#angst out the wazoo

[the-sunhold-coven]

So I have it where my Mc is going after Alarik...which is questionable lol. But Mc can't help it 😅. But I love playing a shy Mc and also how protective he is with them. But i also hope we get to question ourself on falling for them and get to talk about it. Bc I just imagine them questioning it bc of everything and what not.

But I hope we get to see more of the ros point of views. Especially once they start crushing on our witch. 😊

Also sorry for the long ramble and everything lol. But do keep up the good work and make sure you take care of yourself. 🥂

There is nothing to apologize for. While I was reading I was sitting here like 🥰

I fully support your MC's questionable choices! Alarik is incredibly protective as a person, although misguided at times *ahem* Witch hunter *ahem*.

I don't want to spoil too much but you shouldn't worry, I have so much angst planned for that route. You'll be able to have an existential crisis later on in the romance, or even more than one if you feel extra angsty.

[phoenixwithapencil]

I wonder- does Gladio blame himself in Altissia? Does he bandage his friend’s wounds and feel he’s failed his duty? If he’d just been quick enough, neither Noctis nor Ignis would be injured. If he’d done his one job, could he have at least taken the damage instead of his friends?

Does Gladio blame himself, when Prompto is pushed off the train? If he’d not snapped at Noctis, would they have been isolated enough to get into this mess? If he’d had a more level head, would Prompto not have felt the pain and despair of his isolation in the Nifilheim tundra?

Does Gladio blame himself, when Noctis is subsumed into the Crystal? When he’s not strong enough to avert Noctis’s fate? Was it his fault that Noctis put on the ring, didn’t, for once shun the weight of the crown and crystal? Would it be his fault if Noctis doesn’t return?

Does Gladio blame himself, in the long night, for each lost life, each wounded hunter? Does he temper it with an eternal mantra of ‘one more hunt, one more shift on patrol,’ pushing himself past breaking, just to atone for his guilt? He can spare anyone else the pain. He won’t fail to protect them this time.

Does he blame himself, after the dawn? Ten years, surely they could have figured out how to spare Noctis. Surely he could have done something.

[kaeyas-beloved]

omg... no sympathy november where every day in november i post the most heart-wrenching genshin angst i can think of and enjoy everyone's cries of sorrow as i drink their tears... >:)

[pitohuimaki]

never normal about the kirigaya siblings <3

[squirrelno2]

love poking through my documents like. "wow all these fic ideas slap, these scenes I wrote are great, I should finish and publish some of these!" and then. proceeding to not do that.

[owchie-wowchie]

zelda au is interesting cause Margaret comes from a bloodline of good and a bloodline of evil and she'll have to wrestle with that

[7ndipity]

Why They’re Still Single

Ot7

Summary: why I think the members are still single and when/if I think they’ll actually settle down

Warnings: swearing 

A/N: This is pure crack that was conjured up by me and @bethanysnow ‘s brains at like 3am, so don’t take it too seriously, lol.

Masterlist

°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

Jin: He's a romantic in theory, but in practice he’s really just not that comfortable with all the dynamics of relationships(lowkey gives asexual vibes imo) I could see him eventually marrying his assistant or one of his friends when they’re both in their 40s because they’re who they’re most comfortable with, and that’s what he values most in a relationship, comfort and friendship.

Yoongi: Boy has trust issues out the wazoo. He has a hard time believing anyone would actually want him, rather than what he can do for them. He also has an over tendency to intellectualize his feelings. If he learns how to properly process his emotions and finds someone who encourages him to actually communicate his needs, I could see him getting married pretty quickly.

Hobi: He spent so much of his twenties convincing himself and everyone else that he was way too busy for a relationship, but since he’s come back from military service, he’s fully embraced his fuckboy era. He could have girlfriends in multiple cities, but everyone’s on the same page and knows it’s non committal. I see him settling down eventually, but right now he’s just enjoying living his life.

Namjoon: Man has a textbook case of fear of commitment. He’s always been so drawn to domestic married life, but the reality of letting down his walls and actually letting someone in scares the shit out of him, so the majority of his relationships have fallen apart due to lack of communication and trust. I still see him getting married and having kids eventually, he just needs to find a good therapist first.

Jimin: He’s actually the member that’s secretly married and hosts monthly dinner parties at his house for everyone else and their partners. Fr tho, I think he has a highly idealized vision of what he thinks a relationship should be, and he refuses to settle for anything less, even though his vision might be slightly unrealistic. In the meantime, I think he’s content on his own for the time being, dreaming of the perfect partner.

Taehyung: The thing with Tae is that he is in love with the concept of love, but he also loves a tragic romance. He enjoys the drama and angst of yearning and longing for someone, or the tragic beauty of the relationship that he knows must inevitably end, like a summer fling or right person - wrong time. He’s also lowkey under the impression that no one will fully understand him, but if he can find that person who matches his energy, he will fall fast and hard.

Jungkook: Kook still sees himself as in his fuckboy era, but the truth of the matter is that he is a whole ass house husband, he just doesn’t want to admit it yet. He could be in a fully committed relationship, practically living together, but still refuse to put a technical title on what they have because it’s less scary that way. Despite that, he loves playing the protective boyfriend(ain’t nobody fucking with his baby), and I think that’s what will eventually get him to own up and fully commit to the relationship.

Taglist: @sopebubbles-replies @btsw1fe @this-must-be-my-tardis @whitefoxgirl @bethanysnow @coffeedepressionsoup @feminympho @classicalelephant @dfqcsqueen @mother2monsters @comingupwithacoolnameishard @bo0ghol @seleneacyoflove @k4ngelz @universal-travel-er

[punkshort]

i'll be home for christmas | part three

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

Summary: Having just caught your fiancé cheating on you, you decide to come back home from the big city to Austin for the month of December to try to figure out your next step. You had no idea you would be getting more than you bargained for with the handsome single dad who built your parents' house.

Chapter Warnings: no outbreak, modern day but Joel is 40, language, fluff, flirting, explicit smut (18+MDNI), (somewhat) unprotected piv sex, oral (f receiving), soft!joel, hallmark tropes up the wazoo, mentions of infidelity, mentions of divorce, angst (but happy ending is here), hurt/comfort, reader's sister is pregnant

WC: 12.4K

A/N: the final installment is here! I hope you enjoyed Joel shoved into a cheesy Hallmark story. Thank you to everyone who showed me so much love, you've all made me stupidly happy.

Series Masterlist

He knew he shouldn't do it. He knew he was just setting himself up for more heartbreak, but he couldn't help it. It was the first time in years that he had felt the touch of a woman, but it was more than that. It was the intimacy and the bond that came with having a partner that he craved more than anything. It was someone he could confess his deepest fears to, his happiest moments and his wildest dreams. Someone he could lean on when he was weak, when he needed support the most. For once, he wanted someone to make him feel safe and comforted. Someone to care for him and love him and be there for him, no matter what. He wanted to belong to someone.

So, he knew he shouldn't do it, but he allowed it, anyway, because he had so little. When he woke up early the next morning and saw you curled into his side, your face buried in his chest and your arm wrapped around his waist, he closed his eyes and let himself have the fantasy, just for a few minutes, of a world where you didn't live a different time zone away. Where it was just a typical Saturday morning for you both. He imagined the three of you going to breakfast before dropping Sarah off at soccer practice, then maybe you would beg him to take you to the home improvement store so you could pick out new paint and tile for the bathroom you wanted him to renovate. Then, after picking Sarah up, you would all go grocery shopping together. Sarah would come up with some dinner idea she saw online and you would help her pick out the ingredients while he pushed the cart and watched his girls try to sneak candy into the basket when you thought he wasn't looking. He liked to imagine you would all pitch in and help make dinner. Maybe each of you would be in charge of a certain part of the meal. Afterwards, you could all watch a movie together. He could enjoy a beer while you curled up next to him on the couch with a drink of your own. What was your preferred drink, anyway? He thought he saw you drinking wine the first night you met. He needed to find out. There was so much about you he didn't know yet, and he was desperate to know everything.

But when you woke up, you had other things on your mind.

That was how he found himself thirty minutes later deep inside of you again, coaxing out your second orgasm of the morning with your body sprawled out on top of him, whimpering into his neck while his hands guided your hips, rocking them back and forth until he felt your legs shake and he couldn't take it anymore. He rolled you over so you were on your back where he could reach the furthest depths of you, nudging against a spot that made your eyes roll to the back of your head and chant his name over and over until you unraveled around him again, and only once he was absolutely sure you were satisfied did he allow himself to let go and empty himself into you. Because even though he wants someone to take care of him sometimes, he has no problem taking care of you like this, first.

"Can I make you breakfast?" he asked after he caught his breath. You laughed softly, your throat sounding a little sore and it made his chest swell with pride.

"I have a confession to make," you said, rolling onto your side and tucking your hands under your head to face him. "I'm not really a breakfast person."

He gave you a look as if you had just told him the worst news of his entire life, and you dissolved into a fit of giggles.

"That's okay, sweetheart. I'm here now. I can change that," he replied with a grin, about to get up and drag himself out of bed when his phone rang.

"Must be Sarah," he said with a groan, reaching over and pausing when he saw the caller ID. He flipped the screen over to show you and your eyes widened in shock.

"My dad is calling you?" you asked, sitting up with the sheet wrapped around you. Whipping your head around, you quickly put the pieces together. "Oh my god, my phone's downstairs, they probably think I'm dead or something!"

Joel stood up and answered the call, spinning around to pick up his boxers from the floor and even though the moment was slightly ruined by your father, you still took a second to appreciate his fully naked body in the light of day for the first time.

"Hey, Paul," Joel said into the phone, yanking his underwear back on. "Yeah, hold on a second."

He held his phone out to you, and you cringed, gingerly taking it from him and putting it up to your ear.

"Hey, Dad," you said, trying to sound normal and not like your entire life was changing and you had no idea what to do about it.

"Mhmm, yeah I'm so sorry, my phone died last night," you said, biting your nail and glancing up at Joel. He held up a finger and headed down the hall to go downstairs and find your phone, giving you a bit of privacy.

He went to the kitchen and saw your cell next to your purse on his table. When he picked it up, the screen lit up in his hand. He saw a few missed calls and texts from your dad and sister, a couple texts from a girl named Sydney and the most concerning of the bunch, one singular text from a Will. He froze, staring down at the phone, unblinking as his chest began to rise faster. You never mentioned your ex-fiancé's name, but something in his gut told him it was Will.

His thumb hovered over the screen, the urge to open and read it overwhelming him, but he quickly stopped himself. That wasn't the type of man he was. What he felt for you was real and intense and life changing, and he wasn't going to screw that up. In order to make this work, assuming you would want to make a long-distance relationship work, the foundation of it would have to be trust. So, he let the screen go dark as he turned on the coffee pot and trudged back upstairs to hand you your phone. You smiled up at him gratefully as you listened to your dad on the other end.

"Yeah, Dad, that sounds great," you said in a tone that clearly sounded like you weren't interested. Joel smirked as he walked over to his dresser, pulling out two clean T-shirts. As he bent over to find some sweatpants, he saw you pick up your phone. Out of the corner of his eye, he watched as your thumb froze over the screen for a moment, just long enough to allow the shock of the name to set in before you pressed down on the text and dragged it to a red button that said 'delete'.

He bit the inside of his cheek, trying to keep the grin from his face so you wouldn't catch on. You deleted it without even opening it. He took a deep breath as you wrapped up the call with your dad. This can work. It will have to work. You could do this.

"Sorry," you said, handing his phone back and giving him an embarrassed look. "God, that was so awkward."

"It's alright," he said with a chuckle, handing you a T-shirt and sweatpants. You raised an eyebrow as you took them and placed them on the bed.

"You think I'll fit in your sweats?"

"It's all I got," he said with a shrug and yanked on fresh clothes of his own. "You're more than welcome to walk around naked, if you prefer," he said, leaning down to press a soft kiss against your lips.

You hummed against his mouth before he pulled away to pick up the scattered clothes on the ground from the night before. When he bunched up the white T-shirt he wore underneath his button down, you stopped him.

"Wait," you said, and he turned around. You had your arm stretched out; his bedsheet still pressed against your naked chest. He reached over to hand you the dirty shirt, and you smirked up at him, dropping the sheet and exposing your top half.

His throat went dry as his eyes instantly fell to your chest, and he tried to ignore that familiar stirring below his waist as you deliberately took your time slipping his used shirt over your head. He remained frozen in place, barely blinking as you slid your legs out from under the covers and stood.

"I wanna smell you on me," you said by way of explanation, gazing up at him with eyes that were too soft and lips that were too swollen and fuck, you were too perfect.

You watched him from your seat at the kitchen island as he stood over the stove, expertly cooking eggs and bacon as if he were on autopilot, like he had done it so many times before, and probably did, but for Sarah. You took a sip of your coffee before padding up behind him, legs still bare in only just his used T-shirt, so you could wrap your arms around his stomach, resting your cheek against his back.

"Can I help?" you asked, taking a deep breath in, letting his scent fill your nostrils.

"No, baby, I got it," he said softly, turning his head to the side so he could try to see you hidden behind him.

You hummed and let your arms drop back to your side once it became apparent you were in the way, but he refused to say anything about it.

Picking up your phone from the counter, you sat back down to open all the missed notifications from last night and that morning. The texts from your dad and Cassie were similar, each wondering where you were and if you were okay but reading between the lines and noting the lack of real urgency in the tone, it seemed like they had both figured out where you ended up. With a sigh, you went to open the messages from Sydney.

Sydney: girl, tell me you checked insta

Sydney: can you believe that bullshit? what a fucking slut

You frowned, tapping out a quick reply to her as Joel plated your breakfast. You were about to open the app to see what she was talking about when he sat down next to you. The time you had with him was so short and precious, you didn't want to waste it scrolling on your phone or talking to people who never even bothered to ask you how you were doing after your breakup.

"This looks amazing," you said, eagerly picking up your fork. "Thank you," you added, hiding your mouth full of food behind your hand.

"Thought you weren't a breakfast person," he said, raising an eyebrow at you.

"Guess I worked up an appetite. Wonder why that is?" you teased, nudging your shoulder against his as he tried to hide the blush creeping up his neck. "You like to talk about my hidden talents, but you never mentioned that you were such a good cook," you said.

"Eggs and bacon ain't that hard," he said with a laugh.

"I would probably find a way to mess it up," you said.

"Well, I make it every Saturday for me and Sarah. Why don't you come by next week and I'll show you," he shrugged, not even realizing what he said until the words already slipped past his lips. It felt like you had been punched in the gut, the air leaving your body so fast it made you lightheaded. He paused when he realized that you wouldn't be there next Saturday and quickly dropped his fork to pull you against his chest after he saw the look on your face.

"I'm sorry, I wasn't thinkin'," he murmured into your hair.

"It's okay," you said quietly, doing your best not to cry. You had cried enough last night, and you had no interest in starting up again. So, instead, you pulled back and looked up at him with a sad smile before planting a quick kiss against his lips, then stood up. You collected your plates and brought them over to the sink, then turned on the faucet and picked up the sponge.

"You don't gotta do that," Joel said, jumping up to push you aside, but you wouldn't budge.

"You cooked, I'll clean," you said firmly, squirting some soap onto the plates. "You don't have to do everything, you know," you added when it became apparent he wasn't comfortable with you cleaning the dishes.

"Okay," he said quietly before reluctantly sitting back down, watching as you scrubbed the plates and forks before moving to the frying pan.

He realized that this is what it would be like. It was one thing to imagine it, because he could convince himself reality wouldn't be as good. That real life didn't work that way and could never live up to the absurd scenarios he tended to dream up in his head when he was in need of comfort.

But the silly little fantasy he had that morning was nothing compared to the real thing, and now that he's had it, he was terrified of losing it.

"So, I was thinkin'... work slows down in January, I could probably come up and visit you. I'm sure Tommy'll be fine with watchin' Sarah for a few days. What'dya think?"

He glanced over at you in the passenger seat of his truck, still wearing his T-shirt under your sweater but having found a better fitting pair of bottoms in Sarah's room.

"Oh! Yeah, that sounds great," you said, sounding surprised. "I don't even know where I'll be living, though," you added with a frown.

"Well, once you get back and figure it out, I'll book the plane ticket. I already looked, fares are low that time of year, lots of options," he rambled nervously, squeezing the steering wheel as his mind tried to work out the details.

"You already looked?" you asked him with a small smile, and he nodded.

"Yeah, looked last night after you fell asleep," he replied. "I know you're worried 'bout it, 'bout us, but we'll make it work, alright?"

"Yeah, okay," you said quietly, then forced a smile on your face when he gave you a concerned look. "I'm just really going to miss your cooking," you said solemnly, making him laugh.

You knew your options were limited and that this was the best choice. But you also knew long-distance relationships were hard, even for couples that had known each other for much longer than a few weeks.

Maybe you could each take a turn visiting the other every month. Maybe if you really try and put in the effort, talk to each other every single day, maybe it could work. But what was the long term plan? He couldn't move to New York, not when he has his daughter to think about. Would you eventually move back to Texas? Give up everything you've been working towards in New York, the life you built, just to end up back home? What would be the point in ever moving there in the first place? It had to all be for something, right?

He walked you up the porch steps, just like he did since that first night. Always so courteous and respectful. You dropped the bag that carried your dress at your feet, drawing your attention to the ridiculous outfit you were wearing. Your white sweater buttoned up over his oversized shirt, with Sarah's pink pajama bottoms and your high heels from last night.

"If this isn't a walk of shame, I don't know what is," you said, stifling a laugh. He grinned and glanced around.

"Better get in before the whole neighborhood sees," he said, tilting your chin up for a kiss. "Don't need everyone talkin'," he added softly, tucking your hair behind your ear.

"I'll see you tomorrow?" you asked hopefully, and he nodded.

"Yeah, Tommy's party," he reminded you. You nodded.

"Should be fun," you said.

"Yeah," was all he offered as a response, not yet making a move to go, clearly not wanting to leave you.

"You gotta get Sarah," you told him, finally forcing his feet to move.

"Yeah, okay," he said with a sigh. "Talk to you later?"

"I'll text you. My mom wants to decorate the tree today." You rolled your eyes, making sure the doorbell camera couldn't see, and he smirked.

"Go!" you told him, playfully shoving his chest back when he still remained firmly planted on the porch. He grinned and finally turned to jog down the steps.

"Alright, alright," he said, glancing behind him so he could watch you go inside. He still had that stupid grin on his face as he made his way to his truck, but it quickly faded when he heard your dad call out from the garage.

"Hey, Joel, got a minute?" Paul asked, wiping his hands with a rag and leaning against the door frame. Shit.

"Yeah, 'course," Joel replied, taking a deep breath before walking up the driveway where your father stood waiting.

"Hey Paul, 'bout yesterday-"

Your dad held up his hand and shook his head, silencing Joel.

"You don't gotta say anythin', she's an adult, I just need to make sure she's alright," Paul said, eyeing Joel up and down.

"I shoulda reminded her reach out, it won't happen again," he replied, looking Paul square in the eye.

"I don't just mean last night, Joel," Paul said, a little quieter now. Joel searched the older man's eyes, and then he saw it. The deep concern that only a father could have for his daughter. A look that Joel had noticed in the mirror more and more lately.

"You make her real happy. I can see it, and I am grateful to you for that," Paul continued. "But she's goin' back to New York soon, and it's got me worried, I ain't gonna lie to you. She's been through a lot lately, and she doesn't deserve -" his voice cracked, and he glanced down at his feet.

"Paul, I care about her. I really care about her, and I think she cares about me, too. I'm gonna do whatever I gotta do to make this work," Joel said, trying to offer him some reassurance. "Believe me when I tell you that I'm the only one who can end up gettin' hurt here."

Paul dragged his gaze up to Joel once again with a sigh.

"I don't want either of you gettin' hurt. You're a good man, Joel. I've always liked you. Martha's always liked you. I'm just askin' you to be careful with my little girl, yeah?"

"I hear you," Joel said, shoving his hands in his pockets. "I will, I promise."

"Good," Paul said, clapping his hand on Joel's shoulder.

"Listen, I gotta pick Sarah up from a sleepover, but I'll be back tomorrow. My brother's havin' a Christmas party at his house. Think he asked Cassie to come, too."

"Yeah, he invited us. I didn't get a chance to talk to him much at the party, but he invited us through Josh just yesterday," Paul said.

"Oh?" Joel replied, wondering why they got a last minute invite, but chalked it up to Tommy just being Tommy. "Sounds great. I'll see you tomorrow, then."

Joel let out a shaky breath as he walked back to his truck. He had to hand it to Paul: if the roles were reversed and it was Sarah in your shoes, he wasn't sure he would be so understanding.

Luckily for you, your mom was nowhere to be found as you hurried up to your bedroom and shut the door behind you quietly. It was bad enough your parents knew where you were spent the night, they didn't need to see the evidence on top of everything else.

You tucked Joel's shirt into the bottom of your drawer, not wanting to mistakenly wash it, but made sure to put Sarah's pajama bottoms in the pile of laundry you had to tackle today.

After taking a quick shower, you headed back to your room to check your phone. You knew Joel was with Sarah and you shouldn't expect a text already, but you were still disappointed. You couldn't get enough of him. He was on your mind day and night, consuming your thoughts and dreams at every turn. The logical part of your brain warned you it was just infatuation, that new relationships always brought a sense of excitement and passion. But your heart was telling you otherwise. You had deep and profound feelings for him. Feelings you never felt before, or you thought you felt before, but never did to this degree.

Even if you called him every single day, how could you go that long without his touch? You could barely get through an hour without it now. You yearned for him in a way you never thought possible; a way that made you feel like you could finally understand what Jane Austen and Charlotte Brontë wrote about. You knew it sounded crazy, that your friends or family couldn't ever understand, but that was fine. It was something you could have just for yourself.

You leaned back into your bed, your hair still wet and wrapped in a towel, as you scrolled through your phone. Realizing you had been brushing Sydney off the past several days, you opened her text, rereading it and then opening Instagram to try to find out what she had been talking about.

You scrolled a while, realizing you hadn't paid much attention to social media the past couple weeks and missed quite a bit. You saw the standard pictures of your friends and coworkers partying, taking selfies at holiday parties, but nothing stood out to you. With a frown, you swiped back to her text.

You: I couldn't find anything on insta, what are you talking about?

You waited a few minutes, flipping back to the app to scroll again before getting a response.

Sydney: did you see Chris's pics from a few nights ago at tunnel??

You typed in his name in the search bar and began swiping through his pictures. You found the ones where he was at Tunnel, but again, you had no idea what she was talking about. Before you could ask, she sent another text.

Sydney: 4th and 5th pics, zoom in, behind him and Jess

Finding the pictures, you pinched your screen and gasped. There, in the background, was Will and your friend, Melanie, with their tongues down each other's throats. The very same Melanie you were bunking with until you found a new place to live. You couldn't see her face in the fourth picture, but when you zoomed in on the fifth one, they had pulled away slightly and it was obvious who it was.

Will had texted you last night and you deleted it. Now you wondered if he had texted you to try to do some damage control over these pictures. The thought infuriated you. These people clearly didn't give a damn about you, they only wanted to ease their own conscience, and you weren't going to let them.

Sydney began to send a whirlwind of texts after, but you hardly responded to any of them. What were you going to do? How could you go back and continue to live with Melanie after what you just saw? Was she the girl he was seeing the whole time? You never bothered to ask when you found out, you didn't think your friends would betray you like that, so you didn't care.

Angry now, you opened up a text to your sister and began furiously typing.

You: are you free tomorrow? We need to look for apartments for me asap

With a groan, you put your phone on silent and slid under the covers. Maybe Sydney would let you stay with her. She didn't have a huge place, but if it was only for a couple weeks and you had a place lined up before you got back, maybe she wouldn't mind.

You glanced at the mirror one more time, fixing a few loose strands of hair and checking your teeth before snatching your purse off the table, shoving your phone inside, and heading down the stairs where you could hear Joel in the kitchen talking with your parents.

Your mom was wearing one of her patented, unironic ugly Christmas sweaters, and it seemed as though this year she managed to rope your dad into it because he had a reindeer on the front of his that looked like one of the eyes was perilously close to falling off.

Joel turned to greet you with a warm smile, choosing to wear a much more normal off-white V-neck sweater with a pair of dark jeans. He pulled you into a hug, murmuring in your ear how beautiful you looked in the dark green knee length dress you picked out.

"Where's Sarah?" you asked him.

"She's been at Tommy's all day, wanted to help him set up," he explained.

"You ready to hit it?" your dad asked, looking down at his watch. You nodded, looping your arm through Joel's as you followed your parents out the front door. It was much colder than you were expecting, the bitter wind taking your breath away as Joel jogged ahead to start the truck. Your mom veered off towards their SUV, and your dad turned to you.

"See you there," he said, his breath clouding in front of his face in little puffs.

"Yeah. Hey, how'd mom get you to wear that ridiculous thing tonight?" you asked him with a teasing lilt to your voice as you pointed to his sweater.

Your dad chuckled and shoved his hands deep in his pockets.

"Sometimes people do crazy things for the person they love, Buck."

Your dad headed over to the driver's side of his SUV, leaving you cemented to the ground as his words tumbled around in your head.

"All good?" Joel asked, his arm coming up to your shoulders, steering you to the truck and out of the cold.

"Yeah," you whispered, taking his hand so he could help you up into the cab.

You were always amazed how comfortable your parents were in unusual social settings. Even if they hardly knew anyone, they managed to make new friends within ten minutes of arriving. That's why it came as no surprise when they branched off from you and Joel after arriving at Tommy's house, first finding your sister and her husband, and then laughing jovially with an older couple you learned later were Tommy's neighbors.

Cassie waved to you from across the room, beckoning you over. You smiled and waved back as Joel slid your coat from your shoulders.

"I'll get us somethin' to drink, what'dya like?" he murmured, his hand falling to the small of your back.

"I'm all set, but thank you," you said with a smile. He gave you a quick kiss on the top of your head before heading off to the kitchen while you made your way across the room to your sister, giving her a big hug.

"Did you get my text?" you asked as you pulled away.

"Yeah, sorry. You wanna get together tomorrow and we can look?" Cassie asked, and you nodded.

"That would be great," you said with relief as Joel sidled up next to you, beer in hand.

"What would be great?" he asked, taking a sip from the bottle.

"I'm gonna help her look for apartments tomorrow," Cassie explained. Joel nodded and swallowed the lump in his throat. He knew you were leaving in a few days, but he tried his best not to think about it, too worried that he would waste what little time he had left already missing you.

"Dad!" you all heard Sarah's voice ring out over the crowd of people in Tommy's living room. A smile instantly stretched across his face as he turned around, his daughter's arms wrapping around his midsection and squeezing him tightly. And as if it were the most natural thing in the world, she turned to embrace you right after, once again complimenting your dress and hair. Cassie and Josh exchanged knowing glances before Joel introduced them to his daughter.

"C'mon, I want you to try the cookies I made," Sarah said, grabbing your hand and dragging you towards the kitchen. Joel watched the two of you leave, his chest aching and his throat tightening at the sight of his daughter so happy.

"You okay?" Cassie asked, startling him.

"Yeah," he said, clearing his throat as he realized Tommy had come over to talk to Josh about what sounded like football.

"You're not a very good liar, Joel," Cassie said with a smirk. Joel gave her a surprised look and chuckled.

"No, reckon I'm not," he replied, taking another sip from his beer. His eyes met yours when you turned around in the kitchen and took a bite from a sugar cookie, tossing him a wink that made him smile.

"Do you love her?"

Joel nearly choked on his beer, his head swiveling back towards Cassie in surprise.

"Bit soon for that, don't you think?" he finally managed to say.

"That doesn't exactly answer my question," she said with a glint in her eye. Joel felt his heart hammering in his chest. Of course, he loved you. And apparently, it was very obvious. But still, he struggled with an answer, not sure how much to tell your sister. When a couple minutes passed and he still hadn't thought of anything to say, Cassie's eyebrows pinched together.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, reading the pain on his face. He sniffed and shook his head.

"It's alright," he replied, but his voice cracked, so he took another sip of beer to help distract from it.

"Dad! Do you wanna try one?" Sarah asked from the doorway, holding out a green sugar cookie in his direction. Joel forced a small smile and nodded before muttering excuse me to Cassie and headed over.

He plucked the cookie gingerly from his daughter's hand and took a bite, nodding to her and smiling as he chewed.

"Real good, baby girl," he said after he swallowed.

Sarah grinned mischievously as you approached, sliding your arm up and rubbing his back affectionately.

"She did a good job," you said, nodding towards the cookie. Sarah took a few steps back and looked up.

"Oh, no," she said, her tone flat, implying sarcasm as she pointed above your heads. "Guess you better kiss."

You both looked up at the small bundle of greenery wrapped in a little red bow pinned to the doorframe. You bit your lip and tilted your chin back down, raising an eyebrow at him.

He sighed and rolled his eyes as if it were a great burden, but he couldn't keep his mouth from turning up into a smile as he placed his beer and half eaten cookie on the table behind you so he could gently cup your jaw with both hands. You lifted your face up and let your eyes flutter closed when his lips brushed tenderly against your own, and just like the first time you kissed, all the noise surrounding you faded away. The only thing that mattered in those few moments were the two of you and the love that clearly burned so brightly that it drew the attention of Tommy and your family.

Your parents exchanged a sad glance and looked away right as Joel pulled back and gave a small kiss to the tip of your nose, then reluctantly dropped his hands to his sides.

"Adorable," Sarah said with a grin. You turned to look at her as she held up the screen of her phone, showing you the picture she sneakily took. You felt your cheeks flush as you gave her a playful shove, making her giggle.

A few hours later, Joel drove you home, with Sarah humming to herself in the backseat of the cab while she scrolled on her phone. His hand interlocked with yours as he drove, his thumb gently rubbing your knuckles while he steered the truck with one hand.

"Can you come over on Christmas?" Sarah asked suddenly, breaking the comfortable silence.

"She's gotta spend Christmas with her family, baby girl," Joel said, his eyes shifting to the review mirror to look at her.

"Actually, we exchange gifts tomorrow," you told him. "We've always done our presents on Christmas Eve. But I'm sure you guys want to do your own thing-"

"No," Joel said quickly, cutting you off. "We just have Tommy over. If you're free, we'd love to have you."

"Are you sure?" you asked him quietly, but Sarah's voice piped up from behind you.

"We're sure," she said confidently, making you chuckle.

"You heard her," he said with a grin.

"Alright then, that sounds great, thank you," you replied as he pulled into your driveway.

"I'm just gonna walk her up, okay?" Joel said over his shoulder, and Sarah just nodded, staring down blankly at her phone.

"I hope she didn't put you on the spot. If you aren't comfortable with it, I understand," Joel said as he led you up the steps.

"Not at all. If anything, I thought I would be intruding on family time," you responded when you reached the front door.

But you are family he thought, refusing to say it outloud.

"You're never intruding," he said earnestly. "We tend to start early, though. Maybe I can pick you up tomorrow night?"

"Wouldn't that be weird for Sarah?" you asked, tilting your head to the side.

"I'll figure it out. I'll sleep on the couch or somethin'," he said reassuringly.

"Okay," you said, giving him a shy smile and tugging your lower lip between your teeth. He reached out to swipe his thumb lovingly over your cheek before pinching your chin and pressing a kiss against your lips.

"I'll see you tomorrow night, then," he murmured.

You watched as he jogged down the steps, his breath lingering in the cold air behind him. You lifted a hand to give Sarah a wave and stepped inside when your phone went off in your purse. With a frown, you lifted it out and when you saw the text, you blushed.

Joel Miller: Miss you already.

"Hey Buck, you in here?" your sister's voice said from the other side of your bedroom door.

"Yeah, come in," you told her, sitting up in bed but still staring down at your phone will a goofy smile on your face.

When Cassie walked in with her laptop and saw your face, she rolled her eyes.

"Lemme guess," she said, plopping down on the bed next to you. "Joel?"

You didn't reply, still staring down at your phone as you tapped out a text.

"Hellooo?" Cassie said loudly, waving a hand under your face. You blinked and looked up at her.

"What?"

"Did you hear what I said?"

"No, sorry, I was just texting Joel," you said, the grin coming back. "What did you say?"

"Nevermind," Cassie replied, shaking her head. "You ready to look at apartments? I did some research this morning and I found a few you might like, and they are really affordable."

"Oh, yeah?" you said, finally dragging your attention away from your phone, curiosity getting the best of you. "That's fantastic because you'll never believe this one."

You sat back and told Cassie about Will and Melanie, her jaw dropping at the end.

"You've gotta be kidding me!" she exclaimed, and you shook your head.

"Nope. And you know, he had the audacity to text me trying to explain himself? I deleted the first one without reading it but the asshole actually texted me today, wishing me a Merry Christmas and oh, by the way, sorry I've been fucking your friend."

"What did you say?" Cassie asked, letting the laptop boot up on the bed next to her.

"Nothing. I just blocked his number. And I'm going to block Melanie, too, once I get back and get my shit from her place. Sydney said it's okay if I stay with her for a little bit, so I hope you found some decent options," you said, nodding towards the computer.

"Lemme pull them up," she said, moving the laptop towards her and taking a few minutes to pull up the sites she bookmarked, then she swiveled the computer to face you, watching your reaction closely. You narrowed your eyes at the screen and frowned, glancing up at her.

"These are in Austin," you said slowly.

"I know," she said, inching towards you on the bed. "I think you should stay, Bucky."

"Cas-"

"I saw you last night. Everyone saw you guys last night. And even if we didn't, it's so obvious to all of us-"

"Who? Mom and Dad?" you asked, rolling your eyes.

"Yes, Mom and Dad. And Josh. And Tommy. And probably even Sarah. Why are are you doing this to yourself?"

"Doing what? Going back to my home and my job? I didn't realize that was so irresponsible," you said sarcastically, growing more agitated.

"What home, Buck? Your home is here, with us. With Joel and with Sarah. And you know it," she said, crossing her arms.

"I'm not fighting with you about this. I'm not just going to give up and move back because some guy dumped me," you said, standing up from the bed.

"Would you give up and move back if another guy loves you?" she asked, stopping you cold.

"What?"

"He didn't tell me, but it's so obvious, Buck. C'mon, you see it, right?" she said, more gently now.

You sighed, running your fingers through your hair.

"Look, if you're not going to help me look for a place, can I at least borrow your computer? It's a lot easier to do it that way than using my phone."

"Fine," Cassie said, standing up and walking to the door. "But you're right, I'm not going to help you ruin your relationship with a guy who's actually fucking perfect for you. If you want to be stubborn, go right ahead."

"I'm not ruining my relationship with him, we're gonna do long-distance, and-"

"Yeah, okay. Good luck with that," she said over her shoulder, closing the door behind her.

When you saw Joel pull into the driveway later that evening, you rushed out the door, tossing a wave to your family over your shoulder. He frowned and jogged up to you, taking the duffel bag from your hand.

"Why didn't you let me come to the door? I wanted to say Merry Christmas to your folks," he said, following you to the passenger door.

"I was too excited to see you," you confessed, peeking inside and confirming Sarah wasn't in the car before turning around to wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him down for a deep kiss. "Sorry," you added with a smirk, nipping lightly at his lip.

"I'll forgive you," he said with a grin, then yanked the door open to help you up. He tossed your bag on the seat behind you before getting behind the wheel and backing out of the driveway.

"Is Sarah excited for Christmas?" you asked him as you looked out the window. He loved that you always thought to ask about his little girl.

"Oh, yeah. She loves Christmas. Especially since we're supposed to get snow tonight," he said.

"I heard about that, might be a lot."

"That's alright, we got nowhere to be," he said with a wink. "I can make us all breakfast in the mornin', Tommy'll be by around ten, we can do presents and watch movies. Or whatever you want. That's just what we usually do. Are there any traditions or anythin' you like?"

The excitement in his voice was palpable. This was going to feel like a real Christmas for the first time in years. Not that he didn't enjoy holidays with his daughter and brother, but something always felt like it was missing.

"All of that sounds perfect," you said with a smile.

When you entered Joel's house, Sarah came bounding up to you for a hug before you could even get your coat off.

"I'm so excited! We're gonna have a sleepover! Dad said we can stay up late and watch movies and set up sleeping bags in the living room next to the tree - come here, let me show you!" She dragged you across the room, and you tossed a laugh over your shoulder at Joel who was watching with a smile from the door.

Sarah fell asleep sometime during The Grinch, after the three of you had hot chocolate and the leftover cookies she had made for Tommy's party. With a contented sigh, you sleepily reached over and wrapped your arm around Joel's waist and buried your face against his neck, falling asleep just like that while he finished watching the movie alone, the smile refusing to leave his face.

"Wake up!" Sarah shouted, making you both jump out of your skin.

"What's wrong?" Joel asked groggily, trying to blink the sleep from his eyes. Then he smelled your shampoo and felt the warmth of your body against his and his heart melted as the night before came flooding back to him.

"It snowed, Dad!" she said. "Come on, I wanna build a snowman and do snow angels."

"It's early, honey, gimme a minute," Joel groaned, and he felt you trying to muffle your laughter against his chest.

"I'm gonna go wash up and change so we can go outside," she said, excitedly skipping up the steps.

"Jesus, you'd think she was eight years old," he mumbled, rolling on his side to wrap his arms around you tightly.

You burrowed into his chest deeper, the heat from his body washing over you and causing you to feel unbelievably relaxed, even if you were sleeping on the floor with an old sleeping bag as a mattress.

"Merry Christmas," you whispered, planting a soft kiss against his throat.

"Merry Christmas, baby," he said in return, his voice so deep and thick with sleep that it made your knees weak.

He leaned down and captured your lips with his while his fingers got tangled in your hair. He let out a satisfied groan when you let his tongue slip past your lips, sending goosebumps all over your body.

"Joel," you said breathlessly, pulling back. "She'll be back any second."

"Sorry. You're just so fuckin' pretty in the mornin'," he said with a grin. "Can't help myself."

After Sarah got ready, you and Joel took turns getting dressed and manning the stove. Once Joel made sure you were all full of pancakes, eggs and toast, he told Sarah she could go outside and take pictures while the two of you stayed behind to clean up.

Once again, you insisted on doing the dishes after he had cooked most of the meal. It was difficult for him to get used to that, but he put up less of a fight this time and let you do it, knowing that you were just trying to take some things off his plate. He reasoned that it was what he had wished for all along - someone to help him and care for him - so he might as well let it happen. He was in too deep at this point, anyway.

"The hell, you couldn't shovel me a damn path?" Tommy's voice boomed from the front door.

"That's what Sarah's for, why don't you yell at her?" Joel said with a grin as he pulled his brother into a hug. "Merry Christmas."

"Merry Christmas, brother," Tommy replied, slapping him on the back before making his way to you across the kitchen.

"Merry Christmas, little lady," Tommy said, picking you up and spinning you around, the same way he did with Sarah at her recital. You giggled, and Joel could see in your face that you were surprised. You gripped Tommy's shoulders and planted a kiss on his cheek when he finally put you down.

"Merry Christmas, did you eat? We still have some food left over," you said, pointing to the counter where the food was wrapped up in foil. When he heard you say we, it made Joel's stomach clench. Why on earth couldn't he have met you sooner?

"Don't mind if I do," Tommy replied, pulling a fork from the drying rack and grabbing the plates.

"Okay, Uncle Tommy's here, can we do our gifts now?" Sarah asked, rushing inside through the sliding glass door, her nose and cheeks pink from the cold and her tight brown curls carrying in a light dusting of snowflakes.

"Let him eat first, baby girl," Joel said, but Tommy shook his head, shoveling in a forkful of pancake.

"Go ahead and get started, I won't be long," he mumbled around the food in his mouth.

You and Joel brought your coffee into the living room and watched her excitedly open the gifts he had put under the tree, some of which you recognized as your own handiwork. He slung his arm around the back of the couch, his fingertips brushing against your shoulder. You leaned into him, bringing your knees up to your chest and your mug to your lips as you watched Sarah with a warm smile. Already, this was the perfect Christmas, and it had only just begun.

Sarah picked up a flat rectangular gift and read the tag before handing it over to you, and then going back to holding up the clothes she got.

You furrowed your brow and smiled when you saw it was from Joel, then turned to look up at him.

"It's nothin' really," he said with a shrug, but you could tell he was nervous. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Tommy enter the room, picking up Sarah's gifts one by one to examine them.

You set your mug down on the coffee table and opened the package, your hands pausing when you began to recognize what it was. Hurriedly, you ripped the rest of the paper off and flipped it over. Tears sprung to your eyes as you looked closely at the wooden picture frame he had made for you. Hearts, snowflakes, stars and moons of various sizes filled each and every inch of the wood. All of them painstakingly carved by his patient hand. You ran your finger over the wood, marveling at how smooth it was, before you even thought to look at the picture itself. Inside the frame was a picture of the two of you at Sarah's recital: you in your red dress and him in his dark red dress shirt. Your eyes were closed and his lips were pressed gently against your forehead.

He cleared his throat, growing nervous the longer you stared and didn't say anything.

"It's not a big deal, just-"

"No, it is a big deal," you said, turning to him with tears in your eyes. "I love it." I love you.

"Yeah?" he asked, finally allowing a smile to spread across his face. "Tommy took the picture and the idea just came to me."

"It's perfect," you breathed, looking back down at it in wonder. "Thank you so much."

You continued to stare at it, looking closely at and admiring each symbol he marked in the wood when you remembered your gift.

"Oh, wait!" you said, jumping up from the couch to paw through your duffel bag. You pulled out a card in a red envelope and handed it to him with a smile.

"You didn't have to do anythin'," he said, but ripped open the envelope eagerly anyway.

"It's actually a gift for both of you, if you want," you began nervously, getting Sarah's attention. Joel opened the card and saw two plane tickets for a five day trip to New York. He looked up at you in shock and glanced at Sarah before looking back down.

"What is it?" Sarah asked, getting up to look over his shoulder. Her eyes widened and she gasped.

"We're going to New York City?!"

"If you want," you repeated, biting your lip. "I thought you could both come visit me for a few days next month. I picked the end of the month because Tommy said you won't be working," you glanced up at Tommy and he smiled. "But if you want to pick different dates, we can do that, too. They're flexible tickets."

You realized you were rambling now. Joel's eyes were still glued to the tickets in shock, and you were worried you might have overstepped.

"Dad! We're gonna go to New York City!" Sarah squealed, shaking his shoulder and yanking the tickets from his hands. His eyes finally flicked up to meet yours.

"They are fully refundable, too," you continued, suddenly feeling sweaty. "No pressure, I just thought-"

He reached forward to grip the back of your neck, pulling you forward and crashing your mouth onto his. Your eyebrows shot up in surprise, but you managed to get your bearings and return his kiss. He pulled back and pressed his forehead affectionately against yours.

"Thank you," he whispered. You breathed a sigh of relief.

"You're welcome," you said with a smile.

He couldn't believe you thought of bringing his daughter with him to visit. His chest ached, seeing how wonderful you were with her, how caring and sweet and thoughtful and all the things his little girl needed and wanted but never got from anyone besides him and Tommy.

After the excitement died down, Sarah dragged you all outside to play in the snow. Insisting on building snowmen and taking tons of selfies because, as she said, it never snows this much in Texas, we need to memorialize it.

When it got too cold for you, you slipped back inside to make lunch, watching from the kitchen window as the three of them had a snowball fight, and laughing when Sarah nailed Joel square in the back of the head with a huge snowball.

The three of them finally came back in, filling the kitchen with a blast of cold air so crisp you could smell it. After they shrugged off their coats and gloves in the hall, Joel snuck up behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist and burying his freezing cold face into your neck, making you giggle and shriek. You tried to squirm away, but his grip was too tight.

"Warm me up, baby," he murmured into your neck, and you threw your head backwards as you laughed, your fingers trying to pry his hands off you.

"Oh, I love grilled cheese," Sarah said, eying up the sandwiches you had just plated as they walked in the door.

"I don't know how to make much, but I can make a mean grilled cheese," you told her, finally escaping Joel's grasp so you could join them at the table.

Joel couldn't remember the last time anyone cooked for him. Sarah tried a few times but ended up needing his help. He appreciated the thought and effort she had put into it, but it wasn't the same. He knew it was just a sandwich, but the fact he was able to sit down and have a warm meal without having to do it at a restaurant made it so much more meaningful to him.

The four of you spent the afternoon watching Christmas movies, drinking hot chocolate and eating leftovers from Tommy's party. You leaned up against Joel, his arm around your shoulders while you all watched Christmas Vacation, a beer in one hand while his other hand mindlessly played with the ends of your hair and all he thought was this is better than I ever could have imagined.

When the sun began to dip below the trees and the snow melted enough where his truck was visible again in the driveway, he reluctantly took you home, but only after you promised Sarah you would see her once more before you flew back home.

"Are you working tomorrow?" you asked him when you reached your front door.

"Yeah, but I can come by after," he replied, swallowing the lump in his throat.

"Okay," you said quietly, holding back the tears that threatened to spill down your face. "Thank you for today, I had a really great time."

He nodded and took a shaky breath in.

He wanted to tell you. The words were sitting right at the tip of his tongue, but he couldn't say it. He knew if he did, you would never leave. So instead, he wordlessly stepped forward and gave you a soft kiss, his lips wrapping around your lower lip and giving it a gentle tug as he pulled away.

"Sleep tight," he murmured, the tip of his nose nudging your own. "I'll see you tomorrow, sweetheart."

You watched him walk slowly down the steps and head to his truck, your eyes stinging and your chest tight as you bit your lip. He turned back to give you a wave before starting the car and backing out of the driveway. Only when his taillights disappeared down the street did you allow the tears to finally fall.

Joel pulled up to the job site early the next morning, spotting Tommy's truck already parked along the street. He glanced quickly at his phone to make sure he didn't miss a text from you before pulling on his gloves and walking up to the building.

"Hey," Joel said to Tommy when he walked in, then shrugged off his coat.

"Hey. Cold one out there today," he replied, taking a sip from his thermos. Joel grunted in response and kept his gaze focused on the tools in front of him. Tommy watched him for a moment before speaking again.

"So, tomorrow's the big day, huh?"

"Yep," was all Joel said in response.

"What time's her flight?"

"Morning. Ten or so," he replied, still not looking up.

"Hm," Tommy said, taking another sip of coffee. "You don't look so good today."

"Huh?" Joel asked, finally turning around to furrow his brow at his brother.

"You look a little under the weather. Maybe you oughta go home," he said, tilting his head to the side. It took a moment, then the realization dawned on him.

"Oh," he said, looking around the half built store, his fingers flexing at his sides, clearly thinking it over.

"Just go, Joel," Tommy told him.

"Yeah, but-"

"This can wait. Just go be with your girl," he urged gently. "I can handle things here today."

"Okay," he said, grabbing his coat and throwing it back over his shoulders. He turned around to thank him as he got to the door, but Tommy waved him off.

"Get goin'."

Joel grinned and flung the door open, jogging back to his truck and pulling out his phone.

Joel Miller: You awake?

He took the porch steps two at a time, his finger hovering over the doorbell before deciding to rap his knuckles against the door instead. He tapped his foot as he waited impatiently, then straightened up when he heard the sound of the door opening.

You peered around the door looking like you had just woken up, although you had claimed you were awake when he texted you fifteen minutes ago.

"Joel? I thought you had to work?" you asked, stifling a yawn.

"Anyone home?" he asked, ignoring your question and looking over your shoulder.

"No, they went shopping and then they were going to my sister's house after to help put together the crib," you told him, stepping back so he could enter.

"Aren't you supposed to be at work?" you tried again as he quickly slid off his boots and coat.

"Yeah," he said, providing no more information.

He took a step forward and leaned down to press his lips against yours, his hands skirting up your sides and resting on your jaw. You brought your hands up to grip his shirt tightly, tipping your head back and opening your mouth, deepening his kiss with a moan.

"So, you're home alone?" he clarified a little breathlessly, and you nodded.

"Why don't you show me the guest room?" he murmured, breathing deeply and giving you another quick kiss.

"Didn't you build this house?" you teased but took his hand to lead him up the stairs anyway. He swatted your ass playfully and you giggled.

"Yeah, but you make every room look better," he said, and you rolled your eyes.

"Such a sweet talker," you told him with a smirk as you reached the top of the stairs.

"Like what you've done with the place," he said without even looking around. Instead, he kicked the door shut and pulled you against him, his mouth latching onto your neck. You sighed and tilted your head back, giving him better access as you walked backwards towards the bed and pulled him down on top of you.

"Will you and Sarah come see me tomorrow morning before I leave for the airport?" you asked suddenly, making his lips freeze on your throat.

"'Course we will," he said, leaning up and brushing the hair away from your face. You searched his eyes for a moment, pressing your lips into a thin line as you tried to steady your breathing. The rawness and vulnerability he saw made him weak.

"It's okay," he said soothingly, and pressed a kiss against your forehead. "It'll all be okay."

He heard the words come out of his mouth, but he couldn't bring himself to believe them. It didn't appear that you did, either, but you still nodded before dragging his face down to kiss you. He dipped his tongue past your lips, and you lifted the hem of his shirt up. He broke the kiss briefly, just long enough to tug the shirt over his head, then his mouth was back on yours while your hands roamed over his warm chest, trying to memorize every single detail of his pebbled skin while he was still here.

You lifted your hips, and he tugged your pajama pants down, leaving them in a heap at the bottom of the bed, then making short work of your shirt, leaving you almost completely exposed. His eyes raked up and down your body, his chest rising and falling faster than normal. He tried not to think about this being the last time you would be together like this for at least a month, but the suitcase in the corner of the room kept catching his eye.

So, to distract himself, he frantically pulled down your panties and settled his shoulders between your thighs. Before you even knew what was happening, you felt his tongue between your folds and you gasped, fully not expecting that, but you recovered quickly, your fingers finding their way to the top of his head, gripping the dark curls there as your hips rocked against his face.

You whined and arched your back, his coarse facial hair adding just the right amount of friction to your most sensitive spot to send you tumbling over the edge, gasping his name over and over until your body went lax.

He crawled up your body, planting soft kisses along your hips, stomach, breasts and shoulders until he reached your lips. The taste of yourself on his tongue was dizzying. It should have felt obscene, but it was the exact opposite. His taste and scent mixed with your own created something intoxicating, something indescribable that you wished you could keep and carry with you whenever you were lonely and two thousand miles away.

"Love the way you say my name," he mumbled against your mouth, his fingers working on the zipper of his jeans. Your breath caught in your throat when he shed his pants and underwear, the sight of him sending a tingle down your spine.

"You ready for me, baby?" he asked you, his palms squeezing your thighs. You hadn't realized it, but your body tensed up once you were reminded of his size. His gentle touch helped you relax while his hips nudged your legs apart, and you nodded.

"C'mere," you whispered, and he fell forward on his elbows so he could hover above you. You pinched his chin with your fingers and tugged him closer, brushing your lips softly against his, never wanting the moment to end.

He reached down between your bodies to line himself up, hooking your leg around his waist in the process. When he pressed forward, you let out a moan so soft and sweet that he needed to pause and clear his head.

"Fuck," he whispered as he eased all the way in. You had your lower lip tucked between your teeth and your chin tilted up to gaze at him, swallowing a whine as he rolled his hips, making you feel impossibly full. His eyes drifted down to where you were connected and his jaw went slack, watching in a trance at how beautifully your body accepted him.

"Joel," you gasped, trying to get his attention.

He looked up at you, a thin sheen of sweat covering his forehead and his breath coming in sharp pants.

"Roll over," you told him. He grinned and did as he was told, pulling you on top of him, his hands resting on your hips. You stilled for a moment as you adjusted around him, the angle far more intense, before you started rocking back and forth, then bouncing lightly, tipping your head back with your eyes slid shut.

God, if it wasn't the most beautiful thing he ever saw. Watching you lose yourself on top of him, chasing your release and moaning his name. It felt so surreal, he almost pinched himself. Then he felt his stomach tense and a familiar burning at the base of his spine and he knew he didn't have long. He sat up, one arm circling your waist, the other bracing his weight behind him, and he began to thrust upwards, matching your rhythm, his mouth open and hovering over yours as he waited for your body to warn him you were close.

"Joel!" you cried out, your face twisted with pleasure and your breath ragged.

"C'mon, baby," he urged, his hips snapping faster now.

You collapsed onto him, your cries muffled by his mouth as your climax washed over you and he finally let himself go with a loud groan of relief. His hips slowed and your eyes opened to look at him while you caught your breath.

He fell backwards, his arm no longer able to hold him up. You rolled off to the side, your head tucked into his shoulder and the pessimistic part of you wondered if that would be the last time, if either of you were strong enough to survive a long-distance relationship.

You swallowed roughly and looked up at him, only to find him staring at the suitcase in the corner of the room.

"Are you okay?" you whispered, and he quickly tore his eyes away to give you a smile.

"'Course I am," he said, rubbing your back reassuringly. But what he really wanted to say was please don't go.

You gave your mom a big hug, swaying back and forth as your dad put your luggage in the back of Cassie's car.

"Take care of yourself, Bucky," your mom said, giving your forehead a kiss.

"I will, Mom," you promised. You turned to your dad, who had made his way back to your side.

"Alright, kid," he said, pulling you into his chest roughly. You grinned and wrapped your arm around his sizable midsection. "Call me when you land, alright?"

"Sure thing," you said, pulling back.

"And I mean call, don't be textin' me, I wanna hear your voice," he said sternly, and you nodded.

You heard a car coming up the driveway and your chest squeezed tight. Your mom must have seen it on your face because she gave you one more hug and whispered encouragement against your hair before she ushered your dad back inside.

"I'll be in the car," Cassie mumbled. She was still annoyed with you, but she wasn't the type to be cruel about it.

You heard a familiar voice call out your name and you turned around just in time to catch Sarah's embrace.

"I can't believe you're really leaving," she said sadly against your shoulder. You looked at Joel as he slowly walked up behind her.

"I know, but it's been so much fun. I want to thank you for everything. I had such a great time with you," you told her, pulling back. "I really mean it, okay?"

"Yeah, me too," she said with a smile. "And I'll see you again in a month, right?"

"Right! It's not that long, it'll be here before you know it," you told her, the lie slipping right past your lips.

She finally stepped back, looking at her dad and then back at you before telling Joel she would wait in the car.

You looked up at him, the tears welling in your eyes now, unable to hold them back any longer.

"Don't cry," he whispered, pulling you close. He closed his eyes and felt you sob quietly against his shoulder, your fingers gripping his coat so tightly, like you were afraid to let him go.

"I stole your shirt," you said, your voice muffled. He chuckled and shook his head.

"That's alright, sweetheart, it's yours," he said.

Stepping back, you looked up at him. You could tell he was sad but trying to be strong for you, and for some reason, it broke your heart. Joel spent so much of his life being strong for everyone else around him, it wasn't fair.

He knew if he asked, you would stay. But that wouldn't be right. As badly as he wanted you to stay, not only for him, but for Sarah, he couldn't do that to you. He wouldn't put that choice on your shoulders and risk you making a decision you would eventually regret and hold against him. So, he let you go. Only this time, he hoped that history wouldn't repeat itself and you would come back to him.

The drive back home was quiet. The radio was on, but neither of them really heard it. Sarah stared glumly out the window while Joel tried his best to keep it together, telling himself over and over that the long-distance thing would work. If it failed for other people, it was because they weren't as strong or devoted. He knew what he felt, and what you had together was worth fighting for.

"Are you still going to take me to Katy's?" Sarah asked. Joel blinked and looked over at her.

"What?"

"Remember? We have that science project together, we need to have it done before end of Christmas break," she said, and he nodded as it began to come back to him.

"Yeah, sure. I can drop you off on my way home," he said quietly.

Sarah looked at him for a moment in silence, worry etching her face.

"Maybe I should stay home today," she said, but Joel shook his head.

"I'm fine, I should meet up with Uncle Tommy, anyway. We're behind on a job."

"Dad," Sarah said, and he turned to look at her as he approached a red light. "You're not fine."

Joel's mouth opened and then closed, unsure what to say.

"Why didn't she want to stay?" Sarah asked. Joel swallowed the lump in his throat.

"She's got a life in New York, baby girl. I can't ask her to stay."

"You didn't even ask her?!" she exclaimed, twisting around in her seat to glare at him.

"'Course I didn't ask her-"

"Dad!" Sarah screeched, and Joel jumped in his seat.

"Calm down! I'm tryin' to drive!" he yelled as he pulled down Katy's street.

"Did you tell her that you love her?"

Joel frowned at her as he pulled into the driveway.

"How did-"

"Oh my god, Dad! You are hopeless!" she said, exasperated. She opened the door and slid out of the seat but turned back to him before she shut the door.

"Go get her, Dad."

Joel was a cautious man. He was responsible. He had a level head and kept to himself. He wasn't a risk taker, he didn't speed, and he definitely didn't dramatically chase down women in airports, yet today he found himself doing exactly all of those things.

He had parked his truck in a spot he was very certain he shouldn't have parked in as he raced into the building, his eyes flicking across the departure screens before heading up to the counter.

"How can I help you?" a young, blonde woman asked, giving him her best customer service smile.

"I need to speak to someone on one of your flights, it's an emergency, and she's gettin' on a plane in-" he yanked his arm up to look at his watch. "Ten minutes. I need you to call the gate and ask them-"

"Sir, I am so sorry, we can't do that," the woman replied, cutting him off. Joel squinted at her name tag and looked back up at her.

"Teresa. Please. I am beggin' you, please pick up the phone and call the gate."

"We cannot hold up a flight, sir. Can't you just call her and ask her to-"

"I tried! She ain't pickin' up, she probably has her phone off already for the damn flight," he said, his heart hammering in his chest as he rubbed his palms aggressively over his face.

"If you buy a ticket, you can get past security and maybe you'll be able to reach the gate in time," she said quietly. He looked up at her, his eyes filling with hope.

"I'm not supposed to tell people that," she added softly as she typed into the computer. "Don't make me regret it."

"Thank you!" he whispered, pulling out his wallet and paying for the cheapest ticket they had. Once she handed him the ticket, he took off running towards the gates.

"Good luck!" Teresa called after him, leaning over the counter.

He checked the board ten times. Gate 52. He was sure of it.

He ran up just in time to see the plane backing away from the building, the door sealed shut. He stood there, his forehead resting against the window as he watched your plane leave.

What a stupid idea. He never should have done this. What was he thinking? This is real life. Of course he wouldn't catch you in time, and even if he did, you wouldn't have stayed. It would have just put you and him through more pain, and for what? Just so he -

"Joel?"

He swore in that moment, all the air left his body. He couldn't move. He couldn't breathe. He thought he imagined it, that he was so far-gone that he was blurring fantasy with reality. But when he finally turned around, he saw you actually standing there, clutching your carry on in one hand and your phone in the other, tears streaming down your face.

"I couldn't do it," you whispered, your lower lip trembling.

"You stayed," he said in disbelief, his voice cracking as he rushed over and pulled you into his chest. You didn't leave me. You didn't leave Sarah.

"Why?" he asked. A tear slipped down his cheek, and he furiously wiped it away, still clutching you against him.

"The whole ride here, it felt like I was leaving a piece of me in that driveway, and I just kept asking myself what was I even going back for? What was left for me, besides my job?" you sniffled into his coat before continuing. "I guess sometimes people do crazy things for the person they love."

He pulled back and grabbed your face in his hands, his mouth crashing down on yours. You dropped your carry on and wrapped your arms around his neck, your tears mingling together as both of you refused to break away.

"I love you, too," he said, finally stepping back but still holding onto you as a wide smile spread across his face.

You giggled and tried to wipe some of the tears from his cheeks.

"Why didn't you answer your phone?" he asked. "I tried callin' you, I couldn't get through. I thought you were on the damn plane."

"I was on the phone with my boss. I told him I quit," you said with a grin. "I had this whole speech planned, but all I managed to get out was I needed to stay in Texas. We are still working out all the details, but long story short, they offered me a fully remote position."

Joel was convinced the smile was never going to leave his face.

"Take me home, Joel," you told him. He pressed one more gentle kiss against your lips before draping an arm around your shoulders, picking up your bag, and leading you back the way he came.

As you walked out of the airport, the rest of your luggage unfortunately on its way to New York City, he realized that his fantasy was actually coming true. He had everything he could ever want. Everything he ever dreamed of became reality right before his very eyes.

He finally belonged to somebody who would be there for him and his daughter. Somebody who loved them and chose them and didn't abandon them.

And now that he had you, he was never going to let you go.

Tag list: @lola8888673 @pedropascalsbbg @nandan11 @sushiumex @serenadingtigers @jjlevin @survivingandenduring @amyispxnk @mysterious-moonstruck-musings @merz-8 @fandomscollide @anoverwhelmingdin @cayleejx16 @msjjekyll @lizzie-cakes @hexedbywuanda @harriedandharassed @joeldjarin @daddy-dins-girl @jessthebaker @seratuyo @wh0reforbucknasty @paleidiot @misstokyo7love @runningmom94 @mandoisapunk @marantha @missladym1981 @mybworlds @hologramgrlluvr @txtattoostark @jay-mach - if you are crossed out, it won't let me tag you

[bitchface24-7]

also, i know i just sent a message but i realized i do have a request if you are accepting and have time. i would love to see your take on plus size!reader x jayvik.

SO, i saw a post a while ago (not on tumblr) essentially alluding to jayce and viktor not being attracted to a plus size person at all and it lowkey messed with me bc i am a plus sized person and i love jayvik. and maybe they wouldn’t but id like my delusions… you know? LOL

and i feel you’d write it beautifully. and if possible, maybe reader is not hella confident???

this is of course if you have time! and are accepting requests. thank you! thank you!

BEAUTY IS SUBJECTIVE - JAYVIK X READER

synopsis: you don't look like most people in Piltover, and you're not saying that to be a pick-me. You're softer, larger. With stretch marks, thighs that rub together when you walk, a tummy, and some rolls on your back. It’s hard to see beauty in something that isn't considered the standard, but beauty is subjective.

warnings: plus size reader, talk of insecurities, people being mean (they can kiss my ass!), Jayvik comforting you, angst, fluff, AND suggestiveness, Grammarly is my beta

genre: m/m/f or m/m/m

p.s. I totally get you anon. I'm a size 16, I'm short, I'm the largest one in my friend group, and I've never been in a romantic relationship. I'm lucky that I'm curvy in a sense as to I'm considered the “acceptable plus size/chubby” but still… I get it. I hope this does your idea justice, and screw those people who said Jayvik would never go for plus-size people. THEY’RE FAKE. WE DON’T KNOW WHAT THEY’D GO FOR!! (also why was it so hard for me to find a pic with a casual fit? Like you didn't specify for a fem reader, but that seemed unnecessarily hard to find wtf Pinterest)

People are assholes, lets get that out of the way.

If you don't fit into society's standard of beauty, you're a beast. High cheekbones, big eyes, tiny nose, big lips, nice jaw, perfectly sculpted body with either abs only possible if you're dehydrated or perky tits, massive eyes, a waist the size of your neck, and no stomach.

You either have to be blessed by the generic roll or have disposable income out the wazoo to get a whole bunch of plastic surgery.

You've heard what people say. How they talk about how you look, how the question how Viktor and Jayce could ever be attracted to you.

It's irritating, it's insulting, it's making your insecurities flare up.

You know you don't fit the beauty standard, you don't look like the upper echelon of Piltover. It’s frustrating having your whole being as a person be judged by your physical appearance. You're much more than the weight on the scale.

But sometimes even you forget that little tid bit of information.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

You’re relaxing in bed, snuggled up under the covers as you read a book. There was an event you agreed to go to but now— you're not in the mood.

You don't want to dress up, fake a smile, pretend you don't hear other people talking about you, come home, and get comfy as your mind screams at you.

So you've debated rescinding your approval.

Jayce and Viktor will wonder why. You've been anticipating this event for weeks now, it'd throw them for a loop you saying no.

They also agreed to come with you.

Speak of the devil and they shall appear, you're two lovely men come waltzing into the bedroom as they bicker over what colour of tie they should wear.

“Theres nothing wrong with a classic black tie Jayce.”

A sputter, “It's boring! And every man is going to do it! We want to be better than them!”

“Black goes with everything! Then you don't have to worry if you’re mismatching! Love, can you settle this debate its been going on for ten minutes— Love? Why aren't you getting ready?”

The debate ceases at Viktor's question. You're lounging in bed, in pajamas, as you read your book. You have forty-five minutes before the event starts and you need to get ready asap so you all make it there in time.

“I’m debating if I want to go.” You calmly state, and the two men look at each other.

“Debate?! You've been waiting for this for weeks! What happened?” Jayce asks, his eyes full of worry as he examines you. You're not sick, you're not hurt. What’s going on?

You sigh, rubbing your eye, “I’m just… not in the mood.”

Viktor purses his lips, “You’re hiding something. Please just tell us. We can truly stay home if you want to, but I want to know why you've done a 180° in regards to this event.”

A light thump is heard as your book closes, you place it on the nightstand, “I’m not in the mood to be looked at in a hostile way, given back-handed compliments, or passive-aggressive remarks.”

Jayce just looks confused, “Who does that? Why would they do that?”

“Because of how I look Jayce.”

“Beautiful?”

“Not to their standard.”

Viktor ahhs at that, “You mean that you're not as thin as the Piltover elite. That you have curves, a different beauty as to what they deem acceptable.”

“I also have stretch marks, jiggly thighs, a stomach, a double chin when I look down, my back isn’t smooth. I can go on forever! I've heard enough people talk about me, as if I don't know what my own body looks like. I don't want to do that tonight.”

Jayce looks upset, his lips set into a frown, “I have stretch marks.”

Viktor quickly adds, “I don't have a smooth back, I've got metal drilled into my spine.”

You huff a laugh, oh your sweet boys, “That’s different.”

“How?”

“Because you two are the most handsome men I've ever had the privilege of seeing.”

Viktor and Jayce join you on the bed, taking up either side of you. You're now squished in between them.

“I’ve got a weak leg, a weak spine, I’m as pale as a sheet of paper with dark circles that put the night sky to shame. I use cane and multiple braces. I'm not Piltover’s definition of beauty.”

“I have a gap between my teeth, my laugh is too loud, I don't like physical contact by people I don't know— and I prefer to initiate it. I'm covered in small scars and burn marks from working in the forge.”

You see where they're going with this, and it makes you feel a bit better. The way they continue it makes you flusteredly laugh.

“You’re gorgeous. Do you think we get hard cause of a gust of wind—”

“I mean it could happen—”

“Shut up, darling.”

Jayce continues as you giggle and Viktor shoots you a playful glare, “Do you think we’re constantly pawing you, kissing you, teasing you, and begging for you cause what… we pity you? We do it cause we love you and are attracted to you.”

“People are fucking rude—” Viktor calmly states as you squawk in laughter and Jayce rubs his face groaning, “They are! They're mean and rude because they either have nothing better to do, they’re projecting, or they're jealous. Don't let other measly people drag you down.”

You smile at the two of them and sniffle a bit. Before you know it, you're essentially tackled by love as your face is smattered with kisses by your partners. You squeal as their assault pushes you back into the bed.

“Okay! Okay, I get it! People are mean and they can kiss my ass.”

“Actually I rather they didn't.”

“Jayce!”

“What?! Viktor agrees with me!”

“I do.”

“Viktor!”

The three of you burst out laughing, a serenity passes over you. What would you do without them?

“You still want to go to the event?” Viktor asks, his tone light. You ponder for a few seconds before nodding, “Yeah, let's go. I'm gonna dress up, look hot as hell, and have the two finest men in Piltover as my dates. One for each arm, and ill get to watch as the upper echelon of Piltover seethes in jealousy.”

“Well we gotta be quick cause the event is in twenty-five minutes and we’re all in our pyjamas still.” Jayce casually states. With that the three of you book it out of bed to get ready.

Yeah. You're gonna make all of Piltover seethe tonight; especially since you're the one who gets to bring them home and into your bed.

Nice fluffy comfort! Hope y'all enjoyed! I'm so tired and its only 5:36 pm (17:36) I can't nap or go to bed 😭😭

[hivemuthur]

What was that? - Ch. 1.

viktorxfemale!OFC mature! (for now, I will mark later chapters as explicit when the time comes

friends to lovers, co-workers, sexual tension up to the wazoo, pinning and banter that got me frustrated when I was writing it, attempt at humour, some angst and a slow burn with a happy ending and a classic Viktor for once

Ch.2. | Ch.3. | Ch.4. | Ch.5. | Ch.6. | Ch.7. | Ch.8. | Ch.9. | Ch.10. | Ch.11. | Ch.12. | Ch.13. | Ch.14. | Ch.15.

word count: 4,6K

tag: #what was that

summary: A romance that explores two insecure people growing closer together through snippets of their time at work.

author’s note: Can I post three things a day? Yes. This is the first fic I've written and I love it dearly. It connected me with @rennethen who has been beta reading it patiently and helped me create significant parts of it, and for that connection alone it was worth to write it.

Cross-posted on AO3

—

“Renly, are you being serious right now?” John stormed into the lab’s kitchen visibly flushed with anger. Renly only blinked at him, a question in her eyes.

“I guess? Didn’t you get my note?” She definitely remembered sending the note asking John to take a raincheck. She even made a song about it to not forget, like the last time. Viktor had mocked the song at first but later grew annoyed with it.

”Please stop, this song is now rotting my brain. I get it, John is a nice guy,” Viktor rotated on his chair with a groan that has clearly been building up for at least one minute.

“Sorry, it’s the only way I don’t get distracted and forget!” to Viktor’s demise, Renly sang this line as well.

“Well, didn’t you get my note?” John said, already huffing, seemingly offended. He did get her note, he did see the little heart she drew on it and a coffee stain that suggested she wrote it hastily, while doing something else with her other hand. So, he sent a passive aggressive jokey note back stating that it’s tomorrow or he doesn’t know when, because he is also oh-so-busy.

“I can’t make it otherwise,” he laid his hands apart in apologetic gesture.

“Like… this week? Or ever?” light mockery in her voice, she said with her back to John, while pouring coffee into two cups. “It’s okay, we can have breakfast here. Do you want coffee?” Renly pulled out the third cup from the sink and waved it at John expectantly.

At which point, Viktor entered their tiny lab kitchen, scrunching his wet hair with a damp towel, his cheeks flushed and clothes slightly dishevelled, clinging to his hot-after-shower body. “Do I smell coffee? Hi John,” he said, waving at the doorway.

“Nothing will hide from you. Crisis averted?” Renly asked referring to fifteen minutes ago, when Viktor banged viciously on the bathroom door, demanding shower access immediately, as he spilled suspicious fluid from Renly’s workstation all over himself.

She said it was punishment for snooping. He said she’d taken his favourite pen, and her workstation was planned ridiculously, making moving around risky. Also, she took showers that lasted forever. She said her shower was only fifteen minutes, which is perfectly within bounds of morning toilet routine. He said she should shower at home and sleep at home; otherwise, she would end up a social pariah like him and Jayce. She said it’s a bit late for that as night is a perfect time for quiet work and she is one person away from the social pariah status. She meant John. So right now, it really did look like she was close to adding it to her work signature. She had to evacuate from the bathroom before she had the chance to dry off completely, which is why her hair was wet.

“Did you shower together?” John’s tone gained additional pitch to it as he asked his ridiculous question, visibly getting more and more distressed.

“Yes, John. We also have occasional orgies that I forgot to mention,” Renly couldn’t help about the snarky comment but when she turned around to take a look at her… boyfriend? They went out about ten times and slept together twice, so she guessed he was her boyfriend already. Well, he looked hurt, and she immediately wished she didn’t say it, no matter how ridiculous it sounded.

“Please, don’t be like that. I pulled an all-nighter again, and it was too late to go home. We showered separately, obviously,” she said in a softer voice as the cups were placed on the tiny table in the middle of the kitchen, only three chairs.

“I will give the two of you some space,” Viktor swept his cup with Jayce’s face on it and gave both of them polite smile as he walked out faster, than Renly thought he was able to.

“So… are you very cross with me?” she waited for Viktor to leave the area and asked reaching out to place her palm on top of John’s forearm, but he winced away.

John had always been good at making himself seem indispensable. When they first started seeing each other, his charm felt effortless—little gestures like remembering her favourite tea or distracting her with a ridiculous joke when she was too stressed to focus. She had let her guard down with him in a way she rarely allowed herself to. It had felt safe, comforting even. But lately, the cracks in that façade were harder to ignore. He got offended easily and threw some stupid accusations at her when he was out of arguments. She did admit, she was quite oblivious to some of relationship savoir-vivre, but it was also discussed priorly! And he said he doesn’t mind, so the next part caught her off-guard.

“I… don’t think this will work out this way,” he said with a sigh and waved his hand around making her question if he meant them, or breakfast with Victor in near vicinity. “I didn’t know this is what I was signing up for frankly,” he finished and gave her a sad puppy glance. This made her… angry? Of course, he knew what he was signing up for. She told him from the very beginning how important her work was. And how bad she was at this, but he just called her cute. Surely, this was enough of a warning. Or maybe it wasn’t but John really didn’t seem like he heard anything of what she ever said in the long run.

He was a Piltie, and she was from Zaun. He liked posh places that were trying to pass as casual, she liked to hang out by the riverbank in the evenings and sneak into The Undercity to look at street art and eat street food. He always seemed to pay attention to what she was telling him about her lab work and how many lives it could potentially change but at the end of every test presentation and heated one-sided conversation (it was hot on her side only) when she looked at him expectantly, he praised her with a you are so smart or you look pretty when you get excited about science and it left her empty of all air like a sad balloon in the aftermath of a party. He probably had a politician’s career ahead of him, so in the future, he would be the person to decide whether she does or doesn’t get funding for her research and in her mind’s eye John was a person that would probably happily fund something else than the medicine for long term Grey exposure symptoms. But he was a good practice for that. And despite everything else, she did like him. He had his moments, as they say.

In a few seconds, that took very long in the pocket dimension of her brain, Renly tried to calculate how much fault in this situation was hers and if it was worth to back down and give him a peace offering in form of a dinner at her place, that she would cook, and they would be alone, and it would be romantic, and he would probably get to fuck her on the dinner table.

The plan started forming itself, when John said “I mean… you spend all your free time here, or you drag me around the lanes. Also, this Viktor guy? I got over Jayce, recently he is barely here. So…” he dragged his huge eyes across her face looking for a sign of understanding that wasn’t there “…you understand how I feel when you spend most of your time with another man.” It came out weak, but he decided to stand by it.

“Another man? It’s Viktor,” she scoffed. “Not even a day ago he stated how much I disgust him with Zaunian food in fridge. He works all the time. We sleep in separate rooms. He…” Renly inhaled, exasperated by this accusation. It’s ridiculous, how insecure John was to even suggest that.

“He is a friend. And that’s all. I assure you he is not interested in me.” She had a dead serious certainty about this. If something was fixed in this universe, it was the fact that Viktor wasn’t interested in her. And she didn’t think of him that way either. Except the one time she let her mind wander, and she did. Which was a lie, because she thought that at least twice.

Once, when they met for the first time. She already knew Jayce, who made her gasp the first time she saw him. The impression passed, but friendship remained. Jayce and Viktor, freshly acquainted, were passing her classroom when a quake shook The Uppercity. It caused one of her test tubes to fall into the vial she was working on, breaking and triggering a teeny-tiny exoenergic reaction (it exploded). The hero within Jayce’s body drove him straight in to help any casualties, of which the only one was Renly, face full of colourful goo. From the floor, she glanced at Viktor walking in shortly after his partner, and she gasped, even more than when she had met Jayce. She immediately knew it was wrong to look for so long. Her suspicion was confirmed when Viktor’s expression shifted from amusement to the realization that his brief chance to present himself as more than the guy with a cane had passed. From that point forward, he was very formal with her, though he occasionally joked about history repeating itself within the academy walls.

It was a lie though, as well. She first saw Viktor by the riverbank in Zaun, as a child. She had been maybe seven, and he could have been slightly older. Her eyes, round and curious, followed him trying to chase down his mechanical ship taken by the stream. She tried to shadow him that day, but he disappeared in the mouth of a cave she was afraid to walk into. He had a smaller cane then and she thought him a magician. So, she only lingered in disbelief that their paths crossed once more and that he was, indeed, real. And also, in awe of how beautifully he has grown up. But overall, Renly counted it as a one time.

Second time, after she decided to stay at university to continue her research and teach students, they were copying the notes together and Jayce was growing more and more bored, so he kept trying to start random topics.

"I wonder if all of them are as pretty as Mel,” he said, trying to trace down beautiful Mel Medarda’s heritage while fishing for reassurance from his friends about their imminent romance.

“But maybe it’s not a rule. I mean, looking at the both of you I would say the rule for Zaun is to be full of attractive people as well,” Jayce was waffling on, and Renly grew tired of it.

“And ugly people. And short people. And tall people. And fat people, and skinny people, Jayce. It’s all just people, like in Piltover, there is no rule to here or Zaun. Initially, it’s the same city, and we all come from different places,” she said harshly not lifting her sight from the notes she was copying.

“Oh relax, it was a compliment! And I am looking for reassurance from you guys, yes,” he traced his finger down the blackboard, wiping some of the old equations away.

“Not very progressive of you, the Man of Progress. I can give you reassurance – Mel seems fine. You will be fine. You are a big boy, Jayce. But I do not need compliments, not because I’m from The Undercity, nor because I’m a woman,” Renly’s dead stare made Jayce look for help from Viktor. She gave him a pass and went back to scribbling.

“Vik, any help?”

“I’m afraid with this one I have to place myself in Renly’s corner. Even though of the two of us, I probably am the one that needs compliments,” Viktor also didn’t glance up from above his paperwork.

“No, you don’t,” Renly didn’t notice she now got the attention of both of her friends.

“You are, yourself, quite…” her mind was absent at this moment, so it was probably the other part of her that spoke the rest “…dreamy.” A second past, in which her brain caught up with her mouth and a deep shade of red bled into her cheeks and chest. She cleared her throat, stood up quickly and threw barely audible excuse me leaving the boys to exchange their looks and make their fun of her. Jayce snorted when Renly was out of hearing range and Viktor only mouthed a what was that? That was the second time, infinitely more mortifying than the first one.

“You put a lot of effort into assuring me of this, but you never once said if you are not interested in him. From where I’m standing, you are definitely not interested in me,” John’s voice broke her out of reminiscing.

Renly’s face went into stupid mode, twisting her features with disbelief. How dare he.

“Are you really saying what I’m hearing? Are you accusing me of infidelity based on your own insecurity? Have I truly given you any reason to believe I’m involved with anyone else but you? When do you think I would have time for that? Or do you actually not listen to me when I tell you about what I’m doing here and how much of my time and energy it consumes?” John’s expression grew more and more panicked as he saw how far he has overstepped.

“This is not… I didn’t…”

“What you didn’t do is think. You are the one who is not interested in me, John. You listen to me, but you do not register, nor remember anything I tell you. What do you want from me? Should I drop everything I’m doing just to dangle from your shoulder at the parties? Should I change the way I speak? Should I cut all my friends and relatives loose because they are from The Undercity? Would that make you feel secure enough?” she spat at him, becoming more and more angry with every sentence, self-winding regret fuelling her.

“Gods, this is not what I want, and you know it,” John brought his hand to the back of his neck, his voice gentler this time. “I just don’t feel like you want me around, is all,” he whispered, his words making Renly’s shoulders drop and her chest sink.

His fingers tapped an idle rhythm on the table, his eyes darting toward the adjoining lab room. It wasn’t the first time she’d caught him stealing glances at her colleagues’ workspaces, but she had always dismissed it as idle curiosity or stupid jealousy, first over Jayce, then over Viktor. Now, though, every stolen glance felt like a clue she should have picked up on sooner.

“I do,” she hesitated. “I did. I invited you to meet my people, come to my home, my work, my bed,” at which point, in the other room, Viktor—who was doing his absolute worst not to listen—squeezed a piece of chalk a little too hard, causing half of it to disintegrate into dust with a loud, whiny, bone-chilling sound that gave him goosebumps at the back of his neck. So, they slept together, great. Just great. It didn’t bother him at all, and yet… it bothered him greatly for some reason. Probably just because she will be a nightmare to be around for the next week or so.

Ridiculous, Viktor thought, though the word didn’t carry the weight he wanted it to. What did it matter who she invited into her bed? It certainly wasn’t his concern. The tightening in his chest wasn’t jealousy—it couldn’t be. No, it was irritation, that’s all. Irritation because she was so impulsive, so reckless, letting herself be distracted by someone so undeserving of her attention.

Why did it bother him? It wasn’t the first time she’d been entangled in some personal drama, and usually, he had the patience to tune it out. Yet here he was, bristling at every raised word, every pointed jab from John. It wasn’t his place to care. He had told himself years ago that people like Renly—bright, chaotic, and distractingly beautiful—were nothing but a complication. And yet, he found himself gripping his cane tighter every time John’s voice rose.

“Just realistically, I don’t think this is what you want. So, the obvious choice would be to put a pin in it until we both decide what we want,” her voice faltered. Breaking things off with John hadn’t been part of her plans for the day, and she could never have been emotionally prepared for this—especially not before breakfast. She wasn’t really breaking things off with him, either. Maybe a short, temporary break would do them good, cool things off. She fidgeted with her fingers under the table, becoming increasingly self-conscious about how much of the conversation Viktor had overheard.

“Really? So now it’s about me not respecting your Zaunian heritage, instead of you blowing me off at every opportunity?” at this point John knew that guilting her into giving it one more shot was probably his only chance. His father really wanted those hextech blueprints, and he would be very disappointed if John didn’t manage to get them. “Look, I don’t mind if we hang out here at all. But truth be told, you don’t really invite me here very often,” John said, his voice softer now, but there was an edge beneath it, like a scalpel disguised as a pen.

He had a way of twisting her words, making her feel like the selfish one for not prioritizing him more. It was a skill he wielded well, and for a moment, it almost worked. But the memory of all those little disappointments—the times he had brushed off her work as "just another experiment" or barely listened when she explained her progress—bubbled up like a pressure valve ready to burst. He did actually like her. She was his type – pretty, quirky, talented and driven. She could be a bit more elegant, but that would be polished with time. “We could make a schedule, meet here when nobody is around? Maybe you could even show me some hextech, hm?” with this, he knew he probably pushed a little bit too far, as her expression grew weary.

There it was again, that same calculated curiosity masked as casual conversation. At first, she had chalked it up to natural interest—what Piltover scholar wouldn’t want to know more about hextech? But now, with his eyes lingering too long on the blueprints and his questions steering the conversation in predictable directions, she couldn’t shake the feeling that this was about more than idle fascination.

“I… you know I don’t work with hextech,” she shook her head while her brain was glueing the pieces together. “Why would you…,” and it hit her gently, prompted by the guilt painting her soon-to-be-ex-boyfriend’s face. Unbelievable. When she thought about it longer, he did usually snoop around innocently while waiting for her to wrap up work. He would wander between the lab rooms, seemingly just killing time, but she saw him linger on the blueprints more than once. When she told him about her experiments, he always drove the discussion towards Viktor and Jayce’s work. How are they doing? So does this hextech actually work? And what do they want to use it for again? And he tried to pin it on her sleeping with Viktor. The audacity.

Renly wanted to believe the relationship had been real, that it hadn’t just been about her work or her connections. But as she stared at him now—his charming smile just a little too polished, his words just a little too well-placed—she realized how many times she had ignored her instincts. How often she had pushed aside the nagging thought that he didn’t see her, not really. Just the parts of her that were useful.

“So… you come here and make a scene about the note that you seemingly wrote for me and that I didn’t get. You accuse me of cheating on you with my colleague,” at which point Viktor scoffed to himself in the other room. The idea of Renly and him being a thing was laughable. She was too stubborn, too unpredictable, too... distracting. And yet, John’s misplaced jealousy had struck an uncomfortable chord. Absurd, Viktor reassured himself. If anything, she deserves better than someone like me. She deserves better than both of us.  

“You propose a solution – let’s hang out here,” Renly exhaled, and her eyes rested on her hands with the realization of being used all this time hitting her hard. She didn’t think she cared that much. Frankly, having a normal secure relationship also with someone normal and secure was a hope she didn’t dare to entertain very often. It was mostly work and friends for her. So, when John came along, she just let it happen, as maybe, she thought, it was a good thing happening to her. Realizing there was no love in it, left her feeling numb.

In the other room, Viktor stopped pretending to work and simply sat on a stool, his hands and chin resting on his cane. That was new territory, a kind of danger they hadn’t anticipated. Also, he did feel angry for Renly – annoying as she was, she really didn’t deserve this. He wondered if he should intervene and kick John out, but the act would have to be based on his authority, which as a fellow Zaunian in John’s eyes he had none. Any show of force would need to be purely verbal—calculated and precise enough to leave the boy speechless and make him back down without a fight. While he was negotiating the terms of this heroic act with himself, he heard Renly’s voice echoing across the corridors: “I think it’s best you go.”

“Can we talk this through?” one last desperate attempt on John’s side as he covered Renly’s palm with his. She slid her hand from underneath his, threw a quick no over her shoulder and stepped through a heavy metal door that separated living area form the laboratory. She locked it behind her with a loud crank and immediately sank to hug her knees. Well, shit. This wasn’t part of her plan for today. And she didn’t want to cry in front of Viktor. If Jayce was here, he’d make it better, but he was with the beautiful Mel Medarda having breakfast in her quarters, which was a secret. Viktor would make fun of her—or worse, he’d get cross for endangering their life’s work. On one side of the door, her mean ex-boyfriend, on the other her mean niggling friend. She could just stay here.

“Do you need help getting up?” Viktor’s voice made her gasp and release the tears that were gathering under her eyelids, now streaming down her cheeks. And just to be clear, they were angry tears, not sad pathetic tears.

“Maybe,” Renly said, wiping her face with a sleeve, unable to bring herself to look him in the eye. She accepted his offered hand, which was about to pull her up. Unfortunately, the sudden movement sent a cramp shooting down Viktor’s calf, leaving Renly standing while he folded in half.

“Oh shit, Viktor I’m sorry, let me grab a stool!”

“Ah, no need. It’s fine. Just a cramp, it’ll stretch,” he panted, sliding down the corridor wall. She crouched down by him, question in her eyes about what to do.

“Well, where is it? I can… rub it out?” she heard herself saying and a darker shade of pink flushed her already enflamed cheeks. Viktor noticed. Her hands were faster than her brain this time and she already had his calf in her grasp, looking for the knot.

The warmth of her hands startled him, a flicker of something unwanted creeping into his thoughts. He shut it down immediately. She’s just helping. Don’t make it into something it isn’t. But the gentleness of her touch lingered longer than it should have, and when she looked up at him, her face flushed with concentration, he had to look away. Focus, Viktor. This means nothing.

“How did you get this so bad, Viktor?” she gasped at the state of her friend’s muscle, contracted like a rusty hinge. Her eyes full of concern, and some guilt. She made him uncomfortable in his own lab, because of some stupid drama. Stupid, yet it tore a hole in her heart.

Viktor remembered this look. He remembered the way she had looked at him back when they first met—not the awestruck gaze she reserved for Jayce, but something deeper, sharper. It had unnerved him. People always noticed the cane first; it was a fact he had come to accept. But she had looked past it—no, she had lingered on it, and he wasn’t sure whether it was curiosity, pity, or something else entirely. It didn’t matter now. He had decided long ago to keep her at a polite distance.

“Too much sitting down, ah!” he gasped when more pressure was applied “I tried to work through your… quarrel,” Viktor’s voice grew breathier, his eyebrows pinching together. Absent-mindedly, he placed his right hand on Renly’s shoulder and closed his eyes, letting his body relax into her touch. She was very careful, almost… affectionate.

“I guess this would fuel John’s theory,” he chuckled slightly, forgetting himself. Did he just admit that something was possible? Renly was too focused on getting rid of the knot to notice the awkward grunt following this sentence, and without much thought to it she said, “don’t be ridiculous.”

Something sunk in Victor’s chest hearing that. Of course, it was ridiculous. He was ridiculous. All of it. He was about to figure out how to run away, take his leg with him and tell her this is good enough, when she continued.

“I mean, we are not responsible for someone’s insecurities. I refuse to be. Also, as I presume you heard all of it, you will know that it was all a play,” she put so much attention into rubbing Viktor’s calf that the words just went out of her mouth. “Just to get his hands on hextech. So, I’m guessing this accusation was also fabricated to guilt me. Or he was obsessed with you. Which I understand… gotcha!” she exclaimed as the muscle relaxed under her fingers, and Viktor gave an involuntary moan, making both of them flush slightly.

The tension in his calf eased, but his chest felt impossibly tight. He was about to thank her—briefly, formally—when the look on her face stopped him. She was glowing, not with the self-satisfaction he often associated with Jayce, but with genuine care. It was infuriating. No, not infuriating—irrelevant. Why do you even notice these things? he scolded himself, rising awkwardly to his feet and turning away before the warmth in her eyes could undo him further.

“Forgive me, I… thank you,” was all he was able to say.

“That’s… it’s nothing, no worries.”

“I believe you know this, but in case you don’t—he’s a donkey, and you’re brilliant, yes?” Viktor tossed over his shoulder. “Ah, I’m not… thank you,” she said, standing in the corridor, confused, her face burning. What was that?

[jakeyt]

Covet: Chapter 13

Pairing: Jake Kiszka x f!Reader

Covet Summary: Life was good. No, life was great. Was. Until. Jake Kiszka crashed into the picture. You welcomed him into your life—your home. Yes, he was your best friend’s twin. But, he was also the one who would end up disrupting your whole world with his attitude, his troubles, and the annoyingly natural way he lured you in. Jake Kiszka came with so much you really didn’t want. At least that’s what you tried to convince yourself.

Warnings: MINORS DNI (18+); angst; sexual tension + tense themes; self deprecation; mentions of toxic + absent parents; vivid memories of sexual encounters; body changes as a result of pregnancy; talks of baby + pregnancy; jealous!reader; angry!jake; pregnancy hormones of multiple variety; INFIDELITY; manipulation; Y E A R N I N G !!!; elsie + josh being wonderful + helpful; mentions/talk of being unable to have children; BABY KICKS <3333; very sad Jake + reader who want each other so badly, but won’t let it happen; stubbornness out the wazoo; PLEASE lmk if i missed anything that is triggering to you!)

Chapter 13 Word Count: 22.1k+

a/n: ok. shit's getting real... and i'm not bullshitting you when i say the next chapter is right around the corner. I FUCKING SWEAR THAT SHIT.

as always, massive thank you to @joshym for being the best sister there ever was and supporting me in my writings + pursuits + listening to every time i have anxiety over my writings <3 i love you to the ends of the earth, lis. you're my person - forever + ever. <3 additionally, a BIG OL thank u to @builtbybrokenbells. you are a queen whose throne is one to be bowed at. always. you'll never understand just how much your help + friendship means to me... in this silly story, other stories, and in LIFE. ily more, canadian me <3 an ode to my wonderful pal @gretavangroupie for being my push to keep writing always, helping me in the final revisions and edits when i release my cry for help. you are a true friend + i hope you know how much i appreciate u <3 a shout out to my homie @gretavanmoon for being my daily partner in flipping shit over anything + everything jake kiszka. you're a fuckin' real one, babe. <3 and, finally, an ever-present thanks to my girl @alwaysonthemend. Thank you, my love, for always being just around the corner when i need you. you're a personal favorite of mine + you know this <3

Please enjoy the playlist as you read 🖤 (fr, i listen to it nonstop when i write this.... all of the songs are pertinent to the story and aid in telling it - either already or eventually.)

Covet Masterlist

"The covetous person lives as if the world were made altogether for him, and not he for the world." Robert South

When I opened my eyes, I turned to look at her again. 

And I found a woman who was far from who I’d left when I’d closed my eyes. No more tears. Nothing even close, actually. No, her eyes were completely dry and she didn’t look anywhere near sad. 

Thank fuck. That was all she’d wanted. . . Just the gender. That was all it had been. 

Y/n wouldn’t mind. Surely. Right? 

Fuck. I didn’t know. But it was too late now. 

“Now. . . That wasn’t too hard, was it?” Maya said, breaking into the silence that accompanied my still-harsh breathing. 

I simply blinked at her. The fuck it wasn’t. But I wasn’t about to tell her that. “No, not too bad,” I replied, a tight smile stretched across my closed lips. 

After a few moments of rather uncomfortable silence, she was speaking again. “Would it be okay if I stayed the night tonight?”

God. Why did her question make me want to scream? Shouldn’t one want their super hot girlfriend to stay the night? 

What in the fuck was wrong with me? 

I was a seriously terrible boyfriend. . . No two ways about it. 

How in the fuck was I supposed to let her down gently? I really didn’t want her around when I finally got to see y/n again. . . 

Not that anything would happen between us — considering the guilt over Maya that was eating me alive. . . But the idea of having Maya right there when I laid eyes on y/n again. . . Made me want to fuckin’ hurl.

Think, Jake. . . Think. . . I looked away from her (like the fucking coward I was) to process my thoughts.

After a minute, I had an idea that wouldn’t be too harsh, so I decided to just fucking run with it. “I really think it would be best for us to have a couple of nights apart,” I tried, trailing off and finally looking up at her. 

The way her face immediately drooped — from hopeful to heartbroken — it cut me. Fuck. 

Was I being selfish? I damn well felt like it. But I couldn’t help what I wanted. 

Luckily, the words that came out of her mouth next pissed me off bad enough that I was able to stand my ground. Firmly. 

Her dark eyes dug deep into my bones before she began. “Why is that, Jake? Is this about y/n and the mess–?”

“No!” I started, rather loudly, at that. Dammit! Too quick. Too sharp. Pick up the pieces, Jake. . . “Fuck, no. Sorry. I’m—I’m just tired as hell from the flights and I just need some time in my own bed. My body hurts from the hours of travel and shit. I don’t know,” I shook my head, at a loss for what else to say. None of it was a lie, really. . . Just wasn’t the full truth. 

Her features were still crestfallen, but she nodded in what seemed to be genuine understanding. How she’d switched gears so damn fast, I didn’t know. But I didn’t question it. 

“Yeah, yeah. I get it. . ,” she said with one final nod of her head. Her eyes connected with mine over the armrest of her car, made of pristine tanned leather, between our seats. “I’m sorry. . .”

And the crushing guilt again. Why was she apologizing for simply wanting to be with me? And why in the goddamned world had I let myself get so annoyed with her wanting to simply be a part of my life? 

“Don’t be sorry,” I rushed out, questioning my idea to be away from her as soon as the words ‘I’m sorry’  had left her mouth. I needed to handle her with care and I wasn’t. What the fuck was wrong with me? The next words slipped out of my mouth, encouraging the idea I’d come up with, without a single thought for my supportive and loving girlfriend. “I can’t miss you if I’m with you, you know?”

Selfish. I was selfish. 

“Why do you need to miss me?” The frown on her face tore my heart the fuck up. Why I couldn’t just say the right thing, I didn’t know. It felt like everything that came out of my mouth was misconstrued and twisted. I wasn’t trying to make her feel this way, but I couldn’t help it. Being this tired, I didn’t think I could communicate anything effectively. “Wouldn’t it be better to just be with me instead?”

“It’s always better to be with you. . .But I also just want you to have some time to yourself, too, My,” I continued. “It’ll be nice to have a night to yourself before you have to deal with your mom and sister all day tomorrow.”

“Half sister, Jake. . . Only half,” she playfully smacked my arm, making me look at her with a raised brow. She was suddenly ‘okay’ enough to play around? “And praise god for that. . .”

“Yes. . .,” I chuckled at her antics, raising my brows. “Only half. She’s a lot for you to deal with, huh?”

“Yeah. And that’s putting it lightly,” she said, exasperated just at the thought of it. “You’re still thinking you can’t come to my mom’s with me?”

“I really need to be with Josh on Christmas day. Sam is going home with Danny,” I said, even though I’d explained this to her plenty of times before – when she’d asked me the same thing about going to her mom’s. “ Josh won’t have anyone and. . . I just. . . miss my brother. Twins can’t be apart for too long. . . I’ve tested it and it sucks if I don’t get to see him when my brain and heart are telling me I need to.”

“I get it. . .,” She conceded, giving a solemn nod. I knew she didn’t ‘get it’. But, I appreciated the way she was trying to understand. Hoping that was the end of this torturous conversation, I almost cringed when she opened her mouth to speak again. “I’m sorry for everything that got dumped on you. . . . all of the shit from last night. . . I should’ve told you sooner and I’m sorry my dad had to be the one to do it.”

Yeah, I agree, I couldn’t help but internally respond. I’m sorry you handled it that way, too.

On the outside, though, I simply shook my head with knitted brows. “It’s okay, My, reall–.”

“No, Jake,” she shook her head to disagree, speaking to me as if she were a mother correcting her child. Real damn similar to how her father had spoken to me. “It’s not. I should have told you and I’m sorry I wasn’t better about that. Just hard to talk about, I guess. . .”

“Maya,” I started, gathering my thoughts so I could respond properly instead of with frustration. She had gotten enough of that tonight, and I didn’t want to keep giving her shit that she didn’t deserve. “It’s okay, babe. I’m sorry for my short response. Just a lot going on at once when I found out. I’m sorry I got quiet for the rest of the night,” I said, taking the opportunity to apologize for any behavior of mine last night. Just wanted to say sorry however I could – without telling her anything. “Just going through a lot of emotions lately and that’s not your fault. That’s on me.”

“It’s okay, Jakey,” Maya pushed a smile onto her face, but the tiredness from the past couple of days was starting to weigh very heavily on me. So much so that I had a seriously hard time telling if the smile was genuine or not. To make matters worse, I couldn’t even find the energy to care, let alone get to the bottom of it. 

All I knew was she had been acting strange. And, I couldn’t figure out if it was because I was tired or if she was in a tough place mentally. . . To be fair, the past several hours had definitely been emotionally taxing for her. Any woman with a heart like Maya’s would be struggling after all of that came to light.

Fuck, Jake. Just get inside, I counseled myself, watching Maya’s lips move as she continued on about something I couldn’t find the energy to listen to. Whatever this is with her, surely it can wait until the morning. 

Yes. Seriously. Waiting until morning sounded best. Ideal. I was too irritable at the moment, and her eyes were still so sad. . . It was hard to watch her like this. Honestly, I wasn’t sure if I had ever seen her express so much emotion. And normally, I would be eager to ease her mind, but right now I just wanted—no, needed–to see y/n. 

After all of the shit I’d done to her – fuck. Leaving her here, the texts, the pictures, leaving the phone call like an asshole, not speaking to her all day because I was in my damn head. . . Fucking selfish. I was such an asshole. And to do that to the woman carrying my child? Made me feel pretty goddamn worthless.

Then, there was my girlfriend. My perfect, stunning, beautiful girlfriend who was going through something. And, I couldn’t even find it in me to care. After everything, all of the shit she’d helped me with during and after the summer. . . Selfish, Jake. 

The guilt was eating me alive, but I still couldn’t seem to give her any more than I already was. Not at the moment, at least. With a quick eye at the stereo screen, I noticed the time. Past midnight. It was past fuckin’ midnight after a day of travel. And we were still sitting here. Outside of the complex. In her car. 

What more did she want? She’d spent the entire past two days with me, save for an hour and a half of me giving into overwhelming desires. Then, she’d forced me to tell her things about Lav, about our baby—not hers. I was just tired from all of it. 

More than anything, though, I was not sure if it would ever be enough for her. . . Not after witnessing the way her dad treated her. Like a goddamn princess. I couldn’t do that shit for Maya. Couldn’t treat her like a princess. In a few short months, I was going to have my own girl to treat that way. My baby girl. And I’d be damned if I gave that type of energy to my girlfriend before my daughter. 

Still, I sat in the car, not daring to move as her eyes threatened more tears. God, I just couldn’t take it. 

“You know, it’s just. . .,” she trailed off, another sniffle, another stab straight to my chest. “I gave up on the idea of ever having kids, even though I wanted them so badly. A shame, I think, that so many people can have as many as they want and treat them terribly, when I. . .,” she let out a shrouded sigh, likely trying to hide the quiver in her tone. “I would give anything to just have–.”

“My,” I tried, knowing I should reach over and touch her, even if it were just a reassuring hand on her knee, but I couldn’t. Didn’t want to touch her. So. Damn. Tired. My brain hurt, struggling to keep up with everything that had been thrown my damn way. 

“I’m happy for you, Jake. Really. So happy.” And there it was again, her voice had cleared and confidence had come back like she’d never cried at all. Another wave of guilt took over, making me realize just how hard she was trying to keep it together, so I wouldn’t feel bad. She was too good for me—especially this version of me. “I guess I never pictured it like this. Maybe that’s why it’s been so hard for me lately.” 

“Why ‘lately’?” I bit the tip of my tongue, holding back the sigh that was begging to escape. God, Jake, just listen to her. Let her talk. 

“Being so. . . Uninvolved. It’s difficult. Knowing that I’m going to be a mom–finally–but not actually getting to be a part of it. . .,” Another sniffle shuttered between us to show just how cut up she was about it, effectively tearing my heart straight from my chest. “And y/n is great. Seriously. Love her. . . but, I don’t feel like she wants me involved. I know it’s not you keeping this all from me, Jakey.” 

There was a fire lighting up in my chest for the briefest of moments at the idea that she was somehow insulting y/n. . . Why would she be insulting y/n? I knew way fuckin’ better than to think y/n would ever treat anyone badly.

Fuck, I felt defensive and I was not liking the way her name was about to fall off of Maya’s lips again – I saw it forming. So, I interrupted it. “She wouldn’t ever—.”

“It’s okay, Jake.” She cut me off again, wanting to make sure I knew she wasn’t attacking anyone, probably. But if she wasn’t, why had it felt that way? I knew she wasn’t, and she would never, but everything felt so different right now, so wrong. I was wrong for throwing her in the middle of this, and perhaps I was even more of an asshole for keeping her out of it. 

And I knew her dad would have said the same damn thing to me that I was telling myself. He’d put me down if he got the chance. Like he already fucking had. . . The man had known me for less than a day before he was tearing into my ass. All that had told me was how I’d apparently made a very bad first impression. Made me feel like utter shit that I hadn’t done better for Maya and her family. . . Too absorbed in my own musings. . .

It was really starting to feel like nothing I did was right, for anyone. Every time I turned my head, y/n was upset about something. And when she wasn’t, Maya was, now. I couldn’t fucking win. At least I’d learned y/n’s ups and downs. . . Maya had hardly shown me anything but ‘ups’, so I was still learning her ‘downs’. . . 

But. . . Was it even worth it? Was it worth learning another woman like that with the immaculate woman upstairs waiting on me. . .?

Fucking shit. I was not doing well. Sleep. I just wanted to sleep. 

“I’ve always wanted kids, and I know I’d be–I will be a great mom. It’s only. . .having no say in this situation has definitely made it more difficult, but I am excited too, Jake,” she leaned over to hold my limp hand in hers. “This is my only chance, so I’m sorry if I’ve been too. . . Pushy. I just—I don’t want to miss out on this experience, even if it’s not how I thought it would go or how I want it to go.” 

I had to close my eyes for a moment, taking in a long breath through my nose to calm my nerves. It wasn’t like that, and she knew that. I wasn’t trying to make her feel bad, or unimportant, or anything like that. And neither was y/n. Not in the slightest, actually. I wanted Maya around – wanted her involved. But, all of this stuff, everything about Lavender was just so. . .  Sacred. To me, to y/n, to us. 

Sometimes, it felt like that was the only part of us that was still right – that was never wrong. Lavender was like this safe, hallowed ground. . .

But I didn’t want to make Maya feel like shit in a situation she didn’t ask for. . . didn’t want to leave her out of things. It was just so damn difficult, all of the time. 

I felt so frustrated and guilty over so much shit. And now – it was a hundred times worse. Every time I looked at her after last night, guilt was the resounding emotion. And remembering what her dad had said. . . 

The insane reality was none of it mattered to me at the moment when I knew I was so close to. . . God. Fuck. 

And that made it a fucked up mess. I didn’t know what to do at the moment, and I didn’t want to try to know. Not right now, anyway. 

Just needed to get inside.

But, with a twist in my gut, I realized that even the thought of seeing y/n wasn’t even comforting me anymore. The thought was only adding more complicated feelings to the stack of guilt. And that made me want to crawl in a fuckin’ hole. 

I just wanted to go to bed, to forget about every part of this damned trip and especially this conversation. 

It wasn’t y/n’s fault. Not at all. It was all on me. I didn’t like the idea of going in there to face y/n, knowing I let the gender slip, knowing she would know something was wrong. It just wasn’t something I wanted to face right now. 

None of this fell into place with how I’d originally wanted to greet her after this trip. And I really hoped y/n wouldn’t be mad if she found out how I’d told Maya the gender. Things had just started to feel okay again. And I’d be damned before I let it go back to whatever the fuck it had been before November.

“I love you, My. Seriously. I hope you know this,” I said, forcing another smile. I just couldn’t talk about this anymore. I needed this night to be over. I felt sick with stress, and I just wanted to be alone. “I want you to be a part of this. I will make sure you’re a part of this. Okay?” 

“I love you, Jake.” And finally, I took some goddamn initiative and leaned across the console, giving her a quick peck on the lips to cheer her up. . . . also wanted to get her to stop talking. “Thank you for understanding my crazy head. I don’t want you to think that I’m upset or angry. . . Just a bit sad. I feel better, now, though . . . Thank you for letting me be a part of this at all. It just means so much to me.” 

This was becoming too much. . . Just needed to get out, to go upstairs and go to bed before I let her keep me in this car any longer. Her words were all twisting around each other in my head. Her eyes, so sad, I just felt so horrible. But her back and forth was confusing as shit. 

I just needed to be alone, and the longer I sat with her, the worse I felt. I needed to leave before I gave in and told her to come upstairs with me. I really didn’t want to do that. Didn’t want to tell her to come upstairs. 

I just couldn’t take it anymore. 

I couldn’t spend another night with her. Not yet. Figuring out whatever the hell was going on in my head was priority number one. And right now, everything I felt would likely be fixed with a good sleep. In the morning, I would feel better. I wouldn’t be so. . . Apathetic, to whatever she was feeling. We could talk it out after the holidays, and we would be fine. At least I hoped so. 

I really needed us to be fine. At the end of it all, I couldn’t lose Maya. And I wouldn’t let whatever this was, whatever I was feeling, get in the way of being with her. I felt like shit that I’d spent my entire weekend away with her thinking of y/n. I used a lot of time that should’ve been dedicated to Maya, with y/n — whether it be on the phone or in my head. 

I’d ignored Maya — my girlfriend — and turned her into an idea more than an actual person I was supposed to be paying attention to. 

A girlfriend, who only deserved the best of me. . . Not leftovers from what I was giving to someone who’d torn me up so badly. Hell, y/n had hurt me so badly that I’d led myself back to Maya. Maya had picked up every piece. 

What. A. Mess.

My eyes were heavy as I stepped out of the car, and even if I was completely wiped, I spent an ample amount of time holding and hugging this dream of a woman who I got the privilege to call my girlfriend. 

After a while of standing beside her car, I felt as though I might’ve fallen asleep standing up. So, with a bit of hesitance due to the guilt still swimming in waves through my chest, I pulled away before holding her lovely face in my hands. Those deep pools of dark chocolate. Irises so dark, I could hardly ever see her pupils. . . Beautiful eyes. . . But, as I looked into them, I couldn’t help but wish they were someone else’s. . . The fuck was wrong with me?! I gave her a kiss, intent on feeling that spark with her. . . 

And, thankfully, it came when my lips touched hers. I sucked her bottom lip between both of mine, savored the taste of her. . . She always tasted like a mix of Wintergreen gum and cherries – a staple taste in her favorite brand of lipstick. . . Didn’t know lipsticks could taste good until Maya. Knew about chapstick and shit. . . but not lipstick. 

Maya was funny like that, though. Teaching me all about shit I’d never known before her. I really loved all of the things she taught me. . . She forced me into a version of myself I’d yet to explore before her. A man who was confident, but curious. All of the time. . .

As she drove away, I waved goodbye slowly and sleepily. The best smile I could muster was a tight one, close-lipped and slightly forced. I stood there a few moments after, watching to make sure she was safe while pulling out of the parking lot. 

But, while I did this, my duffel slung over my shoulder, I momentarily felt myself falling asleep. I had never felt so exhausted in my entire life. My mind and heart, tired. Conflicted in ways I fucking hated. Shouldn’t have even been conflicted. 

By the time I reached the front door, I couldn’t even think anymore. I couldn’t give either woman any more of me tonight – because I didn’t have any more to give. 

In the morning, it would all be okay. I knew it would be. It had to be.

End of Jake’s POV

-🌼🌼🌼-

The keys jingling in the door wouldn’t be heard by a normal person. 

But you were nowhere near normal at the moment. Lav’s kicks were still lighting up your palm and you knew Jake was supposed to be home soon. It had to be him at the front door. And while you didn’t want to embarrass yourself in front of him by being too excited after he’d openly ignored you for a day, you couldn’t help but get excited over him finally being home. 

The fact that it coincided with Lavender’s first movements you were able to feel – it made the largest smile you’d emitted in a long time brighten your features. It was simply too perfectly timed for you to slow down from opening your bedroom door as eagerly as you did. 

And when you saw him. God. 

He looked so damn good. 

You’d missed the fuck out of him, and to have him back home had you feeling whole. Like everything was clicking back into place after two days where things had felt slightly off while he’d been away. 

Granted, for the first few seconds of admiring him, it was his back facing you. 

But, still, you had to admire the way his long brunette waves fell over his shoulders and graced his upper back. His peacoat, hanging just right at his hips. . . And, while the back of him was incredible, yes, when he turned around. . . your mind blanked. 

So handsome. The most handsome. . . He was everything to you in that moment. Having him standing there in front of you felt like a pipe dream, but it was actually happening and you couldn’t believe he was back. . . The love you felt for him was inexplicably strong and you were coming to realize this more and more by the damned day. 

The emotion you felt at simply having him home again was unlike any you’d ever felt before Jake Kiszka. 

He just brought this fire out in you. Your heart, only ever beating this feverishly for him. His cheeks, red from the bitter cold outside. A whopping sixteen degrees and lower, all day long. Freezing temperatures to welcome him back to Brooklyn. 

The smile he gave you didn’t reach his eyes. . . And you noticed his eyebrows were scrunched, like he was deliberating something. . . Whatever it was, you were sure you could brighten his night with your news. This was the most idyllic way to welcome him back. . . His mood was bound to improve once you told him.

“Jake,” you breathed, the air around you buzzing with the cloud you were floating on. The elation over feeling her, rushing through your veins. “I have the best news. . . I just felt–.”

But, before you could finish, he was holding up a hand with a shake of his head. With this action, you were taken aback. Your face fell slowly, your own brows furrowing to sort of mirror this odd expression he was giving you. He wasn’t really frowning, but he definitely wasn’t smiling. His mouth was set in this straight line, unamused. . . 

Had you made him angry? Was there a reason he’d been ignoring you? One that you hadn’t caught on to?

This expression he was donning was one you’d seen before – when he’d be deep in thought after a serious conversation. 

Maybe he and Maya just talked about something serious. . . But. . . what about? Her? Him? Them? You? He had cut you off rather abruptly the night before. . . Had he realized it was a mistake he’d made? The shit in the shower, your bedroom, over the phone. . .? Had he told her about what had happened between you two? Or worse, had she found what was on his phone? 

You really honed in on the sight of his eyes. They were sunken and dull; held this incredibly vast emotion that you were struggling to pick up on in your state of delirium. The dark bags under his eyes told you that, at the very least, he was tired. 

But still, there was more. . . 

More that you were not too sure you wanted to try to figure out with the way he looked sort of corrective and dismissive of you. 

It all left a sour taste in your mouth. You’d put yourself out there for him: sent your first titty pic ever, called him to talk him through an orgasm, worked yourself up to an orgasm (with his help) in a public restroom (granted, it had been a single stall – but still). . . . The whole nine yards, only to be ghosted over the phone and now fully rejected in person. 

“I’m just not feeling the best and I need to go to sleep,” he said, voice raspy as ever. But his tone – it was off. He was off. What in the fuck had happened over the past twenty four hours? It was like the bathroom incident had never occurred. . . 

Understandably, you were very hurt. Your ego and heart, holding hands and equally bruised. But you did the best you could to play it off. Didn’t want to put any more on his shoulders. So, you didn’t bother him with it. Didn’t tell him. Even as you stood there, right across from him. Your hand, still on your tummy as Lavender was kicking away in your womb, waiting for her daddy to notice her. 

But her daddy couldn’t handle it tonight. And you weren’t about to push him any further over the brink of his very apparent weariness over whatever the hell it was. At this point, any person worth their salt would have been able to put two and two together. . . It was obvious to any one that it was you he was exasperated with. . . All of the signs pointed to it. 

So, you nodded your head with finality and did your best to smile as genuinely as you could. . . Worked to make the happy emotion seem real. . . Who knew how well it was turning out. All you knew was you didn’t want him tainting any more of this precious moment. You didn’t want this magical moment to be forever marred by the emotion he was carrying home with him from South Carolina. 

If only he’d stayed home. God. Fuck it all. Truly. 

“No worries,” you squeaked, clearing your throat to deepen your voice to sound more normal. “I know you’re definitely tired. Obviously. I’ll let you go to bed.” 

If you kept going, you would continue to ramble. So instead, you clamped your mouth shut and didn’t say a word as a grin stretched tight across your lips. Had to let him go to sleep. . . You could’ve screamed, though. You’d really fucking missed him. Didn’t want him to leave to go to bed when he’d just gotten home. . . But he wanted space from you. 

Since you were already up, you went ahead and moved to escape to the kitchen. You were thirsty and needed to fill one of your Stanleys – just not the one he’d purchased for you. 

The next words that left his lips shocked you, realizing he wasn’t ignoring you completely. It stopped you — right before you made it to the doorway of the kitchen. Hand still on your tummy to feel the flutters, but your ears, irresistibly in tune with Jake. 

“Hey,” he called after you, making you turn to face him with unmasked hope. Yet, he was already at his door, with it half opened behind him. That duffel bag strap, showcasing the strong shoulders you longed to wrap your arms around. “Merry Christmas.”

You didn’t even have a chance to respond before he’d closed the damned door, locking him and his shitty mood away in his bedroom. 

Really, you tried to be understanding. But you couldn’t help the wave of rejection that washed over you, making you want to hide away in your own room. At such a happy moment, too. 

Blinking away the tears brimming your eyelids (damn baby hormones), you tried your very best to just enjoy the moment, the milestone, the very thing you’d been waiting to feel for so long. You stood in place, hand on your tummy in the same spot Lav’s little feet were thrumming against you, even more so now. You wondered why she was so enthusiastic, what had woken her up and why she was so intent on letting you know she was there, too. Letting your palm rub slow, tedious circles on the bump that held your energetic, enthusiastic baby, your eyes stayed trained on Jake’s closed door. 

Could she have been kicking because of him? Did the sound of his voice cheer her up the same way it did for you? Could she recognize her daddy, even through your tummy? 

Feeling a tear escape your eye, you began filling your Stanley cup with ice, and most definitely not the one Jake had so graciously bought for you. You just wanted to enjoy the feeling, the fact that Lavender was healthy and happy, but it just felt like something was missing. The apartment felt emptier, lonelier now that Jake had come inside and closed the door on you. On you both. 

He was missing the biggest milestone yet. Willingly ignoring you, not giving you a chance to include him. 

You couldn’t help but feel slightly upset that he was so quick to walk away. . . Yes, walk away on you, sure. . . He had no reason to sit in the kitchen and talk to you, especially not after spending time with Maya and her dad. (You felt stupid, thinking he would be excited to see you after just leaving his perfect girlfriend. That was understandable, even if it hurt.)

But it wasn’t just you. Not anymore, anyway. 

You were hurt on behalf of the tiny one in your tummy.

The ice cold sip you took from your now-filled cup distracted you from the hurt for a moment, just because it was so damn refreshing. Pregnancy really took it out of a person. You wanted more of everything. . . Food, water, Jake. . . 

You wanted to knock on his door, to tell him to fuck off for missing this, but you didn’t. It wasn’t his fault, even if you were pissed at him. For the texts, for the phone call, for the ignoring, for the rejecting, and now for this. . .

Even if you were sad he was missing it, you should have just said something sooner, before he went to his room. Maybe if you had just gone for it, he would have stayed. You wanted that for her—not for you. Always for her, because she was most important. 

Yet, selfish as it sounded, you did want him to stay for you. And maybe that was why it hurt so damn bad. . . You were doing this to yourself, in the end.

Merry fucking Christmas to you. 

-🌼🌼🌼-

December 25, 2022  

The sun shone in beautifully to escort the bright, cheerful winter day into its rightful place. 

Christmas. You were so damn ready for the joy the day never failed to bring with it. Last night had been a fucking drag and you didn’t want to spend an unnecessary amount of lamenting over it. It sounded most attractive to simply avoid the apartment at all costs. . . So, you knew getting ready for your grandparents’ Christmas was bound to take no time. 

You were past ready to get to their house and sink into their unwavering love. And, if you were being completely honest, you were also past ready to involve someone else in the unexplainable joy of Lavender’s kicks. She wasn’t doing it again (yet) this  morning, but you were seriously hoping that she’d do it again. . . Surely she would. But. . . you were trying not to overthink it. 

Before leaving your room to feed Stevie, you’d tentatively glanced in the direction of Jake’s room. You didn’t want to accidentally bump into him. Because, try as you might, your mind was stuck on a loop of the look he’d given you last night. How he’d dismissed you so easily. You saw it over and over. It was embarrassing as hell and you weren’t anxious to see him again after that. 

You were beginning to lose hope that he’d actually meant the shit he’d said before leaving for his little trip and on his trip. . . It was very possible he’d lost interest. And that broke your heart more than you cared to admit. You’d ghosted people before — acted short towards them to try and get rid of them. That was what it seemed like he was doing with you. Or, at least something similar. 

It was safe to assume he was appreciative of your body and what you were doing for his child. But, what you feared was that he didn’t think you were worth risking anything with Maya. . . 

So, it had been your lucky day when you peered curiously to his door and found it to be closed. And no other room was in use by him, from what you could tell. 

It was stupid that your heart fell at his lack of presence. 

Fuck your foolish heart. 

Majority of the time, it couldn’t be trusted when it came to him. But, you were coming not to care. You felt how you felt and there was nothing you could do about it. And you had more important things — like a literal baby — to worry about than controlling the natural way you felt for him. It was what it was.  

You just couldn’t have him. And that was that.

So, you went about your morning like normal. But, you did so quickly. You wanted to take advantage of the time he was still sleeping with his door shut. 

After feeding Stevie, a quick shower was necessary to wash your hair and do a quick shave. You hadn’t done either in the bath last night and you were enjoying still being able to shave. The inevitable was coming in a few months where it would be impossible to do so. No more reaching your legs or anything else below the waist once the belly got to a certain size. 

Thankfully, the no-no area wax was still holding up from the other night, so the shaving went fairly quickly after the hair rinse. You’d done the blow drying of your hair in the bathroom, not wanting to wake Jake from his sleep. 

As you’d dried your hair, you’d had time for your irritation to rev up at the idea of walking out and perhaps seeing Jake. Thinking about the idea that he could be ignoring you — or trying to avoid you — made you want to throw your blow dryer into the mirror. After what he’d done to lead you on in the days prior. God. If he was trying to get rid of you after pulling all of that shit, it really did make you want to scream. But you wouldn’t. 

He could do whatever the fuck he wanted. 

Whatever floated his fucking boat.

 In fact, by the time you were wrapping the cord around the dryer, you’d decided you were glad he was ignoring you. Seriously. You didn’t need to see him and get all sad on Christmas Day. 

Once you were safely back in your room, with your still-sleeping roommate in his room, you put him out of mind. 

You focused on getting dressed and to your grandparents’. And once you were all dressed,  you took a minute to admire your outfit. It was really cute. Comfy. 

The mirror saw you looking at  your brand new lounge set from the TikTok shop. The prettiest cream color. Not see-through in the slightest (you’d been worried it would be flimsy material —TikTok shop and all that). You had to admit, TikTok shop wasn’t totally unreliable. . . At least when it came to winter lounge sets. 

Your bump looked adorable in the smooth, cashmere outfit and your ass looked incredible. In fact, you looked so damn cute — so good — that you weren’t even thinking about Jake. Or his attitude towards you only hours ago. 

With the lightest and easiest makeup on, you loaded up your oversized tote bag with your family’s presents. And once they were all packed up, you were ready to go. Had to get there to help Elsie get the food ready.

But, with a forlorn gaze, you eyed the two smaller flat presents, still sitting in the corner of your room. Wrapped in the same shiny red paper as the rest. You couldn’t help but feel slightly saddened at the fact that you weren’t sure you’d ever find the time to give them to him. . . Couldn’t be sure of jackshit when it came to him. 

At least not this morning. 

Nope. Didn’t matter.

You gave one final and reassuring swoop along Stevie’s back and promised her you’d be back that evening to feed her. Then, after swiftly grabbing your overnight bag, you were slipping on your long, black peacoat and aviators. You were ready to escape the suffocating feeling that encompassed your entire apartment. 

Making it down the exterior stairs of the building proved to be more of a feat with the additional bag, full of presents, on your shoulder and the overnight bag in your opposite hand. Gravity was something to become acquainted with again, the bigger you got. And additional baggage obviously didn’t help that. But, by the grace of god, you made it to the bottom step and were well on your way to your car within a few minutes. 

But, just as you were closing the back door, bags safely secured in the backseat, you heard a very familiar voice call out your name. 

The butterflies were flying rampantly in your tummy upon hearing him. 

And try as you might have wanted, you couldn’t resist looking up towards him. He was running down the stairs, his torn-up white vans hanging on by their singular thread as he was jogging towards you. He was wearing sweatpants that were haphazardly pulled on and the t-shirt he was wearing, the same heathered one, burnt-red in color, that he’d been wearing the night you first. . . . Damn.

But no coat. And it was frigid out.

“Jacob, where is your damn coat?!” You worried at him, not giving him a chance to say a word as he finally settled in front of you, breathless. 

“It’s not necessary,” he replied, the three words sounding more like harsh breaths than anything. “Goddamn, I am out of shape, huh?” He laughed, his hands settling on his hips as he briefly looked down, chest expanding to allow him a minute to catch his breath. 

Then, he was looking at you again. Whatever you wanted to say was trapped at the back of your throat. He was so handsome. His skin, ever-tan, glowing in the winter morning light. And the day’s new sunshine was doing the amber in the center of his eyes wonders. . . 

You almost forgot you were more than borderline mad at him. Almost. 

“What do you want, Jake?” You spit, blinking once with a roll of your eyes. The sunglasses that sat on your face were translucent enough that you knew he could see the motions of your irises. 

And, you were damn near elated at the thought that he could see your annoyance as you’d so blatantly seen his the night prior. 

He looked taken aback at your tone – yet, not surprised in the slightest, at the same time. 

“I just wanted to tell you Merry Christmas,” he started, looking desperate for you to understand where he was coming from. . . That this was somehow more than a simple ‘Merry Christmas’. 

The sincerity in his eyes, with the traditional saying, was enough to make your knees weak. . . Though, it didn’t matter how sincere he was – or if he was trying to translate more than a holiday greeting. . . all that mattered was how your mind was still reeling from last night. 

So, you didn’t want to give in to any of the butterflies fluttering around in your belly. This time, you didn’t want their jittery, rousing influence. So, you stood your ground. Stayed mad at him. He’d rejected you last night. 

Rejected you — even after the (very) intense phone sex. . . After what had happened in the shower and your bedroom. . . After all of the shit he’d promised he’d do upon returning home. . . 

He hadn’t even stopped and taken a few minutes of time to hear you out. Hadn’t cared to. . . All while his baby had been kicking. For the first time.

It’s his loss, your brain echoed on a repetitive scream. And, at this moment, with your anger and hormones taking charge, you agreed. His fucking loss. He missed out.

“You already did that last night, Jake,” you clipped at him, resting your hands, subconsciously, on the small roundness of your belly. His suddenly-downcast eyes followed your movements momentarily, but quickly found their way back to your irises when you started speaking again. “You told me ‘Merry Christmas’ before you went to bed. Remember?”

“I—uh. . . Yeah, I know,” he rubbed the back of his neck, shifting nervously on his feet before he decided to tuck both hands in his sweats’ pockets. “I also wanted to apologize for that. How tired I was.”

“Why the fuck are you apologizing for being tired? God, Jake,” you snapped the words, without even thinking. 

His head pulled back, once more, in shock. Those beautiful lips pursed, before he briefly chewed on them, his eyes wide as he looked to the side, shaking his head in shock at your tone. All of this, blatantly showing his growing irritation. 

But no. He had no right to be anywhere near irritated. 

It made you angry that he had the audacity to feel any sort of negative emotion. It was your turn to feel hurt. And it pissed you the fuck off that he was apologizing for being ‘tired’. 

Last night, in his eyes, you’d seen more than tiredness. There had been an unnamable, heartbroken emotion that you couldn’t figure out then or now. The way his expression had hardened and wilted, all at once. . . It was stuck in a loop in your mind. 

He’d been more than just ‘tired’. And, on top of you not being able to figure out why, he was now lying to you by omission. 

But you were starting to come to terms with the fact that you didn’t want him to see how it had affected you. If he wasn’t going to be honest with you, you weren’t going to be honest with him. So, you straightened up and hesitantly stretched a forced gentle smile on your lips. 

“You had a long weekend, Jake. It’s fine,” you tried again, grabbing hold of your belt bag’s strap with one hand. The other hand, going to rest on your lower back. This dull pain in your lower back. . . It truly had been a persistent enemy in recent days. And you’d been standing in your flat-footed platform Uggs long enough, on the concrete, that your back was feeling quite ungrateful for the combination. “Thank you – so much – for apologizing. Means a lot,” you continued, semi-kindly, before your voice dipped to a tone that didn’t mask your frustration as well. “But, if that’s all. . . I’m gonna go. My back is killing me and I’m past ready to get to my grandparents’. Thanks for the Merry Christmas. ‘Preciate it.”

You never said you were going to be completely dishonest. . . Just dishonest about your feelings towards the situation. Your feelings towards him. Just as you were going to turn on your heel, he was speaking again. 

“Uh—yeah. Um. . . Of-of course,” he stuttered, stepping back with a shake of his head. “I just–I just couldn’t go the whole day without saying something to you about it.”

“Mm. I get it. Thanks,” you bitterly replied, eyes squinting a bit with a sarcastic smile. 

Without even taking another second to consider saying something else, you turned away from him. Before you could expose your heart any further. And, just as you got to your driver’s side door and opened it to get in, you turned to him once more. 

And. . . there he was. Majestic beauty, in human form – now standing before you. 

He got to be the rejected one this time. Rejected by you. You got your revenge. 

His stare was pointed at the ground and his eyebrows screwed together in a conflicted manner. He was then saying something silently to himself before closing his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose, afterwards running an open palm down his face.

He was unhappy. Whatever. He could get over it.

But— it was when the same hand went to fluff the hair on the right side of his head. . . The strands of chestnut, left skewed in the wake of the tousle. Still looked effortlessly beautiful, even with more than one hair out of place. Then, once more, he was doing it again. 

He was jittering – feeling unsure of himself, most likely. 

The doubled flustered motion made your heart sink in your chest. He was nervous. And you hated it for him. And you. For both of you. You didn’t want him to feel nervous around you. . . Hell no. Losing every bit of progress was not the goal. . . 

You were just upset. It didn’t mean you wanted to lose him if it was possible he could still care enough to stop you to tell you Merry Christmas – and apologize. Even if the apology didn’t encompass the complete truth and he was masking something else, you couldn’t knock him for doing it. For, it was something you’d done a million times before. . . 

And, pathetic as it was, even if he wanted you — just a sliver of how much you wanted him — you’d take it. The way your body and soul craved him was overwhelming. The desire to satiate it meant your morality and feminism suffered for it at times. . .

With one leg in your car, you decided you could tell him one more thing. Before you left. Just to make sure he knew your opinion on a particular matter at hand. Something he’d previously mentioned, offhandedly. 

“And, no,” you began. 

His head snapped in your direction, mouth forming an ‘o’ in surprise – surely not planning on hearing your voice again. Those handsomely thick eyebrows dipped before he lifted one in confusion. 

You continued. “You are the furthest thing from out of shape, Jake. I think I can confirm that much. . . Based on recent events and all. . .Yeah?” The lilt in your tone coincided with the blush in your cheeks. His lips quivered in satisfaction, just the slightest bit at your implication. You kept on, “Maybe it’s just a good idea to not bolt at full-fuckin’-speed down the stairs and across the lot.”

“I had to, though,” he said, his smile drooping just a bit to indicate his seriousness. With a gentle backwards jerk of his head, his brows still furrowed at you, acting as though it were supposed to be obvious that he’d been pulled to do it. He continued, “It wasn’t right for me to not hear you out when I got home. . . Real dickhead move.” 

Yeah, it wasn’t right, you mused internally. You are correct in that, Jacob Thomas. Thank you for seeing the truth of the matter.

Mentally, you were nodding your head to agree, but on the outside, you merely stuck out your bottom lip in contemplation before slapping on a tight-lipped smile.

“It’s fine,” you shook your head, once again not being transparent in your emotions regarding the matter. 

“No, it wasn’t ‘fine’, y/n. And you know it,” he replied, trying to continue this conversation that you needed to end. 

“Jake. I’m not your girlfriend. You don’t owe me anything. I survived. It did not affect me at all,” you lied, each word like battery acid against your tongue. Felt wrong. “It wasn’t a big deal.” 

Except that it was, an inner voice tried to remind you. A big ass deal, in fact. Your daughter had made it a big deal.

But you didn’t want to tell him right now. Not yet. Sharing the news would keep you in this parking lot longer and you were ready to leave. Needed some time to breathe. You could tell him next time it happened. He had no clue it had happened in the first place, so it didn’t matter anyhow. Ignorance was bliss. . . Right? 

“What was it?” He asked, stepping forward just a bit. It seemed he was letting the tender moment take over for him. 

You knew he wanted to continue this and for everything to be okay. . . But now wasn’t the time for that. You didn’t want that right now. Because, you wanted to continue being dishonest with him. You didn’t want to let the tenderness influence your actions. . . You’d already given in to it by turning to reassure him of what sort of ‘shape’ he was in.

“It wasn’t anything,” you said the same lie as before, just with different words that were laced with dishonesty. Needed to go. Seriously. There were quite literally people waiting for you. Elsie was surely counting the minutes until you got there to help with the Christmas meal prep. “I’m gonna go, though. . .”

You positioned yourself to get in the car completely when he cleared his throat to speak again. “What are you doing for Christmas today? Just gonna be with your grandparents and Elsie?” 

One of your feet was in the car, your ass nearly touching the seat. But you stayed slightly elevated to be polite. “Yeah,” you grinned, the thought of seeing them made your heart thrum. 

You truly loved your family. . . They were so damn special to you. They’d been with you through the lowest of lows and the highest of highs. . . You felt safe with them. 

But, what was strange was that you felt that safety with new people now. When, years ago, you didn’t think you ever would. . . Josh, obviously, had worked his way into your heart, yes. That had been a shock, all on its own. 

But. . . the man in front of you? He’d completely, unexpectedly, nestled into your heart further than any other person you’d ever known. It had resulted in you truly feeling safer with him than anyone else. Even with the amount of hurt that hung in the air between you, he brought a sense of calmness that no one else could. Peace. . . An unreal, inexplicably captivating amount. 

He was your Safe Place, after all. Your subconscious, completely uninhibited mind said so itself. 

You assumed it was all due to the sensation of being ‘in love’ with him. . . He was simply more than anyone else. Your love for him went to places it didn’t — couldn’t — for other people. Never had.

It took him a bit to respond, his gaze looking just as torn as you felt. “Cool,” he rasped, the smallest smirk on his lips as he took a step back. “Tell your grandparents I say hey.”

“Not Elsie?” You joked, winking his way. Continuing this interaction, against your better judgment. “I’m sure she has some stupid ass Urban-fucking-Dictionary thing to call what you’re asking me to do. . . Snubbing her and all,” you wrinkled your nose, feeling sort of cringy with your words. 

You continued rambling to stay in the moment with him. Being in his presence was what your heart craved. “Because, if this woman can’t be normal about the way she refers to human body parts and what stimulates them – something that none of us want to hear about, anyway – she sure isn’t going to be normal about other shit. . . She’ll be quite offended and I’ll have to suffer for it.”

He responded with a roll of his eyes that indicated he was in on your humor. The curve of his lips was becoming more prominent by the second. God, you didn’t want to leave him. 

“Yeah, you’re probably right,” he responded with an intoxicatingly raspy half-laugh. “Best to not upset your sister. Tell her I said hi, too.”

He continued to back further away, out of the way. He was giving you space to get in the car. To drive away. To leave. . . And while you should have wanted to leave, you couldn’t. Didn’t seem like the right method of action now that he was apparently okay ending the conversation. Because, even if he was okay with leaving you be, you didn’t want it to be over.

No – what you wanted was for him to be at your grandparents’ with you today. . . 

So, without even thinking, you began. “Why don’t you just–?”

Fuck! No, y/n! What the hell? That is way too damn much to ask of him, the voice in your mind heckled you. Know your place, y/n. . .

Phone sex and his face between your legs was one thing. . . Inviting him over for ‘Christmas with the Family’? Another thing entirely. There was no way that wouldn’t freak him out, right? Besides, you had a feeling he already had plans with Maya. . . . It was safe to assume she’d already included him in some sort of festivity with her family today. . . .

“What was that?” He wondered aloud, a brow raising to encourage you. His tone was genuinely curious. . . And aggravatingly knowing in his question. 

You knew he knew what you were going to ask. 

But, you weren’t going to say it. Nope. 

“Nothing,” you replied with a gentle shake of your head, tucking some stray hair that had fallen behind your ear. “Merry Christmas, Ja–.”

“Wait. Before you leave–I have to ask. . .,” he began, his voice lowering a decibel that had your tummy flip-flopping. He rubbed at his chin in a way that you’d deem delicious in your increasingly hormonal state. Fuck. . . “Are you saying you don’t want to talk about stimulating body parts?” He grinned, the corners of his lips turned up. The dirty words, combined with his demeanor, was making your entire body light up. “Because. . . I’d beg to differ, babydoll.”

Babydoll. Shitfuck. The new pet name. The one that’d had your body keeling over and aching as you’d worked yourself up for him, not even forty eight hours ago. . .

Without any warning, the use of the name had you suddenly remembering everything you’d felt, holed up in that fucking family stall. . . How badly you’d needed him – needed him with you. The way your entire body had prepared itself for him. . . The mess of your release, all over the inside of your thighs. . . You’d been needy for him. All while he’d been hours away from you. . . 

Yet, now, he was right here. 

And, well, you still needed him. Badly. 

The flush in your cheeks took over as you stood before him, completely disorienting you for the time being. . . . . How long would it take for you to just go upstairs and let him. . . . .? God! No.

Christmas. Elsie. Grandma. Grandpa. Food.

So — before you could decide against it one more time, you shot him one more toss of your eyes and the tiniest smile. Weren’t going to be honest about how you felt about the matter. You’d made that deal with yourself already. Doing the same as him, and avoiding the full truth, was safest for the time being.

The blush in your cheeks absolutely gave you away, though. . . Unfortunately.

“Merry Christmas to you, Jake,” you said, stilling one final time and catching his eyes before you slipped completely inside of the Jetta. “And, yes, I will tell them all that you said hi.”

-🌼🌼🌼-

Mostly, you were giving her shit when you said it. The wine had not been tempting to you in the slightest. But, the urge to give Elsie shit? That was very tempting. . . Especially as you watched her pour her glass of red and take a generous sip.

“You know how fucked up it is for you to drink that in front of a pregnant woman?” 

Elsie only rolled her eyes at your words with a swish of her wine before she took another sip. The pour, already nearly gone as she poured a touch more into the pretty holiday-themed glass. Her lips, the color of mulled wine, staining the holiday green and berries that decorated the glass. 

“You know how fucked up it is for you to say fuck on fucking Christmas?” She challenged back, setting the wine down to check her phone. 

With a little smirk, you went about finishing up the green bean casserole. When it was mixed to perfection, you opened the oven and popped it into the preheated chamber. Only a few spaces left for the rest of the food on the hot trays. You eyed the incredibly sized ham. The smell of it made your mouth water from its place on the bottom rack. 

Before your stomach threatened to fall to your feet from hunger, you shut the oven and wiped your hands. It was time to move on to the final touches of the sweet potato casserole, anyhow.

As you began peeling the boiled orange potatoes, you smiled upon hearing your grandparents’ laughter from their bedroom. It had become a tradition when you’d grown up and left the house that your grandparents wrap your presents Christmas morning while, respectively, you and Elsie would cook for everyone. 

As adults, you and your sister had insisted on making Christmas dinner for them. Both of you, finding it as a teeny-tiny way to pay them back for everything they’d done for you two over the years. A giant, delicious dinner to finish up every year – with all kinds of delicious foods, that showed gratitude to their unfailing, limitless love. A consistent love that you hadn’t known until living with them. Your mother had not even been close to being the one to ever show you the authenticity of an unconditional love. 

Which reminded you. . . Elsie still had no clue about your revealed memory. Mr. Morgan. Mom.

So, you decided you’d tell her. No better time like the present. And a little bit of fun talk for Christmas morning. . . . “You know how I’ve been doing EMDR?” 

“Yes!” She replied, looking up from her phone for the umpteenth time that morning. Thankfully, she was slipping it in her back pocket, not allowing it to be a distraction. “How’s that going? I’m sorry I’ve been shit at asking about it. Job change and the big move does have my mind a bit fucked,” she said, stirring the gravy before checking on the tenderness of the boiling potatoes that would soon become mashed. “From what I’ve read, that type of therapy can get pretty dark. . . Are you doing okay with all of that?” 

Though, as soon as she was saying her last few words, her phone was gaining her attention again, must’ve buzzed in her pocket. You thought you’d be lucky to have her attention, but you were quickly mistaken as she was checking her phone again. 

But it didn’t take her as long to answer this time, and she eventually sat her phone on the counter, giving you her undivided focus. 

Seriously. All morning. The texting.

Well. . . to be fair, it had started about an hour after you’d gotten here. The texting and/or simple act of checking shit on her phone had been nonstop. You assumed she’d been texting, though. You knew the way her mouth rested when texting. And the occasional blush on her cheeks, accompanied by tiny grins indicated it was most likely Josh on the other end. 

You caught a sly glimpse of the phone, since she’d actually set it on the counter this time. It had only been in her back pocket until now. But now that it was visible, your curiosity got the best of you. 

And, you were able to see the presumed perpetrator pop up on her screen. Three messages popping up under his name. One after the other. . . . And then a fourth, right before your eyes. Dear lord.

The man did not know how to send one concise text. . . One thought, never failing to be split into multiple bits.

Elsie had told you already that the curly headed twin would be coming later. You didn’t know where he was now — all you knew was he wasn’t there yet. You assumed he was spending Christmas morning – at the very least – with Jake and Sam. Even if Jake did have plans with Maya, you knew him better than to believe he hadn’t carved out time for his brothers on Christmas Day. 

Danny had mentioned going home for Christmas on game night, so you knew it was just the three brothers here in New York for the holiday. There was no way they hadn’t decided on doing something to celebrate.

Though, selfishly, you wanted Josh here with you; he was a comfort. And, Christmas mornings being more comfortable didn’t hurt. And, stupid as it was, on Christmas, you always began to miss your mom the slightest bit. . . The woman had more negativity associated with her than positivity – by a landslide. 

But. . . She was your mom. And she was gone. On Christmas. What was supposed to be the happiest day of the year. . . 

Although, (of course) the ‘missing’ always came with overwhelming resentment. . . so you only ever tried to block it out. But, with lovely EMDR, the feelings were much more prominent than usual – harder to block.

So, seriously. . .Warmth and comfort was a necessity. 

Unfortunately, you wouldn’t be experiencing your favorite source of comfort any more today. . . In the form of Josh’s twin. Fuck Maya. Seriously.

“Well,” you began with a slight pause, shifting your mind away from his goddess girlfriend. To busy your hands, you decided on grabbing a Bubly from the fridge. A newfound staple drink in your Grandma’s kitchen. Cherry, specifically. You popped the tab and took a sip before continuing, going to stand next to the sink as Elsie went about draining the now-fully boiled white potatoes and placing all of the food you’d prepared on the island. “I haven’t had too many dark sessions of unraveling the shit from our past. But. . . I did see mom again,” you paused, giving her time to respond to the words. 

But, she didn’t respond. No, instead, she was checking her phone. Yet again. 

So, you went on, trying to emphasize the importance of the previous words with your next to get her attention. “The first time I’ve been able to fully make out her face in years. . .” 

Still, though. No response. Her hands were slightly shaky, but the small, secret smile on her face as she stared at her screen, said it was a positive sort of shaking. They were truly insatiable. Whatever. Good for them and their happy relationship.

You continued, essentially talking to yourself at this point, it seemed. “EMDR is intense, but it has seriously worked wonders for me. . . You know, remembering things that I’ve forgotten and need to remember. It’s been a lot — especially with all of the mom shit. . . but it’s been worth it.”

To your surprise, she actually gave a response. But it was barely a response. She’d only offered a gentle,  “Yeah. . . Sounds like it.” But, still. She hadn’t stopped for a second what she was doing. 

She just kept busying herself with the food and her phone. Food, phone, food, phone. . .

Then, she was taking the lid off the pan on the stove to check on the cranberry sauce your grandma had put on. . . The vinegary, bitterly sweet cranberry sauce was the one thing your Grandmother still insisted on making. And, after a taste, Elsie was adding a touch more of raspberry vinegar to the pan. 

Normally, you loved your Grandma’s cranberry sauce. And, the smell of the red fruit and vinegar combination usually made you feel excited for the taste on your tongue. 

This Christmas, however, it was much different. 

The smell of the additional vinegar with the lid off of the pot, was making your stomach churn. And, as Elsie stirred it to mix the vinegar, your stomach rolled as the potently sour smell wafted through the air. 

The suddenly upset tummy only told you one thing: Lavender was not a fan of vinegar. . . And, chances were, she wouldn’t love Grandma’s cranberry sauce like her Mommy did. 

So, you backed away from the stove, your nose saved as you held your breath. You decided it was best to go to the opposite side of the kitchen with your sweet potato supplies. 

And once there, with your back turned to the stove, you let out the breath you’d been holding and finished peeling them. 

Once that step was over, you were dumping them into another bowl before holding your breath to gather the brown sugar and syrup that you’d mix in with them, from Elsie’s side of the kitchen. 

And, once you were at your counter again, you let out a ragged breath, your lungs not able to hold air to the same capacity they once could. With a baby steadily growing and taking up space that your organs usually did, something as simple as holding your breath looked much different now. 

The bright orange vegetables were cooked to perfection, breaking up smoothly under the potato masher you were wielding. The brown sugar and syrup were measured by eye, and dumped into the dish soon, once the potatoes were mashed properly. As always, you were readily looking forward to this scrumptious casserole. 

This was your favorite holiday dish. And, a big part of the reason you loved it so much was because it would eventually be finished off with little marshmallows. . . Yum. 

Thankfully, Lavender seemed to agree with her Mama on this one. 

Your mouth was still watering, as usual, at the smell of sweet potatoes. Your tummy rumbled as you held your breath again to face the direction of the stove.  

You dumped the mixture into the casserole dish sitting on the kitchen island. The dish had patiently awaited the potatoes on the kitchen island. 

The island held a variety of salads, fruits, crackers, dips, and veggies — all of them, littering the surface. These items were always first on the list to prepare, since they were good to snack on and couldn’t ‘get cold’. 

Once the sugary potato mix was pristinely pressed against the glass pan, you took a healthy whiff of the food you’d been working on. Then, you made your way back over towards the oven with the potatoes. Mouth closed. Nostrils saved, your stomach not in peril.

When you got to the stove, Elsie was opening the oven door to check on the ham. And once you were bending over to place your food on the last available spot in the oven, you quickly realized your sister was damn near shutting the oven door on your arm. 

“Elsie! Careful!” You urged, eyebrows creasing at the way her body seemed to be buzzing beside you. “Goddamn, sis.”

“Sorry,” she said on a distracted breath as she poked at the ham with the thermometer. “Just trying to finish this shit up. I’m starving.” 

You ignored her, your skin heating with annoyance. And, not just at her refusal to listen to you. No, it was because, for the second time that morning, you were being fibbed to by someone you loved. First, Jake. Now, Elsie. You knew there was more to why her shoulders were quivering with some sort of pent up emotion as she moved away to give you space. 

Whatever she and Josh were discussing was distracting her to a point of oblivion. . . It was just lovely. But, for now, you’d give her a pass and let her live in her own little world of bliss. One of you should get to.

Yet, her nervous energy was translating to you in a way you couldn’t ignore. Your hold on the dish, a little too tight. And, too late, you realized your unwavering hold on the glass had your pinky briefly touching the oven rack as you placed it there. The searing heat was instantaneous in its sensations, all the way from your smallest finger to your elbow, you felt it. 

Dammit! 

“Mother of fuck! Fuck it all to damn hell!” 

That sharp, stinging, and blistering pain was already forming a welp on your finger as you carefully removed your hand fully and shut the oven. Fuck, it hurt! 

The previous slew of dirty words blurted out of your mouth a touch too loudly, alerting your Grandmother, all the way from her bedroom. “Y/n y/m/n!” The older woman screeched in a motherly tone from the other room. Curse her super hearing abilities. You’d been blessed with a grandma who could hear a damn pin drop. . . her ears, continuing to refuse aging. “Watch your damn mouth!”

“Mary Jane!” You heard your Grandpa scolding her, just the same as she had you. 

Even with the pain that was radiating up throughout your entire hand, you couldn’t help the tiny grin at her own slip-up. At the same time, you turned the kitchen sink to the coldest it could go as you waited for it to chill completely.

Your Grandma was not a typical elderly woman. And you loved her so much for it. Prim and proper and so clean cut – yes. She was beauty, she was grace. . . But her mouth had always been one to slip a curse word in – whenever she wanted, a dirty word or two was known to slip past her lips.

It was no shock to you when the older woman came racing into the room to check on you. It seemed Elsie noticed your pain at the same time that your Grandma was entering the room, the younger woman’s body sidling up beside yours at the counter. Just as you were putting your hand under the chilling sink water, your Grandma was popping up at the other side.

The cold water against your hot flesh felt like heaven and hell, all at once. 

“Y/n, honey, put your hand under the water,” your Grandma said, on a hurried breath, even as she watched you do exactly that from her new spot beside you. “Goodness gracious, Lord have mercy, y/n.”

“I am, Grandma,” you replied with a small, huffy laugh. “Calm down.”

“Is your heart racing?” Elsie asked shortly after you finished speaking, her voice a bit shaky still. “Are you okay?” 

Are you okay, Elsie? You internally bated her as you turned to her to give her a look.

“Yes, babygirl. Are you okay? Is the baby okay?” Your Grandmother asked at the same time as your vibrating sister.

“You two. . . I am okay. Baby is okay,” you replied with a small grin, glancing over at your Grandma before focusing on your finger. “Can one of you get me a towel though?”

“Oh, shit. Yeah. I’ll get it. God,” Elsie responded instantly, seeming disappointed in herself. She slapped a hand to her forehead as she walked to do the task. “I’m sorry I’m so spacy. . .”

“You think?!” You hissed, though your mouth stayed curved in a smile. Staying mad at Elsie wasn’t easy.

“You’re spacy, Elsie Bug?” Grandma pondered from beside you, placing her hand on your back, the firm and reassuring touch floated soothingly  through your entire body. “What does that mean?”

“It means her head’s in the clouds, Grandma,” you said, on behalf of your bumbling sister. “Josh has her all weird and googly-eyed. Even over the phone. . . All morning and afternoon.”

Just as soon, Elsie was beside you again and slipping the tea towel under the sink’s freezing spray only briefly before holding it out for your hand. It took you a bit of time to oblige her, enjoying the feeling of the coolness against your burning flesh. Felt nice. 

But, the idea of the icy cold towel being snugly wrapped around your warm, persistently stinging finger sounded like a dream. So, turning off the water, you spun on your heel to face Elsie. Your back, now, to your Grandma. 

“You know why, Grandma,” Elsie insisted, shooting a look in the older woman’s direction, over your shoulder. “Remember what we talked about earlier? What I asked you about?”

“What does that mean?” You pried at her, brows drawn in with utter confusion. 

What in the fuck could she be hiding? And your Grandma knew about it, too? Was this why Elsie was acting so weird? She always got nervous and edgy when it came to surprises. . . 

After budging at her figuratively, you did so literally, with your elbow against her arm, as she attempted to wrap your finger tightly in the soft material. The movement of your arm took your hand from her grip momentarily, making her growl. 

“Y/n. Quit. Let me wrap your finger.”

“Elsie.”

“Oh! Yes! Our extra gue–.” But, before she could finish, she was interrupted by a knock on the door. “Well, lookie there! That must be them!” 

Them? What? Your mind was going a mile a minute. What were they implying?

It took almost no time for your Grandmother to race to the front door on her spindly legs. The woman was still rather fit for her age of almost 75. She’d taken her health very seriously, always. . . which you’d always admired about her.

It took less than a minute for her to get there, with the door to the house being on the other side of the wall. And, instantly, upon opening, you heard Josh’s rather cheerful voice through the wall. 

Elsie’s hand stilled on top of yours, mid-towel wrap. You looked at her curiously, her touch slightly clammy on your skin.

“Ms. Mary Jane!” He exclaimed familiarly, his voice quite actually reverberating off the walls of the house. “A very Merry Christmas and a Happy Holidays to you, madam!”

Then, without any warning, he was very loudly singing “Mary Jane” by Rick James. . . to your Grandmother. Thankfully, he was leaving out the slightly explicit parts about Mary Jane turning him on and shit. Your eyes went to the wall, as if he could see your raised brow at the song choice.

While you were cringing at the song, it was only sending your Grandma into a fit of laughter. 

“Woo!” You heard your Grandma squeal from the entryway. “I wasn’t prepared for the dancin’, Joshua!”

Oh, Josh. . .

“Oh my god,” Elsie said to you, snickering under her breath. A little laugh left her lips as she rolled her eyes. “He is a mess.” 

The continued laughter that came through the wall made a smile fit to your lips. But you couldn’t let the moment pass without a comment about the song. With a tap against your hand, you noticed Elsie tying a bow with the small towel, leaving your now-wrapped hand. 

But, rather than running to Josh, she was checking on the ham – again. It shocked you that she wasn’t rushing to Josh. But, since she wasn’t, you didn’t. 

You also took notice of the fact that she wasn’t shaking anymore. . . Which relieved you. . . . But left you wondering what it meant. Had she just been dying for Josh to get here?

You stood in your place to joke with him, through the wall. Your voice raised slightly for him to hear you through the love song he continued to sing. “Rick James, Josh? Seriously?”

Just as soon as you’d asked your question, he was rounding the corner into the kitchen. 

But, the joke died on your lips – your mind completely blanking – as soon as the curly headed man made it into the room. 

 Because, trailing behind him was. . . Jake. 

You were pretty sure your heart stopped in your chest at the sight of him. The breath in your lungs, completely desolate from your chest with a single gasp. 

Oh, Jake. 

He looked so handsome in his all black attire. Black sweater, black jeans. And those worn, black Chelsea boots. . . The coins he’d started wearing, laying just right between his chest muscles. . . His long hair — various strands still damp from an apparent shower. . . Fuck. 

And his face, the most stunning part of all. He rivaled every other man you’d ever laid eyes on. No, didn’t rival — kicked them out of the ball park. He was immaculate, perfection in the most incredible form. 

Those features you’d studied for mornings and nights on end, nearly mirroring whatever expression you were making. A sort of stunned look behind his dark, deep set eyes.

You could see his apparent delight at the sight of you — in the loose grin that adorned his pretty lips. 

Though, rather than shock on his face (like you knew was painted on yours), he was waiting to see what your surprise entailed. It was as though he was waiting to see if you’d be more thrilled or upset by his presence. 

You observed his brown eyes, golden in the late afternoon sun shining in from the window behind you. Just like this morning. . . 

Those eyes, scanning your face, waiting to see how you felt about his arrival. And, rather than making the man suffer, you decided to show him. 

While you knew you couldn’t walk over to him and create a display, you knew you had to do something that would properly express the hope blossoming in your chest at the sight of him. The lack of display was upsetting, yes, but you were sure it would stun your poor Grandmother. The woman was oblivious to all of the parts and pieces of the ‘Jake and y/n puzzle’. 

Completely and totally oblivious.

You had to trust that your response would be fitting.

As he moved towards you, your heart plunged into the pit of your throat. He was coming up to you, just as Josh was to Elsie. He wasn’t touching you, but he was only a foot away, at best, as Josh and Elsie collided in a hug. 

He was still not as close as you wanted him, as he shuffled on his feet. But, he was as close as he could be. . . And the fact that he was near at all — in the same damned house as you — that was all that mattered. 

You let your lips rise in the most natural smile you’d felt since his initial return home last night. 

The same appreciation and whim that had been evident in your heart then was absolutely present now. Was this your second try? After all, he had come here. . . Though, had it fully been his choice? 

God, you didn’t know. And that was all it took for you to tone down just enough to stay in the reality of the situation. He was here, but he wasn’t yours. . . He wasn’t here as your boyfriend. He was here as Josh’s brother. 

But still, you didn’t hide the feelings swarming in your heart. You let your eyes communicate your unadulterated, contented bliss. . . 

And with the way his own eyes sunk into yours, you knew he understood — just enough. 

He knew that you were happy he was here. You could tell by the way his features softened.

And, that was all you needed at the moment. Just wanted him to know — ‘all was well’. 

“What brings you here, Jacob?” You asked with a bit of a teasing lilt in your tone. You had to remember you were being watched by an unassuming Grandma.

But, to your appeasement, she was soon escorting herself out of the vicinity. “I’m going to help Grandpa finish the gift wrapping! We are just about done,” she clarified. And, to not seem suspicious, your eyes went to watch her instead of the man who stood a few feet in front of you. “We’ll be ready to eat in an hour or so, girls!”

And, as she left, Jake came just the slightest bit closer. . . Enough closer that you could smell the vanilla laced with the sandalwood and amber in his cologne. . . Your favorite smell. 

“Just thought I’d join Josh on this excursion,” he clarified, his words authentic with the slightest bit of mystery hiding behind the phrase. “Sounded to me like this is the place to be. . .”

And, at the sound of his voice, you felt her. 

For the briefest of moments, for the first time since last night, you felt a little rustle in your belly that you now knew as a Lavender kick. 

And after the first, came another swift one, right where you’d felt her the night before. Her body was positioned in a way that you felt her little feet, right below your belly button. 

The timing was perfect for you to tell Jake about the kicks. He was right here this time. Right in front of you. And, you were just about to when he reached up to rub his chin. 

It was then, though, that you spotted a thick, dark silver ring on the middle finger of his right hand. . . Wasn’t wearing any of his other rings around this one. . . It was obviously a special piece of jewelry. 

This one, seeming to match the coins around his neck — that one-of-a-kind, antique silver that is unattainable unless you have money. . . A new ring that appeared to cost a lot of money. . .

You were hoping against hope that Josh had bought it for him. . . Or, maybe Jake had purchased it for himself? 

Surely Maya hadn’t. . . Right? It looked like an old, piratical relic. And last you knew, she couldn’t remember the difference between pirates and fucking mythology. . . Seriously, again — what in the fuck? Knowing that about the woman still got you.

So, really, you settled a decent amount. . . It was near impossible that it had been from her. 

Perhaps, he’d had it for a while, but had never worn it around you? Or you just hadn’t paid close enough attention to his wardrobe to notice? Yet, that was a fat chance. 

Maybe he’d bought it for himself with these new label paychecks. . . However, you knew the jewelry he gravitated towards. 

And, really, you paid very close attention to his wardrobe — perhaps more so now, than before. It was all your longing gaze had to torture you with. . . Concentrating on every Jake detail was the gospel for you. 

All of that to say, he had his ‘go-to’ rings. The same four or five silver rings — anytime he wore hand jewelry, those were his staples. So, truly. . . You knew this had to be a newer ring. One you’d yet to see. . .And, even if you hated the answer, you had to know who had bought it. 

Stupid, stupid idea. . . Why did you choose to do this shit to yourself? 

Whether you should have or not, you (foolishly) asked. “Who got you the fancy ring? Haven’t ever seen that one. . .”

The moment you saw the little twinge in his brows and the thoughtful purse of his lips. . . you knew you shouldn’t have asked. Fuck it all. His eyes glanced down at the hand he was, now, holding out at his waist between you two. Like it held all of the answers on how to respond to such a question. 

As if she’d sensed the new topic of conversation, and her mommy’s stress, Lavender began kicking harder. She was trying to gain your attention, it seemed. And while she absolutely had your attention, so did her father. . . Who you were still waiting on an answer from. 

After he’d taken a few too many seconds to deliberate an answer, and Elsie and Josh were seemingly in their own world, you decided you’d pry further. If they were distracted, you couldn’t embarrass yourself in front of your sister and your friend if Jake were to act annoyed with your additional prodding. 

You raised your brow at him. And, doing your best to ease any tension, you lightly tapped the top of his boot with a sock-clad toe. 

“Hey. . .,” you tried, leaning over a bit to get a better look at his face, which was now looking up from the floor. But, not at you. No way. He was very concerned with the window to Grandma’s garden behind you. Why had you asked about that damn ring? “Jake. You okay?” 

And, still, he didn’t respond with words, but he was at least looking at you again. All he did with his mouth was lick his lips; which, in turn, caused your insides to shiver with desperation for him. It made you feel even worse. This entire situation was so fucked. 

So, you back-tracked. Tried to save face. “Y-you don’t have to answer; I was just being nosy. It’s not my business to—.”

“You know who did, y/n,” he finally spoke, so quietly and with a tone that seemed too short for your taste. 

There wasn’t any way to stop the way your eyes leveled with his. You glared at him, hard. Right into those eyes. The same eyes you saw behind yours in every dream, the ones you wished to be the same to grace Lavender’s pretty face. . . 

But you weren’t feeling sentimental. Even as he seemed to soften, once again, under your penetrating, pinning stare. You weren’t having it. He’d made you mad. 

What was his problem with you simply asking a damned fucking question? You instantly took back feeling bad about asking. While it might not have been your business, it was a friendly conversation starter. 

And he was cutting you off mid-ramble, acting put out with you for asking about a motherfucking ring?

Lavender’s kicking continued on, growing feistier by the second. And with one particular jab to your bladder, you suddenly had no time to entertain Jake’s moody ass. Fuck him and his stupid ring, you suddenly had to pee. 

You were absolutely going to pee down your leg if you stood there a second longer. 

She was pressing so adamantly against you that the pain was sharp and dull all at once. You felt the buzzing throb, warning that your body would open with no chance of stopping if you weren’t quick.

Fuck. 

Without taking another second, you were shoving past him, taking out your frustration a bit while you could. Before you could leave the kitchen to get to the hallway bathroom, though, he was softly grasping your arm to make you pause. 

God. No, Jacob. Not the time.

He was already pissing you off. And now his daughter was insisting you needed to piss this badly, because of the bit of Bubly that you’d indulged in over the past hour. 

And, his surprise arrival definitely had you feeling all jittery and on edge. . . In a way you wanted to enjoy. But you couldn’t. He was making that impossible. With the blessed piece of silver on his finger and his snippy ass mouth. 

All of the fire you felt in your chest, you channeled to reflect in your irises as your eyes snapped to his. 

He looked apologetic. Good for him.

And, when he spoke again, his inflection proved the emotion emanating from his beautiful, amber-brown eyes. “Y/n, I didn’t mean—.”

Just as you felt his hand flex around your forearm, you yanked it from his grip, stumbling back a bit with the action. Which, of course, he reached out to help with instantly. 

“No, Jake,” you growled, holding both hands out to avoid his touch. Didn’t need his hands distracting you. Fuck him and his incredible hands. On top of that, a fucking tsunami was threatening to burst the dam of your body, lest you leave. “Not now.”

Seconds later, you were finally on your way out of the kitchen. And even as he tried to stop you again, calling your name once to stop you, you didn’t hear him. . . 

Because, all you could focus on was the heavenly hallway bathroom that finally came into view. The room that would offer you sweet, sweet relief. Relief of the heinous, painful strain of your damned bladder. . . 

As well as relief from the unexpected, aggravatingly delicious presence of Jacob fucking Kiszka. 

-🌼🌼🌼-

“What’s got your panties in a twist, Jacob?” Josh poked, raising his brow at the twin that stood behind you. 

He was right. His brother’s panties were, in fact, in a damn twist. 

For the past hour since they’d arrived and he’d pissed you off in the kitchen, Jake had become oddly quiet. 

You hadn’t gone out of your way to talk to him and ask him about it. . . Couldn’t. Didn’t want to. . . . Or so you tried to convince yourself. And, you were succeeding by playing oblivious to how your shitty response had turned into his now-shitty mood. 

It was annoying how you were still feeling in his presence, no matter how badly he made you want to punch a wall. Where Elsie had once been ridiculously jittery and weird, you now were. It felt juvenile. . . Felt like you were a preteen girl whose damned crush was hanging out with her for the first time. 

Every time you glanced his way, your heart quite actually twisted in your chest at the mere sight of how handsome he was. . . How damn good he smelled, attacking you, every time he came near to you. . . 

And, while you were finally (mostly) over the little fit concerning the ring, you didn’t want to make yourself vulnerable to him. You knew you couldn’t handle a conversation and keep face. Especially not one about how he was feeling. You were not going to ask if he was ‘okay’ again. Not right now. . . 

But. . . there was a conversation was coming. You could feel it.

“They’re not in a twist, Josh,” he growled with a huff, his voice close at your back. Goosebumps were persisting on your neck. He’d come to stand behind you a few minutes prior as he’d finished conversation with your Grandpa in the other room. 

He’d joined you immediately after his conversation, as you took photos of Josh and Elsie. “And panties?” He hushed at Josh, tone distressed, worried. “Really? In front of their grandparents?”

“They’re not even in the room, Jake,” Elsie said with a snort, snuggling closer to Josh for another picture. “And they’ve heard worse than panties. Scout’s honor.”

Jake scooted closer to you. He hadn’t been bold enough to come much closer until now. He’d kept a safe distance from a couple of feet away. 

But, not now. Now, he was inches away from your ass. You could feel how close he was, by the way his body heat radiated to your body. 

Deciding to just suck it up — and not able to resist the urge to tend to his needs — you looked up and over your shoulder at him. Your breath caught in your throat at the sight of him. You would never get used to how handsome he was.  

“Jake,” you tried quietly, immediately gaining his attention. His face softened as soon as he was looking at you. Josh and Elsie were in their own little world already, giggling with each other and having a tickling contest or some shit. Gross. “There’s no need to be tense or anything. Just relax and enjoy yourself. It’s Christmas.”

His jaw went loose momentarily, then it was flexing again, before his next words. “Yeah, but you haven’t been acting like yourself and I feel like it’s my—.”

“Rolls and cranberry sauce are finished!” Grandma was suddenly piping up from the kitchen doorway. 

It was time for Christmas dinner. . . And, as if on cue, you felt your tummy rumble a bit. 

Somehow, you’d been able to put off how insanely hungry you were for all of this food. . . As a constantly hungry pregnant woman, on Christmas, you’d ignored your hunger for the holiday food. Damn. That was saying something about your headspace when it came to Jake.

“Let’s eat, girls and boys,” your Grandpa added, coming up behind the white haired lady. His thick, black and gray eyebrows raised as he looked at you all, awaiting a response. “Gotta get this goin’. I’m hungry.” 

And, then, they were both disappearing from the doorway. You assumed they were on their merry way to find their own places at the table. Following in their lead was all you wanted at the moment, as your tummy tickled at you again for satiation.

“Let’s go eat,” you brought the phone down, clicking it shut to give your full attention to him. Both of you turned a little until you were fully facing each other. You tucked a lock of hair behind your ear. “You can sit next to me?”

The offer came on its own, your heart speaking for you. And there was that fucking vulnerability you’d been afraid of showing. 

He breathed, his chest visibly deflating with relief. A grin quirked his lips, his brows rising. “I would love that.”

“What about our picture?” Elsie whined from where she stood, now-behind you from where you’d turned to Jake. 

Jake’s loose, lopsided grin made butterflies swarm your chest and belly. You felt his emotion, throughout your veins. His eyebrows raised in amusement, as you rolled your eyes at Elsie’s continued bickering. 

You had to turn to her to show her your irritation, forcing you to turn your back on Jake again. . . Which only irritated you further.

“Come on, y/n. Please,” she huffed, literally stomping her foot. “I took too damn many of you the other night for you to not return the favor. And you were basically fucking naked! This is nothing.”

Jake’s throat cleared behind you and your cheeks blushed as crimson as your grandmother’s living room walls. “Elsie Mabel,” you scolded her. “Seriously?!”

“Oh my god, Hormonal Holly,” she sassed, narrowing her eyes at you. “Cut the shit, shut the fuck up, and just take one more picture. Goddamn.”

“It’s nice to be young and in love on Christmas,” Josh explained, unnecessarily. 

Seriously. What the fuck, Josh?

“It absolutely is,” Elsie reiterated, pressing against him and pressing her lips to his. 

O-kay. Dear God. You couldn’t take anymore of the cutesy couple-y shit. So, yanking the phone out again, you started snapping pictures. 

Whatever ploy this was, it was working to get under your skin just enough. 

And you had a damned good feeling you knew exactly what they were doing. . .

-🌼🌼🌼-

When the cranberry sauce was being passed at the table, two people away from you, you instantly stilled and closed your eyes. You really didn’t want to puke. . . So, you did your best to ignore the smell, holding your breath. 

Jake noticed, placing a gentle hand on your thigh under the table as soon as your body stiffened. Your skin heated at his touch immediately. The butterflies were flying rampantly in your tummy. 

Naturally, you leaned over towards him and away from your Grandmother on your right side. When you were facing him completely, you looked up and into his eyes. 

“You okay?” He asked, Amber-brown eyes wide and curious. 

“The sauce—,” you gasped momentarily, catching a brief whiff when you stopped holding your breath. 

Your stomach rolled, the nearer it came. His hand tightened on your thigh, squeezing it reassuringly. So, you decided to not try to speak, instead, throwing your pointer finger over his shoulder and placing a hand over your mouth. 

He peeked behind him, seeing exactly what you were referring to. 

“Oh. . . Don't like cranberry sauce?” He quietly asked, grinning down at you. Both of you, in this little world with each other as everyone else rambled on about nothing around you. 

His hand was still comfortably on your thigh, his thumb creating soothing circles on the top of it.

Rather than taking the easy way out and just shaking your head, you decided to try speaking again. You opened your mouth, hushing the word, “Vinegar.”

Though, when the smell momentarily infiltrated your senses with the opening of your mouth, you almost hurled. 

Your eyes pinched shut to find a sense of calm, covering your mouth and nose with one hand. His thumb was now creating careful stripes against your cashmere pants. You blinked your eyes open at him again. A small grin settled on your lips as you went to hold your breath once more. 

The way he was looking at you had your skin growing warm. His irises held every bit of care the man could muster, you were sure of it. His own smile was secretive and it made you want to kiss him. . . So, so badly wanted to kiss him. . . Especially as his thumb went to move nearer to your inner thigh. His fingers, now nestled on the softer, inner part of your thigh, in the crease made between your legs. 

Your core was heating up at how near he was to where you needed him most. For a second, you forgot you felt sick at all. . . Your heart, thumping hard against your chest and distracting you from the momentary crisis. 

Then, he was speaking again. “I don’t like vinegar either,” he said with a wink, his hand held tight to your thigh. You were glad you were turned away from your Grandmother, not wanting her to be privy to this interaction that was making your skin catch fire. “Hate it, actually.”

Wait. . . . Your brows crinkled in wonder. . . .

Oh my god. . ., you realized, watching the sparkle of the dining room light flicker in his eyes. Is it because of him? Can babies inherit food aversions in the womb? 

You didn’t know, but it seemed like a logical assumption. Your heart leaped at the thought of her already inheriting his traits. It was at that same moment that he also let go of your thigh, coming out of the little world you two had created to address his brother. 

Josh was apparently speaking, trying to get Jake’s attention and effectively broke you two out of the little world you’d created for the past couple of minutes.

You were definitely upset by the loss of contact for a few seconds before you found reprieve in watching the back of his head. . . His gorgeous, long locks. . . Thicker than one might think, always taking so long to dry. Even though they’d been here for over an hour, you still saw a couple of damp strands from a shower he must’ve taken before arriving. . . . 

It was ridiculous that his hair was enough to make you feel better. 

God, you had it bad. . .  That was for sure.

You watched as he held a hand up towards Josh. Thank god. Because he was just about to pass the cranberries to Jake. . . . 

Oh, Jake, your hero. . . .

“Oh, yes. . .,” Josh said, snapping you completely out of your reverie. You turned back to face forward in your seat when you saw him pointing a finger towards his brother, whose hand now sat on his own thigh instead of yours. You admired the veins in Jake’s hand as it laid on his leg. . . His long fingers. . . . Those digits, so skilled. The sight and thoughts had your head spinning. 

The louder twin was turning back to Elsie with the sauce, where she held it, curiously eyeing you, not yet placing it back in the middle of the table. 

The curly headed twin decided to inform the whole table of what was happening when he spoke next. “Jacob, here, has an aversion to vinegar. . . Always has hated it.”

“Grandma’s one dish, Jake? Can’t even try it?” Elsie questioned, jokingly. She wanted in on it, but she was still silently questioning. 

She was still holding the bowl in her hands. Though, she was about to ask a follow up question — you could see it in her eyes. You had no idea what it was going to be, and you weren’t sure if you wanted to hear it.

But, thankfully, Grandpa beat her to it with his own reassuring statement. 

“Eh, it’s alright, kid,” Grandpa said with a small smile aimed towards Jake. The gray-haired man was putting some mac and cheese on his plate before passing that ceramic bowl to your Grandma. “It is delicious, my MJ. . . Just can’t be everyone’s cup of tea, hm?”

“Of course not, Harold. No harm, no foul,” she agreed, looking over at Jake with understanding painted on her beautifully aged features. She truly did age so incredibly well. You could only hope you’d be so lucky. “I’m not offended at all, Jake.”

Grandma smiled at something Josh said. But, you weren't aware of what he’d said because you could only stare at Jake, as he turned towards your Grandmother. 

“I promise I’ll try anything else you cook, Ms. Mary Jane,” he said in response to her, giving her an easy smile. Your chest ignited at the sight of the dimple in his cheek. “It’s not you, swear.”

“I believe you, sweetie. You’re welcome here anytime to try any and all of my other cooking,” Grandma assured before she was tapping you with a graceful finger. “Y/n. . . I’m sure you want some of the mac and cheese? You make it so deliciously, honey pie.”

When you were turning from Jake to grab the bowl from her, your Grandpa was still carrying on with your roommate. 

“Oh, Jacob. . .,” your Grandpa started as he forked at his green bean casserole. “Y/n’s homemade mac and cheese, kid. . . Woo-wee! My little Sugarplum is a fantastic little chef when she wants to be. . . You’ve gotta try it, son,” he encouraged, before taking a bite of his green beans. 

“Of course I’ll try it, sir,” Jake responded, nudging your shoulder with his own. You blushed under his attention, trying to focus on the warm noodle dish in your hands. “I do a lot of the cooking at home. . . Never really give her a chance to cook for me. Guess I should sometime, hm?”

Fuck. That sounded domestic. . . Too domestic. You didn’t look at him, kept your head down with a little smile on your lips as you hummed a sort-of response. When you passed the macaroni his way, your Grandpa’s little giggle caught your attention.  

Yes, giggle. 

What the hell? 

Had he caught on to Jake’s couple-y remark? Shit.

You looked his way, seeing he’d swallowed his last bite and was taking a drink of water. Then, he was grinning. “There’s no vinegar in it, Jacob – don’t worry,” he grinned, winking at Jake with a twinkle in his eye. “Unless y/n slipped some in this year. . .”

Thank god. You were very relieved that no one had picked up on Jake’s previous statements. . . Didn’t need anyone thinking too much of anything.

“Oh, yes, Grandpa. . . Vinegar in macaroni and cheese sounded too damn good. . .couldn’t resist the urge,” you sarcastically responded. Shaking your head at the older man, you released your own little giggle.

Your Grandpa’s joy around Jake was something you really, really loved. . . You couldn’t blame the old man for brightening up around the younger one. Jake brought the same immense joy to you. He made your heart feel warm in your chest.

“Okay, are we just going to ignore the elephant in the room? We all know — well, besides the twins — how much y/n loves Grandma’s cranberry sauce. . . Don’t you want some, y/n?” Elsie piped up from where she sat at the round table. She was across from you, and you caught her eyes with a raised brow. 

Was she forgetting you didn’t get to call the shots with what you ate these days? 

There was a tiny human who did a lot of the deciding. “The baby doesn’t like it,” you told her, sticking out your bottom lip. 

And, to avoid more questioning or Jake saying something without thinking (again), you decided to say something to (kind of) change the subject. 

You’d go ahead and drop the news you’d been anxiously waiting to divulge to your grandparents for weeks now. . . . News that you wanted so badly to share – even more than the news of the kicking. 

. . .which you still hadn’t told anyone about. Because, the more you’d considered it, the more wrong it felt to tell anyone before Jake. . . She was his baby, after all. Yours and his. . . No one else’s.

“I’d rather not upset the baby girl,” you remarked, looking down for a second to play it off. 

But, you couldn’t help the temptation to look over towards your Grandma when you heard her fork clatter against her plate. Elsie’s flare for dramatics came naturally from the gene pool. Your Grandma’s face made yours light up. Her blue, glassy eyes were wide with excitement, her mouth hanging open. 

“Y/n y/m/n. . . What in the heavens did you just tell us, sneaky pants?” She remarked, her tone one of a wise, all-knowing parent. “Did I just hear that my great grandbaby is a—?”

“A girl,” your Grandpa finished, from where he sat beside Elsie. His voice was full of pride. And when you looked his way, you saw the tears glistening in his eyes. His face read nothing but grandfatherly pride, his lips shaky with a small smile.

Your own eyes filled with wetness. Seeing your Grandpa so vulnerable was something you truly treasured. All your life, you’d wished to know every part of the (more-than-slightly grumpy) old man. . . And the more he opened up in recent months, the closer you got to knowing more and more of him. It was a dream for you, quite honestly. You’d always felt an innate sense of closeness to him. . . An unspoken understanding.

Back in the present moment, you were momentarily nervous over something you hadn’t really considered. . . 

Jake’s very apparent lack of reaction. 

You were too afraid to check his face for fatherly pride. All for the simple fact that you didn’t want him to accidentally out your fling to your grandparents. Though, thankfully, the two elderly people at the table didn’t catch onto Jake’s reaction. . . Or, lack thereof. 

Here was what worried you: you knew it would make sense to your grandparents for Josh and Elsie to already know. But would it make sense for your roommate to know the gender before family? 

Fuck. You didn’t know. You’d never done this shit before. But, even considering the fact that they had no clue who the father was, they still didn’t seem too worried by Jake’s non-response. . . 

Chances were, they just thought a roommate might not care so much about such a thing. And they were probably right to assume that. An ordinary male roommate probably wouldn’t care. 

But he wasn’t an ordinary male roommate. . . 

Noticeably, you weren’t involving him at the moment. And you hated it. You felt really bad for not — but it wouldn’t make any sense to your grandparents if you did. . . 

Though, Jake had to know something was amiss. You knew he did. . . Your back was turned to him during this important moment concerning his daughter, for God’s sake. . . Completely closing him out. . . Like he wasn’t involved at all.

Guilt overtaking you, you sent the briefest of peeks his way, only to find him forcing a toothless smile as he stared down at his plate. It wasn’t natural, you knew that much. And his leg was bouncing under the table to indicate he was feeling strange. 

But, to make matters worse, you watched his next move. Saw it happening before it actually happened. The tousling of the long hair over his ear was enough to show you that he, in fact, was not doing okay. 

He was definitely feeling jittery. He wanted to say something, you were sure, but he wasn’t going to say anything without you including him first. 

And he, by god, was not going to look at you. His eyes were trained on his hand, which was fidgeting with his fork against his plate. 

God. You felt so bad. Why hadn’t you just told them? They were going to find out eventually. . . 

Well. . . You knew why. You didn’t really know how to confess to a friends-with-benefits situation. . . . . to your grandparents. 

And now was definitely not the time you wanted to divulge that information. You’d already given them enough big news for one evening. The gender was a big deal. Only you, Jake, Josh, and Elsie had known. . . And now, your grandparents were in on the secret. It was exactly how you wanted it for the time being. No one else needed to know yet. 

“So, if she’s a girl. . .,” your Grandma started from beside you, causing you to look over and blink a few times in her direction. “Does she have a name?”

“Yes . . .,” you grinned, skin heating and stomach swirling with anticipation under the dubious expression on her finely wrinkled face. 

More than anything, you wanted to turn to Jake and have him say her name. . . Wanted to give him something exciting to share. But you knew you couldn’t.  

And it fucking gutted you. Made you feel like shit. Because it was his news to share, too. . . 

But, with the questioning gazes coming from your Grandmother and Grandfather, you knew you had to be the one to say it. They wanted to know now. And, as much as you wanted Jake to tell them right now, you’d put yourself in this position. 

“Lavender. . . her name is Lavender.”

And, even with your Grandmother’s crushing hug and elated words over all things Lavender, your heart continued to sink. Your Grandmother and Grandfather began debating, right in front of you, which big item they wanted to purchase for the baby first. But. . . you weren’t thinking about that. 

No, all you were concerned with was the man beside you. And you truly couldn’t resist the urge to flick your eyes to Jake amidst the joyous moment. 

But, still, he wasn’t looking anywhere near you. His eyes were still pointed towards the table, his thumbs now twiddling underneath the table, anxiously. 

Everyone flipping shit over the baby, and meanwhile, the  man who helped you make the baby was being left out completely. It was ironic that the moment was happening now. . . considering it had all started with the fact that you couldn’t eat the cranberry sauce this year. 

And the only reason you couldn't was because the baby bouncing in your womb had inherited the distaste from him. 

That was how closely entwined he was with it. She was half of him. She’d already inherited traits of his. Yet, the older people at the table had no clue that he’d had anything to do with it. 

Saying that you were at a loss would be a massive understatement.

-🌼🌼🌼- 

A couple of hours later, saw you in a much better mental headspace. 

Considering you were elbow deep in gifts now, you were able to divert your thoughts from the evening’s earlier events. And, one good thing was, aside from the pure sadness that had transferred from Jake’s heart and directly to yours, the rest of dinner had gone well. 

The topic of conversation had moved away from Lavender quite quickly. You hadn’t been able to stand watching Jake’s heart break right in front of you for much longer. So, after watching him for less than a minute and not knowing what to say to him, you’d decided to change the table’s topic to how good the ham was this year. 

And, with said subject change, Elsie had jumped head first into accepting the compliment. . . Which had gotten things going, once again, in a good direction. 

Truly, everything tasted better this year. It seemed that every year, you and Elsie got the hang of things just a little more than the year previous. 

It hadn’t taken long, then, for Jake and your Grandpa to wind up talking like old buddies, over music. And for the rest of your time at the table, you’d admired Jake with little chance glances. Though, there’d been no glances from him in your direction. 

You couldn’t blame him. And you hadn’t wanted to push him too far by inserting yourself in a conversation about your shared favorite thing (besides Lavender, of course). 

More than likely, he was less than impressed by your method (or lack thereof) of involving him in the Lavender conversation. Still now, you had the feeling that he wasn’t happy about any of it. 

Even as they were still going on about the music, Jake had chosen to not sit close to you. He was sitting on the couch a few feet behind you, ignoring you for your Grandpa — who sat in his chair across the room. 

You’d never witnessed your Grandpa be so open and talkative with someone who wasn’t in the family. . . But it made for a rather harmonious and divine holiday. You could listen to them talk for hours on end and never tire of it. . . Even when you had a bad feeling Jake was upset by your choices. 

And, there hadn’t been any more Lavender kicks to bring any other sense of completeness to your heart. It was as if she wasn’t pleased with you either. You couldn’t blame her or her father.

In the present time, you were, yet again, seeming to go against what she wanted. . . Your back was screaming at you as you sat on your knees, something you had never experienced before pregnancy. The back pain was a real enemy of yours.

You’d done a good job of ignoring it for the majority of the present unwrapping, but now you were shifting, every so often to sit slightly differently. When you were on your second to last gift, you decided criss-cross applesauce would just have to do. You were the last kid unwrapping — per usual. Josh and Elsie had already opened theirs, by age, and Jake hadn’t had a single gift. At which, he’d made sure to emphasize to your worried Grandmother that it was ‘completely okay’ and that he ‘wasn’t worried about it in the slightest.’  

Josh and Elsie’s gifts were the only ones left for you to unwrap at this point. But, even with only two gifts remaining, you couldn’t do any more of your heels pressing into your ass. Sore ass fuckin’ body.

The paper they’d chosen was shiny, just like yours. It caught every glimmer from the tree’s twinkling lights.

And, even if Josh hadn’t labeled his, you didn’t even have to guess whose was whose. 

Elsie’s corners were tucked (more like untucked) in the familiar way they always had been. While Josh’s gift was wrapped exquisitely, Elsie’s was wrapped. . . Not so exquisitely. Then Josh’s, labeled with a ‘to’ and ‘from’ and Elsie’s, with your name, scribbled in the top corner of the present from her. Her script alone was a dead giveaway. 

Josh’s gift came first. Once unwrapped, you found it in a smaller, long, slim box. A shallow box that didn’t give much room for anything too flashy. Josh’s gifts were always very thoughtful. Always drastically different than the last. 

For example, your birthday gift in February, had been the soft, fluffy blanket you loved so much and used every day. And with this box, you knew it would be nowhere near a blanket of any sort. Not even a baby blanket. 

You had no idea what to expect. All you knew was when you opened it to find a gift certificate for a professional maternity shoot, you could safely say that had been the last of your guesses.  

“Oh my god. . . Is this why you were so insistent on me understanding there was nothing wrong with my body the other night?” You asked, raising your brow at him, where he sat behind Elsie. “Needed me to be prepared for your gift?”

His own brow quirked, a smirk fitting to his lips. “Nooo, mama. That was just something you simply needed to know—need to know. This was planned already. Figured you deserved to have some good, professional photos taken while you’re in this magnificent and majestic state.”

While you weren’t exactly sure what to think, you were definitely anxious to see what could happen with a professional shoot. All of the theming possibilities. . . You wondered what all the photographer could do with lavender. . . The flower and the color. You were getting more and more excited by the minute. 

“Well, thank you, Joshy. . . I’m sure I will love them,” you grinned, winking in his direction. 

And while you wanted to turn and show Jake the certificate, you didn’t. One: it would be weird to your grandparents for you to do so. And, two: you didn’t want to piss Jake off any further. You just eyed the certificate to get a closer look at the company and the service. 

Glimmer & Glow Portraits. . . And, from what it looked like, you were getting The ‘Lush’ maternity shoot. . . It sounded pricey. The weighty material of the certificate felt expensive, too. And the swirly, embossed font screamed fancy. But. . . you’d never heard of the place. 

“Glimmer & Glow?” You questioned, holding the certificate up for Josh to see, as if he hadn’t been the one to buy it in the first place. 

“I’ll send you some example photos I saved of her work. She’s magnificent. Talked to a few friends from film school and they hooked me up with one of the best,” he explained, scooting closer to Elsie and wrapping his arms around her waist from behind her. “She’ll set us up with a newborn shoot, too, I’m sure.”

As you watched your sister and Josh mindlessly nuzzle each other’s noses, you couldn’t help the twinge of sadness at the fact that you did not have what they did. You, on the floor. And Jake, dating someone else entirely, while also being a few decently measured feet away from you. . . 

Your fate was a twisted joke. You couldn’t even look behind you to gauge his reaction to the sweet gift, for fear of embarrassing yourself or some shit. Josh and Elsie didn’t even have to worry about that kind of stuff. . . 

Though, instead of being sad, you tried to focus back on the maternity shoot.

“Seriously. . . Thank you, Josh,” you started, eyeing the certificate closer and looking at the specifications for the shoot. So many exclusive features. . . There was no way this had been affordable. “But please tell me this wasn’t too expensive.”

“Sam and Danny pitched in a little,” he assured, dodging the question. “Don’t worry.”

“I’m sure their portion was hefty,” Jake remarked sarcastically from behind you, on the couch. 

Hearing his voice had your tummy flip-flopping, made you feel jittery, all on its own. Though, what had you feeling the most overjoyed, was the fact that he was tuning in to what was happening with you. . . He wasn’t completely ignoring you. 

You wanted to look at him so badly, but. . . you refrained. All you could watch was Josh and Elsie in front of you, borderline absent from the room. It was depressing to watch, so you decided you’d move on to Elsie’s gift in the hopes of breaking up their display. 

“Elsie Mabel,” your Grandma tried, from her spot in the red armchair opposite your Grandfather’s chair. “Are you going to pay attention to your sister opening her gift?”

“Yes, Grandma,” Elsie groaned with irritation. 

But, you didn’t look up to see her presumed eye roll as you inspected the box carefully. It was also long, like Josh’s. But it was definitely more narrow, and not quite as flat. . . 

With a toss of your hair over your shoulder, you grinned at her. She was waiting for the question, a smile settled on her lips. “What sort of cry-worthy gift did you fit into this small box?” You quizzed her, genuinely curious. 

You were used to records or picture gifts. . . Sometimes a T-shirt with sentimentality backing it. The gifts from her were never dull — always thought out to the most specific extent. But you couldn’t remember the last time she’d gifted a small box. 

“You’ll see once you open it. . .,” she began with a purse of her full lips. “Don’t make me spoil the surprise yet, jerk.”

“Asshole,” you mumbled, beginning to pick at the paper. Slowly. You wanted to make her suffer in anticipation. 

“Oh, please. Go slower. I’d love that,” she mouthed off from beside you. 

“Girls. . .,” your Grandpa warned from his chair, like you were two hormonal, angsty teenagers all over again.

Ironically, you were still (very much) both angsty and hormonal. . . Just for slightly different reasons this time around. . .

As you snorted at the peculiarity of it all, you began to go a little faster to appease her and your own growing curiosity. Your Grandma provided background noise with conversation — as per usual. 

“Jake, honey. . . I haven’t even thought to ask you— how has it been with y/n’s pregnancy? Around the apartment? I’m sure she’s been a bit of a pill. . .”

Well, shit. Here we go again. . .

You froze your unwrapping, your eyes darting up to eye your Grandma, as inconspicuous as you could. She was right across from you. Not a white curl was out of place as she leaned, with graceful ease, against the arm of her chair to get a better look at Jake behind you. Her legs were stretched out, as they always were when she sat in her chair — and crossed at the ankle. Normally, the familiar sight would give you a sense of calm — but not right now. 

You felt your stomach drop, the present in your hands forgotten. You couldn’t see him, but you didn’t want to see him right now. You were worried. . . All you hoped was that this conversation didn’t lead to where it could potentially lead. . . But you had a bad feeling. . . . . 

Because, again, Grandma and Grandpa still didn’t know who the father was. And you got to win the fuckin’ prize for that wonderful decision.

“Oh, not at all actually. . . She’s been incredible,” he said, his tone lighting up significantly for the first time since he’d gotten to their house. God, you felt so damn bad. He continued easily, blissfully unaware of the torment in your mind. “It’s been nothing. I’ve more than enjoyed helping her. . . For whatever she needs, I try to be there. . .”

Whatever you needed was right. 

He trailed off on that one, and you couldn’t control the blush radiating in your cheeks as you looked down at the partially picked-at gift in your hands. You studied the gold of the paper in your clutch, noting every detail of it. From the scuffs on the paper, to the way the reflective material of the wrap danced with the tree lights. 

“Well, I’m darn glad she has you, honey pie,” Grandma replied, voice warm with sincere gratitude. She cleared her throat as she constantly did. And, again, it was not a comfort. It was nails on a chalkboard. . . Because you knew she was gearing up for more. “Truth of the matter is, you shouldn’t even have to deal with any of it. Considering you’re not the father. . .”

Fuck. You knew it was coming. Your body was tense, your heart thumping in your chest. . . notifying you of emotions you couldn’t show. 

You had a feeling, in the back of your mind, that she’d be the one to say something. It had been inevitable that words would be said, with how much your Grandma talked. 

If you were being completely honest, you were shocked that it had taken so long. It was nearing seven p.m., you’d discussed the goddamned gender, and they were just now mentioning the father.

Still, you were feeling, admittedly, really shitty about them not knowing who he was. Especially right now — like you’d felt earlier, but worse this time. It was completely clear now that they didn’t know. 

Josh’s eyes darted behind you, to where Jake sat. You could tell your friend was trying to be inconspicuous. . . And your grandparents likely wouldn’t notice his shift in attention to Jake as anything alarming. After Josh’s glance in Jake’s direction, you heard the latter twin uncomfortably clearing his throat from behind you. 

Goddammit. He was upset — had to be. And, he had every right to be. It would seem to anyone that you hadn’t said anything to them out of shame or embarrassment for who the father was. But that was the furthest thing from the truth. You just didn’t know how to tell them. 

All you were aware of at this moment was that you were a moron for not telling them sooner. That much was obvious. It was just. . . an uncomfortable subject matter to discuss with your grandparents. So, due to that, you were putting it off as long as you could. 

If you’d known he was coming today, though, you would have thought of a way on the spot to tell them before his arrival. But now. . .? How the fuck would you just throw that into conversation now?

The act of worrying over Jake and any possible internal or emotional reaction he could have to this was taking a decent amount of mental energy. So, you tried to simply zone completely in on the gift you were unwrapping. . . You could do that. . .

But your confidence in that shook when your Grandpa began talking.

“We just hope the guy is helping out a little,” the old man sighed, disappointment painted in the words. “Not leaving it all on the damn roommate,” your Grandpa grunted from his seat. You looked over at him, trying to feign any emotion besides the worry stirring in your gut. You found him adjusting his hands over his stomach before reclining back into his chair. “I mean, we can only trust the guy so much. . . We’ve yet to meet ‘im.”

God. Why were they being like this about it? So obviously hateful about the father? Though, with your Grandma’s next words, it all clicked. 

“The girls lacked a true father in their lives. . . He was only around for a bit before he was gone. . . Left their mother to do all of the work. . .,” she trailed off, the mention of your mother made the room still for a bit. 

Your mom was never mentioned — whether she was their daughter or not, you and Elsie were their girls. And, because they knew she’d caused you both immense pain — enough that they’d had to save you two —, they didn’t speak of her. Hardly ever.

So. . . Why all of this now?

“He was a deadbeat, MJ. . . Just say it,” your Grandpa emphasized the rude (but true) word, venom dripping from his tone as he spit it. “He refused to acknowledge his role as a father, but still stayed around long enough to make two girls he should have been better to. He missed out. . . Plain and simple. We can only hope Lavender’s father won’t make the same foolish decision.”

Your gut was rolling. The urge to vomit, suddenly lurking at the front of your racing mind. The mention of your mom and the reminder of your absent father made you feel even shittier. For a variety of reasons, you were feeling the most uncomfortable in this home than you had for a long time. 

Mostly, you were kicking yourself for not giving Jake the paternal credit he deserved. You couldn’t give two shits about your terrible parents and what they’d done (or hadn’t done) to and for you. All that mattered was Jake’s heart in this matter. And you knew how Jake was as a father. . . Completely opposite of your parents — both of them — in every way.

He was the ideal father. Helper. Co-parent. Already. 

But, only God knew how your grandparents would react to the news of Jake. Would they be angry that he was just now coming to a family gathering after so long? Would they be disappointed in you for not including him better? Would they automatically assume that he didn’t want to be a father and make assumptions before you could defend him? 

At this moment, it was impossible to tell them anything. . . And it was impossible to imagine how it would go if you tried. 

And, you were not going to make this Christmas any more uncomfortable than it already was at this very moment.

The only idea you could come up with was opening Elsie’s gift. You could get the room focused on something else. . . Anything else was better than this. 

Your fingers tore the messy corners of the paper with a much mightier speed. There was intention there that hadn’t been present before. Though, just before you could open the box, you heard Jake’s voice. 

You wanted to show him respect by waiting to hear him out. . . Whatever he wanted to say. . . (Also. . . you were admittedly curious how he would respond to all of that. . .) 

“Yeah. . . I mean, I never saw a guy traipsing through the place,” he started, his voice lacking any real depth. 

The pressure of your teeth against your lip was hardly noticeable as you kept your hand stilled on the lid of the box. At the moment, you didn’t even care if it looked suspicious that you were so focused on the sound of his voice.

He was trying to distance himself from the situation, trying to play aloof. You respected it, but it caught you off guard. What could he say next?

 “Well, there was one — is one — that she studies with every week. . . But there is no way it’s him,” he laughed sardonically under his breath. You imagined he was shaking his head. “Y/n wouldn’t ever lower herself to that standard of man. . .” 

“She has been rather picky through the years,” Elsie chimed in, from your right. You looked over to her, as she sent a grin your way that said ‘I’m right here. Don’t worry.’ “The baby’s daddy has to be an upstanding guy.”

Jake continued as though she hadn’t even spoken. His voice was clipped — you realized this. To anyone unassuming, his tone wasn’t strange. But to you? You knew he was pissed. 

“For all we know, the man was a mistake, Elsie. . . Who knows? A one night thing, perhaps?” 

Oh. . . So he was accusing you of one night stands in front of your grandparents?

“Jacob, she doesn’t venture down those paths. . .,” Josh tried, playing it off as a slight joke. “You know that.”

You were grateful for his quip, nodding towards him, in agreement with his statement. His brow was raised, though, when he caught your eye. . . He was questioning you. . . probably curious, as well, as to why you hadn’t clued your grandparents in on his brother’s role. 

Yes, again. . . you felt like shit about it.

Though, it landed on deaf ears where Jake was concerned. He clicked his tongue, his tone raising a bit to play off of a lighter feel. But you knew better. 

“I don’t know. . .,” he responded, presumably, to Josh. “She doesn’t really talk to me about anything. I found out about the baby by mistake, actually. . . She hasn’t been real big on telling people. Even those she lives with. . .,” he literally tacked on a huff of a chuckle to the end of his words. 

Nice. Hashing that instance out, too, was he? 

“It was shocking to find out, since I’d never seen anyone around. So, I don’t know. . .,” he finished with the curious words, just as he’d started. 

He was at a loss of knowing how to continue, it seemed. And so were you. His words were cutting straight to your heart. All of them. 

And, while he was obviously hurt (you knew him), he was playing it off strangely well. It just meant to you that he was really trying to put on a front for your grandparents. Knowing Jake, he didn’t want to cause any discomfort for them either. 

“Maybe she’s still feeling off about the idea of telling him,” Jake suddenly continued, apparently still having more to say. “Maybe she never will. . . And, yeah, maybe some would say she should give him the chance. . . But. . . that’s up to her.”

Fuck. Was that a backhanded thing? An emphasis on you not giving him a chance to your grandparents? Or were you just overthinking? God only knew. . .

“Oh, absolutely, Jacob,” your Grandma agreed, automatically. She was buying all of it. Jake was covering better than you could have begun to try. He was shielding your ass, even while ripping your heart to pieces with the hurt you’d inflicted on him. “I mean, I have to trust her. After all, I did raise the girl. . . And I believe she’ll do whatever she believes is best for her babygirl.”

“I agree. She’s already a fantastic mother,” Jake replied, a sad smile laced into his raspy timbre (you knew those little indicators in his tone). On your own face, you felt a watery smile form. If your grandparents noticed it, you didn’t care. His words were sweet, regardless. And, his next words caused the smile to become shakier. “I just hope if she does tell him, the guy isn’t a deadbeat. . . Y/n deserves better than that. The baby deserves better than that.”

Your baby, Jake. . . And that baby does have the best of the best. . .

The sniffle that escaped your nose was unstoppable, as was the single tear that trickled down your cheek onto your hand. You had to say something to that. 

“Thanks, Jake,” you replied, turning your head to the side to acknowledge him. Though, you were not daring looking at him. You couldn’t trust that you wouldn’t completely break down, thus exposing something on accident.

“It’s true, y/n,” he said, tone softer than you deserved for putting him in this situation. You were lying to your grandparents, not giving Jake a chance to be involved, yet again. . . And, still, he was being so kind. “You are an incredible mother to her.”

Goddammit. Your shaky hand that reached up to stop more tears was your savior.

“Well, I’ll be. . . You seem to have just as much to say about this as you do music!” Grandpa laughed, slapping his thighs. The sound made you jump, looking over at the man, from where you’d apparently zoned out on the air between you and Jake. Your Grandpa’s copper skin, freckled with dark specks; his cheeks were pressed with genuine dimples. He was obviously elated with Jake’s responses. “If only you were the father, son. . . We wouldn’t even be stressin’ this!”

“Harold!” Your Grandma scolded him, laughing at him all the same. “You quit that. Don’t want to make the poor kids uncomfortable.”

Oh, yes, Grandma. . . We wouldn’t want that, now would we? The thoughts were instantaneous as you closed your eyes with a shake of your head. 

When you opened your eyes, your attention was visually trained on her. But, your thoughts weren’t concerned with her. No, all you felt was the stare that was heating the skin on the back of your body. Your entire backside was hot with the fact that Jake was right behind you. You felt him. Your mind was swimming with him. Everything he’d said. . . 

And, considering he had said all of that, you hated how very silent he was suddenly being. . . 

. . .Or did you? 

What was better for you at the moment? What would not make your supposed POTS — whatever heart issue — go into overdrive? You knew both reactions would have you overthinking to incredible heights. 

Honestly, you were just glad he hadn’t found a reason to ask Josh if they could leave. . . Or maybe he was just waiting until the presents were all unwrapped to ask his brother if they could dip out. 

Your heartbeat was thumping in your ears at the prospect of him leaving.

Because, one thing you did know: you did not want Jake to be away from you. You’d missed him and needed to keep him close. So, you needed him to stay long enough that you could explain yourself. Had to make sure he understood why your grandparents were still in the dark. . . 

Though, did you even understand why anymore?

a/n: when do you think her grandparents will find out? and, um... how do you think the rest of Christmas will go?... hm... the possibilities are endless, one might say ;)

AS ALWAYS -- please send in asks, respond to chapters, etc. I PROMISE I SEE THEM AND IT IS THE BEST REWARD FOR THE DAYS, WEEKS, AND MONTHS SPENT WRITING THIS STORY! <333 this story takes up SO MUCH time in my already busy family-filled, work-filled, etc. life, but YOU all make it WORTH IT. So I LOVE to hear from you!!!!! <3 xoxoxo

trying my best to keep up w the Covet Visualizer... you may view it if you'd like. however, you don't NEED TO. i simply am a very visual person, sooo i made it for my fellow visual learners/lovers. the photos i pulled inspo from for y/n's photos in this chapter will be in the visualizer :D !!! (IF YOU DO CHOOSE TO USE IT, PLEASE VIEW IT IN PRINT LAYOUT!! — esp if you’re using the docs app/are on your phone!!)

Taglist (continued in reblog):

@joshym, @jakekiszkapunchmeintheface, @jaketlover, @ohgodthefeeling-gvf, @starcatcher-jake, @anythingforjtk, @lucimoo, @indigostreakmorgan, @gretavanbear, @katelynn-gvf, @alwaysonthemend @aintthatapity, @bowievanfleet, @fwzco, @takenbythemadness, @cherry-icecreamsmile, @laneygvf, @hi-hi-hello11, @sinarainbows, @jakesbarbarian, @mybussyinchrist, @becinabubblegvf, @heckingfrick, @danigvf, @pinkandsleepy1934, @derrangeddumpsterfire, @klarxtr, @josh-iamyour-mama, @abby-gvf, @cassyface, @gretavansabotage, @sacredtheslay, @alienobsever, @hollyco, @age0fwagner, @raceb14, @stardustcatcher, @styles-canvas, @ladywhimsymoon, @earthgrlsreasy, @peaceloveunitygvf @torniturntomyarrow, @joshsbonnet, @llrosee, @starshine-gvf, @itsafullmoon, @gvfmarge, @creadliz98, @mackalah, @lek-gvf, @carlyfleet, @profitofthedune, @mefiorini, @welllauragvf, @highway-tuna, @dont-go-home-without-me, @sarah-gvf01, @polemicandcontent, @ageofbajabule, @texas-bbq-pringles, @jennyraye20

I always try to tag everyone, but you all know how it goes! ughhh (taglist will be cont. in reblog !!) Please make sure you’re filling out my Google Form if you would like to be tagged and aren’t already on the taglist! <3

[shiningjustforreid]

maraschino

valentine’s day special 2025 <3 fem!reader + Spencer Reid <3

word count: 1.5k

a/n: short and sweet valentine’s day fic! enjoy :)

warnings/tags: i mean, this is fluff with mild angst. if you don’t like two people sickeningly in love, i guess this ain’t for you! no use of y/n because no, sorry. reader is a lil anxious and perfectionist bc she just loves Spencer so much! pet names up the wazoo, gentle love because that’s what we all need.

- ✩ -

February 14th approaches, almost sneaks up on you, as it always does after a festive December and bleary January. Somehow though, magically, the planets and stars align, and Spencer doesn’t have a case in some city a hundred miles away. Having spent half the afternoon cleaning the apartment, and hemming and hawing over what to make for dinner - you and Spencer never do anything very fancy, just staying home, and it’s eating at you what you’re going to eat for dinner - the decision is made, and pasta it is. Garlic toast, veggies, and then when you spot the jar of maraschino cherries in the back of the fridge, cherry pie.

Hair refreshed, a fresh powder blue sweater on, you pour pasta into boiling water, season veggies as they cook, mind distant. It’s been a while since Spencer has been home for a nice night, and you’ve made sure he knows he is so loved tonight. Because he is. Every night.

Then, the accident. You’re tired, you worked an early shift today and your nerves are shot, piles of tension stacking up quickly and pressure to make tonight simple and sweet and easy for him. It’s ten to six, the noodles are cooking, toast baking, and your face is flushed as crimson as the fruit in the jar you’re trying to unscrew. Pie dough already pressed into the silver plan, you’re twisting the lid with all you’ve got, then—

Catastrophe.

Split seconds later, when Spencer enters the apartment, key in the door, he might as well be at a crime scene. Shattered glass shards lay across the linoleum, cherries and bright, nearly blood-red juice has stained your hands and the counter and your favorite sweater and the floor and oh God it’s everywhere and now you have to mop again—

“Angel. Hey. Breathe.”

Meeting his eyes makes hot tears well up in your eye - oh, he had flowers, this thoughtful, perfect man - the pressure in your chest grows to almost the same level as that damn jar lid. Swallowing hard, you stare down again at the pieces littering the kitchen floor, the whole room smelling unbearably saccharine.

“The lid wouldn’t come off.”

You breathe, as he hurriedly discards his coat and toes off muddy Converse, gingerly stepping across the room to you, bundle of deep red carnations and roses finding their way to the counter. Soft concern is painted across his features, as he steps into your space. Cool hands come up to hold your rosy cheeks, and you close your eyes, the shame of it all almost too great to handle.

“I see that. Did any glass get on you?”

For a moment, you pause at the worry in his voice, analyzing if there’s pain anywhere except in your throat and lungs. You shake your head, meeting his eyes with your own almost frantic ones.

“Spence- I was supposed to- I was going to make us dinner and it was going to be perfect and then—“

He doesn’t interrupt, but smooths a thumb over your cheekbone, and you pause anyways. When you don’t continue, he sighs, gently.

“Sweetest girl. Can I help?”

You nod, hazily, thoughts still consumed with it’s just such a mess and how badly did I manage to screw this up?

“Here’s what we’re going to do. You’re going to go change your sweater, get that juice off your face because I know you hate the feeling. I’m going to sweep this glass, and once it’s all gone, I’ll take the bread out of the oven, as it’s only got three minutes left and it will probably only take me two minutes and 34 seconds to clean this glass based on the area it’s covering and how long it typically takes to sweep a floor this size.”

You laugh a little through your tears - calculating the time it will take to resolve this issue is just so Spencer. Nodding, you manage a watery grin.

“Then, I’ll mop, while I let you finish the pasta, because I’m pretty sure you want it a specific way, and who am I to get in such way?”

Now you’re actually grinning, as he smooths a frazzled lock of hair out of your eyes.

“It will be like it never even happened.”

Relief, then. There’s something enticing about the idea of smoothing it all over, redoing and fixing and editing the scene. He presses chapped lips to your brow, then your nose, and then one easy kiss to your lips before he pulls back, hands tracing down your arms.

“Go change, lovely.”

So you do, finding a plum-toned top instead, and a fresh pair of jeans, and then you’re back out as he’s setting the hot metal tray on the stove top and the glass is gone. You eye the tin and pie crust, unbaked and pale, and swallow hard. Spencer follows your gaze, as he dumps the juice splattered glass into the trash.

“Pie was a good thought, to use with those cherries.”

You nod, all choked up again. Mostly pleasant silence fills the kitchen as he mops and busies himself with something as you finish the veggies and pasta, but he’s thinking - probably profiling you, come on - and so are you, almost foggily so. Dishing up portions with shaking hands, you head to the table, and a wretched little sound leaves your lips as you see the lit candle, the silverware set, and the waters he’s already put ice in and poured full. The just purchased bunch of flowers is in liquid and in your favorite vase. He frowns at your apparent distress, taking both plates and setting them down before turning to you, hands grabbing yours.

“Is it too much? It is Valentine’s Day, and you seemed so in your head, I just wanted it to be nice for you because you deserve nice things, angel, and I—“

Leaning up, you press your lips to his cheek, hands smoothing over the cotton of his sweater.

“It’s perfect, baby. Absolutely. I just wanted to do the same for you, and I couldn’t.”

His frown remains in place, as you both sit, watching as you practically sink into your chair.

“Couldn’t? Did you not think I would notice the cleaned apartment, and the wonderful food, and how stunning you look right now?”

Shrugging tight shoulders, you look away, fiddling with your fork, trying not to think about how in awe he sounds of you, even when you feel so blech.

“Did you not also notice the disaster I made of our kitchen, and my feeble attempt at dessert? Because that’s what I remember.”

“Hey. Look at me?”

Fork goes down, and your eyes come up, meeting his. Seeing nothing but love and adoration and care, you hold his gaze.

“You know- you could do that every night, and it wouldn’t change a thing. Spill a million jars of cherries, make a billion messes. It doesn’t matter to me, because I love you. Okay? My- well, my heart is yours. It doesn’t know how to be angry at something so minute as this.”

New tears, these ones dawning from the light glowing in your chest, start to spill. Nodding, you look down at your pasta, hands calmed in your lap.

“Pretty girl. Hey. Those better be happy tears.”

You let out a breathless laugh, and look up again.

“Yeah. They are. My heart’s yours too, by the way. In case you wondered.”

Now it’s his turn to have pinkened cheeks, as you both enjoy your dinner. Domestics fall into place as he washes the dishes and you dry, comfortable silence now, no more tense muscles on your part.

Before long, a record finds the player - Time Out of Mind - and you’re sort of dancing, mostly just leaning on his shoulder with your hands clasped, swaying slowly in your dim living room. He waits to speak until it makes it all the way to the ninth track.

“Can I ask what was up with all the pressure you had on yourself today?”

You don’t answer at first, listening to his heart, lashes against your skin, body relaxing.

“I guess- I guess I just wanted you to know. Know how much I want you to feel loved by me.”

Lithe fingers come to stroke through your hair, lips right by your ear. You ease into the comfort that you’ve come to associate with his touch.

“You were so on edge when I came home, lovely. Nothing is worth the look in your eyes when I entered the door, and you didn’t have time to be perfect for me.”

There it is. Nail on the head.

“You deserve perfect.”

You protest, voice creaking a bit with more unshed water.

“Mm, as much as it pains me, I’m going to have to disagree. I would like to deserve a quarter of your beauty, someday. If I’m lucky. I’m already incredibly lucky just to be allowed to stand in your presence.”

Absurd man. You shake your head, his gentle teasing intermixed with steady assurance enough to calm your pulse.

“Love you, Spence.”

His breath soothes over your skin as his lips rest against your hairline.

“Love you too, sweetest girl. Nothing is going to ever change that.”

[partycatty]

Omg youre feeding me!!!! I've been obsessed with Johnny Cage too and your blog is like an oasis, THANK YOUUUUUUUUUUUUU!!!!!!!!! Also... would you mind writting some fluff/angst of johnny cage and reader? Like you trained with him in the wu shi academy and he always treated you like, a bit colder and distant than the way he treats the other 3 earthrealm champions. But thats atually not because he hates you but he likes you??? And he doesnt know how to express himself so he prefers to stay away, part because the reader is an amazing sorcerer under and is very battle-smart. But also the reader being like EXTREMELY SHY and introverted but very kind and reliable to the point that like all the guys from the earthrealm gangs make excuses just to spend time with the reader because they like them that much...

I'M SORRY THIS IS SO LONG IM SORRYYYYYYYYYYY I WAS CARRIED AWAY I LOVE YOU AND YOUR BLOG BUT NOT AS MUCH AS I LOVE JOHNNY CAGE BYEE SORRYYYY AGAIN

NO YOURE SO FINE DONT APOLOGIZE MWAH THANK YOU

johnny cage > envy

johnny can't find the words to describe how he feels around the new recruit, so he decides to say... nothing.

warnings: sad :(, ooc johnny? idk he's insecure

notes: reader is an outworld native sorcerer that lives in earthrealm. also, pretend that outworld natives can fight for earthrealm in the tournament LOL

masterlist <3

• you owed liu kang a favor after prior personal matters, so here he was asking for your strength at the wu shi academy. of course, you agreed. you may be an outworld native, but earthrealm was something to truly fight for. you considered yourself a lesser protector, one call away from fighting if necessary.

• you were highly respected in the field. liu kang knew that your powers were unmatched, probably matching titan shang tsung, and you still chose the good side. liu kang silently thanks himself and fate for keeping you on the side of justice. the lin kuei brothers also know you're on their side. as a secondary protector, you were acutely familiar with their styles and dynamics. in short, you were exactly what earthrealm needed.

• you didn't necessarily need training, but considering you were a contender for the title of champion, it was only smart to hone your skills.

• the boys warmed up to you very quickly; any friend of liu kang is a friend of theirs! kung lao had endless questions that easily flustered you, raiden found your sparring inspiring, and kenshi enjoyed your late night deep chats. the only one missing from the adoration was... johnny cage.

•it was... strange. you'd seen his movies, his public appearances. he was always a smiling, flirting ball of charm. you wondered if perhaps his recent divorce and failure in films contributed to his sour mood.

• but even so, he was still a charming devil around the others! references up the wazoo, loads of banter and he always had something to add to a conversation. it's just that, when you'd contribute something, his smile would fade while others laughed.

• it started with a king of the hill sparring to gauge everyone's skills at first. liu kang said the champion at the end of training would be selected the same way.

• "(reader), you are first," liu kang gestures to you with a smile. "please step forward."

• "cull the weak first," johnny smugly chimes in, hands on his hips. his smirk faded when liu kang said he would be first up as well. you, thankfully, were humble amidst your shyness. even so, you could kick major ass. johnny was knocked to the ground in only a few seconds.

• words were... hard for you. so instead, you extended a hand to johnny who was laying on his back against the cold stone. you smiled warmly and nodded, silently congratulating his efforts and genuinely enjoying the fight. sitting up, johnny let out a deep sigh with furrowed brows, and sat up on his own. he completely rejected your kindness, and for what? even the monks were taken aback by this.

• and again, since that day, johnny's just been incredibly cold toward you. spars after that day were increasingly more challenging. johnny's punches felt more... targeted. his anger was coming out in bursts, and it wasn't healthy. he gets borderline childish when he loses.

• "this can't be fair! you've got magic at your fingertips," he'd groan as he's knocked on his ass for the thousandth time. his skin was bruising from the repeated blows, and you weren't even being rough. "i've just got... fists. can you turn it off for one goddamn round?"

• "this... could be a learning experience?" you ask sheepishly, standing - one again - over johnny.

• "just forget it," he grumbles before walking off, rolling his shoulder. "showoff."

• completely stumped for an explanation, you ended up confiding in the man you grew closest to since beginning training: raiden. he was similar to you in many ways. shy, sweet, and endlessly humble. too humble, actually, to the point of not fully understanding your own strength. in a way, he reminded you of liu kang.

• "i don't understand, raiden. was it something i said? perhaps i'm not as aware of earthrealm culture as i thought i was?" you ask, perplexed.

• "have you considering asking him about it?" raiden replies with a frown. "he seems fine with the rest of us. it's only you he shows hesitation toward."

• he's right. you didn't once consider to actually... ask him. it just sounded like such a foreign concept, to confront someone. the thought made your skin crawl, but you were far more unsettled with johnny's behavior. you had to know.

• so, at the next meal time, you make it a clear effort to sit beside johnny, blocking him off from the rest of the guys. raiden gave you a shy thumbs up before you turned to face the star.

• "mr. cage," you spoke quietly so as to not disturb the others.

• "johnny," he coldly corrects you, eyes fixated on his plate.

• "johnny..." you're already flustered, but you try to swallow it deep down to keep control of the situation. "i'd... i'd like to talk with you, if that's alright."

• johnny's eyes lift to meet yours, but he seems upset. he leans forward to view the other boys and shakes his head.

• "no," he mumbles. "later. after training."

• the conversation stops dead in its tracks as johnny abruptly stands and relocates himself to the other side of the table. you're left dumbfounded as how blunt he is. raiden locks eyes with you again and just shrugs.

• training passes by slower than usual, probably because you're anticipating the conversation. that, and johnny won't stop staring at you every chance he gets. even across the training grounds, you find him staring with a completely blank face. he's cooking something up in his head, you just know it. lord knows what it'd be, though.

• night falls, and you weren't sure where or when to find johnny. as you shrug off the heavy robe and leave yourself in your skin-tight underclothes, you hear a gentle knock in the doorway.

• you spin around, face immediately flushed at the idea of being seen. instinctively, you launched a ball of energy toward the figure, but he dodged just in time.

• "good lord—!" johnny shouts out, slapping a hand on the top of his head to make sure his hair wasn't fried off. "remind me not to sneak up on you."

• "what are you doing in my room?" you ask, blushing deeply as you hug yourself to hide your curves. johnny scoffs and puts his arms up in disbelief, like you're dumb for asking.

• "you're the one that wanted to talk to me," he points in an accusatory way. once your shock wears off, you plop down on your cot with an embarrassed frown. he steps closer, standing above you. it wasn't until now that you realize his physique is incredibly intimidating. and kindaaaaa......

• you tense up, realizing your thoughts are wandering when he's literally right in front of you.

• "well come on. i haven't got all day, fancy pants," johnny jabs at your powers with a sour tone. something about his attitude makes your shyness completely vanish for a moment.

• "why do you speak to me like that?" you inquire bluntly, starting to raise your voice. "i don't understand. was it something i did? said? you've been nothing but cruel to me since i arrived. we're on the same side, johnny. help me understand why you hate me."

• johnny freezes completely, his eyes widening. his once crossed arms tense up before falling to his sides. he lets out a deep sigh.

• "i don't... hate you."

• "so you heavily dislike me."

• "no."

• "then what is it?!"

• "i-i don't know!"

• johnny rakes his fingers through his hair with a frustrated groan.

• "it's like... i want to hate you. i want to hate you so bad, (reader). but i can't. you're just so smart and perfect and... and wildly attractive... but a part of me wants to just—" he holds his hands out in a strangling motion as he rambles. when the thought finally clicks in his head, he sits on the ground, up against the wall opposite you. "i want to hate you because you're everything i could never be. you've got all these fancy powers. the guys love you. i'm just some washed up, divorced, broke—"

• you stand up and make your way to him, crouching down in front of him. your cheeks feel warm at the subtle confession of attraction, but your primary focus at the moment was reassurance.

• "none of those things define you," you say calmly, putting a hand on his shoulder. "for what it's worth, i think you're an incredible fighter. you do your own stunts. you stand up for what you believe in. that is admirable. you're quite funny, too."

• he looks down at you with a weak smile. he seems internally defeated, but outwardly flattered.

• "you're too kind," he chuckles breathlessly, looking around. "god i... i'm sorry to fall apart like that. please don't tell anyone you witnessed that."

• "i won't," you promise, returning with laughter yourself. suddenly, your mind calls back to his confession, and a smile tugs hard at your lips. your face burns. "did you say i'm 'wildly attractive?'"

• "yes! god!" johnny is now giggling, waving his hands at you. "have you looked at yourself? drives me crazy just sittin' here with you!"

• you let out a whimper and cover your face, burning hot. you try to protest in a muffled tone, but johnny just grabs your hands and holds them in his. he smiles warmly, the first real smile he's given you.

• "you're hard to hate, you know. you're just so damn cute when you're flustered. it's so easy to rile you up, isn't it?"

• you wiggle, flustered. you can only yelp out his name as you wordlessly beg him to stop the teasing. tragically, you opened the flood gates. he wasn't afraid of you anymore.

[attapullman]

ONE NIGHT ONLY // series

It wasn’t supposed to be anything. Meaningless sex. A laugh or two. Home before dawn with a coffee from the place on the corner. Bob Floyd never expected to meet a wide-grinned early riser who has him questioning his policy on dating. But he's glad he did.

Pairing: Robert "Bob" Floyd x OC (Maggie Brentley)

Warnings: 18+ (minors and blank dni), explicit language, suggestive content, smut, anxious attachment style, angst out the wazoo.

INTRODUCTION: Just For Tonight

ONE coming soon

[punkshort]

'i'll be home for christmas' masterlist

Pairing: (Hallmark) Joel Miller x f!reader

Summary: Having just caught your fiancé cheating on you, you decide to come back home from the big city to Austin for the month of December to try to figure out your next step. You had no idea you would be getting more than you bargained for with the handsome single dad who built your parents' house.

Chapter Warnings: no outbreak, modern day but Joel is 40, language, fluff, flirting, explicit smut (18+MDNI), (somewhat) unprotected piv sex, oral (f receiving), soft!joel, hallmark tropes up the wazoo, mentions of infidelity, mentions of divorce, angst (but happy ending), hurt/comfort, reader's sister is pregnant (any additional warnings will be listed in each chapter)

Status: complete (but one-shots updated sporadically)

A/N: this is my take on a cheesy, fluffy, soft, smutty, Joel Miller Hallmark Christmas movie. It's just sweet and silly and makes me smile, and I hope it does the same for you.

Main:

⛸️Part One

🎻Part Two

✈️Part Three

One-shots:

🥂something only you can give

❤️weekend getaway

🍼saturday

🍺dad jokes

🏠home

🎂birthday wishes

lovely dividers by @saradika-graphics

[theonemeathead]

Hello!

Unsure if your requests are open—if not, disregard this—but if I could request something that’s Medic x reader. SFW is my only real request, but hurt/comfort, fluff, a bit of angst, anything you’d like!

Have fun with it. I’ve read your sniper fic and your spy fic, and I absolutely loved both of them.

You’re doing amazing! I’m excited to read anything you make in the future <3

Medic x Reader, "Harsh"

hello! omg im sorry this took so long, ive been so busy working. i love medic, i hope i wrote him well, it's my first time! warning for light gore and some hurt/comfort angst. enjoy!

"You failed!"

The Administrator croaked, her voice ringing out through the speaker. The fight had been gruelling, all of you were exhausted. The other team had pushed you all back into your base, beginning an onslaught of terror. You were blown to pieces by an enemy Soldier, the enemy Demoman was using you for easy kills, and the enemy Engineer had sentries set up out the wazoo. You had been sent through Respawn countless times, your frustration growing everytime you were taunted as you died. At one point, the enemy Sniper had shot out both of your legs and then proceeded to point and laugh as you tried to crawl away. It was safe to say you didn't get far before your brains were strewn, unceremoniously, across the battlefield.

Back in the locker room, it was obvious nobody was happy. Normally, your teammates weren't sore losers, save for a few exceptions. But today had been so exhausting that even Pyro was in a sour mood. You sat down on one of the benches, rubbing your aching muscles as the other mercenaries cleaned themselves up.

"Man, that frickin' sucked!"

Leave it to Scout to break any amount of peace and quiet. You didn't feel like arguing with the wall, otherwise you'd tell him off for not staying on the point. You were bitter with multiple of your teammates, but none of them had quite pissed you off quite like Medic had today.

"AGREED, MAGGOT. I AM FILLED WITH SHRAPNEL AND CANNOT FEEL ANYTHING FROM THE WAIST DOWN."

"Yeah, well, that wouldn't be the case if we could've gotten some healing from, y'know, the one guy who's whole job is to heal." Your words came out passive-aggressive. You knew it was immature, but you also knew everyone had the same gripe you did. You instantly regretted even mentioning it as the locker next to yours slammed shut. Medic was unstable when he was upset, and he seemed to be the most torn up about this loss out of everyone. Silence overfell the locker room, yet again.

"None of you understand how tedious my job is," he began. You could hear the grit in his words, the emotions that were brewing and starting to boil over. Medic liked to praise himself as one of the more rational mercenaries, talking about how you must always have a cool temper when you're a doctor. Yet, here he was, his face slightly flushed from frustration.

"Your job wouldn't be as tedious if you did it properly," you challenged him. You stood up straight, as you folded your hands across your chest. You eye twitched slightly as you scowled at the back of Medic's head. You could feel other gazes, followed by various murmuring and receding footsteps; it was probably smart to leave before this escalated.

"Oh, really, maus? Well, if that's the case, then I no longer see why I'm needed on this team. Auf wiedersehen!" He forced a smile as he turned on his heels, hastily stomping off towards his quarters. He pushed past you, making a point that you were in his way.

"Fine! Be that way!" you called out, but your yells fell upon deaf ears. You looked around the locker room at whoever was left, making eye contact with Scout, who flinched away under your gaze.

It was going to be a rough night.

-

It had been hours since you and Medic had last spoken, which was unusual. You two were nearly inseparable, but enough time had passed for Engineer to start prepping dinner. You leaned against the counter of the kitchen, absentmindedly observing the tinkerer as he began slicing various vegetables. Engineer had always been a mentor, of sorts, to you; A beacon of wisdom. He was one of the few people on this godforsaken team who wasn't batshit crazy. He seemed to have picked up on your quietness, opting to fill the spaceless void instead.

"Y'know, sweetheart, I think tensions were just high earlier. Ain't no sensin' both of y'all bein' upset, why don'tcha be the bigger person and, I dunno, apologize?" He asked, earnestly. He looked up at you, smiling. His expression was slightly unreadable, due to the goggles he was wearing, but it was warm nonetheless.

"I guess, but—Everyone agrees that he was slacking on the field! I'm not in the wrong!"

"I know, darlin', but everyone has their off days. Hell, even I have those rounds where it feels like I can never catch a break from that damn Spy sappin' my sentry." He chuckled to himself, low and comforting. Engineer's laidback atmosphere was always so calming. "I reckon you have your days too. Last thing you would want is for somebody to point out how you missed a Heavy, who was about an arm's-length away."

"You saw that?!" You gasped, embarrassed. He was right, you didn't do too well either today. Maybe you were unfair to the doctor earlier. You pushed yourself off the counter with a sigh. "You have a point, I'll go see what I can do."

The journey to the infirmary was nerve-wracking. It wasn't full of anticipation and excitement to see your lover, no, it was anxiety-ridden and nauseating. You felt horrible, like you were wearing cement bricks, rather than shoes. You reached the sterile area of the base, the cold air of the lobby immediately sending goosebumps through your body. You took a deep breath, shakily knocking on the steel doors of the actual operating room. You were met with silence, although you could hear the various shuffling of papers and the familiar cooes of his doves.

You hesitated, pushing on the door slightly. You opened it, just enough to peak your head in. The sight before you was disheartening, to say the least. He was surrounded by multiple forms of paperwork, his hair slightly messy and his movements erratic. He seemed to frantically be searching for something, flipping between books and whatnot. You cleared your throat, the echo of the sound stopping him in his tracks immediately. He froze, not daring to turn and face you. "Medic...?"

"Ah, of course. I'm busy, can't you see?" His tone held a faux sweetness, as if he was one snap away from losing his composure completely.

"Medic, I— I'm sorry. I was mean to you back in the locker rooms, I let how I felt get the better of me. I was harsh on you and I shouldn't have been," you started, your voice shaking slightly from your emotions. He clicked his tongue, humming slightly in response. Although, he seemed to relax his posture, yet still refused to look at you. "Medic, we need you... I need you. You're a good doctor, I can't imagine anyone else fit to surgically implant baboon hearts—"

"Mega baboon hearts."

"Right, mega baboon hearts... into people. I love you, Medic." He swiveled his chair around, one leg crossed over the other as he had his arms crossed over his chest. He faced you, seeming to finally scan your features. He tilted his head, giving you a small smile. He tsked, pleased by your apology.

"Ah, schatz, you are forgiven." He beckoned you towards him, opening his arms up wide for a hug. You happily obliged, tackling into his large chest. He caught you, holding you and rubbing soothing circles into your side. "Ich liebe dich auch."