#jake sweetbitter fic

[captainpoopweinersoldier]

An Acquired Taste | Jake x FReader

Synopsis: You bring Jake to Long Island's Oyster Fest

Tags: Voyeurism if you squint, with a light dash of angst; Alcohol consumption; Smoking

Words: 9.3K

And thank you to @ursulaismymiddlename who deals with my Jake fixation with nothing but grace.

Link to AO3

There’s not much of a fully formed memory left over from the previous night, except for the little inconsequential detail that it was meant to be an early one. 

It had been a typical Saturday evening shift. Fast-paced, stressful, and with the forever presence of snobby clientele. Though, in the restaurant's defense, most of the work week flowed with a similar rotation. But last night was the first Saturday in years you wouldn’t dare keep track of where the Sunday that followed was a day off, and apparently that translated to being amenable to the notion of getting fucked up.

That wasn’t the plan originally. Originally, you were meant to call it immediately after closing. You didn’t even dare to attempt partaking in shift drinks, simply vanished to the lockers to stuff any dirty laundry in a bag because dammit you’d get an early start to said day off and be able to freely partake in a chore and the event you had taken the day off for in the first place. 

That was until a certain bartender asked if you’d be going to Home Bar, and fuck if he didn’t have a face you could say no to. 

You’re sat next to him now, feeling like a teenager as the pair of you among a crowd of strangers get crammed onto a school bus headed for downtown Oyster Bay. 

“Is someone a little too hungover?” he murmurs into your ear. And maybe it’s not just the bus that makes you feel like an adolescent girl. The seats are too narrow, meant for literal children. And Jake is practically on top of you in the small space.

When you glance up at him, the rim of your sunglasses brush the sharp-edged jut of his cheek and, in your stupor, you try desperately not to stare at his lips. 

You grin reassuringly, even if the chatter surrounding you seems a little too loud at the moment. It’ll get better once you’re let outside and don’t have the odor of pervasive burning rubber and oil combined with the heady scent of him flooding your senses, you’re certain. “I’m fine, came and got you didn’t I?” 

He tilts his head back in appraisal, lips slightly parted as he considers his response. Unlike you, sunglasses don’t cover his eyes, so the striking blue hue of them is a perfect sea struck by sunlight anyone could drown in. 

“Good,” he settles on. Then somewhat reluctantly adds - “Because I uh -” there’s a huffing noise akin to a chuckle that hones your attention more than anything thus far. It’s sheepish, almost. “I’m actually. I’ve been looking. Forward -”

“Holy shit.”

“Don’t fuckin’ say anything.”

You bite your lip to temper the expression growing on your face. “Is - is Jake excited about something?” 

“No,” he says quickly. But his voice is soft, so soft in fact that you can barely hear it over the sliding doors of the bus slamming to a close and the engine revs, beginning its departure from the local train station. Jake shifts in the seat; consequentially pressing you closer to the window and his eyes dart around and he can deny all he wants but it’s weak and you don’t believe him in the slightest. You can’t help but wonder when was the last time he’d gotten out of the city. Away from the restaurant, or had maybe done something he truly enjoyed that goes against the fucking thick facade he dons daily.

But when his gaze seeks out yours once more, it’s almost like he can read your thoughts. Get the gist of your own excitement for him, the hangover actively taking a steady backseat to the fact that you’re treating him to something with such good effect. He visibly relaxes, eyes flitting about your face. 

“Don’t talk.” 

You’ll take that. Perfectly content with spending the ride watching the town pass by through the window with him comfortably pressed against you. A win’s a win.

~

It’s right in the middle of October, and as much as you love living in the city, one of the few things you actually miss about Long Island is witnessing the more flush change in season. Summer weather is a thing of the past, bleeding into the picturesque full bloom of autumn. What was green is now vibrant yellows and luscious reds. When it’s bright and sunny like today, the temperature is just warm enough that one doesn’t need a coat, and then fades into cozy crisp air under the blanket of night. 

IIt’s your favorite time of the year, and just so happens to coincide with Oyster Fest. 

The annual festival practically shuts down the entire town while thousands of people flock in attendance. Traffic is barely more than a halted complete stop, there isn’t a lick of parking for miles, and sidewalks brim with activity as bars, restaurants and shops all remain open for business, and the swarm only thickens once the bus deposits its passengers between a clearing of town parks and baseball fields located directly beside the Bay. 

To the immediate right are typical fair attractions; cheap fried foods and beer, a Ferris Wheel among other classic yet suspiciously rickety rides, including a Funhouse and the Zipper. Scattered snugly among them are grids of carnival game stations and - at this early hour of the afternoon - it is entirely overrun with families and groups of teenagers. 

But straight ahead lies the main attraction. Metal barricades form a path that leads the crowd, and you with Jake in tow, to the cleared out lots ahead. Except it’s not so clear now, quite the opposite. The heads of dozens of booths stick out atop the throngs of people. Each one ran, you know, by various vendors from all over the tri-state area, and each one selling anything from varieties of food, to homemade goods and trinkets. 

The layout is roughly the same as you remember and the medley of aromas make you salivate. Being hungover is a bygone thing and instead, your stomach growls with a not so subtle rumble thanks to opting against breakfast that morning. You pass a knowing look over your shoulder, eyeing Jake with interest, only to find delight in the way he surveys the landscape of food, drink, and the sparkling view of the Long Island Sound posing as a charming backdrop to it all.

“Oysters for days, but I’m assuming you want to hit that first?” 

The hint of a rare, genuine smile is nothing short of chuffed before he’s even looked at you, and when he does, it’s as he draws on a pair of shades.

“Desperately.” 

Maneuvering through the herd of people is no easy feat. It’s all high energy and excitement; even at a distance from across the lot, the voice of a miked up emcee booms from the main stage and an audience roars over an oyster eating or shucking competition. Queues are nearly indistinguishable as you pass through a section dedicated to gumbo and jambalaya, clam chowder and lobster bisque. You almost trip over a leashed dog and instinct makes you reach a hand out behind you, not wanting to get separated, and Jake takes it without question, letting you steer him ahead. 

The soft weight of it feels so natural tucked around yours that it barely becomes a distraction like it might’ve in any other circumstance. Not until you reach the tented area closest to the pier. There’s a swirling assembly line of people waiting to approach it like they would a ride in a theme park and you sidle in once a gap reveals itself. Only then do you fret over having to let his hand go because - well - you don’t particularly want to.

"Uh, hello?"

And just like that, the moment is over. Both of your heads simultaneously turn toward the sound of the annoyed voice and find a group of boys behind you. The one in front gestures vaguely, eyebrows raised as he huffs impatiently.

"There's like, a line going on here? You have to wait in line."

The snappy intrusion was annoying on its own, but now you're fucking hungry and mere moments away from delicious relief; you stiffen at the accusation with a flood of irritation.

"The fuck's it look like we're doing?" you snap back without hesitation. 

Jake snorts at your outburst, but otherwise it appears to be effective as the guy's body language seems to relax.

"Shit, alright. My bad."

You scoff and turn back around to catch up to the pace of the line ahead, and when you stop, Jake presses close enough to your backside that he can lean down to speak subtly along the rim of your ear. 

"You're either very confident, or you just totally cut the line without realizing."

"Hm?" His deep voice makes your skin tingle, a sensation you’ve well practiced to endure over time. "Wait. What?"

"I mean, I don't fuckin' mind. That was kind'a cute. I think you scared him."

"Are you serious-?" 

You chance a glance back, grateful for wearing sunglasses so that you can look around inconspicuously. And sure enough, the line continues much farther back than where you started. Significantly farther.

"Oh my god, I swear I had no idea-"

"Shhh.. Just keep walking," Jake's hands are on your shoulders with a gentle nudge forward, not remotely trying to contain his amusement while you flush with mortification. "We're committing now."

Indeed you are, but quite frankly - and yes, cutting is bad, it's rude, you'd tell anyone off for doing the same - it ultimately works out for the best and with very little regret because a moment later, you're blanketed by the shade of the expansive tent.

Beneath it lie rows of picnic tables, one after the other, and dozens of volunteers flit around in a blur of quick movements as oysters come piling in on trays by the (literal) boatful. They work in practiced motions, cleaning and shucking and plating the morsels, while others working the counters tend to visitors and shuffle around whole wads of cash. 

It's a five for five deal, and the operation is so speedy that before you know it, you've handed over a ten dollar bill and come away with two plates and a lemon slice each. There’s a condiment station just outside the tent’s perimeter, and while Jake walks past it - you know he prefers his oysters straight up - you stop for hot sauce and a dollop of horseradish, some napkins and a fork just in case. 

He meanwhile moseys over to a space out of the way of foot traffic over by the pier, making for quite the sight. And by it, you definitely don’t mean the water. Jake is dressed in his usual attire, a leather jacket and jeans combination. But today he surprised you with a button up-shirt printed with a variety of colors woven into wild patterns that somehow manages to actually work, and it’s up for debate if it’s because of the shirt itself or because it’s him. When you’d arrived at his apartment earlier, you’d done a triple take, unable to recall ever seeing him wear color at all - which of course was received with a smartass remark. 

But the sunlight reflected off the surface of the water casts Jake in a perfect halo as if he’s being showcased. Skin opalescent in its brightness, throat bare to the mild air as he tilts his head back and raises an oyster to his rosy-pink lips. 

You were fucked, but you save face as you approach, content to be happy with how he appears to be enjoying himself while he too balances two plates on one hand.

“They meet your exceptional standards?” you sass.

“Yes,” he states, simple and firm, and you finally take the pleasure of digging into your own. 

With the slice of lemon, you squeeze a healthy trickle of juice over the shells, poke a morsel with a fork to be sure it’s properly shucked, then pick the first one up. Your mouth is already watering by the time it reaches your lips and you knock it back with a gentle slurp. It greets you at once with a flavor both briny and sweet, mingling with the spicy tang of the hot sauce, lemon and horseradish, all wrapped up with a pleasantly refreshing chill that resonates deep within your gullet. 

“Better than the restaurant,” he continues; your mumbled agreement is unintelligible as you rush for seconds. “Better than the Cape, though?” You peer up at him suspiciously, slowly chewing around your next mouthful. He’s starting to reek of mischief and tilts his head in mocking consideration. “I don’t know, can’t make up my mind.” 

“Is someone sounding a little competitive?” 

Jake grins and you’re relieved his eyes are hidden behind a pair of sunglasses. “Of course not.”

“This is because of the clam chowder, isn’t it.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he lies, bound to have seen the booth.

You mull over a response and suck down another oyster. “I suppose a lobster roll is out of the question?” 

“I didn’t say that.” He suddenly steps closer; you need to crane your neck a little higher to look up at him, and then his hand closes the distance between you. His thumb grazes somewhere below the curve of your lip, swiping at some wayward remnant of lemon juice or briny moisture or who cares what, only to draw it back to his mouth where he flicks at it with the tip of his tongue. “I’m still hungry.”

~

Not a single coherent thought graces your mind with its presence, and if possible he seems further delighted by this. He lights up with a smile before grabbing your hand, and it’s a struggle to find your footing and keep the rest of your oysters upright when he drags you along. “C’mon, let’s go.”

Once some proper food is in your stomachs, it’s decided that splitting up is the best option to cover more ground. Oysters may flow constantly throughout the weekend, but historically it’s not unheard of for other vendors to sell out of supply before the day is over. And as the crowd only peaks as the afternoon goes on, Jake is surprisingly up to task and it is.. Nice.

When it comes to the restaurant, there is no doubt that with the long hours, post-shift late night outings, and occasionally the spaces in between, that those you work with consume the majority of your life. But Jake is.. Different. Admittedly, he’s an asshole, with a wickedly dry sense of humor and a passing dislike for the general public. Things you aren’t necessarily opposed to. Things that, admittedly, you have in common. You like him. He’s an actual friend. It just so happens that sometimes you want him a little bit more than that. 

It is a fact that you are more than content to deal with, even if today makes it more of a challenge. Today is more than the shared cigarette breaks and the moments of hiding out in the walk-in, and it feels a far cry still beyond those late night outings with the rest of the crew. This is proper fucking bonding and perhaps it would be less daunting if Jake didn’t appear to be enjoying it so fucking much.

You take turns holding a place in line while the other will wander off in search of something else, only to reconnect immediately after to split the reward, sharing quite literally, whether it be off the others’ plate or via an outstretched hand. The strategy sees you through to the aforementioned clam chowder (a satisfying win as Jake - who adamantly refused to approve of the creamy soup - wound up stealing the last ounce of it by snatching your wrist to guide the final spoonful toward his greedy mouth), grilled scallops and octopus, steamed mussels, and eventually a lobster roll.

At other times you merely stand aside and watch as Jake schmoozes with vendors. He asks questions with an uncharacteristic interest, oozing enough charm that they inevitably offer up a small sample of something to taste for free. 

The oyster tent remains a frequented spot. The queue has grown; has more than doubled in size since your initial stop, even as it manages to maintain the assembly line pace. Two pints of locally brewed beers are cradled close to your chest as you depart what’s considered the designated alcohol tent. It’s separated from the rest of the festival, an enormous setup that requires a stamp on the wrist to gain entry. Inside is cold beer on tap, a limited selection of Long Island wines, and a projector screen that will air this week’s Sunday night football. The crowd packed inside is far from small.

You bob and weave your way back to where Jake waits, ready to purchase another ten or so oysters (you both lost count after thirty), slipping through a thicket of people so dense that you focus on keeping the drinks upright, and don’t so much as notice the two young women chatting him up - until you’re just a few arms lengths away and come to an abrupt halt.

Well, fuck.

It’s being too used to seeing this type of scene play out that makes you check the time, a part of you wondering if Jake’s about to bail and disappear with the both of them. In your defense, it wouldn’t be the first time; his reputation precedes him and it certainly isn’t unearned. His ability to attract may sometimes seem beyond the point of his own control - you’ve often wondered if it comes with the territory of being a bartender - but he has never been above easily taking what’s thrown his way either.

Their appearances likely mean little to Jake, he’s nondiscriminating that way. But upon second glance, you are all too familiar with their type. One of them is a tall brunette, the other a softball-built-yet-petite blond. Both clad head to toe in yacht club gear: pleated shorts and polo shirts, brown leather boat shoes. Even their headbands practically match in bright elastic shades of pastel. 

They’re North Shore girls. And a guy like Jake tempts in the form of parental rebellion and a potential connect for drugs. Whatever reservations you briefly experience are brushed aside, and now there’s little hesitation as you sidle up beside him, interrupting their conversation with a light nudge against his elbow. 

“Your beer,” you announce, with eyes only for him. 

Jake looks down at you, head cocked with a knowing grin. There’s something soft there too, difficult to see through the sunglasses, but you can sense it nonetheless. 

“Thanks, babe,” he says, voice a gentle rumble. He takes the beer and before you know it, his arm is wound across your shoulders and he leans in, ducking down until those rosy lips meet yours in a gentle kiss. 

There are few times you find yourself grateful for drunken mishaps of the past, and this split second happens to be one of them. For if you hadn’t kissed Jake prior to this, hadn’t felt the silk of his lips caught in a suspended moment of pleasure, perhaps the effect could melt you to your knees. As it stands, your lashes flutter across the tips of his cheeks. Without bidding, your mouth responds, drifting along the seam of his, and it’s lucky he moves with it even if it’s smugness you sense that drives him. 

For a second you almost manage to forget what’s brought this on, but then there’s that prickling sensation of being watched. By a pair of ogling stares, specifically. You force yourself apart from Jake and clear your throat, grateful your voice is stronger than you could’ve guessed as you survey his current company. “Making friends?”

The girls emit enough dismay at your arrival to stroke an ego, but not without a glare and a roll of their eyes. The brunette crosses her arms under her chest with a drawl of - “We were just talking,” while the blonde ignores you completely, focusing on Jake with an accusatory - “You didn’t mention -”

“My girlfriend,” Jake finishes smoothly, and you resist the urge to balk at him. “She’s showing me around her hometown.” 

“Close enough,” you retort dryly. Your actual hometown is out farther east, a little detail that matters to precisely no one at the moment. Apart from your arrival, your presence is barely acknowledged. The twin glares stay trained on Jake, put out and bitter as they half turn to catch up with the rest of the line. “Maybe we’ll see you around.” 

“That was salty,” you snark once they’re out of earshot. Though not quite out of sight, as you both trail slowly behind them. “I’m your girlfriend now?”

He doesn’t outright laugh, but from being nestled against him (his arm has stubbornly stayed in place), you can feel something close to it as he mulls it over.

 “Consider us even.”

You scoff and sputter immediately. “That was one time!” The time in question being at a disco, of all places. A creep had been harping on getting your number and then some. Everyone was too busy dancing to notice except for Jake who - thanks to his antisocial tendencies - was reliably stationed at the bar. He was more than welcoming to your advances, and the strange man left you alone after that. 

“Works pretty fuckin’ well though, huh?”

He’s not wrong, you admit, and relent a little at that. “Fine. I’ll allow it.” And if you feel emboldened by both the title of endearment and the public display of affection, well, you will simply refuse to look at it much more deeply than that… Even if, admittedly, your voice comes out a little flirty when you go on to add - “But if I’m your girlfriend, then that makes this a date and -”

Jake’s pained groan echoes inside his cup as he takes a long pull of beer. 

“And we’re at a festival which means you have to win me a prize at one of those shitty carnival games.” 

He stops short, forcing you to stop with him, and fixes you with a glare. It lasts a breath too long, but you stand your ground, refusing to give under the weight of it, when eventually -

“I fuckin’ rock at shitty carnival games.”

Your face splits with a grin, and a smirk tugs at his. 

“Guess you’re gonna have to prove it.”

~

But before any games, there is one last stop that can’t be missed: a lobster dinner for a measly twenty bucks. No such deal would exist anywhere either on Long Island or back in the city, and anyone who deemed themselves a lobster lover would be foolish to pass up on the offer. One that likely wouldn’t last much longer this late in the day.

So when you manage to anxiously outlast the line, you’re grateful once you both walk away with a plate each in hand, and for the last iota of room in your belly that still has an appetite. 

The both of you assume a spot at a picnic table - few and far between, and shared with a trio of friends who occupy the opposite half - with Jake perched on top of it, and you sat on the bench beside his legs. In near silence now as you chow down as if eating hasn’t been the sole productivity of the day. The lobster is perfectly steamed, not dry, an error all too easy to make, and with a half-ear of corn and quarter-pound cup of melted butter as accompaniments.

There is a nagging thought, though. One you’ve been mulling over since parting ways with the two obvious up-to-no-good snobs. You peer up at Jake while you finish chewing, already moving on to cracking open a claw, having an inner debate on whether it’s worth it or not to bother mentioning. Jake is.. Well, private isn’t exactly the correct term. In the time you’ve known him, he can be almost too open with certain topics once you get him talking. But it’s rarely too personal, the deep down nitty gritty. And depending on what mood he’s in, he’ll either shut down completely, or bite your head off.

But the day so far has turned in a direction you hadn’t predicted. It’s gone better, much better than you could’ve hoped for when you first took the plunge in inviting him to come with. And in any case, his mood is as good as you’ve ever seen it. His fingers work the lobster tail apart, lips pursed in concentration, an oily sheen to them from the butter and eventually he pauses to take a few gulps of beer. 

He looks fucking gorgeous and you can’t stand it and fuck it -

“So,” you start, noncommittally at first. And you can only tell he’s listening by the raise of his brows. “I.. can’t help but notice that. Y’know.. You didn’t run off with those girls.” 

There’s little reaction to that. The upraised brows drop, he lets out a small huff before forking a couple of bites into his mouth. “You thought I was what - that I was gonna leave you here? Have a fuckin’ coke bender with them? Get laid?” 

“Oh, I knew it!” you snap a tad overzealous. “Sorry. I fucking knew they wanted drugs. Anyway.”

Jake snorts, unbothered by the outburst. “Yeah, I’ve seen the type. They fuck you for drugs, and then their frat sized boyfriends just happen to show up. Conveniently in time to kick the shit out’a you. Rob you, obviously. I like my asshole where it is, thanks.”

You hum around a mouthful of lobster. “Sounds like you’re talking from experience.”

“Or maybe I just know a thing or two about a thing or two,” he sasses back. He takes a bite of his corn on the cob, an act that has no business being attractive and yet -

“People like that over there too, huh?” you ask out of curiosity, and he nods slowly.

“Starting to think this place isn’t too different from the Cape.” 

“Aw, I can see why you miss it so much...” Another thing you have in common; you both happen to share a resounding hatred for where you’re from. The sarcastic remark draws his attention, fixing you with a stare so amused you actually wish he wasn’t wearing sunglasses, simply to see the sharpness of his blue eyes. 

“And I, uh.. I wouldn’t leave you like that.” He speaks slower now, enunciating his words as if it might almost pain him to admit, and eventually he looks away. “I’m actually - enjoying myself. With you. Today. And I don’t feel like pretending.” 

His phrasing sprouts about a dozen or so other questions at once, spurring sudden whiplash in your mind. Interest piques to the point you have to forcibly temper the urge to press him for more, likely to ruin the moment altogether. And in any case, more importantly, lies the admitted sentiment. It's, dare you say, heartwarming. Surprising. 

But you also know that if you acknowledge it aloud, he’ll tell you to fuck off. 

You smile at your plate instead. There’s just the one claw left now. It’s your favorite part, one you would normally savor, except you realize you’ve been slowly picking it apart with your fingers into little tiny unrecognizable pieces, distracted. 

“I wasn’t gonna let you wander off with them anyway. So.”

“Is that right,” Jake asks, and you glance up at him again just to find he casts down an unnaturally bright smile. He’s teasing you. “Feeling jealous?”

“Terribly,” you drawl, but the feigned glare hardly sticks once you can hear him chuckling. “No, I just - I guess I fucking hope that’s not your type, but either way I could tell exactly what they wanted from you. And I didn’t. Want that, I mean.”

“You were protecting me.” Jake muses, and a retort is ready at your teeth that he requires no such protection. But then the fleeting image of a certain tall blond floats to mind like an old bad dream, and you have to stomp it down before it can rise to the surface. Focus instead on quelling the angst that worries at your food. At the more pleasant low timbre of Jake’s voice, not quite done talking. You realize he’s in the middle of a thought you’ve missed the first half of only to catch the tail end. “So why haven’t we?”

“Haven’t what?” you ask cluelessly, in the midst of losing said stress to several healthy swigs of some Long Island pale ale. 

“Why haven’t we had sex?” 

It’s asked so casually, so passive and without hesitation that you choke mid-gulp. There’s a split second of panic, a flashing image of splattering beer all over yourself, and somehow you force yourself to swallow. Nothing more than a few dribbles pass the corners of your lips, and you smear them away with the back of a shaky hand. 

“Fuck, Jake,” you wheeze.

Jake doesn’t laugh at you, not out loud anyway. But there is a noticeable bounce to his shoulders. “Cool. If that’s the term you prefer. Why haven’t we fucked?” 

The glare you send him this time is real, even if it’s less impactful over the rim of your cup. You chug the rest of its contents to ease away the scratchy rasp in your throat. It’s not like you’ve never discussed sexual things with him before, being friends for a time and well - him being him, it’s sort of inevitable. It’s just never been directed toward you, or rather, the two of you together. To the point where on more than one occasion, you’ve been referred to as the girl he ‘skipped’. Equally frustrating and weirdly resonating inadequacy when you feel -

Nope. Not doing that. You slam the empty cup on the table and take the first normal, deep breath you’ve had in recent minutes.

“You’re not available,” you finally tell him.

“I’m not,” he says, clearly disagreeing. 

“Not in the way I need.”

He hums in consideration. “The way you need… That’s what - emotions? Romantic shit? How stimulating.” 

Also exactly the opposite of how he maneuvers through his own entanglements, and so begs the question how it could possibly pertain to you - if that really is something he’s contemplated before. You cock your head at him, absolutely mystified while he’s predictably nonplussed. He drops his plate next to your empty cup, bare to the bones, before gathering the collective trash, and climbs off the picnic table to toss it away. And when he returns, it’s with an outstretched hand, beckoning.

“Let’s go. We can’t leave until I win you something.”

The irony of the situation is not lost on you as you take it, and once again let him pull you along.

~

As it happens, Jake was not kidding when it came to being good at carnival games. 

It starts at the bottle toss booth, a simple enough concept that when he wins the first round on a single throw, you assume it’s a fluke. But then there’s the second round, and the third, and a fourth for (showing off) good measure - and each time without fail, Jake knocks out every bottle on the first throw. He moves on to balloon darts after that and to your (and the booth operator’s) astonishment, Jake is an image of poise, sipping his beer while popping any balloon he aims at. 

“What.. the fuck?” is all you can say as you watch in awe. Of course, you’ve done miserably; haven’t landed any darts, and you could barely even keep up with the bottle toss. But Jake simply looks pleased with himself, providing no explanation to this hidden corner of his personality. Instead, he peruses over the strung up stuffed animals that make up his winnings.

“Which one do you want?” he asks. When you have a hard time finding your voice to answer, he picks out an oversized teddy bear and shoves it into your arms. And for a moment, he doesn’t quite let go. He blinks down at you and you curse the removal of his sunglasses, something about concentration. The icy blue practically glitters beneath the multicolored flashing lights of festival attractions, and all you can do is stand there, dumbly transfixed. 

A slow smile overtakes him. “Next loser buys the drinks.” 

Another series of wins follow in quick succession. You take turns at a variety of shooter games which, lucky for you, requires slightly less skill. Jake may still get first place, but it’s you who shouts in triumph when you don’t come dead last in a water gun race. 

The classic ring toss is the only obstacle that gives him a challenge. A few dollars spent gets a large bucket of little discs that have technically been made to fit around the mouth of a liter sized bottle, but they never quite stick the landing. Jake insists the strategy is all in how it’s thrown, and though he has his own handful of misfires, eventually he smoothly tosses the rings like he would skipping rocks and lands several back to back. 

It’s impressive enough to warrant some cheers from onlookers; other players who are about as successful as you in their attempts. All the while, Jake’s gloating is a quiet kind; he tilts his head and bats his eyelashes at you, and frankly you’re too astonished to mind.

“You’re like, amazing,” you tell him. 

He straightens immediately like he’s been pinched, and the rosy blemish that suddenly warms his cheeks is all the smug victory you need.

What started simply with just a teddy bear turns into a giraffe with cartoonishly wide plastic eyes. Then a big blue shark with felt teeth, and finally largest of all, a neon green snake with a frilly pink tongue. It's so long, it curls over Jake’s shoulders and still almost brushes the ground while he waits for you to return from the bathroom. 

It’s a sight you have to pause and photograph to memory; notoriously moody, scowling Jake wrangling cute stuffed animals in a chokehold while he smokes a cigarette. You try to keep from laughing but the alcohol in your system does nothing to help. You’re not completely toasted, no, but the buzz in your veins keeps your face flushed, and you cannot stop smiling as you make your way back to him.

The pair of you had lost complete track of time while the afternoon lost itself to twilight, and the Sound now reflects the glowing blues and purples of the sky. Nearby, the school buses are still on their rotation. Families climb on board with their children to depart for things like dinner. Most of the food vendors have closed out for the day, save for the typical carnival fare - soft pretzels, popcorn, corn dogs and such - but the Bay stays thrumming as the crowd shifts into the rowdiness of nightlife activities. 

Jake rolls his eyes when he catches you staring. “Having fun?” 

“Oh, yes,” you emphasize. “Not as much as you, though, huh?” The next bout of laughter becomes an oof! in a gust of air as he thrusts the stuffed animals at you so fast you have to keep from dropping them. Lastly is the snake, even though it suits him. He thoughtfully pulls your hair aside before tucking it around your neck. “S’that some sort’a Cape boy persona you keep locked up in hiding?” Hands full, you pucker your lips at him expectantly. 

“Somethin’ like that,” he admits. He holds the lit cigarette to your mouth and you gratefully pull a drag or two off of it. The tips of his fingers graze your lips, and his eyes flit toward the light touch. “I was.. Kind of a shithead kid back then. In a pack of other shitheads. We’d steal beer, get drunk off a forty. There was the county fair, or the harbor. Turns out I liked throwing things.” 

It’s a rare detail of his adolescence you’ve never heard before, and you’re cradling a stack of stuffed animals. 

“What about you?”

“I sucked.”

“Wasn’t gonna hold that against you. Makes me look better.”

“I, uh, I would try to find out how much funnel cake I could eat before riding the Zipper without throwing up.”

Jake hums with delight, brows almost disappearing into his hairline. “We could go try that right now.” 

“I did actually. Get thrown up on. By my friend. People could see it from the outside, it was - we don’t have to.” 

For the first time today, Jake laughs. It’s boisterous and at a higher pitch than one could expect, and you love it even if it’s caused by the image of you covered in vomit. It makes a small part of you not want the day to end; this pocket of time where it’s just you, and not the stifled air and bull shit drama of the restaurant. But there’s still the trek back to the city, a bus and a train to catch, and at the thought of it small ounce of dread fills your stomach because fuck -

The LIRR is packed. 

You should’ve predicted as much; it’s not only the Long Island residents that need to get home,  but it’s been a minute since you made such a commute, after an event no less, to have considered its capacity. The train has already left the station, streaks through the county with a steady rock and the occasional flicker of the overhead lights, by the time you manage to find a seat after an off-balance weave through train cars - a lone three seater among a sea of loud passengers.

There’s a large group of rowdy boys, college kids from the looks of it, clearly drunk and a fraction of whom are dressed in matching football jerseys. They shout back and forth at each other across the aisles and over the heads of the girls who sit among them. They make a show of snapping at them to quiet down to no avail; ultimately as uninhibited and shrill as the boys are. And music plays from an unknown source, overpowering the volume of the overhead speakers. There’s only one other quiet pair; two women who share a set of earbuds to watch a cellphone streaming from their laps.

Jake props his boot atop the armrest in front of him the moment you both sit down, a force of habit to prevent anyone else from sitting with you. He receives the odd dirty look from stragglers passing by looking for a seat, only to slouch and nestle into your side in petty retaliation. It’s oddly satisfying, like you can hold onto the illusion of being alone with him just a little longer. 

But they keep shuffling through, and a dirty look evolves into an ahem and an eyeroll, and someone even pauses a second too long, and Jake takes it a step further. You were content to feign ignorance, staring out the window while the exchanges played out, but suddenly he’s dragging your arm over his shoulders. He angles toward you, a warm hand slipping around the curve of your thigh, and then his mouth finds the crook of your neck. Your breath hitches as it tucks itself there, trailing feather light kisses along your skin. 

There’s an audible “Oh, whatever,” and receding footsteps and you can feel him smile into your pulse point.  

“Is that totally necessary?” 

“Mhm.” He withdraws but doesn’t go far. Merely tilts his head back, shifting within the circle of your arm until you’re perfectly level with each other. It’s intoxicatingly close; the tip of his straight nose a hair’s breadth away, his eyelashes a dark blur over his cheeks. You can smell him this close. The smokiness of cologne or body wash, and a hint perhaps of something sweet like shampoo. “I don’t wanna share. And your furry little friends weren’t doing the trick.”

“And kissing me was your call to action, huh?” 

He shrugs noncommittally. “Proved effective. Unless they happened to be into watching random strangers fool around. Not that I mind, but -”

“Oh, is that what we’re doing?” you ask dryly.

“I could be. Open to that.” He licks his lips and you gaze steadily back, trying (with futile effort) not to fluster as he smirks. Acutely aware of the hand on your thigh, how his thumb strokes absentmindedly along the inseam of your jeans, stoking something inside that’s growing harder to ignore. “Wouldn’t be the first time.” 

You scoff, momentarily relieved with the urge to laugh. “If this is about the damn disco again -”

“Actually I was thinking of that time in the walk-in.” 

“.. Ah, yeah. That.” As it turns out, mishaps of the past don’t exclusively refer to isolated incidents. You just refuse to dwell on those moments, knowing they’ll never amount to more than just having fun for Jake. Not that there’s anything wrong with that - your heart skips a beat from simply recalling the memory. But feelings.. Complicate things. 

You’re not going to dwell on that now, either, though. Not when there is little subtlety in the way you both inch closer together. Not when you can feel his breath on your lips. Jake’s head tilts, the bridge of his nose brushes along yours. Attraction thuds in your veins to the point that it’s a chore to find your own voice. “So, what you’re saying is, you’ve become one of my bad habits.”

He makes a noise of amusement, closing what minute space is left between you. “It doesn’t have to be bad.” 

“I said - tickets, please.” 

The conductor’s voice jolts you like being snapped out of a trance. It’s a rude awakening - both the intrusion itself, and the jarring transition back into reality. It’s no wonder neither of you heard the first request. Now an actual football is being lobbed around the train car. A chorus of voices sing along to the music blasting, competing with the echoes of multiple conversations occurring at once. Has it been this loud the whole time?

You disentangle from Jake who appears mostly unbothered but for the slightest of sulks as he reorients himself. He pats around his pockets until fishing out two train tickets from his jacket, then hands them over to the conductor. You watch the scene unfold, baffled. It’s quite possibly the most mundane fucking thing that could be happening right now. 

Once the conductor moves on to the next row, you coo sweetly at Jake. “Aw, hon, thanks again for the ticket.”

“Shut up,” he grumbles, then reassumes the position as if the moment had been merely paused. He reaches for you, slipping a hand around the back of your neck, his thumb teasing along your earlobe, and even if it weren’t for the way his mouth seals seamlessly over yours, you’d still be melting instantly. 

You release a trembling sigh, eyelids fluttering closed at the feel of him yielding as the kiss deepens. Jake’s lips part over yours and you open for him immediately, groaning helplessly when he licks into your mouth. The remnants of cheap beer and cigarettes evaporate into something entirely, pleasantly him. The headiness of his spit, the furl of his tongue. It’s dizzying, and arousing. Your surroundings fade back into white noise yet adrenaline surges through your limbs, leaving you to clutch at him desperately. Seeking purchase in the fabric of his shirt, a sleeve of his jacket, anything you can reach, and one can only assume he warms to the notion from the way his body gives.

He surges even further into you, pressing you as far back as you can go without meeting resistance, and just as you worry the twist of your spine to accommodate might grow tiresome, a series of long dragged out squeaks wheezes from the nondescript pile at your backside.

“Not quite the response I was looking for,” Jake murmurs between kisses.  “Gonna make me regret winning those for you, huh?”

“Not on your life,” you retort, voice a breathless thing. You gaze up at him, swallowing hard at the sight of him like this; pupils dilated, darkening the shade of his eyes with dramatic effect when the lights flicker again. You graze your fingertips over his lips, spit-slick and swollen, then smile and try to tease with - “Think I might just name one after you-”

The thought is abruptly cut short when his mouth descends upon yours once more. His thumb presses into the hinge of your jaw, tongue slipping greedily along yours the moment you part for him. Hungrier this time, as if each interruption only makes him more impatient. His hands quickly trade places; one cups the back of your head, keeping you stubbornly in place as he steals the air from your lungs. While the other threads down the scope of your torso, breezes over your hip and maneuvers beneath your legs and - the comfort is an instant relief when he pulls them over his lap. 

It gives him freer reign this way. You arch into his touch as his fingers slip beneath the hem of your shirt, and he breaks the kiss with gasping breaths. Seeks reprieve in the curve of your jaw. Not remotely dwelling on the wanton display that anyone could simply look over the edge of their seat only to witness him finding the sensitive spot of your throat where his lips pucker and suck, the noises he makes shooting sparks of pleasure deep in your belly. 

“Jake,” you warn through clenched teeth. It’s not so much that you want him to stop - quite the opposite while you try to resist writhing over his lap. It just might make for a small problem while you’re on a fucking train. 

But he makes a disapproving sound, something like a huff in your ear, then sharply nips something fierce around your skin. You lurch despite your efforts, let slip a strangled moan. Then he soothes the mark with the heated drag of his tongue, and you’re melting all over again, whimpering as his breath raises goosebumps along the trail of saliva.

“Just like that.” His voice is breathy, muffled as he kisses his way back up the line of your jaw. “Is that what you like?” 

Fuck, you want him. Little thought is spared on anything but him as his hands never quite stop moving, from grazing your bare rib cage to grabbing your ass. Your needy fingertips card through the black mess of his hair, tearing him back to your mouth, and Jake fulfills. Kissing you hard and slow. Growing bolder as he feels you squirm for any semblance of relief. His touch slips down your belly, curls along the zipper of your jeans. And when his hand sinks between your thighs, the last fleeting, coherent thought you do have is that at least no one will be able to hear a single sound you make. 

~

A transfer at Jamaica and a subway ride later finally sees you back to familiar streets. It's well into the evening now, the cityscape lit up with its typical bright neon glow. It floods the sidewalks while you walk, milling through an altogether different type of crowd as you make way for the restaurant. 

It’s almost inevitable, winding up there every night. Regardless of the complaining, the more-often-than-not haughty guests, Howard managing with his quirks, the restaurant remains a single constant for most of the staff, and even on a rare day off, you still come crawling back to its doorstep. 

The sight of its stoop on the street corner, well lit beneath its overpriced lanterns, makes it almost seem like a typical Sunday. The main difference being that your arrival isn’t usually accompanied by an armful of stuffed animals. Nor do you make a habit of reporting to work while painfully horny. The walk has done you some good in that respect; it feels like you’ve been properly, thoroughly edged. 

The ride on the train took a turn you.. weren’t expecting - though it certainly made for a way to pass the time. It’s as if you can still feel Jake’s lips on yours, still taste a remnant of him. Like the very scent of him has buried itself somewhere deep inside your lungs. The aforementioned makeout sessions do not hold a candle to what has just occurred, as mostly over the clothes as it was. Voyeurism isn’t really your thing, and though you wouldn’t hold it past Jake to be up to task, it was the closest you’ve toed a line in that territory, and you feel - you feel. That cliche spark, that flutter in your chest as powerful as the ache of arousal in your belly.

It wasn’t just the kissing, either. It was the heavy petting, it was the talking in between. Telling Jake about your first broken bone, learning how he split his chin open skateboarding when he was a teenager - still has the scar that’s hidden by the usual scruff of his facial hair. You wonder if he feels it, too. Felt anything at all or if it was just having fun, which, to reaffirm to your current overthinking state of mind, is still okay. 

You chance a glance at him walking beside you, his own expression unreadable as ever as he smokes another cigarette. Just moments ago, his lips were kissed swollen. His pale skin heated with a flush that ran low beneath the collar of his shirt. And now, the only remnant left behind is the muss of his hair.

But the restaurant inches closer. Service is over by now. The both of you could walk inside, join those partaking in shift drinks, wind up at a bar later, then go your separate ways. Or you could.. ask for more. See if there is an ounce of weight to what he brought up earlier. His pace slows short of making it to the entrance, intent to finish his cigarette, and now is as good a time as any. 

“Hey, so -” you suddenly remember the stuffed animals cradled in your arm, and for the second time tonight feel a little foolish. But there’s still some liquid courage left in you yet. Some bolstered confidence from the days’ events. 

“So, I know we’ll probably go for drinks and whatnot, but later…” You’re stood between him and the building and Jake steps closer; whether to shield you both from passerby or impose with his body some more is unclear as his gazes sharpens, pinned on you while a plume of smoke cascades from his nostrils, and he raises a questioning brow. God, you are so fucking fucked but you’re smiling and shaking your head as you finish your thought. “Later, maybe you’d wanna come back to my place?” 

There’s the slightest lift to the corner of his lips. His head tilts back in appraisal.

“Okay.” 

You blink rapidly. “Okay?”

“Yes,” he enunciates with a little more gumption, appearing amused. Definitely imposing now as he moves even closer until you are nose to chest. “I’d like that. But, uh.. You should know.” He dips his head as if to kiss you again, and quite honestly, you’re not sure if you can remain standing if he does. “I’m unavailable.” 

A snort of laughter erupts from your throat, and even as he leans in, you can’t resist a roll of your eyes before they flutter closed and -

The front door of the restaurant bursts open and the moment is quickly lost to a series of recognizable voices: Ari, Sasha, Heather and Will. Scott with a few guys from the kitchen. All talking a mile a minute as they file down the stairs and swarm over the sidewalk. 

It’s Scott that notices you first. “Hey, look who finally decided to show up. Lookin’ like a bunch’a fuckin’ dorks.” He purposely knocks his shoulder into Jake’s as he strides past, tossing a vague gesture behind him. “C’mon, shitheads, I’m fuckin’ hungry!” 

“Ooh, what’s this?” Sasha tugs at the snake and drapes it around himself like a feathered boa before striking a pose. “I’m keeping this one.”

“No fuckin’ way!” you snap, just as Ari plucks the shark from your grasp.

“I thought you were going to an oyster festival,” she drawls, inspecting the toy. “Didn’t think that meant a carnival, too. I’m working my ass off all day..”

“Okay, just don’t drop them please? Jake won them for me.” You immediately regret your choice of words as they come to a complete halt. 

“Jake did what now?” Ari asks, her eyes - along with Sasha’s and Heather’s - flicker up at him in genuine shock. Will merely chuckles as he passes, trailing after Scott and the crew. 

Jake’s face stretches with a dry smile. “Fuck off, Ari.”

“Y’know for someone who doesn’t date, you’re awfully fucking good at it.” 

“Jake? Good at dating? Now that’s one I’ve never heard before.”

So occupied by the current company, you had taken no notice of Simone’s approach. She’s out of her stripes, donned in her well maintained image of class. An expensive knit sweater, pressed pants. Her signature red lipstick is freshly applied, and her long blond locks are left to cascade softly across her shoulders.

She looks you up and down as she draws near, taking in your appearance but not quite meeting your eye before looking coolly at Jake. “You didn’t tell me this was a date.” 

Her tone is coy enough, but not a single one of you is under the false impression that there isn’t more underlying to what she says. Sasha makes a comment under his breath and Heather quickly jabs an elbow into his side to quiet him.

“They’re just teasing, Simone.” You snatch the shark back from Ari, feeling annoyed. Like you’re being scolded by a school teacher when you haven’t done anything wrong. “It wasn’t a date, we just had -”

“I’m glad you two had a good time,” she finishes for you, and when her gaze finally meets yours, it’s like this conversation has somehow escalated into a standoff, and each bystander lights up a cigarette during the tense pause. 

Eventually, Simone flicks her hair. “Impeccable timing, Jake... Walk me home?”

Fuck. You hate the way your stomach plummets at that.

You look up at him, clinging to some notion that he’ll deny her just this once, that he has felt something, that he wants to see the rest of the night through. That he wants - you.

But at the very moment you see his face, you know that’s not happening. For a second, he looks back at you, mouth hanging open around unspoken words. And when Simone calls his name again, you watch him shut down completely. 

“Sure,” he intones.

“Alright, c’mon babygirl.” Sasha grasps you by the arm in effort to tug you away. Follow after Will and Scott who’ve likely made it a couple of blocks down the road by now. 

You falter on the first step as if you’d been glued to the spot, stubbornly staring at Jake, trying desperately to swallow around the sting of disappointment and rejection so it’s not plain for him - or anyone else - to see.

You think you manage to tell Jake ‘goodnight’, but then your back is turned on him and you let Sasha steer you away with the girls.

The three of them link arms with you tucked somewhere in between. It’s apparent you’ve done well steeling yourself; there’s a bounce to their steps as they carry on as before, talking one over the other with no regard to whatever the fuck it was that just occurred. Onward to what you can only hope is a repeat of last night, with little left over to remember come morning.

#jake sweetbitter #tom sturridge #sweetbitter #jake sweetbitter x reader #my fic #no use of y/n

[tsintotwo]

Okay, so here’s the fic masterpost I’ve been meaning to make for ages. Most things I write, I don’t ever name. So I’ll make do with descriptions. The list is in chronological order of me posting these on tumblr.  

1. [The Sandman]- Dream x You HELLA NSFW (minors away!) fic. I mean it- the NSFW is the plot. One day I randomly thought ‘You know what I wanna write? A little teasing-type post about kissing Morpheus.’ Then I actually started writing it, and one thing led to another, and long story short here are the links to the three-parts, completed. You’ll see for yourself. Part 1. Part 2. Part 3. 

2.  [The Sandman]- AU!Dream x You, lil dark fantasy. Finished. 

3.  [The Sandman]- Dream x You, being with Morpheus, prompted by Midnights (Taylor Swift) tracklist. Had the idea for it when Midnights came out. It was supposed to be 13 little snippets: some fluff, some angst, and just Morpheus-love overall. Well, I got to track 5 before getting distracted by some completely different idea and abandoning this. :( In that sense, it is unfinished. But on the other hand, since each track name is its own little story, it now exists as a set of five completed snippets. Tracks 1- 4. Track 5.

4. [Sweetbitter]- 59 Hours, Jake x You. (Yep, I actually wrote Sweetbitter/Jake fanfic and yep, this one actually has a name). I have this up on ao3 and this is the summary I wrote for it there:  “When a sudden blizzard in NYC ruins havoc on everything including your plans, a stranger offers you shelter in their apartment. You don't know yet, but you two are going to be stuck there together for 59 hours- knowing and learning each other, doing things you couldn't imagine with anyone else, being something for each other in a way that feels too fast, too confusing, too reckless. How do you say goodbye to this, and yet, how do you hold onto something so fragile?” Sort of a Good Girl x Bad Boy thing. Angst, smut, feels. Six chapters. Complete. TW: Drugs, mention of s**cide. 

Two things. One: I’ve had multiple people tell me that they never actually watched Sweetbitter, but loved this. So, if you haven’t watched the show, don’t let that be the thing that stops you if you’re otherwise interested. With all its B flaws and despite me not actually being a fan of the show, this is one of my most favorite things I’ve ever written. And two: HELLA NSFW WARNING!!!!!

Part 1. Part 2. Part 3. Part 4. Part 5. Part 6.

5. [The Sandman]- Dream x Reader. (If you, as a regular human woman, ever were to meet Morpheus in the real world, it could go something like this...)

Finished.

6. [The Sandman]- Dream x Reader. (You are a Dream Vortex, he is the Lord of Dreams- you know. Your typical meet-cute. NOT.) 

Now, you’d think as a writer I’d have a better hold of things like potential story length, overall finish timeline, etc., but nope. Not at all, I am ashamed to say. This story became a behemoth, and really it’s way too much for tumblr. But I also can’t not write when there’s good material in my head just begging to be let out. So what I have now is some very long chapters and a promise of the last one. I will say there’s stuff in this dark story that I really, really love, so maybe it won’t disappoint you either if you’re actually willing to invest time reading it. TW: Graphic violence, sexual assault, r*pe, child abuse. 

Part 1. Part 2. Part 3. Part 4. Part 5.  

That is it, actually. I either write nothing or way too much- much like most everything else I do, but unlike most everything else I do, I can tell you that writing actually makes me feel like I know what I’m doing. When I write- be it original work or fanfic- I know my place in the world. That’s something, isn’t it?

***Later addition:

7. POV: Morpheus is obessed with you.

(What even is this? Well, at least it's finished. And NSFW, so there's that as well.)

#fanfic #fic #the sandman #dream of the endlless #morpheus #the sandman fanfic #dream x reader #morpheus x reader #sweetbitter #jake #jake x reader #tom sturridge

[thepaintedlady00]

Nightshade

Chapter 22 | Chapter 24

Holy shit it's been a minute! Hi y'all! I'm back! Life's been absolutely insane lately and finding the time or the inspiration to write has just been really hard the past month or so. So, sorry this has taken so long to get out, but to make it up to y'all here's a 40 PAGE chapter! 😅😂 TW: THIS TW CONTAINS MAJOR SPOILERS! The usual, language, smoking, drinking, mentions of drugs and alcohol, some very painful memories, mentions of abuse/neglect, mentions/descriptions of nudity and inappropriate photos of a minor, violence, blood, character death, panic attacks, general not so good stuff is gonna go down, unhealthy coping mechanisms (aka ignoring all the shit going wrong until we can't anymore), make out scenes, dirty talk, some minor roleplay if you squint, and finally some fuckin SMUT! Yeah, the will they won't they train has FINALLY left the station! We've got some teasing, foreplay, oral female & male receiving (kind of a little), penetration, nipple play, idk what else to tell ya xD And a little bit of unhealty family drama at the end of it :) Also it's super late where I live so this chapter was very VERY roughly edited, so if ya see any mistakes, no you don't xD

Chapter 23: Oysters & Champagne

The greatest changes happen with time. It is the slow, steady progression that paves the way forward for bigger, brighter things. The shift between day and night, the methodical building of new cities and roads, and the lowering of one's guard to allow connection and emotion to take hold. The greatest things often happen slowly, then all at once.

As I watched Jake sign to Prue from across the diner table, taking her feedback with a determination I wouldn't have expected from him when we'd first met, it was hard not to think of Rada's old saying. “Slowly, then all at once,” Rada explained as she helped guide my brush into lighter, slower strokes. “See? Rome was not built in a day my Lena, your painting will not be perfected in that time either.”

So much had changed in the past months that it was hard to even remember how it all began. In the beginning, Jake had been just another annoying bad-boy bartender that wanted a quick easy fuck and I'd been just another closed-off, flighty back waiter. Yet, here we were, sitting side by side in a diner booth. It was strange to think that when we'd first met I wanted nothing to do with him or his flirtatious advances and now… Now I couldn't imagine a moment without him.

“Okay, okay, let me try this,” he said with a sly grin. “Your boyfriend is a pussy.”

Prue rolled her eyes, but admitted, “You're improving.”

“Thank you,” he beamed, clearly pleased with himself and his joke.

She reached over the table and flicked his head. “You're an ass.”

Jake rubbed his forehead as I laughed. “You deserved that.”

“Worth it.”

As we happily resumed eating our breakfasts the diner door opened and slammed shut. Quinn tore her jacket off and threw it into the booth as she slid in and picked up her menu. It'd been like this for a few days. Quinn would show up pissed off about something, we'd ask, she'd tell us it was nothing and then she'd get drunk every night. It was an obvious cycle of coping, the question was what she was coping with.

Prue and I shared a glance, trying to work out the best way to approach the subject. Jake, however, just went straight into speaking, “What's crawled up your ass?”

“Nothing,” she ground out glaring at him from behind her menu.

He laughed. “And you call me grumpy.”

Something in her finally broke. “Fuck you, at least I have a reason to be so grumpy!”

“Yeah?” He continued to press, the asshole in him just unable to contain his glee at getting a rise out of someone. “Like what?”

“Like my dumbass fucking dad showing up!”

The silence that followed was interrupted by the sound of our forks clacking against the plates. Quinn's dad was something serious, something that rarely came up anymore but serious all the same. He was a known addict who spent her entire childhood bouncing between neglect and full-fledged abuse. When Quinn lived across the street from us we could hear him yelling and throwing things at all hours of the day. At night he'd leave, sometimes for weeks at a time, and Quinn would essentially come and live with us until her dad came pounding on our door demanding his kid back.

My dad had beat the shit out of him more times than I could remember, but other than that there wasn't much we could do, not when Quinn refused to let us. For years she held out hope that her dad would one day get things figured out and they could be a real family. That hope died when she turned sixteen and he disappeared. After she'd grown up and gotten on her own two feet he started showing up at random asking for money or a place to stay while he “figured some things out”, but that always ended the same. With Quinn brokenhearted.

“Your dad's back in town?” I asked. “Why didn't you say anything?”

“It doesn't matter,” she responded.

“Yes, it does! We all know what he puts you through, Quinn. We could-”

“You could do nothing because unlike you I don't have two big brothers and a drug dealer on speed dial.” The harsh words settled over the table, sinking into both of us for a minute before Quinn shook her head and relented to the tired ache in her. “I… I'm sorry, Lee. I didn't mean that.”

“It's okay,” I reassured her, reaching across the table to take her hand. “I know.”

Tears built in her eyes but she wouldn't cry, not because of him, not ever again. “I told him to fuck off already so he's probably halfway back into whatever hole he crawled out of.”

Prue put her arm around Quinn's shoulder and hugged her. “Want us to stay with you? I can close up shop for the day.”

“I can call in,” I offered.

“I can say pussy,” Jake added, getting a laugh out of her. “Seriously though, I dunno what they're saying but… Fuck your dad.”

She sniffled and shook off the wave of sorrow. “Thanks, all of you, but I'm good.”

Holding out her pinky Prue gave her a look. “Pinky swear?”

Quinn shook it and nodded. “Pinky swear.”

“And, just for the record,” I said, “My brothers would always come to help you, Quinn. So would Dom. You're not alone.”

“I know,” she whispered, but I could see what was left unsaid in her eyes. It's not the same. We may have been Quinn's found family, but the hurt in her was the same as Patrick felt. She knew she wasn't blood… She knew if it came to a choice between me and her my brothers would choose me every time. And nothing I said or did would change her mind on it.

The ring of Jake's phone broke the uneasy silence. He checked the number with narrow eyes. “It's Dom.”

“Dom's calling you?” Quinn questioned, forcing herself to relax even just partially.

“Okay, what did you guys do that day I was gone?” I teased. “First he's actually using your government name, then he's calling you on the phone?”

Jake shushed me as he answered. “Hey, what's up? Uh… No, I don't. Sure, I guess. Yeah, see you in a bit.”

“What was that about?”

“Apparently I'm getting a couch and a TV.”

I shook my head and nudged him. “Seriously, what did you do?”

Jake shrugged, taking a final bite of his food before standing. “Don't worry bout it, Princess. See you at work.”

“See you at work,” I replied. “Don't break any legs trying to move that shit into your tiny apartment.”

He flipped me off as he made his way out the diner door and headed out. When I turned back to the table Quinn and Prue were both grinning at me. “You've seen his apartment now?”

“It's not a big deal,” I replied.

“Is this part of that juicy phone call I intercepted a while ago?” Her eyebrows rose. “A sexy debt if I remember correctly.”

“I have no clue what you're talking about.”

Prue slapped her hands on the table. “Spill it!”

“There's nothing to spill,” I insisted.

“Bullshit!” Quinn interjected. “You were gone all day.”

With a roll of my eyes and a giddy, girlish feeling making my stomach fill with butterflies I caved. “We just hung out and took a few pictures with his camera.”

Quinn's brows wiggled. “Sexy pictures?”

“Maybe…” 

Prue happily squeaked. “Oh my god did you two finally-”

“No.”

Quinn groaned, throwing her head back. “Oh my god! Just fuck already!”

I shook my head. “Classy, Quinn.”

“Seriously!” She continued. “I feel like I'm getting blue balled and I'm not even involved in your almost fucks!”

“Just think about how great it would feel to finally do it,” Prue added. “I know I was absolutely buzzing when Will and I finally did!”

“I…” With a sigh I looked down and quickly, quietly admitted. “I have thought about it.”

Quinn quickly translated for Prue and both of them became insatiable for the rest of breakfast.

*

Jake watched the bikers easily maneuver the decently sized couch and the modest TV around the stairs and up into his apartment. He'd attempted to help a few times but quickly got told to “bugger off” by what looked like an eighty-year-old man, so he just stood and watched. Dom stood next to him, silently observing before he finally asked, “Well, what do you think?”

“It looks good,” he answered. “Still a bit confused as to why you're giving me this shit but hey, frees free.”

Dom chuckled, a real chuckle. “I don't got the room for it, besides, you earned it.”

Shaking his head, Jake once again reiterated the facts. “I didn't do anything. I just-”

“You just protected her,” Dom finished for him. “That ain’t nothin’, Jake.”

“Yeah, but I don't need… Payment or anything for it.” He looked at Dom, meeting the hardened eyes. “I didn't do it for that.”

“I know.” The drug dealer clapped him on the shoulder. “Consider it a gift then.”

“Didn't take you for a guy that gave out gifts.”

“I'm not, so just say thank you and we'll never speak of it again.”

Jake chuckled. “Thank you, Dom.”

“Shut up,” he answered, nodding to the new space. “It's a bit crowded.”

With a shrug, Jake just examined the soft leather. “It's not too bad. I'm used to tight spaces.”

Hemingway leaped onto the sofa, purring as he rubbed the soft leather on his skin. “Well, at least the cat likes it.” Dom watched the others leave and moved to follow. “Call me if you can't get the TV workin'. I'll have John come out and fix it.”

“John's the one that calls me a twit, right?”

“Yep.”

“I'm sure the TV works fine.” He waved them off and closed the door, staring at the tiny living room he now had set up.

It wasn't perfect or fancy, most people would even argue that it was too much for the already cramped space, but Jake kind of liked it. His chair had gotten pushed into the back corner with his guitar on top of it. The edges of the couch left only a little room for people to slide past to the bathroom, but he rarely had company over so that didn't matter much. The TV fit on top of one of his shelves and left enough room for him to put DVDs or VHS tapes up too. He'd moved the thin coffee table he never used into the center of the space, pushing it up against the shelf a bit so there was enough legroom for the couch and then he sat down.

“Well,” he asked, turning towards the cat. “What do you think?”

Hemingway's only response was a loud purr as he curled up on the section of couch that was bathed in sunlight. 

Jake chuckled at the creature and settled into the leather, resting his head against the back of the couch. “Yeah, it's pretty nice.”

*

22West was relatively quiet when I got in. The kitchen was almost done with prep work and from what I could tell we weren't overbooked. The locker room was empty and stayed empty as I changed into my work attire. It felt kind of nice, to have a moment of quiet to myself at the start of a hopeful easy shift.

Jake set his bike down by the door and quickly entered, hair still disheveled. I closed my locker and smirked at him. “You're running later than normal.”

“I fell asleep,” he answered, practically tearing the locker open and throwing his newly returned jacket to me. I opened my mouth to protest, but he just gave me a look over his shoulder, “Just let this one be easy for me tonight?”

“Fine,” I agreed, reopening my locker and shoving the jacket inside. “Just this once.”

“Thanks, princess.”

“How was moving your couch in?”

Jake just chuckled. “I barely touched the damn thing. The bikers took care of everything.”

I nodded in agreement. “Yeah, they're pretty efficient when they wanna be. So, are you ever gonna spill the beans on why you're all so buddy-buddy all of a sudden?”

He glanced at me, a fleeting thing shining in his eyes before he looked down at his tie and shrugged. “There’s nothing to tell, really. I just came looking for you and they… Respected that.”

Glaring at him through narrow eyes I reached up and helped him with his tie. “Likely story.”

“You worried they'll start to like me better than you?” He teased.

“As if!” I laughed. “You're not nearly that charming.”

With a smirk, Jake leaned forward, “So how charming do you think I am?”

Humming in thought I knew the real answer. The instant, resounding too charming filled my brain for a minute before I answered. “I'd say you're a solid four.”

“Four?!” He scoffed. “I'm higher than four.”

“You certainly think so,” I replied with a wicked grin, my hands smoothing down his chest. His phone buzzed against the metal material of his locker. “I'll save you a plate, sweetie.”

Rolling his eyes he answered with a simple, “Thanks.”

Once I'd emerged from the kitchen the noise that the restaurant had been absent of, filled the space. Everyone was gathered around the wall instead of at the table eating. They whispered to one another, giggling and making suggestive faces. “What are we giggling about?”

Sasha smirked, giddily grabbing my wrist to pull me towards the wall. “We are just admiring the new painting that has graced our humble restaurant!”

The crowd parted and my heart stopped dead in my chest. There, hanging on the wall in front of me was, well, me. My portrait. My nude portrait. I felt lightheaded, my vision blurring, and the voices of everyone joking and teasing were suddenly drowned out by a loud, shrill ringing. 

It wasn't the sight of my nude body that filled me with a sense of dread. Though I still hated the sight of it - of what it had originally represented - it was the large splatter of crimson that stained the canvas that truly made my heart sink. It was the vivid and violent contrast between the soft hues of acrylic and the hard flakes of dried blood.

My brush slid along the canvas, the bright hues of blue and yellow, and lavender contrasting against the neutral skin tones of my self-portrait. I'd struggled to look at it, the fleshy rendering of my mostly nude figure. Its imperfections made me feel even more inadequate than I already did, the reference photo being one of the first that Tony had taken of me. That was his art, dressing and posing me to look perfect - to look like the beautiful and obedient woman he always said I'd grow into.

Truthfully I hadn't even considered painting something for this upcoming gala, having known well in advance they only wanted nudes or mostly sos to display. That wasn't what I painted, nor was it something I was particularly interested in doing, but Tony had insisted. So, there it was in all its hideous, imperfect glory. The portrait of a self I didn't even feel was me, but rather the hollow husk everyone else wanted. Everyone but Rada.

She peered over her shoulder, watching me paint for a moment as she cleaned the penthouse living room. The look on her face told me that she hated it as much as I did. But, she said nothing about how cold and lifeless it felt or about how she thought it in poor taste to paint a fourteen-year-old nude. Rada just kept cleaning, offering me what reassurance she could, like she always did. And like always, just knowing she was here was enough.

The elevator dinged open and Jules held Tony up, guiding him to the nearest chair and helping him get settled. It was obvious that he'd just got back from one of his benders on the flight back from France so I tried to keep my eyes to myself. Tony was never predictable per se, but he was always constant. His violence was never random, nor was it ever out of the blue. But, that changed when he got high enough.

“I'll go get the doctor, just to be certain you haven't taken too much.”

He chuckled. “Ever loyal, my dear friend. Some in the house could learn from you.”

The jab was obviously meant for me, but I kept my eyes on my painting, hoping it would spare me his anger for at least tonight. Jules exited quickly and with him gone, everything fell apart. The first noise I heard was the sound of metal clinking against the marble countertop, and the next was the bone-chilling sound of the cylinder of his revolver spinning. 

My brush froze on the canvas, ears honing into the slow steps he took toward me before he hauled me up by the hair. “Let's play a game, baby girl.”

“I…” The words struggled to find their way from my throat as my eyes caught Rada's. “I have to finish my painting for the gala tomorrow.”

“It can wait,” he insisted, throwing me back into the counter and pinning me against it.

He spun the cylinder again, a crazed grin settling on his lips as he held it to his head and pulled the trigger twice. As always, he laughed when I flinched and then forced the gun into my hand. “I don't-” His finger forced my own down onto the trigger.

The game played out like it always did until Tony's smile faltered and a rage seemed to fill his eyes. “Do you love me?”

I'd spoken the words so many times before then, but for some reason, I froze. My brain screamed at me, begging me to say it - to tell him I loved him, but deep in my heart I knew the truth. I don't love you. This isn't love. The rage spilled from his eyes, overtaking his face as he struck me hard enough to make my head hit the counter. The blow was enough to force the words out, “I do! You know I love you!”

“Is that right?” He spat, carelessly tossing the gun onto the counter and holding my head down on it. I gripped at him, searching for skin to scratch or anything to get him off me. “You didn't seem so sure just a moment ago.”

“No! I'm sure! I… I was just confused!”

“Confused?” He laughed, a sound that sent chills up my spine and made my muscles all tense. “Stupid girl. Do you even understand?” He hauled me up, holding my face in one of his hands so hard I could feel my jaw crack. “You're alive because I want you. If it weren't for me, you'd be nothing!”

“I know!” My lips trembled as I blinked back tears. “I'm nothing without you, Tony. I know that. Please…”

I prepared myself for another bout of his laughter, or another blow maybe, but neither came. Instead, I heard the cock of Tony's gun and a surprised… Annoyed sound leave his throat. “What do you think you're doing?”

“Let go of her,” Rada demanded. From the corner of my blurred vision, I could just barely see her, standing at the end of the counter pointing Tony's gun at him with slightly trembling hands. “You let her go now, or I swear on all of God's holy saints I will kill you.”

He laughed then, that deep, boisterous one that sent terror through me. Turning his head Tony smiled at me. “Seems you're not the only one that's forgotten their place.”

Through the tight grip of his hands, I begged, pleaded with him, “Please…”

With one harsh shove, my head collided with the counter enough to make my ears ring and my vision spin. I could hear his footsteps and the quiet sound of the gun's trigger being pulled.

Click.

Fear, desperate and heavy, filled my lungs and stole my breath as I scrambled to find my bearings.

Click.

Click.

Click.

Bang.

My vision cleared just in time to watch Rada collapse half on top of my painting. Blood gushed from the side of her neck, spraying across the canvas and staining the carpet. A sharp breath finally filled my lungs, yet I still found them breathless. “NO!”

I scrambled forward, pressing my hands to her neck and desperately trying to apply enough pressure to stop the bleeding. Her body shook beneath me, at least it felt that way… It could have been my own shaking. Through the sound of her gurgling breaths, I could hear Tony laughing. “L… Le…”

“Shh,” I urged. “Don't talk. Just hold on. Someone's gonna help.”

Rada smiled, tears filling her eyes as she struggled to lift a hand to lovingly brush my hair behind my ear. “My… Bea…utifil…” Blood splattered across my face as she coughed. “Da… Daugh…”

I could feel her skin grow cold as her chest stuttered and then stopped. “No! Mama please!” I sobbed, moving my hands to shake her shoulders. “Don't leave me here! Mama!”

“What's happened?” Jules’ voice cut through my screams as he burst into the room.

Tony, still laughing, waved him off. “One of the maids got a bit too bold. Don't worry, my friend, I took care of it.”

Rage filled me, rage and grief and a forever-festering desire to end it all. Chest heaving and lungs burning I stood and turned to the kitchen as Jules helped Tony back to his seat. I grabbed a knife from the counter and ran forward with a wail. Tony's eyes shined at the sight of me and the knife flying toward him as if this was what he wanted. Jules turned his head and with no hesitation, he threw himself between Tony and me.

Blood, hot and sticky, splashed my hands and face as my knife met flesh.

*

Jake glared at the message on his phone, a sense of regret and shame making him feel sick to his stomach. 

Won't be back for another day or two. - Simone

When Jake had finally worked up the courage to answer her calls on Thanksgiving morning she'd been livid. She screamed at him for being so selfish and childish and demanded he stop with his attitude and come with her. He'd held his ground, of course, but the sting of her anger always made him feel like a pathetic eight-year-old boy being scolded. Jake had said sorry. He'd texted her, checking in, he even tried to call, but she'd given him nothing in response until now.

He breathed out a frustrated breath and put his phone back in his pocket, shutting his locker and hurrying downstairs to distract himself from the weight of his feelings with food and his friends gossiping. That, however, was not what he walked into. The group gathered around one of the walls, laughing and asking questions when he approached. “The fucks everyone pissing themselves over?”

Ari shifted, revealing more of the large painting that now hung on the wall of the restaurant. Jake’s jaw dropped at the sight of a nude figure - a body he'd grown most familiar with in the past months. If he'd been unsure at all, the bold curves of her name labeling the corner of the piece erased it. Lena. 

The redhead in question stood, frozen staring up at it as Sasha talked and teased in her ear. A cold shiver crawled up his spine at the sight of her. This wasn't just some embarrassing nude portrait. This was something else. Something that made her spine stiffen and her skin lose its color. 

Jake shoved past everyone and moved between Lena and Sasha. The Russian cursed at him in the foreign language. “What the hell?”

“Fuck off Sasha!”

With a prideful scoff, he turned away, shooing the crowd. “Bossy bossy!”

“Lena,” Jake whispered, reaching out for her. His fingers barely grazed her arm before she recoiled, a quick reaction he would have missed if he'd not been paying attention. She turned and looked at him with glossy eyes and a dead expression that made his gut tighten and his heart drop. “Lena?”

With a sharp exhale and a staggering step, she was moving. She stepped around him, shoved through the crowd and across the lobby. Her body flung itself through the kitchen doors and Jake followed, not even sure if it was what she'd want. The second he entered behind her he found her hunched over the garbage, throwing up the breakfast they'd shared. The kitchen crew all made noises of disgust and Scott dropped his utensils to turn and look at the disruption. “What the hell, Red?”

Lena composed herself, wiping the spit from her mouth with a shaking hand. “S-sorry chef.”

“Are you good now?” Scott asked, his tone as harsh and uncaring as it always was, but his eyes narrowed in concern.

Isaac had dropped everything and rushed to the front of the line, held off only by her raising a hand to stop him as she shook her head. “I… Just…” She looked like she was about to puke again, but held it back. “I just need a minute.”

As she turned toward the stairs, not meeting his eyes, Jake felt his worry shift to anger. This had to be him. The Anthony that Dom had told him about. And in that moment, Jake understood Patrick's bitterness about how little he truly knew. He felt unprepared - unequipped to offer Lena any help, but even with that aching feeling, Jake followed her up the stairs. He'd be there, no matter what she needed from him, Jake would be there.

*

I knew I was moving, talking. I could feel each strained movement and hear each shaky reply. None of it registered. In my mind, I was still standing in front of that painting… Still in the penthouse living room watching my mom bleed out. I was stuck, or my mind was, reliving that moment over and over again while my body just kept moving on autopilot.

“What can we do when we feel stuck?” Dad asked.

“Keep moving.”

“Keep moving. Find something to ground you.”

“Keep moving,” I murmured to myself as I stumbled up the stairs. “Just keep moving.”

I could hear someone following me up, but I didn't stop or look back. I just had to keep going. One foot in front of the other. When I finally made it to the locker room bathroom I barely registered slamming the door shut and fumbling for the knobs of the faucet. It felt like my head was spinning with the noise and the heat and the nausea.

“Get out,” I told myself in the mirror trying to focus on my face and drown out the sound of Tony's laugh with the running water. “Get out.”

“Stupid girl. Do you even understand?”

I was going to throw up again. “Get out.”

“If it weren't for me, you'd be nothing.”

A pounding came from the door as it got harder and harder to breathe. “Get out.”

“I'm the only one that could ever love you.”

In the background, I heard the door open, but whoever was standing in it was distorted… Replaced by Tony's laughing face and his thin frame. It isn't real, I told myself, but my body was already gone. Desperate panic forced the shrill cry from my lips, “GET OUT!”

Whoever it was vanished, but the fear didn't go with them. Every inch of me shook as I scrambled to find a foothold in reality. I needed something, anything to keep me from passing out. “Find something to ground you.”

There was one thing that would keep me going. One thing I could use. I turned the cold water off and stuck my hands beneath the boiling water. The pain made everything else fade away, forcing my body to stay on its feet and pulling my mind to the present. My heart hammered in my chest and a pained cry echoed in my ears as I stared into my own reflection.

Tears stained my cheeks and my hair had tiny clumps of throw up in it. It wasn't pretty, but it was real. I was here. The door opened again and Isaac opened his mouth, obviously having prepared something to say. That something vanished as he watched the steam rise up from the sink and he realized what I was doing. He ran forward and turned the water off, switching it to cold as he looked at my red hands. “Shit!”

“I couldn't get out,” I whispered in a broken… Pathetic voice.

Isaac held me from behind, keeping my hands beneath the now-cold water as I began to shake again. The pain was gone and without it, everything else started to creep back in. “It's okay, Lena. It's okay.”

“I…” A breathless whine caught in my throat. “I can't get out.”

“You're out,” he answered. “You're here.”

“I… I…” My body lurched forward, bile spewing from my mouth as panic began to set back in.

Isaac squeezed my hands and stammered before he released me. “Okay… Fuck… Okay, I… I'm gonna call Peter.”

I shut my eyes, setting my head against the chilled sink. “Getoutgetoutgetoutgetout.”

Without even really thinking I shut the cold water off and reached for the hot water knob. Find something to ground yourself. A hand settled on top of mine as a new body settled in Isaac's place behind me, one I recognized instantly. “Stop.” 

Jake.

Standing upright I opened my eyes, I stared into his eyes through the mirror. “Can you tell me what you need?”

Clenching my jaw I shook my head as my chest stuttered with repressed sobs. “That's okay.” Jake gently pulled my arms back, crossing them over my chest and holding me tightly to his. “Can you feel my heartbeat?”

I nodded.

“Can you feel my breaths?”

I nodded again. 

“Breathe with me,” he whispered, pressing his head to mine as he quietly counted. I watched us through the mirror for a minute before I let my eyes shut. Jake's steady breaths fanned across my neck, his heart beat against my back and his warm embrace sank into my bones. It was like his whole body was speaking to mine… Telling it that there was no danger. I was safe. “That's it, just breathe, Princess. You're here. You're safe with me.”

I'm safe. I'm with Jake. Slowly my breaths began to even out and my brain felt less muddled. I'm with Jake. My body stopped shaking and eventually, all that was left was us. I'm safe.

Isaac's panicked voice echoed as he walked back towards the bathroom door. “I don't know what to do! She's… I don't even know how to explain it.”

Swallowing, I quietly asked, “Is he talking to my brother?”

“Yeah,” Jake answered. “He got worried.”

“Can you tell him I'm okay now? I…” I opened my eyes and met Jake's gaze. “I don't want Peter to come all the way down here. Please.”

“Okay.” He looked down at the sink.

“I'm good now,” I assured him. “I'm just gonna sit down for a minute.”

If it were anyone else they'd likely have fought me, but this was Jake. He knew I wasn't lying. His hold on me loosened and he carefully helped me sit on top of the toilet lid. “I'll be right back.”

While the muffled conversation carried on outside the door I just sat there, staring at my reddened hands with an empty sense of impending doom. He was here. In this restaurant. He'd hung that painting where every guest, everyone passing close enough by the windows, would be able to see it. Still, I knew it wasn't about publicly shaming me. If that were the case he would've chosen to frame one of the many photos he had of me. This was a personal message. A reminder.

“If you're going to play games, you'd best be prepared to do whatever it takes to win.” He reminded me often after that night, that Rada had played and lost. That Francois had played and lost. Everyone always lost. “They don't have the mind or the stomach to win this game of ours, baby girl. We're still the only ones even playing.”

Deep down I knew what this meant. I knew, yet I refused to think it - to breathe life into that horrifying and terrible thought. He didn't get to toy with me. He didn't get to scare me out of this life.

This life was mine. I had survived his horrors, I'd taken the blows and I'd made my choices. I had fought and bled and killed for this life. He didn't get to take that away, not now, not ever. He didn't get to win.

I wiped my eyes and forced everything back into that box deep inside me. Once my feet steadied I walked out into the locker room where Jake had taken the phone from Isaac and was trying to talk my brothers down. I held my hand out. “Let me talk to them.”

Jake watched me for a minute before he nodded, “She wants to talk to you. Here.”

“Thanks.” I held the phone to my ear, listening to Patrick in the background throwing things around in search of his shoes. “I'm fine. Just stay home and take care of the gym.”

“Fuck that!” Patrick yelled.

“Is he there?” Peter asked, his voice filled with the rage he rarely had.

Sparing a glance at Jake I answered, “No. He's not stupid enough to show up with Dom around.”

“Then what happened?”

Flashes filled my head again as I forced myself to answer. “It's just a painting, Pete.”

“Which painting?”

“One you don't have to worry about,” I bit in bitter frustration. “Just… Please don't come. Please.”

“Lena you-”

“I am fine.” I insisted coldly. “I… I just want to work, okay? Can you just let me do that?”

Peter was quiet for a moment before he asked, “Promise me you're safe?”

As if on their own, my eyes drifted to Jake again, meeting those sea-blue eyes. “I promise.”

He shouted at Patrick before speaking again. “Okay. Put Isaac back on.”

“Thank you.” I turned towards the door where Isaac stood biting his nails. “Here.”

I watched him move out of the locker room, talking to my brother for a second before I turned back to Jake. What do I say? I asked myself. He no doubt had a thousand questions, all of which would be tied up in the painting… Which was tied up in Rada and Tony and everything I didn't want him to know. So, when his mouth opened I stopped breathing. “What do you need?”

What? My brain went blank in seconds as I gaped at him. “W… Don't you have like a million questions?”

“Course I do,” he replied simply. “The most important of them being that one. So, what do you need?”

“Honestly? I… Kinda wanna just forget this ever happened.” I admitted looking down at my feet. “

“That's gonna be kinda hard with that thing hanging up out there.”

“Yeah, it is.”

He shrugged a shoulder and moved to pass me. “Gimme one minute.”

I followed him to the door. “What are you doing?”

“Just trust me, okay?”

“Okay.”

“Sasha!” He hollered, heading across the hall toward the front room. “Give me a hand real quick?”

Service started before Jake came back and so I jumped into work. I used it to distract myself from obsessing over the fact that hundreds of rich assholes were out there, no doubt looking at my painting - my body. That got harder to do when Will moved me to back waiting. The first follow of my night felt like I was walking right into a lion's den. And then it suddenly wasn't. 

I didn't know what they did, all I knew was when I walked out of the kitchen and into the sea of customers, the painting was nowhere in sight. I looked at Jake as he worked behind the bar, and all the answer he offered me was a smile.

After that, the night felt a little less heavy and before I knew it we were all gathering around the bar for after shift drinks. I gave Nicky a pat on the back and smiled. “Head home Nick, I'll get it all closed up.”

“You sure?” He asked, handing me his bar rag.

“Go on,” I urged.

Jake and I worked side by side, serving drinks to each of our friends as they all mingled and began to filter out the door. It felt good to be behind the bar with him again, but whenever I looked up all I could see was that painting on the wall. Fighting that foreboding feeling was tiring and not something I wanted to spend all night doing.

“So,” Jake started cautiously as he stacked a few glasses. “Today was a lot.”

I sighed and looked down at the bartop. “Yeah… Sorry about earlier. I wasn't trying to be… I dunno, pathetic.”

“You were hardly pathetic,” he assured me.

“Thanks,” I whispered, finally looking up at him.

“For what?”

“Grounding me.” Suddenly shy beneath his gaze I looked away. “I have a hard time coming out of episodes like that and you… You made it less shitty. A lot less shitty. So, thank you.”

His fingers combed through my hair as he brushed it behind my ear. “No problem, Princess.”

“Let's get drunk tonight.”

With a smirk, he asked, “You think that'll help?”

“Can't hurt to try.” I shrugged, repeating the words he'd told me. “Besides, I kinda want you to be all over me again.”

Jake's smirk grew wider, turning to pull my body into his. “Like this?”

I nodded, happily drinking in the warmth and the smell of him. “Yeah. Like that.”

“Come on then,” he answered, tugging me out from behind the bar and throwing his jacket around my shoulders. “Let's go.”

*

Jake watched Lena dance from the bar as he nursed his first and likely only drink for the night. She'd been drinking steadily since they arrived, though no one seemed to want to discourage her from it. Peter and Patrick had told Dom shortly after Lena had talked them out of coming and so he and the bikers were nowhere in sight. Whether that was something to worry about or not, he didn't know.

At first, he'd considered talking to the brothers about the whole situation, but Patrick had just given him a shake of his head and nodded to Lena. A reminder that everything - or almost everything - they did was on her terms. They'd discuss it when she was ready to. She'll never be ready to, he told himself.

Lena was strong and stubborn. In those first months, he'd thought she was fearless. The longer he spent with her - with everyone - the more he realized that no one was truly unafraid. Everyone feared something and that was okay… It was normal to be afraid. Fear often meant that you cared about something outside of yourself. But, Lena's fear was something entirely different. Her fear was intertwined with her anger and her sorrow. So much of her was packed into the threads she refused to acknowledge let alone pull on. 

So, she'd keep drinking and dancing and moving forward. She'd leave seeing that painting in the restaurant as buried as whatever memory it was tied to. And, though his stomach twisted into knots at the thought of leaving her panic attack in the bathroom unresolved, Jake would let her have this. He had to.

After an hour he excused himself outside, not bothering to take the alley to the couch while the bikers had vacated their spot out front of the bar. He grabbed his jacket from Lena's seat and fished out his cigarettes and his lighter, moving to pull one out when he looked up and saw Quinn. She was boxed up against the wall outside by an older, angry-looking man - her father if he had to guess. From the door, Jake could see the tears building in her eyes as he screamed at her and grabbed her arms to shake her. His jaw clenched and his feet carried him toward her. “Hey!”

“Jake-” she tried to interrupt.

He ignored her, shoving the man's filthy hands off Quinn and occupying the spot in front of her. “Get the fuck out of here.”

Her dad laughed. “You’re a real tough guy, huh? Do you know who the fuck I am?”

“Don't care.” Jake shoved him again when he tried to get up in his face. 

“You're gonna regret this,” he said, spitting at Jake's feet as he glared at Quinn and slunk back into the night mumbling and grumbling curses and threats under his breath.

He waited until the man had vanished around the corner to turn to Quinn. She was closed off, almost angry as she huffed, “You didn't have to do that.”

“I know,” Jake answered, lighting his cigarette. He took a drag before wordlessly offering it to her. Quinn accepted and smoked in silence alongside him. “So, that's your dad?”

“Yep.”

“Seems like a real charmer.”

She sighed. “Yeah.”

Jake recognized the look in her eyes, that painful anger. “I never knew my dad, but he probably wasn't too different from your old man.”

“It sucks, right?” she asked, looking up at him. “Being so… Unimportant to someone that's supposed to love you.”

“Yeah, it does,” he earnestly replied. “But, we've got other people, you know… Better people.”

“I know,” she whispered. “That's different though.”

With a solemn nod, he agreed, “I know it is.”

“Thanks,” she said, clearing her throat. “For the smoke.”

“No problem. And, if he shows up again or bothers you or whatever, just call me and I'll come take care of it.”

“You don't have to worry about me,” Quinn insisted with a sad look.

It was a simple, sad sentence, one Jake had used countless times before. He knew the ugly truth that hid behind the words. I don't want to be weak. Weak. It was laughable to think anyone found Quinn weak. In all the time he'd known her, she was nothing short of sassy, strong, and confident. Yet, here, on the side of the street, Quinn looked small.

She must've felt small too, the way she kept glancing at him with that fearful hint of shame. Jake felt a few things swirl around in his chest. Anger that her shitty dad made her feel like this small and unimportant. Sad that her shitty dad made her feel unloved. But the strongest among them was a new, blinding need to protect her. Jake wanted to make sure Quinn never felt that way ever again and it was frightening for a moment. However scared he was of this new responsible feeling, he quickly decided that he didn't care.

He didn't care how scared he was, he knew Quinn and he knew that she deserved the same kind of family that she'd given him with her persistence and her meddling. “Yeah, but what kinda big brother would I be if I didn't.”

Her eyes filled with tears as she looked up at him and breathed out a soft laugh. “I…I've never had a big brother before.”

“I've never been one before,” he replied, looking anywhere but her face. “Guess it'll be something new for both of us.”

Quinn nodded, and without another word, she stepped forward and hugged him. “Well, just for the record, I can't think of a better idiot to be my big brother.”

He held her close, letting the words fill him with pride. “I have my smart moments.”

They held each other for a moment longer, both holding onto that feeling of family that neither of them had known - at least not like this. Then Quinn pulled away, wiping her eyes. “We should get back inside.”

“Yeah, we should.” He replied, following her with a steady arm around her shoulder.

*

I downed the shot in one quick motion, shaking off the burning tingling feeling that engulfed my face after. It felt nice to forget. The tingling was all I could really focus on… Well, the only other thing I could focus on.

Jake had been cool and collected all day. He'd handled the painting, the panic attack, and everything else seemingly with ease. While I made quick work of every drink Ian made, he slowly drank his beer and watched me with amusement. It reminded me of the last time I'd gotten wasted, what little of it I could remember.

Want. No matter how much I drank or how much I kept putting the big shit off, the want never lessened. As I watched Jake with that stoic face of his, all I could think about were those heated moments between us. All I could think about was how badly I wanted to do all of them again. So, with a wide, drunken grin I took hold of his hand and started pulling him through the crowd. “Come on!”

He chuckled but let me drag him to the back hall next to the bathrooms. “You gonna hurl?”

“No,” I giggled, stumbling into his chest. “I wanna kiss you!”

“Yeah? And we had to come over here to do that?”

“I'm not gonna make out with you in front of my dad!” I replied in a giddy, hushed whisper. “Do you wanna kiss or not?”

Jake stepped forward, backing me into the wall, his hands landing on my hips as I stared up at him in awe. “I always wanna kiss you, princess.”

With a satisfied hum, I gripped his shirt and pulled him towards me. “Good.”

In the dimly lit hallway surrounded by noise and bodies somehow in my mind, it was just the two of us. Jake's lips moved in time with my own, our hands grabbing at one another with a furious need to somehow be closer. The slight buzz of the alcohol made my head feel light and erased all of the lingering unknowns from my mind entirely. It was that mix that made me feel bold enough to touch Jake exactly how I wanted to.

I palmed him through his jeans, swallowing every moan until he pulled away from my lips with a groan. He squeezed my hips, closing his eyes and leaning his head back. “Fuck.”

Smiling, I leaned forward and kissed his neck. “You're so pretty.”

“If you were sober I…” He groaned again as my teeth scraped his Adam's apple.

“You'd what?”

Jake looked down at me and shook his head, hands leaving my hips to take hold of my face. “I'd do a lot of things.”

“Sounds fun. Would I like it?”

“Definitely,” he whispered.

I smirked. “How do you know?”

Bumping our noses together Jake shrugged, “I have it on good authority I excel at the art of pleasure.”

“Hmm,” I hummed playfully, “I think you're just overconfident.”

“I'll just have to give you a private demonstration.” He sighed against my lips, amused and frustrated all at once. “When you're sober.”

“When I’m sober,” I repeated, pressing another kiss to his lips. “Raincheck?”

He chuckled. “Raincheck.”

“We can still make out though, right?”

“Absolutely,” he answered, pressing me back into the wall and wasting no time reconnecting our lips.

It wasn't until Patrick rounded the corner and quickly covered his eyes with a disgruntled groan. “God, can a man use the toilet without havin' to see his sister doing… that?”

With haste, Jake and I fixed our clothes and bashfully leaned against the wall. “Sorry, Pat.”

He walked past us, shaking his head. “I don't wanna see none of that when I walk back out. Get a room or something.”

The rest of the night was filled with laughter and too many shots, but it was good. As we played our shitty drinking games and teased one another I was blissfully content. All thoughts of the restaurant, the painting, Rada, Tony… It was pushed so far into the back of my mind that it was nothing more than a blurry memory.

As Jake walked Quinn and me to my apartment I noticed how relaxed she seemed. Even in my slightly drunk state, I recognized how the tension seemed to have lifted from her shoulders as she walked beside Jake with a smile. She felt safe with him and it made my chest feel warm and fuzzy. When we reached my door, she turned and hugged him and kissed his cheek. “Thank you.”

“Anytime,” he replied, awkwardly patting her head. “I mean it.”

“I know.”

Giving them both a fond look I pressed one last kiss to Jake's lips. “Goodnight, tough guy. Try not to get beat up on your way home.”

He chuckled. “I'll do my best.”

“Tell our cat goodnight from me!”

“Goodnight, Lena,” he hollered as he walked down the sidewalk.

Inside Quinn and I flopped onto my bed, both tossing and turning, fighting over the blanket to try and get comfortable. “Hey,” I whispered as we both finally settled. “What happened tonight?”

She snuggled into the pillow and shook her head. “Don’t worry about it, Lee.”

“Quinn-”

“Seriously,” she replied quickly, a smile tugging at her lips. “My big brother took care of it.”

Even in my inebriated state, I didn’t need to ask who she was talking about. The answer was clear. I smiled and closed my eyes. “Jake’s good at that.”

“Yeah, he is.”

*

Jake stood in front of the bar, watching the workers closely as they situated the lights. Mr. Hiragana and I walked through the space of the new restaurant, now finally cleared of garbage and wreckage. It looked bigger than it had, but that might've just been how the fixed walls and proper lighting made it feel. “So,” the man beside me began, “I assume you and your colleagues have discussed the design of the space?”

“We have,” I answered, again glancing at Jake. “Scott doesn't care either way, so long as the kitchen is big enough with new appliances. Jake wanted full control of the bar.” With a smile, I handed him the simple sketches I’d done. “And you know me, I'm the one with the vision.”

“Of course,” he agreed, eyes carefully looking over the pages with a smile. “Your visions never cease to amaze me, little fish.”

Nudging him with my elbow I smiled. “So, you think it's doable?”

“It is fairly simple.” Handing the papers to the lead on the project they exchanged a few words before he patted my hand and looked around the room. “This will be the pride of the city when all is said and done.”

“That's ambitious,” I said with a laugh. “The big apples got a lot of gems.”

Nodding Mr. Hiragana said again, “And this will be one of them.”

With a tilt of my head and a soft smile, I squeezed his hand. “Were you always this optimistic?”

“Only after I met you,” he replied, squeezing my hand back. 

“Was I ever this optimistic?” A sad feeling took root in my chest as I looked around at the clean slate. “It feels like so long ago that I had something like this… A dream.”

Mr. Hiragana nodded, his thoughtful eyes never leaving my face as he answered, “You have been through much these years we have been apart. You have changed… Grown not only in body but in mind. The little fish I met at that hotel so many years ago is not the same one that stands before me now. You have known sorrow, fear, loss.” With a proud gleam in his eyes, he nodded more assuredly. “And in spite of it all, you have survived. It is normal to lose one's optimism after such a trying journey. But, one day you will find it again.”

“You've grown wiser in our time apart,” I deduced.

With a deep laugh, he shook his head. “In some ways, I suppose. All that live to be my age have some wisdom to depart onto younger ears.” With a glance at Jake, he smirked. “Though, some of that wisdom is repeated words said by a much wiser voice than mine.”

“How do you mean?”

“Slowly, then all at once.” His words made everything still as Rada's bright smile and tender kiss on my head warmed me. Mr. Hiragana smiled again. “This is what she always said when encouraging you to follow your heart, yes?”

My eyes drifted towards the bar where Jake paced behind the wooden bartop. His eyes darted back and forth, memorizing the space he'd claimed as his and visualizing whatever it was his mind had thought up for it. For a split second, it was like I too could see that bright image he had in his head. A bar with soft lights and glittering bottles, pictures of everyone that mattered littering the wall behind it. A place that felt lavish and expensive without being so snooty and uptight. A place to feel at home. 

Then that all vanished as his head turned and those blue eyes pierced mine. The vision faded from his mind, replaced by another… Less focused one. That wicked gleam shined like the sun over water as his tongue darted out to wet his lips and his eyes lazily moved down the length of me. Sinful. That was the only word I knew that properly described him as I broke eye contact with him and cleared my throat.

“Thank you.” I looked back up at him, ignoring the knowing look he gave me in return, and bowed my head. “For helping me find my way.”

He bowed his head in return. “You have always known your way, Little Fish. I have simply reminded you of it.”

I glanced at the time and bowed again. “We should be going.”

“I look forward to our next meeting.” He squeezed my hand one last time. “They would be proud of you.”

After leaving the crew behind to work on the building Jake and I headed to work. We made small talk about the progress of the restaurant, a subject Jake was still clearly uncomfortable with. “Mr. Hiragana says we'll probably be able to open before next years up.”

Jake stiffly nodded, eyes still staring straight ahead. “Oh yeah?”

“Yeah,” I answered, watching him carefully. “So, how are you feeling about the whole thing?”

“Fine.”

I reached out and stopped him mid-step, my hand carefully laying on his arm and encouraging him to look at me. “Jake.”

He shook his head and sighed, “I feel fine. Excited… But… It's… It's just a lot and it's complicated.”

“Anything I can do to help?” I asked with a tender tilt of my head.

“No, I don't think so.”

I shrugged. “Well, I give you full permission to be an asshole about restaurant shit while you figure it out. That help?”

Jake chuckled, visibly pleased with the idea of an asshole pass. “Maybe a little.”

“Good,” I beamed back as the heavy cloud of tension dissipated and the rest of our walk felt normal again. It wasn't until we entered 22West that the weight of everything came crashing down over me all over again.

A new painting hung on the wall, not one nearly as painful to look at, but another all the same. The light blues of the waves gradually faded into black as the painting shifted focus from the boat - my mother's boat - to the nothingness that lurked beneath the water. My heart dropped into my stomach, twisting and tightening until it was nothing more than a ball of iron filling my stomach with dread.

*

The clinking of silverware felt louder that family meal than any other, at least it did to Jake. He sat next to Lena, whose eyes hadn't left the painting since they'd arrived. It was a simple image of a boat and the ocean depths, but he knew what it really meant to her… Some of it anyway. As his eyes passed between the painting and Lena's emotionless face, Jake wanted nothing more than to ask the question that hung on the tip of his tongue.

Why does this make you feel so afraid? 

His best and only guess was that it had something to do with Anthony… Something to do with the three years that Lena tried her damnedest to never focus on. But, in that curious, protective way of his, Jake wanted to know more. He wanted to understand the situation fully so he could at least make an attempt to lessen the impact of it.

They had been the only two that hadn't already gotten dressed in those hideous shirts, having been late to oversee things at the new restaurant space, and as they changed in the quiet of an empty locker room Jake felt relieved no one else was here. The apprehensive, almost avoidant air around Lena never once lifted as he turned to look at her. “You okay?”

She didn't even glance at him when she answered, “It's just… A lot…”

He found it ironic that her words – her feelings mirrored his so perfectly. Any other time it would have made him chuckle, but right now all he wanted was to make her feel better. The panic in her voice as she screamed at him to get out the other day had made him feel physically sick. Seeing her using pain to somehow try to ignore the memories made him feel even worse. Jake wanted - needed - to help her.

“So take it out on me,” Jake suggested, her words from their walk circling around in his head as he closed his locker.

“What?”

“All that shit you're holding onto, take some of it out on me.”

“I'm not gonna do that.”

“Why not?” He asked with a hopeful smirk. “Like me too much?”

“Less and less each minute,” she weakly joked.

“Let's play a game,” he offered. “We go back in time tonight to before we became friends. I'll be my charming self and you can be a bitch.”

“Jake…”

Pushing himself off his locker he chuckled. “Oh come on, princess. Have some fun. Play a game with me.”

Shaking her head Lena finally nodded. “Alright, fine, I'll play.”

Jake smirked down at her. “See ya downstairs, Lana.”

“See ya, jerk.”

Tonight was gonna be fun.

*

“Behind,” Jake deadpanned for the third time tonight, the mischievous glow in his eyes the only thing giving away his true emotions. “Watch where you're standing, Lana.”

He’d been purposefully waiting until I’d stepped up behind him to turn directly into me and pretend to be annoyed. Part of his “game”. I'd been skeptical of his plan and it’d taken me a minute to adjust to the amped-up brand of his usual asshole behaviors, but once I did I actually found the whole thing… Fun… “Watch where you're walking, jerk.”

Jake slid out of the kitchen with nothing more than a smile. Everyone around us looked confused, but shocking none of them said a word. Isaac and Scott gave me the occasional questioning look, likely expecting me to explain it later. I didn't care about any of that though. I didn't care about the new painting or the past it dug up. I didn't care about Tony's obvious involvement. All I cared about was thinking up a new snarky comment to hit Jake with the next time I saw him.

I continued to switch between line and dish before moving to help restock the bar. Jake saw me the second I left the kitchen with the two bottles in my hand and slid to stand in the middle of the bar space, shaking his cocktail. “Sorry, I need the room.”

“Idiot,” I mumbled under my breath, just loud enough for him to hear me as I pressed my chest up against his back to slide past him. “Good thing for you I don't mind getting up close and personal.”

“Lucky me,” he replied, pursing his lips as he watched me bend over to grab the now-empty rack for the glasses. 

He slid the drink to the guest who had ordered it and quickly turned, putting his body directly behind mine so I'd run into him when I stood up. I played into his hand and with an exaggerated eye roll I mimicked his words, “Behind.”

“Sorry,” he taunted. “I was just admiring the view.”

“I'm just surprised you have the time to admire anyone else's ass when you're so obviously in love with your own.”

Chuckling he let me pass. “I assure you, an ass like yours puts mine to shame, princess.”

“How flattering,” I deadpanned. “Save some of that charm for the people dumb enough to pay you, pretty boy.”

The night dragged on, but I hardly noticed how long it really was. Once the guests had vacated the dining room everyone drank themselves into a better mood. Nicky left early, leaving Jake and me to close the bar down. Next to me, Jake finished counting his tips with a click of his tongue, “Only four hundred tonight.”

“Well,” I sarcastically remarked, putting a bottle back in place. “Looks like tonight's gonna be a big fat bust. If only there was a way you could salvage your wounded ego.”

“Wanna know what I think?” He asked, ignoring my taunt as he side-eyed me. He poured Heather's drink into a to-go cup with a thoughtful grin.

“Desperately,” I answered in that slightly mocking tone he was known for.

Jake slid the cup to her and watched the group start to leave. “I think I should snag us some food from the kitchen while you grab a bottle from the wine cellar,” he turned and looked me up and down, reminiscent of how he had in the beginning. “Then we meet at my place in a half hour.”

The look in his eyes told me exactly what his words didn't, but I still wanted to hear him say it. With a coy smile and a tiny step too close, I asked in a light, teasing tone, “Like a date?”

“If that's what you wanna call it,” he replied just as teasing, but both of us could pick out the genuine nature in each other's words.

My heart did a flip inside. For the first time since the painting had arrived 22West felt like it should. It felt like just another space, one I didn't feel paranoid or anxious in. Jake was there, standing in front of me, inviting me to spend the night with him… Inviting me to forget about anything and everything else. Mr. Hiragana’s words - Rada’s words - echoed in my mind. “Slowly, then all at once.”

“It’s a date then,” I answered, a sudden hopefulness, or maybe blind courage, refusing to let old fears rob me of this - of anything else with Jake.

That cocky grin of his made me roll my eyes as he kept up the persona of that asshole-ish self we’d be toying around with all through service. “See you there, Princess.”

“Don’t get too cocky, pretty boy, or I’ll stand you up.”

Jake chuckled and shook his head. “No, you won’t.”

God this shouldn’t be so fun. “Won’t I?”

He bent his head down, crowding my space and letting his eyes shamelessly roam down to my cleavage. “You want this too bad to stand me up.”

I replied through the feeling of heat rising up my neck. “You seem confident about that.”

“I am confident,” he answered, tugging his lower lip between his teeth for a moment. “That’s the point of this game, isn’t it? We pretend to be the assholes we were to each other when we first met so we can finally just say what we really mean?”

Though I hadn’t seen the game that way before, it clicked the second Jake had said it. Everything that had happened the past few days… Thanksgiving, the bar, tonight, one thing after another after another after another all getting in the way of what I, we, wanted and dreaded more than anything. The conversation. The admittance. The game had given me - given us both - the courage to just come out with it, to commit once and for all to an action. A date. “You’re right.”

Jake smirked even wider, cocky and dickish as he leaned in closer, tilting his head ever so slightly in that smart-ass kind of way. “Am I?”

“Don’t ruin it.” I carefully pushed against his chest and took a step back. “Now, excuse me. I have an expensive bottle to steal.”

“That’s my girl,” he muttered, just low enough that I couldn’t be totally sure he’d even said it. He watched me turn and walk away, the burning feeling of his eyes on me only making my heart beat faster in my chest.

Down in the chilled wine cellar, I stood, staring at the shelves, as my mind caught up with my body. A date. Holy shit. This is a date. I glanced down at my plain attire and shook my head. “Nope.” Digging my phone out of my pocket I moved forward, scanning the bottles on the shelves as the line rang.

“Hello?” Quinn sang into the phone.

“Where are you?”

“Wow, not even a hi, how’s it going?”

“Quinn, no time!” I replied, hurriedly. “I need an outfit.”

She made a curious noise over the phone. “What for?”

“I…” A stupid gin made my cheeks burn as I answered, “I have a date.”

“Are you two finally calling your one on one time, a date?” Quinn inquired with a light teasing tone. “How bold of you.”

“Shut up, do you have something I can wear or not?”

With a sigh, I could hear her as she started flipping through her rack of clothes. “If you want my professional opinion, showing up in nothing at all would be your best option.”

Rolling my eyes I finally found the bottle I'd been searching for. “Quinn…”

“Fiiinnee, I've got a few options. See you in ten?”

“Sounds good, thank you!”

“Det-”

“Details as payment, I know Q.”

Bottle in hand I hurried up the stairs, saying goodnight to the dish crew as they finished changing and headed out into the chilled air. My steps felt both lighter and heavier as I walked beneath the neon lights and moved around the slow crowds. I tried not to focus on what this meant… On the obvious expectation that both Jake and I had at this point, but that was practically impossible.

We'd already done everything else, a fact everyone was keen on reminding us. We'd kissed and touched and whispered heated words. Jake and I were far past any normal friendship. We had been for a while. Yet, there we were using games to commit to an actual date. There we were coming up with some kind of excuse to meet at his apartment where things were bound to go a very specific way.

Are we even going to get to open this bottle? I wondered, nails picking at the fancy label. Or is he going to just kiss me the second I walk in? The vivid and tantalizing image of him pulling me into his apartment and pressing me into his front door filled my brain. Am I going to be able to not kiss him first? Another valid question.

Quinn's apartment wasn't far from Ozzy's or the club. She lived a few blocks up the way in a modest one-bedroom place she'd busted her ass to afford back in the day. The old, sun-faded brick shifted to peeling wallpaper as I made my way inside and up the creaking staircase to the third floor. The second door down the hallway, the only door not decorated with scuff marks from people's shoes. 

Ari was waiting to open the door with a wide smirk. “TIGER!” She purred, pulling me inside the dimly lit warm space and pressing a kiss to my cheek. “I heard you have a daaaaattteeee.”

Quinn's apartment was always in some state of chaos. Shoes were tossed around, blankets hung off of every soft surface and her makeup and hair supplies were scattered around her place like hidden gems. She liked it this way, liked the way it made things feel crowded and lived in. Having grown up with nothing Quinn collected things and held them close like a slutty magpie.

The warm lights from her lamps lit up the living space, where it appeared I'd interrupted a dinner date. Quinn emerged from her bedroom to the left and helped peel Ari off me with a loving look and teasing in her eyes. “It's not a big deal remember?”

“Oh yeah,” Ari giggled. “Just two friends hanging out late into the night.”

“You two are the worst,” I grumbled, setting the bottle down on Quinn's counter. “So, any good choices?”

With an offended look, Quinn waved me into her bedroom. “As if you need to ask.”

Ari looked at the bottle with wide eyes and a huge grin. “Thief!” She gasped. “I love you!”

“Don't open it,” I called out to her. “If there's any left tomorrow I'll bring it up to you guys.”

Quinn's eyes widened and she practically vibrated as she hopped onto her bed among the outfits she'd pulled from her closet. “Is this gonna be an overnight date?”

“Maybe,” I answered, trying not to let my excitement or my terror change my voice.

“Oh my god, are you gonna let him take your V card?”

I nudged her leg, almost sending her off the bed. “My V card's been gone for a while Q.”

She shook her head. “It's been over a year since that cards gotten punched in. It counts.”

“Outfits,” I sighed, changing the subject.

“Well now that I know it's a slumber party,” she rummaged through her pile of clothes and pulled out a little black dress. “This is what you're wearing.”

“I don't get to try anything else on?”

“Nope!”

With a groan, I grabbed the dress from out of her hands and stomped out of her room towards the bathroom. “Why did I even ask for your help?”

“Because I'm the best!” Was her loudly overjoyed reply.

Once I'd closed myself into the small bathroom with old checkered floor tiling and the tiny pink sink I looked at the dress she'd chosen. It wasn't ugly or too gaudy. It was simple, black silk with a modest hem of lace around the top and bottom. The spaghetti straps were thin, but I was just thankful there were straps at all… Or a dress at all for that matter.

I took my time sliding it on, stuffing my bra and other clothes under the sink until I could come back and get them. In Quinn's mirror, I fluffed my hair and fixed my makeup, trying to focus on the excited feeling in my chest instead of the anxious ball in my stomach. This isn't a big deal. It's just Jake. 

Just Jake… As if that had ever been true.

Unveiling the dress to Quinn and Ari resulted in the two catcalling me for five minutes. “God damn!”

“It's about time you let those girls out to play again!” Ari laughed, looking at my boobs. “No bra too? Jakey's a lucky boy tonight!”

“I'm leaving my clothes under your sink,” I told Quinn as I gathered my things and grabbed the bottle off the counter. “Thanks for the dress!”

“No problem! Have fun being a slut tonight!”

Flipping her off I left the apartment, trying to calm my nerves with each step forward. It wasn't a big deal. It was just Jake. This was just a date.

*

Jake had spent a solid ten minutes meticulously opening and cleaning each of the oysters he'd grabbed from the kitchen. He'd found a niceish plate to put them on and shooed his cat off the counter. Then he'd started truly freaking out.

Lena was on her way with whatever bottle she'd grabbed. They'd drink, eat, and then the inevitable would happen. They’d share a look. He'd touch her or she'd touch him and from there they'd be unable to stop themselves from checking off their list of rainchecks all in one go.

He turned on a movie, the first movie his hands could find, and he cleaned. It wasn't really an effective way to keep his mind off the possibilities that were at this point all but certainties, but he still did it. Maybe it was, to keep his hands busy or maybe he just felt self-conscious about Lena returning to his space.

By the time she knocked on his door, everything was clean and ready. Everything except for him. Do we continue our game? He asked himself, hand hovering over the doorknob. Would that make things easier or would that just make me seem like an asshole?

Opening the door he came face to face with her fluffy red hair and tempting lips and… Fucking hell. The little black dress she wore hugged her body in all the right places, showing off her lean shoulders and peaked nipples. He hadn't expected her to change. Lena smiled, that nervous smile that made the corners of her lips twitch and held up the bottle. “I hope you like champagne.”

Say something. Anything. And say something he did. “You're late.”

Asshole it is I guess.

Thankfully Lena just rolled her eyes and leaned against his doorframe. “Aw, did I keep you waiting?”

“A little,” he said, clearing his throat as he moved to let her in. “It’s been a damn chore keeping this cat off the oysters.”

As if Jake had bribed him to, Hemingway made a not-so-sneaky break for the plate on the counter. Jake jumped, intercepting him just in time. The cat hissed and angrily swatted Jake's arms as he carried him to the sofa. From his kitchen, Lena laughed. “I'm sorry. If I'd have known you were in a heated standoff with the cat I would have hurried.”

He shrugged his shoulders, casually making his way back to the kitchen. “So, champagne?”

“One of the more expensive bottles of it,” she promised, handing the bottle to him for inspection. 

Jake barely looked at it, focusing more on her. She looked nervous, but the good kind. The kind that told him she was comfortable being here on this date with him. That was all he could ask for - all he wanted. He'd only take the night as far as she was comfortable with, but judging by the look in her eyes Jake was confident she wanted things to go the same way he did.

So, he grabbed a pair of his shitty glasses from the cupboard and started to open the bottle. She arched her brow. “Not even gonna look at it?”

“I trust your taste in drinks.”

“Even after I gave you nothing but shitty ones that one night?”

Jake chuckled, popping the cork and nodding at her. “Even after that.” He poured her a glass and slid the plate of oysters between them. “So, how’s Quinn?”

Lena blushed, glancing down at her dress. “Was it that obvious?”

“Mhm,” he replied. “I've seen Quinn dress you up enough times to recognize her work.”

“Well, what do you think?” She asked, taking a step back and raising her arms to give him a full view of her.

What did he think? As if she didn't already know every single thought ran through his head. Jake could have voiced any of the lewd things - god knew he'd done that thousands of times before - but instead he found himself answering more sincerely, “I think you look perfect.”

*

My question had been simple, given how well I knew Jake and how his dirty mind worked. It was simple. Ask an obvious question about the very sultry dress Quinn had given me and received an equally obvious dirty response. Simple. Casual. And not at all what Jake said.

“I think you look perfect.”

Perfect. That wasn't a word I was used to hearing, especially when it came to me. Yet this would mark - at least - the second time Jake had used it. Butterflies filled my stomach, filling me with that fuzzy feeling of warm tingles. If it had been anyone else using that word I would have known exactly how to respond. Bullshit. But, I knew he meant it. The look in his eyes, the hint of a real smile, the way he looked just as surprised as I did.

Jake thought I looked perfect.

“So, how do you like your new TV?” I asked turning my now blushing face away from him to look at the bright screen where Egon and the rest of the Ghostbusters were quietly playing out their scenes. My face burned even hotter as I remembered Halloween… Remembered how good Jake had looked dressed as Egon. Maybe he still has that costume?  “Ghostbusters?”

“It's a good movie,” he defended, but the wicked gleam in his eye told me he was thinking the same as me.

Smirking, I shrugged. “Woulda thought you'd turn on Romeo and Juliet.”

With a smirk, Jake nodded, “Also a good movie.”

I used the heated tension humming between us as an opportunity to take the first oyster. The salty taste washed over my tongue as I examined the slightly shiny shell in my hand. “So, what's your plan, pretty boy?”

“Am I supposed to have a plan?” He asked with a chuckle.

“I mean I'd think so, after your very confident invitation at work.”

Jake shrugged, taking a moment to enjoy an oyster. “Honestly, I just wanted to be around you.”

“You couldn't be around me at Ozzy's?”

“Okay… I wanted to be around you alone. That better?”

I hummed, beaming at his admission. “Yep.”

He rolled his eyes, casually pushing the plate out of Hemingway's reach. “Don't sound so smug, princess. You were dying to come be alone with me.”

“Hardly!” I argued - lied.

Jake stepped around the counter, placing his body flush up against my own and giving me that look. “Hardly? So you don't want me to do this?”

His fingers skimmed up my exposed thigh, dragging the lace hem of the dress up. I gulped, my eyes shifting to his lips without a second thought. “I want you to do whatever you wanna do.”

“Oh, come on, princess. You can do better than that.”

Fuck it. “I… want you… To kiss me.”

He lifted his hand, fingers grazing the side of my neck as he carefully tilted my head up even more. Our lips brushed against each other, a sigh of anticipation hot on our mingled breaths, and then… Darkness.

The lights cut out, casting Jake and me in complete darkness. Outside horns honked and the chaos told us both that the block - hell maybe even the city, had just shared our experience. Jake’s hands drifted to my shoulders, holding onto me for a moment as he adjusted to the dark. “Of fucking course.”

I swallowed my disappointment and forced a chuckle out of my dry throat. “Don’t suppose you've got any candles on hand?”

“I think I have a few,” he answered. “Let me get a lighter or something.”

Jake stumbled around in the dark until he reached his jacket, pulling the cigarettes and lighter out. The flame did little to light the room, but after a minute of searching his bare cupboards, he found what little he had in candles. I could see the tension in his shoulders almost as clearly as the sour purse of his lips. “Hopefully it's not the whole city.”

“Yeah.” He answered through clenched teeth as handed me the lighter. “I'm gonna go see if anyone outside knows what's going on.”

“Okay,” I replied, watching him go. “I'll light these I guess.”

I stared into the flame as I held the lighter to the wick of the candle and let out a defeated sigh. It's always something. Betting lesbians, a money-hungry Russian, the past, the future… Maybe it was a sign. Maybe the universe in its infinite wisdom was trying to tell us we weren't good together.

The wax dripped over the edge of the candle as I held the light to it. “Bullshit.”

Fuck the universe, I decided. Fuck the past or the future. Fuck everything that tries to tell me what I want.

I wanted Jake. Physically, romantically, in any and every way that he would have me. I wanted him. And tonight was going to be the night whether the city or the universe liked it or not.

I carefully lit the remaining candles, illuminating his apartment just enough to see the outline of his furniture. As I set the last down on the counter I leaned over to give Hemingway a reassuring pat, all the while trying to hold onto the newfound courage making my stomach twist into knots. “It's alright.”

The cat seemed to release some of his tension, using my distracted state to snag an oyster and take shelter in the bathroom where he decided to hide in Jake's open laundry bin. As I quietly chuckled at the way the tips of his ears poked out of the top, and the ferocious noises he made dining on his stolen meal, the apartment door opened and slammed shut as Jake returned. With a silent curse, he threw his jacket and shoes off to the side. “Well, nobody knows shit, but everyone's expecting the power to be out for the rest of the night at least.”

“Damn,” I remarked, trying not to talk myself out of taking action. “Right when your plan was just starting to work.”

It was a flirtatious little taunt, wholeheartedly meant to shift Jake’s focus from the unexpected interruption and back to the fact that we'd been on the verge of a kiss when the lights went out. Sadly, that didn't happen. Instead, Jake continued to grumble, scouring his shelf for a pack of cigarettes and then his lighter, which I still held. “Damn, where the fuck did it go?”

I watched him search for a minute before holding up the object he sought with a smug smirk. “Looking for this?”

He turned to look at me, face set in a grumpy scowl as he lifted the candle off the coffee table and held the flame to the end of his cigarette, lighting it. “Nope.”

“Suit yourself,” I replied, bothered as I set the lighter down on the counter. “Now what?”

Flopping down on his couch Jake laughed humorlessly. “I don't have any board games we can play if that's what you're hoping for.”

“I’m sure we can think of something more interesting to do than play a board game.” Hint. Hint.

Jake rolled his eyes gesturing to the darkened apartment. “You're welcome to look around for something to do.”

DO ME! I wanted to shout at him. My eyes scanned the shelves, looking for something that could lighten Jake's pissy mood and somehow salvage the night. “Where's your camera?” I asked. “We could take some more pictures.”

“In case you didn't notice, we don't exactly have the best lighting for that,” he snarkily replied.

“So you wanna just sit in the dark and do nothing?”

“I'm doing something,” he answered, lifting up his cigarette.

“Well, maybe I wanna do more than sit and smoke.” Jake ignored my statement, staring at the wall in front of him with a bitter, disappointed look on his face. “Really? You gonna ignore me now?”

He glanced at me and shrugged. “You're more than welcome to find something to do.”

Idiot. After a moment of watching the angry puffs of smoke exhale from his lungs I pushed myself away from the counter and flopped down on the couch beside him with a frustrated sigh. Jake's eyes lowered to watch my boobs bounce with the movement. Of course, that'd be what cheers him up. “You know most people would be more concerned with entertaining their guests.”

It was like a light finally flicked on in his brain and with a suggestive raise of his brows and a not at all subtle smirk, Jake and I were back on the same page. Only now I felt like making him work for it.

"Oh, you want some attention?" He took another long drag of the cigarette, slowly sliding closer to me, closing the space between us. He was right there, just a head tilt away from my lips. He timed his head down, seeking me out, expecting me to make it easy.

“You're insufferable." I leaned back, crossing my arms - pressing my breasts up to really catch his attention. He breathed smoke out across my face with a light laugh and a smirk. 

"You like it," he whispered, our noses bumping one another.

"This isn't something friends usually do," I said quietly, smugly. Resuming the game we had earlier, the game meant to make this easier, and now the game that I'd use to torture him.

Jake was more smug as he grinned back at me, his eyes dark with lust and sin that would put even the devil to shame. "Yeah, well, I don't want to be your fucking friend." For a split second that something real flashed in his eyes, a fleeting feeling or thought he didn't dare let himself hold onto for too long.

I sighed, that same wave of reality washing over me, forcing my heart to beat quicker and my mind to race with doubt. Moving my head back a little more I whispered the thought, the fear that had kept us from committing to this all along, "This is a bad idea."

He nodded, not in agreement, but in acknowledgment that this was the very fear he shared. Adam's apple bobbing, Jake's eyes dropped to my lips as he sighed, "One of my worst."

I wasn't prepared for the kiss, or the way his hand wound into my hair to pull me closer. Though, I should have been. Jake tasted like oysters and champagne, smoke and, and want. He pulled me effortlessly into his lap, coaxing my mouth open and tangling his tongue with mine to effectively silence that pesky thought in both our minds. He was addictive and he knew it. Smug bastard, he was.

Of all the times we'd kissed, this one felt the most like our first. Maybe it was because of the way he'd been acting like he had in the beginning, asshole-ish and reserved. Or maybe it was because we both knew this was it. There was no forgotten thing, no drunk Russian or nosey lesbians. It was just us.

This was it.

I pulled back slightly, my hand smoothing over his jaw as we both dropped the act and slowly started to abandon our fear in favor of that intimate thing that hummed between us. Still, I couldn't resist the taunt that slid off my tongue, "So, you don't want to be my friend anymore?"

Jake scoffed, pressing another kiss to my lips. "Stop talking."

"I thought you liked being my friend," I continued to tease, threading my fingers into his hair as his mouth moved down the column of my neck. I had to hold in a moan as his teeth tugged at the skin there.

"I like this better," he breathed out, smirking against my skin. His hands gripped my thighs and pulled me down further, rubbing our hips together in a way that sent pleasure up my spine. This time I couldn't contain the wanton moan. Jake chuckled. "Much better."

With a breathless huff, I pulled his hair until his head tilted back up to me. "Shut up."

“Oh,” he whispered breathlessly, lips pulling up into that cocky smirk of his. “Now you wanna stop talking?”

Before I could answer Jake had shifted, rolling me onto the couch beneath him. The new cushions were slow to yield to the weight of us, stiff but not uncomfortable. Above me, Jake's chain necklace dangled, glinting in the low moonlight as it kissed my lips just like he'd done seconds ago. He smirked down at me for a second before all the attitude and the teasing faded, leaving him just smiling down at me as he lifted a hand to my face.

His fingers traced my lips, gliding along my jaw. The swell of warmth… Of want made my chest constrict almost to the point of pain. Out of all the nights we’d spent together - out of all the things we'd already done - this moment was unlike all of them. I wanted him more than I could even understand and in some way… Through some invisible bond between us, I knew he felt the same. 

I lifted my head off the cushion and chased his lips. “I wanna stop talking now.”

Jake's still smokey breath fanned across my face as he chuckled. “Okay, Princess. No more talking.”

Our mouths met again, eager and hungry. It was like the feeling of his velvety lips on me, of his hands stroking and squeezing, erasing every thought in my brain. Everything that wasn't him just suddenly didn't matter. Jake dragged his tongue down my neck, fingers tugging the straps of the dress off my shoulders so his lips and teeth could literally my collarbones with kisses and bite marks.

To my surprise he kept moving down lower and lower until his hands were tucked up my dress, pulling my panties off my legs. Jake bit into the meat of my thigh, dragging me down the couch until my ass was literally in his hands. I lifted my head just in time to catch a glimpse of his dark head of hair vanishing beneath my dress as he dove mouth-first into my pussy.

“Oh my god!” I squeezed in shock as his warm tongue lather over my clit. “Jake!”

His fingers squeezing my thighs and holding them open was the only answer I received as his tongue continued its skilled work. With my head pressed firmly to the cushions, I gripped onto his hair, lifting my hips in time with his tongue movements and chasing the pleasure he so shamelessly offered. “Yes! Oh, Jake, right there!”

His teeth grazed my clit, sending me spasming as I came. That didn't stop him though. Jake's tongue just kept licking and sucking, drinking up every ounce that I had to offer until I was practically vibrating beneath him. I pulled his hair harder, pushing him off me and quickly standing up. Before he could ask what I was doing I tugged at his shirt. “Take this off.”

The wicked grin he answered with glowed in the candlelight. “Not gonna say please?”

Reaching down I tugged on his chain, taunting him with an almost kiss. “Now.”

Humming Jake rose from his knees and lifted the shirt over his head, spreading his arms and lightly flexing. “Happy now?”

I raked my nails over his abdomen, instantly undoing his belt as Jake's hands started sliding my arms through the straps of my dress. “I'll be much happier when we're both naked.”

“That makes two of us,” he agreed with a groan as the dress slid off my body with no resistance. Jake's mouth fell open as he lifted his lands to tease my nipples. “God you're perfect.”

My fingers fumbled, head nearly falling back as the pleasure his touch brought spiked through me. “Jake.”

His body pressed closer to mine, forcing me to step back until the backs of my legs hit his bed. “Are you sur-”

I silenced him with a finger over the lips and a gentle reminder, “No more talking.”

Without any more chances to let my fear win out, I finished with his belt and zipper. Kissing down his chest I slowly sank to my knees, taking his pants and underwear with me until his hard, pulsing cock was dangling in front of me. Jake watched me press a few light kisses to the head of him as he carefully lifted his feet out of his jeans. His breaths stuttered as I licked him base to tip, swirling my tongue around him the way I knew he liked from the first time.

“Fuck,” he breathed, quickly taking hold of my face. “As much as I fucking love that mouth of yours princess… I wanna actually fuck you tonight.”

I grinned, kissing his cock again. “Later then?”

“Absolutely.”

Standing in front of him, I set my hands on his broad shoulders, leaning up to kiss him again. Jake's hands wound into my hair as he turned us, pulling me on top of him as he settled on his back. I shifted my hips and angled his cock perfectly allowing me to finally, slowly begin to sink down on top of him. Jake's eyes fluttered shut, his mouth falling open as a surprised, pleasured sound fell from between his lips. His hands scrambled over my waist, squeezing my flesh. “Fuck.”

The stretch wasn't painful, not after the care Jake had taken, but I found myself shaking. It felt so good. Finally having him inside me, the impressive dick his ego permitted me from ever complimenting, hit all the right spots. It'd been a year since I'd had sex, but already, I found myself questioning if anyone else had ever made me feel like this with nothing more than one tiny thrust.

Once I was fully seated on top of him I found my eyes closing, head tilting back as I enjoyed the simple feeling of him twitching inside me, breathing beneath me, holding me. “Holy shit.”

“You're not wasting any time,” he said, holding onto me like his life depended on it. “Got somewhere to be?”

“You said you wanted to fuck me,” I replied, ignoring his teasing to lift my hips and bending over him. “So fuck me.”

Jake kissed me hard, setting one hand on the small of my back and using it to push me back down onto his dick. My sharp gasp broke our kiss and spurred my body into moving. Every thrust sent pure pleasure radiating through my body. Every noise Jake made was echoed by the ones I made. It was that word he'd kept saying. Perfect.

When my legs started to shake and my body felt heavier to lift in the fervorous up and down movements, Jake sat up. His tongue lathered over a nipple, earning another sharp sound from my throat, as his fingers traced up my spine and gently closed around the back of my neck. I could feel his lips curl up into a smirk as he pulled my nipple between his teeth. “Come on, princess. Don't stop.”

“Fuck,” I whispered, the desperate sound of his voice emptying my brain even more. “I… Oh god…”

“Don't tell me you're tired already,” he taunted, using his hands on my hip and neck to help lift and pull me. “We just got started.”

Grinding my teeth together to hold in the moan I bit back, “I should have guessed you'd be a pillow princess.”

Jake laughed, tilting his head up to kiss me again. “We can switch if you want.”

“Fuck you,” I answered breathlessly, my eyes punching together as the pleasure all began to build up inside me.

“That's what you're doing… Trying to at least.” He withdrew all attempts at helping me, returning his attention to my breasts.

“Jake,” I whined after what felt like hours. God, I'm out of Practice. Jake only hummed in reply to his name. “Please.”

More smug than ever he finally slid his hands to my waist and expertly flipped me onto my back. His sheets felt cold against my hot skin, but I hardly had a moment to focus on that when Jake wasted no time lifting one of my legs onto his shoulder and securing the other around his waist. “Try not to scream my name too loud, the neighbors tend to get mad about that.”

“You-” He thrust into me, the angle and the power behind it making sparks shoot up my stomach into my chest. “Oh fuck!”

“There you go,” he mumbled, fingers curling into the sheets by my head. “Let me hear those pretty noises.”

As he picked up the pace I realized I couldn't have denied his request even if I wanted to. Every noise I made echoed off the brick walls, every wet noise that his thrusts made only filled me with more fire. My fingers dug into his arms and clawed at his back as that coil in my gut wound tighter and tighter. “Jake,” I begged. “Don't stop!”

“Come on, princess,” he urged, pressing his lips to mine in a sloppy kiss. “I wanna feel you.”

“Ah!” I could feel myself tighten around him, drawing out another moan from Jake's lips.

“Fuck!” He cursed under his breath. “That's my girl. Come on… Come for me, Lena.”

That, the fucked out, desperate, adoring uttering of my name was what made the coil in my gut burst. Fingers digging into Jake's hair, pulling his lips down against mine I came around him, shaking as he thrust again and again and again, fucking me through the orgasm and into another as he came with me. His body tensed and shivered as he kissed me through his orgasm, pulling away to let out a shaky breath before he collapsed on top of me.

My chest heaved beneath him as I stretched my fingers and carefully pulled them from his hair. “Holy… Shit…”

Jake carefully rolled off me, throwing the condom away and collapsing next to me. “We should have been doing that this whole time.”

“Definitely,” I agreed, twisting my head to look at him… Afraid of what I'd find in his eyes when I did. Had this been a mistake?

Jake was smiling, genuinely smiling at me. His eyes were light and sparkling as he pulled me into his arms and threw his blanket over us both. His lips kissed my shoulders and my jaw and even though we’d just spent the last hour or more fucking I felt that swell of want again. “You know, we could be in the dark for a while.”

“All night even,” he agreed. “You should definitely stay the night.”

“Absolutely,” I agreed, kissing his lips. “And are you gonna… Entertain me?”

Nodding Jake traced the snake on my spine. “Of course. What kinda man would I be if I left you unsatisfied?”

It was going to be a long night. Long and sweaty and perfect.

*

Dom looked at the now entirely empty shop with a dead stare. His life's work was fucking gone, and it was all his fault. Desperate anger and a bitter, frustrated sorrow filled his lungs with a scream. He threw empty tool carts across the shop floor and kicked the side of the nearest car. Dom exploded, lashing out until he had to stop. 

His back slammed into one of the cars, and he bowed low. Defeated. The sound of her light footsteps treading through his mess gave him some tiny hint of hope. He watched her carefully slide into place beside him, looking out at the empty space. "Sorry."

"Stop." He shook his head, glaring at her. "I hate it when you apologize when you did nothin’ wrong."

Sarah giggled, bumping her shoulder into his. "Sorry."

"You're the worst."

She looked around with an exasperated sigh. "They really did a number on the place, huh?"

Nodding, he slapped the side of the car they leaned on. "Fuckers even took the damn hub caps."

"You are gonna take care of this, right, D?" Her emerald eyes sparkled up at him, hopeful and innocent. His baby sister. "I don't wanna lose you like Eddie."

His jaw clenched at the mention of the name. "Yeah, I'll take care of it."

She held out her pinky with tears in her eyes. "You promise?"

Dom wrapped his finger around hers and sighed, engulfing her in a big hug. "Yeah, I promise."

When he opened his eyes, Dom could still feel the warmth of Sarah's embrace. His mind clung to the sweet moments they'd shared until the end - until the pain made him feel like he couldn't breathe. That sensation forced him upright, scrambling to grab hold of the drugs he'd left at his bedside. He wanted to forget. More than anything, he wanted the pain to stop. 

Green eyes flashed in his mind. Hers and Lena's. He'd made them both a promise… A stupid fucking pinky swear. His fist tightened around the drugs as he forced himself to throw them across the room. "God dammit!"

"Well, ain't you just pathetic?”

Dom's head twisted to the door where Eddie lounged against the old frame. “The fuck are you doin here?”

Eddie shrugged, a heavy sigh following him as he sat in the cot opposite his. “It's her birthday today… Figured that's the kinda thing that warrants a temporary truce. We're family after all.”

“You're no family of mine,” he ground out.

Dom could see the hurt in Eddie's eyes, but as always he erased it with that goddamn smirk. “Feelings mutual, big brother. But, I ain't here for you. I'm here 'cause it's what she woulda wanted.”

“She doesn't get to want anything,” Dom said. “Not anymore.”

Eddie nodded, tensely. “Well, we both seem to have conflicting opinions about whose fault that is.”

“Get the fuck out!” Dom shouted, throwing himself to his feet to grab onto Eddie's jacket and throw him out the door. “You get the fuck out before I fucking kill you!”

“Oh, we both know how much you'd like that,” Eddie spat back, laughing in Dom's face. “Sibling killer that you are.”

It took four of his bikers to hold him back while Eddie waved off his men and left with a bitter curse in Spanish. After the noise of their car had gone, the bikers let him go and Dom was out the door. He needed some air. He needed some space away from this fucking warehouse… This fucking city.

There, illuminated in the golden rays of the rising sun, Mav sat on his bike, resting her head in her hands with a wide - real smile. Dom shook his head, forcing out the angry breath he'd been holding. “It's shit like this that makes everyone think you're a bitch.”

She just shrugged, that smile never faltering. “That a no to taking a joyride?”

“I could never say no to you.”

“It's one of the few things I like about you,” she teased, sitting up as he neared. The flippant, uncaring attitude fell for a moment as she asked, “You okay?”

Dom shook his head and answered with the truth, “No.”

Sliding back on the bike seat she patted the fine leather. “Come on then, big boy. Let's go for a ride.”

“Course, Mrs…. What is it now? Scott?”

Mav rolled her eyes. “As if I'd take that old fucks last name.”

With a chuckle, he smiled at her. “That's my Mav.”

“I'm not your anything,” she argued half-heartedly. 

Dom threw his leg over the seat and settled in with her sweet smell and soft hands around his waist. He revved the engine and Mav's arms squeezed him tighter. “You'll always be my Mav.”

“Just drive the damn bike, Dom.”

“Yes, Ma'am.”

#fic: nightshade #sweetbitter jake #jake sweetbitter #sweetbitter #sweetbitter jake x oc #jake x lena #sweetbitter fanfiction #sweetbitter fic #sweetbitter tv series #sweetbitter simone #tom sturridge #jake/oc #jake and lena #jake x oc #jake smut #sweetbitter smut #sweetbitter ocs #sweetbitter sasha #sweetbitter ari #sweetbitter heather #sweetbitter nicky #sweetbitter howard

[rey-jake-therapist]

Just listened to Tamino's Persephone for the first time today as it was included in an Hannigram playlist, and I want to share it here because it suits Simone and Jake's toxic dynamics to a tee. Now that I introduced Mattias, Mina's stepfather, through a dream sequence I can also add that it's perfect for Mina and Mattias' dynamic as well....

Jake and Mina are, of course, Persephone.

Yes my love, I confess to you I am only here to break your heart in two The very flower you chose that day Its only task was to decay You see? When I watched your first bathing I only warned you with a lowered voice "Be wary of my river's undertow It flows with water from the coldest source" Did you hear? And then I made sure You would always return You still know of dawn But you always return When you hid under my black wings They couldn't have protected you from anything Once in flight they would have let go You would have once again wound up below Only broken Indeed, it's wrong to keep you near me One could call me cruel and deceiving But in your sacred air I am full of light Your loving arms are the true delight To which I'm lost And you've noticed it There is something right here You have come to love, yes you've come to love What you always will fear Yes, my love, I confess to you I've nothing but the means to break your heart in two My part in yours may seem important now But with every spring it will seem so small Just for now I am your fall I am your fall I am your fall

#sweetbitter #sweetbitter fanfiction #sweetbitter jake #sweetbitter simone #jake x oc #jake x mina #sweetbitter lost souls fic #jake and simone #tamino persephone #hades and persephone #tom sturridge #caitlin fitzgerald

[endlessbittersweetdreams]

"Mistletoe"

SUMMARY: A Christmas-themed fanfic that accompanies "Broken & Beautiful."

NOTES: I had intended to make this Chapter 13, but I wanted to release it in time for Christmas. Chapter 12 isn't even written yet. So ... Merry Christmas, everyone!

TIMELINE: After the soon-to-be-written Chapter 12.

CHRISTMAS DIVIDER: dawn-petrichor-world

     It’s Christmas night, and the restaurant is packed. I don’t know what it’s like on the second floor, but there is not a single table on the first floor that isn’t filled to capacity. I don’t know why Howard insisted on playing instrumental Christmas music in the background, because it can barely be heard over the din. And I have never been so glad that I’m not a member of the wait staff. If they’re not racing about like chickens with their heads cut off, they’re forced to deal with cranky guests who haven’t been touched by the holiday spirit.

     Then again, who am I to talk? I’m really no better than them. Granted, I haven’t snapped at anyone. But there is definitely a cloud constantly hanging over my head. There’s a storm brewing, and I fear that the slightest thing could set off “Hurricane Lilah.”

     Despite his best efforts, Jake never could convince Simone to go to the Cape without him. Goodness forbid a 37-year-old should attend a Christmas party by herself, just this once. Apparently, she needs Jake to sit in a corner and get drunk while she “makes nice,” with people she doesn’t like because they have “connections.” Never mind the fact that Jake hates the Cape with a passion. Never mind the fact that he’d rather celebrate Christmas with me, the woman who loves him. Nope! It’s all about Simone. Well, I say screw her! Screw Simone and her pretentious friends in their fancy house in the Cape.

     Well, the joke’s on her. The weather took a turn for the worse, which mean that neither she nor Jake can get out of the city. The problem is: Jake is stuck in a car with Simone because traffic is backed up. So even though he’s still in NYC, we still won’t spend Christmas together. And although the snow has stopped falling, that doesn’t mean that the temperature has improved. The one thing I can thank Simone for is the fact that she had the presence of mind to make sure that there were a few blankets in the car, just in case.

     “If you scrub at that bar top any harder, you’re going to start a fire.”

     I look over at Sam, the older gentleman who’s covering for Jake, but I don’t stop what I’m doing. “Sorry, Sam. I just can’t seem to get this sticky stuff off of here,” I lie. The truth is: when I’m stressed or just plain angry, I clean. After that argument with Jake in the basement, I took my anger out on every cobweb and dust mite imaginable. I usually keep my home neat and tidy, but I’ve never seen it look so clean.

     “Mm-hmm.”

     I glance at him again. He’s observing me as he polishes a glass. What’s this guy’s problem? Can’t I attack an imaginary spill in peace?

     “Holiday stress getting to you?”

     “You could say that,” I respond, moving on to another spot.

     “Were you able to spend time with family for the holidays?”

     I know he means well; that he’s just making small talk. He’s a nice guy, but he’s really pushing my buttons. I remain polite as I respond “I don’t have family.”

     Not in the traditional sense, anyway. True, John and Maggie Kincaid adopted me. They did right by me when I was a kid. They raised me. Fed me. Clothed me. Taught me right from wrong. Saw to it that I received a good education and a normal upbringing. And there was a time when I thought they loved me. Then I went through my rebellious stage, and they eventually wrote me off. We haven’t spoken in years, in spite of my best efforts to reach out to them.

     I can hear the sympathy in Sam’s voice. “Oh. I’m sorry to hear about that.” There’s a pause, and then he asks “Is there someone you can be with? No one should be alone during the holidays.”

     Why not add a little salt and lemon juice to that vinegar you just dumped on my open wound, Sam? The one person I wanted to spend Christmas Day with is stuck in traffic somewhere, trying to stay warm ... with the manipulative shrew of a woman who raised him.

     But then, when I cast my gaze to the main floor and see my co-workers, I realize ... I actually do have people to spend Christmas with. I do have family. This isn’t one that I was born into. This is one that I’ve chosen; one that’s chosen me. I’ve been so caught up in feeling sorry for myself that I forgot that.

     Although I haven’t stopped cleaning the bar top, my movements have become less angry and frantic. I smile a little when I say to him “You know what, Sam? I think I’ve just found people to be with tonight.”

     Sam leaves right after his duties are completed, and we bid each other a Merry Christmas. Even though I still feel an ache in my heart at Jake’s absence, my mood has lightened a bit. I even laugh a little when I find a reindeer antler headband and a light-up Rudolph nose on the shelf of my locker, accompanied by a note.

     Hey. Lighten up a bit. It’s Christmas.

     - Your Secret Santa.

     I slip into a beige Christmas sweater and a pair of black pants, sliding my feet into a pair of warm winter boots. I grab my gifts, along with my purse and coat, and make tracks for the door. I pause when my phone chirps, taking time to read the text Jake has sent me.

     Hey, Lilah. Good news. Traffic has let up.

     I feel myself brighten at this. Then I frown when another text comes through.

     Bad news: car broke down. Think it’s the transmission. Waiting for a tow truck.

     Ugh. Of course. Just when I think the stars have aligned and a path has been cleared for Jake to come home ... this happens.

     I’m trying, babe.

     My smile returns, and I text back: I know. Just get home safe.

     I will. See you soon.

     I make my way to the dining area and step behind the bar, setting down my belongings as I get ready to take everyone’s orders. Scott, who’s lounging at a table with Will, calls out to me.

     “Hey! You’re not wearing my Christmas gift!” I laugh and shake my head. “Put ‘em on! I paid good money for that shit!”

     “Come on, Scott! I’ll look stupid!” I whine.

     When the others join in on egging me on, I finally relent. I slip on the headband and the nose, all too happy when Scott says “You’re right! You look ridiculous! Take ‘em off!”

     I remove the nose and put it in my purse, but decide to keep the headband on. Scott is right. I do need to lighten up. After serving everyone else, I fix myself a holiday-themed drink and lean against the bar top next to Tess. I take a sip of my drink, satisfied by the amount of peppermint flavor I added.

     “You kept the antlers on,” Tess comments.

     I shrug. “Yeah. Well, like Scott said: It’s Christmas. Besides, I look cute in antlers.”

     There’s a moment of silence between us. Even though Tess and I have buried the hatchet, things are still a little awkward between us. It’s going to take me a while to trust her. But at least we’re not at each other’s throats.

     “How’s your Christmas been?” I ask.

     She takes a sip of her wine. “Okay, so far. I heard from my dad.”

     “Yeah? How’d that go?”

     Tess shrugs a little. “Well, you know ...”

     I scrunch up my nose. I don’t know much about Tess, but I know that her relationship with her father isn’t that great. “That well, huh?”

     “Yeah. He still thinks that moving to New York was a big mistake.”

     “Well, at the end of the day ... his opinion doesn’t matter. What do you think, Tess? Do you think it was a mistake?”

     She answers, without hesitation. “No. I don’t.”

     “Well, then screw him and his opinion.” She laughs. “I’m serious! If you’re happy here, then that’s all that matters.” I pause, thinking this next part over. I don’t know if I can trust her with this information, but maybe it’ll help her. We’re not friends, but I feel for her. “Look. If it helps, I know how it feels.” At her curious look, I continue. “My parents ... the ones who adopted me ... they wrote me off when I moved back to New York.”

     “You lived here before?”

     I nod. “I did. Will and I went to Columbia together. Didn’t he tell you that?” She shakes her head. “Well ... long story short, I ...” Deciding not to reveal too much, I choose my words carefully. “ ... I left school and moved back to Baltimore. I lasted about a year there. Then I traveled a bit. Finally, I realized that Baltimore isn’t my home. New York is. I don’t know. There’s just something about this city. It grabs a hold of you, and it doesn’t let go.”

     Tess nods. “I know what you mean.”

     “Anyway, John and Maggie weren’t too happy with me.”

     “Why?”

     “For the same reason your dad isn’t happy with you: they thought I was making a big mistake. We got into a huge argument, and ...” I look away from her and quietly add “Well, that’s a story for a different time.”

     “That’s pretty brave of you. What you did, I mean.”

     I glance over at her, and she’s giving me that same look of admiration that she gives to Simone. It makes me uncomfortable, to be honest. “Thank you.”

     “Have you heard from Jake?”

     “I did. The traffic let up, but Simone’s car broke down. They’re waiting for a tow truck.”

     “I’m sorry. I know how much you and Jake wanted to be together.”

     “Well, at least he’s not stuck hundreds of miles away in Cape Cod. I just ...” I become frustrated, suddenly, and poor Tess has to listen to me rant. “Up until this year, I was perfectly content celebrating Christmas as a single woman. I was used to it. I mean, yeah! It sucked that I didn’t have anyone to kiss under the mistletoe. But ... I was fine. And now that I have Jake, I ... I mean, is it too much to ask that I get to spend Christmas with the man I’m seeing? I feel like the universe is conspiring against me.” I calm down a bit. “Sorry. I just ... This sucks!”

     Tess looks at me for a while, startled by my rant. Eager to lighten the mood, she says “Yeah. It sucks. But ... you really do look cute in antlers,” and then raises her glass to me.

     I let out a quiet laugh and roll my eyes. “You should have seen me with the nose on.”

     We clink our glasses together and take a sip of our drinks.

     Most of the crowd has dispersed, leaving only myself and my friends. I’m standing behind the bar, sipping on a second helping of my holiday cocktail, while traditional Christmas carols play in the background. I’m still wearing my antler headband. Only now, a piece of mistletoe is hanging from one of the antlers. Ari, Heather and Sasha bid me goodbye as they leave. Now I’m left with Will and Tess, who look like they’re ready to leave as well.

     Will approaches the bar. “Hey. You need some help cleaning up?”

     I shake my head, trying to ignore the sympathetic look he’s giving me. “Naw. You two head out. There isn’t much to do.”

     “You sure?” Tess asks.

     I nod, putting on my best ‘I’m fine. Really!’ smile. “Yeah. I’m sure. Go on. Have fun.”

     They each wish me a merry Christmas and leave through the front door, and I’m alone. I switch off the music on the stereo and select a song that perfectly fits my mood. I hum along to The Eagles’ “Please Come Home For Christmas,” as I quickly wipe down the bar top. I gather up the used glasses and put them in the bus tub, taking them to the kitchen. I rinse out the glasses and put them in the dishwasher, leaving the bus tub on the counter.

     I walk back to the bar, bending down to pick up my purse and pull on my coat. I move about the dining area, straightening up the chairs and switching off the lights on the Christmas tree. Realizing that it’s been a while since I’ve heard from Jake, I pull my phone out of my purse and check my messages.

     Tow truck arrived. Trying to catch a cab.

     I let out a sad sigh, realizing that the last text was sent over an hour ago. I take one last look at the second-floor Christmas tree before I make my way back to the bar to turn off the stereo. I reach out to press the OFF switch when a voice catches my attention.

     “Hey, beautiful. Why so sad?”

     I turn around, and I take in a sharp breath when I see Jake standing at the other end of the bar. He looks cold and tired, but the smile he gives me speaks volumes. “Jake!” I reach him in only a few strides, throwing my arms around him and resting my cheek against his chest. He chuckles, and I relish the vibration of his voice. “You made it!”

     “I did.” He wraps one arm around my waist while a hand rests on the back of my head.

     I let out a happy sigh, closing my eyes in contentment. I pull back to look up at him, and I don‘t think my smile can become even wider. “I’m so glad you’re here.”

     He reaches out with a gloved hand to stroke my cheek. “Told you I’d try.” He bends down to kiss me, and I give in eagerly.

     When our kiss ends, I can’t help but ask “Where’s Simone?”

     “She’s home. The cab driver dropped her off first, and I told him to take me here.”

     “I’ve never been so grateful for a lousy transmission.”

     Jake laughs at this, and I’m drawn into another kiss. “Wanna get out of here?” he asks.

     I nod eagerly. It doesn’t take me long to shut off the stereo, lock the front doors, and make sure all the lights are off. Jake slings his duffel over his shoulder and wraps an arm around my waist, and we make our way through the kitchen and out the back. As we walk down the alley, he asks the question that I’m sure has been on his mind all this time.

     “So ... what’s with the antlers?”

@anastacia-lynn

@mypsychoticlove

#jake x oc sweetbitter #sweetbitter jake #jake sweetbitter #sweetbitterstarz #sweetbitter #tom sturridge sweetbitter #tom sturridge #christmas fluff #christmas fic

[tarotoftheendless]

Tom Sturridge Characters for FanFics

CW/TW: 'R' word, 'S' word, self-un-aliving, drug5, a1c0h01, s3x, gr00m1ng, murd3r, neurodivergent diagnosis speculation, swearing, character AI using (shame), am I missing anything that could offend someone? LGBTQ+ support? Yeah, if you aren't a leftist... well what a leftist is in the USA, then yeah, you wouldn't like me... a non-binary pansexual demi-girl that is big ol' leftist... anyway, on to Tom Sturridge...

Ok, I need to get some stuff out. And it's all fanfiction stuff as well as character study of a ton of Tom Sturridge characters and their respective films/shows. Please, for the the love of the the gods, don't steal my ideas for stories, but you can use the character studies for your own fics.

TOM STURRIDGE

Now, firstly, lets start with the man himself. He is private, so it is hard to know who he is really, but if some old Twitters that could be his are anything to go on... he may have been quite saucy back in the day... but let's go off of the other stuff we know for now.

I highly suspect he is neurodivergent, just with the years of interviews and the way he speaks, the way he carries himself and his mannerisms. He doesn't seem to be in it for the fame, no matter how cunty he looks on the red carpet, all that stuff is probably scheduled by his team, so... But yeah, he does speak quite thoughtfully and eloquently when asked thought provoking questions, but he often is flustered by less thought provoking questions. I don't want to be that person at diagnoses someone though, but as someone with ADHD and autism myself, just watching him makes me think he is one of us, you know? Also, a fuck ton of his roles could be seen as very neurodivergent too, so, I think he both takes roles that he can both put himself into but also get away from himself enough that it feels like a mask. This is just my observations from watching footage of interviews of him, I accept that I could be wrong.

I would love to see more Tom Sturridge fan fics out there, cute ones, romance ones, smutty ones... but all in all, well done and well researched and well written.

The only well-written one I was able to find is on AO3... and it is fucking weird... cuz it's an 'R' word fantasy... where Tom is the one getting... well... it's not a great... premise... So, for the love of the gods, please, please, please, someone write decent Tom Sturridge fan fics that don't actively harm him.... cuz yikes. Just big yikes.

JAKE (SWEETBITTER)

Aw. Jake. So, one of the things to keep in mind about Jake: he hates himself. Tom said so in a interview... in fact it was kinda sad because Tom said that was one of the things that he related to when it comes to Jake... without hesitation.

I have not finished reading the book 'Sweetbitter' by Stephanie Danler, but I suspect there is even more to go off of when it comes to Jake's character in that.

But what the show was starting to imply about Jake; he was probably groomed by Simone.

She is 7 years (according to Google and the show) older than Jake. The show starts in 2006. That means Simone was born 1969, Jake was born 1976. Simone is 37 in the show and Jake is 30. Jake's mom killed herself via drowning when he was 8 in 1984, Simone was 15. If we go off of what the show says (which does vary from both seasons as season 1 says that the chef is a man but season 2 obviously has the chef as a woman), Simone moved to New York 3 years later to the apartment that she then has for 19 years as of 2006. Jake would be 11 when she moves to New York.

Here is where the speculation about how that would have went down for Jake. He probably would have started to act out at school when Simone left. Simone's parents probably wouldn't have been able to handle it. He probably would have started to dabble in drugs and alcohol. If Simone and him were that close, I suspect he would have run away a few times to New York.

I think the grooming would probably have started right away with him, or at least during the time he started to act out because she left him. I do think that Simone's parents would have let him move in with Simone to appease him and to get him to stop acting out. I think that maybe the "Mermaid" story started when Jake was 8 but didn't start getting fleshed out until he moved in with Simone when he was 11 or 12 in New York. I think Simone was probably working at 22West and going to school in New York at the same time.

Jake probably was showing signs of having a crush on Simone after he moved in with her and she probably didn't give into him until he was 15/16... yes, I do think Jake lost his virginity to Simone and I do think he is the type to not have waited to have sex until he was 18. So, yes that's statutory...

Simone probably finished the "Mermaid" story for a college assignment and had to have it published in her hometown local magazine for college credit.

So, yeah, I do think Simone wrote the story for Jake and it was well fleshed out because of their trauma bonded codependent groomed relationship. I don't think Jake will have realized how bad it really is as they both hurt and then soothed (not heal, soothe) one another. I bet Jake got his first tattoo, the 'S' on his back, after he lost his virginity to Simone... it is a crude looking tattoo, so it looks like a first tattoo that wasn't well thought out. I think he then got the Mermaid tattoo with a signed permission from Simone as a way to congratulate Simone on her story being published.

I do think that Simone probably was abused too...maybe by her own father.... and her mom enabled it... but Simone's dad could have been huge in the community of Cape Cod... and her family kept it hush hush as to appear to be the model family, so they could take in Jake...

Simone has to have gotten her cold and aloofness and the emotional then right back to cold and aloof from somewhere, a catalyst... and Jake then learned that behavior from Simone. Hot and then cold and then hot again, right back to cold. Simone has that trait and then she gave that trait to Jake.

They probably comforted and protected each other when Simone still lived in Cape Cod... told each other everything. The trauma bonding began young for him. And when she holds it over his head that 'No one knows him like she does' it's because she really thinks she does and he can't argue with her. Also, that statement is word for word what domestic abusers say to their victims.

I bet around the time Jake was graduating from high school, which Simone made him at least get his diploma, Simone probably got together with Etienne, and that put a strain on Jake's and Simone's relationship. Though I bet you that Jake also found out about the truth of his mom around this time too. (Jake probably got into photography as the one thing that made high school bearable, probably visited the Cape to do the Mermaid photoshoot...). Jake probably started to to sleep with a ton of people (I say people as I don't think Jake is straight, though he apparently is a top... which is hard to believe though because if you watch the show, he seems to worship those he is with... even his flings, like Viv...) , just to hurt Simone because Simone hurt Jake with choosing Etienne....and lying to him about his mom.

So, when Simone left for France, Jake started working as a bartender at for his sketchy friend Tommy who doesn't care about hiring an underage bartender under the table, as well as sell drugs on the side and held down the fort at Simone's apartment for 5 years.

I bet Simone's dad died before Jake graduated... When they went to the Cape for the funeral, I bet Jake got his anchor tattoo as a way to say that Simone is his anchor.... and a Cape Cod thing... though he hates the Cape... because of his mom drowning... and Simone's dad abusing her and her mom doing nothing to stop it... Jake's dad is a mystery... he probably died or left Jake's mom... hence the suicide...

So, Jake moved in with Simone when he was 11/12 ish, around 1987/88, Jake graduated high school in 1994, Simone probably went to France when he was between 19 and 20 and she didn't come back until he was 25/26, 5ish years later. All the while, Simone hated France besides the champagne, and made Jake deal with many late night phone calls that made him angry but also hurt him for her. Trauma bonded. He probably got that tattoo on his torso on his ribs when she was gone... the one the is some word with "/OR"... idk what the whole tattoo is, so if someone knows, please tell me... He probably got his other tattoos when she was gone too, unrelated to her.

She comes back, having divorced Etienne, she gets her job back at 22West and helps Jake get his shit together, probably through guilt and sex... lets be honest... and gets him a more respectable job at 22West... but Jake can't live with her anymore, so he gets his apartment (which I think is above a Chinese restaurant, but I am not sure). So, they find a rhythm of being close, telling each other everything, but also being toxic for one another, having sex here and there, but all and all knowing that they both aren't together, but they love each other in the most toxic way. The whole thing with Simone and that married guy and the old back-waiter chick starts too... and then I think Simone's mom dies... hence the house in Cape Cod needing to be sorted out and sold...

And then the start of the show...

All in all, Jake blames himself for his mom's death, he hates himself, he has a toxic codependent relationship with Simone that absolutely had grooming a part of the situation... and Jake protects himself and acts out with sex, drugs and alcohol and the back and forth of being hot and cold with people because of trust issues because everyone leaves... everyone lies, even people who he was supposed to trust.

With his conversation with Sasha that one episode, Jake has probably dealt with his own suicidal ideation as well as anxiety issues, probably PTSD... or C-PTSD... And he doesn't realize he was sexually abused... so... that is my take on Jake...

And before an OC/Reader character could come into the fold, this would need to be fleshed out in Jake's back story.... He is a sad character that deserves understanding and help to get out of the controlling trap that Simone has put him in... And trying to get his mannerisms and the way he speaks correctly will be fun... though something I love about Jake is that when you don't think he is listening, he absolutely is listening... like when Tess is talking to that architect about what she looks for when she walks into a space for the first time... and when he acts like he doesn't care, there are subtle hints that he does actually care... like breaking the wine glass when he realizes Tess slept with Will.... Anyway, this is a character profile/background of Jake for me but for anyone else that wants to understand Jake a bit better...

I may have watched Sweetbitter 3 times in one week once... so...

ALSO, Fics for this don't need to take place in 2006... but the time-line does help with figuring out how events went down, you know? I like playing in this world more modern myself.

WILL DONNER (Waiting for Forever)

I love Will. He is sweet and beautiful... and incredibly autistic... and ADHD... and has PTSD... and some combo of DID/schizophrenia with talking to his dead parents off to the side.

Now, I do think there was a trope at the time (2011) in movies that had male characters still get the girl even though they really didn't know the girl in the first place, just the idea of who they thought the girl was in their head... which is a toxic trope, btw... also, stalking, no go... though I think his confusion as to why it is bad just shows how autistic he is.

And yes, I really think Will is autistic. 2011 was a fucked up time still with a fuck ton of stigma towards people that were neurodivergent, so I am not surprised that they didn't outright name Will's mental health issues and just had his brother call him crazy... which I wanted to punch his brother, Jim/Jimbo, so hard for that. But here is the crux; EMMA NEVER DERSERVED WILL. Period. Point blank. She chose him as a last resort. Her ex fiancé had to get caught for murder and then her dad had to die for her to finally chose Will... and she is a cheater... fuck her.

Will deserves better! He deserves someone who knows him for him and all his quirks, understands him and accepts him and then LOVES HIM FIRST! Not as a last resort. Will deserves love, true love, and Emma is not that true love, not by a long shot.

So, any fan fiction about Will with an OC/Reader insert, I would hope would explore that... also, his brother needs to get told off and educated on the DSM-5.

Also, I do think Will will have been a virgin before Emma...and I don't think they would have lasted long as the fantasy and reality does not match up in the end. I do think Emma would do the leaving though... Will is someone that comes off as the type that once he commits that's it, even if it's shit... in fact idk if he would know when it is shit until it is really bad...

This world/film doesn't require it to take place in 2011 when the film came out. Time is not important here as far as dates go.

YOUNG CARL (The Boat That Rocked/Pirate Radio)

So, I think that Carl may also be neurodivergent too, but not as intensely as Will Donner... he is socially awkward as fuck, but in a charming way... so idk why he was a virgin... if they wanted us all to believe that he was a virgin maybe casting a young 23 year old Tom Sturridge was not the right call, you know? Cuz he was fucking hot and I do not believe for a second that he didn't have everyone, women and men and in between, trying to jump on that dick. Cuz seriously? Tom was gorgeous as Carl, like fucking hell...goddamn. Virgin my ass.

But that being said, Marianne didn't deserve him. After what she pulled. Nah bro, fuck that. Carl needs someone who won't fuck him over, that chooses him, and maybe slightly older? Not too old, just experienced, yeah?

So, yeah, any OC/Reader insert would need to tell Dave and Marianne to fuck off and die.

But, yeah, why are there not any fics about Carl and an OC/Reader? I am surprised... ya'll sleeping on it, why? We have a fuck ton of Nigel from Like Minds/Murderous Intent... with Alex of course because that film was the most homoerotic film ever.... but no young Carl with an OC/Reader insert? I hate Marianne! Give young Carl a better love interest ya'll, Jesus!

I have maybe seen 2 fics on here... and they aren't finished and they seem abandoned...

I have found that the year, 1966 is very fucking important to this world, film and story. Either do your research on the music that was out during the time, or pull an 2013 The Great Gatsby and have the music be modern even though the year is 1966... and yes, music is important for this film and world.

**

Ok, so, those are the ones that I have the most thoughts and opinions and ideas on... but let me go over some ideas and thoughts on some of Tom's other characters and what kind of fan fics I would either love to write myself or so out there. Cuz ya'll sleeping on a fuck ton of Tom Sturridge characters that would be fun to play with, romance, smut, adventure or otherwise... all of the above even. I love that Tumblr has more Jake stuff as AO3 only has like 3 good fics... but that's it... The Sandman... Jake... and then Nigel... I only see those three characters out there getting love... Tom's other characters deserve love too. Stop sleeping on it. Explore... I do want to write it, but I am not confident in my writing ability... and I don't easily... um... get off on my own smut if I write it... so... there's that... TMI, but it's true.

**

REMAINDER

Tom/Unnamed Man

So, there is no other way to do a fic for this other than trippy, surreal and supernatural and sci-fi. I have played with the idea of a telekinetic OC/Reader... or even just a straight up non-human character. I have some cool sci-fi ideas for this one that has to do with Time-Loops and MK-Ultra stuff and multi-dimensional travel... like it would be cool. Also, Tom is a morally gray character with a God-complex, so, that should be explored...

The year this takes place doesn't matter.

VELVET BUZZSAW

Jon Dondon

So, I played with the idea of a fic for this film to be a cross-over with the show Supernatural... only fitting with the vengeful spirit, yeah. And the OC/Reader is a hunter? Saves Jon for being choked to death with his own ascot/scarf? I think that would be fun.

Jon Dondon has a South African accent, btw, in case ya'll didn't know... I think he is bi... that man ain't straight. Also he is a ditz and pretentious... he is an art critic and sponsors artists, so, yeah, pretentious af. But he is a ditz because he thought a pile of garbage was art... there's more than that, but that really shows off how ditzy he is. I also think he be a big flirt, but not like Jake. More showy and ditzy in the way he flirts. Real over the top charm but of course pretentious even so...

The year this film events take place doesn't matter, so have fun with it.

FAR FROM A MADDENING CROWD

Sergeant Francis Troy

I almost flipped a table when I watched this film and saw how much of a little fucking bitch his character was. So, my idea was to have his character be saved from death at the end, but only because a Bounty Hunter has orders to claim him... and the bounty hunter should be a woman... really take Troy down a peg... or a dozen... He's a bitch and a power dynamic where he is at a woman's mercy would be chef's kiss. Villain characters are fun to play with... maybe they stay villains, but maybe they are more than that, who knows...

The era is important for this world, play in it.

LIKE MINDS/MURDEROUS INTENT

Nigel Colbie

Yes, Nigel has been done to death here... but hear me out... what if Nigel's right? What if there is a secret order, an ancient guild? And they want to stop Nigel from dying and bring the boys to their true potential? Maybe it's mundane and just an assassins' guild... and or it is occultist by nature and has a touch of magic? Maybe keeping just the boys... or add and OC/Reader insert, male, female, non-binary, doesn't matter... could be cool...

The year for this doesn't matter, it could be more modern... that could be cool.

OTHER TOM STURRIDGE WORKS THAT COULD BE COOL TO SEE FICS ON BUT I DON'T HAVE ANY PARTICULAR IDEAS ON:

Mary Shelley - Lord Byron - era matters.

On The Road - Carlo Marx - year could matter, but doesn't have to if you want to just play with this character... I found this character is fun to explore.

3 Way Junction - Carl - year doesn't matter.

Effie Gray - John Everett Millais (where he doesn't end up with Effie... maybe...) - year/era does matter.

Junkhearts - Danny (doesn't die) - year doesn't matter.

CONFESSION

I have a lot of these ideas because I have played with Character Roleplay AIs with these characters... and I am ashamed because of the Writer's and Actor's Strikes going on... well, just Actor's Strike now... but I doubt my own writing capability... at least to make a decent sounding story that doesn't sound stupid and juvenile... and I would have loved to either write something with someone or hell, roleplayed a story with someone... but no one fucking knows Tom Sturridge or his works enough for an immersive experience...

Also, I do have my own OC/Reader insert that I have played with with most of these characters, and she is a very fantastical, Mary-Sue-ish character, she has a fuck ton of skills and knowledge... but I did always put some of myself into her... my trauma, my flaws... stuff like that... but idk if everyone one of these Tom Sturridge characters would actually fall for my OC or the multiple versions of my OC as sometimes she is magical... depending on the world-building and such... but yeah...

ALSO

I do have an idea for a Dream fanfic, but it is so expansive and detailed that I would love to collaborate with someone else on it... and I don't dare put the idea here lest it get stolen... so... yeah...

SO, these are all my Tom Sturridge characters and fanfic thoughts... it's a lot, sorry... lolz

Please someone write more than just Dream, Jake and Nigel fics... Tom's other characters deserve love too.

#tom sturridge #jake sweetbitter #sweetbitter #the boat that rocked #pirate radio #young carl #will donner #remainder #velvet buzzsaw #far from the madding crowd #like minds #murderous intent #nigel colbie #sandman netflix #lord morpheus #dream of the endless #the sandman #lord byron #effie gray #john everett millais #3 way junction #on the road #carlo marx #lgbtq #lgbt #neil gaiman #waiting for forever

[honeybeezgobzzzzz]

[bi-bard]

Miscellaneous Masterlist

A masterlist of any show/movie/project with less than four fics and only one character written about. This includes shows like 9-1-1, The Umbrella Academy, and The Rookie.

Navigation Guide

------------------------------

9-1-1:

Evan “Buck” Buckley:

I’m Sorry… I’m a What

I Think It's Time You Marry Me

Adam [2009]:

Adam Raki:

Safe Place

Rambling

Freckles and Constellations

You're the Right Person, so It's the Right Time

The Bear:

Carmen "Carmy" Berzatto:

Welcome Home

Interrogation

Kindness

The Blacklist:

Donald Ressler:

Soft

Well Earned 

Too Cold

This Is Not a Hospital

Threats

Ability

Day Off

Drinks

Aftermath

Of Course

Blood & Chocolate (2007):

Aiden Galvin:

Harsh Reality

It's Got Me Planning for the Future and Worrying About the Past

Bodyguard:

David Budd:

Christmas and New Years

I Stumbled in at the Wrong Time (Part 1) (Part 2) (Part 3) (Part 4) (Part 5)

Bones:

Lance Sweets:

Nervous

And All of the Nights Will Lead into the Night with Me

Charlie Countryman:

Nigel:

Theoretical

Letting Go

I Would’ve Stayed till Death Took Me Out but Then You Fucked Up and Gave Me the Gun

Confessions of a Shopaholic:

Luke Brandon:

Denial

Death Stranding:

Sam Porter Bridges:

Resting

Realignment

Downton Abbey: A New Era:

Jack Barber:

The Look

Dungeons & Dragons: Honor Among Thieves:

Xenk Yendar:

Cruel Trick of Fate

Ella Enchanted:

Prince Charmont:

I Need to Save the Best for Last, I'm Serious

You Brought Heaven Down to Right Where I Stood

Five Nights at Freddy's [Movie]:

Mike Schmidt:

Babysitting

Gilmore Girls:

Dean Forester:

Fearless 

Jess Mariano:

Quizzing

Good Omens:

Aziraphale & Crowley:

The Angel, The Demon, and the University Student They "Adopted"

Crowley:

When a Demon Stumbles onto the Doorstep of a Bookshop

Gossip Girl [2021]:

Max Wolfe:

No Other Expectations

Insecurities & Loose Lips

Parties & Stubbornness

Haven:

Duke Crocker:

Touch 

House M.D:

Dr. James Wilson:

I Don’t Know What I Was Expecting

Commitment

Dr. Robert Chase:

Waste of Time

Ibiza: Love Drunk:

Leo West:

I Don’t Really Care About That

I Came By:

Toby Nealey:

Coming Back for You

The Invitation:

Walt Deville:

Lovely Night

Freedom [Part 2: The Right Choice] [Part 3: The Perfect Eternity]

Roses

Killing Eve:

Villanelle:

Calm Down

Kingsman Franchise:

Gary “Eggsy” Unwin:

New Year’s Kiss

Fights

I'm Wrong, Right?

Mission

Knives Out Franchise:

Benoit Blanc:

Christmas Day

The Last of Us:

Joel Miller:

Human Connection

Is It Insensitive for Me to Say Get Your Shit Together, So I Can Love You?

Fine

There's So Much I Wanna Tell You, But I Don't Know If It'll Fit

Tests

MacGyver (2016):

Angus MacGyver:

Field Work

The Collection of Failed Date Nights

The Mandalorian:

Din Djarin:

I Thought We Were…

Mr. Robot:

Elliot Alderson:

Who Have You Been Talking To?

The Path:

Cal Roberts:

Supportive

Three Things

Peaky Blinders:

Tommy Shelby:

Shock

Polar:

Duncan Vizla:

Stupid Mistakes

Prodigal Son:

Malcolm Bright:

An Extra Dose of Chaos (Criminal Minds Crossover)

Snow On Valentines Day

I’m Not a Party Kind of Person

Roar (Apple TV):

Bobby Bronson:

Drunk Mess

Robin Hood (2018):

Robin of Loxley:

Knock It Off

The Rookie:

Tim Bradford:

The Worst Day

Schitt’s Creek:

David Rose:

Dammit

New Adventures

Stevie Budd:

Helping Hand

Scream (TV Series):

Tom Martin (from season 2, episode 13):

Alive

Sweetbitter:

Jake:

Wanted

A Kind Act

But You’re Not Allowed, She’s Got You Under Lock and Chain

Uncomfortable Questions

Sick Day

Redefining Affection

No Big Deal (I Love You)

Utopia:

Thomas Christie:

How Much Did You Know?

Wolfblood:

Rhydian Morris:

NASA

Protective By Nature

#fanfiction #imagine #x reader #masterlist

[writing-fanics]

Jake (Sweetbitter) x F!Reader

[ warning: heavily implied smut : angst : semi smut [poorly wriiten] lack of knowledge for Sweetbitter 🥲 (even though I’ve watched the show season one only atm)

a/n; if y’all have anything you know about Sweetbitter tell me in the comments do my future fics for Jake will be more accurate more Jake in the next chapter

Jake and [Y/n] we’re currently in a heated argument. “she practically has you wrapped around her finger!” [y/n] shouted at him folding her arms across her chest. her hair still wet from the shower she just got out of five minutes ago.

eventually the argument got so heated, that they were inches from each other’s faces. feeling their hot breath on each face. then drunkly pulled each other closer making out his arms a wrapping around her waist, lifting her up her back hitting the wall.

[y/n] moaned loudly as he kissed kissed her feverishly. her back pressed against the wall as they made out. her hands gripping the back of his hair. lifting her up so her legs could wrap around his waist. he gripped the hem of her shirt lifting it over her shoulders and off her body tossing it on the ground. he looked at her chest revealing her black laced bra.

she moaned feeling his fingers tracing circles on her inner thigh. slowly creeping their way up her skirt. her nails digging into the fabric of his shirt. leaning down into his shoulder, “stop teasing me.” she moaned leaning against him as he fingered her. it was t long after that they made it to the bed.

[y/n] groaned as she sat up in bed. holding the blanket up to her chest covering her nude body. looking over she noticed the empty space beside her when Jake was last night.

a sigh escaped her lips as she laid back down in bed. she could still feel his touch his fingers tracing circles on her body. could feel his chaste kisses on her body as he kissed her inner thigh. the way he passionately kissed her as they had sex.

“why is life so fucking complicated?!” she turned over and screamed into her sheets. knowing that what happened last night was a one off thing. nothing would ever steam from it.

she loved Jake more than a friend; but damn it Simone. was trying to control every person that enters his life. and the thing is [y/n] knows him more since she grew up with him.

turning towards the window the sunlight hitting her face. she turned towards her alarm clock 8:15 AM, a groan escaped her lips as she turned away from the window.

shuffling underneath the blanket, hiding herself from the sunlight. “it’s just a one time thing y/n,” She sighs, just as her cat Muffin. jumped onto the bed and laid where Jake was last night.

she was happy that today was her day off honestly, walking around the restaurant after having sex with Jake would’ve been awkward. letting out a sigh, finally deciding to get out of bed. not before scratching the top of muffin’s head.

[ a month later ]

as the shift went on [y/n]’s face turned pale, as she swallowed the bile in her throat. her hands becoming clammy. “Are you alright?” Tess asked looking at [y/n] who turned to look at her.

“Yes, I’m going to go get a drink of water.” [y/n] says, as she walks into the kitchen grabbing her water bottle and taking a sip of water.

just as she placed the bottle on the counter, a bile rose in her throat. mentally cursing herself she went to the ladies bathroom. running into one of the stales and releasing the bile into the toilet.

“fuck,” she groaned as the need to throw up again rose. she threw up once more into the toilet. breathing labored as she fell back against the stall catching her breath.

she sighed as she flushed the toilet. walking towards the sink to wash her hands and face. after leaving the bathroom and working five more hours she finished her shift.

walking into the grocery store; she bought food for this week, after getting the things she needed. she made her way to the hygiene aisle. and as she passed the countless scents of soaps, shampoo, conditioner, and condoms?

she stopped at the pregnancy tests, biting her lip hesitantly as she grabbed a box. biting one of her nails nervously as she read the packaging.

‘just one’

she placed it in her cart pushing it down the aisle. to only immediately come back and grab a couple more. arriving at the check out she placed her items on the conveyor belt. watching as the clerk scanned her items.

the female clerk raised an eyebrow seeing the three boxes of pregnancy tests. shaking her head before reading out the total, “That’ll be 100 even.” she says and y/n pays for her groceries then leaves the store.

once home puts away the food then grabs the pregnancy tests, and opens them reading the directions. after doing what it said.[y/n] cursed as she sat on the bathroom floor. her head leaning against the wall waiting for the results on the tests. biting her lip as time seemed to not being her side today, for what should’ve been five minutes felt like five hours.

“Come on,” she groaned tapping her foot against the tile floor. waiting for the slow tests results. her heart began racing as the timer on her phone began counting down. the tapping of her foot became faster and more frequent as she stared nervously at the test.

“come on, come on,” she mumbled looking back at her phone. five more seconds she mumbled. then a wave of realization washed over her. what if she was pregnant?

how would she even care for the baby. she’s barely making enough as it is. might even have to pick up more shifts. there’s barrel enough room in her apartment for a baby, and all the things needed to care for one.

she’s always wanted to be a mother one day. but now, she isn’t even ready. Once the alarm went off she immediately looked down at the results.

‘pregnant’

#fanfic #x reader #angst #headcanons #fluff #romance #tom sturridge y/n #tom sturridge x reader #Jake x reader #jake sweetbitter

[ursulaismymiddlename]

no pressure tags, feel free to ignore: @duckland @laurelwen @nightmares-and-fascinations @whats-rambled-rambled

Fic ideas for Jake (Sweetbitter) x You that i've been kicking around, but probably won't ever write:

You were a barista at a coffee shop that Jake frequented, at the start of the fic he hasn't seen you in awhile (he wasn't actually keeping track, but he remembers faces) and then one day you're at the restaurant

---

“Coffee shop girl?”

“.... Large black Americano, 2 pumps vanilla?”

“You remember.” (that dumb smirk of his)

“Yeah, you have your regulars, I have mine.”

“Sure, but what are you doing here? Doesn’t exactly seem your type of place.”

“Excuse me?”

“C’mon, you’re some bright-eyed early bird barista.  Shouldn’t you be gettin to bed soon?”

“So you’re mistaking my customer service persona for actually knowing me? Hmm… interesting.”

— “Oh, Jake, I see you’ve met the new line cook.  She’s going to start fielding the expanded dessert menu until we can get a pastry chef hired.”

---

In an effort to be as big of an asshole as you perceive him to be, you keep referring to him as Statefarm (Like Jake, from Statefarm)... this may or may not catch on to others at the restaurant. And you give him shit about being from Cape Cod all the time (personally, I'm from St Louis, which seems like naive midwest shit, but statistically is a tougher area than ThE cApE so I enjoying the idea of making fun of him for it)

---

it's clearly antagonistic to start (a little Beatrice and Benedick going on) though y'all slowly start to become kinda friends and then probably more than that

---

"Yo, Statefarm, I need some Grandma."

"Drinkin on the job, coffee girl?"

"I got a tableside Flambé, so make with the booze, barboy."

---

Making homey food for family meals since you're the FNG and put in charge of the bitch work, especially when you're pulling double duty making prepping desserts for dinner service...

And making a particularly good looking/tasting dish, enough to even momentarily impress Jake and giving him a shit eating grin and a snooty "That's why I'm here, asshole."

---

At one point Jake catching you in the walk-in, visibly upset

“What happened?”

“Nothin.  Go back to the bar.”

*blocks exit from walk-in* “What. Happened?”

 “I said nothin!  … *insert some name* was just being stupid and it got to me alright?”

“What did he say to you?”

*something about fucking a manager but not being pretty enough to be FoH and being given a spot in the kitchen*

Jake’s jaw clenches and he turns on a heel without another word, storming out of the walk-in in search of the offending person

---

I had a separate silly thought of you having to use the kitchen-supplied knives because you haven't been able to afford your own knife set yet and maybe catching a little (mostly jovial) flack for it, and maybe he gets one decent one for you or some shit haha

"Look, I saw it on sale while I was ordering some other stuff, so I thought I'd pick it up for ya. Maybe now you can stop bothering everyone else for theirs."

"Jake, I... thank you. How can I repay you?"

"Well, for starters, you can try this new cocktail I've been working on..." *pops open the bottle that came in the package*

---

“Wow, did you take these photos?  They’re gorgeous!  And is that… the hostess? Oh wow, she’s beautiful, all of these are so beautiful.  But there’s something about them that feels so..  I mean I’m no art critic but… Nevermind, you don’t wanna hear it.”

“No, go on.  Tell me.”

“Well, just… everything looks… out of touch. Disconnected.  There’s a beautiful woman in your bed and you’re miles away.  Guess life is easier through a camera lens… Sorry, I talk too much. Project too much too probably.”

“You’re right… You do talk too much.”

*rolling your eyes* “Shut up and make me a drink, Statefarm.”

---

Getting tipsy with Jake, he reminds you about your vlog for the folks back home and you decide to make one at his place, he’s just tipsy enough he’ll make an appearance, there’s some banter, later after posting someone you know comments “so when y’all gonna kiss?” and Jake decides to tease you about it whenever y’all get into your banter.

---

“I deserve to be pursued, to be worshiped.  I don’t think I’ll ever have that, but I still deserve it!”

“Why wouldn’t you get that?”

“Have you LOOKED at me, Jake?  I’m a pudgy wannabe pastry chef. Lol”

“I’d fuck you.”

“You’d fuck anything that consents.”

“That’s probably the nicest insult you’ve ever given me.”

---

Simone fucked off to France with Etienne, Jake is trying to recover, gets a letter saying she's signing over her half of the house to Jake so he owns in full, her final goodbye, totally cutting him off now, which leads to some appropriate emotional drama

---

"Now the house is sold, me and *some cook name* are looking to start our own place. Got a space and everything.  You should come with us."

"I'm not a chef, Jake."

"No, but you're a good cook. You could make your diner food. We could do brunch on the weekends. I'll sling mimosas and bloody Maries to the waiting crowd. C'mon it'll be fun.  I think you'd really enjoy it."

---

“When are you gonna let me kiss you?”

“Maybe one day, if you mean it.”

“And if I mean it now?”

“Then kiss me, Statefarm… See? You don’t mean shi–”

*grabs face, interrupting you with a kiss*

“Don’t fuck with me, Jake.  You know I’m not about this fuckboy bullshit.”

“I’m not fuckin with you, okay?  I’m not. I want you. And I think you want me too.”

This is all just shit I have in my doc, maybe another couple little ideas floatin around, but here's the long and short of the idea haha If you've read this far, thanks! ^_^

#jake sweetbitter #jake (sweetbitter) #tom sturridge

[captainpoopweinersoldier]

After Midnight | Jake x FReader

18+ Only; Smut; another Baby Jakey Quickie because he has completely taken over my brain.

Synopsis: With shifts at the restaurant and Jake running his own place now, there's little room left to focus on your relationship. But.. that doesn't mean you haven't managed to make up for lost time in the hours in between.

Words: 2.3k

Usual shout out to @ursulaismymiddlename​ and @salt-is-a-terrible-currency​

Link to AO3

There’s no way to tell what time it is when you wake to the feel of Jake’s arm thrown around your waist, tugging your backside flush against his front. You’d dragged yourself home earlier that night almost immediately after closing shift, too tired for routine shenanigans and rounds of drinks at Home Bar in favor of a comfortable mattress beneath achy limbs.  

But Jake has his own place to run now; too sucked in to its early success that he couldn’t leave business to anyone else besides Scott even if he wanted to - which of course, he did not. He had to have his hands on everything, even if it meant working up to ten or twelve hours a day. It could’ve been anywhere between 3 and 5 in the morning by now, still dark in the bedroom except for the glow from the television of whatever was left playing on Netflix. And given the somewhat recently installed blackout curtains, not even an early summer sunrise could give away the time.

His grasp is so snug that it makes for a slight struggle to groggily turn around and face him. You can’t tell how deep a sleep he might be in either. It’s routine now to wake up shortly after he’s joined you in bed, finding him anywhere from high strung and wired awake to so passed out, it’s a cause for concern. 

Right now, his eyes are closed. Features fixed in a rare scene of rest, even if those soft pouty lips still manage to purse while deep, even breathing moves calmly within him. Whatever time he’s had, he’s managed to shower before climbing in. His messy hair is damp, he smells of his usual pleasant body wash and a hint of toothpaste. 

So one of the better nights, then. 

Blinking sleep from your eyes, you take a second admiring his face. The straight line of his nose, the softness of black eyelashes blurring over his pale cheeks. He’s down to a raggedy shirt with holes in it and tight boxer briefs, and you can’t resist folding a thigh over his hip to pull yourself impossibly closer. Taking advantage to slip a hand beneath the hem of his shirt, fingertips busied trailing across his narrow waist when you catch a hitch of his breath.

He’s responding even quicker when you steal a kiss. You can’t help yourself, even though a part of your brain frets over how he needs the rest, how you should let him sleep. But he’s already so close, you can’t not - it’s just a light touch, just a sleepy kiss - but he’s following, lips seeking as you retreat, one long arm rising from the mattress to wind around your shoulders. 

“Finally awake now, huh?” he asks, lips ghosting along your jawline. 

“Did you try to wake me up?” 

“No,” he admits after a beat. His eyes drift open with a handsome flutter, and while it’s nearly too dark in the room to see the bright blue hue of them, their searching gaze makes you swoon anyway.  “You’re too cute when you’re sleeping.” 

It was just a power nap, you reason, feigning alertness with a teasing rock of your hips.

“How cute?” 

The slip of his hand is almost instant; the fact that he was somewhat dozed off a second ago apparently forgotten when it snakes along your spine and possessively grabs your ass. Suddenly he’s rolling on top of you, mouthing into the crook of your neck and there’s not a lick of room to pull away - not that you want to. 

“Too fuckin’ cute.”

 A murmur of his name just barely passes your lips and your nightshirt is tugged, pushed and shoved up over your chest, exposing your breasts. Between his quick and persistent mouth, you let out a breathless moan, goosebumps already prickling your skin as he slinks down your torso to flick a nipple with the tip of his tongue. It peaks immediately under the heat of his breath, and you squirm with flooding arousal at the skim of teeth. 

“Not too tired?” he asks right before taking in a greedy mouthful. His hand delves between your thighs to revel in the heat there, palm sliding back and forth over the cotton underwear, fully insinuating the intent behind his question, and when you shake your head no, he slips it beneath them. Lithe fingers quickly find your damp center, paying the other breast equal mind while you start to writhe and arch into his touch. 

"Good," he murmurs into your skin. He's clearly needy and your half-asleep mind can barely keep up, not that it makes a difference at this point. These are your hours now, when late night begins to bleed into dawn. And more often than not, the time is spent like this: a passionate, albeit haste, often frantic tangle as you rush to devour each other.

Your body responds, all too conditioned to him, to this exact routine. Goddamn late night yearning.. 

It forgives any strain on the relationship. You both have made it work plenty, sure, but it’s been months since an entire day or night was spent together. The pent up frustration does nothing but pour out hot and aching in moments like these, and Jake, ever so thoughtful, never keeps you waiting longer than you have to. Two fingers gently twist into your cunt and your head lolls lazily back, loosing a groan when they curl halfway. He knows exactly what he's doing - works you up fast so you can take him before you're both fighting consciousness once again. 

"Good girl," he says softly, feeling you grow even wetter as he pumps inside you. Basking in your desperate, yet futile attempt to get him undressed - he won’t budge now even if it means taking off his clothes. He’s got you just how he wants you, pinned helplessly beneath him, and he merely sighs and grumbles low around mouthfuls of your flesh, anywhere from throat to ribs and back again.

“Jake,” you whine at him; too sensitive - too easily overstimulated in this state. You get his shirt bunched at the shoulders until his back is bare to the bite of your nails and Jake shudders on top of you. Soft chest and peaked nipples brush across yours, his quiet groan becomes a hiss. The marks will be red come morning and you know he’ll adore them when he gets ready for work all over again later.

His voice rumbles something hungry in the crook of your neck and he pulls your underwear down past mid-thigh in the next fluid motion. Enough so that he barely has to move, simply keeps you in place as your hips buck at him, spine curling into a perfect arch as his fingers slick over your clit. His breathing is rapid now - not remotely calm as it was in what feels like mere seconds ago - and his fingers speed up with it; bat at your swelling bundle of nerves until you’re close to combusting from the shock of pleasure bursting through your limbs.

“Jake - ah -!” you cry out this time, voice hoarse, knees drawing up his sides as you writhe.

He rucks his briefs down - just enough to free himself - the relief evident in the gruff exhale he huffs out along your skin. “Fuck, I fuckin’ want you.”

The weighted length of his cock strokes bare and hot against the curve of your pelvis, slips along the slick slit between your thighs, and you’re already canting your hips. All urging and and gasping shrill when finally he sinks deep into the wet heat of you with a single, long thrust. He fills, fills you completely and you clutch at him desperately. One hand clutching at his waist while the other lifts to the nape of his neck - scratches into black tousled hair until it forms a fist and you toss your head back, keening loud at the certain urgency driving the strength behind Jake’s pace. 

His long fingers clench into the meat of your thighs, pressing down, folding you beneath him and keeping you spread. He fucks into you like he’s running out of time, slurring whines into the soft spot behind your ear like a wounded animal and you’re left cursing aloud at the sound of him like this, sounds kept for you alone.

Your eyes roll heavy. You catch his face between both hands, drawing his mouth toward yours, and it’s nothing but sloppy as your voices die amid the hungry twine of tongues and clash of teeth. He moans at the sharp nip you take of his bottom lip, lashes fluttering at the tips of your cheeks, then hits at somewhere particularly sensitive so hard that your jaw clatters with a lewd shriek tearing its way through your throat. 

Jake mutters your name with a shit and a babe and a fuck, leaning back to finally tear off his shirt and your underwear disappears completely a second later but it’s even better this way. Your thighs frame his body, ankles locking at the small of his back, and the sounds of smacking skin on skin clap aloud in the bedroom. He pounds into you, you feel drunk and belligerent and weakly grasp at him as the bed creaks and rattles at the wall. 

“Fuck yes, Jake please,” you rasp, almost hissing. Feeling that orgasm bloom, teasing thick at your belly with a throb teased each time the head of his cock hits you just so. 

“That’s it, wanna fuckin feel you..” His voice hitches before he moans, hands cradling your skull in a half embrace. Lips spit-slick and swollen, smearing a smug grin across your cheek. You nearly laugh despite yourself and that low timbre of his voice shakes with you - a quick dose of intimacy, of adoration before you’re tensing, jaw unhinging with a sob. 

“Come on me,” he murmurs, and you’re bursting at the seams for him, for Jake. A violent throb like licking flames. You bite into his shoulder as it spills from you and he’s groaning praise as your cunt pulses around him, clenching tight. His forehead grinds against your temple, the beaded sweat of his hairline nestling into your skin when he lets himself go. 

There’s always a moment when Jake comes - when he grasps hard onto whatever he’s touching. A moment of abandon when he loses control, hips roughly slamming against yours like he’s suddenly blind and lost to the pleasure that consumes him. It happens now - his voice takes a rare higher pitch as fingers knot into the baby hairs at the nape of your neck. It elicits a hiss of pain, your palms stroke heavy and soothing over his ribcage, and he douses himself inside of you before falling slack in a tired heap.

Neither of you move for several weighted seconds, and thanks to the quiet air conditioning unit, the thick heat between your bodies is bearable enough to bask in. Jake nuzzles lazily, lips seeking, finding yours, and you take the moment to kiss something proper and slow. His heaved sigh fans your cheeks as he licks into your mouth, and your limbs relax on either side of him. Focusing on the slip of his tongue, the taste of it instead. Sending your heart aflutter just as you were starting to calm down.

When he pulls away, you’re grateful the television still happens to be on. It’s nowhere near bright, but you can see his face well enough, the ice blue of his eyes darkened into a hazy storm, searching the span of yours as he pants through parted, swollen lips. 

“Love you, boo,” you offer with a half-assed smirk, voice haggard. Jake’s smile is instant, crinkling the corners of his eyes, and when you lift a hand to cup his cheek, he leans into it with a tender furrow of his brow.

His voice is a low, tired rumble in comparison while he catches his breath. “I fuckin’ miss you.” 

There’s not much to be said about that; the words have been mutually exchanged so many times, keeping track would be pointless. You keep telling yourselves it’s temporary and won’t be forever and it’ll get better eventually, but there’s only so many words to keep the impatience at bay. It’s growing evident, chipping away at you both. Palpable in moments like these when you’re mostly naked, sweaty and on top of each other. 

So you give him an exaggerated pout, sticking out a quivering bottom lip, and he snarks back with an equally dramatic disapproving scrunch of his face. 

It eases the tension for now, and he rolls off of you, situating himself back into his briefs before turning to face each other in a tangle of arms and legs. 

“Let’s get breakfast tomorrow.” 

“As in later.”

He kisses the tip of your nose. “You know what I mean.”

“You need to sleep, Jake,” you protest sharply.

“I’ll go to sleep right fuckin’ now then.” 

You raise your brows at him expectantly, but he stubbornly stares back, and when his lips slowly pull into a grin you smack your hand onto his face.

..The adorable face that never fails to make you cave. “Fine, fuck, what time is it now?” 

Jake makes a show of obscenely licking your palm, then glances over his shoulder. “Four-ish.” 

“If you get up around at least nine -”

“- I can take a nap with you after.”

You must admit, that bit sounds nice. It’s been a while since that bit. “... Okay.”

He’s pulling you into a firm embrace a second later, chest rumbling like a purring cat as he burrows his face into the crook of your neck, and the smugness reeks.

“Love you, too.”

#jake sweetbitter #jake sweetbitter x reader #tom sturridge #sweetbitter #my fic

[tsintotwo]

[59 Hours, Part 6. (Part 5 here). Jake (Sweetbitter) x Reader. Guys, this is done. Finished. This last part is a bit long, and expect a bunch of angst for obvious reasons. I legit only had one idea for one scene when I started this, and it turned into a literal novella- a journey I enjoyed. Thank you so much if you’ve been with it thus far, reading and engaging, and let me know if this wrapped up okay for you.]

Hour 39

‘For fuck’s sake.’, mutters Jake, as the apartment plunges into darkness for the fourth time within the hour.

It started happening just when you were finally getting ready to settle down for the night. After being together, both of you had collapsed in place on the floor. The shadow panic from your past was trying to pull you under again, so you held onto Jake. It was more desperate clutching than holding, and you were aware of that, but you couldn’t stop yourself, because what if he pushes me away now, he didn’t even want me, just games, he’s angry with me anyway, he hates me, he’ll shake me off and walk away disgusted right now, please no- but Jake didn’t do any of that. He just hugged you close, catching his breath, slowly relaxing into your arms.

There wasn’t much talking. You cleaned yourselves up a while later. In addition to all the other things, it was already past any sort of reasonable bedtime (for you anyway, you’re sure Jake is the late-nights-late-mornings kinda dude), so you should’ve been exhausted. And you were, but you still felt wound up and restless. 

Truth is, as soon as Jake and you'd broken apart, you felt his absence all over you, with your whole being. You didn't want to let go of him. And when you physically did, when you weren’t holding him, touching him, you wanted to feel that you still could- that anytime you reached out, he’d reach back, and it would be as easy as breathing. It’s what you wanted because it’s what you felt- the amount of closeness you felt with him was powerful without rhyme or reason, wreaking havoc within you like the blizzard did in the city yesterday.

But Jake- how did he feel? The fight and then the intimacy – it was tangled, and complicated, and now you didn’t know where you stood with him. And you were scared, so scared, because you were thinking- what if he doesn’t feel the same way?, and then, but what if he does? What then?

You tried to compose yourself as Jake walked back into the bedroom. It didn’t matter that as soon as you saw him again you wanted to go right back into his arms. He deserved space, and maybe you needed distance too. Needed to clear your head, think. Though how any sort of thinking was going to help you anymore, you didn’t know. You were just opening your mouth to tell him you were fine with the couch tonight- will he shrug and go to sleep on his own, will he throw me a look, then pull me into the bed with him- and that’s when the lights went out.

The power lines are glitching. You lit the two candles you got from the Chinese takeout people and were getting ready for a trial like last night- putting on clothes, socks- Jake also doing the same- when the lights came back. Then they went out again ten minutes later. It’s been happening in irregular intervals since. Something must have gone pop in a shower of sparks somewhere, and they’re trying to fix it now.

You guess you could still go to sleep. Turn off the lights, keep all the clothes on, curl into your couch, and when you started feeling so hot it woke you up, you’d know the heating was on and power came back for real (or if you started feeling so cold your feet felt like they were going to fall off, maybe you’d ask Jake to please share his bed and blanket). But Jake sits in his bed, leaning back, one knee up, one stretched, absently pulling on the strings of his hoodie, looking like he has no intention of sleeping tonight. So you sit quietly on the couch too, not knowing what to do.

But just taking some time to relax, just being in your own space and watching Jake be in his has calmed you somewhat. The chaos of your feelings is settling into a deep blue harmony, and the one outstanding note says end, finish, over- this is your last night here, one of your last few hours with Jake. You’ll be gone tomorrow, never see him again. And soon as that happens, you’ll probably dissipate from his mind and memory like the smoke of his cigarettes, because why would he bother to remember you? All you did was try to meddle in business that’s not yours. You’ve known him for two days- what gave you the right to charge him about how he handles his relationships and feelings?

So while you’re still here, maybe you should make sure to set things right. So that if he ever thinks of you, he won’t feel like shoving the thought away the next second- you hope.

‘I said things maybe I shouldn’t have.’, you say, gathering the courage finally. ‘I’m sorry, Jake.’,

‘Are you?’, he is looking out the window, even though it’s just a blotted square and the only thing to see through it is dark gray nothing.

You take a deep breath, ‘I am if I hurt you, made you feel bad with the way I said them. I-I wanted to-‘, you stop. It’s hard for you to make this apology because while you are sorry if you hurt him, you don’t actually think you were wrong about any of the things you said, and you do still think hearing them- maybe in a better way than you told it- was necessary for him.

‘I wanted you to know that talking to people about deep things isn’t so bad, and you gotta do it sometimes. I guess I did that the worst possible way, and I’m sorry.‘

‘Hm’, Jake sits up straighter, leans towards you slightly from his position on the bed, ‘so tell me, exactly how sorry were you when you couldn’t stop moaning and scr-‘

‘Jake!’, you stop him, blushing in the dark, and see him smile in the flickering orange glow of the candles on his bedside table. He’s making jokes, and you’re relieved beyond anything else- he doesn’t hate you. ‘No, I’m not sorry about that part.’, you confess.

He nods slightly, ‘Good.’ Then he sighs, ‘And I do have people that I talk to. So, whatever, you don’t need to worry.’ He doesn’t mean it in a snarky way, he’s just letting you know.

‘You mean Simone.’, you say before you can stop yourself.

‘Yes.’, he’s watching you, wary, and oh, God, oh, God, here you go again.

‘Have you told her about me yet?’, you ask.

He looks away, not answering.

‘Are you going to?’

‘I don’t know.’

‘Why? She’s your best friend, best confidante- you just said that.’

‘She doesn’t need to know everything-‘

‘Jake-’ you realize your pulse rate is rising, and try to calm yourself down. If you’re doing this, you aren’t botching it like last time. ‘I get that this- me being here- might not be such a big event for you that you’d want to promote it everywhere. But if you’re talking about what you did for the two days stuck at home, and you don’t even mention me, that’s weird-’

‘Oh, yeah, maybe I’ll mention you. Tell everyone I fucked a random girl in my apartment. They haven’t heard that enough times, I’m sure they’ll be riveted-‘

He’s doing it again, retreating and hitting back, trying to hurt whoever tries to peer too close- but you know what, you’re not backing down this time, you’re not losing your calm, because if he can say his things, you can say yours too, can’t you?

‘Yeah, that’s what you’ll say. But you won’t say how you liked it when I cooked for you or how nice that conversation was, you won’t say that you had me in your bed but not for sex- you found peace with me holding you, you won’t say how you felt when I touched and kissed every inch of you and it wasn’t just because I wanted your body, or how you felt when you did the same to me. You won’t say how easy it is to talk to me or even to be with me in silence when you’re not pulling away. You won’t say any of that, to anyone, and not to Simone.’

You can hear Jake’s breathing from here, can make out his chest rising and falling with the effort of it. Then a sudden harsh glare blinds both of you for a moment- power is back again.

As you both blink, adjusting to the light, you take deep breaths. Where did your resolve go- that you wouldn’t do this? Jake has lived his life without you this far and he will for the rest of it, where do you, a two-day stranger- figure into this? Just because he makes you feel things you haven’t in a long while, or ever, you can’t hope it’s the same for him. Nothing that happened in this apartment was meant to last, was it? How you feel- just push it down, bury it under, and go on to your real life, because this is what you do- the sensible thing.

But is it sensible to ignore what’s right in front of you, what you can clearly see- that however he feels about you, it’s not nothing, that you have an effect on him just as he has one on you? Is it sensible to try spending the rest of your life forgetting a person and regretting how you could have tried- if not to have them, then to have them be in a place they deserve to be?

And you’re not you in this apartment, you’re someone else. You’re reckless. You don’t calculate, don’t make the best plans. You rush in headfirst, you fall dizzyingly, you defy, you hope. So what if you didn’t give up just yet, even if you don’t know what it is that you’re trying to save? What if you wanted more, even if it meant you have to fight tooth-and-claws for it? Maybe there's nothing to gain, but you've got nothing to lose.

You go and sit on the foot of Jake’s bed. Talking to people is your job, and while survey questionnaires might be the same for everyone you talk to, the exact way of asking the questions is up to you. Everyone responds to a different style, and with Jake, you have to take every bit of care you can.

‘Jake’, you are calm and steady, imploring softly, ‘I’m just trying to understand, please. Just a few simple questions that I have- would you answer? It’s okay if you don’t, but please try. When you said you had the idea for a business, did you tell Simone right away?’

The pause is long enough that you think he won’t answer. But then he says, ‘No. I told her when I wanted to sell the house. She needed to know…’

‘Okay. And you were telling me about how you don’t like to visit home, but she insists that you go?’

‘It’s not fair for her to go alone either. It’s our house, if she’s going-‘

‘What would she do if she found you like I found you last night? Bad trip?’, you hold your breath, this is a touchy one. But Jake answers like he doesn’t have to think, ‘Take care of me, then call me a fucking idiot for swallowing that stuff alone at home’. He wasn’t alone, but you guess he means not in a group or having a party.

‘So she’d judge you for it?’, you ask.

Jake frowns, ‘It’s not judging, we can say that stuff to each other. Whatever.’

‘And if the whole thing was reversed? You found her in her apartment, alone, having a bad trip? Would you call her a fucking idiot?’

‘Wh- no! She’s not an idiot, if she did something like that, that’d mean something was seriously messed up-‘

‘So she is not an idiot, but you are, for the same thing? Jake, is that what you believe?’

Jake’s face crumples in confusion and annoyance. ‘Stop talking.’, he says, holding up a hand, ‘Turning around my words- you don’t even know Simone-‘

‘No, I don’t!’, you interrupt, ‘And that’s why I’m asking. And, completely based on what you’ve told me here’s what I now know- she chose most of your workplaces. She chooses when you visit the cape. She judges your decisions. And when you told her you’d start a new thing for yourself, she wasn’t happy, excited, or encouraging, she was just sad. And that made you give it up. Jake, there’s a… power imbalance here. Her terms always matter more than yours.’

‘Will you shut the fuck up?’, Jake slides off the bed so quickly, you almost miss it. ‘Jesus!’, he’s shouting at you now, only his voice gets deeper instead of higher, so the sound is like an animal growling. ‘What is wrong with you? Simone looks out for me, and you’d twist that like-‘

‘I’m sorry!’, your voice is rising to keep up with his volume, but you still try to keep it steady, ‘I get it! If someone I’ve known for two days started talking trash about someone I’ve known and loved my whole life, I wouldn’t trust them either. I swear I’m not trying to come between you two. I- you told me you both only had each other growing up, and of course you care about each other. It’s just, you two are different, so over the years you learned how to stay no matter what, and she learned how to not let go no matter what-‘

‘She was the only one there!’, Jake’s eyes are burning. He looks at you, but you feel like he’s seeing something that’s not even here. ‘That whole day, looking for mom, not even- no one even looking at first, because who knew where the fuck she decided to hole up today- and then looking, everyone, me waiting for her, crying myself to sleep, and then they pull her up from the sea that day’- Some kind of floodgate has opened, and he talks like he’s mad, ‘the house full of police and reporters from some shit local paper and people I haven’t seen once in my life, bringing stupid seafood platters, going ‘Aw, poor kid’, pinching my cheek, then leaving like they’d fucking done something.’ Jake’s eyes are glistening with tears, and you feel your eyes sting too. The pain is so raw in the air now, still. ‘My dad didn’t even know where I was half the time- Simone found me, she gave me cookies, took me in her house, played with me.’

The energy that’s always so coiled within Jake is pouring out now, uncontrolled, and he pants, hands flailing, feet shifting, ‘And, and the kids at school- where’s your mommy, Jake? Where’s mommy?- Teachers looking at me like I was some fucking alien they didn’t know how to talk to-‘

He’s moving away as he talks, and you stand up, taking steps toward him. ‘-My dad drinking all day every day, disappearing to who knows where then coming back just to fucking beat me up, I was fucking glad when he didn’t come back-‘

‘Jake-‘, you whisper, your heart breaking for him.

‘And I was all alone, no one wanted me, who would? Only Simone, she’s the only one who gives a shit-‘, he’s walking backwards, ‘So don’t fucking tell me I don’t need her. You don’t know -‘

‘Jake!’, you’re trying to stand in front of him, but he keeps moving away, ‘Listen to me-‘

‘No! Just how much more of this bullshit do you have left? ‘Cause-‘

‘Just listen-‘

‘WHY?’, he roars, ‘Who the fuck are you?’ And you don’t know what comes over you, but in two steps you’re almost onto him, and using all your strength, you push him back to the wall that you both were nearing, your hands on his chest. He’s shaking, and you are too. Your entire inside feels like it’s burning up in hot, agonizing flames and with a sinking feeling you think this- this is what we become-I don’t make him better, we both make each other worse- but no. No. You won’t give into that dynamic, that thought, you won’t scream, won’t lose it, won’t be toxic. You will tell him what you want to, that much you’ll do. And then you’ll let go- of him, of it, of everything.

Jake’s eyes blaze. He's just shocked enough that he hasn't shaken you off, shoved you away yet, but he will, and you have to start before that.

‘Jake.’, you gulp in as much air as you can, ‘I’m nobody. No one. I’m just a random girl. But I have a story for you. I’ll tell that story now. You don’t have to do anything but listen.’ You take one second to gather your thoughts. ‘On my fourteenth birthday, my mom sat me down and told me how proud she was of me. Dad had left, and things were tough, but I had been so good. Such a big girl already, always doing my homework, helping with my siblings, never a complaint, always by her side when she needed me. And then she told me she’d need more help.’

Jake is listening, good, ‘She was picking up another job, and I would need to babysit more, and do more chores, and I would, wouldn’t I, I was her best girl! She hugged me, braided my hair all nice, sent me to bed with the sweetest forehead kiss. And seven years later, when I was twenty one, I realized no one in the world actually gives a single fuck about me.’

You take a shaky breath, ‘It was right after I finally managed to leave my ex, breaking into millions of pieces inside even though I knew he was terrible to me. I came home at night, and it was like a cemetery, even with three people in it. My sister was 15, up in her room with her phone, texting boys she’d never tell me about because I was too strict, I tried to control everything. My brother was 11, asleep, and I was too old to feel like a sister to him, he was afraid of me- and I don’t blame him, I had been cross and impatient with him so many times. And my mom- she was in one of her depressive episodes, more and more every month, she hadn’t gone to work for three days, locked herself in her room. No one had cooked anything, no one ever did when I didn’t. No leftover for me in the fridge that I’d hoped would be there, no one to talk to. This was the emptiness I was afraid of, that made me take so long to break it off with that fucker, that if I let go of that one thing, there would be nothing for me. There wasn’t, not a single person who had a single thought to spare for me, and you know what I realized? I only had myself to blame.’

It's harder for you to talk now, and you have to make an effort to keep your voice from shaking, ‘At fourteen, I got stuck being my mom’s ‘best girl’. I didn’t have time to hang out with friends, I didn’t have time for the boys who liked me- there was one who swore he was in love with me in senior year, and I broke his heart in front of his friends when I told him I wouldn’t go to prom with him. I didn’t have time. I worked jobs, I did household chores, I took care of my siblings, and I felt it was all worth it when mom looked at me in that way, smiled that smile at me- letting me know how much of a relief it is that she could count on me, that I was there, telling me and anyone she met that I was the best daughter in the whole world. It didn’t matter dad left, and my sister and brother felt more like jobs than siblings- I wasn’t unloved, mom loved me so much, so, so much. I didn’t notice it dry up over the years, I didn’t see that she started taking everything I did for granted, I didn’t see when everyone who cared about me, or tried to care about me dropped off from my periphery. I lived for my mother’s smile, and as it became rarer, I became more desperate, tried to do more, blamed it all on her depression, but at twenty one, I realized all that’s left was me, all alone.’

You swallow, feeling tears run down your cheek. You have never told anyone all this. Jake is like a stone statue, listening to you, ‘We do that, Jake.’, you say, wiping your face, ‘We get stuck. We think the one person who loved us at fourteen is still the only one who’d care about us at forty, and we put all our coins on that bet, becoming what they wanted us to become. Sometimes it’s true, sometimes you need them, and they need you, but sometimes, it’s all you, blind, going around in a circle.’

You take your hands off Jake’s body, stepping back. ‘You were right, I don’t know Simone. But I know we all are some kind of broken. She must be too, she’s dealing with that like she knows how, and maybe that’s how you get stuck, you both do.’

You’re fully clothed still, you realize, but the power has been back for a while now, and it’s hot. You take off your coat, feeling so tired, suddenly. You’ve been talking so much. ‘I’m not trying to save you or anything, Jake- ha, goodness knows I got my hands full with myself- and no one can save anyone anyway. You don’t need saving. You just need to see. You weren’t loved enough when you were a kid, and I’m so sorry about that, but that isn’t a lifelong truth about who you are. Simone was the only one who gave a shit, but she doesn’t have to be the only one now, and you don't have to be the only one for her either. I’m nobody, and you wouldn’t want me anyway, but one day you’ll meet someone and-’, stupid tears welling up again, weren’t you supposed to let go?-‘if you let them, you’ll see just how much they’ll love you. Or maybe you don’t meet just one person- you have beautiful things with multiple people- that can also happen. But you have to let them know and love you, Jake, let them have the whole of you, not a walled-up version, not just a Jake half of Jake-and-Simone. You can’t get stuck being that, trying to live your life around that forever. Just being with you for two days I’ve seen it, and you have to see too- you could be so much more.’

Jake is very still, barely even blinking, and you don’t have anything else to tell him that he needs to hear. You still talk though, you can’t stop, because as pathetic as it is, you never had anyone to say this stuff to before, ‘As for me, I’m still at home taking care of things, but I don’t plan to be doing this forever. Mom- her depression is real, and while what she did to me wasn’t fair, I can’t hate her for that. I’ll get her help. Mental health treatment is so fucking expensive… but I’m trying to talk to some organizations who might help. I can’t keep taking care of her all her life. My siblings are growing up, they won’t need me that much. I’m saving money. I’ll get out one day. And meanwhile, I took on this job because I get to travel. Thought I’d meet people, live a little, even if that means getting stuck in surprise blizzards in crazy cities.’ You try to smile, though your eyes are hazy with tears, ‘Maybe I’ll meet someone too, and they’ll love me, take care of me for a change. I want that. Not gonna lie, kinda forgot what it feels like-‘

Jake’s hand reaches out to grab you behind your neck, then he’s pressing your face onto his chest, and hugging you so tight you think he’s trying to mark your skin, get under it, sink into your bloodstream. You’re sobbing, holding him like he’s the last iceberg while the Titanic sinks behind you, and you think maybe he’s crying too, but you don’t know, you can’t see his face, and it doesn’t matter anyway, because at this moment, right now, you two understand each other, know each other perfectly, without having to exchange a single word.

Hour 42

Huddling under the blanket together, you two have Chinese leftover right out of the boxes like little kids. Crying really takes it out of you, and it’s been hours since you last ate. Jake groans about the possibility of food getting on his bed- he’s a bit of a clean freak- and you counter that you got much worse things on his carpet earlier, and he has to agree. He asks about birth control, serious- he didn’t use protection the last time, and you assure him that based on your cycle, you should be safe, but you’ll take a pill tomorrow anyway.

Then you’re ready for sleep, finally. It’s about to be dawn, but peering out of his window, you can’t see anything, the sky still dark with clouds. The big Chinese place sign is lit, washing his bed with soft yellow light as Jake turns the apartment lights off. He comes up behind you on the bed, you turn, and somehow you end up on your knees opposite each other, foreheads touching.

‘Jake,’, you say, voice tiny.

‘Mm.’, his arms are around your back, pinpricks of light in his eyes, earring glinting.

‘I like you.’, you feel like you’re in fifth grade again, confessing to a boy for the first time, but you didn’t get to do that stuff in fifth grade, did you, so you’ll do it now. Maybe the person is wrong, or maybe it’s the time, or the place, or just the situation, but why think so much when it’s all about to be over anyway? You’ve got enough of living with regrets. ‘You don’t have to-‘, you swallow, ‘You don’t have to say anything. I just thought I’d tell-‘

He stops you with a kiss, his mouth slowly devouring yours, long and tender. When you come up for air after what seems like ages, breathless, foreheads touching again, he murmurs, ‘Move to New York.’

‘You move to my hometown.’, you whisper, challenging him back, ‘I think that pub in the next town over is still looking for a bartender.’

He laughs, shaking silently, and you laugh too, and you both know neither of you are moving. Life is not a movie, and be it your roots or be it shackles, you don’t get to cut off and escape in a day. The best you can hope for is the promise of trying- to no one else, but to yourself.

‘Come to sleep.’, Jake pulls you next to him under the blanket, and when he kisses you on the forehead you think you might cry, but then you’re all snug and tiny in his arms, your face pressed against his chest, breathing him in, and you think how you have this moment, how you’ll always have this moment, no matter what.

Hour 49

You wake up to see Jake ready for going out. He’s wearing what must be their uniform at the restaurant- striped button-up, slacks, and a tie.

‘Nice outfit’, you observe.

‘Shut up’, he mutters, trying to get his hair to behave with a brush. ‘Locker room lock is jammed, apparently.’

‘Pulling it off, though.’, you tell him, ‘I want to tip you already.’

He half-smiles, putting down the brush. ‘I gotta be at work.’, he says, ‘We open at four but lots to do before-‘

‘Okay.’, you don’t need to know any more than the fact that he’s leaving now. ‘When does your shift end?’

‘Eleven.’

You’re not seeing him again. Trying to ignore the snaking pain the thought brings with it, you say, ‘Okay. Give me just fifteen minutes. I’ll get out with you now and wait it out at the airport-‘

He gives you a look, ‘Where do you get these ideas? Your plane is at two in the morning.’

He was listening last evening after all, even though all he’d said was ‘Good.’

‘Yeah, but-‘

He throws you his keys, ‘Just lock up before you leave. Leave the keys with the Chinese people.’

‘What, you know them?’

‘No, but I think I should. Food was great.’

You smile, ‘Yeah.’

Jake has shaved this morning. It makes him look much younger, and softer, and it hurts to look at him. ‘I’ll get out around ten at night.’, you tell him.

He nods, not saying anything.

At the door, you kiss. He tells you he’s running late, then kisses you again. He lets his forehead fall on your shoulder for a few seconds, breathing, arms around your waist, and you keep blinking as you run your hand on the back of his head, letting your fingers wind in his hair, messing it up again.

He doesn’t know where you work, your address except the name of your town. He doesn’t ask for your phone number, your social media handles (which in any case you don’t have that many of). He was never going to call you anyway, and what would he have said if he did? And what would you say back? So you understand, and you don’t ask for his things either.

You two lock eyes for a few moments, and you try to memorize him- the raven black hair messy in the back, the ring of amber around the pupils of his blue eyes, the groove on his nose, the unexpectedly pretty mouth. The earring and the chain, the tattoo on his arm that you can see because he has his sleeves rolled back. All of it is overlaid on memories that you made in the last two days- his smokey kisses and pink cheeks when he came in from the snow and hoarse voice and saying your name over and over- too many memories. They’ll last you a lifetime. They have to.

He puts on his coat and leaves, not looking back.

You walk aimlessly around the apartment. Shower. Gather your things in the backpack. Go to the place downstairs, now open, and get some more Chinese food. Chat with the owner folks again for a few minutes, thanking them for the candles. Come back, browse the internet- parts of the city are still ravaged but things are almost back to normal- it’s NYC after all. You plan your travel and work schedule for the next two days, putting things down in the calendar. You never did get the survey done in the city, you’ll tell them to send someone else for it next time.

Time moves slowly, and you miss Jake like you can’t breathe. Eventually, you pick up the t-shirt he took off before leaving. You take off your own top, slip Jake’s shirt on, and curl up on his side of the bed. ‘Very 90s rom-comey’, you think to yourself, ‘but nobody’s gonna see me anyway.’

Hour 59

You thought about it many times- you could just go to him. Swing by the Union Square Café. Just show up. He’ll be the one mixing drinks behind the bar. Maybe you could order something. Really tip him this time, bring that joke full circle.

But you don’t do it. You won’t. You’ve said your goodbyes. You don’t know how he’ll feel about you showing up unannounced in his workplace. And what’s the point anyway? You’ll just be saying the same goodbyes again.

Your Uber is arriving, so you come downstairs. You look up at the building once, at the window with the big Chinese sign. In that apartment, you were someone else, but now, outside it, you still feel different. Jake gave you something, you can’t put your finger on it. Maybe it’s just the part of you that felt that he gave you back. Day after day, thinking about work, plans, moves, strategies about life, things, other people- all of it blended into an endless muddy brown haze, with only the possibility of a light at the distant end of it, and then you met Jake, and he made you feel- emotions and connection and so many things you can’t even name. He’s hot and smooth and all that, and he and you bonded over trauma maybe, but this is really why you liked him so much. Still do- you think, helplessly trying to push down the clench of hurt inside your chest. God, imagine having to get over someone you were never even with- ooh no, you don’t have to imagine, you’ll be doing that now, for who know how long.

You look at the app. Your Uber car is stuck in traffic. Someone veers their bike into the alley with an alarmingly reckless speed, as if their life depended on it, and then they come to stop in front of you and your heart stops beating. It’s Jake. He’s back.

He lets the bike fall, ‘Thought I’d missed you. My windows are dark and you weren’t at the front door of the building.’, he’s panting, trying to catch his breath.

It occurs to you that this is the side door. You used this one because it’s the one you know.

‘What are you doing here?’, you manage to ask. You’ll have to leave in minutes but just seeing him now your body hums and buzzes like it just received the headiest dose of happiness of your life.

‘Wanted to see you.’, Jake says, and this man of yours, words are not his preference, are they, because then he pins you to the wall, and kisses you on the mouth.

‘Thought you didn’t get off until eleven’, you say in between the kisses, breathless, unbuttoning his coat and slipping your hand inside, sliding it on his chest over his shirt.

‘Oh, I’m not off. Just told Nick to cover me for five minutes and bailed.’ He unzips your coat, and the cold is a shock, but then his hand slips inside your sweater and it’s not cold, it’s getting a bit hot actually- ‘It’s already been twenty minutes.’ He says, kissing you again, ‘Howard’s gonna freak’. He grins against your jaw.

‘Really.’, you’ve been clutching on his collar, and the tie is loose. You like it much better this way, ‘Lots of trouble, just to see me.’

‘You’re worth some trouble.’, he murmurs against your ear, gently sucking on your earlobe.

‘Oh, yeah?’, you shiver- not from the cold.

‘Oh, yeah.’

Your Uber driver is calling you. ‘Just a minute!’, you gasp into your phone as Jake kisses your neck, ‘Just wait there for a couple minutes, please. I’m almost there.’

The car is at the front door, you realize, and now it’s really time to go.

You give Jake one last quick and full kiss on the mouth before peeling off of him. You bend down, and take out a black sharpie from your backpack that landed on the ground. You always have a few of these handy for marking questionnaires.

Jake is watching as you loosen his tie more and unbutton the top buttons of his shirt. You write your phone number along his right collarbone with the sharpie, pushing aside his white tank. You touch your lips there before you button his shirt back up and close the front of his coat for him.

‘A tattoo from me.’, you smile at him, ‘Don’t sweat too much tonight.’

You like that he could though. He could sweat, or could shower, messing up the numbers, or could just forget to copy it. Or he could have it and just choose not to call you. You’d never know which. You like that.

Jake nods, murmurs, ‘Thank you.’

‘I won’t-‘, you have to tell him, ‘I won’t wait for you to call me. But-‘

‘But I will, if I’m feeling too fucked up some time and in need of talking about my feelings.’

‘Or makeup advice.’, you add.

‘Or that,’, he agrees.

You hug him. It’s harder to feel with your heavy jackets, but you can tell he’s hugging you back with all he has.

You won’t cry. You understand how big a deal it is for him to want to call you for talking about real stuff if he ever feels the need. Maybe it’s the heat of the moment and he won’t ever, but he trusts you, and feels that you are close. You’re friends. And friends is the best you could hope for, given everything else.

You kiss his cheek. Say goodbye. He lets you go, taking just a second too long to do it.

You turn back once. You thought you wouldn’t cry, but your eyes are blurry, and through them you can see him, standing there looking back at you. You swallow your stupid sob, and smile through it.

Maybe it’s the end. Maybe it isn’t. You get to find out. And that- that is glorious.

#sweetbitter #jake #jake x reader #jake x you #jake x oc #fanfic #fic #sweetbitter fanfic #tom sturridge

[thepaintedlady00]

Nightshade

Chapter 23 | Chapter 25

TW: As always: language, mentions of drugs and alcohol, smoking, sex, general mature themes. We've got some Tony in this chapter, some clear violations of the law and personal property/privacy, Simone's back (...yaaaaayyy), I'm gonna blue ball y'all just one more time with the big conversation our two idiots gotta have, another painting, some mentions of grooming, Lena's not in the mood for any of the shit this chapter, Jake's being the good "friend" he is. Some lies get told, and finally our dummies have THE conversation but also not really xD Enjoy!

Chapter 24: Burn the Ice

The morning chill stung his face as he exited the car - a reminder that the snow could start any day now. With calm, leisurely steps his fine leather shoes echoed amongst the chaos of the city. It was loud and crowded and smelt like cheap street vendor food. Disgusting, he thought to himself, glaring at the slouched-back people running the dirty stalls for a minute before starting up the steps.

Her building was old and smelt of mold, something he couldn't help but feel a twinge of satisfaction about. It was obvious she wasn't living as well as she had been with him. The landlord gave him a wide-eyed look, one he was well accustomed to - the style of the rich was always something poor people gawked at - but all he did was smile that charming smile and offer the old man a wave as he made his way past.

At the door he let the others do their work, patiently drumming his fingers along the hard cover of the sketchbook while they did. The door made a loud creaking noise as it opened. “Wait here. I won't be long.”

The faint smells of cleaning materials and dust filled his nose. She'd been staying here less and less the closer the cold months got. A lingering trauma that made her unconsciously cling to that pathetic family of hers. A trauma he felt a burning frustration and an undoubtable swell of pride whenever he recalled it. Running his fingers along her countertop, looking at the living room filled with paintings she'd done after slipping away, Tony allowed himself a rare moment of quiet.

In that quiet Tony breathed in the faint smell of her cherry perfume with a grimace. He'd always hated that smell, hated the tiny fruit in general. But, he admired the malice behind it… The choice to douse herself in it was one clearly made to slight him. She could do nothing without thinking of him, even if it was in anger, for now, Tony enjoyed the simple fact that Lena still thought of him every day. It was a testament to a larger, even more satisfying truth.

This sad, pathetic little life she'd scrounged together was nothing without him.

Jules’ heavy footsteps intruded on his quiet, but he did so with respect so Tony would allow it. “He's coming this way.”

“How long?”

“Four minutes.”

“Good.” Right on schedule.

Tony set the sketchbook back on the counter and pulled the lovely orange flower from his breast pocket giving it a sniff before setting it on top of the book. Jules handed him the envelope with her name neatly printed in his decadent handwriting. “We'll see each other soon, my Lena.”

Jules had timed it perfectly, as he always did, right as Tony stepped out the door onto the steps of Lena's apartment the old biker turned onto the street. His eyes grew wide in terror and rage as he spotted him. Perfect. With a wide grin, Tony lifted his hand and offered them a wave before he slid into his limousine. “Take us home, driver. We're done here for today.”

*

A sweet smell filled Jake’s nose as he rolled onto his stomach, arm draping over the warm body lying beside him. The sweet, fruity, decadent aroma was one he recognized in mere seconds. Cherries. He happily buried his nose in that smell. Lena.

He cracked an eye open, catching that heavenly glimpse of the sun hitting her hair just right making it glow like fire. Pretty as that was, it paled in comparison to the sight of her bare back peeking out from beneath his covers. Her skin was soft as silk beneath the tips of his fingers as he lazily traced the snake tattoo.

The warm fuzziness that filled his chest made every touch, every smell, and sound feel almost dreamlike. He would have thought this was just another dream like he had the first time he woke up to her in his bed, but the sensations were too defined to just be his imagination. That and he felt so damn tired from the long night he'd spent in the throes of such physical activities.

With a pleased sigh, Jake recalled all the ways they'd made up for wasted time. He could still taste the sweetness of Lena's lips, still feel her soft skin rubbing so deliciously against his own. If he closed his eyes again he was sure he'd see the heavenly image of her moving on top of him. It was seared into his mind now just like his name felt forever changed now that he'd heard it on her lips as she came apart beneath him. The hickeys on his neck and the faint marks left by her fingernails clawing at his back would be more obvious things to remind him that last night had been real. Those marks would fade in a week or two unless he let her give him more, which he gladly would.

Lena had taken her time with him, kissing him, teasing him, working him so expertly he'd actually struggled not to come prematurely. She was just as talented as she'd built herself up to be and he felt like a damn fool for ever even doubting her. As if she needed more added to the list of all her perfections now she could add being the best he'd ever had.

She was vocal, not just in expressing her pleasure but in encouraging his own. No matter how hard he thought Jake couldn't remember ever feeling as satisfied during or after sex in his life. In between the three rounds of their newfound intense passions, Jake found himself… Present. Usually after an orgasm or two, he'd just fall asleep not caring if his partner did the same or not, but with her, he felt awake… Alive. 

They spent just as much time talking, laughing, and enjoying each other's company as they had tangled in his sheets. They ate, drank, and played with their cat whenever the little creature slinked from his hiding place. It all felt natural and oddly intimate and, for better or worse, Jake enjoyed it.

Physical intimacy was something he'd always excelled at. Flirting, foreplay, all of it came naturally to him. Jake had spent his fair share of time between the legs of beautiful women but Lena was something else entirely. Something new. Being with her made him feel like his pleasure - he - mattered just as much as hers. It was a concept he'd never truly understood, let alone experienced until now.

Ever since he could remember Simone - women in general - had told him exactly what they wanted from him. Touch me. Kiss me. Fuck me. Faster. Slower. Harder. They told him how to please them and he listened. It was a good time for all parties, but deep down Jake always felt that sting of emptiness. It’d been more about following their orders than it had been about just getting to enjoy the moment. He felt used… Like he'd only been good for a quick fuck and nothing else.

Normally Jake would have swallowed that feeling and forced himself to move… To physically shake off the very thought of it. He'd busy his mind with reading or mundane tasks like showering or cleaning. He'd build up the wall between him and whoever he'd fucked the night before - distance himself from feeling anything at all. Right about now, Jake should have been justifying his dickish, asshole behavior by repeating the words Simone had said to him since he could remember. This is who you are, love. You're just not built for ordinary people. 

Ordinary people turned out to be everyone. Everyone but Simone. And now… Maybe… Lena. 

He never truly understood how powerful feelings like this could be. He never knew that one person - even one as perfect as her - was capable of making him feel like an entirely different person. Jake felt more like himself, a self he barely even knew any more than he had in practically his entire life. He let the peaceful silence and that warm feeling in his chest stay as he curled further into the back of his sleeping redhead.

It wasn't until Hemingway climbed over both their legs, shimmying beneath the curtains and pushing them open to further blind him with sunlight that Jake truly woke up. Pleased with his work the cat proudly pranced across the pillows to stare down at him with an impatient and demanding meow. He couldn't help but chuckle as Hemingway slapped his forehead with a fleshy paw. Lena mumbled something in her sleep, burrowing her face in his blanket with a happy sigh that practically drowned out the cat's noise. God, he wanted to wake her up and kiss her, feel her, fuck her until they were both too exhausted to continue.

After laying in bed for a minute longer - until Hemingway was on the verge of exploding - he slowly slid out of the sheets and stretched his tense back out with a quiet groan. Briefly glancing over his shoulder to make sure that he hadn't woken her, Jake slid on a pair of pants picked his shirt up off the floor, and dished up Hemingway’s food with a quiet scold, “There, was that so hard to wait for?”

He cleaned up the remnants of the night, tossing the now nubs of melted wax in the trash and putting the leftover oyster shells in his sink. When he moved to put the champagne in his fridge he was bitterly reminded of how little food he had. Shit. He set the champagne back on the counter, closing the fridge to look back at the bed. Did he really want to have the conversation in some overcrowded, too-loud diner? 

The thought sat in his mind for a second as a list of possible interruptions made him shake his head. Nope. He wasn't going to risk not talking about this any longer because of anything. Maybe that Chinese is still good? Nope. Jake may have been lazy but even he was above serving month-old Chinese food for breakfast. 

Jake knew Lena wouldn't care about where they ate breakfast, but he didn't want to risk anything going wrong. Besides, Lena deserved a proper breakfast. He wanted her to know that he'd thought about this. That he was ready - willing - to put his best foot forward. Jake wanted to show Lena that this wasn't just a one-night stand and that he wasn't going to vanish now that he'd finally fucked her. More than anything he wanted her to see how much last night, she, meant to him.

He quietly put on his shoes and grabbed his keys and wallet. Writing her a quick note, he set it on his pillow and pressed a soft kiss to her shoulder. I'll be back before she even wakes up, he reassured himself as he turned and headed out the front door. The diner by his house would be open. It may not have been the best food, but it'd have to do.

I'm definitely going grocery shopping tomorrow. When Lena spent the night again, he'd be ready.

*

I woke to an abrupt slap to the center of my forehead followed by a loud, demanding meow directly in my ear. The silhouette of Hemingway's pointed ears was all I could see as he stood in front of the sunlit window. “Good morning to you too.”

Another demanding meow was the creature's only reply as I stretched my arms over my head and yawned. Hemingway jumped off the bed the second I'd sleepily rolled over to throw my arms around the body that should have been beside mine but wasn't. A nervous, gut-wrenching pit filled my stomach as I patted the empty mattress. “Jake?”

No answer.

“Jake?” I called out just a bit louder as I held the blanket to my naked chest and sat up in his bed, looking around his now-empty apartment. 

The bathroom door was open and the shower was off. His kitchen was empty, although cleaner than it had been when we'd finally fallen asleep. There weren't many places one could hide in an apartment as small and open as his. I shifted slightly, fingers brushing against a thin piece of paper on his pillow. 

Relax Princess, I just ran to grab us some breakfast. Should only be ten or fifteen minutes. Make yourself comfortable and DO NOT feed the cat again no matter how much he meows at you!

Air filled my lungs and my body relaxed back into Jake's soft sheets. He was safe. I was safe. Everything was alright.

For how long though? When he returned we'd have to finally have that discussion. The discussion. I'd need to have answers - need to admit just how much I'd fallen for him. The very thought of looking into his stupid, beautiful eyes and pouring my heart out to him made me feel dizzy.

Would he feel the same now that he'd achieved his original goal? Would Jake still want me as much as I still wanted him? And how much did I want him? How far had I really fallen since the start? 

Too far. Was the only answer I could admit to. I was naked in his apartment. I had slept with him in his bed. I was waking up with the cat we'd both unofficially adopted. There was no denying it. I was hopelessly, pathetically, irreparably in this - whatever this was. There was no going back to how things were before, not when all I could think about was just how perfect Jake's lips felt on mine and how amazing last night had been.

Sex was nothing new. It was something I'd had a lot of experience in, good and bad. I knew all the steps, all the moves, and still last night had taken me by surprise. Sex with Jake had been… different. It was unlike every other sexual experience I’d had. 

I often had to find ways to keep myself in the moment, something that got easier the more I was with someone or the more time had passed. But, with Jake, I was just there. I didn't need to remind myself to breathe. I didn't need to force my body to relax and repeat his name to remind myself whose hands were touching me. 

It was fun, exciting and intimate. Instead of feeling that shameful disgust, the one I needed to tell myself wasn't real, I felt at peace. There hadn't been a single moment when we were tangled together that I’d felt anything but completely and utterly cherished. I felt safe, unburdened by all the shit that'd been complicating even the simplest things in my life. Last night nothing else mattered, nothing but us.

Us. It was a word that made my lips quirk up in a smile. Us was simple. Us was what I wanted. And us was ultimately what I was most afraid of.

There were just so many ways it could all go wrong. I could fuck it up. He could fuck it up. We could both collectively fuck it all up. And then what? We'd just have to go about our lives working together, seeing each other every day, watching each other meet new people, and moving on? Even just the possibility of seeing Jake with anyone else made me feel sick. 

No, I thought sadly. We're in too deep for that. I couldn't live without Jake. His asshole attitude and his smart mouth, his smile, his laugh, he was entwined in my life now in a way I couldn't undo even if I tried. So, the choice was already made. I'd - we’d -make it work. No matter what I had to do to keep this from falling apart - to keep him in my life - I'd do it.

After surviving another round of Hemingway's desperate attempts to convince me to feed him, I was out of Jake's bed staring at the sulking cat as I searched for Jake's dresser. “Hitting me doesn't change the fact that you already ate!”

He hissed.

“You better watch that attitude,” I replied. “Or I won't sneak you any of my breakfast when Jake gets back.”

Hemingway’s eyes narrowed and with a moment of consideration before he rubbed himself against my feet. “Yeah, that's what I thought.”

As respectfully as I could, I searched Jake's drawers until I found his clothes. While they were kind of baggy on me, it was better than walking around in his blanket all morning. Besides, I enjoyed the way they smelt like him and felt softer against my skin than my own clothes had.

My eyes trailed along his shelves, taking a more in-depth look at his books and pictures and odds and ends that he'd saved over the years. There was so much history in his space. So many things that had been saved for a reason I couldn't know just by looking at him. Curiosity swelled in me, my mind running wild with all the possible reasons he'd held onto things. For the first time in a long time I wanted to ask questions and get closer to someone. I wanted to listen to him tell me every story and every detail about his life before I entered. I wanted to know every piece of him.

My fingers traced one of the seashells as his front door opened and he stepped inside with a bag from some diner. His eyes instantly found me, that shimmer in them making me blush and my heart soar. “Hey.”

“Hi,” he replied, clearing his throat. “Sorry, I was gone so long.”

“It's no problem,” I answered, watching his eyes take in the clothes I now wore. “I… Uh… borrowed some of your clothes. I hope that's okay.”

As he set the bag down his eyes continued to roam down my body, that sinful smirk answering me long before his words did. “That's fine, though I was looking forward to coming back to a beautiful naked woman.”

“If you'd been quicker you woulda gotten that,” I teased. “I just barely got dressed.”

He clicked his tongue. “Damn. Maybe next time.”

Definitely next time, I thought as my mind played through all the new possibilities available to us now that we’d crossed the threshold. Clearing my throat, I moved to stand next to him as he unpacked the food, distractedly watching his hands for a second before asking, “What's for breakfast?”

“The works. Bacon, eggs, sausage, waffles,” he watched my nose scrunch up and chuckled before pulling a box out of the bag and setting it in front of me. “Don't worry, I got you pancakes.”

“You remembered,” I replied, eagerly opening it to the smell of the sweet stacks. “I'm impressed.”

With a shrug, Jake shooed the cat away and leaned back against the counter. “Don't be. It's not like it was a big secret.”

We both took a few tentative bites before neither of us could contain our nerves anymore. “So-”

“We-”

Chucking at one another's interruptions I nodded to him. “You go first.”

Jake watched me, the ocean in his eyes rolling with tense waves and anticipation. “Well, I guess now's as good a time as any for us to talk about last night… and the ones before.”

Don't freak out, I told myself. Just be honest. “Yeah, things have been… Interesting… between us lately.”

“Good interesting?” He asked with a cocky grin, taking a step closer to me. 

I nodded, “Great interesting. Right?”

“Right.”

“So…” The words caught in my throat as Jake took one last step closer, putting us chest to chest.

His breath, slightly sweet smelling, rolled across my face. “So…”

“I… I want t-” The front door swung open and the head of blonde hair made my teeth snap shut in anger. 

Simone stood in the open doorway, that red-lipped mouth hanging open in shock for a moment before it closed. Jake turned, brows furrowed and the tension between us quickly shifted into just tension. “...Simone?”

She smiled at him, quickly with no sincerity before she looked me up and down and nodded to herself. “Lena. What a surprise.”

I bit my tongue and simply nodded at her while my eyes scanned the floor for my shoes. Jake watched Hemingway dart to his hiding place before returning his attention to the new interruption. “How was your trip?”

The mood soured further as Simone just shook her head, her eyes wide with rage and the smile on her lips quickly shifting into a sneer. “Oh, it was just fantastic. I always love dealing with my mother alone.”

Time to go. I knew if I stayed for even another sentence Jake would be pulling me off Simone and everything between us would be stained with chunks of blonde hair and blood. I may have been able to see her for what she was, but Jake wasn’t and an attack on her - physical or otherwise - would effectively jeopardize everything I had or may have had with Jake. I pushed my hair behind my ears and hastily grabbed my things, quickly pulling on my shoes. “I should go.”

“You…” Jake started to protest, but quickly thought better of trying to keep Simone and I in a room together for longer than necessary. “We can finish this later.”

With a nod I pressed a soft kiss to his lips and forced myself to smile through the disappointment in an attempt to show him I was still ready to have the talk whenever we could find the time. “See you at work.”

“Yeah,” he answered softly, breathing out a slightly relieved sigh. “See you at work.”

As I turned I held Simone's glare, telling her without any words that she wasn't getting rid of me so easily. I grabbed the champagne bottle off the counter and slid out of Jake's apartment, closing the door behind me. The entire walk to Quinn’s I forced myself to swallow the lump in my throat and kept repeating positive thoughts to keep myself from crying out of sheer frustration.

I let myself in, setting the champagne on the table next to Quinn and Ari who just looked at me in confusion. “Good morning?”

“Yeah… Morning or whatever,” I replied flopping onto Quinn's couch and melting into the cushions.

“Long night?”

“Was it bad?” Ari asked, practically jumping up from the table. “I didn't think Jake could fumble the bag when sex was involved.”

“Simoneshowedup,” I grumbled into the cushions.

Quinn settled on the arm of the couch. “Say again?”

Lifting my head I turned and glared at her. “We fucked. A lot. It was great and then right when we were about to have the talk Simone just invited herself in.”

Both Ari and Quinn's mouths formed an O. “Yikes.”

“Anything we can do?” Quinn asked, gently rubbing my back. 

Flopping back onto the couch I sighed. “Kill me.”

*

The second the door closed all hell broke loose. Simone threw her bags to the ground and angrily stomped around his kitchen to open the wine she'd brought. “Can we not do this?”

With a joyless laugh, she glared at him. “Not do what? Not keep our promises to each other? Cause you sure as hell have already started that.”

"Jesus," Jake breathed with a frustrated shake of his head. "It just barely happened. What did you want me to call you during and let you know?"

Simone glared at him, her lips thinning into that tight line. "Do not mock me, Jake.”

“I'm not mocking you. I just… I don't fucking understand what you want from me.” His whole body felt so tight he was sure he'd explode any second. “One minute you're telling me to do what I want and the next you're pissed at me for doing what I wanted to!”

“I want you to show me some goddamn respect!” She shouted, slamming her hand down on his counter. “I have been carrying you since you were eight years old and it has been the only thing I've asked of you! Yet you still find ways of failing at that too!”

Jake felt that ugly swell of tears burning behind his eyes. He felt his whole chest ache and his mind sluggishly repeat the word. Fail. Fail. Fail. That's all you ever fucking do. You fail Simone. You failed your mom. You'll fail Lena too. That's all you're good for. Gritting his teeth Jake forced himself to breathe. He forced himself to stay standing, to blink the tears away and speak, “I do respect you. I respect you more than anyone else! I just… It just barely happened, Simone. I was going to tell you the second I got the chance-”

“And when would that have been?” She asked the anger in her voice never wavering. “In a month? Two? Until I had to walk in on you?”

“It would have been when I saw you!” Jake shook his head. “I tell you everything, Simone. I always have, I always will. That's what we do. We tell each other things, we trust each other.” Slowly he could see Simone's shoulders relax and that glimmer of love return to her eyes. “Do you trust me?”

She finally abandoned the wine and gently took hold of his face. “Of course I do.”

The ache dulled as she stroked his cheeks and he finally felt like his lungs were filling with air instead of acid. “I was going to tell you.”

“I know,” she sighed. “I do. I just… It surprised me. And you know how much I hate surprises.”

“I'm sorry,” he whispered.

Simone smiled and pressed her lips to his, a kiss that once would have sent his heart soaring but now made his gut twist in his chest as he inevitably thought of Lena. She pulled back and nodded. “I know.”

“Are we good?”

“Yes. We are. Honestly, now I guess I’m…” Simone shook her head as she poured her wine and with a heavy sigh, Jake prepared himself for the word he knew far too well. Disappointed. “Relieved.”

“What?”

She picked at Lena's discarded dress, shrugging a shoulder as if she hadn't just been screaming at him over this. “It's done now. You've gotten it out of your system and things can finally get back to normal.”

In some sense she was right. It was done now. He tamed the tiger just like he'd wanted. Normally that did mean that Jake would move on and things would go back to normal. If Lena were anyone else he would probably fuck her a few more times before ultimately tossing her aside in favor of a new fling. But she wasn't anyone else, she was Lena…his Lena. 

Jake didn't want things to go back to normal. He didn't want to feel that emptiness - the weight of being so alone and detached - again. So, Jake stared at Simone as she tidied up his apartment drank wine, and lectured him about how rude and selfish it'd been of him to abandon her over the holiday. For an hour - one that should have been filled with Lena's soft touches and breathy moans - Jake listened to his every flaw being brought to the surface.

Usually, he'd bite back and argue - defend himself against Simone’s angry accusations and slanders. But, that morning he didn't bother. Jake was tired, frustrated, and now anxious. Simone's interruption had put him and Lena right back where they started. Their pile of rain checks had barely been touched and now they'd have to restart the awkward, nervous, avoidant dance around each other. Only this time it'd be worse because they'd actually fucked.

This time the longer they went without talking about it the more likely they both were to write it off as some one-night stand and just go back to how things had been before that first kiss. The longer he sat with that thought, the more obvious it became that he couldn't survive not talking about this. Jake needed to know how Lena felt. He needed her to know how he felt.

“Are you even listening to me?” Simone snapped with a disappointed sigh. Before he could answer she'd rolled her eyes and turned away from him. “Of course you aren't.”

God it was going to be a long day.

*

The locker room was filled with gossip as I entered and shoved Sasha off as he jumped around me practically squealing, “Let me see, let me see!”

“See what?”

“Baby Jakey's work!” He replied. “From your sex!”

I glared at Ari, who sheepishly smiled. “Oh… Were you not telling people?”

“Fuck off. All of you,” I warned, opening my locker and getting changed as quickly as I could to try and avoid Sasha's peeking. The Russian only let up when a familiar broad-shouldered bartender set his bike down and entered the locker room. 

“JAKEY!” Sasha purred. “Take your shirt off!”

Jake brushed past him, shaking his head. “Not in the mood Sasha.”

“Oohhhh,” he glanced between the two of us. “Was the sex that bad?”

I whirled around and slapped his forearm, cursing him in Russian until he retreated from the room giggling with Ari. “Fucking dickhead.”

Jake and I locked eyes. Desire and frustration vibrated between us, but neither of those made my heart drop… the uncertainty in Jake’s eyes, the new sliver of doubt shining back at me did. Had Simone talked him out of whatever this was? Had she dug those talons into his back hard enough for him to abandon the feelings I knew we both felt? Or had all of this… everything between us really just been part of some long game for him? 

My racing thoughts must have been obvious, because Jake took a step toward me, mouth open to try and say something before Simone stepped into the locker room, happily humming as if she hadn't interrupted us at all. The apologetic look in his eyes was the only thing that kept me from punching that smug blonde bitch in the back of the head. I ground my teeth together and turned around to finish getting ready.

I left the two of them and their small talk in the locker room and headed to the table for family meal. Howard, who looked slightly tanner, offered me an apologetic look of his own that I didn't understand until I sat down and my eyes found the new painting hanging on the wall. Right. That's a fucking thing.

The vivid orange petals were splattered with red. I found my mind having to remind itself that it'd been wine instead of blood this time. The jagged cuts in the canvas and its slightly bent shape made it all too clear what'd happened to this particular empty showcase.

The glass shattered over the top of the painting at my feet, wine sloshing over the half-painted petals and the shards of glass slicing the canvas where it struck. If this had been any other circumstance I would have admired how artistic it made the piece look. But this was just another bender.

Tony lay on the ground next to the broken glass, laughing. It didn't matter how much or how loud he laughed, I could see the tired bags under his eyes and the hazed far off look that made me wonder if there was some human part of him deep inside. I almost pitied him, if just for one fragmented moment. 

Jules checked his pulse and shoved my painting aside to keep him away from the broken glass. Turning to me he nodded to the mostly incoherent man at his side. “Stay with him while I get the doctor.”

“Of course,” I obediently answered, moving to kneel beside Tony. Jules gave my shoulder a soft squeeze as he stood and hurried toward the elevator.

My eyes fixated on the broken shards of glass just a few inches away. I could easily take one and shove it into his neck or cut his wrists. I could make it look like an accident… Like he'd done it to himself. Before the fear or the guilt could stop me I was reaching for the largest shard.

“Lena…” Tony mumbled, voice quivering as his glazed-over eyes searched for me. “Lena?”

“I'm here,” I answered quietly, my finger lingering on the glass as I looked down at him.

He relaxed instantly at the sound of my voice, lifting his hand to search for me in the dimly lit living room. “I… I can't see. Lena?”

Pity, understanding, and sympathy slowly replaced the darker thoughts in my head. With a gentle sigh, I slid closer to him, taking his hand in mine and pulling Tony into my lap. “I'm here.”

“W… Will you stay?” He mumbled kissing my hand. “Will you stay with me?”

The reply was practically instant… trained. “Of course.”

Tony set my hand against his chest, forcing me to feel the beating of his heart that cruelly reminded me he was a living, breathing human being. “Promise?”

Staring down at the floor of broken glass and then at the tender, beautiful face of the man I hated and feared and… Loved… I nodded. The words sounded sincere but filled my chest with a numbness that made it hard to breathe. “I promise.”

It was a low blow, reminding me of my supposed love for him. Reminding me that I'd made promises… Attempting to guilt me back into obedience. What was worse though, was that it worked.

In an entirely, uniquely twisted… Fucked up way my whole body went into some old, automatic tense posture. My chest burned with shame and my head filled with guilt-riddled thoughts. You broke his heart. You abandoned him. You said you'd never leave… Grinding my teeth together and balling my hands into fists I forced myself to remember the truth.

Being with Tony hadn't just been lavish gifts and eloquent love letters and expensive trips abroad. Those moments were far and few between. Being with him was filled with venom and rage. Being with him meant being held down, fighting… Aching. It was full of bloodied knuckles, bruises, and broken glass. Obey or be punished. Obey or starve. Obey or drown. 

It wasn't love, I told myself, forcing that thought to be louder than all the others. What we had was never love.

*

Jake sat across the table from her, silently cursing himself for not offering her the reassurance she clearly needed in the locker room. The glassy, scared look in her eyes as she picked up on that tiny part of him that doubted if he deserved her, was stuck in his mind like a sliver. Beside him, Simone quietly ate her food while all he could do was watch Lena. Her eyes hadn’t met his again, unsteady they were fixed past him on the flower painting that now hung on the wall. He could see so much emotion raging in her distant eyes. Fear, fondness, guilt, shame. It wasn't like the other paintings. Those had just made her afraid, angry but this… This was one of those things he didn't understand and it made his chest tighten.

The only thing that drew his gaze away from her was the neatly pressed suit and the fucking pervert that wore it. Howard was back. To his credit, the manager barely looked at him, but Jake could still see the faint bruises that he'd done his vest to conceal. With steady steps Howard approached Lena, one hand holding a bottle while the other lifted, moving toward her shoulder.

Howard's eyes locked with his and Jake did his best to convey the ass-kicking he'd be dishing out if he so much as tried to touch her. Do it. I fucking dare you. At the last second his hand shifted to the back of the chair and a smug sense of pride made Jake's mouth twitch into a smile.

“A gift…” Howard told her carefully, setting the wine down in front of her. “An apology for my involvement.”

Lena’s gaze slowly drifted away from the painting to glare at the bottle. For a moment, her face remained expressionless before a thin, bitter smile spread on her lips. “Expensive.”

“And one of your favorites.”

She said nothing as she stood and began pouring the wine into her glass. Lena's eyes were fixed on Howard even as the glass began to overflow, wine staining the white tablecloth in seconds. The manager pursed his lips, disappointment and a mild look of frustration playing out on his still slightly discolored face. No one said a single word as the bottle finally ran empty and Lena set it back down.

Howard sighed. “Was that truly necessary?”

Still, without a single word, Lena knocked the glass over, sending wine down the table. She strode past him and toward the kitchen just as everyone at the table burst with laughter and gossip. Jake leaned back in his seat and grinned at Howard, enjoying every second of the manager's hateful gaze.

Simone looked at the mess with a disapproving shake of her head. “Such a waste.”

Howard's glare shifted to Sasha and Ari as they continued their laughter. With a snap of his fingers and a swift gesture to the mess he barked out the order, “You two, please get this tablecloth in a soak and clean this up?”

“No fair,” Ari pouted quietly as they started cleaning. “Tiger Bitch makes a mess and we have to clean it.”

“Nepotism,” Sasha answered almost flippantly. “Tiger Bitch is special baby.”

Jake took his plate and Simone's back to the kitchen, eyes finding Lena among the dish crew with ease. She had her head down, focused completely on washing the dishes in the sink. As he set his dirty plates down he watched the water, trying to gauge how hot it was in an attempt to tell how fucked up the painting and Howard had her. It was bad, but not as bad as the first time.

He didn't want to leave her, not when she was like this. A hand waved in his peripheral vision, drawing his gaze to the line where Isaac nodded him toward the door. A silent but reassuring message that he'd keep an eye on her through this shift. Jake spared one last look to the back of her head before he sighed and left the kitchen.

Service felt longer than it should have. Wave after wave of rich assholes poured through the door and gawked at that painting hanging on the wall with Lena's name on it. It made him feel angry and sick to his stomach even just imagining what horrible memory she'd tried to bury in that paint. And there these fuckers were, complimenting it… Calling it a masterpiece. Worse than that Jake knew that even if they knew the full story they'd still find it just as fascinating - maybe even more.

As he made the drinks and served the guests in front of him, Jake made it a point to glare at Howard. The disgusting man was practically trying to sell the damn thing. He stood beside the crowd, pointing out the details of the piece and praising the painter, who he'd already revealed worked in the restaurant. When he'd walked past the bar toward the kitchen it took all of Jake's willpower not to hit him again.

Only a minute had passed before his heart dropped into his stomach at the sound of shattering dishes. In an instant Jake was moving towards the kitchen doors, his heartbeat practically echoing her name. Just as he reached the end of the bar, Sasha fled the scene with a deviant smile, effectively blocking Jake's path. “The hell happened?”

“Tiger Bitch is not in a playful mood tonight,” The Russian answered. “Dear Howard was telling her that some of the guests wanted to speak with her about her painting and she just held up a plate,” he illustrated the throwing movement as well as the crash with his hands, “She threw a plate and told him she'd throw one every time he spoke to her.”

A part of him couldn't help but feel satisfied at how hostile she was acting towards Howard. She may not have known what he did, but Jake was glad she was giving him hell even if it wasn't for the worst of his crimes against her. But, beneath that satisfaction was the simmering worry that it would all be too much for Lena to handle and he'd have to watch her spiral into another night of panic and drowning her fears in alcohol. 

Sasha watched his face, reading it carefully as he set his head in his hands and leaned on the bar in front of Jake. “Something about those paintings puts Tiger in a bad mood.”

“Yeah, no shit,” he replied curtly.

“Tell me what you know, pretty Jake,” he urged. 

Jake leaned forward, looking around them for a moment as if he cared about who could hear them. “I know you should get the fuck off my bar and back to work.”

The Russian cursed and waved him off. “Ha ha, you so funny.” With a thoughtful look, he shifted his question, “So, what's next?”

“Next?” Jake asked with a pointed look.

Sasha smirked and gave him an innocent shrug. “Well, now that you've tamed the tiger you'll be taking on a new project, yes? A new hostess maybe?”

Turning his head to the hostess stand Jake caught the new girl bashfully averting her eyes from the bar. In the past, he would have felt a thrill at the idea of stringing along another sweet, innocent hostess… But now when he looked at her and saw those blushing cheeks that told him she was interested all he could think of was how boring it'd be. No one would ever be able to offer him even a fraction of what he had with Lena.

No one else would challenge him the way she did. It didn't matter how pretty the hostess was, she wouldn't tease him encourage him, or support him the way the redhead did. No one could be more beautiful than her, funnier than her, smarter than her, more badass, or fearless. No one would be Lena and if it wasn't her… Well, he just didn't want it.

“Nah,” Jake finally replied, returning to his work. “No new projects.”

Sasha made a shocked face and with a quiet, almost supportive hum he asked, “Who really tamed who?”

*

The second service ended, I grabbed my shit and left out the alley door. I'd wanted to wait for Jake to talk to him, but after seeing that painting and having Howard tell me about the requests some rich asshole made to meet me… It was too much. As I wandered the brisk city, desperately trying to force the pit in my stomach to dissolve with the movement, I had to continuously pull myself from wave after wave of old thoughts trying to plague me with guilt and make me doubt what I knew to be true.

It wasn't love. It was never love.

Everything I'd been through, all the years I'd spent moving on, and all it took was one painting to make me feel like that sad, lonely, dead little girl. One painting and in whatever fucking twisted way I was looking back on the times when Tony made me laugh or smile or feel anything good. Those memories were ones I had to combat with the truth and the truth meant remembering and remembering meant I couldn't just pretend like everything was fine.

Tony had not only been in the restaurant but had weaseled his way into Howard's ear, and quite possibly my aunt's. He'd hung the paintings to elicit a very specific response and I'd played right into it. The larger message was simple. It was a reminder that in this game we were playing, he was the king. He snapped his fingers and everyone would play whatever tune he wanted, me included.

Fear, anger, guilt. What was his next move? I wondered as I had many times before. And just like every time before, I hadn't the faintest idea. Even with all the time I'd spent with him to give me a clear picture of who he was and how he thought, I'd never been able to predict his moves. The one thing I knew to be a certainty was there wasn't a damn thing he wouldn't do and that meant everything I loved was at stake… that meant the people closest to me were in danger.

Ozzy, Peter, Patrick, Quinn, Prue, Nana, Abdul, Isaac, Dom, Scott, Ari, Sasah… Jake. They were all possible targets for Tony to choose from. It was terrifying to think about and so I forced myself to not think about it. The lights over Ozzy's bar eventually flashed ahead of me as I did my best to shed myself of the powerless feeling that was now firmly rooted in my stomach. I had to keep moving forward, even blindly. I had to focus on the good around me, even if it was just a tiny speck of it.

He wouldn't take this from me. He would never take anything from me again.

As I made my way to the door I heard the rumble of Dom's bike engine and felt a sense of relief wash over me. As he pulled into the bike spaces I reminded myself of my one advantage in this fucked up game. I had Dom. He wouldn't let anything bad happen. Not ever again.

He had a tired look in his eyes as he flung his leg over the side and stood, thanking the bikers around him as they followed suit.

“Busy day?” I called out, drawing his attention to me.

A thought made his brows pinch together as he sighed and walked toward me. “Yeah.”

As he walked with me through the bar door a faint, floral smell lingered on his jacket. I leaned in, smelling him a bit deeper. “You open a flower shop or something?”

“Huh?”

“You smell all flowery,” I replied tugging on his jacket.

Dom's face drained of any emotion as he shrugged. “Right. Yeah, I… Had some business with a florist.”

A smile tugged at the corners of my lips. “Are you back in the game of wooing Mav?”

“No.”

“Oh come on, you can tell me!” I playfully urged. “You know I'm in full support of your “marriage”.”

With a sigh he stopped, gently placing a hand on my arm. “Lena… There's something we should talk about.”

A sudden tightness seized my throat at his serious tone and blank expression. “What's going on?”

Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Sasha and the group waving their hands in the air, urging me to hurry and join them. “Tiger! Come on!”

Dom glanced at them and quickly shook his head. “I… just wanted to give you a heads up that Nana's got a big celebration planned for your birthday.”

“Oh.” A relieved breath left my lungs in the form of an anxious chuckle. “Oh, good. Fuck, you scared the shit out of me!”

“Sorry,” he quietly replied.

“It's okay. I promised Nana she could go all out this year and… I dunno…” Glancing back at my group, at my brothers and Quinn and Prue, the restaurant crew… Jake… I smiled. I had these people in my life. They may have been in danger by being here - being close to me - but they were here nonetheless. None of them cared about possible dangers, they still chose to be here with me. The weight that had made everything feel so heavy slowly eased as I looked at my friends… my family and smiled wider. “Maybe it won't be so bad this year.”

“Yeah, maybe,” he mumbled, giving me a pat on the head. “That's real good, kid. Now go on. Enjoy your night or whatever.”

I caught his arm before he could go too far, squeezing it and offering him a sad smile. “You been to visit her yet?”

Dom's whole body tensed. He likely thought I forgot, or maybe he just didn’t want to talk about it, but with a quick shake of his head, he answered “No… I don't know if I'm gonna this year.”

“Well if you do, tell her I said hi.” I knew that Dom didn't really believe in ghosts or angels. I knew to him Sarah wouldn't hear him or even know if he'd visited at all, but every year I still encouraged him to go to her grave as some kind of birthday gift to her. He had yet to do it, but I could tell that speaking of her fondly from time to time - acknowledging that his sister existed and had been important - helped ease the hurt in him a little.

But, tonight that didn't seem to be the case.

Dom averted his gaze, cleared his throat, and nodded to the group with a firm, “Go on.”

The chaos of the night continued as expected. My friends and their antics helped me push all the bad the day had to offer back into their boxes and as I met Jake's eyes over the bartop. I was scared that he’d still have that speck of doubt lingering in those beautiful eyes, but as he stared back at me all I could see was the desire. It reminded me of the good… of the possibility that I could have something normal.

Remembering how right it felt to kiss him, to feel him in every way physically possible made me flush with a shameless want to do it all again. Jake's never-faltering gaze didn't help either. It was like he knew exactly what I was thinking and that he wholeheartedly agreed. As the night progressed and the bar slowly started to slow I found myself avoiding leaving it. The pit in my stomach, though lessened still filled me with a lingering and old voice urging me to take the quickest, easiest path away from potential heartache. End it.

That conversation we didn't get to have was now right in front of me and I felt scared. Terrified that something had changed. If Jake told me he wanted to move on from last night it would gut me. But if he said he wanted us to be something official… That thought made me feel almost as sick, just in a different way. Get him as far away from you as possible.

How many men had come before him? All of whom I'd deeply felt for and all of whom Tony had destroyed in some way or another. So what would he do to Jake? What would Tony do to the man that I cared for most… The man who was different from every other in a way I didn't even fully understand. Protect him.

Ozzy set a hand on my shoulder and nudged me to the door. “Go on and get some rest, dear. You've helped enough.”

“Thanks,” I whispered, accepting the kiss on the head and making my way out the back door where I attempted to steel myself.

The gym was quiet, with only a few lights left on to illuminate the old pictures on the walls. As I looked at my dad's smiling face in every photo that scared voice in me quieted, instead replaced by his. “Why you gotta fight me every step of the way?”

“I don’t know what you want from me,” I’d replied coldly, angry and terrified. Dad had done nothing but offer me love and acceptance since I’d gotten back for the summer, two things I knew weren’t given away for free. He wanted something but instead of telling me what it was chose to play some cruel game instead. 

My dad’s shoulders slumped slightly, a sigh falling from his lips as he stared down at me with a pitiful look. I prepared myself for his disappointment, but it never came. “I don’t want anything from you, Lena.”

Shaking my head I swallowed hard. “Everyone wants something from me.”

“Alright,” he finally relented. “I do want one thing. I want you to live.”

“I’m here, aren’t I?” I asked, timid but still angry. 

“You’re alive, sure,” he replied, carefully reaching out to touch my shoulder. “But this ain’t living. This hostile… bitterness you’re carrying, it’s not what life’s supposed to be like. Especially not for a kid.”

“I’m sorry,” I whispered, guilt filling my lungs as another failure was added to the list.

Dad bent down, forcing our eyes to meet, and smiled. “Don’t be sorry. It ain’t your fault. Just… let us help you. Let me help you, sweet girl.”

With tears building in my eyes, I answered, “Okay. I… Sorry I’ve been making it so hard for you.”

He pulled me into his arms and kissed my head. “You make my life, all our lives, better just by bein here. All we want is for you to see that…” He pulled away, taking my face in his hands and smushing my cheeks the way he thought was funny. “Come on. Let’s go start livin, yeah?”

“Yeah.”

The sound of the alley door opening spurred me back into motion. As I headed up the stairs to the apartment I could hear Jake's steady footsteps following me. His movements didn’t sound rushed or hesitant, just steady. My heart hammered in my chest and my head filled with a hundred thoughts, a hundred voices all shouting different things at me. Jake appeared in the stairwell, hands in his pockets as he put one foot on the bottom step before stopping himself. “Now a good time to talk?”

The longer I looked down at him the quieter my mind got. Nodding I opened the door and shrugged. “As good a time as we’re probably gonna get.”

He trudged up the stairs with a faint smile on his face and all the noise, all the extra baggage weighing me down fell away. The smell of alcohol, faint cigarette smoke and Jake’s colognue reminded me that I was here. I was in this moment, not the ones in Tony’s paintings or in picture frames. I was here. I was alive and now I wanted to live.

Jake stepped inside and quietly watched me as I closed the door behind him. “You okay?”

“Yeah!” I replied, clearing my throat and taking a tensely casual position by the table. “Why wouldn't I be?”

He shrugged. “You seemed to be kind of somewhere else today… after seeing that painting.”

My jaw clenched as the ugly emotions in me wanted to return. “Yeah… That wasn't great but, I'm okay now.”

“Wanna talk about it?”

“No.” I laughed a little to myself, forcing my body to focus on that feeling of steadiness and safety that Jake’s presence brought me. “Besides, we have other stuff we need to talk about, don't we?”

Now he looked just as nervous as I felt. “Yeah.”

“We're kind of horrible at this, aren't we?”

Jake nodded in agreement, chuckling before he spoke, “Yeah… okay… Fuck it, I'm just gonna start. Neither of us do well with labels,” Jake offered before quickly stammering over his own words. “Not that I'm against labeling this as… Whatever. I just mean…”

“Why put a label on things when we're still figuring out exactly what things are?” I finished, ignoring the slight sting of disappointment that festered in my chest by focusing on the wave of relief.

“Exactly.” He scratched his head and cleared his throat. “So… We… keep it casual.”

“Casual,” I agreed. Casual was fun, predictable but most importantly safe. Casual was familiar to both of us and given everything that had happened - changed in our lives and in our friendship - maybe that was a safety net we both needed. 

Casual.

Jake nodded, taking a careful step forward. “If someone were to ask what we were… What would we say to that?”

I watched his lips, resisting the urge to end all the tedious talking by kissing him. “We'd say we're casually seeing each other? Friends with benefits? Fuck buddies? Whatever feels right to you I'm fine with.”

“So, you're a girl I'm seeing… casually?”

Nodding I forced myself to meet his eyes, not that it helped either of us stay on track. “And you're a boy I'm seeing casually.”

Jake's hands slid around me, urging me to lean into him. With that simple touch, everything else faded into the back of my mind. I felt myself relax into him, my body finally able to focus on those tingling sensations of desire and excitement. “And since we're seeing each other, casually, it'd be perfectly normal for us to kiss, right?”

“I think it'd be expected, really.”

“Good,” he mumbled, running his thumb over my lower lip. “I liked being your friend and all, but I don't think I can go any longer without fucking you again.”

As if it had a mind of its own my tongue slipped out to lick his thumb and tug it between my teeth for a second. I wasn't entirely sure what I was doing, teasing… Testing the waters… Inviting him to fuck me as much as he wanted? “Well, what are you waiting for?”

Smirking, he brushed my hair behind my ears. “That.”

His lips further erased every ounce of tension, guilt, disappointment, and fear from my lungs. The way his hands cradled my face replaced everything with a warm fuzzy sense of safety. The painting, Howard, Simone… Nothing else mattered. As long as I had this, him, somehow I knew everything would be alright. 

When he pulled back for air he smiled with a quiet sigh. “This is how our morning should have gone. Sorry about Simone.”

“It's alright. We’re here now.”

“Mmm,” he hummed, leaning back down towards me. “I haven't been able to think about anything else all day.”

Before our lips could connect again I threw one last taunt at him, “I knew you liked being my friend.”

Jake rolled his eyes, warm hands sliding down my cheek to take hold of my hips. “God you're insufferable.”

I ran my hands down his chest and whispered against his lips, “You like it.”

“Shut up.” Our lips finally touched, soft hands quickly turning into heated grabs at one another's clothes.

With a half step forward Jake pressed me into the back of a kitchen chair. His tongue invaded my mouth as his hands pulled my sleeves away from my shoulders, clearing a path for his lips and teeth to follow. The way his lips felt against my skin was something that made me shiver. Jake was… How had he put it? Adept in the art of pleasure? Smug bastard… And completely right.

“God,” Patrick groaned the second he opened the door. His hand slapped over his face, covering his eyes and sighing in defeat. “Guess I should get used to that now that you two are officially a thing.”

“Casually,” Jake and I both corrected.

My brother blindly made his way around the kitchen table. “Yeah yeah, “casually” whatever ya say. Just keep alla that “casual” touchy-feely shit in your room or something.”

“Sorry,” we both mumbled watching Patrick run into his bedroom door before quickly opening it and fleeing inside.

I nodded to my bedroom door and smiled as I tugged Jake toward it. He followed, pushing the door closed behind him. I practically pounced on him, pressing my chest into his as I pulled his head down to reconnect our lips. Jake stumbled slightly causing the door to rattle. Before we could say anything else Irish folk music blared through Pat’s speakers. A crystal clear message.

“Shhh,” I whispered against his collarbone with a giggle. “We have to be quiet!”

“I'm not the one that needs to worry about that.” To prove his point he took a handful of my ass and ground himself against my core, pulling a sharp - loud - moan from me.

“Nope! I'm leaving!” Patrick shouted as the music turned off. “You two have an hour before Pete gets back! For the love of god, be done before then!”

I smirked at Jake. “Now I finally have you all to myself.”

“Looks that way,” he replied. “You gonna entertain me?”

“Of course! What kind of host would I be if I didn't?”

His eyes sparkled with lust as he watched my mouth move. “Well, what's your plan?”

Leaning in I pressed my lips to his neck, occupying my hands with his belt and starting the slow drag of my body down his. When my knees hit the floor and I'd gotten Jake's pants down I looked up at him, fluttering my lashes and smiling at him. “I'm sure I'll think of something you'll enjoy.”

*

My dearest Lena,

In the unlikely event you're reading this letter I simply wished to send you a simple reminder of my devotion to you. A token of my love will be finding its way to your door soon and soon we will be reunited once more.

Yours, Anthony

Dom stared at the letter, examining each line as meticulously as he would an engine. He needed to know what the sick bastard had planned. Needed to know how to protect her from whatever was coming. Tony wouldn't make it easy or fair. He never did and this time was different. He was braver than before, bolder in his actions than Dom had ever seen him. 

After the beating he'd given him upon hearing all he'd done to Lena, Tony should have been cowering in some far corner of the world. He should have been terrified to even set foot in the city again and yet there he was, in her apartment, waving at her landlord, waving at him. 

The longer he held the evidence of Tony's visit the more guilty he felt for keeping it secret. Lena deserved to know. Her brothers had the right to know about the danger. They all deserved better than he could give them.

With a sigh, he lifted the lighter to the corner of the paper and watched the fire spread to the cursive words in ink. He dropped it into the empty bin and picked the orange flower up off the table before tossing it into the fire too.

He should have killed Tony a hundred times by now. A mistake he wasn't going to make again. Then and there Dom silently vowed that the next time he saw that fuckers face he'd put a bullet between his eyes.

#fic: nightshade #sweetbitter jake #jake smut #jake sweetbitter #jake x oc #jake x lena #tom sturridge sweetbitter #sweet bitter #sweetbitter #sweetbitterstarz #sweetbitter simone #sweetbitter ari #sweetbitter howard #sweetbitter scott #sweetbitter sasha #sweetbitter santos #sweetbitter heather #sweetbitter smut #sweetbitter fic #sweetbitter tv series #sweetbitter fanfiction #sweetbitter ocs

[rey-jake-therapist]

Lost Souls chapter 8

If you missed the beginning

Chapter 7 on AO3

SUMMARY CHAPTER 8

We're back in the present. Jake hasn't forgotten the night he spent with Mina, but she seems determined to keep their relationship platonic. Sasha and Ari are already making bets about Jake and Mina, while Jake doesn't know how to behave with Tess. Notes: I just want to say that to those who don't like Tess very much because of what she did at the end of Sweetbitter season 2 not to worry: as I'm telling the story from Jake's point of view, who still knows nothing about what she did, I'm still cuddling her... But I promise that when the day of revelation comes, she'll get her due!

AO3 link to chapters 8, 9 and 10 if you prefer reading them there

New York, February 2019

Despite a rocky start, Mina quickly proved to be a competent and efficient partner for Jake. As they navigated the lunch shift together, he couldn't help but raise an eyebrow at her unfamiliarity with some basic aspects of bartending. Her lack of knowledge about cocktails in particular surprised him, considering her years of experience in a high-end Los Angeles restaurant.

Their shift coming to an end, they went out to smoke a cigarette. Jake chose this moment to  voice his concerns but she responded defensively, claiming that in L.A., her role had been more specialized and she hadn't been required to work behind the bar often. Her irritation was palpable as she brushed off his questions.

Jake let out a chuckle, breaking the tension. "No need to get so defensive. Howard was probably desperate to find a replacement for Nicky, or..."

"Or what?" Mina prompted.

"Or he had some ulterior motive when hiring you," Jake mused.

Taking a step closer, he couldn't help but be drawn to the curve of Mina's neck. Leaning in, he whispered near her ear, his voice low and playful, "Not that I blame him..."

Mina shot him an irritated look, her cheeks tinged with a blush, and her breath slightly hitched. "I'm sure he did a background check before hiring me back. Now back off, playboy. Your girlfriend's watching," she retorted, nodding towards Tess, who was indeed keeping an eye on them from a nearby table she was cleaning.

Jake let out a sigh, his playful demeanor fading. He wanted to respond with something witty, but Tess's gaze held a mixture of pain and unrealistic hope that gave him a pang of guilt. He had hoped that Tess might have been too high the night before to remember the confession of love she had made. He could choose to pretend that he hadn't heard anything, but that might not help if Tess decided to bring up the subject again.

"And the other woman, the one who didn't bother to say hello but instead quizzed me about wines during the... What do you call it? "Family lunch"?" Mina inquired.

"Family lunch, yep, we've got family dinner too. That would be Simone. She loves terrorizing newcomers, asking them wine-related questions," Jake explained with a touch of amusement.

"Oh, I thought she was probably that Simone," Mina replied, casting a curious glance at Jake. He suddenly realized he had mentioned Simone to her before, multiple times even. Anxiety crept in as he couldn't recall everything he might have said.

Mina continued, her tone sly, "She kept giving me those death stares when she came to the bar later. Quite the welcoming party. Did you spill the beans to her already? I could practically feel the jealousy radiating off her."

Jake frowned, taken aback by Mina's assumption. His response carried a casual tone, though he was slightly unsettled. "Nah, you've got it all wrong. Simone couldn't care less about who I fuck. Our relationship is... different. And no, I haven't told her anything about you."

"But she knows something happened, right? You two seem pretty close, the type that shares everything," Mina probed, displaying an unexpected astuteness that caught Jake off guard. Not ready to delve into the topic just yet, he subtly gestured toward the wedding ring adorning Mina's left hand.

"I see the ring's still on… Is your husband coming to New York?" He inquired.

Mina, taken aback, fiddled nervously with her wedding ring, sliding it up and down her finger as she responded with evident anxiety, "Johnny, in New York? Good Lord, no. He has never left California, probably never will! I needed time far away from him, and I think he felt the same way about me. Hopefully, we can figure it out! We probably just need time."

Jake suspected that she was trying to convince herself that her marriage was not over yet, but he didn't feel that it was his place to tell her otherwise. Even if he had wanted to say something, he wouldn't have had the opportunity because Sasha, a Russian server with a distinctive accent, burst onto the scene, his voice loud and slightly high-pitched, and interrupted their conversation to complain about Howard. Throughout the shift, Sasha had been somewhat rude to Mina; Jake assumed it was likely due to the stress of the job.

Others had also shown a mixture of curiosity and skepticism toward Mina as she stepped into Nicky's former role. Mina was still unaware that they were mourning Nicky's absence due to his wife's illness. Only Heather and Tess had welcomed her, with Heather being a mutual connection through a friend who had tipped Mina off about the job opportunity.

Sasha's interruption continued as he exclaimed, "Awwww! Pussy Cat and Baby Jakey! Taking a little break together, huh? Did I catch you two in the act?" He grinned suggestively at them before lighting his own cigarette. Jake rolled his eyes at Sasha's teasing, refusing to take the bait. Mina, on the other hand, simply shrugged and responded with a mix of annoyance and curiosity, "We were just smoking. And what did you call me?"

"You got a problem with Pussy Cat? Prefer Big Whore? What's your preference?" Sasha shot back.

Mina grumbled, "I don't know, do I look big to you? You could just call me Mina, that's my actual name, but whatever."

Sasha didn't seem to take a hint as he continued his teasing, "So, when's the big event happening? Need to know so I can win my bet against Ari. I could use some new shoes, but I have no money!"

Jake groaned, a mix of annoyance and amusement. The topic of his romantic life had been a favorite subject of speculation among his coworkers for years. He retorted, "Screw off, Sasha," though his tone held more exasperation than actual irritation. They were all behaving like children, he thought.

Mina's response jolted him, making him feel like he had stepped on a landmine. "Been there done that already! You won your bet, go tell her!" she declared, her face deadpan and seemingly unfazed.

Both Sasha and Jake stared at her, their expressions a mix of surprise and disbelief. Jake, in particular, felt his heart skip a beat. He wasn't prepared for the world to learn about him and Mina like this, especially from Sasha, of all people.

Sasha couldn't contain his excitement. "Really? That was fast!" he exclaimed, his eyes gleaming with mischief.

"Yeah, you know, just a quickie in the locker this morning! Jake is just that irresistible," Mina retorted, a playful tone in her voice.

Jake immediately realized that Mina was joking, and his tense shoulders relaxed. He decided to play along, trying to mask the relief in his voice. "Why the surprise, Sasha? That's me!"

Sasha squinted at them suspiciously, sensing their exchange of complicit looks. "You guys are messing with me!" he accused, his tone a mixture of amusement and annoyance.

Mina giggled while Jake playfully blew a puff of smoke in Sasha's direction. Sasha responded by blowing a playful kiss back at Jake.

Sasha then offered Mina a piece of advice, "I should probably warn you not to get involved with this slut. He's dating Tess, and Tess is my friend. But honestly, I don’t care."

Mina stubbed out her cigarette in the ashtray, moving closer to Sasha with a mischievous smile. "What a caring friend you are! But don't worry, even if it were your concern, you'd have nothing to worry about," she replied, her gray eyes fixed on Jake, a hint of challenge in her gaze. "I don't sleep with coworkers."

We'll see about that, Jake thought, while keeping a straight face.

Mina then walked back into the restaurant with a confident stride. Jake's attention was momentarily drawn to her graceful movements before he realized Sasha was still looking at him.

"You're not planning to let this go, are you, Baby Jakey?" Sasha asked with a sly grin.

Jake sighed. "Does Tess know about your bet?" he asked Sasha, his concern evident.

"Nah, we're not assholes! But she knows who you are. We all do!" Sasha replied.

"Yeah, everyone thinks they've got me all figured out," Jake muttered under his breath. But the truth was, nobody really understood him.

As he finished his cigarette, he flicked the butt into the ashtray and headed back inside the restaurant. Upon entering, he spotted Howard conversing with Mina in the dining room. Jake could feel Howard's eyes on him, assessing the situation. When he walked by his boss, Howard didn't say a word to him.

Jake wasn't just joking about the possibility that Howard might have ulterior motives for hiring Mina. He had once viewed Howard as a tightly-wound, overly serious man and a hopeless romantic mourning his wife's death for years. However, the revelation of Howard's affair with Becky, the previous manager, had cast a different light on his boss.

The way Howard had treated Becky was repulsive. After seducing her, he had orchestrated her transfer to the Smokehouse, a barbecue restaurant with TVs plastered on its walls. For Becky, it had felt like a downgrade even though the wages were rumored to be better there compared to what they offered at the 22W. Still infatuated with Howard, she had continued seeing him until it was painfully apparent that he was using her. At least, this was what the grapevine said; not much was heard from Becky after her departure from 22W. There were whispers that she had recently left the Smokehouse as well, but Jake wasn't invested enough in her personal drama to keep up with the latest gossip. He had never been particularly close to Becky, despite having shared some heated moments with her a few years back. Their interactions had been more physical than verbal. After a few weeks of casual encounters, she had ended it with him, citing a "serious" relationship with a guy she had refused to name. When Jake had later learned about her affair with Howard, he had wondered if Howard was the same guy she had dumped him for. The timelines seemed to align.

Not wanting to appear nosy, Jake decided to head to the locker room. Inside, he found Heather and Tess preparing for a shopping trip with Ari waiting for them outside.

"Hey, handsome!"

Tess called out to him, her arms encircling his neck as she placed a tender kiss on his lips. Seeing the affection in her eyes, Jake felt both touched and uneasy. Gently pushing her away while he loosened his tie, he responded,

"Hey, princess. What's going on?"

Tess sounded casual, but there was a hint of fading happiness in her smile, as if she had sensed his hesitation.

"How's the new girl doing?" Tess asked, keeping up the pretense. Her smile was fading, a mix of curiosity and worry flickering in her eyes.

"Fine, I guess," Jake replied, maintaining the facade. "You can ask her yourself when you see her. She's still talking with Howard."

"Really? What are they talking about?"

Jake detected a slight flinch in Tess's eyes, but she quickly brushed it off, murmuring that she was just curious. He wondered if Tess was worried that Mina might outshine her as a server. She had mentioned previously that she was hoping for a promotion from Howard.

Offering his professional analysis, Jake quipped, "If you want my expert opinion, she's about as good at bartending as you were at waiting tables when you started." This made Heather laugh, who chimed in,

"Oh, she's that bad?" 

"Hey!" Tess playfully protested before joining in the laughter.

"Honey, nobody thought you'd last a week," Heather confessed.

"I didn't even think I'd last two days," Tess admitted with a grin.

Jake found himself reminiscing aloud, 

"I remember the first time I saw you. You surprised me."

Why did I say that? Jake immediately questioned himself. It had just slipped out, but now he was second-guessing his choice of words. He remembered Tess's arrival vividly. At the time, he hadn't thought much of her, aside from noticing that she seemed as innocent and vulnerable as a deer caught in headlights. She didn't seem to fit into the atmosphere of the restaurant. Yet, he couldn't deny finding her cute. He had seen the way she looked at him, a mix of curiosity and attraction, and he had known that winning her over wouldn't require much effort on his part.

Tess responded with a soft smile, gazing at him fondly as he changed into a black shirt. "I remember you too." The memory brought a smile to her lips. 

"You liked that oyster, didn’t you?" Jake teased. Tess had once shared that while tasting the oyster he had offered her, she had wondered if his kisses would be as salty.

As their playful banter continued, Ari's impatience finally interrupted them. Her head popped into the locker room, her voice laced with annoyance.

"Are you done? Where's Sasha?"

Ari's attention then shifted to the entrance of the room, and she adopted a sultry tone. "Oh, hello there, new person!"

All eyes turned toward Mina, who made quite the entrance, her embarrassment evident. With a soft-spoken "Hey!" she slipped into the room, throwing Jake a fleeting glance before heading to her locker. Unaware of Ari's appreciative look as she scrutinized her from head to toe, Mina's focus was elsewhere. Jake couldn't help but smirk at the situation. He had a hunch that Ari might soon make her move on Mina – a pattern she had followed with other newcomers, those who were backwaters like her at least. Ari liked to regularly remind her friends about not dating coworkers who had a different position in the hierarchy.

Frankly, Jake found that logic hard to grasp. Among his friends, like Tess and Simone, the distinction between being a server and a backwater was a big deal. It wasn't just about the better pay at month's end; they believed it gave them a certain status. Simone believed that  her extensive wine knowledge and her 15 years at the restaurant made her indispensable. Jake thought it was a naive error in judgment. No one was truly irreplaceable, especially in a place like 22W. Customers and the director saw no real difference among servers, bartenders, and backwaters – all were just serving staff to them.

Heather extended an invitation to Mina, inviting her to join her, Tess, Ari, and possibly Sasha for a shopping trip. Caught off guard, Mina glanced hesitantly at Tess and Ari, both awaiting her response. Ari seemed enthusiastic, likely sensing a chance to uncover more about Mina's sexuality. For what felt like an eternity, Jake held his breath, fearing Mina might accept. It was clear that she had no intention of revealing their intimate connection established just a week ago at the Omega Lounge. But Ari had a knack for reading situations. If she sensed their secret, Jake was certain she'd spill the beans to Tess, driven by her bet with Sasha and Scott that Jake and Tess would break up within a month.

Finally, Jake suppressed a sigh of relief as Mina diplomatically replied, "Sounds nice! But I promised Keisha I'd babysit Zahra so she could hit the hair salon. Can you believe she hasn't had time to cut her hair since the baby was born?"

"Oh, poor thing! That's exactly why I'm in no rush to have kids. They're amazing, but say goodbye to your free time," Tess chimed in.

Mina nodded and bid them a pleasant shopping trip before Ari declared she wasn't waiting around for Sasha any longer. Mina's smile seemed sincere, yet Jake couldn't quite gauge if she was truly disappointed to miss out on the outing. He wondered about her typical social dynamics at work – was she more of a loner like him? She felt different from the Mina he met at the Omega Lounge a week ago, appearing more reserved, even cautious. 

As Tess left the locker room with Heather and Ari, Jake and Mina were finally alone. Lost in his thoughts, he watched her as she undressed. With her back turned, he caught a glimpse of her cherry tree tattoo running down her spine and felt a sting of desire.

"I know you're ogling, you perv," Mina playfully called out, still facing away from him.

"Not my fault the men and the women’s lockers aren’t separated," he retorted in the same teasing tone. Shrugging into his leather jacket, he added, "Besides, I saw you sneaking a peek while I was still sans pants. You naughty girl."

Mina giggled, slipped into a white tank top and black jeans, and quipped with a grin, "What can I say? You were just in the way!"

As she untied her hair, Jake's desire surged, ignited by the tantalizing perfume that wafted from her. The room was empty, everyone else seemed to have left – so what was holding him back? Closing the distance between them, he took a few steps towards her, observing her reactions intently. She maintained an artful pretense of not noticing, retrieving a gray pullover from her locker. When he gently brushed her hair aside to gain access, she momentarily froze. The absence of protest encouraged him, and as he let a finger trail down her alluring neck, he detected the telltale quickening of her breath. The attraction was mutual, he knew it. His lips hovered tantalizingly close to her neck...

"Don't."

The single word, delivered with a cold and resolute tone, landed on him like a bucket of ice. He immediately stepped back, though he inquired, "Why?"

"Earlier, I was serious. I don't date coworkers. Especially not you," Mina retorted sharply. "I have enough problems of my own; I don't need to deal with yours."

"Understandable," Jake conceded reluctantly. "But who said anything about dating?" 

He craved physical contact. Feeling a surge of boldness, he slipped his hand under her tank top, grazing the velvety skin of her back. He knew he'd found a sensitive spot when she shivered beneath his touch. She eluded his grasp quickly, pulling on her pullover. Gazing into his eyes with an unwavering resolve, she issued a clear statement, "No dating, no sexing. Just work."

Jake's jaw clenched, and though he yearned to assert that he didn't care – a blatant falsehood – he was interrupted by the abrupt intrusion of Sasha, his demeanor sour.

"Is it just you in here?! Where are the other bitches?" Sasha blurted out angrily.

"They left already. Where were you, anyway?" Jake responded, equally irritated by the Russian's untimely intrusion.

"I was on the phone, damn it! I swear, Baby Jakey, they're going to pay for this!" Sasha raged.

"Baby Jakey…" Mina echoed, thoroughly amused.

"That's my nickname for him; no one else can use it! Still need to come up with a new name for you," Sasha quipped.

"Anything but PussyCat works for me…" Mina countered. While Jake stewed in his grumpiness, Mina seemed to relish Sasha's entrance, effectively breaking the thick tension that hung in the air. She mentioned she was running late, exchanged a quick farewell, and hurried out of the locker room.

Sasha's giggles rang out as he taunted Jake, "Oops, let me guess – you were about to fuck, and I ruined it?"

Jake managed a wry chuckle and retorted, "You're the one in this room who needs to get laid, Sasha."

"Oh Baby Jakey, sweetie, that's sweet but you know we're incompatible!"

Jake slipped behind Sasha and replied with a teasing voice, "Your loss… Anyway, I've got to run. I promised Chris and my goddaughter I'd meet them after my shift."

Without a parting word, he exited the locker room, ignoring Sasha's playful complaints, "Yeah, sure, just abandon me here, like the others!"

Want more? Chapter 9.

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[endlessbittersweetdreams]

"Labor of Love" (Part 2)

SUMMARY: Jake and Lilah count down the days to the birth of their daughter. Continuation of "Broken & Beautiful."

Part 1

WARNINGS: Mentions of labor, childbirth and breastfeeding.

NOTES: Comments are greatly desired. I am a needy writer. 🙂

     Well, I’ve made it to my ninth month of pregnancy. It’s June now, and we’re counting down the days until baby Maya’s estimated due date: the 21st. I’m on maternity leave, and I’m under the watchful gaze of a neighbor while Jake is at the restaurant. My adoptive mother moved to New York a few months ago, and she stops by when she can to help out as well. My neighbor, Jennifer, is one of the first people Jake and I befriended when we moved in. She and her husband, Michael, have a son who’s in the second grade. Jennifer, who works from home, has offered to babysit Maya when I go back to work. I hate the idea of not spending all day with Maya. In fact, I feel guilty. But I can’t afford to quit my job, either. It pays well, and the benefits aren’t too shabby.

     It’s been wonderful, having Jennifer and Maggie in my life. They keep me company while Jake is at work, making sure that I don’t stay cooped up in the apartment all day. Jennifer has experience with pregnancy and childbirth, and so she’s here to advise me as much as possible. Maggie, meanwhile, tries to ease my fears about impending motherhood.

     My doctor told me to stay active, and I do what I can as far as housekeeping tasks are concerned. On laundry day, my designated helper is in charge of taking the items down to the laundry room and bringing them back up when they’re ready. I insist on folding items, slipping clothes onto hangers, and putting everything away. As far as meal prep is concerned, my helper usually takes care of the cooking while I sit at the table and do what I can from there. Even Jake has stepped up in the meal prep department, as his cooking skills have improved. All he needed was a little time, some practice, and a lot of patience.

     Jake hasn’t said much since our last encounter with Simone. He still has nightmares every now and then, but they’re much less frequent. Progress has been made, in that he now feels comfortable with telling me about some of them. They involve water, mostly. Cold, dark, turbulent waves sweep over him and engulf him. No matter how much he struggles, he finds himself swept away and pulled under. He is then dragged down further and further by an unseen figure that refuses to release him until, finally, he wakes up gasping for air and covered in sweat. If I happen to wake up during his tossing and turning, I’m ready to hold him and talk him through it until he falls asleep. It seems that even though he’s confronted Simone and removed her from his life, she still has a grip on him that manifests in these nightmares. It is my hope that one day, he will receive the closure he needs and that the torment she’s put him through will become a thing of the past.

     In March, just a week after our run-in with Simone, Jake and I celebrated our first wedding anniversary. Because we’ve been preparing for the arrival of our daughter, we decided to keep the celebration simple. We enjoyed a romantic candlelit dinner at home, opting to recreate the picnic we had on the night we first said “I love you,” to each other. After dinner, we exchanged gifts. Jake presented me with a beautiful gold locket and a bouquet of roses, while I gave him a set of “love coupons.” And then, as I was putting our dishes in the sink, Jake slinked up behind me and declared that the dishes could wait; he wanted to put one of his coupons to use. We spent the rest of the night locked away in our bedroom, and any doubts about my desirability were finally cast aside.

     In April, my cousin Allison threw me a baby shower. Thanks to my friends and family members, Maya won’t be lacking in pacifiers, booties, blankets, onesies, cute little outfits, etc. And, thanks to Ari and Heather, there are a few post-maternity items to add to my closet.

     Since we still live in a one-bedroom apartment, Jake and I have set up a nursery area in our bedroom. We know that there will come a day when we will have to move on to a bigger place. But for now, this will have to do. Maggie gave us a dresser that houses Maya’s clothing items, blankets, burping towels, supplies and accessories. On top of the dresser sits a changing basket, complete with liner. There’s just enough space left for a diaper caddy that has enough room for not just diaper changing supplies, but extra onesies and socks. The clothing that Maya will eventually grow into, meanwhile, is kept in a vacuum-sealed storage bag in our closet.

     The wall to the left of our bedroom door houses a nook that is big enough for Maya’s crib, which Will helped Jake set up. While they were assembling the crib, I focused on decorating the nook. Since Maya is going to be a summer baby, it’s been decided that her nook will have a summertime theme. I found some adorable, colorful decals featuring bumblebees and flowers. Sometime after Maya’s birth, a picture of all three of us will be hung up in the middle of the nook.

     Attached to the crib is a beautiful, multi-colored butterfly mobile that plays music that will hopefully lull Maya into a peaceful slumber. Near my side of the bed is a rocking chair, where Maya will be fed and rocked to sleep. There’s also enough room for a bassinet, which will also be on my side of the bed since there isn’t room for it anywhere else.

     Why have both a bassinet and a crib? Well, for starters, I’m a first-time mom. I want a bassinet because I can keep Maya close to me, and it can be moved around the apartment when needed. I’m probably going to be one of those “Check on the baby every five minutes," moms. Finally, according to Jennifer and my OB, there’s a chance that Maya will sleep better in the bassinet as opposed to the larger, open space of the crib. But just in case it turns out that she’ll sleep better in the crib, it’s assembled and ready for her. And even if she does sleep well in the bassinet, at least the crib is set up for when she graduates into it.

     At the end of May, I put together a bag to take to the hospital. With each day that passes by, I become more and more anxious. Because of this, I admit that I may be mildly obsessed with checking my hospital bag to make sure I’ve packed everything on my list. Jake has given up on assuring me that I haven’t forgotten something, knowing better than to argue with a nervous mom-to-be. If it helps to check the hospital bag once or twice a week, so be it. Besides, I just can’t seem to make up my mind when it comes to the onesie our little girl will come home in. It’s not my fault that there are so many cute options to choose from!

     I zip up the bag and return it to its place by the door, walking (Or, in my state, more like waddling!) over to the sofa. Ever so carefully, I sit down next to Jake. Once my back support pillow is in place, I lean back against it with a sigh. My legs and feet are swollen now, which means that I have to put my feet up whenever possible. Thankfully, the coffee table is close enough for me to rest them on.

     “What did you settle on this time?” Jake asks, his tone light and teasing.

     “The one with the hearts,” I answer.

     He reaches for my hand, entwining his fingers together with mine. “I know you’re nervous, babe. But you’re the strongest woman I know. You got this.”

     “I hope so,” I answer tiredly. “I’m so ready to meet her. It’s just the labor and delivery thing that freaks me out. Ugh. Why did Hannah have to show us that video?” I cringe when I remember, in vivid detail, the images and sounds that I was confronted with during our last Lamaze class. I’m surprised I didn’t have nightmares after that experience. EESH!!

     “Need anything?”

     I shake my head. “I have my water. I have my pillow. I have you. I’m good. Just uncomfortable.”

     I’m in what my doctor calls the lightening stage, which means that Maya has dropped lower. Not only does this mean that I’m approaching labor, but this also means that more pressure has been added to my pelvis, hips and bladder. At the moment, I don’t have to make yet another trip to the bathroom. That’s a relief. But the pressure on my pelvis and hips isn’t fun, in spite of the fact that I am now able to breathe a little easier.

     It’s Jake’s day off, which means that we’ve been able to spend all day together. I’ve told him that if he wants to get out of the apartment and do something relaxing, I won’t stop him. But he insists on being here, just in case. Though he won’t admit it, I can see that he’s just as nervous as I am. I know him well enough to recognize the signs.

     I’m bored, and I’m not in the mood to watch TV or read a book. And so, I ask Jake to hand me the photo book and box of pictures resting on his side of the coffee table. I remove the lid from the box, which is set down between us, and then I open up the photo book. I’ve been meaning to put this together for a while. The boredom that comes with maternity leave seems to have motivated me.

     “I thought you were finished with that,” Jake comments.

     I shake my head. “Nope. Just a few more pages to go,” I answer, reaching the page I’m searching for.

     Jake picks up the box and begins to go through the pictures, most of which were taken by him. He pauses for a moment and then chuckles. “You took a picture of the pregnancy tests?”

     “Yup!” I confirm, giving him a lopsided smile. “What? It was a big day. We found out that we’re going to be parents.” He shakes his head in amusement, and I lift my brow at him. “It’s not like I saved the tests. I’m not weird. Our hard work paid off, and I just want to memorialize the occasion.” I take the picture from him and put it back in its proper place.

     “Hard work? I don’t remember you complaining.” He stretches out his arms a bit and puts his hands behind his head, using them as a pillow as he leans back. “In fact, I just remember a lot of ‘Yes, Jake! Yes! That’s the spot! Yes, yes! Don’t stop! I‘m almost there! I‘m almost there! I‘m there! I‘m there! I’m ... Aaahhh!’”

     He gives me a smug look, and I swat him on the arm. “I’m not the one who says ‘Mmm ... Yeah, baby. You like that? Does that make you feel good? Come on. Come on, beautiful. Come for m --’”

     Jake clamps a hand over my mouth. “Okay. I get your point.” He falls silent and, just when I think he’s backed down, he adds “At least I’m not the loud one. Remember the look the neighbors gave us that one morning? We still haven’t lived it down.”

     I narrow my eyes at him. “Jake, if you ever want to have sex with me again ... you’ll drop it.”

     He holds up his hands in surrender. “Yes, ma’am.”

     I pull out a few pictures and begin to arrange them, trying to figure out a layout that pleases me. I linger on the photo that Jake took of yours truly with my band mates. It was taken on the last night I performed with them, shortly after I announced that I’m expecting. Once my doctor confirmed my pregnancy, I had some decisions to make. As much as I love singing with the band, I don’t feel safe performing in the bar right now. Customers get pretty rowdy, and I can’t risk my safety or the safety of my child. Not to mention the fact that the bar smells get to me. It’s hard to perform while dealing with “pops up whenever it damn well pleases,” sickness.

     Jake watches as I add the photo to the picture book. “You miss performing. Don’t you?”

     I nod. “I do. I talked to Chuck the other day. I wanted to thank him and his wife for the present for Maya. He says that the band wants me to come back when I’m ready.”

     “Are you going to take them up on their offer?”

     “I’m thinking about it. I mean, it would only be one or two Saturday’s a month. You know, if you don’t count practice.”

     “If it’s something you want to do, I’ll support you.”

     I set the photo book aside and lean over to kiss Jake. “Thank you.”

     “You’re welcome. You hungry?”

     “Yeah. Jennifer brought over a casserole.”

     “One casserole, coming up.”

     Thanks to my belly and my need to sleep on my side, Jake and I have had to adjust to different sleeping arrangements. At my baby shower, Jennifer gifted me with a body pillow that gives me the support and comfort I need to get a decent night’s sleep. Our mutual love language is touch, which means that Jake and I are very much into cuddling. I crave the warmth and safety of Jake’s arms, while he finds comfort in having my body so close to his own. I may be bigger right now, but that’s doesn’t mean that we’ve changed our routine. It just means that we have to make some adjustments. Because of my belly and my need for the body pillow, there are nights when I am the middle of a human/pillow sandwich. It took some time to get used to, but I’ve found that I sleep better with Jake spooning me while I snuggle up against the body pillow. Just as long as we don’t get too warm, this arrangement seems to work for the both of us.

     Jake and I are in bed when I begin to feel that there is definitely something going on. Thinking that this is another “Braxton Hicks moment,” I switch positions to see if the contractions will stop. I’m about ready to go back to sleep when I feel the sensation again, and I maneuver myself to my previous position. A few minutes later, I realize that these are definitely not Braxton Hicks contractions. For one thing, they’re not stopping. In fact, they seem to be coming at regular intervals. And while the Braxton Hicks are usually felt in the front of my belly, these contractions start in the back and move to the front.

     Yeah! This is definitely not false labor.

     I’m not exactly sure what I should do. Jake is still sound asleep, and I don’t know if I should let him be or if I should wake him. I mean, the contractions aren’t so close together that I know it’s time to go to the hospital. But I know that I’m in labor now, and I’m going to need him.

     I look over at the clock on my nightstand, seeing that it’s 8:00 am. Okay. Well, I suppose it’s not too early to wake him up. My decision made, I push my body pillow aside and turn to face my husband. I know from experience that touching him gently on the bicep or stomach usually does the trick. I made this discovery shortly after we became intimate, and it’s become my signal to let him know that I’m in the mood. I don’t even have to apply that much pressure. Just the slightest touch, and he’s awake. And so, nibbling on my bottom lip, I reach out and lay a hand on his bicep. I gently stroke his skin with my thumb and quietly speak his name, watching as he begins to stir.

     He opens his eyes and turns his head to look at me, blinking sleepily. “You’re awake,” he says, his voice rough from sleep.

     “I am,” I confirm with a smile.

     He turns onto his side and props himself up on his elbow. “What time is it?”

     “A little after 8:00.”

     He furrows his brows. “Everything okay?”

     “Yeah. It’s just that ... it’s time.”

     In his groggy state, he isn’t catching on to what I mean. “You’re in the mood?” He pauses, giving me a grin. “Not that I’m complaining. Just, umm ... give me a minute and --”

     I laugh gently. “No. Jake, I’m having contractions. Real, actual contractions.”

     He stares at me for a few seconds, and then his ocean blue eyes widen. Now he gets it. He springs into action, tugging on his jeans as he sits on the edge of the bed. “How far apart are they?” he asks, reaching for the shirt he discarded last night.

     “Jake, calm down. They’re not close enough for us to go anywhere.”

     Jake slips into his shirt and then pauses, turning to look at me. His lips are in that pout that I love, and he’s looking me up and down. I’m not sure, but he’s either annoyed or confused. Sometimes, it’s hard to tell with him.

     Now I feel guilty. “I’m sorry I woke you. I just ... thought you should know,” I explain with a shrug.

     He sighs, running a hand through his hair. “It’s all right." He takes a few moments to yawn and then run a hand over his face, and then he scoots closer to me. “Are you all right?”

     “I’m okay. I mean, they’re pretty mild right now. But ... this is definitely it, Jake.” We share a brief kiss, and I’m beaming. “She’s on her way.”

     During the early stage of labor, Jake and I try to relax as much as we can. My OB, Dr. Powell, said that early labor tends to last a while. So unless something goes wrong, Jake and I do not have to rush to the hospital just yet. We keep ourselves occupied by not only tracking my contractions, but by doing some simple routines around the apartment. When my level of discomfort increases, Jake is here to rub my shoulders and remind me to take calming breaths.

     Finally, it reaches the point when it’s time for us to make our way to the hospital. Jake has just opened the apartment door when the contractions hit again. We come to a stop for a few moments as I focus on taking calming breaths, taking hold of Jake’s hand as the wave passes over me. I let out one last calming breath and then slowly straighten up, nodding when Jake asks if I’m ready to go. He bends down to grab the car seat and then slings the hospital bag over his shoulder. Then he guides me into the hallway, locking the door behind us. We encounter Michael in the hallway, and he’s kind enough to carry the car seat as he follows us down the stairs.

     It doesn’t take us long to hail a cab, and the driver sets the car seat and hospital bag up front. Meanwhile, Jake helps me into the cab and slides in next to me. He wraps an arm around my shoulders as he hands the cabbie a wad of cash to “Get us to the fucking hospital as fast as fucking possible.” His words. Not mine.

     I lean against Jake, his scent and warmth keeping me calm as the driver navigates NYC traffic. I don’t know how long it takes. Far as I’m concerned, it feels like hours. We finally arrive at the hospital, where I’m helped into a wheelchair by a nurse whose name I’ll never remember. While I’m wheeled inside, Jake retrieves the car seat and the hospital bag. A few seconds later, he meets me at the nurses’ station and hands over the folder containing my pre-registration forms.

     I’m so glad I heeded Dr. Powell’s advice and filled out these forms. I can’t imagine trying to complete them at the last-minute while in the throes of another set of contractions. This pain not only distracts me, but it makes me highly agitated. So it’s a good thing I don’t have a clipboard in hand, because it would probably end up chucked in the direction of one of the nurses.

     Eventually, we’re taken to a private room on the third floor. Most of my dignity is taken away when I have to change into a hospital gown. It’s one with ties in the back, which means my ass is exposed. I understand the practicality of the gown, of course. I’m just glad my lower half will be hidden under blankets. And if I have to get up and walk around, I packed a robe for the occasion. Once I’m helped onto the hospital bed, an IV is inserted into my vein. Not fun, but necessary. I’m also hooked up to monitors that keep track of my vitals, as well as Maya’s.

     Once the poking and prodding session is over, Jake and I are left alone in the room. He hasn’t stopped holding my left hand since the IV was placed, and he brings it up to his lips for a kiss. Now that things have settled down for a while, and I’m not in the middle of a contraction, I can appreciate the gesture. Courtesy of the fetal monitor, we can hear Maya’s heartbeat. As far as we can tell, she’s doing fine. I’m soothed by the sound of my daughter’s heartbeat, combined with the warmth of Jake’s hand.

     “We should let everyone know what’s going on,” I comment.

     Jake nods and then releases my hand, reaching into his pocket for his cell phone. I watch as he types out a mass text message, sending it out to our friends and family. He stuffs the phone back into his pocket and then takes my hand in his again. It doesn’t take long before I hear the quiet pinging sound that indicates that he’s receiving responses, and he reads each one to me. Shortly after he reads the message from Allison, my progress is checked and I’m asked the big question: Do I want an epidural, or would I prefer to experience natural childbirth? Up until today, I had been undecided. After some careful consideration, I’ve chosen to go without an epidural.

     We’re left alone again, and I exchange a look with Jake. He rubs the back of my hand in a small circular pattern, picking up on my nervousness. “Jake, what did I just agree to?”

     “You want me to call her back in?”

     I think about it for a moment, shaking my head. “No. I don’t want the meds to affect Maya.” I take in a deep breath, letting it out slowly. Not because I’m experiencing a contraction, but because I’m freaking out. “I’ll be okay. Just promise me something.”

     “Don’t worry. I’ll be with you every step of the way. I’ve got your back.”

     I smile at him. “I know. That’s not what I was going to say.” He gestures for me to go on. “When the big moment comes, and I’m pushing her out ... don’t blame me if I hurt your hand. And whatever I say, don’t hold it against me. No matter how many nasty things I say to you. I won’t mean any of them.”

     He laughs a little. How sweet! He thinks I’m kidding.

     I reach for his hand, running my thumb over his wedding band. “But seriously ... no matter how much I yell and scream at you, I want you to know I love you ... and that I’m glad we’re doing this. This pregnancy hasn’t been easy for either one of us. You’ve been my rock, and I’m so glad you’re here.”

     He gives me another smile. “There’s nowhere else I’d rather be.”

     In the early hours of June 18th, our baby girl is close to making her grand entrance into the world. Jake is holding my hand throughout the experience, even when I squeeze a little too hard. I knew giving birth would be difficult and painful, but I had no idea how much work it would take to push a tiny human being out of me. The pain isn’t like anything I’d imagined, and I’ve been told that I’ll forget all about it when I’m holding Maya in my arms.

     “I can’t do this ANYMORE!!”

     “Yes, you can. Baby, you have to,” Jake says from his place beside me.

     “Don’t you DARE tell me what to do! You’re not the boss of me! Get the fuck away from me!”

     I narrow my eyes into a nasty, venom-filled glare when I hear the nurse say to Jake “Don’t worry. She doesn’t mean a word of it. It’s just the pain.” Oh! So now a total stranger thinks she can speak for me? You’ve got to be kidding.

     I have no idea how long I have been pushing, but it seems like an eternity. And I have to tell you this: I have grown tired of being reminded to breathe, being ordered to “keep that chin down,” and being told that I need to “push just a little bit harder.” I’m giving it all I have, people! I’m using all the “umph," I have! What more do you want from me? The only thing that is preventing me from kicking the doctor is the fact that I need her to deliver my child. That, and I’m too focused on trying to push a human being out of me. Otherwise, my foot would meet her face.

     Yeah! Turns out, extreme pain unleashes my violent streak. Who knew?

     “Jake!! If you tell me to breathe one more time, I’m going to break your wrist!!!” I snarl through gritted teeth, just before I squeeze his hand again and push with everything I’ve got.

     A few more pushes later, and her head is finally out. While I’m trying to recover from that experience, I’m told to hold off on pushing until the doctor says otherwise. I have no idea what the doctor and nurse are doing, as my eyes are closed and I’m breathing my way through contractions. I also mutter a few colorful words, followed by a quick apology to Jake. He tells me that I don’t have to apologize, and I can hear excitement in his voice as he tells me that Maya has “a lot of hair.” And then, the doctor tells me to get ready to push again.

     After an insane amount of pain and hard work, Maya Elizabeth Jade Holt enters the world. I let myself fall back onto the bed, exhausted and relieved. I’m drenched with sweat and panting, but deliriously happy. While the doctors tend to our newborn daughter, Jake wipes my brow with a cool cloth and presses a few kisses to my lips. All he can talk about is how strong I am, how proud he is of me, and how beautiful our little girl is.

     A few moments later, my exhaustion and pain are forgotten when our precious daughter is placed on my chest. Holding her gently, tears streaming down my face, I notice the dark hair on her head. I don’t know what color her eyes will be, but so far she takes after her father in the looks department. She begins to cry a bit, and I gently stroke her cheek and talk softly to her.

     “Hello, Maya. It’s me. I’m your momma.” I sniffle a bit. “It’s so good to see you, beautiful girl. I love you so much. Happy birthday.” Maya squirms a bit and quiets down, seeming to recognize my voice. I look up at Jake, who’s absolutely beaming. I don’t think I’ve seen him smile like this since our wedding day, when he saw me walk down the aisle. “Jake, you’re a dad.”

     He seems to be at a loss for words. Instead, he lets out a little laugh and reaches out to softly stroke her head. It’s like he needs to touch her, just to prove that she’s really here.

     “It’s time to cut the cord, Jake,” the doctor announces.

     Jake gives her a nod and, after two snips, the cord is severed. My snuggling session with Maya is interrupted when she’s gently whisked away for a brief health exam. She’s not too happy about being temporarily separated from me, as evidenced by her loud cries. She’s certainly not shy about making her voice heard. I’ll give her that! I can’t see what’s going on, but every now and then I can hear Jake talking to her softly. I hear him make the comment that “She has a good grip,” and so I assume that she’s grabbed onto his finger.

     After being weighed and measured, she is finally handed over to Jake. He seems to be a little nervous, having never held someone so tiny and fragile. But he soon adjusts, looking very much like the proud father he is. He steps closer to me and chuckles when Maya takes hold of his pinky again. “The nurse says she seems to be perfectly healthy. Seven pounds, two ounces. Nineteen and a half inches long." Maya squirms a little bit, making those adorable sounds I’ve already fallen in love with. “She just opened her eyes,” Jake proudly announces.

     “What color are they?”

     “Kind of a grayish blue.”

     I’ve been told that Maya’s eye color will change over time, and so it’s too early to determine what the final result will be. But if she takes after her father, I won’t mind at all. He has beautiful eyes.

     “I think she has your mouth,” he comments.

     “And your hair.” Jake hands her back to me and, after some assistance from the nurse, Maya has her first feeding. I begin to tear up again, my voice wavering a bit. “Look at who we made, Jake. She’s perfect.”

     I feel him lay a hand on my head, lightly stroking my hair. He leans down to press a kiss to my temple. “She’s beautiful, Lilah. Just like you.”

     A few hours later, after getting some rest and seeing to it that Maya is fed again, I’m feeling up for visitors. I’m still tired, and my body is definitely feeling the after-effects of childbirth. Still, I look forward to introducing Maya to her extended family. Allison, Will and Maggie are the first to meet her. Will laughs as his goddaughter grabs hold of his finger, grinning down at her. Seems she’s won another person over.

     “Hey, kiddo. I’m Will. Yes, I am. Yes, I am.”

     “Oh, no. He’s doing the baby talk thing,” Jake comments, grinning at Will when he looks up at him.

     Shaking his head, Will returns his gaze to Maya. “Well, I can’t help it. No, I can’t. You know why? ‘Cause you’re the cutest widdle baby. Yes, you are. And guess what? When your mom and dad bring you to the restaurant, your meal is on the house. Know why? ’Cause your godfather is the manager. Yes, he is.”

     “Hey! Why is her meal free?” I give Will a mock-glare. “I’m the one who did all the hard work to get her here.”

     Will shrugs, grinning at me. “Sorry. She’s just ... She’s so cute.”

     “Cute? She’s adorable. So tiny!” Allison interjects. “I could put her in my purse!”

     “What do you think of your granddaughter, Maggie?” I ask.

     Maggie gives me a surprised look. She hasn’t said anything about it. But up until now, I assume she didn’t know exactly how she’d fit into Maya’s life. Maya is carefully transferred over to Maggie’s arms, and I can tell that she’s fallen in love as well. “She’s perfect.”

     Will is the last of the three to hold Maya, but the moment is cut short when he looks up at the clock. “Guess it’s time for me to go. The restaurant won’t manage itself,” he laments, looking down at Maya again. “I’ll see you later, kiddo.” Reluctantly, he returns her to my arms and leans down to give me a kiss on the forehead. He reaches out to give Maya a little tickle under the chin. “Congratulations, guys. She’s beautiful.” On the way out, he pats Jake on the shoulder a few times. “Good luck. You’re gonna need it.”

     Jake furrows his brows at Will. “Thanks for the vote of confidence.”

     Once the door is closed, I look down at Maya. “So what do you think of Will?” She looks up me with her blue-grey eyes, cooing a little. “Yeah. I like him, too.”

     A few minutes later, we hear a soft knock on the door. Heather is the first to enter the room, followed by Ari, Sasha and Tess. I give them a tired smile when I see that they’ve brought flowers and some stuffed animals, and Jake directs them to put them by the windowsill with the other gifts. Heather leans down to give me a hug and asks how I’m doing, and I give her the same response I gave to my previous visitors.

     “Tired and sore, but deliriously happy. Thanks for coming, you guys.”

     Sasha walks over to me, shaking his head. “You look horrible, Angel.”

     I roll my eyes at him. “You would, too, if you went through what I did. Turns out that childbirth isn’t easy.”

     “That’s no excuse for looking shabby. And that hospital gown does nothing for you.”

     “For your sake, I’ll forget you said that." I gently adjust Maya in my arms so my friends can take a good look at her.

     Jake sits down next to me on the other side of the bed, smiling proudly as he announces “Guys, we’d like you to meet Maya Elizabeth Jade Holt.”

     “Who wants to be the first to hold her?” I ask.

     Ari and Sasha opt out, preferring to give Maya their attention while she’s in the arms of someone else. I’ve known for a while that they’re not necessarily “baby people," which means their response isn’t surprising. Now, it’s between Tess and Heather. After using some hand sanitizer, Tess steps forward. Maya lets out what I call a “squeakel” (squeak + squeal) as she’s transferred to Tess’s arms, and I give my former co-worker a smile when she looks nervous.

     “Don’t worry. She’s fine. She’s just saying ‘hi’. Just remember to support her head.”

     Tess gives me a nod, staring down at my daughter. “She’s so tiny.” Ever the curious one, she looks up at me. “What was it like?”

     “Do you really want to know?” Tess just stares back at me, and I think about it for a moment. How, exactly, do you put that kind of pain into words? Then it hits me. “You ever see Look Who’s Talking, Tess?” She nods. “You remember what Kirstie Alley said about the watermelon and the lemon?” Again, she nods. “It really is like that.”

     My female friends stare at me in horror, while Sasha cringes. “Eesh! No need to be so graphic.”

     Tess passes Maya over to Heather, who sways a bit as Maya begins to fuss. Sasha does the chin tickle thing and immediately dubs Maya “Baby Angel.” Then he looks me up and down in mock disappointment. “So I guess this means we have to stop calling you Waddles now.”

     I laugh a little. “I told you to stop calling me that a long time ago.”

     He waves me off. “Since when have I ever listened to you?” I open my mouth to retort, but shut it again when Sasha’s focus is clearly on Maya. I can’t quite make out everything he’s saying to her. Only that it sounds like more baby talk with a few Russian words thrown into the mix.

     “I still can’t believe you two have one of these,” Heather comments as Maya coos away. “She looks like you, Jake.”

     Jake grins proudly. “You think so?”

     “You’ll never get your figure back, Angel.” Sasha lets out one of his over-dramatic cries when Ari punches him in the arm. “Ow! Stop hitting me!”

     “Shut the fuck up, Sasha!” Ari gives me a flirtatious smile. “Ignore the idiot. You’ll go back to looking hot in no time.”

     I frown. “Gee! Thanks.”

     “I have to go," Tess announces, leaning down to give me a brief hug. “She’s beautiful, guys.” Jake and I give her our thanks, and she waves goodbye to the both of us as she follows Ari and Sasha out of the room.

     “She really is,” Heather agrees, handing Maya over to Jake. “Great job, you two.” She then turns her attention to Maya. “And you, little girl ...” I wait for her to say something profound, like she usually does. Instead, she says “One day, when you’re old enough, I’ve got some crazy stuff to tell you about your mom and dad.”

     Jake and I exchange a look, and he says “After you run those stories by us. Right?”

     Heather doesn’t say anything. She just gives us a wink and a smirk. And then she’s gone, closing the door behind herself.

     I look down at Maya. “Well, sweetheart, that’s your family. I know they seem a little ... odd. But they love you.” I give her a kiss on the head and then hand her over to Jake.

     He leans down and gives me a kiss on the lips. “I love you. Thanks for making me a dad.”

     I give him a sleepy smile, touched by his words. “I love you, too. Thanks for making me a mom.”

     He grins back, and I watch as he carefully sits down in the chair. The last thing I see, just before my eyes slide shut and sleep takes over, is Jake smiling down at our daughter.

     Jake’s POV

     By the time I return to our apartment in Williamsburg, it’s a little after 11:00. The apartment is dark, save for the light in the hallway. Figuring that Lilah is asleep, I try to be as quiet as possible. I leave my shoes by the door and hang up my hoodie, and then make my way to the bedroom door. I push it open slowly and step inside, smiling at what I see.

     Lilah is sitting in the chair, gently rocking back and forth with Maya in her arms. I’m sure she’s exhausted, but she looks content as she sings a song to our daughter. I know it sounds corny, but I think I love her even more than I did before. Maya, as usual, is awake and squirming away. When Lilah was pregnant, Maya was more active at night. Her night owl streak usually kicked in after 10:00 and lasted until 11:30 or midnight. Seems she’s sticking to her routine.

     I approach them, and Lilah gives me a tired smile. “Hi, babe. How was work?”

     We share a brief kiss, and I sit down on the bed. Giving her a shrug, I answer “Same as always. That kinky couple, Gabe and Giselle, showed up.”

     “Uh-oh. Who’d they go after this time?”

     “Alex,” I answer, referring to the bartender who’s filling in for Lilah. “They said he ‘has the body of a Greek god’. I guess they offered to pay him $5,000.”

     “Nice to know they’re staying consistent. Did he accept?”

     I shrug. “I don’t know. He took their card.” I reach out to touch my daughter’s head, gently brushing my fingers over her hair. “How were things with the night owl?”

     Maya is two weeks old, as of today. We came home with her two days after she was born, and it’s been an adjustment for both of us. I took a week off of work so I could help Lilah and bond with our daughter, and I dreaded the day when I had to go back to work.

     “Fine. Jennifer came over for a visit. She can’t believe how quiet Maya is. She only cried a few times, and then she conked out for a bit. I gave her a bath and then put her to bed at 8:00, and she woke up at 10:00 and had a late-night snack. Fell asleep right after I changed her. She just woke up. Maybe she knew her dad was coming home. Wanna take her?”

     I nod and move off of the bed, and Lilah carefully transfers Maya into my arms. Lilah gets up and moves over to the bed, making herself comfortable under the covers. I look down at Maya, who’s staring up at me. “Will you look at what you did to your poor mother? You wore her out.” Lilah’s eyes are already starting to become heavy, and I figure now would be a good time to step out. “Let’s take this party to the living room,” I say to Maya.

     After saying goodnight to Lilah, I leave the room with Maya. Closing the door behind myself, I creep down the hallway and step into the kitchen. Then I grab something to drink and sit down on the sofa with my daughter. She begins to fuss a little, and I’m pretty sure I know what the problem is.

     “Okay, Maya. I know what you want. Don’t have to tell me twice.” I rearrange her so that she’s now held out in front of me, just below my chest. My hands keep her safe and secure, and she eventually quiets down. “All good?” She quiets down after a while, looking up at me again. “Just wanted to see me better. Didn’t you? Yeah. I thought so. You know, everyone at work has been asking about you. Maybe one day, your mom and I will show you where we work. I bet you’d like that. You know, if someone had told me that I’d be a married man and a dad, I would have said they were crazy. But here I am. And do you know why? It’s because your mom gave me a chance. For some reason, she chose me. Not only that, but she gave me you. Not bad for someone like me.”

     I turn my attention to the bookcase across from me, and the photograph of my favorite tree in France. On the night when Lilah and I decided to try for a baby, I told her that fatherhood had been on my mind ever since my trip to France. It wasn’t until I’d experienced a real, committed, loving relationship with Lilah that I felt safe enough to think about the future. But I knew that I couldn’t pursue what I wanted - couldn’t even discuss it with Lilah - until I worked through my issues and cleaned up my act. I had a lot of growing up to do, and I credit Lilah for helping me through it. She stood by me through it all, encouraging me and giving me a shove when I needed it, and that only further cemented my knowledge that she’s the one I want to be with.

     I pause for a few seconds. “Look, kid. I gotta be honest with you. I don’t know what kind of a dad I’ll be. My dad skipped out of town when I was born, and the man who adopted me ... Well, let’s just say he was more interested in golf than in raising kids. Anyway, the point is: I’m new at this. I know I’ll make mistakes. There’ll be times when I’ll drive you crazy. But I want to be the dad you need me to be. I want to give you a better life than the one I was given. I want you to feel safe, and I don’t want you to worry that your mom and I won’t be there for you. We’re pretty new at this parenting thing, but we’re going to do our best. ‘Cause we love you. So, don’t be too hard on us. Deal?”

     I stay up with Maya until she falls asleep. Carefully, hoping she won’t feel my movements, I get up off of the sofa and creep down the hallway. Thanks to the dim light coming from the lamp on Lilah’s nightstand, I’m able to navigate my way to Maya’s bassinet. I set her down gently, cringing a bit when she seems to wake up, and then breathe a quiet sigh when she settles down. Lilah seems to be sound asleep under the covers, and so I quietly make my way over to my side of the bed. It’s a warm night, and so I discard my shirt and strip down to my boxers before I crawl into bed.

     My head barely hits the pillow when I feel Lilah move next to me. She scoots closer to me, and I move my arm to accommodate her. She settles down with her head on my chest, her hand resting on my stomach as she lets out a happy sigh. She no longer wears perfume, both for her sake and for Maya’s. But her hair still smells like lavender and vanilla, thanks to the shampoo she used, and the scent is intoxicating. I’m not sure, but I think my heart has just skipped a beat at the familiar, comfortable sensation of her skin pressed against mine. God, I love this woman!

     “Everything go okay?” she asks quietly.

     “Yeah. We hung out for a little bit, and then she passed right out.”

     “See? She just wanted some quality time with her dad.” I chuckle a bit, smiling when Lilah presses her lips to my shoulder and collarbone before she settles down again. “You’re a good dad, Jake ... and a good man. Maya and I are lucky to have you.”

     I breathe in the scent of Lilah’s hair, gently stroking her arm as she falls asleep.

     No, Lilah. I’m the lucky one.

@anastacia-lynn

@mypsychoticlove

@kimmyiewrites

#jake x oc sweetbitter #jake & lilah #sweetbitter jake #jake sweetbitter #tom sturridge sweetbitter #sweetbitterstarz #sweetbitter tv series #sweetbitter fanfiction #tom sturridge #broken & beautiful sweetbitter fic

[tarotoftheendless]

I am a huge Tom Sturridge fan at the moment. And I love me some fan fiction too. And right now there is a fuck ton of Dream fics, Jake fics and Nigel fics... But no young Carl fics, no Will Donner fics and really not really much of any other Tom Sturridge filmography fan fiction. So, what do I need to do to get someone to write fics for Tom's other stuff? With OCs or Reader inserts?

#tom sturridge #waiting for forever #will donner #pirate radio #the boat that rocked #sweetbitter #remainder #3 way junction #far from a maddening crowd #junkhearts #the sandman #sandman #morpheus #dream #dream of the endless #carl #young carl #jake #mary shelley #lord byron #effie gray

#tom sturridge #the boat that rocked #pirate radio #young carl #waiting for forever #will donner #remainder #3 way junction #the sandman #lord morpheus #morpheus #dream of the endless #dream #sweetbitter #jake