings shrinking into the distance.

"We're on the right track. Trust me," Melissa replies without taking her eyes off the road. She squeezes your hand, and you shrink back into your seat, tentatively intrigued about the redhead's plans.

After a ten-minute drive, Melissa pulls into a clearing without any signposts or cemented streets. If it wasn't Melissa, you would start to worry about being kidnapped just about now, but the more you follow the pathway, the denser the trees become, and the more flowers line the wayside. It's quite beautiful, in fact.

Eventually, Melissa stops and reverses into a field of grass. You watch as she turns in her seat and throws her right arm over your backrest, her brows knitted in concentration as she backs up. Your gaze drops to her bicep, straining against the confines of her leather jacket. It seems you severely underestimated how attractive reverse parking would look on the older woman.

The blush on your cheeks intensifies when Melissa grabs your left hand again and presses a kiss to your knuckles. "Come on. I have a surprise for you," she says, eyes sparkling with anticipatory excitement, and exits the car. Squinting your eyes, you follow her lead and round the car to join her at the trunk.

You stop in your tracks when you see the breathtaking view before you. Melissa's car is parked right on the edge of a cliff overlooking the Delaware River. The sun is filtering through the leaves of the tall trees surrounding you, throwing vibrant rays of light on the variety of flowers lining the meadow. The hum of bumblebees seeking out the blossoms of the flourishing greenery fills the air.

You never thought that such a place could exist right in the heart of Philly, but leave it to Melissa to find a serene spot like this.

"Melissa, this is amazing," you exclaim and spin on your heels to take in the scenery, your arms dangling loosely at your sides. Melissa watches you with crossed arms, immensely pleased with herself.

"That's not all," she says, and you watch her curiously as she opens the trunk and rummages around in it. Your eyes widen when Melissa pulls out a picnic basket along with several pillows and a blanket, which she spreads on the lush grass in one fluid motion.

Your astonished expression morphs into a grin when Melissa offers you her hand, tugging you down on the blanket beside her and urging you to recline against the many pillows. You sigh in contentment and sink further into the feathery softness while you watch Melissa take out wine and an assortment of cheese, sausage, and fruit from the basket.

(The afternoon sun sparkling on the river, the vibrant colors of the flowers, the lingering scent of Melissa's perfume on the pillows—it all seems too good to be true. You try to swallow the lump in your throat when Melissa smiles at you as she pours the wine. This is the sweetest thing she has ever done for you, and you don't want to risk reminding her of your arrangement by being overly emotional.)

When Melissa sinks into the pillows beside you, you settle on your side and prop your head on your hand. You gratefully receive the wine glass from her and take a generous, much-needed sip, hiding your fond smile behind the rim. Melissa once again proves her culinary capabilities as she artfully cuts the cheese, sausage, and fruit and arranges them in neat swirls on the charcuterie board. When she procures a whole loaf of bread from the seemingly neverending depths of the picnic basket, you wonder if she cast some sort of extension charm on it or if she's just really good at packing.

(You ask her as much, eyes glinting with amusement, but the reference doesn't land, and Melissa simply blinks at you. You indistinctly recall, then, that there wasn't much watching involved when you showed her Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone a few weeks back.)

For the next thirty minutes, you gorge on the beautiful array of food and talk about all kinds of things. You listen with a fond smile as Melissa raves on about all the different kinds of Italian sausages and where in Italy they originate from, thinking about how lucky you are that she counts you among the people she opens up to like this. She flusters you by holding out the respective food to feed you, her mouth falling open and her pupils expanding as she watches you take a bite. You get back at her by grasping her hand before she can pull back and sucking her fingers into your mouth.

It's all so lewd and sexually charged that it comes as a surprise when Melissa scooches closer to you and lays her head against your shoulder. Normally, this would be the moment to stumble into her bedroom and have fast, cathartic, stress-relieving sex before you head out to sleep at your place. Still, you can't help but melt into Melissa's touch and reach an arm around her shoulder to pull her closer.

You fall into a comfortable silence, then. The only sounds come from the wind rustling in the leaves above you and the faint music of the radio station carrying over from the opened car window. You can tell that Melissa's mind is quiet, coaxed into relaxation by your fingertips lightly scratching the nape of her neck. But yours is spinning.

You can't stop thinking about how this afternoon was so out of the ordinary. You haven't exactly talked about the terms of your arrangement, but Melissa driving you out to a picturesque lookout and orchestrating an entire picnic feast feels like you have crossed some kind of invisible line. One that is difficult to turn back from.

Since today marks the last day of the school year, you won't see Melissa for nearly three months. You decide to ask her now, or you will most likely be racking your brain about the meaning of your situationship the entire summer.

"Melissa?"

"Yeah, hun?" Melissa returns and lies on her side to face you better. Your heart flutters when she slides her hand over your stomach and splays her fingers across it.

Focus.

"I— thank you for today," you begin tentatively, avoiding her gaze, "though I have to say, today feels different."

You feel Melissa tense up in your arms at the comment and, before she can pull away, you tighten your grip around her. You huff, "I mean, having a picnic and laying in each others' arms...what are we doing?"

As soon as the words leave your mouth, you wince inwardly. You couldn't have worded it any worse, and Melissa's reaction confirms as much when she sits up and scrambles to put some distance between the two of you.

"Yeah, you're right. This was a stupid idea," she says gruffly and moves to stand up. You hurriedly grasp Melissa's arms, keeping her in place with a firm grip.

"No. No! That's not what I meant," you exclaim, rising to your knees. Your panicked gaze flits between Melissa's eyes, imploring her to understand. Melissa views you skeptically but sits down again, motioning you to elaborate. "I guess we never put a label on things, and today was so...romantic?" You sigh as you grapple with your words, your hand still holding onto Melissa's wrist. You ground yourself by brushing over the soft skin there. "I just need to know before the break, so I don't go crazy."

"Well, what if it was s'posed to be romantic?"

Melissa juts out her chin in defiance as if she was expecting you to reject her or recoil in disapproval. It makes your heart clench painfully inside your chest. Shuffling closer, you cup her jaw with both hands and angle your head to gently press your lips to hers, pouring every ounce of affection that has accumulated over the last few months into the kiss. Melissa's hands settle on your waist, and she sighs deeply, her tense posture slackening against you. You break away and whisper against kiss-swollen lips, "Does that answer your question?"

Melissa's gaze flickers between your eyes, and before you can draw back fully, she pulls you back into her embrace, immediately deepening the kiss. Her tongue slips in your mouth, and you moan softly in relief. She presses against your shoulders, but you maneuver her around instead, straddling her hips as you gently push her down on the blanket.

Despite the barrier, you can feel the cold starting to seep into your knees, and you vaguely note how the sun is gradually disappearing behind the treetops. Melissa shivers beneath you, and you draw back, checking in to make sure she wants this as much as you do.

"Is this okay? You're cold."

Melissa truly looks a vision, vivid hair fanned out across the pillows, the milky skin of her chest flushed with a delightful pink that rivals the coral hues of the sunset. She grasps the lapel of your jacket, bunching her fists in the material, and pulls you close again. "Then keep me warm," she murmurs against your lips and draws you in again.

The kiss is slow, heavy with emotions and the intent to consume. You switch to Melissa's jaw and leisurely kiss your way down Melissa's neck and back up to the space behind her ear, grazing the sensitive skin there with your teeth while your other hand roams underneath her shirt to graze along her ribcage. Goosebumps erupt underneath your fingertips, and Melissa moans lowly, insistently tugging you down her body. You chuckle and acquiesce her, trailing down your lips to the swell of her right breast, sucking until a bouquet of purple—not unlike the hyacinths growing along the treeline—blooms under your touch.

Sitting back, you admire your work, enraptured by the way Melissa's chest is heaving and her pupils are blown into pools of dark green. Melissa pushes up, urging you to continue, and you hiss lowly when her hips press against your core. You relent and push up Melissa's shirt, fingers circling and pinching her nipples through the lacy material of her bra while you kiss along the soft slope of her stomach. You pull down the zipper of her jeans, grateful that Melissa didn't opt for her leather pants today. As much as you love them on her, taking them off her is painstakingly tedious and impractical. You pull off her jeans and her panties in one swift motion and spread her legs right away. Your breath hitches when you see Melissa's glistening core.

It's such a beautiful thing, having her like this, surrounded by your very own paradise and enshrouded in the promise to be more, to love more.

You shuffle down the blanket to lay down on your stomach. Melissa chuckles when you link your arms under and around her milky thighs and pull her closer to your face.

"You comfortable down there?"

"Very," you grin and disappear between Melissa's legs. The redhead props herself on her elbows to watch you kiss and nip your way up to the inside of her thigh, fond gaze burning into yours. After you have spent sufficient time teasing around her mound, you lick a broad strip up her slit before fastening your lips around her clit. Melissa falls back against the pillows with a gasp. Closing her eyes in concentration, she throws one arm over her forehead while her other hand wanders to your neck and tangles in your hair, tugging gently at your roots.

You moan into Melissa's cunt and redouble your efforts. Swirling your tongue around her clit, you look up, watching intently for the telltale signs of Melissa breaking apart. The hand that was slung over her face is now squeezing her breast, thumb digging into the marks you left on her earlier. You can feel your own arousal drenching your underwear at the sight of your marks on Melissa, of her coming undone for you this marvelously.

You slip your right hand underneath your chin and position your fingers at Melissa's entrance. Two fingers slide home easily, right to the hilt. Immediately, Melissa's walls flutter around you. You keep up a steady pace while you suck on her clit, enthralled in her scent, in her essence coating your face, in the sound of your fingers pushing in and out of her. It doesn't take long before Melissa's moans rise in pitch and volume, and her walls clench around your fingers.

You press in one last time, fingers curling upward, and Melissa comes with a choked moan, thighs shaking around your head, hand tightly squeezing yours as if she intends to never let go.

After you gently clean her up and put her jeans back on, you lay down next to her with a content sigh. As soon as you do, her arm circles around you to pull you impossibly close. You snake your hand over her torso and underneath her leather jacket, basking in her warmth as you both catch your breath.

Behind the meadow, the sky is slowly changing colors, and the crescent of the moon is starting to fade into existence. Melissa presses a soft kiss against your temple, something she never allowed herself to do before today, and you smile brightly, intense adoration rising in your chest like the stars burning to the sky's forefront above you. The air is getting too brisk to be lying on the ground, but you don't feel cold. Not with the fuzzy coat from the wine you had earlier and Melissa's body pressing into yours.

Not when the verifiable truth of Melissa returning your feelings keeps you warmer than any sunlight ever could.

#melissa schemmenti x you #melissa schemmenti x reader

[bluebeetle]

Non Canadians are welcome to answer if youve seen any of these! I considered not putting TDI on as it has a high chance of winning but I wanted to put shows I remembered watching a lot of so....

#theres way more well known canadian lnes but i went with ones i watched #stormhawks #reboot #canada #cybersix #wayside #ruby gloom #canadian cartoons #total drama island #martin mystery #being ian #atomic betty #6teen

[deanwritings]

The Guest House - Prologue

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Series Summary: Dean Winchester is going through a nasty divorce. He doesn't have much left to his name, but what he does have is his house. Leave it to his soon-to-be ex wife to find a way to even ruin that for him. Enter Y/N, who is looking to get away from life for a bit, and stumbles right into the middle of it all.

The Guest House Master List

Word Count: 2,225

A/N: Welcome to the start of The Guest House! This little bitty came to me while I was staying at a lake house and relaxing, so really excited to dive in.

Chapters will be posted weekly on Wednesdays.

If you would like to be tagged in the series, just leave a comment or shoot me a message and I'll get you added.

Enjoy!

You dig your nails into your fingertips as they sit in your lap underneath the table. Your heart was finally leveling off as your review was coming to an end. So far your marks had been glowing; your metrics were up, your peer reviews were stellar, all that was left was to hear if they would be promoting you.

You’ve been working for that next step for a year and a half now. After most of your team quit, you took the opportunity to show your bosses that you could run the department with a can-do attitude and hard work. You’ve brought up a promotion a few times at your check-ins with your boss, and she assured you it would be a topic of conversation at your next review, which would be ending in the next few minutes. 

With a polite smile, you look across the table at your direct manager and her boss.

“Any questions?” Your boss asks plainly, and your brow furrows as you look between them. If you didn’t know any better, it sounded like they were wrapping up the meeting.

Your lips fall apart and your heart jumps into your throat as you realize what’s about to happen.

“Uh,” you start as you squeeze your fists together. “I was hoping to discuss my possible promotion.” You loosen your smile as you try to keep your eye contact divided between both of them.  

The two share a small look.��

You’re not getting promoted. Is what that looks says. 

Your boss’ boss clears his throat as he readjusts in his seat. 

“After reviewing your performance, we do not feel a promotion is appropriate at this time.” He says with a tinge of forced sorrow. 

Your stomach plummets as your jaw clenches. 

How could they not be promoting you? You’ve been working the job of at least three people for over a year now without complaint. You’ve spent countless days staying late and making sure projects didn’t fall wayside while the company took their sweet ass time looking for replacements for your team.To their own admission, your metrics were good, so why the hell wasn’t your hard work being recognized?

“I don’t understand.” You swallow to keep your voice from shaking. You never pushed back on your bosses. Ever. But you thought today was the day you were finally going to be rewarded for everything you’ve done for them. 

“You just said that my metrics were up and I was performing above expectations. What is hindering him from getting a promotion then?” 

The two look at each other again and you can feel yourself beginning to shake as they bide their time for an excuse. 

“Y/N, you have performed well this past year for the most part, but there were concerns with your performance in January.” Your boss folds her tanned hands on the faux wood tabletop as she speaks up. “You let things fall through the cracks and were distant from your work. We feel that is not reflective of someone who should hold a Senior Management position.” She offers a soft smile and a shitty excuse. 

It takes your brain a moment to catch up with what they were talking about; January. Two months ago. Your aunt passed away suddenly from a heart attack as she was making dinner. You can still hear your mother’s cries over the phone as she called to tell you the news that her sister was dead. And at only 52. 

You were only able to take one day off from work for her funeral, as you were in the middle of a project launch and it was all hands on deck. When you returned, yeah, you were “distant.” You were mourning the loss of a woman you loved dearly while trying to help your mother and cousins navigate their grief as well. Your aunt’s passing also made you scared for your own mother, who is a few years older, and some night’s you couldn’t sleep as you thought about life without your best friend. It took you weeks to shake free from the heartbreak and anxiety that had engulfed you, but you came back strong and started excelling once more. 

And there your bosses sat, in the all-glass meeting room of the shared workspace your company rented out because they were too cheap to get a full-blown office, throwing your aunt’s death in your face and using it as the excuse as to why they would not be promoting you after more than eighteen months of slaving away for them with barely a thank you. 

You laugh through your nose and shake your head as you swallow hard.

“We’re happy to talk more about this in a few months at your next check-in.” Your boss jumps in, and you bite down on your lip. “We know you’re committed to this company and role, and we want to make sure we help you get to the next level.” She smiles at you like she actually believes the bullshit she’s spouting. 

You take a deep breath and genuinely smile back. You always prided yourself on keeping a cool head, especially at work. But a line had crossed, and even for you, enough was now enough. 

“I don’t think that will be necessary.” Your boss ticks her head at your words. “Because I quit.” You stand up and smile down at the two asshats you gave everything for, and now realize, you would never get anything in return from them. 

Both of their mouths fall open as they share a shocked look between them.

“Y/N, let’s not do anything rash.” Your boss’ boss stands as well, holding his hands up. “There’s no need to jump to something like this. I’m sure there’s something we can work out” 

You push your chair in, your smile not wavering.

“I feel that this review is not reflective of a company I want to work for anymore.” You throw their words back to them. “I’ll have no issue finding a new role that values my hard work and dedication, and won’t use a family member’s death as a reason to squirrel out of a rightful promotion.”

“Best of luck filling my role.” You turn on your heel and hurry down the hallway to your shared office. A few coworkers glance up at your haste entrance, but you ignore them as you grab your purse and start grabbing the few personal effects that would fit on your tiny, shared desktop; just a single, unframed picture of you, your parents, and your brother, a few fidget toys, and your favorite pens. The rest belonged to the company, just like you had. 

Without a word, you fling your purse onto your shoulder and with your head held high, carry yourself out of the office without a single glance back. As you step onto the elevator, you smirk as you watch through the all-glass walls as your bosses shout at one another before the doors close.

“You what?” Your mother gasps through the phone at your news. You knew your parents weren’t going to take this well, and you were prepared for it.

“I quit.” You repeat, even though you know she heard you the first time.

“Y/N, what on God’s green earth would make you quit without another job lined up?” She huffs. 

You think about your Aunt Rose, how your bosses used your grief as an excuse not to give you a well-earned promotion. She was always free spirited, having career-jumped her whole life. She started as a bartender, then worked as a sous chef for a catering company before she decided she wanted to be a radio DJ. Years before she died, she had gotten her real estate license and was working as an agent right up until she passed. You had always been the opposite, very much a mirror of your mother. You went to a good college and got a business degree. You had worked for a few companies over the years, but you always stayed in the same field, working your way up the ladder. You never wanted to take a risk with your career, you had worked too hard. But working hard got you nothing but late nights and a bullshit yearly review. 

To say you were exhausted was an understatement. And you can barely recall the last time you got together with your friends, let alone a date. You had married your job and it had been a toxic and loveless relationship. 

It was time to start fresh and take some time for yourself. Which is exactly why you had seventeen tabs of house rentals open on your laptop screen as you half-listen to your mother as she continues to admonish your rash decision. 

“It’s going to be good for me, mom.” You cut her off once you’ve finally had enough of her harping. You loved the woman to death, but my god once you wind her up, she doesn’t stop. 

“I have enough savings to comfortably get me through six months without a job. I’m going to take a few weeks off to reset, then I’ll hit the ground running with the job search.” You cross your legs as you languidly swipe through rental photos. 

After a few more minutes, you finally hang up the phone and start seriously considering your options. 

You wanted to get away upstate, not so far away that you couldn’t get back for anything important, but far enough to feel like the city wasn’t in your rearview mirror. You figured a month would be the perfect time. Four weeks of a quiet town to relax and rediscover your love of reading and writing. It’s been ages since you actually sat down and read a good book. You were never good at art, but maybe you’d even find a studio to do some painting or finally give pottery a try. For the first time in your life, your time would be your own to sleep in and do whatever you wanted with your days. 

As you click through listings, you notice one that is significantly cheaper than the rest. Curiously, you click the link and a gray-sided cabin with a red tin-looking roof brightens up in front of you.

NEW LISTING! Private Guest House, Hot tub included.

One bedroom guest house available for rent. Relax in the peacefulness of upstate while being a short driving distance to town. The guest house has a full bathroom, complete with tub. There is also a hot tub on the patio that is for guest enjoyment. 10 minutes from downtown with plenty of bars and shops to keep you busy. The owner lives on the main property, but will keep to themself unless you need anything. Perfect for anyone looking to getaway! 

As you click through the photos, you’re greeted with a warm, wooden interior, a wood burning stove, a fairly updated kitchen, and a queen bed with an adjacent master bath. 

The cabin feels a little too good to be true for the price, and you click “Contact Owner” at the bottom of the page.

“Hello,” You start your chat. “I’m interested in potentially renting your guest cabin for four weeks. The place looks lovely but I wanted to ask if there are any issues I should be aware of since the price is so much more reasonable than other listings on this site.” 

You were hoping there were no gimmicks, you’ve heard horror stories before, and with no reviews, you wanted to do your due diligence. 

After you send the chat, you step away to make a quick dinner, chicken and ramen, comfy and warm, before you settle back onto the couch to watch your favorite reality show. You’re about to press play when you notice a response in your inbox. 

“Hi there. Totally understand your concern. I just put the listing up today and am offering a discounted rate for the first few renters to help get traffic to our rental and start getting reviews. Let me know if you have any questions.” You shrug at the perfectly reasonable response and you click on the circular picture of the brunette next to the message, opening the owner’s profile.

LISA BRAEDEN (Host)

0 Reviews | 1 Month Renting

Lisa’s confirmed information

Identity ✓

Email address ✓

Phone number✓

Proud wife and owner of a unique property. I am a certified yoga instructor and have been teaching and practicing for over 15 years. I love a good glass of wine, a well-cooked meal, and traveling to new places. 

You stare at the picture of the smiling, long-haired, tanned brunette. She’s absolutely beautiful. Probably a few years older than you and seems down to earth in a regular tshirt. 

Honestly, considering you were out of a job, the discounted price would really come in handy. Then you wouldn’t feel so guilty taking a full month off before you started your job hunt. 

You click back to the rental’s profile and put in your dates. You take a deep breath before clicking RESERVE and putting in your payment details.  Your rental has been confirmed. The message pops up. With a thousand-watt smile, you shut your laptop and settle into your couch. In just a few days, you would be on your way to a new beginning.  

Keep Reading

A/N: Fun fact, the first half of this was inspired by true events. Sadly, I didn't quit on the spot, but I did shortly after with a 10x better job.

And know we didn't get to see Dean yet, but I promise he will be in the next chapter!

Anywho, stealing this from the lovely @zepskies

NEXT TIME:

“I’m calling the cops!” She shouts, her phone in hand, music blaring from the speaker as her fingers are ready to press the three numbers as she stares at him with fear in her Y/C/E eyes.

“Take it easy,” Dean holds his hands up, and the woman looks like she’s going to have a heart attack as she notices the gun in his right hand. Realizing his mistake, he quickly tucks it away into his waistband and holds his empty hands out to her, wanting her to know he’s not a threat.

“First off,” Dean holds up a finger at her. “If anyone should be calling the cops, it’s me.” He points back to himself. “Secondly, what are you doing in my house?” 

“Your house?” Her voice drips with confusion as her brow furrows.

“Yes my house.” He echoes, emphasizing his ownership. She continues to frown.  

“Well if it’s your house, you would know I’m renting your guest house for the next four weeks.” She crosses her arms defiantly, confusion and fear gone as she challenges him. 

“What are you talking about?” Now it’s Dean’s turn to be confused. He’s never rented the guest house out, nor would he ever. 

Tag List

Forever 

@iprobablyshipit91  @likesiriusly @kittyque @findingfitnessforme @wonderange @captainemwinchester @xtina2191 @smoothdogsgirl @mogaruke @chin-up-love @tsunadesenjuuchiha @lyarr24 @globetrotter28 @krazykelly @roseblue373 @k-slla @stephv213

TGH

@suckitands33 @deans-baby-momma @tristanrosspada-ackles @twinkleinadiamondsky @spnbaby-67 @jackles010378 @itsdesiree86 @becca-rebel38

#dean x reader #dean winchester #dean imagine #supernatural fanfiction #dean winchester x reader #dean x y/n #dean winchester fic #the guest house

[school-of-all-time]

School of All Time Final!

Welcome to the final!!

Asks are open if you want to send in propaganda. May the best (most interesting, most awful, most iconic, whatever) school win!

This tournament began with 256 schools (technically more if you count the qualifying rounds). If you want to know how we got here, you can see all the brackets below the cut:

The final bracket:

The preliminary brackets:

#polls #tumblr polls #bracket tournament #wayside school #sideways stories from wayside school #discworld #terry pratchett #final

[acourtofwhatthefuck]

Strawberries and Cream - (Nesta x Reader)

Hiiii! @greeneyedivy and I collaborated and wrote this piece for @azsazz's and @writingsbychlo's Starfall Week! This was SO much fun to write and we really hope you enjoy it!

The prompt we used was "Character A and Character B meet at Starfall"

Summary: Nesta doesn't care for Starfall and just wants to get away from the Inner Circle...which subsequently leads to an encounter that changes her life.

Word count: 5006

Warnings: SMUT! 🌶️

✧: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *

Starfall. 

It was all anyone had been talking about for weeks, and Nesta was sick of it.

There was no escaping it. If she wasn’t being subjected to the Inner Circle’s excited preparations, then walking the streets of Velaris was a sure way of reminding her of the occasion. She couldn’t turn a corner without seeing posters of businesses offering promotional offers, or catching a glimpse of the storefront decorations that had been hung. The entire thing was giving her a headache.

No, she didn’t care to watch the stars crash into each other, and no, she didn’t care what everyone would be wearing while they did. Even Elain had been sucked into the allure of the whole thing, but Nesta — Nesta saw it for what it was.

Unnatural. Just as unnatural as going from human to fae. She felt such a visceral hatred for the entire situation that it ached her bones.

She may have had no choice but to live on the other side of the Wall, now, but that didn’t mean she had to partake in the foolish traditions that existed there.

You’re still welcome to join us, Feyre had said, dressed up to the nines alongside the others. They were all heading to the House of Wind — the best place, apparently, to witness what was about to happen.

No, was all Nesta had responded, and they didn’t push any further, even as her sisters left with disappointment on their faces.

Nesta would create her own plans, she’d decided. And that was how she’d ended up in quite possibly the seediest tavern she’d ever seen, far across the other side of Velaris.

Her shoes had stuck to the floor as she’d traipsed in, and the groups of punters dotted about the place all looked up, drinking in her appearance, the chatter lowering a little. She lifted her chin, ignoring them as she took a seat at the bar, aware of hungry gazes that studied the outline of her figure in her dress. She could just as easily leave and find somewhere more upbeat and alive, but this…this was what she wanted. A place that could be any dingy, old tavern in the human lands, if she ignored the fae features around her. A place where she could pretend, at least for one night, that her new life was just one big nightmare.

So she ordered herself a drink and focused on the sensuous strum of a lute across the room. 

The notes were charming and beautiful, soon transporting her to another life, another world, entirely. Nesta loved music — it was one of the very few things she still could love, and the setting didn’t matter as the tune climbed and fell, one song trailing off into the next. Her plans to down drink after drink seemed to fall to the wayside as she instead became distracted by the music.

Time ran away with her like that. She found herself able to push her thoughts away for the first time in a long while, and she nursed her drink and focused on anything but reality, and the dull sounds of soaring stars outside. Perhaps that was why she didn’t catch the sound of approaching footsteps, nor the fact that the music had come to a stop. The male voice that spoke to her was an unwanted obtrusion.

“Can I buy you another drink?”

She glanced up, finding a mildly handsome face smiling at her. The mess of blonde hair on his head and the piercing blue eyes did nothing for her. She stared back at him blankly, forcing herself to be polite.

“No,” she responded. “Thank you.”

“Come on.” The male persisted, sidling up to her. “There’s no sense in sitting there with an empty glass. Same again?”

“She said no, Mallas. Piss off.”

Both Nesta and Mallas looked up upon the third voice that was injected into the conversation. A female voice, slightly smoky and raspy. The sound seemed to skitter over Nesta’s skin like chills.

Her eyes took in the female that stood there, holding a lute as she stared down the male. In the dim faelights that lit the tavern, she looked…ethereal. Like the music she’d been playing moments before. Nesta couldn’t help staring. 

“I was only offering.” Mallas mumbled, pushing past her. “Bitch.”

“Kiss my ass.” Her eyes watched him closely, tracking him as he returned to the group of deadbeats he mingled with. Only once he was sat back down did she turn back to Nesta. “You shouldn’t be here, Nesta Archeron.”

Nesta blinked, caught off guard for once. And then frowned at her. “Do I know you?”

“No.” She leaned against the bar. “But everyone here knows you. The sister of our High Lady should not be keeping company such as the dregs of society that loiter in this dive. And I would know — my uncle owns the place.”

Nesta lifted her chin. “I’m not some silly little girl. I can choose, for myself, whose company I keep, thank you very much.”

The female’s lips twitched into what appeared to be amusement. “Well, then.” She said. “Have a good night. And happy Starfall to you.”

With that, she turned, sidling around the bar. Nesta couldn’t help watching every tiny movement as the female hung her lute over her shoulder, whistling a merry little tune as she headed towards the door at the back.

“Wait.” She found herself blurting, and the female turned curiously. “I—you play the lute.”

The musician stared back at her, that same look of teetering amusement seeming to pass across her face. Nesta thought she might die from humiliation — beg the ground to swallow her up, or something. You play the lute. As if that wasn’t already obvious.

She just…she felt intrigued. Maybe even a little awed. Her body and mind felt more alert than it had in months — and that was just from a few seconds of conversation. She…she wanted more of it.

“I do.” The female answered. She angled herself back around, studying the oldest Archeron. “…you like music?”

“I love it.”

Chewing her lip, the female seemed to consider that for a moment. What, exactly, she was thinking, Nesta wasn’t sure. But she liked the way she looked at her…assessing and curious. Not the contempt she’d become used to. It made her body feel hot and cold.

“…Okay.” The female eventually said. “Then I have something you might like — if you care to see it.”

Nesta didn’t even hesitate. She shrugged, forcing nonchalance that she didn’t feel. “Why not?”

“Indeed.” The female’s hand shot out in offering. “My name is Y/N.”

Nesta shook that hand, entirely aware of the lightning strike that, in that moment, seemed to bring her back to life.

✧: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

“This is my home.” Y/N held a chipped, dented door open, stepping aside. 

Nesta tried to school her expression as she wandered in. Not that she wasn’t used to small, modest houses, of course, but after months in Rhysand’s luxury, this place was…definitely not that.

A soft snort came from behind her, and Nesta glanced over her shoulder, kicking her shoes off. “What?”

“It’s no High Lord’s house, I grant you.” Y/N said, throwing her keys into a bowl beside the door. “But it’s home — my space.”

“I like it.” Nesta said, and she realised she was telling the truth.

With a smile, Y/N led her through to a small sitting room. The place was…colourful. Vibrant wall hangings and beaded curtains in doorways that led off to other places. Patchwork throws were draped over the sofas, and there were piles of books — titles that Nesta recognised, some she didn’t — and plants hanging from the ceiling and perched on shelves and standing in pots on the floor.

“You live here alone?” Nesta found herself asking, drinking in every detail. 

“I do. My family is…complicated. I’d genuinely go insane if I didn’t have my own space.” Y/N hung her jacket up, and Nesta glimpsed the pretty, dark peplum blouse and tight breeches she wore. “Drink?”

She tore her gaze away. “Yes. Thank you.”

Y/N pushed through one of those beaded curtains, drifting into what Nesta assumed was a small kitchen. The sounds of cupboards opening and glasses clinking travelled through as Nesta slowly approached one of the sofas and perched down. She studied the coffee table before her — covered in pages and pages of parchment. And on them, she realised, music. Compositions. 

The beads rustled again, and Y/N sat next to her, handing her a small glass of amber liquid. “I write it all myself — the music.”

“That’s incredible.” Nesta reached out, her fingers brushing over the indentations of ink on the pages. She couldn’t read any of it for the life of her, but…there was something beautiful about just studying the notes. Words tumbled from her lips before she could stop them. “Music is…an escape for me.”

“I get that.”

The two females had known each other barely an hour, and yet Nesta just knew — knew that Y/N did get it. That there was some sadness in the confession that she could relate to. 

“Do you write just for yourself?” She asked, sipping her drink.

“For now.” Y/N nodded. “But I’d like to perform in the Rainbow one day — or at least hear my compositions being performed there. That’s my goal. To…to be different to what my family are. To break from that mould.”

“And what are they? Your family?”

With a soft laugh, Y/N placed her drink down and rose once more. “Well…that actually brings me to what I was going to show you.”

Nesta waited patiently, watching as the female strode over to a cabinet and rifled through. She was…beautiful, her hair flowing down her back, the cut of her figure through her clothes. For a moment, Nesta found her thoughts emptying, her mouth drying. She quickly looked away.

“This,” Y/N said, slumping back down with a small box in her palm, “is a Symphonia. Go ahead — take a look.”

Nesta stared at her for a moment, their gazes meeting. She cautiously outreached a hand, opening the box and peering inside. Her brow furrowed at the small, silver ball that sat within. 

“You can take it out. I promise you’ll like it.”

Nesta’s long, slender fingers dipped into the box, carefully pulling the ball out. She set it down in her palm, realising that while the top was curved, the bottom had a smoother surface — to be set down without rolling, she supposed.

“What does it do?” She asked.

Y/N reached out, and Nesta jolted as she gently took her free hand. The two females stared at each other again, gazes not once faltering as Y/N guided her fingers to the top of the Symphonia. 

“Just tap it.” She murmured, giving a light press. “Like this.”

Nesta jumped, her lips parting in pure astonishment as music suddenly filled the room, the small object breathing notes and symphonies into the air. She knew there was a whole wealth of magic that she was yet to encounter in Prythian — and had been hesitant to ever do so. But this…she never would have considered anything like this.

“How does it do that?” She breathed.

Y/N smiled. “It uses magic to trap the music inside so that it can be played back to you. Everything you hear is being played by me. I use it for music composition. It’s…a very rare object.

“Where did you get it?”

“…that’s where my family comes into it.” Y/N shifted a little uncomfortably, pulling her hand away. “I come from a family full to the brim with criminals. One of the things they deal in is rare magical objects. Usually, I try to distance myself from them and have nothing to do with them. I’d like to get away from them completely. But this…the Symphonia…it was the last thing my father gave me before he was killed.”

It was an effort for Nesta not to flinch, not to return to those harrowing thoughts of her own father. She swallowed, forcing herself to focus on the music.

“Stolen or not, I couldn’t bring myself to get rid of it.” Y/N said. “Even if that makes me a terrible person.”

Nesta glanced up through her lashes, meeting her gaze. “It doesn’t.”

Again, the two females found themselves locked in their staring, the music floating around them. Unsaid words seemed to intertwine with it. Words that Nesta thought she might never have the courage to speak, but that made her skin tingle.

Eventually, Y/N smiled, prising the Symphonia from Nesta’s palm and placing it onto the coffee table. She held out a hand once more.

“Would you like to dance, Nesta Archeron?”

✧: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

They did dance. And danced and danced and danced until their feet hurt. Until Nesta felt like a different person. And even as the stars completed their journeys across the skies, the two females showed no signs of tiring. 

Nesta was drunk – not really on alcohol, no, even with the glasses they’d knocked back. She was drunk on elation. On…happiness. She’d never felt so on top of the world. 

The Symphonia had given them three run-throughs of every piece of music before they were slumping back onto the sofa side-by-side, their heads swimming and eyes smiling, lips laughing. Their arms brushed, that zipping energy that had been sparking between them all evening still very much present. 

It was enough to slow the pace down, to ground Nesta.

Her head still tilted back against the sofa, she angled it to find Y/N already gazing at her. Studying her. There had been a lot of glances like that as the night had wore on, only seeming to grow more heated and honeyed with every passing touch and word. 

“Why do you keep looking at me like that?” Nesta asked, not minding at all. 

Y/N’s eyes traced the sharp, flawless lines of her face. A face that so many would deem cold and unfeeling, albeit beautiful. But there was more behind that facade…layers that Y/N wanted to peel back.

“I’m seeing you.” She replied. 

The response wasn’t exactly what Nesta had been expecting; an odd, puzzling answer. She stared back at her, feeling strangely naked as she asked, “what are you seeing?”

“I’m seeing,” the female shifted, somehow inching closer. Their faces were mere centimetres apart, breaths mingling, “someone who is scared.” 

Nesta didn’t react. Right – she was so damn right, it was painful. Nesta hated it, how vulnerable it made her. Still, Y/N went on. 

“I’m seeing,” she continued, “someone who feels a huge volume of things, all at once. Someone who doesn’t know what the fuck to do with those feelings, but is expected to have it all figured out. Someone who desperately wants to let go and lose control, but is equally scared of doing so.” 

The words were so accurate, hitting so close to home, that they robbed Nesta of breath. She’d spent months feeling isolated and alone and misunderstood, angry and hurt and like nobody fucking saw her.

And yet, she’d met a complete stranger who had managed to sum her up perfectly within hours of their first words.

It made her…made her want to keep feeling. No matter how terrifying that was. 

She didn’t know what to say, how to respond. It seemed a bit strange to thank someone for accurately reading her, seeing her. There weren’t really any words–

So she gave in to the urge that had been building in her all night, as their bodies had danced closer and closer until they were moving in one, fluid unit. As their scents had mingled, and Nesta had got drunk on it. 

She leaned forward, cupping Y/N’s cheek, and slanted her lips over hers. 

It was like two puzzle pieces locking into place. Y/N didn’t hesitate to lean in to the kiss, reciprocating with as much enthusiasm. Her own hand moved up, tangling in Nesta’s hair. 

They both tasted like the honey wine they’d been drinking, their tongues sweet as they began to explore each other. It was the first time Nesta had ever kissed another female, and it was different. Exciting. Right.

Their lips didn’t separate, even as their bodies began to move. Y/N was inching closer, angling herself over Nesta, and Nesta tentatively placed her hands on her waist, hoping it was the right thing to do, wondering if she was allowed to explore further.

Realising she wanted to.

Y/N nipped her lip gently, and then pulled back just slightly to study her face, their breaths hot and fast. 

“I think that you’re probably used to being dominant, Nesta Archeron.” Her smoky voice caressed Nesta’s ears, her skin. “And I think you want to give up that control for once. That you’d like to know what it feels like to submit.”

A quick, short breath escaped Nesta’s lips. “Oh yeah?” 

“Mhmm.” Lips coasted over her lips, her jaw, down to her neck. “Do you want to let go, Nesta?”

“Yes. Yes.” 

Y/N smiled against her skin, pressing a kiss to the hollow of her throat. “Very well.” 

Nesta didn’t know what to expect, but she knew her skin was deliciously on fire. Wetness was already pooling between her thighs, and the sure musk of arousal began to mingle with the sweeter scents in the air. Not just Nesta’s arousal, but Y/N’s too – and it only made Nesta wetter to know she was the cause. 

“Relax.” Y/N whispered against the shell of her ear. “I’ll take care of you.”

It was only then that Nesta realised how rigid her body was – how she naturally tensed and threw her guard up to ward people off. But she didn’t want to do that. She wanted…wanted to let go, and experience everything that accompanied that bravery. To feel.

She forced her limbs to loosen into the sofa, the feeling in itself strangely pleasurable. Was this what it was like to experience pleasure for pleasure’s sake? Y/N was right – Nesta was used to being dominant. Every sexual encounter she’d engaged in had been about exacting control, feeling powerful. Having the command of things, as she did so rarely these days, in this new life. 

But that didn’t mean she didn’t want to let go. And letting go was…euphoric.

“That’s it,” Y/N encouraged, as Nesta’s limbs loosened more. Her fingers began to skim over the buttons at the bodice of her dress. “Can I undo these?” 

Nesta nodded once, quick. “Yes – please.” 

If Nesta’s skin was fire, Y/N’s fingers were contrasting, delicious ice, as though one offset the other. Y/N didn’t fumble with the buttons like males always did. She undid them one by one, torturously slow, until the two halves of the dress were parting and exposing Nesta’s full, generous breasts to the cool air, her nipples immediately hardening. 

And then Y/N was rocking back on her legs, hungrily drinking in the sight. She swallowed, glancing up to meet Nesta’s eyes. “You’re fucking exquisite.” 

Nesta found herself blushing. But there was no time to feel coy as Y/N leaned in, capturing her lips once more. 

The kiss was hungry, fierce, and even as Nesta’s body tried to take control, she gave over to the need to stop and feel. She cupped Y/N’s face in her hands, her thumbs stroking her cheeks as they kissed and kissed and kissed until they were both breathless. An ache was already building between her legs, and she pressed them together, moaning softly. 

Y/N smiled, lips pulling away from hers to trail down and down, just as they had before. But they continued on further, brushing over the swells of Nesta’s breasts. One of her hands came up to knead one breast while her lips fastened on the nipple of the other. 

The sensation was…unreal. Nothing like anything Nesta had felt before. Males had paid plenty of attention to her breasts, kissing and sucking and touching, but none of that came close to the feeling of Y/N’s tongue flicking over her nipple, her teeth grazing just slightly. Another, louder moan fell from Nesta’s lips, and her head fell back, her eyes screwing shut. 

“Look at me.” Y/N hummed, moving to pay the same attention to the other breast. “I want to know that you’re enjoying this.” 

Nesta’s chest heaved as her breath hitched. “I am. Gods, I am.” 

Y/N smiled, and Nesta began to wonder if it was possible to come from the treatment her breasts were receiving alone. The sensations…every lick and suck, the bites and the subsequent kisses to the hurts they left behind…it was possible she might combust. 

But then Y/N lips coasted further down, still. As far as they could go with Nesta’s gown still on. She pressed quick, gentle kisses to Nesta’s stomach, glancing up at her. “Can I take your dress off?” 

“I think I may rip it off myself if you don’t.” 

Y/N’s breathy laugh was music to her ears. A strange thought popped into her head that she’d happily trap the sound of that laugh within the Symphonia and listen to it over and over again. But all thoughts emptied from her mind as she lifted her body from the sofa, and deft hands and fingers were pulling the fabric away from her body, leaving her utterly exposed. 

Nesta was a confident woman, well aware that she was beautiful, that her body was the envy of many. But as she slumped back down, her underwear the only thing left covering her, she found herself…worried. Worried that she wouldn’t be to Y/N’s liking.

She’d never once cared nor considered that with anyone before. 

But the way Y/N stared at her put all those worries promptly to bed. That was fierce hunger in her eyes, her tongue swiping at her lip as her gaze trailed down and down, over Nesta’s breasts, her toned stomach, her sensuous hips and slender legs. And between those legs, the pulsing wet heat beneath her underwear. Her arousal drifted up to smother Y/N in its essence, and her eyes almost rolled back into her head. 

“I repeat,” she said tightly, as though she was trying to hold herself back from devouring Nesta whole, “You’re fucking exquisite.” 

Nesta swallowed, studying her just as fiercely. “Why don’t you show me what you look like under those clothes?”

“There’s plenty of time for that. But this is about you. All you.” 

And Nesta couldn’t deny that she loved the sound of that. Even though she found herself strangely nervous, her body trembling slightly, her arousal only built and built as Y/N stepped closer again.

And dropped to her knees before her. 

“Anything you don’t like,” Y/N said, her hands gently trailing up Nesta’s legs, “you tell me, okay?” 

Nesta nodded. Swallowed. “Yes.” 

“Good.” She leaned in, pressing a kiss to one of those long, luscious legs. Her lips coasted over the skin, smiling as Nesta seemed to gasp at the sensation. “Pretty as this underwear is, I’d much prefer it off.” 

Nesta would much prefer it thrown out of the window, far out of sight. It was nothing but torturous friction rubbing against her. She gladly lifted her hips as Y/N’s hands climbed up, gripping the fabric with nothing but gentleness. 

And then she was tugging them down, down until they were gone, discarded somewhere behind her. 

The heady scent of Nesta’s arousal hit her like a wave; a wave she’d happily drown in. The scent was mouthwatering, and she had to steel herself, gather her thoughts before she unleashed herself on her entirely and drank in that wetness she so badly wanted a taste of. 

“You smell incredible.” Y/N breathed, swallowing at the sight of her exposed, dripping centre. “I bet you taste even better.” 

Nesta tracked every movement. “Are you going to find out?”

“Would you like me to?” 

“Yes. Gods above, yes.” 

“Then I will.” 

The confirmation in itself had Nesta moaning – or perhaps it was the way Y/N hoisted one of those legs over her shoulder, her fingers gently dancing over her calf as her lips pressed small, quick kisses over the skin. Nobody had ever paid such attention to her like this. She wasn’t sure she’d ever let anyone do so. 

But as Y/N lifted the other leg, allowing them both to rest on her shoulders, Nesta felt nothing but a potent mix of excitement and anticipation and bliss. She sank into the sofa, lifting her hips as Y/N kissed and nipped her way up to her thighs. 

“You have such pretty thighs.” Y/N hummed, kissing the inside of one, and then the other. “Your skin reminds me of cream.” 

Nesta released a breath, head falling back.

“And with every little mark I leave,” She nipped, nibbled, leaving trails of faint red marks that weaved a path right up to her centre. “It’s like strawberries and cream. Beautiful.” 

Her lips, her tongue, were so close to where Nesta wanted them. To where Nesta wanted all of her. She was filled with new, frenzied thoughts, wondering what it might be like for them both to be naked, skin to skin, bodies moving in tandem with each other, Nesta’s sex rubbing against hers. She moaned, instinctively dragging a hand down her body, desperate for some sort of release.

“Pretty, pretty Nesta.” Y/N gently grasped that hand. Laced their fingers together. “Let me make you feel good.”

“Please,” Nesta begged softly, and Y/N struck. 

Her face lowered to Nesta’s soaked sex, the grip on her hand immediately tightening as she breathed in her scent, her nose nudging her clit. She glanced up, drinking in the sight of flushed cheeks and parted lips and the firm, furrowed brow. And then she dipped, licking a stripe up the centre of her. 

Nesta immediately gasped, her hips lifting off the couch. Again – that contrast of ice and fire. Y/N’s tongue was an inviting trail of coolness as she lapped at the damp heat of Nesta’s cunt. Nesta’s hand was clenching around hers, and her nails dug slightly in as Y/N’s tongue reached the apex of her thighs, swirling around the sensitive bud of her clit. 

“Oh, gods,” Nesta moaned, throwing her head back. Every little lick and lap was like being touched for the first time. Attentive and giving and raw. Her heart moved at a thudding gallop inside her chest, seeming to jerk at every sensation. 

“Is that good?” Y/N hummed against her, her teeth lightly grazing her clit.

“Yes. Fuck, Y/N, yes.”

Nesta could feel Y/N’s lips smiling against her. Her body trembled, fighting with the urges to both give and take as Y/N licked and nipped and sucked. But this was about giving over control – about taking. And as Y/N used her free hand to slowly slide a finger into her, she was happy to do just that. 

“Doing so well for me.” Y/N breathed, pumping her finger in and out as Nesta’s juices coated her tongue. The taste had every one of her nerves alert and craving, and the moans she let out were certainly not for show as she fucking devoured. “Gods, you taste like sunlight.” 

Never would Nesta have believed that anyone would describe her as sunlight. The praise felt just as pleasurable as the sensations as she reached out, threading her empty hand within Y/N’s hair. She gave a gentle tug, and Y/N grinned, sliding another finger into her. 

She curled those two fingers inside of her, and the delicious ache that was beginning to build and pique, the feeling of those fingers and her tongue working inside her and against her–

“Fuck, I can’t–” Nesta’s hips lifted off the seat again, her head thrown back.

“You can let go.” Y/N lapped against her, pumping her fingers faster, harder. “Let go, Nesta. I’ve got you.”

Nesta did just that, a shout breaking from her throat as release overtook her body. She was nothing but pure, shaking, feverish pleasure as she came, hips bucking and legs trembling. She gripped onto Y/N’s hair, riding her release against her face. 

Incredible, really, that Y/N didn’t falter once. Even as Nesta’s centre was grinding against her, practically smothering her, she seemed hungry for the whole thing, continuing the expert strokes of her fingers and tongue. And as Nesta’s trembling legs buckled and had her tumbling back onto the sofa, Y/N held her, kissing her thighs and stroking her hand still intertwined with hers. 

Seconds or minutes or hours could have passed, and Nesta’s heart was still thudding, her ears ringing. When she’d regained enough sense to speak, she was weakly pulling on Y/N’s hand, tugging her up, up towards her. As soon as their faces were close enough, Nesta captured Y/N’s lips in a kiss, moaning at the taste of herself that lingered there. 

“I want you.” Nesta breathed, pulling back just slightly. She stared at Y/N, swallowing, wondering – and knowing, deep down – what the fire was that had been lit inside of her. “I want — more.” 

Y/N studied her face, the flushed cheeks and glazed eyes. She leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to the corner of Nesta’s mouth, and then she was tugging her to her feet. “So stay.” She said. 

Nesta didn’t need to respond – not as Y/N pulled her from the room on shaking legs. 

She felt more alive than she had in months. Than she thought she might ever feel again.

And for the first time in years – perhaps for the first time in her life – she felt like she’d found home.

✧: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *

general tags: @angrymilfs @lunaralaraspace @maddithefangirl @brekkershadowsinger @wandas-dream @his-sweet-nightmare @kennedy-brooke @chocolatecakelargeshake @daily-dose-of-sass @missaddamsworld @reiincarnatiion @linduzmunna @leeknows-wife @nightcourtwritings @ann-writes-universes @cosmic-whispers @simplefan-638 @lucyysthings @judig92 @shannonsaid @azriels-mate123 @a-frog-with-a-laptop @iangelofmusic @baybay123455 @poisonousgirlie @kuraikei @sweetandsourwrites @clarkie-carmody-blog @myheartsalwayswithyou @lavenderdreams22 @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @sadiebluewin @comfortpotato @dream-alittlebiggerdarling @acourtofchaosandmess @marina468 @123345566 @gmey11 @nyctophiliiiiaaa @starrynights-frostbites @eos-princess @cloverrover @millsxthrills @humanpersonlasttimeichecked @gamarancianne @rachelnicolee @bruhhvv @a-court-of-milkandhoney @poshestpigeon @dxjaaaa @icey--stars

#nesta x reader #nesta archeron x reader #nesta archeron #smut #a court of thorns and roses #acotar fic #acotar x reader #acotar headcanon #fluff #nesta smut #reader insert #starfall week #acotar #nesta x you #starfall #acomaf #acowar #acofas #acosf #nesta archeron x you

[morrigan-sims]

The Storyteller's Guild REBOOT - a simblr story discord

I made this server almost 18 months ago, but life got kind of busy and it fell to the wayside. But I've been DESPERATE to find like-minded simblrs. So, my best friend, who also helps mod this server, managed to persuade me to reboot this server and give it another chance at life, and we have some new ideas on how to make this server more active and involved!

Features:

A section for non-storytelling sims stuff including builds, CAS, edits, cc finds and wcifs.

Extensive storytelling section, including channels for worldbuilding, character development, story help, collabs, writing resources, and prompts.

Monthly (at least) writing and character development prompts! (also monthly CAS challenges, maybe??)

Sections for nonsims interests such as music, other video games, art, and reading!

Pet pics channel for your daily does of cute.

Channel for cc/pose making!

Color & pronoun roles, plus opt-in bonus channels.

+ more!

We're always open to suggestions on how to improve the server, so if you have any, send them my way! <3

Interested? Here's the requirements:

18+ server, adults only. (NSFW content allowed in designated channels / with spoilers)

Has an active simblr blog! (You don't need to be actively posting a story, but you should be posting and interacting on simblr to at least some degree.)

Want to be a part of a community! (We want this server to be active and a welcoming place. I understand that life gets busy and you don't need to be active 24/7, but if you're never going to talk or participate in the server, you won't be getting anything out of it.)

Don't be an asshole. (Bigotry of any kind will not be tolerated. Everyone is welcome in this server.)

if that applies to you, click here to join.

#ts4 #the sims 4 #ts4 discord #sims 4 discord #ts4 storytelling #sims 4 storytelling #reblog to boost please!

[jakeyt]

Covet: Chapter 8 (Part 2.2 of 2)

PART 1 OF PART 2

Pairing: Jake Kiszka x f!Reader

Covet Summary:

Life was good. No, life was great. 

Was. 

Until.

Jake Kiszka crashed into the picture.

You welcomed him into your life—your home. 

Yes, he was your best friend’s twin. But, he was also the one who would end up disrupting your whole world with his attitude, his troubles, and the annoyingly natural way he lured you in. 

Jake Kiszka came with so much you really didn’t want.

At least that’s what you tried to convince yourself.

Warnings: MINORS DNI (18+); smut (!!); angst; substance use (marijuana); unprotected sex (p in v); CONSENSUAL sex (p in v) under the influence of marijuana; jealousy; negative self-talk; oral sex (f! receiving); anxiety; intense feelings of sadness; abandonment issues (as usual, PLEASE lmk if i missed anything that is triggering to you!)

Chapter Word Count: 21.3k (i’m very very sorry)

a/n: CLIMAX TIME! woooo!! i’m sorry for another mf 2 parter… thanks to tumblr’s fucking paragraph limit (*screams*)🫠. the entire chapter is 43k words long (didn’t mean to do that—sorry 🥲), so this is almost exactly half of it. BUT, never fear, I will be posting part 2 to this tomorrow, as it is COMPLETE and ready to go… but we’ve gotta keep up the anticipation, right? lol <3

please heed the warnings. there is some sex under the influence in this chap, and although it’s COMPLETELY CONSENSUAL, I know some may not like that (we are all different and that’s ok!).

HUGE thank u to my girls @joshym & @alwaysonthemend for putting up w me all the mf time and being dope ass beta readers and friends and agghhh... you two are the realest aaaand ilysm 😭

one more thank u to @welightthefire for being the most beautiful, incredible source for an upcoming situation in reader’s life. ily <333

Please enjoy the playlist as you read 🖤

enjoy!

-🌼🌼🌼-

August 17, 2022

You did your best to ignore the vibrating phone in your back pocket. 

Text after text kept coming in, begging you to check.

You knew who it was. With the way you heard every other brother’s voice except for his from the living room (or kitchen, wherever they were) and how desperate he’d been for you to not find out. 

But, instead of giving in, you just stared at yourself in the mirror, willing the ridiculous tears pooling in your eyes to stay at bay. It would be pointless to start fucking crying. There would be zero sense in crying over this. There was no relationship to fall apart after finding out about this. 

You hadn’t been cheated on.

So why did it feel like you had?

Because you’re a fuckass with your emotions, y/n, the lovely voice in your head told you. You need to learn how to be a stable adult before anything else. Things need to end. None of this is fair to Jake or his budding career, either. Do better.

Fuck. You didn’t want to end things with him. 

But you knew it was right to get out of it before you became any more entangled. You knew going in, that what you had wasn’t meant to last anyway. Being with Jake–fucking him–it was just a temporary thing. 

It wasn’t going anywhere. This was a short season. A blip in time. An indulgence. 

Nothing more. 

But it fucking hurt to be honest with yourself about that. 

Fuck. Stupid.

Jake had done a fantastic job at maintaining the agreement. All he’d done was be a good friend– someone to fuck around with. That was all he was and all he’d done for you. He had not broken any boundaries or any of your ridiculous rules.

The one who had let all of that fall to the wayside had been you. 

So you didn’t want to look at the texts. Didn’t want to see him apologizing for something that he didn’t have to explain himself out of. 

As tears ended up falling down your cheeks (because no matter how hard you tried to get them to stop, there was no stopping them), you realized that you were the only one to blame for the way you were feeling. You’d let him become your safe place. Your anchor. The person you longed to be around (and with) most. . . 

You realized that, most of all, you were angry. Angry with yourself. It would be stupid to be upset with him. He’d done nothing wrong.

If he was fucking her, that wasn’t any of your business. Like you kept reminding yourself, there was no relationship, and he was allowed to do whatever he wanted with other women. And it was definitely not his responsibility to explain anything – make you feel better for something that was your own fault.

You’d let yourself get too attached. Plain and simple. 

It wasn’t Jake’s fault that you’d put your guard down enough to feel so jarred and shocked by this revelation. This was on you. And you weren’t sure if you should apologize to him or just start separating yourself from the situation.

Start separating yourself from him. 

And fuck, there were the tears again.

You got some toilet paper to wipe your face, and took deep breaths. As you were measuring your breaths, you cleaned up the mascara that’d made a mess under your eyes. 

When you had these stupid crying fits, if you could find the strength to do it, it'd always helped you to focus on something that brought you pure joy. But, unfortunately, you’d put yourself in a bit of a hard place at the moment. 

Because the thing—the person—who brought you the most joy in your life currently was the same one you were crying over. 

The only other thing you could think of was your cat. 

Stevie. Who’d, thankfully, followed you into the bathroom, trotting behind you as she’d probably sensed that you needed her. She was a damn smart cat. 

So, you sat on the edge of the tub to pet her where she sat on the toilet seat. You were super fucking grateful for the little fluff ball. Her icy blue eyes found your crying ones, so she leaned her head in your direction, signaling for you to pet her. Then, she started purring, which brought the sort of serene calm that only a cat’s purr could. The vibration from her body to yours was bringing you back down to earth, reassuring you.

Then, as you were petting her, you felt your stomach pinch and twist in a way that usually signaled your least favorite, bloody aunt. 

Of course.

As you sat to pee and assess the cramps, you thought about it all, glancing at Stevie’s sweet face as she now sat across from you on the ground, licking at her paws. Things would be okay. They would. This situation with Jake wasn’t as serious as you were making it out to be.

Right?

You just weren’t fucking ready for the way it was undoubtedly going to hurt first, in order to be okay in the end.

After peeing, you lifted the toilet paper to see if you were truly that unlucky. And, you were met with what you already knew to be true: you were on your motherfucking period. 

Your life was going just great.

-🌼🌼🌼-

You’d thought it best to head to bed early, claiming that your terrible cramping stomach was causing you pain. (It was true– your period was good for something, at least. . . get you out of the room that had been suffocating you all night.)

All of the boys had seemed a little down about you leaving so soon, but you just bid them all goodnight and blew kisses in all of their directions. You were trying very hard to just act like your normal self. It was time to come back to fucking earth.

You had purposefully ignored Jake. You hadn’t looked at him at all after coming out of the bathroom, and your pocket buzzed with texts a couple times. But you kept it hidden in your back pocket.

When you’d gotten to your bedroom, you’d taken a Midol, willing the cramps to stay at bay. And when they started fading, you decided to try to sleep.

But all you did was lay there, staring at the ceiling.  

You could hear the boys talking in the living room. All about their upcoming festival that coming weekend. You were longing to be out there with them, but you just let yourself lay in your bed and listen to the little pieces of what you could hear through the door.

A lot of talking from the three that didn’t live with you occurred (well, mostly Sam and Josh), but Jake stayed oddly quiet. He was always one to jump in on music talk— especially if it had to do with the music he was making.

Every now and then you’d hear his input, but it happened very little.

You’d almost fallen asleep when you heard two hushed, familiar voices talking outside of the bathroom, which sat right next to your bedroom door. Through the blurriness of your opening eyes, you looked at the door through which you heard them.

It was Josh’s you heard first. 

“What is going on?” 

Then, Jake.

“What do you mean?”

A little huff-growl came from the charismatic mouth of the curly-headed twin. “You’ve gotta be fuckin’ kidding me, Jacob.”

When you heard Josh’s little growl through the thick wood of the door, it was a little funny. He was always so fucking dramatic, and you loved that about him. But it was simultaneously why you were scared as hell for him to ever find out about you and Jake. So, through the door, you willed Jake to play it cool. 

Quit wearing your emotions on your fucking sleeve, Jake, you thought, annoyed. There’s literally no reason for you to be upset. 

“I’m not,” Jake persisted, his voice stern enough to convince someone who wasn’t you (or his twin). “I’m just worn the fuck out.”

The last part sounded real, though. You could sense the slight weariness in his tone. Were you wearing him out?

“Is it Maya?” Josh questioned. “You got all up in arms when Sam brought her up. Are you still seeing her? I was honestly convinced you weren’t.”

Huh? Surely Josh would know if Jake was still fucking her. . . And if he didn’t know, surely it wasn’t happening. . .

The hope that momentarily rose in your chest was embarrassing. 

Because, just as soon as it was there, you were reality-checking yourself.

Josh also had no clue about the two of you, so. . .

Maybe Jake was just doing a stellar job at blocking some of the telepathic wavelength they normally shared. Fuck if you knew. 

“I guess you could say part of it is her,” Jake responded. “Saw her the other day, you know.” 

“Oh?” Josh wondered. “I thought you couldn’t date clients.”

“We’re not dating.”

“You’re involved.”

“I guess,” Jake said, relenting. 

Fuck.

“What do you mean you guess?” Josh challenged. “Are you or aren’t you?”

“It’s more complicated than that, Josh.”

Complicated? Goddammit. How had you been so oblivious to him being in a complicated arrangement with another woman?

“No it’s fucking not.”

“Yes it is,” your roommate insisted. 

And there he was, getting sensitive in reference to this woman, yet again.

“Jesus fuck,” Josh exasperated. “Whatever it is, you need to pull your shit together. Get it figured out because it’s clearly a touchy subject. And you and I both know now is not the time to get all up in arms with Sam about something like this.”

“I know,” Jake conceded. You envisioned him nudging at his nose with his pointer finger, shaking his head to himself. You’d spent so much time recently watching his reactions to things. . . you were becoming a pro at his mannerisms (when you definitely shouldn’t be).

“Now is not the time to be getting involved with anyone— especially if it’s just a quick fuck,” Josh emphasized the last part. Your heart lodged in your throat. “You know better, Jake. And you know that now is the time to focus on yourself rather than a woman– focusing on anything besides this monumental time in your life could hurt you.”

“Monumental,” Jake scoffed. “It’s just a festival.”

“You know it’s not. God, this is what I mean!” Josh said, his voice raising a bit. When he spoke again, he was back to using a muzzled tone again. “Quit acting like that. You’ve waited your whole life for this.”

“Josh, I really don’t want to talk about this.”

“You don’t want another Amelia situation— where you become so obsessed with a woman that you move to Illi-fuckin’-nois, put yourself on the fucking back burner, and give up on the thing you love the most. Because when you do that to yourself, you do it to all of us, too.” 

Amelia? There was no question to who Josh was describing. Putting a name to his ex girlfriend was strange, to say the least. By hearing her name, she seemed more than just a figment of history. Giving her a name made her that much more real – and it made everything else feel so much more real along with it.

The reality of your situation. And you’d be damned if you were the reason he gave up his fucking dream again–you’d known it was a possibility for him to do the same with you as he’d done with her. And Josh saying all of this made you feel completely validated in all of your original fears. 

You refused to be the one that ruined everything for them– for him. 

And to be viewed in such a negative light as Amelia was to Josh. . . that fucking terrified you, too.

“How dare you fucking bring her up? This is not the same fucking thing. You know that, Josh.”

“Are you sure? Because based on how you acted when Maya was brought up, I wouldn’t be so sure.” Josh scoffed. His voice softened when he added, “Can you just fucking look out for yourself—just a little bit?” He pleaded, his voice breaking a bit. “I just don’t want to see you get hurt again. Fuck, Jake. I would just really appreciate it if you cared about yourself the way you deserve–.”

You heard another snicker from Jake. 

“Stop it,” Josh sternly stated. You heard a muffled ‘ow’ from Jake. Had Josh hit him or something? Damn. “I’m tired of being the only one to care about your happiness, Jacob. You know I will continue to be here for you–always, but I need you to take this time in your career seriously. Don’t let an unstable relationship get in the way.”

In that moment, you knew that where you’d stood since the beginning in believing how important Jake’s career was had not been in vain. It was his dream—his career. . . His livelihood. It was also completely apparent that you had been correct in knowing how Josh would feel about an arrangement like the one you and his brother had going on.

The entire thing had been a foolish, selfish idea. . . 

You could slap yourself for giving into the temptation. 

Eventually, the conversation between the twins faded out. A couple of slightly dismissive “okays” from Jake and “I love yous” exchanged between the two. 

Then, you were met with the noise from the living room again. Planning, planning, planning from the four men. . .

And you were stuck in the still, quiet darkness of your room, making a plan of your own as the moon highlighted your covers and Stevie’s body curled in a peaceful, sleeping state.

Oh, how you envied your cat and her obliviousness to the stark, upsetting reality of life.

The entire interaction outside your bedroom between your best friend and the man you’d centered your life around as of late. . . 

It sealed what you knew you had to do.

-🌼🌼🌼-

August 19, 2022

You were deeply regretting being at this fucking music festival.

The busyness of everything around you was making you feel like a little bug— with fluttering wings that were about to get stomped. Ironically, your body was buzzing like an insect— from the inside out.

Your old friend, Anxiety, was along with you for the ride. Also Elsie.

And your cramps.

Thankfully, you’d waited to come until later in the day. The boys had been there all day, but you’d chosen to not go when they did, and instead wait for Elsie’s plane to get in at the airport so you could get ready, then arrive together. You were slightly shocked that she showed up on a sort of whim. But she’d been insistent on being at the festival to support Josh and witness this “big step” in his career. 

They weren’t performing until early evening anyway, so it would’ve been pointless to stand around while they busied themselves doing whatever the bands were supposed to do beforehand.

By the time the two of you had fixed yourselves up to attend and found your reserved place on the lawn, it was very nearly packed full. The security was, thankfully, super kind in accepting your VIP badges, so your anxiety didn’t flare up as bad as it could have as you made your way to the spot at the front. And having Elsie there helped a ton. 

But, combined with the mass amount of sweaty bodies and non-stop chatter and drunk singing and dancing around you, you felt your skin crawl, and as if you were about to combust from the inside out. These crowded places were not your forte, but you couldn’t pass up being at these shows. 

Elsie was right– this was a big step.

And Josh had been right when he’d told Jake it was monumental.

You’d seen the lineup. You knew who’d be performing at this festival– band names that any random person on the street would know. Not Metallica-type bands. . .not yet. But popular groups nonetheless.

Jake’s dream was coming true, and you had to be there to witness this. To experience it alongside him. While you could.

But, as you looked to your left, on the left wing of the stage, you saw them.

Her.

Her beautiful, bronzed skin on display in her black dress. Her perfectly shaped hourglass figure being complimented by the short length, and the deep V at the neckline. 

No VIP badge like yourself, but she was backstage with him. Did she arrive with him? They were talking animatedly, her hand naturally resting on his arm when she’d say something. Her boisterous laughter every time he would say something. (He is most definitely not that funny. Fucking tryhard.) Even as he tuned his guitar, she stood there. And without fail, he would glance up every now and then to add something. . . or to simply smile at her. 

It made your stomach lurch. You felt like you were going to be sick. 

And, of course, Elsie caught on. Her observatory brain catches everything.

You hadn’t seen her watching them with you, her eyes darting back and forth between you and them as you were stuck in your watchful trance. But you knew, as soon as she grabbed your tricep that she’d been tuned in to your reaction at the entire display.

“Who’s the new fling?” Elsie’s joking voice pulled you from where your stare had been placed for the last several minutes. 

Suddenly, you felt extremely on edge and defensive. Anger heated your blood to a boiling temperature.

“It’s none of our business, Elsie,” you snapped.

“Oookay,” Elsie scoffed, flipping her natural curls back behind her shoulder. She crossed her arms. “You can’t pull that shit on me. I saw you fucking watching them– making it your business. Just answer the question.”

“Bold of you to assume I even know her name,” you rolled your eyes, playing it off the best you could. 

The way she leveled you with her eyes reminded you how stupid it was to attempt hiding anything from your older sister. (Again, her observatory mind misses nothing. Even when you wish it would at times.)

You sighed, pushing a hand through your hair to wave it away from your face. Sweat was accumulating on your forehead, right at your hairline. You felt gross. “Her name is Maya.”

“Hmmm,” she hummed, squinting as she tapped her chin. “Maya. . . okay. How long?”

“Apparently since he moved here,” you replied, trying to keep the emotion from your tone. 

She gave you a look that said she knew better, but didn’t give you a hard time. (Praise God.)

“Wow,” she blew out a long breath through her lips, the color of mulled wine. “And then he fucked you midway through fucking her?”

You flinched at the wording. “Damn, crass much?”

“Shut the fuck up,” she retorted. “You talk the same exact way as me, bitch.”

“Whatever,” you said, annoyed by her, but comforted by the familiar banter. You missed her being around. . . so much. “And yes, the timeline seems to allude to that.”

“Does that upset you?”

You were glad she had the decency to pose the question. . . even though you knew she wanted to outrightly state what she already knew to be true.

“No,” you derided. “It’s just his classic asshole behavior,” the words felt wrong coming from your mouth. You knew he wasn’t an asshole. Moments in time, of him talking to you, comforting you flickered through your mind like a reel. You tried your best to cover it with another dismissive (yet truthful) response. “And, we’re not together now and we weren’t together then. He’s had every right to fuck whomever he pleased.”

“Mhm,” she grinned, still narrowing her eyes at you. But, she played along, her blue eyes catching sight of something behind you for a few seconds. “Well, however you’re feeling— I can tell you right now that he still thinks you're fine as hell.”

It was your turn to scoff, pursing your lips, painted in the same lipstick as hers. “What encouraged you to say something so asinine?”

“Not asinine,” she snarked, looking over your shoulder to the left wing again. “I’m literally currently observing this man devouring you with his eyes.”

Your skin heated, but you didn’t want to turn around. At the present moment, you didn’t know how to feel about him looking at you that way. Did you want that? Yes. Should you want that? Absolutely not.  Especially after you’d found out what had been happening behind your back for the entirety of your escapade– shit. No. Not behind your back. He hadn’t been keeping the fling a secret. He simply didn’t need to make you privy to it. There was no reason. 

In the back of your mind, you heard your obnoxious voice stating your rules for him (and now reminding yourself what had been set in place). 

“No questions or comments about dates the other one may have. It’s not our business.”

The last four words were ringing in your head, whether you wanted them to or not. Still, it made your heart sink to think that he was looking at you and Maya the same way. . .

Fuck. Don’t. Cry.

“Sis?” Elsie’s attentive voice yet again brought you out of your funk. “Talk to me.”

Your sad eyes were impossible to hide. It was getting harder and harder to fake in front of her. But still, you shook your head and mouthed a ‘no’ while also sniffling to dry up the tears.

“Okay,” she soothed, conceding for the time being. “But I’m not going to lie to you and tell you he’s not looking right at you. He hasn’t stopped fucking staring for the last several minutes.”

Truly not able to help it, you glanced over your shoulder to where you’d seen him before.

And she was completely correct. You felt the way his eyes burned against your skin, enveloping every piece of skin he could get his eyes on. 

Admittedly, there was plenty of skin for him to gape at. 

What you’d chosen to wear was pretty hot. A couple weeks ago, you’d ordered a few pieces online for the festival. Funnily enough, Jake had even given his input on some of it as you’d been leaning against him on the couch as you placed the order.

“You’re going to look so fucking sexy,” he had said. 

Those words are like a broken record playing over and over in your mind as you position yourself just so, popping your hip a bit in a way that makes your ass look really good. (If he was going to stare, why not make a little show of it?) It was a white piece that he had ultimately helped you decide on. 

(White was honestly an extremely risky move considering your current, fucking crampy situation.)

You hadn’t planned well according to your stupid ass cycle. Going off of your birth control, months prior, had thrown you ridiculously off track of your cycles.

Nevertheless, this (tiny) outfit was what you wanted to wear– what you’d gotten specifically for this occasion. So you were going to wear it, dammit. Knowing that festivals called for outfits on the more daring side, you’d gone all out in wearing as little as you possibly could.

The shirt was almost a halter top, but completely opened around your back and in the front. The only thing keeping your round breasts from being completely exposed, two pieces of fabric, connected at the neck. Although, your cleavage left little to the imagination. 

A delicate white corded rope wrapped around your body connecting the only two pieces of material that made up the entirety of the top. So, your chest was covered, but very nearly bare, nonetheless. 

Taking advantage of the exposed skin of your tummy, you opted to add a circle of sparkling rhinestones around your belly button. A little something special you planned a while ago that you hadn’t told Jake about, leaving it to be a sexy little surprise for him. 

The wrapped skirt, low-waisted and very short, made it easy to showcase the body jewelry Jake had specially picked out for you. 

You’d asked if he had any requests for the outfit since it was his event. And his only request had been to incorporate a little bit of body jewelry.

“To highlight this beautiful, magical body,” he’d said, reaching a hand around you to reach under your t-shirt. He’d traced a finger from your sternum, then below your breasts, and all the way to cross your tummy and hips. “I wanna see you sparkle underneath that bright sun.”

“And if it rains?” You’d turned, raising your brow and nudging his nose with your own.

He’d played along, and then gave the tip of yours a light peck. “You’ll still sparkle,” he’d smiled, making you feel so warm and cozy . . .

So, here you were, wearing the gold, belt-like chains that twinkled in the summer sun. 

There was one delicate chain that started as a dainty necklace at your throat, and trailed between your breasts, which accumulated in more pieces at your waist. The suns dangling from one piece added to the summertime vibe, and the other sparkly chains glistened against your skin. You’d even sprayed some sparkly body spray to add to the color of your sun-kissed, golden hue. Your makeup, lighter around the eyes, only some sparkly shadow and a slight wing to accompany your long, mascara-coated lashes. Hair in loose curls.

You’d wanted to look good for him.

And your ego was elevated by giving you his attention at the moment— even though Maya was standing there, right next to him. Albeit, she was busy talking to someone hidden behind the curtain, but his gaze was planted firmly on you. She could look up at any moment and see it. He wasn’t trying to hide the way he’d fixed his eyes on you. 

Even from where you stood, looking at him, halfway turned around. . . you could see how dark his eyes were, studying every last bit of you. You’d gotten used to seeing them darken like that. . . You were familiar with the way he was looking at you. His lids were drooping over his eyes, which raked deliciously from your white heeled boots, all the way up to where your own eyes were still watching him.

When your gazes intertwined, you felt your cheeks flare pink. Your breath caught in your throat at how he was intently poring over you. Your stomach tied in knots and your panties got wet when he bit his lip, winked at you, and subtly adjusted himself behind his guitar. 

Fuck, Jake, you licked your lips, biting your lower one softly. 

He looked hot as hell. His long, chestnut locks, flowing perfectly around his face with the occasional breeze. His black shirt, completely unbuttoned, showing you so much of his immaculate, golden chest and abdomen. Your eyes lingered on that solid abdomen— the same one that pushed just right, against you, as he would lay over you, fucking you with all he had. And his black jeans, tight against his glorious thighs.

When you saw him reach in his back pocket for his iPhone, he didn’t drag his lusty stare away until the very last second. Until he had to. Almost instantly, you felt your clear, festival-approved bag buzz against your hip. 

It was definitely embarrassing how quickly you snapped it open and looked at the text awaiting you on the screen. 

I really should turn the previews off, you thought absentmindedly, promising yourself you’d get that done soon, so as not to get caught exchanging these texts with him.

Little bit late for that, the stupid voice in your head shoved itself into your moment. It won’t even matter soon. 

But you pushed that critical voice the hell away. Just for now. 

When you opened your thread of texts, you avoided the texts from previous nights, still not wanting to read where he’d checked in on you. It was pointless to do so. And what awaited you below them was much better anyway.

Jake, 5:45 p.m.: I am rock fucking hard for you right now

Dammit.

Jake, 5:45 p.m.: how am I supposed to concentrate when you look like that in the crowd?

How am I supposed to make it through an entire performance of yours, so close to the stage? Watch you fuck your guitar and wish it was me. . .

Jake, 5:46 p.m.: One wrong move and those tits are out

Jake, 5:46 p.m.: goddamn. I need to bend you over

Fuck, Jake. Quit it. 

You squeezed your legs together, crossing them to alleviate the way you were throbbing.

Jake, 5:47 p.m.: I can’t wait to get you the fuck home after this thing is over

You squeezed your eyes shut, thinking of every bad, horrible, terrible thing you could. And when you opened them, you let out a breath you’d been holding in. But the pulsing happening in your underwear was still making you feel hot, sweating from more than the evening sun.

But when you glanced back up, he was gone. 

Half of you didn’t want to text him back, afraid he’d gone off with Maya to relieve himself. Though, to your relief, your eyes found her, still standing there, talking to a crew member. 

She hadn’t gone with him. . .

You tried texting him, reminding him of the sad, current truth of your body. 

You, 5:48 p.m.: I’m on my period, Jake. Lol. You know this.

Jake, 5:49 p.m.: I know. I haven’t stopped thinking about it, actually. 

Jake, 5:49 p.m.: I want you so fucking bad

Jake, 5:49 p.m.: do you want it?

Fuck. What did you say to that? You’d never had a guy want sex with you during your period. . . And the fact that he wanted it? Was willing to do it? That was fucking hot.

But you were conflicted since your period was your one way of staying abstinent from him. . . Fuck. You’d forced yourself to deny him because you were on your period. You’d even told him you were in hopes that he would be too grossed out to tempt you. But he wasn’t grossed out. He wanted you, still. . . And you needed him. . . so bad. . .

What would the harm be in just giving in to it tonight? Maybe attempting to have sex and forcing yourself to eliminate feelings while doing so would be helpful. . . a way to sort of ween yourself off of sex. (Fucking ridiculous, huh?) You decided you’d take time to think about it. Let the show play through first. 

It was completely against what you knew you should be doing: breaking all things off. 

You, 5:51 p.m.: How about we talk after the show?

You’d waited for him to respond, but he never did. It would have normally worried you, but you gave him the benefit of the doubt. He was at a music festival. Chances were, he was busy. They were also set to perform at six. You knew that much. And, right at 6:00, you were proven correct as you heard the beginning of screams and the beating of a bass drum. Before you looked up, you sent one more text.

You, 6:01 p.m.: Break a leg!

-🌼🌼🌼-

And break a leg he did. 

There’d been a few mishaps. Josh’s mic had gotten turned off midway through a song, Sam’s bass had been overbearingly loud at the beginning of the set, and Jake’s cord had initially had trouble picking up through his amp. 

You’d watched the first two incidents happen, hating it for the guys that they were having technical difficulties. But when Jake’s problem had occurred, you were feeling every bit of anxiety with him. You wanted to jump over the barricade and help him in whatever way you could. Ease his stress. 

But when his face had flashed with anger every now and again (very subtly— his professionalism impressing you), your cheeks had flushed at the way he’d looked so heated. Then, when he’d ended up yanking the cord from his guitar, his hand flexing around the cable, gripping it with all he had. . . You couldn’t stop what accumulated between your thighs. And when his lips had curled with a small growl, right as he turned around to switch guitars, giving up, your heart started beating, quick. Right below your breasts, rising and falling with every sharp breath you took. 

After that, he’d had no more issues, but you’d kept a closer eye on him than before (if that was even possible), for the rest of the set. There was literally nothing you could do from your spot, but just keeping a watchful eye made you feel better.

Though, he never looked out to find you, even though he knew exactly where you stood. In fact, he stayed rather focused on his brothers only. He watched them closely, looking as though he was ready to help if the need were to arise.

But there hadn’t been another problem for the four men. 

In fact, the rest had gone on without the slightest hitch. The way they seamlessly played off the mistakes was incredible, too. It truly showed their dedication to the art.

And the difficulties they’d encountered only added to the grand finale. . . The song you’d always associate with the first night you finally got what you’d so badly wanted. . . 

Edge of Darkness. 

Though, as much as you wanted to look at Jake (and the rest of the guys, of course), you had to look behind you to the hoards of screaming people. All of the women that were shrieking for them— it wasn’t a new thing, necessarily. . . But you were only used to the people who frequented small hole-in-the-wall shows. 

Not full-on festival goers. 

Not actual fans, reaching for one another, pointing their friends in the direction of a certain guy, doe eyes directed at each of the boys they’d scream for. 

Then there were the bras that were being thrown at the stage, over and over again. That was pretty funny— you couldn’t lie. 

But what wasn’t funny was the person watching from the opposite side of the lawn as you. She had her own section, too, maybe? 

From where you were standing, you weren’t sure if she did or if she was just GA. . . Surely if she’d been backstage she had a special place, though. . . If you were right in your assumption of her arriving with him, then you were sure that she had her own designated spot to stand. But why on Sammy’s side? Now your mind pwas running rampant. . .Had Jake been watching his brothers during the show? Or watching her when he’d looked that way?

Fuck— it didn’t matter.

All of this information you were trying to figure out. . . was just making your stomach churn. The way she watched him, biting her lip with a wide smile during his solo. Her eyes trailed his body in blatant admiration. 

Because she knows what’s underneath those clothes, the voice in your head reminded you. You’re not special. Can’t you tell?

But what really got you lost in your head, was when she started singing along with Josh. She knew the fucking lyrics. Every last word. As if she’d heard them a hundred times before.

That wonderful voice in your head suddenly reminded you of the fact that he was teaching her to play guitar. 

What if Jake was teaching her their songs during her lessons? What if she helped him write some of the material? What if. . . some of them were written about her? She had inspired him. . . of that you were almost completely sure. How could she not? She was fucking beautiful. She was not you. He would be insane to not feel inspired by just looking at her. 

Your mind began running far, far away from you with all of the unknowns surrounding the ever present mystery that came with Maya. Wrapping your arms around your body self-consciously, you looked back at the stage to try your hardest to enjoy the rest of the show.

You knew you were probably overthinking it, that it more than likely wasn’t that deep. But, anything was possible. And the way he had kept his involvement with her a secret for so long, (and if it weren’t for Sam, you’d probably still be blind to the fact that anything had ever happened between them) there were clearly things he didn’t want you to know about with her, or he would have brought it up. Despite your stupid fucking rules you had set in place. You knew he would have told you if he wanted to. 

It became increasingly obvious to you at that moment, watching Jake live out his dream on that stage with his brothers that you were most definitely not fit to live out the dream with him. She seemed to be so much more involved in it than you had ever been. Or tried to be. So selfish of you. 

Maya was so enthusiastic, so attentive to him beforehand. All day long, while you’d waited on Elsie, so as not to go to this event by yourself and look strange as the guys did their shit. How stupid was that? It sounded utterly foolish now. Because she hadn’t worried about that, coming no matter what, to be there with him.

Supporting him while you were being selfish at home. You were so concerned with other senseless things that you couldn’t be there with him to show him actual support. The necessary change, which lingered like a dark cloud over your head, just kept becoming more and more apparent. . . It would be foolish for you to not end things when it was obvious they needed to end.

-🌼🌼🌼-

When the show ended, Josh texted Elsie.  

No text on your end from Jake, but you tried not to overthink it. 

Josh had wanted you two to meet them backstage to get the “full experience,” as his message had iterated.

Then you were being ushered by security, who had apparently been told to locate you and transport you, filtering you into the area where the guys would convene after the show. 

Before you had too much time to stand and appreciate the space around you, you noticed Jake pass you, angrily. Storming off somewhere, it seemed. Your eyes followed him helplessly, worriedly. He didn’t even acknowledge you, his brothers trailing after him, but presumably giving up as they stopped in front of you and Elsie instead. 

It was excellent timing, though, because just as they’d come to a stop in front of you, Maya was coming up behind Josh, tapping him on the shoulder. Her long, inky waves billowed out like curtains around her heart shaped face. She seemed just as flustered as Jake had been. But where his was out of anger, hers was with an air of concern. 

“Where is he?” She’d asked, hastily, her brows drawn in with worry.

Fuck. Even her voice was effortlessly majestic. Without being able to control them, you felt the prick of tears behind your eyes. Your heart was going a million miles an hour. What did she know that you didn’t? Why was she so involved? Were you simply the one he wanted to fuck and sext? 

Why did it feel like it was just a little more than that with you? Had it been more than sex, ever? Was that something you’d conjured up in your head?

Josh had just rolled his eyes, motioning over in the direction in which he’d gone. “Over there somewhere, I guess,” he said. “But you’d be wise to let him be. He’s in a shit fucking mood. I told him time and time again he needed to replace that amp cable. He just wouldn’t listen to me.” 

She groaned and placed her open palm on her forehead, she scratched a well manicured finger to her shapely black brow. “I knew he would have an issue with that one of these days. I just hate that it was here.” 

She knew about it? About his amp cable that had apparently bitten the dust? It was like watching an entire new part of his life unfold before you, a part that you were not good enough to be involved with. Mundane things that only the people closest to him were aware of– but not you. 

You started feeling ten levels beneath her rank in Jake’s life. She was stories above you; you were obviously just a free pussy for him to park himself in when he needed it. A warm place for him to come home to, that was it. And you, so fucking willing to give it to him. His beautiful, sculpted body always made you so goddamn weak. 

You had remembered the texts you had gotten earlier– how badly he wanted to fuck you, despite your monthly visitor taking up residence. You’d thought it was so sexy that he still wanted to, that he was desperate to have your body tangled up with his no matter the circumstance. That had turned you on beyond all imagination. 

But now, as you were beginning to realize what you had meant to him in comparison to Maya. . . the feeling disappeared. Hell, she probably received those exact same messages as you, maybe even more. Maybe he had already snuck off somewhere to fuck her before you showed up. 

There was just so much you didn’t know. Your thoughts were swirling like a storm ripping through the sturdiest house, destroying everything deemed safe in its wake. He felt safe. Now, it all felt demolished. Maya was the perfectly ominous storm cloud blocking your rays of warm, shining sun.

All you wanted to do was go home, take a Midol, curl up under your blanket with your heating pad and forget about it all. Forget about Maya, forget about the festival, forget Jake. 

Maya was then gone, running in the direction of Jake while quickly thanking Josh as he gave her a half smile with a “yeah, no problem,” leaving his tensed lips. His love stricken eyes were glued to your sister, relieved to see her. It was obvious he was only concerned with her being there, rather than Jake’s pissy theatrics. 

He also lacked any emotion at what was happening behind him. As if it were the norm. The beautiful woman who was being shown by security where to go, being led directly to the man that had given her more of himself than he’d ever even thought to give you. 

-🌼🌼🌼-

Hours later, as you sat in your bed, face washed and in a giant t-shirt, sweatpants, and fluffy socks, you wished you could just go to fucking sleep.

You’d tried reading a steamy romance to distract you, but that had been a witless idea as all that had done was make you cry. The characters, hopelessly in love, looked like Maya and Jake in your head– so meant to be and written in a way that left them utterly transfixed with each other. Your brain was fucking wired and going crazy.

I knew this was a risk.

I knew emotions were bound to get involved. 

I knew that I was going to get hurt one way or another. 

You’d already cried plenty once you’d arrived home. What had started the onslaught of tears had been seeing his door, hanging open like it had been earlier, as he’d left in a flurry to make it to the festival. He’d kissed you before he’d left, and you’d bid him good luck. Your body had been filled to the brim with reassurance that things weren’t completely off. That maybe you had overthought some of the way you’d felt in the bathroom on Wednesday. Maybe you’d misunderstood him and Josh. 

You felt like a fucking moron, now, for getting butterflies at the interaction. Any time he’d ever kissed you, that same fluttery feeling occurred in your tummy, and it all felt ridiculously in vain now. Completely misplaced wistfulness and giddiness. 

Why had you gotten your hopes up at all?

You had just decided to take an ibuprofen to help with your cramps and hopefully lull you to sleep (as it usually did), when you heard the front door quietly open and close.

You had heard your phone buzz a few times in the past couple of hours, presumably messages from him. Everyone else had heard you say you were going home. And you knew what Josh and Elsie were most likely up to, far too busy to text. . . But you had opted to just ignore them. You hadn't even bothered looking at the bright screen. You didn’t want to talk to him.

After a few moments, there was a soft knock on your door. Then another. “Y/n? Are you asleep?” He had asked, his voice so soft.

You didn’t answer. The tears that climbed your throat made you think better of that.

“Are you okay?”

Again, you didn’t answer. You decided to pretend to be asleep. To avoid him altogether. 

Any other time, you’d be jumping down this throat, picking an argument over literally anything just to satisfy the hurt you’d sustained. But tonight, it was different. You just didn’t have it in you. 

You didn’t have the energy. You were sad, not necessarily angry. And you wouldn’t dare let him see you that way.

Aside from that, you knew that if he advanced you the way he’d said he wanted to earlier, you’d give in to his allure. You knew yourself all too well. And that was the last thing you wanted to give him. You had no clue what you were anymore, so why in the hell would you risk doing that? Continue to give him more of yourself when he wasn’t giving you all of himself? If that’s what he wanted so badly, Maya would surely be more than happy to fulfill that for him. 

“Well,” he started, his voice even softer than it was before. You could have ignored it. But, in spite of yourself, you hung on to each rasping word. “I know you’re probably asleep. I just– I wanted to tell you how beautiful you looked tonight and how glad I was that you were there. I always perform better when you’re there,” he cleared his throat, then continued. “Sleep tight, baby.”

You heard his footsteps lightly step away, heading to his room. You heard his door open and then shut soon after. 

Like a flood with no dam to hold it at bay, heavy tears began streaming down your face. Your pillow was soaked with your emotions in a matter of seconds. You brought your hand up to cover your mouth in an effort to quiet the choked sobs as they came from your throat. You just wanted to sleep. 

-🌼🌼🌼-

August 22, 2022

That following Monday, school started like you had been dreading.

But when the day came, you sort of accepted it as something that could alleviate some of your pent up emotions. Thankfully, you weren’t on your period anymore for your feelings to be raging.

However, they were persistently there. Mocking you for still being involved with him when all signs were pointing to him being involved with Maya, too. She was exactly what he needed.

You were a placeholder. Insignificant. Convenient.

So, when classes came along, they helped to bring some of your sense of purpose back. You were able to count on your coursework, professors, and peers to remind you that you were more than being free pussy for your roommate. You’d let your emotions guide you more into being angry than sad. It helped you to let them melt to a simmering ire. 

For instance, avoiding Jake had been easier. You had been able to rely on your period, the temper that bubbled below your skin, your work schedule on Saturday, and a meeting that he and the guys had participated in the Sunday after the festival.

Of course, he’d asked if you were okay whenever you’d seen him, but you’d given him barely-there responses like:

“Yeah, just tired.”

“Thinking about a lot.”

“Hormones are just insane right now. . .“

“School’s getting ready to start, so I’m just gearing up.”

“Don’t worry about me.”

Every time, he looked at you like he didn’t believe you were telling him the whole truth (how did he always know?). You knew it was a complete 360 from how vulnerable you’d let yourself be with him recently, but you silently relied on how long it had taken you to open up prior. Because you knew that he knew from experience that you didn’t like to overtly open up all the time. So, naturally, that also meant he didn’t push it a whole lot.

But you caught his glances– wondering and worrying about you. It was definitely fair for him to be curious, of course, but you’d just ignored his curiosity– pretended to not pick up on it. Acted oblivious. 

He’d texted you good morning texts every morning, too. Which he hadn’t always done before. . . but it was like he was trying as hard as he could to get you to trust him with whatever was going on in your head.

All you ever did was send a small “Morning!” or “Have a good day!” back, though. . . Mentally all you could revert back to was that he was probably the same exact way with Maya. Acted concerned for her. . . wanted her to trust him and open up to him and sleep with him. . . 

And you were sure it meant more to him with her. She was special. You were not. You were you. 

Average. His roommate. Sometimes maybe a friend.

You didn’t know though. Because any time he had acted like it was more, it had maybe just been a weird ploy. Why he felt the need to deceive you in any regard– like getting to you and figuring you out and being close to you for no reason– that was beyond you. 

You just knew people couldn’t always be trustworthy. Even the ones you wanted to trust most of all.

-🌼🌼🌼-

August 26, 2022

The bell on the door chimed, telling you someone was entering the shop, but you didn’t glance up to see who it was as you were in the middle of unpacking a random box of new vinyl.

You were just ready to get home. So ready to get off work. You weren’t even worried about Jake being there. You knew he had the day off, but you didn’t give two shits. He would cease to exist the moment you crossed the threshold of your home anyway. Your bed was calling your name from here. You were tired as hell.

The first Friday of every school year was normally tiring, but this one was worse due to the stressors of your personal life and the already-searing intensity of senior year.

“Hello, my love.”

That voice. It never failed to make your heart leap with delight. Your eyes were still tired, but your heart, now elated and full when you looked up to see Josh. For some reason beyond you, it just seemed entirely right for him to pop in. Felt like old times– before you worried about all kinds of shit. Him being present made everything feel tranquil in your current, opposite predicament. 

And his next words tempted even more tranquility. 

“I’ve got some fucking exquisite pot,” he beamed, one hand on his hip and the other balanced above his head, on the wooden shelf of records that you were stocking with more. 

You giggled, your eyes blinking tiredly. “Where the fuck is it? You already smoke some?”

“Fuck no, little mama,” he shooed away your words with his hand. “I’m waiting to do that with you.”

How did he know that this was exactly what you needed?

“Way to show up and rub it in my face while I’m stuck at work,” you rolled your eyes, smile still sitting easily on your lips. “That’s just rude, Joshua.”

He snorted. “You’re like ten minutes away from being off the clock, drama queen. I’m just letting you know I’m on my way to your place with it. We’ll be waiting for you.”

“Who’s ‘we’?” You smirked, raising a brow at the Indie vinyl that you were tucking in its spot. “You and Mary Jane?”

“Technically, I guess,” he stated as if he appreciated the slight joke. “But the guys as well.”

You froze with your hand on the record you’d just placed. Fuck. Ugh. No. 

That is literally the last thing I need, you thought, cross.

You grumbled under your breath, smoothing the top of the sleeve, trying to play it off. How could you convince him to ditch the others? The man who was the precise reason you wanted to get high off your ass?  “What happened to the days where just you and I would hang out?”

“Now that would be rude of me to not include at least one of them. . . as Jake was the one to mention you needing something to ease some stress,” he picked at a nail. “And the other two are just always there.”

What? What all had Jake told your curly headed friend? Why was he even talking about you? He needed to mind his fucking business.

“He wanted you to get me high? That’s gentlemanly.”

He cleared his throat, prompting you to look at him. His wide eyes were narrowed at you, a look of judgment swimming in them. “No. . .? Why would you assume that? Jake would never suggest getting a woman high to calm her down. I personally just enjoy feeling like the fuckin’ air to alleviate my worries, so. . . I decided on the weed.” 

His full eyebrows were still crinkled, mildly hidden by his growing hair. The curls touched the arch of his brow now, falling loosely over his ears. He finished with some words that cut through to you in a way you wished they wouldn’t. “He might be a dick sometimes, but he’s not all bad. You really need to stop thinking so little of him.”

Ouch, Josh. Stay in your lane. Don’t counsel me.

“Well, he’s the one who brought it up,” you said, tone still sharp and cutting through Stevie Wonder’s voice, ironically singing of being too shy to say things. “I just figured it had all been his idea.”

“Well, no,” he said, correcting. He backed up just a bit to lean against the front of the counter to talk from there. No one was in the store. Save for the fact you were talking about Jake, this felt so like the past. . . before everything. You could’ve cried (so much crying, Jesus). He crossed his legs at the ankle and arms at his chest. “All I told you was that he told me you were stressed and a little sad.”

Sad and stressed? Also, how did he know you were sad? That was a matter of assumption. Again, he needed to mind his damn business.

“Well, I don’t know why he’d go and assume I’m sad. That seems invasive as hell,” you began. “But I have been stressed. Why he’s telling you, I don’t know. But you already know the beginning of the school year is always a lot.”

Also, your brother and his girlfriend are all I can think about and it’s making me feel like dirt.

“I think he cares about you. Weird as it may seem, he has a soft spot for you,” he says, his eyes glinting and a little smile tugging on his full lips. “I mean, for God’s sake, he went to your grandparents’ house with you. . . He wouldn’t do that if he didn’t.”

Your heart was beating erratically in your chest. It didn’t matter. It didn’t fucking matter. For all you knew, he did the same shit with Maya. You weren’t special. But why did Josh taking the time to tell you this make you feel like maybe you were just a little bit unique? 

You couldn’t help but ask your next question. You were hoping it didn’t give you away. But Josh was the perfect person to ask. . . Nonchalantly as possible, of course. 

Continuing to sort through records in the massive delivery box, you avoided his eyes when you asked, “Doesn’t get soft for people easily?” 

“One could say he picks his people. . . And I guess you’re one of them,” he offered as his answer. Then, you saw his hand grab into the box to help you with the records. You peered up to where he’d positioned himself in front of you. “And who wouldn’t go all soft for you, y/n? You’re one of the most precious humans this world has ever been given. I knew it was only due time until Jake noticed.”

As soon as he said it, he’d smiled, and decided to go about his business helping you. But you just kept staring at him. The tears that welled in your eyes were unavoidable. You needed to hear that. As you felt a few fall down your cheeks, you walked around the box to where Josh was now stocking a re-release of Lana Del Rey’s Born to Die — Paradise Edition on the old, creaking shelf. 

He made a sound of surprise as you wrapped your arms around him in a bear hug, holding on for dear life. It didn’t take him long to adjust to the feeling, though, as he enveloped you all the same. His familiar, strong arms wrapped around you just as they always had in times like these. Times where he’d said exactly what you needed to hear without knowing it. He was an empath through and through. 

And God were you thankful for him. You didn’t deserve him. Your tears continued for a bit, wetting his white t-shirt. Breathing in, and sniffing a bit to rid yourself of the tears, you backed away after squeezing him once more. His eyes were searching yours when you let go of him. Ever-attentive, reading you however he could whenever he felt the need. . . 

“I’d say he was on to something,” was all he remarked, going back to the records. “Let’s get these done and get the hell out of here, what do you say?”

“Yeah,” you responded, your voice still wet.

“Oh, and speaking as someone who loves the fuckin’ shit out of you, I need you to start taking care of yourself and rid your life of what is making you feel so sad,” he softly advised. You glanced over to him, seeing him still going about his task, but talking away. “You deserve to feel happy and whole. . .and I need you to do whatever it takes for you to feel that way. Please take care of yourself, love.”

-🌼🌼🌼-

Once you finished and were heading out the door with Josh, you decided that you were going to try your best to let yourself feel free tonight. It was what you needed. One last hurrah as senior year kicked off. 

And one last night with Jake before you did what you knew you had to do. . . You had to be done with him. All it was doing was dragging you down. And, talking to Josh tonight had made you realize, once again, that you couldn’t chance him finding out about you and his brother. You knew he would feel utterly betrayed by you, and he was far too important to you for you to risk that. 

Jake was also important— his career was shooting off and you were not the right person to join him on that new journey in his life. In your opinion, no one should join him on that journey. . . It was his and his alone. But if he were to have someone on that path with him, Maya was a much better candidate for it than you. 

Chances were, she was probably the one that he wanted on that next step of his life as well. She was the ideal person to take that leap with him. Utterly supportive. Unselfish. Completely beautiful. . . The perfect girlfriend for a rockstar. 

Continuing things with Jake made no sense. There was no use pretending that what you had with him was actually meant to last.

-🌼🌼🌼-

When you got home, you immediately went to the bathroom to refresh. You decided to take off your makeup and wash your face. Knowing yourself too well, you knew it wouldn’t happen later when you were three sheets to the wind. Josh had followed in directly behind you. He started telling the guys what he needed before they began. He started with his long-haired twin. 

“Food, Jacob?!” Josh yelled in the direction of the kitchen, from which you smelled delicious smells wafting. 

“Aye aye, Captain Stick-Up-Your-Ass,” Jake replied loudly.

“And what did you decide to pick from your expansive catalog of recipes?” Josh said, slapping something. You could assume it was Sam when you heard the younger brother��s voice exclaim with an “ow!” 

Then you heard Jake’s voice, like velvet, but loud enough for Josh to hear.

“Ramen bowls,” he called back. “She loves them.”

Your heart leapt at that. Why was he being so sweet? Was he like this with her? Remembering her favorite meals?

Because he was already making the food that Josh was demanding, Jake hadn’t taken notice of you when you'd come in alongside Josh. So you’d been able to slip past unnoticed. No one had acknowledged you, in fact. Sam and Danny had been too busy on the couch, flipping through their phones, showing each other different women on Tinder when you’d passed through the living room.

“Incense. Samuel, your job— did you bring any like I asked?”

Halfway paying attention, you heard Sammy give an agreeing grunt. 

“Let’s start lighting ‘em up, then,” he commanded. He snapped his fingers, probably right in Sam’s face. “No time to waste, Sam. Come on.” 

Then, grumbling, you heard Sam tell Josh to “fuck himself”. But you assumed he’d done as he was told with his aromatics, as you smelled the familiar heady scent of incense. The scent he’d chosen was Godsent. Ideal for your state of unrest.

The lovely scent of lavender was already whirling from the front of the apartment, straight to your room. Even with the door closed, you were catching the relaxing smell.

“God, I love the smell of lavender,” your roommate said, pure admiration in his tone. “Instant serenity.”

Sam responded, pride in his voice as he explained his choice. “We all know y/n has been stressed,” they all know? “So I chose lavender for its properties to cleanse, heal, and bring happiness. I was also considering its elements for peace, harmony, relaxation, and love. I wanted her to feel all of those things. She needs it.”

Your heart felt whole. You did feel the love. 

But your thoughts flew around, bumping the sides of your head. ‘She needs it.’ What is that even supposed to mean? 

“Yeah, she’s just been off. I want her to be able to feel more like herself,” Jake voiced, sighing. “I’m still not sure about the weed. I don’t want her to feel any lack of control— because that might make her worry more.”

Stop showing how much you care, Jake. It hurts and it’s going to give something away.

But keep going, too. . . Please. For me.

It was Josh’s turn to sigh. “Jacob, I’ve told you. This is something she’s done with us before. All of us. Besides you, of course, I’m assuming,” he paused, slowly iterating his next words. “She and Elsie used to do it with us, like, once a fuckin’ month as a ritual to bond and decompress from life.” His tone was exasperated, as if he’d explained a million times what he’d just said. And he wasn’t wrong. You could confirm everything he was saying. 

He continued. “She can handle her green. I promise. I’ve done it with her time and again.” Then, his voice got stern, unwavering. “I would never recommend she partake in something that would make her feel out of control. That’s not me. Take a second to remember that,” he leveled. “But she does need to feel the peace and freeness that comes with marijuana’s natural magic. We all know it works wonders to ease the chaos within the human mind.” 

“Okay,” Jake relented. “I’ll take the bait. I believe you.”

“Thank you. Now, I’m going to start making things cozy, cue up some music. . .,” Josh said. “Daniel, dim the lighting. I’m gonna light some candles.”

You started pilfering through your drawer of leggings. You found your favorite pair. The pair that made your ass pop. Then you sorted through your drawer of cropped tanks. Once you’d found the one you wanted, you felt your cheeks heat. 

Did you want to do this? Dress like this? Was it a stupid idea? Was this foolish? A smart idea? It would be stupid to deny who you were wanting to dress like this for. . . But should you do it? Would it be obvious?

You dress like this all the time, y/n, a kind of voice reassured you within your cluttered mind. It wouldn’t be abnormal for you to wear it. 

Jake’s voice cut through your internal ramble.

“Are we having a fucking orgy, Josh?” Jake asked. His hearty chuckle and the blatant mention of sex made your chest tighten and your stomach flip as you gripped the gray cami in your fist. 

“Jake!” Josh’s voice snapped, offended. He was out of breath, as if he’d been busy working away at his self-given task. “No one in this humble abode has had sex with another, and I don’t plan on starting that tonight.”

Your heart rate sped up. All of a sudden, you were completely aware of your state of undress from where you were squatting next to your dresser. Naked (save for your bra and panties), in your bedroom. And the fact that Jake was out there, alone. 

You suddenly longed to be close to him. For more than one wanting reason. One reason left your heart pumping in your ears and your underwear feeling obscenely constrictive.

The lesser reason being, you were dying to know what Jake’s reaction to that had been. But you hadn’t heard him make a peep. If you were being honest with yourself, you knew his reaction had been subdued, playing it off. He wouldn’t outwardly expose it. You knew him better than to assume that. 

I really do need to be better at giving him the benefit of the doubt, you thought, sadly. 

You knew it was too little too late. 

Then you heard Josh laugh. The same little laugh he’d do when he would think of something he found funny. “Now if Elsie were here. . .”

You heard all three of them say “Josh!” in unison to his remark, having joined in if you were in there, too.

“What?! The girl knows how to twist that tight body just righ—.”

“Lalala,” Sam sang to himself. You imagined him covering his ears, masking Josh’s voice. 

“What?! She is the best I’ve ever—.”

“Josh, with all due respect,” Danny’s soft voice cut through. “Please shut the fuck up.”

Yes, you thought. Ew, Josh. 

“Brother,” Jake chimed in, once again calling from where he most likely still stood in the kitchen. “Dinner is ready. So, please, come stuff your face and let our ears breathe.”

And, as if your stomach truly was in tune with it all, it grumbled.

-🌼🌼🌼-

Dinner was incredibly delicious (as you knew it would be), resulting in it being downed in no time. 

The five of you had sat around your little dinner table to eat, and it’d felt so nice. But the entire time, you never looked across the table at Jake. You’d also avoided him as you made your plate, only glancing at him out of the corner of your eye to give him a small ‘thank you’ as he talked to Josh. He’d blinked a few times and responded with a “Y-yeah, of course.” 

But now, as you sat around the table after supper, you wouldn’t dare look at him. It was a lot to get the courage to do so. 

For one, as weird as it was, it kind of intimidated you to do so. He intimidated you. . . Especially now that you’d gotten a good look at his other pick of women. The ones that weren’t you. Maya was exquisitely stunning. Just like the one he’d made out with months ago on the couch— the day he brought the lavender to you at work. (The day you’d been an asshole to him, yet again, for no reason.)

You knew you weren’t as beautiful as either of those women. He was far too out of your league. You’d known this to begin with. It was all just repeatedly slapping you in the face now. . . Like normal, he made you all nervous and jittery. But it was different now. You knew you didn’t measure up, and it was embarrassing that he’d ever given you a chance, honestly. Embarrassing for him.

Every negative thought that you could have was tearing at you. . . It was as if seeing Maya that first day, and then hearing what you did from Sam had just set everything off. Everything. 

As you watched Josh and Sam pick at one another’s opinions on the most idiotic things, you spaced out, pondering why you were feeling so much all at once. Was this another result of your childhood trauma? The overthinking? Or was this just you, being a complete trainwreck of a human being? 

Either way, it was ridiculous and you wanted to be rid of the thoughts immediately. It was getting really old really fast. But you couldn’t shake them. Because, despite how annoying it was that they wouldn’t leave you be, you still felt they were true. 

And had been true since you were a kid. Practically since you were born. The facts could not lie. You weren’t good enough for your own mother. You’d been relentlessly terrible towards Elsie growing up. You’d been consistently unfair towards Jake. . . 

There was very little good about you, and you were starting to feel it put a damper on all things in your life.

God. You desperately needed therapy. Your struggles with anxiety were becoming all encompassing. The depression was sprouting without welcome.

He’s shown plenty of interest, y/n, your kind, consoling inner medium expressed. Stop acting like you’re less than the other women. Please. You know better. Don’t let your thoughts get ahead of you. . . 

Damn that voice sounded more and more like Elsie any time it managed to break through the darkness of your mind.

Sam’s cackle brought you back to reality from your mess of cluttered, stressful, spiraling thoughts. 

“That’s what I’m saying!” Sam exclaimed, pointing directly at his best friend who was sitting across the table from you, right next to Jake. “Thank you, Daniel!”

Josh’s scoff under his breath would have been highly noticeable even if you hadn’t been sitting next to him. You looked to your right to observe him and his reaction. 

“Birkenstocks are highly, highly overrated,” he insisted. “I seriously thought you were above the trends, Sammy. . . Now all I can assume is that you primarily care to partake in the highly popular things like other, normal people.”

“I’m not normal!” Sam declared, completely aghast at the comment. “Take it back, Josh.”

“Seems that you’re pop music personified. . .,” Jake said, teasing Sam as Josh had. 

Without even meaning to, too lost in everything going on around you now, you shot Jake a glare. And a response. 

“Shut the fuck up, Jake,” you intervened, your tone serious, but voice catching a little on his name. 

Apparently, of all things, talk of sandals were what could break your vow of avoiding Jake at all costs. Honestly, it was just Sam’s doleful reaction to Jake’s words. He’d gasped, his eyes curving down even more than normal, lip sticking out.  

Once you’d connected eyes with Jake, you got lost for a few seconds in the rich pools of chocolate that made up his deep set eyes. . .  It was kind of like a readjustment. You were really looking at him for the first time in days. Your ridiculously hot roommate. The same man you’d memorized in every way you could for the past month or so. . . You were reacquainting yourself with his features. 

You didn’t want to admit it, but. . . It felt like a piece of your heart was clicking back into place— after you’d given him the cold shoulder all week. His eyes felt so familiar and warm.

Initially, his eyes had widened. He’d seemed shocked that you’d spoken to him at all. But, after he’d stared at you for a moment, he raised a smart brow. Your heart rate increased at the action.

Then, he resituated, pushing his chair back from the table just enough to show his spread legs. You couldn’t control it when you glimpsed his crotch for five seconds. It was as if you were unable to resist— you’d finally taken the bait and broken the fine ice between you two. So, it seemed your eyes worked on their own and made up for lost time. . . Just for a few seconds. 

It’s been a fucking week, y/n, the snarky voice in your head mocked. You are too fucking weak for him. Why did you let him in? How are you going to be able to completely cut him off? Weak.

You noticed him push his hips up and out to lean back a bit. The action effectively shut off the voice in your head and made you twitch for him in your leggings.

I sure as hell am weak, you sassed back. And right now, I don’t care. And it’s been nine days. Not a week. 

He crossed his arms over his chest, flexing his strong, skilled fingers into his toned biceps. Not meaning to, you licked your bottom lip. 

Your body was craving him. Yearning for him. You’d gotten used to regular sex with him, and the nine days you’d been abstaining from it were catching up to you. How were you going to be able to cut yourself completely off?

You weren’t ready for that yet. 

But you have to be, the familiar voice reminded you. Enjoy it while it lasts because it’s almost over. You’re only hurting yourself more by extending this ridiculous escapade.

I’m already hurting. Fuck it. I will enjoy it while it lasts, you fought back, shoving the voice off of your shoulders for the time being. Josh is right. Tonight is about me feeling fucking free.

You accepted the challenge. The situation. You were ready to give in to the evening. Your insecurities could wait. They’d have their time soon. Tonight you wanted to ignore all of it. Now that you’d gotten a taste, you wanted to take a damn bite.

Skin now hot and senses tingling with his name, you peeked back at his face and found his waiting expression. Your eyebrow raised, too, darkening eyes trained on his. The way he was watching you, it was like he was testing you. But you weren’t going to give in too easily. Your heart was still hurting, and you weren’t going to bend at just anything. He could work for it. 

Just like you’d convinced yourself earlier. . . This was one last hurrah. Might as well make the most of it. Drag it out. Just for tonight.

“I’m tired of the obnoxious assholery filling up this room,” you stated, looking away from Jake to address the other two Kiszkas. “Let’s burn a few so you guys will shut the hell up.”

-🌼🌼🌼-

The haze had your mind in the clouds, but not so elevated that you weren’t aware of the happenings all around you. A good state, where your mind could still make cognitive sense of everything, but high enough that all of your worries vanished with each wave of smoke you blew from your mouth. You learned from Elsie the ‘proper’ way to get high, as she called it. One long, drawn out inhale of the smoke, fully filling your lungs and holding it as long as you could before blowing it out in one slow exhale. Less coughing that way, and the most effective way to really feel the effects without it being so intense. 

You’ve never loved the feeling of being completely inebriated. Far too often you’ve lost control of your intake, and at that point it would open the hypothetical doors to your past, forcing you to sit in your feelings. Too much of it could be dangerous for your psyche. But, you’ve learned how to control it. You’d discovered the perfect amount that had you feeling weightless and free, your body tickling with the warm fuzzy feeling that allowed you to finally relax. 

All of you had your own designated spot in the room– whether it be on blankets, pillows, the couch, or the armchair. You’d been given the couch to lay upon to smoke (as you’d been given first dibs, per Josh’s requirement). 

And the man who couldn’t escape your mind sat a few feet away from you, perfectly placed in your line of sight on a pile of blankets and pillows. His hands were in his lap, his legs crossed at the ankles, and his broad shoulders eased while his head laid back. 

Josh sat above him on the armchair, his limbs loosened to noodles. Just as Josh started to lay back and close his eyes, he sat up lazily. His eyes, reddened and heavy-lidded, looked around to survey the rest of you.

“We’re in desperate need of some tunes,” Josh said, dragging out the words with a giant grin plastered to his face. “Anyone opposed?

You were laid back against the arm of the couch, sprawled out. And you barely heard him as you’d become utterly transfixed on Jake. . . how he’d balanced the base of his head on the ottoman of the chair, eyes closed as he most surely let the feeling of smoke in him and around him delight his system. 

The other two had agreed, but you hardly paid them or Josh any mind. You didn’t wholly process him searching your vinyl collection, picking one from the top. 

“Ah, yes. Perfection at its finest,” he made an approving sound with his teeth as he placed the disc on the turntable and read the tracklisting. “This woman was spellbinding.”

At once, you heard the silken scratching of the vinyl from the needle as the record began to spin. An all too familiar album began playing. 

Your head perked up as much as it could while simultaneously feeling stuck in the clouds. Sam and Danny were basically gone, just bobbing their heads a little to the rhythm. But they seemed to be fading away by the way they rolled their heads further and further back against their pillows. 

Josh had a goofy smile on his face as he settled back into his chair, his hair fluffing around him as he softly nodded his head in tandem with her voice. 

You let your eyes travel to Jake for a brief moment, and saw that his eyes were still closed, but now his chest was rising and falling steadily. Had he fallen asleep?

Momentarily, you were disappointed. But you soon realized just how nice sleep sounded. . . Especially when you looked away from Jake to see his counterpart, completely zonked out with his mouth hanging open. Quiet snores were emitting from both of them, but Josh’s were louder thanks to his wide open mouth. Jake’s were barely there. . . more heavy breaths than anything. You knew it meant he’d drowsed only moments ago, a deep slumber not fully taking him yet.

You started to doze off a bit, settling into the way her soulful voice could lull you into a sweet slumber. 

-🌼🌼🌼-

You didn’t know what it was that jostled you awake. 

Maybe it had been the song change, and you’d just somehow caught on to this song while in dreamland. . . this wonderful song. . . dammit. 

I will go where you lead

I'll be right there in a time of need

And when I lose my will

You'll be right there to push me up that hill

You sunk into the feeling of it, but your attention was caught again.

There was muffled shuffling happening in the distance, your senses heightened by the smoke, helping you catch on to the smallest of sounds. Motherly instincts to your lovely feline child, who was sure to be causing the ruckus. 

What was Stevie getting herself into?

Lifting your head, you turned it to follow the noise happening in the distance. It was dark due to the late hour. . . you could hardly see. The candles, your only light source. 

From what you could tell, the sound was coming from the kitchen. Curiosity was pushing you into a sitting position. You rose without difficulty, your bearings coming back to you little by little. You’d smoked just enough for the escape, but the clarity was still there. Weed was so miraculous that way. Giving an individual just what he or she might need from it. It could mold to the requirements of its enjoyer. Aware as you were, the air around you still felt slow and heady. . . you felt every energy all at once. It made your head swim just a tad. 

As you stood, your legs felt like air. You rooted yourself into the sureness of the flat ground. The carpet tickled your bare toes, but you concealed the little sigh that threatened to escape you at the sensation. You were doing your best to not bother the snoozing bodies littered around you. 

From your new viewpoint, your eyes swept the room. Dreamily deciding to save the best for last, you started at one side of the room. You squinted at Sammy and Danny first. They were cuddled into their own blankets on their separate pallets, but facing towards one another still.

Next, you looked for Josh, who you didn’t really have to look for since you heard his snores before you saw him. Drool was gathered at the corner of his mouth, opened just as it had been when you’d closed your own eyes. Something caused him to rustle in his sleep, making him jump a little and sniff, one snore resulting in a snort. But just as he’d been shaken, his mouth was opened yet again, snores even louder this time. The drool slipped down his chin. You cringed. He was not an attractive sleeper. 

His twin on the other hand. . .the most beautiful sleeper you’d ever laid sleepy eyes on. So, you finally set your gaze where you'd been desiring. 

. . .To find nothing. No Jake. Where did he go?

Even amidst the wispy cloud of your mind, you immediately assumed the worst.

Had he invited Maya over? Had that been the sound? God you hoped not.

Even still, your feet moved on their own, all the way to the kitchen from the living room. . . you saw Stevie on your way there, asleep on the top of the couch. She’d nestled right above you. Naturally, you just hadn’t caught on because of your brain fog.

Not knowing what you were about to find, you rounded the corner. And what you found made your eyes water so quickly. The sight was so plain, so simple. . .but so incredibly wholesome.

Your whispered voice broke the silence. 

“Why are you watering my lavender?”

He jumped a bit, the tiny, gilded watering pail you’d gotten for it still mid-air when he blinked in your direction, his eyes adjusting to the vast darkness in your shared home.

“I was just putting dinner up and it looked a little wilty,” he said, sounding ‘wilty’ himself. “Have you not watered it recently?”

Shit. While immersed in your unreasonable head for the past several days, you’d ignored the plant. 

“No,” you responded, not providing an explanation. 

“I understand,” he said, a small grin on his lips and honesty in his eyes, even darker in the shadowy lighting. A candle on the bar was the only way you could make him out. “School starting and all. I bet your stress has been high because of that.”

“Yeah,” you absentmindedly agreed. But his words rang again in your head, things clicking slower with the pot. “Also, stop telling people I’m stressed,” you griped, crossing your arms (partially to keep yourself balanced). “Or sad. You don’t know.”

He emptied the rest of the water into the soil, feeling it with his fingers before washing his hands. Then he turned to you, his face pinched with shock. He shook his head a bit, his longer waves swaying at his collarbone. “It’s obvious you have been.”

Fuck. You knew you’d been transparent. It was something you flourished at– wearing your heart on your sleeve. And that also meant you were shit at masking your emotions. But why did he care?

“Okay, say I have. Still not your business to share,” you asserted, with a final nod of your head. 

He nodded, pushing his lip out. He lifted his hand to his chin to rub it a bit, a sign you’d learned to mean that he agreed. “That is fair. I’m sorry.”

You felt your head rock a bit and shut your eyes briefly to reset. The flow of the remaining green in your system was making you a bit dizzy. And while you were still with it and aware of yourself and your surroundings, you knew that it was probably time to go to bed. It was also getting to be too much talking to Jake like normal. 

Things weren’t normal. And you couldn’t pretend they were. It made your heart feel all blue. As much as you missed him–just talking to him, you decided to use sleep as the reason to excuse yourself. Before you told him every tiny thing on your mind. You knew yourself too well– when weed entered the picture, there was no concealing a single thought that crossed your mind. 

“I’m going to bed,” you said, turning away from him and starting the walk to your bedroom, your heart still with him and the fucking lavender in the kitchen window.

But just as you’d made it to your door, opening it just a smidge, you felt a warm hand encompass yours, which still twisted around the knob. You could have fallen into him. It felt so good to simply feel his touch. God, he really was so warm. So safe. So cozy. So Jake.

He doesn’t feel the same for you, the fucking nagging voice said, slipping through the thickness of the marijuana. You aren’t those things to him.

Go the fuck home, you told the voice, pissed beyond belief that it had managed to enter your hazy realm of escapism.

“I am home,” he said, his voice low and hot on your neck. The feeling grew goosebumps immediately. 

Fuck. You’d said it out loud. That was embarrassing as hell.

“I was talking to myself,” you revealed honestly–crazily, angling your head so you could speak over your shoulder to him. And just as you did, it became obvious just how close he was to you. His collar, level with your eyes. You looked up a bit to find him watching you. Carefully. Warily. But intensely all the same. 

“That’s endearing,” he said, the humor in his tone making you suddenly angry. 

You turned on your heel, resulting in him moving away from you a few inches.

No. Come back.

You fought the desperation in your veins. The desperation making your heart beat wildly in your chest.

“Why did you follow me? Acting like you care?” You said, your voice hushed and eyes flicking a bit so you could actually handle looking him in the eyes. “Stop with the bullshit.”

“Woah,” he screwed his eyes slightly at you, his voice level meeting yours. “You know I care.” 

He took one more step back. 

What are you doing? Stop leaving me.

You just left him, you idiot, your familiar, inner monster said, judging you.

“No. You don’t care. Not actually. And if you do, I know it’s not just for me,” the words spilled out, humiliating you. “I’ve had the past few days to realize that.”

Oh, fuck. Here comes honesty hour.

He crossed his arms at his chest. His biceps were distracting. Goddamn.

“So that’s what’s been wrong?”

You gave yourself a tiny moment to evaluate him. He seemed way too sober for this conversation to be an even playing field.

“Are you not high?”

He cracked a smile, nodding his head. “Yes, I am,” he looked down, seeming a little embarrassed. If the lighting wasn’t so dark, you could guess you’d see a blush on the apples of his cheeks. “Just done it enough that it looks different on me. Trust me, my head is fuckin’ swimming. Dizzy and shit . . . just didn’t want to fall asleep in there and get a crick in my neck. And I figured I’d put dinner away since I’m still more present than not. . .,” he paused, looking up at you. “But, I assure you, I’m definitely not all here.”

You had to giggle a little in spite of it all. God, he was so fucking endearing. You couldn’t put it into words at that moment, but. . . damn. The way he was— so many things about him that you lo—. . . fuck.

“That’s exactly how I feel, too,” you admitted, your eyes innocently meeting his. 

His smile widened, face relaxing. But the change in demeanor broke your heart and made your defenses rise. Emotions were breaking loose again. . .

“Okay, so,” you shook your head, rubbing your temples to re-center. You glanced at him again. “If you do care, why did you ignore me on Friday?”

He shook his head once. “Ignore you? I literally talked to you. I’ll go get my phone right now to prove it.” You flushed thinking of the conversation. How badly you’d wanted him. . . still wanted him. He kept going, saying, “I also wanted to talk to you when I got home. But you were already asleep. I didn’t want to wake you.”

I wasn’t asleep, you wanted to say. I was just sad. Crying because of you.

“You stormed off. Didn’t even try to talk to me about how you were feeling,” you said, words quiet, yet cutting the air. “Made it obvious that I matter so little to you that I wasn’t even worth talking to when you were upset. Tell me how little I matter to you. Just say it.”

“Fuck– god, no. I won’t,” he brought the heels of his hands to his eyes. “I don’t ever want you to think you matter little to me– you are literally every– fuck. I don’t know what to say.”

“I don’t matter as much as Maya,” you said, finishing his sentence with a forlorn statement, in a snarky tone of voice. Your heart leapt into your throat at having mentioned her so boldly. There it was. Out in the open. “That’s why you didn’t want to talk to me. Just wanted to talk to her.”

He looked at you, a thousand thoughts swirling behind his bourbon-colored irises. His lips pursed, then he released a tight exhale, his eyes resting directly on you as if he’d decided to tell you something. Ready to break your heart, surely.

“Say it, Jake,” your voice cracked on his name.

Jake huffed. “Y/n, you are the reason I was so fucking pissed that day. I wasn’t going to talk to you about–.”

“Me?!” You blanched, perplexed that he could pin anything on you. All you’d done was be there to support him the best you could. You pointed a finger in your chest, “What did I,” and then at him, “do to you, asshole?!”

The name slipped out. You hated that you’d said it. But, you did. 

“I didn’t say you did anything to me. Will you let me explain?”

“Go ahead,” you motioned your hand, the action feeling slow with the marijuana lacing itself through your veins.

“I was embarrassed as fuckin’ shit that my cord gave out at that festival,” he began, words a little sluggish. I could’ve guessed that. “And for a second, I was embarrassed about it happening in front of so many people. . . but immediately after, before I could think about that, I thought about how you had come out to that festival, so excited and sexy as hell ready to see me perform, and I couldn’t even hold up my end of the deal. I wanted to impress you, and I failed,” he shook his head, looking down, away from you, his hands coming up to cover his face.

You wanted to believe him. But you’d gotten so used to combatting him, that you couldn’t help reject his words. “Sounds fake.”

Instantly, he dropped his hands, letting them slap against his thighs. His eyes were wide. “Are you serious right now?” He sounded sad. Hurt. “I bare my heart to you and all you can do is tell me I sound fake?” 

Putting your defenses down, you truly thought about it. Maybe. . . maybe he was telling the truth.

All your life, you had been so quick to expect the worst of people. You had never let yourself believe anyone could have good intentions. Why would you? After everything you’d been through, after how many people had hurt you to the point of severe trauma, it only made sense that your first instinct would be to not trust that anyone had your best interest at heart. But, staring at the man in front of you, his eyes begging you to believe him, his chest falling and rising with deep, slow breaths. . . all of his emotions, on blatant display. . . you thought of him and the person he’d been for you recently. How you had so openly shared things with him. . . Maybe he felt the same with you? Even if it sounded slightly ridiculous. . . It would be harsh to judge him for that. 

“I’m sorry,” you said, bowing your head. 

You felt two tender, calloused fingers lift your chin. Your body lit up at his touch. Eyes grew tears. . .

You just kept talking, feeling comfortably vulnerable under his stare.

“I thought she was here tonight.”

“Who?” He rubbed his thumb smoothly over your chin, holding your face so gently.

“Maya.”

He let go of you, scrubbing a hand down his face. “Fuck. I knew you would jump to conclusions with Sam saying what he did the other night.”

“I didn’t have to jump to any conclusions. I saw it with my own eyes. Heard Josh–,” you stopped yourself. Even in this dazed state, you knew that telling him you’d heard his conversation with Josh wasn’t a good idea. 

“Heard Josh. . . what?” He raised a brow.

“Nothing,” you shook your head.

He rolled his eyes. “Okay. Whatever you heard any of them say– can you believe me?” He asked, begging you with his profoundly engaging irises. “Please?”

You knew what you felt though. What you’d heard him say in response to Josh– what you’d seen with your eyes. You’d dug yourself a massive hole of winding thoughts. . . you weren’t sure who or what to believe. So, you responded simply. “I don’t know, Jake.”

He put a hand over his eyes, then removed it to question you. “Why?”

“I’m not getting into that right now,” you asserted, looking away and covering your face as he had his. When you looked back at him, and into his eyes, you let your guard down slightly. “You know why. It’s my specialty.”

“Okay . . .,” he accepted, his tone gentle and understanding. “We’ll just let that sit for now. Back to your initial assumption tonight, though. . . have I ever brought her here?”

“I’m assuming.”

“Stop assuming.”

“Don’t tell me what to do,” you bit back.

“I’m only telling you that so you can stop hurting yourself. You spiral. I know this about you,” he reasoned carefully.

“That’s fucking rude.”

“Whatever. It’s true and you basically just said it yourself. I do it, too. So, fair’s fair,” he retorted, his tone indicating annoyance. “But to answer my question to you, for you– No. The answer is no. I’ve never brought her here.”

“What about that night with the sweet, unforgettable earplug remark?”

“Really? Unforgettable? Why do you insist–?” He growled low under his breath, shaking his head a little. “Whatever. Never mind. That was a different woman. I hadn’t even met Maya yet. Sam was exaggerating– per usual. I haven’t been seeing her since I moved here. I saw her briefly. . . from mid-June to, like, mid-July.”

“You continued seeing her after Baby’s?”

“I didn’t think you wanted me,” he clarified. “And I was an idiot. She was a woman who wanted to have sex with me, and I like sex. I was just being stupid.”

“That’s probably all I am to you, though,” you said, making him aware of your surmise. His face said he wanted to insert something, but you kept talking. “I’m just someone you can have sex with– because you like sex. Which, I do, too. But I just. . .,” you swept two feather light hands through your hair. “I don’t know why I want it to be more. But I do and . . . that’s going against everything I said. . .and I. . .” You closed your lids and groaned, irritated with your heart.

The fingers were under your chin again, your eyes opening to look at him at the contact. “Because it feels so natural being more. I get it. It’s not bad.”

“Yes it is,” you said, tearing your face away from his hand. “Because you don’t want that with me. I saw how she interacted with you after her lesson the other day. At the festival. I mean, you invited her to the festival. She was backstage with you. . . acting like a girlfriend or some shit the whole damn time. And then when she ran for you when you were upset. . .acting like she had done it a thousand times.”

“Well, she hasn’t. . .” he affirmed, his voice hard and leaving no room for disagreement. “And, yes, she is sweet and I liked having sex with her because she’s a good person who helped me a lot during a hard time with some much needed pep talks. . . but everything at the festival was her taking too much upon herself. Also, she invited herself to that. I didn’t invite her. And when she got there, Sam saw her and had her come backstage. I don’t know why he’s so insistent on hooking us up again.”

Oh.

He continued. “Y/n. . . I don’t know how else to say it. Anyway I say it, I feel like you won’t believe me. But– god, she’s just not you. I would never be able to feel the things for her that I do for you. It was– I emphasize, was– just sex with her; but with you? It's been. . .it’s more. You are more. I can’t explain it. . .my heart aches for you in ways it never did with her—with anyone.”

His velvet voice sent a flutter to your heart. You heard the genuine truth behind it, and the way his eyes never once left yours. His eyes, that said so much more than his words ever could. 

“I don’t want her. I want you. At my shows. In my bed every night and every morning, waking me with your mouth or your sweet pussy. . .I just—goddammit. Fuck. I fucking love you, y/n. I love you. No one else.”

Your next words couldn’t have been stopped if you tried. 

“I love you too,” fell smoothly from your lips, like the purest golden honey.

He stopped—his reddened, heavy eyes zeroing in on yours. He gave a tiny shake of his head.

“Y–you do?”

You couldn’t believe your own words. Really. Well. . .could you? They’d slipped from your lips so easily, with no time to overthink them, like you always seemed to do. Because you didn’t have to think about it– you couldn’t overthink that—because it was true. It came out so naturally, so authentically, just as it was. You hadn’t even realized you felt it yet; you hadn’t given yourself the chance to fully feel it—but there was no doubt. You did. You couldn’t hide it from yourself any longer. 

His blown out irises penetrated yours—the eyes that confirmed everything he’d just told you to be completely true.

“Jesus, Jake. Of course I fucking do.”

Who moved first, you’d never know.

But your lips met his with unbridled need. You moaned at the feeling of his soft lips enveloping yours. . . the way he sucked your mouth gently into his own– tasting you with the tip of his tongue as he did so. When you moaned again, he pushed you back with his hips, a hand gripping one of yours. You grabbed his ass tightly as if to hang on, never wanting to let go of him. The only place to go was your room, your door ajar just enough that it opened easily on its own. He reached a hand behind him to close it gently– so as not to wake anyone. 

Your lamp, still left on, just as it had been earlier in the evening, shed the perfect amount of golden light. You grabbed his cheeks, pulling him away from you momentarily to appreciate his features. Finally out of the dark you could look at him. And, God, you loved his face. Everything about it, having been so intricately and delicately created. . .making the most beautiful man you’d ever laid eyes on. 

A quiet smirk graced his perfect lips, his eyes tightly locked with yours. “What’s the matter?” he asked, his hushed, now-sultry voice making your need for him that much more heightened. 

You thought a moment before you answered. With all of your feelings for him finally becoming realized in your own mind, there was just so much you felt you needed to say. So much you needed him to know. As you stared in his sparkling eyes, pupils pure black from the weed and his need for you, the only word your mind could conjure up was love. Over and over again. Not just the word, but the feeling; the new desire for him that went far beyond the purely physical one that you’d tried so hard to convince yourself of. 

But it wasn’t new; it had been clear all along. You’d just shoved it down to the deepest trenches of your mind, only to be discovered by the most skilled explorer. There was so much you wanted to say, but you just couldn’t conjure the proper words. For once, you’d been left nearly speechless by your intense infatuation for him that you had finally allowed yourself space to fully realize. 

You decided your body could do all the talking. It could say more than your voice ever could.

“Nothing,” you whispered against his lips as you pulled him in for the deepest kiss you’re certain the two of you had ever shared with one another.

He led you backwards to your bed, your lips staying connected the entire time. With hardly any effort, he swiftly scooped you up and placed you on the bed, his lips only leaving yours to attach to your neck to suck on the tight flesh. His fingers toyed with the strap of your top, teasing it slowly down your shoulder. His mouth followed it with wet, barely there kisses on your skin with each movement down your arm. He then moved to the other arm, doing the exact same thing as his mouth began setting your whole body alight. 

He was taking his time. He wanted to enjoy every part of your body, savoring you in ways he always had but this time, it was different. His need was far beyond just wanting to fuck you; he wanted to love you. 

He dragged his lips across your collarbone, moving to the middle of your chest, then taking the fabric still covering you between his teeth as he pulled a little. 

“Take this off,” he whispered, “need to taste these pretty tits.” 

You groaned, wasting no time removing the barrier. You tossed it across the room with such eagerness you should’ve been embarrassed. But you weren’t. Couldn’t be. Not when he was displaying the same eagerness to please you, to feel your body against his own.

He flattened his tongue over a hard bud, slowly dragging it up until the tip flicked your nipple before he closed his lips around it and sucked. He swirled his tongue around, lifting off of it with a string of saliva that still connected him to you as he blew cold air on it. He tweaked it with his fingers, rolling it between his index and thumb as he moved to the other breast to give it the same attention. 

“Jake— fuck. It feels so good.” You were breathing so heavily that your breathless words just barely broke through your parted lips. 

But he heard you. And he smiled in retort against your chest as he continued lapping and sucking at you, using his teeth to graze your nearly too sensitive nipple. You were already nearing your break, feeling the pulsing between your legs keeping up with the erratic beating of your heart. 

He grabbed both your breasts, pushing them together and licking one long and steady stripe up the middle where his strong hands connected them. 

“Goddamn,” He spoke against your skin; you felt every word from his lips across your supple flesh. “I will never get enough of these, baby. So fucking perfect.” 

As good as he was making you feel, you were becoming increasingly more desperate. You needed him in your pussy. His mouth, his fingers, his cock. Fucking anything. You were throbbing for him. You weaved your trembling hands through his tangled hair, trying to guide him the rest of the way down your body. 

“Jake, please. I need you.” Your labored breathing made it incredibly hard to be able to form a single coherent word. 

He giggled as he made his descent down your heaving belly, stopping to plant an open mouthed kiss over your belly button as your body shuddered almost uncontrollably. 

“Easy, baby,” he said between leaving kitten licks just above the waistband of your leggings. “You know I’ll give you what you want. Don’t I always? Just let me take my time with you– need to worship this glorious fucking body.” 

Your heart swelled at his words. He thought your body was deserving of being worshiped. Who were you to rush him? And he was right. He was always the most generous lover, never stopping until you were fully satisfied with everything you needed. He pulled your leggings down just a little, enough to expose your hip bones and the top of your purple lace thong. He sucked a dark mark on the tight skin of your hip, sending a flood to your already soaked core as you gasped so loud you reached your hand up to cover your gaping mouth. 

“Let them hear,” he groaned as he smiled. “They’re in our fucking place, aren’t they? If they don’t like it, they can leave.” 

Our place. 

Those words that had once felt so poisoned, that would have made you cringe at the mere sound of them— they suddenly felt so right as they comfortably glided off his tongue that was caressing you wonderfully.

Though, you weren’t quite ready for them to know about this. . . Despite your ever-present fear of Josh finding out, there was just something about it only being between you and Jake. Especially now, the way it felt so sacred and special. Just the two of you. No one else. No one. 

Before you could tell him you absolutely did not want them to hear, he tested you a bit further by pulling your leggings off in one swift motion and planting his lips directly on your vibrating clit, still tucked away beneath the purple lace. With how he had perfectly worked you up, you were already so sensitive. You jolted at the contact, nearly screaming “fuck!” into your open palm as the sensation had been heightened in brand new ways. 

“Normally I’d say purple is the most offensive hue,” he ran his middle finger up and down the wet lace, applying a feather light pressure— just enough to have you squirming under his touch. “But you make it look so goddamn magnificent. So fucking beautiful.”

“Fuck Jake. . .” You started bucking your hips up, chasing anything he would give you. 

“I know baby, I know,” he hushed. “I just love seeing you like this. So ready for me, your panties clinging to you. I’m gonna lock that sight away.” 

He hooked his thumbs around the thin string of your thong and pulled it slowly down your hips. The pads of his fingers danced over the skin of your thighs while he rid you of the final hindrance keeping him from where you desired him the most. He lifted your legs over his shoulders as his tongue flicked just once at your swollen clit. You pulled tightly at his hair and he groaned at the feeling, sending a vibration against you as you tried with all of your best efforts to stay quiet.

He took a moment to admire the sight of you, how your trembling body practically begged him to touch you without the need for a single word. As if sensing it, he started leaving the most tender kisses on the inside of your thighs, inching himself closer and closer but never picking up his pace.

He was teasing you to the point of near madness. You were certain the sheets below you were soaked with your arousal. You could hardly stand it any longer. Your need for him had officially surpassed any you had ever felt for him before. 

“J-Jake, please. . .” 

He sucked a few more times on the tender flesh of your thigh before finally wrapping his wet lips around your neglected clit. As he did it, he looked up at your pleasure contorted face with eyes that smiled. You became nearly breathless at the sight of him combined with the feeling of his warm tongue caressing you, devouring you like a starved man enjoying his first meal. 

He pulled you as close to his face as he could with an iron grip on your hips. His eyebrows became creased as he hummed into your sopping and throbbing pussy. The carnal, lewd sounds of him sloppily lapping at you only added to the intensity you felt in the pit of your stomach. . .

. . .until he stopped— leaving you whimpering and squirming for more. 

“Look at me.” His soft, gravelly voice pulled you from your agony of missing his mouth on you, and you did as he said.

Your body shook as you lifted your head to meet his dark, sinful eyes that burned holes straight through yours. 

“You look so fucking beautiful,” he muttered. “And you taste so sweet, baby.” 

He smiled as he leaned down to place a gentle kiss just above your clit, keeping his eyes locked with yours. He lifted off of you and climbed up your quivering body, dragging his lips over any surface area of you he could reach until his nose brushed against yours.

“Jaaake. . .” You nudged your lips against his, feeling his warm breath melt into your skin. “. . .fuck me. Now.” 

He wanted to hear you say it; he needed to hear you say it. 

He lifted his hips up just enough for your wandering hand to reach down between your bodies. You cupped him tightly in your palm, feeling just how desperate he was to get out of the strenuous restriction of his black jeans. 

He hissed as your hand moved up and down his clothed length, teasing him just as he had with you. You reached up and cradled his face with your free hand, drawing patterns into his cheekbone with the pad of your thumb. 

You loved the hitch in his breath, his pleading eyes that begged you to take his jeans off. The sweat that had formed around his hairline. The torment in his eyes that all on their own could have sent you spiraling into the most beautiful release. God, he was so fucking pretty. 

You squeezed your hand around him, feeling him throb as his eyes rolled in the back of his head. He grit his teeth and bite his lower lip so hard you were surprised he didn’t draw blood. 

“Jesus— fuck,” he groaned, the rasp in his voice sending a another wave to core.

You wanted to tease him further, but your own body couldn’t take it any longer. 

You dug into the buckle of his belt and ripped it off of him in one fluid motion, you both gasping at the ‘snap’ sound it made when you pulled it out of the loops of his pants. With one hand, you released the metal button and pulled the zipper of his fly down in record time. Your fingers instantly intertwined with his boxers, reaching inside for his pulsing cock.

“A bit eager, are we?” he patronized, but you knew damn well he needed it as badly as you did. 

“Shut the fuck up, Jacob.”

He huffed a laugh as he aided you in pulling his jeans and boxers down to sit in the middle of his thighs, finally freeing him all the way. 

You wanted to taste him, but the ache in your pussy was far too great to go any longer without him filling you. You wrapped your legs tightly around his hips to angle yourself perfectly with him as he lined himself up with you. Both of his hands settled on either side of your face as he pulled you into a fervid kiss while the tip of his cock nudged your quivering entrance.

He kissed down your jawbone, your neck, pulling your earlobe gently between his teeth. 

“I fucking love you. . .” he purred against your ear, plunging his cock slowly inside of you as he said it. “. . . and god, do I love fucking you.”

You groaned in utter relief when he thrust himself completely inside of you, as deep as he could go. He was still for a moment, feeling your walls clench around the pulsing of his cock. 

“Fuck, Jake. . .” You pulled at the sweat drenched hairs sitting on the nape of his neck while the nails of your other dug into the soft flesh of his hip. 

“I know, baby. . . I feel you. So wet and warm, pulling me in. I fit so well, don’t I?”

You couldn’t even respond to tell him how fucking good he felt buried inside of you. Words had escaped you entirely.

You weren’t sure if it was the weed or if it was because you were finally letting yourself feel everything you’d shoved down for far too long, but the way he felt sitting inside of you was ineffable; he was right. He fit so goddamn well. He had to have been made for you. Fuck. You’d let him stay inside of you for the rest of your life if you could. 

He started pumping in and out of you at a slow pace— you could feel every vein of his thick shaft against your walls as he glided so effortlessly through you. Pulling all the way out to the tip, then back in again, perfectly brushing that wonderful spot within you each time as you felt every inch of him.

He gradually quickened his thrusts, his breaths becoming more and more deep with every calculated movement of his hips. Both of your hands reached behind him to grasp ahold of his back, feeling the muscles beneath your fingertips flex while he fucked himself into you with more intensity. 

“Fuck, baby,” you moaned, clawing at his skin, damp with perspiration from his efforts and the wonderful effects of the weed. You were desiring to feel him as close to you as you possibly could. You were about to finish–you could feel it. Teetering on the edge of sweet relief. . . your walls were fluttering, your clit was pulsing. . . 

The wound-up ball of tension in your tummy was about to let loose. 

His thrusts were getting desperate, his pants and sighs were mixing with yours. And you couldn’t help but look between you, where your bodies met. . . it made your heart beat even more rapidly in your chest, seeing you connected in such a way. It looked so right. You felt full. You felt whole. In your haze, your thoughts couldn’t help but wander as you thought of the final step to feeling close to him. 

Fuck.

As soon as the thought entered your brain, you had to throw your head back in ecstasy. It was almost too much to imagine. 

Your mind was so fucking cloudy– nothing sounded better in that moment than to feel him fully. His release inside of you. . .it would join your bodies completely. And God, you wanted that.

Needed it. And you knew this time might very well be the last. And you had to feel him in that way. Just once. You’d get a Plan-fucking-B in the morning. It would be so incredibly worth it to feel him in that way. 

Just this once. This one last time. It would be the perfect ending to this beautiful chapter of my life, you thought, longing for things to be different. 

“Shit– y/n,” Jake’s voice was needy as he rasped. “You feel so damn good. Fuck. So tight. So wet– smooth as fuckin’ velvet–,” he snapped his hips, the tip of his dick met your tender spot. It was even more tender under the influence– everything was heightened. “Fuck!”

You shook with anticipation, your legs already twitching. And you hadn’t even cum yet. 

“I know, Jakey,” you sighed. You reached a hand down his back, grasping at his firm ass. You held tightly to the plush muscle. It flexed with each push of his hips against you. “Y’feel so good.”

One hand and a forearm was balancing him above you. The hand of the forearm had been tenderly holding your head for the entirety of him fucking you into your mattress. But the other hand that he’d been using for balance moved swiftly to place two fingers below your chin. As he guided your face to look at him, you sighed with relief at the sight of his beautiful eyes– speaking every emotion he wanted to say. 

You felt it with him. Every fucking bit of it. 

His brows were concentrated, pinched with thought and overflowing emotions. 

“I know, sweetie. I feel it, too,” you gasped on the last words. Tears were choking your throat. You didn’t want this to end. But, even now, you knew it had to. Fuck– you wished like hell that you could keep him. But you couldn’t. 

Josh’s words swirled through your mind.

“Now is not the time to be getting involved with anyone.” 

“You know better, Jake. And you know that now is the time to focus on yourself rather than a woman– focusing on anything besides this monumental time in your life could hurt you.”

You knew Josh was correct. You couldn’t be the thing to distract him to the point of him abandoning this dream. 

 “Can you just fucking look out for yourself—just a little bit?” He’d pleaded, his voice breaking a bit. 

Just like your heart now. 

“I just don’t want to see you get hurt again. . . I would just really appreciate it if you cared about yourself the way you deserve.”

You feared he couldn’t do it for himself. Look out for his best interest. If he hadn’t been able to do it before with Amelia, what would stop him from giving himself the short end of the stick for you, too?

And you had to take into consideration how quickly you’d been destroyed by running to any and every conclusion about Maya. . . You could not handle something like this. Emotionally, it was too much for you at this point in your life. Pushing all of the thoughts away, you decided to just let yourself have this time with him. He was everything you wanted, and at this moment you were going to let yourself have him.

Bringing yourself back to the present, you gazed into his irises. But before you could lose yourself further, he shook his head, looking down between the two of you. 

Your brow furrowed in response, and you reached the hand that was still holding his back, up to cup his cheek, lifting his head in the process. When he looked at you again, his eyes were shining. 

Dammit, Jake, you thought, wistful. 

You felt tears prick your own ducts. Your thumb swept across the soft skin and the faint beauty mark that adorned his cheek. Fuck, he was beautiful. You bit your lip, then hushed your next words, repeating your earlier statement. “I know.”

He went to look down again, but your hold was firm on his face. “Look at me, Jake,” you begged. “Watch me.”

He pressed his face into your hand, his eyes shutting for a moment. A singular tear made its way to your chest. He cleared his throat, opening his eyes. He kept them on you, never wavering and following your instructions. His hips continued with their languid movements, his cock never exiting you. But, suddenly, as you felt your walls constrict him again, his slow movements became quicker, desperate. You wanted to throw your head back, completely overtaken with lust. But you kept your eyes trained on his. 

You had to see him finish. . . see his face. You’d never let yourself watch him, subconsciously fearing the intimacy of witnessing it. But you had to see it now. . .just once.

“Stay with me, Jake,” you pleaded, your voice hitching with each hard pump of his dick. He briefly closed his eyes again, and fearful of missing him, you coached him back to you. “Look into my eyes.”

You gasped the last part, the sensation of him throbbing and twitching inside of you, the fullness of his dick filling you completely. 

More.

He whimpered, his Amber-brown eyes, heart wrenching and warm as they stayed locked with yours. “I can’t– I’m gonna– I’m–,” he choked out. His movements slowed, and he went to pull out. But you stopped him, your hand holding tight to his soft, round ass. He looked back at you, quirking an inquisitive, urgent brow. You felt your legs quiver, your heat clenched around him as your clit twitched with need. 

So close. Fuck. 

His eyes rolled, his lids shutting with the feeling. He bit his pink lip. His lips, still swollen from your kisses and shiny from your release. The butterflies in your stomach started fluttering ferociously, the familiar feeling overtaking you as your body trembled– your nerves humming. 

You were about to finish. And you had to do it with him. 

Completely. 

“Y/n,” he gasped, warning you. “I’m going to fucking cum.”

You felt his cock pulse inside of you, confirming his words. 

“I know,” you said, for the third time. “But I need to feel you. I want you to finish inside of me.”

His eyes bugged. “Y/n– fuck. No. No. You are under the influence. You don’t want–.”

You felt your chest flare with irritation at his words. “Jake, I swear to fuck,” you whined, your eyes shutting as one particular nudge of his cock against your folds pushed you nearly over the edge. “Please, Jake. Please, baby. I promise you won’t be taking advantage or some shit. I need it. Please. Let me have it. Just this one time.”

Let our last time be special, you thought. You tried to let your eyes echo your thoughts, willing him to understand. 

He seemed to, because his next words were less apprehensive– an air of eagerness and an air of excitement painting his tone with his next words. “Are you sure?”

“More than sure,” you reassured, smoothing your thumb across his sharp cheekbone. 

And with one last buck from his hips, your clit twitched and your legs turned to Jell-o. All composure was lost–shuddering and heart chanting his name. Then, with a final groaned growl, his eyelids drooped, and his irises hazily watched you. His mouth relaxed to an ‘o’ shape, just the same as it did when he played his beloved instrument. You felt the glorious feeling of his release, as he spilled warm and plentiful inside of you. 

“Jaaaake,” you moved your hips up against him, wanting to feel and catch every last bit of him. “Yes, baby– yes.”

Dammit– until this moment, you hadn’t realized just how badly you needed this. 

You could punch yourself with the anger you felt at ending things with him. But it was for this exact reason. The emotions you were feeling (that you knew he was also feeling), as he slumped against you, thick shaft slowly softening inside of you. . .his head balanced on your shoulder as your fingers lazily played with his gorgeous, growing locks. . . 

It wasn’t uncomplicated. It was more than it was ever meant to become. It wasn’t what you had agreed to in the slightest. This was turning into a relationship. And you were not about to squander his career with any sort of distraction. You refused to get in the way of his career. 

So, when he finally pulled out of you –and you felt the remnants of his seed slipping from between the folds of your fulfilled cunt– you reminded yourself.

Plan B. 

And as you dozed off, after he’d cleaned you so delicately, with him spooning you from behind, his firm chest meeting your relaxed back. . . you swore you wouldn’t forget. 

Plan B in the morning.

-🌼🌼🌼-

a/n: hope to see you back for part 2 TOMORROW!! 🖤

ty for being the best readers in the world and pleaseee never hesitate to send in your wonderful thoughts!

& as usual, it wouldn’t let me tag some of y’all. :( so please check to see that you’re down there because if you’ve asked to be on the taglist, i tried to tag you. buuuut tumblr wouldn’t let me do it for everyone 🙃 ugh. and if i somehow forgot to tag someone, please also let me know that! (i'm a NOOB and i have terrible memory)

Taglist: @joshym, @gretavanfleetposts, @alyson814, @fretaganvleet, @lallisonl, @writingcold, @gvfpal, @twinszka, @jessicafg03, @reesetrippingthelight, @sacredjake, @laurenlovesgretavanfleet, @gretavangroove, @222headedcalf, @dreamssingold, @carbondancingthroughtime, @raviolilegs, @way-to-go-lad, @jakekiszkasmommy, @katgvf, @objectsinspvce, @jaketlover, @vanfleeter, @thetroublegetssloud71, @seditabets, @jakekiszkapunchmeintheface, @jaketlove, @ohgodthefeeling-gvf, @starcatcher-jake, @anythingforjtk, @lucimoo, @indigostreakmorgan, @gretavanbear, @katelynn-gvf, @alwaysonthemend, @aintthatapity, @bowievanfleet, @fwzco, @takenbythemadness, @cherry-icecreamsmile, @laneygvf, @hi-hi-hello11, @sinarainbows, @jakesbarbarian, @mybussyinchrist, @becinabubblegvf, @heckingfrick, @danigvf, @pinkandsleepy1934, @derrangeddumpsterfire, @klarxtr, @josh-iamyour-mama, @abby-gvf, @cassyface, @gretavansabotage, @torniturntomyarrow, @joshsbonnet, @llrosee, @starshine-gvf, @itsafullmoon, @gvfmarge, @creadliz98, @mackalah, @lek-gvf

#jake kiszka x reader #jake kiszka fic #jake kiszka smut #jake kiszka fanfic #greta van fleet fic #greta van fleet fanfic #jake fic #jake kiszka #covet #my fics

[grogusmum]

Okay folks, I'm going to try a little something.

In a tumblr where community interaction is down and fic can fall by the wayside quickly, my plan is to make a point to reblog "old fic".

So welcome to Hazel's Thro-back Thursday Fic Recs!

For me, many times, in less than a week, a new fic will get buried, and then it is "old, " and for some reason, people are less likely to reblog it.

I will be reblogging on Thursdays a handful of older fics, but you can send them anytime!

What is old? That's a tough one, I'm going to let you decide.

Is there a fic that you wrote or read by someone else that has fallen dormant that you think could use a little more love? You can send them to me.

I want to say I will read all of them, but it will depend on how many come to me. But I will try to read them all. Feel free to include a little blurb about what you like about it.

I mostly read Pedro character fics, so let's start there. (I don't read RPF or large age gap)

#hazels thro-back thursday fic recs

[elvisabutler]

good girls clean up their messes

summary: austin didn't used to have a housewife kink and neither did you. funny how life-uh- finds a way to change that. fandom: austin butler rating: m pairing: austin butler x female reader word count: 2100 warnings: housewife kink. unprotected p in v ( though can be read as committed relationship birth control situation ). cleaning kink? minor breeding kink. praise kink. brief mention of the pandemic and how austin was a recluse for a bit. author's note: welcome to day 25 of kinktober, housewife kink with austin butler. this was fun. truly i'd actually have written more but i had this view of cleaning in my head vs anything else. so honestly, anyone asks and i'll write a whole big long thing about it but for now, enjoy this little tiny thing. also thank you @pennyroyalcreep for being the one to ask for this. i had hoped someone would choose austin for this kink vs anyone else so i was pleased as punch about it when you did.

You were never made to be a housewife, you've told Austin this on more than one occasion. Even when you first met him and were first talking to him, you told him that despite how perhaps you looked it, all warm and inviting, it wasn't your sort of style. Life had a funny way of changing those things sometimes. It started out slow, after all you were the one with a faintly normal nine to five-ish job, he was the one who had to jet across the world half the time. It made sense that you would keep where you were living and he at least- stopped by clean. You weren't a heathen, you knew how to make your house look presentable. The first time Austin had come back from being away for a while was the Elvis press tour and he had been expecting to see the house in some sort of disarray, maybe you hadn't been keeping up with the laundry or maybe their were dishes piled up in the sink. Instead, what greeted him was his girlfriend- the woman he fell in love with when the world went to shit, he became a goddamn recluse for six months, and everyone had let things fall by the wayside- in her pjs doing the dishes with these stupid little green gloves that in your own words- "kept me from getting dirty while cleaning".

All Austin could think about when he saw you that way is making you as dirty as he could. His teeth bit at his lower lip, picturing you taking off those gloves, making a show of it as he just sank to his knees and showed you just how much he appreciated your effort to keep the place clean. In fact, that had been what he decided to do the moment he wrapped his arms around your waist and you had let out a small gasp at his clothed erection.

It got worse after that, with him finding every excuse to just watch you clean and you finding that you didn't mind. You wanted to show Austin how you could keep things going, wanted his praise telling you how good you were, how he had the best girlfriend that he'll marry when he gets just a minute to himself. How you made everything so clean only for him to dirty it up with you. How you clean up the kitchen when the two of you cook knowing fully well he wants to have his dessert on the table, spread out on the tablecloth, chasing your pleasure higher and higher until he has to suck on your clit just so in a way that has you almost breaking the table when you come back down to Earth with a thump.

Bikeriders is- complicated when it comes to him coming home and you hate it, it's led to you having to show him FaceTime videos of the clean bedroom and the dishes and him forcing them to let him take a break because he just wants to eat dinner with his girlfriend. It's led to praise being over text and over the phone with him stroking his cock and you curling your own fingers inside yourself or using that one vibrator Austin hates. You miss him and he misses you just as much if his moans are anything to go by, if his grunts and whispers of your name are anything to go by.

It's a Saturday and you find that there's more than a bit more dust in the house than you'd like, that and you've let the glass door leading out to the backyard remain a little too dirty for your liking. Austin had mentioned the possibility of being able to fly in for the weekend, something about an award or a round table discussion but he hadn't told you when he'd be coming in. You take a chance on him coming in early, choosing to be a little silly and wear a French maid costume you had bought for yourself last Halloween and turn on your cleaning playlist, allowing the mix of electroswing, rock and jazz fly through the air as you got started on your efforts. The door is easy enough, done in about thirty minutes and left to settle before you would go back and see if you missed any spots. Now came the hard part, the dusting that usually would have you sniffling by the end of it but you hoped it would be different this time.

Your wish is granted, just not in the way you planned for it as Austin opens the door to the house and walks in only to find you bent over, no underwear under the costume you're wearing and he has to bite his lip to swallow the groan that threatens to escape him at the image and the knowledge. He knows perfectly well how engrossed you get in your music when you're cleaning, having once snuck up on you and swayed to the beat of the music for what felt like ten minutes- it was only five- before you realized his presence and had abandoned your task. You're near the window you had just cleaned, dusting the bottom part of an end table nearby and Austin drops his bags quietly, allowing himself to sneak up on you until you feel his hands grip your hips. The gasp that leaves you is closer to the breath leaving your body, especially as Austin uses his grip to pull you into a standing position, feeling just how hard you've already made him.

"Hey baby." He murmurs into your ear, kissing the side of your neck and nipping at your earlobe. "No panties and you're dusting in this. You love painting such a pretty picture for me, don't you?"

The voice you have, the one that normally snarks at him leaves your head right in that exact moment knowing fully well you need to use it. Your answer is predictable because of it. "I have to make sure my hardworking man comes home to a nice clean house." You swallow and shake your head a little, ignoring how Austin's hands are sliding up your torso, making their way to your chest. "I've seen how messy his hotel rooms can get."

His laugh vibrates against your back and the noise slips into one ear only to settle in your brain, you missed hearing that laugh in person. "Low blow. Valid, but is that any way to treat me after all this time?"

A giggle leaves your mouth unprompted as you try and focus on dusting once more. "Yeah, maybe just a little."

He hums as an answer to your sass, cupping your breasts as he grinds against you slowly. "Want to fuck you, baby. Want to make a mess of you while you clean."

Your breath quickens just slightly as you grind back against him, allowing you to feel the roughness of the fabric of his pants against your bare ass before you pull away, smoothing down your skirt. "I've still got to dust around the door, Austin."

The noise that comes out of him when you moves sounds like a growl as he pulls you against him again. When he speaks it comes out almost as a whine. "I can just flip up that skirt while you're dusting, baby. Promise I won't make you smudge the nice clean window with your body. Just want to fuck you against the door."

You know your neighbors can likely see what Austin's doing, see how he's slowly pinning you against the door, the front of your body pressed against the cool glass, giving you some relief from how hot just having Austin pressed against you is making you feel. Your answer comes out in a pant.

"Fine. Just, you're doing the top of the door, you tree."

Austin would have laughed at you calling him a tree if he wasn't so distracted with undoing his pants and pulling down his boxers as he flipped up the skirt, exposing your now wet core to the air of the room. Unbidden, a small keen escapes your mouth as he pushes into you without warning. It's not unwelcome, but you hadn't expected him to go all in immediately. Your ass grinds backwards against him as you brace yourself against the door.

"Fuck. So fucking wet for me. You're- Perfect. That's- Got the best girlfriend, cleaning my house, cleaning the dishes, wearing outfits like this. Didn't even have this kink before but god." His words are punctuated by his thrusts, each one causing you to thump against the glass. "My pretty little housewife, doesn't even need to cook but she does. Doesn't need to do all of this but you do this just for me. You going to keep doing it? When I marry you do I get to keep this little housewife?"

"Not a housewife, Aus." You huff out a laugh, focusing on the noises of his cock entering and exiting you, it sounds like there's so much fluid that you swear you'd be surprised if there's not a puddle below your feet when you're done. "Still got my job."

"Doesn't make you any less of one." He growls against the shell of your ear, his hands dipping in between the fabric of the outfit and your skin to squeeze your breast and then your nipple. "You're gonna be my housewife, aren't you? Even when we get married you'll keep the house clean. Even when I give you a baby, you'll do it, won't you."

Your cunt clenches around him at the last part, causing embarrassment to flood your system as he chuckles. "Full of my kid, cleaning my house, making food, being such a good girl. My gorgeous housewife, my fantastic housewife that I don't deserve."

If your head starts to roll back against his shoulder, neither one of you comment on it, instead Austin uses it as a chance to kiss your neck, nipping at it occasionally as he keeps thrusting into you, stealing your breath when he hits just the right angle. One of your hands drifts toward your clit, trying to see if you can come before Austin swats it out of the way.

"No, let me take care of that. Don't want to get that pretty pussy all dirty with dust. Let me reward you, baby." He whispers as he moves to rub it, allowing you to gasp at the sensation. You can see smudges forming from your hands, from your breasts, from your skin against the glass and you find you don't mind just this once. Instead you allow yourself to grind against, his fingers, his ass, just allow yourself to move in whatever way you can to chase your high. Austin's hips are starting to stutter, his thrusts become a little erratic as he feels himself about to come before he pinches your clit in a way that should be painful but has you hitting your head against the glass door lightly, your cunt clenching around his cock, milking it as he comes with a groan against your neck. You stay like that for a few minutes, both of your legs too shaky to move before he pulls out of you, earning a mild sob of distress from your throat.

He turns you around to let himself kiss you, his thigh moving to between your legs just in case you want to rock against it. You do just slightly before you speak. "You made me smudge the glass."

Austin's laugh and smile fill the whole room with sunlight you didn't realize just how much you were missing until that exact moment. He shrugs. "I did, didn't I? Guess I'll just have to watch you clean it again. Oh no, what a tragedy."

You smack him lightly with the duster and point to the top of the door. "Laugh it up, Aus. Do that and I'll think about it."

He moves his thigh, allowing his knee to press against your clit. "My perfect little housewife isn't going to stand for that dirt. I'm getting to watch it."

It's then that you finally move his thigh back, allowing you to walk away from him, hips swaying just so as you walk to pick up the glass cleaner from the floor, exposing your cunt leaking his cum to him. "Maybe. Depends on how nice your housewife is feeling. Get to cleaning, Aus. The clock is ticking."

You both forget about cleaning about fifteen minutes in. Oh well, there was always tomorrow.

#austin butler #austin butler x reader #austin butler x you #austin butler smut #austin butler fanfic #austin butler fanfiction #austin butler x y/n #austin butler fic #austin butler imagine #ally's kinktober 2022 #ally writes #kinktober 2022 #yeah i did finished this one pretty quickly this morning. fascinating what quiet time does for a girl.

[dduane]

Oh is enthusing about Young Wizards time again? Because I have a thing to say on that. Because I DIDNT read them as a kid, just never was in my orbit/never got around to it blah blah blah. But I DID get into reading it when I was in a depressive slump trying to do college and would skip class to literally hide in the library all day (public library not school library, on days when I didn't even make it to campus. Cheers to severe anxiety) So I read, and it helped. So no, I wasn't in the demographic at the time, it's not a childhood nostalgia thing. But I was sad, and it helped. Thank you for that.

You're very welcome. I'm so glad the books were there for you, regardless of any theoretically desired demographic. (Not least because I was writing as much to amuse a writer in her thirties-to-forties as the younger readership that the publisher was targeting.)

And this is one thing books have going for them that TV doesn't. TV (especially the this-decade streaming variety) is more or less fixated on the new... and when it's gone, it's gone. (And even the new, even the unaired, now sometimes gets killed without warning and becomes forever unavailable, even to its makers... as a tax break.) :/

Whereas books persist for surprisingly long periods, and wait patiently for those who'll seek them out in libraries. (Where I too have hidden in my time, and not always as a teenager. I have fond memories of the magnificent little library at Dowling College in Oakdale on Long Island, which was once the gilt-ceilinged ballroom of the Vanderbilt mansion "Idle Hour". It's the library where I used to take cover between classes when it all got to be a bit too much, and where I almost stole a book.* Almost. ...God I was so close.)

...Sorry, I lost the plot there for a sec. Books, once out and safe on the shelves (for whatever value "safe" maintains these days in the US, an issue we have to watch carefully now), can remain available to a readership well past any active life imagined by their (more modern) publishers.

...Which is something that seems to have fallen a bit by the wayside in recent times. Looking over correspondence from publishers of the previous century, you get a sense that they were at least conscious that their writers' books should be given a chance to persist into the next century: and beyond, if possible. Would you find anything similar from publishers in this decade? Hard to tell. It seems like there's so much emphasis on Sell Now And Devil Take The Hindmost.

Anyway: again, glad the work was there for you. I'm not done yet: so may we continue together.

*It was this one — a custom single-volume edition bound in white calfskin. Still ashamed of myself, in retrospect...

#Young Wizards

[justallihere]

Hello!

I don't really (I mean never actually!) post online like this (I'm mostly a lurker extraordinaire) but I've been following sitq from the start and frankly considering how much enjoyment I've got out of your beautiful story and writing it was getting a bit indecent not even saying thank you.

I have always been a bookworm at my core, and never happier than with my nose in a story. Over the years that has fallen by the wayside - medical school, gruelling rotas, more training, friendships, pregnancies, my wonderful babies, the house, the laundry (oh the laundry...) - I could really go on and on here. Giving little pieces of myself over and over and feeling guilty if I ever took something back.

I read Fourth Wing at the end of the summer and it has re-ignited my passion for books and I'm now getting through them at a ferocious rate (I haven't calculated how much I've spent since then - I don't want to know!).

Sitq is special to me because it is not one completed work I can race through like I do with everything else - the joy is spread out and all the better for it.

So not really an "ask" - just a long overdue thank you :)

Hi there!

You're welcome, and thank you! I know how easy it is to let the things we love fall to the side, and though I've always been a reader and a writer, I've also been reminded of a lot of the reasons I love books so much through writing sitq the past few months. I'm glad reading this is able to offer people some of the same joy I have writing it.

I can't relate to all the things in your life (especially not the babies lol) but I hope you're able to keep taking back the pieces of yourself you might have misplaced, and I'm honored to be even a tiny part of that journey ❤️