#at least i am apparently not the only one to have this issue since the hotfix

[escapingrealtiylovinginsanity]

I've only watched the first 5 episodes and I'm obsessed! I am convinced that there is no part Jesse Lee Soffer can play that I won't love. I went to binge on some content for him and couldn't find anything (Big sad). So, I had to make sure he had at least one story. I'm still learning his character so this is probably not perfect.

Wes Mitchell Key 

You didn’t know what the hell you were thinking. The relationship wasn’t new but had been long since the beginning. Now you were standing in front of his apartment door, one travel-on bag thrown over your shoulder. You had jet lag from the flight all you wanted was a hot shower and any flat surface to sleep on.  

But now standing here anxiety twisted in your stomach clawing its way up your throat. You reached in your pocket pulling out a key. It felt heavy as lead in your palm and caught the light in the shine of the new metal. You had never used it before and half wondered if it would even really work in the lock. 

You and Wes had been officially together for eight months after steadily talking for three. It didn’t take a genius to know that Wes had trust issues. He didn’t talk about his childhood much, but the random snit bits that he had shared you knew it had been on the rougher side. He was slow to trust and despite his apparent mastery at reading suspects needed blunt direct talks to know where he stood in his personal relationships. 

You two hadn’t seen each other in person more than a handful of times. It had forced a strong foundation built on communication and genuinely enjoying the other company as opposed to falling into bed together because it was easy and lonely. Wes had openly admitted that he tended to do that in a lot of his previous relationships because he “wasn’t good alone”.  

It had been a major red flag and forcing you to keep the pace slow. He was charming, funny, and incredibly good looking and you didn’t want to get your heartbroken.

It didn’t stop you from falling in love with him.

Neither of you had uttered those words yet. Wes didn’t seem like the type to make that proclamation without meaning it and you didn’t want to back him into a corner. 

The feeling of him keeping parts of his life separate from you had caused more than one fight. It always happened in the same pattern. You would bring it up, he would acknowledge that he did it and promise to try harder to be more open. For a while, he would and it would get better but he always seemed to hide behind that last layer of protection. His reflex to protect himself at any cost. You loved him and tried to be patient with what he was working through but the pattern was incredibly frustrating.  

The last one had stuck pretty well. When he came for a week's visit, he had given you his key. He hadn’t said it but you knew it was his way of showing how much he trusted you. You couldn’t help but wonder if it had been an empty attempt to appease you. After all who would go across the country to actually use the key?  

You had only been to his apartment in Budapest once and he came to see you three times. When you met him, you didn’t even have a passport. While seeing each other hadn’t been frequent, the sex was always absolutely mind-blowing. 

Now you felt like quite the hypocrite as you had been hiding your own struggles from him. Things had gotten so bad, so overwhelming at home that you had packed a bag and paid for a flight on a whim. You couldn’t even remember if you packed underwear. Your brain had been like watching static on a TV and it was only halfway through the flight that you remembered that Wes wasn’t even home. He was currently in the Netherlands.  

You felt a gaze fall heavy on you. You look over your shoulder to see a man watching you stand in front of the door holding a key and making no attempt to open it for way longer than necessary. You scrabbled to put the key in the lock and let out a grateful yet slightly surprised breath of relief as the key twisted in the lock butter smooth. 

A glance back showed the man's suspicions seemed settled as he headed down the hall. Then you remembered the alarm and rushed in to type in the password letting your bag carelessly fall to the ground with a heavy thunk. You watch in anticipation after typing the code in. Wes would be the type to constantly change his code but the light turned blissfully green.  

You turned around to see the almost obsessively neat living room. It had a modern feel but it felt only half lived in like Wes hadn’t completely moved in even though he had been living there for over a year now. It looked exactly the same as when you had been there last. The only difference is the lack of pillows and blankets thrown on and over the couches. It was clear that he had done that for your comfort when you had been staying there.  

You stared blankly into the space. Should you call Wes to let him know you have invaded his home? A yawn forced itself from you and your exhaustion came over you in another harsh demanding wave. It had been over a 12-hour flight and you hadn’t been able to sleep at all. Thoughts of calling Wes were easily forgotten with the promise of sleep.  

You walk into his room and are washed in the scent of his cologne and aftershave still barely clinging to the enclosed space. It brought a soft comfort to you. A tease of his embrace. You paused thinking about how awful you must smell and all the germs you had no doubt gotten from the shared space of the airport and then the plane. Your fickle mind had you turning on your heel to the shower turning the water hot.  

As you rinsed off you noticed the only product that Wes had was a 3-in-1 body wash, shampoo, and conditioner. You didn’t even have it in you to care as you scrubbed yourself down with it only unconsciously noticing how awful it made your hair feel. You dried off sparing only the bare minimum amount of time towel-drying your mess of tresses before climbing into his bed. You sank into it with a sigh cocooning yourself in his blankets and before you could think twice you were out like a light. 

Wes entered his apartment quietly. Resetting his alarm before heading to the bedroom. He set his bag down gently as he headed to the bed. He sitting beside you brushing the still damp and tangled tresses off your face. You barely moved still deep in sleep. His eyes analyze you worriedly before leaning down and dropping a soft kiss on your forehead. 

Wes had been gathering his things when his phone had chimed alerting him that someone was at his door. He glanced briefly at his phone thinking it might be a person walking too close to his door or a package arriving he had forgotten he ordered. He had done a double-take when he realized it was you. You hadn’t mentioned anything about stopping by.  

He thought maybe it was a surprise visit. It had been a while since you had seen each other in person. The long flight explained why he couldn’t reach you the last few times he had called. He quickly dismissed that notion. You knew he was still in the Netherlands doing a job and he had given you no idea of when he would be back because he hadn’t known himself. If that wasn’t enough there was your slumped posture, hair thrown haphazardly up in a messy bun with thick chunks of hair escaping, only one carry-on bag thrown over your shoulder. He could feel your exhaustion through the screen, not the excitement you usually had when finally getting to see him again. 

He had watched with growing concern as you just stood at his front door with the key in your hand. You stood that way for so long that he thought his video might have frozen. It stung when he realized it was indecision. He had silently willed you to open the door but still you stood unmoving.  

His stomach clenched with guilt. It was his fault that you were hesitating. You had told him you felt like he had a life he didn’t want you to know. That he always had his walls up. He knew the truth and accepted the burden of trying to fix it. He thought he had been doing a good job and that it wasn’t a big deal.  

Watching you fight with yourself if you were truly welcome in his home or if you would be invading it spoke louder than your words ever could. They cut deeper too. Far past the walls that he had spent his life building. He was just about to call you and tell you to go inside when your head whipped backward clearly startled by something. Then you turned back with purpose and put the key in the lock. It didn’t give him the relief he was hoping for. You hadn’t chosen to go in, you had been pushed too. How long would you have stood there without that nudge? 

The flight home was short but it felt long. His mind was in fix-it mode and whirling with what was the right thing to do when he got home. He wanted to talk to you about your relationship. There was nothing more he wanted than you being around. How deeply he cared for you. He wanted to know what that hesitation meant to you about your relationship because he knew what it meant to him. 

Even though Wes desperately wanted that to be the first thing he did. He knew it wasn’t the right one. He needed to find the underlying cause of what would cause you to spontaneously fly across the country. What had happened? And how did it build up that fast? Hadn’t he just talked to you a few days ago? You had been a little quiet but it had been late your time so he hadn’t thought much of it. Had he missed something so major? How long had whatever it was really been going on? 

Wes tried to suppress his worry not wanting to alert the team that you were there until he knew what was going on. He knew an attempt to run when he saw it, he had done it enough himself. When the group had asked if he wanted to get some drink before they had all returned home, he had feigned tiredness. He had beelined for his home. 

Wes smoothed the blankets over you gently, considering his options. He sighed deeply standing up. You looked vulnerable and small twisted in the blankets and curled up into a ball. You were in a deep sleep. You had barely moved since he had walked in. It wasn’t worth waking you up.   

[averlym]

,,, little lemmings in line...

[flippedorbit]

i’m gonna be so for real, if things don’t start changing for me in good ways i will be disappearing off the face of the earth

[coridallasmultipass]

Halloween costume hint:

(The stitch marker and the word that describes this colour-pattern of yarn [or fabric] are 2 more hints.)

[quilleth]

Nooo mods and the recent hotfix for BG3 are not compatible for me, so now I can't complete quests, because the game is just not recognizing that I have items in my inventory T_T I *just* got to give bg3!Vanora a cute makeover too RIP

AND i made b3!Faolan (yes i have issues, but hey screenshots will be good references for future commissions, or so I'm going to tell myself) with not!vanora as the guardian (because bg3!vanora has not!faolan as hers because i didn't realise the entire party has the dream visitor when i started. yes i'm kind of sad about that xD) and uh...you can change your character with the magic mirror but not the guardian, so removing mods is going to break that file because i used some on not!vanora guardian :/

[baekuras]

today on my off day: my boss wrote me (politely mind you) during the ONE time i took a nap around 6pm it is now almost 10pm

welP thats for tomorrow then

[luvsavos]

life kicks me in the ribs yet again: more than likely i won't be able to get all the money i need in time for the alatreon model, so. got excited for nothing :)

[starry-bi-sky]

don't you want to be a cult leader? - danyal al ghul au

this is mostly a joke post but i thought it was funny and had to share so--

his first mistake was, obviously, inheriting his father's inability to see an injustice and stand still. -- actually, danyal's first mistake was his lair being so big. a mountainous island with a large temple in the center resembling his old home in Nanda Parbat? With sprawling foliage and rivers and streams and waterfalls galore? What was he going to do with all that space? Let it go to waste? He had plants there! Native trees of the ghost zone growing from the soil! He couldn't let it all be left unchecked!

So naturally after helping a fellow teenage assassin ghost -- who he later learns is named Akihiko, -- from Walker of all people, he sent them over to hang low at his lair until it was safe enough for them to wander around the Zone. Walker couldn't get through Danyal's astrofield if his life depended on it, and trust him -- he's tried. Danny was clearing out debris from his stupid transport vans for weeks.

Honestly it wasn't so bad, he and Aki really quickly became fast friends and Danny loves having a sparring partner close to his level again -- he hasn't had this much fun fighting since he left the League. Aki was very dedicated and levelheaded, the both of them clicked really well because of it.

Nonono, the real trouble began after Danyal met some long-passed League members and allowed them to come join his island as well. Apparently they had made a few enemies of the zone, and maybe Danyal still felt some loyalty to the League. He couldn't just let them be left to rot. Their zealotry could be overlooked so long as they kept it contained and helped him take care of his island.

And it.. snowballs from there? He meets a teen squire aptly calling himself Ambroise -- whether that was his living name or not is yet to be seen -- who died during feudal france, who is just about as dramatic and passionate as every french stereotype makes them out to be. He calls Danyal "my moon and great muse" -- which is both flattering and little uncomfortable, but Danyal's grown up in the League as the Grandson of the Demon Head, he is used to mild worship. he passes it off as nothing more, nothing less. -- and while his energy is overwhelming on the worst of days, he helps Danny draw out of his shell more in ways that Sam and Tucker still struggle with.

Him and Aki butt heads a lot, but the two seem to hold the other in at least some positive regard, so Danny doesn't worry too much about them fighting while he's gone. It only becomes a mild issue when Aki also begins calling Danny "my moon". It's a little sweet, so Danyal brushes it off.

Then he takes in a troupe of ghosts some time after he defeats Pariah Dark and they begin calling him "great one" just as the yetis do in the far frozen. This is where he meets the twins -- a pair of sibling ghosts who call themselves Trixie and Missy (short for Trick and Mislead) -- who aren't quite as passionate as Ambroise but more energetic than Aki. Eventually they also start calling Danyal "my moon" and attach themselves to his hip, even within the living. They like to hide in his shadow and cause trouble for the rest of the students. He makes sure they don't hurt anyone.

He's pretty sure Aki is jealous, same with Ambroise, but he can't be too certain other than the fact that they become much more lingering (re: clingy) whenever he visits the island.. Something he's trying to do much more often these days due to the increasing amount of people living there now. Since when did he become so popular?

Then there's Pēnelópeia from the Greater Athens, who ran away from home and joined his Island after he ran into her while she was being chased by Skulker -- and he's pretty sure the reason was because of her chimeric appearance. Her strange eyes and mismatched wings and lion's tail and talons. She assimilates into his friend group very easily, she gets along well with Ambroise and Trixie and Danny usually finds the three of them climbing the trees to pluck the most fruit from the top. They can fly and he knows it, but they prefer to climb.

Then finally there's silent poet Akkara who comes from ancient mesopotamia, who gets along most with Aki -- which is no surprise there considering their similar personality dispositions. he watches Aki and Danyal fight each other and leaves comments on this or that that he notices. He writes Danyal poems on clay tablets and leaves them by his room.

They're one big mismatched group of outcasts, and Danny's got the other ghosts on his island to tend to, because they're living on his island and he wants to be hospitable even if he struggles with that. But he spends the most of his time with them.

Sam and Tucker are making fun of him. Tucker jokingly tells him 'careful Danny, at this rate you're gonna start a cult'. Danny really wishes he had taken that joke more seriously.

He just. keeps. collecting people. Wayward souls lost in the zone, looking for shelter or refuge from something or other -- whether that be another hostile ghost, or a past afterlife, or just a purpose. Danyal finds them, he takes them in, offers them a place on his island until they are ready to leave. Many seldom do. He's not complaining -- he has the space, and it feels like it's only ever growing.

His close friends, his "inner circle" as he's heard the others call them, keep insistently calling him "my moon". He starts calling them his stars, because then it only feels fair. They're his stars, this is his constellation. It becomes a thing; little star halos begin forming behind their heads, picking them out from the rest. He loves them so much, it's hard to place. Sam and Tucker are also his stars, but they reside in the living realm, they're his tie to Life. Meanwhile, his friends here know what it's like to be dead, and sometimes its nice to relate.

Those living on his island keep calling him "Great One" and he's beginning to notice zealotry in their care for his island. He really, deeply appreciates it. His close friends gain nicknames -- as his stars, it's only natural for him to pick them out from the cluster in the skies. Akihiko, his Sirius and bright star. Trix and Missy, Castor and Pollux, the twins and troublemakers. Ambroise, his zealous Antares and close friend. Penelopeia, chimeric and loyal Vega. And Akkara, his Arcturus and strength.

It's ridiculous how long it takes for him to notice; he is, of course, a deadly trained assassin. He is meant to be observant -- and normally he is! But somehow this becomes a blind spot. One that becomes too big to be dealt with by the time he realizes it.

He should've noticed when Aki, his Sirius, stood beside him one day while Danyal looked over his island and saw the sprawling spirits carrying on about their afterlife and bowing to him as they saw him, and said: "I looked down into the depths when I met you; I couldn't measure it." They aren't one for flowing prose, it took him so off guard he was silent for over a minute before he finally spoke.

Danyal should've recognized devotion for what it is, and yet he didn't. He should've recognized it when Antares began spouting praises about him, crowing about his radiance and resplendence to the heavens. He just brushed it off as Ambroise being Ambroise. He should've recognized it when Trix and Missy nearly broke Dash's leg after he knocked Danyal's books out of his hands, he excused it as them being protective. Of them coming from times where such violence may have been customary -- after all, that's what he used to be like. What he was still like, sometimes, when his emotions nearly got the better of him.

He should've noticed it when the people living on his island followed his word like gospel, looked at him like he hung the stars in the sky. When his friends gifted him a shawl with the moon phases delicately embroidered into it, with silver, shimmering thread and moving stars lovingly stitched into it. Their constellations seen clear as day in the dark fabric. When he found small shrines dedicated to him -- but they lacked any image of him beyond stones carved to look like moons, so he ignored it. When the religious imagery began popping up.

He really, really should've noticed it when a bunch of cultists accidentally summoned Antares, and Antares had turned to him when he arrived and called them heretics. But he was so centered on the fact that they had kidnapped one of his stars, that he hadn't paid much attention to what Ambroise had said.

Sages say that faith is blind, they should also say faith in you is even blinder.

It really only hits him one afternoon while he's sitting in Sam's room studying with Tucker, Missy and Trixie lounging at his feet, Aki sat on his right, Penelopeia braiding his hair, Ambroise draped against him, and Akkara lurking over him. Its one of the rare few times they're all in one room together.

It hits him like a bolt of lightning. He looks up from his textbook. "Oh Ancients," he says in no amounting shock. Everyone looks up to him.

"I've become my grandfather."

[sunderwight]

SV AU where Shen Yuan transmigrates into a dragon.

It's not so bad, at first. He's an extremely magical sort of dragon so he can easily take on a humanoid shape, and he has dominion over an entire mountain, with a magical gate that leads to his palace. Said palace has a fully stocked treasury, a library, garden, etc, with the only real downsides being that the place is kind of huge and very difficult for a neet with limited housekeeping or landscaping skills to keep up with. The original dragon had enslaved a bunch of fairy spirits to do it for him, but since Shen Yuan has moral objections to that, he'd let them all go and they'd run off before he could even think to offer to hire any of them as paid employees instead. Not that he can blame them for being in a hurry to get gone.

He does his best, and generally enjoys being a dragon lazing on his mountain, or wandering the beauty of his palace and investigating the books and scrolls kept there. He doesn't actually seem to need to eat or drink, so that's not really an issue, and nobody looks keen to bother him. But after a few months the dust starts to really pile up, and trying to figure out how to do his own laundry without modern equipment leads to several disasters, and even though he doesn't need to eat he's starting to think it would be quite nice to have a fancy sit-down dinner and enjoy it for its own sake anyway. He has an enchanted larder but his food prep skills aren't up to much.

So, Shen Yuan ventures away from his mountain. He keeps to his human disguise when he's not traveling, and at first tries to hire on some help from a nearby city. But when he explains that he lives on the mountain, he realizes the difficulty, because everyone in the area knows that only the dragon lives there. So they all think he's either a liar or a fraud, or some servant of a nefarious supernatural creature angling to trick and possibly devour them.

Shen Yuan tries approaching another town in his dragon form, to see if anyone will actually deal with him if he's being upfront and honest about the situation, but the townspeople just panic. He returns to his mountain to rethink his strategies, and in the meanwhile the alarmed locals hire a swordsman to go after him. The guy gives him a few very painful cuts before Shen Yuan mostly-accidentally sends him careening into a boulder. One broken arm later the swordsman is gently persuaded that the pay he was offered isn't worth the effort on this job, and leaves.

Discouraged, Shen Yuan decides he's gonna give this one last try. He picks the second closest city, flies up, and is like yes hello, yes I am indeed a dragon, no I'm not trying to burn down your walls, yes it would be excellent if you stopped shooting arrows at me, look they don't even get past the scales? It's kind of silly? Okay, yes, thank you very much. Good. Now, the thing is, I'm looking for some people. I want to take them back to my mountain with me, to my incredibly nice palace, and -- what was that? A princess? No no I don't want a princess, what would I even do with one? If anything I'm looking for the complete opposite of a princess!

Anyway, the locals take this to mean that the dragon is demanding a sacrifice in the form of a pretty boy of no particular pedigree, and Shen Yuan takes this to mean that he's finally made his case clear and they're going to dig up someone who is willing to overlook his being a dragon in exchange for free room and board and fair wages out of his massive treasury.

SY's a bit disheartened when the entire city could only apparently turn up one such person -- an underfed teenage boy who looks at Shen Yuan like, despite the situation, he is still expecting to be eaten at any moment. Poor thing! But at least having one servant means he can potentially get more, especially if it all goes well. The lad can tell others that working for a dragon isn't so bad! Well, provided that he doesn't give up in alarm at the state of the mountain palace.

For his part, Luo Binghe at first thinks he's definitely going to get eaten, and then that this dragon is weirdly nice about planning to eat him, and then that maybe the dragon has other (even less savory!) plans for him, until finally he sees the state of the dragon's laundry and the foot-thick layer of dust in the corners, and gets completely distracted. Mortal terror forgotten, those floors should not be that filthy, Lord Dragon respectfully that isn't how anyone should prepare rice either, but oh Binghe has never seen a kitchen so nice before in his life...!

Anyway, needless to say, it works out just fine.

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

😴😴😴 (to find later) AITA for putting sleeping pills in my boyfriend's drinks without him knowing?

I know this sounds absolutely awful, but please bear with me.

Basically, me (27 m) and my boyfriend (26 m) have been living together for around five years, meaning we usually also sleep together. Or at least we try, since my BF suffers from terrible insomnia and reoccurring nightmares so bad sometimes he wakes up into a full on anxiety attack. He does go to therapy and has prescribed sleeping pills, but he hates taking them because he's always afraid that when he does fall asleep he's just going to have nightmares, (which also just makes him avoid sleeping in general even not including his insomnia).

Usually I try to help him by staying up with him, watching his favorite show while cozied up on the couch under a bunch of blankets and with a hot coco, or we do something else that he likes and helps him relax. I really don't mind, I love him and I love spending time with him. However, it used to be that he would fall asleep at around 3-4 AM, but as time went on he started staying up longer and longer, until at a certain point I literally had to start leaving for work in the morning while he still hadn't gotten any sleep.

This was an issue for two reasons: 1. Obviously, without me there he felt even less comfortable and had an even harder time falling asleep, sometimes staying up for even 48 hours (or maybe more, I'm not sure) just to wait for me to come back home so I could help him unwind again. 2. He actually started lying to me about sleeping while I wasn't home, so that I would go to sleep normally and let him stay awake because "he wasn't tired" even though I could clearly tell he was.

That's when I started getting seriously concerned and questioning him about how much he actually sleeps, especially since I could see it was affecting him more and more both mentally and physically. He was avoidant about the topic but I pleaded with him to talk to his therapist about it, to try and find anything else to help him. Apparently his therapist just told him to keep using his sleeping pills to help with the insomnia, and if they're not working she'll look into prescribing him stronger ones. Yet despite that he still insists on not taking them and just going to bed normally even though it's clearly not working.

To clarify: as far as I'm aware, he has no negative side-effects from these sleeping pills, he's never complained about feeling any pain or feeling worse after taking them or anything like that. Literally he only doesn't want to take them because he's just that afraid of going to sleep.

That's why whenever we stay up nowadays, I always add a small dose to his cup of coco, which thankfully has a strong enough taste to cover the pills (I've tried a small bit myself and couldn't tell a difference). Since I started doing that, he's been regularly falling asleep before 2AM and even though the nightmares still sometimes wake him up or make him feel a bit tired in the morning, overall he's been doing much better.

Still, I do feel bad about putting stuff in his drinks without his knowledge even if it's for his own good. I really wonder if I should stop, but I'm really scared that if I do, he'll start spiralling again. I want to help him and be there for him but I've already tried talking about it and it never worked. So, AITA?

What are these acronyms?

[jakeyt]

Covet: Chapter 11 (Part 2 of 3)

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; EMDR (VIVID intro to revisiting traumatic situations); crying + feelings of sadness; heart issues (POTs); use of heart monitors; dangerously high heart rate; implied abusive situations; derogatory verbiage from past abuser; implied drug use; very unsanitary living conditions; visits to safe place; usage of containment strategy * * * revisited, vivid memories of sexual encounters; body changes as a result of pregnancy; talks of baby + pregnancy; pregnancy hormones (+ continuing to act on them ;)); reader and jake continue to be STUBBORN; cheating; heavy petting; forgetfulness (as usual, PLEASE lmk if i missed anything that is triggering to you!)

Chapter 11 (Part 2) Word Count: 23.9k+

a/n: i broke my promise, i know. :( i feel absolutely fucking terrible that i made you all wait, but life happens. :'( i wish this story was my main priority/job, but alas...that dream is not a reality. i need you all to know: when i say i'm going to do something, i fully intend on it, but...life (and crippling adhd + anxiety).

i am so incredibly sorry, my lovely readers. :(

also, life update to blame (only if you care to read). BUT, on top of trying to get my house completely cleaned/shit thrown away, i officially had to empty out my classroom (see also: due to toxic work enviro, i had to leave the career i've wanted to live out since i was six y/o). so, i'm currently in the process of completely shifting careers (going from one emotionally taxing career to another, but that is apparently the type of job my heart desires lol).

as always, big thank you to @joshym for being the best sister there ever was and supporting me in my writings + pursuits <3 i love you to the ends of the earth, lis. you're my person. <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

-🌼🌼🌼-

"I covet truth; beauty is unripe childhood's cheat; I leave it behind with the games of youth."

-Ralph Waldo Emerson

-🌼🌼🌼-

Monday

December 12, 2022

“So, any news on the baby since I last saw you?” Gia started, a sure smile on her face that helped ease you. “You had your second appointment on Thursday, right?”

“No,” you shook your head. “Dr. Rose wanted to just wait until closer to Week 18 so we could find out the gender at one session rather than having to wait between week 16 and week 18. Knock everything out at once,” you explained, clearing your throat. Looking around the office, you admired the pieces of floral art littering the walls, as you always did. “We’re going this Friday now.”

“And you’re okay with that?” Gia asked, raising a brow. She was rolling to her desk, getting the (seemingly) last thing she needed for your session today and placing it in her lap. “Not stressed about putting it off?”

“No, actually. I’m not stressed at all,” you acknowledged, sticking your lip out in thought. You hadn’t even thought to be stressed yet. Progress? Sure seemed like it. “It’s strange; the longer time passes, the bigger I get. . . The worries just aren’t as prevalent. It’s like I can feel that the baby is okay.”

“Not strange at all, babe,” Gia reassured with a shake of her head. Her platinum blonde hair was wavy today, framing her angular face perfectly. “Completely normal for new mothers to sort of get used to the pregnancy enough to feel at peace, per se. And I am so proud of you for getting to that point.”

“Well thanks,” you grinned crookedly, trying your best to settle into the worn, camel-colored leather of her sofa. “Can’t say the same for today’s session though. . . I am nervous about it.”

Gia waved it away, showing you a look of ease on her stark features. “No need. You’re the one in control, girly,” she winked, placing both white-sneakered feet on the ground. 

She reached in her desk drawer for the little pouch, the familiar one that you knew held the device you’d be using today. A sudden wave of nerves began to crash over you as she unzipped it, revealing it and the paddles that would be the catalyst in placing your brain. . .elsewhere— somewhere. 

Somewhere bad? Good? In-between?

“Here’s the plan,” she started, wheeling her chair closer to the couch, where you were trying your damnedest to sit comfortably. “We’ll start with your safe place to give you some sense of peace and stability — gotta make sure it’s still fresh and open in your mind.” 

You watched as she turned the knob of the device, the little green light beginning to blink to notate that it’s on. “Then,” she continued, situating the device to look it over before her green eyes settled back on you. “Once you feel comfortable, I’ll tell you to begin walking away. Whatever direction you’d like to go, it’s completely up to you.” 

Gia held the paddles out in front of you, and with clammy, shaky palms, you tentatively took hold of them. One in each hand, just like last time.

You couldn’t stop worrying about where you’d end up, where you’d walk away to. Walking away from your beautiful field, from Jake. . . What if you couldn’t do it? 

“Will I. . .,” you cleared your throat, nervous. “If where I go is too hard, do I just—,” you panicked, unable to properly finish your sentence due to an onslaught of nerves. “What will I do?”

You were fumbling with your words and clarity, before she interjected, knowing just where your mind was going. “I’ll simply tell you to walk back to your safe place. I’ll be talking you through it, I’ll be right here the whole time — just gotta keep your ears open for me,” she winked, clicking open her iPad and testing her Apple pencil on the screen, readying to take notes. 

“And, if at any point I see your body language change to indicate any distress, I’ll guide you back to your safe place, okay?” She soothingly told you the words, her full pink lips widening to a sweet smile, clicking her pencil into its spot at the top of her iPad case. “Remember, my specialized area is EMDR. I’ve done it multiple times before this – successfully. I plan to complete this successfully with you, too, y/n.”

When you gave her a small, timid smile, she took that as an indicator to continue on with her little speech. The tiny faux grin on your otherwise concerned face was the most emotion you could muster in that moment. 

“It will hurt from time to time. I can’t take that away. It will be harder than most other things you’ve ever had to do.” She paused, her own brows curving to show care for your rigid state. Gia reached forward to unwrap your hands from the paddles gently. Once she had a hold on your hands, she rubbed the backs of them reassuringly, her thumbs so soft with their intricate patterns. You looked down to study the patterns, working to focus on something else and rid yourself of the nerves. 

“Y/n.” She stated your name, making you look up at her. Her seafoam-colored eyes grabbed yours. “Before we begin. . . I want to make sure – once more – that you are sure about this . . . that you want to continue. We’ve talked about it a lot, but I want you to be sure. There are other routes of therapy. . .”

“No,” you replied, completely sure of your decision. “No. I want to do this. I promise I haven’t changed my mind. I don’t want to change my mind,” you rushed out, desperate for her to understand you. “I’m just–just scared. Is that not okay?”

You didn’t mean to sound defensive, but your biting tone contradicted that. The nerves were wracking you, from the inside out. 

Luckily, Gia seemed unphased, keeping with her featherlight touch to the backs of your hands. “It absolutely is okay to be scared,” she confirmed, tone firm and soft all at once. “But, I need you to keep in mind: you are in charge this time. You have the power. We will approach these places in the now – you are in the driver’s seat of conquering these past battles. We’re in this together, love – and we will make it out stronger and better than before we started.”

Her voice assured you, of course. But the fear was still ever-present. 

Sure, you did have control. But what if you couldn’t control where you went? 

Where would you go? That was what scared you most. Your mind was bound to let loose. It was one telling part of this sort of therapy. You didn’t really know what had been hiding deep in the drawers of the credenza in your mind. . .  

Hence you being here.

You just knew, whatever it was lying beneath the surface — you knew it was. . . a lot. 

Then, as if she could hear the additional fearful thoughts swimming in your brain, she grasped your hands tighter in hers, moving to rub her thumbs over the tops of your knuckles. “You’ll be just fine. We’ve got a solid plan, babe. I just need you to trust me, and I need you to trust yourself. If you need to walk away, tell me and we’ll do it. That is in our power – your power.” Her pristinely white, pearly teeth were on display as she looked deep into your worried eyes. “We can do this, okay?”

We. I’m not alone. 

You’d never had a single doubt about Gia. Of course you trusted her. But. . .maybe the true problem was trusting yourself. . . Over the past several months, you were finding that to be a bit more difficult. 

But, Gia was right. You had to put some trust in yourself to know when you needed to step away. You could do it. You had to.

And knowing that she had a plan and had done it so many times before. . . Those were relieving thoughts, to say the very least. She knew what she was doing, and she knew what was best for you. 

I can do this, you recited to yourself. I can. . .

You sighed, out of both relief and persistent worry. “I trust you,” you told her, another somewhat forced smile following your words. “And I’ll learn to trust myself. . . I’ll try my best,” you grinned sheepishly. “We’ve got this.”

“Good deal,” she responded with a far more sincere smile than you could offer. “There’s just one more thing we need to do before we get started.” 

She clicked her iPad closed, wheeling back toward her desk, reaching down in the same drawer she pulled the device from. Only this time, she pulled out a large legal style, white notepad, and a large box of Crayola markers. Lastly, she grabbed a flawlessly sharpened pencil from the ceramic baby blue jar, covered in white roses, next to her keyboard. 

What could she be up to? You wondered, eyebrows drawn together. 

“I need you to describe something for me, something visual to lock any horrible memory away in.” She took a sip of her tea, which sat atop her desk, before she stood up from her chair. She came to sit directly next to you on her couch. The smell of eucalyptus that swirled off of her, from her perfume, was soothing. “You need to give it lots of detail, make it unique. I’ll even draw it for you,” she held up the notepad, pointing to it with a gentle smile. “Seeing it visually will help you when it’s time to lock the memories away mentally. Some people want a box, a filing cabinet, a treasure chest,” she laughed, and you giggled at that one, too. Jake would love that one. Buried treasure, like his pirate documentaries. . . “Whatever you want. You just tell me exactly what you want it to look like.” 

Something about this felt a little silly, but you understood the purpose for it. Just having a place to put the memories after you visited them, it felt like closure. A special sort of closure at the end of every session, just like your safe place felt like closure. . .

And then, you knew what you wanted it to look like. Saw the image, clear as day, in your mind. It felt significant to you, it felt right. There was no question. 

But, you had a thought.

“Would–would it be okay if I drew it?” You questioned carefully. 

She eagerly handed you the notepad, markers and pen with a huge smile. “Absolutely. That’s called trusting yourself big time, girly. This box is a special one!” Her voice was wet as she sniffled. “I’m not supposed to get so emotional with my clients, but I’m proud of you. You’re making great strides and we’ve barely started.”

“Thanks,” you replied, feeling a bit encouraged, your own throat tight as you reviewed her once more with a glance. 

Then, sticking the tip of your tongue out from the corner of your mouth, you looked down at the paper, and began. 

A small, wooden box was all you could see in your mind. So, you drew it out, as best you could, given your lack of artistic abilities.

One side, then the other, the bottom, the top. . .

Before you knew it, you had a perfect, rectangular box on the stripped notebook paper. Then, it was time for the important part: the details. 

There was only one element that felt right — felt safe — to decorate the box with. 

Scouring through the markers, you found two perfect shades of purple at the bottom — two very different shades, to add depth. You weren’t an artist, really, but you could pretend for the box’s sake. 

Then, you searched for the greenest green you could find. One more marker in a shade of dark brown, and you were ready to draw the box exactly as you saw it in your mind. 

You began drawing tiny individual stalks of lavender on top of the box. You filled in their blooms with the purples, drawing their stems underneath with the green. Their placement may have seemed scattered across the top, but you kept going. To you, it made sense. And that was all that mattered. 

One bloom in the top left corner, one diagonal from it in the bottom right corner. Then, there was one on the bottom left going straight up and down, with a slight curve to the stem. . . And one more, laying on its side directly in the middle. . .

It was perfect. Just as you’d imagined.

You filled in the blank spaces with the brown marker, immulating the antiqued, stained mahogany wood you were envisioning. 

And once you filled it all in, your vision had come to life right before your own eyes. It was the ideal picture of what you saw, and despite the fact that you were no artist, it was beautiful. You loved it. Looking at it forced emotions you weren’t expecting, so many big emotions that begged to be surfaced. 

And for whatever reason, looking at it made you think of the baby. This beautiful, hand drawn box held a strange connection to the life you and Jake had created, though you couldn’t explain how. . . 

But, you felt it. You felt it so strongly. 

“Lavender means a lot to you, doesn’t it?” Gia asked you, smiling and wiping away a stray tear that sat on top of her highlighted cheekbone. “It’s very lovely, y/n. And I’m so glad that you drew it.”

You contemplated her question about lavender. You’d never considered just how prevalent it was in all of your happy places. . . But, it was. It meant so much. . . 

Who knew that such a simple plant could bring you so much comfort? So much peace? 

A tear came to your eye at the thought of how special the plant had become to you. . . It was really no secret why it’d become special. 

Gia leaned over, giving you a small side hug, but didn’t linger before making her way back to her chair. She sat at the edge of it, elbows placed on both knees as she clasped her hands at the front. 

“How are we feeling?” She asked, sniffling once more as she looked you directly in the eyes. “A little better now that we have our box?”

“Yes,” you nodded, wiping under your eye to rid yourself of any tears. “The box idea is genius.”

“The technical term is containment. Again, it’s simply where the client creates a space to store the distressing memories. I want to emphasize that the memories aren’t coming back to control you, rather you’re the one controlling them. And, the box’s containment of the unpleasant memories gives you a little extra control over these memories and the emotions attached to them. They’re yours to deal with,” she explained softly. “You done with the notebook and pens?”

“Yeah, yeah,” you nodded eagerly, handing the materials back to her. You went over her words in your head, extra control. . . the idea of that sounded wonderful to you. Those words aided in lifting a decent amount of weight from your nervous body. 

She took the materials from you, and as she did so, you decided to take the paddles in your hands once more, feeling much more confident. 

She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, rolling back in her tufted chair to put the markers and pencils back on the desk. “I definitely can’t take credit for the idea of containing those horrendous memories in a certain area. . . but it has proven wonderfully effective for every client I’ve practiced this form of therapy with,” she explained further, coming back to sit in front of you, wheeling smoothly back towards you. When she was about two feet away from you, she stopped and observed the picture of your box, the notepad still in her lap. “Do you have a clear idea of the box in your mind?”

“The clearest,” you affirmed, no question in your mind of the precise placement of each piece of lavender. The exact color of mahogany that you’d depicted for the wood, sealed in your brain. 

“Wonderful. Well, I’m going to hold it so I can get a good idea of it; just in case you need help finding it at any point,” she said, eyes scanning the page as she spoke. “I’d love to see this in real life – it’s gorgeous.”

“I think so, too,” you grinned, eyes twinkling. And, suddenly, your body felt light in a way that could only indicate one thing. . . you knew there was no time like the present. “I’m ready.” 

Gia looked up at your words, her own eyes donning a spark as she tucked the notepad onto her lap. “If you’re ready, I’m ready,” she smiled kindly, her eyes trustworthy and open for opportunity. “First things first. Make yourself as comfortable as you need to. Sit, lay down. . . it’s up to you.”

You kept yourself upright on the couch, allowing yourself to sink back into its cushions a bit more. And for some reason, the thought of crossing your legs, criss-cross applesauce came to mind. So, you did just that, bringing your legs up to the couch and criss-crossing one over the other. You looked at your belly as you did. A timid grin crept along your lips at the thought of knowing you didn't have much longer until you’d no longer be able to do this. 

Thank you, sweet baby.

With one deep breath in, you felt your stiff limbs loosen with the comfort of the new position you found yourself in. And with the exhale, you looked down at the paddles in your hands, holding them probably a bit too tight as you felt your nails digging into your clammy palms. Still yet, you kept your grip, somehow feeling a bit more secure that way. 

“Nice and comfy?” Gia asked, her warm, knowing smile aiding in relaxing your body even more. 

You looked down at your hands, smoothing your thumbs over the cool plastic of the paddles. You knew this was it, that this could begin to change a lot; it could change everything. The thought of change was a frightening one, but with this change would come a healing journey like you’d never known. For you, for the baby, for  Jake, even. . .

“As I’ll ever be,” you confidently answered. You were ready to embark on this expedition of mending. 

“Perfect,” she said, her voice soft, reassuring. “Close your eyes, take a few deep breaths. Let yourself relax.”

You did as she said, and with one breath in through your nose and blowing it slowly out of your mouth, you closed your eyes. 

You felt your chest rise and fall with each breath. You began to breathe deeper and easier the longer your eyes were closed. 

“Good job.” You heard her sweet voice, feeling comforted by the simple fact that you knew she was still with you. Though you could no longer see her, you felt her. And that was more than enough. “I’ll start the paddles off slowly, just like last time. Turning them on in 3, 2. . .” 

Your body instinctively jolted at the light humming sensation you felt against your palms, your eyes closing a little tighter. But, you quickly remembered the feeling from last time and it didn’t take you very long to get used to it. You even found a little relief in the alternating vibrations. Their consistent rhythm worked to ease your mind. Your eyes, though still closed, instinctively followed in the back and forth motion of the pulsations in your palms. 

“Does this speed feel okay?” You heard her ask, her voice suddenly becoming more distant as you let yourself focus on the steady thrumming of the paddles. 

“Yes,” you whispered, the sound of your voice echoing as though you were in a long, narrow tunnel. “Feels good.” 

“We’ll start with establishing your safe place, y/n. Go ahead and start walking to it. Lead the way.” 

My safe place. 

Suddenly, as though the mere mention of it had  some sort of ability to transcend you there, you began feeling the familiar cool breeze against your face. Faint sounds of the birds singing in the forest of trees filled your ears, becoming a bit louder as you found your footing against the lightly dampened grass beneath your feet. “The birds,” you felt yourself say. “They’re singing, their chirps are becoming clearer now.” 

“Wonderful.” Her voice was heard all around you, echoing against the wind. “Tell me what you see.” 

Your eyes, still physically shut, began to open in your mind. They squinted at the bright, warm rays from the sun. And as you turned your face upwards toward the sky, you could feel the radiance of the rays against your skin. 

And, as you peered a few feet ahead of you, you witnessed a beautiful family of deer were perusing the lush meadow. 

“The sun. . . It’s so beautiful and bright, but it doesn’t hurt to look at it,” you shared with her, squinting towards it with no negative effect, shocked by the fact. “And the deer. So innocent and pure. They’re so near to me, but not scared of me at all.”

“You’re doing amazing, y/n. Keep going, tell me what you can touch, what you can smell.” Her voice carried throughout the trees like the wind, meshing beautifully with the songs of the birds. 

Bending down, you ran your fingers through the dewy blades of grass. They felt cool, soft. Like a blanket of emerald velvet. “The grass. It’s soft, a little wet.”

And then, the smells. The fragrance of freshly rain coated grass, as though an evening shower had just finished nourishing the ground before you’d arrived. The rainfall, sustaining the life of the pasture, the jude green grasses, the illustrious amethyst plant surrounding you. . . 

The divine aroma from your favored flower overwhelmed your senses in the most alluring way. The bloomed field, surrounding you, holding you carefully in its gentle grasp. 

“The lavender,” you felt yourself say, eagerly. “I can smell it, so fresh and clean; the sense of calm it brings me. . .” 

You then felt the paddles pick up in their speed, ever so slightly, but enough that you could tell.

“Oh yes, your lavender,” Gia hushed as she positively tracked with you. 

My lavender. 

Gently, you sat your body down in the midst of the flowers. And once you did, you felt the urge to place your hands against your tummy, to feel the baby, just like last time. 

There you are, right where you belong, you thought when you felt the smooth bump beneath your hands. 

You felt nearly complete, nearly, but you knew something was still missing—someone. 

And just when you started to look beyond the stems of lavender to find him, there he was. 

Clad in the very same navy blue, three piece suit you’d seen him in the first time. The rays from the sun bounced off of his chestnut locks, his tanned skin radiant and glowing. 

With a soft, lopsided smile, he slowly walked toward you. The vision of him, walking amongst the stalks of lavender as they gently swayed from the light breeze against his calves. . . You felt yourself sigh with relief. 

This was safe. This was home. 

Once he approached you in what felt like no time at all, he laid down right beside you, extending one arm out for you to join him. And as you did, letting yourself at last melt into his warm embrace, you were finally there. 

Your safest place.

“I’m here now,” you muttered, feeling yourself smile warmly as you did. “And I’m safe.” 

“Enjoy it for a moment, let it sink in, put yourself at ease.” You heard Gia’s voice, but the more you focused on Jake, the more distant she became. 

You found yourself gazing into his eyes, sparkling like golden gems, as he cradled you in the crook of his arm. 

In his amber-brown eyes, you saw your haven, your sanctuary of serenity. 

A gentle smile graced his lips as he reached up, tenderly brushing a few strands of hair behind your ear. “It’s time to step away now, y/n,” he told you. Though, you knew it was truthfully Gia telling you, you heard Jake’s voice. You watched his lips move as he spoke, “You can do this. I’m right here.” 

Again, you knew the words were coming from Gia. But, hearing them in his voice, as much as you didn’t want to leave him, it was the final push you needed. 

It was time. 

With only a bit of resistance, you sat up, slowly standing to your feet and urged yourself forward towards the unknown. When you looked back, you saw Jake standing gracefully amongst the fragrant blooms of your lavender. 

Home, you thought. He looks like home. 

With one final sigh, and with the most strength you were sure you’d ever mustered, you walked away from him. 

Your hands found your belly for some extra courage as you stepped away, everything turning black for a moment once you got far enough. But, the further you went, a tiny, dim light caught your attention. It initially seemed like miles away, but with every step you took, it became worlds closer. 

A lamp. You could finally see it. It was old, dusty. It was sitting atop a table, from what you could tell. . . 

With one more step, the full picture started to come to you. You’d guessed right — it sat on top of a round, wooden table that only had one leg in the center, making it lean a little to the left. The white, canvas lampshade was stained so badly. . . 

The stains were reminiscent of those that come from years of smoking cigarettes near it. 

In fact, you were shocked that you could tell it had ever been white. 

As the image became more clear, you saw a black ash tray next to the lamp, full of cigarette butts, all but confirming your cigarette theory. You could smell the smoke, too, as though someone had just finished one off. The stench was putrid, the chemically treated tobacco mixed disgustingly with the other trash laying on the table. 

To the right, you saw a sofa. The blue cloth over the cushions, stained just like the lamp, was tattered and worn. It was full of holes. Tiny, black holes. Cigarette burns?

God, the smell was nearly becoming too much. It was so strong, potent. Cigarettes and filth. Utter filth. Filth that you suddenly began to remember being suffocated by as a child.  

No wonder you liked things so pristinely clean. . .

The shag carpet beneath your feet felt like it had never been vacuumed after years of wear. It was littered with half empty beer cans, more cigarette butts, rat droppings. . .

God — the fucking smell. A triggering smell—one that had your stomach turning to the point that vomit rose in your throat. 

The paddles sped up a bit more, much more noticeably this time as they forced your brain to grasp what you were experiencing. 

“Tell me what you see, y/n. Tell me where you are.” It was no longer Jake’s voice that you were hearing, it was once again Gia’s. And though you missed the sound of his, you were so happy to hear her, reminding you that she was still there. 

This was the past. Gia was the present. You were with Gia.

You stepped to the side, glancing around the room you were standing in, trying with all of your might to not allow the stench to make you sick. 

“It’s—I’m in a living room, I think. . .?” You noticed a television set, one from the late nineties with a built-in VCR, sitting on top of a makeshift table made of three small slabs of particle board. 

The more you looked around, you noticed there was only one average-sized window in the whole room, next to the white front door. The door was scuffed to hell and looked ready to give at any second. The blinds attached to the window were ripped to shreds, hardly hanging onto the frame. 

“Y-yeah, it’s a living room. It’s. . .It was our living room. One of them, at least. I’m fully beginning to. . . To recognize it. . .”

You’d lived in so many homes as a child, seen many living rooms. But this one, this home and the walls surrounding you. . .this one was different. While most homes from your childhood didn’t leave you with happy memories, this one felt—evil. This had been a personal hell.

Anxiety, heavy sadness. . . this room was wrought with it.

And as you heard a certain laugh, deep and throaty, from the next room over, your stomach churned and your mind went fuzzy. That sound. It was vile and thick with too many years of smoking. That particular laugh was associated with ugliness and gut-wrenching fear. 

The man that the laugh was attached to. . . This was his house. You remembered that now. There was no safety here. This place was only associated with feeling powerless, forgotten, and lonely. 

The paddles wiggled in your hands, the vibrations reaching your worn nerves.

Elsie was here, though. Somewhere. You knew that. 

And Elsie had helped in making it less lonely — just knowing she was in this past-tense moment filled you with ease. Your sister was here. 

Though, you knew for past Elsie, she was still trapped. Even though she comforted this adult version of you that was invading. . . there was still no escape for little girl Elsie. 

This place had been desolate, with no chance for escape. You’d been tied here by invisible rope.

Fuck. Where was your sister? You could feel her near, but she wasn’t in the living room with you. Your skin prickled at what she could be experiencing. . . You couldn’t fully wrap your brain around it. 

But this was the past. Right now, you just needed to focus on your surroundings.

Living room. The living room. 

Your mind was quickly skirting back to your present placement. And, rather than standing, you suddenly realized you were sitting on the ground. Strangely, your hands in the memory were free of the paddles, tucked safely in your lap, shaking. . . And not daring to touch the dirty, shaggy carpet. 

For a split second, you wondered. . . Why were you not sitting on the couch or a chair? And why were you sitting in a place you felt you couldn’t move from? Was this how you’d been placed originally? In the past? 

You observed the wobbly dinner table in front of you and realized it had zero chairs. And on a second glance around the room, you noticed something you hadn’t before. . . a sleeping form on the couch. 

So, it seemed, with the occupied couch being the only other piece of furniture in the living room besides the table. . . the floor had been your only option. 

You used the unconscious state of the room’s other occupant to your advantage and turned a bit to observe the person. The person’s face wasn’t visible and their body was covered in a blanket filled with holes and torn more than it wasn’t. But. . . You could see hair. 

Blonde. Yellow-blonde. Box-dyed with the cheapest dye. 

Long hair, ratty and knotted to the point of almost no fixing it. The way the strands shone a little bit under the dim lighting from the old, dusty lamp showed you it was very oily as well. . . It wasn’t a healthy shine. 

The person on the couch, from what you could see, was far from healthy in any capacity. The body looked malnourished through the blanket’s holes. At closer inspection, you noticed an arm dangling off the sofa, peeking from the blanket. 

The arm was littered in tiny holes and scars. . . from heroin injections, multiple cigarette burns. . . Then there was the red, irritated acne that littered the pale skin, between the various marks. 

Poor thing. What a dreaded way to live life. . . Your heart broke in your chest and tears sprung to your tired eyes as your hand clutched at your tummy. 

You could do that in the memory. You were you in the present, yet placed like you’d been in the past. . . so weird.

All you knew was you had a sense to protect the untouched life in your womb. The feeling of being a protector to your child was unparalleled to anything in this moment. . . You would never let the little life inside of you bear witness to anything like you had as a child. . .

Like your current situation. 

Or, past situation, rather. . . This was not real. Not in the present. This was controlled — controllable.

The paddles jolted in your real hands, helping you to center you.

“Y/n,” Gia’s voice broke through your psyche, touching your brain delicately. You let out a sigh of relief at the sound of her soft spoken tone. “Can you hear me, girly?”

You nodded, but weren’t sure if she could see it or if the action was only visible in your dreamlike stupor. This was so weird. . . 

So, you decided to respond the best you could with words. “Y—yeah,” you stuttered out, blinking rapidly as you tried (and failed) to keep tears at bay. “This is. . . So familiar, yet so forgotten. . .,” your voice faded out. 

Your eyes in the memory were now pinched shut, trying to keep the laughter you could still hear from the kitchen (because, yes, you somehow knew exactly where it was coming from) far away. 

But it just seemed to be getting closer. . .

“Tell me where you are, y/n,” Gia requested, soothing, yet strong. “Take me with you. You are going to be okay.”

“I—I can’t—,” gasping, you shook your head. 

Willing the menacing, thick chuckle to fade, you squinted your eyes open slowly, tried to refocus on the living room to tell Gia what you could. Your hands still held your belly, but your thighs came closer to your chest. You wanted to scrunch up and stay in your bubble. 

“Y/n.”

Your blood ran cold and your skin prickled harshly with goosebumps. Fear. Terror. Dread.

The voice wasn’t Gia’s. It wasn’t Jake’s. No. It was coming from behind you. The person on the couch. The worn down, baby blue fabric couch. The navy blue patterns of it, a distant memory, washing back quickly like a flood. . . 

This was definitely a memory. A real thing that had happened in the past. This had happened before. It was deeply repressed. 

A dark memory. Bad. So, so bad.

You felt dirty for more reasons than one now. . . 

Looking down, you noticed your outfit had changed. Though you still looked as you currently did in 2022, you were wearing an outfit you had as a child. The attire made your skin crawl. 

This pajama set, you were made to wear it more often than not.

A tiny, satin set. Too small for you to properly fit into. How old were you? Nine? Ten? Was this right before you went to live with. . .?

“Pig.”

No. Not that nickname. No no no.

You hadn’t heard that since your mother had called you–.

The person on the couch.

“Piggy.”

Did you have it in yourself to face her? Could you? What would happen if you didn’t? No. No.

You had to. The baby, safe in your belly. . . that baby needed a mom who could face her demons and not fall to them. 

. . .Fall to them like the shell of a woman, on the couch behind you, had fallen to hers. 

You felt crippled with fear, but brave beyond comparison all at once. . .

The steady tremors from the paddles in your hands were the best help you could’ve had in the moment, reminding you of your power. . .

And, once you’d given yourself the strength to swivel your body to meet her eyes. . . there she was. 

A woman whose face had become a shadow since she’d left you. The moment she’d left you. . .a mess of snot and tears, head throbbing as it laid on Elsie’s shoulder, desperate to understand a mother that had never seemed to love you. 

Your eyes were her eyes. Thankfully, that was about where the similarities in your features stopped. 

She was paler than you. Her lips, thin and cracked from lack of hydration where yours were full. Her cheekbones were sharp and protruded more than they should. . . Your cheekbones, defined, yet concealed under soft skin you took very good care of . . . 

And her face. . . It also lacked freckles. You had the tiniest spatter of light freckles that sat at the tops of your cheeks. Your freckles, mimicking angel kisses, which stayed mostly hidden save for the summertime when they’d make an appearance after exposure from the sun. Her skin was washed out, lacking color. It was as if she hadn’t even been exposed to the sun for a long, long time. . .

Perhaps you might’ve looked more like her than you could tell at this moment. But, right now, all you saw was a sunken face, holding more wrinkles and lines than a woman her age should hone. And, her eyes,  even if they looked like yours initially, were glassy and hollow from too many drugs. . . 

Right now, they held uncertainty and a rage that was becoming more and more apparent the longer you looked into her eyes. . .

She looked lost. . . Confused, yet furious. 

The fury, pointed towards you. 

“Get. Up,” your mother ordered, voice cracking a bit, spit flying past her chapped lips. The tone of her voice. . . it made your heart jump into your throat. “Do your job, Pig.”

Before you could respond, you felt heavy footsteps make their way into the living room, shaking the weak structure of the small home that seemed to be falling apart around you. 

“Move, you lazy drug slut,” a booming voice growled. You knew it was aimed towards your mother. “Give little Piggy some space to sit next to Mr. Morgan, hm?”

Mr. Morgan.

The paddles buzzed in your hands, re-centering you. 

You didn’t dare look at the man who’d entered the room behind you, knowing it was the same man attached to the laughter from the kitchen. 

So, it was only out of your peripheral vision when you noticed him round to the other side of you, getting close to your mom. The next thing you saw, faded from the corner of your eye, were fat, sausage-like fingers reaching to yank the thin blanket off your mother. The unmasked view of her figure broke your heart further, her body shaking, bones on full display through her papery skin, begging for a fix. . . 

It didn’t take long for those same fingers to forcefully clutch her shoulder and yank her up. You could’ve sworn you heard the bones in her shoulder crack, but she barely let out a yelp. It was more of a tired groan, eyes closed and eyebrows drawn in with irritation towards being disturbed. 

But, she shook more. . . Her bones, most likely rattling under her skin. And this time, you knew it was more from nerves and terror, than lack of drugs. She was just trying to play tough.

Mr. Morgan (the name, making bile rise in your throat) came to sit at the end of the couch, but your eyes once again drew shut and your body became rigid. Even if you were facing the couch, you still only kept your body towards your mother’s. She wasn’t safe, by any means. But she wasn’t Mr. Morgan. 

You couldn’t look at him. The vile smell of him alone, sweat and grime from lack of showering. . . You were going to hurl on the spot. The way the nausea quickly began to rise in the hollow of your throat, you knew there was no time to get out now. . . Your heartbeat was thrumming so vigorously in your chest, you felt like you were going to choke on its strength.

Then the ugly, bitter laughter was back again. . . Right in front of you this time, your mother moaning next to him. . .

A distant beeping in the background. . . what? Where was that coming–?

The intensity of the paddles increased, the vibrations working to balance you amidst the fear.

“Open your eyes, Pig,” Mr. Morgan grunted, reprimanding you. His voice was stark and loud against the decaying walls of the living room. You winced with what you imagined to come, your heart accelerating and your blood running colder than cold. “Open. Your. Fucking. Eyes, my little whor–.”

The paddles were working so hard to bring you back, but you couldn’t–.

“Y/n.” Gia’s voice rang out through the disgusting home, flowing into your ears, reassuring you. “It’s time to leave, y/n. Find your safe place.”

You didn’t have to be told twice, not with the tears streaming down your face and the way your breath was stuck in your lungs. Your chest stung from the way your heart rate wouldn’t let up. . . the way your heart raced, unrelenting and beating harder every time. . . . The pain was excruciating, making you want to keel over from the intensity. 

There wasn’t a memory of leaving the room, you just knew you had left as you ran. 

You ran as fast as your legs could carry you, eyes still shut to avoid being used by him–Mr. Morgan. God. You hated that man. You hated your mother. 

But, you weren’t with them anymore. The rotting smell of the home and the body odor that reeked from the two people in your vision – it was all gone. You were out. So, you decided to open your eyes. You had to open them to find the place you’d created for a time just like this. . . 

Your place. Your home. The field of lavender. Jake. Peaceful serenity, awaiting you amongst the birds chirping and the light blue skies. . .

So, with eyes open and tears streaming down your cheeks, you decided you needed to be there now. Now now now now. . .

And before you could request it any further, your feet were touching the lush grass and the skies were clear and powdery blue above you. . .

“Are you safe, y/n?” Gia asked, her voice much clearer when you were in the field, surrounded by nature. Your sanctuary. 

“Yes,” you breathed, voice cracking just a little on the word. You hadn’t spoken for a while. . . Too scared to do so. Clearing your throat, you tried once more. “Yes. Yes, I’m safe. I’m in my safe place. The lavender. The beautiful, tall trees filled with green leaves. The breeze is perfectly warm against my face. . .”

“Wonderful,” Gia said, sounding relieved and stoic all at once. “You are okay, girly. You are okay. It’s not your current reality. It’s not right now. This is right now. You are safe.”

Yes. I’m safe. 

Your breathing was coming much easier and your heart wasn’t pounding in your ears any longer. 

Your hands found your belly, the sweetest little round bump.  But where was. . .?

Then, you felt him. Jake. 

Solid and sure behind you, his chest meeting your back. His arms, coming to wrap around you, cradling you and the belly that held his baby. Your head, falling of its own accord to lay back on his shoulder. . . 

You were finally able to relax. Let go. The tears poured from your eyes, wetting your cheeks with steady tracks.

“Shhh,” Jake shushed you, the minty smell of his toothpaste lingering on his breath as it washed over your features. The sandalwood-vanilla of his cologne was reminiscent of heaven, you were sure of it. “It’s okay, baby.”

He swayed you a little, your eyes falling closed in peaceful surrender to him and this moment. . .

“Y/n, I want you to think of your box,” you heard the words, knowing it was Gia. But, you felt Jake saying it. Even if she was the one saying the words, you wanted him to help guide you, too. Your mind was a funny place. 

His voice kept soothing you, “Think of the box and open it. Open it and place the memory you stepped into today inside of it. Secure that memory inside of the box.”

So, with one fleeting glance at the disgusting past you’d had to re-experience today, you mentally opened the lid to the box. And, as the lid opened, you let the people and the stingy place flow quickly into the sturdy wooden structure of the box. 

You could have spit on the people and the place and the smells. . . Fuck it all. 

The sureness of the box truly calmed you as the last little bit of the memory faded into the box. 

“Tuck it away in your box. Just keep it there until you’re ready to revisit it again. . .,” Gia counseled, her words yet again came through as if Jake were saying them. His breath was warm against the column of your throat, lips near to your ear. “You have control of it, y/n.”

Once you knew it was all inside, you let the lid click shut. The little pieces of lavender you imagined to be skillfully painted atop the box assured you that it would all be over soon. 

Beep beep beep beep. The beeping again. Familiar. You’d heard it momentarily at the disgusting, decrepit house. What was it?

“Y/n,” you heard Gia again, her words no longer masked by Jake’s voice. “Are you ready to come back to the office?”

As much as you wanted to never leave the man who still held you, you knew that the sooner you left the safe place, the sooner you could actually see him. He was waiting for you. In the lobby. In the present. 

“Yeah,” you sighed with a sniffle, most of your tears dry after the safety you’d felt in the field of lavender. “Yeah. I’m ready.”

“I’m right here with you,” Gia assured you, her voice the closest it had been since initially closing your eyes. 

You closed your eyes once more, your body feeling lighter. Letting yourself sink into real time, you felt the soft, camel leather of the couch under you, around you. Then came the smell of Gia’s essential oils, filtering in through your senses. Things were okay. 

When your eyes cracked open, so tentative and slow, Gia was ready and waiting with open eyes. 

But the beeping. . . It was still happening — it was incessant. And it was fully apparent now that the sound was coming from your belt bag, hanging on Gia’s office door handle. 

Your heart monitor. 

Shit.

“How long has that been going off?” You blanched, eyes bugged as you got off the couch to grab your bag from the handle. Though, your legs were weaker than you expected, body worn down. It forced you to sit back down to gain your wherewithal.

Noticing this, Gia stuck a hand out to get you to pause from trying again. “I will grab the bag,” she soothed. “You stay there. Give yourself time to adjust to the present time. You’ve been through it, babe.”

All you could do was nod and swallow thickly, your heart no longer beating hard enough to make the phone go off. But apparently it had accelerated at some point. . . 

And then you remembered. 

Mr. Morgan. He’d made your heart rate go ballistic. 

When he’d approached, commanded you to open your eyes, and almost called you that horrible name. . . it had gone insane. 

Your chest had been in so much pain, and you could remember hearing the incessant beeping, now. . .

“Fuck, Gia,” you combed a hand through your hair. “My heart . . . I remember. . . my chest was hurting like a bitch.”

Gia inhaled deeply. “Yeah. . . You know, how about I hold the phone that tracks it from here on out? To keep an eye on your heart rate?” She suggested, raising a brow as she walked back to you with the belt bag. Raising a brow, she eyed you as she got close enough to hand your belongings over to you. “We need to be aware of your health and the baby’s first and foremost, before anything else.”

You swallowed with a slight nod, not wanting to see where your heart had skyrocketed to. But you knew you had to see it. So, you unzipped your bag and shakily got your monitor phone out.

When you slid the screen open to check, your breath caught in your throat. Tears welled in your eyes at the very large number, flashing at you in red. 

Shit. 185. What the fuck?

That could have gotten really bad, really fast if Gia hadn’t stopped you when she did.

“So. . . What had it gotten to?” Gia questioned carefully, wide eyes serious and ready to help. 

You observed her for a second, not wanting to divulge just how high it had gotten for one reason in specific. . . The fear that Gia would make you stop EMDR if she knew just how high it had gotten — that possibility kept your lips sealed.

“Girly, I really feel it’s incredibly important that we keep track of that. I didn’t want to be invasive while you were under, but I heard it and I knew what it was. . .,” Gia tried to counsel you, taking your skeptical gaze as you finding her invasive. “I really didn’t like not knowing what your heart rate was. It’s best we stay aware of that. We have to be so careful of that, girly.”

You wanted to tell her. Duh. Why wouldn’t you want to? You told her everything else. . . The possibility of not being able to—.

“We will still continue our EMDR, y/n,” Gia grinned warmly with a wink. “I know that’s what you’re worried about. . .”

Your mouth puckered, as you took in a deep breath, gawking at the tall blonde across from you. 

You couldn’t help the bubble of a laugh that spurted from your lips, in spite of your worried thoughts. You were in awe of your therapist’s intuition. “How did you know?” You questioned, already mostly knowing the answer.

The answer was: people in this profession were really very incredible. . . And Gia — she, in particular, was so empathetic and so aware of everything that mattered to you. . .

“It’s my job to tune in to that shit,” she grinned, sitting back in her rolling chair, one leg crossed over the other. 

After sharing a smirk with her, you decided you might as well tell her. You were nearing the end of your time, and you assumed she still wanted to be filled in on what had happened during your time under. 

“My BPM was. . . in the 180s,” you divulged, wary of her reaction. “That’s um—that’s really high,” you tagged on to the end, blowing out a breath, still shocked at the number yourself.

“Ho-ly fuck,” Gia stated, eyes wide and mouth in a straight line as she shook her head. “No shit that’s high.”

“We’ll figure it out?” you stated the question, hoping it would be ammunition for Gia to agree. 

“Of course,” she nodded adamantly. Sitting up in her chair, she leaned forward. Her elbows, on the ends of her thighs, near her knee caps. “When do you turn it in? How long do we have with it?”

“I turn it in next week,” you answered, curious where she was going. “Hopefully I’ll get some results and sure answers. . .” Trailing off, you decided to shut up so she could get to her point. 

“Well. . .,” she started, rubbing her palms together, eyes glancing down and back to you, “Would you be opposed to me attaching another monitor to you during our sessions? After that one is turned in?”

“That’s a great plan,” you answered, nodding with pursed lips. “Sounds safe.” Though, you paused. One more question. “And you’ll keep watch of it next time?”

“If that’s what you want from me, I’d love to be able to help you in that way,” she answered with a reassuring sureness in her tone. 

“I do want that,” you replied with a sheepish grin. “I’d appreciate it.”

“Of course, girly,” Gia smiled, lopsided and full of ease. “We’ll make sure to get you through this therapy the safest we possibly can. Gotta protect you and that baby.”

-🌼🌼🌼-

After filling her in on everything from your EMDR vision, she’d given you a few more pieces of therapeutic wisdom and advice. Little things to follow if the memories came back with a vengeance. 

But, you’d gone more than five minutes over your session’s time at that point, pushing her other appointment back. 

So, you didn’t get long before the two of you had to bustle out. You’d been about eight minutes past session end time when you officially exited the small room, the session having just ended. 

A long fucking session.

Your body was extremely weighed down by fatigue and exhaustion. So, when you finally connected with Jake, you sunk happily into his warm, safe embrace. 

It seemed walking directly into Jake’s arms was exactly what your body longed for after leaving Gia’s office. You’d had little to no choice in where your body had guided you.

He had already been standing, waiting for you. His amber-brown eyes, wide open and full of readiness to help you. He’d seemed anxious to see you. You could tell as much by the tapping of his foot, the way he’d been worrying his bottom lip with his teeth, the wrinkle of his brows. . .

So, of course, as soon as you approached, his arms had widened to welcome you in. 

Surprisingly, you hadn’t cried when you met his arms. . . Honestly, it was probably because you’d exhausted your tear ducts during your session. And all that you felt now was pure numbness. You didn’t know how to feel – just knew that you were tired and needed someone to be close to.

And Jake was the person you wanted most. 

Once safe in his embrace, you didn’t have the mental energy to even think about how it would look to Gia – but you knew she’d understand. 

You felt Gia come up behind you, even halfway heard her introducing herself to Jake. 

And even though you were out of it, you still heard Jake respond kindly, hearing the smile in his voice. When he moved his hand to shake hers, you didn’t turn around, just kept your face tucked into his shoulder, one of his arms still tightly hugging you to him. The pressure was really nice – it really calmed you down to feel so secure with him. 

It felt like the field of lavender, but this was really real – and that made it inexplicably better. 

Thankfully since you’d quickly scheduled the next session in Gia’s office, you didn’t have to wait much longer to head home. You didn’t want to leave his embrace, but you ended up turning out of Jake’s arms to tell Gia goodbye. 

When you reached forward to give her a hug, she whispered calmly in your ear. “You’re safe. Everything is okay in the here and now. I’m proud of you, y/n. You are already making great strides.”

After telling her a quiet ‘thank you’, you turned to Jake. 

“I’m ready when you are,” he assured you, lips turned up in an easy grin. His eyes were soft in a way that showed you he really was ready to be whatever you needed him to be. 

You didn’t need to be told again. You were ready for food and sleep. So, after the two of you waved to Gia over your shoulders,  Jake let you lead him out, opening the door for you from behind. 

-🌼🌼🌼-

When you snapped out of your daze and found a bit of energy, you decided to divulge to Jake just how high your heart rate had gotten during the session.

You had expected him to be a little worried on your behalf, but he’d gotten. . . really, really worried. You’d go so far as to call it a minor anxiety attack. 

His eyes had bugged, face had paled, and his breathing had gotten choppy. . . All signs of some serious anxiety on his end. 

His care for the situation was apparent, that much was for certain. He’d babbled in a rush of words – voiced a lot of concern on your behalf and the baby’s. . . Well, that was what you could catch in his raspy, frenzied tone. You’d missed a few things as he’d rushed the words out.

It was really sweet how much he cared. You had to work to keep the tiny grin off your face in response to his obviously sincere regard for your health (and the baby’s). You’d kept your quiet smile at bay the best you could and calmly reassured him that you were wearing a heart monitor for a reason – so the doctors could track those weird things and get down to the root of why your heart sucked ass at times. 

You’d explained that medical professionals had started dealing with it the night at the emergency room and would continue once your monitor got sent in within the next couple of weeks.

“I know today’s already been a lot, but do you have it in you to explain more about that night?” Jake asked, his breathing evening out as he rounded the curb, out of the office parking lot. “The night you went to the emergency room?”

“Yeah, totally,” you readily agreed, jumping at the opportunity to not think about the muddled images still flashing in your mind from your session. “Where do you want me to start?” You wondered aloud, peeking at him as you picked with a loose string on the seam of your leggings.

He cleared his throat in the way that indicated he was a little nervous. “What triggered it, exactly? Had you been okay at the bar that night? Was it because of something that had happened there?”

“It wasn’t really because of anything that happened at the bar, no,” you shook your head, looking down at the string you were pulling at, giving it a good yank to do away with it. “And I was kind of okay that night. . . Same as I’d been every other day around the time,” you laughed humorlessly, not missing those days at all. 

But, you couldn’t help reflecting on the events at the bar. . . since he'd brought it up. That night, just thinking of it still gave you butterflies. . . The way he’d feasted his eyes on you as your song played. . .

Stay focused, y/n.

“Um— during those earlier days, I’d had several days where I’d been really fuckin’ dizzy. . . could hardly eat most days, always nauseous and puking. . .,” you crinkled your nose at the thought, shivering at the memories. 

After getting over the thought of the constant vomiting, you stopped your train of thought to consider the fainting. All of the factors. You were not sure what to blame in particular. Though, you remembered Dr. Stevens’ opinion. 

“Honestly, more than one factor triggered it. . . but. . .,” you drew in a breath, pinching your eyes shut at the worst part of the night. “I actually blacked out and fucking fainted,” you cracked one eye open to look over at him to gauge his reaction.

“You blacked— you what?!” His voice rose a little bit at the idea, the car swerving the slightest bit when he glanced at you.

“Focus on the road!” You shook your head, eyes now opened wide at his swerve. However, you did find his reaction a bit funny. “I’m fine now, Jake,” you reassured, reaching over to give his arm one squeeze. 

But quickly, you placed your hand back in your lap to avoid any sort of awkwardness. 

You offered him a smile as your hand moved, looking up at him from your twitching thumbs, just as he glanced down at you. 

His eyebrows were still knit with worry when he faced the road again. “You’re sure?”

“Mostly,” you answered, thinking of the heart monitor’s job, peering down briefly to where it stayed on your chest. “They’re tracking my heart rate to make totally sure. And I’ve even kept an eye on my hemoglobin — which is doing much better, too. Not that you care about that part—.”

“I care about it all,” Jake interrupted, his tone insistent enough to make you pause and look over at him. 

Let him care, y/n. He wants to. . . Don’t tell him what he cares about and what he doesn’t. . .

From under your lashes, you studied him. You were glad he was now stopped at a light, giving you a little time to share a look with him. His eyes were full of warmth. . . The deep brown of his irises, capturing you. His eyes held yours so tenderly, desperate for you to understand he meant what he said.

And you did understand. You understood that he truly cared for you. . . and that his patience for you was incredible. You just felt completely undeserving of the amount of chances he’d given you after you’d hurt him so badly. 

The look in his eyes had you trapped, completely enamored by all of him. . . Your heart beat was pulsing in your ears, helping you to feel light as a feather under his stare. 

But, when a car honked to let you both know the light had turned green, it jolted you both, effectively tearing your focus from the other. He was driving again and you were back to looking through the windshield to continue your story. 

You cleared your throat to break up the air.

“We um— we checked all the boxes, you could say. The doctor was sure to put measures in place to keep an eye on all of the things that could have been a major issue to trigger that,” you spoke confidently, to give him affirmation that things were okay. “So, yes, I’m sure I’m fine now and I’m going to be fine in the future.”

Out of selfish desire, you let your line of sight float back to him. Yet again. It was just so easy to sit and admire his natural beauty. . .

Jake sucked in a breath, so deep from his chest. You could tell he was considering your words, one brow still arched in contemplation. 

“Okay,” he sighed his response, relief evident in his looser posture. He eased up his grip on the wheel, leaning back in the seat. You tried not to watch the way his jeans stretched over his lap. “So,” he started, “is there anything else you found out that night? A big, prevailing reason you quite literally blacked out?”

“The doctor I spoke to thinks it’s because of this underlying condition I most likely have — called POTS.”

“POTS?” He asked, his tone curious. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard of that.”

“It’s just a blood circulation disorder. I think I’ve had it nearly all my life. But it can be brought on by stress and cause things like fainting. . .,” you trailed off, glancing down at your belly. “Which I was obviously feeling a lot of with the baby. I mean, talk about massive life change,” you smirked, rubbing the bump that was more and more noticeable every day. 

“And I was the only one who knew this giant thing for a bit. . . then only Elsie knew. And, yeah, when Josh found out, I was feeling a little better. Felt lighter. . .,” you paused, your next words, being important to you. “But I still wanted to tell you most,” your lips lifted in spite of yourself. “But, we weren’t really talking because of all the shit that happened between u–.”

You stopped yourself at that, though. Shit. Today didn’t really seem like the time to get into all of that. It had already been such a long day. 

The car stayed silent for a few beats. 

Once Jake started speaking again, your eyes found his handsome profile.

“Yeah. . .,” Jake offered in response to that, his jaw clenching. His eyes were dead-set on the road. The expression on his face, hard. Yet. . .it wasn’t angry. Not angry at all, just thoughtful. 

He seemed to be contemplating it all.

He proved you right with his next words, bringing you back. “I need you to know—I’m really fucking sorry for not being so present—for not noticing more. I wish I would’ve been more aware and been there for you. . . Shit, I should have noticed you weren’t eating normally and were constantly sick,” he rubbed his forehead once, jaw tight again as he spoke on the subject. “I was still just stuck in my own head over stuff — really hurt. I still am, I think. But, I also, more importantly, had no way of knowing that you were carrying my kid, so. . .,” he trailed off, clearing his throat. “So I didn’t watch too hard for things out of the ordinary — my mind was in other places.” 

Other places, your mind repeated, mocking you. Like Maya. . . 

Your stomach was still churning at the depressing thought of him having ignored you and still being hurt (albeit, you’d deserved it), when his voice echoed back through your train of thought. 

“I did notice you weren’t home that night, though. . . After dropping Maya off at her place, I got home and you weren’t there. I. . .,” he sniffed, running a nervous hand through his hair as he looked both ways to make a turn. “I panicked, noticed your chapstick and house key were on the ground outside — it made no fuckin’ sense. I called Josh to ask him where you were — assumed he’d know. And, he did. But he told me the bare fucking minimum. I didn’t even know you were at the emergency room. He just told me not to worry and cut me off with an ‘I love you’ before hanging up on me,” Jake rolled his eyes at the memory, fists gripping the steering wheel a bit tighter. “Now I know it’s because you obviously really needed him. . . But at that point, I was so pissed. Obviously, you were in some sort of bind and there was nothing I could do to help since we were. . .,” he let his train of thought fade into nothing. Your mind was a frenzy of everything he was telling you, but you tuned back in when he began speaking again. “And then your heart monitor came in the mail. . . I didn’t even think about how they could be connected. I just knew the very little Josh had told me from that night and then I saw a damn heart monitor show up. . . I was just super fucking confused and terrified for you. . . I was trying my best to connect all of the dots.”

“Well. . .,” you started, not sure if you should say what you were thinking. But still, you did. “It wasn’t really any of your business at that point. I didn’t want to make you— it was just a lot to process for me and we. . .,” you trailed off, at a loss. Still so tired from the session. “I don’t know. . . I had reasons.”

“I know, y/n,” he responded, voice tight with masked emotion. 

You didn’t know what to say after that. Your eyes were trained on what was outside the passenger side window.

The air in the car was dense, slightly awkward on your end. 

It was strange how weird things could feel after a damn conversation when, just a week ago in this very car, you’d had him in your mouth. 

It was slightly embarrassing that a hard conversation topic was what it took to make both of you freeze up. But, somehow, you could still find the wherewithal to have your mouth on his. . . Mhm.

That was what you got for making sex such a giant thing before. . . now you’d made that easy and everything else fucking taboo. 

But the sex had just been too good to not make it something you did all the damn time. . . 

God, you missed sex with him. . . Him, inside of you, his hips going at a perfect pace. . .

Thanks to your motherfucking hormones, you were back in the living room floor with him. . . So often, you went back to that one rainy morning with Aretha Franklin on the turntable. . .

The look on his face when you fucked him, one of your favorite sights. That morning, just like always, he’d watched you so closely. . . Your face, your breasts, your ass, or your pussy that was wrapped around him, so tight. 

As he fucked you so slow and purposeful, a hand raising your leg to get a better angle, he hit a secret spot inside of you. Your toes had curled as you whined his name.

And just as his name fell from your lips, he’d scrunched his brows, and let his mouth fall open with certain movements of his hips. His jaw, clenched, when you’d flex around him or biting his lip when you’d let out a shaky breath. . . 

“Y/n?”

“Yes?” You shook your head of the fucking delicious scene in your memories. 

Now was not the time. 

To show respect, you did your best to wipe the picture and put your full attention on him. You glanced at him. He looked so beautiful under the natural light of the early evening and the streetlights. And his hair looked so healthy and long. . .

“I’m not upset or anything that you kept any of it from me,” he ventured to explain, your mind coming back to the topic at hand. “I need you to know that.”

“You’ve kind of already told me all of this before,” you started with a smile, eyeing the radio for a bit. 

Music. You needed music. 

You began to mess with the buttons, turned down the volume, and hooked your phone up to the aux. “I know you, Jake,” you continued with a sigh, scrolling your playlists, finding a song you were suddenly craving to hear. “I know you well enough to know you aren’t upset with me for keeping it all from you for a bit. You have a good heart.”

“You give me too much credit,” he humorously laughed. “I’m not always so sure about how good I am these days — kind of always doubted that about myself and right now is no different.”

At his words and sound of disbelief, you looked over at him with a wrinkle in your brow. His own eyebrows were set with an odd, unreadable emotion. You hadn’t clicked the song to play yet. This was too important to not address.

“Jacob,” you said sternly. His eyes stayed glued to the busier street. “I don’t give you ‘too much credit’.  I just see you and know you well – anyone who truly matters sees you for who you truly are. I, like all of them, love y— appreciate everything you are.” 

Shit. What was that that almost slipped from your lips?! Nothing. It was nothing. Ignore, ignore, ignore. . . 

You were just hormonal and emotional. 

You continued with intent to make your point known, doing your best to forget the slip-up. “I’ve made my fair share of mistakes – we all have. Don’t be so hard on yourself. I’m not about to hold anything against you right now.”

Cracking a smile, you decided you wanted to throw in a bit of a joke. “I mean, I would have to hold it against you if you killed someone or some shit,” you giggled, his own raspy laugh joining you. 

But fuck, you couldn’t ignore that one emotion you were feeling. . .

It wasn’t love. It couldn’t be. You didn’t know why the fuck you’d said that word of all words.

But this feeling. . . It was intense like love could be. It had your heart in your throat and your tummy tied in nervous knots. . . 

You’d felt a need to say the words. A need for him to know how much you. . . how much you. . . How much you what, exactly?!

This was going to drive you fucking nuts. 

So, to break the nonstop, crazy wave of thought, you played the song you felt like playing at the moment. 

The song was “In the Moment” by Snoh Aalegra, one of your favorite R&B goddesses. 

And, of course, the lyrics matched your heart. Perfectly. Oddly. Precisely. Music was your favorite language.

Do you mind if I try to come apologize to you?

'Cause I said some things that I realized wasn't true

You couldn’t stop your movements when your head slowly turned to look in his direction. His sunglasses were off due to the darker sky, so you could see every blink of his pretty eyes, long lashes touching the dark circles under his eyes with each blink. He watched the road carefully, maneuvered around cars with an ease that had you hoping he’d be around to drive you to the hospital on a certain day in May. . . 

Your heart swelled in your chest at his attention to the road. This particularly protective nature of his, as the driver, was new. . .

And I'm sorry for it 

I'm emotional 

This is your fault 

Please listen when I say 

I care about you

You tried to look away from him. Really, you did. It just couldn’t be helped. The way these lyrics kept pulling something from deep within your soul as you watched him drive. . .

But you still couldn’t figure out what was getting pulled in you, exactly. It felt weird, but only in a fulfilling way. . . Your heart ached, your head clouded with all things surrounding him. 

And then, just as he stopped at a red light, his eyes met yours. 

You had been caught red handed in your stare, but it didn’t seem to matter. Not to you, not to him. He smiled at you, the same, warm smile you knew all too well to be uniquely his. (And hopefully your baby’s.) 

The lyrics and melody of the song were adding to your already emotionally-tangled state. You just wanted to be with him always—hold him tight so he couldn’t leave. Never wanted him to leave.

Out of pure instinct, your hands found rest on your tummy, tucking underneath the bump. His smile only grew, stretching wide on his lips as his eyes followed the movement. Your heart did a little flip in your chest. 

This moment. . .

His foot let off the brake when the light turned green, pulling his eyes away from yours. The music coasting through the speakers said all the things you so desperately wanted to say. Though, Snoh sang them far more beautifully than you could ever say them yourself.

I was in the moment

I ain't really mean what I said to you

So put away your pride, baby

We can work it out if you want this, too

You hoped on every star in the winter sky that Jake was listening to the words, somehow feeling them as deeply as you were.

But if I could stay, I’d stay with you. . .

Your phone ringing snapped you out of your reverie and when you looked down to see who it was, you were not expecting the contact you saw. 

The OB office. 

Your heart started speeding up in your chest again, breath catching and nerves wracking your system at the most inopportune time. As you turned down the song to talk to the person on the other end, you contemplated why they were calling. . .

The appointment had already been rescheduled. . . So what else could be needed? Was something wrong?

You felt Jake’s palm splay across your thigh, fingers giving light, pulsing grips to the muscle through the fabric of your leggings. Skin heating at his touch, you looked up and over at him. 

“Who?” He whispered, quietly as he could. 

“OBGYN,” you mouthed back, clicking the green button to answer at the same time that he raised a brow in confusion.

“Hello?” You spoke into the phone, trying to keep your voice even-toned for whoever called you.

“Miss y/n?” Dr. Rose responded. Her Southern accent, friendly, on the other end, sounding happy as a lark. 

Hearing her sound okay helped your nerves ease up – weren’t quite as frayed as they had been to begin with. Jake’s hand was still on your leg, offering reassurance. But while his touch did comfort you, it also made your heart rate speed up and head swim for another reason entirely. 

Thankfully, considering the baby, your heart was slowing down. . . If Dr. Rose sounded fine, then surely things were fine, right? 

“Hi, Dr. Rose,” you said, voice perking up just the slightest bit. Looking out the windshield, you focused on the pretty colors in the sky. All light pinks, oranges, and the prettiest periwinkle thanks to the winter evening’s premature setting sun. “Is everything alright?”

“Oh, more than, Sweet Cakes! Just checkin’ in to see that Friday still works for ya,” she explained, her drawl not quite as thick the more she spoke. But it was still there and it made you feel warm inside for some reason. 

Admittedly, you knew it was partially due to the fact that she seemed to only be calling to confirm your appointment. According to Dr. Rose, everything was ‘more than’ alright. . . you released a breath you didn’t realize you were holding. 

“Yeah. It works for me,” you sighed, running a nervous hand through your hair, knee still bouncing with the unexpectedness of the phone call. “Let me check with Jake real quick. I’m with him right now,” you held your hand over the speaker, looking over to your handsome driver. He’d just made it onto a highway, but momentarily glanced down at you. You hushed your next question, not wanting to disturb Dr. Rose. “Does Friday still work for you? For the week 17 appointment?”

Jake’s face opened up at the question, his eyes brightening with a smile that lifted the corner of his mouth. “Of course,” he quietly responded. “I have the whole day blocked off just for that.”

Your stomach did somersaults at him being so excited for the appointment, but you still dipped your eyebrows in at him. “You didn’t have to do that,” you whispered back. “Take the whole day for it.”

Jake shook his head, and with a dimple in his cheek, he just looked back at the road. Didn’t even acknowledge what you said any further. 

You closed your eyes, a small smile on your lips at his desire to be fully available – it gave you butterflies. Back to the phone call at hand, you faced the windshield again to continue the call with your OB. “Dr. Rose?” 

“Yes ma’am,” she excitedly greeted back.

“It still works for us,” you said, the smile not fading from your lips. Us. You really, really loved the sound of that word coming off your tongue. “Are you sure you’re still okay doing the appointment before week 18? I know how you feel about all of that. . .”

You didn’t know why you were asking – shouldn’t have even said anything. The idea of putting it off any longer was not what you wanted, and you didn’t want to make Dr. Rose think you’d be okay with that. But, it was too late now. You’d already asked. 

“Oh, yes, babygirl. I’m the one that made ya wait past week 16! I felt bad, but I didn’t want ya to have any lull period,” she boomed on the other end, sounding so genuinely kind-hearted. It made your heart feel so full. “Completely fine with me – why I offered it to ya! I gotta admit, I’m a little excited to be findin’ out the gender a week earlier than normal. Ya know I never do that for my girls, but you’ve just seemed very special to me since the day you walked in. You’re a good seed in a bag ‘a bad ones, sweetie pie. So, I just had to make an exception.”

“Thank you so much, Dr. Rose,” you gushed, a tear coming to the corner of your eye at her sentiment.

“I knew it would drive ya nuts havin’ to wait.”

“It would have,” you giggled, agreeing with a sniff to attempt to rid yourself of the tear. 

She laughed heartily on the other end. “You have a beautifully passionate heart, little miss y/n,” she remarked. “You’re goin’ to be a wonderful mama for it.” 

Aaand, there was no stopping the tear as it turned into a couple more, drifting down your cheek. 

Jake must have looked over at the perfect time, because as soon as the tears fell, he was squeezing your thigh once more. His hand had never left your body. 

But, you really needed him to stop holding you and caring because you were going to pounce on him. No questions asked. . .especially with the fluffy headspace you were in. 

Emotional over a phone call or not, your body reacted to him in ways you couldn’t stop.

“How’s your heart?” Dr. Rose was in your ear again, bringing you back. She was in no rush whatsoever. You were shocked that she seemed to want to keep the conversation going. Even after the first question, she continued with another. “I know ya filled me in on it a little bit last week on the phone, but any more updates?”

“Doing alright, I think,” you responded, sniffling at her eagerness to stay updated on your wellbeing. Was she just being a good doctor? Probably. But, still. It meant a lot to you. “I will send my monitor in on the 17th. I’m so ready to be done with it,” you replied with a huff of a laugh, looking down to mess with a loose string on your oversized jacket. “And I think everything else has gotten much better since that ER visit, too. Just keeping an eye on things,” you finished, happy to explain everything to her. 

This phone call was officially a highlight to your day now that you knew there was no reason to stress over it. Dr. Rose just made you feel good. You really enjoyed talking to the older Southern woman. Her heart shone through her personality. And, whether she made these efforts for all patients or not (you were sure she did), it just meant the world to you that she seemed to be so thoughtful. 

She seemed to take very seriously that it was a vulnerable time in any woman’s life. Dr. Rose just seemed to do very well at her job. You were grateful for her.

“When Mount Sinai sent over that information all those weeks ago, I gotta be honest, it stressed me for ya for a bit,” she said, voice suddenly thick with a sort of concerned emotion. Not worried anymore, you could tell that much. But, it was obvious she had been troubled by it when it initially happened, from the way she sounded now. 

“Although, when I read all of their tests on my end, I knew you’d be okay. Just a bump in the road, sweetie – it happens. You will be just fine!” She reassured you in her twang, the words made your head clear in a way you’d needed since the night at the hospital. “And, that sweet baby was doing so great still, in spite of it all. You’ve got a strong one, mama.”

Yeah, there was no stopping the onslaught of tears at those words. Your baby was strong. You were so proud. 

“Yeah?” You sniffed. “You think so?”

“I know so. That little one was movin’ and groovin’ already that first day. . . that sure doesn’t happen with every baby! He or she is very special – just like their mama,” she emphasized, sniffling on her own end of the phone. “Well. . . . as long as this Friday still works for you, I think I can let ya go, honey bun.”

“Yes, it does,” you confirmed once more, pulling the sleeve of your jacket over your hand and patting your cheeks with it. “Thank you again.”

“No need to thank me, Sweet Cakes.” You could hear her smile through the phone, imagined her lips covered in the prettiest bright red matte lipstick. “You have a good nigh– oh! Before ya go. . . .”

“Yes?” you questioned curiously, eyebrow raising with a little grin on your lips. 

“You mentioned a Jake earlier. Does this Jake happen to be the baby’s daddy?”

You blushed, looking over at him. He glanced over at you at the same time, an eyebrow raising when you caught his eye. Your cheeks heated even more when you looked into his eyes. Your baby’s daddy. 

“He is the baby’s daddy, yeah,” you explained, continuing to watch him as you said the words. He had to keep his eye on the road, but you saw how his lips stretched, the smile showing his pride at the title.

“And he will be comin’?”

“He will be there,” you affirmed, your heart racing in your chest at the idea of him being there with you. It had you equal parts jittery and utterly overjoyed to have him be present at the appointments.

“Wonderful. Sounds like a good daddy already,” she gushed from her end of the phone. 

And when he came to the next light, much nearer to the complex, you watched him and waited until he looked over at you. When his eyes found yours, glowing amber-brown in the nearly-set sun, your heart squeezed inexplicably in your chest. 

“He is a really good daddy,” you answered, tears threatening to clog your throat. 

After you said the words, you watched his eyes become wet with an unnamed emotion. A wide, slightly shaky grin on his pretty lips. With the addition of a pink blush in his cheeks, you wanted to be able to read the exact way he was feeling. 

But. . . at the current moment he suddenly seemed impossible to read. There was something behind his eyes that seemed so familiar and so hazy all at once. . .

Or maybe you were just really, really tired.

-🌼🌼🌼-

“I don’t have to go to this tonight,” Jake offered, pulling into the complex. 

You raised a brow, looking at him. As much as you wanted him to stay with you after today’s session, you knew that sleep was the first priority. He’d end up sitting around most of the night anyway.

If things were different, you would ask him to lay down with you. You’d keep him close. But. . . That wasn’t how things were for the two of you. 

You needed a nap and he needed to be with his girlfriend. As much as it sucked, she took priority over you. He wasn’t yours.

You already felt selfish enough for taking his entire early evening away from him. You didn’t want to steal any more of his night. 

“No, Jake,” you giggled, trying your best to play off the want to have him near. “I’m good. You’ve done everything you can for me tonight. Don’t need you for anything else — you’re free.”

It was silent for a little bit as Jake found his parking space. You were too tired to keep any sort of conversation going, preparing to doze against the window as he went to back into his space. 

Though, when he placed his hand on the headrest behind you to back in, you couldn’t help but turn to glance up at him. 

The way he held his bottom lip between his teeth as he focused on situating the Jeep into the parking space, just right. . . You felt guarded and protected by the placement of his arm above you. It made your tummy flip. 

And the mustache that kept making a reappearance on his pretty face, accentuating his plush lips perfectly. . . 

You licked your lips as you watched him, your eyes lazy as you let your stare wander down his body . . . 

But before you could get too far, Jake’s deep, raspy tone broke through to you.

“Hey.” 

Fuck. Your tiredness was quickly becoming enemy number one, exposing you.

Quickly, you flicked your eyes up to him, swallowing thickly, awaiting him with vulnerability clear on your features. 

For some reason, you expected to see him grinning at you being caught. But his features were unwaveringly straight, studying your face with his eyebrows drawn in concentration.

“Are you sure?” He asked, his eyes soon finding yours to pierce through. Damn, you felt naked under his stare. No two ways about it. 

Your eyes sunk into his, wishing you were naked—.

“You’ve had a long day and I want to be available—.”

“I’m sure,” you cut him off, needing to get out of the car before you made a stupid move. You just needed rest; your tiredness was making you weak. 

“Please. Go have fun,” you encouraged further, looking down to observe your nails, desperate to be repainted. Shaking your head, you continued to solidify your point. “You’ve done enough for me. You have a girlfriend who’s expecting you to be with her tonight.”

And if you stay here tonight, there’s no telling what I’ll try to do with you. . . 

“‘Kay,” he responded. At his short tone, your eyes floated up to check on him. You watched as he quickly grabbed his keys out of the ignition, refusing to look at you until the last second. “I’ve gotta get going pretty soon then.”

“Yeah,” you breathed with a shake of your head, unsure of what else to say. And before he could get your door for you, you were doing it yourself — didn’t want to get in his way. 

Whatever this conversation had become, it was far too much for your brain to wrap around at this moment. 

You needed fucking sleep.

-🌼🌼🌼-

After you’d filled your Stanley and sat it on your bedside table, your next mission was to change into looser, cozier clothes. You stripped your pants and bra, and found a giant t-shirt. And your softest fuzzy socks had been a last minute must have before finding your bed. 

Finally.

Almost as soon as you landed on your bed, your eyes were fluttering closed. The softness of your sheets and duvet, the cleanliness and the comfort of your bed was too incredible for you to resist sleep for long. 

At the same time, Jake was getting ready for his time with Maya, and had apparently decided to shower. When the steady stream of water sounded through the wall, you relaxed even further. You focused on the soothing sound of the shower running and imagined how near he was to you. 

He hadn’t left you yet.

Admittedly, putting your mind on Jake going about his business made you feel quite at home. 

And that thought had been the seemingly final step to finding rest, sleep finding you quite easily with easy thoughts of your handsome roommate. 

-🌼🌼🌼-

But, to your disdain, the nap didn’t last as long as you’d hoped. 

After only a couple of hours, you’d woken up and couldn’t go back to sleep to get any more rest. You tried to fall asleep again. It was all you’d wanted after your emotionally exhausting day. 

The longer you laid in your bed and tried to find more sleep, you realized it was just not going to happen. The small apartment felt too big and empty and your mind raced with the scene you’d witnessed during EMDR. 

To your demise, the little wooden box had somehow cracked open a little while you slept. You figured it was because you’d dreamt of what you’d seen in therapy. Your subconscious was working without your complete consent. 

That man with the thick fingers and clenched fists. . . He’d come floating out of the box first as you laid underneath your fluffy, white, clean bed covers. . . 

Mr. Morgan. . . Who was he? You could not place his role in it all yet. . . While you were able to remember him and his living room now, that was about where it stopped. 

The smell of him had stuck with you most since the memory. The potentness of his body odor in your subconscious had been a severe trigger – a trigger to things you weren’t capable of remembering yet. 

But, you knew that whenever those things did get conjured up again, you wouldn’t be ready. You just knew. The feeling alone that came associated with him and seeing him again. . . made you feel grimy – made your skin crawl like bugs were living underneath your flesh. 

Then there was your mother. You hadn’t been able to recall the distinct features of her face for years. Your grandparents didn’t have pictures of her up in their home – only ones of you and Elsie through the years. It was like she hadn’t ever existed. 

But today? Today she was back. Full force. You felt her. You smelled her. You saw every. single. feature. 

The stringiness of your mom’s hair when she’d been with the man in the recollected vision. . . 

You couldn’t help but compare the hair in the vision to the fullness of it in small memories you cherished. . . There was a certain Christmas memory you kept close, her sweater had been brand new. Her hair, naturally brown and billowing out beautifully behind her. You had a few of those moments in time. A few decent memories you’d never let go completely away. No matter how much time passed or how foggy they became, you held onto them.

What struck you as disheartening was the way the woman transitioned from one version of herself to another in the fragments of time you could grasp. You remembered, it was rare to consistently witness the same mom growing up. You’d been forced at a young age to confront the fact that you never truly knew the woman that gave birth to you.

She’d been very dirty more times than not, you could remember that much now. From what you were beginning to recall, she rarely smelled good. Showers hadn’t seemed to be her forte from the grease that had been constantly caked in her hair if she wasn’t with your grandparents. Her skin had even been oily from her lack of showers, just as greasy as her hair. 

The houses she had you living in, too. . . you could vaguely picture a few of those (besides Mr. Morgan’s). The one you were in within your recollected memory today had been so filthy. The grossness of the environment was coming to you in small bits. There’d been times you’d seen families of cockroaches climb into the pantry. . . Or when an occasional rat would scurry across the stained carpet, right past your feet. . . 

You shivered in your bed at the thought, toes wiggling against your soft socks and covers. The loose sheet and duvet came closer to your chin as you tried to completely envelop yourself in your current reality. Things were safe.

It was just a-fucking-lot to process alone. And the last thing you wanted to do was burden anyone else with it. So, even if Jake had stayed with you rather than Maya after therapy, you knew you’d still be swirling in circles in your mind. 

You were just glad you only had to wait a week for therapy to continue digging through this with the help of your therapist. 

The images of the man and your mother kept flip-flopping in your mind, not leaving you alone — each taking turns in mocking your peace. It was enough that you felt your breath become choppy and your heart begin to race in your chest. Your clammy hands were clenching and unclenching over and over again, trying to find some sort of relief and distraction from the thoughts. The smells were coming back to you, vivid as they’d been during your therapy today. . . 

And the moment you began to hear that distant, haunting chuckle from your past, embedded in the new flashes of memory, you shut your eyes. You squeezed your lids together so tightly. Your fists came to cover your eyes, pushing down on them just a little to see stars alongside the black. 

Yet, the sound continued to get closer and closer to you. Desperately, you thought back on Gia’s advice should this happen. 

One of the small pieces of advice she’d given you, when the session’s time was five-minutes passed.  

“Now, if these things come back or more memories come to you and you would rather not think of them in the moment they do: take a break,” Gia had advised, going to hold your hands in hers between the two of you. “Take a break, wherever you are, and go to your safe place.”

She’d given you a couple of other things to try, but she’d stayed insistent that you try the safe place first. Every time. Get used to the place, make it a habit to run to it in these times. 

So, you tried your damnedest to shut the thoughts out like you would on her soft, camel leather couch. Your eyes closed as you tried, working to focus on the idea of traveling to a field of lavender and Jake. 

Though before you could get any further, your eyes snapped open, knowing you had one more step before you went there. 

You tried to even your breathing, unclenching your fists. Once you’d relaxed enough to loosen your hands, you searched for some meditation music on Spotify. 

And once you’d found a dreamy playlist, you laid back to feel it. Your goal: feel it enough to let go. 

This time when you closed your eyes, you did it with less force and breathed in and out, in and out. Once again, everything was black. . . but just for the first minute or so. 

It didn’t take long for you to hear the birds chirping and to feel the solid chest breathing beneath you. He breathed deeply – in and out, in and out, just as you did.

Almost as soon as you felt your body settle into him and the soft ground of the earth, you heard him speak, too. It was like you were hearing him through a rush of warm wind, a breeze drifting across your face. “You’re doing great, baby,” he soothed you in his velvety tone, running a sure hand through your hair, fingers tracing your scalp. You shivered, enjoying the wonderful feeling it gave you, all the way to the tips of your toes. “You’re okay. You’re okay.”

Further, you pushed into him, wanting to be as close to him as you could be. You wrapped your arms around him the best you could while laying down, needing to feel his body tightly against your own. When you did this, he wrapped his arms around your waist, bringing you into him. Your round belly, pressed between the two of you, made your heart settle into a soothing thrum in your chest. 

No other words were said as you laid there, the sky blue when you finally opened your eyes to the new place. The field of lavender, so lucious and smelling heavenly around you. The purple flower surrounding you smelled clean, peaceful, and a lot like. . . love. It was a strange idea that a flower would smell like love, but you’d come to associate it with someone who–.

Knock, knock, knock, knock. 

Your eyes opened at a moment’s notice when you heard a knock on the front door. Somehow, the sound against the door managed to break you from your hypnotic-like reverie. The knocks weren’t small or soft thuds by any means, but it was odd that you’d heard them all the way through to your sacred place. All the way through your bedroom door. . . 

Though, thankfully, after having a bit of time to visit the safest place your mind could conjure up, you were on the path to feeling fine again. So after laying in bed for a few more seconds, you got up and padded to the door in your fluffy socks.

Before you opened the door, you peeked through the peephole. 

When you did, your eyebrows wrinkled in confusion. Your breathing evened out significantly for the first time since waking from your nap. And without any hesitancy, you unlatched the chain and unlocked the knob and deadbolt. 

As soon as you opened the door, you were greeted by Jake, a very apologetic smile on his face. One of his hands covered his eyes in feigned embarrassment, making a slit in his fingers to look at you through them. His other hand was tucked in the front pocket of his black slacks. 

He’d changed clothes after dropping you off. 

Duh, he’d showered, y/n. He wouldn’t be wearing the same dirty clothes afterwards . . . 

He was now dressed very nicely, his hair looking so healthy and full. A few strands were still damp here and there, from the shower you’d heard him start as you’d fallen asleep for your nap.

And goddamn. He smelled so fucking delicious – you could’ve melted into him. 

Rather than focusing on the way the hints of sandalwood and vanilla in his cologne made you feel airy, you asked the question you couldn’t help but wonder. “Where is your key?” 

A hint of a laugh was present in your tone as you crossed your arms over your boobs – which you noticed were slightly less sore than normal. 

Pleasant surprise. 

Oh, fuck. Your boobs. No bra. Only wearing a giant t-shirt and fuzzy socks. The thong you were wearing was a poor excuse at covering your ass. 

Glancing down briefly, you were reassured by the length. It was long enough to fully cover your backside, went down your thighs a bit. . . but you still felt very bare. 

When you looked up, you found that Jake had noticed your lack of clothing at the same time as you. His stare burned through your t-shirt, all the way down to your blushing skin. Your chest was heaving of its own accord, nipples hardening at the attention from him. . . 

His gaze soon dropped down to your lips, his own parting as his tongue went to wet his mouth.

No. You had to be the responsible one here. You could do it. 

So, you forced a subtle short cough, toes wiggling in your fuzzy socks. And, thankfully, it brought him back to the current situation. 

His wide, brown eyes snapped to yours, staying there momentarily. It made your cheeks pink — the way he was unashamedly sharing this moment with you. He didn’t seem embarrassed at all as he bit his lip with a grin stretched over his lips. 

Fuck.

“Your key?” You tried again with a squeak. Rolling your eyes, your short cough was real this time as you had to clear your throat. Ridiculous.

Not saying anything, he responded like nothing had occurred before. He motioned with his head towards the kitchen bar behind you. Your head turned to follow his eyes. And, you found his keys, still laying on the counter, not having been touched since before he left. 

“Did Maya pick you up?” You asked him, arching a brow at the keys. 

“Yes.”

“How’d you get back?” Okay, y/n, now’s not the time for twenty questions. 

“Uber,” he simply answered, a little hiccup following the word.

“Well. . . did you come back for them to drive yourself?” You asked, turning back around to face him, hoping he wouldn’t say ‘yes’. You selfishly wanted him to stay. 

For the first time since you’d woken up, your body felt light. . . . And, you’d noticed it had happened the exact moment you saw him outside your door. 

Shaking his head, he finally looked at you head-on, and you could see his eyes were the slightest bit unfocused. 

Oh. . . A smirk rested on your lips as you crossed your arms once more.

He had a goofy, carefree smile on his lips. And then you smelled it — the slightest tinge of alcohol on him as he swayed a bit towards you. 

Raising a brow, your lips continued to match his grin. Giggling, you pondered aloud, “Did you have a drink or two, babe?” 

You didn’t say that last word. Nope. 

“Maaaaybe,” he said, shrugging with both hands in his pockets now, the silly smile still plastered to his lips. “It was a party, after all,” he tagged on to the end, a bit of a British lilt falling over his words. 

A party. Hm. For some reason, you hadn’t even thought of that as a possibility. Why did the fact that it’d been a party make your stomach turn a little bit? 

“A party?” You inquired, tucking your arms a little closer against your chest. And there was the tenderness again. 

“Maya’s baby sister— eight years younger than Maya,” he over-explained, tripping over himself a little as he made his way through the door without any warning. “Turned twenty one today.”

Oh, that explains the excessive drinking, you gathered mentally. 

But, as you stood there connecting the dots, you didn’t focus enough on the fact that he was falling into you through the door frame. Thankfully, you put your arms out in time to stop him from bumping into you to the point of knocking you over. But when you put your arms out to stop his fall, he got the wrong idea and put his arms out as well, crashing into you a bit as he wrapped them around you in a secure embrace. 

It took a bit for you to register what was happening as you stood in shock at the gentle gesture amidst his drunkenness. And while you were registering it all, he must’ve gotten the idea that you didn’t want him so close to you. So, very slowly, he pulled away. 

Rather awkwardly, you just stood there, arms still held out in shock from the sudden hug. 

Why were you surprised at all? He’d been like this recently – just today at counseling, he’d been extremely attentive, holding you when you’d needed him. . . 

Was this time different? Was it because now he was doing it for virtually no reason at all? You weren’t in need of his help or his comfort (that he knew of) at the moment. And, he still wanted to hug you – that was what caught you completely off guard. 

He’s drunk, y/n, a voice reminded you. Don’t overthink it. It’s just because he’s inebriated. 

And while you stood in the doorway, he continued to traipse past you, body lopsided and shaky. He was being very careful to not bump into you again, turning his body in odd ways. 

When you turned to observe him, as he made it past you, you noticed that in the process of trying to steer clear of you, he was losing his balance – quite quickly. 

So, you did the only thing you could think to do and followed behind him to help however you could. 

He wouldn’t remember it anyway.

When he started putting too much weight on one foot and started tilting a bit too far to the side, you acted on instinct. 

You wrapped your arms around his midsection. 

It proved to be a bit of a feat to keep him upright and on his feet, but you tried your hardest. The man was wonderfully built. . . but solid as a rock.

Has he been working out? You couldn’t help but wonder this as your arms pressed a bit more into his strong abdomen.

You realized that thought process could become a distraction to the task at hand in no time, so you put it to the back of your mind. Instead, you just put all of your concentration into helping him stay on the track he desired. . . . Which happened to be his bedroom. 

While trying to keep him stable, you felt your belly press further into his back. The baby felt safer there, between the two of you. It felt right to be so close. . .

But, again, you focused on the important goal of getting Jake in bed. You just kept him pressed to you the best you could with a baby in the way. Matching his footing from behind, you walked in even step with him. 

Once you were officially at his door, you reached around him to open his door for him. When your hand met the knob and twisted it, he reached forward, placing his hand over yours to open it with you. The gentle action made your skin flame. 

Though, it didn’t last long. You didn’t pause, instead continuing into the room. And the moment you walked into the room, he tapped your arm, presumably to let you know he was okay on his own. So, you tentatively let go. 

Your arms suddenly felt empty, but you didn’t want to overstay your welcome. 

He seemed to be a little better now, sitting down on his bed. He did it with more effort than normally necessary, but he still seemed more capable than he’d been a few minutes ago. 

So, without a word, you went to head out of his room. Right before you could walk out the door, though, you heard him from behind you. 

“Where you going?” He asked sadly, sounding more like a neglected child than a grown man. 

Turning around with a brow raised, you asked the question with your eyes before saying it aloud. “Why? You’re good now, right?”

His eyes zoned out momentarily on your face. You just blamed it on the alcohol, feeling woozy. When he came back to Earth, his eyes met yours. His eyes suddenly seemed much clearer than before. All of the air in your lungs evaporated at the look he was giving you. Desperation was the most fitting word for it. 

“I’m not good without you,” he offered, his eyes darting to his feet almost directly after saying the words. He leaned down to sloppily take off his boots, but still neatly placed them next to his bed after taking them off. 

It was honestly pretty funny to watch. You would’ve been more amused if your mind wasn’t still reeling a bit from his words. You zoned out on his guitar, placed neatly on its stand.

He. is. drunk, y/n, your internal heckler reminded you. Stop overthinking.

But. . . drunk words are honest –.

“Can you help?” Jake asked, sounding desperate while trying to achieve a task.

You looked over at him, finding him standing now and struggling to take off a necklace. Without argument, you left where you’d been standing, dejected and confused, by the doorway, to help him. 

When you made it over to him, you tapped his hands where they struggled with the latch at the nape of his neck. 

“Let me,” you insisted, replacing his hands with yours when he moved them. 

Once the necklace was taken off, you made your way around him to place the jewelry on his bedside table, whose lamp bathed the room in golden light. 

You glanced down at the necklace, running a finger down the face of the medallion. Medusa. That was who was etched into the gold metal. 

“You into Greek mythology right now?” You questioned, peeking over your shoulder at him.

When you did, the sight that beheld you took you by total surprise. Shirtless. Shirt gone. No shirt. Jake, halfway naked. 

“Oh,” you uttered the word in a moan more than anything else. You even felt your jaw drop the slightest bit. You didn’t really think anything of it. You didn’t really care to control your reactions. He wouldn’t remember any of this. You just kept telling yourself that.

And with the way the heat flooded from your head all the way to your chest, blossoming to the pit of your tummy – you didn’t think you could control your reactions. Then, when he absentmindedly adjusted himself in his pants. . . Yep. 

You bit your lip, tucking hair behind your ear. Suddenly, you felt completely out of control of your body. . . Your hormones were calling the shots – they (and Jake) were making you feel unsteady in the best possible way. 

The only downside was: there wasn’t anything you could do about it. Morals stood in the way of your bodies colliding and fucking it out. 

You understood that the Jeep incident had happened. Of-fucking-course — there was no forgetting that shit. But a big part of you also thought it would be best to leave the other night in the Jeep in the past.

It wasn’t fair to anyone involved. Right? 

So. . . You just focused on the present moment. No sex. Just Jake in front of you. Tried to ignore the surge of want for him at seeing half of him bare. 

But goddamn — what a beautifully welcome sight. . . 

His body had changed in the handsomest of ways. His thighs, as you’d noticed recently, were thicker than before. And he was. . . just broader than before. It started at the width of his shoulders, and worked down his abdomen to fill out with toned, tight muscle — his new addition of muscle was thick beneath the surface. There was just more of him altogether. The perfect amount of body for you to touch, kiss, lick. . . . . goddammit.

He still wasn’t looking at you, instead making his way to the laundry hamper across the room. You observed the way the muscle in his back flexed as he walked. The expanse of skin under his shoulder blades — his back was thick with new strength. . .What in the sweet hell? 

When he carefully swiveled on his heel to make his way back to you, after tossing the shirt in the basket, you still didn’t take your eyes from him. Just admired the sight and the fact that watching him could be your own little secret. . . 

A secret not even for Jake to know.

Though, as if on cue, his line of sight connected with yours. And when it did – damn. Your heart hammered hard in your chest. Your breath was trapped in your throat, all of it stolen from you. 

His chocolate eyes, although hazy from alcohol, were so fucking dark. Dark in the same way they’d been in his Jeep last week. 

He looked the same as he had right before you’d bent over his lap. The same way he’d eyed you as you’d been on top of him – licking him, sucking him, touching him. . . 

So, instead of holding his eyes, you decided you had to look away before you made matters any worse than they were at the present moment. 

Awkwardly, you started your next sentence without taking time to think about it. “You good now, Ja–?”

“What was your question?” 

When he interrupted you, you wanted to look back at him. But you didn’t. Not with the way his voice was suddenly much fuller – deeper, raspier. . . 

Coughing to mask any sort of embarrassing action, you tried your best to think back to what you’d asked. You couldn’t even remember. . . oh. Medusa. Pointless question. Didn’t matter.

“It was noth–.”

“I don’t care. Still wanna know.”

“Jake, it seriously doesn’t matt–.”

“Look at me, y/n,” he demanded, daring to be argued with. “Quit acting like we’re strangers.”

God. Your teeth found your lip, biting harder with a deep inhale. You let the plumpness of your bottom lip fall from your teeth with a tight exhale. Your tongue pressed into your cheek, eyebrows knit with frustration, when you peered up at him. 

Fuck it all. This was why you hadn’t let yourself look at him. 

His hungry eyes scanned your body when he got his way. He stood there admiring all of you, but his eyes were zeroed in on your ass, not leaving it.

You looked down to get an idea of what he was looking at. 

And, to your horror, you noticed that the t-shirt had ridden up, completely exposing the bottom curve of your ass cheeks. 

But, you didn’t move to change it. Instead, you decided to just stand there. Let him look. You wanted him to. This wouldn’t even count in the morning when he forgot it all.

You definitely weren’t offended by his staring. Not in the slightest. Just sort of made you nervous where things would lead if he didn’t stop observing the exposed skin.

Diversion. 

“Jake,” you purposefully spoke his name, vying for his attention up top, rather than having his eyes on your ass. 

You got your wish. Sort of. His eyes dragged from your ass to your thighs. . . Only to stop at your tits. Your skin was flushed and your skin was tingling. Your breasts, heavy under his stare and nipples tightly peaked against your oversized shirt. 

Fuck. Your body really was your worst enemy — constantly gave you away. Pregnancy hormones were a pain in the ass. 

So, you did the only thing you could think to do: you watched him watch you. The idea of his eyes burning into you without the ability to control it. . . It was almost too much for you to handle. 

Then, he wet his lips, afterwards biting into his plump bottom lip. You might as well have been naked under his stare, completely at his mercy. 

His gaze stayed consistent on your chest, residing long enough to have you feeling so desperately needy for him. . . but, eventually, his eyes moved up to your face. 

You missed his stare on your body as soon as it was gone.

“You’re so fucking—goddamn,” he breathed, his expression still dazed. But, now it was from more than alcohol. Maybe not from alcohol at all. “Do you know how good you look carrying my baby?”

Your head became a flurried mess at his words, the feeling carrying all the way down to your toes. 

“Jake,” you tried, not sure what else to say besides his name. 

But he didn’t respond with words. No, all he did was walk closer to you, still half-dressed. Seeing so much of his body made you feel so utterly pathetic for him. 

In a split second, before you could even wrap your mind around it, his hands found your waist. A soft, yet firm hold of your body. His eyes were locked on your parted lips, his face slowly leaning in and coming dangerously close to your own. 

And just as he was with you, your eyes found his lips, plush and wet from his tongue gliding over them. So kissable. All you wanted, all you needed, was to feel them collide with yours. To taste him again, to savor the sweetness that you knew to be Jake. 

He was so close that you could smell the bitter remnants of alcohol on his breath. His breath, that felt so warm against your flushed skin. You couldn’t help it as you slowly let yourself lean into him. All too well, you knew how wrong it was. . . Yet, you were having the worst time finding it within yourself to care any longer. 

Amber-brown eyes flicked up to yours, golden flecks glowing from the dim yellow lamp lighting. Your own eyes were wide under your fluttering lashes. 

The drunkenness wasn’t as prevalent in his stare as it had been before. This felt so eerily intimate — like it had happened before. You couldn’t fucking shake the feeling this moment was giving you. The dim lighting. Him so close to you—tempting you. . . 

For some reason, your eyes fluttered down between the two of you to your small, rounded tummy. 

Jake’s lips brushed your forehead with the action, his hand coming to tuck hair behind your ear. 

Your belly—it was nestled so well in the middle of your bodies, brushing up against his firm stomach. Protected.

And then a memory, clear now, came rushing back to you. It was coming out of the shadows, having been foggy and faded, but not anymore. 

The only place to go was your room, your door ajar just enough that it opened easily on its own. Jake had reached a hand behind him to close it gently– not wanting to wake anyone. 

Your lamp, still left on, just as it had been earlier in the evening, shed the perfect amount of golden glow. 

You’d grabbed his face, pulling him away from you momentarily to appreciate his features. Finally out of the dark you could look at him. 

And, God, you loved his face. Everything about it, having been so intricately and delicately created — making the most beautiful man you’d ever laid eyes on.

A quiet smirk had graced Jake’s perfect lips, his eyes tightly locked with yours. 

“What’s the matter?” He’d asked, his hushed, now-sultry voice making your need for him that much more heightened. 

You thought a moment before you answered. 

With all of your feelings for him finally becoming realized in your own mind, there was just so much you felt you needed to say. So much you needed him to know. 

As you’d stared in his sparkling eyes, pupils pure black from the weed and his need for you, the only word your mind could conjure up was love. Over and over again. Not just the word, but the feeling; the new desire for him that went far beyond the purely physical one that you’d tried so hard to convince yourself of. 

But it wasn’t new; it had been clear all along. You’d just shoved it down to the deepest trenches of your mind, only to be discovered by the most skilled explorer. 

There was so much you had wanted to say, but you just couldn’t conjure the proper words. 

You decided your body could do all the talking. It could say more than your voice ever could.

“Nothing,” you’d whispered against his lips as you pulled him in for the deepest kiss you were certain the two of you had ever shared with one another.

You gasped as you looked up at him. The night you’d conceived—.

“Y/n, sweet girl,” Jake’s smoky voice brought your attention back to the situation. You let your body melt into his even more, needing him near. 

The reality of it all suddenly began to set in when his hands, slow and steady in their pace, moved up your waist. Strong hands now moving under your shirt, set in their direction of ascension. They came to a steady stop just beneath the curve of your tender breasts. 

“You know,” he breathed, breath washing over your lips. You blinked up at him, at his mercy. “I wanna do so much more than just hold your pretty tits,” he whispered, his lips brushing ever so lightly against yours. “How do they feel?”

“H-heavy,” you stuttered, shivering against his touch while his thumbs met at your sternum, tracing delicate patterns. 

His palms suddenly dropped from beneath your shirt. You sucked in a breath, whining as your breasts pushed out for more. Your skin begged for his touch, on fire for him. 

Before long, though, his hands came back to their spot over the fabric of the t-shirt this time. 

And, over your shirt, he cupped as much of your chest as he could, keeping you in his hold as he gently massaged. 

Stars. You saw so many stars. 

“But, not—not as sore tonight,” you sighed, settling into his grasp. There were no worries evident to you right now. 

All that mattered was Jake and his searing hot touch.

You felt him smile as close as he was, his lips almost connecting with yours as you fought back every desire to kiss him. “Yeah?”  He whispered again, raspier, while his thumbs lightly grazed your hardened nipples through your shirt, your breath catching in your throat. “What do you need right now, baby?”

The moan that escaped your lips should have been embarrassing. But it wasn’t. Not at all. It fit quite well with the way his fingers continued in their path over your nipples, circling them. He was stealing every bit of air left in your lungs, making your eyes roll back in your head.

“Tell me, baby,” he growled, lips touching yours with each word. 

Closing your eyes and biting your bottom lip, you answered silently. You, Jake. I fucking need you. 

He returned to his grip underneath your breasts, over the shirt still, cradling them so well. . . Your body just fit with his. The touch of his hands cured even the most uncomfortable changes in your body. 

You whined, not able to help the effect he was having on you and your aching body. “Jake, I need–.” Fuck. 

No. This was wrong. He was drunk. Odds were, he wouldn’t remember this. You were the one letting it happen, letting it get much further than it should have. 

“Tell me, y/n,” he repeated, brushing his thumbs once again over your taut nipples with more intent this time as your body began to tremble. “Tell me what I can do for you–.”

“I’m hungry,” you muttered out of nowhere, shaking your head as you effectively interrupted him. You pulled away, getting yourself out of another situation that could turn sticky real fast. (Yes, pun intended.) 

And you really were very hungry. Hadn’t eaten for hours. So, it was the perfect mood killer. 

“O-oh, yeah,” he breathily spoke, eyebrows dipping in just a bit as he dropped his stare. His long hair waved out around his shoulders when he shook his head. The sound of inebriated haziness was evident in his tone still, but you could tell he was quickly coming back to himself. 

And that also terrified you. The moment just now. . . Had that brought him back? You’d seen his eyes brighten when you’d leaned into him. 

He went to move past you, his body nearly meeting yours. You put out a hand, millimeters away from his heaving chest. But you couldn’t touch him yet. Not yet. Had to clear your mind. 

“Want me to make something for you?” He wondered, sounding ready to help even amidst his tipsy state. 

“I can do it,” you assured him with a small sigh and grin. “I’m capable.”

“You sure?”

“More than.” 

Your eyes held one another’s for a heavy minute. He was trying to make sure you were being honest, you could tell. 

You just encouraged him to believe your statement with a little pat to his warm, bare chest. Shit. 

You had to go. Get out of the room. Make some damn food. 

But he was right there. . . 

No. 

You quickly took your hand away before he could do something like hold it there. He didn’t get the chance, thanks to your reflexes. 

Your hands interlocked under your belly as you peeked up at him through your lashes. “I promise. I do things for myself all the time. Please let me.”

“You don’t have to ask for–,” hiccup, the sobriety still not fully present. He held a fist over his mouth, trying to be polite. Your smile met your eyes, so gone for him. . . “For my permission, y/n. Seriously. I just want to help you however I–,” hiccup, his eyes bugged a little. The giggle that came from you couldn’t be stopped. “ I can. Jesus.”

“Go to sleep,” you tried, wracking your brain for the best possible plan for him to feel better. “I’ll be okay.”

“Nah. Not yet. Wanna take a shower first,” he iterated, eyebrows drawn together with the sureness of his plan. “It’ll help.”

“Okay,” you smiled, inhaling a breath before shaking your head and moving to open his door. 

Rather than letting you get it, he raised his arm above your head, holding the door to do the job himself. You watched as he opened it wider, seeing his bicep flex with the action above your head. He’d opened it just enough for you to exit. 

You connected eyes with his, looking at him over your shoulder. 

The grin that lifted your features occurred on its own. Everything he did was making you swoon. The fucker.  

He snickered a bit at you, his teeth coming to show past his pretty lips. Dimples fully present with his knowing smile. “Go eat,” he motioned with his other hand before stepping towards you, planning to exit behind you. “My baby momma needs sustenance.”

-🌼🌼🌼-

About forty-five minutes passed. 

You’d eaten an entire box of macaroni and cheese. The noodles and yellow-y, plastic cheese weren’t making you want to gag anymore. Thank god, because it really was quite delicious. 

Now, to wash your dishes and go to bed.

You’d just heard the shower shut off about ten minutes prior to the moment you heard footsteps approach in the doorway to the kitchen.

Jake. 

“Will you come sleep with me?”

You spun to give him a questioning look from over your shoulder that held a million questions.

“Wh-what?” You stilled your task of washing the bowl you’d had your quick meal of macaroni and cheese in.

But, now, you weren’t thinking of mac and cheese. No, now you were thinking of what he just said.

When you’d looked over your shoulder at him, your eyes stuck naturally on the man standing at the doorway of the kitchen. The gesture that was meant to be quick, definitely turning into a whole-ass Jake Appreciation Fest.  

Just like earlier that evening, there he was. Shocking every nerve in your system. 

Pajama pants, slung low on his hips. . . his handsomely tanned and toned chest, still bare. His wet hair, laying on his pecs, dripping water onto each muscle. The drops of water made their way down his hard nipples, probably chilly from his shower, down his sculpted obliques and solid abdomen. . .

. . . And down, past the waistband of his plaid pajama pants. Your favorite ones. 

The pursuit you took with your line of sight was unstoppable. You had to know if he was wearing them. . . And, to your complete gladness, you saw just enough of an outline of him as he leaned his weight on one foot. . . That was all it took to know. . .

“No, I’m not wearing underwear,” he smugly remarked. 

His tone and words made your heart flutter and your cheeks become the deepest shade of crimson. Fuck. He’d caught you.

Deciding to ignore his little remark, you went back to washing the dish, still being held over the sink. In a much looser grip thanks to his comment. Gripping the dish tighter, you put all of your spinning nerves into washing it properly. You fumbled a little, but hoped he didn’t notice. 

“What did you mean before? About sleeping together?” You tried, working to maintain enough attention on the dish that you wouldn’t drop it against the sink and break the thin Corelle. 

“Just sleep,” he emphasized with a chuckle, sounding more and more like himself the longer he stood there. “Nothing more. Cross my heart.”

“Oh,” you offered lamely, heart thumping a hundred miles an hour in your chest, boobs suddenly aching for. . . Fuck. 

Why was he asking you to simply sleep with him? What the hell? 

God. . .

Should you? Was it a good idea? Well, no. You could answer that. It wasn’t a good idea. At all. 

But. . . should you go lay with him? Maybe fall asleep in his arms. . . Would it help you sleep easier after your short, uneasy rest from earlier in the evening?

Shit.

You knew the answer. Knew the answer very well. Even before EMDR, when the bad dreams would occur, they were always better – tamed, happy, or gone completely – when you slept in the same bed as Jake. 

“Yeah,” you said, not taking any more time to contemplate. “I will.”

“Alright,” he replied, sounding relieved behind you. Why did he sound so happy? Surely it wasn’t that big of a deal to him. He still had alcohol in his system. That explained it. 

 You rinsed the rest of the bubbles from the bowl when you heard him speak up again. 

“Want me to wash it?”

“N-no,” you stuttered nervously and shook your head, focusing on the sudsy dish. “I’ve got it.”

“Okay. You full? Get enough to eat?”

“Yes.”

“Good,” he answered, the smile evident in his tone. “Don’t take too long.”

“I won’t,” you reassured, willing your pulse to return to normal. 

And, seconds later, you were hearing his footfalls against the carpet as he made his way back to his room. 

Well. 

Finishing the job of the bowl, – taking much longer than needed – you contemplated. 

You guessed his tone was still a little wavy, but you knew better than to think he was still drunk. 

He definitely wasn’t.

Had the shower helped that much? Had it been the moment in his room? Both combined? 

After the equally clean saucepan was put away in the drawer below the oven, you dragged your feet a bit more as you went to check on Stevie and put some more food in her dish. When her tail swished across your calves, you felt a bit of calmness return to you. 

Your heart was still thrumming in your chest. But you were able to slow your thoughts down enough to feel more at peace as you took notice of yourself in your full-body mirror.

Damn. . .oooo-kay, y/n. . . 

Why did you suddenly feel completely confident in your body? You turned, getting every angle. 

It just felt so great to not doubt your appearance. It was just like last Monday. You could get used to this feeling. 

Your boobs looked fantastic and big under your gray t-shirt, nipples peaked as they most-often were these days. Your ass looked perfectly rounded out from the way it peeked out of your soft shirt. . . And, lifting your t-shirt, you looked at the little bump of your tummy. 

The best addition to the entire look. Your grin was natural as you admired your baby. . .

Your tummy was growing steadily as you still sat on the bigger side of pregnant bellies. Your bump wasn’t a little subtle thing. No, it was an obviously pregnant belly. 

Small, but definitely still noticeable. And it was just cute as hell. 

After rubbing a gentle hand over the expanse of skin on your belly, you pulled your shirt back down over it. 

And with a final fluff of your hair, you grabbed your Stanley from the nightstand before making your way to where you’d find sleep tonight. 

You were just going to get good rest for your baby. It was for the baby. 

That was what you worked to convince yourself of as you walked with quiet purpose to his bedroom. 

-🌼🌼🌼-

“Why did you come home?”

You were laying in his bed. Just like old times. 

Except, in the past, where you would’ve most likely been naked, you were not tonight. 

Everything else though? Same as always.

Your legs were tied into his, looped around his just right, playing footsie with him beneath the covers. Your head rested on his bare chest, your hand underneath your cheek as it laid so perfectly well on his exquisitely strapped pecs.

Oh, also. . . One more thing different than before: the bump. The baby, tucked snugly against his side where you were turned into him. 

It was heaven. That was what it was. 

A yawn emitted from deep in his chest. You knew sleep was finding him faster than you would’ve liked. Naturally, a little yawn found you as well.

Sighing heavily to follow the yawn, you felt his hand that laid above you come to comb through the strands of your hair.  “I don’t like being away from you.”

Your heartbeat was heavy in your ears – did your best to ignore it.

“Was Maya mad?”

“Yeah.”

“Jake,” you scolded, for no reason. You didn’t give two shits about how she felt. But. . . you did care about his happiness – didn’t want to ruin his relationship when it made him feel happy and whole.

“She’ll get over it,” he reassured with another yawn that lifted your cheek with his rising chest. “She was drunker than I was.”

“Are you still drunk?” You pondered aloud with a yawn and a giggle, naturally emitting in his presence. 

But. . . you knew better. Didn’t even have to ask. It just made all of this more understandable if he were to still be drunk. It made this easier to submit to. 

You didn’t know why the prospect of simply laying beside him was harder to come to terms with than having his dick in your mouth. Just like it’d been a week ago. 

Your cheeks heated at the thought. Of its own volition, your thigh came to momentarily graze past his crotch.

“Not really,” he answered, sounding a touch offended that you’d even asked. “Pretty sober now, honestly.”

The more coherent he sounded, the more intimidated you became. . . 

Best to let him find sleep. You’d answer to this in the morning. . . For now, your eyelids were getting heavier and heavier by the moment. 

“I believe you,” you settled with a contented yawn of your own, nestling into his chest. Couldn’t help it. Had to be closer.

You blinked, slower and slower. So sleepy — just felt so right in his arms. His hand came to hold the base of your skull as a thumb traced your head so lightly. 

Goosebumps rose on your skin from his precious gesture. . . It felt so damn incredible. 

“You should,” he iterated, his lips coming to meet the crown of your head, giving you a feather-light kiss. 

And, within a minute, he was lightly snoring. 

It took almost no time at all for you to follow him to slumber. 

-🌼🌼🌼-

Just like you would’ve guessed, the bad dreams didn’t come that night. 

. . .Because Jake made everything better. That was just it. 

-🌼🌼🌼-

December 16, 2022 

As you sat in the waiting room, you surveyed him and noticed he wasn’t wearing the Medusa medallion. The newer one you’d noticed on Monday. 

“No Medusa?” You questioned, at a decent enough volume to not disturb the few other mothers and fathers in the waiting room. He flicked his amber-brown gaze over to you, caught in a trance by the beautiful, light decor of the clinic. 

Once he looked at you, his eyebrows only dipped at your words, not understanding. You motioned to his neck with a slight flick of your wrist. “Your Medusa medallion. I noticed it the other night.”

He snorted, lips quirking in a small grin with a shake of his head. “That was a stupid gift I got from Maya’s little sister,” he explained, scratching the back of his head. 

“Jake,” you disciplined his words, but you couldn’t help the tiny giggle that slipped past your lips. It was kind of funny that he found it stupid. 

“What?!” He turned to you, a full smile on his face. You raised a faux disappointed brow at him and he contended that with his next remark, “Okay, yes, I know I shouldn’t call it stupid. Maya said it’s because of her sister’s little crush on me. . . But it was kind of funny that she showed up with it at her birthday party, for one,” he explained, crossing his legs at the knee. “And for two, Medusa? A Greek goddess? Since when is that my primary interest?”

You shrugged at that, a small smile stuck to your features. He was adorable.

He continued on, “For some reason, Maya struggles to differentiate between pirates and mythology. . . and no matter how many times I explain they’re different, she doesn’t catch on to it.” 

He shook his head, tousling a hand through his long, wavy hair as he placed the other hand on his knee. His rings weren’t present today, so you got to truly appreciate the curvatures of his tanned, masculine hands. 

“You should still acknowledge that Maya’s sister’s–what’s her name?”

“Kaia. K-a-i-a. . . Different from Maya’s by two letters. Sound the same, though,” he snickered.

Kaia and Maya. . . so they’re a rhyming name family. For some reason, the thought made you snort a laugh, a grin claiming your lips. 

“I know,” Jake said, a little humorous in his own tone. “Kaia and Maya. Can we agree to not name our kids rhyming names?”

Our kids? As in, more than the one in your belly?

You took note of him and his reaction to his mistake, watched the way his eyes continued scanning the walls of the white and blush waiting room. 

He seemed to not notice his mess up, still going about his business as usual. His foot tapped against the bamboo flooring to the beat of the classic rock radio station playing. 

You decided to ignore his words. It had been a slip up. Just like your own slip up in the car the other day. 

You, speaking of love. 

Jake, mentioning multiple kids. 

You both were just in a state of stress with the life change. . . it wasn’t anything. Just a couple mis-worded moments.

You continued on, looking down at your belly briefly, smoothing your hands down your sweater to flatten any weird lines. “. . .Kaia’s sentiment was kind. Her little crush is sweet,” you iterated, sounding more like a mom everyday. “I hope you told her thank you.”

He chuckled, raspy and light, at you. Switching your line of sight up to him, you saw his eyes read a sense of fondness as he cast his gaze on you. 

“I did,” he smirked, winking at you. Your tummy fluttered with butterflies. “You are going to be a fantastic mom, y/n. I’ve known it for a long time and I know it more and more with your little coaching moments.”

Your heart went crazy at the thought of him imagining you as a fantastic mother. And he’d known it for a long time? How long? What did that mean? 

“Thanks, Jake,” you blushed a light pink, matching the colors of the crepe walls. There was one more thing you wanted to say though. 

“However,” you cleared your throat, glancing at him momentarily from the corner of your eye. He was heeding you, brow arched as he waited for your next words. 

“I can’t say anything to excuse Maya’s non-acknowledgment at the obvious contrasts of pirates and mythology. They are two completely different beasts,” you emphasized, turning your full attention to him. He was still watching you. The flush was back in your cheeks. “I’ve seen enough of your documentaries about pirates and I’m an English major, for God’s sake. . . so I know these things.”

The way his features brightened was precious – like he was being seen. 

And he was seen. He would always be seen if you had anything to say about it. 

Also, you did know the difference, you weren’t lying. None of what you said was a lie. You’d said what you did because you needed him to know that you understood. His interests mattered to you and they should to Maya as well. They should matter to her more-so. 

The moment was cut off quite quickly, though, as you were hearing your name being called to the back for your appointment. 

You were about to see your baby again. With Jake. And you’d know by the end of the hour if it was a boy or girl. . . 

The blood was pumping in your ears as Jake fell in step beside you on the way to the back. You smiled up at him, where you were met with his sparkling eyes. Both of you were obviously giddy with eagerness and excitement. 

Your thoughts were filled with everything that was to come. All sunshine and pale colors – so much love.

Here we go. . .

-🌼🌼🌼-

a/n: ...i wonder if you can guess the name/gender after this chapter part... ;) see you soon (next part is almost finished, my loves) :) feel free to always come to my ask box or message box! i'm always down to talk when my adhd/anxiety doesn't attack me <3

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[horangare]

Heyy!!! Just saw that your requests are open... Can I please request a fic?

Something like slow burn (nsfw) arranged marriage with Dino...

(You don't have to do it if you're not comfortable ♡)

Btw, love your fics a lot!! 💖❤️💕✨💞

for the good of the kingdom (and the good of my heart)

pairing : prince!dino x princess!reader

content : angst, fluff, smut (more towards the end, mdni), modern-ish royalty au (sorry but i cannot keep up with that old formal talk), slowburn

in which : where there is a winner, there is always a loser. your country losing the great war was the worst thing that could’ve happened, at least that’s what you thought before you learned you were going to have to marry the prince of the one nation that still kept its alliance with yours.

warnings : dino is totally in love but y/n is totally stubborn, y/n has some personal issues, itzy is mentioned to work for your family, arguments and misunderstandings, fingering, oral (m receiving), handjobs, unprotected sex (be safe), doggy style, creampies, praise, dirty talk, declarations of love during sex, a poor description of a wedding (probably, idk)

wc : 12.3K words

note : aaah omg my first request i’m so excited 😆 also i’m so happy you enjoy my fics, that means so much to me 🥹🩷 (also, i’m sorry this took me a lil minute, this is my time writing slowburn 😭😭)

“I am not marrying him!”

Ever since you were little, the Kingdom of Sokoto has always been the best. The most prosperous, the most powerful, the most influential, all of it. At the mere mention of the name “Sokoto,” people trembled. Hell, just being in the presence of someone from your family or even your court would have the most refined commoner on edge. Needless to say, you were important, and you knew it.

If only it wasn’t for that damned war.

To be fair, the Kingdom of Sokoto hadn’t risen to the top by being kind and loving. Many of the past rulers had been cold and self-serving, but never to the extent that the current ruling family, your family, had been. That was exactly what caused problems back then, and it was exactly what caused problems now.

This had all started in the Kingdom of Hisia, when your father broke a decade long alliance with their people. In his words, Hisia was an “acceptable loss,” because as a kingdom they were too soft-hearted to do anything about it. The only problem about Hisia’s people (other than being too soft-hearted) is that they were notorious gossips. When the common folk got word of this news, they told anyone and everyone who would listen. And soon, almost every kingdom in the nation knew what had happened. From Ilorus to Umbris to Kano, everyone was scrambling to break their alliances with Sokoto. Well, almost everyone.

Of course, the problem didn’t stop with your allies just leaving. No no, leaving wasn’t enough. Sokoto had reigned far too powerful for far too long. Too many things had gone overlooked. Too many injustices unpunished. Apparently, they all had their own personal grievances against the kingdom that had just been waiting to be brought to light. So how exactly did they decide to let you know that? Declaring a war, obviously.

And of course your parents were too stubborn to back down. Sokoto had never lost, never ran away from any sort of threat, never surrendered. After all, there was never a problem this kingdom couldn’t handle, with or without support from the other kingdoms. There wasn’t any need for them anyway. Your army was the most feared and well trained in all the land.

Your army alone, however, hadn’t been enough. Not in the first year of the war. Not in the second. Not in the third. When your father realized that he couldn’t continue on like this, sending the few remaining poor young men of your country to fight a losing battle, watching the rest of his people suffer, he knew had to do the one thing nobody in your family had ever done: he had to surrender.

And now that it had ended, things couldn’t be worse. Sokoto had drastically fallen in status, going from the most revered kingdom to the most despised. Oh, and the gossip never stopped, not even after things had been settled. You heard what they said about your family, every rumor, every exaggeration. You couldn’t stand them.

The only thing that remained the same after the war was your family’s relationship with the Kingdom of Kasmira. The only ones who hadn’t abandoned or betrayed you, even after the initial shock with the Hisians, even after the other kingdoms had broken their alliances, and even after the war. Nobody knew why the Kasmiran royal family still bothered to keep connections with you, but you think you were getting a few ideas.

“[Y/n], I know this is sudden,” Your father said, his arms crossed over his chest. “But given the state of the kingdom, your mother and I have both agreed that a marriage between you and Prince Dino is a good thing for the kingdom.”

“What about what I’ve agreed on, Father?” You argued. “Really…as if losing that war wasn’t enough of an embarrassment.”

Your mother stood up and took a step towards you, pointing a finger in your face. “We do not speak of the war, young lady.” When you backed away, she sighed, and placed her hands on both your shoulders. “Don’t worry. You will have plenty of time to get to know him. Prince Dino is a nice boy. I’m sure the two of you will do good things for both of the Kingdoms.”

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes, but for now you chose to bite your tongue. There was a lot you could say, a lot you wanted to say, but it wouldn’t do you any good to argue with your parents when the decision had already been made for you.

So you were getting married. Lucky you.

The day you got the news of your sudden engagement, you went back to your room and didn’t come out for the rest of the day. Really, who did your parents think they were, making such decisions on your behalf? And then saying that you’ll “grow to like it,” was just the icing on the cake. Who were they to speak for you? Who were they to decide who you would marry? God, you hated this family.

Come sunrise the next day, you lied in bed silently and stared at the ceiling. When you were bored of the ceiling, you stared at the wall. And when you were birds if the wall, you stared at the window. No, not out of the window, at the window. There was nothing to look at, anyway.

“Good morning, [Y/n],” The voice of your lady in waiting, Ryujin, drew your attention to the one place in your room you hadn’t looked at yet; the door. “Wow, you look awful.”

You smiled a little and shook your head. Ryujin had always spoken in a way that was a little bit…less than formal than she should have, but it was only really ever around you. Not that you cared. Ryujin and you had a close bond, and she felt more like family to you than the actual people you were related to, so you could find yourself putting up with the way she talked.

“You wouldn’t believe what my parents are making me do this time, Ryujin.” You started, letting out a heavy sigh. “You know Prince Dino? From Kasmira?”

Ryujin stepped closer, tilting her head to the side. “I know of him. Why?”

“They’re making the two of us get married.”

Ryujin gasped, her mouth hanging open. “Really? And they didn’t even tell you until now?”

“No! Can you believe it!” You huffed. “Honestly, why do I even bother with them? They seriously make me sick.”

Ryujin frowned, reaching under the blanket to grab your hand and pull you into an upright sitting position. Suddenly, her face lit up, as if she was remembering something. “Hey, you know what? Someone is actually here to see you, they’re waiting in the garden now.”

Now it was your turn to frown. “Who? Tell them that I’m busy.”

“Busy staring at the ceiling and the wall?”

“And the window.”

Ryujin shook her head, grabbing onto you again but this time to pull you out of bed, much to your displeasure. “Do you really want to stay in bed all day, [Y/n]?”

“I don’t see why I can’t.” You crossed your arms over your chest. At this, Ryujin scoffed. You were definitely your family’s daughter, even as much as you wished you weren’t.

“Oh come now, Your Highness, you could use some sun and fresh air. If you don’t get any now, you might wither away and die.”

“Is that an option?”

With a short laugh, Ryujin dragged you to your wardrobe, picking out what to put you in for today. “Oh [Y/n], you’re unbelievable.”

“I’m serious though.”

Once Ryujin had made you “look presentable” (her words) she led you to the gardens, arm in arm, where she had said this mysterious someone was waiting for you.

“Ryujin, are you sure there was actually someone here and you weren’t just drunk? Again?” You asked, looking around the gardens for any sign of life other than you and your friend.

“Of course I wasn’t drunk! I’m sure he was here…” She mumbled, looking around with you. “Oh! There he is!” She pointed to the left, and you turned your head in the direction she was pointing in.

Standing in a more secluded part of the garden was a tall blonde man with a slightly lost look on his foot. He looked to be your age and was clothed in robes of soft yellow, the royal Kasmiran colors. Wait a minute…this man wasn’t a stranger, this was—

“Oh my god, Prince Dino…” You mumbled. Ryujin lowered her finger, alternating her gaze between you and him in disbelief.

“What? He’s the prince? [Y/n], I swear I didn’t know…he didn’t tell me.” Ryujin stammered, letting you drag her away towards the entrance and back to the castle. “Where are we going? He came here for you and he’s expecting you to be here.”

“Then he’ll be disappointed to know that I won’t be able to see him today. Or any other day.” You told her. The nerve of him, to show up here and telling your lady in waiting that he wanted to see you without even letting himself be known.

“Princess?” He called out from where he was standing, and you gripped Ryujin’s arm tighter. He just had to notice you, didn’t he?

If only Ryujin didn’t know how to deal with your stubbornness so well. You would’ve much preferred rotting in your room as you stared at the ceiling. Or maybe the window.

You turned around with a sigh, shamefully making your way closer to Dino while Ryujin trailed behind, having let go of your arm when you bruised it with that grip of yours. “Hello, Your Highness.” You greeted him formally, which seemed to confuse him.

“Your highness?” He asked with a laugh. “Princess, please. There’s no need to act like that. Not since we’re supposed to be getting married, after all.”

Oh please.

“I’m sorry, your highness. But considering the fact that we are meant to be married, I think this is exactly how we should be speaking to each other.”

“[Y/n], maybe Prince Dino has a point. And anyway you don’t really talk like that all the time—” Ryujin tried to reason with you, but you elbowed her in the side before she could continue. Clearing your throat, you looked back at the prince.

“So, what exactly are you doing here?” You asked him. Despite your formality, Dino seemed amused at your question. He took a few steps closer before stopping, realizing that you were backing away from him.

“Sorry.” He smiled. “My parents told me it would be a good idea to come here and get to know you since…well y’know.” He laughed, hoping you would too, but when he saw you looking more serious than ever, he stopped and looked away.

“So you’re only here because your parents told you to come?”

No response.

“Wow,” You scoffed in reply. You leaned closer to Ryujin, bringing your mouth to her ear. “I can’t believe my parents are this desperate.”

Forcing a smile, Ryujin leaned in closer to you. “Come on, he’s really trying here. Give him a chance. He’s basically your husband, after all.”

“He is not my husband!” You hissed, which caused Ryujin to stifle her laughter behind her hand.

“Yeah yeah, maybe not for now~” She teased, turning to bow for Dino before excusing herself back to the castle. And leaving you here. With him.

“The two of you seem close,” He said.

“Oh my, how on earth did you figure that out?” Dino’s lips formed a faint pout at your sarcasm.

“[Y/n], I’m sorry. I know that this is all very sudden, and I can tell you don’t like me very much,” He sighed. “But I just want to at least get along with you. I’ll really do anything.”

Smiling, you leaned in a bit closer to him. “Really? Anything?” When he nodded, you beckoned him closer with your finger. “Get lost, pretty boy.” Like Ryujin had done just moments ago, you bowed to him before turning away as you quickly retreated to the castle, but Dino followed you anyway with a grin on his face.

“You think I’m pretty?”

You turned your head to glare at him.

“It wasn’t a compliment.”

For the rest of the week, Dino continued to come over every day and seek you out, while you continued to avoid him at every turn. It would have been easier if he wasn’t so insistent, going as far as to ask Ryujin or other castle workers for your whereabouts. Dammit, why couldn’t he just let you avoid him? It’s not like the two of you were actually meant to be together. This was all just a convenient little ploy by your parents to repair their royal status. It wasn’t real, and you wished he would stop treating it like it was.

You really couldn’t believe the lengths he went to with some of these attempts to get closer to you either. The bouquets of white roses in the most intricate porcelain vases? The hand-written letters—front and back? The jewelry carved from only the finest of gemstones? All very sweet sentiments, yes, but to say you were uninterested would be an understatement.

On Friday, much to your embarrassment, Ryujin found you hiding from him underneath one of the tables in the kitchen. When she realized it was you, she shook her head and sighed.

“[Y/n], this is just sad.”

You shushed her, trying to squeeze yourself farther into the corner underneath the table. “Be quiet. He could be listening.”

“You have got to stop running from that boy. I mean really, what’s the big deal. He’s actually really nice.”

“The big deal is that I don’t need him following me around like a stray dog.” You scoffed. “Seriously, why couldn’t we just be a normal family of shunned royalty?”

“You don’t mean that.” She said. “And besides, it’s only a matter of time before he finds you. He’s really not giving up either, [Y/n].”

Realizing she was right, you crawled out from under the table, muttering a few curses under your breath. “Believe me, I know. He won’t stop sending me gifts.” Ryujin smiled when you said that.

“Wow, isn’t he charming.” Ryujin chuckled. “And speaking of him, he told me to tell you to meet him in the gardens again today.”

“Why is he always telling you all this stuff and not me?”

Ryujin looked at you incredulously. “Because you avoid him like the damn plague.”

Oh, right. She did have a point. Whatever, it’s not like you were going to go. You had managed to avoid him all week, and absolutely nothing would convince you to go.

Ryujin seemed to sense this, and she smirked. “He made you a picnic.”

“I’m so happy you actually came,” Dino smiled at you. You sat across from him, holding the bowl of strawberries he had set out before him on the blanket. You looked up at him, pulling the strawberry you had been eating away from your mouth so you could respond to him.

“I just came because Ryujin told me about the picnic.” You curtly responded, bringing the strawberry back to your mouth. You thought he would’ve stopped smiling when you said that, but his smile only grew wider.

“So that’s all it takes then.” He mumbled. “Is that why you didn’t care for the gifts I sent before?”

You looked him up and down, sneering. “No, it was because I just didn’t care for them. It’s not wise to spend your money so carelessly on things that don’t matter.”

Dino leaned back, bracing himself up with his hands. “Trying to please my future wife doesn’t matter?”

You stiffened, gripping the bowl tighter in your hands. “Stop saying things like that.” You warned, yet he still seemed unphased as he watched you devour the rest of the strawberries. When the bowl had been emptied, you stared down into it with a frown and began to regret your greed for the little red fruit, because now you were all out.

Dino picked up the bowl once you had tossed it aside. “Should I ask someone to get you some more? I didn’t realize you would eat the entire bowl.”

“No.” You dismissively waved your hand, pushing away the thoughts of the strawberries, even though the offer of more was tempting. You hadn’t had strawberries since before the war. They didn’t grow in Sokoto, which is a fact that devastated you when you found out, and you always relied on a fresh monthly shipment of them from the Hisians and now…well…you’ve just gone a long time without strawberries. “No, It’s fine.”

Dino, however, was as insistent as ever. He picked up the bowl and started walking back to the castle. “I’ll ask Ryujin for more strawberries. Don’t disappear on me, okay?”

You spared him a single glance before looking elsewhere. “No promises.”

Dino laughed to himself, the words almost escaping his ears as he marched back to the castle with a little extra speed. He knew you wouldn’t leave—at least he hoped he knew. He wanted to trust himself, to trust you, but you were unpredictable. Thankfully, a little unpredictability was hardly an issue for him.

Though honestly, if you wanted to leave at any time, you definitely would. But with the promise of your favorite fruit, the urge to leave was just a bit short of overwhelming at the moment. Shifting yourself to lie on your stomach, you started to take notice of all the different things that Dino had packed with him on this picnic. All of your favorites…even the things you hadn’t gotten to taste in years. How could he know about any of this? You grumbled at the thought of Ryujin or any of the chefs selling you out.

You also took notice of the white rose sticking out of the basket. While they were the official flower of Kasmira, you were sure he must’ve had a secret stash of these somewhere because to be honest, you were getting tired of seeing them. But this one looked especially delicate, you couldn’t help but reach forward and take it in your hands, twirling it around and even holding it to your nose to take in the faint scent.

The sound of Dino’s footsteps on the gravel path had you looking over your shoulder, noticing he came back with an even bigger bowl of strawberries than he had left with. His classic smile returned to his face when he saw that your eyes had widened.

“I hope you don’t mind, but Ryujin insisted on giving you a bigger bowl. Said that you’d have no problem finishing the entire thing.” Him saying that had you coming back to your senses. Ryujin was just asking to be put out of a job going and telling those things to Dino.

You turned away, gazing down at the bowl when Dino set it in front of you. He sat himself down next to you, choosing to stay silent as he watched you set the rose to the side and pull the bowl closer to you.

“How did you know I liked all this stuff?” You asked quietly. Dino let out some sort of confused dound, and you sighed. “The food, I mean. Like…the strawberries. I haven’t had them in ages.”

Dino nodded, having understood what you meant. “When I told Ryujin I wanted to do this for you, she told me about all of the foods you always eat.” He laughed. “Really, I didn’t realize that you could be so choosy with your food. Do you know how hard it is to get fresh strawberries at this time if the year?”

“Oh fuck off.” Dino gasped, his mouth falling open at your sudden vulgarity. You were surprised too, covering your mouth with one of your hands once the words you had said sunk in. “I didn’t mean to say that.”

“I didn’t know the Princess of Sokoto had such a filthy mouth,” He mumbled. For a brief moment, you were actually wondering if he was serious, but the smirk that slowly appeared on his face gave him away. Unable to fight the urges telling you not to, you hit him in the arm, biting back grin when he winced. “I didn’t know you hit so hard, either.”

“There’s a lot you don’t know about me, Your Highness.” You stared at the strawberry in your hand, taking one bite before placing it back in the bowl. “I shouldn’t eat any more. The chefs will be preparing dinner soon.”

“Leaving so soon?” He asked, and you nodded. “Alright then, should I escort you back?” He extended one of his hands towards you, and you stared at it for a moment, but still ended up declining. You didn’t miss the glint of disappointment in his eyes, either.

“We should do this again sometime.” You noted. “And I’m not saying that because I want to be around you, but because I enjoyed the food.”

Ah, there it was again, that classic bright smile.

“Also, you smile too much. I don’t like it.”

You had been right about the strawberries. They did end up spoiling your appetite. You stared down at your plate, many of the contents on your plate going uneaten before you excused yourself to your room, Ryujin trailing behind as usual.

“[Y/n], what’s the matter? Was something wrong at dinner?” She asked, following you around as you threw yourself into bed. “Is it so bad you’re not even going to bother to change out of your outfit from today? Seriously, it’s going to get all wrinkled, and that’s just extra work for Yeji to do later.”

“I ate too many strawberries.” You stated. “Though I’m sure you know about that, right?”

Ryujin looked away, shrugging and shaking her head. “I’m not sure that I do, actually,” She mumbled, pairing it with an awkward laugh when she noticed you glaring at her. “Anyway, how was your little date with Prince Dino?”

“Ryujin, it was not a date. And even if it was, it would’ve been a pretty shitty date considering he left me in the middle of it.”

“Ah, c’mon, he came back! And he came bearing gifts!” She tried to reason with you, which you found both pointless and confusing.

You rolled your eyes, burying your head under the blankets, despite Ryujin’s protests that you would mess up your hair and get more wrinkles in your clothes. It wasn’t really a date, was it? Is that what dates were? Just being around another person, having them close by, talking (or not talking) to each other about whatever crossed your mind? That was a date? No way, you knew what a date was and whatever you and Dino had going on definitely wasn’t that. People went on dates when they loved each other, when there was romance budding and underlying tension. Yeah, that definitely wasn’t a date.

“Are you seriously not going to change out of that?” Ryujin asked, trying to pull down the blankets, but you were, unsurprisingly, stronger. With a sigh, she backed away. “Fine, but if Yeji asks me why your outfits are so wrinkled, I’m telling her.” You lowered the blanket just low enough to see her march out of the room and slam your door shut.

Normally, you would’ve fallen asleep after just a few minutes with your eyes closed. However, your stomach still felt funny and you tossed and turned every few minutes. We’re those strawberries really fresh? Would Dino serve you rotten strawberries? No, of course not…they were too red to be out of season. Not only that, but there was little chance Dino would do anything like that to you. He was too nice. The reason your parents ever think you two were some sort of match made and heaven was beyond you.

You couldn’t sleep yet. Not like this. Not with the ache in your stomach and the thoughts racing around in your head. Sighing, you gathered the little strength you had left to roll yourself out of bed, wandering through the halls and corridors until you needed up outside, at the front of the castle. A deep breath, followed by a slow exhale, and your head fell back towards the sky. The night sky was clear and vast and full of stars, and you felt your lips curl into a smile.

The stars understood you. When everyone else had abandoned you, abandoned your family, you sought comfort in the starry night sky. The stars never turned you away. The stars never betrayed you. The stars never forced you to do anything you couldn’t decide on. When you died, you hoped you became a star. They would surely accept you with open arms, like a real family.

You were so caught up in your thoughts, you hadn’t even noticed someone approaching you. A tall, blonde, someone.

“So you like the stars?” Dino asked, and you jumped a little. He took a step back, feeling bad for having startled you. “Sorry, [Y/n]. It’s just me.”

You furrowed your eyebrows and stared at him, but turned your attention quickly back to the sky. “What are you doing out here?”

“I could ask you that too.” He said, following your gaze and looking up. “It’s late for a princess to be alone outside at night.”

“My stomach hurts.” You told him. “From the strawberries. A walk always helps.”

“That was hours ago.” He said. “That’s weird. They were definitely fresh. Are you sure it was the strawberries?”

“What else could it have been?” You asked, your tone a bit harsher than you intended. You sighed, deciding to change the subject. “What about you? Why are you out here? I thought you went back home.”

“It’s not like I live far.” He had a point…kind of. Kasmira was your closest neighbor, only being about a few hundred miles to the east. You were seriously wondering how he managed to get here every day and still have so much time to spend entertaining the hope of getting to coax you out of your room to spend time with him. “Aww, are you worried about me?”

“Don’t go talking like that.” You told him. “Unless you want me to hit you again.”

Dino chuckled, breaking his eyes away from the sky to look at you. “You never answered my question from earlier.”

“Which one? I’m not keeping count.”

“Do you like the stars?”

You managed to look away from the stars to allow your eyes to meet Dino’s, even if only for a second. “Yeah. I always have.”

He stepped closer. “Why?”

“Because…” You hesitated. Why were you hesitating? “I just do.”

You froze, feeling something wet and warm sliding down your cheek. Dino gasped, coming even closer to see you clearly.

“You just ‘do?’ Is that really all there is to it?”

“Why do you keep asking me so many questions?” When you came out here, you had been hoping for a moment of peace and quiet. A chance to vent your frustrations to the sky, like you had done since you could talk. This was your one chance for a little bit of solitude, and you hadn’t wanted anyone intruding on it.

“I was thinking about what you said before,” He said. “When you told me there was a lot I didn’t know about you. You were right, I don’t know a lot about you.”

Okay, great. Now you were starting to feel bad about getting so upset. You sighed, lowering your head and looking at the ground. “I’ve always liked the stars. I just…find comfort in them.”

Dino wondered if you were going to say more, but you kept your lips pursed, and he figured there was more to it that you weren’t saying. That was fine, he wouldn’t push an answer out of you if you weren’t ready, he was just grateful you had confided in him. This was progress, even if it was only a small step forward.

The two of you continued to stand there in silence, looking everywhere but at each other. There was a strange feeling in the air, and it made you uncomfortable. Was this tension? Could Dino feel it too?

“Um, I should probably get back to bed.” You said, noticing Dino nod out of the corner of your eye. Like before, he extended his hand to you, and once again you declined. “Good night, Your Highness.”

“Good night, [Y/n].”

The next morning, you did something you hadn’t done in a long time.

You shocked Ryujin.

“What are you doing awake already?” She questioned. “Is it opposite day? Am I still dreaming?”

“Oh you’re so funny, Ryujin.” You said, sliding past her and out of the door.

“Where are you going? And how are you already dressed? You did my job for me…am I getting fired?”

You laughed. “Relax. I’m just going to the orchard.” Ryujin narrowed her eyes at how casual you seemed, not even trying to hide her skepticism.

“The orchard? For what? We have plenty of apples here. Too many, if I’m being honest. Where are you really going?”

“Ryujin, really, what reason do you have not to trust me?”

“I have several. An entire list, actually.” She said. “Seems like I’ll be making an addition to it today.

“Ryujin, I’m giving you a day off, don’t you get it?” You asked her. “Now I suggest you take it before I make you do your job.”

Her demeanor changed in an instant.

“You are most gracious, Your Highness.” She bowed to you and then ran off to who knows where, probably the maids quarters, no doubt. Whatever, that was her business. Just like your trip to the orchard with Prince Dino was yours.

Since the picnic, he had stopped with the other gifts—well, he still sent you the flowers—and had started planning on bringing you out, starting with Kasmira’s renowned apple orchard. Kasmiran apples were spoken about in every corner of every kingdom, known for their distinctive flavor and sweetness. You’d be lying if you said you never wanted to try one for yourself, and now you would finally get the chance.

He was waiting for you with a carriage, which he offered to help you into.

You raised one of your eyebrows. “What, you think I need your help to sit down?” When he pouted, you gave him a light shove. “I’m only kidding. But really, I’ve got it.”

“That was a joke?” He asked, climbing in and sitting across from you. “I’m shocked. I didn’t know you even had a sense of humor.”

“Excuse me?”

“Ah, no, I didn’t mean it like that. You’re just normally so…serious. If you hadn’t told me, I wouldn’t have known you were kidding.”

You tilted your head back, resting it on the solid interior of the carriage. “The only person I ever joke with is Ryujin.” You explained to him. “She gets me. It’s easy to laugh with her.”

“You laugh too?” He just couldn’t stop. “I’ll believe it when I hear it.” He teased.

You glared at him, opening your mouth to say something, but decided against it. Instead, you turned your head to look out of the window, watching the landscape as it came into view and faded out of sight with the movement with the carriage.

“Will we be there soon?” You asked, wanting nothing more than to get to Kasmira as fast as possible to get your hands on one (or five) of those apples you had heard so much about.

“Yeah…” Dino nodded, then stopped and shook his head. “No, it’ll be about fifty minutes.”

Great, fifty minutes until you got to taste the rumored honey and heaven apples. Fifty minutes left riding inside this tiny little compartment with too little space keeping you and Dino apart. Just great.

To your surprise, the ride had been faster than you expected. It might’ve had something to do to the nap you took on the way, but that was neither here nor there. Dino placed a hand on your shoulder, softly shaking you awake.

“Hm?” You hummed, the clutches of sleep still gripping your brain. You blinked yourself awake, gasping when you saw the field of trees from the carriage window. “We’re here!”

Dino opened the door, sliding out of the seat and holding the door open for you. You practically jumped out, an awestruck smile on your face as you stared up at the trees littered with the soft pink apples.

Dino smiled softly at your enthusiasm, watching as you stood up as tall as you could and plucked an apple off a branch, happily bringing it to your mouth to take a bite.

Oh god, the rumors did no justice to describe the taste of these apples. You had never tasted anything as fresh and crisp in your entire life. Giving Dino a quick glance, you continued to bite into the apple over and over again until he pulled it away from you, laughing.

“So, what do you think?”

You covered your mouth with one hand, trying to chew and swallow what was in your mouth, before nodding with a smile. “They’re amazing! I’ve never tasted anything so good in my life!” You took the apple back from Dino’s hands, taking the last few bites before you had finished it off.

“Then let’s get you a few more, hmm?” He said, pressing a hand against the small of your back while he reached up to grab a few more apples and drop them into the basket he had brought with him in his other hand. You froze, your skin burning at the feeling of his hands on your body.

“Um…Prince Dino?” You mumbled, catching his attention. You had never called him by anything other than “Your Highness” since the two of you first met, and he was definitely shocked to hear you say those words.

“Yes, [Y/n]?” He said, looking down at you but never moving his hand from your back.

“Your—your hand…” Dino looked down at his hand was, immediately pulling it away from where it had been, and in an instant you felt the warmth that had been there fade away.

“Oh, I’m so sorry [Y/n], I didn’t even realize.” He apologized. Without another word, he leaned down to pick up the basket and handed it to you. “Here you go, [Y/n]. Should I come with you to—”

“No!” You shouted, though you hadn’t meant to raise your voice. “No, no. There’s no need. I’ll go back on my own.”

Dino wanted to say something, but you had already turned your back to him, rushing back to the carriage and telling the driver to bring you back to Sokoto before he could. Glancing out of the window, you noticed him standing under the tree, watching you get farther and farther away, his arms limp at his sides.

You brought a hand to your chest, feeling your heart beat twice as fast than it should have been. This shouldn’t have been happening. This was exactly the reason you didn’t want him touching you, the reason you had refused to touch him, because you knew that if it happened, you wouldn’t be able to control how it would affect you. Even though it had been such a harmless, domestic, innocent touch, if it could get this much of a reaction out of you, maybe you should get stricter on the “no touching” rule.

This is not at all how you thought today would turn out.

The next day things had gone back to the way they had been in the beginning; with you holed up in your room, avoiding Dino. And it was like that for the next day, and the day after that, and the day after that. Ryujin had tried to get you outside, or at the very least to the dinner table, but her persistence couldn’t stand a chance against your stubbornness. Once a week had passed since the apple incident, Ryujin couldn’t take it any more.

“Enough is enough [Y/n]. You haven’t left your room in a week. Dino won’t stop hounding me with questions about where you are every day, and I can’t take it anymore!” She huffed. “You need to get up and go see him so I don’t have to.”

“Ryujin, I can’t.” You said with a heavy sigh. “It’s just…complicated.”

“How complicated could things really be?”

More complicated than you would’ve liked. “I just can’t see him right now.”

“Well that’s too bad, because I told him you would.” Ryujin shrugged. “He’ll be here later, so we have to make you look…like you again, now.”

“Ryujin, I’m tired of you trying to play matchmaker. Are my parents paying you to do this to me?” You asked, your tone nothing short of accusatory.

“I’m doing this because you don’t need to be locked up in this room all day. Not only that, but I can tell how much you and Dino like spending time with each other.”

The rebuttal in your mind died in your throat at the last sentence Ryujin had said. The time you had spend with Dino recently hadn’t been all bad…but what did she know?

“Now get up. Unless you want Dino to come over and see you like…that.” She gestured to your overall disheveled appearance, a grimace on her face.

“Oh yeah, like you’re not a sight for sore eyes.” You hissed, then broke out into laughter along with Ryujin a second later. “Fine, whatever, I’m getting up.”

The next hour consisted of a long, soapy bubble bath, followed by Ryujin washing and doing your hair, and finally her picking out the finest outfit for you to wear just in time for Dino’s arrival in his favorite rendezvous point: the Sokoto castle gardens.

Fuck, you were so nervous.

Dino arrived with a single white rose in his hand and a smile, thrilled to be able to see you again. Ryujin bowed and wandered off, leaving with. Alone. Again.

“For you.” He said, handing the rose to you. You looked down at it before you gingerly took it from him and thanked him with a fleeting smile.

“Thank you.”

Awkward silence. The worst type of silence. This is exactly why you wanted to avoid him, to prevent all of these unnecessary feelings.

“I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable that day…at the orchard.” He said. “And my apology was so shitty, I—”

“Dino, stop. Don’t apologize. It’s…It’s okay. I shouldn’t have run off on you like that. It was rude of me.”

Dino stepped closer, noticing the way your body tensed up when he did. “[Y/n], what’s going on?”

“I…I don’t want you to touch me.” You whispered. The grip you had on the rose was starting to hurt your hand. Dino gave you a curious and worried look.

“Why?”

“…Because when you touched me at the orchard, I couldn’t stop thinking about it. I don’t think I’ve ever felt that way before in my life.”

You expected many different reactions from Dino. You expected him to back away, to call you strange or disgusting. You expected him to go running back to Kasmira as fast has his feet would carry him, to start avoiding you like you had been avoiding him. You even expected him to ask to call off the marriage agreement and find someone better, or nicer, or prettier.

You never expected him to pull you close, cursing under his breath and pulling your face up to look at him.

“Really, baby?” He asked, his voice suddenly soft, a direct contract to the way his eyes darkened. “Is that why you’ve been so adamant on not letting me touch you?”

A tentative nod of your head had Dino chuckling. “Now it all makes sense. Don’t worry baby, I’ll make you feel a thousand times better…only if you want to, though.”

“Yes, please,” your words came out hushed and breathy and shaky, allowing Dino to guide you you backwards onto the grass and gently push you backwards while he hovered above you.

Dino slid his hands down your body, seemingly pleased at the way you shivered when his fingers traced over your underwear, pushing up the button of your dress to see how drenched they were.

“Oh, baby,” Dino sucked in a sharp breath, pulling them to the side and biting his lip once he had seen how wet you actually were. “Is this all because of me?”

You nodded, covering your mouth to keep any noise from escaping. “Couldn’t stop thinking about you.” You mumbled from behind your hand, making sure your voice was loud enough for him to hear you clearly.

He ran two of his fingers up and down your slit before pushing one of them inside of you, pressing the pad of his thumb against your clit, all the while you squirmed beneath him, working hard to trap the moans that threatened to spill out of your lips.

“Baby, don’t be so nervous,” he said, adding a second finger inside of you and curling them just enough so that you finally let your hands fall away from your mouth and let your moans out. “That’s it, keep moaning like that for me. Fuck, you sound so pretty.”

“Dino…f-fuck. Don’t stop…” You ground your hips up into his hand, your mind growing foggy with pleasure as Dino increased the speed of his fingers. You were embarrassed at how easily his fingers slid in and out of you from how wet you continued to get.

Dino lowered his head, bringing his lips to your neck, kissing and sucking at any exposed skin he could find. He thrived at the way your moans grew louder and more urgent, switching the position of his fingers, opting for a scissoring motion and pressing his lips together to keep in a moan of his own. “Your thighs are starting to shake, love. Gonna cum for me?”

You nodded weakly, arching your back when you felt Dino add a third finger inside of you. Your skin felt hot and sticky and sweaty all over, and the only thing you could say when you felt your orgasm hit you like an earthquake was “Dino, Dino, Dino,” over and over again.

“That’s my girl,” Dino mumbled, fingering you through your high, pulling them out of you once you wrapped a hand around his wrist. You watched with wide eyes as he brought them to his lips, sucking them clean and moaning at the taste of you. “You taste so sweet, baby.”

“Don’t say thatttttt.” You whined, pushing him down onto the grass while you sat yourself upright. Wasting no time, you immediately brought one of your hands to his crotch, palming over the bulge that had been growing inside of his pants. “Ooh, what’s this? Is this all because of me?” You mimicked the words he had said to you earlier, grinning when he nodded and pushed his hips up into your hand.

“Baby, come on, you’re really gonna tease me right now?” Dino asked, unable to stop his hips from moving. As much as you wanted to tease him, there would be plenty of opportunities to do that another time. Right now, you wanted so badly to taste him, to feel him in your mouth and hear him moan for you like you had done for him.

You tugged down his pants and underwear, just enough so that his cock could spring free, and you drooled at the sight, noticing the bead of pre cum that had collected at his tip, and now it was time for Dino to be the embarrassed one.

“So…big.” You mumbled, wrapping your hand around him and giving him a few slow pumps, squeezing him once to see what his reaction would be. A hoarse groan served as your answer. “Can I…use my mouth on you?”

“Of course you can baby,” Dino nodded all too eagerly, watching with rapt attention as you brought your lips closer and closer to his cock. You have his tip a few kitten licks, the slightly salty taste spreading onto your taste buds. To be honest, you really didn’t know how to do this, the request coming from a carnal place inside of you. You were stalking for time so you could recall the words in a book you once read that had a scene similar to this moment in it. Once you had the faintest idea of how to proceed, you wrapped your lips firmly around his cock, feeling him rest his hands on the top of your head for stability.

Feeling you swirl your tongue around him, flicking your tongue across the slit as your head bobbed up and down had Dino absolutely reeling beneath you. He gripped your hair, shoving it all the way down to the base as he thrust his hips up into your mouth, gagging as a few tears starting to form in your eyes. “S-Sorry baby, shit, I can’t help myself…you’re s-so good with this cute little mouth of y-yours, fuck. Gonna fuckin’ cum already.”

You hummed in acknowledgment, letting Dino continue to fuck your mouth. He had pulled you back slightly when he registered your gagging, allowing you to wrap your hands around what didn’t fit in your mouth. You stroked him as fast as he tugged your head up and down, feeling your saliva trickle down your lips, chin, and all the way down Dino’s cock. When his hips stilled, you thought for a slight second that something was wrong, but the next second you felt his cum shoot into your mouth and down your throat, and he released his grip on your hair as he laid back and panted.

Recalling the words in the book once again, you swallowed—unfortunately you had done so a bit too fast, and you coughed and patted your chest to keep yourself from choking. The last thing you wanted to do right now was die in front of Dino after you had just sucked him off after he had just fingered you. Dino helped you by patting your back. Once your breathing had gone back to normal, he smiled at you, and you returned the gesture.

“Wow, you were right,” You mumbled. “I do feel a thousand times better.”

“Does this mean we can ban the no touching rule?”

You narrowed your eyes at him with a grin, giving him a pinch on his thigh. Dino hissed in pain, scrambling to pull up his underwear and pants. “Consider that a yes.”

The next few weeks were nothing short of amazing. There was a minuscule, growing spark between you and Dino now, and it resided inside of your heart, and you felt no desire to let it die out or even to extinguish it.

Dino took you on several dates, yes, dates, in this time frame, always with an added personal touch. He brought you to a local Kasmiran bakery and then let you ride his thigh on the carriage ride home. He took you to a winery in Vaelia then ate you out behind the building. He asked you to tag along while he went sightseeing in Sokoto and had you cockwarm him in the carriage the whole time. With each of these, the spark in your heart continued to grow. 

At this rate, it was only a jagged of time before it grew to become a fire.

You were up early again this morning, having thought of the most wonderful idea in bed the night before. Today, you were going to Kasmira all on your own to surprise Dino. Sure, yes, you had been to Kasmira before, but never had you been to the castle. You would even bring him some tarts made from the tangerines you had picked in the Sokotoan tangerine fields on Tuesday with Dino before he asked you to sit on his face. That was a good day.

Ryujin couldn’t be happier for you, though at some times during this new stage in the relationship between you and Dino she felt like she couldn’t keep up with the new you. Though recently, you had been giving her more days to herself as you insisted on doing all the work for yourself.

You were getting ready to go, opening the door of your room, shocked to see Chaeryeong already standing there, seemingly spacing out again with a round golden container in her hands.

“Um…Chaeryeong?” You mumbled, waving a hand in front of her face. That seemed enough to snap her out of it, and she focused her gaze on you with a smile.

“Ah, sorry Your Highness! Here are the tarts, freshly baked just for you. Lia was going to deliver them, but then she remembered she had something to do with Ryujin at the last minute.”

You took the container from her and smiled. “Thank you. Oh, and tell the cooks I said thank you as well.” Chaeryeong nodded, bowing to you before excusing herself. You shut your door behind you, making your way out of the castle and to a carriage as fast as you could. When the driver asked where to, you happily chirped out “Kasmira, please,” and asked him to get you there as quick as he could. For all fifty minutes, you couldn’t sit still for longer than a few seconds. You just couldn’t wait to see Dino again, to hold him close and feed him your tarts. He’d probably ask if you made them, and even though you hadn’t, he’d still say they were the best things he’d ever tasted second to you. Then you’d get flustered, hit him, and let him bury himself between your thighs for as long as he wanted.

Long story short, you really wanted to see Dino. Really badly.

Upon your arrival to the Kasmiran castle, you rushed out of the carriage and into the castle, asking around until you found out that Dino was in the Kasmiran royal gardens. Thanking them, you hurried your way there, smiling when you took notice of his signature blonde hair. You were just about to call his name when he laughed, leaning his head back, and you saw a woman sitting beside him, looking at him with a smile on her face.

You felt your mouth go dry as it fell open in disbelief.

Princess Miyoung, the Princess of Hisia, was here in Kasmira. She was sitting next to Dino. Laughing with him. Touching his arm. You let out a shaky breath, a tightening feeling growing in your chest. What was she doing here? Why was she with him? What had she said to make him laugh like that? Fuck, you couldn’t take this. You had to get out of here. You turned around, having your third shock of the day to see Dino’s parents standing in the hallway behind you.

“Oh! Princess [Y/n],” His mother said, obviously surprised to see you standing there. “I wasn’t aware you were here. Is there something you need, honey?”

You shook your head, squeezing your eyes shut with your head to the ground. There was no way you were making a scene, not in front of Dino’s parents. “N-No, uh…I just came to drop off these…tarts. For Dino.” You mumbled, pushing the container into the hands of the King.

“Well, what a lovely sentiment! We’ll be sure to give these to him then dear. I’m sure he’ll be happy to—”

“[Y/n]?” Dino’s smooth voice filled your ears and you squeezed your eyes shut tighter. You didn’t turn to face him, you couldn’t, not if when you opened them you would see Miyoung standing there beside him, her presence alone enough to taunt you. “[Y/n], what wrong?”

“I have to go.” You said, scurrying out of the castle and back to the carriage. Dino chased after you, managing to catch up just before the carriage could start moving.

“What’s the matter? You just got here and now you’re leaving? Stay.” He reached through the open window to hold your hand, but you pulled it away and glared at him.

“Why? You shouldn’t need me when you have Miyoung here to entertain you in my place.” You retorted. Dino’s face fell, and you could only beat yourself up mentally for letting yourself get roped in by him. Of course he didn’t care about you. There was no way he could ever feel the same way about you as you did about him. You were fooling yourself for even thinking that for a second, Dino’s feelings were the same as yours.

“[Y/n], it isn’t like that, please just let me explain—”

You brought your hand up, placing it in front of his face to signal him to stop talking. “Don’t bother, Your Highness.”

For the second time, Dino watched you disappear from him, to let you slip through his hands like grains of sand, and stand to the side powerless as you faded away.

This cycle seemed impossible to break.

For the umpteenth time, here you were, locked away in your room, refusing to see Dino no matter how many times he had begged. You cried every day, drowning your sorrows in bottles upon bottles of wine, dragging yourself to the window to sob to the stars once night had come. You kept the door lock, adamant on not letting anyone see you in such a state. Unfortunately, Ryujin had picked the lock of your bedroom door with a handmade lock pick she got from Yeji because you “needed to eat” so you wouldn’t die before the wedding.

To hell with that wedding, and to hell with the groom.

You sat up in bed, your hands still gripping the nearly empty wine bottle and your cheeks still stained with last nights tears. You brought the bottle to your lips, finishing it off and tossing it aside into the bed. With heavy feet, you dragged yourself to the vanity in the corner of the room, sitting down to take in your reflection.

What have I become, you asked yourself. Who am I? Sighing, you smoothed out the wrinkles in your clothes and tried to make your hair look less unkempt. You wished Yuna was here, she was the hair expert. Ryujin always preferred to keep it simple whenever she did your hair, but she had admitted to you that she learned everything she knew from the younger girl.

A knock at the door had you rolling your eyes.

“Go away, Ryujin. I don’t want breakfast.”

The door opened slightly, and you turned around with a scowl on your face. But then your face changed—softened. Ryujin wasn’t at the door.

“Sorry, I’m not Ryujin.” Dino mumbled, cautiously entering your room before shutting it behind him. “Can we…talk? I haven’t seen you in weeks, [Y/n]. I’m really worried.”

His tone of voice was so gentle and sincere you almost forgot why you were mad at him. Almost. The reason why came flooding back to your brain instantly, and you turned away from him.

“I have nothing to say to you.” You said to him, crossing your arms over your chest.

“[Y/n], please don’t be like that. You left before I had the chance to explain back at the castle.”

“Explain what?” You stood up, whipping around to face him. “Explain what you were doing with the Princess of Hisia? You know what they did to us.” Your last sentence came out quieter—sadder.

“Who is ‘us’?”

“Me! My family! The rest of Sokoto! That is who ‘us’ is, Dino!”

“Why are you grouping yourself with them?” As hard as Dino tried to understand you, in this moment he just…couldn’t. “The war wasn’t your fault, and there was nothing you could’ve done to change what had already happened.”

“That doesn’t change the fact that Hisia stabbed us in the back. And there you were, with the Princess of the first nation that decided to betray us.” You pointed your finger at him. “You’re a traitor.”

“I’m sorry that I have friends, [Y/n], and you don’t. But when your kingdom decides to stay out of unnecessary political affairs that you aren’t a part of, you get keep your allies. I’m sorry if that’s something you or your parents don’t realize because you’re so insistent on being cold and unfeeling, but that’s not what we do in Kasmira.”

Everything he said hurt more because not one part of it was false. But you couldn’t back down now. You had to do something to regain control over the argument.

Even if it meant sending him away.

“Get out.”

Dino raked his hands through his hair, and you could tell that his patience with you was running thin. “No, [Y/n]. I’m not leaving you while you’re like this.”

You glared at him. “I said get out! I don’t ever want to see you again! Go marry somebody else!”

As soon as the words came out of your mouth, the look on Dino’s face was enough to make you regret saying them. You had never seen him go from looking so shocked and heartbroken before, not even the slightest bit. But now…now you had. At it was all because of you.

“Why would I want to marry someone else?”

Silence. Long, heavy, painful silence. Neither one of you looked away from the other or spoke, until finally, after what felt like forever, you found an answer.

“Because I know someone out there is a better match for you than I am.”

“What? [Y/n], what are you talking about? That’s not what I want at all.”

“You…you don’t mean that.” You couldn’t even look at him right now, not if you wanted to believe what you were saying no matter how untrue it was.

“I do, [Y/n]. I mean it. I’ve wanted to marry you since the first time I saw you. Even if you kept running from me. Even if you pushed me away. Even if I could only see you on your time.” Nothing could prepare you for the words he said next. “Because I love you, [Y/n].”

You stiffened, finally finding the strength to raise your head to look at him “What did you say?”

“I said I love you.” He repeated. “Should I say it again, baby?”

“N-No, you can’t…” You whimpered, leaning into Dino’s chest as you felt tears brimming at your waterline. “Please take it back…”

“Take it back? No, why would I ever do that? I really mean it. I’d never say I love you and not mean it, [Y/n].”

“Why do you love me? What is there to love, Dino?”

Dino frowned, wrapping his arms around you and hugging you tightly.

“You have the most beautiful smile I’ve ever seen. Every time you laugh, I laugh, because it’s so infectious. You’re such a good friend to Ryujin. When you eat something you like, you can’t stop until you’ve finished it all. You don’t make the best jokes ever, but you’re learning.” He said, laughing a little once he had finished. “And those are just my favorite things about you.”

You wrapped your arms around Dino, running your hands up and down his back, forcing yourself to believe that yes, this was reality. He was here, he was real, and he loved you. “I’m sorry.” You mumbled, the sound of your voice quiet.

“What was that?”

“I said I’m sorry.” You pulled back slightly so that he could hear your voice clearly. “I shouldn’t have ignored you, or run from you, or any of it. I…” Deep breath, you could do it. “I love you too.”

“Is all that true, baby?” You nodded, and Dino immediately pulled you back to his chest, hugging you even tighter. “You don’t know how long I’ve been waiting to hear you say that.”

“You mean it?” You asked, wanting to make sure that he was serious. “Not just ‘cause we’re supposed to get married, right?”

His laughter was music to your ears. “Of course not, baby. I love you either way.”

You smiled, tilting your head up so Dino could wipe away your stray tears.

Dino nodded, pulling you back again so he could look you in the eyes. “Yeah, I love you, baby.” His eyes flickered down to your lips before coming back to your eyes. “Can I kiss you?”

A nod of your head is all it takes before he’s pressing his lips to yours. You had never been kissed by anyone before, but the way Dino kissed you was enough to make you glad that this was the first kiss you had ever gotten. The kiss was slow and tender, and you unconsciously chased his lips when he attempted to pull away, wrapping your arms around his neck to keep him in place. Dino smiled against your lips, the two of you only pulling away once the need for air went from mild to severe.

“Again?” You asked, and Dino immediately pulled you in again. The kiss was different this time, it was faster and sloppier, the initial tenderness of the first being replaced by a newfound desperation now that you two knew that what you were feeling was the same. Dino loved you, and you loved Dino.

You didn’t fight it when Dino started to guide you backwards, your body hitting the bed with a bounce. Dino slipped his hands under your thighs, flipping up the bottom of your silk nightgown and pulling down your underwear and tossing it onto the floor. He cupped your cunt with one hand, the palm of his hand pressed flat against your clit.

“Dino, please…”

“Please what, baby? Don’t you want me to play with this cute little pussy like always?” He asked, feeling the way your arousal stuck to his hand as he circles your entrance with one of his fingers. You shook your head, holding onto his wrist with your hand.

“Just want you to fuck me.”

Dino groaned, resting his hands on your hips and pushing your nightgown up even further. “Yeah? You sure, baby?”

You nodded, your skin flushed with heat. “Mhm, want your cock, Dino.”

God, just when he thought you couldn’t get any more beautiful, and that he couldn’t get any harder, you just continued to surprise him.

“Who am I to deny the Princess?” He smirked, making quick work of removing his clothes. While he was doing that, you pulled off your nightgown and threw it and your bra aside, both of them landing somewhere on the floor with the rest of your clothes. Dino laid you back down on the bed, climbing on top of you while he ran his hands all over your body, grinning at the way you moaned and trembled when he teased your nipples.

“Dino, please,” You whined, and he chuckled softly.

“Okay, okay, sorry. I just can’t help myself,” He mumbled, reaching down to pump his cock a few times before lining it up at your entrance. “Ready, baby?”

“Yeah,” you nodded. “Ready.”

Dino eased into your cunt slowly, giving you the chance to adjust to him, all the while he swallowed your whimpers and whines by kissing you. When he had pushed himself all the way inside, he tore his lips away from yours to bite down on your shoulder, resisting the urge to start moving his hips already. The two of you stayed like that for a little while before you  told him it was alright to start moving.

“So perfect, so pretty,” Dino mumbled, holding one of his hands holding onto your hip while the other had both of your wrists pinned above your head. He thrusted into you slowly, pulling himself out almost all the way before slamming back inside of you. “I can’t believe I get to have you like this, baby, fuck.”

“M-me too.” You shuddered, your body slowly traveling further up the bed each time he thrusted into you. “Love it, love you, love your cock, shit…”

“Love you too baby, so much,” He whispered, speeding up the speed of his thrusts, a quiet grunt coming out of his mouth when he felt your walls clenching around him. “Fuck…gonna cum for me already baby? Hm?”

Your response was lost in a series of strangled noises of pleasure as you felt your orgasm creeping up on you. Dino pulled the hand pinning your wrists away and brought it down to the point where your bodies were connected, rubbing your clit in quick circles. You cried out, rolling your hips against him, your eyes rolling back into your head as you came undone beneath him.

“That’s it baby, I’ve got you,” He groaned, speeding up even more as he continued to thrust through your high. Once you had caught your breath, his hips jerked forward one last time before you felt his hit cum filling you up. You tried to pull him closer, figuring that he was done, but Dino flipped you over and ran the head of his cock along your slit, making you whine from the overstimulation.

“Just one more, baby. I cant get enough of this sweet little pussy,” He pushed in without warning, and you screamed, shocked at yourself for just how loud you were being.

“Ngh, Dino, c-can’t take it,” You whined, your head falling down onto the pillows and your mouth hanging open as you surrendered yourself to the pleasure.

“Shh, I know you can take it baby,” Dino whispered, pulling you up so your back was flush against his chest, bringing his head to the crook of your neck, taking a long deep inhale and sighing with content. “You smell so fucking good.”

You can feel his pounding in his chest against your back, your head falling backwards as you felt your second orgasm approaching. “G-Gonna cum again…” Dino couldn’t even brace himself before your walls clamped down against his cock, whispering curses against your skin, and felt his own release envelop him for the second time today too.

You fell forward onto the bed, your eyes closed as you steadied your breathing once again. Dino collapsed beside you, draping an arm over your waist and pulling you close. You turned your head over your shoulder to look at him and smiled.

“That was amazing.”

“Not as amazing as you, baby,” He murmured, stroking your hair with his hand. “I love you.”

“I love you more.”

“I love you most.”

You gripped Ryujin’s shoulders, much to her pain, because she was trying desperately to pry them away.

“[Y/n], your nails are digging into my skin,” She groaned, and only then did you pull your hands away.

“Sorry, Ryujin.” You ran your down the front of your dress, taking deep breaths to steady your nerves. “I just don’t know if I’m ready for this.”

“Of course you are,” Yeji shook her head with a smile on her face. “You look beautiful, [Y/n]. You just go out there, walk down the aisle, and tell Dino those two words that will join you forever.”

“Cum inside?” Ryujin asked, earning her a smack from Lia.

“No, I do.” Lia sighed, then turned to look at you. “I’m so glad you chose us to be your bridesmaids.”

“Yeah!” Yuna agreed, then shuffled around Chaeryeong and Yeji so she was next to you. “By the way, when you throw the bouquet, is there any chance you can sum it towards me?”

“She won’t see us, Yuna. There’s no way she’ll know who she’s throwing at.” Chaeryeong said with a quiet sigh. “I’m really so happy for you, [Y/n]. Dino is the perfect match for you.”

Yeah, if you heard her say that a few months ago, you would not have believed her. You might have even questioned why she would say such a thing. But after everything you and Dino have been through, you could finally agree.

Your father approached you and the girls, a smile on his face as he looked at you. “Oh honey, you look so beautiful. I never thought this day would come.” This was the first time you had seen your dad smile in years.

“What a gorgeous bride. Oh dear, I’m so happy for you,” Your mother cried, holding your head in your hands and pressing a kiss to your forehead. You couldn’t help but smile seeing your parents so happy, and all because of you.

“Thank you Mother, thank you Father.”

Yuna gasped, and everyone turned to look at her. “It’s starting!”

Your father looked at you, nodding. “Alright honey. Are you ready?”

You let out the breath you had been keeping in for a while. “Ready as I’ll ever be.” He pulled your veil over your head, intertwining his arm with yours. The two of you walked down the aisle, and you could hear the gasps and murmurs of everyone in the audience as you walked past them, all eyes on you in that present moment, especially Dino’s

Once you felt your father’s arm leave yours, you turned yourself to the right, faintly making out Dino’s face behind your veil. He reached forward, flipping the veil behind your head, his eyes softening when he got a look at your face.

“You look so gorgeous,” he whispered, and you smiled even brighter.

“And you look so handsome,” you whispered back, Dino trying to bite back the smile that continued to grow on his face.

The ceremony was beautiful, a bit longer than you had thought it would be, but it was fine with you, because Dino looked really good in that tuxedo.

“Prince Dino, do you take Princess [Y/n] to be your lawfully wedded wife? To have and to hold, in sickness and in health, for to love and to cherish; from this day forward?”

Dino’s hands gripped yours tighter as he nodded, staring deeply into your eyes. “I do.”

“And do you, Princess [Y/n], take Dino to be your lawfully wedded husband, in good times and bad, in joy as well as sorry, till death do you part?”

You nodded, looking back at Dino with just as much love in your eyes as he was doing with you. “I do.”

“Then by the power vested in me, I nor pronounce you, husband and wife. You may now kiss the bride.”

The crowd before you all cheered as Dino cupped your head in his hands and pulled you forward for a kiss. This kiss felt different from the way he had kissed you before, again. This one was passionate, loving, now the two of you were complete. It was perfect.

Later on, after much cake a little drinking, and watching Lia and Yuna fight over the bouquet after you threw it between both of them, you and Dino were still waltzing on the dance floor in the middle of the rest of the guests, holding each other impossibly close, that longing love-struck look still in both of your eyes.

“I can’t believe I get to call you my wife, now,” Dino mumbled, spinning you around. You hummed, pressing a quick kiss to his lips. “My perfect, pretty, sweet wife.”

“Oh stop it,” You laughed. “Sweet is a bit of a stretch, isn’t it?”

“Not at all, baby. I think you’re very sweet.” He said, then pulled you closer. “In more ways than one. Speaking of which, I can’t wait to have you all to myself tonight.”

“Again?” You asked, but you still anticipated what he would have in store for you. “You’re insatiable.”

“Well now that you’re all mine, how am I supposed to help myself?”

You just smiled and shook your head. He should be so lucky that he loved you. But then again, maybe he didn’t need to be. Not when you loved him back just as much. Forever and always, till death do you part.

[dilatorywriting]

Heroes vs. Villains : Pomefiore [Part 2]

Gender Neutral Reader x Pomefiore vs. Neige Leblanche Word Count: 2.3k

Summary: Woe to the Ramshackle Prefect, being caught up in the drama between the Disney Villains and their respective heroes. Pomefiore Version (Part 2)

ie. The scarf is an issue, because of course it's an issue. And Vil's sudden addiction to his phone is not going well for any of you.

[PART 1] [PART 2] [PART 3]

“What did you do?” Epel hissed from behind an entire department store’s worth of facial products.

“What?! I didn’t do anything!” you argued. Trying to sound stern when you were also putting a concerted effort into not moving your mouth was apparently very hard. A lip mask, Vil had called it. ‘Pretentious goop’ was a far better description. But the Pomefiore House Warden had been particularly dour lately, so you’d been letting him slather you will all kinds of atrocities in the name of keeping the peace. You’d smelled like a walking Bath & Body Works for the past week at least. And worst of all, if you ever made that comparison out loud he’d probably hemorrhage. Or something. Because each of these products was ‘special ordered’ or ‘hand crafted’ and blablabla.

“Well pardon me for not takin’ your word for it,” the purple-haired boy snapped, spiteful. “He only gets like this when someone’s hurt his stupid ego. Or worse—his feelings.”

“And why does that ‘someone’ have to be me?” you complained.

Epel shot you a look and you sighed into the misty air. The aroma diffuser gave another lackluster puff, as if in agreement.

.

.

Ever since your shopping trip, Vil had been acting… not quite right.  

Oh, he was still icy and composed. He still tutted at your untucked uniform shirts and irritably plucked stray bits of fuzz from your jacket. But it was almost like he was too much of himself. You’d liked to think that your laid back ‘you’re lovely no matter what and I live in a literal condemned building so who am I to judge anyone’ approach had softened the House Warden at one point—even if only a smidgen. A singular hair out of place was artful, not lazy. The barely-there wrinkle in his vest was not the end of civilized times, but functional fashion. But now? It was back to the strictest of regiments, the most unforgiving of rules.

Jack had told you that Vil was even waking before him now—that by the time the wolf-beastman arrived for their early morning jogs, the blonde had clearly already been up and training for hours.

And you were worried.

Sometimes Vil would look at his phone and get this twisted up, venomous, expression on his face that sent little pangs of concern eating through your gut. Sometimes Rook was there to reach forward and gently ease the device out of Vil’s death grip. Sometimes he was not, and you were far too afraid of losing your fingers to even try.

It was a vicious cycle. The phone would make Vil angry and subsequently be abandoned in the opposite corner of the room. So then Vil would bury himself in new makeups, and outfits, and skin care. He would fret over new projects, or old projects—ranting about the incompetence of whoever he would ‘never work with again, believe me.’ Sometimes he dragged you along to his Film Club (you’d watched so many classic movies with him at this point that you were actually starting to become culturally literate). And then—slowly but inevitably—his brilliant, purple, gaze would drift to the expensive rectangle sitting all alone off to the side, wherever he’d carefully and strategically placed it to be just out of reach. Gradually his fingers would start to twitch, and then his jaw. He’d drum his nails against his knee, or irritably tap the pointed heel of his shoe against the floor. And then the phone would be back in his hands and he’d be looking at something that sent him spiraling all the way back to the beginning again.

“I don’t know what to do,” you confided in Rook one afternoon. You hadn’t seen him yet, but a bush off to your left had jiggled suspiciously at one point, so you assumed that he was probably somewhere in the vicinity.

After a moment, the hunter came and perched himself at your side.

“Do you know what’s bothering him?” you asked. Rook seemed to know everything about everyone, and Vil was his muse, his Roi de Poison. He had to have noticed something by now.

The blonde nodded, the feather in his hat bobbing as he did.

“...You’re not going to tell me what it is, are you?” you huffed, not even attempting to bite back your irritation.  

Rook patted your shoulder sympathetically. “It is not my tale to tell, Mon Coeur. There are some things that I am told in confidence, and I cannot break that trust. Though I am sure he would greatly appreciate your concern.”

“Or you could just tell me,” you tried. “And then I wouldn’t have to be concerned at all.”

He tilted his hat at you, and then danced back easily when you tried to snatch it off his head.

.

.

“So, what’s the dealio,” Ace drawled, and he’d better thank his lucky stars that you didn’t startle quite as easily as you used to, because there was entire, opened, jar of Werecat urine in your hands that was just dying to wind up upended all down his white lab coat.

“What deal?” you snipped, carefully recapping the stinky ingredient and setting it off to the side. Tempting as the idea of dousing the redhead in supernatural piss was, Crewel would skin you for wasting components.  

“You spend a lot of time at Pomefiore,” Deuce added, much politer in his approach than Ace had been. “And lately their House Warden has been a bit…”

“Why has Captain Pissy-And-Perfect been so pissy?” Ace interrupted, leaning far too close over your cauldron to be any kind of safe. “Normally the only thing that twists him up that bad is Neige.”

Your mind whirled back to the incident at the mall. And as controlled as you liked to think you were about these sorts of things, your face must have done something because Ace pounced on you like Ruggie after a donut.

“What do you know?” he demanded, nearly spilling a whole bottle of Newt Eyes across the floor as he crowded into your personal space. “Tell me, tell me, tell me—"

“All I did was give Neige a scarf!” you snapped. “It’s not like it’s a big deal!”

“What scarf?” Deuce blinked back, confused.

“It was just some scarf that Vil put on me!”

The two of them made long, pointed, eye contact, and you immediately felt horribly out of the loop.

“Whelp. That tracks,” Ace sighed, just as Crewel popped up behind him to whip him across the back of his head with his pointer.

.

.

Your group of mangy idiots had gathered in the cafeteria for lunch—as was the ancient tradition of all starving students. The four of you had clustered around your usual table. Ace was busy squirting ketchup packets all over what would inevitably become Deuce’s seat when he finally got of the line. Jack was busy swishing said ketchup away with an irritated scowl. Epel sat across from you, as miserable and lemon scented as ever.

A lunch tray smacked the tabletop with an echoing bang and Deuce appeared behind it, frantically waved his cellphone in your faces.

“You guys have to watch this,” he said, deathly serious, before propping his phone up against your glass of water. It flopped forward with a resounding crack three times before he managed to get it to stay upright.

The five of you crouched around the teeny screen as the poppy chords of some Talk Show intro or other filtered through the tinny speakers.

“You know,” the interviewer beamed, all manicured sugar and over-bleached smiles. “With some of the things you’ve been posting lately, some people are saying that you’ve just got to be in love!”

The audience ooohed and aaaahed.

Neige Leblanche was sitting on the little leather sofa beside her, and he smiled in a way lit his entire face in a brilliant shade of pink. He was still wearing that goddamn purple scarf and immediately you could feel your temples pulsing with a migraine. This was going to be bad.

“Well,” he mumbled, bashful. “I can’t say you’re entirely wrong about that.”

Cue hordes of nearly rabid screaming. Ace winced and reached forward to tick down the volume.

“Why are we watching this?” Jack scowled, but he didn’t move his sharp glare from the illuminated screen.

“The Prefect gave Neige a scarf, and—”

“Shh,” Deuce hushed. “This is the bad part.”

“It’s a little bit silly,” Neige continued, glancing up at the host from beneath his dark lashes. “I don’t actually know their name. But we met a few weeks ago now and they were just—well they were amazing. They actually helped pull me out of a pretty sticky situation, and they were so composed through all of it! And then they didn’t even care about me being famous at all!” he rambled, getting brighter and brighter the longer he monologued. “They just helped me because I was a person, and, well, I think that’s very sweet.”

There was another wave of darling ‘awwws’ that could only have been scripted. Or, at least you hoped so. This level of saccharine infatuation should have been enough to turn anyone’s stomach. It had certainly twisted yours into all sorts of unpleasant knots. The secondhand embarrassment alone was on the verge of taking you out entirely.

“A little birdy’s been telling us that the scarf you’ve been modelling in all your latest Magicam posts was actually a gift from this secret lover of yours,” the interviewer whispered conspiratorially, and you wanted nothing more than to snatch that stupid purple cashmere back through the screen solely so that you could strangle her with it.

“Well, yes, actually,” Neige chirped, fingers reaching up to toy with the soft fabric.

“No it wasn’t!” you howled, indignant. “I just put it on him to distract him because I accidentally rambled to his face about how much more fuckable Vil was than him, and—”

“WHAT?!” Epel screeched. Screeched. At the top of his lungs. It felt like you could feel the glares of every single set of eyes in the cafeteria drilling into your spine. Out of the corner of your eye, you swore you saw a feather bob as it disappeared through the door, and you didn’t even want to think of the implications of that.

“No fucking way,” Ace gaped, looking for all the world like you’d just handed him a million Thaumarks, or an entire notebook’s worth of nuclear codes. Deuce and Jack both just looked like they were trying not to choke to death.

“Oh my God,” you wailed. “I did it again.”

.

.

When you next ran into the King of Poisons, you were so distracted by the impossible task of wrangling Ace into silence that you couldn’t have noticed the subtle changes in him even if you’d wanted to. The increased length in his stride, the gentler tuck of his hair, the less severe line of his shoulders—if you weren’t so caught up in trying to commit homicide, you would have been ecstatic.

Rook was chattering along at his side, his lips quirked into a merry grin. The tack-tack-tack of Vil’s crimson heels against the stone floors was familiar, confident, and loud enough to swim through your head despite Ace’s manic cackling.

“Potato.” Vil’s red lips quirked upwards into the smallest smile before twitching back down into a sneer. “And other potato. What exactly do you think you’re doing?”

Thankfully, at the end of the day, Ace was still nothing if not a no-good coward. He turned on the Pomefiore House Warden, ready to spill your deepest, darkest, secrets, and immediately withered under the third year’s spiteful glower.

“H-House Warden!” he squeaked. “I was just—Ahem. The Prefect was just—just saying that—”

“Go on,” Vil prompted, tongue dripping with all kinds of venom. “It must be riveting if it’s managed to stun you so thoroughly. Or maybe that’s just the extent of your comprehensive abilities as it is.”

Ace gulped. Audibly.

“Perhaps I should report your dallying to Riddle,” Vil continued, and that was when Ace really started to look panicked. “Remind me—your House Warden is known for his lenient stance on punishing rule breakers, is he not?”

The redhead darted off with one final squeak, practically wheeling around a corner in his haste to escape.

“Well?” Vil barked, and it took you a second to realize that he was addressing you now, and not that he was just going to continually roast Ace into an early grave. “Are you coming?”

“Where?” you asked, confused.

Vil rolled his eyes and reached out to grab your hand. “To Film Club. You promised to help pick out the new backdrop color schemes. Or is the forgetfulness of that horrible, spudling, friend of yours wearing off on you now too?”

You had promised Vil so many things in the last few weeks that you honestly probably wouldn’t even have remembered if you’d offered to sell him your soul, so looking through page after page of tone combinations that all looked absolutely identical to you but whatever was probably the best you could hope for.

More importantly, he seemed… better. Less stiff, certainly. You wondered idly what could have happened in the span of a few hours to mend his mood so thoroughly. If it had been Neige related all along, then probably some slight against the dude, right? Maybe something had popped up online? Industry drama, or whatever. Or maybe—

‘Because I accidentally rambled to his face about how much more fuckable Vil was than him, and—'

You froze, like a deer about to mowed down by a semi. Vil’s grip on your hand was the only thing that kept you from immediately faceplanting into the ground.

But, no. No one aside from your immediate entourage could have heard you say that! It wasn’t possible! It—It wasn’t—

Amidst your sudden wave of mortification, you caught Rook’s mischievous green, gaze, with your own. The feather on his hat bobbed playfully, mockingly, and he winked.

.

TAG LIST (CLOSED AS OF 12/10)

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[wallflowerwritesstuff]

You Chose: Rafayel

border credit goes to cafekitsune here on tumblr 🖤

Getting home had been surprisingly tame, the night passing without much issue. 

The morning, however, was the polar opposite, the pain causing you to remain in the same position despite how uncomfortable it had become. You powered up your phone, having allowed it to die last night after your shower without realizing. 

Then came the messages. 

Ding. 

Ding. 

Ding, Ding Di—

You snatch the phone from your bedside table with a whimper, finding that anger wasn’t appropriate when you could barely move. 

So, slowly, you unlock your phone and peer at your texts, responding to each in order until you get to the most recent from a contact that makes you snicker inwardly. 

-0-0-0-

hey

hey

hey 

hellllllloooooo? you aren’t ignoring my texts now are you miss bodyguard? 

have a good night. we can talk in the morning. 

its morning you know. i’ll come over if you keep ignoring me. i mean it!

alright. bet.

-0-0-0-

It only takes your read receipt popping up before you receive an incoming call from Catastrosea, your head rolling as you move onto your back. Rafayel’s voice comes through immediately, beginning with a soft gasp and click of his tongue. 

Ever the dramatic one. 

“At least you had the decency to pick my call up since you’ve been avoiding my texts,” he says, sounding offended, a small chuckle following the words. “Just kidding, I know you Hunters are always off being good samaritans or whatever. But you are still my bodyguard, you know. How am I meant to go to events without my trusty protector making sure little ol’ me is safe?” 

“Yeah, yeah,” you mumble, shutting your eyes again and breathing through the ache building in your temples. “Sorry.” 

Rafayel pauses on the other line. “Woah, you sound….” 

You can hear the ‘awful’ wanting to roll off his tongue, but instead, the sound of rustling is heard along with a soft ‘ow~’ and something falling. You perk up, on high alert until he mumbles about stepping on supplies, a small smile forming on your lips. 

You weren’t the only klutz, apparently. 

“You alright?” you whisper, earning a huff from the line. 

“Are you sure you’re in a position to ask me that? I nearly thought someone stole your phone with how you sound right now,” he says as you frown. 

“In bed,” you respond, not adding the and that’s where I’ll be for the next 3-5 business days for the sake of sparing him concern. 

“What a surprise for someone as active as yourself. Not feeling well?”

You hesitate to answer, the slight rustling sound seeming to remain constant as you chewed on your lower lip. “...just wanted a change of routine, I guess.” 

“Right,” he answered, not believing you for a second but not arguing. “On a scale from cat scratch to completely bodied, what state are you in right now?” 

You laugh, but then you suck in a breath and curl into yourself. “Guess.”

“Completely bodied from that pitiful little whimper of yours. I gotcha,” he says too calmly, and you wonder if he regrets calling right now. He had probably been having a rather decent afternoon considering how jovial he’d sounded, but now he was awfully quiet on the other line. His mood had to have soured, but you had a hard time imagining he cared so much about your life to have it affect his own. 

It was nice to imagine, at least.

Someone was knocking on your door like they wanted to tear it down. You hear a voice as you get closer, yawning as you tap on your door to see a screen pop up, revealing exactly who you thought it’d be, though he seemed to have brought company.

“Don’t scratch me or so help me, you little terror—!”

Your eyes light up as you open the door to meet a familiar pair of eyes. 

Rafayel, with a cat in hand, pauses the moment he sees you. There is a flash of something you don’t quite recognize coming from him, but then he sniffs and tilts his head. 

“Woof. You look even worse than you sound. It’s a great thing I’m here. I have a fantastic bedside manner.” 

You lean against the doorway, managing a small smile despite your vision feeling like it was beginning to double. “Really? Because most professionals wouldn’t bark at their patients and say they look awful,” you reply, the cat jumping out of his arms to circle your ankles, purring gently. You feel your spirits lift ever so slightly, leaning down slowly as the cat sniffs your hand before shoving their head beneath it as if asking for your touch. “Just a bit of advice from someone with actual bedside manner.” 

Rafayel brought a hand up to his chin, staring up at the ceiling before nodding once. “Hm, advice accepted, but as for that second part, I’d like to think someone with a bedside manner would know better than to bring me a singular apple when I end up hospitalized,” he sighs, staring down with a mischievous glint. 

“It was the last and best apple!” you defend, feeling a bit of spirit return at the fact you had to constantly defend your poor apple—especially considering he had still eaten it! 

“Yes, yes, I thank it for its sacrifice,” he brushes off with the wave of a hand, leaning down to match your level. “You seem more happy to see the walking weapon than you do me. How rude,” he mumbles into his knees as you snort. 

“Haven’t you ever heard of therapy dogs? Well, cats have the same effect,” you insist.

He follows you when you attempt to stand, reaching out when you stumble with a small wince. Your lip stings when you come to, the realization you have sunken your teeth into it making him tense. 

“‘M fine,” you murmur, but when you turn and nearly trip over your own feet, you hear him whisper something under his breath before feeling something warm against your back. “When did you…?” you ask in confusion, brow furrowing before smoothening out when the small action caused a sharp pain to shoot across from one temple to the other. 

“Yeah, yeah,” Rafayel mimics from your earlier conversation, voice right beside your ear. The frown on his lips deepens as he looks around your apartment, searching. “Looks like I came at just the right time, miss bodyguard. I’m going to lift you, so brace yourself.”

Surprisingly, he actually gives you time to do so, and so you turn enough to grip the front of his shirt as the world goes blurry again despite his slow speed. 

Maybe that head injury of yours was worse than you thought. You had been cleared and even waited to sleep as you were told, but a check-up may not be the worst idea. You did tell yourself you would go to the hospital if anything got worse. 

A hand touches your forehead, and it’s then you realize you are lying on your couch, Rafayel sitting on the floor beside you with an unreadable expression. It felt familiar in a way, though when he caught you staring, he smiled and tilted his head. 

“Admiring me only when you have a head injury? Should I be offended?” 

“You should be quiet,” you say, lacking the heat that would have made such a demand an insult. 

“Oh? I could always leave, but the terror would have to come with me,” he points out, moving to stand as you shoot up to grab him, whimpering as your head and body form an alliance to try and send you back into blissful unconsciousness. 

“Gosh, no need to hurt yourself over a joke. I wouldn’t take them with me,” he teases, but his smile has become somewhat forced as he helps you return to your previous position. You want to say that you would want them both to stay, but the words jumble in your brain as he speaks again. “Stay here, will you? I have the feeling you won’t be conscious long if you keep moving so suddenly like that.” 

The rest of the day is somewhat of a blur, you coming to in the early evening when the medicine finally kicks in. You open your eyes, your sight still dark until you remove the damp towel from your face. There is a soft purring on your belly, your hand moving to pet the sleeping cat gently. The lights are all off, and Rafayel sitting on the floor where you’d seen him earlier. He had some pieces of paper in front of him, a pencil tucked behind his ear as he pursed his lips. 

Not wanting to disturb him, you watch quietly, every scratch of charcoal against paper paired with the soft rumbles of the cat’s snores managing to lull you back to sleep. 

Before you could sink completely, you whisper a small thank you, not seeing the expression on Rafayel’s face grow conflicted, a mixture of frustration and concern unable to be hidden behind jokes and smiles. 

“I don’t want your thanks, I want you to be more careful,” he mutters, the words falling on deaf ears, floating into the air before fading entirely. 

When you wake, it’s the next morning and there’s a note on your coffee table along with a cute cartoon sketch of Rafayel crying and holding his hand while the orange cat licks his paw. 

Thomas threw a fit about me disappearing. We'll be back. I won't make you wait. Promise.

-R

Want to explore some of the other routes?

Click here to return to the main post for a refresher.

Or, pick your other favorite love interest below:

Xavier

Zayne

Rafayel

Sylus

[enlitment]

i am curious about robespierre and camille and “doomed by the narrative”, if you are free i would love to learn some more about them since i only have basic frev knowledge!

- @iron--and--blood

Thank you so much for the ask! ✨

The short version is that they started off as school friends and got separated for a couple of years after finishing their studies. Then the revolution started in 1789 and brought them together again by uniting them in their shared goal, only to completely tear them apart in 1794. And by ‘completely tear them apart’, I mean that Robespierre was one of the people who signed the decree for Camille’s arrest which led to his execution in 1794. Talk about star-crossed…

The answer would not have been possible without this great article by @anothehumaninthisworld btw! Definitely go read it if you haven’t already and are craving more information.

Both Camille Desmoulins and Maximilien Robespierre studied at Lous-le-Grand, the former Jesuit school, in Paris. Camille was 2 years younger than Maximilien, but they definitely knew each other, and there is a strong suggestion that they were friends back then. Later, Robespierre calls Camille his ‘study companion’, ‘college comrade’ and (and this will be important later, so just put a pin in that) ‘a talented young man without mature judgement’. Their favourite topic to discuss with each other was apparently the Roman Republic - because of course it was. I also like to imagine they bonded over their enthusiasm for classical authors!

Although two years is not that much of an age difference, a lot of people (including Przybyszewska, who takes it to the max) picked up on the fact that their dynamic was kind of like this:

picture by @did-slid-skid (hope it’s okay to share it, if not then I’ll take it down. Give it a like here!)

…and it sort of continued to be like that until the bitter end, but let’s not get ahead too much.

Once the revolution kicked off and Camille started publishing his first newspaper, he seems to have tried to capitalise on the fact that he knew Robespierre,whose political career at that time was already gaining significant traction (in a bit of ‘I’m so proud of my famous talented friend! Just look at Robespierre! And have I mentioned he is *my* friend?!’ kind of way). At this point, Camille might have had an incentive to exaggerate their closeness a bit to help his own journalistic career.

But I think it’s fair to say their relationship became closer once again sometime during 1790 since Robespierre was not only a witness at Camille’s wedding to Lucile, but he also became a godfather to Camille’s and Lucile’s son Horace, according to some sources. And if not a godfather, then definitely at least an occasional babysitter.

Also not super relevant from a historical perspective but the wedding scene in La Revolution Francaise is very cute, despite the film's many issues:

Then, around late 1793 and the first half of 1794, things got really messy. I mean, they were always really complex of course, it was the revolution and fractions kept forming and falling in quite a rapid succession. I mean messy specifically in regards to Camille. To put something really complicated as simply as possible, Camille started to be associated with the Indudgents/Dantonists - a name coined for the political fraction which included figures like Georges Danton and Fabre d'Églantine, who was involved in a massive corruption scandal.

Around that time, Camille also started publishing a newspaper – La Vieux Cordellier – which criticised the actions of the Committees and as such, came to be seen as something that was actively undermining the authority and the efforts of the revolutionary government.

There was quite a heated public exchange between Camille and Robespierre in January 1794 at the Jacobin Club. It also marks one of the greatest instances of what I like to call ‘using Rousseau as a weapon”.

Basically, Robespierre ordered Camille to destroy the copies of his journal, to which Camille replied by quoting Rousseau and saying "to burn is not to answer." It's important to know that Rousseau was *the* hero of Robespierre - a fact of which Camille was fully aware - so this was meant to cut deep. It must have stung!

Robespierre then replied “Learn, Camille, that if you were not Camille, one could not have so much indulgence for you”. This to me really illustrates the nature of their relationship at this point in time.

I am not sure how much of this is actually historically accurate and how much is my view based on the interpretations of their relationship in the media, but the sense I get is that Robespierre was quite protective of Camille until he felt like he had no choice but to move against him.

Despite the small age difference, there seemed to have been kind of an older, wiser person in a protective role/younger man led astray (or, if you want to go the Przybyszewka's route, acting like a brat) dynamic. Robespierre is quoted referring to Camille as a ‘spoilt child’. I mean, Camille might have been one of the first people to be called enfant terrible (I swear I saw it somewhere and did not hallucinate it, right?), despite being a man in his 30s.

Camille's whole vibe is somehow 30+ going on 14. Like that's pretty much a historical canon.

But then, in one way or another, the situation reached a point where for Robespierre, the importance of preserving the revolutionary cause outweighed the importance of friendship with Camille - his old college comrade. (DOOMED BY THE NARRATIVE!)

In March 1794, Robespierre, as a member of the Committee of Public Safety, was among the people who signed Camille’s arrest warrant and thus, with a stroke of a pen, sealed his fate.

blood and ink parallel etc etc you get it ~

According to Robespierre’s sister, Charlotte, Maximilien tried to visit his friend in prison. I'm including a longer version of the quote because it is fascinating! Przybyszewska includes this supposed event in her play, The Danton case. It is also something which I may or may not have capitalised on in my own writing. Ahem.

"all I know is that my brother had much love for Camille Desmoulins, with whom he had studied, and that when he learned of his arrest and his incarceration in the Luxembourg he went to that prison in the intention of imploring Camille to return to the true revolutionary principles he had abandoned to ally himself with the aristocrats. Camille did not want to see him; and my brother, who would probably have defended and perhaps saved him, abandoned him to the terrible justice of the Revolutionary Tribunal."

An important question though is whether we can trust Charlotte as a source here… (most likely no?) If it were true though, it just screams doomed by the narrative (and own hubris?) to me.

Lucile Desmoulins, Camille’s wife, meanwhile tried to plea for Camille’s release by writing to Robespierre and trying to remind him of his and Camille’s friendship:

Have you forgotten these ties which Camille can never remember without tenderness? You who prayed for out union, who took our hands into yours, you who have smiled at my son and whom his infantile hands have caressed so many times (…) Even if he (…) hadn’t been as attached to the republic, I figure his attachment to you would have functioned as a substitute for patriotism, and you think that for this we deserve death?

(I’m not crying you’re crying)

Lucile’s letter, however, did not help to change Robespierre’s mind and overturn the decision. On 16 Germinal Year II (5th of April 1794), Camille Desmoulins was executed, along with other Dantonists.

Just one more line that always makes me sad, to really rub it in as a special treat – from Camille’s letter to his wife from prison:

“I have dreamed of a Republic such as all the world would have adored. I could never have believed that men could be so ferocious and so unjust.”

Or, as @anotherhumaninthisworld aptly puts it in the tags, Camille and Maximilien’s relationship essentially boils down to this:

(Really funny, but ouch.)

Their relationship also features prominently in the works by S. Przybyszewska, an early 20th century Polish playwright who very much picks up on the potentially queer vibes of Camile's and Maximilien's dynamic and just runs with it. She's much loved by the French Revolution Tumblr fandom for writing what is essentially a beautiful extremely angsty historical RPF in the 1920s.

[sgiandubh]

Lallybroch: copyright vs. trademark

An excellent question was asked by our friend @rosfrank in the comments thread to 'The door faces North' post and given the cosmic amount of uninformed bullshit being ventilated for almost ten years in this fandom, I think it's time to answer it once and for all:

Whenever we are informally talking about 'owning the rights to something', I think it's very important to bear in mind a fundamental distinction between two different categories of ownership rights: copyright and trademark.

The copyright is the most familiar one to many of you. It is what you usually find on those annoying and apparently useless first or last pages of all the printed or digital editions on this planet. Something like this:

In the US, copyright issues are regulated by the Copyright Act of 1976, as included in Title 17 of the US Code. The US public authority competent for registering and managing copyright is, as predictable, the US Copyright Office.

Perhaps the most seminal US Supreme Court decision, as far as copyright is concerned, is the 1991 Feist Publications, Inc., v. Rural Telephone Service Co. In it, the Court ruled that mere compilations of information or facts (such as, for example, telephone books) are not protected by copyright, according to US law. In other words, the ancient legal concept of 'sweat of the brow' (which simply means the amount of work required to gather and compile those facts/information) is not enough to qualify a work for copyright protection, if no creative effort is added to enhance its content. This is why I have always considered absolutely ridiculous Marple's efforts to watermark public information screenshots: it is useless (to the extent that it legally protects her from nothing) and, as her timelines, a mere compilation of facts (legally ditto). A similar approach is preferred by the UK and also by many Roman law legal systems, such as the French one - just making things clearer, here, by the way.

See how 'Erself is roughly doing, right now, in this department:

But I am rambling. In my view, Lallybroch, as a pivotal concept used in Diana Gabaldon's books, is protected by the copyright granted to each and every of her books mentioning it, according to the Roman law principle 'accessorium sequitur principale' (the accessory follows the principal). So it will remain protected for at least 70 years since the last of her books mentioning it would have been published under copyright. Unless she chooses to separately protect the entire finished cycle as a whole, once Book Ten (fingers crossed) is published, preferably during our foreseeable lifetimes.

That being said, that goes only for one copyright category: (published) text - you cannot copyright that secret diary in your drawer, LOL. This is why, the current US Copyright Office records concerning Lallybroch look like this:

Sony Pictures Television Inc owns the copyright to the fictional name Lallybroch in the motion pictures category, as it is the title of the Episode 12, in Season 1 - DG has been handsomely compensated for this, no worries. And someone I have no idea about owns the rights to an original musical score she has written and titled Lallybroch in the music category, since October 2013.

Onwards to the trademark. This is something different and this is all about making your name/concept/idea profitable. It is all about branding it, putting it on a product and selling it under that brand. It includes all the graphic elements and the logo of the brand (accessorium...) - in short, its visual identity to the consumers. In the US, trademark issues are regulated by the 1946 Lanham Act and the public competent authority is the good old US Patent and Trade Office (USPTO).

Right now, the situation for the Lallybroch trademark is as follows:

So, we see three different trademarks: two of them, owned by Diana Gabaldon, are classified as 'dead' (cancelled and/or abandoned) and the third, Lallybroch Spirits, owned by S's Great Glen Company is pending approval - he will not be able to label any booze bottle Lallybroch Drink Me before permission is granted by the USPTO.

Let's unpack:

Both Lallybroch trademarks formerly owned by Diana Gabaldon were filed at the USPTO on February 21, 2000 and granted on December 12, 2000. The first was aimed at producing 'tartan fabrics for the manufacturer of clothing' and it was abandoned in December 2003:

The reason is that the owner did not file in any Statement of Use after the trademark was granted. She had three years to do so, and since she chose not to do anything about it, the trademark was deemed abandoned (Stacy K. Smith is the attorney hired by Herself, btw). That means she specifically implied not to intend using it in the future. As such, she may claim NO rights on a now free to use mark:

The second trademark was aimed at producing 'clothing, namely, t-shirts, dresses and headwear' and also 'jewelry, namely, rings, pins and necklaces'- to cut the story short: OL merchandise - and it was cancelled on March 1st, 2013:

The reason is that the owner did not file the Section 8 declaration (of continuous use for five years) within the allowed legal timeframe (6 months after the fifth anniversary of the trademark granting renewal). Her trademark federal rights are now deemed canceled (but not her state law and/or common law rights!) and if she wants to ever use that name again, she would have to start the whole process over, bearing in mind the trademark could have been granted to someone else, in the meanwhile (not her case).

And for anyone who might ask, 'Erself does not own any other trademarks whatsoever:

The other (Doll Lab - LOL for ages) Diana Gabaldon is a pharmacist from Albuquerque, NM. Chill. ����🤣🤣

The owner of the copyright to the fictional toponym Lallybroch, as far as published text is concerned, is Diana Galabdon.

The owner of the copyright to the fictional toponym Lallybroch, as far as motion pictures are concerned, is Sony Pictures Television Inc.

The owner of the copyright to the fictional toponym Lallybroch, as a personal work of music, is Mrs. Kelly Ruth Davis, of Pennsylvania, USA.

The owner of the Lallybroch Spirits trademark will be Sam Roland Heughan, when that trademark is granted by the USPTO.

I hope this answers your question, @rosfrank. Thank you for asking.