Kiszka ⋆˚𖤓☽˚.⋆

25 | she/her | Greta Van Fleet - Twin Lane | 18+ *SLOW UPDATES*

[ageofjoshua]

18+ minors dni

welcome!! and enjoy <3

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

Full-Length Fics

* - In Progress

Papa Don’t Preach Masterpost*

PDP Writer Note

Gold Tastes Bitter Masterpost (COMPLETED)

One Shots

~ - Smut

~ Lunch

~ Bed Chem

~ First Ride

~ Miss Possessive

⋆༺𓆩☠︎︎𓆪༻⋆

One Shots

~ - Smut

~ Long Distance Heat

Steady Hands

~ Trial Run

~ In My Veins

~ Couch Confessions

˚₊‧✩*༻☆༺*✩‧₊˚

Full-Length Fics

* - In Progress

Against the Dead Masterpost * PAUSED

The Mask Masterpost (COMPLETED)

One Shots

Swaddle in Love

Love at First Cry

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾𖤓 ⋆⁺₊⋆

[lyricdriven]

No Body, No Crime: Chapter Two

Scarlett’s emotional state continues to deteriorate as her suspicions about Josh consume her thoughts. After a tense night and an unsettling confrontation she feels compelled to face, a growing sense of dread settles in as you become increasingly worried that something may be wrong.

Word Count: 2k

Warnings - alcohol abuse, emotional distress, domestic violence, physical assault, strangulation/choking, verbal abuse, intense arguments, panic, disturbing themes

Disclaimer - this chapter contains depictions of domestic violence, physical assault, emotional distress, alcohol abuse, and other potentially triggering themes. reader discretion is advised.

** BASED OFF ‘NO BODY, NO CRIME’ BY TAYLOR SWIFT **

No Body, No Crime Masterpost

Over the following weeks, Scarlett began to spiral.

Every Tuesday, you’d sit across from her in the little restaurant downtown and watch her slip further away from herself. She’d ramble endlessly about the transaction, the late nights, the tiny details she couldn’t stop replaying in her head. The obsession had rooted itself deep inside her, and you had no idea how to keep her from sinking even further into it.

“He had fucking lipstick on his mouth.” Her words came out slurred, her eyes red and swollen from crying. “Lipstick!” She snatched up the nearly empty bottle of wine and poured herself another glass.

You wanted to say something, to stop her, but the last time you had, you and Scarlett hadn’t spoken for an entire month. Scarlett was passionate and hopelessly in love, a dangerous combination.

“I’m gonna do it.” She dropped the empty bottle into the ice bucket, nearly spilling her drink as she picked up her glass. A splash of wine landed on the table. “I’m gonna confront him. I won’t be—”

You watched in alarm as she abruptly set the glass down and reached for her purse and keys, like she fully intended to leave.

“Whoa.” You stood quickly, moving beside her. “Okay, hang on a second…”

“I won’t be made to look stupid! He can’t do this to me!”

“Hey, okay. Scarlett, I can’t let you drive home like this.” You gently took her hands, trying to steady her. “You’re upset, and you’ve had almost three bottles of wine by yourself. I’ll drive you.”

“I can drive!”

“No, you can’t,” you said firmly. “Please, just let me take you home.”

The drive to Scarlett’s was unsettlingly quiet. Both front windows were cracked open, allowing a cool breeze to drift through the car. Scarlett rested her head against the glass, her hair blowing across her face as you cruised down the highway. Her purse sat clutched tightly in her lap, and short, shaky breaths escaped her lips as she fought to calm herself.

Meanwhile, you lightly tapped your index fingers against the steering wheel. You could practically feel the anger radiating from the passenger seat. Part of you wanted to say something, anything to break the oppressive silence but no words came to mind. Or rather, none of the right ones.

As you reached the exit, the car rolled to a stop at a red light. The steady clicking of the right turn signal was the only sound between you. Then, without warning, the piercing wail of a siren shattered the silence. Bright flashing lights streaked past as an ambulance sped through the intersection beside you, causing both of you to jump.

Your heart lurched in your chest as you watched the emergency vehicle disappear into the distance. A moment later, the traffic light turned green.

Not long after, you pulled into Scarlett’s driveway. Josh’s truck sat right in the middle, a clear sign that he was home. You shifted the car into park and glanced over at your best friend.

She didn’t reach for her seatbelt. She didn’t move at all.

She simply stared at Josh’s truck.

“I can go in with you,” you offered softly. “If you want.”

Scarlett finally turned to look at you. Her expression was eerily blank, though she managed to force a small smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes.

“I think I have to do this alone,” she said, releasing a long, shaky breath. “But afterward, I’ll probably need you to come pick me up… and maybe a few of my things.” A sad, humorless chuckle slipped from her lips.

You reached across the center console and took her hand in yours.

“Hey…” you said gently. “Call me the second you’re ready, okay?”

She nodded, and a tear rolled down her cheek.

“Thank you,” she whispered, giving your hand a squeeze.

You nodded back, offering her a small, reassuring smile.

“Always.”

You watched as Scarlett climbed out of your car and slowly made her way up the walkway to the front door. Before going inside, she turned and gave you one last wave. You returned it with a small smile, then watched her disappear into the house.

Once inside, Scarlett froze.

The living room was empty, and for a moment she wondered if Josh had already gone to bed. But the sound of his voice drifting from the kitchen made her head snap in that direction.

“Was that Y/n who drove you home?” he called. “Where’s your car? Did you get into an accident?”

Scarlett wandered into the kitchen, stopping just inside the doorway. Josh had already changed out of his work clothes. He stood there in a white T-shirt and a pair of boxers. Judging by his appearance, he’d either been home for hours or wanted her to believe he had.

“Honey?” he asked again, concern creeping into his voice. “Did you have an accident? Why did Y/n drive you home?”

Without answering, Scarlett stepped farther into the room and set her purse and keys down on the kitchen island.

“Are you having an affair?”

The question stunned both of them.

She hadn’t really planned on confronting him tonight. Not when she was tipsy and emotionally exhausted. Truthfully, she’d intended to go upstairs, wash her face, and sleep off the wine. But the alcohol had loosened her tongue before she could stop herself.

“What?” Josh asked, blinking.

“Don’t play stupid, Josh. I’m speaking loud and clear.”

“Are you?” He pushed away from the table and approached her. “Because from the smell of it, you’ve had one too many glasses of wine.” He folded his arms across his chest, looking more like a disappointed parent than husband. “Is that why you needed a ride home?”

“Would you forget about the fucking ride?!” Scarlett shouted. “I know about the necklace,” she slurred, taking another unsteady step toward him. “And don’t think I didn’t notice the lipstick on your mouth a few days ago.”

Josh let out a tired sigh and rolled his eyes, but Scarlett barreled on.

“After all these years, Josh. Everything we’ve built together. Planning our future…” Her voice cracked. “How could you?”

“I’m not having an affair,” Josh said far too calmly.

“Oh, bullshit! Okay?!” Scarlett shouted, fury practically radiating off of her. “You did it! You had an affair! The least you owe me is the fucking truth!” She glared at her husband, her chest rising and falling rapidly. “Is it someone from work? Huh? Or did you meet this slut out—”

“DON’T YOU DARE CALL HER THAT!”

Josh’s voice thundered through the house, making Scarlett flinch. But the shock lasted only a second before her anger surged right back.

“Oh, so now you’re defending your little mistress?”

Instead of arguing, Josh simply turned and headed for the stairs.

“You are the biggest piece of shit!” Scarlett yelled, following close behind. “I loved you! I gave you everything!” She trailed him onto the second floor. “Was she fucking worth it? You coward! You couldn’t even ask for a divorce before finding yourself someone else?!”

Josh kept walking.

“I’m talking to you!” she screamed, grabbing his arm.

What happened next unfolded in an instant.

Josh whipped around, his face twisted with rage. Before Scarlett could react, his hand shot out and closed around her throat, pinning her against the wall. Shock flashed across her face as the air left her lungs, the argument suddenly taking a terrifying turn.

Scarlett only had a moment to register her shock before she shoved Josh away, narrowly avoiding the fist aimed at her. Adrenaline surged through her as she bolted down the stairs, desperate to put distance between them, but Josh was right behind her. She rounded the corner toward the kitchen, only for him to lunge forward and grab her by the ankles. With a terrified scream, she crashed to the floor. Ignoring her cries, Josh dragged her back toward him while she frantically reached for anything within arm’s length. The small table against the kitchen wall scraped loudly across the floor, and the items resting on it tumbled off, shattering on impact.

Josh flipped her onto her back and bent down, grabbing a fistful of her hair and forcing her head toward him. His pupils were blown wide, his breathing heavy as he stared down at his wife.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” he ground out through clenched teeth, his voice dropping low. “I’m not having an affair, and I’m not filing for divorce.”

Before Scarlett could fight back, his free hand moved to her throat. Panic shot through her as she desperately tried to pry him away, but his grip only tightened, making it harder for her to breathe.

“And you won’t say a damn thing about this, either,” he hissed. “Not to anyone. Your pride won’t let your parents be right. You’ll just keep looking the other way…”

His hold tightened further, and Scarlett let out a frightened sound. Acting on instinct, she drove her knee upward, catching him off guard and forcing him to loosen his grip long enough for her to wrench herself free and scramble back to her feet.

“Ugh!” Josh groaned, doubling over for only a second before following after her. “You little bitch!”

Scarlett bolted up the stairs, a plan already forming in her mind. She’d lock herself in their bedroom, grab his phone, and call the cops. Maybe what he said about her parents was true, but the man she’d seen tonight terrified her. He’d become violent. He’d pinned her down and wrapped his hand around her throat. She had no doubt there would be marks left behind. Whether she managed to make it to the bedroom or not, there would still be evidence.

She could still get away.

But just as Scarlett reached the top of the stairs, she was violently yanked backward by her hair.

She screamed, clawing behind her in an attempt to get Josh off, but before she could react, he had her pinned against the upstairs balcony overlooking the living room.

“Josh! Please! Don’t do this!” she pleaded, her breaths coming rapidly as he pressed her harder against the railing.

“What?” He leaned closer, his breath brushing her cheek. “Do you hear yourself, Scar? What do you think I’m gonna do…?”

The way he spoke only sent her nerves spiraling higher. It was as if the furious version of him had vanished and been replaced by something far more unsettling. His voice was calm now, almost gentle, but his grip on her hair remained painfully tight.

“You’re hurting me…” Scarlett whispered shakily. “You’re really scaring me, Josh…”

“Honey…” he whispered, bringing his face closer to hers. “I would never.”

You jolted upright, desperately trying to catch your breath as your eyes darted around the darkness of your room. Your hand immediately flew to your neck, finding it slick with a thin layer of sweat. Your heart pounded wildly in your chest, beating as though you’d just run a marathon.

Blinking away the lingering fear from the nightmare, you glanced over at the clock on your nightstand.

12:00 a.m.

Reaching for your phone, you checked for any notifications from Scarlett, only to find nothing. The empty screen made an uneasy feeling settle deep in your stomach.

Maybe she hadn’t confronted Josh tonight.

Still, something nagged at you. You couldn’t shake the feeling.

You: Scarlett? Are you awake? Did you talk to him?

You stared at your screen, waiting for the familiar bubbles to appear. They never did.

Frowning, you sent another message.

And then another.

Still nothing.

She was probably asleep, you told yourself.

With a sigh, you set your phone back down on the nightstand and sank back against your pillow, your eyes fixed on the ceiling above. But despite your efforts to calm yourself, that uneasy feeling refused to go away. Something felt off, and no matter how many times you tried to convince yourself otherwise, you couldn’t shake the terrifying images from your dream.

[lyricdriven]

No Body, No Crime: Chapter One

During your weekly dinner at The Electric Jane, you notices your best friend Scarlett is acting distant and upset. Scarlett eventually confesses that she suspects her husband, Josh, is cheating after finding an expensive jewelry purchase on their joint account.

Word Count: 1.6k

Warnings - marital infidelity, suspicion of cheating, emotional distress, anxiety, crying, mention of financial betrayal, strained friendship dynamics, alcohol consumption, mild language

Disclaimer - this is a work of fiction. contains themes of relationship conflict and infidelity. reader discretion is advised.

** BASED OFF ‘NO BODY, NO CRIME’ BY TAYLOR SWIFT **

No Body, No Crime Masterpost

You switched off the engine and checked your lipstick in the rearview mirror one last time before grabbing your purse and stepping out of the car. After locking it, you made your way toward the restaurant, your heels clicking softly against the pavement. Cool evening air swept your long black hair over your shoulders just as the distant wail of ambulance sirens cut through the night, sending an uneasy chill down your spine.

You paused, turning toward the flashing lights as they sped past in a blur, racing toward some unseen emergency. Your gaze lingered on them until they disappeared from view, leaving behind a strange, unsettled feeling twisting low in your stomach. Swallowing it down, you straightened yourself up and pushed open the restaurant door, stepping inside.

“Good evening, ma’am. Do you have a reservation?”

“Yes. Under Y/L/N.”

The host glanced down at the screen, scrolling for a moment before finding your reservation. Table for two.

“Right this way.”

You offered him a small smile and followed him through the restaurant toward one of the booths. It wasn’t very crowded tonight. Not unusual for a Tuesday. The beginning of the week was always slow, which was exactly why you and Scarlett had chosen it as your night. Dinner, drinks, and catching up.

Scarlett had been your best friend since elementary school. You’d grown up side by side, surviving heartbreaks, family drama, bad decisions, and every messy stage in between. But life had a way of pulling people in different directions. College. Careers. Marriage. Responsibilities. Somewhere along the way, the two of you had started drifting apart until one day, a year ago, you came up with an idea.

“Every Tuesday,” you’d told her. “The Electric Jane. We’ll catch up, gossip. No excuses.”

And ever since then, that’s exactly what you’d done.

As you reached the booth, though, your smile faded slightly at the sight of the empty seat across from you. You slid into the cool blue booth while the host pulled out his notepad and pen.

“Can I get you started with drinks? Appetizers?”

“Just wine, please. Red.”

He nodded politely before walking off toward the bar.

You set your purse beside you and glanced toward the entrance again. Still no sign of Scarlett.

Which was strange.

She was usually here before you.

It wasn’t long before the host returned carrying a wine glass and a silver bucket with the bottle nestled inside. You watched as he uncorked it smoothly and poured a generous amount into your glass.

“Thank you,” you said softly.

“Let me know when you’re ready to order.”

With that, he walked away again.

You lifted the glass to your lips, taking a small sip as your eyes drifted back toward the entrance. Maybe she got held up at work, you thought. Scarlett had been buried in projects lately. But when the host eventually returned to the table, you realized nearly twenty minutes had passed.

“Ready to order?”

Before you could answer, movement near the front caught your attention. Scarlett was weaving through the restaurant toward the booth, looking noticeably more exhausted than usual.

“I’ll take a glass too,” Scarlett said as she slid into the seat across from you, shrugging off her jacket. “And another bottle of red.”

The host nodded before disappearing once more.

You watched quietly as Scarlett immediately grabbed the bottle already sitting at the table and poured wine into her glass nearly to the brim. She took a long swallow, then wiped her mouth with the back of her hand.

“Scarlett… are you okay?”

“Mhm?” She finally looked up, like she’d only just realized you were there. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m fine. Work’s just been crazy. I got caught up, that’s all. Sorry for making you wait.”

Not long after, the two of you slipped into your usual routine. You ordered food, shared updates, laughed here and there but something felt off tonight. Scarlett nodded at the right moments, yet her attention kept drifting elsewhere, her mind clearly miles away from the conversation.

Eventually, you set your fork down with a quiet sigh.

“Scarlett, seriously… are you okay?” you asked gently. “I feel like I’ve been talking to myself for the past hour. You’re completely somewhere else.”

Scarlett slowly lifted her gaze to meet yours beneath the dim restaurant lighting. That’s when you noticed it. Her eyes looked swollen, slightly red, like she’d been crying before she got here.

Your stomach tightened.

“Is something wrong?”

“It’s Josh,” she admitted quietly after a long pause. “He’s been acting… different.”

You leaned forward slightly, resting your hands against the table.

Scarlett had been with Josh since senior year of high school. What started as football games, parties, and teenage flirting had quickly turned serious. They went to the same college, moved in together after graduation, and eventually got married. You’d met him plenty of times over the years, though you’d never really grown close to him. To you, he was simply Scarlett’s husband. Someone you tolerated more than genuinely liked.

“What do you mean by different?” you asked carefully.

Scarlett looked down at the wine swirling in her glass before speaking again.

“I think he’s having an affair.”

Your eyes widened slightly at the confession.

You took a moment to let the words settle between you. More than anything, you wanted to comfort her, to tell her everything would be okay, but you knew Scarlett too well to feed into her panic too quickly. Once she spiraled, it was hard pulling her back out.

“Scar…”

“No, Y/N. I know he’s cheating on me. I know it.” Scarlett’s voice rose sharply, loud enough to draw a few curious glances from nearby tables.

“Okay, okay…” you said gently, trying to calm her down. “Why do you think he’s having an affair?”

“Because,” she hissed, lowering her voice again, “he’s been coming home late every single night. And—”

She slid out of her seat and sat beside you instead, hurriedly digging through her jacket for her phone. After tapping around for a few seconds, she shoved the screen toward you.

“Look.”

You squinted at the recent transaction listed on the screen.

A jewelry purchase.

You looked back at her.

“And?”

“This is our joint account,” Scarlett said, her voice tightening. “I didn’t buy anything from there. He did. A month ago.” She swallowed hard. “I looked the store up online. It’s some ridiculously expensive jewelry place downtown.”

Her eyes began to water.

“He’s buying jewelry for his mistress with our money.”

You watched her emotions crack open completely as she dropped the phone onto the table and pressed a hand over her eyes.

“Okay, wait,” you said carefully. “How do you know it’s not for you?”

“Our anniversary isn’t for another six months,” she snapped, looking at you with tears already spilling down her cheeks. “I’m done, Y/N. I’m confronting him the second I get home.”

“Scarlett, no.” You caught her hand before she could move away, keeping your voice steady. “You can’t just walk in there accusing him. If you’re wrong, it’ll blow everything up.”

She stared at you, hurt flashing across her face.

“Whose side are you on? Mine or his?”

“Yours. Obviously yours,” you answered immediately. “But I don’t want you starting a fight without knowing for sure. I’m not saying ignore it, I’m saying… get more proof before you confront him.”

Slowly, you felt the tension leave her arm beneath your hand.

“Yeah…” Scarlett sighed shakily, dragging both hands through her hair. “Yeah, maybe you’re right.”

She looked exhausted now. Completely worn down.

“I’m sorry, Y/N. Really. I just… I haven’t slept since I found that charge and my head’s been going crazy thinking about it.”

“Hey.”

You wrapped an arm around her shoulders, pulling her into your side. She leaned against you instantly, resting her head on your shoulder like she had a hundred times before.

“Don’t apologize,” you murmured softly. “I care about you. We’ll figure it out, okay?”

You and Scarlett said your goodbyes not long after, each of you heading your separate ways for the night.

You slipped back into your car, tossing your purse onto the passenger seat before starting the engine. As you pulled out of the restaurant parking lot, soft music hummed quietly through the speakers, filling the silence of the drive home.

But your mind stayed on Scarlett the entire way.

The look in her eyes. The tears. The panic in her voice when she talked about Josh. It lingered with you all the way until you finally pulled into your driveway and shifted the car into park.

You grabbed your purse and stepped inside, shutting the door behind you. After shrugging off your coat near the entrance, you moved further into the house, only to pause at the soft thump-thump of hurried paws approaching across the floor.

A moment later, your cat brushed against your legs, weaving around you impatiently in search of attention. You bent down with a tired smile and scratched behind her ears, earning a chorus of soft purrs from the fluffy black cat.

“I missed you too, Luna,” you murmured gently.

Giving her one last pat, you straightened up and made your way upstairs toward your bedroom.

You stripped out of your clothes and dropped onto the bed with an exhausted sigh, the soft sheets instantly pulling warmth back into your body. Luna hopped up beside you a second later, circling twice before curling near your legs.

You scrolled through your phone mindlessly for a while, though none of it really held your attention. Your thoughts kept drifting back to Scarlett. The tears in her eyes, the shake in her voice, the way she’d looked completely unraveling right in front of you.

With a quiet sigh, you locked your phone and set it on the nightstand before reaching over to switch off the lamp. Darkness swallowed the room, leaving only the pale glow of moonlight slipping through the curtains.

You closed your eyes, settling in for the night.

Taglist:

[ageofjoshua]

First chapter is up! I hope you read and enjoy! <3

[lyricdriven]

No Body, No Crime: Masterpost

“I think he did it but I just can’t prove it.”

Every Tuesday night, you and your best friend Scarlett meet for dinner to gossip about your lives. But when Scarlett confesses that she suspects her husband, Josh, is cheating on her, your quiet routine takes a dark turn. Days later, Scarlett vanishes without a trace and Josh moves on suspiciously fast. Convinced there’s more to the story, you become determined to get justice for your best friend.

Warnings - implied infidelity, manipulation, emotion distress, grief, obsession, strong language, suspense/thriller themes, mentions of violence, mentions of m*rder, dark relationship dynamics

(each chapter will contain their own list of warnings.)

Disclaimer - this work is fiction. the events, situation are products of imagination. this story contains violence, suspense, and the mess of betrayal. reader discretion is advised.

Based off - “No Body, No Crime” by Taylor Swift.

Chapter List:

Chapter one: coming soon …

[lyricdriven]

18+ minors dni

welcome & enjoy <3

⋆.ೃ࿔.𖥔 ݁ ˖*:･༄

Full-Length Fics

* - In Progress

No Body, No Crime Masterpost*

[ageofjoshua]

I made another tumblr account! 🩵 this one will mainly be fics based purely off songs! I will continue to write GVF fics but want to venture out on different topics that might not be interesting to the GVF fandom :) I hope you enjoy and take a read!

[ageofjoshua]

Papa Don’t Preach: Masterpost

**SLOW UPDATES**

When an unplanned pregnancy threatens to unravel everything, you and Jake are forced to navigate the pressures of young love, secrecy, and the daunting reality of becoming teen parents while having to decide if love is enough to defy the odds-or if the weight of your choices will tear you apart.

Late Teen!Jake Kiszka x Fem!Reader

Warnings - 18+!!!, teen pregnancy, parental control, arguing, strong language, smut, betrayal

(each chapter will come with its own list of warnings.)

Disclaimer - this work is fiction. the events, and situations are product of imagination. the relationship in the story includes elements of control & emotional tension. reader discretion is advised.

Chapter List:

Chapter One: (coming soon …)

WRITERS NOTE

[ageofjoshua]

Jake and Josh Kiszka One Shot: Love at First Cry

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾𖤓 ⋆⁺₊⋆

After Y/N’s water breaks unexpectedly, she finds herself going into labor with only her two best friends, Josh and Jake, by her side.

Word Count: 2.5k

Warnings - child birth, labor depiction, medical setting, pregnancy/birth related anxiety, emotional distress, panic attack, mentions of absent father

Disclaimer - this is a work of fiction. all characters and events are fictional and not intended to represent real people or real experiences. this story includes depictions of labor and childbirth, which may be emotionally intense for some readers. reader discretion is advised.

Masterpost

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾𖤓 ⋆⁺₊⋆

It was happening.

It was actually happening.

At first, you tried to brush it off. The dull cramping in your belly, easy to blame on something you ate. But the moment you stood up to empty your trash and felt warm liquid pooling down your legs, reality hit all at once.

Your water had broken.

You were in labor.

You sucked in a steadying breath, forcing yourself to focus. There was no time to spiral. Grabbing your phone, you quickly texted your best friends before moving through your apartment with purpose, packing your hospital bag. Thankfully, the contractions weren’t unbearable yet, giving you just enough time to think clearly.

Extra sweatpants. Nursing bra. The baby’s coming-home outfit.

You checked each item off in your head as you moved toward the bathroom.

A shower. You needed a shower.

It was silly, maybe considering in a few hours you’d be covered in all kinds of fluids but right now, the idea of arriving at the hospital clean grounded you.

You carefully peeled off your clothes, letting out a quiet “oof” as a contraction tightened through your abdomen, but you pushed through it. They were still spaced out. Manageable. Nothing to panic over yet.

Stepping into the shower, you turned the water on and let it cascade over you. As you lathered your skin, you couldn’t ignore how calm you felt. Almost detached. Like your mind hadn’t quite caught up to what your body was doing.

A blessing in disguise, you told yourself.

You couldn’t afford to panic, not now. You’d done enough of that over the past nine months.

By the time you finished, you felt steadier. You stepped out, wrapping yourself in a soft, warm robe before grabbing your brush and running it through your long, dark hair. It fell naturally into place, no effort needed. Then your skincare, applied with practiced ease, like you weren’t on the edge of one of the biggest moments of your life.

Like time wasn’t quietly ticking down.

You shut off the bathroom light and stepped out.

And that’s when the calm cracked.

Josh and Jake stood a few feet away, looking right at you.

You froze for half a second, your heart jumping into your throat.

Right. You called them.

“Jesus,” you breathed, one hand instinctively moving to your belly. “You two scared me. I didn’t hear you come in.”

“Came as fast as we could,” Jake pants, like he sprinted the whole way up. “Are you okay? Why aren’t you dressed?”

“Is the baby coming right now?” Josh adds, his voice tight with nerves.

“No,” you say quickly, cutting off whatever panic is about to build. “My contractions are still far apart. I just got out of the shower.”

Jake frowns. “Shouldn’t we be heading to the hospital?”

“We will… I just need to change.”

You start down the hall toward your bedroom, both of them hovering so close it’s like they’re afraid to let you out of their sight. You stop abruptly and turn to face them.

“Alone,” you add.

They freeze, clearly reluctant, both keyed up and ready to react at any second like the baby might arrive right there in the hallway. Ignoring their looks, you slip into your room and shut the door behind you.

A quick change, sweatpants, T-shirt, and you’re back out again, only to find them in the exact same spot.

“Jesus… will you two relax?” you mutter, waddling past them.

“Have you no sense of urgency?” Jake murmurs under his breath.

“The hospital is fifteen minutes away, and my contractions aren’t— OH!”

The sentence snaps in half as a contraction hits. You fold in on yourself instinctively, breath catching. Both of them are at your side instantly.

“What do we do?” Josh blurts, looking at his brother.

“Why are you asking me? I don’t know!”

“Aren’t you supposed to be the smart one?”

“Aren’t you supposed to be the—”

“Will you both shut up?” you cut in, breathing through it. “I’m fine. It just caught me off guard.”

You straighten slowly as the pain fades, exhaling.

“I’m fine! Everything’s fine!”

They don’t look convinced. Josh and Jake exchange a glance, one of those silent, loaded ones. They both know how much you’ve carried on your own through all of this. Even with them there, it isn’t the same.

It never was.

“Okay…” Josh says carefully. “Let’s go. Hospital. Now.”

He grabs your bag without another word while Jake picks up the car seat, his hand settling gently at your lower back as he guides you toward the door, only then do you realize—

You stop dead in your tracks. “Crap.”

“What?” they both ask instantly, in perfect unison.

“I forgot my car keys.”

They frown at you, confused.

“So?” they echo again, at the same time.

You blink. “So? We need the base for the car seat.”

“We’ve got one.”

Before you can even question that, Josh is already heading toward his car. You stay frozen for a second, Jake lingering beside you, and by the time your brain catches up enough to ask why Josh already has a car seat base installed, Jake is gently nudging you forward.

“C’mon.”

He guides you the rest of the way, helping you into the passenger seat while Josh moves around to the driver’s side. Jake climbs into the back, securing the car seat into its base with practiced ease before buckling himself in.

And just like that, you’re on your way to the hospital.

The radio hums softly in the background, low enough to barely register. Josh keeps glancing over at you every few seconds, checking, watching. Neither of them says much.

You stare out the window, one hand resting on your belly, rubbing slow circles through each contraction as they come and go.

Quiet. Too quiet.

It isn’t until you pass a sign, “Hospital, next exit,” that something inside you finally cracks.

Your breath stutters.

Your chest tightens.

And suddenly, your vision blurs.

You’re crying.

“It’s not…”

Josh glances over, brows pulling together. “Not what?”

“What?” Jake leans forward from the back seat.

You shake your head, a broken sob slipping out before you can stop it.

“It’s not fine,” you manage, your voice trembling. “I’m not fine, I—”

The words fall apart as another sob tears through you.

Jake shifts in the back, leaning forward as far as he can, his hand reaching out to rub gently along your forearm.

“Hey… hey. It’s okay.”

“Yeah,” Josh adds softly, his voice careful, steady. “Everything’s okay, Y/N.”

You shake your head again, tears falling faster now.

“It’s not. How am I supposed to take care of her all by myself?” you sniffle, your voice breaking. “I can’t do this without him. I can’t do this without someone there at three in the morning when she—”

“Stop it, alright?” Jake cuts in, sharper than usual. “You don’t need him, Y/N. He was a real piece of shit.”

“Jake—” Josh warns.

“No, Josh. She needs to hear this.” Jake’s eyes land back on you, firm but not unkind. “You’re not alone, okay? I know it feels like it, like it’s just you when you go home but it’s not. You’re not alone. Not ever.”

“He’s right,” Josh adds gently. “We won’t let that happen.”

Jake nods in agreement.

“We were there for the parenting classes. We were there for every ultrasound,” Josh continues, reaching for your hand and giving it a reassuring squeeze. “We’re not going anywhere.”

Your gaze drifts to the window and only then do you realize the car isn’t moving anymore.

You’re already at the hospital.

You sniffle, pulling in a steady breath, trying to gather yourself.

“Let’s go have a baby.”

“That’s the spirit,” Jake grins. “Let’s go.”

They’re both out of the car before you can even unbuckle. Josh circles around to your side to help you out while Jake grabs the hospital bag and the car seat.

Everything moves quickly after that.

Check-in. A hospital gown. An IV in your arm. Monitors strapped across your belly, tracking every contraction, every heartbeat.

“Four centimeters dilated,” the doctor says with a warm smile, pulling off his gloves. “Almost halfway there. Just try to relax. The anesthesiologist will be in shortly to administer the epidural.”

He slips out of the room, leaving the three of you alone again.

“How you feeling?” Jake asks, stepping closer, Josh right behind him. “Need anything? Water? Another pillow?”

“I’m good… for now, thanks.” You inhale slowly. “Honestly? I’m terrified. I think my nerves finally caught up to me.” A small, shaky laugh escapes you.

“Don’t worry,” Josh says, moving to your other side and taking your hand. “We’ll be right here. Holding your hand, cheering you on, telling you to keep pushing.”

You let out a soft chuckle.

“Yeah,” Jake adds, smirking. “Holding your legs and wiping your sweat.”

“As long as you both let me cuss you out,” you mutter, “I’m fine with that.”

They both laugh.

Just then, a nurse steps into the room, wheeling a small cart behind her. She offers you a warm, reassuring smile.

“Hi, I’m the anesthesiologist. I’m here to administer your epidural.”

She walks you through the process. Where it’ll go, what you’ll feel, her hands moving efficiently as she prepares everything.

Josh and Jake help you sit up on the edge of the bed, one on each side, steadying you.

“Is one of you the father?” she asks casually, glancing between them.

“We both are,” Josh says with a dumb grin.

“Yeah, see, she’s not totally sure which one of us it is because my brother and I are—”

“Ignore them,” you cut in, shaking your head as you adjust your position. “They’ve been making that joke since the day I told them I was pregnant.”

The nurse lets out a soft laugh.

“They’re just my best friends,” you add. “The father’s not… around.”

“Ah,” she nods knowingly as she steps behind you. “Well, you’ve got a pretty amazing support system here, sweetie.”

You feel their hands tighten around yours, Josh squeezing gently, Jake rubbing small circles into your shoulder. When you glance at them, they both look a little pale, eyes fixed on the tray behind you.

The needle.

You almost laugh.

“This will pinch for a second…” she says calmly.

Once the medication starts to kick in, your body finally gets a break.

You drift off into a light sleep.

Josh and Jake, on the other hand, don’t relax for a second. They stay wide awake, hovering protectively, shushing anyone who walks in and quietly warning them you’re asleep, like even the smallest noise might wake you. Their eyes flick between the monitors, watching the steady rhythm of your heartbeat and the rising, falling waves of your contractions.

Time passes.

When you wake again, it’s different.

You’re on your feet this time, leaning forward with your arms braced against the bed, swaying gently as you breathe through the pressure building in your body. One of them is always behind you, switching off without a word, hands firm and steady against your back.

“Mm… holy shit,” you groan, leaning back into Jake’s chest. “Ow, ow, ow, ow…”

“You’ve got this,” Jake murmurs, his hands sliding around to your stomach, rubbing gently. “Keep breathing. You’re doing so good.”

Josh hovers close, sitting on the edge of the bed, his hand joining Jake’s on your belly, his expression tight with worry.

“Do you want me to get the doctor?” he asks softly.

Right on cue, the door opens.

“Alright,” the doctor says as he steps in. “Let’s check your dilation.”

Josh and Jake move quickly but carefully, guiding you back onto the bed. They adjust the pillows, make sure you’re comfortable, never once stepping away as the doctor begins the exam.

A brief pause.

Then—

“Okay… ten centimeters,” he says, pulling back with a smile. “You’re ready.”

Your eyes widen, your breath catching as you look between Josh and Jake.

Both of them are already tearing up.

The room shifts instantly. Nurses begin filing in, calm but efficient. Checking monitors, laying out instruments, handing the doctor what he needs. A bassinet is wheeled in and parked quietly in the corner.

Everything suddenly feels very real.

Your heart starts to race again as the doctor helps position your legs.

“Hey.”

You look up.

Josh and Jake are right there, one on each side, both smiling at you, soft, steady, certain.

“You’ve got this.”

The room tightens around you. Not in a suffocating way but in focus. Everything sharpens, narrows, locks in.

“Alright,” the doctor says, steady and calm. “Next contraction, you push.”

A nurse adjusts something beside you. Another murmurs encouragement. The monitors keep their steady rhythm, like a countdown you can’t escape.

But all you really feel are their hands. Josh on one side. Jake on the other.

“Breathe,” Josh reminds softly.

“We’ve got you,” Jake adds.

A contraction hits, stronger than before, stealing the air right out of your lungs.

“Now, push.”

You do.

Every muscle in your body strains, a cry tearing from your throat as you grip their hands like anchors. It burns, it aches, it overwhelms but you don’t stop.

You can’t.

“That’s it, keep going!” someone urges.

“Right there! don’t give up!”

You fall back, breathless, your body trembling as the wave passes. Tears blur your vision, frustration bubbling up just as fast as the pain.

“I don’t think I can do this,” you admit, your voice cracking under the weight of it.

Jake leans closer immediately. “Yeah, you can.”

Josh nods, his thumb brushing over your knuckles. “You already are.”

Another contraction builds, faster this time, not giving you space to doubt.

“Again,” the doctor says.

You shake your head once but when it hits, your body takes over.

You push.

Harder.

Longer.

The room fills with noise. Voices overlapping, encouragement blending with instruction but underneath it all, there’s something else.

Something steady.

Them.

“Just a little more,”

“You’re right there,”

“Don’t stop,”

You scream, giving everything you have left and then—

Relief.

Sudden. Immediate.

Followed by a sound that doesn’t belong to anyone else in the room.

A cry.

Small. Raw. Brand new.

Your entire body goes still.

For a second, no one speaks.

And then everything exhales at once.

“There she is,” the doctor says, a hint of a smile in his voice.

You don’t even realize you’re crying until your vision completely blurs.

Josh lets out a quiet, disbelieving laugh. Jake swears under his breath, emotion cracking through it.

“Holy shit…”

They place her on your chest before you can fully process it.

Warm.

Tiny.

Real.

Her cries soften against your skin as your hand comes up instinctively, cradling the back of her head like you’ve known how to do it your whole life.

And just like that, everything shifts. The fear doesn’t disappear completely. The uncertainty doesn’t vanish. But it quiets. Because she’s here.

You glance up, meeting Josh and Jake’s faces, both of them wrecked in the best way, eyes glassy, smiles they can’t hold back.

Still there.

Still with you.

“Hey…” you whisper, your voice barely holding together as you look back down at her. “You took your time, huh?”

A soft, shaky laugh leaves you, mixing with tears.

And in that moment, surrounded by noise and light and everything new, you don’t feel alone anymore.

Taglist: @hailthegodsong , @sanguinebats , @josh-iamyour-mama , @writingcold , @theweightofjake , @joshylanefleet

[ageofjoshua]

The Mask: Chapter Four (Fin)

🎃🕸️── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──🕸️🎃 🎃🕸️── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──🕸️🎃

Y/n reluctantly attends a Halloween party with Jake and Josh, hoping to stay safe amid growing tension in town. What starts as a typical night quickly turns dangerous, forcing her to navigate chaos and confront unexpected threats.

Late!Teen Jake Kiszka x Late!Teen Josh Kiszka x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 3k

Warnings - graphic violence, blood, murder, death, physical assault, struggle, psychological tension, suspense, fear, alcohol consumption, injuries, medical emergencies, threatens with weapons

Disclaimer - this story contains scenes of violence, suspense, and intense situations that may be upsetting to some readers. Reader discretion is advised. this story is entirely fictional. excuse any typos or errors.

a/n - hello, friends :) long time no see! i’m sorry i took a small step back. i needed to take time away from writing to get in the flow again. i got lots of new fics planned! and reworks of an unfinished jake one i started when i first began to post! i hope you enjoy the finale of ‘the mask’ ! sorry for the long awaited final chapter. hope you enjoy xoxo

The Mask Masterpost

🎃🕸️── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──🕸️🎃

The only reason you’d agreed to tag along to this Halloween party with Jake and Josh came down to two things.

First, Jake was a terrible drunk. He didn’t know when to stop, and more than once, he’d landed himself in trouble because of it.

Second, you refused to stay alone at his parents’ house. They’d left earlier that day to visit his sick grandmother a few hours away, and with the string of mysterious murders hanging over the town, there was no way you were going to sit there like an easy target.

You needed to be somewhere crowded. Somewhere loud. Somewhere with too many witnesses for anything to happen.

Even if all you really wanted was to go home.

Not Jake’s childhood bedroom.

Home.

Out of this town.

You’d only been at the party for an hour, but it already felt longer.

The second you walked in, Jake and Josh made a beeline for the beer pong table, immediately joining Danny and a few other friends. You stayed off to the side, detached from the noise and chaos. You hadn’t even bothered with a real costume, just pulled on one of Jake’s old high school football jerseys and called it good enough.

Jake had gone all out with a pirate costume, fake sword and all. Josh was… something. The pope, maybe? The huge hat and a long white garment were your only clues.

You leaned back against the wall, arms crossed, watching your boyfriend and his twin dominate the table. Every few minutes, Jake would glance over at you and flash a sloppy, drunken grin before diving back into the game.

You were already over it.

Your anxiety sat at an all-time high as your eyes drifted away from them, scanning the crowd instead. You weren’t even sure what you were looking for.

But it was Halloween. Masks everywhere. Identities hidden.

A packed house like this would be the perfect place to strike and disappear again.

“Y/n—”

You gasp at the sound of your name, turning to find Danny beside you. He offers you a warm, easy smile, noticeably more sober than most of the people packed into the house. He’s dressed as a pharaoh, gold accents, dramatic eyeliner and somehow, he pulls it off.

“What are you doing here?” he asks. “Jake didn’t say anything about bringing a plus one.”

“That doesn’t surprise me,” you mutter, glancing toward the beer pong table. “He’s on, like, his fifth round of beer bong. Who even knows what’s in those cups.” You look him over. “Nice costume, by the way.”

Danny grins and does a small spin, the movement earning the faintest smile from you.

“Thanks. And you make a very convincing football player.”

A soft huff of laughter escapes you, close enough to a real chuckle. You know he’s just being kind. He probably noticed you hovering alone and decided to keep you company. You appreciate it.

But tonight, you can’t relax.

There’s a tightness in your chest that won’t loosen, a quiet warning bell that refuses to stop ringing.

“I’ll be right back,” Danny says, stepping away slowly. “But find me later, okay? We need a picture, all four of us in costume.”

You nod absently.

When you look back toward the beer pong table, it’s nearly empty now.

Only Josh is still standing there.

“Where did Jake go?” you ask as you step up to Josh, unable to mask the panic creeping into your voice.

“He’s here,” Josh replies vaguely.

“Where?”

“Around.”

Irritation flares hot in your chest. Josh stands there scrolling on his phone like none of this matters. Strangely steady. You watched him drink just as much as Jake, yet he seems completely clear-headed. Too clear-headed. After a second, he slips his phone into his pocket and finally looks at you.

“He said he was going to the bathroom. He’ll be back.”

“I’m going to find him.”

You don’t wait for a response. You spin on your heel and shove your way through the crowd.

You check every room downstairs first. Nothing. Either empty or filled with strangers tangled together, too wrapped up in each other to notice anything beyond their own urgency. Your pulse pounds harder.

You head upstairs.

Most of the doors are locked. Each rattled knob makes your stomach twist tighter. By the time you reach the last door at the end of the dim hallway, your breathing is uneven.

You twist the handle, expecting resistance.

Instead, it creaks open.

You freeze.

The room is nearly pitch black. Only a thin strip of moonlight spills through the window, casting faint silver shadows across the floor. In the corner, something, someone, sits slumped against the wall. A silhouette on the ground, like they didn’t quite make it to the bed a few feet away.

Your throat goes dry.

“Jake?” you call softly, pushing the door open wider.

No response.

You step inside slowly, heart hammering, every instinct screaming at you to be careful.

Because you’re not entirely sure that’s Jake.

But as you step closer, your eyes catch something on the floor beside the body.

Jake’s sword.

Relief rushes through you so fast it almost makes you dizzy. He’s just passed out. Drunk. Stupid. You move quickly, reaching down to tap his shoulder.

The body tips backward.

You stumble with it as it falls flat onto the floor and that’s when you see his face.

It isn’t Jake.

It’s Danny.

A scream tears out of you, raw and piercing. His eyes are frozen open, terror etched into his features. Dark stains soak through his costume, his neck, his chest. Too much blood. Far too much.

He’s gone.

You drop to your knees beside him, hands shaking as you cradle his face, pat his cheek, press trembling fingers to his neck.

“Danny— Danny, wake up— please—”

Nothing.

No pulse. No breath.

Your vision blurs with tears. Your chest tightens until it feels impossible to inhale. Thoughts slam into you one after another.

Why is he wearing Jake’s costume?

Where is Jake?

Did the killer get him too?

You push yourself upright on unsteady legs, forcing yourself to breathe through the sobs. You fumble for your phone, dialing 911 as you stagger toward the door and collide with someone. You scream again, the phone slipping from your hand and clattering to the floor.

“Y/n. Hey, hey, it’s me.”

Josh.

Relief crashes into you, but it vanishes just as quickly when his eyes lift over your shoulder.

“Holy shit,” he mutters.

You clutch at his shirt, sobbing into his chest. “W-we have to call 911. We-we have to find Jake!”

“Okay. Okay,” Josh says, voice steady. He bends down, picks up your phone, and presses it back into your shaking hands. “You call from the car. I’ll look for Jake.”

“No, we can’t split up—”

“I’ll be fine,” he insists, holding your shoulders. “I need to keep you safe, alright? Jake would never forgive me if something happened to you. I wouldn’t forgive myself either. Go. I’ll text you when I find him.”

Your head spins, but you nod anyway.

You turn and run.

Out of the room. Down the hallway. Down the stairs.

Heart pounding.

Not knowing you’re running straight into the next nightmare.

You shove your way through the crowd, ignoring the stares and annoyed shouts as you burst out the front door and sprint to the car. You yank open the driver’s side and climb in, hands shaking as you dial 911.

The operator answers, calm and steady, while you struggle to get the words out. You give her the address. You tell her about Danny. About the blood. About the room upstairs.

As you’re explaining how you found him, your eyes flick down to the passenger-side floorboard.

You freeze.

There’s fabric there.

Gold.

You slowly lower the phone from your ear, the operator’s voice faintly asking if you’re still on the line. Your breath catches as you reach across the seat and pick up the pharaoh costume.

Something slips free and drops onto the mat with a dull thud.

Jake’s phone.

Your blood runs cold.

Your own phone buzzes violently in your hand, making you flinch. Incoming call: Josh.

You hang up on the operator and answer.

“H-hello?” Your voice barely works.

“Hey,” Josh says, slightly winded. “I can’t find Jake anywhere. I keep calling him, it goes straight to voicemail. I think he might’ve bailed.”

“J-Josh, listen to me—”

“Wait. I see him now. Hey! Jake! Jake!”

“Josh—”

The call cuts off.

“Shit!”

You scramble out of the car and rush to the trunk, throwing it open. You dig frantically through the mess inside, searching for anything you can use. Your hands brush past the fabric, Josh’s pope costume pieces. The hat. The robe.

Confusion spikes through you, but there’s no time to process it.

You find a heavy wrench in his toolbox and grip it tightly before slamming the trunk shut and running back inside.

The music is still blaring. People still laughing. Oblivious.

You push through bodies, the wrench clutched at your side, asking anyone who’ll listen if they’ve seen Josh or Jake. No one has.

You head upstairs, down the hallway.

Every door is open and empty, except one.

The middle room.

It hadn’t been open before.

You don’t hesitate. You raise the wrench and step inside.

“Josh?” you call out.

Your eyes land on the figure in the center of the room and your breath leaves you.

“Jake?”

He’s tied up. Ankles bound. Hands taped behind his back. Duct tape over his mouth. Stripped down to his boxers. His eyes are wide with terror.

Your grip loosens.

“B-baby…”

Jake makes a desperate noise behind the tape, trying to warn you.

You don’t get the chance to turn around.

Something slams into the back of your head.

Pain explodes through your skull as you hit the floor. The wrench flies from your hand, clattering somewhere out of reach. Your vision flickers in and out. Jake’s muffled screams echo in your ears.

Hands grab your ankles.

You’re flipped onto your back. Rope tightens around your legs.

You try to focus on the silhouette above you, but the room spins. Darkness creeps at the edges of your vision.

Then he steps into the light.

“Hey, baby girl.” Josh smiles down at you. Cold. Twisted. “Surprised?”

You can barely process it. The pain is overwhelming.

“It was you…” you whisper. “You killed Danny.”

“And Sydney. And Jennifer.” He tightens the rope around your wrists like he’s proud of it.

Your stomach drops.

“It was you at the funeral,” you murmur. “In the bathroom stall.”

He straightens. “Guilty. I also slipped something into your beer the night after. Had to keep you from leaving.”

Jake thrashes violently against his restraints, horror in his eyes.

“Why?” you choke out as Josh circles you slowly. “Why kill them? What did they have to do with me staying?”

He crouches in front of you, pulling a knife from his pocket. The blade presses under your chin, lifting your face.

A shiver rips through you.

“My sweet Y/n,” he says softly, “Sydney was to lure you here. Attacking you at her funeral? That was to make Jake think you were spiraling. So when you got sick from the beer, he wouldn’t question it.”

He stands, pacing.

“You and Jennifer were close. Too comfortable.” He gestures toward Jake with the knife. “Does he know? About you and Jennifer? About how, after you kissed him and felt guilty, she comforted you?”

Your chest tightens.

Images flash in your mind. Secret kisses, tangled sheets, whispered promises you told yourself didn’t mean anything.

“In ways a friend shouldn’t,” Josh finishes, voice low and sharp.

Jake’s eyes snap to you, confusion and devastation mixing with fear.

Josh straightens up again, grin widening.

“And Danny?” He shrugs lightly. “Danny was just in my way.”

“I don’t understand,” you choke out, straining against the ropes. “Why put Danny in Jake’s costume? Why keep an extra one of yours in the trunk?”

Josh casually sets the knife on the bedside table and walks to the mirror. He pulls off the hoodie he’s been wearing over his costume, tossing it aside like this is all routine.

“Mm,” he hums, admiring his reflection. “All part of the plan. Frame my dear twin brother as Crescent Vale’s favorite killer.”

As he rambles on, Jake’s eyes shift.

To the knife.

Slowly, carefully, he inches himself closer to the bedside table, dragging his bound body. He catches your gaze.

“What are you doing?” you mouth silently.

He nudges the table with his shoulder.

The knife slips.

It hits the floor with a soft clink.

Josh doesn’t notice. He’s too busy staring at himself in the mirror, too wrapped up in his monologue about timelines and planted evidence and how easy it’ll be to make Jake look guilty.

Jake looks at the knife. Then at you. Then at the ropes binding your wrists.

Understanding floods you.

You shift, pretending to struggle, and slowly hop your way closer to the fallen knife. Every movement feels impossibly loud in your ears. Josh keeps talking about dressing Jake in the pope costume, staging the scene, disappearing with you afterward.

“You see,” he says, his voice tight with something unhinged, “I never got over you, Y/n. I never forgave you for what you did to me. And then you had the nerve to get with my own brother.”

His jaw clenches, eyes dark and burning.

“But that ends tonight,” he continues coldly. “You and Jake? It’s over. I’m ending it tonight.”

You lower yourself carefully, maneuvering the knife handle between your tied feet, angling the blade upward.

Your heart pounds as you press the rope against the edge.

Once.

Twice.

Tiny fibers begin to split.

You keep glancing at Josh’s reflection. He hasn’t turned around. By the time the rope finally gives, your wrists burn but you’re free. Josh is still talking about how he’ll kill Jake next.

You grip the knife and rise slowly to your feet behind him.

“Are you sure about that?”

His eyes widen in the mirror.

He spins just as you lunge.

He dodges, grabbing your wrist, and the two of you crash into the dresser. The knife nearly slips from your grasp as you slam into furniture, knocking over lamps and picture frames. You wrestle for control, both of you trying to avoid the blade while trying to claim it.

He shoves you hard into the mirror in the corner.

Glass cracks.

The knife flies from your hand.

Josh snatches it up instantly and before you can react, he slices across your cheek.

You scream as white-hot pain sears through your face. You drop to your knees, clutching your cheek as blood trickles between your fingers.

Jake thrashes violently, muffled screams tearing from behind the tape.

“Fuck,” Josh mutters, glancing at his brother. “Relax. She’s not the one you should be worried about.”

Your head snaps up just in time to see him drag the blade across Jake’s chest.

Not deep, but enough.

Blood begins to drip down his torso.

“No!” you scream.

Adrenaline overrides the pain. You launch yourself at Josh, slamming into him with everything you have. He stumbles backward, hard into the window behind him.

The glass shatters.

For a split second, his face twists in shock.

Then he’s gone.

A sickening crash echoes from below as he hits the concrete. Screams erupt outside. Partygoers scatter. Someone yells to call 911. You stand frozen, chest heaving, staring at the broken window.

You just pushed him.

You almost look down but Jake’s muffled cry snaps you back.

You rush to him, hands shaking as you tear the tape from his mouth and fumble with the ropes around his wrists and ankles.

“It’s okay,” you stammer. “It’s okay, I’ve got you.”

The second he’s free, he pulls you into him desperately, arms wrapping tight around your body.

“Are you okay?” he demands, pulling back just enough to cup your face. His eyes lock on the cut along your cheek. “Are you okay?!”

“I’m fine,” you whisper, voice breaking.

Keeping you tucked against him, he guides you carefully toward the shattered window.

Police cars flood the street in flashing red and blue. Officers surround Josh’s crumpled body.

He’s lying on the pavement.

Broken.

But alive.

His eyes are open, staring up at the window. At you.

No emotion in them at all.

“He’s caught,” Jake breathes, pressing a trembling kiss to your forehead. He buries his face in your hair. “It’s over. It’s over, baby.”

“Anyone in here? CRPD! Is anyone here?”

You flinch at the booming voice. A flashlight beam slices through the darkness, blinding you as an officer steps into the room, gun raised, aimed directly at you and Jake.

“Don’t move!”

Jake instinctively shifts in front of you.

The officer’s light drags over the shattered window, the overturned furniture, then the blood streaked down your cheek. His expression changes instantly. He lowers the gun, holstering it.

“We’ve got two injured adults upstairs, main bedroom,” he says into his radio. “Send paramedics.”

He looks back at you both, voice softening. “We’re going to get you checked out, okay? Can either of you tell me what happened?”

Jake answers first. His voice shakes at times, but he pushes through it, starting from the moment the three of you arrived at the party, explaining the drinking, the disappearance, being tied up, you finding him, then the fight you had with Josh.

You sit numbly as EMTs rush in. They guide you to the edge of the bed, gently tilting your chin to examine the cut on your cheek. One shines a penlight in your eyes. Another checks your pulse.

“You’re lucky,” one murmurs. “That could’ve been worse.”

Your gaze drifts to the broken window.

You can’t see much from where you’re sitting now, just flashing red and blue lights reflecting against the walls but you can hear everything.

Shuffling.

Police radios.

And then—

“Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. Do you understand your rights, Mr. Kiszka?”

A pause.

“I do.”

Josh’s voice.

Calm.

Detached.

A car door slams. Sirens swell, then slowly fade into the distance.

Silence settles over the room at last.

Your shoulders finally sag.

It was over.

Finally over.

🎃🕸️── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──🕸️🎃

Taglist : @hailthegodsong , @sanguinebats , @josh-iamyour-mama , @writingcold , @theweightofjake , @joshylanefleet

[ageofjoshua]

Gold Taste Bitter: Epilogue

⋆༺𓆩☠︎︎𓆪༻⋆ ⋆༺𓆩☠︎︎𓆪༻⋆ ⋆༺𓆩☠︎︎𓆪༻⋆ ⋆༺𓆩☠︎︎𓆪༻⋆

Jake Kiszka x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 6.5k

Warning - 18+!!! , separation, abandonment themes, emotion distress, grief, stalking, home intrusion, mentions of violence, gun violence, death, strong language, unprotected sex

Disclaimer - the characters, events, and dynamics depicted are entirely fictional and not meant to reflect healthy relationship standards and should not be romanticized as models for real-life relationships. please excuse any errors or misspelling. let me know of any missed warnings!!

a/n - surprise ;) here is the long awaited GTB epilogue! i hope the you all enjoy it and thank you for supporting this story!

Gold Taste Bitter Masterpost

⋆༺𓆩☠︎︎𓆪༻⋆

Your life had settled into a strange kind of rhythm. Steady, quiet, almost too quiet.

Wake up. Eat. Work. Sleep.

Repeat.

Just like it used to be.

Before him.

It had been six months since that night. And six months and three weeks since Jake left.

You replayed the memory almost every evening, trying to make sense of it. Where he went. Whether he was safe. Whether he was even alive. You still didn’t understand why you had to flee New York, why everything had changed overnight. All you had was that one phone call before his last trip. His tone and it haunted you still.

But you couldn’t dwell on it. Not now. Not in your condition. Stress wasn’t good for you or for the tiny life you carried.

You stepped out of the shower, steam curling around you as you slipped into your robe and wrapped a towel around your hair. Your nightly routine began automatically. Skincare, hair, the same motions you’d done a thousand times. Mechanical. Familiar. Safe.

Until your mind wandered back again.

“What do you mean you have to go?”

Your voice trembled, echoing faintly in the memory. Jake was by the door, two in the morning, jacket on, duffel bag in hand.

“I have to go, Y/n. I need to keep you safe.”

“I thought that’s what this was,” you cried. “Leaving New York, moving here. I thought we were safe.”

He didn’t answer. Just unlocked the door. And that’s when you ran to him.

“No! You can’t do this to me again!”

You clung to his arm, sobbing.

“I’m sorry.”

He cupped your face, pressed a kiss to your lips. Slow, aching, final.

“Take care of yourself, okay? Both of you.”

He hesitated, the rest of his words swallowed by the weight in his throat.

“I love you.”

The words faded.

You blinked, staring back at your reflection in the bathroom mirror. All your products were neatly lined up, your skin routine finished. You hadn’t even noticed doing it. It was happening more often now. Your body going through the motions while your mind drifted somewhere else.

Back to that night.

Back to him.

You exhaled slowly, then turned off the bathroom light and made your way to the bedroom. You didn’t bother changing into sleepwear, just let the robe fall, slipped into a clean pair of panties, and tossed the damp towel from your hair onto the floor. Crawling into bed, you rested your hand on the gentle curve of your belly, rubbing absentmindedly until sleep finally pulled you under.

The next morning, with no work to rush to, you decided to keep yourself busy. Grocery shopping, errands, anything to fill the quiet.

The store was calm, the low hum of chatter and carts rolling over tile filling the air. You grabbed a cart and started down the aisles, taking your time. A few essentials went in, then a few impulsive picks, cravings you didn’t bother to resist.

You turned a corner toward the checkout, distracted by your list, when you accidentally bumped into someone.

“Oh! Sorry! Excuse me,” you murmured, stepping back quickly.

As you finished checking out, you decided to treat yourself to something to eat before heading home. The cashier handed you your receipt, and you wheeled your cart out into the parking lot, the sun warm on your skin.

You loaded the groceries carefully into the trunk, making sure nothing was crushed, then rolled the cart back to its spot before sliding into the driver’s seat.

“What are we in the mood for today, peanut?” you murmured, one hand absently rubbing your belly while the other rested on the wheel.

After a moment of thought, you smiled. “Pizza it is.”

There was a small place not far from home, so you headed that way. When you arrived, the familiar smell of baked dough and cheese hit you the moment you walked in.

“Mmm…” you hummed, scanning the menu above the counter. “Let me get a large Hawaiian, please.”

You paid for your order and found a seat by the window, resting your hands on the table as you waited. Outside, cars drifted by in the glow of early evening. That’s when you noticed him. The man from the grocery store, sitting in his car across the lot.

Small world, you thought, brushing it off. Before you could think much more of it, a voice called your name from the counter.

You thanked the worker, grabbed the pizza, and headed home.

At a red light, you glanced at your dashboard. The fuel gauge was nearly empty. “Great,” you muttered under your breath. You debated leaving it for tomorrow, but as the light turned green, you sighed and pulled into the nearest gas station.

You parked at a pump, entered your card info, and opened the gas tank. Leaning back, you yawned as the pump clicked and hummed.

You were half-lost in thought when a flicker of movement caught your eye. Turning your head, your stomach dropped. The man from the grocery store. The same one from the pizza place, sat in his car just a few pumps over, watching you.

A chill crawled up your spine. Three places in one day. That wasn’t a coincidence.

You quickly yanked the nozzle out before the tank could finish filling, grabbed your receipt, and slid into your car, locking the doors.

Keeping your eyes forward, you started the engine. Still, as you pulled away, you couldn’t resist one last glance in the mirror, he was still watching.

The drive home was anything but calm. Your grip on the wheel tightened every few seconds as you checked the mirrors, half-expecting to see those same headlights trailing you. But when you finally turned onto your street, nothing. No car. No one behind you.

You exhaled shakily, forcing yourself to let it go. You parked in the garage, carried in your groceries and pizza, and told yourself you were just being paranoid. By the time evening rolled around, the memory of that man had started to fade.

The next morning, you were back at work, sitting behind your desk as the clinic’s front doors opened and closed in a steady rhythm. The day was dragging, painfully slow, but it gave you time to chat with your coworkers. Sharing stories, laughing about the small stuff. For a while, it almost felt normal again.

Then the door chimed.

A patient walked in, stepping up to your desk.

“Good morning,” you greeted automatically. “Do you have an appointment?”

“Yes, at nine fifteen.”

“Okay,” you said, clicking into the scheduling system. “Can I get your date of birth?”

“December twenty-first, 1998.”

You started typing, barely glancing up, until you did.

And everything inside you stopped.

Outside the glass doors, parked at the curb, was the same man. The one from the grocery store. From the pizza place. From the gas station. Sitting in his car. Watching.

Your breath hitched. You couldn’t move. Couldn’t speak.

“Um… are you okay?” the patient asked, confusion creeping into her tone.

“I— um—” you stammered, but the words wouldn’t come.

Your coworker noticed immediately, stepping closer. “Y/n? Hey, what’s wrong?”

You didn’t answer. Your eyes were still locked on the figure outside.

“Come on,” she said softly, resting a hand on your shoulder. “Let’s step into the back for a minute.”

She offered the patient an apologetic smile, promising someone else would check her in, before gently guiding you away, down the hall, into an empty exam room, leaving the glass doors, and that man, behind.

“Are you okay? Is it the baby? Should I call Dr.—”

“I’m fine.” You finally spoke, trying to steady your breathing. “The baby’s fine.”

“Are you sure? We should be extra safe—”

“I’m fine, Harley,” you cut in, sighing as you leaned back in the chair. “It’s not that. There’s… someone following me.”

Harley froze. “What?”

“At first, I thought I was just being paranoid,” you continued quietly. “But he’s out there. I saw him yesterday. At the grocery store, then again when I grabbed dinner, and later at the gas station. And now he’s here.”

Harley’s eyes widened. “He’s here? Out front? Do you know him?”

You shook your head. “No. I’ve never seen him before.”

The room went still, tension thick in the air.

“Okay,” Harley finally said, her voice calm but firm. “Why don’t you stay back here for a while? I’ll have Cynthia cover the desk until he’s gone.”

You nodded, grateful for the suggestion. “And if he doesn’t leave?”

“Then we’ll call the non-emergency line,” she said without hesitation. “Say he’s loitering, making staff uncomfortable. They’ll send someone to check it out.”

You exhaled slowly. “Alright. Thanks, Harley. I’m sorry for—”

“Hey,” she interrupted gently, resting a reassuring hand on your arm. “Don’t apologize. Just breathe, okay? I’ll check and let you know when it’s clear.”

You nodded again, your pulse still racing, the image of that man sitting in his car burned into your mind.

Harley left the room, the door clicking softly behind her, and you were alone again. Alone with your thoughts and the pounding in your chest.

You tried to convince yourself it was nothing. Just a coincidence. The same man, three times in one day, and now again today. It had to be coincidence.

But the uneasy twist in your stomach said otherwise.

So you waited.

Waited for Harley to come back through that door. Waited for her to tell you it was all fine. That he was gone, that you could breathe again.

“Hey.” Harley slipped back into the room a few minutes later.

You looked up from your phone, hope flickering in your chest. “Is he gone?”

She shook her head, and that hope immediately sank.

“We already called the non-emergency line,” she said gently. “The officers just got here. They want to talk to you.”

You nodded, forcing yourself to stand. Your legs felt heavier with each step as you followed her back to the front.

Two officers were waiting by the reception desk. Harley gestured toward you. “This is her.”

One of them gave you a polite nod. “Your coworker says you believe someone’s been following you?”

“Yes.” You tried to steady your voice. “Since yesterday. I saw him first at a grocery store, then again at a restaurant, then at the gas station… and now here.”

He nodded, while his partner jotted notes onto a small pad.

“Do you know him at all?” the first officer asked. “An ex, maybe? Someone who might have a reason to follow you?”

You shook your head firmly. “No. I don’t know him. Not at all.”

He nodded again, his tone steady but impersonal.

“Alright, here’s what we’re gonna do. We’ll have him removed from the property, but since he hasn’t made any physical threats or contact, there’s not much else we can do right now.”

A wave of fear crawled up your spine. “What?”

Harley stepped forward, her voice rising. “How is that fair? He’s clearly following her—”

“We understand,” the officer cut in. “We’ll file a report so it’s in the system. If he shows up again or tries to contact you, call us immediately. At that point, we can take action.”

You exhaled shakily, shoulders sinking. “So until then, I just… wait?”

He gave a small, sympathetic nod.

“Alright,” Harley muttered bitterly.

“Okay. We’ll check the lot, make sure he’s gone.”

But when the officers stepped outside, there was nothing. No car, no trace of him at all.

“You’ve got to be kidding me…” you whispered, peering through the window.

“Perfect,” Harley scoffed. “Great job keeping us safe.”

“Harley,” you said softly, warningly.

The first officer turned back toward you. “The good thing is, we got a clear look at his face. If he comes back, we’ll know who to look for. Just call us right away.”

You nodded slowly, though the reassurance didn’t reach you.

And with that, the officers left.

“Hey,” Harley called gently. “Are you okay? Do you want to… take the rest of the day off?”

You shook your head, letting out a tired sigh as you walked back to the counter and sat down. “No. He’s gone. No point in going home just to sit around and wait for something to happen.”

Harley hesitated but didn’t push.

The rest of your shift passed without incident. The man never came back, and soon the rush of patients filled the clinic, pulling your focus away from the unease that had been sitting heavy in your chest all morning. For a while, work was enough of a distraction.

But once you got home, exhaustion hit you hard.

You made yourself a quick sandwich, took a hot shower, and crawled into bed, planning to sleep straight through until morning.

That plan didn’t last.

You stirred awake to darkness, the faint hum of the house the only sound. Turning your head, you squinted at the clock. 11:37 p.m. Almost midnight. You groaned quietly, unsure why you’d even woken up. You didn’t need to pee, and the baby wasn’t moving much tonight.

Then you heard it.

A faint sound. Something shifting.

You sat up fast, heart pounding as your hand darted to your lamp, flooding the room with soft light.

“Probably the neighbors,” you muttered under your breath.

But then it came again, louder this time.

Rustling. Inside the house.

You shot up from bed, heart pounding so hard it hurt, and rushed to your bedroom door, locking it fast. The click of the lock did little to settle you. You stood there for a moment, scanning the room, mind racing for a plan.

The police.

You turned toward your nightstand, yanking open the drawer. Empty.

That’s when it hit you.

You’d left your phone in the living room.

A wave of dread washed through you. The one thing that could save you. Sitting out there, somewhere near the noise.

You pressed a hand against your belly, breathing hard, trying to think. Maybe you could climb out the window? But one look at the small frame and the swell of your stomach told you everything you needed to know. It was too risky. One wrong move and you could fall.

You swallowed hard, forcing yourself to steady.

You needed that phone.

No matter what, you had to get to it.

You scanned the room again, heart pounding, searching for anything. Anything you could use to protect yourself. Your eyes landed on the glass vase by the window, its once-beautiful roses now wilted and brown. Without hesitation, you dumped the flowers and the murky water onto the floor, gripping the vase tightly in your hand.

Your fingers trembled as you turned the lock and eased the door open. The hallway stretched ahead, dark and still. Too still. Every creak of the floor beneath your feet sounded deafening, like the house itself was holding its breath.

Your free hand cradled your belly as you whispered a silent prayer.

Please, keep my baby safe.

From the end of the hall, you peered into the living room. Empty. No movement. For a brief, fragile moment, you thought maybe, just maybe you’d imagined it. Then your eyes found your phone on the coffee table.

No time to hesitate.

You darted forward, grabbed it, and turned, ready to run back to your room. But the sight waiting at the door stopped you cold.

The front door was wide open. And standing in its frame was him.

The vase slipped from your hand, hitting the floor with a sharp crash.

Your breath caught in your throat as your eyes met his for the first time in six months. Jake.

He looked almost the same, and yet… not at all. His hair was shorter, his face clean-shaven, the facial hair you’d once teased him about completely gone. He looked thinner. Worn down. Tired.

You didn’t think, you just moved. Rushing to him, throwing your arms around his neck as the sob that had been trapped in your chest finally escaped.

His arms wrapped around you instantly, strong and familiar, pulling you close against him.

He was real.

He was here.

And for the first time in months, you let yourself believe you were safe.

But the relief didn’t last. It vanished the second the memory of that night came rushing back. The door closing behind him, his last words, the silence that followed for months.

Before you could stop yourself, your hand flew up and cracked against his cheek.

Jake didn’t flinch. Didn’t defend himself. He just stood there, jaw tight, eyes locked on yours, taking it.

“Where the hell have you been?” you demanded, voice shaking with anger that had been buried too long.

He didn’t answer. Just turned his back to you, quietly closing and locking the door before walking further inside. One by one, he pulled the curtains shut, blocking out the world beyond the windows.

“Jake,” you called after him, your voice trembling as you followed. He didn’t respond, only switched on the small lamp beside the TV, bathing the room in a soft, golden glow.

“Jake,” you said again, sharper this time.

He finally exhaled, a heavy sound, and sank into the single armchair. His eyes found yours.

You stayed where you were, every muscle tense. Partly from anger, partly from the ache of missing him.

“The nerve,” you started, words spilling out before you could stop them. “To break into my home after abandoning us—”

“Abandoning?” His voice cut through the air.

That voice. God, you’d missed it. For a second, it almost disarmed you. Almost.

“Yes,” you bit out, forcing yourself to hold his gaze. “Abandoning us.”

He shook his head slowly. “That’s not what that was, Y/n.”

“Then what was it?” you demanded, stepping closer without even realizing it. “You left with no explanation, Jake! You left me. You left us.”

Jake’s eyes flicked down to your rounded belly, the smallest flicker of something unreadable in his face. Then his gaze rose to meet yours again. He leaned forward slightly, spreading his knees apart and gesturing for you to come closer.

“No.”

“Come here.”

You froze, torn between fury and longing. Every part of you screamed to stay put. To hold on to the anger that had kept you standing this long. But God, how you’d missed him. You knew the second you gave in, you’d unravel.

Jake waited, patient but steady, his hand lifting again in a silent beckon.

With a quiet sigh, you finally stepped forward, stopping between his knees. He reached out, wordless, and guided you down onto his lap. One arm slipped around your waist, the other came to rest over the curve of your belly.

“How’s the baby?” he asked, his voice low, careful.

“Fi–fine,” you managed, your voice barely above a whisper.

He nodded, thumb brushing small, slow circles against your skin.

“She’s fine,” you added softly.

That made him still. His hand paused, his gaze snapping up to meet yours.

“She?”

You nodded, eyes glistening.

Jake searched your face, his guilt written plainly across his own. He knew exactly what he’d done. Vanishing on you, not once but twice and he loathed himself for it. Every moment away had eaten at him, but even now, it wasn’t safe to explain. Still, he couldn’t stay gone. He needed to see you, to see both of you, just to know you were alright.

“Baby, I’m sorry,” he said quietly. “It’ll all make sense soon, I swear.”

“That’s it?” you asked, your voice trembling. “That’s all you’re giving me? Again?”

Jake let out a long breath, his eyes closing for a moment before he met your gaze again.

“Soon, baby. I promise. Once I finish what I have to… I’ll come back. For good.”

That was all you needed to hear to know the truth.

He wasn’t staying.

Your chest tightened. You reached up, fingers finding one of his necklaces, tracing it to keep your hands from shaking. You couldn’t even look at him.

“When do you have to leave?” you asked softly, barely holding back the tears.

“Before morning, baby.”

It was already midnight.

Time was slipping through your fingers, and you knew it. You wanted to scream, cry, beg him to stay. Just one more night but you could see it in his eyes. He’d be gone again soon. And you weren’t sure your heart could survive it this time.

“Hey.”

His voice pulled you back from the spiral.

“It’s temporary, okay? I’ll be here before you’re ready to pop.”

That drew a quiet laugh out of you despite yourself, the sound soft but enough to make a faint smile appear on Jake’s lips.

“Okay?” he asked.

You nodded, hesitant but hopeful.

“And I’ll explain everything,” he added.

Your eyes lifted to his, a flicker of surprise breaking through the fog of hurt.

“Really?”

He nodded once.

“Then why not now?” you pressed, voice trembling.

“Because it’s too risky,” he said gently. “And because I know you. You’ll worry yourself sick over it. That mind of yours won’t stop turning, and that’s not good for the baby.”

His hand slid back to your belly, thumb tracing slow, steady circles that tried to soothe the storm in both of you.

You sighed, the tension in your body unraveling beneath his touch.

For a fleeting moment, neither of you spoke, just breathing each other in, letting the quiet say what words couldn’t. His hand rested on your belly, steady and warm, while your head found its place against his shoulder.

Jake turned slightly, his eyes lingering on you before his fingers brushed against your cheek, trailing down the curve of your jaw until they came to rest beneath your chin.

Then, he leaned in and pressed his lips to yours.

Electricity surged through you as you kissed him back, the pace unhurried yet heavy with everything you’d both been holding in. Loneliness, want, relief. Jake’s hand drifted down your belly, slipping beneath the waistband of your sleep shorts with quiet intent. His fingers found their way between your folds, drawing slow, steady circles that made your breath catch. You pulled away just enough to meet his gaze, a shaky exhale leaving your lips as his touch deepened.

His fingers moved in slow, deliberate circles, his gaze fixed on every soft sound, every subtle twitch that escaped you under his touch. He could’ve stayed like this, drawing you closer to the edge just to watch you fall apart but the need burning in him was too strong. After a few final strokes, he slipped his hand out of your shorts and brought his fingers to his lips, tongue flicking over them as he tasted you.

“Bedroom?” you breathed.

Jake’s mouth curved into a smirk. “It’s like you can read my mind.”

Heat flushed your cheeks as you stood from his lap, reaching for his hand and leading him down the hall toward your room.

Once inside, you didn’t hesitate.

You released his hand and began to undress, piece by piece. Jake stood still for a moment, watching you with quiet awe before following your lead. Each layer fell to the floor until nothing was left between you, just skin and heat and the sound of your unsteady breaths.

You sat on the edge of the bed, then eased back until you were lying flat against the sheets. Jake followed, crawling over you carefully, keeping his weight off as his eyes searched yours.

“This okay?” he whispered. “You comfortable?”

You nodded softly.

Jake leaned down and captured your lips again, his need burning hot and urgent in the pit of his stomach. His hips shifted, slow and deliberate, as he began to rock himself against you, his hard length sliding between your slick folds. His mouth trailed from your lips to your jaw, then down the curve of your neck, each kiss hungrier than the last.

You drew in a sharp breath, parting your legs wider to invite his movement. A soft, needy whimper escaped you, earning a low groan from Jake as he pressed his hips harder against yours.

“Missed you… missed this…” he murmured against your neck.

Your arms wrapped around him, pulling him closer until your bodies were flush.

“If you keep doing that,” you breathed out with a shaky laugh, “I’m gonna finish before we even start…”

Jake let out a quiet laugh, lifting his face from your neck. He brushed a strand of hair away from your face, his hips stilling as his eyes met yours.

“I love you,” he murmured.

“I love you too,” you whispered back.

He smiled softly. “You’ll tell me if you’re uncomfortable, yeah?”

You nodded, watching as he adjusted his position, guiding himself against you.

“Or if it hurts,” he added gently.

You laughed under your breath. “Jake, we’ve done this before.”

“I know,” he said with a small grin, pressing a kiss to your stomach. “But this time… it’s different.”

You smiled softly up at him as he began to ease himself inside you, inch by inch. The sensation was overwhelming. Familiar yet electric, something you’d almost forgotten but instantly craved again. It stretched, burned just slightly as your body adjusted to him after so long, but the pleasure quickly drowned out everything else.

A moan slipped from your lips as your back arched, his slow, steady movements filling you completely until he was buried deep within you.

“Fuck, I missed you…” he breathed, dropping his head to your neck, his voice rough with need as he fought to steady himself before moving again.

He lifted his head, eyes locking with yours, wanting to see every gasp, every shiver that rippled through you as he pushed deeper.

Your lips parted, soft breaths spilling out in time with his steady thrusts. Neither of you looked away. The air between you buzzed with heat and rhythm, the only sounds your mingled breaths and the sharp slap of skin meeting skin.

He was hitting every spot just right, each thrust sending sparks through you. You’d read about how pregnancy could make everything more intense, but nothing had prepared you for this. It hadn’t even been fifteen minutes, and you could already feel your release building fast.

“You’re close…” Jake panted, his voice rough.

You managed a shaky nod.

He slipped a hand from your waist, wetting his thumb before bringing it down to circle your clit.

A sharp gasp tore from your throat as your nails dragged down his back. The combination of his deep, steady thrusts and the precise movement of his thumb was overwhelming, white heat flooding your senses until the world around you started to blur.

“Oh my god…” you moaned, voice breaking.

“That’s it… let go for me, baby. I’ve got you.”

His words pushed you over the edge. Your back arched, nails digging into his skin as your release crashed through you. You cried out his name, trembling beneath him.

Jake groaned, the sound low and rough as he felt you tighten around him. His pace quickened, desperate and uneven, chasing his own release. His head dropped against your neck, breath hot and ragged.

“Fuck—” he gasped, driving into you once more before finally coming, his body shuddering as he spilled inside you.

Jake let out a slow breath, forcing himself to meet your gaze.

“Are you okay? I wasn’t too rough?”

You shook your head, managing a small smile.

“I’m fine, baby.”

For a while, neither of you spoke. The silence felt fragile, like if either of you moved, the moment would shatter. But time was slipping away, and you both knew it. He’d have to leave soon. Disappear again, without a trace or a reason.

And so, inevitably, the peace broke.

“Then just tell me now!” you snapped. “Or let me come with you!”

Jake’s jaw clenched. “Absolutely not.” He leaned back against the headboard, frustration heavy in his tone. “I’m not even supposed to be here right now.”

“Then why are you here, huh?” you demanded, arms crossing as you glared at him from the foot of the bed.

“Because I missed you, Jesus, Y/n.” Jake sighed, running a hand down his face. “And I needed to make sure you were safe. You and the baby.”

You rolled your eyes, crossing your arms.

“Why were there cops at your job?” Jake asked, his tone careful but edged with concern.

You blinked, caught off guard. “My coworker Harley called after—” you stopped abruptly, your stomach twisting. “Wait… how do you even know that?”

Jake scooted closer to the edge of the bed, his hands finding your hips, gently pulling you between his knees. “Like I said,” he murmured, looking up at you, “I needed to make sure my girls were safe.”

Your breath hitched as realization struck. “Oh my god,” you whispered, eyes wide. “That was you? You’re the reason someone was following me?”

Jake didn’t have to say a word, his silence told you everything. You already knew the answer. And though part of you recognized it came from a place of protection, the anger still boiled up inside you.

“Oh my god, Jake!” You shoved at his chest, but his grip on your waist stayed firm.

“His name’s Javier,” Jake said calmly, reaching down for his discarded pants. He pulled out a small card and held it out to you. “One of my guys. If you ever need anything, anything at all, call him.”

You stared at the card, a flicker of déjà vu hitting you. It reminded you of that night at Ascent Lounge. When he’d first handed you his number. When he’d offered to take care of you. How different things were then.

Looking up, your voice softened but broke. “I don’t want him, Jake. I want you.”

“Soon,” he murmured, tugging you down to kiss him.

When he pulled away, he pressed a soft kiss to your belly. “And you, little girl… go easy on your mama, alright?”

A faint smile tugged at your lips as you watched him talk to your unborn daughter.

“I’ll be back in time for your birth,” he promised, rubbing gentle circles over your stomach before kissing it once more. Then he exhaled, looking up at you with regret shadowing his eyes. “I have to go…”

Your face fell, the frown forming before you could stop it.

“No, please don’t go yet.” You cling to him, perched on his knee. “Just one more day?”

“Baby, you know I can’t.”

You did know. You’d known what his answer would be before you even asked. Still, the thought of him leaving, of whoever or whatever was waiting for him out there gnawed at you. He never told you everything, and that silence left too much room for worry.

“I can see those wheels turning,” Jake murmured, his hand gliding over your waist. “I’ll be back before you know it. You just focus on keeping that pretty little ass of yours in one piece until then.”

The silence that followed hurt worse than the one that came after he first left. Because this time, it was different. He would be back. You believed that. You wanted to. But not knowing when made every second heavier.

You followed Jake down the hall, your fingers laced with his as he headed for the door. The closer you got, the harder it became to hold back the tears.

“Hey, hey. No crying.”

He pulled you into his chest, and that was all it took for everything to spill out.

“Come on, baby.” His hand moved in slow circles along your back, his lips pressing softly to the top of your head. “This isn’t goodbye. I’ll be back, I promise. Hey, look at me.”

He cupped your face, thumbs brushing away the tears streaking your cheeks.

“Have I ever broken my word?”

You shook your head, sniffling.

“That’s right.” His voice dropped, steady and warm. “I’ll be back, Y/n. And I won’t leave your side again. Not ever.”

Then he kissed you. One last time, slow and final, like he was trying to make it last until he returned.

When he pulled away, your heart broke a little. You wanted to cling on just for a moment longer but you knew he had to go.

“Give Javier a call if you need anything, alright?”

You nod.

“I’ll try to call sometimes. But it isn’t a promise.”

You nod again.

Jake didn’t say anything else. He knew if he did, it’d just make this harder so all he did was open the door and exit the home.

The months that followed felt heavier, slower.

Day and night blurred together as you waited for a call that never came. Your pregnancy moved forward without him, your belly rounding with your daughter, the due date inching closer yet there was still no sign of Jake.

You hardly ever used Javier’s number. You knew you’d only fill the silence with questions about Jake, questions that would go unanswered anyway. So, for the most part, you learned to manage on your own.

Most days were spent at home now, your body too tired and weighed down to go out. Instead, you focused on preparing for your baby girl.

“I think that piece goes there,” you say from the couch, pointing while Javier sits cross-legged on the floor, piecing together the bassinet.

He’d come over tonight to help you put everything together. You didn’t have the energy for any of it, so you let him take over without protest. With a quiet breath, you reached for the remote, flipping through channels while he worked.

“Did you hear from Jake yesterday?”

You pause mid–channel surf, lowering the remote and looking at Javier, confused.

“No?” You sit up. “Why? Did he tell you he was going to call me?”

Javier opens his mouth to answer but the television steals his attention. His head snaps toward the screen, eyes locking in, unblinking.

“Javier,” you say, trying to pull him back.

“—Mr. Diamond was found in his apartment with multiple gunshot wounds. Police report one additional fatality at the scene, though the individual has not yet been identified. The investigation is ongoing—”

Javier slowly rises from the floor. You watch him, a chill settling in your chest. The question he’d asked, the way he’d gone silent, his sudden fixation on the report, it all twists together into something that doesn’t feel right.

“Ja–Javier…?”

He grabs his jacket without a word.

You push yourself up, waddling after him as quickly as your belly allows.

“Javier! Wait!”

You press your hand against the wooden door, stopping it before it can open. He turns to you, his expression cold, unreadable.

“Did Jake tell you he was going to call me yesterday?”

Before you can speak again, the report cuts back in.

“Mr. Diamond, thirty-five, was already wanted by police in New York City. Authorities report he was involved in an altercation with Jake Kiszka, a wealthy—”

Your eyes widen as her voice dissolves into static. Hearing his name sends memories crashing back. Fleeing New York, the fear, the urgency, everything suddenly snapping into place.

“Is he—” You turn to Javier, tears already spilling down your cheeks.

He doesn’t answer. He reaches for the door instead.

“No, please.” You cling to him. “Is he dead?” Your voice breaks. “Is he dead? No, don’t leave! Please. Javier!”

But it’s too late. He’s already gone, the door shutting behind him with a final, hollow thud.

“Jake!” You sob, your legs giving out as you slide down until you hit the floor.

You stayed there for hours, the cold of the floor slowly warming beneath you. The crying eventually stopped, but the ache in your chest didn’t ease with it. Somewhere behind you, the television continued to murmur, forgotten. It was probably midnight by now, maybe later. You didn’t check. You didn’t want to. Standing up meant accepting what had happened, and time felt frozen in that spot. You wanted it to stay that way.

But you couldn’t stay there forever. Exhaustion settled deep into your bones, and your baby girl had been pressing insistently on your bladder for several minutes now. It was either get up or have an accident on the floor.

With a heavy sigh, and an even heavier heart, you pushed yourself up and made your way to the bathroom.

You sat on the toilet longer than necessary. Even after you were done, you stayed there, unable to bring yourself to move, to keep going, to get ready for bed. You didn’t know how it was possible, but when you heard the front door open, you stood and hurried out of the bathroom.

Javier must’ve come back. Hopefully with some type of explanation.

“Javier?”

Your stomach dropped.

“Hey.”

You didn’t trust your voice, didn’t trust your legs either, just hurried toward him and wrapped your arms around his middle as best as you could.

Jake lets out a quiet chuckle, arms sliding around your waist, holding you steady.

“Oh my God,” you breathe. “You’re okay. You’re alive…”

“I told you I’d come back, didn’t I?”

You cling to him, afraid that if you let go, the moment might dissolve like a dream you’d wake up from too soon.

“Hey… shh.” He rubs slow circles into your back. “I’m here. I’m right here.”

“You are,” you whisper, tears spilling as you look up at him. “For good?”

“Yeah, baby.” He wipes at your cheeks with his thumbs. “For good.”

He gently guides you to the couch, never releasing your hands as the two of you sit. His gaze drifts to the scattered bassinet pieces on the floor before returning to you.

“Need some help?”

You shake your head.

The bassinet is the last thing on your mind, and Jake knows it. There’s still a distant look in your eyes, like you’re afraid this moment might slip away, like you don’t quite believe he’s really here.

Jake exhales softly, lifting your hands and pressing a gentle kiss to each one.

“No more secrets,” he murmurs.

Jake stays quiet for a moment, his thumbs tracing slow circles over your knuckles. You can feel the weight of whatever he’s holding back, the way his jaw tightens like he’s bracing himself.

“There are things I should’ve told you sooner,” he says finally, voice low. Not rushed. Not rehearsed. “I didn’t disappear because I wanted to,” he continues. His eyes meet yours, steady but raw. “And I didn’t leave the way we did without a reason. I just… needed to make sure you were safe before I could explain any of it.”

Your chest tightens, but you don’t pull away.

The room feels smaller, quieter like the world has narrowed down to the space between you. Jake squeezes your hands, grounding, real.

“I’m here now,” he says. “And I’m not keeping you in the dark anymore.”

You nod, leaning into him, and this time when he pulls you close, it doesn’t feel like something fragile or fleeting. It feels like the beginning of answers and the first moment of trust settling back into place.

⋆༺𓆩☠︎︎𓆪༻⋆

Taglist: @hailthegodsong , @sanguinebats , @josh-iamyour-mama , @livcampbellbower , @writingcold , @theweightofjake , @joshylanefleet

[ageofjoshua]

The Mask: Chapter Three

🎃🕸️── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──🕸️🎃 🎃🕸️── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──🕸️🎃

Stranded sick at Jake’s family home, Y/n’s haunted by memories with his brother Josh and terrified by news of another murder.

Late!Teen Jake Kiszka x Late!Teen Josh Kiszka x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 2.1k

Warnings - vomiting, mentions of death/murder, stalking, infidelity, anxiety, stress, unsafe situations

Disclaimer - this story is a work of fiction. it contains mature themes, including grief, sexual content, and psychological tension, and is intended for adult audiences. reader discretion is advised. excuse any errors or misspelling, let me know if i missed any warnings!!!!

The Mask Masterpost

🎃🕸️── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──🕸️🎃

“We are leaving!”

“We’re not going anywhere with you puking your guts out!” Jake shot back. “You look like you’re about to pass out. We’re staying until you feel better.”

This couldn’t be happening.

You’d been counting down the hours to get out of this place. To leave all of it behind. But instead, you’d been hunched over a toilet since four in the morning, violently sick. Whatever this was, it wasn’t just a stomach bug. You felt like your whole body had been hit by a truck.

“Lie down,” Jake said, his tone softening. “I’ll tell my mom we’re staying and bring you back something. Tea or ginger ale.”

You watched him leave, his footsteps fading down the stairs.

And then it was just you. Stuck here. For who knew how long.

With a groan, you reached for your phone and texted your manager to explain, setting it down on the nightstand afterward, just in time to notice Josh leaning casually against the doorway.

“You decent in here?” he asked.

“That depends,” you said weakly. “Do you have emetophobia?”

Josh chuckled and stepped inside, stopping at the foot of the bed.

“Thought you and Jake were taking off this morning.”

“Change of plans,” you sighed.

“Oh?”

“I’ve been puking my guts out since four A.M.”

He winced sympathetically and dropped into a chair. “Eat something bad?”

“No idea. All I know is I can barely sit up, and Jake’s refusing to drive until I’m better. So… we’re stuck.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing.” He nudged your foot lightly, grinning. “Where’s Jake now?”

“Downstairs. Telling your parents the bad news. Probably hunting down some ginger ale or tea.”

Josh nodded. “Well, if you need anything, just yell. I’ll be around.”

“You’re not heading home?” You asked, brow furrowing. You remembered he’d moved out a while ago.

“Nah,” he said with a shrug. “Figured I’d stick around a few extra days. Spend time with the folks … and apparently you two.”

You let out a tired laugh, sinking deeper into the blankets.

“Seriously,” he added. “Just shout if you need something.”

“Thanks,” you murmured, managing a faint smile.

Soon after, Jake returned, his arms full. Water, tea, ginger ale, even crackers. He set everything on the nightstand and sat by your side, watching as you took careful sips and nibbled at a few crackers. But within minutes, it all came right back up.

“I’m gonna run to the store,” he said, already grabbing his keys. “Get you some medicine. Pedialyte too.”

You nodded weakly, head heavy against the pillow.

“You gonna be okay here by yourself for a bit?”

“Yeah,” you murmured.

“My parents are right downstairs if you need anything. I’ll be right back.”

And then he was gone.

The silence that followed felt strangely thick. You could faintly hear the low hum of voices downstairs. His parents, maybe Josh too. Your head spun, eyelids drooping, but sleep wouldn’t fully take you. Instead, your eyes wandered across the room, tracing the walls, the furniture, the memories buried within them. The beginnings. The regrets.

And just like that, your mind slipped back.

“Hey,” you’d said, knocking softly on his open bedroom door. “Sorry. Josh said you might have an extra math textbook I could borrow?”

Jake stood from his bed, crossed to his desk, and handed you the book without a word.

“Thanks,” you said, smiling politely. “I’ll bring it back once we’re done.”

He nodded, watching you turn to leave. But then—

“Studying?”

You looked back, confused for a beat before nodding. “Yeah. Prepping for Mr. Davidson’s test.”

“Right.” He let out a short laugh. “Tough teacher.”

“Tell me about it.”

He nodded again, taking a step closer. “Maybe you could… tutor me sometime. Or I could join you and Josh’s study sessions.”

You hesitated, then nodded. “Sure. I’m sure Josh wouldn’t mind.”

“Perfect,” he said, grinning.

Silence settled between you, stretching longer than it should have. His stare lingered. Notp aggressive, but heavy enough to make your stomach twist. You weren’t used to being alone with him. Whenever you were here, you and Josh were always locked away upstairs, doing homework or… other things.

You could feel Jake’s eyes tracing you, slow and deliberate. Maybe it was nothing. Maybe that’s just how he was.

“Well… I should get going,” you’d said quickly.

The memory faded as your body shifted, curling onto your side. Your eyes fluttered, heavy and unfocused, drifting toward the desk where one of Jake’s old sweaters hung over the chair. Another memory surfaced before you could stop it.

“Crap,” you whispered as the cup slipped from your hand, spilling water across the floor.

It had been late. You’d come downstairs for a drink while spending the night with Josh, fumbling in the dark instead of turning the lights on.

You crouched down, grabbed a rag from the counter, and began blotting the spill when a voice startled you.

“Need any help?”

You jumped, spinning around. “Jesus—”

Jake chuckled softly, hands raised. “Didn’t mean to scare you. Came down to grab—”

“Water?” you guessed.

“Beer.”

You couldn’t help a quiet laugh as he opened the fridge and slipped one of his dad’s beers into his hoodie pocket.

Then he turned, leaning casually against the counter, watching you.

Back in the present, the memory warped, the way the rag had soaked through your sock, how you’d muttered a curse under your breath.

“Here, I got it,” he’d said, grabbing another rag before you could protest.

“No, it’s fine—”

But he knelt beside you anyway. The two of you worked in silence until the floor was clean. He tossed his rag into the sink, and you straightened up.

“Thanks,” you’d said.

“No problem.”

You should’ve left then. Walked upstairs, back to Josh’s room. But instead, you stayed. Long enough for that line to blur again.

Jake stepped closer, boxing you in against the counter. You opened your mouth to speak, but he reached past you, opening the cabinet above your head and pulling out a cup.

“For your water.”

You exhaled a nervous laugh, taking it. “Thanks.”

But he didn’t move back. His hand lifted, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear, lingering just long enough to send a shiver down your spine.

And then, before you could process it, he kissed you.

You froze for a beat, then kissed him back. The glass slipped from your hand, clinking softly on the counter as your fingers found his ribs. His hand cupped your face, deepening the kiss. Slow, deliberate, wrong in every way.

When he finally pulled back, his lips curved into that small, satisfied smirk. He didn’t step away. Neither did you.

When you wake, the room is dark.

For a moment, you can’t tell what time it is, only that the ache in your body has dulled, replaced by a foggy heaviness. You must’ve slept for hours. As your eyes adjust, you notice a shadow near the door. You jolt upright, the sudden movement sending a rush of dizziness through you.

“It’s just me.”

“Jake?”

He flips on the light, the soft yellow glow filling the room. “Yeah. It’s me.” He steps closer and sits on the edge of the bed.

“How are you feeling?”

“Fine,” you murmur, rubbing at your eyes. “A little better.”

Jake nods, a small smile tugging at his lips.

“Why didn’t you wake me?”

“Didn’t want to. You needed the rest.” He gestures to the bag on the floor. “Got your medicine and Pedialyte. But you should eat something first. Josh made soup, I’ll bring some up.”

“Thanks,” you say softly.

He presses a quick kiss to your forehead before heading downstairs.

Left alone, you reach for the remote and turn on the TV, the low flicker of light filling the quiet space. You flip through channels absentmindedly until the words on one newscast stop you cold.

“Authorities confirm another murder by the same faceless assailant. The victim, Jennifer Loomis, a recent graduate of Crescent Vale High, was found earlier this morning.”

Your stomach drops.

Jennifer.

You and her had been inseparable once. Study sessions, shared secrets, late-night drives. And now, she was gone. Just like Sydney.

They were getting closer.

“Hey.”

You glance up to see Jake at the door again, carrying a steaming bowl of soup. He sets it down on the nightstand before his eyes follow yours to the TV screen.

“Jennifer,” you manage to whisper, your throat tight. “He got Jennifer.”

Jake sinks onto the edge of the bed, the color draining from his face. “Holy shit…”

He grabs the remote and quickly switches off the TV, the room falling silent again. Then his eyes return to you. Wide, worried, trying to piece together the fear written across your face.

“He’s getting closer.”

Jake lets out a quiet sigh. “Y/n—”

“He’s getting closer,” you repeat, your voice rising. “Can’t you see? First it was Sydney, now it’s Jennifer! I saw him, Jake. Outside your window, in that bathroom, he’s coming for me!”

“Alright, hey…” He moves closer, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you against his chest. “Shh, it’s okay. Just breathe. Focus on eating something, okay? If you can keep the soup down, we’ll leave first thing tomorrow morning. I promise.”

You nod slowly, your chest still tight.

Jake gives your back one last reassuring rub before slipping away into the bathroom. You sink back against the headboard and pick up the bowl of soup. Lifting the spoon, your hand trembles before you let it fall back into the bowl.

Instead, you grab your phone.

Typing Sydney’s case into the search bar, you scroll through old news articles and crime photos. Nothing too graphic, but enough to make your stomach twist. The mask. White, smooth, faceless, stares back at you from one of the photos. You zoom in, studying every detail, desperate for something familiar.

Then you see it, another headline. New Victim Identified in Ongoing Murder Case: Jennifer Loomis.

Your heart lurches. You read through the article quickly. Same story. Same killer. Same mask. Stabbed to death, no DNA, no leads. Nothing.

A soft knock at the door pulls you from the screen.

“Come in,” you call out.

The door opens to reveal Josh standing in the doorway.

“Hey,” he says quietly. “Where’s Jake?”

You nod toward the bathroom. “In there.”

He steps inside, glancing at the untouched bowl on your lap. “How are you feeling?”

You shrug. “A little better.”

Josh nods, his eyes flicking to the soup again. “Not much of an appetite, huh?”

You follow his gaze, then glance back at him.

He smiles faintly. “You used to love my cooking…” he says, moving closer to sit beside you on the bed.

A heavy silence settles between you. Josh reaches up, brushing a strand of hair from your face. You freeze, trying not to flinch at the touch.

“Don’t be scared,” he murmurs, clearly noticing your tension but misunderstanding its cause. “It’s just me.”

Before you can respond, the bathroom door swings open. Josh instantly pulls his hand back, stepping aside as Jake walks out.

Jake’s gaze flicks between you both. “What are you doing in here?”

Josh clears his throat. “Just wanted to invite you two to a Halloween party tomorrow.”

“Who’s throwing it?” Jake asks, his tone casual.

“Alex,” Josh replies.

You whip your head toward Jake. “We’re leaving tomorrow.”

Jake glances at you, ignoring the warning in your voice. “Just asking.” He rolls his eyes playfully before looking back to Josh. “Alex’s parties are usually good.”

You can already tell he’s thinking about going, and it makes your stomach twist. You didn’t want to spend another night here, not after everything.

Sensing the tension, Josh steps back toward the door. “Okay… I’ll, uh, let you two talk.” He slips out, closing the door behind him.

As soon as he’s gone, you turn to Jake. “No. We’re not staying for some stupid Halloween party.”

“Come on,” Jake sighs. “We don’t even have to be back to campus until Wednesday.”

“That’s not the point, Jake. I don’t want to stay any longer than we have to.”

“You’re being dramatic,” he mutters.

“Dramatic? Look at what’s happened since we got here! Sydney’s funeral, the thing in the bathroom, me getting sick and now Jennifer’s dead!”

Jake exhales sharply, rubbing a hand over his face. He knows you’re scared. He should’ve comforted you but instead, he digs in.

“It’s just one more day,” he says. “What’s the worst that could happen?”

You cross your arms, staring him down.

He scoffs, pulling his keys from his pocket and tossing them onto the bed beside you. “Fine. You can drive home tomorrow then.”

Your eyes widen in disbelief. “Are you serious right now?”

But he’s already heading toward the door. “Yo, Josh!” Jake calls out.

“Yeah?” comes the distant reply.

“Let’s go grab costumes for the party!”

🎃🕸️── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──🕸️🎃

Taglist: @hailthegodsong , @sanguinebats , @josh-iamyour-mama , @missmirador , @writingcold , @theweightofjake , @joshylanefleet

[ageofjoshua]

The Mask: Chapter Two

🎃🕸️── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──🕸️🎃 🎃🕸️── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──🕸️🎃

At Sydney’s funeral, buried tensions resurface between Y/n, Jake, and his family. Grief, jealousy, and unease intertwine, leaving the night to end on a strangely unsettling note.

Late!Teen Jake Kiszka x Late!Teen Josh Kiszka x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 2.8k

Warnings - funeral setting, grief, jealousy, emotional tension, anxiety, infidelity, mild language, fear, attempted attack

Disclaimer - this story is a work of fiction. it contains mature themes, including grief, sexual content, and psychological tension, and is intended for adult audiences. reader discretion is advised. excuse any errors or misspelling, let me know if i missed any warnings!!!!

The Mask Masterpost

🎃🕸️── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──🕸️🎃

“Hey. You ready?”

You glanced toward Jake standing by the bathroom door, then turned back to the mirror for one last look. Your reflection stared back, somber, distant. You looked sad, and maybe you were. You and Sydney had never been inseparable, but she’d once been part of your circle. Part of your life.

“Just about,” you murmured.

“Come on. Let’s get going.”

You followed him out of the bathroom and down the stairs. The house was quiet, too quiet. His parents must’ve left.

“Are we riding with your brothers?” you asked.

“Yeah,” he nodded. “They’ll be down in a minute.”

He slipped his arms around your waist, and you instinctively looped yours around his neck.

“You look gorgeous,” he said softly.

“I just want today to be over.”

Before he could respond, Sam and Josh appeared on the stairs, both dressed in black like the two of you. Josh was fumbling with a tie, muttering under his breath as he tried to loop it properly.

“Ready?” Jake asked.

“Yeah,” Sam replied. “Danny said he’ll meet us there.”

Jake nodded.

“Crap. I forgot my phone in your room.”

“I’ll grab it,” he added before you could protest, brushing a quick kiss to your cheek and heading back upstairs.

Sam offered a polite nod before stepping outside to start the car, leaving you and Josh alone in the living room.

You watched as he struggled again with the tie, lips pressed in mild frustration.

“Need help?” You asked quietly.

He sighed, meeting your eyes. “Never learned how to tie these things.”

You took the tie from his hands, your fingers grazing his for the briefest moment. When you stepped closer to loop it around his neck, the space between you filled with a heavy, familiar silence. One that didn’t feel uncomfortable, just strange. It had been nearly a year since you’d been this close to Josh. And yet, somehow, it still felt the same.

“There we go…” You murmured, smoothing the fabric of his shirt until it lay flat.

“Thanks.”

Silence lingered between you, heavy and familiar. Your eyes met, and suddenly the space was crowded with memories. Ones you’d spent months trying to forget. You’d known that coming back here meant facing all of it, every mistake, every ghost.

“You look beautiful,” Josh said quietly.

The words caught you off guard. He was being kind. Too kind. Back then, after everything happened, kindness was the last thing he’d shown you. He’d yelled, rightfully angry, when Jake crossed that line and you let him. It had destroyed what you and Josh had. And now here you were. Back in this house, back in his presence, standing as Jake’s girlfriend.

“Thanks,” you whispered, voice soft, almost uncertain. “You look nice too.”

“Hey.”

Both of you turned at the sound of Jake’s voice. He was coming down the stairs, your phone in hand. Without hesitation, he crossed the room and came to stand beside you, slipping an arm around your waist and pulling you close, his gaze settling firmly on his brother.

“Let’s get going.”

You watched Josh head for the door and were about to follow when Jake’s hand tightened around your waist, holding you in place. You turned to him, brows knitting in confusion but his expression told you everything. He was angry.

“Did he say something he shouldn’t have?”

“What?”

“Josh,” he bit out. “I don’t like that he got you alone.”

You exhaled sharply. Not this. Not now. Of all days.

Jake’s jealousy wasn’t new. It came and went like weather but it always felt unfair. Especially considering he was the one who’d crossed the line with you in the first place. The reason everything had fallen apart. The reason this whole trip back felt like walking into a storm you’d already survived once.

“We’re about to go to a funeral,” you said flatly, raising a brow. “You really want to start this now?”

That was all it took.

The drive to the service passed in heavy silence. No one spoke. Sam and Josh sat quietly in the back while Jake drove, you in the passenger seat staring out the window, trying to steel yourself for what waited ahead. Old faces, familiar voices, Sydney’s parents. You didn’t know what to expect, only that you weren’t ready.

When you finally arrived, Jake pulled into a parking spot and killed the engine. Everyone stepped out, and he was at your side in an instant, threading his fingers through yours as the four of you headed toward the building.

Inside, the low hum of quiet conversations filled the room. You recognized too many faces, each one stirring a mix of memories you weren’t sure you wanted to remember. Your stomach twisted. You curled your free hand into a fist, pressing your nails into your palm just to have something else to focus on.

Sam caught sight of Danny across the room, and the group moved that way. Jake released your hand briefly to hug him, and in that moment, Josh stepped in beside you.

“You’re digging your nails into your palm,” he murmured.

You startled slightly, glancing at him. His expression was soft, concerned.

“I didn’t even realize,” you admitted quietly.

“Need to step out for a minute?” he asked.

You almost said yes, almost let yourself. But then Jake turned, eyes landing on the two of you, and you saw it immediately: that same flicker of anger from before, simmering just beneath the surface.

“Back up.”

Jake stepped forward, positioning himself between you and Josh as his arm snaked possessively around your waist.

“What?” Josh asked, stunned.

“Go. Get lost,” he said flatly.

“Jake,” you warned under your breath.

Josh didn’t argue, he just turned and walked off, joining Sam and Danny without a word. You stared at Jake, disbelief giving way to anger.

“Are you serious right now? He wasn’t doing anything.”

He opened his mouth to respond, but you cut him off.

“Today of all days, you want to start this?” You snapped, keeping your voice low but firm. “Look around, Jake. Think about where we are before you say another word. I’m not doing this, not today.”

The service began soon after, and everyone settled into their seats. It didn’t take long for the tears to start. Listening to Sydney’s family and friends speak, hearing about her kindness, her laughter, all the life she still had ahead of her was almost unbearable.

Jake kept his fingers intertwined with yours, quietly handing you tissues, his thumb brushing gentle circles over your hand whenever your shoulders trembled.

It was heartbreakingly beautiful. The photos, the memories, the way her presence lingered in every word. And then, just as quickly as it began, it was over. People started rising from their seats, preparing to head to the burial site.

“You okay?” Jake asked softly.

You nodded, sniffling as you stood with him. “I’m gonna use the bathroom before we go, okay?”

He gave a small nod, and you slipped away from his side.

You found the bathroom quickly and slipped into one of the stalls, grateful for a moment alone. As you went about your business, you took a few steadying breaths, trying to pull yourself together. Just the burial left, you reminded yourself. Then it’s over.

You were just finishing up when the sound of the door opening made you pause. Someone had come in. You flushed the toilet and reached down for your underwear, then froze.

A pair of shoes appeared just outside your stall.

“Occupied,” you called out, waiting for them to move.

They didn’t.

“This stall’s taken,” you said again, a little louder this time.

Still, silence. No movement.

A chill crawled up your spine as you quickly pulled your underwear back on and straightened up. You glanced through the narrow crack in the door and your stomach dropped.

A mask. A figure standing completely still.

Your breath caught, and before you could think, instinct took over.

“Jake!” You screamed, slamming your hands against the door as the figure lunged, rattling the handle. “Jake! Someone! Help!”

Your breathing turned shallow, your hands trembling as you pressed against the stall door with all your strength. The handle rattled violently. You kept screaming Jake’s name, anyone’s, your voice breaking with each cry for help.

Then, suddenly, the pressure stopped. The door was yanked open, and you braced yourself for the masked figure—

But it was Josh.

“Y/n?”

“Josh,” you gasped, stumbling forward and into his arms. Relief and panic collided all at once, and you clung to him, shaking.

He caught you easily, steadying you as he guided you out of the stall. “Hey, hey, what happened? I heard screaming—”

“It was him,” you blurted, pulling back just enough to meet his eyes. “It was Sydney’s killer. He was here, Josh. He tried to get into my stall.”

He froze, glancing around the empty bathroom, his brow furrowing in confusion.

“Y/n…” he said quietly. “There’s no one here.”

“He was here, Josh! I saw him!” You cried, voice trembling.

“Okay, okay,” he soothed, keeping his tone calm. “Let’s get you out of here.”

You stayed pressed against him as he guided you toward the door, your eyes darting around the hallway the moment you stepped out. When you spotted Jake hurrying toward you, you immediately pulled away from Josh and threw yourself into Jake’s arms.

“What the hell’s going on?” Jake demanded, his voice tight with concern and something sharper beneath it. His eyes flicked to his brother. “Did you follow her into the bathroom?”

“No, Jake!” You said quickly, clinging tighter when he started to move toward Josh.

“She was screaming,” Josh cut in, his tone clipped. “Crying for help. Where the hell were you?”

Jake’s jaw flexed, irritation flashing in his eyes, but he forced himself to focus on you instead. Your face was streaked with tears, your body trembling against his chest.

“What happened?” He asked gently.

“He’s here.” You whispered.

Jake frowned. “Who’s here?”

“The killer,” you said, voice cracking. “He was trying to get into my stall.”

Jake shot a glance at Josh, confusion flickering across his face, then turned his attention back to you seeing the fear written all over yours.

“Why don’t we go outside, get some air?” Jake murmured. “Come on, baby.”

You let him guide you out of the building, the cool October breeze hitting your skin and offering a momentary sense of relief. But the calm didn’t last. You found yourself scanning the area, eyes darting from shadow to shadow, half expecting to see that mask again.

Jake noticed immediately, his hand tightening around yours. “Hey,” he said softly, “why don’t we skip the burial? Go home, yeah?”

“What?” You asked, whipping your head toward him.

He sighed. “Y/n, you’re obviously exhausted. Stressed. I think we shou—”

“You don’t believe me.” The words came out before you could stop them, sharp and trembling. And from the look on his face, you already knew the answer. “Oh my god, you actually don’t believe me.”

“Baby,” he started carefully, “you’ve been on edge ever since we got back here. Seeing Josh, Sydney, it’s a lot. Maybe it’s just… getting to you.”

You stared at him, disbelief settling where the fear had been, your chest tightening at the thought that the person you trusted most thought it was all in your head.

“You think I’m making this up?” You snapped, voice shaking. “I know what I saw, Jake. Outside your bedroom window and now in that bathroom. It was the same person. Him, her, whoever the hell it is they’re out there, and they’re coming for me next.”

Jake’s brow furrowed. “Why? Why would this person be after you?”

“I don’t know!” You shouted, the words breaking in your throat. “I have no fucking clue! But it’d be nice if my boyfriend believed me instead of making me feel like I’ve lost my mind!”

“Hey,” Sam called out as he approached, Josh and Danny trailing behind him. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah,” Jake answered quickly. “Y/n and I are gonna skip the burial, head back to Mom’s.”

He didn’t wait for a response. His hand found yours, firm and unyielding, and before you knew it, he was leading you toward the car.

The drive was quiet, uncomfortably so. The only sounds were the low hum of the radio and the steady rhythm of tires against asphalt.

You stared out the window, jaw tight. Anger and disappointment churned in your chest.

Jake didn’t believe you. Not even a little.

“Y/n.”

You blinked, snapping back to reality. The car had stopped. You were already parked in Jake’s parents’ driveway. You hadn’t even realized you’d zoned out so completely.

Without a word, you got out and headed inside. The house was still, and for a while you just wandered in the quiet until the sound of cardoors and voices signaled that Sam, Josh, and Danny had returned.

Before long, the four of them had gathered in the basement, cracking open beers and talking in low voices. Eventually, you decided to join them.

They greeted you with easy smiles, Jake immediately patting the seat beside him on the old, sagging couch. You sat down, and Josh passed you a beer without a word.

“Thanks.” You murmured, taking it and settling in as their conversation flowed. Light at first, catching up on life and work, until it inevitably drifted to Sydney. The laughter quieted, replaced by a heavy stillness that filled the room.

“Guys,” Jake said, clearing his throat awkwardly. “Maybe we shouldn’t talk about this.”

“Why?” You asked, turning to him.

But you already knew. You could read the look on his face, the way his shoulders stiffened. He didn’t want them talking about Sydney. About what happened today. Because of you. Because of the incident at the funeral.

“I’m actually gonna head home,” Danny said after a moment, pushing himself up from the chair.

“I’ll walk you out,” Sam offered, standing as well.

Jake rose next, glancing toward you. “You coming?”

“In a minute,” you said, lifting your beer. “Just gonna finish this.”

He hesitated, his eyes flicking briefly to Josh before giving a small nod. Then he turned and followed Sam and Danny upstairs, leaving the basement quiet except for the hum of the old fridge.

Josh leaned back in his seat, watching you. “So… did you tell Jake?”

You frowned. “Tell him what?”

“About the guy in the bathroom stall.”

You let out a bitter laugh, taking another sip of your beer. “I did.”

Josh’s jaw tightened slightly. “He didn’t believe you, did he?”

You exhaled slowly, shaking your head. He didn’t need an answer, he already knew. Josh always could read you. He could always read his twin.

“I know what I saw.” You said firmly.

“I’m not questioning that,” Josh replied, his tone even.

You let out a tired sigh. “It doesn’t matter anyway. We’re leaving tomorrow. So whatever or whoever that was won’t find me.”

Josh nodded slowly, his eyes never leaving you. The silence that followed was thick, unsettling. You could feel him watching you, like he was trying to piece something together without saying it out loud. The air between you felt strange. Too heavy, too quiet.

“I should get to bed.” You mumbled finally, setting your beer down and rising to your feet.

“Good night.” He said softly.

When you made it upstairs, Jake was already stretched out on the bed, wearing nothing but boxers, the glow from his phone lighting his face.

“Hey,” he said as you closed the door behind you. “Was just about to come get you.”

You started undressing without a word, tugging off your clothes and reaching for one of Jake’s hoodies from his bag. As you slipped it over your head and straightened, a sudden wave of dizziness hit you, making the room tilt for a second.

“Whoa…” you muttered, steadying yourself.

“You okay?” Jake asked from the bed, glancing up.

“Yeah,” you said quietly, moving toward him with careful steps. “Just tired. I wanna sleep.”

You climbed into bed, turning so your back faced him. Almost instantly, his arm slipped around your waist, pulling you close. His lips found your neck, pressing soft, lingering kisses against your skin.

“Jake…” you groaned, voice heavy with exhaustion.

He just smirked against your neck, his hand sliding beneath the hoodie.

“I’m not in the mood.” You said firmly, your tone quiet but final.

Jake sighed and pulled back. For a moment, neither of you moved, then he shifted, crawling between your legs and gently guiding you onto your back. He settled there, his head resting on your stomach, arms draped loosely around your waist.

“Jake…” you groaned again, this time more weary than annoyed.

“Shhh,” he murmured. “Go to sleep.”

“With you smothering me?”

“Yes.”

A quiet laugh slipped from you despite yourself. You couldn’t stay mad when he got like this. Clingy, almost boyish. It was endearing in its own way. On another night, you might’ve melted, might’ve pulled him closer and let things go further.

But something felt different. Off. Your body was heavy, your eyelids impossible to keep open. A strange, dull haze washed over you before you could make sense of it.

And then you were asleep, unaware that by morning, everything you’d planned would unravel.

🎃🕸️── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──🕸️🎃

Taglist: @hailthegodsong , @sanguinebats , @josh-iamyour-mama , @missmirador , @writingcold , @theweightofjake , @joshylanefleet

[ageofjoshua]

The Mask: Chapter One

🎃🕸️── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──🕸️🎃 🎃🕸️── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──🕸️🎃

Y/n and Jake return to their hometown for a friend’s funeral, forced to face his brother Josh and the tension of Y/n’s shared past with him. As old feelings resurface, Y/n struggles with guilt and unease until, in the middle of the night, Y/n sees someone outside the window watching them, leaving her terrified it’s not over.

Late!Teen Jake Kiszka x Late!Teen Josh Kiszka x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 3.5k

Warnings - grief, mentions of death, sexual content, unprotected sex, fingering, mentions of infidelity, sibling tension, mild language, stalking, anxiety, brief mention of self harm (nail digging)

Disclaimer - this story is a work of fiction. it contains mature themes, including grief, sexual content, and psychological tension, and is intended for adult audiences. reader discretion is advised. excuse any errors or misspelling, let me know if i missed any warnings!!!!

a/n - going to be using the same tags as the ones i used for ‘gold taste bitter’ ! if anybody wants to be removed just message me! hope you enjoy the first chapter to my short spooky story!

The Mask Masterpost 

🎃🕸️── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──🕸️🎃

You hadn’t been back home since graduation. The moment you and Jake got your diplomas, you packed up and left that small town behind. The gossip, the stares, the mess you’d both left behind. Too many memories. Too many people who knew too much.

“I don’t want to stay with your family,” you finally said, watching the trees blur past outside the window.

Jake glanced over at you, one hand steady on the wheel. “Why not?”

You gave him a look. “Seriously?”

He just chuckled, his tone light, like it wasn’t a big deal. His hand slid over to your thigh, giving it a gentle squeeze. “Come on, baby. That was a year ago. He’s over it.”

“Please,” you muttered, leaning back in your seat. “A year doesn’t fix what we did to your brother.”

Jake knew you were right. Truthfully, he didn’t want to stay with his family either but it was cheaper than a hotel, and it would only be for a couple of days. He kept telling himself that. Just two days.

“Why can’t we stay with mine?” you asked, glancing over at him.

He exhaled, gripping the steering wheel a little tighter. “Because my parents asked, and I already told them yes. Come on, Y/n. It’s just two days.”

You let out a quiet sigh and leaned your head against the window.

The rest of the drive was heavy with silence. Your mind wandered to Josh, to the way things ended, to how it would feel to see him again. You didn’t know which was worse: the thought of facing him, or the thought of pretending nothing had ever happened. Either way, it was enough to make your stomach twist.

“Do you think Danny will be there?” you asked after a while, turning to watch Jake. “How’s he been?”

Jake’s jaw tensed. “Not good. He was practically glued to Sydney all through high school.” His voice softened. “I still can’t believe she’s gone.”

You nodded, eyes dropping to your lap. “Me neither. I never thought we’d come back here… especially for a funeral.”

By the time the sun dipped below the horizon, Jake was pulling into his parents’ driveway. The house looked exactly the same. Warm light spilling from the windows, that same creak in the porch steps when he parked and got out. He turned off the engine and glanced over at you.

“You okay?” he asked gently.

You met his eyes, forcing a small nod.

“It’s gonna be fine,” he said, giving you a reassuring half-smile before getting out of the car.

You followed, grabbing your duffel from the backseat and falling into step beside him as he led the way up the familiar path. The night air was cool, carrying the faint smell of pine and the sound of crickets.

He knocked a few times, and after a bit of shuffling inside, the door opened. His mother appeared, her expression instantly softening.

“Jake,” she said warmly, then her eyes landed on you. “Y/n. You both made it safe. Come in, sweetheart.”

Her kindness made your chest tighten a little, you weren’t sure if it was comfort or guilt.

“Hi, Mom.” Jake steps forward, wrapping his arms around her in a warm hug.

You follow, giving her a quick embrace before pulling back, your gaze flicking instinctively around the familiar house, the same family photos, the faint smell of her cooking, even the creak in the floorboards that hadn’t changed.

“Your father’s in the kitchen finishing up dinner,” she says with a smile. “You two hungry?”

Jake nods. “Starving. Is Josh here?”

At the mention of his twin brother, your stomach tightens. His mother notices the subtle shift in your posture but kindly ignores it.

“He went to pick up Sammy. He should be back soon. Why don’t you two go settle into your room? I’ll call you when dinner’s ready.”

Jake nods. “Sounds good.”

He takes your hand, and you offer her a polite smile. “Thank you, Mrs. Kiszka.”

Jake leads you upstairs, his thumb brushing over your knuckles as you climb the steps. When you step into his old bedroom, it feels like walking straight into a time capsule. Everything is exactly as it was. The band posters, the cluttered desk, the records stacked by the stereo.

“Jesus,” Jake mutters under his breath. “This place brings back memories, huh?”

You nod slowly, setting your duffel on his desk. “It’s like nothing ever changed.”

Jake drops his bag by the door and sits on the edge of the bed. The old springs groan under his weight, making him laugh.

“Well,” he grins, “guess we won’t be getting away with anything tonight.”

You narrow your eyes at him. “We won’t be trying to get away with anything tonight.”

Jake raises his brows, feigning surprise. “Seriously? Come on, baby, it’ll be like the good old days. Me bending you over this bed while my parents think we’re studying.”

You smack his arm with a half-scowl, but before you can step away, he catches your wrist and tugs you down into his lap, his grin widening as you land against his chest.

“We’re here for Sydney’s funeral,” you remind him quietly, a warning threaded in your tone.

Jake leans in, his voice dropping to a low whisper. “And that means I can’t have sex with my girl?”

You narrow your eyes. “You know that’s not what I mean.”

He exhales sharply, frustration flickering across his face. He never quite understood why you cared so much about Josh’s feelings. He did, of course. Deep down he knew you had a heart that couldn’t help but ache for everyone, even the ones who might still resent you. But he hated being reminded of it. Hated that what happened between the three of you still lingered in every room you walked into.

The truth was, it had been his fault. He was the one who crossed the line first. Who kissed you, who couldn’t stop once he started. Josh’s anger should’ve been aimed at him, not you.

“He’s a big boy,” Jake mutters finally, brushing a loose strand of hair away from your face. His touch softens, his thumb grazing your cheek. “He’ll get over it.”

Jake leans in and captures your lips in a hungry kiss. You respond instantly, fingers threading through his hair as you pull him closer, your bodies pressing together until there’s barely space to breathe. His hand slides from your waist down to your ass, gripping firmly, drawing a soft moan from your lips as you shift in his lap.

The kiss deepens, turning messier, needier until his mouth drifts down to your neck. You tilt your head back, giving him more room.

“Touch me…” you whisper, your breath shaky.

Jake lets out a low chuckle against your skin. “Yeah?” he murmurs, lips brushing along your jaw. “You want my fingers inside you?”

Your only answer is to grab his hand, guiding it beneath the waistband of your leggings. But before he can move any further, a sharp throat-clearing cuts through the room.

Both of you freeze.

You turn toward the doorway and there they are. Sam and Josh, standing there with twin looks of shock and amusement.

Your stomach drops. You scramble off Jake’s lap, tugging your top down and trying to compose yourself.

Sam grins. “We interrupting something?”

Jake glares at him, jaw tightening. “Yeah, smartass. You are. Both of you.”

Jake rises from the bed, masking his irritation as he crosses the room to greet his brothers. He pulls each of them into a brief hug, his expression tight but polite. You stay where you are, frozen, your gaze landing on Josh.

The moment his eyes meet yours, your stomach drops.

“Hey, Y/n.”

His voice is calm. Too calm and it makes your heart race faster.

“H-hi,” you manage, barely above a whisper.

Josh steps toward you, slow and deliberate. You push yourself to your feet, unsure whether to brace for anger or indifference. But then, to your surprise, he wraps his arms around you.

You stand stiff for a moment before returning the embrace, hesitant and unsure, your eyes flicking to Jake over Josh’s shoulder.

Jake’s watching, jaw tight, expression unreadable as something uneasy passes between the three of you.

When Josh finally steps back, he lingers nearby but keeps a careful distance, his presence still heavy beside you.

“So—” Sam breaks the silence, glancing between everyone. “Mom said dinner’s ready. You two coming down?”

“Yeah,” Jake replies quickly, brushing past the tension.

He walks over and takes your hand, his grip firm as if grounding himself, then follows Sam toward the stairs. Josh trails close behind, silent.

By the time you reach the kitchen, their mom is finishing up setting the table. The warm smell of dinner fills the space, almost masking the quiet strain hanging in the air.

“Only four plates?” Jake asks, brow raised.

She smiles softly. “Your father and I already ate. Figured it’d be nice for you kids to have some time to catch up.”

The brothers exchange glances, an unspoken mix of understanding and discomfort before their mom heads out of the room.

You reach for Jake’s plate, forcing a small smile. “A little bit of everything?”

He nods, watching you closely as you start to serve him.

Sam and Josh pause briefly as they watch you carefully plate Jake’s food. Sam’s lips twitch with quiet amusement, while Josh’s expression hardens, his jaw tightening just slightly. You set the plate back down in front of Jake, and before you can move away, his hand slips behind you, giving your hip a light squeeze before he leans in to press a quick kiss to your cheek.

“Thanks, baby,” he murmurs.

You manage a small smile, feeling both the warmth of his touch and the weight of the brothers’ stares.

The others start to serve themselves, the clinking of utensils filling the silence before you all finally take your seats. Dinner begins quietly, the tension slowly softening as conversation starts to flow between the three brothers.

You mostly keep to yourself, listening as they catch up about work, music, and old friends. Every so often, though, you can feel Josh’s gaze drift toward you. Brief, unreadable before he looks away again.

Jake, unfazed, leans back in his chair, fork in hand. “So,” he says casually, glancing between them, “anything new with you guys?”

“Nah,” Sam answers first, shrugging. “Just work and school. Same as always.”

Jake nods, turning his attention to his twin. “What about you, Josh?”

Josh lifts his fork, eyes flicking briefly to you before settling back on his plate. “Mm. Same old, same old.”

Jake leans back. “How’s film school?”

At that, your head perks up slightly. Film school. You remember him talking about it years ago. How it was all he wanted, how his eyes used to light up just mentioning it. You never knew if he actually followed through after everything that happened.

“You’re studying film?” you ask softly, almost hesitant.

Josh finally meets your gaze. “Yeah,” he says, voice calm but guarded. “It’s going good. Everything I hoped it would be, honestly.”

The room grows quiet for a beat, the kind of silence that feels like everyone’s afraid to breathe too loudly. Josh clears his throat first.

“What about you, man?” he asks Jake. “Anything new? With… both of you?”

Jake takes a sip of his drink, smirking. “Working on music. Still at the shop.” He sets his glass down, his hand drifting to rest casually on your thigh. “Keeping busy.”

Josh nods, his expression unreadable. “And you, Y/n?”

Your stomach tightens at the sudden attention, your fork pausing midair. “Oh uh, nothing much. Just… same stuff.”

Jake chuckles quietly, shaking his head. “She’s being modest,” he says, giving your leg a squeeze. “She just got a promotion at work. And one of her professors picked her paper for an academic forum.” His tone is proud, genuinely so.

You blush, ducking your head slightly, though the warmth of his words feels strangely heavy under the tension in the room.

“Holy shit,” Sam says, grinning. “That’s huge, Y/n. Congrats.”

You wave it off, trying to smile. “It’s really not that big a deal.”

“No,” Josh cuts in quietly, his voice firmer this time. Everyone turns toward him. “No, that’s incredible, Y/n. You should be proud of that.”

For a moment, no one speaks. You manage a faint, polite smile but your heart beats a little faster.

You and Josh hold each other’s gaze for a moment too long, the air thick enough to cut through. Jake notices. Of course he does and his hand tightens on your thigh, pulling you back to the present.

“So,” he says suddenly, breaking the silence. “Danny. Anybody heard from him lately?”

Sam looks up from his plate. “Yeah, I talked to him a few days ago. He’s… not doing great. Josh and I were gonna swing by his place after dinner, check in on him. You guys wanna come?”

Jake glances at you, then shakes his head. “Nah. We’re wiped from the drive.”

You watch quietly as Josh stands, gathering his plate and carrying it to the sink.

“Right,” Sam teases, flashing a grin. “Bet you’re both ready to crash early.”

Jake chuckles under his breath, but when Sam starts nudging the table with his knee and wiggling his eyebrows, he groans, catching on instantly. You do too, your face heating in embarrassment.

“You’re an idiot,” Jake says, laughing as he throws a crumpled napkin at his brother. “Send him our best though.”

Sam nods.

You hesitate for a moment before speaking. “Do you guys… know how Sydney died?”

Sam and Josh both look over at you. “You didn’t hear?” Sam asks, surprised.

You shake your head.

“She was stabbed,” he says quietly, grabbing his keys from the table.

Your eyes widen. “What?”

“Yeah,” Sam continues, glancing briefly at Josh before looking back at you. “She was house-sitting for her grandparents. Someone broke in.”

Jake adds, “They said the guy was wearing a mask.”

You frown, looking at him. “Like a ski mask?”

Sam shakes his head. “No. A costume mask.”

The room falls silent for a beat, the weight of his words hanging heavy in the air.

Then Josh clears his throat, nudging Sam. “Alright, man. Let’s get going before it gets too late.”

Sam nods, following him toward the door. “We’ll be back soon.”

Jake watches them leave, then turns his gaze to you. Quiet, thoughtful, a flicker of worry in his eyes.

“You okay, baby?” he asked softly, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear.

“Yeah, I just…” You exhaled, voice thin. “It’s hard. Hearing how she died. I thought it was a car accident or something.”

He nodded.

“Did they catch the guy?”

“I don’t think so. When the cops showed up, there were no traces.”

“Then how do you even know he was wearing a mask?”

“Left it at the scene,” Jake said, standing and holding out his hand to you. “Come on, let’s go upstairs.”

But the walk up didn’t clear your mind.

Even lying in his bed, Jake’s fingers inside you and his mouth pressed to your neck, you couldn’t stop thinking about Sydney. About the mask. About the way it all ended.

Your arm was draped around Jake’s shoulders as he worked his fingers slowly, his lips dragging across your skin. But when you didn’t respond, no gasp, no sigh, he finally pulled back, eyes searching your face.

“Are you even wet?” he asked, breath uneven.

“What?” you blinked. “Y-yeah.”

“Really?” His tone softened but his brow furrowed. “Because I’ve been at this for almost fifteen minutes, and you haven’t made a sound.”

“I’m sorry.” You sighed, embarrassed. Jake slowly pulled his hand from your leggings and leaned back against the headboard.

“I’m sorry, baby,” you said quietly. “I just, can’t get Sydney out of my head.”

Jake exhaled, glancing over at you.

“It’s not right,” you murmured, shaking your head.

He could see how much this was weighing on you. Not just her death, but the way it happened. And he knew that being back here, around Josh, around this town, only made it harder. He reached for your leg and tugged you closer, wrapping an arm gently around your waist.

“Hey,” he said softly. “We can go home if you want.”

“And skip her funeral?” you asked, your voice cracking.

“Babe,” he said gently, “you’re digging your nails into your palm.”

You looked down, realizing your fist was clenched tight. When you opened it, there was a small smear of blood. It was an old habit, one you’d managed to break after leaving this place. Only Josh and Jake knew about it. Being back had stirred it up again.

Jake grabbed his shirt from the floor and used it to wipe the blood away carefully. Then, he took your hand and kissed your palm.

“Talk to me, baby,” he whispered.

“It’s everything…” your voice trembled. “Sydney dying, being back here, seeing Josh again. It just doesn’t feel real. I didn’t think I’d ever have to face all of this.”

“I know…” he murmured.

He brushed your cheek with his thumb. “We can go home.”

You shook your head. “No. We’re already here. I want to go to her funeral. I need to say goodbye.”

“Okay,” he said quietly, pulling you closer. “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

“We’ll get through this together, alright? The funeral, all of it. Then we’ll head home. We don’t ever have to come back here again.”

“Okay.”

“Come here,” he said, guiding you into a kiss.

This one felt different. Grounded, steady. The weight in your chest lightened just a little as his lips moved with yours.

Your hand drifted down, slipping beneath the waistband of his boxers to give his hard length a gentle squeeze. Jake groaned into your mouth, pulling back slightly, eyes flicking down to your hand.

“We don’t have to,” he said quietly.

You didn’t answer. Instead, you slid off your leggings, tossing them aside. Jake hesitated only a moment before following your lead, pushing down his boxers as you slipped out of your panties.

You swung a leg over his lap, settling on top of him with your hands resting on his shoulders.

Jake immediately understood, his hands finding your waist as he watched you take the lead. You reached down, wrapping your hand around his hard cock to guide him to your entrance, then slowly sank down onto him.

A low breath escaped Jake’s lips as you eased yourself all the way down, your bodies pressing flush together.

You started to move, slow, deliberate rolls of your hips. The bed gave a faint creak beneath you, and you kept your pace steady, mindful of every sound in the quiet house. Still, the feeling was incredible. Every slow rise and fall drew a shiver through you, every movement hitting just right. You bit your bottom lip, trying to keep the sounds from escaping.

Jake grinned, breathless.

“You’re being so quiet…”

“Shut up,” you gasped, hips still moving steadily against him.

He chuckled, clearly entertained. For a moment, he just watched you. Entranced before suddenly thrusting up to meet your rhythm. The impact drew a sharp gasp from you, the sound only spurring him on. His pace met yours again and again, the slap of skin louder than either of you intended.

“St—stop,” you whispered.

“Why?” he murmured with a smirk.

“Because you’re gonna make me—”

But the words died in your throat. Your eyes lifted, locking on something outside the window. A shadow. A figure. Standing perfectly still in the street, facing directly toward Jake’s room.

You shrieked, scrambling off his lap, heart racing.

“What?! Baby, what’s wrong?” Jake sat up fast, panic flashing in his eyes. “What happened?”

“Someone’s out there! Watching us! He—he—”

You couldn’t even finish. Jake turned immediately, tugging the blinds open just enough to peek through.

“There’s no one there,” he said after a moment.

“What?” You rushed to the window, pushing the blinds wider.

He was right. The street was empty. Silent. Still.

“No,” you said, voice trembling. “I swear, someone was standing by the light post. Facing the window. He was wearing a mask.”

Jake turned to you, brow furrowing.

“A mask?”

“Yes, Jake!” you insisted, voice rising. “I saw him!”

Jake wanted to believe you or at least, he told himself he did. But with everything that had happened, with Sydney and the tension of being back here, part of him wondered if your mind was just playing tricks on you. Still, he’d never say that out loud.

“Maybe it was some neighborhood kid messing around,” he offered gently.

“And that makes him looking into your window okay?!” you snapped.

“I didn’t say that,” he sighed. “I just think… maybe we should get some rest, yeah? We’ve been on the road all day. Come here.”

You hesitated but eventually moved closer, letting him pull you into his arms.

“Want me to close the blinds?” he asked softly.

“Yes.”

Jake reached over, twisting the handle until the blinds shut tight, the room falling into darkness.

“There,” he murmured, settling back and wrapping both arms around you. “Try to relax, huh? Big day tomorrow.”

You nodded quietly, taking a deep breath before resting your head against his chest, listening to the slow, steady beat of his heart until sleep took over both of you.

🎃🕸️── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──🕸️🎃

Taglist: @hailthegodsong , @sanguinebats , @josh-iamyour-mama , @missmirador , @writingcold , @theweightofjake , @joshylanefleet

[ageofjoshua]

The Mask: Masterpost

Y/n and Jake return to their hometown for a friend’s funeral, a place heavy with memories, old wounds resurfacing as Y/n recalls her complicated past with Josh. Amid a string of recent murders, the three attend a Halloween party and quickly find themselves caught in the crossfire, unsure who they can trust as danger closes in.

Late!Teen Jake Kiszka x Late!Teen Josh Kiszka x Fem!Reader

Warnings - 18+!!!, sexual content, violence, suspense, thriller, love triangle, romantic tension, mild gore, paranoia, mentions of death

(each chapter will contain their own warning list)

Disclaimer - this work is fiction. the events, and situations are product of imagination. this story contains violence, suspense, sexual content, and themes of betrayal. reader discretion is advised.

a/n - four part mini series for the spooky season while i continue to work on the epilogue for ‘gold taste bitter’ ! hope you enjoy!

Chapter List:

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four (Fin)

[ageofjoshua]

Gold does taste bitter…

👀

[ageofjoshua]

Gold Tastes Bitter: FINALE (FIN)

⋆༺𓆩☠︎︎𓆪༻⋆ ⋆༺𓆩☠︎︎𓆪༻⋆ ⋆༺𓆩☠︎︎𓆪༻⋆ ⋆༺𓆩☠︎︎𓆪༻⋆

Tension and fear rise as Y/n struggles with worry over Jake’s secretive work trip, leading to a heated confrontation and a mix of vulnerability, love, and frustration between them.

Jake Kiszka x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 7.4k

Warnings - 18+!!!, sexual content, unprotected sex, relationships tension, emotional conflict, strong language, vomiting scene(s), secrecy, implied criminal activity, suspense elements, anxiety.

Disclaimer - the characters, events, and dynamics depicted are entirely fictional and not meant to reflect healthy relationship standards and should not be romanticized as models for real-life relationships. please excuse any errors or misspelling. let me know of any missed warnings!!

a/n - thank you to everyone who showed this fanfic love! :’) i had such a blast writing it and seeing everyone’s reaction to it! bittersweet to see it come to an end … or is it? ;) hope you enjoy!! <3 the final chapter of ‘gold tastes bitter.’

Gold Tastes Bitter Masterpost

⋆༺𓆩☠︎︎𓆪༻⋆

When you woke, the space beside you on the couch was empty. The cushions still faintly indented where Jake had been, but the quiet pressed in, thick and unsettling. You shifted, curled against the armrest, eyes scanning the stillness of the penthouse.

He wouldn’t have left. Not yet. His flight wasn’t until tonight. He had to be here. Somewhere.

Your gaze drifted toward the hallway, toward the closed door of his office. A shiver ran through you before you could stop it. Just as the thought settled, footsteps sounded, pulling you back.

Jake emerged from the kitchen, a mug in his hand, steam curling up past his face. His eyes met yours, unreadable.

“You’re up.”

You only nodded.

He crossed the room, calm and deliberate, lowering himself onto the couch beside you. The mug landed on the coffee table with a quiet clink. His presence filled the space, grounding and suffocating all at once.

“How are you feeling?”

Your throat felt dry, words catching before they could form. Another small nod.

“Fine,” you managed at last, though even to your own ears, it sounded cautious.

“Good.” His smile was soft, reassuring. “I made us some breakfast. Think you can stomach a little?”

You nodded again, and Jake squeezed your hand before picking up his mug, gently leading you toward the kitchen.

The smell hit you first. Eggs, sausage, bacon. Everything cooked to perfection, plated neatly on the counter. It should have made your mouth water. Instead, your stomach twisted. The same crushing tightness from yesterday clawed up inside you, leaving you clammy and lightheaded.

“Oh no,” you whispered, breath hitching.

Jake’s brow furrowed instantly. “Baby? What’s wrong?”

You didn’t answer. In a blur, you pulled away, feet flying down the hall as bile rose in your throat. The bathroom door slammed against the wall as you fell to your knees at the toilet, retching.

Jake’s footsteps thundered behind you, a sharp curse leaving his lips before he crouched in the doorway. His face was tight, worry shadowed by something else he didn’t let show.

One thing settled heavy in his chest as he watched you: if this was how you unraveled over a simple business trip, then he could never ever let you know what he truly did for work.

Jake’s hand moved slowly over your back, steady and quiet, while the flush of the toilet drowned out the silence. Guilt gnawed at him, sharp and insistent. He never should have let things go beyond the arrangement. This, exactly this, was what he’d wanted to avoid. You didn’t know what he did for work, but still, somehow, you were being pulled into the orbit of it.

“You need to see a doctor.” His voice was firmer than he meant.

“I’m fine,” you muttered, pushing yourself up on shaky legs.

“You’re not fine.” He crossed his arms, watching closely as you rinsed your mouth at the sink. His tone sharpened, low but edged. “This is the second time. Either you’ve caught something, or…”

He stepped closer, the air between you heavy, his shadow pressing against your tense frame.

“You’re not telling me something.”

You exhaled sharply, brushing past him as you stepped out of the bathroom. Jake’s footsteps followed close behind, the air around him heating with his growing frustration.

“Y/n.” His voice was low, edged with warning.

You ignored him, your strides carrying you toward the living room.

“Hey!” His hand shot out, gripping your wrist and pulling you back to face him.

The look in his eyes burned. Anger laced with something almost pleading. Desperation. And you knew, deep down, that the way you were acting was only unraveling what the two of you had built. That you were feeding his doubt, making him question every choice that led to letting you this close.

But how could you explain it? How could you bring up the call without cracking open something far bigger than you were ready for?

“You’re right.” Your voice was barely above a whisper as you slipped your wrist free from his grasp. “I should go to the doctor.”

Jake’s eyes narrowed, following your movement like he couldn’t quite believe it. You were the one creating distance now. After you’d been the one to beg for closeness, for this. Anger twisted with something heavier in his chest, a weight he didn’t know how to carry.

“The hell you will.” He cut across the space in two strides, catching your wrist again with a grip that left no room for escape. His voice was sharp, edged with something raw. “You’re hiding something. You’re worried.”

You opened your mouth to deny it, but the words caught in your throat. He saw right through you, like he always did. And you hated that he was right.

“I am.”

His jaw tightened, every muscle in his face hard as stone.

“What about.”

“About your trip. About what you’re really leaving the city for.”

Jake let out a harsh breath, his grip tightening as he yanked you closer.

“You think I’m cheating?”

“No.” The word shot out instantly, almost colliding with his accusation. Too quick. Too desperate.

“Then what?”

Your chest rose and fell, heart pounding. “About you not needing backup. About handling things yourself.”

His eyes snapped wider. Not in shock, but in fury. The realization cut clean through him. In that instant, it was clear. You’d heard him. You’d been listening when you weren’t supposed to.

Jake dropped your wrist and turned away, dragging a hand down his face in frustration.

“Please,” you stepped toward him, voice breaking. “Just tell me something. Anything to ease my mind.”

“There’s nothing to ease,” he snapped without looking back. “I told you before. My work is my work. I don’t need you in it, and I don’t want you in it.”

You moved quickly, circling around until you were standing in front of him, forcing him to see you.

“So that’s it? That’s all you’re giving me? A wall? I’m just supposed to swallow that and magically feel better?”

“Yes.” His answer was flat. Final.

“Well, I don’t.”

His jaw tensed. “Why not?”

“Because it’s not good enough, Jake!” you exploded, your voice trembling as much from fear as anger. “It’s not good enough!”

Jake’s gaze locked on you, unblinking, unreadable.

“It’s not good enough,” you repeated, your voice trembling as your head shook. “I’m worried, Jake. I’m scared. Not for me, for you.”

“I’ll be fine. This is my job. It’s what I do best.”

“Then tell me!” the words tore out of you, louder than you meant. “Tell me what it is you actually do so I’m not-“ your chest heaved, your throat tightening, “so I’m not making myself sick over it!”

His expression hardened. “You need to relax.”

“No.” You stepped in closer, refusing to back down. “What I need is for my boyfriend to actually trust me when I say I’m not going to run the second I find out what he does for a living. I mean, fuck, Jake! What is it? Do you work for the FBI? The CIA? Or something worse?”

“It’s not about that!” Jake’s voice cracked like a whip, the sudden shout rattling the air between you.

You flinched, your breath catching as he stepped toward you, frustration etched into every line of his face.

“You think I want to keep this a secret from you? From everyone who gets even a little too close to me?” His voice dropped lower, rougher, the words gritted through his teeth as he closed the distance.

“Y/n,” his chest rose and fell hard, eyes locking onto yours, “I love you.”

The words punched the air from your lungs, a gasp escaping before you could stop it.

“I love you,” he repeated, more certain this time. His hand found yours, strong but trembling with restraint. “And that’s exactly why I can’t tell you. Because the second I do… you’re not safe anymore. You have to trust me, baby. Please.”

You held his gaze, searching, desperate. You wanted to believe him. Hell, you did believe him, but the weight of not knowing was eating you alive. That call wouldn’t leave your head. And how could he blame you? He hadn’t given you a single thing to hold on to. Not even a sliver of truth. Every word he’d spoken since had only carved the worry deeper.

“Say something, baby…” His voice cracked, pleading.

“I love you too,” you whispered, your chest tight. “But-”

“No. Y/n, please… don’t.”

“Jake.” You lifted your hands, cupping his face, forcing him to see you. “I love you. I do. But I can’t shake what I heard. You have to understand where I’m coming from. You’re giving me nothing. And I know you say it’s to protect me, but-” your breath faltered, breaking. “But it doesn’t erase it. It doesn’t stop the fear.”

Jake’s hands tightened on your waist, pulling you into a kiss that lingered. Slow, desperate, almost pleading. When your lips finally broke apart, his forehead pressed to yours.

“Please,” he whispered, voice cracking. “Please just trust me on this. I can’t lose you, Y/n. I can’t.”

Your chest ached. You brushed a soft kiss against his cheek, but your sigh gave you away.

“I think I need to go.”

His grip immediately tightened, panic flashing in his eyes. “What? No. Don’t say that.”

“Yes, baby.” Your voice was gentle but firm. “I just… I need to be alone for a little while.”

“But I leave tonight,” he rasped, his voice trembling like it might shatter.

“I know.” You nodded, your thumb stroking across his jaw as you tried to soothe him. “I know. I’ll come back later, okay? I just… I need space right now.”

Jake didn’t argue. Didn’t beg again. He just stared at you, hollow and hurting, before giving the smallest nod.

“I love you,” he murmured, almost broken.

Tears stung your eyes as you pulled him into your arms, holding him as tightly as you could.

“I love you too, baby,” you whispered against his ear, even as the weight of your words pressed like stone in your chest.

And then you left.

Back home at last, though the walls of your apartment felt almost foreign now, like you’d stepped into someone else’s life. The silence pressed in, heavy, but you needed this. Space. Distance. A chance to breathe, to unravel, to quiet the storm in your chest.

In your bedroom, your eyes caught on the stack of expensive gifts piled neatly in the corner. Remnants of what it used to be between you and Jake. Casual, transactional, simple. Before everything blurred into something deeper, something harder to control.

You sat on the edge of the bed, your mind spinning. Had you made the right choice? What if, that night at Ascent Lounge, you hadn’t taken the ride home? What if you’d told him to get lost? Would fate still have pulled him back into your orbit? Or would you be living an entirely different life, untouched by him, untouched by this weight?

But dwelling on what ifs wouldn’t change anything.

You loved him. You wanted forever with him. You wanted mornings and nights and all the messy in-between. So why couldn’t you let go of the secrecy, the questions about his work?

Because it was easier. Easier to chase the shadows of what you didn’t know than to face the truth of what might already be unraveling between you.

You didn’t want to face it. Not now. Not with everything else weighing on you. But avoiding it wouldn’t make it disappear, and you knew that. So, with a heavy sigh, you pushed yourself up, bracing for what you could no longer ignore.

As the morning dragged on, Jake’s nerves frayed.

Midnight loomed closer, and still, nothing from you. Not a call, not a text. He’d hoped to spend the day with you before he left, but as the hours slipped away, so did that hope.

He drifted from room to room, eventually sinking into the couch, replaying your conversation over and over. Should he have told you the truth? Would it have eased your fears, or only torn things further apart?

The questions gnawed at him until frustration simmered. He couldn’t win. No matter the choice, it felt wrong. Maybe it was for the best that you’d walked out, giving him space to curse himself in peace, to search for an answer in the silence.

But the longer that silence stretched, the less certain he became that an answer even existed.

He was caught in the same storm you were. Uncertainty, doubt, the weight of unspoken words. But unlike him, you finally had an answer. It had settled in you quietly, immovable, impossible to ignore.

Now the only question was what to do with it. Should you wait until he returned? Should you tell him before he left?

Would that be fair to him?

Scenarios tangled in your head, each one unraveling as quickly as it came. None of them were steady. None of them promised certainty. All you knew was that no matter how you turned it over, the truth wasn’t going away.

You glanced at the clock. Nearly six.

Midnight still lingered ahead, a thin stretch of hours you could use. Hours to decide if you’d tell him now, or wait. Either way, there was still time to see him before he left.

So you called for a ride.

The drive crawled by in silence, though inside your head it was anything but quiet. Thoughts pressed in on you, restless and loud, refusing to let you breathe.

Jake sat slumped on the couch, the TV flickering aimlessly in front of him. He wasn’t watching, hadn’t been for hours. His mind had been circling the same problem, searching for some way to ease your worry. But what good were the answers if you weren’t coming back? If he wasn’t going to see you before he left?

By now, he’d given up hope. Six o’clock, and still no sign of you.

He was about to sink deeper into his own bitterness when a knock broke through the silence. His head snapped up. Without hesitation, without even checking the peephole, he rushed to the door.

And when it swung open, there you were.

Relief washed over him so hard it almost knocked the breath from his lungs. He didn’t say a word. He just pulled you into his arms, holding you tight. You melted into him, arms wrapping back around his frame.

Jake didn’t loosen his hold. Instead, he slipped an arm securely around your waist and guided you inside, settling with you onto the couch. He pulled you onto his lap like he couldn’t stand the distance, and you instinctively wound your arms around his neck, clinging just as tightly.

“Feeling any better?” he asked quietly.

He already knew the answer. The worry in your eyes hadn’t vanished but the fact that you’d come back, that you were here, pressed against him, gave him a flicker of hope.

“Yeah,” you whispered, though nerves tinged your voice. “Actually, um… that’s what I-“

“Wait.” His hand tightened at your waist, halting your words. “Before you say anything… let me try to ease your mind.”

You nodded, letting him continue.

“Okay.” He exhaled, as though steadying himself. “I know I can’t text or call while I’m gone, not while I’m working. But after, I’ll call you. Hell, I’ll FaceTime you, every night, for the three days I’m away. And maybe I can even….”

His words began to blur, fading into the background as you studied him. The sincerity in his eyes. The way he was grasping at promises, at solutions, all for you. Your chest ached, heart fluttering at the realization. While you had been pulling away, he had been here, quietly trying to find ways to hold you closer.

It made you fall for him all over again. Sitting here, hearing the effort in his voice, seeing the way he was trying, it made what you had to tell him feel a little less terrifying.

“So?” he asked, searching your face. “What do you think?”

You smiled softly, your hand brushing against his cheek.

“I like it,” you nodded. “I really do. It’ll… it’ll help ease my worry about you.”

Relief flickered across Jake’s features, and he gave you a small smile in return.

“Yeah? So you’re not mad anymore?”

You let out a breath, shaking your head gently.

“I was never mad at you,” you admitted. “I’m sorry I pulled away, that I freaked out. I know you’re just trying to keep me safe. You’re… being a good boyfriend. I shouldn’t have pressed so hard.”

“Hey. None of that,” Jake said firmly, shaking his head. “I get it. I do. Why you want answers. But believe me, it’s better if you don’t know. It keeps you safe, and that’s all that matters to me.”

Your chest tightened, but not with fear, your heart fluttered, warmth spreading through you at the way he said it.

Jake noticed immediately, a grin tugging at his lips.

His hand slid down your side, pausing at your waist with a gentle squeeze.

“Come on,” he murmured. “Let’s go upstairs.”

You rose from his lap, letting him lace his fingers through yours. He led you toward the stairs, step by step, the air shifting as you followed. The worry was still there, faint and lingering, but something else pressed in now. Heavier, deeper. Final, in a way.

In his room, Jake sat at the center of the bed and guided you between his legs, his eyes never leaving yours.

“I love you,” he said quietly.

Your arms looped around his neck, steadying yourself against him.

“I love you too.”

And before the words could fade, he pulled you in, his lips capturing yours in a slow, certain kiss.

It didn’t take long before his hand slid down to your thigh, guiding you back onto his lap. His touch lingered, firm but gentle, drifting until it curved over the swell of your ass. The kiss deepened, slow and deliberate, every movement carrying weight like he was trying to show you everything he couldn’t say out loud. There was no urgency, no desperate need to strip away layers for the sake of release. It was about feeling, about remembering. About holding on.

When you finally broke the kiss to catch your breath, you rested your forehead against his, breathing him in. Your fingers slipped from the back of his neck to the hem of your shirt, tugging it up and over your head. Jake followed, mirroring you, his eyes never leaving yours.

You pressed one last, lingering kiss to his lips before slipping off his lap, crawling toward the center of the bed. Jake’s gaze followed you, heavy and unblinking, as you shed the rest of your clothes at a slow, steady pace until you were bare against his sheets.

He rose from the edge of the bed, tugging his sweats and boxers down in one fluid motion before climbing over to you. You sank back into the mattress, lying flat, your legs parting in silent invitation as he moved closer.

Jake lowered himself over you carefully, as though you were something fragile he was afraid to break. His hands slid along your sides, thumbs brushing over your skin like he was memorizing every inch. He leaned down to kiss you again, this time slower, deeper, pouring every unsaid word, every ounce of fear and love, into the press of his lips.

Your arms wrapped around his shoulders, holding him close, grounding yourself in the warmth of his body. There was no rush, no urgency the way there sometimes was between you two. Tonight, it was different. Tonight, it felt like he wanted to remind you, to show you, gently, that his heart was yours.

When his lips finally left yours, his gaze dropped for just a moment as he took himself in hand, guiding to your entrance with unhurried care. Then his eyes returned to you, searching, waiting for your permission without a word.

You squeezed his shoulder, a small nod following, and that was enough. Slowly, carefully, he began to press into you.

A soft breath slipped from your lips, his own echoing yours as he sank deeper. The familiar warmth of him filled you, yet it still felt new each time. Something you both knew you’d never grow tired of.

Once he was fully nestled inside you, he didn’t move right away. Instead, he stilled, savoring the moment, his forehead brushing yours as he leaned in for another slow kiss. He breathed you in, holding you close, as if the very act of being inside you, warm, safe, connected was enough all on its own.

The kiss lingered, soft and unhurried, before he finally pulled back just enough to look at you. His thumb brushed along your cheek as though grounding himself in the sight of you. Then, with a slow exhale, he began to move. Gentle, steady, savoring every inch like he had all the time in the world.

Each thrust was deliberate, not rushed or frantic the way it sometimes was between you, but deep, slow, and filled with something heavier. Something that felt like a promise. His hand slid up your side, resting over your ribs, before his hand found yours, fingers lacing together as if anchoring you to him.

Your body responded instinctively, hips lifting to meet his in that same measured rhythm. The quiet room filled only with the sound of your mingled breaths, the soft creak of the mattress, the little murmurs that slipped out without thought.

It was love, written in the way he touched you. The way his eyes never left yours. The way he moved inside you as if he wanted to memorize the shape of your body, the feel of your heartbeat against his chest, the way you clung to him.

The world outside, the trip, the secrecy, the worry, faded. Right here, in this moment, there was only him. Only you. Only the steady rhythm of two people who couldn’t bear the thought of letting go.

His hand slid up your side again, fingertips grazing the curve of your waist before settling against your breast. The warmth of his palm, the steady pressure of his body over yours, it all blended together, a reminder of how close he wanted to be, how close he needed to be.

“God…” he whispered, though it came out broken, almost like a prayer. He kissed you again before you could answer, swallowing the sound of your own soft gasp as he pressed deeper.

Your legs wrapped tighter around him, urging him closer, urging him to stay. And he did. Every slow thrust accompanied by the weight of his body pressing you into the mattress, his chest rising and falling against yours in time with your own quickening breath.

The world narrowed to just this: his body inside yours, the heat curling between you, the love unspoken but written in every glance, every touch.

Jake didn’t rush you, didn’t push for more. Instead, he lingered, savoring the way you clenched around him, the way your lips parted beneath his, the way your nails grazed the back of his neck when the waves of pleasure began to build.

He pulled back just enough to look at you again. His eyes burned into yours, so full it almost hurt. “I love you,” he whispered, voice ragged.

And as your body tightened around him, shivers rippling through you in waves you couldn’t stop, you whispered it back, words tumbling out between gasps as the world blurred around you.

“I love you.”

Jake held you through it, slowing his rhythm but never pulling away, kissing your jaw, your cheek, the corner of your mouth as though grounding you through every shudder. And when he finally let himself go, his body tensing against yours, it was with a groan muffled into your shoulder, his arms tightening around you like he couldn’t bear the thought of ever letting you go.

He stayed there, buried deep inside you, breathing hard, lips pressed to your skin. Neither of you moved for a long while. The moment stretched on, tender and unbroken, until the only thing that existed was the warmth of his body against yours and the steady beat of his heart, matching your own.

“Baby?”

“Mhm?” you murmured against his chest.

“I should start getting ready…”

A groan slipped from your lips as you burrowed closer, clinging to him like if you held tight enough, time might stop. Jake chuckled quietly, pressing a tender kiss to the crown of your head.

“I know,” he whispered. “I don’t want to go either. But my flight’s coming up soon.”

You let out a long sigh and reluctantly pushed yourself upright.

“Hey,” he murmured, looping an arm around your waist to pull you back down against him. He pressed a kiss just above your breast, lingering there. “Don’t look at me like that. I’ll call every day. Promise.”

You nodded, slowly, even if your chest ached at the thought.

“Wanna stay here tonight?”

“Can I?”

Jake nodded without hesitation, sitting up to grab his shirt from the floor and tossing it to you.

“Of course.” He stood and crossed to his drawer, pulling out fresh clothes. Before heading to the bathroom, he glanced back at you with a crooked smirk. “Shower with me?”

A soft laugh escaped you as you slipped into his shirt, the fabric falling comfortably over your frame.

“If I did, you’d miss your flight.”

Jake groaned dramatically, running a hand through his hair. “You’re probably right.” With one last look at you, he disappeared into the bathroom.

“Oh, wait.” Jake paused at the bathroom door, glancing back at you. “You wanted to tell me something, didn’t you?”

Your head tilted. “What?”

“Before we came upstairs. You started to say something.”

Oh. Right. You had. The thought slipped your mind in the haze of everything that followed. And now, with his flight only hours away, maybe this wasn’t the moment. Maybe it shouldn’t be.

“Oh. Um … it was nothing,” you said quickly, shaking your head. “Just … that I’m still a little worried. But the FaceTimes will help.”

Jake studied you for a beat, then nodded, seemingly satisfied, before disappearing into the bathroom.

The second the door clicked shut, you let out a quiet sigh of relief.

It wasn’t lying, not really. You’d tell him. You’d tell him the moment he came home, when things were steady, when he was safe. But not now. Not right before goodbye. Some things were too big to carry into the silence of a trip.

By nine o’clock, Jake was dressed and ready, his bag by the door.

The two of you sat together on the couch, waiting for his ride. The silence was heavy. Not sharp with worry anymore, but thick with the kind of sadness that came from knowing goodbye was minutes away.

“I could’ve driven you,” you murmured, your voice quiet against his chest.

Jake shook his head, tightening the arm wrapped around your waist as you sat perched on his lap. “And make this harder than it already is?”

You let out a soft, broken chuckle.

“Hey.” He tipped your chin up gently so you had to meet his eyes. “I mean it. Every day. As soon as I’m done.”

You nodded, melting back against him, resting in his lap as though you could keep him there just a little longer.

Jake’s chest rumbled with a low chuckle, his hand smoothing up and down your back in slow, grounding strokes.

“My baby.”

He pressed a gentle kiss to the top of your head, keeping you tucked against him until the buzz of his phone in his pocket signaled what you were both dreading.

“That’s my ride.”

You tried to hide your pout, forcing a brave smile as you slipped off his lap. Together, you walked to the door where his bag waited, the weight of goodbye pressing heavier with every step. Your throat burned, tears threatening as you whispered, “Have a safe trip, okay?”

Jake gave a steady nod. “Always.”

His gaze lingered on you, reading you too well.

“Hey,” he murmured, pulling you into his chest, arms tightening around you. “No crying, baby.”

The dam broke anyway, a quiet sob slipping out as you clung to him.

“Three days,” he promised softly, brushing a hand over your hair. “Three days will fly by. I swear.”

You looked up at him with teary eyes, sniffling.

“I love you.”

Your voice cracked, and his chest tightened.

“I love you too,” he murmured back, kissing you softly. The kind of kiss that begged for more time. He held you close as if staying there long enough might change the fact that he had to go. But it couldn’t.

When you finally pulled apart, Jake’s hand lingered, squeezing your arm gently before slipping down to lace his fingers with yours.

You trailed behind him to the door, stepping out into the cool night where his ride waited. He passed his duffle to the driver, but before climbing in, he turned back to you, eyes soft, unwilling to let this be rushed.

“I’ll call you tomorrow, okay?”

You nodded, swallowing the ache in your throat.

“I’ll see you soon.”

Soon couldn’t come fast enough.

The first morning, you woke in his bed alone, the sheets cold where he should’ve been. The hours dragged, each one heavier than the last as you waited for his call. The silence felt cruel, almost torturous, and the brief comfort you’d clung to before he left was gone. Swallowed by the same sharp worry clawing back in. It got so bad you caught yourself thinking about going into his office.

But around five, your phone finally rang.

And there he was.

“Hi, baby.”

You let out a sigh of relief, sinking deeper into the couch as if just hearing his voice lifted a weight off your chest.

“Hey,” you breathed. “Hi. How’s your day been?”

“Busy,” he exhaled, the sound heavy. “But I don’t wanna talk about me. How are you? You’re not missing me too much, are you?” He smirks.

You chuckled, a little sheepishly because the truth was, you had been. Badly. But no way he was moping around, missing you as much as you missed him… right?

“I’m managing.”

His laugh was soft, warm.

“I, uh … I’m actually still at your place. Hope that’s okay.”

“Yeah,” he said without hesitation. “That’s more than fine.”

You smiled softly.

“Tell me about your day.”

The two of you fell into easy conversation, talking until the hours slipped away. When you tried to insist on hanging up so he could rest, Jake only shook his head, promising he wasn’t tired. That he’d rather spend the night hearing your voice than sleeping. So you kept talking until your words grew slow, your eyes heavy, and eventually you drifted off right there on FaceTime.

Jake’s chest warmed as he watched you curled up on his couch back home, your breathing steady, your features softened in sleep. It was endearing. Adorable, even seeing you so at ease in his space. Any quiet doubt he carried about whether things were moving too fast dissolved as he looked at you through the screen. If anything, it only made him more certain.

Around one in the morning, he finally ended the call, still smiling faintly to himself before sleep pulled him under too.

The next day, you were able to leave his house without worry. Just for a few minutes. You went to the store to pick up a few things before returning to his home, waiting for his call yet again.

As you waited, there was a knock at his door. You frowned, confused but made your way over. You opened the door to find nobody. Just a beautiful bouquet of flowers at his doorstep.

You smiled to yourself as you bent over to pick them up and bring them inside.

“Until I’m home, let these flowers keep you company for me.”

You smiled faintly as you reread the card he’d sent with the flowers.

Day two. Already. You didn’t know why your chest felt so heavy when he’d promised it would go by fast, but it did. Yesterday, he’d called at the same time as the first night. Like clockwork. But today… silence.

You: Hey. You’re still calling, right?

Sent at five thirty.

No reply.

You: Jake? Busy? Hello?

Sent at six.

Still nothing.

The hours dragged. Each one marked by another message from you, each one swallowed by the same empty quiet.

Miles away, Jake sat with his phone in his hand, your name lighting up the screen. He wanted to answer. Wanted to tell you he was fine, that he was just busy. But he couldn’t. Not yet.

“Where the hell is he?” Jake snapped, shoving his phone back into his pocket, the weight of it heavy against his thigh. “You said you had eyes on him.”

“We did. Landon should’ve been here with him by now.”

Jake’s jaw flexed as he let out a sharp breath, pacing across the room. This was supposed to be over yesterday. Two days, fine. But now it was dragging into three, and he was already calculating what that meant for him. More time. More waiting. More problems.

Nearly two hours had crawled by, every minute testing his restraint. He could feel the anger stirring in his chest, but he forced it down. He needed his head clear.

Finally, the door swung open. Landon rushed in. Alone.

Jake froze, his gaze sharpening. “Where is he?”

Landon stumbled in, still catching his breath. “He’s gone.”

Jake’s head snapped up. “What?”

“We went to bring him in, but…he wasn’t there.”

A slow burn lit in Jake’s chest, his jaw tightening before he grabbed Landon by the front of his shirt, dragging him close. “And it never occurred to you that one of you should’ve stayed? Kept eyes on him?” His voice cut like a blade, low but furious.

He shoved Landon back, scrubbing a hand down his face as he fought to rein himself in.

“He left this…” Landon muttered, pulling a folded scrap of paper from his pocket.

Jake snatched it, his eyes flicking over the words. Something shifted in his expression. Jake’s eyes darkened the second he finished reading. The paper crumpled in his fist before he hurled it across the room, the sharp smack against the wall making Landon flinch.

Without another word, Jake grabbed his jacket from the chair and started for the door with quick, clipped steps.

“Where the hell are you going?”

He didn’t answer. He couldn’t.

His stride was fast, purposeful. He didn’t care about the looks his partners gave him, whatever was happening here could wait. There was only one thought pounding through his head now, louder than his anger, louder than his fear:

He had to get home. To you.

His worst fear clawed its way to the surface. He didn’t stop for his bag, didn’t glance back at the hotel.

No.

He was already behind the wheel, foot pressing hard on the gas as he tore through the streets, headed straight for the airport.

The next morning crept in slower than you wanted it to. You woke up in his bed again, the sheets carrying his scent, the pillow beside you still untouched. For a moment, you just stared at the ceiling, letting yourself imagine the sound of his footsteps in the hallway, the weight of the mattress dipping when he climbed in beside you.

He still hadn’t called. Not since two nights ago. The ache of that silence pressed heavy against your chest, but you tried to fight it back. He promised. He promised he’d be back today, and Jake never broke his word. So instead of pacing the house like you did yesterday, you decided to keep yourself busy.

You showered. Dressed. Even tidied up the living room where the blanket you’d used to fall asleep on FaceTime with him still lay crumpled. Each small task felt like a way to keep the worry from settling too deep. If you stayed moving, if you stayed distracted, then the knot in your stomach wouldn’t have the chance to tighten.

By noon, you found yourself in the kitchen, standing in front of the counter. You placed something down carefully, making sure it was centered, not crooked, exactly where he’d see it the second he walked in. Just a “small” surprise. Something you’d thought about long and hard, and finally found the courage to set out.

You stepped back, tilted your head, then adjusted it just a little more.

Perfect.

The air around you still buzzed with nerves. It wasn’t just about him being gone anymore, it was about this. About what you’d placed on that counter, waiting. You chewed your lip, anxiety and excitement mixing together in a way that made it hard to sit still.

So you moved again. You turned on music, soft in the background. You made tea. You even sat at the kitchen table to flip through a book, though your eyes skimmed the same sentence over and over without really taking it in. Every tick of the clock sounded louder, heavier, pulling you closer to the moment the door would finally open.

You kept glancing at the counter. At the surprise waiting there for him. Your heart fluttered nervously each time, but you forced yourself to breathe. He’d be home soon. He’d see it. And everything would change.

For the first time since he left, a small smile tugged at your lips. The worry wasn’t gone, not entirely, but hope was there too. A fragile kind of hope. One that kept you from unraveling.

The sound of the door swinging open jolted you, your heart leaping into your throat. You rose quickly, legs unsteady, only to see Jake standing there, his expression wild, shoulders tense.

“Ja—”

“We have to go.” His voice was clipped, leaving no room for questions.

Your brows knit. “What?”

But he was already shutting the door behind him, crossing the space in long, determined strides. His hand found yours, firm and unyielding, tugging you toward the stairs.

“Now. We have to go. Right now.”

“Where? Why? What’s going on?”

You yanked your hand free, your voice rising as Jake disappeared up the stairs. Heavy footsteps and the sound of drawers opening thudded overhead, your eyes flicking anxiously toward the counter before he reappeared.

His jaw was tight, a bag slung over his shoulder.

“Let’s go.”

“Jake,” you said again, as if your voice could reach him through the storm cloud swirling around him. “What’s going on? You’re scaring me.”

He glanced at you, his eyes momentarily flickering with something. Guilt, maybe. But it was gone before you could even process it. His gaze hardened again, his posture a wall of stone.

“We don’t have time for this. You need to trust me,” he said, his voice sharp but tinged with urgency.

“Trust you?” You felt a bitter laugh rise in your throat, the words bitter as they left your mouth. “Jake, you’re asking me to just, what? Follow you? Without even telling me what’s going on?”

He didn’t answer, and you hated him a little for that. For making you feel like this. You clenched your fists at your sides, trying to keep the trembling in your legs at bay.

“Please, Jake. Just, just tell me what’s going on.”

“We don’t have time, Y/n! We need to go!” Jake’s hand shot out, grabbing your wrist with a fierce urgency.

“No,” you said firmly, yanking your arm out of his grasp. You stood your ground, unflinching, your gaze locked onto his. “I’m not moving until you tell me what the hell is going on.”

His eyes flashed with disbelief. He couldn’t believe you were doing this now. Standing here, demanding answers, when the clock was ticking. You two had to leave. It was no longer a choice, it was survival.

For a split second, Jake opened his mouth to argue, but his eyes fell to the counter. His breath caught in his throat, and you could see the shift in his expression, panic creeping in where there had been only urgency moments before. He looked back at you, a flicker of something dark crossing his face.

“Oh my God… are you…” His voice faltered, and he trailed off, unable to finish the sentence. His grip on your wrist tightened, his pulse quickening. “We have to go NOW, Y/n.”

“No. No. Not until you tell me. What’s happening? Where are we going?” Your voice shook, but you held your ground, heart pounding in your chest. “You’re scaring me.”

“Y/n, listen to me, we don’t have time for this-” Jake started again, his tone desperate.

But you weren’t backing down this time. “Either you tell me, or… or we’re over, Jake.”

The words felt like they cut through the air, heavy and final. You had never said anything like that before, but you couldn’t take it anymore. Not this silence, not this secrecy. If he wasn’t going to be honest with you, then what was the point?

Jake froze. His eyes searched yours for a moment, like he was weighing something inside. The tension between you two was thick, and for a moment, the world outside seemed to disappear.

Jake’s gaze held yours for what felt like an eternity. His breath was shallow, eyes flicking between your face and the door.

Everything about this moment felt wrong. The silence between you two wasn’t just a gap of words. It was a chasm, a place where everything he’d been hiding from you, everything he’d kept buried, threatened to break through.

He could feel the truth gnawing at him, but what would it cost? Telling you now, when the danger was real, when it was this close would only drag you further into a world you didn’t belong in. A world that would tear you apart the second you knew too much.

Should I tell her? The thought slammed into his mind, and he flinched. Tell you the truth. Let you in. Show you what you are.

But then, the harsh reality hit him again. If he told you, there was no turning back. You’d never look at him the same. You’d never trust him the same. The weight of your safety, of your life rested in that one decision, that one word.

He swallowed hard, trying to think past the panic, but every option felt like a dead end. His fingers tightened around your wrist but you refused to move.

“Y/n … please.”

But the moment hung there, suspended in time. The world felt like it had narrowed to this single moment, this single breath. The tension between you two grew unbearable.

His hand still gripped yours, his face a mask of resolve and hesitation. He stepped closer, just a fraction, as if moving in closer would give him the courage to speak. But his lips were still sealed. His eyes darkened. And in that moment, you almost thought you saw fear flash across his face.

And then, the room was still. The air heavy with what was unsaid. His chest rose and fell with every breath.

You stared at each other, your heart pounding so loudly you thought he could hear it. The seconds stretched on.

The world felt like it was holding its breath.

But then, a flicker in his eyes. A shift. Was it regret? Was it something else?

But before you could make sense of it, his gaze hardened, and he stepped back. Just a step, but it was enough.

Neither of you spoke. But your words still hung in the air, heavy and unspoken. All you could do was stand there.

And Wait.

⋆༺𓆩☠︎︎𓆪༻⋆

Taglist: @hailthegodsong , @sanguinebats , @josh-iamyour-mama , @missmirador , @writingcold , @theweightofjake , @joshylanefleet

[ageofjoshua]

Gold Tastes Bitter FINALE sneak peek …

See you tomorrow for the end …! 🥹💙

?

[ageofjoshua]

Gold Tastes Bitter: Finale (Part One)

⋆༺𓆩☠︎︎𓆪༻⋆ ⋆༺𓆩☠︎︎𓆪༻⋆ ⋆༺𓆩☠︎︎𓆪༻⋆ ⋆༺𓆩☠︎︎𓆪༻⋆

Life with Jake has grown comfortable and intoxicating, but cracks begin to show when his secrecy creeps in. After overhearing a tense, cryptic phone call, you’re left unsettled and suspicious. Despite moments of intimacy and tenderness, the weight of that call lingers, leaving you torn between wanting to believe him and fearing the truth he won’t share.

Jake Kiszka x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 4.6k

Warning - 18+!!!, sexual content, rough sex, oral, penetrative sex, fingering, unprotected sex, power dynamics, possessiveness, secrecy, implied criminal activity, emotion tension, doubt, vomiting scene, boundaries

Disclaimer - the characters, events, and dynamics depicted are entirely fictional and not meant to reflect healthy relationship standards and should not be romanticized as models for real-life relationships. please excuse any errors or misspelling. let me know of any missed warnings!!

Gold Tastes Bitter Masterpost

⋆༺𓆩☠︎︎𓆪༻⋆

Life with Jake had settled into something that felt almost dreamlike. Days blurred together in a rhythm that was easy, warm, and quietly intoxicating. He wasn’t always the most open, you could tell that much, there were moments when his guard would slip back into place, when you could feel him retreat behind some invisible wall. But you never pushed too hard. Instead, you found small ways to ease his worries, to remind him you weren’t going anywhere. Gentle words, patient conversations, the steady reassurance that you were in this with him.

And Jake, hesitant as he was, was trying. You could see it in the way he reached for your hand without thinking, in the rare moments he let his eyes soften, in the effort he made to keep showing up for you even when something heavy weighed on his mind. He wasn’t perfect, but he was doing his best, and that was enough.

“Jake?” you called softly as you stepped inside his house.

By now, it had almost become second nature. Arriving around noon, slipping into his space as if it were your own, and staying until the next day. You practically lived here, though you weren’t about to press that truth on him just yet. Not when he still carried that careful hesitation in his eyes.

“Babe?” you tried again, setting your phone and wallet down on the entryway table before moving deeper inside, scanning the rooms as you went in search of him.

“Jake?” you called again, stepping further inside, your voice carrying faintly through the quiet of the house.

Normally, by this time, he’d already be there, waiting for you in the kitchen with that sly little grin, or stretched across the couch like he had all the time in the world. Today though, the house greeted you only with silence.

You slipped off your shoes, padding into the living room. Empty. The throw blanket was still crumpled on the couch where you’d left it last night, but no Jake.

Your brows furrowed as you crossed into the kitchen. His jacket wasn’t on the chair, and there was no half-finished cup of coffee sitting on the counter like there usually was. The stillness pressed down on you, a strange weight, making you pause for a moment to listen.

Nothing.

You moved down the hallway, the air cooler here, shadows pooling in the corners. You stopped by the closed office door, your hand hesitating on the knob. Sometimes he disappeared in here for hours, the door shut tight as if keeping secrets. You considered knocking, but the quiet felt different this time, heavier. You left it alone.

“Jake?” your voice dropped, more cautious now.

Just as your hand closed around the doorknob, a voice cut through the silence behind you.

“Y/n.”

You startled, spinning to see Jake standing there, his presence filling the hallway like a shadow.

“God, you scared me,” you breathed, pressing a hand to your chest. “I was looking for you.”

His expression was unreadable, jaw tight. “I told you the office is off-limits.”

You hesitated, nodding slowly, the sting of his words settling between you. “I know, I just… you weren’t answering me. I thought maybe—”

His hands slid around your waist, firm but steady, drawing you in until you could feel the tension in his body.

“I wasn’t going to go in there,” you whispered, barely audible against the thick air between you.

Jake gave the smallest nod, a grin tugging faintly at his lips, though his eyes held something darker.

The silence wrapped around you both, heavy, almost oppressive. You knew better than to cross that line. His office had been the one boundary he’d set when everything between you changed. Still, the pull of curiosity was always there, lingering like a shadow in the back of your mind. From the moment he first offered the arrangement, you’d wondered what secrets he lived when it came to his job. But you never pressed. You wouldn’t dare.

“Come on.”

Jake’s fingers laced through yours, his grip steady as he pulled you gently away from the door. You let him guide you, though your gaze clung stubbornly to the office until the hallway turned and it disappeared from sight.

In the living room, he dropped onto the couch first, the weight of him sinking into the cushions like he carried something heavier than himself. A quiet exhale left him before his hands tugged you into his lap, your body fitting against his as though this had become second nature.

“I need to talk to you about something.” His voice was low, rough around the edges.

You nodded, heart tightening as you waited, every nerve in you braced for whatever came next.

“I’ve got some business to take care of,” Jake finally said, his tone careful, almost rehearsed. “Out of the city. Just a few days.”

Your brows lifted before you could stop yourself.

“How long?”

“Three days,” he answered quickly, smoothing it over with a small touch, his fingers brushing a loose strand of hair behind your ear like it was the most natural thing in the world. “I’ll be back before you even realize I’m gone.”

You gave a slow nod, though your stomach felt tight.

“Hey,” Jake murmured, tilting your chin so your eyes were locked on his. His palm pressed against your cheek, steady and warm. “It’s nothing. Quick in and out. Then I’m back here, with you. No need to carry it in your head, alright?”

You wanted to believe him. To take his reassurance and hold onto it like an anchor. But this would be the first time since things between you and Jake shifted that you wouldn’t see him, wouldn’t curl up beside him at night or wake up tangled in his sheets. The thought left a hollow little ache in your chest. You felt needy, almost embarrassed by how much the idea of three days without him unsettled you. Still, you couldn’t shake it.

The following afternoon, Jake was upstairs in his room, packing a small duffel bag for his trip. You’d stayed the night again, moving around his kitchen with practiced ease as you put together a light snack before dinner.

“Jake!” you called out, raising your voice just enough to carry through the wide halls. “Want me to cut you up some mango?”

Silence.

You frowned, setting the knife down on the counter. Of course, with how massive his penthouse was, it wasn’t unusual not to hear each other right away. Still, the quiet felt heavier than usual.

With a sigh, you started toward the sweeping staircase, your footsteps echoing faintly as you ascended. Halfway up, the stillness fractured, low, muffled words bleeding faintly through the air. Jake’s voice.

Curiosity prickled along your skin. You slowed, moving with careful steps until you reached the landing. His door was closed, but now the sound was clear. His voice carried through the wood, steady and clipped, the kind of tone you hadn’t heard him use with you before.

You froze at the top of the stairs, your hand hovering just inches from the doorknob.

“…three days,” Jake’s voice rumbled through the door, low but unmistakable. “No, I said I’d handle it.”

A pause. Silence, except for the faint shuffle of movement inside the room. Then his voice again, sharper this time.

“No. I don’t need backup. I said I’ll take care of it.”

Your stomach twisted. Backup? Take care of what?

You lingered there, not daring to breathe too loud, straining to catch every word. His voice dropped even lower, hard to make out, but every so often, certain phrases cut through, chilling in their bluntness.

“…don’t call this number again.”

“…if it goes sideways, I’ll deal with it.”

The air in the hallway seemed to grow heavier, pressing against your chest as you stood there. You weren’t sure what you were hearing, but it wasn’t business. Not the kind of business you imagined.

The second his voice went quiet on the other side of the door, you bolted down the stairs, forcing your breathing to steady as you slid back into place at the cutting board. Knife in hand. Mango waiting. Like you’d never left.

The creak of a door upstairs, then his footsteps descending. You gripped the handle of the knife tighter, pretending to focus on the fruit.

“Did you say something, baby?”

You looked up, meeting eyes that gave nothing away. Calm, collected, not at all like the voice you’d heard minutes earlier.

“I was on a call,” he added smoothly, leaning down to press a quick kiss to your forehead. “Sorry.”

Your chest tightened, but you forced a small smile. “No, I was just… um … asking if you wanted mango.”

Jake glanced at the fruit, plucked a slice between his fingers, and popped it into his mouth without a second thought.

“I’m good. I’ll wait till dinner.”

You gave a small nod.

By the time dinner rolled around, the unease hadn’t left. It had only grown heavier. You sat across from him at the table, picking at your plate while he ate with the same effortless calm he always carried. He spoke casually, as if the world was simple, as if nothing had happened upstairs. His voice was smooth, even light at moments, and it made your stomach turn.

You wanted to ask. You wanted to throw his words back at him. Demand an explanation for what you’d overheard. But you didn’t. You couldn’t. You weren’t supposed to pry. That had been clear from the beginning, one of the invisible rules of being with Jake: no questions about his work, no pressing into the parts of his life he chose to keep closed off. And you definitely weren’t supposed to be listening at doors.

Still, the call replayed in your head, over and over, sharper with each memory of his calm smile. The dissonance gnawed at you. You couldn’t focus on the food in front of you, couldn’t follow his words. All you could feel was the weight of something unspoken pressing down on you, daring you to break the silence.

But you kept it buried.

Not at dinner, not after, not even when you were tangled with him beneath the sheets. You said nothing, even as his lips traced yours, even as his hands drew you closer. On the surface, you let yourself melt into him, but inside, you were somewhere else entirely.

The call lingered like a ghost between you, louder than his kisses, sharper than his touch. No matter how tightly he held you, your thoughts slipped away, circling back to those words you weren’t meant to hear. That damn call.

Even when the room fell quiet, when Jake’s breathing steadied into sleep beside you, your mind refused to rest. Your body lay still, chest rising and falling, but your thoughts replayed the fragments of his voice over and over. The way he said those words. The clipped, sharp tone, unlike the man who held you hours before.

You turned onto your side, drawn to him despite yourself. He looked so peaceful, the lines of his face softened by sleep. But there it was. His phone. Sitting inches away on the nightstand, its black screen almost taunting you.

One reach. One swipe. The answers you wanted, maybe even needed, could be right there. But so could disaster. What if he woke, caught you with it in your hands? Jake didn’t give his trust easily. You knew how carefully he guarded his world, how much he kept shut away. If he saw you prying, it wouldn’t just be about the phone. It would be about everything.

Your fingers twitched, but the fear weighed heavier. So you stayed put, the distance between you and that phone somehow more suffocating than the space you shared in his bed. You shut your eyes, told yourself to let it go. To forget it. To sleep.

But forgetting was impossible.

You barely slept a wink, eyes still heavy but mind too restless to ever drift off. By the time the clock struck seven, you were still wide awake, staring at the ceiling when Jake stirred beside you. His arm slid across your waist, pulling you into him, lips brushing a soft kiss against your neck.

“Good morning, baby.”

A small smile tugged at your lips as you melted back into his warmth.

“Morning. Sleep well?”

“Mhm,” he hummed, his face nestling into the curve of your neck. “Woke up even better. I could get used to this. Waking up next to you every day.”

Your chest fluttered as you turned your head slightly, catching his gaze.

“Really?”

His low chuckle rumbled against your back. “Mhm. I think we need to have a real talk once I’m back from my trip …”

His hand, warm and steady at your waist, began to wander upward, lifting the hem of your shirt inch by inch. The soft brush of his fingers against your bare skin sent goosebumps skimming across your body.

“But first …” his voice dipped, rougher now, full of intent.

His hand slid lower, dipping into the waistband of your panties. You arched instinctively, your body betraying your thoughts.

“First,” he whispered against your skin, lips dragging slowly along your neck, “I want to make you feel good, baby.”

A soft moan slipped past your lips as his fingers found your clit, circling with just enough pressure to make your body tremble against him. You melted back into his chest, every curve of you fitting into him as though you were made to be there.

“That’s it, baby …” his voice was low, a rough murmur against your skin as his mouth pressed another slow kiss to your neck. “Just let me feel you …”

Your thighs parted instinctively, one leg lifting into the air as you shifted onto your side, giving him more room, more of you. His fingers moved faster, slick gathering on his touch, each stroke drawing out a whimper you couldn’t hold back.

Then his hand slipped away, leaving you aching, only for him to catch your leg and lift it higher, opening you completely for him.

“Keep it here,” he murmured, guiding you into place.

You nodded, breathless.

He dragged his finger past his lips, tasting you slowly before tugging his boxers down in one quick motion, kicking them off the edge of the bed without a second thought.

Jake didn’t waste a second once he had you open for him, his hand gripping your thigh tightly, keeping it raised just enough so he could sink deep into you. The angle had you gasping, already feeling stretched to the point of dizzying pleasure. His chest was flush to your back, his arm a heavy weight across your body as if he was afraid you’d slip away if he loosened his hold.

His thrusts came sharp, urgent, the sound of skin meeting skin filling the room in steady, punishing rhythm. Each snap of his hips forced little sounds out of you, ones you couldn’t hold back no matter how hard you tried. He groaned into your ear, teeth dragging across your skin, his breath ragged as though even he couldn’t keep up with the intensity he was setting.

You reached back blindly, your hand finding his hip, trying to slow him, ground him, but instead, he only drove harder, his cock sliding deeper until you were moaning his name, until the sheets were bunching beneath your fists. His arm banded tighter across your waist, dragging you back into every thrust, using your body like he needed it, like this was the last time he’d ever get to have you.

“Fuck,” he growled against your neck, his voice low and hoarse, breaking with something that sounded too much like desperation. His lips pressed bruising kisses across your skin, down your shoulder, his teeth grazing as though he wanted to mark every inch of you before he had to leave.

Your leg quivered in his grip, the muscles burning with how tightly he held you open, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care. Every drive of his hips sent fire rushing through you, his cock hitting deep, the slick sound of him fucking into you making your head spin. Your body molded to his, back arching, pushing into him like you couldn’t get enough either.

He was relentless. Thrust after thrust, dragging himself almost all the way out before slamming back in, making you cry out, making the bed frame shake with the force of it. His breathing grew harsher, broken with low grunts that spilled against your ear, the sound of him unraveling just as fast as you were.

And still, in between the roughness, there was something softer that leaked through. The way his arm curled tighter around you, holding you like you were precious even as he took you like a man starved. The way his lips lingered against your skin, not just biting and claiming but pressing quick, fleeting kisses, as though he couldn’t stop himself from being tender no matter how hard he tried.

Your climax built fast under his ruthless pace, the pressure tightening with every sharp thrust, your body trembling, breathless against him. He knew it, felt it, his fingers suddenly sliding down to rub your clit in messy, fast circles, determined to drag you over the edge with him.

“Come for me,” he rasped into your skin, voice guttural and rough, like it was tearing him apart to say it. His thrusts grew harder, more desperate, every movement a demand, a plea, an apology all in one.

You broke with a cry, your body clenching around him, the orgasm ripping through you so violently you could barely breathe. Jake groaned deep in your ear, his hips stuttering as he held himself buried inside you, his own release hitting hard and fast. He pressed himself flush against your back, crushing you to him as if he could pour everything he felt into you in that moment, everything he couldn’t bring himself to say out loud.

Even as the aftershocks rippled through your body, he didn’t let you go. His arm stayed locked tight around your waist, his cock still seated deep inside you, his lips pressed to your shoulder in the kind of kiss that said more than his words ever could.

Finally, the two of you managed to ease into the morning, the kind of slow, easy rhythm that almost felt normal. Jake wasn’t leaving until tomorrow, which meant you still had him for the day. One more chance to pretend this was just a regular relationship, one more day where you didn’t have to think about distance or the unknown.

For a fleeting moment, you let yourself forget about the call. You pushed it into the back of your mind, tucked it away where it couldn’t ruin the softness of now. It was easier that way, to lean into the comfort of his presence, to pretend his world wasn’t filled with shadows you weren’t allowed to see.

But distraction always came in new forms. Something else had already crept in, something small but sharp enough to take root in the back of your mind. A different situation you couldn’t quite name yet. Uncertain, blurry around the edges, not enough to accuse or confront, but enough to keep you restless.

So, you let it sit there. Unspoken. Another quiet weight to carry, one that, for the moment, felt safer than circling back to Jake’s suspicious call from the night before.

“Here you go, baby.”

Jake’s voice pulled you out of your thoughts, his hand appearing in front of you with a bowl of popcorn. You blinked, taking it from him with a small smile before he dropped onto the couch beside you, his arm resting easily along the back.

“Pick a movie yet?”

You nodded, pressing play without much thought, then curling into his side, soaking in his warmth. For a while, the room was quiet except for the hum of the TV, the glow of the screen washing over both of you. But the movie didn’t hold you for long. Truthfully, it never stood a chance.

Less than an hour in, you had already shifted onto his lap, mouths colliding in a heated kiss that made your pulse stutter. His hand splayed wide across your back, pulling you flush against him as your hips rocked down onto his, the unmistakable hardness beneath you drawing a low groan from his throat.

“You’re such a tease,” he muttered against your lips, voice thick and uneven. His fingers dug into your ass, holding you in place as if he might lose his grip if he let you move too far.

Jake’s lips trailed down your neck, hot and insistent, leaving wet marks as your fingers dug into the couch behind him. You rolled your hips against him, chasing the friction, a moan slipping from your lips, breathless and broken.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck…” you gasped, your voice trembling with the edge of release.

Jake grinned against your skin, his teeth grazing lightly as he murmured, “Gonna fall apart just from this?” His tone was teasing, dark and amused, like he already knew the answer.

But before you could even respond, your body froze. Your stomach twisted violently, and in a rush of panic you scrambled off his lap. Jake’s grin immediately dropped as he watched you bolt toward the bathroom, confusion and worry knotting in his chest.

“Y/n?” he called, quickly pushing up from the couch and following after you.

By the time he reached the doorway, you were already on your knees, gripping the toilet as your body heaved. The sound of you retching made his jaw clench, his hand hovering at the doorframe as if unsure whether to step in or give you space.

He moved anyway, crouching down beside you just as you flushed the toilet, your shaky hand swiping across your mouth. You didn’t meet his eyes.

“Hey…” His voice softened, a stark contrast to the roughness it had carried moments before. “You feeling okay?”

You gave a weak nod, slowly pulling yourself up. “Yeah. Just… probably something I ate.”

But Jake wasn’t convinced. He watched you carefully, eyes sharp, noting the way you avoided his gaze, the way your voice wavered just slightly. He knew better.

You’d been off ever since he told you about his trip. The timing was too perfect. The stress was written all over you, no matter how hard you tried to mask it. And as much as he wanted to pull you into his arms and soothe every trace of worry away, he couldn’t. Not with this. Not when the truth of what he was leaving for was something you could never know.

Not even a sliver of it.

“Come on. Let’s lay down.”

Jake’s voice was steady, coaxing, as he guided you back into the living room. He stacked a couple of pillows against the arm of the couch, making sure you were comfortable before easing you down. His hand lingered briefly at your shoulder, like he wanted to reassure you but didn’t quite know how, before he slipped away toward the kitchen.

You were left staring at the ceiling, your mind spinning, panic clawing at your chest.

You had to say something. You had to. About everything. The call you weren’t supposed to hear, the unease that had been gnawing at you since he mentioned leaving, and now the way stress had your body rebelling against you. It wasn’t just in your head anymore; it was making you sick. And the longer you stayed silent, the heavier it pressed down.

But how did you even begin? How could you tell him that you felt this strange pit in your stomach that wouldn’t go away? How could you ask for answers without exposing yourself, without letting him know you’d been listening when you shouldn’t have? How could you tell him you didn’t want him to leave without sounding clingy, desperate, like you were holding onto something that maybe was never yours to begin with?

The words tangled in your throat, refusing to form.

“Here.”

Jake’s low voice pulled you from your spiral. He walked back into the room, careful and collected as always, carrying a steaming mug. He knelt slightly to hand it to you. “Drink this. It’ll help settle your stomach.”

You accepted it, the warmth of the cup grounding you, if only for a moment. “Thank you…”

He gave a small nod and sank down beside you on the couch. For a second, he was quiet, almost like he was weighing what to say next. Then he exhaled slowly, his hand brushing down his thigh before he finally spoke.

“Listen, Y/n… I don’t want you stressing yourself over my business trip.” His tone was firm, like he’d already anticipated your arguments. Before you could even open your mouth, he cut in again. “I know it’s been on your mind since I mentioned it. I can see it in your face, hear it in the way you talk. But you don’t need to worry. I’ll be back before you even have the chance to miss me properly.”

You swallowed, the tea untouched in your hands, your heart aching at how easily he dismissed the storm that had been tearing you apart. You wanted to push back. You wanted to tell him you knew something wasn’t right, that you’d heard that call, that your gut was screaming at you not to let him go.

But the words never came.

You didn’t have the energy to fight him. Not tonight.

You wanted to believe him. God, you wanted to. You wanted to let his words sink in and soothe the restless ache in your chest, wanted to trust that when he said he’d be back soon, he meant it in the simplest, truest way. That it wasn’t more complicated than that.

But beneath it all, the memory of that phone call still coiled sharp and unrelenting in the back of your mind. The clipped tone of his voice. The way it shifted when he thought no one could hear. It gnawed at you, whispering reminders with every heartbeat.

You nodded softly, let your body lean into his when he reached for you, allowed yourself to pretend for a fleeting moment that it was enough. That his touch, his voice, the heat of his body beside you could chase away the doubts. You let yourself fall into the quiet of the evening, sipping the tea as if it could wash away the unease clinging stubbornly to you.

Even as you rested against him, even as you let your eyes drift shut, you couldn’t push it out. You told yourself to believe him, but no matter how much you tried, the call lingered.

It shadowed the quiet, creeping between heartbeats, pressing at the edges of your thoughts until you wondered if it would ever leave. You forced yourself to breathe evenly, to match the slow rhythm of Jake’s chest rising and falling against you, but your mind refused to be still.

In the warmth of his arms, you should’ve felt safe. Instead, you felt suspended, caught between trust and doubt, between the sweetness of what you had and the possibility that something darker lurked just beyond the closed doors of his world.

Eventually, exhaustion dragged your body under, but even then, your dreams were restless. And when morning came, the unease was still there, waiting, as if the night had done nothing at all to quiet it.

⋆༺𓆩☠︎︎𓆪༻⋆

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