#i have zero control over my hands anymore

[papercorgiworld]

How would YOU feel if I banged you on the table?

Mattheo Riddle and Tom Riddle

Nervously tapping your pen against the table has serious consequences when your study partner is a Riddle.

This was a 100% inspired by this post! So go check it out.

Warning: smut, zero plot

I have a lot of other stuff to write, but just couldn’t resist writing this! The ones that follow me should’ve seen this one coming… Anyways, back to writing more!

Mattheo Riddle

You and Mattheo had been friends for a while and as of last exam period, also study buddies. It worked. You were organized and pretty to look at when he got bored of studying. He reminded you about walks, healthy snacks etc. However, at the moment Mattheo was seriously considering walking out of your room and to go study somewhere else, because you kept on hitting your pen on the table at a ridiculous rate. He stared at your hand, clearly your nerves were reaching a breaking point as your eyes scanned the words of your summary, oblivious to the annoying sound you were making. Mattheo stared at the pen being hit against the table at ritmic pace for a minute, before snapping.

Mattheo: Stop that. How would YOU feel if I banged you on the table?

You stopped and looked up at him in shock, to then look at your pen. “I-” You close your mouth and look back at Mattheo. “I don’t know the correct answer to that question.” You blur out. Clearly you had been studying for too long. For several seconds Mattheo is absolutely stunned by your answer, but before things get awkward he regains his composure. “Well, I could always fuck all your stress away, like the good study budy I am.” The smugness on his face was unbelievable. You shake your head softly, but no words of protest leave your lips as you can’t help but seriously consider his words. When Mattheo notices that a part of you would actually be open to the idea a wide smirk makes its way to his face. “Could really help the both of us out of this little study dip.” He suggests still flirty, but less playful. Your eyes lock and there’s an eager, non-verbal ‘yes, let’s do this’ in your eyes.

You both get up from your seats and for a moment you two seem stuck just standing there, but when the hormones finally kick in properly your hands reach for his shoulders and his hands grab your hips lifting you up on the table. Your legs instinctively open up so Mattheo can stand in between them as your mouths hungrily move into a lustful kiss. “Salazar, finally I can get this ugly thing off of you.” Mattheo grunts, pulling your comfy sweater over your head. “It’s my study sweater.” You whine in protest to him calling it ugly, but Mattheo isn’t listening anymore as his eyes and mind are now focussed on your boobs. “You weren’t wearing a bra.” He breathes, the last bit of self control leaves him and his dick is now begging to be released from his pants. She just sat across from me studying and she wasn’t even wearing a bra. Godss.

“My eyes are up here, Mattheo.” You chuckle. “Whatever.” Mattheo groans while his hand reaches and squeezes your right breast. “I’ve seen your eyes before, love, but this-this is new material that needs to be studied.” His free hand snakes around you pulling you closer and you can now feel his hard member between your legs. If he gets to fondle my breasts I might as well occupy my hands too. You make quick work of his pants and sneak your hand in his boxers to stroke his thick veiny cock. Now Mattheo finally looks away from your breast to kiss you. You moan against his lips as he gives your nipples a soft squeeze, before moving his hands down to your thighs. “Up.” He commands and you lift your ass so he can take off your comfy pants. You let go of him so he can lower your pants, but Mattheo is in a hurry so he simultaneously slips down your panties as well.

Shamelessly he takes your hand and places it back on his rock hard cock, while he stares at your entrance with his hands digging in the flesh of your thigh keeping your legs spread as wide as he wishes. His dominance and lusty eyes alone make your core thob in need of him. “Matty, please.” You whine when you start to feel more vulnerable and desperate. “Of course.” Mattheo whispers with a comforting tone. “I’m gonna take care of you.” His lips move over your cheek as he whispers and kisses you passionately. With his lips on yours he slips a finger through your folds. You instantly reward him with a whiny moan, making him smirk, before quickly repeating his action and going further. Fully digging in a finger, earning filthy desperate moans from you. Meanwhile you are trying to keep focus pumping his dick, wanting to show him as much love as he was giving you. You arch your back and Mattheo inserts another finger as he growls softly at the sight in front of him.

You let your head fall on his shoulder as you try your best to work his dick and Mattheo just watches his fingers move inside your cunt, forcefully circling your clit. Your moans get more and more unsteady and you feel your high approaching. “Matt- I-“ You fail to form a coherent sentence, but Mattheo shushes you in an endearing way. “It’s okay love, just come for me.” At his words your moans turn into cries for more. As your orgasm hits you, you wrap your arm tightly around Mattheo’s neck and soak his fingers. He gives you a sweet kiss on the lips like it’s a reward for your excellent behavior.

With your mouth still hanging open and softly panting, Mattheo watches you while jerking himself. “Turn around for me.” A whimper leaves your lips at his husky words and all you can do is nod, before turning on your feeble legs. Mattheo is quick to have a hand on your hips, helping you keep steady as his other hand pushes you down and lifts your ass. You bite your lips as you feel your core get desperate to be filled by him. He moves his dick gently, teasing your folds before entering and settling deep inside you. Your mouth hangs agape as your body adjusts to his size fully inside of you. Mattheo closes his eyes for a moment enjoying your walls clenching around him. “You might be more than just the perfect study buddy for me. With a pussy as sweet as yours.. fuck.” You whimper as he starts thrusting into, no longer being able to control himself.

He ruts into you, hitting your sweet spot until tears start to fill your eyes. You whimper and cry his name as your body goes numb with sensations. As you’re both closing in on your orgasm Mattheo pulls your back closer to his chest. “Look at how pretty you are.” He whispers in your ear and it’s then that you notice him looking at you from the mirror in your room. His arms wrapped tightly around your body as he fucks into you, with lustful eyes on you. Your walls desperately clench around him demanding him to cum, which does, still holding you close to him and watching you in the mirror. “So beautiful.” Your arm reaches behind you to pull his head into the crook of his neck, where he starts kissing you. You continue to whimper and whine as you come down from your high, feeling his cum and his dick still inside you. Merlin, I’ll never have an orgasm like this. This man is something else.

Tom Riddle

It was late at night and the library was empty except for you and Tom. You still didn’t know how, but for some reason he had privileges to stay in the library for as long as he wished. Normally you would’ve complained about how professors always seemed to let him have his way, but tonight as you were both working on a potions project you were happy that you could stay there this late.

While Tom was writing some important things down you were focused on a specific paragraph, reading it over and over again. However, without being aware of it Tom had stopped writing and was now furiously boring his eyes into your hand that was repeatedly hitting your pen onto the table. He clenches his jaw in an attempt to be cool about it and make you aware of it in a polite way.

Tom: Stop that. How would YOU feel if I banged you on the table?

Not that polite after all. He instantly curses himself for lashing out, but you aren’t offended at all. You just stare at him blankly, before blushing. “I-” Tom watches you attentively as you get more flustered. “I don’t know the correct answer to that question.” You try to joke, but there’s something nervous about your voice. Slowly Tom tilts his head and licks his lips. “You know… we are alone… and a break wouldn’t do any harm.” Gods, yes! Your insides scream, but on the outside you stay quiet. “No need to be shy.” He whispers seductively, turning his chair towards you and gently tugging your hand urging you to leave your chair.

You can feel your whole body heat up as you get up to let him pull you onto him. With your legs on either side of him, he slowly snakes his hands from your sides to your hips and ass. Your hand rests on his chest as you lean in to kiss him. When he judges your kiss a bit too short his hand moves to your head pulling you into a hungry kiss that has you moaning in a matter of seconds. He smirks, satisfied with the reaction he’s getting and rocks your hips into his, rolling your cunt over his bulge. When your breaths get unsteady and he knows how much pleasure he’s giving you he gets more demanding. “Take off your shirt.” When you nod he bites his lips and as a reward he moves your hips even harder over his still clothed member. You quickly work the buttons of your shirt and as soon as it’s removed Tom tugs the strap of your bra down and starts sucking and nibbling your breast while his hand unclasps your bra, so he can now work with both boobs.

The way he was playing with your nipples rather roughly encouraged you to continue riding his bulge, allowing yourself to selfishly enjoy this man. You arch your back and snake a hand behind his neck, making him lean back to enjoy the sight for a moment. You can’t help but soak your panties even more as you watch the arrogant smile on his face. “You are so ready to be taken.” Tom says with a low and husky voice, warning you that he’s hungry for you. With those words he squeezes your ass, making you instinctively move up and giving him the chance to slap your ass, marking what’s definitely his. He smiles smugly at the soft cry that leaves your lips, before pulling you in for a dominant kiss. While his mouth moves to your neck to continue marking you, his fingers slide over your thighs making their way to your panties. Tom quickly pushes the soaked fabric aside to insert two fingers, immediately stretching you and circling your clit. Your loud and desperate cries fill the library as pleasure rushes through your body, making your walls clench in need of more. “So wet.” He whispers in your ear, teeth grazing the skin of your cheek.

As quickly as he had forced his fingers inside of you, they left again. You whine. “Please don’t, play games Tom, I need you.” Your voice is needy and pathetic, causing Tom’s dick to twitch in his pants. “Don’t be inpatient.” He says calmly, but you can hear something animalistic in his voice. His large hands grab your thighs, keeping you in place as he gets up and pushes you against the table. You watch with your legs wide as he unzips his pants, revealing his precum covered size and pumping it. A moan leaves your lips at the view.

Slowly he removes your panties and pushes your skirt up so he can watch your soaking cunt take his cock. “So tight.” He groans as he stretches you carefully. When he’s finally deep inside of you he looks away from your pussy to grab your chin and kiss you. While you sloppily kiss each other he starts rutting inside of you at a merciless pace. He rests his head against yours and grabs your hips to keep you steady. “You take me so well, you might be more than just a good potions partner.” He pants, his eyes on yours, watching how they get watery as you reach a high you’ve never felt before. You nod, your mind hazy and very willing to be more than just his potions partner. Your mouth falls open and your moans get louder as your orgasm makes your whole body tense up. Tom pulls you closer and slows his pace to give you a moment to come down from your high. “Will you do something for me?” He whispers in your ear with a hypnotic voice and you meet his eyes with your shiny once. You would do anything for him and it was obvious, but surprisingly he doesn’t gloat about it and just gives you a soft peck on your temple. He pulls his hard throbbing dick out of you, making you whimper at the emptiness. “Get on your knees.” He says while jerking himself.

With obedient eyes you sink to your knees and without thinking about it you open your mouth. This does make him smirk and he strokes your hair, while guiding his cock inside your mouth. He groans and grits his teeth to keep himself from moaning at the sight of you, half naked and on your knees struggling but eager to take his whole size. It’s this sight that makes his eyes darken and grab your hair, warning you he’s going to fuck your mouth. Which he does harshly, but not for too long as he soon spills his seed deep into your mouth. He holds onto your hair until he’s sure you’ve swallowed. When he lets go you fall to your hands to keep steady.

He zips his pants back up watching you, satisfied with how quickly he had turned you into this mess. However, someone so pretty who took him so well deserved to be taken care of. So he grabs your shirt and wraps it around you. “Come on, I’m taking you to my room.” His voice is soft and he takes your arms, placing them around his shoulders before picking you up. You hide your face in the crook of his neck. Did I just get upgraded from potions partner, to fuck buddy, to …

[kyuujo]

↳ screen time!

↳ michael kaiser x fem!reader ↳ nsfw ↳ voyeurism, slightly dubcon (reader is recorded without explicit knowledge), mutual masturbation (sort of), perv!kaiser, voyeur!kaiser, solo male masturbation, language, dirty talk, fantasies, sexual tension(ish), sexual pining, overstimulation, i think i got everything pls lmk if you catch something!

↳ 1.3k words

↳ uwaaah dahlings!! thank you guys so much for 106 followers!! it means so much to me! i’m so happy i can provide some entertainment to so many of you <333 it makes me so happy to do that TwT) this piece is actually a repost from my (deleted) blog, and i’m thinking it’ll be the last repost i do (idk why but reposting just feels weird to me T-T) but i hope you guys enjoy!! thank you so much for reading (im so sorry that this note was so long i had so much to yap about)

kaiser knew he was abusing a system that he shouldn’t even have knowledge of — but he simply couldn’t control himself.

the instant ness had clued him in on that little piece of information about the camera system, kaiser’s mind shifted straight to you; cute, quiet, shy little you. and ness, bless his soul, didn’t question kaiser even once when he requested (demanded) that ness find a way to hack into the secondary cameras hidden within the personal rooms of the facility.

kaiser wasn’t sure why jinpachi ego had felt the need to install such a security system, but he was deeply thankful for it.

because there would be no other way kaiser could ever witness this beautiful sight over and over again — you laid out across your bed, legs spread and fingers working over time plunging into your sloppy little cunt.

slick squelches and soft moans echoed through the earphones and traveled straight to kaiser’s dick, which was already hard and leaking despite only having started the recording less than a minute ago.

that was just the visceral effect you had on him; you could brick him up instantly with just a single glance in his direction.

and seeing you like this — oh, the effect was catastrophic. kaiser swears his dick has never been harder before, that he’s never felt so turned on and sensitive, each stroke of his hand down the shaft electrifying and borderline overwhelming — and when he ran the pad of his thumb along the tip to collect the dripping pre his whole body nearly convulsed.

it was amazing, satisfying, and yet so, so torturous. because at the moment, all kaiser could do was stare at your pretty cunt swallowing your fingers and imagine how it would feel for those velvet walls to be closing around his cock instead.

and suddenly, his hand just didn’t feel good enough anymore — kaiser imagined you must have felt the same way about your fingers, given the scrunch of your eyebrows and how desperate your movements were; it just wasn’t enough. you clearly needed something longer and thicker to fill you up.

and kaiser could do that for you — oh, how he would make you feel so good. he’d slide his cock in nice and slow so could you could feel him inch for inch, so you could enjoy that satisfying stretch it’d give your tight little pussy. he’d fuck into you recklessly in the same way you’re doing with your fingers while whispering sweet little nothings in your ear just to feel your walls flutter around him.

“so good, meine schöne rose,” kaiser whispered as he tightened his fingers around his cock, eyes zeroed in on your fingers sliding into that sweet nirvana between your legs. for a moment, kaiser could almost convince himself that he was buried inside your tight little pussy and not his own hand. “keep going. that’s it.”

kaiser’s breathing was quickly laboring, his abdomen twitching and tightening with every quick stroke of his hand. your soft moans and whimpers spurred that heat within his gut, and if he closed his eyes and focused, kaiser could feel your plump lips against his ear, honeyed voice begging him to fuck harder, to fuck you completely stupid, until all you could think about was his cock —

kaiser’s eyes snapped open when his ears were graced with a particularly loud moan from the earphones, and that liquid heat in his gut ramped up to a boiling point at the sight he was greeted with.

your other hand had abandoned its stationary place on your stomach and was now rubbing fast circles against your pretty clit in time with your thrusting fingers, and your whole body was trembling from the new stimulus. kaiser had seen this enough times to know exactly what was soon to come.

“oh, sweet girl.” kaiser murmured reverently, chest fluttering and hand picking up speed around his cock. “so fuckin’ pretty like that.”

and you were — you were so fucking breathtaking. eyes slipped shut and plump lips parted to release those sweet, sultry moans; fingers sliding into the prettiest folds and rubbing against the cutest clit; that perfect body trembling and shaking.

it was a vision of pure erotic perfection that was etched permanently into kaiser’s mind; a vision that he craves to see in person while he ravages you with his cock.

“c’mon, meine rose. you’re so close.” kaiser cooed, hand jacking his cock so fast that his wrist was beginning to ache — but there was no way he was going to slow down, not when you were both so close, hanging onto the precipice of pure rupture. his gut clenched almost painfully and his balls twitched, signaling the fast approach of his climax.

“i’m gonna cum, sweet girl. mmh — fuck, ah — you’re gonna make me cum — i’m coming —”

kaiser had to bring his other hand up and clamp his teeth around it to muffle the sounds that bubbled up in his throat. all it took was three more strokes and he was exploding, warm, sticky ropes shooting all the way up to his chest. kaiser couldn’t even control the moans that slipped out, nor could he control the way his hips jerked up to fuck his cock into his tight fist as he rode out his orgasm, eyes glued to the screen in front of him.

your escalating moans seemed to add even more fuel to the fire, stretching out kaiser’s orgasm to the point that his cock became almost unbearably sensitive — but he kept pumping his fist slowly, keeping his cock alive as he reached forward with a shaky hand to restart the video.

“just once more, meine schöne rose. make me cum one more time.”

[cosmicmunsonwrites]

Can you do rafe x reader and she find out she’s pregnant and gets kicked out so she has to tell rafe

you hurt me pretty good too

pairing(s): fwb!rafe cameron x fwb!fem!reader

warnings: pregnancy, toxic parents, reader is kicked out, talks of abortion, pet names

summary: after finding out you’re pregnant, you parents kick you to the curb, forcing you to tell the father.

authors note: thank you so much for the request! i’ve been so slow with updating because of my writers block but i’m going to finish up all of these requests as soon as i can.

part zero | part one | part two

not edited

do not copy my works. i do not condone rewrites, translations, or edited versions. all my content is my content that i wrote.

not my gif

“dad, please,” you cried. “i tried. i was careful! i don’t know what more you want from me. we used protection and i was on birth control.”

he didn’t seem to accept that answer. “then maybe you shouldn’t be having sex at all. if you’re not responsible enough to prevent getting pregnant, how can i trust that you’ll take care of a kid?”

“i promise i will. i have a steady job, i pay for all of my own stuff, i do everything on my own. i promise this won’t be a problem for you,” you tried to reason.

“if you won’t get an abortion, you can’t stay here,” he said firmly. “and thats that.”

your lip trembled as you turned to your mother. “mom?”

“i’m sorry, honey. your fathers right.”

you choked out a sob before rushing into your room and packing up all of your valuable belongings into a duffle bag you found in your closet. you grabbed all of your stashed money and anything else you needed. you didn’t even bother packing too many clothes, you’d later buy new ones.

without any exchanged words, you walked out to your car and threw the bag into the back, pressing the start button and driving off.

you furiously wiped the tears from your eyes as you sped down the bridge over to figure 8. you hated this. you hated what you were about to do. but it was your only option now.

and when you arrived, you were still in tears and even more nervous than confessing to your parents.

your walked up to the front door and knocked. “coming,” you heard his voice yell. then it swung open.

the first thing he noticed was your teary eyes. “hey, what’s wrong?” he was never this soft with you. but you were more than grateful right now. “come in. we can go up to my room.”

you stepped around him, trying your best not to cry even harder when his hand splayed across your lower back as he led you up to the room as if you hadn’t navigated your way there on your own a million times.

he gestured to the bed, silently telling you to take a seat as he kneeled in front of you, a hand on each of your thighs. “what’s wrong, sweetheart? something happen.”

you broke down now. “you’re gonna hate me.”

“i don’t think i could ever hate you,” he mumbled softly, eyes searching yours for some sort of answer.

you took a deep breath to gather yourself. “my—my parents kicked me out.”

his brows furrowed in towards each other. “what? why?”

you couldn’t look at him anymore. your eyes averted to the ground. “i’m pregnant.”

you heard the breath he sucked in, letting it out seconds later as his thumb moved across your skin comfortingly.

when he didn’t say anything, you cried even harder and stood up. “i’m sorry, rafe.”

he stood up with you and grabbed your hands. “no, no it’s okay, sweetheart. it’s okay,” he said before wrapping his arms around you. “it’s gonna be fine. we’re gonna figure it out together, yeah? i can talk to my dad about you staying with me for a little until we sort it out.”

his hand gently ran through your hair as he kissed your temple. “no matter what, angel, i promise to take care of the both of you.”

[devilfic]

❝friends of the web❞

plot: you have a fear of spiders, but you've made a promise to work past it. peter thinks your determination is really quite adorable. pairing: tasm!peter parker x gn!reader. cw: fluff, humor, established relationship, spiders (not graphic), reader has arachnophobia but is being so brave about it, based on the poem "ten legs, eight broken" by I, e on tiktok because it fundamentally changed the way I interact with small bugs forevermore. words: 1.2k.

a/n: I have had pretty bad arachnophobia my entire life and after reading ten legs, eight broken a while back, it convinced me to start saving little spiders I find in my house. this fic is 100% based on how that ends up going every single time. minus peter parker coming to save the day

He's careful, stomach coiled tight to control his breathing. One hand is delicately pinching a bolt with tweezers, the other holding his webshooter frighteningly still. One wrong move would trigger the suspension, and about four hours' worth of fluid refill would end up all over his research notes. He has to be slow. He lowers the tweezers another half inch.

Gently, the bolt's thread catches and he releases the breath he'd been holding. In that same moment, you shout and his tweezers slip.

It's the feeling of webs spraying him in the face that he registers first, their tendrils catching onto his glasses and eyelashes and lips. Then it's your rushed breathing, the pumping of your heart nearly beating out of your chest. He doesn't feel a tingle along his spine but your shout jolts Peter out of his spell. In an instant, he's batting away the webs and throwing himself out of his office with enough velocity to take down a wall. He's expecting scorpions, vultures, lizards, his hearing zeroing in on you, and-

-and he turns the corner and there's you, crouched on the floor, hands cupped in front of you—cocooning something. "Hey, hey, hey, whoa, whoa." Peter's eyes flit around the room, looking for the threat his senses ought to have picked up on by now, and kneels beside you. He focuses on your hands and your complete and utter lack of urgency. "What's going on?"

You glance to the side, so quick he doesn't even think you register the panic on his face, "Pete, thank God. Can you talk to this thing for me?"

You move your hand and the other breathing thing in the room becomes apparent. A spider, barely the size of a crumb, is crawling over mountains of carpet thread. It's moving quickly but in circles, clearly confounded by the terrain. Peter looks at you. He drags each syllable out as he asks, "What is happening?"

You shift and Peter shifts with you, keeping an eye on the spider, "This thing- this spider is such a jackass."

"Yeah?"

"I'm trying to get him outside and he won't go."

You've got a flier for Pilates in the Park clenched in one hand, while the other is cautiously putting a wall between the spider and the abyss under your sofa, a place where even Peter dares not go. "Why don't you just kill it?"

Clearly that was the wrong thing to say. You look horrified at him as you answer, "I can't kill him!"

"Do we- are we sure it's a him? Have you decided he's a him?"

"I made a promise to myself that I would stop killing."

"I don't think... okay, what is going on here?"

You struggle to explain and focus on the spider at the same time, "It's a resolution I made for the new year. That even though I'm terrified of these things, I won't kill them anymore because... because they're living beings just like me." Peter watches you bite your lip, a twinge of pity sewn into the divot between your furrowed brows, "So I'm putting them outside whenever I see one... if only they would stop being jackasses about it."

Peter half-laughs, half-sighs. The little spider crawling around on the ground is none the wiser to your inner peril, "This isn't just because your boyfriend is, like, 1/3 spider, is it? I won't take it personally if you hit him with a shoe."

You snort and place your flier in front of the escaping spider, watching it crawl over the word "yoga" before making a u-turn for the carpet, "Of course not, my spider overlord."

You try to scoop up the spider again but every time you lift the paper, it dives off the other side and back into the carpet. "How long does this usually take?" Peter asks. He sits back on his ass, propping up a knee to rest his arm on.

"Ten minutes at best. If I don't lose them."

"Hm. And this works for you?"

You pout up at him, scooping up the spider again and watching it fly off once more, "I usually manage to get them outside, I'll have you know."

"And the screaming?"

"I never said it was a peaceful process."

"So, let me get this straight," Peter leans into you, "you spot the spider, you grab the nearest piece of paper, you try to get the spider on the paper, and then you...?"

"Scream and run until I make it to the window."

"Why- why the screaming?"

You wince, trying not to lose the bug in the carpet, "Because I'm scared they'll touch me." Your boyfriend tickles his fingers along your arm and you shiver, swatting him with your free hand.

After another failed attempt, Peter places his hand in front of the spider's path and it crawls into his palm to get to the kitchen. Before it can cross over into tiled territory, it's forced to a sudden stop, and Peter takes advantage.

It takes him three strides to get to the living room window, yank it open, and release the spiderling into the wild.

You're standing behind him with a look of frustration on your face, even though your shoulders have finally sagged with relief, "How'd you convince him to sit in your hand like that?"

"I didn't. Sticky hands." Peter wiggles all his fingers at you, amused.

"Wh- that's it? Do they not usually listen to you or something?" You grab one of his hands and quickly realize he's using that ability on you this time. He's got you stuck in a handhold.

"I can't remember when I ever said I could talk to spiders."

"I mean, it seems like a pretty fair assumption," you grumble, trying to shake his hand away before giving in, "they put their juices in you after all."

"Why would you say that?"

"Thanks for the help, by the way. I'm still... getting used to not panicking when I see them."

Peter raises his other hand to your hair and gives you a kiss on the temple, smiling against your skin, "You are so, so, so brave."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. I mean, it's pretty brave to show mercy to something you fear, right? You could've killed it or asked me to do it, but you didn't. You wanted it to live."

"It doesn't mean to scare me," you bring your intertwined hands up to your mouth and press a kiss to his knuckles, "I'd want it to take pity on me if it was the other way around."

"I think the spiders will appreciate that."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

"Then why do they give me such a hard time?"

"Well, you're so scared of them that you don't even realize they're just as scared of you. You gotta make 'em like you, you know?"

"Got any tips for that?"

Peter guides his free hand to your waist, rocking you side to side, "Hm. Buy them sushi. Take them to a midnight showing of Night of the Living Dead. Tell him you think his nerdy rambling after the movie is sexy..." You giggle into Peter's chest and his heart swells, "Don't laugh! It worked on me."

You tilt your head up and he steals a kiss without hesitation, making you stumble on what you say next, "How about you just come let them out for me next time, hm?"

"And if I'm not around?"

"...make me a super scientific spider catching gadget?"

Peter hooks his hands underneath your thighs and hikes you up around his waist, "I'll make you one if you refill my web fluid for me."

"You can fill me with your web fluid."

"Okay. I'm putting you in time out, freak."

taglist: @yikes-buddy @alexxavicry @theclassicvinyldragon @marina-and-the-memes

[101maverick]

hey i saw your requests are open and i was wondering if maybe you could write smth hurt/comfort with jason please? like they had a big fight and then they make up after something happens🙌🏻

A/n: okok srry if it took me a few days but school and other projects are kicking my butt, hope you enjoy!! I decided to use your request to study Jason from a more ak! Point of view if that makes sense? I haven’t consumed the media but i’ve read some really beautiful works with him and hope it makes him justice :)

Word count: 1206 words

Execution At Sundown

Jason was at your place, sitting on the side of the couch with your tv remote by his side, cup of soda in his hand.

He still hadn’t shown you his face even after months of dating, and even though it stung you understood that it was a huge show of trust on his part, so if he was content sipping his soda from a straw that went under his mask you wouldn’t say anything about it and keep your feelings to yourself.

Everything had been going fine, you had just been hanging out while watching a movie.

It all hit the fan when you decided to go get another soda, rising up from the couch and padding down the hallway to the kitchen to fetch the drink.

After retrieving your drink you made your way back, and as the couch came into view you saw that Jason was now engrossed with something on his phone.

You didn’t think too much about it, just eyed the now empty soda resting in his left hand. On a whim, you walked up to his side of the couch and leaned over, going to grab his empty cup to replenish it.

Before you could do much more than make contact with the clothed skin of Jason’s shoulder though you found yourself being slammed back, loosing your balance and falling on your behind.

——————————

Jason reacted out of instinct.

One second he was relatively relaxed on his girlfriend’s couch, looking at a map of his territory for anything suspicious that might be going on, and the next there was a pressure on his shoulder, somebody leaning in and- “Why don’t you scream a bit for me, Todd?” and then there was pain-

He grabbed the body pressing in on him and pushed, slamming his attacker back and watching, half-standing and with his torso turned in a way that pulled at the knotted skin marring every inch of him, and even if the assailant was on the ground they still hurt him, that damned clown still dug his claws in and he always screamed but nobody heard him and-

Oh. It’s you.

It’s you, who had wormed his way into his heart in a matter of months.

It’s you, who had caressed the mangled skin of his hands and said “That’s okay” in response to the proof of him having been broken and put together crooked and wrong. As if it really was.

It’s you, legs sprawled on the floor with a bewildered expression on your face, wide eyes staring up at him in shock.

Jason stares back at you, his own features turned to stone under the mask as he feels his throat close up.

He had hurt you. He had thrown you to the ground. Guess the apple never falls far from the tree then, uh? Guess he was just like Willis after all, smacking around anyone without the ability to control his feelings. A rabid animal.

An animal. A pet. That’s what the Joker used to call him. What the Joker still calls him every day, in his wretched mind. A mindless thing, twisted and contorted to be ready to bend at his master’s will, and the fact he didn’t have one here anymore didn’t mean he was suddenly upgraded to ‘human’, did it? He was still incapable of controlling himself, succumbing to the rage just like Willis had to the bottle. Not even capable of recognising his girlfriend the only person who had accepted his crooked form and chipped edges, throwing her around simply because even gentle and casual touches were ruined for him by that forsaken clown-

“Jace?”

The world comes back into focus, his eyes zero in on the spot of the wall he had been staring at in his haze and then shift down to you, now seated more comfortably on the ground. You haven’t moved, you haven’t come closer to him.

You’re scared of him.

Jason feels his throat constrict, and he punches the words out around the lump forming in his throat. “I- I didn’t- you were- sorry- I-”

Gosh he’s such a mess, can’t even explain to you how pathetic he is, how he still lets a fucking clown torture him with his mere shadow, and now you will realise the honeyed touches are not made for him, not anymore, maybe they never were, or else someone would’ve come-

Now you will realise that all those jagged edges are places you could cut yourself on. Now you will realise a rabid dog like him just needs to be put down for good.

He stutters out a last sentence for you, spits it out on your clean parquet, and even that feels too much like dirtying your sanctuary for his liking. “I- sorry, I’ll- I’ll go-” and he’s not even finishing his sentence before he’s stalking towards your apartment’s door, steps as sure as he can make them as he walks away from the only hands who had held him oh so gently, only like Catherine ever had, his mom, and he wills his legs to keep moving or else he won’t make it out of here for good-

“Don’t leave, please.”

Your voice is quiet, quiet as it breaks his heart and his resolve.

Because Jason has never been strong, and the little crack he can hear coming from his heart hurts but so does the knowledge he’s too weak to keep going the last few steps to your door, the few steps that’ll lead him back to how it was before and you back to a life of safety, free of the burden that is Jason Todd.

He turns around. You’re leaning in the doorway to the living room, staring at him on the other side of the hallway.

Your stance is relaxed. You aren’t holding yourself like you’re hurt. Your eyes are wide, and sad, but they’re not wary.

With his attention on you, you speak again. Your voice is soft, and now also kinda trembly. “I know I don’t know even the start of the story, but I know you have one and it’s the reason things like this sometimes happen.” Your eyes stare into the white lenses of the mask, desperately searching for his gaze under it. “I’m not gonna say it’s okay, because it isn’t.”

There it is. The proof he fucked it up, like is his design.

“It’s not okay,” you continue, startling him. He was getting lost again. He waits for the axe. “because something or someone hurt you, and you still suffer from it.”

He looks at you. Jason looks in your eyes, and gets the feeling you know he’s returning your gaze.

“I want to help you, Jace. Any way I can. Any way you let me. Because I know that when things aren’t okay, sometimes all you need is someone there with you to help you make it so.”

Your voice was sure through it all, but now it falters a bit. “So, so if you want, I could be by your side. If that’s how you’ll let me help. So, so don’t leave.”

His eyes don’t wander away from you.

And as he gazes into your eyes, glinting with the light from the tv bathing your side in neons, he knows that he never could.

The axe doesn’t fall.

[jakeyt]

Covet: Chapter 12 (Part 1 of 2)

Pairing: Jake Kiszka x f!Reader

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

Warnings: MINORS DNI (18+); angst; tension; recollected memories of traumatic situations; crying + feelings of sadness; self deprecation/worries of being a bad mother; mentions of a (very) toxic and absent mother; use of heart monitors; vivid memories of sexual encounters; body changes as a result of pregnancy; talks of baby + pregnancy; jealous!reader; baby name reveal (!!!!); pregnancy hormones of multiple variety; reader is emotional and stubborn; talks of cheating/wanting to cheat on (obnoxious) partner; EMDR; joshy coming in clutch fr (as usual, PLEASE lmk if i missed anything that is triggering to you!)

Chapter 12 (Part 1) Word Count: 43.8k+ (yes, i know it's fking ridiculous atp 🥲 -- honestly, i blame the characters. they have a mind of their own + I simply can't control them)

a/n: I have to say...... chapter 12 is very easily my favorite chap so far..... let's see if you'll agree with me ;) see you in a few days with pt 2 <3

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

an additional thank u to @builtbybrokenbells and @alwaysonthemend . Thank you, my loves, for always having the right words to encourage me amidst A L L of life’s stresses. I love you guys so much - I'd be lost w/out you :')

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

". . .how do we begin to covet? We begin by coveting what we see every day." Thomas Harris

Theo had already left before you awoke at 8 am. 

And you were sure he’d left completely dissatisfied and grumpy. It was how he’d fallen asleep, at least. The night before, you’d completely blue-balled him. 

On top of not wanting to do anything due to tiredness, you especially didn’t feel like doing anything after your talk with Jake. Entering your bedroom to curl into a ball under the covers was immediately all you’d wanted after that conversation.

You could talk a big game and convince yourself halfheartedly of what you said, but at the end of the day. . . You knew who your heart wanted. Who it would always want — whether you allowed it or not. 

But, you’d entered your bedroom to find a smirking, sure-of-himself jock. No wallowing in bed alone. The man’s presence had aggravated you and he’d only pissed you off further with his attitude as soon as you’d entered the room.

Whenever you’d finally made it into the bedroom after your time with Jake, along with the smirk, Theo had placed his hands behind his head with a cocky brow raised. Leaning against your pillows. And, with zero remorse, you’d informed him that you were too tired for anything else and wanted to sleep. 

He’d pouted, outright. Like a child. And he’d tried a few moves to get you in the mood. . .

But, after about five attempts and rejections, he’d stopped. And, even though you’d hated that he was in your bed, you’d actually found sleep pretty easily. 

So, yes, you totally celebrated internally at him being gone. This morning was a new day, and you woke feeling well-rested and ready for the day.

And, along with Theo being gone already, the sun was shining when you woke up. There was potential for the day to be a great one. You didn’t even want to curl up in a ball to sulk and cry anymore. You couldn’t want that as the sun shone over your features.

It had also helped to open your phone screen to see a multitude of texts from Josh. Ten texts, to be exact.

Josh, 6:34 a.m.: We just left… Dragging Sam’s hungover ass through the door this morning was a TRIP.

Josh, 6:34 a.m.: Thank you for hosting our fuckin’ asses, my love. 

Josh, 6:35 a.m.: Oh! And I am SO very sorry for putting all of that on you on the day of such an important appointment. Felt REALLY fucking bad when I actually thought of that this morning.

Josh, 6:36 a.m.: Didn’t even fully wrap my mind around that shit until this morning when I saw the old sonogram magnetized to the fridge. I was in Big-Brother-to-Sam-Mode™️ last night. My brain was only halfway functioning.

Josh, 6:38 a.m.: ANYWAYS…… as repayment for your ever-devoted heart dealing with our antics, Daniel and I decided to clean up the place. I even vacuumed !!!!! 

Josh, 6:39 a.m.: The very LEAST we could do… Buuuut I actually have another way I would love to help you deal with any leftover tension…… 

Josh 6:39 a.m.: Yoga, mayhaps? Today? I heard from a little birdie that it’s great for pregnant women. 

Josh, 6:40 a.m.: Sooooo, if you wake up in time (and WANT to go), it starts at 10:30 this morning. 🧘‍♂️ I will gladly pick you up. 

Josh, 6:41 a.m.: ……Or drive to you and we can drive the Jetta. I would rather not add any more stress to your life by making you fear for your life in my beloved old lady. 🚗💨💥

Josh, 6:45 a.m.: Just let me know. I love you an  e x p o n e n t i a l  amount and would love some time with you. Just you and me. No drunken morons.

So, you sent a very sincere and appreciative text back. 

You, 8:03 a.m.: Josh. It’s fine. ❤️ I thought of the appointment thing, too. But at the end of it all, I’m just glad Sam feels like this is a safe place. I just want him to be better. I love him and I love you and I love Danny. Always. 😘Thank you so incredibly much for cleaning, too… You know how much that matters to me and I appreciate it very, very much. Tell Daniel, too.

After sending that text, you sat up and stretched with a giant yawn before answering about yoga. It did sound like a good relief for your tension, at least. . . and it was getting to the point where the baby made it sort of difficult to get comfortable. Maybe yoga would help you readjust a little. . .

You, 8:05 a.m.: YES to yoga. That sounds amazing. And YES to the Jetta….. please. Lol How much does it cost? And where?

Considering you still had a while until Josh would show up to get you, you went ahead and decided on a bath to start the day. It sounded like a refreshing, relaxing start to your day and you felt that it was very much needed after the whirlwind that last night had been.

It was going to be a good day. 

You’d just sat down at the bar with a bowl of cereal, fully refreshed from a bath. And, just as you’d responded to a TikTok Elsie sent, you heard a familiar tired groan from behind you. 

When you looked over your shoulder to see Jake rubbing his eyes, you momentarily caught his eye, a little grin fitting to his features and a nod of his head in your direction. And, just as the small action had your tummy doing somersaults, the bathroom door shut behind him.

Curiosity getting the best of you, you finished another text to Elsie before leaving your cereal for a second to check on something. . . 

You discreetly tiptoed to his room to satisfy your wondering thoughts. . . And you saw no Maya in his bed. No clothes strewn on the floor. Nothing indicating she had been there at all, in fact. (Even though you knew she had been.)

All you saw was a made bed and the blinds open to let in the morning sun. Hm. Interesting.

Now that you knew you didn’t have to sneak, you walked with a little skip in your step back to the bar. With the lack of an extra woman in the apartment, there were less nerves curling your tummy. So, you took a very satisfying bite of your Fruity Pebbles and even hummed a little as you opened TikTok to mindlessly scroll. 

The happenings from last night were lingering in your mind, but you were truly ready to declare today a new day of sorts. You were tired of feeling pessimistic and down. You had seriously decided on joy for the baby, after being all sad and weepy in the bathroom.

You and Jake – you two were a work in progress. You wanted him. He acted like he wanted you. But, you could both work to prevent that. Neither of you needed the unnecessary stress of acting on things irrationally. The dynamic didn’t need to be destroyed. All it would do is cause stress. You could get past it. Really. Truly. You could. For your baby girl. For each other.

And as much as it sucked that you weren’t together, you knew it was for the best. And, no matter what, you were in this together. You knew that – wanted to keep it that way. If you didn’t act on anything, there was nothing stupid you guys could do together that might ruin the dynamic for the baby. She needed stability.

As you glanced through the kitchen window, you saw the lavender put nicely into its old terra-cotta. The sight made your heart crack a little, while also making it feel fuller than it had in a while. It made you think of times past with a natural, melancholy longing. But. . . it also made you think, once again, of your current reality. The here and now – which, like that day he’d first brought you the plant, could be a fresh start. 

Minutes after you’d made it back to your stool, Jake came out of the bathroom. And your breath caught in your throat at the sight of him. Freshly showered. Nothing but that particular pair of pajama pants slung across his hips. You noted how refreshed he looked. His chestnut locks, hanging long against his back and shoulders, droplets marking his tanned skin. 

Well. 

He wasn’t looking up to see you, not yet. His eyes were watching his feet, brows drawn in as he walked towards you and the kitchen. He appeared to be playing what looked like an air guitar. Except, this air guitar truly mimicked that of an actual guitar, and you knew if he was holding his actual instrument, you’d hear a beautiful melody coming from him. You wondered if it was a new song or one you’d heard already. You also wondered how long you could get away with watching his biceps flex with each intentional movement on the imaginary guitar. 

Before you could think on it any longer, you decided it best to not let your eyes linger on his muscles. But, it was too late. When you looked up, you realized he’d found your eyes watching him. His own expression, brightened and a wide smile fitting to his closed lips. You matched his expression, your heart thrumming in your chest.

“Good morning, sunshine,” he greeted as he walked past you and into the kitchen, his delicious cologne caused your brain waves to falter.

You watched him at the coffee maker as he placed a mug on the base of it and popped in a K-Cup with a yawn before leaning back against the counter nearest the coffee maker. How did he manage to make such a basic task look so damn good?

No, y/n. You didn’t need to think that way. Fresh start. Stability. . . . . As long as you kept your eyes away from his half-naked form. You didn’t dare look below the waistband of his pants – you knew better. 

“Morning,” you rang back with a little grin, glancing at him briefly before finishing a new text to Elsie. To stay distracted, you went to your Ovia app to refresh on your baby’s week. You did it everyday, anyway. And you loved it that way. “She’s moving her face,” you said aloud, sort of to yourself. But you were also hoping to catch his attention.

“Hm?” Jake questioned, still across the kitchen from you. 

Lifting your head up, you caught his wondering expression, brows raised as he crossed arms at his broad, defined chest. Then, his feet crossed at the ankles.  “Our girl,” you grinned, pointing a single finger at your tummy. “She’s yawning, hiccuping, and swallowing.”

His eyes shot open, a little less sleepy than before and suddenly very interested. “That’s incredible,” he smiled, pride overtaking his features. “Is that on an app or something?”

“Yeah,” you replied, looking back down at the screen. Scrolling, you saw a few more things he might find interesting. “Wanna come look with me?”

He didn’t use words to answer. Instead, he just continued to grin and began walking, all purposeful and sexy, over to you. Oh, and half naked, because why not? When he was beside you, your breath caught in your throat at how good he smelled. His newer cologne still held hints of a musky sandalwood and vanilla. And the faint scent left over from his Tom Ford aftershave had goosebumps teasing at your skin. And his bare chest was so close to your back as he stood behind you, you felt the heat coming off of him. 

But, you ignored it all for the sake of showing him what was going on inside of you. Wanted to keep him up to date. He placed his arm on the back of the bar stool, across the wooden back of the chair. This technically meant his arm was around you and you were not going to complain about it. 

You held your phone up for him to read, balancing your elbow against the counter to avoid too much shakiness. And you heard him reading through it quickly, under his breath and to himself. He’d reach out occasionally to scroll down, making you lean towards the screen with your own curiosity at what he was reading. It seemed he wanted to read everything this week’s updates had to offer – including what was new for your body, not just the baby’s. 

“Wow,” was all he breathed once he finished and backed away to walk back to the coffee maker. You realized you’d been holding your breath as he went back to his original task. “I really like that app. What’s it called?”

“Um—Ovia,” you blinked, shaking your head once and resituating your body in your chair while his back was still turned. Your lungs deflated and your mouth opened just the slightest for a few extra breaths. “It’s called Ovia Pregnancy. It has a bunch of cool features. You just put the conception date in and it will give you updates.” And, knowing it off the top of your head, you went ahead and told him. “And that was Aug—.”

“August 26th,” he finished for you. 

Oh. He remembered the date? “How do you remember that?”

“Just do.”

Your cheeks heated at the fact that he could recall a detail like that. . . You found it very intriguing. Did that mean he regularly thought of the night? If he remembered the exact date?

Stop it, y/n. No need working yourself up over that, your inner voice chided you. You are just friends — just roll with it. It’s not a big deal.

He slipped his mug from the machine, blowing on it before he spoke again. “And you still can’t feel it when she punches and kicks?”

“Not yet,” you chirped, going to look at the other features on the app that told you about her at this point. “But soon I will, I guess. According to the app and Dr. Rose. So. . . Yeah. I’m really excited for that.”

You went to take a bite of your fruity cereal at the same time he lifted his cup to his mouth. And right before you could bring the pebbles to your lips, you looked up to catch a glimpse of him. Wrong idea. Because he was taking a sip of his coffee. And while that shouldn’t get you hot and bothered, it did. Oh, sweet and lovely baby hormones. 

But—fuck. The way his mouth wrapped so beautifully around the lip of the mug. . . His eyes, closing at the sensation of the warm liquid touching his tongue. You envied the coffee that got to melt against his tongue. The mug, that got to feel the shape of his lips. . . At that moment, you wanted nothing more than to be Jake’s cup of coffee. Your gaze found the way his tongue slipped past his lips to lick away any remaining wetness. . . As if in slow motion, too. Damn. 

“Y/n?” 

Shit. He was talking to you. Embarrassingly, you felt your mouth hanging open, your cereal once again balanced above your bowl so as not to spill. At least you’d had a little bit of common sense in your daze. Words, y/n. Words. “Y-yeah?” You stuttered. Again, embarrassing yourself. What was a good excuse for your actions? “Sorry. . . Still sleepy, I guess.”

His grin told you that he’d caught you blatantly staring at him, but his eyes were gentle in assuring you that he’d keep your secret. Too bad the only person you didn’t want in on your secret was him. Once more, he tried to bring up what he’d said while you’d been absent. “Would that work for you?”

“Jake, I’m so sorry,” you shook your head, scratching your brow with an awkward giggle. Your eyes couldn’t stay in one place for long. It was devastating how enraptured you were with him — this morning was killing you. Tan skin. Wet hair. Water droplets. Tongue. Licking. Lips. Eyes. Secret smiles. Sandalwood, Tom Ford, and vanilla. . . 

No, y/n. Be wise. Don’t let him get in your head.

Looking down, you tried your best to regulate the heat in your cheeks. You texted Elsie back quickly to reset your busy mind. Shaking your head, you tried to address him once more. You watched your bowl, though, rather than him. Balanced the spoon on the rim, watching the milk slosh against the silverware with the bits of rainbow cereal left. 

“You’re going to have to ask me the entire thing again. I’m just kind of out of it this morning,” you meekly explained.

Finally, you chanced looking at him. His eyebrows were raised, his eyes holding the same humor that was expressed in his smile. He seemed to be properly charmed. He wasn’t mocking you by any means. No, he actually seemed extremely content in the fact that you’d been ogling him. You had no idea how he could be so content with it. You were being weird. How was he not judging you?

“I was just saying I’d love to take you on a walk soon,” he replied, with a grin that made your tummy flutter. “I’ve heard it’s good for pregnant women to stay active — just to keep you healthy and all that. . . and it’s also good for people with heart problems.”

You felt all warm inside that he had even thought to do something like that with you. “Sounds like a win-win,” you enthused, feeling incredibly special. 

Quit it, y/n. Don’t make it more than it has to be, your inner humility coach counseled you. Remember everything you told him last night. You have to stop.

So, you tried to push all of the extra feelings flowing through your mind to the back of it. He was being a good friend. A really hot, good friend — but friend nonetheless. The walks would make for a good time for you two to work on a friendship. For your baby.

“When are you free?” He asked you, bringing your sights fully back to him.

“Um,” you blinked, unlocking your phone to see what your calendar looked like.

It was funny — you didn’t have a damned thing going on in your life. You knew your schedule (or lack thereof). It consisted of next-to-nothing. But you were trying to create some sort of avenue of escape for yourself from the eyes that continued gazing your way from across the kitchen. The lingering stare you felt kept your cheeks warm. Your heart was thumping something crazy.

Get over it, y/n. He’s just being nice. That’s all. 

And, with that in mind, you stopped pretending to look at your calendar. You locked your phone and caught his gaze once more. “I could do Wednesday?”

“Sweet. Wednesday is actually my one free day this week,” he lopsidedly smiled with a little chuckle. Giving a satisfied nod, he took another sip from his mug. For a minute or so, you sat in a comfortable silence with him as you replied to yet another text from your sister. “What are you doing with the rest of your day today?”

“Yoga with your twin. Probably going to hang with him for a while,” you mused, a giggle flowing from your lips. “He wants to repay me with some time of relaxation after bombarding the house with a drunken Sam last night.”

You felt the rest of last night as a giant elephant in the room. You were hoping he wasn’t, but you were sure his brain lingered on it, too. There was no way it wasn’t on his mind. Right?

It didn’t matter — because no matter what, you were not going to bring any of it up. Not if things needed to change. No more touching. No more almosts. Just friends.

“Damn right. Drunk Sam is a lot to handle,” he laughed after a lagging moment. His beautiful white teeth were on full display as he laughed, which settled your anxious thoughts. “Yoga is good for pregnant women, too.”

“You’ve really been doing your reading, huh?”

“Well,” he paused, finishing off his coffee before rinsing and washing the mug in the sink. “Just like my daughter, you matter a fucking lot to me, so. . . yes.”

Your cheeks were on fire at this point, your heart racing. You couldn’t hide your little grin without taking a final bite of your cereal. “Thanks for caring,” you told him after swallowing, your throat, thick with emotion made it a little hard to swallow.

You weren’t sure what else you could say that didn’t involve you walking up to him and giving him a long hug and a kiss right on his pretty lips. You decided to throw in a witty comment, just for kicks. “I’m very lucky that I matter to you like I’m your child.”

He cackled outright at that, even harder than he had at the mention of drunk Sam. His dimples pierced his skin, the apples of his cheeks red. “Now that is funny,” he shook his head, one brow raised. “You know I think of you in a very different way than I do our baby, honey.” 

Then he was tying his hair into a low bun. His words rang in your head as you watched with eyes zoned in on his fingers working. Such skillful fingers. . . Your teeth bit the plush skin of your lip. 

Thankfully, you snapped out of it before he could catch you watching him again. Josh was going to be picking you up soon anyway. And you still needed to change from your ratty sweats and cropped, oversized t-shirt. 

You went to dump out your bowl and rinse it in the sink. The task was completed quickly, to avoid getting close to him again. Once finished, you were walking on hurried legs out of the kitchen. But, just as you crossed the threshold, you heard his feet shuffling easily behind you. Honestly, you didn’t really want to be away from him yet. Not at all, actually. So. . . You slowed down. Just a bit. Not a big deal.

Besides, you were wondering about his plans for the day, too. . . So, you figured you’d ask. “What about you?” Since you were walking in front of him, you adjusted your sweats at your waist a little lower. Couldn’t stop the urge to show some more skin. You had to admit, your complexion was looking incredible after your long bath and stretch mark oils. Might as well show it off.  “What are your plans for the day?”

You looked over your shoulder at him. He was making his way towards you. Your eyes stayed trained on him. He wasn’t looking at you, but when he did, you caught him this time. His eyes darted immediately to your ass before he looked towards your face to answer. Your ass looked damn good in these sweats. So, you stared ahead with a smirk and kept walking, slow and deliberately moving your hips a tad more than necessary.

You heard his breath catch when he came up close behind you, making it to the living room with you. Again, though. You were trying to wisely avoid close proximity. So before he could come near enough to touch you, you were moving towards your bedroom. 

When you glanced over your shoulder at him again, you noticed him pause for a minute when you changed your path. But he just shook his head with a blush on his cheeks and scratched at the back of his head. You turned to acknowledge him as he rubbed at his lower lip with his finger. He was too pretty to not admire.

Then he was passing you entirely to lean over the couch for the remote. He bent at the waist, giving you an ideal view of his ass. So, for scientific purposes only, you gave it a nice, long look. Your tongue darted out to wet your lips at the way you could see each individual ass cheek outlined in his pants. . . But you weren’t going to think about that. Nope.

“Well,” he began, with a sort of groan as he rose from his leaning position. You ignored the way the sound made your heart accelerate, your underwear a little wet at all things him. “I have to meet with a couple of clients for lessons and then I have dinner plans at this new restaurant that Maya wants to try.”

Of fucking course. You played it cool and gave him a forced grin as he still wasn’t looking at you, but rather the finicky remote. “Will you be home tonight?” Why did you have to ask that? Shit. You weren’t desperate for him to be home or anything.

“Oh yeah,” he nodded without a second thought, turning on the TV and clicking Netflix. Thankfully, it had to update, so he was momentarily free from distraction. Pushing some hair back behind his ear that hadn’t made it into his bun, he finally looked at you — at your body. Again. Did he have no shame? (Secretly, you sure hoped he didn’t. His stare was your body’s favorite source of attention; all of your nerve endings reacted readily to his amber-brown irises any time they found you.)

His eyes instantly went to your belly, showing from the bottom hem of your cropped shirt. At the sight, he took in a deep breath, raising his brows with a measured lick of his lips. The oils worked wonders to make your skin look smooth and firm. It helped that you were one of the lucky ones who had a naturally tanned shade of skin, the oils really complimented it.

With the way he was staring at you – almost admiring you, it made your mind buzz with memories of last night. You were back in the living room, on the couch. Jake, on his knees in front of you. His hands, in your pants and his breath fanning your neck.

Last night, when his face was suddenly coming towards you again, lips brushing your ear. “Miss your body so much, baby.”

The pull to him was extremely hard to ignore when he was infiltrating all of your senses and memories in a matter of minutes–seconds. The act of looking at him — simply seeing him smile — was enough to make your brain short-circuit, so all of the other details had done nothing to help your insistence at being ‘just friends’. . . 

This morning had been an attack against your female anatomy. His wet, half naked body. Those trained fingers tying his hair back. Those beautiful eyes closing in pure satisfaction as he swallowed his black coffee. . . And now him, blatantly and unabashedly appreciating your body. You let your eyes float down his form, appreciating every line and curve of his chest and abdomen. Then you saw his fingers twitch at his waist into clenching fists, measuring his tolerance, it seemed. The assumption was seemingly confirmed with a certain twitch between his legs that you couldn’t ignore. Fuck. 

And, there you were again. Last night. His fingers, literally on your (clothed, thank god) clit in front of everyone. He’d placed his mouth on your ear once more, a groan having escaped him at the same time you’d felt your sensitive nub pulsate against his finger. “X marks the spot?” He’d heatedly spoke against your ear, in a whisper that only you could hear. 

Netflix’s tell-tale dun-dun broke the moment. His concentration on your body, gone with a few heavy blinks of his eyes and one thick swallow. 

After a moment of realization dawned on both of you, you cleared your throat and rubbed a nervous hand down your arm a few times. “So you’ll be home tonight?” You tried, blinking several times as well to readjust your train of thought – knew it was best to move past it. 

“Yeah,” he shook his head, letting his eyes find yours. You swam in his caramel chocolate irises. “She’s got plans with her friends afterwards. I should be back in time for you to tell me all about yoga with Josh,” he snorted at the thought. “Shit’s about to be en-ter-taining, I’m sure.”

You couldn’t help but follow with your own little giggle. “Of course it’s going to be. It wouldn’t be Josh if it weren’t bound to be entertaining,” you added. 

For a few more seconds, you just stood there. Both of you, not talking. Still smiling, but your eyes interlocked in a way that had the potential to be dangerous. Especially as the easy smiles faded down to muted, almost secret grins. His tongue slipped past his lips for a millisecond, yours doing the same in response. He gently bit his lip. Just long enough for you to notice. Your breath, once again hitching in your throat, at the way his Adam’s apple bobbed in his throat as he watched you, not letting his darkened gaze leave you for a second.

So, with that, you began to walk back to your room. Had to have a level head. God. “I’ve gotta go get ready. I’ll see you ton–.”

“Are you still using that giant Stanley I bought for you?” He pondered, making you pause and turn a bit. You raised a brow. “Just thought you could take it with you to yoga. Just to stay hydrated, y’know.”

You blinked a couple times before you gracefully (you hoped, anyway) smiled in his direction. Tucking a piece of hair behind your ear, you nodded in response. “Yes, I use that thing on the daily. You, of all people, should know this,” you giggled with a smirk. Then you realized how that might have sounded. Didn’t want it to seem like you’d caught him watching you everyday or anything – that wasn’t it. Fuck. Would he take it that way? “I mean, considering we share a residence and all.”

“I got you, honey. Knew what you meant,” he winked. Fuck. Your belly danced at that, your heart skipping a beat when he, once again bit his lip. Murder. He was trying to murder you. “I’m glad you like it.”

“Love it,” you emphasized with the correction. Why? God. The emphasis of the word love definitely didn’t help matters. “Thank you for that, again.”

“You’ve gotta quit thanking me.”

“Why? That wouldn’t be polite.”

“You don’t have to be polite with me,” he raised a brow, shaking his head. “It’s me.”

“That means I should be polite — with everything you have done for me,” you tucked your hands under your belly. He followed your movement briefly before interlocking gazes again. “Everything you’ve put up with.”

“Nah,” he shook his head. “You shouldn’t have to worry about that with me. Seriously. I haven’t had to put up with anything. . . And I’ve told you I’m here for you. And I am here for you—because I want to be – get to be. I don’t need to be thanked for something that seems like a reward to me in its own right.”

What did one say to that? Deciding you weren’t sure in the slightest, you just gave him a quick smile before going back in the direction of your room. Josh was going to be here soon. Like, less than twenty minutes.

And if Jake kept up like this, you could see yourself canceling on Josh to sit on the couch with Jake instead until he had to leave for his errands. That would be pathetic. And you needed the time with Josh. 

“Oh, also,” his voice called to you once more.

This time, you controlled yourself, the knob under your hand a good way to stay weighted to the earth. You flipped your hair over your shoulder, billowing out around you. You angled your body just enough to address him. Didn’t even look at him this time, for fear of sinking into his amber-brown irises. 

“Mhm?” You hummed, eyes trained on the ground next to your left foot. 

“‘Baby Kiszka’?” 

Baby K–? Oh. The Ovia app. The baby’s name in the app. You’d put her name in as ‘Baby Kiszka’ so long ago. Didn’t even think about it when you did it, honestly. There wasn’t a shadow of a doubt in your mind that you wanted her to have Jake’s last name. As soon as you’d convinced yourself out of the initial notion that she might ruin his damned life. (Which, by the way, you realized was a stupid thought process. Almost selfish, even. How had you honestly thought it would be okay to leave him out of the loop due to a nearly-baseless fear?)

To be fair, you’d been in full-on panic mode back in October – completely alone in your knowledge of her for a bit too long, your thoughts almost having drowned you. . . .Until you’d let him in that day. The day on the way to the abortion clinic. When he’d surrounded you via Apple fucking CarPlay. His voice had cleared your mind, relaxed you inexplicably (per usual). You’d let him be the one to convince you to keep her. No one else contributed to that decision. It had been between you and him. Completely unbeknownst to him at the time, of course. 

Anyway, beside the point. . . You knew it was a name to be damn proud of – her daddy was someone to be proud of. So, naturally, you were planning on her last name being Kiszka. No question.

“Well obviously,” you responded, not able to resist shifting just a little more to catch his eyes as you lifted your lips gently. His eyes were open, vulnerable – a lot like you imagined your own to look so often these days. Though, he was also seeming to process the fact that you wanted the baby so intimately tied to him. You continued, just to finish your thought. “That was a no brainer for me. I’m very proud that you are her daddy. I want her to be proud, too. Your last name is special to me, and even more so if she shares it.”

He was obviously pleased. Definitely shocked, but in quiet awe, you could tell. His gaze sparked with electricity at the knowledge of your plan to name her after him. After clearing his throat and blinking a few times, “Thank you,” was all he responded as his eyes bore into yours.

“Now, Jake,” you jokingly reprimanded, lifting a challenging brow. “Why are you thanking me for something that is like a reward to me in its own right?”

Arguably, as you left that yoga class, you felt the most relaxed you had in a long while. Your belly was still heavy at your front, but everything else felt so loose. Weightless. It was nice.

Josh had decided afterwards that it was a good plan to get a couple of smoothies. And who were you to argue that? It was even more tempting since he’d offered to buy them.

The drive to and from all of your ventures had been rejuvenating. You two had listened to music most of the car ride – enjoying the soul music you’d both bonded over several years ago. 

But, as soon as Aretha’s “You’re All I Need To Get By” came on the shuffle, you quickly reached forward to skip past that one. And, it must have been your lucky day because as soon as that one was out of the way, the other song from that morning on the living room floor was playing. The only songs you’d skipped and, of course, Josh had noticed. 

He’d snorted at you, making you glance in his direction. “What did Miss Aretha do to you?” 

“Nothing,” you shook your head with a lip stuck out. “Just didn’t feel like listening to those songs, I guess.”

I imagine your brother stark naked, inside of me, when I hear those songs, if you must know, you thought with a skip to your heart at the memory. And that’s just not what I need at the moment, Joshua.

And, with absolutely zero surprise, you were back on that damn living room floor. No point in skipping the songs, it seemed. It would haunt you anyway. The gray morning, rain pattering against the windows. The stupid idea you’d had, forever altering your association to the Queen of Soul.

You’d just sat up on your elbows to watch him as he thumbed through the records, appreciating the view. “You pick and I’ll let you know if I like.”

And, as he’d searched through the albums, you’d just let your mind wander, right along with your eyes. . .His body was a work of art. Always would be. Your favorite work of art. His thighs, ever-muscular, from the way they flexed when he’d move his body with his guitar on stage. That perfectly round ass that was undoubtedly gifted to him by the body gods. And his broad shoulders – strong to match his equally strong personality.

When he’d turned a bit towards you, you’d been given an image you’d never forget. His eyes, quickly scanning the back of a vinyl. And as he did so, your eyes had instantly found his straining dick. . . .

And, in the current moment, right next to his goddamned twin brother, you had to cross your damn legs at the thought of Jake’s dick. Fuck everything. Even if you shouldn't, all you wanted was Jacob Kiszka. All. You. Wanted. It was stupid to ever think you could convince yourself out of that particular desire. 

You could still imagine every detail from that morning. The fucking tip, even — swollen from being pulled mid-sex. Your clit still thrummed and twitched at the thought, remembering how it glistened from your dripping center. 

He’d turned to you fully, the Aretha Franklin vinyl in his grip – her Greatest Hits. You’d found his eyes. They were questioning, but you hadn’t been able to focus entirely on his glance. No, you’d looked away from his eyes to admire your most favorite parts of his body. His toned pecs and his solid stomach— fuck. He made you fucking weak. There were truly no words for the way he was built— pecs naturally firm and rounded with lean muscle. And his stomach— just a little soft and the perfect finish to it all, complimenting him just right— finishing out his sturdy, powerful stature. 

His aura alone would always be compelling. He was utterly beautiful, with his sparkling amber-brown eyes, flowing chestnut locks – even longer now than then – and his sharp features. And the way he was built matched so well with how he carried himself. Without even trying, he could control any room he was in. (And control you with a simple snap of his fingers.)

He was honestly what all of your dreams were made of. And, in moments from the past, like the sacred one you were remembering. . . you remember wishing everyday – more than anything – that he be yours. Still wanted him to be yours. You could remember thinking. . . No matter how bad you could be for him, your selfish wants had you constantly feeling pulled towards Jake.

But. . . he wasn’t yours. Not then. Not. Now. And that bitter thought had helped to snap you out of your trance, having finally looked at him to answer. He was smirking, knowingly. “I love your body, too, Beautiful.”

Your thighs pressed even closer together as you tapped out the beat of the current song on your thighs.

A Minnie Riperton song. Just focus on Minnie. Tried to remember the moment you were currently in. . . But you couldn’t. Not yet. Wait. Riperton. This song. You focused for a second. Dear god — was fucking "Memory Lane" playing? O-kay. Your life was truly hilarious. (Meaning, it was, in fact, not hilarious in the slightest.)

You tried to tune her out, rejecting the lyrics that hit far too close to home for your taste. But all that happened when you tuned her out, was Jake, in your memory, repeating the statement about your body. . . His eyes on you this morning. His hands on you last night. . . You continued to only hear those words from his mouth on repeat when you squeezed your eyes shut, so tightly. With a gentle touch, you placed a hand to the bottom of your tummy to hold it. Your body now was nowhere near the same as it had been then. . . 

How the fuck would he talk about your body now? You knew how he felt about some of your newer assets. But. . . how would it feel now to hear him say things like that about your body? And during sex? His dick, impossibly hard and leaking for your current, swollen body? Your belly, your bigger breasts? Your fuller thighs. . . Would he look at your naked body the same during sex now? Fuck. Why were you even thinking like that?! You were imagining things that were only breaking your heart. . . Getting your mind in a dangerous space it did not need to be in. Realizing it was slightly safer in your memories, you leaned back against your headrest to feel the rest of the moment.

You’d flushed at the words then. Even going the extra mile to roll your eyes. Tried your best to play off the way his words made your heart flutter. Ridiculous attempt. With a peek briefly at the record, you nodded at the choice. “Aretha is always a yes.”

“Agreed.”

He’d turned to put it on the Crosley, and as soon as the needle hummed against the record, making its wonderful crackling sound, you knew he’d made the right choice. This record was something else. (And now, the Greatest Hits vinyl held your heart in ways you could’ve never imagined on that rainy morning.) You could remember how it felt to watch him – the intoxicating combination of seeing him walk back to you, with some of the most incredible music backing him. . . Shit. (If you know, you fucking know.)

“I hope you don’t mind. I skipped past the first few,” he’d said as he came back to you, falling to his knees beside you. So near to you and ready to resume sex with you. No constraints. No girlfriends. No ugly voice in the back of your head telling you how terrible you were for him. Things were still perfect. 

You’d smiled up at him. “Perfectly fine. This is the best song on the entire record anyway.” 

“I think so, too,” he’d said, eyes lifting with a grin.

God. You felt tears climbing your throat, right next to Josh, as you thought of his sweet face. The smile on his lips that could have cured every single piece of trauma ever. . . If you would have let it. He was so goddamn perfect. And you were. . . well. . . you.

Then, he’d come back to you. Laid on his back for you as you angled your body to straddle him, sinking onto him.

The look on his face when you fucked him was one of your favorite sights. He’d always watched you so closely. . .whether it be your face, your breasts, your ass, or your core that wrapped around him, so tight. He’d scrunch his brows and let his mouth open a bit with certain movements of your hips, and bite his lip at other times. . . But, in moments like that one, with one hand holding your face while the other gripped your hip, a small, close-mouthed smile on his soft, plush lips. . . His emotion-filled eyes, boring into yours . . .

Your world had always tipped slightly on its axis when he’d do shit like that. Moments like the one from many mornings ago. . . Those moments had never failed to make a whole lot of gray in what should have been a strictly black and white situation. (Dangerous.) And, as you’d listened to the soulful voice flowing quietly from the record player, your thoughts drifted further. . .

When my soul was in the lost and found,

You came along to claim it.

I didn't know just what was wrong with me,

Till your kiss helped me name it.

The song had perfectly summed up how you felt about this man. The same man who had once been the bane of your existence, was now a light on your darkest days. And, in the present time. . . the father of your baby. Fuck.

As you’d glanced down to watch him, his hips had begun to move on their own – never failing to make you feel complete and right. . .

You truly couldn’t imagine your life without him. Having him in your life made you feel . . . whole.

Without evening knowing or trying, he’d helped you find missing pieces to your puzzle. Hidden pieces of your soul that you hadn’t seen in a long time. Some good pieces. Some bad pieces. But all necessary pieces of you. Pieces you’d forgotten even existed. And by simply being near you, he made you feel authentic in a way you’d never felt with another man. 

As you’d continued riding him, you had leaned down on your forearms to get close to his face. His handsome, handsome face. You’d given him a long kiss. A kiss that you’d hoped, then, was able to say thank you. . . Because, truly, you were so grateful for him. But when you’d separated your lips from his and pressed your perspired forehead to his own, you’d found the deep pools of his eyes that held so much of your world in them. And you’d known then that you had to say the words out loud.

“Thank you,” you’d whispered, hoping he’d understand as new tears had clouded your vision. Your hips were moving languidly at the perfect pace, matching the slow rocking of his hips. You’d been holding onto him, keeping rhythm with the beautiful, now-special song.

He’d held your gaze for more than a few moments, a secret smile forming in his eyes as he spoke. “Thank you.”

You’d studied him seriously, the feeling in his eyes seeming to match the longing in your heart. Both of you had stayed there for a minute, taking the other in. You’d kissed him once more. And, rather than continuing the conversation, you’d focused on finding a release for you both. 

That hadn’t even been “You’re All I Need To Get By”. . . Not yet. No, that song, the blissful melody from your memory, was “You Make Me Feel (Like A Natural Woman)”. . . And that he did – made you feel like the melodies of that song. Always would. He was every lyric of that song, sealed forever in your heart that way. But the next song. . . When you’d fallen apart on top of him. And him, just barely pulling out in time, to finish onto your tummy. . . All while the song had been surrounding you, enveloping your senses. . .

“Y/n!” Josh’s voice called to you from the current moment, his fingers making you jump a bit, your eyes hurriedly blinking open as he snapped in front of your face. “Earth to y/n!”

Fuck. How were you going to explain getting lost like that? Thankfully, your eyes had still been closed. You could just say you’d been sleeping. 

“I was just sleeping, Josh,” you lamely explained, smacking his hand away. Looking to your right, you hoped you were already at the cafe to escape any questioning. 

And, fate had worked in your favor, as he’d just parallel parked at Jungle Juice. Perfect timing. Avoid avoid avoid. You definitely hadn’t missed the curious look in his eye after your barely-there explanation or the way he’d opened his mouth to begin to question you. But as soon as he’d parked, you were hopping out of that Jetta. 

Soon, you were sitting down at a table inside as you took a sip of the pomegranate smoothie in your hand. Josh was still at the counter, you having instantly put distance between him and yourself. As you sat, your mind briefly drifted to the mundane task of taking a seat. Recently, it was slightly more difficult to get situated thanks to the soreness and differences in your changing body. You noticed how much easier than normal it was to simply sit comfortably, thanks to the yoga. 

Soon, Josh was sitting down across from you. And, after he took one tiny drink of his smoothie, he pushed it ahead of him with a huff. His fluffy mess of curls flowed around his head with the noise. There should’ve been no surprise when he didn’t drop what you'd started in the car. His ass had just touched his booth bench when he was asking you. “What the fuck is it with those songs?”

“What?” You crinkled your brow at that. He hadn’t ever been around before for you to skip past those songs. And for all he knew, you’d literally fallen asleep after the relaxing yoga class. “Just didn’t feel like hearing them today. And I got tired. Fell asle—.”

“Jake gets weird when they come on, too. . .,” he interrupted with a raised brow, trailing off as if lost in thought while addressing you. “Specifically “You’re All I Need”,” he mumbled, sort of to himself as he looked down at the table. Then his eyes flashed back to yours. “And, no. You were not sleeping. Faker.”

Okay. . . there was definitely no explaining your way out of this one. Were you really going to have to be honest with him about your feelings? It did not feel like the time – for more reasons than one. But you decided you’d say what you could. . . Maybe you could make him uncomfortable enough to move on. . .

“Jake and I had some incredible sex to those songs,” you began, eyes not once leaving his. He held firm, even after that blatant statement. Okay. Second try. But you had to look down for this part, too embarrassed to look at Josh as you said it. “Got really close to making the baby that morning rather than the night we got high. He pulled out just in time to aim it on my bell–.”

“Noooo thanks,” the curly-headed twin stopped you, making you glance up with a satisfied grin. He was holding up a hand, his lips turned down dramatically. “That is e-nough. Truly. I know what I need to know.”

You raised a brow, a tiny smirk on your lips as a laugh squeaked past your lips. “Joshua. You didn’t need to know any of that.”

“Well. . . maybe you’re right,” he surmised with another small sip from his green drink. 

“Well, I usually am right,” you answered, relieved that he’d gotten all he wanted – no, needed – to know. “So, how are things going with–?” “Also, you are not ‘usually right’, my dear,” he corrected you, air quotes and all. His nose twitched with his own grin as he watched you narrow your eyes in his direction. “I can tell you that right now. Your little speech from last night. . . You and Jake both. Fuck,” he snorted before taking another drink. He covered his mouth with a silent laugh before smoothing the hand down the side of his face. “Both of you are the worst liars to ever live.”

The breath you should’ve been breathing got stuck in your lungs. Shit. Where was he going with this? This had the potential to be an extremely embarrassing and awkward conversation you weren’t in the headspace to have. “What are you talking about, Josh?” 

“You and my twin, claiming you were ‘nothing’,” he began, lips quirked with a close-lipped grin and the air quotes coming out to play again with the word you’d both used to describe your situationship. “That all your relationship was was one night of meaningless sex that resulted in my niece or nephew.”

Niece, you silently added. You suddenly wanted to tell him really badly. But you’d let Jake do that. Made a note to tell Jake he could do that whenever he was ready. 

“I just find it funny,” he finished, his mouth still curved into a smirk. “I’m pretty sure we all knew that you were lying out of your asses. Well. . . except for that Theo guy. He’s kind of a moron.”

How did you even respond to this? Did you lie? Confide? Half-heartedly agree? Completely avoid it and tell him you didn’t want to discuss it? Fuck if you knew. So, you just began talking. 

“How are you so confident in this assumption that we were lying about it being nothing?” You quizzed him, taking a drink to hide a little. “You didn’t even know that we were doing it while we were doing it. Did you ever stop to think that maybe you didn’t know because it was nothing more than sex?”

“Oh, y/n. How in the world can you begin to question my empathic tendencies? You know I’d sensed the difference in Jake,” he reminded you, noting back to your conversation on the day of the first OB appointment. “And, the more I thought back on it, I remember there being an improvement in your soul during the summertime as well. . . Only towards the end of it did you get all mopey. When, I can only assume, you started doubting yourself and Jacob. And you were pulling such an Eeyore that Jake wanted to host a night to raise your spirits. . .,” he trailed off, taking another drink before tapping a finger to his chin, sitting the cup on the table. 

“But, yes. You were nothing, mhm,” he continued with a sardonic nod, closing his eyes briefly with a mischievous grin before he was looking at you again. “You both were noticeably different – good different. He noticed every shift in your mood. . . And you got emotional way back on the day of that first ultrasound when I brought up his relationship with Maya. . . Um, what else? Oh! The motherfucker takes you to therapy! Of course he does, because you feel safe with him. Big fucking deal for you, by the way. And, yes, I know this, y/n – I’m watchful and I know you. Definitely know him. Don’t you argue the facts with me,” he pointed at you with a raised brow and a slight smile. “. . .But. You were nothing. Okay.”

Well. “I–.”

“And then last night,” Josh giggled, taking a sip of his smoothie before placing his hands on the table in excitement. “Jake had his hands up your shorts, touching you. . . like that in front of everyone–.” 

“It was a card he was playing, Jo–.”

“. . .Whispering in your ear, your fuckin’ body reacting to it. His bodily reaction to it – I mean, with one unfortunate glance downwards, anyone was privy to that situation in his pants,” he outwardly cringed, lips turned down as he shook his head at the thought. He’d been that noticeably hard? Fuck. “And then, going to the bathroom to relieve himself with everyone in the living room!” Josh couldn’t stop his wail of a laugh at the end of the last line, attracting multiple eyes from fellow customers at the sound. 

“Josh, be quiet–,” you tried to intervene, once again getting stopped with his rambling.

“Well, not everyone, per se. I wish Elsie could have experienced that shit,” he shook his head again, but this time with a laugh as if remembering a fond memory. “She would have gotten a kick out of the free porn!”

Free PORN?! Josh.

“Joshua!” You were stunned, his voice still a higher decibel than it should have been for a proper establishment like Jungle Juice. Voice hushed, you leaned towards him. “Please quiet the fuck down.”

He observed your expression, still cackling. But soon, it calmed down. Calmed down enough to where he was still letting out little huffs of laughter, but his eyes bulged a bit. He seemed to remember at that very moment that it wasn’t just the two of you. Face set straighter than before, he turned, looking around to hastily address the people near you with an apology. Meanwhile, your cheeks were positively burning at everything he’d said. How in the hell did you even begin to address that shit? And why was it always on you to answer questions and never Jake? 

When he was facing you again, you decided to try that line. Just to gain your bearings. “Are you going to quiz Jake like this? Or is it only the emotional pregnant lady who’s getting the heat?”

“Oh, he got it first. I actually crashed his and Maya’s morning this morning,” he replied, waving it off. Your stomach dropped at the thought of them in bed together, like you knew it shouldn’t. They were the couple. “Well. . . if I can even phrase it as such. Maya was being completely ignored by him. He was asleep, mind you. But, he’d separated himself as much as possible from her, his body was practically pushed against the wall. I know she noticed how far detached he was, though. . . She was looking his way when I barged in, a sad look on her face and everything. Poor thing. Didn’t take much for me to make her leave.”

The way you snorted at that was unstoppable. He what? “Josh. You made her leave?”

“Well, again – if I can even phrase it like that,” he shrugged, one hand waving nonchalantly in the air with a roll of his eyes. “Like I said, she was already awake when I went in. I think she’d just woken up to notice he’d pulled totally away from her,” he grit his teeth, baring them with a hiss as he shook his head. “So it didn’t take much more than me asking if I could please talk to my brother for her to leave. She was already kind of pissy, but she readily agreed. I’m sure she thought I was going to confront him about blatantly cheating on her in front of us all.”

Blatantly cheating. Harsh words. True words. You felt guilty at them. Because, yes, you’d completely joined in on Jake’s antics – helped him be unfaithful to her. To be fair, you couldn’t have stopped yourself if you tried. . . Hence your new determination to be nothing more than a friend. As much as it sucked.

“Did you? Confront him?” Was all you could croak out. 

“I did confront him about it, yes,” he nodded assuredly, his tone stern. Damn. Was he actually super pissed? Why had he been all giggly if he was so angry? 

So, you started apologizing. You felt really bad and you didn’t know what else to do. 

“I’m sorry, Josh. I don’t know what came over me. I just couldn’t–.”

“Help yourself?” 

You blinked with a nervous gulp. “Yes. I couldn’t help myself.”

“Jake said the same. And, of course you couldn't,” he replied, intonation light once again. You blinked again, this time in shock at the change in attitude and Jake's apparent words. He continued before you could question it. “I knew he couldn't help himself even before he told me. He acted on his heart motive, impulsively. There was no other reason for him to act so rashly in front of all of us.”

It was silent for a few seconds, your brain blanking on what to even respond to that. You were curious what he’d said to Jake. What else Jake had responded with. . . But you were scared to ask – didn’t want to make even more of an ass out of yourself by prying. 

Thankfully, Josh kept on before you could consider it any longer. “So, I told him this morning. . .” You tried not to look too interested. He cleared his throat, his eyes finding yours seriously, your stomach dropping at what he could have said. “I told him that if he’s going to do that shit, he needs to keep it out of Maya’s sight. Because, while I don’t condone cheating, I do condone my brother being happy. And hopefully, she’ll be out of the picture soon anyway, so the cheating won’t even have to be a factor. Keeping it out of her sight and all - won’t be an issue.”

Stunned. You were stunned. What the fuck?! You couldn’t stop staring at him. Your eyes, wide and expression shocked. The way your mouth hung open would have been more embarrassing had you been more aware of how much it gaped. But before you could give it much more thought, you were talking without thinking. 

“Excuse me?” You responded, rather loudly, you must say. "You told him what?!"

“Y/n!” Josh laughed, eyes bugged, pointing towards you before waving his hands theatrically around the restaurant. “‘Please — quiet the fuck down.’”

With a roll of your eyes, you didn’t humor his sarcastic reference to your earlier statement. Not when he’d just said what he had. With a shake of your head and a clear of your throat, you knew you had to apparently be the voice of reason to the twin sitting across from you. Just as you’d had to be the voice of reason to the other one in the hallway last night.

“Josh,” you cleared your throat once more, tapping your nails against the side of your plastic cup before fully wrapping your fingers around the disposable. Had to do something with your hands. “I am not going to be the reason that Jake isn’t with a woman he was with before. Before knowing about the baby, he was with her. And happy. And, if you condone his happiness, you, of all people, should understand exactly where I’m coming from.”

You were trying to be stony with your words – tried to not leave any room for argument. Though, as the expression on his face would show, Josh was having none of what you were saying. 

“Well, I hate to break it to you,” he started, leaning back with his arms crossed at his chest. His white sneakers, knocking against your own tennis shoes under the table as he stretched his legs. “I don’t understand where you’re coming from, little mama.”

Completely perplexed, your eyes widened at his response. “How?! I thought you said you wanted him to be happy. Maya makes him—.”

“Well, first things first, I wholly regret using the word happy because it sounds stale and hollow,” he made a ticking sound with his tongue against his teeth as he thought, finger tapping his chin again as the other arm stayed crossed. You let out a sigh at his distaste for the word happy. Of all things, that was what he was getting stuck on. “Let’s say we both want Jake to feel whole, fulfilled, and complete.”

“Okay, so let’s say we want him to being whole, fulfilled, and complete–.”

“Oh! And joy-filled. I happen to like the term joy-filled,” he nodded with a lip stuck out, pleased with himself. “It’s such a sweet little phrase.”

“. . .and joy-filled,” you finished your statement with another annoyed sigh, pushing your smoothie away. With your next words, you asked him a question you were genuinely curious about. “You’re saying Maya, in her goddess-like stature, doesn’t make him feel that way?”

“I think she makes him feel. . . temporarily sated,” he concluded. “And she does make him feel a hollow emotion such as plain fucking happiness because she can only offer him so much of what he wants.”

You shouldn’t have asked your next question, but still. You did. “What can’t she offer him?”

With one lift of his brows, he relaxed his features with a sly smile. He winked one eye at you, tipping his head in your direction. “I think you already know what she can’t offer him, mama.”

“I–,” you shook your head, closing your eyes as you looked down to recenter yourself. At the thought, you placed both hands on your belly. Fingers, interlaced. With a huff, you looked back at Josh’s waiting face, his long, fluffy hair touching his brows. “I don’t– I don’t need to be in a relationship right now. Not with the baby coming and how fucked up I already am. He needs someone who can offer him a whole heart. A healthy heart. I am already mending so many broken fences from my past. The last thing he needs to be dealing with is my trauma-filled past – on top of a baby, and his burgeoning career.”

“You’re doing all of those things, though?” He stated the fact as a question, challenging you. “You’re tackling all of that on your own. Getting shit done. What makes Jake incapable of handling those things as well? He can handle his shit. And what about him helping you handle yours? Have you considered how relieving that might be? To have a partner in all of that?”

Hearing the term partner associated with Jake being yours, per Josh’s mouth, had you unable to consider anything. You couldn’t get into all of that at the moment. Not with what you’d just told Jake last night. Not in a fucking Jungle Juice of all places either. Not right after the most relaxing poses, stretching, and bending you’d ever experienced. And definitely not after what had happened the night prior. In front of everyone.

It wasn’t time to consider that. There were other, more pressing matters. Besides, even if they were identical twins, Josh only knew so much. He still wasn’t Jake. And Jake had been the one to pursue Maya. For a reason, he’d gone after her. It was a reason he found legitimate enough to pursue her initially and enough to make him seriously date her in the long run. And that was enough for you. 

She’d been around before you, during you, and after you. . .for him. She was special to him. No doubt. And if she made him feel good, that was still better than him feeling traumatized with all of your shit. Not to mention you’d been the one to end things. It was too late for you to take back your words. Yes, Jake said he’d forgiven you. But had you forgiven yourself enough to trust yourself with him again? 

Jake deserved someone who made his life simpler. And that was definitely not you. As much as it pained you to your very core to see him with her, it was still better than the hurt you might inflict on him with your wishy-washy heart and headspace as you navigated your current waters. That was the deepest, most sure reason you had for denying him. Truly. It wasn’t that you didn’t want him. It was that you wanted him so badly, that you couldn’t let yourself have him – for fear of hurting him.

Theo could be collateral damage all day long. Any guy could be, for that matter. But not Jake. Never Jake. You’d already done it, the one horrific day in the kitchen, all those months ago. Not again. You’d been careless with his heart and it was your worst mistake.

“I don’t need a relationship right now, Josh,” you responded with finality. You really meant it. “And I want Jake in my life long-term and I can’t trust myself to keep him long-term if I’m in a relationship with him while also not totally healed.” “I get that,” Josh responded with a nod, gathering his straw wrapper to mess with. He looked down at the paper in his grasp before peering up at you once more. “But is a person ever totally healed?”

Why was he keeping at this? He needed to stop. Now was not the time. You didn’t want this talk. Not now. Especially not with the tears gathering in your throat. 

“I don’t want to talk about it, Josh,” you plainly stated, the wetness in your throat shown in your tone. Tucking a piece of hair behind your ear with one hand, the other still on your belly, you stayed grounded. Well ‘grounded’ enough, eyes still zoning out on the speckled table. “If I’m healing for anyone right now, it’s for my baby. That is my primary focus. So, please. Just let me focus on that.”

It was silent for a few minutes, getting to the point that you’d wonder if he was still there if his legs weren’t still stretched out beside yours. So, you let your eyes float back to his. He was simply watching you, a distant, sympathetic look in his eyes that you couldn’t place. Was he pitying you? Upset with you? Just plain sad for you? For his brother? 

Whatever it was, you decided you’d be the one to break the silence. His stare stayed on you, even as you connected your own eyes with his. “I’m sorry,” you mumbled, twiddling your fingers against your swollen tummy. “I don’t want to let you down. And I definitely don’t want to let Jake down. But. . . this is just what’s best. I really believe it.”

“Okay,” he responded, slowly nodding in agreement with you. “And please, love, don’t say sorry. Not when you’re just telling me how you feel. Don’t ever be sorry for opening up to me — being honest with me. I’m your best friend – listening to you is what I’m here to do.”

The tears were back in your throat, gathering in your tear ducts. One slipped down your cheek, and more than anything, you wanted Jake to reach out and stop it. Wanted him to hold you while you felt this vast range of emotions. But he wasn’t here. Only Josh, who slipped a napkin your way, from the table dispenser. After you’d dabbed your cheeks, you both seemed to decide it was time to leave. You still had smoothie left, sipping on it as Josh threw his away. 

Once you were back in the car that evening, having shopped at City Point for hours - for fun things and for groceries - you were on your way back to the apartment.

At the first traffic light, Josh broke the comfortable silence. “I need you to know something. . .you are not letting me down, mama,” he sweetly noted. You glanced over at him, brows furrowed - didn't know what he was talking about. At your lack of response, he clarified. “Back at the restaurant, earlier today . . . You told me you didn’t want to let me or Jake down. You’re not letting either of us down. We are grown men and it isn’t your job to take care of us. Not for a second.”

“Oh,” was all you responded at first, at a loss for words. Then, as the drive continued for a few minutes, you thought about it all and decided to say one more thing. “Thank you for being there for me. You and Jake both are so great at it and I’m grateful for you.”

He hummed in acknowledgement, a little smile lighting up his face. And his next words made your heart ease in your chest in a way it hadn’t for weeks – months, even. Words you needed to hear. And having them come from Josh’s mouth was very settling. 

“I need you to know, y/n, that however you feel for Jake is okay. And it is right – whatever it may be,” he told you. You looked over at him, his brows set as he focused on the road and the subject matter. “Even if you don’t want me to, I know how deeply you feel for him, no matter if you’re ready for a relationship. I know he feels deeply for you. And that is what’s right. Because,” he paused, for what you could only presume as dramatic effect. It worked, though, as his last statement tore through your heart in every way it deemed appropriate. “The heart never lies, my dear.”

After considering his words, you felt a sense of sureness in yourself that you hadn’t felt for a long while. So, with a fuller heart after a fun day with your best friend, and a solid sense of self-assuredness, you turned the music back on. Deciding to be a big girl, you queued up “You Make Me Feel (Like A Natural Woman).” And, just as it got to the chorus, Josh reached over. His hand laid out, waiting for yours. Without a thought, you placed your hand in his. He gave it a squeeze before balancing your hands on the armrest. 

“I’m so proud of you, little mama,” he noted after a few more songs' melodies played through the speakers. Then, he was already turning down the street to the apartment as he offered another word. “But, y/n?”  

“Yes?” You asked, already looking for Jake’s car in the parking lot. As soon as you’d placed it, you breathed easier. You let yourself look at Josh, who was pulling down the row to park in your spot. 

“You say Maya makes Jake happy and maybe she does. For now,” he surmised, breathing in deeply through his nose. With his next words, his tone was clipped, testy. “But. . . my brother will only put up with a woman for so long who’s referring to his baby so poorly. As soon as he hears it, she’s out. I can promise you that.”

Referring to his baby so poorly. . .? What is he-? Oh.

“It looked like I was about to witness that baby being made for the second time over,” she’d bit out, her lips still pursed tightly and her fingers squeezing tight on her biceps. She’d sounded bitter, angry, and plain hateful. 

All emotions pointed at your child. You could definitely agree that Josh had a point. And you only wondered if you’d be around for Jake to hear her speak that way about your baby. . . What a moment that would be.

“Well,” you slowly began, weighing your words as you tapped your tummy contemplatively. “If she does speak that way about the baby in front of him,” you let your eyes travel to Josh’s profile, “I sure as hell hope I’m around to hear it all go down.”

Josh giggled at that, his lips loose in a carefree grin as he caught your eye, raising his brows. “Me fuckin’ too, little mama.”

December 19, 2022

The following Monday was a very busy day for you. 

In the morning, you’d worked the opening shift at the Black and Gold. It had been an early morning waking up - the sun had come a little too soon for your liking after two nights in a row of staying up later than you were used to these days.

Because, when you'd gotten home, Jake had been waiting for you. And, you'd spent time with him from the time you got home to bedtime. He'd made enough stir fry for you to have some when you got home. And, as you ate, he’d kept his word and talked to you about yoga and Josh at yoga. Neither of you brought up the conversation that Josh had apparently had with you both. No, just focused on how. . . involved. . . Josh had made his Warrior II. It had been an entire production, playing on the word Warrior, creating his own character, right there, in the middle of yoga class. 

Then, you’d eventually given in to the nagging thought to ask him to watch New Girl with you, even after talking about Josh and baby things for an hour or so. And, even though you'd feared rejection because of it being close to ten o'clock, you’d gotten none. He’d immediately agreed to it. Almost instantly, he’d gone to pop some popcorn for you both and everything. And, of course, he’d grabbed your Stanley from the coffee table and filled it up with fresh ice water. 

You’d almost fallen asleep leaning into his shoulder, but you’d stopped yourself. Thank God. After a few episodes and a lot of laughter, you’d turned in for the night. You hadn’t wanted to give up time with him, relishing in it, actually. But you’d been very tired after the first day of yoga, the talk with Josh, and hours of shopping with Josh afterwards. As much as you loved the man, he was a party and a half, all in one person. He recharged you and drained your battery all at once. In the best way possible, of course. And, well, being pregnant, caring for two lives in one body, just really take it out of a person.

But, the morning at work hadn’t been too bad, even with going to sleep later than normal the two nights prior. It had been the perfect opportunity to buy a few records as Christmas presents (your go-to gift for nearly everyone, every year). You’d even bought one for Jake – hadn’t even questioned the idea of buying him a gift, doing it on instinct. In your mind, it only made sense to get him one, too. He was so special - for many reasons. 

So, you’d bought him a special record. A risky one, maybe. A particular record you probably shouldn’t have bought for him, but your impulses and heart had gotten the best of you. You'd purchased a 7"/45 rpm single. Two of them, actually. One for each of your Aretha songs: ‘You’re All I Need’ and ‘You Make Me Feel’. Original pressed singles, both in mint condition. They'd just come in on a truck, too - only one of each in the store. You’d taken it as a sign. They'd been on the more expensive side, but you’d purchased them before you could chicken out. You promised yourself to reflect on the crazy purchase later – if need be. After that, the day had been over since Lacey had arrived to pick up the mid-day shift. Then, you’d driven back home with all of your gifts in tow, to take a quick shower before therapy that afternoon. 

In the shower, you thought back on all of the gifts you’d bought today. And when you thought of Jake’s. . . You sort of blanched. You knew you would. Wondered briefly what you’d been thinking – getting those vinyls for him? Out of every other record you could have purchased? 

Whatever. As you climbed out of the shower, you vowed, yet again, to think about it later. After counseling, maybe. You were already very pressed for time with your work schedule. You hadn’t a lot of time to get ready to head to Gia. No time to think about Christmas gifts.

It had been convenient timing for Jake to already be gone for his big show tonight when you’d arrived home. Yes, it still definitely sucked that he wasn’t able to take you. But, if you weren’t worrying about trying to dodge him while wearing a towel, you would be able to get ready the slightest bit faster. 

Win some, lose some.

On the drive there, you continued to be a little nervous about not having a person with you - considering Jake couldn’t be there. 

He’d told you last night. And, he'd felt really bad about not being able to make it. As you watched Schmidt freak out over driving moccasins, Jake had remembered a big show they had to perform tonight. You'd celebrated with him right off the bat. And adamantly agreed it was huge for them to perform that show and that he couldn't miss it. You knew the venue - a decently sized, legendary one. A venue all new artists dreamt of playing in. He’d asked over and over if it was truly okay that he was busy. And each time, you’d reassured him. It wasn’t his fault and that he should be excited.

But, amidst his sad guilt for being busy, he’d so graciously pointed out that he just 'felt terrible' because 'there’s truly no way you to know what to expect from the EMDR.' And, well, obviously. You knew that. You knew that there was no telling what horrific things might greet you as you left your lavender field at each session. So, your thoughts had you very nearly spiraling on the drive there. 

But, the timing of his show couldn’t have been better. Thankfully, the appointment was an incredibly easy one. You’d spent the beginning of the appointment filling Gia in on everything that had happened as of late. She’d asked kindly if you wanted her advice. And, honestly, you hadn’t wanted any advice yet. Just wanted to tell her – a chance to confide in someone sort of neutral. 

You were relieved when she didn’t give a blatant reaction to anything you mentioned – she’d simply sat there and let you give every last detail from the past few days. The gender reveal appointment, game night, the talk with Jake, your shameful romp with Theo. . . And the talk with Josh. She did ask you a question, though. No advice. Just, pondered with her wise, psychologically-geared brain.

“How did it feel to have Josh say those things?” Was the one thing she’d asked, eyeing you skeptically as she waited for your response. 

You held that question for a minute and went with your automatic feeling that you’d associated with the conversation. “It felt like something was clicking into place that needed to,” you explained, chewing the inside of your cheek. “It was absolutely ideal and necessary for my heart.”

“Him, too, I’m sure,” Gia offered, raising a brow. “I’ve got to meet him.”

“I’ll bring him with me instead of Jake at some point,” you smirked with a wink. “You’ll love him and he’ll love you.”

She grinned, her green eyes sparkling behind her wire framed glasses. The two blonde tendrils that fell flawlessly on either side of her face swept her cheeks as she nodded. “I’m sure.”

“Having Josh be the one to say things like that,” you continued, catching a thought flying by in your messy brain. “It really helped me to view the entire situation with more of a positive attitude. His approval of things means just as much as my sister’s, most times. Which is huge.”

“I love how you trust him,” she nodded along, once more. Her eyes, still twinkling. She looked reminiscent of a fairy, truly. “That is huge. You, trusting people.”

You hummed in agreement, thinking of Josh saying something very similar the day before. With pursed lips and a raised brow, you considered that. “I think you’re right.”

“I think so, too,” she responded. Her voice, so smooth, instantly helping you feel at ease. “I think I know what happened when you met Josh.”

“What is that?” You implored, needing to know her thoughts. 

“He helped you to reach for this light that you’d forgotten existed. Wouldn’t you say?”

You nodded slowly, taking it in with a thoughtful hum. “Mhm. . . I agree.”

“Would it be safe to assume that maybe you’d gotten into a sort of bland routine in life before you’d let Josh into it?”

How did she-? “Hit the nail right on the head, actually.”

“It’s a trauma response,” she explained, as if it were a normal thing. She was good at that - helping you feel normal when you knew your trauma, did in fact, make you slightly crazy. “A lot of people close off to others and don’t allow for a lot of change and it puts you in this mundane mindset that can almost drown you. If you let it.”

You nodded once more, she had a point. She was always right. But you loved moments like this where it literally felt like she was sitting inside of your brain, taking notes. 

“And I’d venture to say. . .,” she began slowly. Leaning forward in her seat pensively, elbows resting on her knees as she peered right into your soul. Her expensive perfume came off of her in gentle waves. “His twin brother, Jake. . . He maybe gave the final push. He was the other piece of the puzzle. He forced your hand with his presence and you kind of, I don’t know, had to face reality when he came into your life? I think he held this mysterious air that you needed to know more about that made you dig deeper within yourself. Josh, he didn’t come with mystery. And, well, we both know you feel differently for Jake than you do for Josh. . .,” she paused, raising her brow at you. 

Your only response was a visible gulp. And, no, it was not put on. The gulp was very real. She was just that intuitive. Damn. “So, it all just. . . works. Truly twins, huh? Two unique pieces of a very beneficial puzzle." She said leaning back in her seat again, leisurely. She brought one thigh up to her chest and let the other foot rest on the floor. Tapping out a patient beat. “Josh helped you reach for the positive and Jake helped you push out the negative.”

“I hated how Jake made me feel things,” you said, absentmindedly. Your brain was doing the weird swirly thing where you couldn’t stop the feeling of newfound understanding if you tried. There’s therapy for you, folks. “He really did push me. And I hated it. But. . .,” You trailed, tears gathering in your throat. 

“. . .But?” She urged, mentally holding your hand. Willed you to continue. 

“But I think I hated it because I knew I’d have to face shit that I'd never had to before. Elsie sort of made that point to me at the beginning, actually,” you snorted, thinking back to that day in the car. Where she’d told you certain things about your past you’d forgotten. Without Jake, you wouldn’t have had that conversation with her. He'd really been that final push, as Gia had called it. “But I think my heart didn’t understand him. Or, maybe it understood him too well. He made me—makes me—feel so safe that it’s. . . uncomfortable. But,” you paused, brow crinkling when you finally met her eyes. “It’s like I’m uncomfortable in a way that feels so damn comfortable I could cry.”

Gia hummed, lips lifting slowly. “Sounds an awful lot like healing to me, sweets,” she deduced with a wink. “Jake. . . He came around for a reason. And it’s pretty special that there’s a little one now to show for it.”

All you could do was nod, placing a hand on your belly as you blinked once, measuring the motion with the wisdom that had floated from her mouth to your ears. Well damn. After that, she decided it was time to begin. And she attached her requested heart monitor to you before you began the session’s events of reprocessing. 

“Last time kind of scarred me,” she laughed nervously as she glanced up at you, clipping the HeartMath device to your pointer finger. “Can’t lie to you, sweets.”

And when you shut your eyes to begin, the lavender field had been waiting wistfully, along with Jake, so dreamy, in that stunning dark blue, three-piece suit – as always. Then, as you’d ventured to other places outside of your Safe Place, the only thing to greet you were smiles, laughter, and brightly colored lights. More specifically, you saw light-hearted, joyful fragments in time spent at your Grandma and Grandpa’s – all Christmas-centered memories, too. Gia had surmised your mind had conjured up the happier, holiday-themed scenes because the holiday was only six days away. 

When she walked you out, you gave Gia a humongous hug and thanked her for listening to the ‘ridiculous shit storm that was your life’. Of course, she reassured you immediately that ‘nothing about you was ridiculous and she was ready to talk more about it if you wanted to next time’. And with one final pat to your back as you pushed the front door to the office open, she reminded you.

“Think about what I said earlier. Maybe work on that ‘reaching for the positive’ thing. I’d call it ‘pushing out a negative, while reaching for a positive’,” she winked, a secret smile on her full lips. “Cancel the darkness out. Just give it a try.”

Dropping off the heart monitoring equipment to the post office came next. Once in the car at the counseling center, and all buckled up, you patted the yellow package in the passenger seat, the mechanisms all padded up inside. 

It had officially been a month of wearing it and it was time to send in your information to be analyzed. You were equal parts nervous and ready to know what the fuck had been happening with your heart a month ago. Your terrible puking spells (which had caused majorly debilitating dehydration) and low iron were still the biggest possible cause of most of it, of course. But. . . you were very eager to discuss your specific results with a cardiologist. POTS seemed very plausible, still, so.

Though, when you’d gotten in your car to drive to your next destination, something mentioned in your session with Gia came roaring back to you. Gia had said Christmas was only six days away. . . And, well, you hadn’t even decorated yet. How in the fuck had you and Jake both forgotten to decorate? And how was it only six days away?!

As soon as the thought of being forgetful entered your mind, you couldn’t help but grin, cheeks warming as you placed a hand on your belly. You’d had other things on your mind, distracting you from decorating – another person. Someone tiny, who was far more exciting than Christmas. The bubbly, energetic baby girl in your belly who already mattered more than any holiday ever. 

As you drove to the mailing office, you went ahead and began playing your favorite Christmas playlist for the sweet baby. Well, and for you. Most importantly, though, you wanted to introduce her to the holiday music because you knew how it warmed your heart. And, you figured it would only aid in making her feel just a little more cheery in her little temporary home. 

Though, when Donny Hathaway started singing about this Christmas being a very special Christmas, you realized. . . you were a little upset you’d forgotten about decorating. Christmas was your absolute favorite. The term ‘pregnancy brain’ was real as hell. So, before you forgot, you mentally jotted the additional task to the busy day: dig out all of the Christmas boxes and set them up as warmly as possible to welcome in the holiday. If anything, you wanted to enjoy the decorations for the next few days. It would be something. 

When you got home, some guilt set in (shocker). You’d had time to sit with the fact that you’d spaced out on Christmas and you didn’t have music to distract you anymore from your thoughts. If you’d forgotten to decorate now, how much worse would it be when you had an actual child to take care of? Would you forget Christmas for her, too? The thoughts were hastily becoming a dumpster fire of doom. 

But, rather than sitting on them, you did what Gia might tell you to do. She would tell you to feel it, yes. But, she’d soon say to find somewhere to turn your negative energy into positive. Just like you had always tried to do with music. Out with the negative, reach for the positive.

So, you did just that. But with decorations. You decided you’d dig out any and all Christmas decorations you could find in your apartment. Got right down to business.

After feeding Stevie, you immediately went to find the tree. Its box sat on a shelf above the washer and dryer, a difficult feat even when you weren’t pregnant. But, you didn’t let the belly get in the way – you reached and reached until the box was literally toppling down on top of the machines. You were real glad Jake wasn’t home to witness the disastrous sound of the tree’s heavy cardboard box landing on top of the washer and dryer. It was quite embarrassing how uncoordinated you had become.

As soon as you had the tree down, you only focused on getting all of its pieces and parts plugged in. Every single plug connected to the right place, the six-foot-tall tree stood as tall as it could. . . though, it seemed to lean awfully far to the right, rather than perfectly straight. Elsie had gotten it as a hand-me-down from your grandparents when she’d first moved in. It had been weak and flimsy last year, so its floppiness was to be expected this year, too.

But, even if the decoration had seen better days,  you knew you didn’t want to buy another one. So, you were hoping to God that all of the lights worked, no matter how frail the rest of the tree was. Though, as soon as you plugged it into the wall. . . Your hopes of not having to buy another tree were dashed. Half of the lights did as they were supposed to, shining so bright and looking like the spirit of Christmas. . . while the bottom half of the tree was bleak and void of any light whatsoever. Lovely.

But, rather than throwing it away, you’d decided to pack it back in its box and lean it against the wall. Even if it didn’t work, you weren’t going to part with it until you knew Elsie didn’t want it. It had been a whole event every year for the two of you to put it up – memories you held very close to your heart. Now wasn’t the time to think about that though. Not when you only had six days until Christmas and your apartment was bare of any Christmas anything. It was straight up depressing and you were not going to have that. 

So, after slipping your shoes on and grabbing your keys and belt bag from where you’d basically just taken them off, you bundled up in your coat. And off to Walmart you went. 

The smell of cinnamon pinecones overwhelmed every last sense in your body. Even without being pregnant and overruled by your senses, the smell encompassed magic. But as a pregnant lady? It was a thousand times better.

And the sound of Nat King Cole singing of chestnuts roasting on an open fire as you browsed the Christmas trees. . . It all felt so enchantingly melancholy. The feeling of Christmas, one of your favorite feelings in the entire universe. Most of your blissful memories had happened at this time of year, growing up. . . it had also continued to be that way as an adult. Tightening your coat around you, you felt cozy with the feeling of it all. The best time of year. 

But, sooner than later, your heavy, black peacoat was unbuttoned and coming off, the heated air in the superstore making you slightly sweaty. Felt claustrophobic. The sweatshirt alone, underneath, was making you overheat. Once you’d taken your coat off and thrown it over your arm, you continued tapping your foot against the cement floor in Walmart’s Flower and Garden department. After a few minutes of perusing, you heard an old crickety voice behind you. The small, frail voice was asking if you needed help with anything. And, when you turned around to answer, you were met with a familiar face.

The same old woman from the day you’d bought the pregnancy tests. Her name tag, the same tattered one from months ago, confirming it. Wanda.

With one more swivel of your body, you were able to show her your entire self. Her face lit up a little as she observed you fully, her mouth widening into a smile as she glimpsed your belly. She scooted closer and placed a gentle, wrinkled hand on your round belly. Where you would normally retract at the non-consensual touch, you instead just smiled fondly at the old woman. 

She was familiar. The obnoxiously floral perfume with hints of artificial rose that had once made your stomach churn was a comfort to you in the moment. You sort of felt indebted for her. . . Enough so that you wanted her to appreciate the baby with you. She awed and cooed. And when she asked how far along you were, age-old, glassy eyes sparkling when you told her you were eighteen weeks, you wondered. . .

“Do you remember me?” You asked, brow raised with a little quirk of your lips.

She looked up at you, the hunch in her back making it impossible to stand at full height. Her expression was pensive once she’d locked eyes with you. Her eyes trailed over your face. “Well, fiddlesticks. . . I’m not placing you, my dear,” she said in her aged tone. Sounded crinkly and worn — in the best possible way. “I’m sorry. I just deal with so many people every day. Been here for so many years! When was it that I met you, honey?”

“About 10 weeks ago,” you replied, watching for any realization to hit her. But, when you saw her squish her magenta-colored lips in thought for a second too long, you knew you’d have to explain further. “You helped me realize I needed to test for pregnancy. I’d come for tampons. Thought I’d started my time of the month. But you put the thought in my head that convinced me to test.”

She immediately brightened, her mouth opening wide in wonder and merriment. “Well, I’ll be darn-tootin’!” She laughed, placing two fragile hands on her equally fragile hips. “A bit of it’s coming back to me, honey. Good-ness gracious. How’ve you been?” She kept her hands on her hips, smiling up at you with a little giggle that reminded you of your Grandmother’s. “I see it was a good idea to test, hm?”

You joined in on the spurt of laughter, placing your free hand on your belly. “It sure was, Wanda,” you shook your head. Your hair, sleek and straightened, brushed against your cheek. “I’m just grateful you mentioned it.”

“Bless your heart. You would’ve found out sooner or later, babydoll,” she winked, messing with the front of her hair. Her nails, long and manicured, were the same color as her bright lips.

You felt so warm at seeing her again. You could’ve kept on with her for hours. Though, due to the winter season, it was already pitch black outside at seven in the evening. You were already yawning — got very sleepy very easily these days. And you still had to get this errand finished so you could go home and decorate. All of the decorating had to be done tonight. You were determined. But, right now. A tree. You had to find a tree. The perfect little tree. And — well, maybe you’d be able to spend a few more minutes with her if she helped you find the tree. That would make your night. 

“Wanda, if you’re busy, you don’t have to. . .,” you started, crossing your arms in front of you, coat over both forearms. “But I could definitely use your help deciding on a new tree. Mine is shot and I’m in desperate need of a new one.” 

“Why, I’d be glad to, sweet pea.”

Wanda had helped you decide on a five-foot-something tree. It was a green, artificial tree. It had the option for multi-colored lights or white lights, which was wonderful. Perfect, honestly. Exactly what you wanted in a tree. And it had been a highlight of your week to decide on it with the white haired woman.

You’d splurged a little and got a slightly nicer one, taking the other one dying as a sign that it was time for you to buy your very own. One that was yours and not a hand-me-down. Anyways, it was best to do it now, anyway. That way, next year, you wouldn’t be trying to juggle a baby whilst also searching for a new tree. But what you hadn’t thought through was getting it up the stairs. While pregnant. Without any help. 

So, here you were, a six-foot tree in a box, hefty as hell. The handle of the box, cutting into your grip with the weight of the box. Your hips, suddenly aching something terrible. For the past week, it hadn’t taken much for them to get sore and achy — usually after working on your feet for hours at the B&G. And today, you'd had so many errands. . . Your body was feeling it. 

So, the tree was the last thing you wanted to deal with when your body was already feeling the abnormal pain (normal for pregnant women by this point in the pregnancy, but new for you in yours). In the present moment, it was the worst concoction of factors, the box tempting to slip from your hand for the thousandth time. You did your best to keep your balance with your constantly changing body and the tree in its box, fighting each other for power. 

You kept thinking how ill-conceived the plan was — doing this shit on your own. . . The tree was definitely too heavy for you. But you hadn’t wanted to burden Jake with the task. He wasn’t even home yet and it wasn’t his job to fulfill these tasks for you. And, for all you knew, he’d be in Queens until the wee hours of the morning due to show-related things. You didn’t know how long he was meant to take.

One hand was bouncing between your belly and the metal railing as you trekked up the steps. One at a time, making sure to keep the baby safe, just in case. In retrospect, at best, this was a hare-brained attempt at being productive. It was dangerous to try to juggle the tree and your growing, unsteady body. If you were to fall down several stairs, what the hell was your damn hand going to do to keep the baby unaffected and well? 

But, you didn’t have time for that thought to fully pass through your brain as the box started doing what you feared. It was tilting towards the bottom of the stairs — just as you’d made it to the fifth stair from the top. So. Close. Fuck.

It was weightily tipping downwards, pulling you with it. A complete imbalance of gravity and equilibrium. Your feet weren't as stable as they could have been. Only one foot was on the fifth step, the other one still on the step prior. Moving didn’t seem an option. There was no telling which foot was going where if you did try to move. It didn’t matter. If you moved up a step, you were going down. If you moved back to the prior step, you were going down. There was no winning. 

So, here you were. Stuck in limbo. A substantially-sized tree in your left hand threatening to make you fall down more than a few stairs, and your right, going back and forth between the hand rail and your tummy. 

Finally, you got the nerve to try and move up – decided you were going to try to make it. Just had to believe you could. . .

Though, as soon as you tried, your foot that was shifting upwards did not agree with the tree box on the opposite side of your body. And so, you started slipping backwards. You couldn’t figure out if you wanted to grab your belly or the railing, but at the last minute, you decided the rail would probably be best. If you hung on to the rail, you wouldn’t fall. And if you didn’t fall, your baby would be okay. 

But, still, your hand was too sweaty to hold on as tightly as you needed – and your mind frazzled and stilled all at once. 

Thankfully, though, at the last minute, you gained just enough traction with the small, singular dry part of your hand. And you didn’t fall. You held tight to the railing and leveled yourself just enough to put both feet on the next step up. But once you were there, you decided that you didn’t want sweaty hands any longer. You’d rather them just be dry to avoid any more risks. 

You put the box down to stand at your side (momentarily wondered why you didn’t just let it fall, it being the main nuisance), wiped your hands on your leggings. Once you put the box aside, you realized the pure, unadulterated relief in your shoulder at not trying to hold a box that was undoubtedly way too heavy for you. In fact, you suddenly realized how very drained you were – it had been a long day. And you felt so damn overheated, in your sweatshirt and thick coat, despite the cold temperatures. So, grabbing both hand rails the best you could, you leveled yourself well enough to sit down beside the tree. 

The box stood slightly wobbly next to one of your throbbing hips as you situated, comfortably as you could on the rusted, metal step. With a huff, your hair billowed out around you with the harsh breath; you pulled the box closer to you. With a firm push, most of its weight leaned against the step behind you. You wedged your hip into the box, gaining some momentary pressure to relieve the tender flesh at the top of your thigh. Slipping your eyes closed, you went to lay your head against the box for a little rest. Better to do that than possibly faint or some shit. Because, if POTS really was truly what you suffered from, that shit was very possible. Fainting was most probably what had happened to you the night you went to the emergency room. So, best not to push yourself tonight.

But just as you went to relax, you heard the telling signs of someone else walking up the stairs. Drowsily, you opened your eyes, head still leant against the box, to find Jake climbing, two steps at a time towards you. His face said he was less than pleased and you instantly blanched at that.

“Why the fuck do you look so pissy?” You challenged with a betraying yawn, masking the irritability in your tone, making your body jerk a little when you let it out. 

With his presence, you were loosening more and more by the second; feeling much more at ease with him being home. You were not irritated at all – even if you sounded otherwise.

“Why do I look ‘pissy’?” He replied with a little laugh, eyes huge as he glanced pointedly at the box before looking back at you. “What the fuck were you just attempting?”

Rolling your eyes, you stayed in your spot against the box, looking up at him from where he stood, feet taller than you sitting down. But still standing a step below you. Dignity be damned. You weren’t getting on your feet to talk to him. You would fucking sit because you were sleepy and sore. And you didn’t feel like getting up just yet. Especially not when you had a hell ton of stuff to do once you crossed the threshold of your home.

Yes, you were overjoyed to decorate for Christmas – of course. But, the more and more time went by, it seemed like more of a chore than anything. “If you must know, I was attempting to get this tree up the stairs and into our place,” you clarified, another yawn making your eyes close with a jitter that made you feel fuzzy all over. 

“All by yourself?” He asked, a small smile daring to tug at his lips with a tone that still sounded slightly frustrated. He released a yawn to follow yours. You watched his neck muscles flex as you thought of how his vast range of emotions made him a jack of all trades. . . . . Frustrated one minute and smiling the next. . . just like yourself – admittedly.

“Yes?” You responded as a question, daring him to test you. “And? A woman can’t handle getting her own tree up the stairs?”

“Of course you can handle it, y/n. I didn’t say that you weren’t strong and shit. Anything you put your mind to, you do,” he explained, brow raised just enough to show he thought you were being ridiculous. “But should you be handling it?” 

“Why shouldn’t I, Jacob? Enlighten me.” 

You knew you sounded stupid. You knew, just as well as him, exactly why you shouldn’t have been testing fate. It was why you’d been alternating between holding the handrail and your bump for the past ten or so minutes you’d struggled to get the bulky box up the steps. 

“Well, you probably shouldn’t be managing a box that heavy on your own at four months pregnant,” he reasoned, messing with his hair briefly before tucking the hand in his pocket.

There was nothing you could say to argue that. So instead, you planted your feet and grumbled as you stood, firmly resting a hand at your hip to apply some sort of compression to the muscle. You were slightly unsteady as you grasped at the handrail. Okay. He had a point. Fine. 

“Let me finish the job,” he encouraged with a gentle smile, moving closer to you as you found your footing. His face showed that he was still measuring your responses. 

Let him, y/n. Relax.

Once you were on your feet and could see past him, you saw his guitar cases all the way at the bottom of the stairs. He never let those leave his sight for more than a minute. And here he was, patiently addressing you and your stubborn ass, back turned to the instruments completely. As if you needed an indicator that you shouldn’t have given him any trouble over it. 

“What about your guitars?” You pondered, shrinking back into yourself a bit, guiltily. Not looking into his eyes, your line of sight, still attached to the beat up cases. “Do you want me to grab those for–?”

“No,” he raspily laughed, your eyes flashing back to him just in time to catch the sight of his pretty smile. “I’ll grab those, too. Just–let’s get you up the stairs in one piece first.”

And, at that, you turned with a sigh, placing one foot on the next step. You felt him close behind you. Without any warning, you felt his hand strong against your back, supporting you. Could’ve sworn you felt the burn of his touch, even through the two thick layers of clothing covering your skin. Then, his hand was traveling towards your lower back, wrapping around your hip, under your coat, keeping you steady. Your entire body leaned into him, opening up at his touch. . . What sort of sorcery was this? One intended to kill, you were sure.

Then, he was talking, his low, velvety voice in your ear. “Remember what I told you that night at your grandparents’? I’ve had to remind you of it a time or two. . .” 

Damn – he was much closer than you thought. Your skin prickled, longing to fall back into him, to truly feel the voice against your ear. His lips – you needed them to graze your skin. You could hardly register the words, the memory seemed totally faded as your hormones took the front seat. 

“What?” You questioned, still facing ahead. Didn’t want to get distracted. 

“Do you remember how I told you to let me help you? That night we had dinner at your grandparents’?”

Oh. Yes. Of course you remembered that. You’d had a panic attack. He had found you. He’d fixed it — miraculously. How he was able to do that so well, you had no fucking clue. “Yes, Jake,” you groaned, trying to mask the way your heart was hammering in your chest at his nearness and the memory of him being the only one to calm you. 

Just as he was calming you right now. Against your will.

“Well, that applies to this and everything else as well,” he said, as your foot made it to the very top of the staircase. His chest momentarily pressed to your back, as your breaths came heavy. “I always want you to let me help you.”

There was nothing you could say with how your head was floating. “Okay,” you responded with a choppy breath. 

But you were moving away from him before you could feel anything else. It was bound to be a long night if you let yourself give in to him in any way. You could let him help you with the tree. Christmas decorations, even, if he wanted. . . You could let him help you put those up in your shared home. But that was it. Didn’t need to let him help with anything else tonight. You couldn’t – shouldn’t. And his chest being pressed to yours only tempted you to act in ways you weren’t supposed to.

Thankfully, he soon got you to the apartment door and then went to grab the tree. You unlocked and opened the door right before he was bringing the tree box through it. You’d waited in the living room, watching every movement of his. And you tried really fucking hard to not pay attention to how he handled the heavy ass tree with zero strain. It was nothing for him. You felt totally normal about this.

And then he was carrying in his two cases, the handle for each in their own gripping fist. But you did your best to put his strength, hands, and fists to the very back of your mind. To your relief, he went to change and drop the cases in his room. And that allowed you to catch your breath as you finally stripped out of your too-warm coat. By the time you took off your coat, you were still breathing choppily. . . so, you decided you'd change into pajama shorts and an oversized t-shirt.

You were just so damn overheated. Jake had nothing to do with it, and you told yourself so over and over.

“This shit is fucking scary as hell.”

You looked over your shoulder from your task of placing ornaments on the tree, bottom half first, on your knees. Jake, who’d been put in charge of setting out the other decorations, was holding your Grandma’s vintage, foot-tall Annalee Christmas Mouse Doll. 

The painted features on the felt creature were botched at best. It was old. It had been your Grandmother’s mother’s. Passed down to you and Elsie, who’d been gracious enough to accept. . . But you’d definitely laughed your asses off every year when it came out of the box. It was an heirloom of sorts, but it wasn’t necessarily treasured by the two of you. It had definitely floated around your room and hers, each of you liking to scare each other with it at this time of year. A stupid, hilarious tradition. Because, truly, the thing was creepy as hell. Probably haunted, honestly. . . Joking. Maybe.

“It was my Great Grandma’s,” you laughed, hanging another hand-me-down on the tree. A little gold metal ornament that had once been your Grandpa’s when he was a boy. “It’s been kept around for too many years to try to hide it and be rid of it now.”

“Well,” he started with a laugh in his voice. “I am going to maybe place it somewhere not so visible to the naked eye. . .”

The giggle you let out was easy and made you feel so full of light as you placed another ornament on the tree. 

“Have you eaten tonight?” He asked you with a grunt as he wedged the mouse next to the TV stand. (You didn’t focus on his little noises at all.)

“Yes. Just some fast food,” you sighed as you reached to the back of the tree, trying to reach from your knees. When it hung, you blew out a breath. Your body was so worn from the past few days’ energy and emotions. “But the baby was craving it. I simply can’t be blamed for the unhealthiness of the choice.”

His chuckle at your response made your heart speed and your palms sweat. You ignored that bodily response, though, as you listened to his velvet-laced response. “As long as you feel full. That’s all I care about.”

“I do,” you grinned, continuing to stay focused on your task of the tree to keep the moment from getting to your head. “Promise.”

Saying the last hour had been wondrous with him would be an understatement. Being with Jake like this – just hanging out and putting up Christmas decorations – it was what your fantasies were made of. You loved being with him and domestic tasks like this made your heart pinch and glow, all at once. He hadn’t taken very long to get changed into some sweatpants and a t-shirt. And when he’d emerged from his bedroom, he'd instantly offered to get boxes down if you needed. He’d wanted to help you with all of the decorating. To which, you had externally, appreciatively agreed. But, internally, you’d ecstatically and enthusiastically agreed. 

It was blissful — just the two of you, decorating your home for Christmas. You’d already started fluffing the tree before he came out from his room, but as soon as you said you were good on boxes, he’d opted to help you complete your task. Though, you hadn’t allowed him to help for too long, considering every single time he rounded the tree and came up on the same side as you to help on stretching out the branches above you, he was behind you. Nudging your back end with his front and a little too close for people who weren’t supposed to be that close. 

Aka: his crotch had touched your ass repeatedly. And, you’d absolutely felt his dick against you enough times that you weren’t going to survive the night if he didn’t find a separate task.  

So, you’d quickly delegated the rest of the living room to him. The kitchen counter, too, if he felt the need. And he had. The bartop counter had two of your smaller, light-up table-top Christmas trees on either end and a few small vintage reindeer at their bases. That had been his first mission, and he’d impressed you with his skill. After a few minutes of that, he’d used the rest of his time to set up the entire living room. He had hung some garland and additional Christmas lights above the double-paned living room windows, too. It had made your heart flutter when you’d noticed his intentionality at hanging twinkle lights amidst garland there, as well as a few other places in the room. 

You vaguely remembered the night he moved in and how much of a snark he’d been about your twinkle lights. 

“You need to give this a chance, Jake,” Josh had sighed, his body move slightly from where you laid against him, feigning sleep. “She was so kind to offer her apartment to you.”

“I’m not oblivious to that, Josh. Jesus,” Jake had sighed, sounding so similar to his twin. But his voice had involved a bit of a grunt, as if he’d been pouting. “We are just too different.”

“How do you know the two of you are so different?” 

It had taken a minute for Jake to come up with his answer.

“Well, for one: she has fucking twinkle lights,” you’d been able to hear a couple of bracelets clang against each other, as if a hand of his was waving above you all.

And, it was true then and true now. You did have them and loved them. They brought a cozy feeling with them— especially so at Christmas time. 

The fact that the two of you had come from that night, to now, decorating for Christmas together was too remarkable to not appreciate. . . Yeah, it was complicated. . . But it was something. And it was something you really, really loved.

As you felt your heart heat in your chest at the progression of events, you took one last look at the bottom of the tree, full of ornaments and finished, from what you could see. Then you were glancing over at him as he focused on his tasks. The little grin that hung permanently on his lips felt similar to the way your heart seemed to literally grow in your chest at the thought of him. This felt so right. And, his heart was so evident, now, and you saw it in every tiny thing he did – including his decorating of your home. You were having a moment where you felt a lot of gratitude at the fact that you got to carry his first child. There was an overwhelming joyful feeling, in general, at the moment. The fact that there was a baby on its way that would surely feel so much love from both of her parents — that was incomparable to all else.

Going to stand to get more ornaments for the top of the tree, you had to grab on to the armchair to help you just the slightest bit. Your hips really were not in the best shape as of the past few days. With a huff, you blew back some hair that had fallen in your face. And just as you were about to rise to your feet completely, Jake’s hand was closing in comfortably around your bicep to help you the rest of the way up. It helped tremendously to have the extra help. And once you were finally on your feet, you looked up with a big grin plastered to your lips. 

After tucking some loose hair behind your ear, your lips twitched. “Thanks,” you offered, feeling how pink your cheeks were from your exertion and embarrassment. “It’s my hips. . . They’re really fucking sore right now.”

“I’ve read that’s normal,” he smiled in return, eyes twinkling. “Do you need to sit down? I can finish all of this. Seriously.”

“No,” you shook your head, looking down at your feet where your toes wiggled against the carpet. As was your nervous habit, you smoothed the hair you’d tucked behind your ear. “Sometimes, it gets better when I move. My uterus is just. . . Growing and pressing like a bitch into my sciatic nerve,” you snorted, rubbing at your hips and then your lower back. When you flashed your eyes up at him, he was watching your hands in their movements. The look in his eye made your cheeks blush further. “So, naturally, it hurts. Nothing I can do about it. She’s gotta grow. I’d rather be the one to hurt — don’t want her to not be growing like she should.”

“And that’s why you’re going to be an incredible mother,” he mentioned, using one thumb to delicately skim hairs back at the edge of your forehead before he tucked the hand in his crossed arms. Even as he seemed to realize he maybe shouldn’t do something so soft, his eyes never left yours. Something flashed behind them. “You already are the most incredible mother.”

“I don’t know about that,” you disagreed with a small, self-deprecating laugh. 

“I do, though,” he seriously stated, not letting you argue. His lips quirked as he winked. “And don’t say I’m wrong, Little Miss Know-It-All.”

You scoffed, reaching forward to slap one of his arms, a laugh lighting up your features. “Shut the fuck up.”

He laughed and jokingly rubbed at his arm as both of your hands went back to holding your lower back. “Why must you hurt me, you wild, crazy, beautiful woman?” Beautiful. 

“Wild and crazy?!” You squeaked, another giggle falling from your lips. “As if I’m a damn chimp or some shit. You’re on a roll tonight, Jacob Thomas.”

“I’m joking, I’m joking,” he smirked once more, reaching a hand up to your face again before apparently deciding against it and instead brushing back his own hair. Your heart twinged in your chest. “Not about the beautiful part. You are always beautiful, but you’re only sometimes crazy. Wild, though. . . I didn’t say it was a bad thing. Wild can be good. And you’re good wild,” his smirk loosened as his eyes went a shade darker with a wink. 

Whatever the fuck that was supposed to mean, you ignored. “Okay,” you rolled your eyes, your chest heating. (Because, you knew he was flirting. Right? What else could he be implying?) Turning from him, you went to bend down and grab more ornaments before deciding that wasn’t the best move. “I don’t know why I’m trying to bend down.”

Without having to be asked, he was already in front of you, picking up the ornament box and sitting it on the armchair for easier access to you. “I, too, do not know why,” he chuckled, tucking hair behind his ear. You appreciated the view of his ass, from him bending to now standing in front of you, facing the tree. “The tree looks fantastic, honey.”

You snapped out of your daze just in time to not be caught. His head turning and big brown eyes, looking back at you right after you’d let your line of sight meet the back of his head. With a flush, you shrugged before looking at his work to return the admiration. He’d really done a wonderful job. 

The counter was done up with the trees and deer, but he’d since added a few Christmas picks you’d purchased from Michael’s a couple years back. They added some movement to the scene since you last looked. Garland and multi-colored lights were carefully braided together, above the windows, woven across the entertainment stand, and under the TV that sat atop it, on its pedestal. He’d tucked some tinsel in there as well, along with a few small, vintage ceramic angels, deer, and Santas you and Elsie had thrifted. The foot-tall creepy ass mouse was tucked towards the far corner of the living room, yet still on display — kind of. You internally laughed at that, a grin gracing your lips once more at the ugly hand-me-down. He’d even gotten the Christmas pillows out and placed them on the couch, balanced out to add something to both ends of the couch. 

And the armchair held a sweet little Grinch stuffie that had been yours for a long time, his green having lost most of its vibrancy from time and wear. And next to your faded Grinch sat Elsie’s equally worn out Frosty the Snowman. Tears gathered in an instant at how much care he’d shown to the living room. He’d handled it flawlessly and it made you so excited to be raising a child alongside him. If he was so intentional with things like this, you couldn’t begin to imagine the father he’d be for your little girl. And the tears weren’t helped by the emotion at the sight of the two stuffed animals. It was all the perfect storm of feelings in your extra-hormonal, uber-emotional state.

Your first Christmas living with your grandparents, and away from your mother, you’d gone to all of the major chain stores with your Grandma and Grandpa to look at all of their decorations. Kohl’s. JCPenney. Macy’s. You’d never shopped for decorations before that. Your mother hadn’t cared to introduce you and your sister to anything of the sort — hadn’t ever decorated her own place (as if she ever had her own for long enough). So, it was a tradition they’d lovingly started with you and Elsie to get your mind in happier places. 

Grandpa had picked the Grinch for you at JCPenney and Grandma had picked Frosty for Elsie at Kohl’s. 

The tradition was much like the one your Grandpa had started with The Nutcracker. Difference was, you couldn’t remember the last time you’d gone shopping with your grandparents. Life was so damn busy. Ironically, though, your sister had texted you to remind you of The Nutcracker on your way home from Walmart tonight. She’d let you know that Josh and Grandma would be accompanying you, her, and your Grandpa this year.

And she’d told you about an extra ticket – had asked if Jake wanted. . . Damn. This was one of those moments you were glad your memories had been triggered because your pregnancy brain would have let you forget to ask him until too late. Much like you’d almost forgotten to decorate for the holiday. You swiveled on your heel to regard him. And when you tried to speak, you realized your throat was still clogged with tears. Blinking away what was left in your eyes and sniffling, you showed him a smile just as his brows furrowed with worry. 

“I can fix whatever—.” He started, moving towards you carefully. 

And at the same time, you spoke with gratitude painting your tone. “It’s absolutely exquisite, Jake,” you lifted a finger to flick away a stray tear from below your left eye. “I can’t explain what it means to me. Thank you.”

“You don’t have to thank me. I wanted to help. It’s our house,” he stepped towards you as he spoke. “And I want to show you how serious I am when I say I want to help you with everything. From before now, to now, and as long as you’ll let me. We’re in this together.”

Your heart leapt into your throat more and more, the closer he got, now housed directly under your chin. And when he stood directly in front of you again, his cologne deliciously infiltrated your senses. You wanted to close your eyes in bliss at the prominence of the amber and sandalwood, the gentle hints of vanilla. . . but you controlled yourself. 

You were able to control yourself when you remembered the offers to be there were all about the baby. Obviously. No sense in getting all weird and hormonal like it had to do with you specifically. You shook your head of the thoughts and straightened your posture the best you could. With one hand on your lower back and hip, you placed the other on your growing belly.  

“You’re going to be an incredible daddy,” you insisted, eyes wet again in spite of yourself. “I’m so glad she has you.”

“I’m learning from you how to be present for her,” he smiled, his own eyes sparkling with an unshed tear. “So, thank you.”

Fuck. Why did he have to say things so—? Ugh. Your heart hurt, right along with your hips. And, as if on cue, a particularly sharp pain shot to your hips and pelvic area. You needed rest — your body needed it — didn’t have time for an onslaught of emotions. 

“Don’t thank me,” you laughed to downplay it all. Had to move on. “You are doing that all on your own, Jake. Give yourself credit for your efforts.” Why were you going on and on? You needed to shut up and get the tree finished. Thankfully, before he could say anything else emotionally taxing, you remembered what you needed to tell him. 

“Weird question,” you started, a little laugh in your voice to try and seem less anxious at the prospect of asking him this. “But would you be free to go see The Nutcracker with my family and me on the 24th?”

His expression quickly went from a soft fondness to subtle remorse, brows crinkled and eyes casting down. “Well. . . I actually leave for Maya’s family Christmas on the 23rd. I can’t remember off the top of my head how long we’ll be there. . . All I know is I should be back in time for Christmas. She’s got all of it planned out. I’m just along for the ride,” he ran a hand through the front of his hair. His eyes were apologetic when they found yours, but you didn’t dig much deeper than that. “I’m sorry I can’t go, honey.”

No matter how apologetic his eyes seemed, his tiny smile had been evident as he informed you of his fun plans. Bile rose in your throat at the whole idea of his Very Merry Christmas plans with his extremely stunning, near-model of a girlfriend. Every word of his had sent knives to your extra fragile heart.

“Oh, yes, of-of course,” you stuttered, taking a step back and lacing both hands under your tummy. It was a position which brought immense comfort, you’d found. Because, no matter what, you had her. “Duh, y/n,” you said to yourself with a tiny fake laugh to try and play it off.

It was stupid of you to let his plans hurt so bad — as if you were oblivious to his relationship. . . You knew better than to think he wouldn’t be busy with her. Of course he had plans with her. Why were you so damn stupid as to think he would be available enough to go see the fucking Nutcracker with you and your family like you were the couple? And why had Elsie thought of that idea at all? 

Wouldn’t your grandparents have found it odd if Jake randomly showed up anyway? They hadn’t seen him in months and they had no clue of his importance in their great grandchild’s life. It would’ve been strange. In fact, you were glad he was busy. Right? Wrong, actually. Ridiculous thought — because feeling glad wouldn’t have your throat suddenly so tight with emotion. 

“What are you planning on doing for Christmas?” He asked, not letting your words sit in the air for too long. “I’m sure Elsie will be here, right? I know she was planning on moving back here around Christmastime. . .”

“Y-yeah,” you cleared your throat, blinking a few times as you relaxed your expression. Why were you being so transparent? He wasn’t yours. Absolutely nothing new there. Maya had staked her claim. And you’d let him go. Simple as that. “She’s coming back on the 23rd, actually. How funny is that?”

How funny? Why were you talking like that? How was being awkward as ass going to solve anything? God. Be normal, y/n, an inner voice urged. 

“Are you going home to see your parents at some point? I know Josh and Sam have in the past, but. . .,” you trailed, legitimately curious and desperate to think that he wasn’t going to spend Christmas Day with Maya. 

(Which, if you were thinking logically — of course he was going to spend Christmas Fucking Day with his serious girlfriend. So why were you so goddamn pressed about it? It wasn’t your business and you needed to get used to this shit. Besides, when the baby was born she’d have to spend holidays with Jake and Maya’s fam—. No. Not right now. Not that. Nope.)

“Well, my parents are going overseas to see my sister at school. She can’t get away. So, I’ll probably just hang with Maya —or Josh and Sam,” he tried to get the last two names out quickly. With the way his eyes nervously flickered, you schooled your features once more. Didn’t want to give him any more reason to be nervous. It wasn’t your place to feel any type of way about that. “Or all three. Who knows. And I’m sure Danny will go home to see his family, so. . .”

“Cool,” was all you could push out, your gaze going down to your feet. What did one do in times where a heart was so illegitimately broken? 

But, because he was so wonderful, Jake didn’t let the silence last for long enough that you got to the point of crying. (And, yes, you definitely would have started crying if he hadn’t interrupted your train of thought.) “Do you have any Christmas records?” He asked, tone airy and unworried, trying to ease you. (You hated how he could read you.)

Your eyes fluttered to his, interest suddenly piqued at listening to music. And with him. He knew. The empathy and soft smile on his pretty lips said enough. “Oh, yeah. Quite a few,” you replied with the tiniest sniffle, your voice smaller than you wish it was. You’d get over it. And the music would help exponentially if he was actually thinking the same as you and wanted to play one. 

“How about we play one while we finish the tree?” And, of course he was thinking the same. 

“I can’t think of a better idea,” you grinned, your lips pulled into a genuine smile at the thought of getting to listen to music with him again. Just like old times. . . Almost. Because, at the same time, not like ‘old times’ at all. But. . . You’d take what you could get.

You’d finished decorating an hour-to-midnight. But you’d stood together for a while, hands on your respective hips. Both of you were in awe and admiration of the Christmas-y living room. After turning the lights off, it always seemed to hit differently. The Christmas lights twinkled white, red, green, and blue. It was stunning. 

One of your favorite sights in the world, honestly. Had been since you were a little girl sitting in your brand new Christmas PJ’s (a new set every year, thanks to your Grandma), admiring the decorations you’d spend hours putting up with your ‘new’ little family – a finally joyful familial feeling with your grandparents, sans a toxic mother. Every year, you’d all spend one night putting up decor. And, afterwards, you and your sister would sit on the ground next to the tree and drink hot cocoa with tiny marshmallows as you watched the old-school, animated Grinch. Your grandparents, always sitting behind you both on the couch to enjoy the moment in their own little way.

You told him as much as you felt a wetness grow at the corner of your eye. And with a sniffle, you turned to face him to tell him goodnight. The emotions were aplenty and you didn’t need to exhaust him any further either. But, before you could say anything to wish him a sleepy farewell, he asked if you wanted to do that this year. With him. He then rushed to tell you that he’d understand if you wanted to keep the memory sacred to past times. But, you hadn’t a thought of denying the idea as you readily and excitedly agreed to the idea. 

More time with Jake was never a bad thing. It was ever-welcome and your favorite time spent in the world. (Yes, you’d come to learn that you enjoyed time with him even more than anyone else – including your family. It was a really fucking scary and vulnerable thought — you liked to ignore it on a regular basis).

He smiled wide before putting you in charge of getting the movie set up as he went to the kitchen to make hot chocolate. And once he finished, he joined you with two Christmas mugs full of hot cocoa, to watch the Grinch. When he reappeared to find you curled up in the couch with a blanket, he hadn’t made any sort of move to sit at the other end. No, instead, he’d handed you your mug. At which, you’d taken it in one hand with a sweet thank you before you used the other to lift the blanket you’d laid on top of your legs, without a second thought. And, just as soon as you’d had the idea to lift the blanket, he’d naturally settled in the place you created for him. Right next to you. Under your blanket. His hip, pressed to yours. 

But that hadn’t lasted for more than a minute before he was wordlessly tapping your thighs and then his thighs, gently tilting his head towards his side (you assumed, to indicate you move in his direction). Not thinking much of it, you pressed play and did as you figured he wanted and draped your legs across his lap. And it had seemed a correct assumption since he immediately went to hold your calf (over the blanket). And, with the other hand, he held his mug, which he’d held atop your thigh for the first part of the movie (over the blanket).

At the halfway point, when the Grinch got to his ‘spot number one’, Jake leaned forward to sit his and your hot cocoa on the coffee table. And after doing that, he’d nestled back into his spot on the couch, this time, leaning a bit towards you. His left arm rested on the back of the couch and the other stayed atop the blanket, on your calf. He even tended to some of the Lord’s work and massaged your sore calf muscles, your heart beating ferociously as he reached under the blanket for the job. But, he hadn’t moved to any more skin aside from your calves. This had saved your sanity, as you would have absolutely pounced him, had his hands moved up any further. 

Too soon, though, the twenty-five minute movie was over. He tapped your leg as the last credit rolled, his ministrations on your leg coming to a relaxed halt right before you were moving your legs and he was rising from his spot. And, as he went to the kitchen to wash the mugs, you went about turning off the TV. You folded the blanket you’d shared and fluffed the pillows. But as soon as you were done, you were following him to the kitchen to see if he’d finished. 

Just as you’d gotten to the kitchen, though, he was exiting the area and turning off its light. The two of you seemed to silently agree that you weren’t done with each other, yet. Because you’d taken your sweet time, walking and talking about nothing and everything. Baby-related things and non-baby-related things as you headed to your own bedrooms.

As you finally got to your doors, you were suddenly very delighted at the idea of bedtime. You were working double time for two lives and you were more than tired because of it. The fact that your pillow was waiting just beyond your door made you twist the knob to your room, opening it without another thought. 

With one last look his way and a grinning yawn, you told him goodnight. But, he had one last question before you were able to enter your room. And even with the staggering temptation of your bed and dreamland, you still gave him your full (sleepy) attention. Your body called and responded to him all on its own. You really had no control over it at this point.

“How are you sleeping?” He asked, an eyebrow raised as he stood in front of his own opened door.

“Fine. . .?" your eyebrows furrowed with a little curious smile on your lips, another yawn escaping them. “Why?”

“Well, your hips. . . . Are they—um, keeping you up at all?” he wondered, genuine interest painting his own tired features. You nodded with a silent understanding at his concern. But, you still couldn’t believe he was thinking of that small little detail when it came to your comfort. 

“Oh. . .,” you started, pushing your door open a little further for Stevie as she brushed past your (now well-massaged) calves to enter your bedroom for bedtime. “Well. . .  Yes. But, I’ll be okay for the next few days. Waiting for a spare moment to actually order something. Meant to do it today, but it ended up being much busier than I anticipated.” You laughed with a gentle scratch to your head at the excessive responsibilities of your day. 

Opening your mouth elicited yet another yawn, at which he followed with his own. His cute little yawn made you wish to see the same thing on your baby’s face. “I have a couple of pillows on Amazon that I’m eyeing,” you continued your explanation. “Or, I can always go to a maternity store in the city or something once I do have ti—.”

“I’ll order something for you,” he offered, covering his mouth with a fist as another yawn left his pretty lips. “Just – find what you need and send it to me.”

“Jake,” you replied with a hand on your hip and a stern brow raised. “I can’t make you—.”

“You’re not making me do anything, y/n,” he insisted. “I want to help. Please. It’s my baby causing you the pain. It’s the least I can do to apologize on her behalf and mine for putting you in this position.”

He pushed his door open a bit more to lean in and turn his tall lamp on, which you knew stood directly next to the bedroom door. You definitely watched with lazy eyes as his self-cropped shirt raised enough to show you the bottom of his olive-skinned belly, all the way to his bellybutton. In your sleepy state, the sight of his tummy had your mouth watering. Damn — you needed sleep. . . Now. 

Your eyes made their way back up as you noticed his body repositioning to face you once more. You'd been very nearly caught staring due to your sleepiness, and he had a very good point, so you conceded. “Fine. I will send you something.”

“Thank you,” he responded, sounding mildly shocked. A victorious grin was plastered to his handsome face.  

“Thank you.”

“Stop thanking me, baby.”

Fuck. Baby? Yeah. . . . Smart decisions were not to be made with him calling you that. Your body lit up at the pet name. You were suddenly feeling very ready to do things you shouldn’t, your mind in the gutter with the way your brain swam in a drowsy haze. 

At the late hour, you were on the precipice of delirium. Better to wrap it up. You both needed sleep.

Yet, you still argued. A little flirtatious smirk dusted your lips as your cheeks heated, a brow raising as you tested him. “I’ll do what I want.”

“Oh, trust me, beautiful girl. I fucking know,” he said, his own eyes gleaming with a little mischief. “But. . . sometimes it’s for the best if you listen to me.”

God. His very pointed and authoritarian tone of voice had your chest heaving – your entire body reacted to it. Why was he being like this? But. . .at the same time, you questioned yourself. You had to be fair – was he being like anything? Or were you just imagining things? But, thankfully, another yawn came out of nowhere breaking your little moment and thought. A savior, this yawn.

So, with the teensy bit of common sense you had left in you, you gave him a tiny smile as your eyes went down to the floor in an act of protection over yourself and him. “Goodnight, Jake.”

“Goodnight, Beautiful.”

A FaceTime chat with Elsie was the ideal finish to a busy ass day at the Black and Gold. Just like every store at Christmastime, the B&G was notorious for having an onslaught of regulars and newbies come in to buy gifts for loved ones at the holidays.

Thankfully, Josh hadn’t completely phased out of the schedule yet and had been put on the schedule for most of the holiday rush. But usually, you had alternating shifts. You’d manage the second shift while he’d manage the first, and vice versa. And today, your shift had been evening. Making you very tired and ready for bed. 

But, Elsie first. You desperately missed your sister and there was no one else you wanted to vent to at the moment besides your best and longest friend. Who just so happened to be your big sister. 

Makeup and clothes off, your bra had just followed. A sigh of comfort left your lips as you massaged at your sore, heavy chest. No longer trapped. Could breathe. “Forgot to wear my maternity bra today,” you leaned side to side and twisted a bit to stretch your equally sore back muscles. “I got sidetracked by all things baby room on TikTok. And Pinterest. And Instagram. I lost track of time and didn’t have a bunch of time to get ready, sooo. . . I ultimately paid the price.”

“Well, at least your tits look good,” she commented from the phone leant against your vanity mirror, typing away at her laptop on the other end. “Are those giant knockers your favorite part of being pregnant?”

You laughed out loud at that. “My tits?!” You squawked. “Yes, Elsie. My boobs are my favorite part about being pregnant. Not the actual human life growing inside of me.”

She was cackling over the screen, continuing to type away from what you could hear. You’d turned from her to search for a shirt in your closet. “What I meant was your giant ass boobs must be a nice perk with all of the changes,” she clarified. “I know they would be for me.”

“They hurt my damn back like a bitch,” you reasoned, still laughing with the words. “But, yes, they are very nice to look at.”

You found the oversized t-shirt you wanted and slipped the soft, gray material over your head. When the cool cotton landed on your chest, you sighed once more as the comfortability of it set in. The shirt was big enough that you didn’t need to wear pants, but you still put some loose yoga pants on just in case Jake came home before you went to sleep. Modesty was key. 

“Oh, pants, I see,” she commented, chewing on something that sounded awfully similar to ice. And when you looked over to the phone to see her, she was doing just that. Chomping her fucking ice. Ice had always been a favorite snack of hers. Weirdo. “Jake’s home, I presume? Since you’re trying to be all proper and shit with your clothing? Because, goddammit, y/n, we’ve gotta make sure the goods are covered — even though it’s his damn kid inside of you.”

You rolled your eyes at her, tossing your hair up in a quick, loose messy bun on top of your head. Once you were satisfied with it, you grabbed her from your vanity and went to lay against the stack of pillows at your headboard instead. God only knew how badly your back needed it. 

“Elsie, shut the fuck up,” you quipped, giving her a momentary look through the screen. She wasn’t looking. Of course. The one time she’d decided to mind her business was when you called her on her shit. “And, no he’s not home. But he might be soon and I don’t want him to have to see my bare ass,” you said, trying to be cool about it. “I’m being respectful to him and his relationship.”

“Proud of your good samaritanism, sis,” she replied sarcastically. “I know you just love Maya so much and wouldn’t want to break her little heart if her boyfriend got a hard on at seeing his baby mama all nakey.”

If only you knew. . ., you thought, smug in spite of your efforts at modesty.

But you only rolled your eyes with a snort. “Didn’t say that at all,” you remarked, sitting your ass on your bed and stretching your legs as you nestled cozily into your pillows. Adjusting a little, you decided to lay against your pillows and lean on your side to talk to her, holding her in the hand that rested on the bed. “‘S more about Jake not having to be subjected to my fat ass when he doesn’t have to be.”

“I’m pretty sure that man would not care about seeing your ass,” she said smartly. “I think he would gladly volunteer to inspect and explore your ass for hours, sweet thang.”

You ignored that. But. . . it dawned on you that you hadn’t filled her in on the other night yet. 

For good reason, the snickering voice in your head reminded you. Don’t need her getting all up in it. Who knows what she’d say. 

Well. . . you had an idea what she might say. And that was precisely why you’d kept the entire evening to yourself. But you had to tell her about Maya being a bitch at the least. “I haven’t even told you,” you started, making sure she was looking at you. When she didn’t look at you, you cleared your throat. But still. She looked at her laptop instead of you, fingers flying across her keyboard. “I love how suddenly you can’t pay attention when I’m actually talking to you. Now that you can’t spy on my naked ass and make little comments about my titties.”

“Bitch, shut up and suck it up,” she shot back, pausing and looking at you with wide eyes for emphasis, earning a laugh from you. She giggled, too, before looking back at work. “I have to get this article written and sent in before midnight. And it’s almost midnight for me here. I’m almost done. Just talk. I’m listening.”

“It’s not my fault you love to procrastinate.”

“Pot and kettle, babe. Pot and fucking kettle.”

“Touché.”

“Okay, so. . . ‘you haven’t told me’,” she reminded you, sounding very intrigued. “I need to know.”

“Okay, okay,” you continued, looking to the side to think about how you’d tell her the bare minimum. “So, we had the guys over for games because–.”

“Sammy got his heart broken,” she finished. “Poor thing.”

She knew about—? Briefly, it dawned on you. . . Had Josh told her anything? Surely not. . . he was so good about minding his business. . . You were almost positive you didn’t need to worry about it. 

“Yeah, so anyway. The guys came over and Maya joined in on the fun, along with Theo — who I’ve kind of been seeing again,” you scoffed, as did she at the mention of him. She knew about his reappearance in your life and wasn’t a fan. . . So you definitely were not going to tell her about that incident in your bedroom either. Again, didn’t need her opinions. “But we were playing this card game and a card was played,” you cleared your throat, turning away from the phone momentarily when you felt your face heat at the memory. Fuck. You glanced at the screen for a second, noticing her still looking away. Thank God. Didn’t need her commenting on the pinkness in your cheeks. “And this card — it put Maya in a bitch ass mood.”

You couldn’t blame Maya, honestly. Considering what had happened right in front of her eyes. . . But. Still. You fucking could for what she’d said about your baby. Josh had validated that shit and everything.

“Which game was it?”

“You Laugh, You Drink,” you answered. 

“Hm. Okay. Which card?” 

“It doesn’t matter,” you looked away, avoiding her.

“Why?”

“It just doesn’t, Els. Drop it.”

“It doesn’t?”

“No.”

“But if Maya was so damn pressed over it—.”

“Elsie.”

The other end was suddenly eerily silent. Hm. Did she know something? She’d known about Sam’s heart getting broken. . . Had Josh said anything to her? You fucking swore if that fucker had–.

“Why are you being so quiet?” Elsie questioned from her side of the call, bringing you back to the moment. “Seems suspicious.”

You snapped your attention back to her. “I’m not being quiet. You are being hot and cold with responses, you fucking weasel.”

“Am not!” She responded, aghast at the accusation. “I’m working. Damn.”

Deciding to put any of that worry to the side, you went on with your story. “Anyway,” you shook your head, reaching to itch your right brow with your pointer. Nervous habit. You looked to see if Elsie had noticed. She was still honed in on her laptop. Thankfully. “She turned nasty about the baby after this card was played.”

Without a second thought, her eyes flicked to you. It made goosebumps rise on your skin. You loved how your baby girl had allies already. “What in the fuck?” She ground out, brows lifted to her hairline. “What did the little cunt say about my niece or nephew?”

I haven’t told her the gender yet, you paused on that thought. Granted, it had only been a few days. But, damn. You felt like you were keeping her out of the loop. How had you gotten so good at doing that? On a dime, you realized you had to tell her the gender immediately. So, you decided you’d nonchalantly drop it. She might end up hating you for the casual reveal, but she’d just have to get over it. 

Looking to the side at Stevie, who rested at your feet, you continued, “She referred to my baby girl with this tone that had me wanting to clock her stupid, fucking–.”

There were no more keys clicking on the other end whatsoever. “Hold. The fuck. Up.”

You grinned knowingly, slowly swiveling your eyes back to the camera. Elsie’s mouth hung open, eyes just as wide as her mouth. “Oh, did I say something?” You teased, looking side to side before finding her eyes once more.

She left the frame briefly and you didn’t have time to wonder where she went before you witnessed her doing a little happy dance behind her desk chair. You laughed along with her, as she ruthlessly giggled on the other end with several ‘I knew it’s’ flowing from her lips. After spending that time briefly skirting around her home office, she was back in front of you, patting down her curls that had gone slightly askew with her movements. 

Her cheeks were bright pink with cheer and her smile lit up every single feature on her face. “I fucking knew it!” She exclaimed before you could utter a word. “I told Josh — told him that I just had this feeling that the baby was a girl.”

“That’s funny,” you perked up, sitting up a little straighter to talk about the new information with her. “Jake just seemed to know, too. Kept referring to her as a her before we even knew.”

“No – now, that’s going to make me fucking tear up,” she said, literally sounded as if she was on the verge of tears on the other end. 

When you focused on her eyes again, you noticed the new wetness. “Elsie, there is no way in hell you’re actually crying right now,” you snorted at her, your own eyes watering in spite of yourself. Your sniffle betrayed you, making her follow your lead and look at you accusingly, brow raised and nostrils flared. “Okay, okay. . . I know. It’s– it’s exciting and emotional. I get it.”

“Yeah,” she emphasized the word with a sniffle, voice wet. “Give me a damn second to feel it all. And the fact that Jake just knew! God. That’s fucking priceless. Oh my god. I can’t.”

You nodded at her words, agreeing wholeheartedly. After giving her a bit of time to sit with the information, she gave you the signal to give her a minute and with a few more tap, tap, taps of her fingers against her keyboard, you heard a swooshing sound from the phone speaker. 

“Okay, work’s done. Article sent. Time to talk about my niece,” she said, each statement stringing from the last with excitement. “My mind is spinning, y/n. I’m quite actually spiraling over here, bitch.”

“I feel you,” you agreed once again, hearing the front door open and close right after you’d spoken. The familiar jingle of Jake’s keys in the bowl on the counter, along with the telling sound of his whistling alerted you to his presence. Your shoulders eased, stress releasing that you hadn’t realized yourself holding. What? You just really liked when he was home at the same time as you. “I haven’t stopped thinking about her since I found out.”

“Was Jake at the appointment?”

“Yes,” you replied, turning her down a few notches to keep your conversation quiet enough that he wouldn’t hear anything by some chance. “And he was very emotional, too.”

“Well of course he was,” she surmised. “Who wouldn’t be?”

You nodded along, not sure what else you wanted to say for a bit. Just wanted to sit in the newly divulged information with your sister. 

“Think of any names yet?” She inquired with a sniff.

Shit. You hadn’t. How had you—? Did this mean you were like—? Were you going to be the same as—? Queue you questioning everything. As always. Did it make you a bad mom that you hadn’t thought of a single name? Rather than sitting on it, you clued Elsie in to your thought process. Out with the negative, reach for the positive. Had to work on that. 

“I haven’t, actually,” you admitted, sniffling for a new reason altogether, gnawing at your lip. Your brows furrowed as you pondered your lack of thought at the name. “Does that make me a bad mom? My mind is the one tripping balls now. God. Elsie.” You felt like a little girl, all over again, crying out for Elsie amidst grueling night terrors. 

“Stop, babe,” she demanded from the other end, her tone sharp. “I know what you’re doing. Quit over analyzing. When did you find out she’s a girl? Just a few fucking days ago, right?”

“Yeah, but shouldn’t I have been thinking of names before we even went to the appoi–?”

“No,” she vehemently stopped you. “You shouldn’t have been doing anything that didn’t naturally come to you to do. Motherly instincts and all of that. You know your process. Every mom is different.”

God. Not right now. Not right now. Not. Right. Now. All you could see was your washed up mother laying on the couch. Her cheap, box-dyed yellow-blonde hair. Saw her leaving you and Elsie on the porch. You, screaming at her. Sobbing. Heard her saying obscenely terrible things to you, as if through a mocking tunnel from the past. No motherly instincts anywhere within that woman. Were moms so different if they shared DNA? 

“Quit it, y/n,” Elsie cut through the thoughts in a way only a sister could. Your eyes, full of tears and probably looking terrified, found hers. She wasn’t glaring at you, but she definitely wasn’t playing games. “You are not our mother. Get that shit out of your head. I know that’s what you’re fucking doing right now. Comparing yourself to her. Stop.”

“But, Els–,” you felt a tear leave your eye as you looked away from her. Goddammit. Why now? You were supposed to be happy with your sister right now. “I hadn’t even given a name a damn thought. How did I forg–?”

“You didn’t forget,” she challenged you, forcing your eyes back to hers. You let yourself focus on the familiar fire in her eyes. Let some reassurance sink into your soul from her irises. Something you’d done all your life. Deep breaths. “First of all, you’re only four months along. And second, you have been a fucking fantastic mother already. Hello — going to therapy to better yourself? For her? For your baby? Badass, dude,” she smiled fondly, holding up a fist to show the power in that. 

“You’ve had far more important things than a damn name to think about. And you’ve been thinking about those things. The life-altering, re-wiring of the brain shit. Focusing a hell of a lot of your energy into that. It’s intense stuff and you’re doing it. For her. Our mother would never,” she lectured with a bite in her words. “Never-fucking-ever. You are a kickass mom already, babe. And you are absolutely nothing like the woman who birthed us. Nothing. Like. Her.”

You let the words trickle in one by one. Held onto the words that you could. Desperately tried to cling to each and every one. But, as fate would have it, you lost a few that your mind couldn’t wrap around completely. But you’d found a chosen few to hold in your mental iron fist. They helped your mind slow down. Elsie had a good fucking point. She always had the right words. This was stuff Gia would tell your ass, too. ‘For her.’ You were doing things for her. More important than a name. For. Her. Those words made your breathing come the easiest and your eyes dry enough that you didn’t have to fight any more tracks down your cheeks with the tips of your fingers. 

“Thanks, Els,” you muttered, one more sniff had you clearing up to nearly normal again. “Your words always hit different. I needed them.”

“Well. You’re welcome,” she replied, full of ease. “I wish I could hug you, too. But you’re just going to have to hang on to those words for the time being. Hugs to drive the point home – coming soon.”

“It can’t come soon enough," you softly said, yawning with the word. Long ass day. 

“Agreed. Anyway, so. Names. Let’s brainstorm,” she offered. 

“Els, I really have no earthly clue. I haven’t thought about it,” you laughed, coming to terms with the fact that you weren’t completely terrible for not thinking of one yet. “Don’t even know where to start.”

“Has Jake brought any up yet? That might help to get your wheels turning.”

“Nope,” you shook your head, looking towards your cracked bedroom door to maybe catch a glimpse of him. The slit in the door didn’t offer you anything. Too small. Couldn’t try to get an idea of where he was if you tried. “I’m sure he’s waiting for me to say something about one.”

“Okay. So. . .Hm,” she pursed her lips before picking you up and carrying you in her hand to her kitchen. “I need brain food. Chips, of course.”

“Duh.” Chips were her favorite. Right next to her ice. “Saw the ice already. I knew chips were next.”

“At least I’m consistent,” she noted, finding the bag she wanted and carrying them with her to her couch. “Ah, my couch. My beloved.”

When you heard her bag of chips open, you simultaneously heard a record begin in your living room. You didn’t recognize it right off the bat, but you reveled in the feeling that he was playing something. It felt so wonderfully familiar. Like home.

“So. . . let’s start with you and Jake,” she began, crunching on one chip to start. 

“What about us?!” You quickly jumped to realign the conversation, your train of thought having derailed your sense of calm. “I thought we were talking about baby names.”

“Calm the hell down,” she laughed. “I just want to know if there’s anything special that you two share – besides her, obviously – that might lend to an idea. . .” Oh. Okay. You got it now. Wow. You really did need to calm the hell down. 

“Um,” you pondered briefly, racking your brain for anything that would make any sense at all. But, after your very long day at work and minor panic attack, you were coming up totally short. “I can’t think of anything right now, Els. My brain is shit after work today and my mini freak out just now.”

“That’s okay, babe. How about–.”

From a distance, you heard a loud clatter from the kitchen, making you look in the direction of the clash rather than Elsie. 

“What’s going on?” You heard her wonder aloud from the screen.

You sat up completely, but didn’t get out of bed yet. Just minded your business until you felt like you wouldn’t be a nuisance if you went to check on him. “I can’t tell,” you mumbled, bringing the speaker closer to your mouth with the lower level of your voice. 

Following the clatter, you heard a rather disappointed sound from your roommate. He was then groaning rather frustratedly with a long ‘fuuuuuck’. He was definitely upset over something, if his reaction implied anything. So, out of curiosity and an innate sense to help, you got up from your spot on the bed. Of course, you had to take Elsie with you, who was questioning your actions on the way to the kitchen. 

“Is everything okay?” She asked from the other end, her voice holding a tinge of worry. “At least tell me if Jake is home so I know you’re not alone if there’s a fucking intruder.”

“Yes, Jake is home,” you replied, sort of to her, sort of not. Your brow was furrowed, so you knew she’d be asking another question if you didn’t say something else. “He dropped something, I think. Going to see if I can help.”

“Awww,” she cooed from the other end, chomping a chip at the end of the sound for effect. “You’re a sweet little baby mama, sis.”

“Shut the fuck up,” you laughed under your breath at her, glancing at her for a moment before you rounded the corner to the kitchen. Jake was standing over the sink, hand covering his eyes, his mouth in a tight line. Your brow wrinkled more before you sidled up next to him to observe what he stood above. And, there, once again, in the sink. 

The fucking lavender. No fucking way.

A quiet giggle bubbled at your lips, so you covered it quickly with a subtle hand at your mouth. Didn’t want Jake to think you were laughing at him. You weren’t. It was just pretty damn funny that in the span of a few days, you had both managed to knock the thing over and into a million pieces in the sink. “You have got to be kidding me,” you mused out loud, lilting on a giggle. Not able to stop it.

Jake slid the hand down his face at the same time he looked over at you with downcast eyes and raised brows. The hand covered his mouth momentarily before grasping his chin. Irritated, he muttered, eyes fanning your face to search for any hidden sadness. “I don’t even–,” he began, hand moving from his chin to tousle his hair. He was nervous. “I don’t know how – I literally just wanted to surprise you with a new pot for it and. . . well. I managed to break the new one as soon as I placed it on the ledge. I don’t even know. . .,” he repeated the words, shaking his head before he looked back down at the damage. “I try to do a good deed and it just bites me in the ass.”

You couldn’t help the gentle smile that floated to your lips. Still holding Elsie in your right hand, who’d gone completely silent (save for her chip crunching), you put her down on the counter, facing the ceiling, to use both of your hands to grasp his arms and turn him to face you. 

“Jake,” you began, forcing him to look at you with an intent gaze to communicate your seriousness. “It is fine, sweetie.” You chose to ignore the sweetie that slipped past your lips. It was fine. Whatever. “As long as the plant itself is salvageable, we can always go get a new pot,” you softly reassured. “Together. Again. Just like last time.” 

Absently, you reached a hand up to smooth your thumb under his left eye. Right on the crest of his cheek. He was still clenching his jaw, but with your hand on his cheek, he started loosening his features slowly. Bashfully, he looked to the side to survey the damage once more, closing his eyes resolutely before turning to fully face you. With his eyes opened and looking at you again, they were clearer of the upset. He looked more regretful than anything. 

“I’m sorry, y/n,” he muttered, his tone emitting his feeling in a way that made your heart crack for him. 

But you didn’t want him feeling bad for doing it at all, considering you’d just done the same thing. So, you smiled softly and grazed his cheek with your thumb once more. Your other hand, sliding down his arm to grasp his hand. 

“Jake, it’s okay, honey. For one, it’s just a pot. Like I said, we can get another new one,” you tried, your eyes bright and your smile lopsided to reassure him. “And, two, I just did it. We’re both just clumsy as hell, I guess. Shit happens.”

He just chuckled once with a little nod. “Yeah,” he shook his head, turning his face into your palm further. “The one I got tonight was pretty, though. Reminded me of your pretty face,” he gazed down at you fondly, running a thumb over the top of your forehead just once. “I really wanted you to see it. In one piece. Holding the plant.”

Your heart did a little flip in your chest at the comment about your face. And the thought of getting a new pot at all. It was all really fucking sweet and made your heart pound in your chest. From behind you, you absently heard Elsie still fucking crunching over FaceTime. She was spying, you were sure. But. . . you couldn’t blame her. 

Your hand and his stayed clasped together, your eyes sweeping over the other’s face. When your eyes connected, you grinned. “Well, tell me about the pot, then,” you urged, your finger reaching back a little, into the roots at the base of his head. He closed his eyes in satisfaction at the feeling. Opening his slightly tired eyes, he reached forward to tuck a stray lock of hair behind your own ear. Must’ve fallen from your bun.

“It was like the last one. Just a little different. It had the lavender on it, but it was painted with watercolor and it was just really fucking pretty,” he explained, huffing a laugh in spite of himself. The air from it brushed against your hand. “The fact that I’d found another with lavender on it – I mean, this little fuckin’ plant – this lavender is so special to us and you loved the first pot so much that I just wanted to surprise you with a new one.” 

Lavender. Lavender is so special to us. 

Okay, then. He’d answered Elsie’s question. Simply. You knew now. It was obvious. The baby’s name. Even after a long ass day, you fucking knew. It had been right in front of your face, what was special between you two; since that day in the record store so long ago when he’d brought the most special peace offering of all time. 

“Jake,” you began, taking hold of your thoughts and aiming every last piece of energy you had at the sudden topic at hand. The hand that had gone into his hair came down just a bit to rest on his chest as your nerves swirled a little. “What have you been thinking in regards to a baby name?”

“What have you been thinking?” Ugh. No, Jacob.

“You first.”

“No. Mom gets first say.”

“Jake.”

“Y/n.”

You grumbled, playfully squinting at him with a smile pulling at your lips. “Okay,” you began, a new idea in mind. “How about this: have you thought of more than one?” 

“Not really. Just one,” he shook his head with a lip pushed out. The pout turned into a little quirk of his lip. “What about you? One or more than one?”

“One.”

He hummed in reply. The idea was probably going to work. Well, hopefully.

“So. . . here’s a little game we can play,” you pitched, smirking. He returned the expression. “How about I count down from three. And, once my hand is a fist, we both say the name we’re thinking of. Seems pretty damn fair to me.” 

He pursed his lips, pondering, then nodded in resolution to the plan. “Alright.”

“Alright,” you breathed, smile wide. “I’m going to count on my fingers and when I reach a fist, that means you say it.”

“And you, too.”

“Of course.”

So, with that, you made the hand that was already against his chest into three fingers so he could feel your actions without having to look away from your gaze. You wanted his eyes on you for this. And, with each number counted down against his heart, you ticked a finger down. Your wish came true: your eyes stayed connected with his the entire time. You felt his heartbeat thumping under your hand. It was idyllic. Wonderful. Perfect in its symbolism.

“. . .Three,” press, thump. “. . .Two,” press, thump. “. . .One,” press, thump.

Then, there was a fist. And, in unison, you both said it. Lavender.

The tears that sprung to your eyes couldn’t be controlled and the way you immediately wrapped your arms around his neck to hug him wasn’t controllable either. Not at all, in fact. And your gesture was reciprocated without a second to spare, his arms so strong and sure around your body. You were still small (using the term lightly, mind you) enough that he could comfortably wrap both arms snugly around you. 

His hair brushed your forearms and you breathed in his cologne. The tickle of his hair against your skin and the warm, intoxicating smell of sandalwood and vanilla. . . It overtook you in a way that made every single nerve ending in your body alight with the brightest flame. The most sparkly feeling, from your head to your toes. All ten. 

When you separated after a rather long hug – minutes-long, you were sure –, you slowly slid your hands down his chest. Kept them flat. Didn’t grip his pecs like you wanted. You stayed mindful of the reality of the situation. But, contrary to your usual bitterness at reality, you focused on a happier real thing. A happier reality.

Just as real as he wasn’t yours, he was. In a sense. Truly. Just like Josh had said, you had a piece of him that Maya couldn’t ever have. Jake’s first child. You were the one lucky enough to carry his first child. To raise his first child. His. The baby was his. And yours. Together. That counted for something. More than any relationship, there was a baby that you held in your womb that you’d made together. And, oddly, the night you’d come together to make her. . . though it was hazy, you found yourself remembering a particular moment. 

The lovely scent of lavender had just begun whirling from the front of the apartment, straight to your room where you got ready for the evening that Jake had intended to ease your stress. Even with the door closed, you’d caught the relaxing smell.

“God, I love the smell of lavender,” your roommate had said from the kitchen where he made a favorite meal of yours, pure admiration in his tone. “Instant serenity.”

Then, another moment. It was Sam who spoke in your memory this time. Same night. “. . .So I chose lavender for its properties to heal and bring happiness. I was also considering its elements for peace, harmony. . . and love.”

And one more moment. An incredibly sentimental moment from that evening. Honestly, it was more tender than your mind could properly conjure. And it had been right before you’d made your way to the bedroom. 

You’d just rounded the corner to the kitchen. And what you’d found made your eyes water so quickly. The sight was so plain, so simple. . .but so incredibly wholesome.

Your whispered voice had broken the dark silence. “Why are you watering my lavender?”

He’d jumped a bit, the tiny, gilded watering pail you’d gotten for the plant, still mid-air when he’d blinked in your direction, his eyes had adjusted to the vast darkness that had flooded your shared home, no light save for the candles. “I was just putting dinner up and it looked a little wilty,” he’d said, sounding a little ‘wilty’ himself. “Have you not watered it recently?”

You remembered. While you’d been so ridiculously immersed in your unreasonable head for those several days, you’d ignored the plant. Foolish. “No,” you’d responded, not wanting to provide an explanation. 

“I understand,” he’d said, a small grin on his lips and honesty in his eyes, even darker in the shadowy lighting. A lone candle on the bar was the only way you’d been able to make him out. “School starting and all. I bet your stress has been high because of that.”

“Yeah,” you’d absentmindedly agreed. But his words rang again in your head, things clicking slower with the pot filtering through your system. “Also, stop telling people I’m stressed,” you’d unnecessarily griped, crossing your arms (partially to keep yourself balanced). “Or sad. You don’t know.”

You’d watched as he’d emptied the rest of the water into the soil, feeling it with his fingers before washing his hands. Then he’d turned to you, his face pinched with shock. He’d shaken his head a bit, his longer waves swaying at his collarbone. “It’s obvious you have been.”

You’d known then that you’d been transparent. As usual. It was something you’d always flourished at– wearing your heart on your sleeve. And that also meant you were shit at masking your emotions. (Now you knew he’d known for the simple fact that he could read you so incessantly well.) You’d wondered why he cared. But you’d known. Truly, you had. Just hadn’t let yourself understand why he cared. 

“Okay, say I have. Still not your business to share,” you’d ridiculously asserted, with a final nod of your head. 

He’d peacefully nodded, pushing his lip out. He’d lifted his hand to his chin to rub it a bit, a sign you’d learned to mean that he agreed. “That is fair. I’m sorry.”

You could still remember your head rocking a bit and you’d shut your eyes briefly to reset. The flow of the remaining green in your system had made you just a bit dizzy. And while you had been ‘with it’ still – totally aware of yourself and your surroundings –, you’d known that it was probably time to go to bed. It had also all become too much in that fuzzy moment in time – the whole ‘talking to Jake like normal’ thing. 

Things hadn’t been normal then. Not for you. And you’d made it so for him as well. It made your heart feel all blue. (Then and now.) As much as you’d missed him–just talking to him, you’d (wisely) decided to use sleep as the reason to excuse yourself. You’d felt the urge to tell him every tiny thing on your mind. You knew yourself too well– when weed entered the picture, there was no concealing a single thought that crossed your mind. 

“I’m going to bed,” you’d said, turning away from him and starting the walk to your bedroom, your heart still with him and the fucking lavender in the kitchen window.

But just as you’d made it to your door, opening it just a smidge, a warm hand had encompassed yours, which stayed twisted around the knob. You could have fallen into him. (Then and now.) It’d always felt so good to simply feel his touch. God, he really was so warm. So safe. So cozy. So Jake.

He doesn’t feel the same for you, that stupid fucking nagging voice had slyly said, the damned thing, having slipped through the thickness of the marijuana. You aren’t those things to him.

Go the fuck home, you’d said to the voice, pissed beyond belief that it had managed to enter your hazy realm of escapism.

“I am home,” he’d said, his voice low and hot on your neck. The feeling had goosebumps immediately, deliciously, prickling on your skin. 

You’d said it out loud. The thing about home. And he’d thought you were talking to him. 

“I was talking to myself,” you’d revealed honestly–crazily. You had angled your head so you could speak over your shoulder to him. And just as you’d done that, it became obvious just how close he was to you. His collar, level with your eyes. 

You’d looked up a bit to find him watching you. Carefully. Warily. But intensely all the same.

Just as he was doing at the present moment. A certain heat against your cheek, adding relief to your otherwise wired brain. And, out of nowhere, the other words that had been spoken that night. . .They were back. For the first time. They were completely, fully, totally back.

His velvet voice had just sent a flutter to your heart, reassuring you of something. . . – something having to do with. . . Maya? Yes. You’d heard the genuine truth behind it then, and the way his eyes had never once left yours. . . His eyes had always said so much more than his words ever did. 

“I don’t want her. I want you. At my shows. In my bed every night and every morning, waking me with your mouth or your sweet pussy. . .I just—goddammit. Fuck. I fucking love you, y/n. I love you. No one else.”

And your next words couldn’t have been stopped if you tried. “I love you too,” had fallen so smoothly from your lips, like the purest golden honey. The purest, truest words you’d ever spoken. 

But. This current moment in time. You didn’t have that with him — in his bed, every night and every morning. . . . Not anymore. A lot had changed. Too much. Too much to even begin to calculate at the moment. Now was not then. Things had been said. Other people had been chosen. And, again, so many things had been said. You talked too damn much. That was just it. 

And, ironically, no matter how sad it made you. . . It was all your fault. You’d changed it all. Because you were a fucking trauma victim who couldn’t even remember half of her trauma. Just knew enough to not allow yourself happiness in the form of the one man you’d ever loved. Because you loved him. It was all because of that. He was too good for you. 

You. Loved. Him.

A voice in your head soothed you. Think about it, y/n. Him. Your baby girl. Think about who is standing in front of you right now. He’s still here, y/n.

God. You shook your head just a bit. Just enough that you registered the warmth again, against your face. A hand on your cheek. Gentle. Delicate. As if managing the finest porcelain. He’d been holding you. That entire time you been lost in the memory, he’d been holding you. His hand, laced up and around the side of your face, fingers at your ear, under it, and in the straggling hairs falling out at the bottom of your updo. 

He was all around you. A piece of him, inside of you, too.

Your eyes grew misty at the complexity of the emotions in your heart. It was a lot. Too much. And in normal Jake fashion, he acted at the most ideal time. In one swift action, his lips touched your cheek. Just his lips. So soft, pressed against your cheek with purpose. Passion. Then, he was leaning away. His hand, falling from behind your head. His eyes were heavy with emotion. But, he still smiled. He looked a lot like you felt. But. That – your emotions – didn’t matter right now. One person mattered. A tiny one.

You placed a hand to the bottom of your belly, looking down at the bump that was hidden by the oversized T. Then, without taking another moment to think, you were swiveling in one take to grab your phone from the counter. When you looked down at your phone screen again, Elsie was a mess of tears. You couldn’t hear her worth shit, and when she let out one rather dramatic sob, you realized she’d muted herself. You snorted at her, shaking your head. 

“Is someone on the phone with you?” Jake asked from behind you. 

Oh, shit. If you told him, he’d know you told Elsie the gender. You’d been so blatant about it while talking to him. And her, right there, on the phone the entire time. She’d been privy to the entire conversation. Would he be hurt? Trust broken? Fuck. The train of thought made you quickly realize you hadn’t told him he could tell Josh the gender. Dammit. You’d meant to tell him that after getting home from Jungle Juice. 

You stopped in your tracks on the way to your room, turning to address him. “Just Elsie.”

“Oh,” he replied, his smile stretching to show his teeth. “Tell her I said hi.”

“I will.”

Even after that, you couldn’t pull your body away. Not with the way he studied you. Lips pursed and eyebrow raised, gaze sweeping over you. His dark eyes, melting into your skin, all the way down to your heart that beat so erratically in your chest. You felt it so heavily at every pulse point.

You loved him. So, so much.

“What are you worried about?” He plainly asked, crossing his ankles as he went to lean against the island, left hand slipping into his front pocket.

“I’m not,” you shook your head, working to just laugh it off. 

“Y/n.”

Ugh. Why was he like this? And why did you really love it so damn much? “I just feel bad.”

“Why in the world would you feel bad about anything right now?” He replied with a rasp of a laugh, rubbing the side of his face with his right hand before tucking it in a front pocket, too. 

Where the fuck do I begin? You sardonically thought, inwardly rolling your eyes at your ridiculousness. You settled on the thought that was easiest to address. “I just–she was on the phone. She knows the gender and I– I feel bad that I didn’t tell you that I was–.”

“Honey,” Jake cut you off. Brow raised, lips still curved into his handsome, close-lipped grin. “The baby—she’s inside of you. It’s your choice to tell who you want to tell and when.”

“But it’s not fai–.”

“It is fair,” he concluded, not letting you argue with him. “Promise.”

He was still watching you, light in his eyes. Ready for whatever you had to say. Blushing, all you could do was grin. “Whenever you want to, please tell Josh the gender. I’m excited for him to know.”

“Okay,” he grinned back at you, the loose smile made your tummy flip. “I’m ready for him to know, too,” he replied with a wink. 

Fuck. Don’t wink at me. Your body buzzed at the miniscule action. Damn emotions to hell. And damn these fucking hormones to the pits of it.

The next evening, Jake kept his promise from Sunday and took you on a little walk. It was a warmer-than-usual December evening, so you wore something almost identical to what you’d worn to yoga. Which, also, had been an uncharacteristically warm December morning. 

A light jacket over a tight top with a sports bra built in (the compression really helped the achiness of your growing breasts) and black leggings. You’d even worn your nice Nikes. Wanted to take the walking thing seriously. 

“But yeah, apparently walking is good practice for pregnant women their entire pregnancy,” he’d started his little topic of conversation a couple minutes ago, as you turned down the block towards the little Main Street situated a few streets away from your apartment complex. “But especially during the third trimester.”

“So you see this continuing, hm?” You quizzed him, rounding the corner to finally place your feet on the little mundane street. “Until the third trimester, at least?”

When you turned, you noticed how the quaint block was bustling. The tiny shops that sat in vintage storefronts, exchanging several holiday shoppers.

“If you’re up for it,” he replied, bringing you back.

You chanced a glance up at him, lips stretched in a wide grin. He was waiting for your eyes, and when he’d caught them he’d pushed his lips together in a cheery smirk. “I’m definitely up for that,” you informed him, tucking some hair behind your ear as you crossed your arms under your breasts. Looking up at him again, you noticed a little smile on his full lips. “Are you? Up to dealing with me that often — by choice, mind you — during the final trimester? I’m sure you know from your readings how taxing that time is on everyone involved. . . I’m probably going to be insufferable.”

He caught your eye momentarily before looking ahead again and you did the same. Probably needed to watch where you were going. “Y/n. I live with you,” he chuckled, a snort following the words. “By choice. And insufferable doesn’t bother me. Seriously— remember who I’m related to,” he laughed under his breath.

You wanted to laugh with him, but you were still stuck on his comment about living with you. Hadn’t really thought about that. He probably could afford his own place at this point — easily — but. . . He was still with you. Hm. You’d get back to that later. “Okay, okay,” you grinned, tucking your arms a little tighter around yourself with a certain breeze.

“Probably wasn’t my brightest idea to start this in the winter months, though,” he cut in, with the wind. “I’m sorry about that part.”

“To be fair,” you grasped your arms tighter to yourself. “Nearly the entire pregnancy takes up all of the fall and winter months. Your idea is great, execution is just impossible to make ideal.”

He hummed to your left, walking on the side closest to the street to keep you safe. “Excellent point.”

“Thank you, thank you. I’m here all week,” you joked, doing the best bow you could considering your walking feet and round belly.

You couldn’t help but laugh at your self-made cringe fest. It just felt right to be goofy in front of him. He was safe. He chortled with you. And you realized that particular laugh reminded you of Josh’s. “That sounded just like Joshua,” you noted aloud, glancing over to see him smirking. 

"Yeah. . . I really can't believe I'm twins with that fucker."

“Oh, I definitely can,” you noted, thinking of their incredible similarities.

Right after you spoke, you were also trying to move out of the way for an oncoming group of men. Ironically, all of them, decked out in Pratt shit. Reminded you of a certain blonde boy who made you want to dry heave. They were too engaged in their phones and conversations to notice you. You moved over, but one of them almost shoulder checked you, still — if it hadn’t been for Jake. He’d wrapped his arm around your waist just in time, bringing you closer to him and out of the way. Your skin heated immediately. The entire interaction instantly made your head so fuzzy.

“Damn,” you breathed out, shaking your head at the almost-collision, your hair brushing Jake’s shoulder. His arm was still around you. “They seemed pretty preoccupied, huh?”

“Mhm,” he concurred, sounding frustrated. His arm tightened around your waist once more before moving down to one of your sore hips. His fingers fanned and gripped the muscle through your leggings briefly. Then he was releasing you completely. Fuck. That’d felt so nice. “How’s school been? Did your semester end well?”

You instantly missed his touch. But, you did your best to play it off, brushing at your front and grabbing your hip to try to relieve the pain as he had. And of course, it did nothing in comparison to his touch. 

“Yeah,” you answered, wrinkling your brow as you thought back on all of the normal stressors with school. There was one thing that had happened a while back that you hadn’t told him about. And his opinion was invaluable to you considering plenty of things — especially this subject. “But, um, about a month ago, my advisor told me something. I wanted to run it past you.”

“What’s up?” He asked, prompting you to look over at him from the corner of your eye. You were glad you did. Saw how closely he was watching you, how seriously he was taking it. Waiting to listen, purposefully walking in step with you to hear what you had to say. It made you feel so special.

He definitely does the same thing for Maya, y/n. Calm down.

Thankfully, that thought helped your mind to recenter. “Do you remember when you brought up the idea of me using my degree to be a lyricist?”

“Yes,” he grinned, his dimple showing for a brief moment. You really liked when his dimples occasionally showed. “I remember. . . everything from that morning.”

Jacob. You were internally berating him for making your insides twist at the memories from that fucking morning. The rain. The music. The sex that, quite frankly, had felt more like making love than anything. Why did it seem to haunt you? And why did he have to remember so damn much? 

“Well, I told my advisor about that. Wanted her input.”

“Mhm?” He questioned with a hum, brows furrowed as he watched his and your feet. His lips, pursed and a finger tracing them when you looked up and over at him.

“She very nearly laughed in my face,” you said, voice holding a self-deprecating laugh at the humiliating situation in her office and afterwards as you’d run to your car. “She told me that it’s ‘not impossible’. . .but, that there was a ‘slim chance’ a label would take me on as a fresh graduate. Which, in hindsight, makes sense. . . Doesn’t make it hurt any fucking less, though. Because I’d really started considering that. It’s perfect.”

“It is perfect for you,” he agreed, looking over at you, his eyes intent for you to understand and a sincere grin that showed his belief in you. “Did she say anything else?”

“She told me that it’s a career I have to ‘prove myself in’ and it takes experience I don’t have,” you emphasized the part about how you don’t have the experience. Just as she had that day; she’d really driven the point straight into your heart. “She’d immediately shaken her head when I said I wanted to do it, too. . . Before she said any of the other stuff. I should have known she’d react that way. I mean, honestly, she had a poi—.”

“I don’t agree,” Jake casually noted, before something caught his eye in a store on your side of the sidewalk. So, suddenly he was stopping at that place, moving out of traffic. You followed him, ready to hear what he had to say. Once he’d gotten a little look at what had drawn his eye, he was facing you again. He continued. “Does the lady know you at all?”

“I mean, to an extent. . . She’s been my advisor for the past four years of college,” you shrugged, scratching your brow. 

“So she’s known you for four years and still doesn’t see the seas of love and pain and introspectiveness in your eyes alone?”

You were caught off guard at his words. He saw all of that in your eyes? “You actually see all of that?” You blanched, not sure how to feel about your emotions being seen so clearly. “I know I’m not the best at hiding how I feel. . . But am I that transparent?”

“Not to everyone, I guess. . .,” he trailed off, rubbing his lip again. Your eyes tracked the action. Then, his hands gripped your shoulders and you had no choice but to gaze into his deep-set eyes. His amber-brown irises, full of wisdom and life. The dark circles under his eyes, an indicator of his hard work in multiple areas of his life — one of them being music. He was the professional in the field, not your advisor. “Y/n,” he continued, his eyes peering into yours, trapping you with his earnestness. “You are highly qualified to be a lyricist. Straight out of the gate. Hell, I believe you could start before you fucking graduate. I don’t have a college degree and I fucking do it. I have a damned label that is actively producing my lyrics.”

Instantly, you longed to hear every song he’d ever written lyrics to. . . You made a mental note to get back to that later. Right now, your heart was pounding in your chest at the idea that you could actually fulfill your dream. It wasn’t outlandish to him. You wished you’d gone to him weeks ago when she said it. 

“So you truly believe a label would be interested in me?”

“I don’t believe it, baby. I know it,” he very seriously began, weighing your reaction by staring so deep into your eyes. His eyes were full of sincere, heartfelt trust in you. “All one needs to write a well-crafted song is heart. And you, beautiful girl, have plenty of that,” he reached out, delicately grabbing your chin between his thumb and pointer finger with the words beautiful girl. Then he was letting go after the tip of his thumb gently grazed your bottom lip. “Just like I said the other night. . . If you want to fucking do something, you’ll do it. It’s just the way you operate. So even if you lacked heart, motivation, and drive — which you most definitely don’t — you’d still accomplish it. You are a badass,” he smirked, nodding. Raised his brow as he pursed his lips. 

Tears gathered in your eyes and a few trickled down your cheeks. He was reaching out and catching each and every one before they fell too far. You sniffled, skin heating at his gentle touch. Your eyes smiled as you observed the man in front of you. God, you loved him. And you loved being able to admit that to yourself. 

“Thank you, Jake,” was all you could muster, his hands simultaneously catching the last of your tears. “I mean it. I’m so grateful for you. Every second of every day.”

If that was too much to say, you didn’t care. Not anymore. Not when he did and said the shit that made your heart trip over itself with erratic beats. He deserved to hear how incredibly wonderful he was to you. 

“I can say the same for you, baby,” he replied, tucking his hands in his pockets. His lips hadn’t turned down once. He felt confident in everything he’d said. You could tell. And for that, your soul finally settled at the fact that you could actually pursue your dream. “Do you want me to talk to a few people? I can. I will — I want to. If you let me.”

Let him, y/n. Please.

“Yeah, sure,” you smiled, shaking your head a bit before reaching to tuck a lock of hair behind your ear. “You know, though, I’ve never written a solid lyric a day in my life. So. . .”

“Like I said, you’ve just gotta set your mind to it. For you, that’s all it takes,” he winked. And then his attention was taken again by the window over your shoulder. 

He walked further to the storefront to look inside the window of the little bookstore. You turned to observe him, watching in admiration of everything he was. Once he’d gotten a good look, he walked back over to you, throwing a thumb over his shoulder at the window. “There’s something I want us to look at in there.” Us. You loved that word. 

With a little nod of your head, you followed his lead as he opened the door for you. Your body buzzed with relief at the warmth in the bookstore. It was the type of warmth that made you realize just how cold your fingers had gotten.

The evening had settled in and the sun was no longer high in the sky. Your fingers were numb as you rubbed them together and brought them to your mouth to blow hot air against them. Of course, Jake had turned to you at the ideal moment and noticed. Your cheeks flared with heat at the way his eyes zoned in on your actions. 

“Let me,” he offered, coming up to you and placing his hands out for yours. And, semi-hesitantly, you gave your sore, prickly fingers over to him. 

“It was way colder than I realized, I guess,” you laughed nervously to yourself, giddy at his touch. 

Talking had been an attempt to distract your mind from the feeling of Jake’s hands wrapping around yours. His hands were still heated (he’d always been a human heat source), immediately working to loosen your icy fingers in his tender hold. You shivered, more from how close he was — the feeling of his hands around yours so surely. Your lack of body heat had little to do with it. Your eyes went from watching his hands to his face when you saw him bring your hands gently to his mouth. The steady breath he blew slowly on your skin made every nerve ending in your body light on fire. The way his brows dipped in concentration at the action didn’t help matters. He was so intentional about everything. Even if it were just to blow hot air on your trembling fingers. 

Briefly, you thought how he rivaled Josh’s intentionality. . . And that was saying something. 

At the very last second, with one final warm breath against your hands, he looked into your eyes. And the thoughts that swam there were aplenty. You could tell there was so much swimming behind his eyes. . . But what you caught most was the same fire you felt in your chest at the way he was studying you, his lips barely grazing your fingers. Your nipples peaked under your tight shirt as you felt a familiar pulse between your thighs for him. You did your best to focus on your fingers, which were completely alive again. Honestly, you related to your once-numb hands. Jake, for all he was, had helped you come alive in so many fucking ways.

He’s your friend, y/n. That’s what good friends are for. . . Know your boundaries, you couldn’t tell if you were hearing your angel or devil. The internal words were reasonable, but they made your skin crawl. You’re the one who reminded him of them — don’t back down.

Whichever voice it was, you decided you’d better get your well-warmed hands away from him before your entire body set aflame in the little bookstore. When you pulled them away, he flinched for a moment, but fluttered his eyes a few times. And then, he seemed to remember his goal with the store. “Follow me,” he encouraged you with a look over his shoulder, already on his way. You did just as he said.

Once you took just a few more steps behind him, you saw what he’d seen from the street. A tiny little thing. How he’d been able to catch sight of it, you had no clue. But he had. And a very tender part of your heart blossomed for it. 

It was a simple, white oak frame, specifically made for the size of one sonogram picture. Underneath the place for a picture, a little slip of paper was inserted into a slot, meant for personalization. It was precious. So, so precious. A little sign sat next to it, too, indicating they could personalize it for you, if wanted.

He cleared his throat, your line of sight finding him. His eyes were locked on you, measuring your reaction. Your heart pinched as he spoke. “What if we framed the sonogram pictures? We’ll switch them out with each visit as she grows?” 

“I adore that idea,” you sniffed, swiping with one hand under your right eye as a lone teardrop fell. Your hands smoothed over your tummy before interlacing underneath the bump. “And what if. . .,” you began, eyes placed back on the frame as your hands switched to rubbing your belly in small circles. “We put it next to the lavender in the window. I think it would look really nice there, and considering her name. . .”

“Yeah,” he replied, with a sniffle beside you. You watched his hand reach out to grab it from the shelf with a question on his lips. “Would it be okay if I personalized it? For Christmas? A gift for her. Have to do something for her, even if she’s not here-here — yet.”

Oh my god. You were going to crumble. Into a million pieces. He was going to be the best daddy. You went to hold your belly again, catching his eye. To no surprise, he was already waiting, eyes searching your face for an answer. Why did he think he even had to ask? 

“I can’t think of anything better," you breathed with a quiet, serene smile.

December 22, 2022

Tonight was a night you fucking hated your changing body.

Sometimes the insecurities were simply worse. You felt huge and strange in a changing body every now and then and you couldn’t help it. No matter how beautiful Jake told you you were. . . it didn’t matter when you got in your head about yourself. 

Anything related to beautiful effectively faded in your psyche when your brain decided it wanted to shut down. Any other thing he said to make you feel desirable, too. All of it, gone. It was just plain sad. You weren’t always sure about your oversized body. And, right now, you just wanted to feel the sadness. You were emotional and hormonal and pregnant. Very pregnant. 

This week, your belly had definitely  . . .popped. It was suddenly bigger, and you felt like an over-aired balloon. You noticed every little change in your toes and fingers and your arms and your legs and—. Everything. You noticed everything. Though, for like five minutes an hour ago, you’d caught a glimpse of yourself naked in your mirror and felt good about yourself and the way you looked. 

So, when you’d gotten the genius (stupid) idea to try pleasuring yourself, you jumped on it. . . You wanted to take advantage of any self confidence you had that might help you feel sexy enough to find the release you constantly longed for these days. You didn’t often get the vibrator out. . . It honestly depressed you to use it when the one person you wanted more than anything (especially a vibrator) was in the room right next door — and unavailable to help fulfill that need. So. Due to that nauseating fact, the blessed vibrator was all you had.

But, before pressing the power on your buzzing friend, you’d gotten right down to business. An Everything Shower seems necessary on a night you had the apartment to yourself.

You’d gone about self-waxing your nether regions before your shower (yes, you fucking waxed. Even if no one was seeing it, you cared about it and you wanted to do that as well as you could while you still could). And, once under the spray of the shower, you’d shaven your armpits and your legs. And after that, you’d given yourself a stellar shampoo and conditioner scrub, scalp massage brush and all. The body wash you’d chosen had been a new Vanilla Bean Noel you’d just bought at Bath and Body that day, feeling in tune with the holiday season. . .

And finally, after your entire routine, you had excitedly started the buzzing tool. The initial goal in mind for the shower had to be completed. It was an ‘everything-everything shower’. Self-fucking-care.

And since Jake was also gone all night for a thing with Maya, you’d had zero fear of any noises you might’ve made being heard by him or his girlfriend. You really wanted to try and show him some respect in that regard. Wanted to be fair to your previous conversations. And, when you found release, you were not always the best at staying quiet. (And, due to feeling constantly on edge with your hormones, you knew you were bound to get loud tonight.)

Because, really, you hardly ever used the vibrator. So, you knew when you found that beautiful precipice tonight, you were going to be loud. Feeling a little sexy again had honestly come at the perfect time. Or so you thought. 

Because, due to your growing belly and having to balance your heavier, bigger assets, just as you’d nudged the underside of your clit with the humming instrument—You’d fucking ruined it. Right on the edge, you felt yourself begin to flip.

So, you, and your bigger, obtrusive body had tried to grasp for something – anything – to keep you vertical. . . but, you’d grabbed the wrong damn thing in your rush. Because, of course the flimsy shower wrack wasn’t going to hold you up. You knew better.

You’d even shaken it just enough for a few heavy soap bottles to fall with you. To your minor appeasement, the shower water had thankfully stayed warm as you sat and lamented over the failure. The steady flow of the warm water was the only mildly comforting thing in the situation — the only saving grace. It soothed your body. Your already-sore body. The coolness waving in every so often from the other side of the shower curtain had been a bit of a bother, but it wasn’t so bad with the shower water falling on you. And you wanted it cool anyway. The overheat, a constant pal.

With the apartment to yourself, you’d turned down the air to enjoy a slightly cooler apartment. The cool air and warm shower were your perfect combo. . .Well. . . they had been. 

Right now, though? You were fucking pissed that your plans had all gone to shit. Your confidence was gone and you were overstimulated to fucking hell from horniness to now, embarrassment. The anger over the emotions overtook you, making big, fat tears paint your cheeks. You were embarrassed in front of yourself — that was a new low. The extremely loud crashing noise as the soap bottles had come down had been the straw that broke the camel’s back. With everything compiled together. . .it had resulted in you giving in to the few ugly tears, becoming a mess of upset. Sobs wracked your drenched, shaking body. Physical pain was barely a culprit. You weren’t physically hurting too bad–you’d ended up sliding down the wall more than anything, melting to the floor with no motivation to stand back up. 

What you felt now was humiliation. You were lame as fuck — wanted to hide from yourself.

Your night had effectively been ruined. What were you going to do when you got out? Continue to pout and cry over this situation until you fall asleep? Probably. So, you quickly decided to stay in here. Nothing better to do than wash the disappointed, pitiful tears down the drain until you were tired enough to sleep. You figured staying in the shower to finish your cry fest would save some sort of dignity for the outside world. 

“Y/n?”

What?! No. Jake? 

When the fuck had he come in?! You sure as hell hadn’t heard him. Being lost in your thoughts and being surrounded by the noise from the pour of the shower. . . Apparently, you’d canceled out any other noise. Why the hell was he home in the first place?

“I just heard a really loud crash and . . . you were loudly crying. . .got worried about you,” he explained, close enough that you heard him over the noise of the streaming water. 

And, suddenly, you realized you were very much not alone in your pity party anymore. Not that you were ever truly alone anymore these days. A shaky smile lifted your features as your hand found your round tummy. Pissed as your new body made you, it wasn’t the baby’s fault that her mama was insecure as hell. 

“. . .I wanted to make sure you were okay,” Jake finished, his deep, velvety smooth voice making goosebumps rise on your skin.

Your tummy fluttered with butterflies at the sentiment—but it stopped when you got realistic. Your inner voice of humility was a friend tonight and it reminded you of his true concern.

You knew it wasn’t you he was truly worried about. . . The baby was his main concern and you wanted it that way. She mattered most. You didn’t need unnecessary attention. And, the baby was fine. She wasn’t hurt. Her mother was just a fucking clutz. 

“Baby’s fine, Jake,” you sniffed. 

“I didn’t ask about the baby,” he clarified, voice still light. It made your pulse thrum with clarity to his spoken motive when you heard how genuine he sounded. “I’m sure she’s fine. She’s got some cushion. I asked about you.”

New wetness sprang to your eyes and your heart skipped a beat. “As long as she’s okay, I’m okay. I’ve got plenty of fucking cushion, too, these days.”

He needed to leave the room and go back to what he'd been out doing with his girlfriend. But the more you spoke, the more you were afraid he’d stay to comfort you out of pity. Your voice alone spoke for you—and you knew that he knew better than to believe you. There really wasn’t any point in trying to hide your emotions from him. 

“Y/n. Seriously.” His voice was getting closer. . . You knew he was making his way across the bathroom floor to you, that certain click of his black boots (you hated that you knew how they sounded when he walked) now noticeable over the stream of the shower. “I know you’re not telling me the truth,” he asserted. 

He was right. You were far from fine. Or okay. Or whatever bullshit you were trying to serve to him on a wobbly platter. But you couldn’t bring yourself to just tell him all of that—you didn’t want to tell him that. If you said too much, you were afraid of contradicting other things you’d claimed in recent days. But he obviously already knew enough to question you further. He could sense it through your bullshit facade. He knew you very well. 

“I told you, Jake. I’m just fine. I know there’s not a lot I can manage for myself right now, but I can fucking shower on my own,” you argued, your voice faltered through your ridiculous, unneeded sassiness. “I don’t know why you’re still here. I can handle this on my own.” Your words were harsh, but you meant them. Really, you did. Seriously.

(Except. . .not at all. You didn’t mean them and you did need him right now. Just wanted him to be near you. You were relieved he hadn’t left yet.)

“Why can’t you just tell me the truth?” He said, his voice tinged with a mix of irritation and legitimate concern. “Why is the fact that you are sad a daunting thing for you to admit?” 

“It’s not, Jake. I just. . .,” you paused, grumbling. “It’s nothing.”

The truth was, you couldn’t handle accepting his assistance. Vaguely, you wondered something. It was a horrendous thought, but you couldn’t help but contemplate if he was only helping this entire time (the walks, the decorating, the water spills, the brownies) because Maya had once told him to help you however he could. 

“Maya–um,” he’d shaken his head a few weeks ago, everyone asleep or close to it after Friendsgiving. His brows had furrowed as he’d messed with his bottom lip. “She told me that she wanted me to help however I possibly could. She wants me to be attentive and helpful in any way I can be.” 

Did she still want him doing that though? Helping however he could? After his slip up on game night, right in front of her? You weren’t so sure after how she’d spoken of your baby. . . Or how she’d spoken of you and Jake, even.

You didn’t know. You were pissed at life tonight. Blame it on the hormones. But any thought of her being involved in his efforts to help angered you to the point that you were tempted to outright refuse his attention just to not allow her the satisfaction that he listened to her. God. . . what the fuck was wrong with you? Your emotions were a pendulum swinging back and forth – constantly.

“You just what?” He insisted, bringing you back to the present. 

The ludicrous words spilled out without a second thought, exposing your tumultuous thought process. “I’m sure you’re only in here to check on me because of Maya, Jake. It's not me that you care about, it’s about appeasing your girlfriend and making sure to follow her rules.”

The words continued flying out of your mouth, as if you didn’t have control of what would come next.  “That’s all that matters to you; her and the baby. Not the person carrying the baby. But that’s okay. I shouldn’t matt–.”

“Oh my god,” he moaned the words, frustration evident in his tone. “We are not getting into that shit. You know how I feel about you — how important you are to me.”

“Yes, but we talked about how she should come firs–,” you tried to reason, but he cut you off.

“Who’s she? Maya or the baby?”

“Both,” you clipped, not even close to seeing eye to eye with yourself. “Both should come before me. Especially your girlfriend right now.”

“I don’t agree.”

You groaned, laying your forehead on your crossed arms, which sat on top of your scrunched knees. The skin of your thighs pressed directly to your nipples. And, with the motion of your forehead, you’d swept over them in a certain way that had you picturing Jake in ways you weren’t supposed to.

“Fine,” you gave him that. He wasn’t wrong, per se. The baby should come first. But. . . It was a dangerous line, considering where the baby was at this point. “But just because she’s inside of me right now doesn’t mean I need your help when I’m hurt.”

“You needed my help the other night when you tried carrying that damn Christmas tree up the stairs all by yourself.”

“I had that down,” you snapped back, your head coming up from your knees with the fibbing retort. “I didn’t need your help with that eith–.”

“Y/n. Are you kidding me?” he argued, one click of a boot heel indicating him coming closer. And it was confirmed when you heard his voice just a little clearer–nearer–than before. “You were not in the position to do that on your own. You could have easily fallen down the stairs, in turn hurting yourself. And thus, hurting our baby.” Alright. He had you there. He had a good point. A solid point.

“Okay,” you said once more, relenting. “I did need your help with that. But right now? I’m doing just fine. Just fell in the shower. So you don’t need to worry about me. We are nothing–.”

“No. Don’t start that shit. If all we are is nothing to you, it’s not like that for me. I know you said that shit the other night. But we’ve always been something and you are something enough to me that I do worry about you,” he paused, another click of a heel. “You matter to me, y/n. Whether you like it or not.”

Oh he was not going to throw those words in your face. Not when he’d said nearly the same thing, almost directly after you’d said it, no less. You’d tried really fucking hard to not think of those words, having enough to try to navigate in your own mind. Didn’t need those words infiltrating. But you couldn’t not think of the words in this case. He was being unfair.

The words “We were never anything. Still aren’t.” and “There’s nothing to be hung up on.”, being spoken in front of you and the entire room of people who mattered to you. Then, he’d broken out in that sudden fit of coughs. That had been alarming – you’d wanted to help him. But she’d been right there, patting his back. Doing her job as his girlfriend. 

And once she’d sated him enough to catch his breath, he’d landed the nail in the coffin with your personal favorite. . .“Y/n and I aren’t a thing. Never have been, never will be.” Yeah, those words–that phrase–in particular still stung like a bitch. You were quite glad you’d shut it out. Except now, it was back. And it was glaring in your face. 

“You are not going to pin those words on me, Jacob Thomas,” you sharply informed him. Dared him to test your argument in this case. “You said the damn same and worse about us to her and everyone the other night. Remember? We never have been a thing and never will be? You made your opinion perfectly clear with those extremely kind words. So, don’t bullshit me.”

It was silent for a few beats. You’d gotten him, you were sure of it. But. . . you didn’t want him to leave. This wasn’t over yet. You still needed more from him. An explanation of sorts if he was so set on you believing one thing and Maya believing another entirely. 

“Y/n,” he suddenly called you back to him, your head turning to look towards his voice. “I’m pretty sure I’ve said plenty of other things to prove to you that isn’t actually true. I just had to get her off my fuckin’ ass. And yours. Especially yours.”

“I’m sure you say the same shit to her,” you bit back, squinting at the curtain that hung between you two. “Say just enough to get her happy and her body loose and ready for you. You just keep opening your damn mouth and let whatever you think spew out of it.”

“Actions speak louder than words, baby. And you know for a goddamned fact the only reason I had to cover with those words was because my actions showed something I do not want Maya privy to,” he explained, making an incredibly decent rebuttal. It made sense. Hated to admit it. “It’s not her fucking business what we had or have and I don’t need her overstepping. So, I lied to her. I fucked up by letting her see all of that and I wish the damned bottle would have just landed on someone else.”

“Is that you saying you didn’t want to touch me?” Childish and pointless to ask, you knew. You were just being a brat at this point. 

“I wanted to lay you down on that couch,” he answered, his voice suddenly lower and raspier. It made your heart race. “Wanted to get you completely fucking naked and have my way with you in front of every single fucking person that could see.”

You were speechless.

“But I was too busy thinking that instead of how thoughtless I was being. As soon as I laid my hands on you, all other thoughts were out the window. I was determined to have you some way at that moment,” his words came smoothly and steadily. As if he’d been waiting to say all of this. “And now I’ve made it harder on you. And now I’m sure she is fucking suspicious of us and I don’t want her on your ass, y/n.”

Still, you sat in silence as you let his words wash over you. . . he wanted to fuck you that night. You weren’t surprised. You’d known how badly he wanted it–how badly you wanted it–but the fact that he’d just flat out taken that risk in front of everyone. . . . (Admittedly, it did still turn you the fuck on to think of it.) 

But it couldn’t happen. It was just getting harder by the second to resist him. Especially while you were already naked (body opening up again, thanks to him). Right next to him. You really didn’t know what to say to that, so instead, you pondered a bothersome thought lingering in the back of your mind. Sizzling on a burner, crackling and popping. 

“How do I know you’re not saying shit like this to her to reassure her?” You sounded all small and vulnerable. You hated it. But, it was unstoppable. You felt so weak for him and it was bound to send you into a sob fest at this point.

“I don’t waste my time on shit like that with her. Anytime I have the choice, I choose to reassure you,” he stated, finality laced in his voice. “You don’t want me to, but I do. It’s you whose heart I want to protect. I can’t help it, y/n. And I’m sorry for that. I know it’s not morally okay or whatever – but shit. It’s you and I can’t help myself at all when it comes to you.”

Before you could ask another question, he was continuing. “Like right now, she is not here with me and I don’t plan on going back to her,” he postulated, truly letting his feelings show. You were equal parts falling for his openness and drawing back at it.

So, you tried to avoid it. As usual. “Where is Maya?” You asked, not sure why you were still set on making conversation about her. You didn’t know why you felt the urge to bring her into the conversation. . . kind of felt an obligation to, feeling like the outlier party no matter his words. 

“She’s not here,” he plainly stated.

“Is she okay?”

“Yes, y/n,” he grumbled, sighing. “Could you just worry about yourself for a few minutes?”

“I don’t want to take you away from her.”

“You’re not.”

“But–.”

“How come you care so much about whether or not you’re nothing to me if I’m nothing to you, by the way?” He interrupted you, causing your breath to catch, calling you out just as you had him. “You said it first that night, kept on later about how we couldn’t be anything. You started the nothing train and I just hopped the fuck on. It seemed like a decent enough diversion; no matter how much it felt like a sword in my fucking chest to hear you say that.”

Dammit. Did you just admit the truth? Slightly? Yes? No? Fuck. You felt cornered by an obligation to be completely honest and you didn’t like that. You wanted to sit and be avoidant, didn’t want to be held accountable for your words. You were just what your mother always called you. Selfish. You couldn’t argue the harsh word at this moment. So, you did the best you could do to explain. Didn’t want to say too much for fear of opening a closet of skeletons. 

“You will never ever be nothing to me, Jake,” you lamented, tears forming in the corners of your eyes. You looked at your toes, the water hitting the very tips of them. “The only reason I said what I did was to work around getting hurt, myself. I was afraid of what you’d say to her and I was deep in my emotions because she had been saying shi–.” Fuck. No. You didn’t want to tell him any of that yet. Was not your place. “I also wanted to protect you. Didn’t want you to lose that relationship with her because of a stupid round in a game with me.”

“You thought it was stupid?”

Dammit. There was no getting away from some admittance tonight, apparently. He’d caught you at a really bad time. He’d probably consider it good, your heart opening up to him. But it scared you. 

“No, Jake,” you shook your head, even though he couldn’t see you. “Nothing with you has ever been stupid to me. Because you are the farthest thing from nothing to me.” There. You said it. “Feeling your hands on me at all makes my entire world stop in an instant. It’s intense, incredible in a way that I can’t explain without–,” you got choked up on a sob that threatened to bubble up. God. Stop, y/n. “So. Please just accept that and move on,” you ended your mini admission with a sigh, a few tears trailing down your cheek. “Maya matters most, next to the baby. Period. And you need to be with her more than me at the moment–at most moments.”

He was silent for much longer than you would’ve liked. It made you feel a little bad that you’d accused him of not caring in the first place. You’d started the topic of conversation by calling him out, arguing with him when it wasn’t supposed to matter. 

“What do I need to do to convince you I feel differently?” He spoke, his voice more earnest than before. “I’ve tried, y/n. I’ve tried to tell you that I care about you, you just won’t listen. You refuse to believe it. I’m here because I want to be. That’s it. I’m not going back to her tonight. I’ve already made up my mind. Not while you’re in the shower crying.”

You heard him take a few more steps closer. You knew he stood just inches away from you, and the only barrier between him and your naked body were the thin shower curtains. A familiar sensation continued to blossom in the pit of your stomach, a swarm of butterflies that always seemed to flutter to life whenever your body had a certain urge to be with him. An unmistakable rush of desire, need — a craving for him that coursed through your veins. You didn’t know why you kept pushing him away when all you wanted was to be near him. . . so badly. The baby needed stability, yes. . . but she wasn’t here yet. And you didn’t particularly care for Maya enough to protect her heart. Stupid ass Theo was a non-factor. . . ick.

The biggest thing standing in your way, still, was a stupid trauma response. Your fucked up brain telling you that he didn’t care – couldn’t care – for you. Problem was, you didn’t know whether to believe it or not. Who did you believe? Your brain, your heart, or Jake? Who was in the right? You knew that you selfishly wanted him near, no matter if he cared as much as he said or not. . . And anytime you pushed him away, you hated yourself for it. The idea of him staying close comforted you, but also scared you with how unsure you felt about it all. You couldn’t understand it. 

“I can leave though, baby,” he offered, sounding apprehensive, but willing to do it. “If it is truly what you want, I’ll leave. I don’t want to pressure you into telling me anything else. I—I want to be here for you. But I also won’t force it on you. Do you want me to leave? Because I wi—.”

“No, Jake,” you said with a sudden surge of confidence, desperate to keep him with you. “I don’t want you to fucking leave. I’m just not sure what or who to believe. My brain is fucking with me right now and I’m vulnerable and naked as hell and I can’t—.”

“How can I make you believe me?”

“I don’t know,” you muttered, squeezing your arms around your legs just a little tighter. Burying your face into your arms, you felt a betraying tear fall to mix with the water droplets. 

“Do you want to dry off and meet me in the living room to watch–?”

“Is Maya going to be upset if you don’t—?”

“I don’t care.”

“Why not?”

“Don’t worry about it,” he insisted. “Now, do you want to get out and watch a movie or someth—?”

You groaned, grumpy at everything. “I don’t want to get out yet,” you responded wetly. The sound of tears clogging your throat. 

“Why?”

“Because nothing tonight has gone my way, and all I want to do is just sit here and feel sad in the shower, Jake,” you argued. You knew how ridiculous you sounded, but didn’t care worth shit. The pregnant, hormonal part of you was barreling through, amidst all of the authentic, emotion-filled space. You sounded like an ass, you knew it. “Is that too much to ask?”

“What if I’m not okay with you sitting there and feeling sad?” His voice sounded closer. 

“Then, I don’t know what to tell you,” you stubbornly responded, slightly nervous at him being nearer to you in proximity.

It was quiet for a few solid moments.

“What happened tonight that didn’t go according to plan? Why’d you fall?”

Why all of the questions? What the fuck were you supposed to tell him? Did you tell him about your vibrator trouble? The body insecurities? Every detail? None of it? A piece of it? Fuck if you knew. Dammit. 

“My body changing has been pissing me off. Suddenly got bigger this week and I don’t know how to feel about it,” you started, sitting your chin on your arms, staring at the water falling in front of you, still only touching your toes. Your hair was steadily drying, making you feel chillier. With a shiver, you kept on down the path of honesty. “I fucking hate how fat I am right now. I do love my baby body most days. Other times, I just hate it. And this week, my bump just. . . Bumped. And, the extra pudge on my fingers, toes, feet, arms, legs—anything that’s not the belly itself—makes me feel gross,” you let another tear fall, landing on your thigh. “It sucks even more because I feel guilty — like I’m being hateful about the baby. But it’s not the baby that makes me feel gross, it’s me–.”

“Y/n,” he tried to interrupt in a stern tone. “Please don’t–.”

“I just don’t feel like me all of the time anymore,” you kept on, getting all kinds of buried thoughts out in the open air. “And tonight–.” You paused. To tell or not to tell. . .Fuck it. “And tonight I felt sexy. I felt sexy enough that I wanted to have a night to myself,” you started, scoffing at the idea and the terrible way of explanation. “I wanted to have a night of just being by myself and acting on the ‘feeling sexy’ thing. And you were gone, so I didn’t need to worry about being loud. It just felt–felt like the perfect night to take a shower and use my vibrator to try and–.” You paused, thinking of the most eloquent way to say what you were wanting to say. Ugh. Fuck eloquence. “I wanted to feel good, Jake. I just needed to get myself off while this feeling lasted.”

The stretch of silence that followed your words made you want to crawl inside of a hole. But, the words were officially out there, and you decided to be brave amd own them rather than crawling in a fucking metaphorical hole. So, you sat there, waiting to see what the fuck would happen after saying something so blatantly honest. 

You finally heard Jake clear his throat from the other side of the curtain. “So,” he started. “I’m assuming you didn’t succeed in that?”

“Nope,” you answered with a bit of indignance. “I sure didn’t.”

“Well,” his voice was suddenly closer than it had been prior to your confession. Your chest flamed. “What can I do to help?” 

“There’s nothing you can do, Jake,” you insisted. Because, truly, there was nothing he could do. That in and of itself was the depressing reality of it all. “You aren’t available to help how I need and that’s just fine–.”

“I am available. I’m here, aren’t I?” 

What was he getting at? “The help I need is not something you can—,” you groaned, frustrated. Why were you having to explain this to him? “You are in a relationship, Jake. Plain and simple. And as much as I do want you here with me, you should be with her right now anyway.” It sucked, but you meant it. The guilt was crawling up your chest for putting him in the position you just had. He didn’t need to know about your sexual ventures. You needed to hold true to what you’d encouraged a few nights ago. “I shouldn’t have even said any—.”

“I never said I wasn’t in a relationship,” he stated, short and testy. “But I’m here right now to–.”

“You’re here to help,” you finished. “Yes, Jake, I know. But there’s nothing you can fucking do. What is there for you to do? Just sit here and shoot the breeze about how I fell and killed the mood before I could find some fucking relief? Because I seriously doubt you’d actually want to do that. In fact, we could begin the wonderful conversation by talking about how hard my ass could have fallen but didn’t. But that doesn’t seem–.”

“How’s your ass feeling?”

“Numb.” 

You heard him snort a laugh and then sigh, long and deep, fully deflating his lungs. You secretly wondered how long it would take. How long it would take for him to just give up on trying to help and decide to leave and be with Maya. (You were difficult to deal with. You knew it, he knew it. And it pissed you the fuck off when he acted like you weren’t a complete pain in the ass.)

His laugh slowly turned into a groan of frustration from the other side of the curtain. You peeked from the tiny little sliver of curtain next to you, glancing only at his leather Chelsea boots, as he went to lean against the wall. He wasn’t going anywhere. But he was getting aggravated, you could feel it. You knew how to push his buttons and you were bad about shutting up. 

“I just feel like shit about myself right now,” you said, trying to lighten the air. “I’m having a massive fucking pity party.”

Silence. All you could hear for a few moments was the sound of the shower and your heart thumping in your ears.

“I can help you feel better.”

Then, out of nowhere, you were recollecting a night not too long ago where he was the one insisting on boundaries. That night, he’d stood there, telling you he wanted to help however he could. But he’d been very clear about what could happen and what couldn’t happen.

He was so close. His breath, having fanned over your face. You could still smell the clean mintiness of his toothpaste. “Obviously with limits,” his voice lowered a bit as his eyes peered down at you, referencing how Maya had instructed him to help.

“Obviously. . .,” you’d trailed off, unsure, and raising a brow out of complete confusion for the conversation’s direction. “I wouldn’t want you to cross any sort of boundary. You’re in a relationship with her. Not me.” 

But. . . There’d been so many times you hadn’t held true since then. A blatant, heady example being your mouth around his dick in his Jeep. Embarrassingly, you hadn’t been able to control yourself and he’d been nowhere near stopping you that night. You could still feel how rock hard and smooth he’d been against your tongue.

Your thoughts briefly spiraled, your thighs clenched. “How are you going to help me, Jacob?”

“You know how.”

“No. I don’t,” you snapped, insistent on avoiding the ache between your legs at the thought of his dick in your mouth.

“Yes, y/n. I know you fucking do.”

There were a million questions coming to you. You shook your head, your hair having grown stiffer as it steadily dried after being out of the spray for long enough. You felt totally unsure. You wanted him so damn bad. . . 

But—your train of thoughts were your worst enemy.

“Are you only asking to help me or make me feel better because you pity me or some shit?” You asked, completely confident in your question. Figured you might as well ask him. 

“No. It’s not pity at all— I just. . .,” he sighed, groaning at the end. “Ridiculous as it may sound to you, I’ve found that when you’re hurting, I hurt. I really fuckin’ hate when you’re sad.”

“It’s not ridiculous,” you mumbled, hopefully loud enough he could hear you. I feel the same way about you. “You’re telling the truth?”

“Of course I’m telling you the truth, honey.”

Well. You moaned, letting your head fall to lightly hit the wall behind you. “I wish things were easier sometimes,” you sniffled, continuing to pour raw feeling from your own heart, as your core thrummed for him. Simultaneously, a singular tear drifted down your face. “Easier for us — you and me,” you sniffed. 

“I know, baby,” he said, low and rasped but loud enough that you felt the pet name all the way down to your wet toes. “Fuck.” 

He groaned, exasperated. But. . . there was more behind it. Like he was frustrated for more reasons than one. And that one groan, that’d come from deep in his throat. . . it had your skin licking with heat. Your chest ignited – heart ramping up quickly. Your thoughts, his noises. . . They were coming to an amplified pulse in the pit of your tummy.

Josh’s voice at Jungle Juice rang through your head, like annoying fucking church bells chiming as someone pulled on them – hard. The harder the yank, the louder they rung. “I told him that if he’s going to do that shit, he needs to keep it out of Maya’s sight. Because, while I don’t condone cheating, I do condone my brother being happy. And hopefully, she’ll be out of the picture soon anyway, so the cheating won’t even have to be a factor. Keeping it out of her sight and all — won’t be an issue.”

And, it was at that moment, you realized. . . Jake could also, most definitely be remembering his brother’s words, too. . . You couldn’t help the rippling, burning desire in your stomach that melted into your core. . . The pathway of your brain that was getting harder and harder to ignore the longer he stayed so close to you while you were completely naked under the spray of the shower. You felt your sensitive nipples peak against your wet thighs. And suddenly, you wanted nothing more than to let him just fucking help. You wanted him to do it. You shouldn’t want it, no matter what Josh believed. . . But – Josh had always had very sage advice. . . what would make this time any different? 

Then, Elsie’s voice from months ago – before you’d ever even had sex with Jake that first time. Didn’t know where the fuck she was coming from, but there she was. Assertive as ever. “I think it would be good for you to live on the edge. Just once.”

You were so fucking conflicted. . . or. . . were you? Fuck. It was wrong to even think of it. But, damn. . . If you didn’t want it so bad. And the longer he stood there, the more you needed it. Ached for him – needed him. 

“I want to help you, y/n.” His tone of voice was bordering one you’d grown accustomed to for so long. It resembled how he’d sound when his need for you was nearing the point of no return. Or. . . were you just imagining things? Hormonal delusion? 

“You know. . .,” you heard him take in a deep breath. Once again, you peeked from the little sliver between the curtains and shower wall, to see him slide a hand through the front of his long hair as he leant against the same wall you were resting against. He wasn’t looking at you, thank God. His eyes didn’t leave the wall above the shower as he cleared his throat. He gave a small cough, implying he was about to say something heavy on his mind. You’d learned his little signs.

Time ticked by slower than molasses, but simultaneously moved at the speed of lightning with his next words. “I’ve read that orgasms are said to help pregnant women for a variety of reasons. I’m sure you know this, too. . . But, um. One I read about recently was actually concerning how they work in elevating self confidence. Remind you how desirable you still are.”

No. Fucking. Way. His back was then sliding down the wall, coming to sit next to you. So close to you, his head falling lightly to lean against the wall, just beyond the thin curtains. You averted your eyes, trained them on the shower’s stream of water ahead of you. 

“And I would be really fucking honored to be the one to help you with that. . . if you like that idea,” he finished, heavily breathing in and out. 

Well that had taken some courage to say, surely. . . It was helping you feel all the more courageous yourself, actually.

Figuring there was absolutely nothing to lose, you went ahead and asked him your nagging question. “Why were you reading about that? What made you care so much about pregnant women having orgasms?”

“Y/n.” 

“What?”

“Seriously.”

“What?” You blanched, a tiny laugh following the word. Honestly, you were just in shock and you weren’t sure what in the hell to say, so you were deflecting.

“You know I want to please you. I want to show you how much I care about you,” he huskily stated, no hesitancy whatsoever in his words. “Want to show you the same fucking way I’ve shown you so many times before. I want be the reason your body trembles. . . the reason you cry for more until I give it to you. I can help you find some sort of relief, baby.”

You felt yourself drip from your entrance, your body begging you to give in to him. “Why?” You breathed, the word hanging in the air for a few seconds, the air so still. Thankfully, the shower water disguised your labored breaths. 

“Because that’s one way I know I can help you,” he asserted, his stance unwavering. “I’ve done it before, I can do it aga—.”

“Jake. You’re in a relation—.”

“I know, y/n,” he cut you off, biting the response your way. “But right fuckin’ now, she’s the last damn thing on my mind.”

“Jake,” you said his name in a stern tone once more, scolding him. You hated yourself for it – why were you trying to speak sense into the situation? “It’s not worth jeopardizing anything just because you feel like you have to help a miserable pregnant wom–.”

“I’m not jeopardizing anything, y/n,” he argued. You heard his back slide up the wall. He was standing again, as you chanced another glance from behind the curtain. “I had this talk with Josh that has helped me feel damn assured in this, too. And, like you keep reminding us both, Maya even told me to help. She doesn’t have to know every way I do it.”

Hm. So he was thinking of Josh’s words. Goddammit, Joshua. And still, you argued. “So now it’s just because she wants you–.”

“Can you please cut the fucking shit? I can assure you she does not want me doing what I want to do to you right now. And you fucking know it, too.” He argued (making a very good point, by the way. . . yet again). “You know you want this—that I want this. Don’t act like you don’t know it,” he challenged you, voice leaving no room for argument. “All of these times we’ve been so close to going for it and we keep stopping ourselves.”

“Why don’t you just get it out of your system with Maya?” You clipped, being snippy for no reason whatsoever. Genuinely, you were in no place to argue when your body was literally begging you to let him have his way with you.

“She’s not you,” he simply stated, not taking the bait to start an argument. He sighed deeply. You could imagine he was shaking his head with the action. “Every time I’m with her, you’re there. In my mind, in her place. . . You and your beautiful fucking body that’s growing my damn baby.”

You felt your core flex and continue to release arousal at his words. Fuck it. You were not in the mood to be the one in the right anymore. You didn’t want to be smart about your choices. . . what you wanted was his mouth on you, his dick, inside of you. You wanted to let him do whatever he wanted between your legs. And, technically, it would be him helping to benefit the baby. . . the less stressed you were, the less stress she felt.

And God only knew how fucking stressed you were lately. And there was only one way–one person–you wanted to relieve that right now. Fuck morality. 

“Who’s to say you’ll want me when you actually see me like this?” You genuinely wondered. 

You couldn’t believe you were actually giving this idea any substance. There really was no way it could end well. But your thoughts just kept trailing to how it could end well. . . very well. . . With you moaning his name as you finished against his tongue or around his cock . . . And, dirty as it would be to her, technically Maya did tell him to help with whatever you needed, so it wasn’t entirely against her wishes. Although, you were one thousand percent sure this was not what she meant. . . . at all.

“Try me,” he challenged, voice so low with the two daring words.

Fuck. Your body could not deny his touch any longer.

So, with wobbly legs and weak knees, you stood up. Your ass tingled, hurting just a bit. You were trying so hard to not somehow slip on any water on the shower floor. You decided to lean against the long wall of the shower, facing the bathroom. Holding on to the plastic bar built into the middle of the longer wall, you adjusted to face the curtain. As you did this, it was clicking that he was about to see your naked body in a way he’d never seen it before. . . So, you needed to make sure you looked as good as you could. You leaned just the slightest bit to reach the water – let it wash off your face, rinse your hair. . . the best you could do to refresh.

It’d helped. You were feeling slightly more appealing. Felt water droplets sliding down your wanting body. Even though you wanted to cross your arms over your chest, you knew the pressure would hurt like a bitch if you did that. And you needed to keep your balance. So, the other option was tucking them behind your back to hold the plastic bar in the wall with both hands. With a push of your chest, your full, heavy breasts perked in waiting. Your body was pulling you to him. . . Needed him.

You bent one wet leg at the knee, your hip curving just right. It felt odd to prepare for his eyes, in a body that didn’t always feel like your own anymore. Thanks to his baby.

You couldn’t conceal the tiny whine that slipped from your lips when you crossed your thighs, pushing them together, adding a little bit of pressure where you needed it so badly. And your skin was so silky smooth. . . the fresh shave and wax was working wonders at helping you to feel a little more appealing. “Are you sure about this?” You asked, feeling a bit of worry accumulate in your belly.

“Yes. More than,” he said, no doubt in his tone at all. Though, after he said it, he paused, ready to await your words. “. . .Are you?”

Guilt was what you should’ve felt in this moment. But, right then and there, guilt was as far out of the window as it could’ve possibly been. This felt real. Natural. It only felt right. So fucking right. So, if he thought it was okay, so did you. 

“Fuck yes,” you breathed, whining on the words without warning, your legs rubbing together once more. Your swollen chest was heavy with each breath you took, waiting for him. 

“Let me see you,” he beckoned. 

Needing the curtains gone from between you, but scared to move for fear of falling, you huffed. Pregnancy and POTS were not a good combination for a clumsy-ass like yourself. 

“I’m afraid I’ll land on my ass if I move,” you explained, a little giggle following the words. “Um, c-can you–?”

And before you could even finish the request, the thin barrier between you suddenly vanished and. . . standing before your naked, wet body. . . was him. Your eyes didn’t instantly find his face, suddenly shy in front of the man who’d seen you naked so many times before.

So, you focused fully on his body. He was still fully clothed, but completely there, right in front of you. And, from what you could tell from the evident imprint in his dark jeans, he was definitely wanting you. He wanted to help in this special, intimate way. . . Your eyes trailed up to his chest, but you didn’t meet his eyes. 

“Oh my god,” he groaned, so low in his throat. You could feel his eyes, but you still hadn’t let yourself meet them. You couldn’t yet–too nervous under his burning gaze. “Everything. You are so–fuck. I can’t believe I’ve been missing out on–.” 

Him stumbling over his damn words was causing your skin to flame with slight perturbation and anxiousness. Needed him to spit it out so you could avoid any more insecurities. You glanced up, hoping to get a better idea of what he was feeling by watching his facial expressions. 

What you found was him, rubbing his lip in thought before he held his chin with the same hand. His free hand was placed to properly adjust himself in his pants.

His eyes slowly trailed from your thighs, to your hips, and finally to your midsection. Ever-the-showing pregnant woman, your babygirl hadn't been a slow grower, ever. And after this week’s progression, your belly was already pretty round at 18 weeks. For what it was worth, you had a pretty cute pregnant tummy (and a smooth one, thanks to the stretch mark oils and creams). It was everything else about your rapidly changing body that went to your head.

In spite of all of the changes, though, his expression darkened even more; his stare, so hungry for what his eyes were feasting on. You felt extremely defenseless in his presence, under his gaze. He seemed in awe of what he saw. . . made your stomach burn with an animalistic need. A blush crept up your chest and neck, settling in your cheeks. You tingled with anticipation; all of you, completely at his mercy.

Restless for attention, your nipples peaked at his regard to the rest of your body. And, as if sensing it, his eyes swept upwards, in perfect time to watch your swollen breasts, rising and falling on choppy breaths. Truly, your breathing was inconsistent, only coming out in short huffs. You were not able to catch a full breath with the way your heart hammered in your chest. And it seemed his breathing matched yours, as you watched every. single. reaction to your body fan across his pretty features. . .Time was moving in slow motion. 

The way he bit his lip, as he finally locked his dark eyes with yours — it would forever be etched in your memory. “Holy fuck,” he breathed. “You are everything, y/n. The most exquisitely lovely and radiant woman I’ve ever fucking seen.”

Your heart was lodged in your throat, pounding and pulsing. Breath catching, your next words slipped easily past your lips. “Kiss me, Jake.”

a/n: oh, how I love this chapter (and we haven't even gotten to my favorite part yet)....... ;)

Taglist (continued in reblog):

@joshym, @jakekiszkapunchmeintheface, @jaketlover, @ohgodthefeeling-gvf, @starcatcher-jake, @anythingforjtk, @lucimoo, @indigostreakmorgan, @gretavanbear, @katelynn-gvf, @alwaysonthemend

@aintthatapity, @bowievanfleet, @fwzco, @takenbythemadness, @cherry-icecreamsmile, @laneygvf @hi-hi-hello11, @sinarainbows, @jakesbarbarian, @mybussyinchrist, @becinabubblegvf, @heckingfrick, @danigvf, @pinkandsleepy1934, @derrangeddumpsterfire, @klarxtr, @josh-iamyour-mama, @abby-gvf, @cassyface, @gretavansabotage, @sacredtheslay, @alienobsever, @hollyco, @age0fwagner, @raceb14, @stardustcatcher, @styles-canvas, @ladywhimsymoon, @earthgrlsreasy, @peaceloveunitygvf

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I always try to tag everyone, but you all know how it goes! 🤦‍♀️ Please make sure you’re filling out my Google Form if you would like to be tagged and aren’t already on the taglist! <3

[sanguineterrain]

your most recent jason fic has me in a bit of a chokehold and its bc you do so well with the dialogue and the banter!!

HONEYLOVE???#?*×& i need to be physically restrained (i appreciate your fics respectfully)

anyways, the fic has me thinking: imagine it's the same reader, but they know Jason's alive and they're back to being friends again (skipping over the drama of "YOU'RE ALIVE?!?" "yea lmao sorry ily tho") but there's this tension now. and since Jason's not working with a mask anymore (and he's slightly more vulnerable with r), it's him who gets flustered and it's r who does the flirting playful banter. maybe it ends with a kiss (˘ ³˘) ?

i'm such a sucker for a flustered Jason and there's something that tells me he gets really weak in the knees for someone he adores >:) anyways, you can always choose to write this or not but a very big, fat thank you if you do

the reaction pics are SO FUNNY i'm glad you enjoy this au <3

jason todd x gn!nocturne!reader. pt 3 of vigilante reader. this is basically reader just being feral over jason :> they speak for all of us, really. love confessions, tension, somewhat flustered jason, more sparring lols.

pt 1 / pt 2

****

Jason Todd is alive. Jason Todd is sitting two feet away, talking about a case.

You can't quite believe it. You went home two days ago and expected to wake up to the whole thing being a dream or the result of a Poison Ivy hallucinogen.

You can't stop staring at him. It's weird. You're being weird. But you can't help it.

Every time you see Jason, you want to look at him for as long as possible. You don't want to forget his face. This new face. Scarred and hardened, but still good. Still loved.

And, well. It's not like Jason's bad looking. Sure, you thought he was cute when you were teenagers. Resurrection makes the heart grow fonder, et cetera.

But now? Now, Jason makes your heart stupid. You can barely contain your desire. It's been two weeks since he revealed himself, and every time you see him, you have to dig your nails into your palms to keep yourself from showing him what he does to you.

Sometimes you think he sees right through you, but if he does, he never acts on it.

"—listening. Yo. Ground control to Major Tom. Are you with me?"

Jason waves a hand in front of you. You blink.

He's unmasked and in a Fleetwood Mac t-shirt and dark jeans—the most comfortable you've seen him, actually. His hair is still wet from his shower.

"Sorry," you say, suddenly zeroed in on the three droplets of water sliding down his neck. "I'm listening. Just looking at you."

"'Cause I'm so pretty?" Jason asks, batting his lashes.

You reach over without thinking. He freezes when you wipe the water off of his neck. Then you tuck a curl behind his ear.

"You should let me blow-dry your hair," you say, taking your time in dropping your hand. "It'll take ages to dry in this humidity."

Jason's eyes have gone wide. Pink splotches bloom on the apples of his cheeks.

"Uh." He swallows. You watch his throat bob. "Thanks. Maybe... next time."

"I'll steal Dick's. He's got the fancy sixteen setting one."

That makes Jason smile. "Hm. Some things never change."

His eyes crinkle at the corners. Fondness swells swiftly in your chest.

You stay like that for a moment, caught in each other's orbit.

Jason breaks it first, leaning away. "Right. You should probably get back to the Manor. Br–the others'll probably think I kidnapped ya."

You shrug. "I quit."

"What?"

"Bruce was getting on my last nerve. I can't work with someone like that."

Jason snorts. "Join the club. Look, I can't say I'm not thrilled that you're stickin' it to the old man. But if this is 'cause of me... I wouldn't be mad if you kept workin' with him. Honest. If that's what you wanna do, don't let me stop you."

"Jason." You rest your hand atop his. "I joined this life because of you. To honor you. You taught me how to help people, not Bruce. You taught me what it meant to be kind, to be a part of something bigger than myself."

To love, you don't say.

"I..." He shakes his head. "You became Nocturne for me?"

You close your eyes, then open them. You've cried so many times. You don't want to stay in your grief any longer. Not when he's right in front of you.

"When you died, I..." You take a deep breath. "Nocturne was something to ground me. I think Bruce recognized that. I think he knew how much you meant to me. He didn't have to take a chance on me, and I appreciate that he did. But I've realized that he doesn't know everything. Can't see what's right in front of him sometimes."

You squeeze Jason's wrist. He sighs.

"God, I'm sorry," he says.

"What're you sorry for, Jay? You came back. That's all I ever wanted."

Jason chews his cheek for a moment. Then he stands, chair scraping the floor.

"C'mon," he says.

You follow him to the living room. He moves the armchair, the couch, and rolls up the rug. He disappears down the hall and returns with two thick mats. He tosses them onto the floor.

"Uh..." you say. "What're you—"

"'M gonna show you what y'did wrong that night on the roof."

"Wow. Can't believe you're still single. Being reminded of my shitty combat skills gets me so hot."

Jason rolls his eyes. "Alright, smartass. Just 'cause you quit the Bats doesn't mean you won't go out there and keep helping people. I know you. The least I can do is pick up where Dickface left off in your training."

"The least you can do, huh? I think you just wanna pin me against the floor again," you say, smirking.

He clears his throat. "That—no."

"No?" You step closer and look at him through your lashes. You're so close, you're touching his chest. "What happened to tying me up 'cause I was out when I shouldn't have been? Isn't that another educational technique?"

Jason's throat bobs. "That wasn't—I was just saying things."

"Hm. That's too bad."

You skip right past him, onto the mat, and hold out your arms.

"Okay. Put the moves on me, J.P."

It takes Jason a moment to craft his usual poker face. When he does, he groans. "'M not an evil Gilded Age financier. Still don't like 'J.P.'"

"But you like me-ee," you sing-song.

He shrugs. "Sometimes. Until you give me a heart attack and run into a burning building."

"Wish I could've seen your face for that one," you say as you steel your shoulders and secure your feet.

"Better you didn't. I'm sure there was a vein or two popping outta my forehead." Jason cracks his neck. "Ready?"

"Lay it on me, big guy."

"You first. Attack me like you normally would."

So you do. You step forward and throw a punch similar to the one from your rooftop spar. Jason catches it, of course. But this time, he locks you in a hold. One leg is between yours, and your arms are twisted behind your back with one hand. Humiliating.

"Dude!" You wiggle. Jason doesn't yield. "Jay, come on. No petty criminal is gonna know how to do all that."

"I know. The point of this is for you to know how to use someone's size against them."

Jason presses his cheek against yours. You tamp down your shiver. You can hear his heartbeat.

"Take a breath," he murmurs.

You close your eyes and breathe. Jason's grip doesn't hurt, but you're frustrated by how predictable you are. How he knows your body. A part of you is missing in not knowing him the way he knows you.

"Alright," he says. "Think. What part of me is exposed?"

"Not the important parts, I hope."

You can feel his eyeroll.

"You're hilarious. C'mon, focus. What can you attack?"

"Um... your legs. You trapped my arms, but my and your legs are free."

"Good." The praise warms you. Being this close to Jason will never get old. "What else?"

"What else? Do you have a tail I don't know about?"

"Sucha wiseass," he says, mouth close to your ear. "Your head. You're still able to move your head, and you're close to my face."

"Yeah, I'm not headbutting you. Out of the kindness of my heart."

"I appreciate that, sweets. Sweep my leg."

So you do. Jason goes down easier than he normally would for your benefit.

"'Kay," he says, once again underneath you. Now you have his hands pinned. "Good. Remember what went wrong last time?"

"You bucked me off like a Clydesdale."

He smiles. "Yeah, okay. So what'll you do different?"

"I'm not in my suit," you say. "I don't have extra weight in my boots."

"No, but you don't need it if you keep my legs apart."

"So that was your plan all along, huh? Perv."

Jason coughs. "Ah-hum... I—c'mon, lock my legs."

You grin and spread Jason's legs, using your knees to keep him immobile.

And then you just stare. This time, it's not because you're thinking about the miracle of resurrection (though what a miracle it is). No, you're just thinking, once again, about how your best friend got really, stupidly pretty.

And how you really, stupidly wanna kiss him.

Jason still looks young, but his jaw is now defined. He's got a five o'clock shadow coming on. His lips are full and pink. Freckles dot his cheeks and nose. The nose that still has a bump from when he broke it during a fight with Riddler.

You remember how he played it off for weeks. Bruce said that didn't even cry. But when you asked if it hurt, Jason had said yes.

You wonder when the last time Jason cried was. You wonder how much pain he's suffered since.

You wonder if he knows he's got your heart in the palm of his hand.

"Hey," Jason says. His voice is soft. Shy. "I lose ya again?"

You shake your head. "No. Never."

"There somethin' on my face?"

"You're a lot to look at," you say. "Pretty, pretty boy."

That gets an undeniable reaction. Jason Todd has never been able to take a compliment. You've been exploiting that all day.

Perhaps you know him better than you thought.

He exhales sharply, like you've sucker-punched him. His eyes dart to you. Waiting.

"Your eyes are green," you say. "Like, mixed. Blue and green."

Jason nods. "I—yeah. The Pit. Changed 'em. Changed me."

You lean in. His gaze flicks to your mouth. You watch his Adam's apple bob in a hard swallow.

"They're still pretty," you say. "Always had pretty eyes, Jaybird."

"Heh, right. Even with this shit?" He points to the scar that crosses over his right eye, stopping at his lip.

You let go of his wrists—not that you were holding them that tightly anyway. If this were a real fight, you would've lost ten times over already. Considering how much of you is touching Jason, you happen to be winning hard.

You trace the puckered white flesh with your thumb. Jason flinches but doesn't pull away.

"Your face could never turn me away," you say. "Never."

He closes his eyes and shudders. "Y'too nice to me. Always so nice t'me. Even when we were fighting. Why're ya so good?"

Your lips are a hair from his now. "I don't know how to make it more obvious, Jaybird. I'm absolutely insane about you."

Jason's eyes fly open. He sees your mouth and his breathing increases. You smile.

"Yeah, want you bad. No place I wouldn't follow you. Do anything for you."

Jason makes a strangled noise in his throat. You grin.

"C'mon, big guy. I'm right here. Come have me, Jay. I'm yours."

Jason soars up and kisses you. Swallows you, really. His hands hold your waist for dear life. You wrap one leg around his.

You nip his lip. Jason whines softly. Delicious.

You grab his face, fingers tangling in his curls. Jason sits up, slotting you against him. One hand supports you on your back, the other on your side.

"God—" He breaks away, just barely. "You're way too good for me. Had sucha... sucha crush on ya when we were kids. Y'so sweet."

You blindly find his throat and bite, hard enough to leave a mark. Jason makes a guh sound. You lick the bite to soothe it.

"Missed you," you say into his skin. "Missed you so goddamn bad, Jason."

"Yeah. Yeah, yeah," he babbles, clinging to you as you kiss up his neck. "Yeah, missed you too."

"Not letting you go," you say, almost snarling. You're angry with want, angry at the world for keeping this from you for so many years. "It's you and me now, Jay, mkay? Gonna be mine?"

"Always been yours," he says, panting. Jason finds your lips again. The kiss is messy, uncoordinated. Full of love. "No one but you."

You haven't fallen behind. You're starting anew.

"Never been anybody but you."

[borathae]

"Using your safeword isn't easy for you."

Pairing: CEO!Jungkook x f.Reader

Genre: married life!AU, Angst, Hurt and Comfort

Warnings: this is angstier than I wanted it to be, implied sexual situation, use of handcuffs, she uses her safeword, she gets hurt because she panics, panic attacks, mention of past sexual abuse during her sexwork, besties this is really angsty like omfg, it has a happy ending!

Wordcount: 3.3k

a/n: i wanna give her the biggest hug ever. this was requested by anonie, have fun(?)dude it's angst idk if you can have fun) reading 💗

You are roleplaying tonight. Jungkook has the lead while you are the sub. You feel good. He is gentle, sexy, attentive and constantly asks for consent. You feel so good until suddenly you don’t. 

You can’t explain what triggered it. Maybe it was the way he touched your knee. Maybe it was the sudden loud noise of a motorbike driving by. Maybe it was nothing and it just happened. 

But all of a sudden the good turns bad and you feel incredibly uncomfortable. 

“Red!” you blurt out and then everything becomes just a little blurry, “red! Red! No, I don’t want this! Red!” you are begging even if there is no need to beg because Jungkook is already scrambling to get you untied. 

“I’m getting it! Everything’s okay! You’re safe!” he is almost falling over his own words, feeling dizzy in worry. He wants to work fast, but it is difficult because you are fighting the restraints. Like a scared, captured animal trying to escape, “p-please don’t m-move so much. I-I’ll hurt you, please.”

You consented to wearing handcuffs and up until two seconds ago, you liked it. It was hot and sensual and made you feel relaxed because it meant that you could give up control without being tempted to intervene. 

Right now it means that you have zero control over what will happen to you and you would rather cut off your own hands than be restrained even a second longer.

“Red! I don’t like this”, you are fighting the handcuffs and that’s when it happens. You hurt yourself. 

Because of the excessive wiggling, the handcuffs dug into your wrists and forced a nerve to squish between your muscles. 

“Ah, oh my god it hurts”, you get and cry. You rarely cry, but right now you are scared and anxious and in pain.

“It’s okay, you’re safe. Please stay still, I’m getting you out”, Jungkook says with a trembling voice and undoes the handcuffs with shaking hands. He is panting for air, feeling sick in anxiety. Seeing you cry is rare. Seeing you cry from pain is even rarer. 

Once free, you clutch your own wrist, pressing it against your chest.

“It hurts”, you get out, sobbing loudly.

“Oh god”, Jungkook gags out, reaching for you only to stop in case he scared you, “my love, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I’m such an asshole, oh god I’m sorry.”

You can’t assure him right now. You aren’t scared of him, neither are you angry at him. And yet you still can’t reassure him. Not when you’re that scared. 

“I don’t want this”, you sob, reaching for him like a drowning person would a lifeline.

Jungkook catches your hands and holds them tightly, staring at your hurt wrist with tears streaming down his face.

“My love, I’m sorry.”

You can’t reassure him yet. You need to be held. To be comforted. To be reminded that you aren’t going to get hurt. It happened so many times. You didn’t want to continue and yet your clients didn’t care. You were tied up and literally helpless and they took advantage of it. 

You need to be reminded that this isn’t your reality anymore. That you are safe.

You seek out Jungkook, getting between his legs and pressing yourself against his chest. You are so much smaller than on other days, as if your own anxiety was shrinking you. 

“It’s okay, my love. It’s okay, I’m here”, Jungkook assures you, hugging you tightly as his fingers smooth over your hair. He is swaying your bodies slowly, pressing kisses to whatever parts of your head he can reach, “I know, baby, I know. I’m here, baby, I’m here.” 

This isn’t your normal panic. Jungkook knows every pattern, inhale, exhale and shake. This is one of your panic attacks. It has been years since he last witnessed something like this, but he still knows what to do. He won’t ever forget the remedies to your attacks. They’re in there next to how you like your coffee in the morning and what weather makes you happy. They’re proof that he loves you and that he always will.

“Breathe with me, baby. It’s hard, but I need you to breathe with me”, Jungkook speaks gently, showing you how it’s done patiently. It’s difficult for you to follow at first, but Jungkook gives you all the time you need, which takes so much pressure off of you. It gets easy to try and match your breathing with his’ when he is so incredibly patient with you. 

“That’s it. Breathe with me, babygirl, breathe. That’s it”, he whispers, breathing with you. 

It calms him as well. He is sick in anxiety. To hear you scream your safeword and start crying in panic is awful enough, but to have you hurt yourself on top of everything and cry because of it, ruined Jungkook. He is so upset and anxious, that showing you how to breathe is calming him down as well. It’s sweet in a twisted way that in providing you your remedy, he is healing himself as well. 

You don’t want to lift your head at first. The attack stopped, but you don’t want to lift your head. You feel humiliated. 

You haven’t felt that embarrassed in front of Jungkook ever since you met him. 

You get a panic attack because of a stupid fucking noise. You feel fucking pathetic. 

You push yourself off of him and out of the hug, getting off of bed without looking at him. 

“___ my love?” he calls for you, staring at you with teary eyes. 

“I need to be alone”, you say and leave the playroom. You’re too embarrassed to face him. 

If one would ask you how to define this moment in your relationship, it wouldn’t be a good one. Dark. That’s how you would describe it. Dark and fucking heartbreaking.

Jungkook follows you, calling your name which you try to ignore. You are so embarrassed.

Jungkook runs after you as you descend the stairs in stumbles and sobs. You are so humiliated, feeling even worse because you have no clothes to cover yourself with.

“My love, please talk to me, please”, Jungkook begs, “I’m so sorry for triggering you. I didn’t wanna trigger you, please don’t run away. Please, I’m so sorry.”

You flee into the bedroom. Jungkook catches the door you try to slam close and slips inside after you.

“Please talk to me, please”, he squeaks out, “I’m so sorry.”

You try to hide in the bathroom. Jungkook isn’t fast enough. The door closes before his nose and locks.

“Please”, he begs, resting his head against the door, “I’m so sorry please believe me, I’m so sorry.”

You don’t think that the panic attack really stopped. Maybe the worst stopped, but you still feel anxious. Having Jungkook beg for your forgiveness behind closed doors isn’t helping. You are prancing, gripping your own hair in distress.

“What can I do? I, I want to help.”

Why did your life have to fuck you up so fucking bad? Why did men do this to you? Why did you have to go through this? Questions you haven’t asked yourself in years come back to haunt you. Why? Why? Why? The word repeats itself in your mind over and over again.

“I’m so sorry, my love.”

Why were these men so cruel? Why were your screamed words silent to them? Why did they hurt you so much?

“Please don’t hate me now.”

Your head turns into the direction of the door. Jungkook’s sobs broke through your racing thoughts and reminded you that you weren’t alone right now, that you have your person looking out for you. And that you currently make him feel as if you hated him.

“Please don’t lock me out, please. I don’t know what to do. I didn’t mean to trigger you. Oh god, I’m so fucking sorry, my love.”

The door unlocks and opens. Jungkook stumbles because he didn’t expect it. He blinks his tears away, meeting your teary eyes.

“My love”, he presses out, contorting his face in painful guilt, “I’m so sorry.”

You shake your head, hoping that he understands that he doesn’t need to feel sorry. You reach for him. Jungkook meets you in the middle and tugs you close, guiding your arms around his waist and cradling you in his arms seconds later. He presses your head against his chest, hiding you away from the world.

“Kookie.”

“Come here, babygirl. I’m here”, he gets out, holding you safely.

The once bared state of your body doesn’t feel humiliating anymore. He is naked as well, reconnecting with you skin against skin. He smells like home. Warm, sweet, safe. As long as you are in his arms, it’s not scary out there.

“I have to tell you something”, you get out.

“Okay. Okay, yes. Tell me baby, tell me”, Jungkook gives you the chance and so you tell him why you reacted the way you did.

Jungkook knows that your life before him wasn’t easy. You told him enough that he isn’t surprised when you flee from anxious situations and why you sometimes revert to pulling away. He knows that such trauma responses can come back even if your life is safe and happy these days. He knows because you told him enough. He also knows that the work you had to do to survive hurt you a lot before you started working at Paradis. He never knew how it hurt you however.

You didn’t feel brave enough to tell him. Tonight it is finally spilling out of you, leaving you in sobs and hiccups and struggles for air, but it is leaving you. Jungkook understands you even when you are crying and fighting for words. He will always understand you, even if he wishes that tonight he didn’t. He can’t believe that the world hurt his treasure in such ways. He feels heartbroken, sick to the stomach and unbearably angry. He keeps asking you what their names were, telling you that he will hunt them down and bring them so justice. You can’t tell him their names because you never learned them. And eventhough you feel humiliated in sharing something so fucking embarrassing with the person you love so much, you can’t stop. It feels so good to finally relief yourself of those memories and in the process, find comfort in his arms.

“I’m sorry”, you whisper. You are in bed by now, lying in his arms with your face nuzzled against his chest.

“For what?” Jungkook whispers, staring at the sheets with dark eyes. He is so fucking angry at the men who hurt you.

“For telling you all of this.”

“Don’t apologise for that. Holy shit baby, don’t ever fucking apologise for that”, he assures you, tilting your head up gently, “I, I just wish that I could do more. That I could make those motherfuckers pay.”

“Yeah, me too”, you whisper, looking into his eyes. You feel numb from all the talking you did, shivering even when under the blanket, “you don’t see me differently now, do you?”

Jungkook shakes his head vigorously and vehemently, furrowing his brows to showcase how serious he was.

“Of course I fucking don’t. I’m glad you told me. Thank you”, he says and brushes his thumb over your cheek. You close your eyes, melting into the gentle touch. It feels so good to be loved by him. Jungkook continues caressing your cheek as he talks, looking at you with soft eyes, “I know it wasn’t easy, so thank you for trusting me and I wanna carry this burden with you from now. Yeah?”

“No. No, please don’t call it like that. I don’t wanna burden you”, you say, looking up at him with anxious eyes.

“You don’t burden me.”

“I, I don’t wanna be looked at differently, please Kook. Don’t, don’t look at me differently now.”

“I won’t, baby. I won’t”, he assures you, kissing your forehead in hopes of calming your thoughts.

“I just s-struggle with submitting. I, I do. It’s so hard to, to do for me be-because of what they did to me and, and the bike was so loud and it triggered me and I’m sorry. I don’t wanna, wanna burden you, I don’t-”

“Shut up”, Jungkook whispers softly, hugging you against his chest, “stop saying that you burden me. You don’t. Let’s take a deep breath together, yeah?”

You breathe with Jungkook.

“There we go”, he praises and caresses the back of your head, “I need you to listen to me now without getting upset, okay?”

You nod your head, listening to him with closed eyes.

“You just told me something which you kept deep inside and now it’s out there and other people know it. I get it, shit like that embarrasses you.”

You shift because he is reading you like an open book and it is just a little uncomfortable. Jungkook lets you wiggle, but still holds you safely, kissing the crown of your head to let you know that you were safe. He keeps talking with his lips against your head.

“And when shit embarrasses you, you wanna run away. I get it, shit like that’s scary, but you don’t gotta be scared alone. I’m right here. With you. And I’ll stay with you. Fucking shit ___, you’re my person. My fucking person”, he says, squeezing you against him gently. He continues talking even if his voice is muffled from the close proximity, “I met you when your life was messy as fuck, I fell for you despite the mess and eventhough we fixed our messy lives these days, I’m aware that darker days can sometimes happen.”

He buries his fingers in your hair as deep as your texture allows it and begins massaging your scalp.

“___ baby, I don’t only love you when life’s good and nice and bright. I also love you when it’s messy and shit and fucking dark. And when you tell me stuff from your past, I’ll get a little upset yeah, but not because of you but because someone hurt my fucking babygirl. Shit, I just wanna protect you from what you had to go through and fight whoever hurt you, but I won’t ever see you differently. Because you’re my person, ___ baby and you’ll always be my person. Okay?”

You nod your head, letting out a small hum of acknowledgment.

“Okay”, he says, kissing your hair, “now, can I take a look at your wrist or do you not feel ready yet?”

You nod your head, “yeah”, you say and scoot back to show him your wrist. You are lying down while Jungkook props himself up on his elbow. He seems so much taller and bigger than you like this and tonight you really need this feeling. You’re strong, confident and rarely need another person to lean on. You are also proud of being so strong and so independent, but all the strength in the world doesn’t mean that you will always feel this way. That you will always be the one wanting to take care of Jungkook or that you won’t ever need to feel small and fragile. You’re just a fucking human and person with feelings which can be hurt so easily. You don’t feel strong tonight or independent. You feel tiny and weak and need Jungkook to take care of you without judgment.

“I can’t see anything. Where does it hurt?” he says, holding your wrist gently as he runs his thumb over your tender skin.

“It doesn’t hurt anymore. I think I just squeezed a nerve”, you speak quietly because you can’t do it any other way, “I’m sorry for wiggling so much and for using my safeword.”

“Hey”, he shakes you by your wrist gently, “sorry’s your forbidden word tonight.”

“Sorry, I mean, yeah I know.”

Jungkook guides your wrist to his lips and kisses it gently.

“I’m glad you used your safeword. Thank you for trusting me. I just hope that you don’t feel unsafe with me now.”

“No, I don’t. I feel safe”, you say, looking up at him from the pillow. Jungkook studies you and how small you make yourself in his presence whilst looking so relaxed doing so. He also knows how much this means with you, feeling reassured that what you are saying is true.

“Thank you for telling me”, he says, relaxing his shoulders, “I felt like throwing up when you cried and then you ran away and I seriously thought that I fucked it.”

“You didn’t.”

“Good yeah, that’s good. You know”, he says and cups your cheek, “I like it when I’m dominant and we can switch the roles, but if you don’t want to switch, I won’t be angry at you. You don’t have to sub just to make me happy. Especially when it means that you have to think of what those assholes did to you.”

“I normally don’t feel this way or think of it. I don’t know why this happened tonight.”

“Something triggered it. It’s sometimes impossible to explain triggers, I get it”, he assures you, “I’m just saying all that because I want you to know that you don’t have to do anything you’re not a hundred percent comfortable with.”

“I know”, you say, gazing up at him, “I feel safe with you and I didn’t feel uncomfortable whenever we switched in the past. I even wanna try it with handcuffs again, I do. I just…I don’t think today was a good mental health day for me. It all got too much.”

“And that’s okay. It got too much and you stopped it, that’s all that matters. I know it was hard for you because of your past experiences, but you did it despite that and you did it so well.”

You look at him because you have to make sure that he is real. He makes you feel so safe without even trying, healing wounds you thought never able to heal. So this is what it feels like to have someone to rely on. It’s been years with him and yet you still sometimes have to pinch yourself to make sure it’s real.

“I feel like I ruined it, seriously”, you confess.

“No you didn’t ruin anything, my love. You really didn’t”, he assures you.

“I’m so embarrassed”, you tear up, “I feel so much shame around my past.”

“Don’t, please don’t. Especially not with me”, he speaks softly, shaking his head vigorously, “this isn’t something you need to be ashamed of. Those assholes who hurt you should be the ones to feel shame, but not you.”

You sniffle, speaking squeakily, “can you tell me one more time that you don’t see me different now?”

“I’ll tell you a million times more if you need it. Of course, I don’t see you differently. You’re my person and I fucking adore you”, Jungkook promises, giving you a reassuring smile.

One you retort honestly and gladly. It feels good to be able to smile after everything which happened. Life really doesn’t seem that difficult when you’re with Jungkook.

“Thank you. I love you so much”, you whisper.

“I love you too, baby”, Jungkook says without hesitation, tracing the small smile lines next to your eyes, “now, why don’t you let me take care of you for tonight, mhm? I’ll run you a hot bath, give you a little face massage because I know your jaw’s tight from crying”, he smoothes his thumb over your jaw, “then we’ll order snackies from your favourite place and watch your favourite show, where I’ll give you so many snuggles and kisses until you fall asleep and I can carry you to bed for even more snuggles. How’s that sound?”

You nod your head.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Amazing”, he says and giggles, “then we’ll do that, baby. Now come on, wrap your arms around me. I’ll carry you. You don’t gotta be strong tonight.”

He’s right. You don’t have to be strong tonight. He’s got you and he always will.

[1-800-hwahui]

romance at mistletoe inn

member  |  seungcheol x reader genre  |  smut, some fluff word count  |  ~4,600 warnings  |  reader has a vagina and breasts, unprotected sex, very very soft dom!cheol, sub!reader, wap reader, monster cock cheol, like seriously his dick is BIG, size kink (it comes with the territory wbk), strength kink (?), oral (m receiving), oral (reader receiving), grinding, deepthroating, motorboating, praise, slight manhandling, creampie (they don't talk about reader taking birth control so PLEASE do not be like them irl), cursing, cheol is Whipped, they hold hands :(, teeny bit of aftercare oops sorry, reader's mom accidentally cockblocks, please ignore that the plot actually makes Zero sense this is just pure sex atp notes  |  this is a nsfw sequel to a sfw fic on my main writing blog @junkissed called mistletoe inn! however, this can be read as a stand alone, you don't have to have read the other part to know what's going on here. for the heathen @onlymingyus. i hope you enjoy. p.s. thanks to @duhnova @heartkyeom for making me insane while i wrote this. i know i say this every time but this time i mean it when i say this is definitely the filthiest thing i have ever written - 💒 june

a knock on cheol’s door brings him out of the book he’s reading. it’s late in the evening and it hasn’t stopped snowing all day, leaving everyone at the inn snowed in. at least for the next day or so until the city snow plow comes around. he slides a bookmark into the pages and sets it on his nightstand, grinning as he walks towards the door.

as it usually is every winter, the inn is practically empty, except for one guest. it’s a small town, and people don’t come to stay unless they’re visiting friends or family.

cheol’s really enjoyed talking with you the last few days. he’s learned that you came to surprise your parents, but they’d actually left town without telling you to spend their christmas in hawaii, leaving you alone in a city where you don’t know anyone. 

he doesn’t mind being your friend for the week you’re here– in fact, he loves it. you’re great company, and after a little not-so-subtle prying he’s also learned you’re single. with your work less than an hour away by plane, the distance isn’t bad, and if he’s been reading the situation right, he’s hoping you might feel the same. it’s been too long since he’s taken a break, since he’s traveled out of the little town he’s lived in all his life. maybe it’s time to pass the inn along to someone else in his family. but for now, one step at a time.

of course, it’s you standing on the other side of the door. he can’t help the way his face lights up when he sees you. “hey, what’s up?”

you smile back shyly. “just bored. are… are you busy?”

he grins. “not anymore.”

“do you maybe, wanna, come to my room?” you ask. “i made cocoa.”

“of course i would,” he says, shutting his door with a quiet squeak.

fifteen minutes later the cocoa is long forgotten as you desperately press your lips against seungcheol’s, hands roaming everywhere across each others’ bodies.

you’re suddenly very grateful that you packed your nice pair of panties for a trip that was supposed to be for visiting your parents. and you’re also very grateful that you wore them tonight, just in case.

the muscles in his shoulders flex as he yanks his shirt up and off with one swift movement. you watch, until his hands are back on you, whining as he pulls on the hem of your sweater. you giggle and lift your arms so he can help you tug it over your head.

“can i?” he breathes, reaching for your bra, his gaze fixated on your chest.

you nod, and strong arms wrap around you, carefully unhooking your bra behind your back. you hold the fabric in place with your hands as his fingers tenderly slip the straps down your shoulders. 

when you finally let go, allowing the material to fall to the floor, seungcheol inhales sharply. “god, you’re so beautiful,” he rasps.

he looks up at you for permission, and you smile. hands still clasped behind your back, he pulls you over to the chair by the couch, sitting down so his face is level with your chest. 

his hands glide over your skin, pushing your breasts together and shoving his face in between them with a groan that reverberates in your ribcage. you moan and he lets go, hands skating down your sides to rest at your hips as he leaves wet kisses along the curve of your boobs.

your fingers find his head, weaving up through his hair. he shakes his head back and forth and his hands grab at your ass, roughly kneading the skin. his mouth moves to one of your nipples, lips wrapping around it and sucking lightly.

his lips leave your breast with a pop, half-lidded eyes looking almost drunk with pleasure. you shimmy out of your pants, throwing them out of the way but keeping your panties on. 

cheol’s eyes widen and his hands fumble to remove his own jeans, shaking as he slides them down his muscular legs. 

you sink down onto your knees, settling between his legs. he groans when you look up at him with wide eyes, tentative hands resting on his thighs. god, his thighs… just one is probably bigger than your entire head. 

your fingers dance at the band of his underwear, nervously toying with the elastic but not going any further yet. he’s only half-hard beneath the fabric, but you can already tell he’s big, way bigger than you’re used to.

you must’ve paused for too long, because he reaches down to cup your cheek, bringing your gaze back up to his. “what’s wrong, baby?” he asks gently, his voice breathy and low. 

your cheeks heat up, not used to hearing that pet name on his lips. “um, you’re just, uh… big,” you squeak out, a little embarrassed to admit to him.

his expression softens, relieved that he hasn’t done anything to hurt you (yet). “you don’t have to if you don’t want to,” he says, his tone lightening a bit.

immediately you shake your head, not wanting to give him the wrong impression. “i want to,” you say sincerely. “just– don’t know if i can.”

he smiles like you’ve just told him he won the lottery– and with you, he might as well have. “we’ll go slow,” he promises.

you exhale and gently tug at his underwear, finally releasing his cock. it’s big, like you expected, and covered in pretty veins. you wrap your hand around him, but he’s so big, your thumb and index finger aren’t even close to touching. so you add your other hand, completely gripping him, and he moans at the sight of his cock resting in your tiny hands.

you’re just about to put your lips around his tip when you hear your ringtone go off. you whine in annoyance at being interrupted and move your head away from him, taking your hands off of his cock and laying them on his thighs. 

“who is it?” you ask, nodding up at your phone on the table next to seungcheol.

he groans at the loss, but leans over to check your phone for you. “uh, it’s ‘mom’?”

you whine and reach out your hand. “give it here.”

“baby, please,” he grumbles, handing it down to you.

“i’ll be quick,” you whisper before accepting the call. he pouts and leans his head back against the back of the chair, staring at the ceiling.

“hi mom,” you say into the phone, your voice coming out a little breathier than you intend.

“hi sweetie! how’s your trip going so far? sorry again that we missed you,” she starts, and you know you’re in for a long phone call. the woman could talk for hours, days even, and now is definitely not the time.

when you look up, seungcheol is staring at you again, a mischievous grin on his face. he puts a finger to his lips, signaling you to be quiet, then hooks his arms under you to help you stand. his hands slide to your hips, guiding and pulling you down onto his lap.

“mom, i’m– a little busy right now,” you choke out, trying your damn hardest to keep your voice steady with cheol’s hands on you.

“oh?” the surprise is evident in your mother’s voice. “i thought you didn’t have any plans? did you find something fun to do? you better not be working on work, i told you you’ve been needing a vacation for way too long! your boss can have whatever it is in the new year, you–”

cheol grips you tightly, rolling your hips against his dick, and you have to slap your hand over your mouth to stop yourself from whimpering out loud. he looks up at you, wordlessly asking if you want him to stop. 

you squeeze your eyes shut and shake your head. as much as it mortifies you fooling around while you’re literally on the phone with your own mother, the thrill of being caught only turns you on even more.

“no, mom, i’m not working, but i am– busy,” you interrupt.

“well, do you want me to call back in a bit?” you can hear the frown in her voice, the tone she gets when she knows you’re lying.

“no!” you cry out as your clit rubs against the head of seungcheol’s cock, giving you a jolt of pleasure. “i–mean, i’ll call you later. when i’m done,” you recover, hoping to god she hasn’t noticed anything off about you.

“sweetie… are you at the gym?” she questions, and you breathe a sigh of relief that it doesn’t seem like she’s caught on to what you’re really doing. “i’m so proud of you, honey, i know you’ve been trying to do that more lately! well, i’ll leave you be then. have a good workout!”

well, you will be having a workout today… just not the kind she’s thinking of.

“th-thanks,” you stutter. suddenly cheol thrusts hard against you, and the movement makes you lose your balance and fall forward a little. you catch yourself on him, your hand flat against his firm chest. “bye, mom.”

“bye, sweetie! have fun!”

he shoots you a satisfied smirk and you sit back as you fumble to hang up as fast as you can, tossing your phone on the carpet behind you and climbing back down onto your knees.

you finally wrap your lips around him, fingernails gripping his thighs as you struggle to take him in your mouth. not only is he long, but he’s girthy, and you have to stretch your mouth open wide to fit him in. even then, you can’t fit all of him, so you put both hands back around the base of his cock where your mouth can’t reach and you begin slowly bobbing up and down, swirling your tongue around him.

his hips buck up roughly into your mouth and instantly tears prick at your eyes. “sorry,” he moans, but you just shake your head and keep going. he grips down hard on the armrests of the chair to stop himself from moving.

you can feel him hitting the back of your throat with every move and you know your mouth is gonna hurt like a bitch later, but the almost melodic sound of his moans is enough to make you want to have his dick in your mouth forever. knowing that it’s you making him feel like this could give you enough energy to suck him off for days on end.

your abdomen throbs with neglect, but the weight of his cock in your mouth is too good to stop. if you didn’t literally need both hands to fit all the way around him, you would’ve already started touching yourself, but both your hands are… occupied elsewhere.

desperate for any kind of stimulation, you press your thighs together, shifting to rub them against each other. at the angle you’re kneeling you can feel the thin fabric of your panties pressing against your pussy, and you buck your hips, trying to get the lace to give you what you want.

but it’s nowhere near enough, and seungcheol notices when you whine frustratedly around his cock, eyes squeezed shut and hands shaking. he grips your head carefully, pulling you off of him with a groan.

you look up at him with watery eyes and he takes in the sight, your mascara smeared and running down your cheeks and your eyes red and wet from choking around him for so long. 

“can i eat you out? please?” he practically begs, breathing heavily.

“o-okay,” you rasp, the words coming out hoarse.

his eyebrows furrow as he catches his breath. he’d tried so hard not to go rough on you, to stop himself from fucking your throat. it’s only your first time with him, and he really, really hopes it won’t be the last, so he’s mentally kicking himself for losing control.

you see his worried expression, so you cough, trying to clear your throat. “i’m fine,” you reassure him, voice a little less coarse than before but still more than he would’ve liked. 

“are you sure?” he asks cautiously.

“mhm. please,” you whimper.

he smiles and wraps his arms around you, helping you stand. your knees crack and he looks concerned again, but you shake your head. “just sore from kneeling. don’t worry.”

you give him a reassuring look, and he finally relents. suddenly he lifts you with terrifying ease, carrying you across the room to toss you onto the bed like nothing.

he climbs on top of you, his face hovering over your lower half.

“you gonna give me a few, baby?” he asks, his tone saccharine sweet. “gotta prep you enough.”

you croak out a yes, watching his movements with vigilance as his calloused fingertips play with the delicate hem of your panties, teasing.

but he doesn’t move any further, just stares up at you through his eyelashes, and you assume he’s waiting for you to say something.

“p-please?” you sniffle, thinking maybe he wants you to beg him for it. and he does, and you would, but you both know that’s for another time.

he presses a light kiss to your cunt over the fabric, moaning into your skin. “god, you’re so good for me, baby. gonna give you everything you want.”

as much as he wants to rip your pretty little underwear off your body and eat you out like his last meal, he knows he has to start slow, give you both a chance to get used to what the other likes instead of jumping straight into the deep end.

so he keeps his eyes locked with yours as he slips the lacy fabric down your hips, carefully so as not to tear them by accident.

you’re embarrassingly wet from nothing at all, your panties completely soaked through. a thin string of your arousal connects from your cunt to the fabric, and he groans lowly, watching it break.

his gentleness is unbelievably hot, and you can’t deny that him being so deliberate with taking them off makes you want to let him rip them off of you in a heartbeat. so what if they’re your favorite pair? you’d buy ten pairs to replace them if you have to.

you lift your legs, helping him slide your panties off so he can toss them away. he settles back down and tenderly pries your thighs apart, setting each leg to the side and leaving you wide open for him. he stares at your pussy for a moment, glistening with wetness. his intense, focused attention on you makes you gush, your muscles clenching around nothing as he watches enraptured. using two fingers he spreads your folds apart, exposing your dripping hole to his fervent gaze.

“cheol,” you mewl out his name in desperation. 

“‘m right here, baby,” he says, his eyes flicking up to your face for a second to make sure you’re okay. you nod, silently begging him to continue. he cups your pussy, and the feeling of sheer size as his massive hand envelopes you is enough to send a shiver down your spine.

automatically your hips buck into his hand, grinding against his palm as you toss your head back and forth against the pillows, grateful to finally feel some relief. 

he coos and you throw your arm over your face in embarrassment at his reaction, sheepish about being so desperate for a man you only met a couple of days ago. but his response isn’t to tease you or degrade you, but to admire you. so needy, so beautiful. and for right now, all his.

his hand still cupped against you, he slowly slips his ring and middle finger into your hole, letting out a pleased hum when you immediately clench around him.

“so wet for me, baby,” he sighs, gently curling his fingers inside you but otherwise keeping them still to let you adjust. “you’re so fucking sexy.”

you whimper, and he removes his fingers, seeing you’re ready for him to give you what he promised. even after being inside you for only a few seconds his fingers are soaked, completely coated in your juices. he looks up at you to see if you’re still comfortable with everything he’s doing, and when you open your mouth without hesitating even for a second, he thinks he might cum on the spot.

“so well behaved,” he praises, pushing his fingers into your waiting mouth. you close your lips around them eagerly, sucking yourself off of him in earnest.

you sigh when he pulls them out again, moving back down to sit between your still-open legs. he presses a gentle kiss to the inside of both your thighs before pushing his face into your waiting pussy.

when his mouth first makes contact with your cunt, you let out a high whine, back arching off the bed in pleasure. his lips completely surround your swollen clit, and your hand flies down to his head, gripping his hair as your hips writhe against his face.

his tongue is everywhere, gliding over every inch of you, licking and sucking and working you towards your orgasm impossibly fast. you can feel your clit throbbing in his mouth, and your breath hitches when he grazes his teeth over it, making you jolt.

his hands loop around your hips, spreading the skin and forcing you open so he has better access to your cunt.

heat pools in your stomach and you feel the familiar burn start to build in between your legs. “co-coming,” you gasp. “cheol, i’m–”

he groans into your cunt in response, sending waves throughout your body.

you sneak a glance down at him. his eyes are squeezed shut as he devours you, fucking you with his tongue with the most blissful look on his face, as if there isn’t anywhere in the world he would rather be right now than with his face buried in your pussy and your thighs trembling around his head.

the sight alone is enough to send you over the edge, muscles contracting and fingers grabbing desperately at the sheets to ground you as you stumble into your orgasm.

your whines stick in your throat as you gasp for breath, vision going white as you cum harder than you ever have in your life. no vibrator on earth could compare to the way seungcheol feels between your legs— and you’ve got quite the collection of toys back at home.

he keeps sucking, carrying you through your orgasm until you flop back on the bed, thoroughly exhausted. he finally pulls off of you for just a second, catching his own breath.

“god, can’t wait to get my cock in you,” he murmurs before diving back in, barely giving you time to recover before he’s building you back up for another.

you sob out his name as his tongue slips inside your hole and back out, dragging up and down your folds and spreading your juices everywhere. you can feel it dripping down your thighs and onto the comforter below.

“coming, coming, please, cheol, please, i–” you pant, struggling for words.

instinctively your legs snap shut around his head, trying to hold him in place, but he easily pries them apart again as you hurtle towards another orgasm. you cum on his tongue, again, sobbing his name like it’s the only word you know.

when he finally decides you’re ready to take his cock, you’re nothing short of a mess. pretty face smeared with makeup and tears, pretty cunt smeared with cum and saliva. he sits back on his heels, admiring how you look. your eyes flutter shut, chest heaving as you gasp for air, and he thinks he hasn’t seen a more beautiful sight in his life.

“you okay, baby?” he hums, massaging your thigh.

a weak “yes” is all you can manage. he runs a hand over your skin soothingly, this time giving you plenty of time to recover. 

when you’ve finally caught your breath enough to sit up, he’s still watching you cautiously. 

“all right?” he asks, and you nod. “if you’re done, we don’t have to keep going…” he starts, but you stop him, shaking your head.

“i told you before, i want to,” you say, taking his hand and lacing your fingers with his. 

he smiles, and you lay back down, pulling him on top of you. he adjusts back in between your legs, positioning himself at the entrance of your pussy. he drags his cock through your folds, collecting what’s left of his frantic makeout session from earlier and spreading it over his length, using it as lubrication.

still holding your hand, he starts to press into you, just barely the tip. you gasp as he keeps going, carefully pushing inch after inch into your tight hole. 

you squeeze his hand and he freezes, not even halfway inside yet. “okay?” he murmurs, rubbing your hand with his thumb.

“yeah, just– one second, please,” you stutter, breathing hard.

he wants to kiss you, so badly, but he can’t bend over without moving and hurting you. so he settles for bringing your entwined hands to his mouth, pressing a gentle kiss to the back of your hand.

the new feeling subsides, the pain of being split open beginning to lessen as you adjust to his size.

“you can… keep going,” you exhale softly.

he nods and starts to push in again, stuffing you full. it takes a while, but when finally he bottoms out, you both let out moans: him at the feeling of your tight hole clenching around him, and you at the feeling of being so full in the best ways.

after staying still to give you more time to adjust, he begins to pick up the pace, starting slowly and gradually building up until he’s pounding into you.

your back slides up and down the bed, each thrust sending you closer and closer to the wall above your head. attentive as ever, cheol notices, and stills his hips for just a second so he can grab your waist with both hands and yank you down away from the headboard. you yelp and clutch at his back, holding on for dear life as he continues pounding into you.

the bed squeaks with each thrust, and for a split second you worry about breaking the bedframe and having to pay for the damage. but then seungcheol is brushing your hair out of your face and cradling your head between his forearms, and all the thoughts in your head disappear when he stares into your eyes, your faces inches apart.

“can i– kiss you?” he groans, his eyelashes fluttering.

“please, ch-cheol,” you gasp. your hands claw at his shoulders, trying to pull him impossibly closer.

he leans down, closing the distance between you and pressing his lips to yours, somehow too gentle and too rough at the same time. your senses seem to explode, so much happening at once, and you move your hands up to the back of his head, threading your fingers through his hair and tug, pushing him to kiss you deeper.

he moans into you, a deep, rumbling sound you feel all the way in the pit of your stomach. his thrusts get rougher and rougher, and you know he’s getting close. he pulls his lips off of you with a gasp. “whe–where do you want me to–”

“inside,” you plead, your voice coming out throaty. “please, cheol, inside, please–”

he cuts you off and captures your lips again, moaning into your mouth. his hips continue to rut into you desperately and you can only hold on, coming closer and closer to your own orgasm.

you can feel him throb deep in your abdomen, the tip of his cock kissing your walls with each snap of his hips. he shifts slightly and suddenly he’s fucking you like you’ve never felt before. the new angle has you seeing stars, and you clench around him, letting out a choked sob as you come undone on his cock.

your hoarse voice crying out his name over and over again while you quiver in his arms is too much for him, and with a guttural moan he lets go, his own orgasm washing over him and flooding your insides with his cum.

his hips begin to slow, rocking into you with a lazy rhythm as you both come down from your highs. his arms still surround either side of your head, and he moves his wrist to brush your hair out of your face. your hair is sticky with sweat and your eyes are puffy from crying, your mouth hanging open slightly as you struggle to catch your breath.

cheol lays on top of you, resting his head on your chest but careful not to put his full weight on you, letting you cockwarm him for a while. you’re both exhausted and you just lay there together, basking in the afterglow of pleasure.

but as much as you never want the moment to end, you can feel his cum leaking out of you, and you know you probably look like a horrible mess. you whine and push weakly at his shoulders, making him sit up quickly in concern.

“could you… in my bag,” you mumble, pointing a shaky hand towards your cosmetic bag. “m-makeup wipes.”

he slides off of you, leaving a sweet kiss on your forehead before crossing the room to grab them for you. you stay laying on your back, staring at the ceiling, trying to comprehend what just happened.

“here,” cheol says softly, handing you the wipes. you give him a faint smile and prop yourself up on your elbows. you wince when you sit back on your tailbone, sore from how hard seungcheol had fucked you.

he sits at the edge of the bed and gives you an apologetic pout, knowing it’s mostly his fault. “do you… need anything?” he asks shyly, not sure what you need him to do.

“stay?” you ask, voice small. “gonna have to shower, and i’ll– um, need help,” you finish. there’s no chance you’ll be able to walk straight for at least the next few hours, let alone stand in the shower by yourself.

he smiles and puts a hand on your thigh, rubbing at the bruises that have started to form there. “i’ll stay as long as you want me to.”

you scrub at your face, getting the last of the mascara off your cheeks before tossing the dirtied wipe into the trash can by the nightstand. 

with a bit of effort, you manage to throw your legs over the side of the bed, sitting at the edge. you glance behind you at the bed covered in both of your fluids, and you wince, knowing most of it is your fault. “sorry about the sheets,” you whisper, resisting the urge to hide your face in embarrassment.

“baby, we’ll wash them,” he smiles. “don’t worry about it.”

“okay,” you say quietly. you look over to cheol, still sitting beside you, and reach out with both hands for him to help you up.

he jumps up, taking your hands and tugging you to your feet. your legs wobble when you stand, and he slides his arm around your waist to support you as he helps walk you to the bathroom.

you flop down onto the toilet while seungcheol starts the shower, and you have to hold back a laugh at the sight. the buff, sexy innkeeper, butt-ass naked in your bathroom, leaning over the edge of the tub to test the water temperature and make sure it’s not too hot for you.

you know you’re only here for a week, but you could really get used to this.

taglist | @shuatm @yeosayang @noniestars @dkakapizzaboy @enhacolor @kimy3na @candidupped @berrryshortcake @tinkerbell460 @haraethx @iheartyeonnnnn @mxnghao8

[w--zii]

a surprise

bf!jihoon x fem!reader

[minors dni]

smut warning: needy jihoon lol. male masturbation. audio recording, thats all. let me know if theres more.

vc: 530

being away from you... wasn't his favourite. even though most of the time he was in his studio creating masterpieces, barely coming home or having time for you, when things aren't in his control it drives him mad.

this is one of those times. he is aching for your touch. palming himself through his pants, he's been staring at white ceiling for 15 minutes now. with a crying groan he took his phone from nightstand and checked if he has any new messages from you. zero, of course, you are probably overworking yourself again, he thought.

jihoon's mind raced as he lay there, his thoughts consumed by images of you. the memory of your touch on his bare skin, your scent, the way you looked at him every time you took him inside your mouth, feeling your tongue on his pink-ish head.. all the thoughts fueled his desire even more. (he has a tent now)

his fingers tapping on the screen as he navigated to the voice recording app. all his song drafts welcomed him. with a smirk on his face he pressed start button and set down the phone beside his head, where the microphone can get every single sound he makes. now some pant unzipping sound can be heard. he took his cock out and gave it couple of strokes. he brought his hand mouth to spit on his fingers, especially leaning towards mic.

his slutty smirk never left his lips. he started smearing his precum all over his head, small whines leaving his mouth, he felt his heart beating faster. how many days its been since he grew this horny? he doesn't even know anymore. all he knows is how he wants you on top of him.

hand tightening around his cock, he couldn't let go of the image of your warm throat welcoming him. he didn't hesitate to make noises, even he's making sure that you can hear how needy he is for you when you listen to it.

his hands fastened as his desire for a release grow bigger. he let out breathy moans every 2 seconds, making every noise known to humans. he slowed down his movements to edge himself, moaning your name and mumbling about how much he needs you, misses your tight cunt around him. he knows that if you were to be with him here right now, you'd get bratty and torture him, of course, only to get punished afterwards. but anyway.

“y/n.. princess, i wish you were here.”

“wouldn't you want to suck me off, hm?”

“i know you miss my cock.”

“a–ah, y/n”

“i'd rather cumming on your pretty tits than my own hands..”

“mmh. my slut. i miss you.”

and.. more of him yapping....

he let out his hungry groans as hips chased his hands, bucking and going after his climax. long ropes of cum covered his stomach, glistening and making an absurd shape, it was sad that you weren't there to lick him clean. he rested both of his hands on sides as he ride though the orgasm.

he stopped the recording with his clean hand and continued staring at the ceiling. proud of his actions (lol).

part 1 | part 2 | part 3

not proof read. © w--zii. do not repost.

[imaslutforwritingshit]

Things Ethan Landry would text you if you were his s/o (Part 2)

Gender neutral, contains sexting/smut

Warnings- knifeplay fantasies, sadism fantasies, killer trope.

tags!- @nowitsmissing

THREE THOUSAND MILES

Y/n: i miss u sm

Y/n: im thinking of you

Ethan: I miss you too.

Y/n: what’s it like? the forest?

Ethan: it smells like shit. The only good thing about this cabin is how vacant the area is.

Y/n: now, how many people have you already killed on your family vacation, ethan?

Ethan: zero

Y/n: i don’t believe u

Ethan: it’s tempting. I would line up their bodies and impale them like the Voivode of Wallachia.

Y/n: huh?

Ethan: I need you teach you about history, pretty girl. You seem to lack knowledge in the cruelest dictators of all time.

Y/n: like adolf hitler? not really a flex to have nazis in your brain

Ethan: No no no. Like, the most inspiring and overall good torturers.

Y/n: is anyone who tortures people a good person?

Ethan: I am.

Y/n: you’re a very bad person, ethan. no need to hide the truth from me.

Y/n: i like you for your darkness

Ethan: yeah?

Y/n: yeah

Ethan: would you still like me if I had a knife to your body?

Ethan: slicing scars into your skin

Ethan: making you mine

Y/n: what if I would?

Ethan: then you would be a fucking idiot.

Y/n: anything for you.

Ethan: Anything? Don’t tempt me.

Y/n: but I enjoy it so so much.

Ethan: if I was in town I would be by your house already

Ethan: i would open your window

Ethan: and fuck you so hard you would be begging me to stop

Ethan: I would choke you until you were seeing stars. I would force you to look at me

Ethan: watch me as I fucked you

Y/n: I want you so bad

Y/n: i would beg for it if it means I’d have you again

Ethan: slut

Ethan: you’re so weak. my fucking toy.

Ethan: I can’t believe how pathetic you are. I could have you my way, fuck you until you’re bleeding, and screaming

Ethan: I could kill you.

Y/n: the thrill of that excites me

Ethan: you really are a whore

Y/n: don’t act like you don’t enjoy it

Y/n: the thought of me so obedient to you.

Ethan: Oh, I’m not acting.

Y/n: I think you’re the whore, ethan

Y/n: fantasizing about me

Y/n: i bet your dirty mind can’t stop thinking of me stripping

Y/n: pleasing you

Ethan: god

Y/n: ?

Y/n: what?

Ethan: i can’t keep my hand out of my pants when i text you

Y/n: you’re touching yourself?

Ethan: yeah

Y/n: what are you thinking about?

Ethan: bending you over

Ethan: choking you while I fuck that tight body

Ethan: seeing you turn white with fear

Y/n: im touching myself too

Ethan: good

Y/n: i miss your cock inside of me

Y/n: im so empty without you

Ethan: fuck

Ethan: i’m so close

Y/n: me too

Ethan: not yet

Y/n: please

Y/n: im edging myself

Ethan: i thought you liked the pain

Y/n: i do

Ethan: so endure it.

Ethan: you’re making me feral

Ethan: i’m gonna cum

Y/n: please

Y/n: i cant take it anymore

Ethan: fuck

Ethan: i’m cumming

Y/n: i already did

Ethan: so desperate

Y/n: i miss your body so much

Ethan: you know what you do to me? I’m grinding my hips into my fist. my body is wet with my cum

Ethan: I had to bite my lip to stop from screaming your name

Y/n: id kill for you.

Ethan: I’ve already killed for you.

Y/n: I love you

Ethan: you shouldn’t.

Y/n: i can’t control the way you make my nerves catch on fire

Ethan: when I get home I’m gonna ruin you

Ethan: keep your window unlocked

Ethan: i can’t wait to see you shaking for me

Ethan: i love you too

Y/n: take a picture of a bear for me

Ethan: there’s no bears in this forest

Y/n: you’ll figure it out

Ethan: ig so

Ethan: anything for you, my love

Y/n: :)

[queerweewoo]

100% in the Buddie Team Switch tent over here btw bc these bastards are honestly just far too complex to ever be anything else imo. like Buck with his praise kink, all somebody please tell me i did good as i wasn't told this growing up by the people who were supposed to say it to me and it changed my brain chemistry by denying me of positive affirmations and molded me into a pliable thing that cannot help but take any shape others want me to so i just need need need you to please please tell me that i did good and that i am good and please will you help me to believe that i am as good as you're telling me i am by holding me down and forcing me to take all of you into all of me until I'm fucking convulsing with just how good it feels and how good i am at it, and bc i now know for sure how much you love it too as you're saying it out loud to me, over and over and over again... and Eddie, with absolutely everything in his life (outside of work) feeling so very out of his control and needing to gain some of it back by crushing Buck with his body weight and telling Buck exactly what it is he should be doing and precisely how to do it and have Buck whining and keening with how desperate he is to comply bc Buck has complete trust in Eddie, in Eddie's ability to make the right decision for whatever it is Buck needs, for what they both need, and having that allows Eddie to have the courage in his convictions that he often struggles to have outside of the(ir) bedroom when it comes to his emotions and that just feels so good to Eddie, to be doing it right, to be the one making Buck feel good, so good, and to actually be taking—for once in his life—what it is that he wants and allowing himself to have the things he desires, to have Buck, all for himself, because that is what feels good to him... but then there are those other times in Eddie's life that he has had to and has to be a sure and steady hand, a reliable go-to, be totally unshakeable and unbreakable and in charge of making decisions that affect countless people's lives—victims of war, those he tries his best to serve and save on calls, colleagues, friends, the people he cares for and those he loves the most in his life—and it's, well. it's A Lot. so much, actually, that Eddie sometimes needs to turn it off and just let it all go and allow somebody else take over and tell him what to do and when to do it bc he just needs to not think about it anymore, to not think at all, needs to just be a vessel for somebody else's decisions and desires and put his trust wholly in somebody else, in Buck, bc he doesn't always trust himself but Buck knows Eddie so well and so completely and understands what Eddie needs to get out of his own head and just have somebody tell him (outside of his job) that he did good for once, that he can get matters of the heart right instead of always wrong wrong wrong and have Buck tell him that yes, of course he's good for something, good for this, good for splaying himself wide open and taking everything he is given by Buck... and then there's the whole Buck (outside of work) having zero fucking clue of what he's doing and even tho he is trying his very best all of the time he's getting it wrong A Lot of the time, bc his best isn't always good enough so he has to try harder but then he's trying too hard, too much, which means he still isn't getting it right. and so to be able to be the one in charge of things and have his will and instruction be absolutely the right thing? the very thing that Eddie needs? that's such a heady experience, such a rush, and when he makes Eddie beg and cry with it and Eddie loves loves loves Buck for it—loves Buck for telling him how it should be and for Buck insisting on what he's giving being what Eddie deserves—that is Buck living and thriving and loving loving loving Eddie right back, with all the plundering depth that he has in him and can give and is... and that, all of that, is just. how it is. every facet of it; every logistic; every angle; every way and any way you look at it; every (s)which way.

[fandom-chic]

Please Please Please: Chapter 13

Summary: Y/N is only a child when she and Tommy Shelby meet. The two quickly become best friends as they grow up in Small Heath. As the years go by, Y/N and Tommy know there may be more to their friendship than they originally thought.

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x Y/N

A/N: Final chapter my friends! Thanks for reading this, it means a lot to me. Enjoy <3 Also for those who are curious, the title of this fic is based off The Smiths song, "Please Please Please, Let Me Get What I Want". Give it a gander if you haven't.

Previous chapter

Year: 1924

Her curls did not want to sit properly on her shoulders. Y/N had been standing in front of her mirror now for twenty minutes, focusing on the strands of hair that would not cooperate. They seemed to be skewing and frizzing in directions she could not control. Even running a comb to loosen the curls did not seem to do the job. Finally, Y/N sighed and let her hands fall to her sides, accepting that this was the mess that was her hair that day.

She just wanted to be perfect. She had to be. 

A day like this is one that sticks in someone's mind for a long time and she must leave a favorable impression. Or at least pass as somewhat graceful, especially in the wake of what has happened.

“Mummy!” Her daughter’s shout reverberated through the house, interrupting Y/N’s racing thoughts. It may be for the best that she approached this day with her mind as a blank slate. That was what this day was, blank and with zero expectations. If it was anything else to her, it couldn’t be. One may say that was cruel and unfeeling. Y/N didn’t really know anymore.

“Coming sweetheart,” Y/N shouted back, dabbing a final blot of red lipstick upon her lip before heading out of her bedroom door. When she entered Jane’s room, she saw the little girl in her PJs still, holding a doll in each hand. Jane looked up at her mother, using the doll to gesture towards her.

“Play with me, Mummy.” Y/N let out a sigh before heading to her daughter’s bed, holding up the dress she laid out for Jane. 

“Janey, I told you to put this dress on,” Y/N said, annoyance mixing into her voice. Jane frowned, fixating back on her dolls.

“I don’t want to,” Jane stated, as if the conversation was over. 

“Well, you have to.” Y/N retorted tiredly, not wanting to argue with her five year old daughter. 

“No,” Jane whined, standing up and throwing the dolls to the floor. 

“Yes,” Y/N responded, “We have to leave in ten minutes or we’re going to be late.” 

“I don’t want to go,” Jane screamed, the tantrum on the precipice of beginning. Y/N could feel frustration simmering in her gut as she bent down to her daughter’s height. 

“I know you don’t want to, love, but there’s no one to watch you,” Y/N said, placing a hand on her daughter’s arm, “Plus, you don’t want Mummy to be alone today, do you? She’s going to miss you so much.” Her daughter’s face softened immediately, as if the idea of her mother being all alone was the worst thing imaginable. Jane quickly shook her head, grabbing the dress from her mother’s hands. 

“No, I don’t want you to be lonely.” Y/N nodded at this, feeling that with each day that goes by, she is becoming more and more like her own mother. The guilt tripping was beginning early. Y/N helped pull the dress over Jane’s head and took her daughter in. She truly was the best thing in your life. 

“Ready to go?” Y/N asked. Jane answered with a nod. Y/N gave her daughter a smile before taking her and leading the two of them out the door. It was too nice out today to drive, so Y/N decided to let them walk. It wasn’t the farthest walk in the world, only twenty minutes away. The weather seemed to put Jane in a better mood as she began skipping down the road of Small Heath. Looking down at her daughter, Y/N couldn’t help but see herself. This was about the age she was when she moved to Small Heath. This was the age she was when her life changed and she still isn’t sure if it was for the worse or the better. Regardless, William would be so proud of their little girl. 

The walk went by quickly and soon they were there. It was a small funeral, smaller than Y/N expected, especially since the deceased was a well loved member of town. Y/N and Jane went into the church and were greeted by a closed casket as well as a beautiful portrait of her, Grace. The barmaid from that day all those years ago. Y/N stood and examined every inch of it, taking in the soft blue eyes and the quaffed blonde hair. Tommy did pick a beautiful wife. 

To be honest, Y/N still wasn’t entirely sure why she was here. She and Tommy hadn’t spoken since that day five years ago. It was probably for the best, even if Y/N had spent many nights dreaming up conversations with her best friend. She played back that last night in her head, wondering what would’ve happened if she let him stay. She sighed to herself, squeezing her daughter’s hand gently.

Deep down, Y/N knew why she was here. He was her best friend and, even if he wasn’t there on the worst day of her life, she had to be there for him. A tear pricked the corner of her eye as she pushed that thought down as people began to file into the church. 

“Come on, sweetheart, let’s take a seat.” At that, the woman and her daughter went to one of the back pews and took a seat. The two of them observe the service from afar. They weren’t family and they were barely friends anymore. 

Loved one after loved one spoke about Grace, remembering the wonderful woman that she was. The event seemed to almost drag on until Tommy finally rose. Y/N’s breath caught in her throat as he looked out at the crowd. She hoped he wouldn’t see her as she tried to hunch into the pew. 

He cleared his throat of tears before speaking, “I didn’t think this day would come. The day I would have to say goodbye to my Grace,” His voice wavered slightly but he continued, “But here we are. Grace, I love you beyond words and I will miss you for the rest of my life.” At that, he was done and he was seated. It was short but sometimes that’s all you can say when your spouse suddenly dies.

Soon after this, everything came to a close. Y/N and Jane rose quickly and began to head out. Tommy didn’t need to know she was here. As she’s about to make her way out the door, she felt a hand on her shoulder. She froze, not sure if she should look at who was behind her.

“Hello, love,” she relaxed at that voice. Arthur. She turned around and brought the man into an embrace.

“Arthur Shelby, it’s been too long,” she felt his hands go around her waist and hold her close. He then pulled away, putting his hands on both her shoulders, taking her in.

“Each time I see you, you just get more and more beautiful,” Y/N couldn’t help but roll her eyes at his comment. His gaze then moves to the little girl attached to her mother’s hip. He bends down, going eye to eye with the child.

“And you must be Jane, you look just like your mum,” Jane, usually not a shy girl, hides in Y/N’s skirt. Y/N gave a small chuckle as she looked back at Arthur.

“She’s not usually like this,” Arthur shrugged.

“It’s not every day a little girl has to go to a funeral.” Arthur stopped himself short before he could say anything else. He looked into Y/N’s eyes to see if he touched a nerve and noticed the slight sadness that entered and left her face. It was just a moment, but anyone who knew Y/N would’ve noticed. He cleared his throat awkwardly before continuing, “I’m sorry again about William.” 

Y/N’s gaze immediately went to the corner of the room. This was a discussion she was used to having at this point. It had been three years since she lost her husband, but the wound still hurt. It was like the scab got peeled back and slowly picked at until blood started to flow. 

Y/N let her hand fidgets with her skirt as she tried to look back at Arthur, “It’s alright, it’s been years now.” Arthur takes her hand from her skirt. 

“That doesn’t make it any less awful,” He gave her hand a squeeze, “The least I can do is ask you back for drinks at Arrow House. I’m sure the rest of the family would want to see you.” 

“Arthur, I’m not sure-”

“I won’t take no for an answer.” Y/N sighs, considering what the next part of her day would look like. Before she knew it, she was on the grounds of Arrow House. It really wasn’t a house though, a mansion was a more apt word for what this estate was. Even though the home could’ve fit hundreds of people in it, only a couple were there now. Family and Y/N and Jane, but Tommy nowhere in sight.

Everyone seemed to disperse around the house, including Jane who went off with Ada’s boy, Karl. Y/N tried to schmooze with the Shelby family, but couldn’t help her eyes from wandering. She had to find Tommy. She knew he was somewhere in this mansion. There was no way he wasn’t. So, when people seemed distracted, she left the crowd and began searching. It didn’t take a lot of exploring before she noticed a door with a light peaking through the bottom. Her curiosity didn’t allow her to knock; she reached for the doorknob, pushing the door open. 

Y/N was correct in her assumption because there Tommy was, head in his hands as he sat hunched at his desk. She knew she should make her presence known. She knew the least she could do is say hello. It would force him to look up and acknowledge her. But that’s not what she did. She couldn’t because all she saw was the boy with the baseball from all those years ago broken into millions of pieces. Her feet led her right to him and her body did what it had to. She scurried over, taking him into her arms.

His instinct was to twitch away, even try to swat at the random hands but then he saw her. Even though it was years, he couldn’t help but lean in. He knew it could’ve been decades, even lifetimes and he would always lean into her touch.

“Y/N.” The word came out in the timbre of a whisper, but Y/N heard it. It was her Tommy, how could she not?

“Tommy.” His arms wrapped tightly around her waist as her hand went into his hair, stroking it. “I’m so sorry.”

She waited for Tommy to respond, but he didn’t say anything. He just held her. So she let him. She let him take her in like she had so many times before and she felt a semblance of peace. Maybe for the first time in a long time. Minutes ticked by like this before Y/N felt Tommy move. She looked down at him to see him rising to his feet. Soon, her hands were on her cheeks as he gazed into her eyes.

“I can’t believe you came,” he whispered. Y/N couldn’t help but lean her forehead against his. He let her.

“You’re my best friend, Tommy,” she responded, her voice quivering, “it’s what best friends do.” She felt him twitch at that, knowing she may have accidentally hit a nerve.

“You can’t say that, Y/N,” the volume of his voice began to rise, “when William died I was nowhere to be seen. I left you alone like a fucking coward.”

“Don’t say that,” Y/N soothed, but Tommy pulled away.

“No, I will,” Tommy said, running a hand through his hair in frustration, “Your fucking husband died and I couldn’t put my ego aside long enough to see you.” 

Y/N stood in silence, watching him, taking in his words. At the time of William’s funeral, Y/N was half a woman. Not even, she was not even one percent of who she used to be. She was all alone with a toddler and a restaurant, unsure of how the next day would go. And despite all of that, she wished she could cry in Tommy’s arms. She also wanted to punch his chest in frustration. 

When she received the news of Grace’s death, she was ready to stay home. To spend a day like any other day, until she got a knock at her door. When she opened it, Polly stood before her, more sullen than Y/N had seen her in years.

“Polly, what are you doing here?”

“Hello, Y/N,” she said, letting herself in. She took off her gloves and took in the home quickly, before continuing, “I wish I could’ve come with better news but…” she trailed off before continuing, “Tommy’s wife died.” 

Y/N’s hand instinctively flew to her chest, “Oh god, that’s awful, what happened?” And Polly explained the series of events of the last few years and the rise to power the Peaky Blinders had come to which, inevitably, led to Grace’s death.

“I’m so sorry Pol, what a terrible thing to happen,” Y/N said, “Please send my condolences to Tommy, I’m sure he needs it more than ever right now.” Y/N had expected the conversation to be over now, but Polly didn’t move.

“He needs you, Y/N. More than ever.” Y/N averted her gaze from Polly. The last thing she wanted to do was see Tommy.

Y/N let out a sigh before saying, “Polly, I’m not sure that’s a great idea. Besides, he didn’t come to William’s funeral and that was-”

“I know, but you have to realize he couldn’t.” Polly’s hand went to Y/N’s, giving it a squeeze, “He may seem like a man who is invincible, but with you… it’s different. He becomes that little boy again. You’re more than he is and I think he knows that.” 

And those words stuck with Y/N, especially here in Tommy’s office. She didn’t care about his ego anymore or the jealousy or any of that bullshit. All she knew was he needed her. So she reached out to him, hoping he would come.

“It’s the past now, Tom.” The words shocked him and seemed to surprise her as well, but anger had to leave at some point. “You’re my best friend, you always have been and you always will be.” 

So he goes to her, pulling her into his arms. Even after all this time, they still fit like puzzle pieces. True, they were a bit more jagged now, but they still were perfect matches. 

“I love you, Y/N,” She knew those words were real.

“I love you too.” And slowly, they knew that one day, they could heal. 

End

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[guiltyasdave]

end game

series masterlist • this is part VII

pairing: Dave York x f!reader

word count: ~3.8k

summary: Heartbreak, an explanation and an epilogue.

warnings/tags: explicit smut (-> 18+ only!), angst, feelings, heartbreak, depression, mention of weight loss, fluff, able-bodied reader, reader has hair, dom!Dave, sub!reader, sir kink, degradation kink, fingering, unprotected p in v (it's never stated in the fic but i headcanon that reader is on birth control), basically free use kink, rough sex, dirty talk, spanking, spit kink, praise kink, Dave is a menace, praise kink, idiots in love, please let me know if i missed anything!

a/n: the biggest thank you to @joelscurls for letting me scream about this again and againnnnn, and reading over my drafts countless times, you’re the best, jess! <3

thank you to @daddy-dins-girl for talking plot holes with me and motivating me to write <3

thank you to everyone who has read and loved this series, i have received sooooo many kind words, feedback and just so much love. i started writing this as a pwp oneshot and the fact that it has turned into my first series ever and one that i had soooo much fun with is wild. i’m incredibly emotional about saying goodbye to my babies, maybe i’ll revisit them when i need to write some kinky shit out of my system haha. i hope that you like the ending that i’ve built for them.

a few words about the plot: i actually have zero clue how the hitman business works (shocker, i know), so some parts of this are purposefully vague in a way that i hope is believable and somewhat realistic. just roll with it, thanks :D

dividers as always by @saradika-graphics 🫶🏻

find my full masterlist here & follow @guiltyasdavenotifs for fic updates.

The first week you don’t hear from Dave, you’re confused, but not necessarily worried yet. There have been weeks of silence in the past, though you’ll admit that you had thought that things might be… different now.

Your texts to him stay on delivered, never switching to read. Which has also happened before, especially when he was away on business, but still… The thought that he has gone back to his normal life without sparing as much as a glance back at your time together is nagging at you.

You can still feel his hands on your skin, can still hear him whisper in your ear how beautiful you look, how perfect you are for him. It’s hard to come to terms with the thought that it wasn’t real, that his words and actions didn’t hold the same weight for him that they did for you. Reality has finally caught up to you and it hurts.

When two weeks blend into three weeks and you’ve still heard nothing, you start getting worried. He had said his line of work was dangerous, after all.

Your conversation, still so close and yet a lifetime ago, echoes in your mind. 'Nothing's gonna happen,’ you had said. ‘Not to the girls, not to me. And not to you.’ And not to you. ‘You don’t know that, sweetheart,’ his voice rings through your head. Sweetheart. The word tastes bitter on your tongue and wraps itself around your chest until you feel like you’re choking with it, like you can’t draw breath into your lungs anymore.

Sweetheart.

You don’t know that.

Sweetheart.

You start looking him up online, to find anything that might at least tell you that he’s okay. You don’t want to believe that he would be cruel enough to ghost you, but you barely dare to consider the alternative. You find nothing, no mention of his name, like he doesn’t even exist.

Your calls stay unanswered, your messages stay unread. You find yourself subconsciously checking your texts and your emails countless times a day, catch yourself staring out of your window in the blind hope that he might appear outside. He wouldn’t just leave you like this, would he? Would he?

Days blur into weeks and eventually into months. You’re painfully aware that it’s not healthy, this kind of heartbreak, especially not over a relationship that never even meant anything. If only your heart would understand that.

It was never serious enough that you told any of your friends about it, never wanted to be labeled as the girl that sleeps with married men, never wanted to admit your feelings to someone else when you could barely admit them to yourself. Regardless, even without knowing what exactly was going on, your friends had tried to be there for you, to convince you to go out with them, to cheer you up, but you had turned them down often enough that on this Friday night, your phone stays silent.

It’s better this way. All you want to do is rot away on your couch, staring at the TV with unseeing eyes until it’s an acceptable time to go to bed. Maybe it won’t take you hours of lying in the dark to fall asleep tonight. Maybe it won’t remind you of a different kind of darkness in a different room, a room where the sound of waves against the shore and the deep breaths beside you lulled you to sleep.

You need to get yourself together, your inner voice whispers. Next week, you think. Or the one after that.

A knock on your door shakes you out of your thoughts and you pad over, expecting to be met with the Chinese takeout that you had ordered in hopes of fueling your appetite at least a bit with the prospect of comfort food. Absentmindedly, you note the surprisingly short delivery time. You barely look up as you swing the door open, busy fiddling with your purse to extract a few dollar bills.

After finally managing to pull them out, you face the doorway. A greeting dies in your throat.

Familiar deep brown eyes burn into yours, framed by the face that you wish you’d forget but can’t. The short brown hair, the clean shaven jawline that you can still feel underneath your fingertips, the memory all too fresh in your mind. He looks tired, you think, and instantly scold yourself for knowing him well enough to even notice.

The seconds tick by as you motionlessly stare at him, blinking slowly, your mind running a mile a minute. Why is he here? He can’t be here. Are you making this up? If so, things are far worse than you had thought.

He clears his throat, shifting his weight uncomfortably. It’s probably the least sure of himself that you’ve ever seen him.

“Hey,” he murmurs, his hand twitching like he almost reached out to you but changed his mind. “Can I- can I come in?”

You regard him for a moment longer. The sound of his voice makes him appear more real, and the fog in your head slowly clears. He’s alive. He’s here. In front of your door. Alive and well. Your emotions boil up inside of you.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?! You think you can just show up here after months and ask if you can come in? I thought you were… I thought…”

Your voice betrays you, breaking at the sharp sting of pain in your chest that you’ve fruitlessly tried to suppress and the feeling of your throat closing up. Tears spill over and you furiously wipe at your cheeks, determined to keep some semblance of dignity.

“I know,” Dave breathes, defeatedly. “I’m so sorry. Please let me explain.” His hand reaches towards you again. You shy away from his touch and an expression of hurt ripples across his face. “Please, sweetheart.”

“Don’t call me that.”

Your voice only trembles a little as you snap at him. After another look at his face, you eventually step aside and jerk your head towards your living area. You briefly think about how messy the place is, for how many weeks you didn’t have it in yourself to clean up. You can’t bring yourself to care. Seeing him walk through your flat again after being so painfully aware of his absence leaves you almost dizzy. You take the opposite ends of your couch, both of your bodies stiff, careful not to touch one another.

“Okay,” you sigh. “Explain.”

So he explains. How he received a call, barely thirty minutes after he stepped into his house, with a mission that was too perfect of an opportunity to pass it up. There had been no time to let you know, the risk too high to use his personal phone once he started working.

He goes back to the persona that took up half of his life for so long, the identity that is no more, the man that fell down a watchtower and was washed away by the sea. Body never found. At least that’s what everyone who knew this man thinks. Everyone who knew him, but not Dave York.

He’s been thorough with it, with the most important mission he’s ever done. There are no loose ends, no one who could trace things back to the real him.

It took longer than he had anticipated and he kept laying low afterwards, until he could be absolutely sure that no one would be looking for him anymore.

He doesn’t think that he’ll ever get rid of the worry, ever stop looking over his shoulder, but rationally, he knows that he did it. He got out.

Then he had talked to Carol, let her know that he wants a divorce. It had been- easy, almost. She didn’t cry, didn’t scream at him, just nodded like she had known this day would come for a long time. He thinks that she almost seemed relieved, in a way.

Your eyes had been glued to his face since he started speaking. Tears are silently running down your cheeks.

“I know that I should have found a way to contact you. I didn’t-” He sighs, running a hand over his face. “I didn’t know what to do. I was so worried that someone would find out about you. I never wanted to hurt you, you have to believe that.” He knows that he looks a mess, that his desperation to make you understand is written all over his features.

Every day that he didn’t call you, he knew that he was hurting you. He tried justifying it with himself, that having you think he left you was better than risking somebody coming after you. It never gave him much comfort.

It’s even worse, now that he sees the damage he had done. You have lost weight, deep circles have formed under your eyes and you move like you’re barely holding yourself together. He saw the panic on your face when he tried reaching for you at the door. No matter what he had done to you in the past, you always sought out the safety of his touch afterwards. Until now.

“Please believe me,” he whispers.

You study his face for what feels like a lifetime. Tears are glistening on your lashes. You look so tired, so defeated that it makes his heart ache.

“You’ve done it?” you finally ask. Your voice is a quiet thing, barely bridging the distance between the two of you. A flicker of hope rings with it. “You’re safe now?”

He nods silently, fighting the urge to gather you in his arms, to promise you that he’ll always be there from now on. A small smile curves your lips upward as you mirror his nod, like you’re trying to let this new reality sink in.

“That’s good,” you murmur.

You lean forward, your fingers tentatively closing around his fist that’s clenched tightly against his thigh.

Hope flickers inside his chest. He can taste the three words that he’s been wanting to say to you for far too long on the tip of his tongue. He’s not going to, not right now, not today. But someday soon, he thinks that he might.

Two years later

“Bye girls, say hi to your mom and Matt from me,” you smile, embracing each of them in a tight hug before they dash out of the door, a jumble of giggles and excited chatter. Dave trails behind them with a grin on his face, pecking your lips and calling out for them to slow down.

Your heart is full, overflowing with love for this family that, against all odds, has become yours. You watch Dave usher his daughters into the car and push the doors closed behind them, the smile still on your lips. As you walk back into the house, your eyes linger on the thin silver band adorning your ring finger.

It’s still new, still an unexpected sight when you catch it on the edge of your periphery. It’s the tangible proof of you being the happiest you’ve ever been.

Things had been rough at first, after Dave came back to you. You understood why he handled the situation the way he did, but it took you a long time to trust that he wouldn’t disappear again. To believe that he left his old life behind, that he chose you. But he did.

You busy yourself with cleaning up the inevitable chaos that having the girls over for Dave’s days with them always creates. It’s not the life that you would have expected yourself to have a few years ago, but right now, it feels like you’re exactly where you’re supposed to be.

A few minutes later, your phone pings with a message from Dave.

Be back in 15. I expect you naked and on your knees waiting by the door.

You bite your lip, heat building inside you with rapid speed. Your phone pings again.

Don’t disappoint me.

Fuck. Wetness is already gathering between your legs as you jump into action.

The car door slamming shut has never sounded so good before. You’re listening intently, catching Dave’s heavy footsteps on the stairs and the jingle of his keys before the door opens beside where you’re kneeling.

You look up at him from your place on the floor, watching the mix of smugness and adoration on his face as he takes in your position. A shudder runs through you and your nipples harden under his demanding gaze. He steps closer, caressing your cheek.

“Such a good girl… my obedient little wife, aren’t you?”

“Yes, sir,” you whimper, the coherent thoughts slowly draining from your brain and craving more of his touch, more of him.

He smiles down at you, his eyes glinting predatorily. You’ve come to know this shift into the darkness since you first met, but it’s more playful these days, not laced with the urgency that possessed him back then. Still, he gets intense, especially after having the girls over forces you to keep things rather tame during those days.

“Show me your ass, face on the ground, come on,” he demands coldly.

You obey without question, turning around and bending forward, pressing your upper body down to the floor and presenting your backside to him. He lands a couple of slaps on your cheeks and you flinch, moaning out softly. Your pussy already feels slick with arousal.

“What do you say?” he asks, rubbing his hand over the heated skin.

“Thank you, sir,” you whisper.

Another slap hits you. “Do you know what you did to deserve this?”

You wrack your brain for a few moments, but come up blank.

“I- no, sir.” Your voice is small and breathy, your body bracing for the impact of his hand again.

He chuckles. “Nothing. I just felt like it.” Another slap. “And you’re mine to do as I please, isn’t that right?” Your thighs are trembling. You’re so wet that it feels like you’re dripping onto the floor.

“Yes, sir. Thank you.”

“You know what’s the most fucked up about this?” He crouches down beside your face and strokes your cheek softly, smiling down at you. “How much you whore like it.”

He straightens up and heads for the stairs. “Bedroom, come on.”

You don’t even try standing up, knowing that he won’t let you, and crawl behind him, which earns you another chuckle and a “good girl”.

The image of your naked form on your knees behind Dave who hasn’t removed a stitch of clothing sends another bolt of arousal through you. You’re desperate for him to touch you.

He roughly lifts you up and manhandles you onto the bed until you’re spread out underneath him.

“So…” He grabs your wrists and holds them over your head, pressing them into the mattress. “These stay right here, you hear me? Don’t move, or do I have to restrain you?”

You pout at the prospect of not being allowed to put your hands on him, but obediently hold them in place when he eases his grip on you. “I’ll be good, I promise.”

He grins down at you. “I know you will. Got my girl well trained, haven’t I?”

His words make your pussy clench around nothing and your “yes, sir” comes out in a whimper.

He leans in closer, spreading your thighs wider with his body and you force yourself not to buck your hips up against him. The craving for any part of him to touch you, for any kind of friction, is overwhelming.

“Please, sir,” you whisper. Your pleading eyes hold his cold gaze as he’s leaning over you.

“Patience,” he growls. “Open your mouth.” A disapproving click of his tongue. “Wider.”

You part your lips as widely as you can, sticking your tongue out and trying not to squirm against the sheets. He remains motionless for a few seconds, taking in your desperate state with a cruel smirk on his face.

“Fuck,” he murmurs, more to himself than to you. Then he tips his head forward and spits into your waiting mouth. The filthy feeling of his saliva coating your tongue and filling your mouth almost drives you insane with want and you groan, shifting against his thick thighs between yours, but to no avail. You wait for his next command, your mouth still wide open, not daring to swallow before he tells you to.

But no command comes. Instead, he reaches up to press two fingers down on your tongue, dipping into your mouth and smearing your combined spit over your face. The silver band on his ring finger is cool against your skin and you shudder, loving the reminder that he’s really, entirely yours.

Your body feels like it’s burning up, your hands are twitching and you’re desperate to move them, to touch him, to do something, but you hold yourself still until he finally tells you to, “swallow, baby.”

He smiles and finds your lips for a surprisingly soft kiss, cupping your face in his hands. “You’re being so good,” he tells you gently. “Are you having fun?”

“Yes,” you smile, chasing his lips when he pulls back, but he tuts at you and you fall back against the bed, huffing out a breath. “Just… please.”

“Patience,” he reminds you, the softness gone as quick as it came. “Don’t make me tell you again.”

You bite your lip, but stay put while he stands up to finally start removing his clothes. He’s agonizingly slow with it, holding your hungry gaze while he unbuttons his shirt in unhurried movements that make you want to tear the clothes off his body yourself.

You drink him in, first the sight of his broad chest and his strong shoulders, then his muscular legs, and finally, making your mouth water and your pussy burn with desire, his cock.

As much as he keeps taunting you, you know him well enough by now to be able to tell that he’s just as desperate for you as you are for him, even when he’s trying to conceal it. He returns to you, sitting back on his haunches and drinking you in, until after what feels like hours, he finally reaches out and swirls his fingers through the wetness between your legs. It’s a barely there touch, but you’re so painfully turned on and sensitive that you let out a gasp.

“So fucking wet,” he marvels and applies the slightest bit of pressure to your clit. It’s enough to make you see stars and you’re sure that he could make you come just from this. But, of course he won’t. He laughs at your reaction and retracts his hand to lean forward instead until he’s on top of you again, your legs spread wide to accommodate him and his cock slides through your folds.

He lowers his head to nip and suck at the skin under your jaw, one hand toying with your breasts and your hardened nipples. Your whole body is buzzing, he’s so close and it’s so much, but it’s not enough, not enough, not enough.

“What do you want, baby?” he asks, peppering your skin with kisses and rocking his hips in small movements that make his cock nudge at your clit over and over.

“F-fuck me, please, I’ll do anything,” you beg, your body still obediently stretched out underneath him with your arms above your head. He nods wordlessly and reaches down to position himself at your soaking entrance.

“Be as loud as you want,” he growls against your neck. “I missed making you scream.”

He bites at your skin at the same time as his thrust into you punches the air from your lungs. You scream, just like he asked, as he hammers into you, his lips still attached to your neck, sucking and biting at the delicate skin. The sensation of finally being filled by him, of feeling the stinging stretch of the way he forcefully pounds into you is like heaven. You think that you’re talking, crying out a mix of his name and sir and please over and over.

You’re flying towards your climax and judging from his groans, he can already feel you tighten around him.

“Go ahead,” he groans, before you’ve even strung the words to ask for permission together in your mind. “Come for me, sweetheart.”

He pinches your nipple just once and the additional sensation is enough to send you flying, your pussy clenching around his cock and drenching him in your arousal as you scream out his name. It’s pure bliss, and you never want to come down.

“That’s it,” he growls, not slowing his movements, fucking you through the aftershocks until you’re a whining mess beneath him, “that’s my perfect girl, fuck-”

You force your eyes open to smile up at him, taking in the wrecked expression on his face, relishing in the knowledge that you’re the one to make him look like this. You just really wish you could touch him.

“P-please, can I-” you’re breathless, barely able to speak, and jerk your head towards your hands above you.

“Yeah,” he rasps, his thrusts somehow growing even more forceful, “do whatever you want, baby.”

Your hands fly towards his body, touching every inch of his skin that you can reach, nails digging into his back and fingers grasping at his hair, pulling him closer, closer, until he’s everywhere, all you can see, all you can taste, all you can feel.

“Fuck!” he swears, grabbing your shoulders and holding you in place as he’s pounding into you, “give me another one, touch yourself, come on-”

His thrusts are becoming erratic and you know that he’s close to his own climax. It only takes a few swipes of your fingers over your clit until you’re coming again, soaring through the heights of your pleasure, your whole body trembling with your release. Dave’s hips stutter and he comes with a shout, pulsing inside of your fluttering pussy until finally, you both still.

He drops his sweat-slicked forehead against your chest, peppering your skin with kisses and engulfing you in the warmth of his arms. After cleaning you up, he moves your bodies until you’re tucked against his side, one arm thrown across his chest while he holds you close.

You’ll never get tired of the feeling of his naked body against yours, of the way he feels like he was made for you. By now, you can admit that he had always felt like this.

“I love you,” he says, lips moving against your hair.

You press your face deeper into his neck. “I love you.”

It’s easy, now. Words that you say every day.

…and i love YOU, thank you for reading! 🤍 if you liked this, a reblog or a comment would absolutely make my day.

[drefear]

Tears Don't Fall (Bullet For My Valentine)

Let's go!

Katsuki Bakugou loved his wife more than anything. More than everything. So why? 

Why did he do that? 

Now she was on the ground of their home, their penthouse. Being a pro hero had given him the world, but she was his world and he did everything he could for her. Gave her diamonds and lavish clothing, spa trips and vacations. And in return, she had been loyal, given him two beautiful children and a lifetime of happiness. 

Why did he do that? 

He had no idea, but she was broken. He had broken her. Done the worst thing he could have possibly done and gotten caught. 

On a national fucking television site.

It was weeks ago, but it was just so much. A villain had targeted the school his kids went to and he didn’t get there until Midorya and Todoroki had, already working on getting survivors and victims out. He was lucky, his kids knew precautions and he had trained them on what to do, so they’d gotten out. 

But Midoriya’s… they weren’t as lucky. Midoriya had three, another on the way, and his middle child had gotten stuck between a falling piece of fire and a wall. 

Bakugou couldn’t stop playing Midorya’s face over and over again. He felt responsible for some reason, maybe if he’d gotten there on time then they’d have had enough hands to save all of those kids. Now he was on those stupid tubes and machines and Bakugou was crying at his desk. As he wrote the paperwork, his eyes wouldn’t stop smudging the black on his face. The only thing he wanted to do was hold his kids close at that moment. Hold his wife. 

With bloodshot eyes, I watch you sleeping The warmth I feel beside me is slowly fading Would she hear me if I called her name? Would she hold me if she knew my shame?

But he was stuck in this stupid fucking office, and when the secretary knocked on the door, he lost all restraint. Grabbed the edge of the desk, he flipped it and she shrieked. He quickly regained control and slammed the door shut, knowing it wouldn’t look good if his anger got out. He’d worked too hard to get that under control since high school, he wouldn’t let it get him now. 

And then she was close to him. That tiny stupid blonde that always fucked up his lunch. She didn’t make it like his perfect wife. 

But his hands were too shaky. He couldn’t sign what she had for him, he couldn’t see straight, he couldn’t-

He couldn’t push her away when she kissed him. He couldn’t stop when she touched him, held him. 

He needed comfort and he couldn’t stop anymore, he was too far gone, too high strung. 

There's always something different going wrong The path I walk's in the wrong direction There's always someone fucking hanging on Can anybody help me make things better?

A week later, a call came in through the telecoms of his office. 

“You have one week to get me 2 million dollars or that video plays on youtube.” His hands felt shaky again, and this time it wasn’t rage. It was fear. 

“I’ll have it to you in an hour, delete it immediately.” He said instantly. 

“An hour? Maybe I’m making this a bit too easy. How about 20?” 

“Do you want the money or for me to be scared? Because congrats, dumbass you did it. Delete it.” Bakugou was straining to not break the tiny office phone in his hands. His chest was heaving. 

“I want you to feel pain like I have. I want you to lose something.” 

Bakugou knew it. It was a sudden realization but he knew it. 

“Don’t. Please.” he begged and the laughter that came through was loud, strained. Insane. 

“Cmon now, Ground Zero! Don’t be so boring, you’re usually the life of the party!” 

Bakugou knew it would end with that stupid tape being public, but he didn’t think it would be this bad. 

Your tears don't fall, they crash around me Her conscience calls, the guilty to come home Your tears don't fall, they crash around me Her conscience calls, the guilty to come home

He saw it first when he was walking on patrol, someone glaring at him. He shrugged it off. Heroes were a controversial topic for everyone, he chalked it up to just that. He continued until he heard sounds. Pornigraphic sounds. Playing from that same person’s phone, he approached them. 

“Hey, you can’t be playing that shit-” 

“Ugh! Mr. Bakugou!” The phone sound rang out and his eyes fell to the screen they were previously looking at. It was a stupid little pink phone case, but he was on screen. And so was that blonde.  And he was running. Fast. He had to tell her before she found out like this. God, he knew he fucked up, he knew this was it, but he couldn’t let her find out from a fucking TMZ video.

The moments die, I hear no screaming The visions left inside me are slowly fading Would she hear me if I called her name? Would she hold me if she knew my shame?

Getting back to his office, he saw the blonde and sneered at her, then realizing she was bawling her eyes out. She must have seen, she was probably embarrassed. Young, dumb, she wasn’t in a good position either. He didn’t have time for her. He had to get home. Bakugou grabbed his clothing and bolted for his car. 

He sped. He didn’t care. His world was crumbling and he needed to at least make sure one last piece wasn’t completely shattered. The only piece that mattered to him.

There's always something different going wrong The path I walk's in the wrong direction There's always someone fucking hanging on Can anybody help me make things better?

When he got home, he recognized Midoriya’s car and rushed to the top floor, his home. “DEKU!” He shouted and looked around after bursting through the door, seeing Izuku standing casually dressed in his kitchen with his children in their pajamas. He was holding some food and his kids ran to Bakugou. 

“Daddy!” They smiled and hugged him, as he bent down to hold them back, but his eyes never left Izuku’s. And Izuku’s were just as focused, shooting daggers at him. He deserved it, but he needed her right now. 

“Go to your rooms, bratz.” He chidded and patted their backs as they went off, Izuku tucking one hand in his pocket. They stood in silence and then Bakugou heard it. 

Ururaka’s voice, Momo’s consoling, and his wife’s cries. A part of him was crushed, turned to dust that instant. He was too late. Again. His fists shook by his sides and then raked through his blonde spikey hair.

Your tears don't fall, they crash around me Her conscience calls, the guilty to come home

“Deku-”

“Just go. Go in there and look at what you did for yourself.” Izuku leaned back against the counter and looked at the ground. “Ochaco and I are taking the kids tonight. They don’t need to see this.” And with that, he headed towards Bakugou’s kid’s rooms. Bakugou couldn’t even speak, his throat was dry. 

And his feet moved towards his bedroom door. His body shuddered, tears already streaming down his eyes. Knocking at the door, Momo was the first to answer. She opened it and stared at him for a second, then moving aside and walking out of the room. 

“Ururaka, let’s go. It’s time.” Momo’s voice was quiet. Bakugou didn’t move as the women brushed past him without a glance, then hearing his kids leaving with the three other pro heroes. 

Once the door shut, he felt empty. It was time to face her. Face his mistakes, and own it. And accept her choice. 

He opened the door a crack and saw his greatest fear.

Your tears don't fall, they crash around me Her conscience calls, the guilty to come home

She was in a ball on the floor, still as beautiful and perfect as the day they met, but this time, heartbroken and small. Her hair was a knotted mess, clothes stained with tears, hugging her knees to her chest. She was holding something, but he couldn’t make it out in the dark. 

He made small steps towards her and got on his knees before her, just grabbing her and holding her close. He didn’t know if he would ever get to again. 

This battered room I've seen before The broken bones they heal no more, no more With my last breath I'm choking Will this ever end? I'm hoping My world is over one more time

“I’m sorry… I’m so fucking sorry…” He whispered over and over and over, her whimpering the only other sound. A moment of this and then her cries roared, like she was being tortured, and he flinched. His own tears were blurring everything for him, but he wasn’t going to stop trying. Not now, not ever. “Please, baby… please. I love you, I swear, I was just distracted and I couldn’t get to you, and I was guilty about Midoriya and I just wanted to get home and see you, but then she walked it and I lost it, I lost it-” He was rambling, much like that damn nerd, but not about quirks, about his own fucking mistakes. 

A crack sounded out through the room, echoing off the walls. His face was sore, her hand leaving a red imprint on his cheek. He stared at her and her face was a combination of horrified and sad beyond comparison. He just closed his eyes and sniffled. 

“Do it again.” 

“What?” She whispered. 

“Do it until you feel it’s just. Hit me, kick me, punch me, I don’t care, just don’t- don’t stop loving me.” His eyes went back to hers and her body crumbled under his. Her hands fell against his chest weakly and her eyes closed again, his hands moving to cradle her head.  “I- I can’t…” She answered and Bakugou felt happiness for a split second before her next words ruined it. “I’m trying to… But I can’t.” 

Would she hear me if I called her name? Would she hold me if she knew my shame?

His world was over, nothing mattered, and whoever took that video was going to die.  “C-Carry me to the shower… please… I can’t walk and I just- I just want to-”

“Shhh I got it.” He answered and picked her up as she asked, carrying her to the bathroom and sitting her on the tub. He saw what was in her hands now. It was his tie from their wedding night, and his heart ached again. He began to help her undress, seeing the bags under her eyes and how red and puffy they were from her salty tears, lips dry and split from crying. Her hair looked like she’d run her fingers through a million times, almost painfully so. He hated seeing her like this, not when a month ago, they were planning their ten year anniversary. She was like a doll, so small and fragile right now, porcelain in his big, calloused hands. Her body looked hollowed, like she hadn't eaten yet that day. He stayed quiet, turning on the water and feeling it until it was her comfortable level of warmth.

There's always something different going wrong The path I walk's in the wrong direction There's always someone fucking hanging on Can anybody help me make things better?

After a moment, he lifted her and let her settle in, moving to let her relax in peace. But something caught his hand, and he looked back down at the fragile woman in the tub. 

“Please… come in with me… I don’t want to be alone right now… I-I don’t have… the strength.” She mumbled and he sucked in a breath, pain surging through his veins. He hated this, but he would do anything she wanted. Forever. 

Removing his shirt, he felt the stress of the day hit him, muscles sore from work and then this all. He moved and took off his pants and underwear, shifting his weight and finally stepping in. He slid her forward slightly to sit her between his legs so he could hold her, cradle her as best he could. 

He felt her lean back and his hands moved to touch her skin, massage the ache she must have been having from sitting on the floor in a ball. He pushed the image away as he focused on kneading the woman’s tension. A comfortable sigh left her and he felt a swell of relief inside of him. This was… good, to say the least. They weren’t fighting, she didn’t hate him, and he was seeming to do almost everything right. He leaned his forehead to her temple and let his eyes close, feeling her reciprocate and nuzzle in closer. 

“Forgive me…” he whispered, “please… I can’t live without you.” 

“Katsuki…” Her voice cracked as she said his name, his hand brushing the wet hair stuck to her face behind her ear. “I want to… I do…” 

“Then I’ll do whatever it takes to fix this, to get you back, to keep you with me…” he answered, the rasp in his voice always soothing her, reminding her who she was talking to. “I love you too much to let myself ruin this…” She nodded at his words and he left a kiss on her temple, where his forehead had been, while a tear rolled down his cheek. 

After a bit of just silence in the bathtub, he got them both out and dry, then helped her change into pajamas and brushed her hair. He’d take care of her, make sure she didn’t do anything for herself. After that, he went to the kitchen and called his office.

Your tears don't fall, they crash around me Her conscience calls, the guilty to come home (tears don't fall) Your tears don't fall, they crash around me (conscience calls) Her conscience calls, the guilty to come

“I’m taking two weeks off. Fire the girl, make sure my next assistant is a man. Cancel everything in my calendar for the next few weeks. My phone is going off and it’s not turning back on until I get back. Understood?” 

“Bakugou,” he heard Sero’s voice, then a sigh and Kirirshima in the background, “do what you gotta do man, just don’t fuck it up again.” 

“Get her back, and man up to it, dude. I believe in you.” Kirirshima spoke after the other and there was a second of quiet. 

“Thank you guys. I owe you one for this. Really.” His grip on his cellphone tightened as he spoke and he knew they didn’t know how to react to his sensitive side. Only she did. “I’ve got to go.” He hung up and grabbed water and her favorite snack, chips and ketchup. It was so weird and gross and unnatural to him, but she loved it and he loved it because she loved it.

Going back into the bedroom, he put down the water and the bowl of chips, sitting across from her. 

“You need to eat something.” 

“I’m not hungry.” She whispered. 

“No, you’re depressed because I’m an ass, take one bite and I promise you’ll realize how hungry you are.” One bite turned into three into ten into the bowl, and soon it was empty. He brought it to the kitchen and went back to her, standing next to the bed. “I think- maybe I should sleep in the guest room.” 

“But… I’ll get cold…” she mumbled, “I mean, I just- I haven’t slept alone… in almost ten years…” His heart was jumping with joy. Holy shit, this was good. He nodded and moved to get in next to her. 

“I won’t touch you unless you-“ 

“Shut up, Katsuki.” She finally spoke directly and with volume, “just shut up.” And she pulled him close, head on his chest as she grabbed the light remote and hit a button, putting them in the pitch back darkness. He was stiff, a bit scared to move. His wife had never been a direct person, so gentle with her words and actions, but this made her really toughen up and set him straight. He relaxed and left a hand on her head, petting her hair and soon she was asleep. 

Your tears don't fall, they crash around me (conscience calls) Her conscience calls, the guilty to come home

Bakugou didn’t sleep at all. He was watching her the whole time, admiring her, praying that this would never end. And when she mumbled his name in her sleep and pulled him tighter to her, he knew. He would do everything for her. There was nothing in this world that could keep him from her, and he would make damn sure of that forever more. 

[delirium1217]

crystal clear

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

“It’s just… not my type of scene, that’s all,”

“Your brother’s engagement party is not your type of scene?”

“Is that really surprising?”

“I guess not,”

The conversation fizzled out, as if it had any fighting chance anyway. Regulus kept staring at tiny details to keep himself steady. The lines in the brick wall in front of him. The way the wind blew away his cigarette smoke.

It’d been too overwhelming inside, filled to the brim with people he hadn’t seen in years. Hungry eyes filled with questions and inquisitions. The shimmering hue that came over everything. Like he’d wound up in an overexposed photo, flaring white and red and orange all over the dance floor.

“Look,” James started back up again. He didn’t even have the excuse of smoking to keep talking to him, “I know things have been - awkward between you and well, everyone, since uhm, uh, it all. And I don’t know if you’re here to reconnec-”

“I’m not here to make amends, James,”

That seemed to catch him off guard. Regulus wondered if James wasn’t used to him being this blunt. Ah, well. Too many things have changed for this not to change too.

He took a deep breath, “That’s fine. I just wanted to say, we all appreciate you being here,” he paused for a second. “Sirius. Even though he has odd ways of showing it, he’s glad you’re here. Remus, too, his whole ‘don’t ruin his day’ speech is just nervous jitters,” his hands were flailing along his words, like he was trying to mime them out.

Regulus looked down at the floor, fragments of silver confetti were taking the shape of real constellations over his shoes. Clever little bit of magic.

He didn’t know what to say to that. He didn’t blame them for how they acted. Sirius - initial anger followed by weird sentimentality. Remus, all confrontation and ragged edges. He knew what they all went through. He knew all the betrayal that had left them this fragile.

He wasn’t here to ‘reconnect’. If he was, he’d be doing a piss-poor job at it. Was that something he wanted? He didn’t even consider it. Reconnect, and what then?

“It’s just – did you really have to crash in at 10 am after three years of refusing contact?”

It wasn’t an unfair question. Still, it prodded at something in his chest. Something that pulsated and smouldered. He instantly felt the urge to seize up, and push away. It disturbed him how easy it was crawling back into his old skin. The viscera automatically reworking itself into the shape it had once been.

This, he told himself, this is why he left. This place dragged the worst out of him.

If James was expecting an answer, he didn’t show it, leaning back on the brick wall beside him. As if the question was a mere suggestion, something to consider. He’d think it patronizing if it were anyone else.

He looked over at him. White shirt crumpled, sleeves pushed up, tie dishevelled and wonky. The hazy sheen the evening held seemed to swell as he looked at James. As if the stars had fallen and framed his face in their wake.

It was still there, he slowly realized. The tug of want. He felt his hands ache. The incessant urge to touch and feel. He’d tried so badly to bury it. It was still there, sticking its ugly head out of the sand.

Stilltherestilltherestillthere.

An awkward blob of emotion and pheromones and terrible circumstances. He couldn’t look anymore.

“I-” he heard himself start, as if he had no control over his own tongue.

“I’m not supposed to be here. The letter with the portkey was on my dresser. And I couldn’t-“He took a deep sigh, eyes flickering across the floor, “I couldn’t bear to fail him today too,”

The words hung between them. James didn’t react, only nodding slightly. He got the impression he was being treated like a skittish animal. Maybe he was.

“I get that,”

He turned his head towards him, eyebrow raised. “No you don’t,”

“Okay, maybe I don’t,”

A smile tugged on Regulus’ lips. James hadn’t changed a bit. Ever the empathetic, even when it made zero sense.

“Hey, I got you to drop the frown!”

He instantly went back to frowning again. This promptly led to James laughing, in a way that sent Regulus careening years back.

“Thank Merlin I haven’t lost the ability to do that,” James went on.

Snapshots flickered through his head. Himself, a miserable little thing, observing from across hallways and classrooms and Quidditch fields. He wanted to hate him so badly, the boy who’d stolen his brother. He never stood a chance.

The end was there as well. That year was nothing but an open wound in his mind, a festering, rotting tunnel of memories he tip-toed around. But James was there. The only person who could get anything resembling a smile out of him. The stars above the astronomy tower, brighter and brighter as winter turned into summer. Prefect rounds and silly little bickering. They were the only things he’d allowed himself to revisit.

There were so many things left unsaid. So many things Regulus abandoned when he took the Mark. That last night – the one where he pushed James away flashed across his mind. He’d taken whatever fragile relationship they’d had, and he smashed it to the ground.

They hung between them, too.

“I, uhm. I think I owe you an apology,”

James looked at him. Wide dark eyes that he knew shone startling hazel under the sunlight. It was unfair, this effect he still had on him. Turning Regulus into something soft and fragile and vulnerable, even after all this time. He thought he’d left it all behind.

“Yeah?”

“The way I left things, it wasn’t right. I don’t want it stand between us,”

“I thought you weren’t here to make amends?” The wink that followed made Regulus’ heart perform a disgustingly loud percussion routine.

“Yeah well. Some things you just can’t avoid,”

“Ah. And I’m one of those things?”

Yes. All the miles I put between us were useless. Yes. I can’t help but want to crash into you.

“No. I just can’t go back and have another thing I fucked up haunting me,”

James was suddenly somber again, as if he just remembered the grim details of everything that went down.

“Alright, that’s fair. Well, no need to apologize, after all that you did,”

This was wrong. Something was off. He was lying, all this faux tranquility was for show.

He didn’t care how long it’d been since he last saw him, James had never not demanded more. More explanation. More words and whys and hows. It was one of the reasons he’d left things so untouched in his sixth year. James Potter would’ve tore down his defenses one by one, till he had none left.

He narrowed his eyes at him. It'd gotten cold outside, or maybe the alcohol warming him had dissipated. The noise from the party inside winding down. The cigarette butts littering the coarse ground.

It was tremendously uncomfortable, yet James had stayed for about twenty minutes, while Regulus smoked, talked and…for what?

“What is this really about, James? Why are you out here?”

“I- you just looked so upset and-“

“Plenty of depressed people at a wedding,”

“Engagement,” James corrected

“Whatever, same difference,”

“It very much is not when I’m the one who planned it all,”

“You planned all of this?”

“Uh, yeah. Why did you think I froze when you showed up? Estranged younger siblings really do throw a wrench into whatever party you have planned, y’know,”

He did not think about why James froze up, because he was too busy staring at Sirius, who looked like he could kill him, “I could imagine,”

The thought of James frantically planning an engagement party was a bit absurd, like something from those muggle comedies his roommates liked to watch. Despite the mood he’d developed, the urge to laugh filled his chest. The mental image of James, his hair more of a bird’s nest than usual, turning red over the wrong type of flowers or cake was incredible.

He supposed it did make sense, James was so close to both Sirius and Remus. Of course, he’d know exactly what they’d want.

That explained all the off-beat magic and tidbits of mischief he’d seen today. Those confetti constellation charms. Whatever the dance floor had that pushed people together. The ribbon streamers flying in between dull conversations, asking people questions. The empty glasses you could mutter whatever you wanted into. It was all so well-crafted. It made him ache.

He wasn’t supposed to be here. He was a ghost floating through.

“Uh, speaking of the wedding. I’m planning that, too. Obviously. As if they could hire someone better than me. But, uh, uhm.” He took a deep breath, like he was readying himself to jump off a cliff, “I kind of told them you’d stay till the wedding,”

At first, he thought he’d misheard. “You-what?”

“Told them you’d stay till the wedding?” He hesitantly said, “Sirius was such a mess, he couldn’t deal with the fact that you were leaving afterwards and I just- I panicked,”

He stayed quiet for a second, his mind slowly processing what he’d heard. When he did, he got the sudden urge to cry.

“I just- no. That’s-“Regulus found himself fumbling. He’d left this. He’d left this all behind, he couldn’t do this again. “No. No, I’m not coming back,”

“But-“

Sadness burned into anger, a whiplash of emotions that suddenly grounded him, he moved forward off the wall and fully faced James.

“You want to know why I left, James? This is why I left!” Regulus spat out, the harsh words contrasting with all the goddamned harmony everyone was in. All the joy and exuberant youth they were bathed in. He could choke on it. “You don’t get to decide what I do, not you, not the Order, not my family, not any megalomaniac with a death-wish, okay? No one, no one but me!” The rasp in his throat caught him off guard. This – he couldn’t not have control, not after all he’d been through.

“What about the people you left behind?”

He found himself inching closer, staring into James’ eyes. “I do not owe anyone a fucking thing, Potter.”

“No.” James’ voice hardened. There. Regulus thought with sick satisfaction, there was the anger he’d so badly craved. James looked beautiful, face twisted with contempt. The anger Regulus deserved. “No. You don’t get to say that. Not after, not after what you did. Everyone was - I was fucked up for months after you left!” He paused.

“No idea of where you were or what you were doing. And then months go by - and you’ve turned sides but still refused to talk to any of us. How dare you?” 

They both stopped after that, chests rising and falling with labored breath. Grey met brown. James swallowed, Regulus’ eyes flickered down to the movement.

And that’s all it took.

It wasn’t gentle, the way the crashed into each other – how could it be? All sharp angles, teeth, and digging nails. Things said and unsaid fell to the wayside. James’ hands grabbed his temples and dragged him inward. His own hand pushed at James’ tie, twisting it around his wrist and pulling in.

It was the farthest thing away from the chaste little touches they’d shared, a lifetime ago, fumbling through newfound confusion and attraction.

This was frustration and despair and regret poured into one. James tilted his head, beckoning Regulus closer. His hands let go of the tie, slamming him into the wall. The groan the came from James’ mouth lit something inside himself aflame. All he could do was push himself further. Closer, closer, closer.

James pushed himself off. Gasping for air. Regulus’ skin burned with all the lost warmth.

His face was vehement in the dull yellow light. Glasses pushed off, lost somewhere in their collision. His lips a violent red – slightly parted. Hair pulled into tufts, sticking out. All the anger that reverberated between them had cooled down into something feverish and restrained.

None of it mattered – the regrets and who’d left and who’d stayed. Not during a war. They were both wrong for bringing this up.  

They fell into silence, shaky breaths, and piercing stares. Regulus felt his skin prickle with anxiety. His mind out of sync with his heart, he didn’t know what to think.

“I just needed to do that – at least once, if you meant it – leaving,” James muttered, words coming out in desperate breaths, eyes tracing his face.

“James, I can’t be here. Not like how you want. It hurts too much,” his voice came out pleading, a hoarse little thing.

James’ hand reached out, tucking Regulus’ hair behind his ear, the gentle touch a vivid contrast to all the desperate touches that preceded it. The urge to cry came back up again.

“That’s- it’s fine. I’m – I’m sorry I said what I did. I think I said it for my sake as much as it was for Sirius’, I thought about you – this, so many times. Even before you left, I didn’t care, I would’ve still been there,” his voice twisted with guilt at that last part, like he was confessing to a heinous crime. In Regulus’ eyes, he might as well have. He wasn’t proud of what he did – those last few months of war, hearing James say this sent a thrill of fear through his heart.

He would’ve destroyed him. He would’ve wrecked him to pieces.

He didn’t want to think about that anymore. It threatened to throw him off-balance. He looked over at James.

“I – I still want,” Regulus swallowed the rising sense of panic in his chest, he cleared his throat “I still want to be here. I just, I can’t be thrown in full throttle like today. You can’t expect me to just fold to whatever you want. But I still want to be here – when these things happen,” it was true, but he only realized it as he said it.

He still wanted the contact. The string to his past. He just couldn’t handle too much of it.

James laughed, a bright little noise that caught him off guard, “So like. Holidays and weddings? God, Regulus you are so – is that what we just had a full on screaming match about? You want to be a normal person living abroad and visit family on special occasions? I thought you wanted to disappear off the face of the earth and never be seen again,”

Regulus’ face burned with embarrassment – James was right, Regulus had blown up over the mere suggestion that someone would be in control of his life again. His therapist was going to have a field day with that one.

“You were the one that said I’d stay till the wedding,”

“Yeah, which is in twenty days?”

“Oh,” Regulus hadn’t thought about that. He should’ve realized – even after the war ended, people weren’t really keen on delaying weddings.

“Yeah, oh. What – you thought I’d keep you here for a year or something?”

Yes, that’s exactly what he thought. “No.”

James laughed again. Regulus wanted to memorize every second of it.

“Y’know it wasn’t really just a screaming match,” Regulus found himself muttering. They were still both so close. Face to face. The air had stilled around them.

“No it wasn’t,” James’ voice dropped low, his eyes finding Regulus’.

When they leaned in again, it felt inevitable.

Warmth filtered across his skin. James’ fingers gripped onto his hair, strong and unrelenting. His weight against Regulus’ own a welcome comfort. He could get lost in this. He could spend all his days here.

James broke away, yet again. Regulus felt like the rug was pulled out from under him.  

“Listen, could we… talk about what we’re doing here?”

“I – what do you mean?” he felt dazed from the lost contact.

“This,” James gestured to the space between them.

“Um, I mean,” Regulus cleared his throat. “We can figure out a portkey system? I can’t give you any promises, I just. I’m barely holding on most days, but I can – for this, I mean, unless you just want something casual, which is fine. I guess. I shouldn’t have assumed. Yeah, that’d be-”

“Reg, you idiot,”

Oh. He should’ve realized, was this just a one off thing? Had he completely misread the situation?

“Has anything about us ever been casual?”

“No. I guess not.” He found himself laughing, none of it was particularly funny, it was just – relief. Weird, the difference a few hours could make in someone’s life.

James started laughing too. Seemingly, only because Regulus was. He linked their hands together.

“And Regulus?”

“Yeah?”

“Next time we have an argument, we really should do more than angrily make out about it,”

“Are you sure?”

“Well, maybe once in a while,”

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