#if it's a flow of grace? what triggers it??

[euniveve]

"𝐈'𝐦 𝐨𝐤𝐚𝐲, 𝐈 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐤" - zhongli

pairings: zhongli x gn!reader tags: HURT/COMFORT (like major major comfort), glasses wearing!reader, insecure!reader, reader has self-worth issues, fluffy fluff fluff, reader is implied to have depression w.c: 1480 a.n: ngl i wrote this one shot a while ago, it helped me back then, hopefully it'll help some of you guys as well, i think this is beta read (again i wrote this a while back, i forgot) remember that you are loved my dears <3

Another tear hits the cold hardwood floor of your apartment; your glasses have long been housing the pools of your sadness before you finally take them off to bury your face into your knees, choked sobs wrangle out of your throat as your chest burns from the hurt.

What was it again that triggered this? You couldn’t remember… Crying sure does affect you; it drives your mind deeper into its sadness, an inescapable hole of helplessness with darkness surrounding you, not an oil lamp in sight.

A series of knocks fell upon your door– making you jolt in your uncomfortable position, your heart beating out of your chest as you feel the pit in your stomach grow. You don’t want to meet people now, you don’t want to pretend to be fine.

For once, saving face stood second before your needs.

“Qin ai de?” the familiar warm baritone from the other side of the door said, “It’s me, are you alright?”

You open your lips, tears still freely flowing down your cheeks but you stop yourself– deciding to close them again. Maybe anyone is fine, anyone else. But not Zhongli. You cleared your mucus-filled throat, trying to force a clear stable voice, gulping your saliva thickly before closing your eyes and taking a deep breath in preparation.

With a shaky breath out you fake a smile, trying your best to sound how you normally do. “Y-yeah! I just wanna be in silence and think; don’t worry about me!”

A few seconds of silence pass by and you hold your breath, waiting for the sound of his feet walking away to grace your ears but you hear none. Instead, what little light the gaps at the bottom of the door provided was blocked before Zhongli spoke again.

“Forgive me, my dear, for I have to do this.”

You couldn’t even take a second to process the words he uttered before the door flew open, revealing the silhouette of your very handsome, very tall former-archon-boyfriend. Almost out of instinct– you cover your face, your trembling hand making out a very poor mask as you try your best to get away from his sight.

“Love, my dear heart,” he cooed, his footsteps dawning closer and closer before it stopped in front of you. The melodious rustle of his fabric as he bends down to meet your face, his amber eyes unmistakable in their sadness as his brows furrow in slight frustration at the sight of your visibly distraught figure. 

Zhongli reaches out; out of instinct, it seems, to comfort you, to hold you at least, his long slender finger wanting to touch your hand to move them yet you flinch when his hand hovers; afraid and unsure.

“My love?”

“Pl-please go away..” you whisper meekly, “I- I don’t want to– I don’t want you to see me like this…”

“,,,”

You quickly and harshly wipe the tears off your face, trying your best to give him a smile while your hand is still covering your puffy eyes. “I’m okay! I think…”

“But you are not,” he said matter-of-factly, his brow furrowed in confusion before his hand finally reached yours, warmth blooming on your skin with his comforting touch. “You are not okay.”

“I will be,” you muttered, “Please? I’m a mess now– I–”

Your hand was moved away, and even with your lids covering your eyes, you can imagine those brilliant eyes; so full of warmth and love you almost want to run away and hide again.

“My love please look at me.”

His voice is but a whisper and there’s care lacing between those strings of sound. Archons do you even deserve this? You are certain that you don’t but it feels so right. 

It feels like you aren’t worthless.

It feels like you matter.

You finally open your eyes, and another waterfall of tears threatens to escape but you can see his gentle smile, the softness of his lips, the curvature of his cheeks; whatever is happening now, it feels like love.

Are you worthy of love?

“You are scared,” you hear him say softly, “you are scared and that is okay, I’m here for you.”

“I’m sorry,” you find yourself whispering.

“What for?”

‘Everything.’ you wanted to say, ‘for being me, for stealing you away from someone better, for being selfish.’

Ah– there it is.

“For being selfish,” you repeat your mind, your eyes shifting to the wooden floor, his gaze tho comforting, feels so real. Like he could see through your walls; like he could tear them down with the slightest of touch. “For being selfish enough to get your love, to be so imperfect yet accepting of it– I’m so sorry.”

You wince at yourself. That sounds more pathetic than you intended. Gods; why does it have to be him? You wouldn’t mind if it's anyone else. Anyone else can call you self-absorbed or pitiable or even entitled. 

But please, archons please, let it not be him. 

“I’m not worthy of it,” you end your sentence with a defeated whisper, “I know I'm not worthy of it; I keep pushing you away, I’m difficult, I’m a horrible person.”

You bit your lip, you can hear him breathing steadily, his hand still grasping yours with that signature comfort, that loving warmth. It feels so good that you want to run away; so good that it feels like knives as the back of your mind keeps shouting at your words. 

Ugly, untrue, you know this, but when those words are repeated thousands – no – millions of times it starts to sound honestly beneath useless praises.

“I’m irreparably broken.”

Silence is between the two of you and it feels deafening. You are ready for this, for him to leave, and how could you not? You have to imagine it time and time again, with every step apart from him, every second without his presence, you imagine it over and over and over again; hoping, praying, that when it eventually happens, it would hurt even less. 

Because you are ready.

“I used to forge weapons as an archon,” Zhongli whispered, his thumb starting to trace the back of your hand. Slowly but surely, you feel his body getting closer to you, that golden touch of his cupping your cheek, those citrine gazes that inspect your very being and you can’t help but lean into his touch.

Archons, you are horrible.

“I forge new weapons for my adepti. Ones made of jade, of black steel, of unbreakable stone, cor lapises, agates, and carnelians.” he took a deep breath, the chilly autumn air filling his lungs before he continued. “But I always prefer to reforge my old weapons.”

“Huh?”

He laughs, that signature rumbling laughter that makes you shiver, that fills you with ease and serenity; it has you longing for a home only he can make, only he can fulfil. “Yes, I prefer my old weapons; one that has my hand moulded on its handle, one that has been broken time and time again.” 

You feel his fingers on your cheek, your cold, tearstained cheek– you want to flinch away but you can’t. Zhongli is your home, you couldn’t hide away any longer.

“So my love, if you are broken then allow me to reforge you.” His voice, archons, his voice resonates deep within your heart, filling its cracks and smoothing its surface. His and completely his, he once noted and each and every time he breathes he reminds you of it. “if you prefer for your pieces to bask in the sun then allow me to carry you, every chuck and dust.”

“I’ll cut you,” you whisper, trying desperately to deny him of the pain you know you would bring. “I'll hurt you; I have jagged edges and–”

“Then do it.”

His arm wraps around you, his hand tugging your head underneath his chin. He places a kiss on the top of your head, feeling the way your body fits with his; longing for the sound of your laughter and accompanying smile.

But Morax knows better; perhaps that person is gone, perhaps they are buried underneath the rubble. And yet he smiled to himself, gripping you tighter, not letting you go. He is pained, it is true. But a god can afford pain. 

Let him afford the pain, as long as you wouldn’t have to feel it.

“I’ll hold you until you feel full, I’ll love you until the last stone crumbles, I’ll be by your side until your soul turns to dust.”

He let go of a breath. It sounds heavy; and perhaps for Morax, it is. His lover it seems has been at war. What sort of warrior god lets their spouse fight a battle all alone?

“I love you,” he whispered, “and that’s nothing your thoughts can change no matter how hard they try.”

[yanderehsr]

Hello! Do you mind doing yandere hcs for jingyuan, dan heng and blade with a nilou! Reader?? Just a friendly and warm person who always offers support and loves making people happy with their dancing <3 (bonus points if you keep the hydro sword/dance powers and lotus themes)

Sure, hope you'll enjoy😄

Trigger Warning: Yandere, Obsessive behaviour, Possessive behaviour, Kidnapping, Murder

Jing Yuan: The day he first saw you was a day he would never forget, you were dancing on that stage with such grace that he could feel his throat dry out. he made sure to visit you backstage when you were done, to thank you for such a wonderful performance.

What Jing Yuan wasn't expecting was the kindness you showed him and how humble you were. You said that there was still so much for you to learn, nonsense, you were already perfect. This is what he needed in his life, someone like you, someone who can make his heart beat as fast as it is now, someone he wants to come home to and eat a homecooked meal with, he had to have you.

"Good morning my sweet flower, do you have a headache, maybe I should've been more careful when knocking you out. Anyways, welcome home"

Dan Heng: He became awestruck when he witnessed you in a fight, how water flowed under your command and how you slashed your sword, it looked like you were dancing, he can't remember but he thinks he saw a flower as well, truly befitting of such a beautiful person.

Dan Heng follows you into every battle, making sure to protect you, his heart beats whenever you give him that kind smile and check for any injuries on him, that same heart growls in rage as he sees you treat others with the same compassion, he can only take this for so long until he snaps and brings you home.

"I love you, more than you could ever imagine, my heart yearns for you like no other, but you need to realise that you need no one but me in your life"

Blade: He loved it all, your kindness and compassion, your beauty and grace. Everything about you was something he admired and loved. And he wanted it all for himself, to have you in his grasp and never let go.

Blade could see the despair in your eyes as you watch each and everyone of your friends and family die, one by one, you try to help them of course, you try to stand up and fight against him, but in the face of Blade's overwhelming power, there is nothing you can do as he claims his price, You.

"Why are you looking at me like that, all I did was remove the pests surrounding you"

[whereireid]

𝐃𝐄𝐅𝐈𝐋𝐄𝐃 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐃𝐄𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐎𝐍𝐄𝐃

𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 - 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐨𝐧𝐞 | 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐭𝐰𝐨

pairing:dark!boss!steve rogers x virgin!fem reader

WORDCOUNT: 5.9k | warnings: dubious consent ! power imbalance (boss!steve, employee!reader) sexual naivety, height difference [6'6 steve, 5'3 reader], oral m receiving, rough p in v, misogyny, sexism, breeding kink, daddy kink, housewife kink, emotional manipulation, gaslighting, praise kink, spanking, captain kink, dumb baby reader (in steve's eyes), nonconsensual pregnancy, reader loves big mean stevie and loves when he taints her <3

PSA: YOU ARE RESPONSIBLE FOR YOUR OWN MEDIA CONSUMPTION. 18+ ! If any of these topics trigger you, please do not indulge in this content! This is a DARK!FIC, and is intended to come across as such. Minors, please dni - this content is 18+ and is under my #WOMNSFW tag.

summary: Steve Rogers is in deep need of a new personal assistant. You, an intern for Stark who often loiters around the Avengers Compound, put yourself forward for the position. You believe working under the Captain America will help you to get in good graces throughout your career. Little do you know, being America’s golden boy’s personal assistant means doing a little more than rummaging through files and writing letters.

—

So pretty, so perfect, so poised. Steve Rogers sits back comfortably in his chair, his eyes trained on you, never leaving, not even to acknowledge the poor waitress who puts his beer down in front of him. You speak proper, each word flowing from your mouth with purpose, your speech coherent, and your voice confident.

It makes Steve’s cock twitch in his trousers as he watches you. Your gaze on him doesn’t linger, but you do flinch when he reaches towards his beer too quickly. It makes his stomach flip, and he tries to hold back the hiss that threatens to slip past his lips. He knows he’s America’s Golden Boy, and that he’s supposed to be better than this; but he was raised in the 1930’s, and his ideals surrounding women never really fizzled out.

Your voice fades back in, and as you address him, it snaps Steve out of his train of thought. “So, I’m sure now that we’re well acquainted with each other, Captain Rogers—“

“Please. Just call me Steve. We’ve known one another long enough.”

He quirks a brow as your cheeks flood over in red, before beckoning you to continue your speech. “Well, then, Steve,” you swallow thickly, your voice dropping a few octaves, and Steve senses that he’s embarrassed you. “Now that we’re well - uh, better - acquainted, I hope that you can consider me for the position of your personal assistant.”

“What?” Steve’s blue eyes bore into yours, and they make you brood in anxiety. You feel childish, sitting in front of him in a flowery dress, at what could somewhat be considered an interview, asking to work for him. Perhaps you should’ve dressed nicer, more work appropriate? Yet, before you can blubber on, Steve continues; “doll, if you wanted to work for me, you could’ve just said. Did you do all of this to ask for the position?”

He blinks at you. Embarrassment washes over you like a tsunami wave as you blink back at him. Of course, you could’ve just said you wanted to work for him - you feel naive ever thinking otherwise. Steve’s not a stranger, you practically work with him every day, and he'd be more than enthusiastic to hear you out. He's not one of. the guys at work who ignore women and everything they have to say. He’s nice enough to always say hello to you and sometimes buy you coffee, and flowers if you were down. He's one of the good ones!“I thought it might’ve been inappropriate to ask you whilst you were training.” You shoot him a small smile, trying to ignore how the upwards tug of his lips makes your skin rise with goosebumps.

“Does Stark know you’re applying for this role?”

"He’s actually the one who suggested it.”

Steve takes a long sip of his drink. He stares at you over the rim of the glass, watching you squirm and ponder over his answer. He already knows the answer to your question, but watching you shuffle in your seat and act silly in front of him makes his cock throb, and he enjoys the feeling. You’re so innocent, pressing against the table, wide-eyed, acting as though your tits aren’t pressed together and basically on display for him. The dress is so low-cut. It makes him want to take you right here.

Did you wear that just to get him riled up? “Well, I can’t think of anybody more suitable to fit the position. You know the Compound, you know my office, and I’ve noticed you get on well with higher authorities. You seem like a doting employee.” He kisses his teeth slightly, looking down at the table, before looking up at you through his lashes. He tries to hold back the smirk on his face as he speaks, but it’s impossible not to: “of course, you will also be expected to work somewhat more flexible hours. Later start times, later finishes. We won't always be in the office at the compound - a lot of my additional work files are at my personal home office, but I can always make you up a key to give you easier access."

“Of course,” you chirp, nodding at him enthusiastically. “I’m okay with longer hours, and I can work around you and what you need.”

Steve grins. “Perfect.”

—

It has been about three weeks since you left your position as an intern at Stark Industries and began working for Steve Rogers. It was an exhausting process at first; the sudden change in routine, the heavy workload, the unsociable hours, and Steve often worried you would change your mind. If you couldn't bend for this position, you would break, and he was incredibly worried you'd do the latter. Perhaps because he hadn’t seen you frown so often before, but during the first fortnight of working as his assistant, your lips were always somewhat tugged downwards, and you were always so busy, unable to even joke with him.

You soldiered on, though. Managing to catch up to months worth of missed calls, avoided emails, old paperwork, and forgotten documents. Steve praised you every time you completed a task, and often he found you beaming up at him, prideful and flustered.

Yet, whilst peeking up from his desktop, he finds himself annoyed. You’re sitting quietly opposite him, noting down things and scheduling appointments, and he can’t help the twitch of his cock as he watches you do it. You're not incredibly busy anymore, and yet you're not engaging in any conversation with him. Steve knows you value professionalism, but he only really let you have this job because of his alternative motives when it comes to you.

His eyes flicker back to the computer screen, and then back to you. It's like before his brain can register what he's doing; he's doing it, but he doesn't mind. This is his office, after all, his space. You're his assistant, and if anything, you're supposed to assist him in doing it. His hands are wrapped around his thick, angry cock, and he pumps slowly, watching you intensely.

You're tapping away at your computer so innocently. Your eyes are wide and interested, and clearly whatever your scheduling for Steve has your entire attention because you don't even look up at him. He strokes his cock carefully, and slowly, and his breathing wavers as he runs a finger over his angry, red tip, using some of his precum for lube.

“You okay, Steve?” your voice fills the quiet room, and he looks over at you, his hands still wrapped around his cock. The naivety of your tone makes his cock twitch in his hands, and his pace slows. He makes eye contact with you, never breaking it as he slowly strokes his hand up and down his length. It makes him so much harder that you have no idea what he's doing, and he imagines what your lips would feel like wrapped around him.

“Fine, doll. Just a little sore.” Steve purses his lips as you nod. He meets your eyes, and you hold his gaze, concern plastering over your face.

You're so... modest. Completely unaware of what he's doing, and he loves it. Steve craves you; craves to taint the innocence which consumes you. You're too trusting for your own good, and one of these days, it's going to get you hurt.

Steve just needs to make sure it's him that hurts you, and nobody else.

“You do look awfully red, Steve.” You murmur across from him, concern painting your features. The heavy gaze your boss has on you makes you feel somewhat uncomfortable, but worry overrides any instinctive emotion. “Do you feel hot?”

Steve grunts in agreement with your question. He looks more disheveled than usual. His posture seems hunched, but he seems somewhat relaxed, and his gaze is hard and trained on you. You're unsure as to what's wrong - he's so red, it looks like he's burning up. Perhaps he has a fever, but you're sure the Super Soldier Serum ensures that he doesn't get ill. “Can I get you anything? Paracetamol? A glass of water?” you ask innocently, standing up from your desk chair, slowly walking towards him.

His computer monitor thankfully covers his crotch. Steve’s eyes don’t leave you, and it makes his cock leak when you softly begin to walk over to him. He’s almost certain you own nothing but inappropriate, seductive clothing; he’s seen more of your cleavage these past three weeks than he has anyone else’s, and it’s driving him crazy. The fact he’s managed to hold off from devouring you is insane, but he isn’t sure how much longer he can take.

Being the nice guy just doesn’t seem to be working. The hand which was stroking his cock stills, and he commands you to stop once you’re mere inches away, stood behind his monitor, so small he can hardly see you. “Do you own any appropriate clothing?”

His question is direct and his tone is reprimanding. Your knees wobble, and your head hangs slightly. Shame spreads throughout your body. “I didn’t realise this was inappropriate. My apologies.”

It’s unlike Steve to bark at you. Usually, he’s incredibly soft-spoken and considerate, yet it seems you’ve worn any patience he’s held for you thin. “Doll, every outfit you’ve worn this week has been low-cut and short.” He breathes, and your neck prickles with discomfort when you notice how dark and blown his pupils are. “I’ve been patient. I’ve been kind. I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable. But I don’t think these kinds of… outfits would be appropriate elsewhere. You didn’t wear these outfits when interning for Stark.”

“I’m sorry, sir.” Your subordinate manner only makes his cock twitch more, and he’s thankful his hand is sheathing his cock, because the precum that trickles out of its covers his skin and not his trousers. “I’ll try to be more considerate next time.”

It’s painful to let go of his length, but he has to, and he shoves it back inside of his trousers and innocently buttons them up. “Are you wearing these suggestive outfits to get a rise out of me?”

You gasp. “No. Never. I - Sir, I aim to be as appropriate and considerate as possible. I’m sorry I’ve been misleading you.” Steve rises from his seat, and you swallow thickly, feeling incredibly small compared to your boss. You’ve often been close to him - side by side, brushing shoulders, but he’s always been soft-spoken and gentle, apologetic and genuinely caring. Now, it seems like his patience is worn thin, and as opposed to seeing a civilian Steve, you feel as though you're standing in front of a soldier. “I can go and change now if you want?”

“No.” His tone is so low it matches that of a growl, and you cower weakly as he towers over you. Fear pulsates in your being as you stare up at him, suddenly feeling incredibly unsafe, and your heart races in your chest. Steve would never hurt me, you remind yourself, he’s one of the good ones.

You open your mouth to speak, but Steve shushes you. His finger splays over your lips, and you feel scolded and childlike. “I think you do it for attention.” His finger pushes against you, as does his body, as he stalks forward and you shuffle backward, trying to keep any space between the two of you. “You know, it’s been hard staying silent for this long. Watching you from afar, never knowing what to say or do.” His hot breath fans your ear, and Steve’s nostrils flare. “Trying to be a gentleman. Buying you coffee and flowers and cards when you were working at the Compound as a way to be friendly and nice. But I don’t think you want that.”

“I’m sorry, Steve.” You squeak out, tears pricking at the corner of your eyes. Steve’s fingers gently press against your skin, wiping away any that spill, his skin icy against your own. “I-I’ve appreciated the gifts. I’m sorry.”

“You’re sorry?” He asks, his eyes shooting down at you. You nod your head eagerly, staring up at him, trying to ignore how the dark look in his eyes makes your stomach flip. “I don’t think you’re truly sorry. I gave you this job to be my personal assistant. I expected more of you. You’re dressing as whore, and you can’t even apologize correctly.”

You swallow thickly, staring up at him. “‘M sorry. I haven’t meant to present myself that way,” your voice wavers. “What would y-you deem a suitable apology, Steve?”

“Captain.” Steve’s fingers find their way into your hair, and you squeak slightly as he tugs at it. “You only get to call me Steve when you’ve been good, which you haven’t.”

“How should I apologize, Captain?”

Your voice is an incredulous whisper. The subordination you show drives Steve crazy, and it takes everything in him not to force your mouth open and push you onto his cock. No, he needs to coax you into it - make you agree that this is the best way to apologize. Any other way wouldn’t suffice.

It’s as though you can’t believe this is happening - and in a way, Steve can’t, either. He’s always imagined this happening - having you begging him to tell you how to do something in a way that’s deemed fit in his eyes, having you be in pain whilst doing it. He curses slightly, before breathing out, “use that pretty little mouth of yours to worship me.”

“What?”

“I said, ‘use that pretty little mouth of yours to worship me’. Don’t expect me to repeat myself again.” He warns, blinking down at you, before muttering, “you’ve dressed like a whore, sweetheart. I think it’s only fair the Captain treats you as such.” His thumb drags down your lips, and you look up at him with such hesitation it makes his balls throb. He feels as though the look on your face could make him cum already.

Warmth floods over your cheeks. It feels wrong as Steve’s palms press heavily on your shoulders, the weight of him coaxing you down. A shudder leaves you as he forces you onto your knees in front of him, and you stare at his trousers, which are tight by the groin. “Captain, I don’t think -“ you swallow thickly, shaking as he comes down to unbutton his trousers, and flinching once his hands clasp yours, “-I don’t think this is appropriate.”

Your voice comes out in a hushed whisper, and he glares down at you, relishing in your embarrassment. Your eyelashes are wet and tears prickle your eyes still, “You’re on your knees now, doll.” He huffs, blowing out a breath he didn’t know he had been holding in. Your hands shake as he guides them to his trousers. “You might as well get on with it.”

“No I - I don’t want to.” Your voice wavers as he uses your hands to pry his cock out of his trousers, which is an angry red and seeping with cum, and you feel like scurrying away from it. “I-I haven’t ever done anything like this before.” Steve is stronger than you and the grip he’s got on your wrists makes you feel as though they will snap, so you decide not to, rather cowering away from his length in fear.

“Are you a virgin?” His question makes your head shoot up in embarrassment, your eyes wide and distraught, and he groans. “Oh my god, you’re a fucking virgin.”

“I never said I was,” you mutter, yelping when his hands strike you against the face. Fresh tears fall over old tear stains, and you flinch as his fingers splay over your chin.

He tuts. “Don’t lie to me. Are you a virgin?”

“Yes,” you murmur, shameful, eyes watery as you stare up at him. You sniffle, thankful for his gentle touch, which replaces the cruelty of his hands seconds ago. It makes your heart bloom with warmth as he brushes your face softly with his fingers, although he’s wiping away the pain he’s caused.

“My pretty little baby’s a virgin,” Steve coos, and the tone of his voice makes pressure form in your lower belly. “This mouth has never been around anyone’s cock before? Ever?”

There’s almost a deluded tone in his voice as he presses his tip against your lips. You quiver below him, your eyes trained on him as he pushes himself in your mouth. It feels wrong to do this with him - it feels exploitative, and whilst you opt to pull away from him, the wetness in your panties warns you otherwise. You’re enjoying this, and it’s making you feel terrible. You’re letting your boss take advantage of you and you love it.

You'd be lying if you denied the fact that you found Steve attractive. You had a thing for blonds, and the Golden Boy reputation he had made butterflies form in your belly. The fact he was so unlike what he seems makes your thighs clench and your pussy throb. A Golden Boy with an urge to taint; and somehow, you want to be tainted.

You hum against his cock, and it makes Steve’s stomach explode with heat. The wet of your tongue and the hot of your mouth is everything he’s ever wanted and more, and as your teeth scrape against him, he hisses, trying to hold back the smack he wants to deliver to you. You’re not ready for that yet; you’re a virgin, a sweet girl who needs taking care of. He needs to be gentle with you. “Nuh-uh-uh, doll. Cover those teeth of yours and hollow your cheeks - yes, like that, baby."

Steve breathes heavily as you take it in. It feels intrusive to your mouth as you suck on his cock, your tongue swirling up and down his tip. His hands make their way into your hair, and he gently begins to slide your head up and down, going at a quicker pace. It makes your belly ache with warmth as he does it, the feeling of his hands wrapped in your hair making you feel surprisingly... horny? It makes your face flush when you realize you're enjoying being used by Steve, and you eagerly begin to run your tongue up and down his length, tracing his veins and making sure to pay extra attention to his tip.

“Fuck, you feel so good,” he grunts, his balls slapping against your chin uncomfortably, “make your daddy’s cock nice and wet.” Steve’s pace quickens, and more and more of his cock forces its way into your mouth until your eyes are pricking with tears and you’re almost certain his length is going to suffocate you. Gag after gag follows through with each desperate thrust of his hips, and you clasp your hands around his thigh, looking up at him, eager to breathe. He doesn’t let you.

“My perfect little girl. Let daddy cum in your mouth and he’ll forgive you for dressing like such a whore.”

It’s not like you’ve got much of a choice anyway. In Steve's eyes, he's waited long enough to paint you in his cum, and it doesn’t take long for him to finish. He pulls out slightly, spewing cum over your cheeks and lips, grunting with approval at the sight of you. His innocent little personal assistant, who has never felt a man’s cock before today, has just had her throat fucked as though she were a fleshlight. Steve groans, steadying himself by using your head for support, and your nose crinkles as you swallow his cum which had painted your tongue.

It doesn't taste that bad.

“Best you clean yourself up.” Steve murmurs as you clamber up, knees shaking, the heat between your legs throbbing. “I don’t want my personal assistant to look so... defiled whilst she’s working alongside me.”

“Yes, Captain.”

As you attempt to scurry off to the bathroom, Steve stops you. “I want to make a few things clear about your position as my personal assistant, doll.”

You nod your head, uncertain as to what he might say next. The sight of you covered in his cum makes his heart bloom with pride, and he realises that he has finally got you where he wants you to be. “Your role as my personal assistant is to assist me with anything I deem necessary. Whether that be sexual or otherwise. You got that?”

“Yes, Captain.”

“Good girl.”

—

Your body has been aching and sore for days. Forcing yourself up from your desk chair, you jolt slightly at the sudden pain which shoots up through your spine. You look away from Steve’s hot gaze, which makes you feel flustered and funny, and you begin to flip through pages in your folder, desperate to keep yourself occupied and not draw too much attention from Steve.

“Come here, doll.” His voice is gentle, his arms wide and open, urging you in.

You nod your head, opting to agree. You've become conditioned to his sexual advances, and he accepts when you're not in the mood, saying that he doesn't want to pressure you. Steve is a good guy in that way; he wants you to move at your own pace. You only have to do this for a few more months or so, as that’s how long your contract is.

Steve taps his lap. You comply, carefully seating yourself atop of him, crinkling your nose when he gets too close. He notices, but he doesn’t care, leaning backward slightly and brushing a curl away from your face.

“What have I done for you to hate me?” his once confident voice is quiet, oozing with rejection.

You blink at him. “I - I don’t hate you.”

Steve hums, his thumb gently caressing your cheek. You shuffle uncomfortably in his lap, looking up at him with big, doe eyes, and it makes his cock twitch. You’re so innocent, so friendly, a big baby that needs protecting from the world. All Steve wants to do is protect you and keep you safe. “You don’t look at me the same anymore,” he notes quietly. “You used to look at me like I was a savior before you started working under me.”

You shuffle uncomfortably, looking up at him through your lashes. He moves slightly to get comfortable, and your breath hitches in your throat when his clothed crotch rubs against yours. “I still think of you as a savior, Stevie,” you murmur quietly, leaning in to press a soft kiss to his cheek.

You’ve worked for Steve long enough now to know that the way around difficult conversations is to stroke his ego. His hand snakes around your back, and he traipses his fingers up and down your back slowly. “No bra, huh? What have I told you about dressing appropriately?”

“S-sorry, Steve.”

“Mmm, I forgive you, baby.” His hands fall to your skirt, and his fingers slowly ride up them. The material parts with the moving of his hands, and your body flushes with heat when his finger slides up and down your slits. He tuts. “No underwear, either? This'll be a little harder to forgive.”

You squeak slightly as Steve pushes a finger inside of you. “Y-you asked me not to wear underwear when I'm around you.”

“Nuh-uh-uh. I don’t remember that, doll. Don’t make things up to try and make yourself better off.” Except, he does remember it because he practically commanded you to strip your underwear off the last time you wore some when working alongside him. But you don’t need to remember that. Steve wants you to believe everything you do for him is because you want to do it, not because he’s told you to.

“Really?” you squeak as he curls his finger inside of you, ensuring he hits against your spongy spot. You try to ignore the heaviness of Steve’s gaze, and you swallow dryly, stuttering as Steve slips another digit in, beginning to fuck you faster with a ‘come-forth’ motion.

“Yeah, doll. Maybe you just wanted your daddy to have easier access to this pretty pussy of yours. I know how much you like getting that little pussy touched.”

His fingers slow down inside of you, and he gazes down at you with a raised brow. You protest, trying to roll against his fingers, but he grabs your thighs and shakes his head. “Bad girls don’t get to feel good.”

“I’m not bad," you whine, and Steve shakes his head in response.

“You lied to daddy. Said he wanted you to wear no underwear. You said it like I’ve been forcing you not to wear underwear when it was your decision.”

The sharpness in his tone makes you recoil, and you still your lower half. against him, not wanting to make him anymore angrier than he already is. “I-I’m sorry. It was my decision. I’m sorry for lying.”

Steve sucks in a breath through his teeth. “You know, I’ve been holding back these past weeks. I wanted to break you in.” He pulls his fingers out of you, and you whine in protest, but your sounds are muffled when he shoves them inside of your mouth. You suck instinctively, and he groans against you. “I’ve been wanting to use that pretty pussy of yours for so long, doll. Been wanting to defile you and make you mine.”

Before you can even react, the tip of his cock is pressing against your slits. “I’ve wanted to fuck you and fill you up with my cum for so long now.” His voice is a growl, and you feel frozen in place, beginning to slowly shake your head. “Fuck you full of my babies. And I know you want that, too.” He groans as he presses harsh kisses against your neck, his teeth grazing against your skin.

“No, Steve,” you breathe heavily as he holds you into place, your own body no match for the strength of his. “I- I don’t want that. I'm not ready for a baby."

“But you are. You just don’t know it yet.” His cock pushes into you, and you let out a whimper, struggling against him. Your walls sheathe him, and you let out a pained squeak. "Look at how well you take me, baby. You were made for me. You’re so wet for me. Look at you, trying to deny your rightful place as my subordinate. My pretty little girl.”

He forces his cock into you slowly. Your walls squeeze around him, sheathing his cock so well, and you whimper, squeezing your nails into his shoulders so hard you feel as though you're going to leave behind crescent moons. "No, Steve," you breathe, squeezing your eyes shut, desperately trying to get rid of the burn between your leg. "'t hurts. Stevie, I'm not ready."

"You're ready, baby," he seethes, throwing his head back slightly as he pushes his hips up further. "Your little virgin pussy is hugging my cock so fucking tight."

A mewl escapes you as his cock brushes up against the spongy spot inside of you. Tears prick the corner of your eyes, and mascara begins to brew below your lash line. Steve stares at you, his gaze passionate, wondering how he ever got so lucky. Not only has he got you exactly where he needs you, but he's also ruining you, tainting you for other men.

The only way he can truly ensure other men will leave you alone is to fill that belly of yours with his baby, so that's exactly what he intends to do. "Does that feel good?" he whispers, kissing your cheek softly. "You feel so full, baby?"

"So full, Steve," you whine, trying to adjust yourself to gather more comfort. Your walls rub against his cock as you adjust, and it feels kind of... good, so you do it again. Your hips slowly roll atop of him, and you whimper to yourself, pain mixing with pleasure.

Steve lets you bounce on him. It's a slow pace, and it doesn't hurt, though it feels unnatural to have something this big inside of you. It's not that you're entirely sexually naive - you've masturbated before, but this is completely different. Steve is huge, and with every roll of your hips, you can feel him. There's no room for escape, and your stomach flips as you throw your arms around his neck. "Steve," you breathe, eyes flittering shut as the coil inside of you threatens to break and snap, your toes curled in desperation. It feels as though you're just inches away from experiencing pure ecstasy, but you can't reach it, and it's making you so frustrated, you feel as though you could cry. "H-help me, Steve."

"You want Daddy's help when getting off?" he coos, brushing a curl away from your face. You stare down at him, biting your lip and nodding eagerly, and he groans slightly. So cute, so small, so ready for him. This is how you should be - begging for his help, needing him, relying on him. You're just a woman, after all; you need a big, strong man like Steve to take care of you.

His hips thrust up, and it's incredibly painful at first. Steve's pace is nothing compared to yours - you were being slow and gentle with your body, and he just wants to ruin it. His hips smash into you, his cock sliding in and out, and he peppers harsh kisses against your neck. You mewl against him, pressing up against his chest to feel him, your toes curling in your flats, your eyes dazed, mouth gaping. You look like a picture-perfect image, and Steve grunts as he fucks you, wanting to tip you over the edge.

It doesn't take long until the coil snaps. You murmur and shake against him, your thighs clenched as you cum, squirting all over his cock, drenching his balls and trousers. "Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god," you yell against him, his cock relentlessly fucking you throughout your orgasm.

"I'm gonna fill you with my babies," he growls, "drown your pussy with my fucking cum."

"No," you cry out, unable to move as he thrusts himself into you; again and again and again. You feel so helpless, so small and weak against him, and you stare up at him. His pupils are dark and blown, and his Adam's apple bobs desperately, his nostrils flaring as his cock twitches inside of you. "Please, pull out!"

"I don't think so, baby," he grunts, and with one final thrust of his hips, he finishes inside of you. Your walls squeeze him simultaneously, and he lets out a low, powerful groan, as he coaxes your walls with his cum. "Gotta make you a nice little housewife. Gonna have you popping out all of my babies."

Steve brushes away the tears which slip down your cheeks. He doesn't even realize how hard he's been holding you until he lets go, your arms riddled with handprint marks which he's sure will bruise. "Don't cry, doll," he murmurs, "you knew what came with the job."

"No, I didn't," you sniffle, pressing your head into his neck. It's wrong how his warmth and his smell act as a safety valve for you when he's the reason you're so upset. "I would've never - I would've never gotten into this if I knew what you expected from me."

A gentle sob racks your body, and Steve looks down at you, caressing your face gently. "Baby, stop crying. You're ruining that little face of yours." In honesty, Steve's patience is running thin. He's been good to you; caring, doting, paying you well for an easy job, and this is how you react? You cry into his arms after he tells you he's going to pump you full of his children? He's Captain America, for God's sake. You should be begging for it. "Just - Jesus fucking christ," he huffs as you continue to cry, grabbing your face harshly, and the sudden grip shocks you. "Stop crying. If you're going to speak, at least try and be fucking coherent."

Nodding your head, you wipe your eyes, which are tender and you assume, red. "I'm not ready for this," your voice shakes as you speak, and Steve almost feels a bit sorry at the sight of you. "I- I don't want this."

"Only good girls get what they want," Steve states plainly, staring at your disheveled face. He certainly got what he wanted - you look ruined, and you feel it, too. He imagines his cum is mixed with a bit of your blood; what, with him defiling you and all, he probably broke your hymen as well. The thought makes him grin to himself, and he utters, "I don't think you've been good, so you don't get what you want, baby."

"I'm sorry! I just - this doesn't seem like a fair punishment! I don't want this!" You cry out as Steve delivers a harsh smack to your ass, and you gaze up at him pathetically through your lashes as he tuts.

"I don't care if you think it's fair or not. You've been teasing me ever since you were an intern at Stark Industries, doll. I've been waiting to breed you for that long," his voice vibrates against you, and you shake your head, ashamed that you even thought you could get away with arguing against him. He's the Captain, and he has all of the control. "Anyway, you're just a dumb little baby. You have no idea what you want right now. But I do. I know what's good for you. Don't you trust me, baby?"

[holylulusworld]

Dishonored

Title: Dishonored

Summary: You fell. For his lies. For him. From grace.

Pairing: Prince!Steven Grant Rogers x Princess!Reader; Lord Barnes x Princess!Reader (no polyamory)

Warnings: heavy angst (I’m not joking), lies, manipulation, hurting people for revenge, implied loss of innocence, unwanted/unplanned pregnancy, Steve being the worst, sadness, hopelessness, desperation, suicidal tendency/suicidal thoughts, attempted suicide, fluff, we stan Bucky in this story

Rating: Mature

Words: 2,7 k 

Square filled for @anyfandomfluffbingo: Square 9: “I never loved you.”

Square filled for Lulu’s Winter Bingo 2022: Square 4: Winter

Square filled for @steverogersbingo: C3: Free space – Royal AU

Square filled for @buckybarnesbingo: C2: Sharing body heat

Please heed the warnings for this story. It contains triggering content such as attempted suicide.

You fell. For his lies. For him. From grace. 

How do you move on when your honor and grace get ripped away by the man who promised you love and devotion?

He lured you in – sweet-talked you into giving him the one thing you cherished the most. Your honor and innocence. Reserved for your future husband, and the man loving you unconditionally.

Lies. All lies.

It was a moment of weakness making you stumble and fall. Into his bed. Into his arms.

He took you apart, gentle, and slow. A miracle to you when you think about the aftermath.

A few months earlier, your father’s castle

“I can't believe Prince Steven came to woo me,” you mumbled to yourself. The prince arrived earlier this morning and you hoped your dreams would come true. You always felt a deep connection to the prince, and now, he’s here to talk to your father.

“Princess!” Your chambermaid scolded. “You shouldn’t be out here in the cold! Your father called for you. He wants you to meet Prince Steven. He will stay at the castle for a few weeks until he travels to his uncle’s castle.”

Your face fell. He came here to sit out the approaching snowstorm, nothing else.

How could you have been foolish enough to believe he came to ask for your hand?

“I’m…coming,” you tried to not cry. All your hopes and dreams ended up on the ground - shattered and torn. “We cannot let our guest wait.”

“Father,” you stepped confidently toward your father to peck his cheek. He was always soft on you, and let you break a few rules. Especially when it came to etiquette. You’re his little thunderstorm, a wild child with a bright mind and softness that’s hard to find among royals. “I heard we have a guest.”

“He’ll be here in a minute,” the king softly said. He ran his hand over your hair and patted your head. “I need you on your best behavior. I angered the prince, and we don’t want him to tell his father the king about it.”

You wrinkled your forehead. “What? I don’t understand,” you whispered so no one could hear. Your father is one of the kindest people you know. How could he possibly anger the prince?

“Your Highness,” Steven walked inside the throne room, accompanied by his best friend, and confident Lord Barnes. The brunette watched you with interest while the prince’s eyes drifted toward your brother and his fiancé, Lady Margaret Carter. “I see the princess will join us for supper.”

“Your Highness,” you turned your attention toward the prince. “It’s a pleasure to meet you again. It’s been too long.” 

Steven eagerly took your offered hand to press a chaste kiss to the back of it. “The pleasure is all mine. Thank you for having me.”

“Lord Barnes,” you smiled at the brunette. Last time you saw him he was reading a book in the garden, chuckling at something he read. “I hope you’ll enjoy your stay. The library is always open for you.”

“Princess,” Lord Barnes smiled wildly. “You look as beautiful as ever.”

“Oh…my…you are too kind, Lord Barnes,” you replied gracefully and batted your eyelashes. “It’s always a pleasure having you around.”

Supper was more than pleasant. Lord Barnes kept the conversation flowing while the prince watched you the whole time. He complimented you and raised his glass on your beauty and grace.

You were surprised. His eyes seemed to be glued to your brother and his fiancé. Out of a sudden Prince Steven turned his attention toward you. He even stopped his friend from talking to you.

Your cheeks heated up, and you felt warm when he placed his hand next to yours, subtly brushing your pinkie with his finger.

It was the first time he was so close, and you allowed yourself to bask in his attention for as long as it lasted. 

The next days felt like a dream come true. Steven asked you to spend time with him and go for a walk in the gardens. For propriety's sake, a chaperon accompanied you and Steven. But you didn’t care at all.

The moments spent with the prince were the best of your life. He made you smile, and laugh and your heart flutter.

All that mattered to you was his smile, his soft blue eyes, and the way he looked at you. It was the same way your father looked at your father and your brother at his chosen bride.

“I wish these days will never end,” you dared to hope Steven would say the same.

He took you by surprise when he replied. “Even if they end,” he looked you deep in the eyes, leaning a little closer to whisper, “I’ll always come back to you."

The prince was about to press a soft kiss on your forehead when your chaperone stepped in.

“Your Highness, please do not forget you are wooing for a princess, not a wench. Remember your manners,” she tutted. “We should head back inside. It’s getting colder, and I can smell the snow.”

Marjorie, your chaperone was right. Winter came faster than expected, accompanied by a snowstorm that wouldn’t let up.

The whole country was suffering from the cold weather and the snow masses.

Days turned into weeks, and weeks into months. The snowstorm and unforgiving winter kept Steven and Lord Barnes from leaving your castle.

You didn’t mind. Most of the time you spend with Steven, chatting about his kingdom, childhood, and love.

Yes. Love.

You held hands, and when your chaperone wasn’t looking, he even stole kisses. Steven promised you that love is the most precious thing to protect in this world.

He played you well, you give him that.

Your heart couldn’t take being apart from Steven for a single moment. So, you gave him everything you had to offer, and what he was craving. 

On one of these cold winter nights, you let him sneak into your bedroom, and take you to bed. He kissed you, and when he settled between your thighs you believed he would make you his wife and love you forever.

When it was over, he smirked, and his eyes grew cold. Your heart dropped as he hastily redressed. “Steven, what are you doing?”

“My plan went well, didn’t it?” He looked at you, making you feel ashamed of yourself. You grabbed the blanket to cover your body. The one he ruined with his touch. 

“I don’t understand, Steven. My love. What has gotten into you? You said you love me.” You cried as he looked at you, wrinkling his nose at your disheveled state. 

“I never loved you,” he coldly replied. “Your father forced the woman I love to marry your brother,” he sneered and curled his lips. “I stole his beloved daughter’s innocence. What will he do if he finds out you are carrying my bastard under your heart?”

“Steven, I don’t…” Your voice trembled. “Why? I…”

“I came here to ask your father to stop this insanity and let me marry Margaret. I love her dearly. He refused and wanted to send me away.”

You remember now. Your father told you that he upset Steven.

“But…she came here, begging my father to help her. She wanted to marry my brother. Margaret wasn’t my father’s first choice. Some princesses and ladies were more beautiful and with a better reputation. He agreed because she was in love with my brother and threatened to kill herself if he didn’t allow her to marry my brother.”

“What?” He looked a little shell-shocked at your words but shook his head. “Lies!” Steven yelled, making you flinch. “Shut your mouth, wench. Never talk about Margaret like that again.” 

He left without looking back and slammed the door shut. Leaving you devasted, heartbroken, and ruined.

After that night, he never looked at you. He declared that he was going to stay at the guest wing until it was time to leave.

One month later, …

Hopelessness is the only thing left in your life. You can feel a new life growing in your womb. Every passing day brings you closer to doomsday. 

Soon you won’t be able to hide the secret. Soon everyone will know you got dishonored.

Foolish girl letting a man take what should have never been his.

You run your hand over your belly, choking out another sob. If you want to save what’s left of your honor, you must take matters into your own hands.

Shakily you glance at the balcony parapet again. If you do it now, you can save your honor, and your father’s. 

Stepping toward the parapet you release a shuddery breath.

What if it’s not high enough? What if you survive? What if they ask questions?

“No,” you step away from the parapet. This is the wrong way to go. You must let it look like an accident. Or maybe, if you can find someone selling you a potion, you can end your life painlessly and fast.

The river looked inviting to you. You looked at the floating water, fascinated by its power and grace.

Once upon a time, you were gracefully too. 

That was until your grace and innocence got ripped away from you like it meant nothing to him. “If I step into the river, it will be over soon. Maybe they will believe it was an accident. I slipped and fell into the river.”

Slowly, you stepped toward the water, closing your eyes for a moment. This was the only way to save your honor. The water would wash away the sin you committed and take your secret with it.

You took another step, and another until you felt the cold water kiss your feet. “Cold.” You whispered but walked farther into the water, feeling it tug at your gown. “It will be over soon, my little stardust.” You rubbed your belly. “I’m so sorry.”

The water surrounded you, almost reaching your waistline as you heard someone call for you. “Princess! NO!”

It was Lord Barnes. His heart stopped beating for a moment when he saw you in the river. He knew something was wrong with the way his friend acted out of a sudden.

“Nooo!” You heard the water splashing and then, two strong arms wrapped around you like anchors holding you in this world. “What are you doing, princess.”

“I cannot…he dishonored me,” you choked out a heartbreaking sob. “I cannot remain. No man will want me. Not after he took my innocence and…the baby…it will be a bastard.”

Lord Barnes stiffened when the words floated out of your mouth like the water in the river. He couldn’t believe his friend and confidant would do such a thing to you for revenge.

“My love. No,” he dragged you out of the water, and wrapped you in his arms, letting you cry in his chest until there were no tears left in you. Lord Barnes said. “Stay with me, my love. I’ll keep you warm. We need to keep each other warm.”

“But I—” You lifted your head to look at him with tear-clouded eyes. “You should’ve let me die. Father will…”

“He won’t know. Not about what happened with Steven, nor what you did today. What a coincidence I came by when you slipped and fell into the river,” he whispered and kissed your temple. “I came back to ask for your hand, and to wed you in spring.”

Your heart thundered in your chest at his words. “I’m…ruined. You don’t want me, or my bastard child.”

“I will love it like my own, my love,” he kissed your cheek. “You are not ruined, princess. Only a little broken. But we can fix this. I got my heart broken once too. We will heal together.”

“My lord, the babe…it’s not yours…I can’t…you can’t.”

“It’s cold, let’s head back to the castle and get you warm. I’ll call for a healer…”

“Not a word about her condition except for the cold,” Lord Barnes warned the healer. “If you say a word about the other thing,” he patted his sword, “you won’t be able to spend all the gold you’ll get.”

“Not a word,” the healer nodded and walked back inside your room.

“Marry my daughter?” Your father eyed Lord Barnes warily. He came back a few days after Prince Steven and he left the castle. Alone, and with a grim expression. “But…what about the prince?”

“He’s a foolish man, my king,” Lord Barnes growled. “He lost his heart one too many times to a pretty face. I cherish your daughter, her grace, and her kindness. If you allow me to woo her, I’ll be forever grateful. I’m not a prince but love her dearly.”

“She admires you too,” the king replied. “She talked about you, and that you love to read as much as she does. If my daughter agrees, I’ll agree on your bond.”

Lord Barnes didn’t wait until spring to wed you. He insisted on marrying you within another month. 

You watched him with sad eyes as he desperately tried to fix his friend’s mistake.

“Lord Barnes, you can still find a better bride,” you took his hand to press a soft kiss on his knuckles. “I’m thankful that you tried to save my honor, but I cannot make you miserable for the rest of your life.”

“My love,” he whispered. “I fell for you the first time we met. If only I knew about Steven’s plans, I wouldn’t have stepped back and let him woo for you.”

“It’s not your fault, only mine,” you sniffled, and wiped your eyes. “I wasn’t raised to become a wench. I decided to let him do this to me…”

“Y/N, you’re not a w-.” He shook his head. “Never use that word again,” he angrily said. “He was the one stealing the light from you. You’re still an innocent angel.”

“I know that I’m not,” you hid your face in his shoulder, allowing yourself to let the mask you wear so well slip. “You’ll get damaged goods, my Lord.”

“Call me James, or Bucky, my love,” he gently rubbed your back. “I promise, you are far from damaged goods for me. You are going to be my wife and I’ll love you. And the babe will get all my love too. They are going to mine.”

“What a beautiful pair, don’t you think?” Your mother asked. “She looks happy, my love.”

Your father smiled wildly as he watched you and your groom share the first dance. You smiled and laughed as Bucky twirled you around.

“I was worried about our daughter for a while. Prince Steven’s departure left her heartbroken,” the king held out his hand for his wife. “Let us join them and celebrate their union.”

The queen smiled and took your father’s offered hand. She didn’t have the heart to tell him the truth.

A mother always knows when her child is in need. 

She will never break her promise to herself and tell her husband that she saw you at the river when Lord Barnes saved you, or that she heard what you confessed.

“He is a good man, my love,” the queen whispered. “Our beloved daughter couldn't find a better man.”

While everyone celebrated your wedding and danced, Steven stood in a corner, watching you and his best friend happy together.

He squared his jaw and balled his hands into fists. His heart dropped watching Margaret and your brother join you on the dance floor. 

Everything he did was in vain…

Tags in reblog.

[boinin]

Batten down the hatches: Rin's ego is about to land

The latest chapters show Rin playing with an unfamiliar aura: what looks like swirling rivulets of water.

This represents the refinement of his ego and playstyle since the under-20 match. But what exactly are they going for with the swirling water? Here's my two cents.

Rin is strongly associated with water, specifically the sea. He grew up by the coast; he and Sae shared a love of watching the sunset over the water after training together. Those childhood memories are turbulent now, like dark clouds on the ocean's horizon.

It's here he realises that he can no longer play the puppetmaster football that helped him thrive in Blue Lock. As good as he is, it wasn't authentic... and it's nowhere near where he needs to be to compete with his brother, or even Isagi.

Rin's flow state is the most unique out of any others we've seen. Let's dig into it. All panels are from the official translation, which is important as the translation choices are 1) consistent and 2) likely chosen carefully.

In the dying moments of the match, Rin complains about feeling restrained. Being Itoshi Rin is eating him alive.

Cool, calm and aloof.

A genius. Prodigy. Puppetmaster.

Team player. Team captain.

Isagi Yoichi's partner. Shidou Ryuusei's rival.

Itoshi Sae's little brother.

The prospect of defeat rudely wakes him up. His pretence comes crashing down hard, triggered by his ineffectiveness in spite of the teammates around him. It's one of the best rugpulls in sports manga.

When the power of friendship comes knocking, Itoshi Rin tells it to fuck off and die.

What a glorious moment... and not just because it posits Rin as a Uchiha Sasuke kinnie. I prompt you to examine his eyes in this panel.

They're a swirling vortex of hate and destruction, befitting Blue Lock's angstiest character. The shape reminds me of this:

Satellite images of Hurricane Franklin and Hurricane Idalia, August 2023. Image credit: NOAA Satellites.

Rin's true ego, which he unleashes against Sae, is a storm.

Optional soundtrack for the rest of this post (because Rin 100% listens to this once it comes out in Blue Lock's universe).

Although it isn't portrayed visually as such in the under-20 arc, the metaphor fits Rin's evolving playstyle. What is more destructive, more uncontrollable, more senseless than a hurricane? A violent force of nature that we can predict but never avert?

When a storm approaches, all we can do is rank it, track it, then attempt to mitigate the inevitable damage.

In football terms? Sounds a lot like playing Rin.

It's even alluded to in chapter 250: the graphics for Rin's formation are similar to the satellite images of large storms.

Within the U20 match, there are exchanges that support this theory. Darai calls Rin's evolving playstyle arrogant and avaricious. The latter (meaning extreme greed) is evocative of a force that pursues what it wants without regard for anything in its surroundings. What it can't have, it destroys.

Niou is confident enough in his physicality to try withstand his opponent's attrack. Rin literally flips him into the air. Niou's hubris brings to mind all man-made constructs which are supposedly storm-proof... until a cyclone comes along and proves otherwise.

The contrast between Rin and Sae's egos are interesting. If we accept Rin's is a storm, i.e. a destructive force of nature that cannot be controlled, Sae's is the opposite despite being as impossible to defy. Sae's motif is defined in the manga as "beautiful destruction", plays and passes depicted in graceful data strings. Rather than natural, his playstyle is sleek and controlled, and dominant to the point of appearing pre-ordained by his opponents.

Their attitudes are equally different. While Rin drools and loses composure in the final minutes, Sae does little more than raise his eyebrows throughout the entire game. He's completely emotionless.

It's the extremes of human nature: animalistic rage versus robotic detachment. This time, the latter wins. Will Rin have an opportunity to face his brother again, with a better grasp on his ego? Here's hoping.

My final thoughts on Rin are speculative. How does one beat a storm? Not just endure—but subdue and calm one?

It's beyond human capability. The ability to control the weather exists only in myth and fantasy, and even then it's usually in the hands of powerful entities, not mere heroes or wizards.

Subduing something as powerful as a hurricane would require a god.

Is this Isagi and Rin's endgame?

Time will tell.

[ivestas]

Thank you for writing my request, I loved it!! I have another idea but it's a deeper subject so I understand not everyone is comfortable with writing about it. Could you write about a younger reader and the team see self harm wounds and scars while they were injured or while they were changing? (Something along those lines) and what they would do/ react? Xx

what is most precious to you?

Summary: The 141 discover a part of you that you’d wanted to bury.

Tags: TW s/elf harm scars + sui/cide and talk of it, please read carefully/don't read if this topic triggers you, platonic!141 x medic!fem!reader, reader implied to be mentally ill, younger!reader, descriptions of blood and injury, canon typical violence, soap + ghost focused, unedited

Word count: 1.5k

Notes: im glad u enjoyed the previous req anon! i hope I'm able to do this req justice too 🫡

You’d been a part of the 141 long enough for the others to know and trust you.

An esteemed medic that knew medicine and all things fixing like the back of her hand, despite your age—it was a natural skill, it seemed. Your hands were always so damn fast with a gauze—hell, even a dirty rag you’d make use of in an instant. 

You were just good. Reliable. Consistent. Seemingly just a normal young lady whose only eccentricity was the job she chose to be: a medic for a merc group. 

Soap often liked to joke about that normalcy that clung onto you. 

“Bet when you’re on leave you work a 9 to 5 and sleep right at 8. I’m right, aren’t I?”

You snorted. “No, I’d sleep at 9.” 

“Ohhhhh, daring! Don’t be too crazy! Ya might just lose a leg!” 

Even Ghost would sometimes jump in, adding his own joke occasionally. 

“Should I get you a planner for your birthday? A nice, minimalist one with neutral stickers to match.”

You’d scoff and jab back, whether it be at Ghost’s mask or Soap’s current and past hair-styles.

But they never gave you a tough time about it—they were glad that one of them was able to blend back to civvy life with ease. 

Price even said it was his favorite trait—”sometimes, you need the practicality and mindset of a normal lady to get shit done.”

“Thanks?” 

The guys all had a similar image of what your childhood was like: middle-class, parents all stiff-like and old-timey, your favorite hobbies probably were things like football or reading, things like that. 

However, that image shattered during a post-mission intermission. 

Things went wrong, completely askew—the enemies were clearly prepared for the attack, because landmines were everywhere and the area was crawling with hostiles.

It was a resounding loss—many casualties, wounded, etc. 

You could hardly keep up, trying to patch up as many as possible, even when the sky rained of bullets and the air tasted thickly of gunpowder and death. It was like a place between purgatory and hell, a constant flow of shouts, screams, explosions.

It was too late for you to noticed a bullet grazed your arm; it was deep enough to be visible, but luckily it wasn’t aimed low enough for it to shoot into your arm. 

You had ignored the wound—in your mind, it only made sense to focus on the soldiers who were fighting for their lives and riddled with bullet wounds. 

So you just did that: focus on them. 

But, due to the constant movement and strain, the graze only worsened, almost tearing. The adrenaline numbed the pain, but you knew it was gonna hurt like a bitch soon enough. 

Luckily though, Ghost shouted in your ear through the comms. 

“Bravo-1, retreat!—fuckin’ hell—everyone, retreat!”  

You did just that—retreat. 

Huffing and puffing, you were quick to run to the distant chopper you recognized as the 141′s. A haze of sand was the only saving grace as it covered you from the enemies direct line of sight.

Soap pulled you into the helicopter with a quick grab of your wrist, completely unaware of the graze that arm sustained. You let out a sharp hiss of pain, feeling the skin tear just a little more. 

The entrance of the helicopter shut, and with both of you heaving, the plane finally shot back into the air, rocking back and forth the slightest bit. The sound of bullets slowly melted away into harsh whirring and mechanical buzz. 

You took a moment to collect yourself, inhaling sharply before you got up, arm still bleeding. 

But, strangely, you felt it drip along your arm and into your hand, running along your finger—ah, it should’ve been obvious, the sleeve of your wounded arm had completely torn. 

You lifted the arm, examining the wound. 

Scars of varying sizes, textures, and freshness—some having strange bubbly dots, others consisting of messy lines. Some of the fresher scars had torn a little, causing thin lines or red to rise. 

Your blood ran cold. You glance up, hoping—praying—that Soap didn’t see, or even understand the implications. 

But you could see he was staring, the cogs in his mind slowly snapping together. 

You put your arm away to your side, hiding it from his view. 

“Lass—“

“I need a medkit. We have one on the plane?” 

You loathed the look of sadness, of pity that shone in his eyes, pulled at the muscles of his face. 

Don’t. Stop.

I’m not weak. Don’t—I’m not weak! 

A chorus of words, feelings, of palpable dark was what filled your mind now. Insecurity, self-hatred, all of it—you’d been working on it, trying to regulate, to reason with the miasma that had taken ahold of your consciousness.

But, fuck, you’ve revealed it to Soap of all people—he felt bad, didn’t he? Disgusted? Worried? He was gonna tell Price, wasn’t he? That your unfit for the 141, that—

A hand rested on the top of your shoulder.

“Can I patch you up?” Soap asked softly. 

You grit your teeth. Moving away from his hand, you shook your head, glaring at the floor. A small splatter of blood was there. “I can fix it myself.” 

You expected—wanted—him to berate you. 

But he didn’t. He was kind. 

“Sure, kid. I’ll just get ya the med kit—stay put.” 

Another wave of shame rocked you. You sat on one of the small seats connected to the walls of the heli, rubbing away the small bits of dried blood. 

Consumed by your thoughts, you didn’t hear Soap murmuring to Ghost. 

“The kid—she, ah...” He ran a finger along his wrist. “Catch my drift?” 

“Cutting herself?” Ghost said bluntly. 

“Sometimes I wish you had a little more tact, L.T.” 

Ghost ignored him. “They fresh or old?”

“Both,” he sighed, grabbing a med kit from one of the plane’s various compartments. “What’re we supposed to do? Don’t wanna scare off the kid, but don’t wanna leave her on her own devices hacking away at ‘erself!” 

Ghost grabbed the kit from his hands. “I’ll handle this. You sit down—go near the Captain. Try to leave us some privacy.” 

Hesitantly, Soap nodded. “Work your magic, sir.” 

Ghost made his way to the other end of the helicopter where you were. You were hunched over your wound, a deep frown on your face. It’s uncharacteristic, but he knew it was a part of yourself you’d prefer to be shrouded in dark. Suffering wasn’t a nice look, was it?

But it was human. Denying your own right to feel it—it made Ghost frown too.

He sat beside you, kit in his hand. You had finally looked up then, alarmed. 

“Gimme your arm, kid.” 

You opened your mouth.

“Not leavin’ till I patch your arm up, so don’t even try.” 

Shamefully, you lifted your arm slowly. 

He took it with gentle but firm hands, a thumb running along a faint scar. 

Ghost opened the kit haphazardly with another hand. 

“When I was your age—maybe a little younger—couldn’t find much meaning in everything.”

He lifted his hand from your arm and grabbed alcohol and a small cotton rag. Dampening the rag with alcohol, he drew it to your arm, rubbing away the excess blood and cleaning the wounds. You didn’t make any noise, only breathing raggedly. 

“The suffering was pointless, in my eyes; thought, ‘this isn’t bloody fair’. Born in a shitty house with a shitter father, food hardly ever on the table, my mind deteriorating, and the world cast in deep gray.”

You nodded. 

Ghost grabbed a bandage gauze, unravelling it and wrapping it gently around the graze and the scars. It was calming, watching him work away, even if the wrapping was a little clumsy. 

“The harsh reality came a little while later, and it’s that people like me—us—we gotta work hard for shit to change. That this weight forced upon us, it’s only we that can shed it off. It’s still not fair—frankly, suicide is easier. Thought of doing it for the longest time... But...” 

He shook his head. “In my eyes, it’s a coward’s way out. We should never die by our own hands—there’s always something to live for.”

“What are you living for?” 

“Mmmm.... For tomorrow’s pint.” 

You laughed. 

He grabbed a safety pin and pinned the end of the gauze. “...now, I know it’s ‘silly’ to say, but you know we’re here for you?—the 141′s got your back, kid—how about this, let’s make a deal.”

“Yeah?” 

“You ever have the urge to cut yer arm, you come straight to me, or the others. They’ll listen. They care.”

They care.  

It’s weird, but hearing the words said out loud, it hit you. 

They really care. 

You took in a shaky breath. “Thank... you.” 

“It’s no problem at all, kid. Stay strong.”

AO3

Masterlist

Requests are open

[carmillamycarmine]

Carmilla Carmine x Fem Reader: Reader learning ballet from Carmilla. {1,976 words}

Request by: @coallise

Pas de Deux

Flames danced and twisted with fervor, echoing laughter resounded like a haunting melody, and the anguished cries of citizens pierced the air. It was almost theatrical. A daunting song.

Carmilla, with a solemn grace, closed her eyes and embraced the disheartening setting of her current existence. Once again. Carmilla turned from the window, her large hands folded behind her back. Within the esteemed estate, metallic thudding on hard stone could be heard throughout. The building was quiet, sheilding itself away from the torture outside.

The tall, elegant woman stepped through the dimly lit corridors, her laced feet taking her exactly where she wanted to go. The grand ballroom was cold, always surprisingly. Carmilla entered the room, watching the dark curtains rustle and do their flapper dance. Crimson hues of the moon's light filtered through intricate stained glass windows, casting prisms of light upon the meticulously polished marble floor. Within this splendid setting, an atmosphere of eagerness formed and the woman couldn't help but smile smally.

With a snap of her long fingers, musical notes floated through the air, filling it with new life. Carmilla inhaled deeply, feeling her cold heart thaw.

‘Pavane for a Dead Princess’ played out.

Long arms went into first position, and so did her feet, for once allowing herself to be off her toes, in more ways than one. And with that, Carmilla flowed effortlessly into choreography from her heart, letting the music control her. She was of a black swan gliding across a tranquil lake, her angelic ballet shoes and straps sparkling in the light like the shimmers of that swan lake.

Carmilla felt sane here. She felt closer to herself.

Without warning, a familiar scent of rose wafted into her nose, triggering an emotion within Carmilla's thawed state. The woman immediately paused her dance but did not stumble, never. White irises darted towards the entrance, landing on your beautiful figure before you quickly slipped away, hiding yourself away from Carmilla in the shadows.

“Corazón?”

The sound of the ballet woman's bubbling, velvet voice caused a wave of shivers to swim through your body, making you sigh.

“Ven acá.”

Obediently, you did go to her, revealing yourself truthfully.

“There's no need to hide. I won't bite.” Carmilla looked away from you, her eyebrows furrowing slightly with a thought.

You didn't respond.

“Were you needing me?” Her velvety voice asked.

“No, not really. I just…” You spoke as your footsteps got closer to her. “I heard music. Music plays through these halls only a few times… which, anyway, is usually when you're done with your work.”

You looked up into her white eyes, the red of Carmilla's scleras glowing and highlighting bits of her perfect face.

“I see,” the taller woman replied, her large hand going up to touch her chin in thought.

It was quiet for a moment between you two, though, the music of ballet still played on.

“Teach me.” You almost command it.

“What?”

“Teach me how to dance ballet,” you said more specifically. “Please,” you added quickly.

Carmilla observed you for a moment, considering your request. As you stood before her, you swore you could see something shift within her gaze.

“Why?”

I suppose you should've expected that response. Your eyes immediately shifted away from hers, internally forcing yourself to not fluster. You chuckled suddenly, almost embarrassed.

“W-Why would anyone want to learn?” You ask, fiddling your thumbs before making quick eye contact again. “It's just.. so beautiful. You look… so beautiful.”

Carmilla's stoic face changed into one of surprise.

“I want to feel that way.”

The ballet woman's features softened, her heart tugging from the mix of your words.

"Very well," she agreed, extending her big hand towards you. "Come, let us not waste our time.”

With graceful movements, she guided you to the center of the ballroom, positioning you carefully. Her touch was soft, gentle, contrasting with the image of her imposing presence.

“First, we must find your balance," Carmilla instructed, using her hands to help her communicate. "Feel the ground beneath you, feel your feet, your heels build into the ground like the roots of a sturdy tree.”

You followed her guidance, focusing on your stance as she adjusted your posture with a gentle touch.

“Now, let the music guide you," she continued, snapping her fingers to restart to music from the speakers. "Feel its rhythm coursing through your veins, connecting you to every note, every beat, as if it's the song of your own beating blood.”

As the bittersweet melody rewinds and envelopes the room once again, you tentatively begin to move, slightly mimicking Carmilla's steps you saw earlier to guide you. At first, it felt awkward and unfamiliar, but with each passing moment, you surrendered yourself to the music, allowing it to carry you, though, you still felt awkward all the same.

Feeling the music, you forget about your stiffness and focus on just allowing the music to take control, hoping it'll relax your body.

“The song of your own heart, corazón, not mine.”

You couldn't help but huff a bit, knowing Carmilla wanted you to produce your own dance, not blatantly copying. Following Carmilla's instructions, your movements felt uncertain. Despite your best efforts, you couldn't quite capture the fluid grace that seemed to come so naturally to her. And then, just as you feared, you slipped, your calves not used to holding up all your weight from your toes.

Before you knew it, a long, strong arm snaked around your waist as your hand was pulled by another, forcing your tumbling body into an upright position and being pulled into a firm, warm embrace. Carmilla held you steady, and without missing a beat, the woman smoothly transitioned into a pas de deux, pulling you close and along as if it were the most natural thing in the world. In her embrace, you felt a sense of security and belonging, almost a sense of awe, as if for this moment, the chaos of hell outside faded away, leaving only the two of you to burn like hot flames, dancing flames, swirling and flickering in untamed perfect harmony.

You stumbled at first, trying to keep up with Carmilla's practiced steps, but she guided you with patience and grace, leading you through the intricate movements with ease. As you danced together, you felt a connection deeping between you two, a silent understanding that transcended words; a passionate inferno.

Carmilla moved you through each step with a confidence that stirred the progressively boiling pot within you. As you looked up into her glowing eyes, you saw a flicker of emotion that mirrored your own desire, a silent longing that spoke volumes without even a single word being spoken aloud. Every brush of skin against skin sent a shiver down your spine, turning up the flames beneath your pot.

As the music swelled, Carmilla's arms lifted you easily into the air, your body weightless to her. You felt the rush of adrenaline mixed with the desire for Carmilla herself, sending a surge of electricity coursing through your veins. Seeing the woman beneath you, looking up at you, was a sight to behold, the romanticized music and red moonlight tinting the marble floor only adding to the fantastical scene. You did everything in your power to not reach out and caress the beautiful face before you.

When the music reached its end, Carmilla gently lowered you back down onto the floor, carefully allowing you to steady yourself before letting go of you. You already missed her touch, missed her too, though she was right there in front of you.

You stood breathless. Was it from the dancing, or was it from Carmilla? Unfortunately, you already knew the answer to that. With a slight part of her lips, as if she wanted to express something, Carmilla brushed a stray hair from your face, her touch causing your heart to skip and pulse with speed.

"You dance beautifully," she whispered, her voice barely above a whisper.

Gazing into each other's eyes, in that moment, you knew what you had to say. Summoning all your courage, you took a closer step forward, your heart pounding in your chest as you closed your eyes a moment to cope. "Carmilla," you began, your voice trembling with emotion. "There's something I need to… want to.. tell you.”

“Yes?” was all the taller woman spoke.

Taking a deep breath, you shook your head and held your hands together in comfort. You gathered your thoughts, your heart desperately wanting release. "I... I…” You chuckled nervously, laughing at your own nerves. “Carmilla… I love you," you confessed, your voice a faint murmur. "I've never... felt this way.. about anyone before… so passionately about someone before. You're... you're just so perfect. You're everything to me.”

For a moment, there was silence, complete silence as the music finally cuts off with its ending. The atmosphere with anticipation, you fear the worst and quickly open your mouth to take back the words you announced. And then, skipping your heart once more, Carmilla reached out and placed her sueded hand delicately on your cheek, so delicate, she might as well not be touching you at all.

“And I love you, mi amor, mi corazón," she whispered, her voice filled with warmth and affection. "I have for far longer than I care to admit.”

You were stunned, in awe. How could she say something so easily? You stood there, barely able to comprehend Carmilla's confession. A twitchy smile tugged at the corners of your lips.

"You... you love me?" you repeated, the words feeling foreign yet undeniably sweet on your tongue.

“With my whole soul," the ballet woman replied, her voice steady and unwavering.

A scoff fell from your lips before evolving into full chuckles, the sound filled with a mix of sheer disbelief and happiness. "I can't… I can't believe this," you murmured, shaking your head in amazement. "I never thought... I never dared to even hope…” But as you looked on into Carmilla's white eyes, you knew that her words were real, that the love you felt for each other was genuine and true. For some reason, the confession smothered you, and you could almost pass out.

“Hell… I really do love you, my Carmilla.” you said, your voice filled with conviction and need. "More than I ever thought possible.”

Carmilla hummed deeply in delight at that. A full smile dressed her black painted lips, a rare and truly radiant expression that lit up her entire face. Boldly, Carmilla allowed her thumb to gently graze over your bottom lip.

"May I kiss you?" she asked, her bubbly, velvety voice putting you in a daze.

You nodded eagerly, your heart getting ready to burst in your chest as Carmilla leans in closer and closer, her lips hovering just inches away from yours. With a gentle brush of her lips against yours, the world seemed to explode into fireworks. Passion and desire bursting within, each popped spark igniting a fervent longing that enveloped you both in a whirlwind of ecstasy and enchantment.

Maybe it was just Charlie's, the princess of hell’s firework spell that she does at work.

Reluctantly pulling apart from the kiss, you smile up at Carmilla, and she smiles down at you, admiring you. You held each other close, savoring the moment and the overwhelming rush of emotions. In the quiet of the ballroom, surrounded by the gentle flapping of the curtains, you found heaven in each other's arms. With a contented sigh, Carmilla rested her head against your shoulder, her arms completely wrapped around you in a comforting hug. And as you stood there, basking in the warmth of her touch, you knew that no matter what challenges lay ahead, as long as you had each other, you could overcome anything… such as your insulting ballet skills.

[jakeyt]

Covet: Chapter 11 (Part 1 of 3)

Pairing: Jake Kiszka x f!Reader

Covet Summary:

Life was good. No, life was great. 

Was. 

Until.

Jake Kiszka crashed into the picture.

You welcomed him into your life—your home. 

Yes, he was your best friend’s twin. But, he was also the one who would end up disrupting your whole world with his attitude, his troubles, and the annoyingly natural way he lured you in. 

Jake Kiszka came with so much you really didn’t want.

At least that’s what you tried to convince yourself.

Warnings: MINORS DNI (18+); angst; mutual pining; crying + feelings of sadness; arguing; heart issues addressed (POTs); use of heart monitors; revisited, vivid memories of sexual encounters; JEALOUSYYY; body changes as a result of pregnancy; negative self-talk (that, off and on, turns positive); talks of baby + pregnancy; pregnancy hormones (+ acting on them hehe); reader and jake are both STUBBORN (as always); cheating; heavy petting; oral sex m!receiving; forgetfulness; vivid imaginings of sex; talks of EMDR + the possibility of revisiting dark places; jake being the best, most helpful baby daddy there ever was (as usual, PLEASE lmk if i missed anything that is triggering to you!)

Chapter 11 (Part 1) Word Count: 23.3k+

a/n: sorry for the looooong ass wait. same old, same old. life is busy. (also, @joshym and i did go to our first three greta shows on THIS leg and almost died, too - soooo that got in the way lmao.)

as always, big thank you to @joshym for being the best sister there ever was and supporting me in my writings + pursuits <3

and biiiigg thank you to @gretavangroupie for being the dopest proofreader + catching my little, dumb mistakes lmao <3

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

Covet Masterlist

-🌼🌼🌼-

"...covetousness, looking more at what we would have than at what we have..."

-Joseph Hall

-🌼🌼🌼-

Chapter 11:

Monday

December 5th, 2022

Staring at the ceiling seemed like the best possible option. No rush to your morning or day. Class had been canceled due to a pipe bursting in the building it was held in. And after seeing that in your notifications, you’d also had a text from Gia – telling you she had to cancel your therapy session again, still recovering from the after-effects of Covid. You couldn’t be mad at her, but admittedly, it’d made your heart fall. 

And to make your morning even better, when you opened your eyes, you were greeted by the sound of Jake and Maya. The most lovely way to wake up. 

All you could hear through your door were two little fucking lovebirds out in the living room and kitchen area. . . The sound from the box fan you’d decided to keep next to your bed was your best companion in your bubble of endless sulking at Jake and Maya. 

The ceiling fan above you was great entertainment as it rotated on a perfect pattern, seemingly in slow motion. And the box fan was hitting your face with the coolest, most refreshing air flow. Offered some sort of relief, at least. 

In a moment that threatened to make you feel real sad, you felt the slightest bit free by the fans and their fresh air and consistent patterns. The serenity that rolled from them was your only saving grace. 

Today was going to be a long day. There was nothing to do. 

But, on a wild hair (and after a particularly grating laugh from Maya), you decided to text Theo and ask if he wanted to make up for yesterday's missed study session today. You didn’t know why you did it, but you did. And his text agreeing to it was instantaneous. 

Theo, 8:34 a.m.: I would love that! Does 4:00 work for you? I have to work until 3:00 :(

You took your time responding and texted back lazily, not really wanting to do anything with him, but desperately wanting to get Jake out of your mind. 

You, 8:37 a.m.: Sure! Sounds good. 

This lovely day had already started with a drag. On top of Jake and Maya talking and giggling like teenagers through your door, the sky was gray outside your window, rain having poured all night long. A light drizzle was still hitting your window. 

Your stomach rolled at the new smells of breakfast coming from the kitchen, Jake and Maya eating breakfast at your house after their fun night you’d been privy to through the walls. 

The dreary cloudiness of the December day was offset by Maya’s squeaky laughs. It kept happening – she kept laughing her ass off at him. The Jake you knew could be funny from time to time, yes, but he wasn’t a comedic genius by any means. He really wasn’t that funny. 

But, you’d learned she was adamant at being a good little textbook girlfriend. And it had become absolutely exhausting for you to experience — especially while you continued to carry her boyfriend’s baby.

Your mind got stuck in a thought when you came back to that. . . One little thing that had been bugging you, coming to your mind everyday since Maya had found out.

How in the fuck was she so okay with it? Her boyfriend living in the same house as a girl who was pregnant with his baby? How was she being so damn cool about it? 

You grumbled much louder than necessary as you yanked the charger from your phone to check your Ovia app. The photo of what the baby looked like this week was the first thing you saw. You imagined what it looked like right this second. . . . You also wondered when you’d start to feel him or her move – to your surprise you weren’t really stressed that you hadn’t felt it yet. Based on your last doctor visit, you knew the baby was completely healthy and you were feeling much better than you had been a couple weeks ago. You were trying to be logical. 

What you did let your mind wander to was what the baby was bound to look like. It was a normal thought process. Would it be a boy or girl? You didn’t even want to guess. Would it have Jake’s eyes and bright smile? You still hoped so – those continued to be the features you desired most of all. 

Even though he was not at the top of your happy list right now, you wanted him to share in this with you. It was a conundrum. And, you couldn’t deny that his gesture last night had been so incredibly sweet—the personalized cup he’d left for you, full of iced water. 

But, as soon as you went that route, your mind flicked to what hadn’t been so sweet. The not-so-sweet things your ears had been witness to right after he’d dropped the cup off at your door. 

Your moment in the kitchen, nothing but an afterthought as soon as he’d gotten to his bedroom to find his goddess of a girlfriend waiting for him. He’d claimed to want you so badly in the kitchen, only to move right on from you to her.

But you weren’t an idiot. You knew he wasn’t yours like he was Maya’s. Although, it didn’t stop your heart from tearing in your chest as you listened to him fuck the girl he truly belonged to through the walls. 

Simply put: you were just done witnessing their sex life. Done with it. 

It was disheartening and made you feel insecure and sad in ways you really didn’t need to feel. 

Your hand found your belly as you tried to get onto a happier train of thought. You read through all of your baby’s fun facts for Week 15. And, rubbing at the bare skin under your giant sleep shirt, you briefly wondered what Jake’s hands would feel like on your bare belly. Your belly, rounder every day with the baby you shared. 

You felt your hormones hype up, tears gathering in the corners of your eyes at how much of a jumbled mess your life was. 

And, while the predicament could’ve been blamed on you for breaking things off. . . You’d known, way back in August, that he was most likely bound to leave you for her. That day you’d picked him up from her house, their seamless connection had been obvious. 

What was strange was every now and then, you heard these faint words from a memory in the back of your mind. His voice. His words. And it was always him arguing it – arguing the validity of him and Maya. 

But the entire situation wouldn’t come back to you. So, you’d resolved that the words had been in a dream. They felt more like a dream. . . One you couldn’t reach back to. His stern voice telling you how wrong your assumptions were, a wavy non-memory. . . .

Though you still believed that no matter the case, whether you’d broken it off in August or waited until later, things would have turned out the same. Everything that happened was meant to happen. You’d still be pregnant and Maya would still be around. 

There was no escaping the fact that Maya was going to be around. One way or another. Around and taking away the possibility for you and Jake to ever be together again. Not that he needed that. You weren’t good for him. You’d had your solid reasons for cutting things off. 

But. . . why did those reasons seem to get hazier everyday? They were harder to place as the days went by.

You sighed deeply, deciding to focus on what else was real. . . The other things in the now that made you feel good. There was no reason to have any of that clouding your mind, to make you feel even worse than you already did. 

Getting up, you made the bed and afterwards went to undress. Get ready for the day. But, as soon as you’d stripped your shirt and were standing naked in your panties, your heart sank. You heard something through the door that you really didn’t want to fucking hear.  

“Your body looks so perfect in that, My,” Jake’s voice came through the door, sounding astonished. The cat call he made at her right after made a weight fall to the tresses of your tummy. “You are so beautiful. So damn pretty.”

And when your eyes caught sight of your bigger body— reflecting back at you through the mirror. . . . 

The tears that leaked from your eyes were expected, your heart hung so heavy in your hollow chest. Words he’d just spoken to you not so long ago as you’d worked to rid yourself of stretch marks (your creams and oils working wonders, by the way, thank god). 

“Beautiful,” he’d firmly stated while his eyes locked with yours in the mirror, just as he’d said the word. “This is beautiful. You are beautiful.”

You’d felt reassured by his words and pep talk that evening. . . It was stupid how his words had helped your mind to clear some darkness. It was stupid because obviously those words weren’t special for you. He’d say the same words to her in a heartbeat. You weren’t special.

And, no matter what he said about it not being because of the baby, it was true that he’d started being (more) attentive after finding out. The attentiveness had started almost as soon as he’d known about the baby. So, surely the words he’d said were just to perk your sad, pregnant feelings. 

He was great at being attentive. You’d learned from past experience that he was like that if you were in any sort of relationship with him, too. And Maya was in more of a relationship with him than you fucking were right now, so . . . . of course he was bound to say that shit to her.

Her obvious, natural beauty being highlighted by him any chance he got was the opposite of what you needed to hear. You knew how pretty she was. Anyone with two eyes could tell; she was built so perfectly, her face was symmetrical as could be. . . And her smile, wide and shining, with the straightest teeth. He was dating Aphrodite herself (with more voluptuous curves than Aphrodite, even) and he’d be a fool to not state the truth. 

And you. . . well, you were not built as well at the present time. And you were aware you’d hadn’t been built as well as her before the baby either. Her appearance had filled you with insecurities even then — and would continue to do so. 

Jake could talk you up as much as he wanted. But you knew it wasn’t completely genuine and was just because he felt obligated. 

You looked back to the mirror, watching to see the way your body looked as you turned to see the plump curve of your ass. Turning fully around, your hair flowed behind your shoulder as you eyed your backside. The world would never know if you were pregnant if they saw you from the back. . . You hadn’t even realized how normal the back of you still looked. All that had changed was your ass was slightly more plush with the baby weight. But, that wasn’t a bad thing. 

The longer you looked at your backside, looking like your normal, used-to-be body. . . You realized how empty you felt to look at a version of you without your baby. 

You kept your eyes trained on your body in the mirror as you spun back around on your heel to observe your front. Placing both hands on the tummy you had, your baby tucked safe as could be inside of you, you observed yourself. 

There was no denying you were bloated while Maya was perfectly fit — her boobs and ass perky while yours weren’t as much so . . .

No, your whole body was changing to accommodate the little life you were growing. But. . . as you looked at yourself in the mirror, you were finding you were really okay with it. You rubbed your hands smoothly over your ever-growing stomach, tracing shapes on the smooth skin of your (now) stretch-mark-less tummy. 

Your belly was growing. . . constantly. You knew that over time, it would continue to crowd you tighter and tighter in every space you occupied. 

But. . . You were okay with that. All it meant was that the baby continued to grow and that was what mattered. . . It didn’t matter that you didn’t look like Maya. 

But, it didn’t change one thing you knew you couldn’t grow to appreciate like you had your body. You weren’t sure you’d ever be okay that Jake was with Maya. . . And that made it all feel so much worse. Because, no matter how hard you tried, you knew you’d still subconsciously compare yourself to her because of his relationship with her. 

And the sounds through the walls, both cutesy conversation and sex. . . The displays at the kitchen counter. . . It got you in your head. Because Jake. Jake was in your head. Always.

It made perfect sense that he wanted to constantly be intimate with her. They were dating. She was hot. He was more than hot. 

You grumbled, squeezing your eyelids shut to ignore the image of them fucking — it mocked you behind your eyes. Then, there they were again at the kitchen island. Jake with his head thrown back in pleasure, with Maya on her knees in front of him. . . her perfectly manicured, white pearl acrylics clutching his shirt. 

You didn’t even want to think about the scratches those nails had made on the tanned skin of his back. How she probably marked his back with her pristine, almond-shaped nails. . . 

Crazy. You were going to go crazy.

Because while you could fully understand why she’d wanted to fuck him constantly (you’d been there – still were there), you hated witnessing it in any way. Why did it have to be right next to you? Or in front of you at the kitchen counter? How in the fuck could you rid yourself of that?

Then, it dawned on you as you changed into a comfier bra. . . 

There were rules. There were apartment rules. There’d been no conversation about taking those away. Whatever happened during those months in the summer between you two was exempt. You’d been involved with each other. But now things were back to the way they’d started. No romance (just confusing, minor incidents, really). You were back to being two roommates. . . with a baby.

Those rules you’d rambled off to him in the living room all those months ago hadn’t just evaporated. And Maya. . . she wasn’t the one blatantly disrespecting the rules that had been set for so long. Jake was doing that – not Maya. She didn’t know about them. But Jake sure as hell did. You were sure they were still posted on the kitchen fridge, under schedules and shit. Right under his nose and he didn’t even fucking care. And he wasn’t following them worth shit. 

Technically, those still stood. . . right? Had to. A baby made between you two didn’t eliminate them. It actually made you feel more validated since you carried his baby now. You were the one literally living everyday as a pregnant woman for his baby. . . The least he could do was not fuck his stupid ass girlfriend on the kitchen counter. Or right next door. 

And, in no time, Maya was sitting at the back of your mind. Didn’t care about her. She didn’t matter right now. No, it was Jake who was making you so mad you couldn’t see straight. . . What the fuck was his problem?

-🌼🌼🌼-

Later in the day, after allowing yourself a little nap after a nice long shower, you got ready for your study sesh with Theo.

You took extra time on your hair and makeup — decided you wanted to look good. Focus on something – someone else. You were desperate to get your mind off of Jake.

Truth be told, you’d accelerated at hyperspeed to a raging emotion since you’d undressed and stood in your room, being forced to listen to him go on about how beautiful his girlfriend was. 

And, it just got worse as you had to wait far too long to hear little giggles and goodbyes fade out of the apartment. Finally, at Maya’s departure around 9:30, Jake’s door had closed . . . 

By that point, you’d had plenty of time to stew and ponder. You’d pondered multiple ways Jake was pissing you the fuck off. . . Some, very valid. . . others, not even close (you were hormonal, okay?!). You’d piled on more reasons in the shower to be irate with him, too, aggressively shampooing your scalp. 

You had to admit, riding a wave of emotion over Jake that didn’t leave you in a mess of tears was actually pretty fun. . . 

You’d let your mind wander down aimless paths. By the time you were getting dressed and ready for studying, you were fuming. So much frustration with him. And right now? Jake’s selfish, crude behavior had your full attention. . . 

Admittedly, you knew nearly everything you were feeling was thanks to a surge in pregnancy hormones. Those super-human hormones were making you see only red at the thought of him. And, ridiculously, you didn’t try to tame your thoughts. No, you decided to just ride. Wanted to ride the winding rollercoaster of emotion for as long as you could. It felt good to just be angry with him. 

Was that a pregnant woman thing? Did it make you a bad person? 

. . . Because, well, even if it did make you a bad person, you didn’t care.

But. . . As you finished your light mauve lipliner, layering on chapstick, you realized maybe you should care. Not for Jake’s sake. For the baby’s sake, you didn’t want to put any unnecessary stress on the sweet love growing in your tummy. 

So, you’d devised your plan. A plan to get your mind off Jake. Something to maybe piss him off a little. God only knew how he’d pissed you off time and again. He needed a taste.

You just needed a solid distraction. And what better distraction than another man to prove to Jake that you could play at a game. 

Just because you were pregnant didn’t mean you couldn’t do as he did. . . You know. . . .mess around like him. How he performed his little stunts for God and everybody to see and hear. . . Would he be okay with it if you did the same? It seemed like an interesting experiment.

The spiral of negative emotion towards him had started with how selfish he was being with the apartment rules. Because, yes you were just sick and tired of Jake and Maya flaunting their shit. That was the root of it. And when your mind had wandered just far enough to retaliate. . . you’d decided to push in to the urge. 

You wanted your own thing to show off. . . Your own person to be obnoxious and publicly affectionate with you. And you had the perfect person in mind. . . someone who’d shown interest time after time. . . Going all the way back to sophomore year of high school. The very same person who was about to spend the next few hours with you to study.

Though, you couldn’t help but wonder. . . Even with how interested he’d been before, would he mind your pregnancy? 

You figured to test it; there was no use in trying to hide your round belly from your (admittedly cute) study buddy. Hopefully he’d find you, as a pregnant woman, just as appealing as he did before he knew you were pregnant. 

You’d decided on your dark brown jumpsuit, which complimented your body just right. With the weather being chillier, you decided on a tight white mock neck underneath. The jumpsuit was your new favorite piece of clothing. You hadn’t worn it out yet, but it actually fit your changing body well. You’d ordered a few failed attempts at a jumper like Gia’s, and you’d finally found one that fit your rapidly transforming body. The material of the suit was soft and stretchy, meaning it would be a go-to for the next several months. 

It wasn’t even maternity – that was your favorite part! Outfits like the one you were eyeing yourself in kept you from having to wear clothes made exclusively for pregnant women. In fact, due to its incredibly flexible nature, you already had a few other colors by the same brand in your Amazon cart. . . Cute, comfy, and not made for pregnant ladies only.

The idea of wearing maternity clothing was still something you were warming up to. . .  You’d discovered on BabyTok that a lot of expecting mothers hated wearing maternity clothes. The general consensus (that you agreed with) was that it made them feel even more ostracized when they already felt like your body wasn’t your own. 

After having the full ensemble put together, you turned to glimpse at your ass in the suit, adjusting your gold jewelry as you turned back around to face the front. 

You were beyond happy with what you saw. 

Adorable and sexy all in one outfit. Your curves were being hugged in all of the right places: boobs, belly, butt. And, even then, the jumper still left some mystery with its looser parts. . . You felt confident. 

The white sneakers and white mini crew socks added the ideal final touch, helping you to feel even more comfortable and excited by your outfit with the other trendy addition. (Thank you, blessed Target and your off-brand tennis shoes.)

The thought made you momentarily think about making a Target baby registry when the time came. Would Jake want to be involved in that? You wanted him to be. . . Ugh. You actually hated how badly you wanted him to be in the middle of all of it with you. 

You were supposed to be mad at him!

As you slung your belt bag over your chest, you huffed at the thought, tightening your bag a little to balance just right over your bigger breasts. And, as you did so, your mind started drifting. Drifting to the same eyes you always had waiting for you at the back of your mind. The eyes you wanted looking at you, admiring you. . . They weren’t Theo’s. Not at all. These eyes were Amber-brown and darkened naturally when they took you in (rather, they used to darken at you).

Then, there were the calloused hands you wanted to meet you at the end of the day, in your bedroom, to help you take off this outfit. Piece. By. Piece.

You growled to yourself, readjusting the belt bag once more to not be so tight over your boobs. 

Damn that fucker. Jake was like a thorn in your side—making his way into thoughts of yours without giving you a chance to combat it.

God, you just needed to focus on another man. Jake had Maya. You needed someone, too. Right? It was going to help. It would be an attempt, at the very least, to get your mind off of your baby’s (smoking hot) daddy. 

Once more, you eyed your outfit – your little round belly, in particular. You loved how it stretched the material at your waist just enough to see there was a baby in there. . . your baby. How could you be so proud of a life that you hadn’t even held in your arms yet?

Your phone dinged from where it laid on your comforter. You walked to check it, finding a quick text from Theo to ask if you wanted him to pick you up. And. . . you agreed . . . It was the perfect start to your plan.  

As soon as you sent it, though, you suddenly felt a solid moment of pause at the idea of dating another man while being pregnant with Jake’s baby. 

You didn’t want anyone else. Really. You knew it. Your body grew instantly uncomfortable at the idea of someone else. You craved one person in particular and it was not Theo. . . but who’s to say it couldn’t be Theo? Or any other man, for that matter? It could be. It could. . .

If Jake was able to move on from you, you could move the fuck on from him, too. 

So, with that thought, you ignored the pull towards Jake. Didn’t need him infiltrating your fresh state of mind.

-🌼🌼🌼-

Once Theo had texted that he was about ten minutes away, you decided you’d make your way out to the living room. 

But, of course, the other occupant of the living room at that moment was someone you did not intend on seeing. Didn’t want to see him. Jake, sitting on the couch watching some documentary. 

He wasn’t wearing PJ’s on this gloomy, rainy Sunday afternoon, but rather a sexy ass outfit (What was he dressed up for? Could you not catch a fucking break?!). 

Looking at him, all you could imagine was being held close enough to feel him hard, against your ass, hand cupping your breast just like you’d needed so badly. . . 

Last night, he’d made you feel so many emotions. Two of which being seriously intense longing and lust. And he’d seemed to feel the exact same way. . . 

. . .Only to go back to his room and make it no secret that he was fucking Maya into his mattress and not you. 

He offered to come to you, y/n. . . a voice whispered, sounding like Elsie. It was something she would say. But, you already knew what you’d tell her. It was what you’d told him and what you’d been telling yourself. 

It wasn’t right. Last night had been enough to make that apparent to you. . . and hopefully him, too. It would be a mistake and it wasn’t right. It wasn’t right at all to do that shit–even if the other person in the equation was someone you despised as much as you were growing to despise Maya.

But, alas, you had no ground to stand on. . . He wasn’t your boyf—. 

Well, yeah, actually. You did have some ground. You would pull the motherfucking Baby Mama card if you had to.

You yanked a Canada Dry from the fridge before going to wait in the doorway for Theo. 

Back to square one of being pissed with Jake.  Hearing Maya outright crying and moaning his name repeatedly felt blasphemous (dramatic, but whatever). . . You were even more tired of hearing him – the same moans and groans that had once been your favorite sound. . . . You were just damn tired of it.

As you popped the can open to take a decent swig, you worked to convince yourself that it mostly annoyed you. Just because it kept you from getting enough sleep for you and a baby. But you knew, quite frankly, it was because you cared more than you should have about it. 

What you didn’t care for was hearing said baby’s father fuck another woman any and every way she wanted. 

Not when there was a time it had been you instead. 

You let your eyes travel to him, sitting on the couch. The profile of his face was all you could see. The sharp outline of his jaw. . . The straight bridge of his nose, begging to be traced by your finger. His pretty mouth, lips slightly open before he licked them in anticipation at the screen in front of him. 

Had he not noticed you? Or was he purposefully ignoring you? Whatever. It didn’t matter.

Even though it was wrong, you weren’t able to help the way your brain spiraled at the thoughts of endless summer days as you surveyed him. You thought of those blissful days where it had been you he was fucking so well you saw stars over and over again. . . leaving you with a dull ache between your legs from how fucking good he’d given it. . .

Ugh! No. You rubbed your thighs together, working to alleviate the thoughts that had your panties getting slightly damp. Motherfucker. 

Because, again, everything you’d had to witness between him and Maya and he hadn’t even cared. . . . fucking jackass. Acted like he cared so much that day in the kitchen. Didn’t want to let go of what you’d had. But then he’d moved on to what had been patiently waiting for him. . . So fucking soon after. You hadn’t had time to catch your breath.

Truly. Fuck Jake Kiszka. The butterflies that jittered in your belly at your inappropriate thoughts were simply confused as hell. . . 

“How you feeling today?” He asked, not looking away from the television, definitely sensing your presence behind him. 

God. . . stop acting like you care.

“Fine,” you plainly stated, tone clipped, rubbing your belly briefly.

You looked away as soon as he turned his head in your direction, avoiding eye contact with him. But you could feel his eyes piercing burning holes in you from the couch. You busied yourself on your phone, ignoring him. You checked your Ovia app for the second time today. 

“You sure about that?” He asked, his voice getting buried in the back of your mind as your eyes traced the new baby facts again. 

Size of an avocado. Legs were officially longer than arms. . . could bend his or her knees and elbows now. . . Baby might be growing hair (would it be his color? Or yours?). . . Baby’s heart is still under construction but capable of pumping 25 quarts of blood a day. . .

You realized then and there that, in spite of how pissed you were with him, you wanted him to live all of this in real time with you – wanted to tell him all of these new things about the baby.

“Baby is the size of an avocado today,” you meekly stated, not wanting to get all mushy when you could have slapped him and felt fine with it. 

“What?” 

“What do you mean, what? I just told you what,” you snapped your eyes over to him on the couch, but realized he was standing and gathering his bag of almonds and glass of water to head over your way. 

You moved closer to the door, not caring to smell hints of sandalwood or vanilla or citrus or amber . . . whatever the fuck he’d chosen to use to smell sexy today. 

“Yeah,” he said, shaking his head on his way to the kitchen. 

You followed every one of his movements; watched him put the almonds in the pantry, then eyed his firm grip on the glass cup as he finished the drink off in one final sip. His adam's apple bobbed in his throat as he closed his eyes to savor it. You saw as a few drops from the drink slipped from the glass, down his chin, and all the way to his chest. Damn. Right down the middle of his perfectly toned and tanned pectoral muscles. When he went to wash it in the sink, you observed closely as he swiped under his plump bottom lip with his thumb to catch the remnants of water. 

In no time, he was done washing the cup and facing you again. A tiny grin quirked on his lips and you realized it was probably because you still had your mouth open watching him. Quickly, you shut it and raised a brow at him. 

“Don’t smile at me.” You sounded ridiculous, but you were trying to cover up your moment of staring at him. Didn’t want to seem weak.

“I apologize for smiling,” he responded, his eyes rolling with the words the slightest bit. “What were you saying before?”

“You seriously already forgot?”

“No. God,” he cleared his throat, crossing his arms over his chest. “I was trying to spark the conversation to life again.”

“By acting like you forgot what I said?” Damn it all to hell – what was wrong with you?

“Why are you so upset?”

“I’m not,” you retorted, knowing better. You were upset. . . not about this, in particular. Just him. Just upset with him. 

“Yes you are.”

“Stop,” you bit back, not wanting him to see through you. “If you would have just listened the first time and not asked me ‘what’, then we would already be done talki–,” growling with a huff, you frustratedly tucked a lock of hair behind your ear. “I blatantly said that it was about the baby. You knew what I was talking about,” you looked down at your phone, doom scrolling on the app – looking at past and future weeks in your pregnancy. “Just listen better next time and you won’t have to talk to me for so long.”

Okay, now you were letting off that you were weak. You sounded pathetic. Were you really feeling insecure about that at the root of it all? Did you feel like he didn’t want to talk to you? 

If you were being honest, you did feel like a burden and the tears accumulating in the back of your throat were proof of it. Part of you felt completely inadequate and like he couldn’t care. But. . . if logic was to speak and remind of what was real, you would realize he was the one that initiated the conversation in the first place. Of course he wanted to talk to you. . . 

Or was he just being nice?

“Goddamn, yes ma’am. Sorry for my lack of rapt attention and preparedness. I’ll pay better attention next time,” he grit back. “Jesus Christ.”

You couldn’t blame his frustration. There was no denying you sounded crazy. This was becoming something it didn’t need to because you were grumpy with him and just generally hormonal. 

Looking down, you thought you’d offer some sort of apology. There was no use in being completely unreasonable. “I’m sorry I’m being so moody and grumpy. These hormones are all over the place,” you reasoned, not wanting to divulge your complete irritation with him you’d sat on all afternoon. 

You saw him move from your peripheral. Quickly, you came to terms with the fact that he was coming close enough for you to smell him, despite your efforts to avoid him. And if he didn’t smell more incredible than any other man to ever exist. . . fuck.

You looked up from where you’d started checking your nails, not able to deny his closeness. It spiked your heart rate. He was leaning his back against the counter, right next to where you stood by the door. Personal space was a foreign concept, apparently.

His eyes drifted over you, your skin flaming at the attention from him. His gaze skated over your figure – no doubt he was taking in the outfit. You felt pretty fuckin’ hot. This was the first time you’d felt genuinely pretty in a long time. You could only hope he saw you and thought so, too. 

“You look fucking—wow,” he commented, his voice low enough for you to feel his words. “I can’t put it into words. But, damn, this outfit,” he smirked, nodding his head at you before letting his eyes land on your round belly with a soft smile before he looked at you. “I like how the baby looks in it, too.”

You blushed. That was sweet as hell. 

“Thanks,” you sunk your eyes into his before letting your eyes rake his figure. If he could do it, you would, too. 

He looked fine as hell in his all black outfit with that damn mustache coming in again. . . You could think of a few things that could settle an argument or two. You thought of him exposing your bare breast last night, his dick hard and pressing into your ass. . . . Wanted to feel him grind against you right now. Quite frankly, looking at him, all you wanted to do was lay across the kitchen counter and let him –. 

No. 

That was the same counter he’d betrayed your rules on. Dammit. You were so mad at him. Was it legitimate? You couldn’t tell. Hormones and shit. 

The knock against the door was what broke you from your reverie, eyes having been locked on him for far too long. 

“You goin’ somewhere?” He asked, folding his arms tighter across his chest. You didn’t look at his biceps or the jewelry on his hands and wrists. Didn’t think of the way his earring hung just right for you to see it through the thick tresses of his long, wavy hair. 

Instead, you took those thoughts and turned them into another woman moaning his name. 

Goddamn, y/n. He hasn’t fucking cheated on you. For God’s sake. Slow your damn roll.

“Yes,” you stated, moving to check your makeup in the living room mirror. When you reaffirmed why you felt so damn confident today, you unlocked the door, opening it so Jake could see for himself. He’d moved from his space at the counter, behind you, out of curiosity. 

“Hey, gorgeous,” Theo’s grin took up his entire boyish face, his fresh haircut complimented his square jawline well. His excited energy fed the tense air perfectly. Just like you wanted. 

“Oh. . . study buddy. . . I remember you,” Jake commented behind you. His tone was almost mocking, challenging the situation. “Making flashcards or some shit, I presume?”

“Depends, man. Might have other goals in mind for today. . .,” Theo winked in Jake’s direction, then yours. You couldn’t help the smirk that fell across your features at his response to Jake. “Little Miss Hot Thang here still needs to go on a date with me like she promised. Maybe we can talk about that, too,” he winked at you. Your eyes smiled, but your lips couldn’t quite reach them.

Little Miss Hot Thang? What?

Though, you had to applaud Theo, he was playing into what you’d wanted perfectly – his little crush on you was shining through. The little cocky lilt in his tone that seemed to be consistently present made your skin crawl just a bit, but you were mostly used to it after all of the studying and times you’d sat next to him in class. 

Right now, you only cared to make a point to Jake, though, and Theo’s tone was a non-issue. Though, you hoped his words were clicking with Jake like you wanted them to. 

“Oh, yeah? Wanna take her out on a date?” Jake snipped from behind you.

Your eyes twinkled at the sound of his response, tummy somersaulting at the edge in his voice. 

It was like a scene playing out exactly as you’d want it to as the viewer. . . The only thing that sucked, though, was that even with the two handsome men standing on either side of you, your body was still only pulling you to the wrong one. The handsome one behind you, dressed in all black. The same one smelling like the most incredible mixture of sandalwood, vanilla, and amber. You caught a whiff of something new, too. . . A different cologne? 

You wanted to sink into him. . . let him hold you again, just like he had on Friday.

You did not feel pulled at all to the one in front of you, dressed in his dark wash skinny jeans and a Pratt Football Alumni sweatshirt. The man you didn’t want, that you were about to flirt with even more. It made you less and less excited by the minute for what you were egging on. . . Did you even want it? Was this a stupid idea? You were simply encouraging it for the sole purpose of giving Jake a taste of his own medicine.

Was it worth it?

It made you question if you were sure you wanted to continue entertaining it if you knew you didn’t actually want him.

“Of course I want to take her on a date. You kidding?” Theo smiled, not assuming anything but the best of the situation, his eyes finding yours flirtatiously. “Who wouldn’t?”

You gave a sideways grin to him, feeling unsure of it all.

“And you’re sure she wants it, too?” Jake asked, challenging him with a scoff in his tone.

Suddenly irked by his questioning, you turned your head to the side to address him, still not fully looking at him. You relied solely on your turned head for him to acknowledge that you were speaking to him. 

“Not your damn business, Jake,” you snapped, contemplating your next words. “But, yes, I would love to go on a date with him, if you must know. Just like old times.” 

You tacked the last words onto the end for extra emphasis. . . . For extra emphasis on the web of fibs you were delicately weaving.

The words made Theo’s smile grow as he leaned towards you, tucking a lock of freshly curled hair behind your ear. 

The action made your heart rate pick up – which made you think. Perhaps there was hope you could string this along—just for long enough to shut Jake out. If the tall blonde man was making your heart rate speed up now, he would continue to do that, right? Maybe this revisited ‘romance’ would actually turn into more. . .

Ugh. But was that what you wanted?

The answer was more than likely a big fat no. Fuck no. 

Though, you did like what it was doing to Jake. Especially when you looked over your shoulder and saw the pink tinge that had enveloped the apples of his cheeks, how his jaw was set in tight tension. His eyes were trained on Theodore, observing him. Judging him. And when you saw the sudden flare of his nostrils, you knew. 

This was making him angry. You’d go as far to say jealous, even. Could it be?

And as horrible as you knew it was, it felt way too fucking good. 

“Just like old times?” He questioned, pursing his lips and narrowing his eyes at the man in the doorway.

“We dated in high school,” Theo answered for you, completely oblivious of Jake’s irritation towards him. For all he knew, Jake was just an asshole. Was he even picking up on Jake’s mood?

Better that he didn’t. You didn’t want him thinking there was anything more between you and your roommate; even though the baby growing in your belly said much differently. But you were sure Jake’s little perturbed act was something Theo would eventually catch onto. . . . so, you tried to get him off of the subject one more time. 

Matching his level of irritation seemed the only possible solution to shut him up. 

You turned fully around to face the long-haired man. His arms were crossed, hands wrapped tightly around his biceps and squeezing intermittently. You observed his handsome features for maybe one second too long, but you couldn’t help it. The beauty mark on his right cheek, along with a couple of tiny scars under his left cheek bone caught your eye – parts of his face you’d memorized months ago. His tanned skin was the perfect canvas for every single precious mark it honed. Would your child have any of the same freckles he did?

Not letting yourself get too lost in that devastating train of thought, you tried to catch his eyes and to no avail. He was hard pressed to intimidate your study buddy or some shit. 

When you cleared your throat to gain his attention, his hard gaze finally landed on you rather than the poor, unassuming man in Pratt gear behind you. But. . . . you lost all ammunition to say anything hateful to him when his stare penetrated your own. The way his eyes bore into yours made your breath catch in your throat.

You were right before – you could read him well. And while he was obviously angry and (oddly) jealous. . . . you also sensed a tinge of hurt behind his darkened irises. You’d seen his eyes falter like this before. . . the way he would try to hide the hurt behind a sort of tough act. 

“Jake,” you whispered, reaching out to touch his arm. You didn’t know what you were trying to communicate to him, but you had a feeling he’d catch on to whatever it was. 

He didn’t flinch away. No, he let you touch him, leaning into it the slightest bit. His eyes glimmered for the briefest moment, holding yours. . . . . Before he suddenly was moving away. You were losing him. And, instantly, you knew that the impending fling behind you was definitely not what you wanted.

God. What had your life come to?

“Alright, well, so be it,” the stark tone in his voice, along with the way his eyes stayed trained on yours, made your skin prick with goosebumps and all of your senses flare. “I suppose you’re right. Nothing you do truly is my business. Just as mine isn’t yours, right?”

Thankfully, his biting words made your skin flame once more in aggravation. You were mad at him. Right? You could fight those words.

You wanted to keep whatever upper hand you’d created, so you had to be quick with your next words. And actions. 

You squinted at Jake, inhaling deeply and pursing your lips. Then, without taking another second to think it through, you turned once more. Leaning into Theo, you let your hand lay flat on his buff chest. The blonde then placed a sure hand on your hip, looking down at you with a raised brow and smirk. You sort of enjoyed it, but you also felt a little icky about it. Luckily, you knew how to keep face. 

Looking over your shoulder once more to say something, the words caught in your throat when you saw his fists balled up, nails surely digging tiny abrasions in the palms of his hands.

You would venture to say his current feelings teetered on the edge of how you felt towards him and his girlfriend. 

Feels great, doesn’t it, Jake? 

Yeah. . . . . You were completely sure you wanted to play this little game. With the way he was reacting, you were getting curious to see just how far it could go. . . 

From behind, you heard Jake shuffling away, his door closing a little louder than normal. A slam, yes, but not enough to alert Theo to anything going awry. The tall man’s blue-green eyes were sincerely sparkling as he grabbed hold of your hand gently.

-🌼🌼🌼-

You remembered you wanted to talk to Jake about the rules as you pulled out of the complex in Theo’s Mustang. His mouth was going a million miles a minute with shit you didn’t care much about. So, you used his personally-created distraction to your advantage and decided to text Jake about wanting to discuss something with him.

Might as well catch him while the fire’s hot. Maybe he’ll actually pay attention.

It took him a few minutes to respond. It made you momentarily question sending it to him after you’d just irked him as you had at the apartment. 

Jake, 3:05 p.m.: oh. So you’re planning on coming back tonight, huh? 

Your heart jumped in your throat. Motherfucker. 

You, 3:05 p.m.: We are purely studying tonight. 

Jake, 3:06 p.m.: is that what lover boy wants? A ‘pure’ little study date? 

You glanced over at your classmate as your senses flamed with Jake’s words. Fuck him and his invasive questions. You locked your phone. 

It was a good damn time to finally look up and acknowledge the other person in the car. You figured this, because as soon as you looked over to Theo, he was waiting on you, trying to include you in conversation.  Just at that moment. 

“Don’t you agree?”

Shit. Agree with what? You’d totally tuned him out.

“About. . .?” You trailed, feigning interest and trying to act like you were thinking of all of the things he’d said. “I’m still stuck on what you said earlier about. . .,” your eyes glanced at his Pratt sweatshirt. You cleared your throat, “About school.”

God, that was a step too far. Brave? Stupid? You didn’t even know if he’d mentioned school! Fuck.

But, you were relieved when he laughed, nodding his head as he went ahead at a green light. The smell of his Black Ice car freshener was almost too much for your pregnant super-senses. 

“Yeah, me too. That professor is crazy!” He said, going ahead as the light changed. “No, but do you agree that this test is going to be a piece of cake?”

Wow. So he really had spent the past several minutes talking about school and a test? Shit. You had imagined there’d been more. Didn’t know why. It was Theo. He had a one-track-mind. He was all about school and Pratt. 

Meanwhile, you weren’t even interested enough in school to carry a fully thought-out conversation about it, much less drone on and fucking on about it. 

“Oh, yeah,” you knit your brows. “Piece of cake. We’ve got it in the bag.”

“So. . . you sure you don’t want to make tonight our date then?” He proposed, a blush rising in your cheeks with the lift of his brow. Oh.

Answer was. . . Yes. You were sure you didn’t want to go on a date tonight. Didn’t want to go on one at all, if you were honest. Or did you? With the way the blush hadn’t left your cheeks yet, you weren’t entirely sure how you felt about it at the moment. 

It was confusing as hell. But, you’d dug your own grave. You had led him on. 

Momentarily, you contemplated it. . . If you did it tonight, would that help you to get it over with sooner? Be rid of this guy who’d annoyed you more often than not in recent times? 

Ugh. No. You couldn’t let it end after one night. You needed to drag it out. 

“Why don’t we start with some studying and then we can talk a little more on that?” You tried, voice cracking a bit on the last word, feeling utterly unsure of it all. 

“So . . . .,” he trailed, waiting for you to continue. 

“So, I’d say we will find another night to have our date. Make it special,” you slapped a sweet grin on. Make it special? God, shut up, y/n. “I promise.”

His eyes shone, hand coming to grip yours. Fuck, yours were clammy as hell. 

“Yeah, special,” he enthused, your stomach dropping at the word. “I like the sound of that, y/n.” 

-🌼🌼🌼-

When you were finally home from your excursion, you could have sighed with the deepest relief. You’d have been lying if you said your social battery wasn’t drained. You’d worked to keep up with the flirtiness, acting flirty even when it felt completely unauthentic. 

But. . . Unfortunately for you, there wasn’t a moment to sigh with relief, being immediately met by Jake. Still awake and reading a book in the armchair. Didn’t want to make him suspicious of you being turned off by Theo in any way. You needed to convince him that you were interested in the jock. 

You figured you might as well start off strong. 

“I really like him,” you breathed the supposed lie, not able to contain the eye roll threatening to expose your charade.

Jake hmphed from his spot in the chair, not even caring to look up from his book. “Good for you, y/n.” His tone was a grumble as he never lifted his eyes from the page, in fact turning to the next page, more invested in the literature than you. 

You turned to hang your belt bag next to the door, swishing your leftover Pink Drink after the bag was put away. When you walked to put the drink on a coaster in the living room, you looked over to Jake, who was still busy reading. Even though he seemed to be ignoring you, you suddenly wanted to spend some time with him. But, before you could get situated on the couch, you decided on going to your room to change. 

As comfortable as your outfit had been, it still wasn’t sweatpants. And the basket of freshly clean clothes you’d left on your floor held your comfiest pair of sweatpants and your biggest Pratt sweatshirt, made of the softest cotton material. You were quickly unlacing your tennis shoes and stripping out of your jumper and undershirt and bra (good god, so uncomfortable). Once you were in the set of comfy clothes, you felt instant relief. 

You’d kept your socks on, feeling abnormally chilly. December’s evening weather was still sticking to your skin. It was fucking nice to not be burning up hot. 

With one last glance to the side, you  grabbed your own book to read, sitting on your bedside table. One from your recent night out with Jake. You figured it wouldn’t hurt you to sit with him in the living room and read at the same time as he did. It had the potential to be a nice, calm setting. 

Just before you could make it out of your bedroom, you went to grab your fluffy blanket from your bed – only to find Stevie snoozing away on it. Your heart swelled at her deep sleeping breaths, completely at peace. Being as you were not about to wake her, you just decided to head to the living room and use the blanket you kept in there. 

Water was your first priority before a blanket, though. Your mouth had turned to sandpaper in the time between leaving the living room and walking from your room, back to the common area. You were always thirsty these days. 

Though, as you went to grab your giant Stanley from where you’d left it earlier, you noticed it freshly washed next to the sink. What. . .? You hadn’t–? Jake must’ve done it. 

Your heart tripped over itself. Why did he. . .? Finding your voice, you asked him. “Did you wash my Stanley?”  

“Yeah, figured you’d be thirsty when you got home,” he called from the living room, just loud enough for you to hear in the quietness of your apartment. “You fill that giant ass thing up at least twice a day and down it like it’s nothing. And I hadn’t seen you fill it up even once before you left.”

But. . . . he’d been so angry when you’d left earlier? Why was he taking care of you and your things?

“I filled it up when I came out this morning,” you clarified, shocked that he’d noticed your routine of sorts. “But I didn’t get to finish it before I left. Got left on the counter for a Canada Dry,” you made a noise of realization, thinking how delicious one of those would taste right now, too.

When you went to grab the ice cold can, you got the most stereotypical pregnant girl craving. Ice cream. 

And. . . you had absolutely zero of it. 

“Dammit,” you said to yourself, shutting the freezer door in quiet resolution. In slight frustration, you huffed, blowing hair off your face. 

You’d survive. Still really freakin’ sad, though. You could feel the pout making its way to your features all on its own – you couldn’t control it. The cravings came with a vengeance in recent weeks. 

When you got to the living room, you fluffed the cozy blanket that you kept on the back of the couch, wrapping it around your shoulders. And in no time, you were sitting, tucking yourself as far into the couch as possible, making sure to lean against the arm of the couch that allowed you to see Jake. 

What if you wanted to talk to him about something you learned about the baby as you read? You’d want to see his face to talk to him. And what was wrong with liking a nice view as you read?

As soon as you’d snuggled in with a pillow tucked just right behind your back to support you, you went to open your book, only to find a disappointing reality. 

There was no book. No Stanley filled with water. Just the Canada Dry. You’d left your book and your Stanley (still unfilled, forgot to do that, too, you thought) on the kitchen counter. 

“Fuck!” You griped to yourself, letting your head fall, placing your hands over your face. You’d just gotten comfy and now you’d have to get up again. Getting comfortable was becoming a chore. 

The tears were coming. Dammit. 

But, in almost no time, you felt a presence next to you, his hand coming to rest on your shoulder.

“What’s going on?” Jake asked, nearby and your ears instantly tuning in to him, head still in your hands. 

“Pregnant brain,” you mumbled, the words smooshed into an incoherent response. 

“What?” 

You sighed, bringing your hands to your cheeks to wipe any tears that might have made tracks. Luckily, most had fallen into your hands to avoid a mess of mascara. Though, Jake’s thumb came up briefly to wipe just under your right eye. His finger on your skin, so gentle and making your heart race. 

There was no resentment in his eyes when you briefly caught them before looking away. It was as though earlier had never happened. No anger or irate energy between you two. Just compassion coming directly from the man next to you. 

Then, his hand was gone, his arms crossing over the thigh, as he took a knee next to the couch. He had leaned in close enough that your head was fuzzy with the scent of him—he smelled so delicious. Although, that new fragrance to his cologne you’d smelled earlier. . . it was there again. What was it? 

“New cologne?” You questioned, sniffing the onslaught of tears away.

“Doesn’t matter right now.”

“I wanna know.”

“Answer me first,” he insisted. “Why are you crying?”

You growled, irritated with his insistence. Looking over towards him, you locked eyes with his. Your heart leapt at how his eyes gazed back at yours. . . His stare was unwavering, showing just how much he cared.

“My pregnant brain,” you tried again, grumbling. The pouting still couldn’t be helped. “I forgot my fucking Stanley and book in the kitchen. And I just got comfortable,” you huffed, going to throw the blanket off from around you. 

Jake’s hand came up, holding yours to stop you. “No, you stay. Let me get it.”

You didn’t have it in you to argue and not having to move sounded nice. His hand on yours also had you completely frozen. “Okay,” you whispered, eyes growing wet again at his kindness. 

A loose grin spread across his pretty lips and he was gone at a moment’s notice to grab your things for you. 

Your tummy fluttered at him, completely in awe of his gesture. Though, you shouldn’t have been. He kept doing things like this. Little things to help and show he cared. . .

Why were you upset with him again?

“Did you forget to fill the Stanley?” Jake questioned from the kitchen, your head snapping in his direction.

The tears were back, for God knows why. “Yes,” you cried. “I’m sorry you have to—.”

“Why are you sorry, honey?” he responded, inflection showing nothing but a genuine desire to help. “I’m here to help you. I told you this.”

Yeah, because Maya wants you to.

Aaand you were annoyed again.

“Thanks,” you mumbled, checking your less than pretty manicure. You could stand to have another done soon, the chipped black paint on your nails having seen better days.

In no time, he was walking back to you with the Stanley full and your book in his other hand. He was wrinkling his eyebrows, one raised a bit more than the other in curiosity at you. You felt how your face was still reading unhappiness. Thanks to your lovely thought process. But, then, your tummy rumbled (loudly), reminding you of the other reason you were cranky.

You flushed, embarrassed by the sound. 

God, be a little more subtle, sweet baby. Please.

It had turned into even more than ice cream, though. You realized you hadn’t eaten since the morning and you were feeling it now. The ice cream didn’t even sound overwhelmingly delicious anymore. . . all you could do now was imagine how incredible a giant bowl of mixed melons would be with an even bigger bowl of pasta. Any kind. Every kind. 

Damn. You really were going to have to get off this couch. Jake was not about to be your errand boy – you weren’t going to let him do that shit. It made you feel really bad to make him do all of the work and running around when you were fully capable. 

You figured it would be best to save his willingness to help until you were further along. Lord knew he would get tired of this ‘helping’ thing eventually.  

“You hungry?” He asked, sitting on the couch, alongside your stretched out legs. “I can get you whatever you–.”

“No,” you shook your head, moving to get up, managing to flip the blanket off of you this time without him stopping you. “I’m not going to make you do that shit.”

“You’re not making me do anything, y/n,” he said, emphasizing his kind words with another grin, this time laughing a bit to show his beautiful smile. “I want to do whatever I can to–.”

“Jake. That’s not fair to you,” you said, swinging your legs off the couch, abandoning the pillow supporting your achy back. This time, he did stop you again, placing his hand on your thigh, as soon as you’d been sitting next to him. His palm rested dangerously close to a place he shouldn’t be close to. 

But, he wasn’t moving his hand and you sure as hell weren’t feeling an urge to move it. It felt so good to have him touching you again. And when he started rubbing gentle circles into the thickness of your thighs through your baggy sweatpants. . . Ugh.

Your mind flashed back to the kitchen, how he’d held you so close and massaged your breast. . . . the same way he was now massaging your thigh. 

You were going to light on fire. . . with absolutely zero complaints. You’d die happy if you were set to flame by his touch alone. 

Goddamn, y/n. Get it the fuck together.

Before you could immerse yourself any further into your thought process, your stomach made yet another animalistic sound you couldn’t control.

“God,” you shuddered, closing your eyes with a shake of your head. “That’s embarrassing.”

“How is it embarrassing?” He flashed his eyes at you, a dimple in his cheek with his words.

“Well, apparently the baby is just feeling the need to expose me from the inside out,” you complained, placing a hand to your heated forehead. “I can’t even fib and say I’m fine because you’d know I’m bullshitting you, thanks to our child.”

He chuckled, a sexy rasp to it. “I’m glad she’s exposing you because it helps me to know how I can assist you.”

“No, Jake,” you groaned, rubbing your temples with your pointer finger and thumb. “I already told you. . . I don’t want you being unfair to yourself. Don’t hyperextend yourself on my behalf.”

He made a sound in the back of his throat, contemplating what he wanted to say next as he clutched firmly to your thigh, with his other hand now holding his chin. Tapping a couple times with his pointer, he let go of his face and your leg at the same time. Your leg automatically felt the loss, in sudden desperate need of his touch again. 

Leaning forward, elbows pressed to his firm thighs, you watched as the muscles in his back flexed so exquisitely through his favorite thin, white, cut up t-shirt. Same one he’d been wearing so long ago, the night in the bathroom. . . when Theo had been over for a stupid fucking study session. Studying had been utterly fucking pointless that night after how Jake had handled you in the bathroom. 

You shook yourself of the memory, already feeling yourself beginning to pulse with desire at the memory alone. How did he have this motherfucking hold on you? No other man had ever done this to you. Was it because you were carrying his baby? Did that make it inherently worse or some shit? 

Watching carefully, you noticed how his arms filled out the sleeves more-so now than they had before. . . the sight quickly brought you back to the present. He’d slowly put on a little bit of weight, in all of the best areas possible. 

Happier than before, perhaps? 

You licked your lips absently, appreciating his figure while he was so near to you. 

And, as if on cue, your stomach started to grumble again. Fuck. Mocking you and your starving ass. . . suddenly hungry for much more than fruit and pasta and motherfuckin’ ice cream. 

“It’s for the baby,” he finally said, after having stared into space for way too long. “Let me do it if it’s for the baby, at least. Please. It’s all I can do right now – help you to help her.”

Her. You wondered why he was so set on that gender. 

More than that, though, you were wondering why it felt like an actual punch to the chest that he wasn’t wanting to help you for you. You didn’t want him to. You’d been through this mental battle many more times than you cared to admit. It was so selfish to think about yourself over the baby. Of course he’d want to help the baby. It had nothing to do with an obligation to you. 

“It’s the best I can do for my baby at the moment, y/n. I’m not doing anything else tonight, so it’s the perfect opportuni–.”

Your stomach growled once more and you had absolutely zero energy to be argumentative.

“Fine,” you relented with a sigh. “But, I am upset you’re doing all of this for me when there isn’t really a way I can repay you,” you remarked, getting up from your spot on the couch, stretching your limbs to loosen up as much as you could. 

“Damn, my body hurts,” you mentioned, offhandedly. You were tense and your back wasn’t loving the extra weight getting added to your body by the day. Not to mention, your boobs felt so heavy — as always these days. 

“Can we go somewhere to get stuff? Make it here or go out? I don’t care; we just don’t have what I want here.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he agreed without hesitation. “Absolutely.” 

“Cool,” you grinned. “I’m sorry you have to–.”

“Don’t say sorry,” he groaned from deep in his throat, irritated but not irate. 

You started a trek to your room to gather things to get ready when he made you stop in your tracks with one utterance of your name. “Y/n,” he started, tone stern. Right before you could walk away from the couch to grab your Chuck Taylors and put on a bra, you turned on your heel to observe him, ready to take whatever he had to say with as much ease as possible. 

His tone sounded dangerous – your blood licked with desire at the commanding way he’d spoken your name. 

You raised a brow, as if asking ‘what?’. 

He continued, his eyes brightening when he got your attention, but he didn’t change the tone of his voice right away. It made your skin tingle. “I am the one who can’t begin to repay you.” Moving forward a couple steps, he held your cheek so delicately in his strong hand. “You’re growing my baby–our baby–every day. I can’t even begin to–,” he shook his head, dropping his hand as he went to cover his eyes, nose twitching with a light sniffle. When he looked up again, his eyes were threatening to let tears fall, but his voice was steady as he spoke. “You are not the one to worry about repayment. I don’t need anything in return for the things I’m doing to simply  be there for you while you make a whole ass human being.”

The way your cheeks pinkened was uncontrollable. Hearing him say such intimate words was making your head spin. You wished those words could translate into him caring as much for you as he did the child you were carrying, but you knew there was a fat ass chance of that ever, ever happening. You’d given that up with him. 

“You helped in making the little bean,” you replied, voice thicker than you expected, tacking a laugh to the end of your line. You hoped it distracted from the way your voice had held so much emotion. 

Clearing your throat, you finally went to walk to your room. But, after walking halfway to your bedroom, you paused right before making it to the hallway from the living room. 

Why, when you were just complaining of your aching body, were you about to go put on a damn bra?

“Would you mind if I went braless?” You asked, turning to your roommate, getting his opinion. Didn’t want to make him uncomfortable by any means. 

Jake blinked a few times, having to cough a couple times to come to the question. Shit. Even the question alone had made him feel uneasy. 

“It’s fine. I’ll go put one on,” you started, turning back around. Over your shoulder, you continued. “I don’t want to make you feel–.”

“I would rather you didn’t,” he said, voice husky, behind you. 

The words made you stop in your tracks. You felt the muscles in your shoulders squeeze in anticipation at the words. Even when you knew nothing could come of his words, his opinions. . . you felt them everywhere. 

Suddenly, you were back in the kitchen.

“. . .Y/n– fuck,” he’d rutted against your ass, his hand moving to the bottom of your full breast to hold it in a firm grip. You’d just realized him moving his hand to see the entire breast — your nipples, straining, through the soaked-through, white fabric. “Your tits. . . they’re so fucking– Goddammit.”

Then, he’d let go of your chest to move your strap to do what you’d so desperately wanted. Needed. Once it was draped over your shoulder, he had moved a hand slowly down over your tight sternum, into the front of your camisole. When he’d grazed his fingers over your oversensitive nipple, skirting over your breast to push your flimsy shirt down, you’d whined, knees buckling. 

And, finally, as if you’d been waiting your whole life, he’d pulled your full breast out to touch the air.

The more you thought back on last night, you realized just how much he’d seemed to love your breasts. And, apparently, he wasn’t keeping it a secret from you since the incident. 

“No use hiding that I like your tits, y/n. Always have. But. . . right now?” He began speaking in the present time, as if reading your thoughts. “I love how big and full they are. . . I love why they’re bigger. . .,” He sucked in a breath, the sound rattling through his teeth as his jaw clenched. There was no missing how he seemed to move in his black pants, adjusting his sudden. . . issue. You didn’t look down to watch him. Couldn’t. His voice was like velvet with his next words. “You should know how I feel about them after the way I touched you.”

Holy–.

Speechless. You were speechless. But, you had to say something in return, so you went with the first thing that came to your mind. 

“Won’t wear one, then,” you sighed, breath caught in your lungs. Your panties were suddenly wet and sticking to you,  close to you in a way you wanted him close to you. Did he want all of that? Or was it just your tits? 

“Go wait in your room for me,” he’d whispered heatedly, his words piercing your heart at the anxious energy that had floated through your veins. 

He had wanted it last night, but you’d rejected him. . . God. 

But you literally couldn’t even imagine doing that. 

You’d chosen to cut things off with him, and he’d moved on to Maya without a second thought. Any time you said no or stopped things (pre-pregnancy most definitely included), it was always her he chose. It was obvious who his heart always instantly wanted. 

What tripped you up was the way he looked at you before he went to her. It was the same way he was drinking you in from the doorway at the moment. 

Best to not overthink it. 

Still, you couldn’t help what you said next. “I want you to be able to see what you like.”

-🌼🌼🌼-

“Why do you think the baby’s a girl?” 

You asked the question as he was driving the two of you home from Walmart. 

After walking the aisles with the sole purpose of getting exactly what you were craving, you’d left the store with everything that you’d wanted at home. 

With your pick of fruit, ice cream, and the specific type of pasta that sounded good (Penne, for some reason), he’d taken the lead on finding the ingredients for the sauce. All he had asked you was if tomato sauce sounded best or if something else sounded better. A tomato-based sauce sounded arguably more delicious, so you’d answered as such.

Once satisfied with your response, he’d gone full ‘Chef Mode’ and had promised that you wouldn’t be disappointed with his go-to, ‘staple tomato sauce’. You’d responded with your trust for his plan, giggling at his intensity as he narrowed down which ingredients would make the tastiest sauce.  

And, of course, he hadn’t allowed you to lift a finger when loading everything into the back of his Jeep. He’d helped you up and out of the passenger seat both at home and at the store, noticing your struggle to keep your balance. 

“I already told you. It’s just a feeling,” he responded, turning left down a prettier street on the 30-minute drive back home. You were passing a garden park, the streets lined with tall light posts, older with intricate detail to align with the quaint part of town. 

Lavender. . . So much of it, sprawled out in the park’s grass. It made your heart clench in your chest.

You looked at him from the corner of your eye, raising a brow with a sarcastic, skeptical face he wasn’t going to see. “You’re sure it’s not anything more? Some secret you have of wanting to be a girl dad? Braid hair? Use all of the bows in her hair?”

“Well. . . I guess that’s sort of it. I love the idea of having a boy, too, though. . .,” he said, his voice lilting at the end of the sentence to emphasize his genuine response. He sighed, scratching the side of his nose once. “It’s just. . . I really like the idea of a baby girl who reminds me of you,” he peeked over at you for a brief moment, making your heart speed at the words and the way he was looking at you. His eyes were dark in the light of the car, but his tan skin glowed under the yellow street lights. “Seeing you in her soft features. . .it gets me. She’d have your nose, your smile, your dimples, your beautiful, innocent eyes–.”

“Innocent? Oh, Jacob. You know better than that,” you laughed heartily, the words coming so smoothly from your mouth. Even after awkward lulls in your relationship with him, it seemed you could go back to that easy feeling so seamlessly – you’d found that recently. It hurt your heart that moments like this couldn’t last forever. “You know much better than that, sir.”

“You’re right, I do,” he chuckled along, clearing his throat before he adjusted himself a bit in the seat, inconspicuously. You pretended not to notice. “You can definitely be a freaky little thing when you want.”

Blushing, you were yet again caught off guard by him being so blatant with you. He kept saying things that made your heart become a flurry in your chest. You weren’t sure if you’d ever get used to it. 

Not wanting to lose the moment, you responded with a question that tested the waters. You played into him, just a bit. “What was your favorite thing we did that was .  . .freaky?”

Sucking in a breath through his teeth, he made a sound that told you he was deep in thought. “Hm. . . That’s hard for me. . . we had a lot of sex in that span of– yeah,” he blew out a breath, once again trying to subtly move around in his seat. And, again, you acted as though you didn’t notice. “I’d say the day in the pool is a top three –  top tier – moment.”

“Oh, yeah? Why?”

“It was fuckin’ hot, I don’t know. . . I loved everything about it.” He blew out a breath, relaxing a bit against his seat as he brought a hand to rest at the top of his thigh. Dangerously close to his. . . . 

You blinked as he started speaking again, switching your eyes back to his profile as he drove. “I think what turned me on the most, though, was that you were willing to give me head and ride me with everyone else so close,” he sucked in a sharp breath of air. 

You caught sight of his hand, inching just the slightest bit closer to his crotch. His fingers were now splaying out to lay delicately against his zipper. Your eyes were trailing up his form just as he stopped at a stop sign. And without any preparation at all, he caught your eye as you watched him so closely. 

Hot air caught in your lungs. 

“Yeah. That was risky as fuck,” he finished, his eyes dark under the yellow street lights lining the road.

The way your heart lurched in your chest with the way he looked at you. . . . dammit.  It made your breathing turn so heavy, filling up your lungs. When you breathed fully in, you puffed your chest out as you exhaled through your nose. And you would’ve been blind not to notice Jake’s eyes trail down. . . slowly. . . . to your full chest, staying there to admire what he saw.

In your peripheral vision, you noticed his hand inching. . . .closer. . .and closer to fully cup himself. 

You didn’t dare look down, though — too afraid to break eye contact with him and suffocate the moment completely. But, before you could worry much more about it, he spoke.

“Fuck, y/n,” he rasped, his voice deeper and needy. 

Surely this wasn’t happening again. . . . You couldn’t be tested like this again with him. You weren’t sure you’d be able to stop yourself this time.

Your cheeks were fully pink from hearing him say your name like that. It wasn’t new at all. No, you’d heard it many times before. He was desperate. Asking for help. Begging for it. 

You’d come so close to each other the night before. . . 

What happened next couldn’t be stopped if you tried. 

Finally, you looked down to his hand to observe his predicament. And what you found made your body instantly, completely ready for him. 

His thick shaft, straining against the tight black denim of his jeans . . . . The zipper of his jeans, aiding as well as it could in keeping him constrained. But it was no match for him.

The yellow street lamps above you created the perfect shadow to accentuate the sight before you. . . You could see the outline of him so incredibly well. 

“Please, baby,” he whined, completely at your mercy. 

What in the hell was going on? You didn’t know how it had suddenly escalated to this once again. 

But, you knew you didn’t need any other word to convince you against what you wanted — needed — to do. He had taken such good care of you all night. . . You wanted a way to repay him. 

Fuck Maya. You couldn’t help this. You were weak for him, no matter how hard you tried to hide it. The baby hormones were only making this ten times worse, you were sure. 

Your hand, clammy yet purposeful in its movements, seemed to move in slow motion towards him. 

And once you met his pants and settled a hand over where he needed you most, the car suddenly felt so small – too constricting. The hot air blowing from the vents was too much. 

You felt your breath catch in your lungs right as he took in a harsh breath of air. Your skin tingled, your entire body covered in goosebumps, despite the warm car.

With baby hairs stuck to your damp forehead, you inhaled through your nose, letting your hand fully grasp his thickness. You felt his body shiver beneath your hand. You felt your own body react to the moment, clenching around nothing for him. Holding him through the denim was slightly difficult, but you did the best you could. Touching him like this again seemed unreal. Just holding him in your hand again like this. . . It was heavenly.  

Though, you were finding as you squeezed just slightly, it was nothing like feeling the weight of it, bare in your hand. So, with a racing heart and soaking wet panties, you decided to make it happen. 

With one hand still on his dick and the other on his belt buckle, you looked up to quickly gauge his reaction. His pupils were blown out, nearly filling his entire iris, glowing as he watched you under the old street post lamps. 

You raised one brow, trying to school your features the best you could. But you knew there was no way you could honestly change the look of desire painting your features. Your heart hammered in your chest, your head light and airy. 

“Can I. . .?” You breathed, the words almost stuck in your throat. 

He cleared his throat and nodded his head a bit. “Yes, please,” he sighed, a whine at the end of please, while your hand absently stroked him. You watched his pretty face contort just the slightest bit any time you brushed the tip. He unbuckled his seatbelt, seeming to give the final go-ahead.

So, without any further direction, you moved the hand from his dick to unbuckle your seatbelt. The other hand stayed busy, unbuckling his leather belt and unbuttoning his jeans. 

However, your seatbelt was not working in your favor, the latch stuck and not letting you pull the metal from the fastener. 

“Goddammit!” You breathed in frustration, on the verge of tears at the fading opportunity and the stupid seatbelt ruining it all. 

Without any words, you saw his hand come over, your gaze lingering on two purposeful digits pushing down on the red button to the fastener just right. Your breath caught.

The way your body buzzed at the sight, you knew you needed his hands on you, too. Needed him pushing those fingers into you, against you, rolling circles against you . . . .

Though, when you witnessed the seatbelt finally becoming undone, all thoughts for yourself were flying out the window. All you could think was that you were that much closer to seeing him. Holding him in your hand. Doing whatever this was with him. 

Your panties were uncomfortably soaked when you resituated to lean over the gear shift. Though, when you did this, you remembered a new obstruction that you had to adjust with to get the position just right. 

Your belly grazed the handle of the gearshift and you suddenly weren’t looking forward to having to lean over it. Though, within seconds, without having to be told, a hand came over — same hand that unbuckled the seatbelt — to shift the car into park. But after he was done, he kept it there, hand covering the gearshift to make it more comfortable for you to adjust.

Tears pricked your eyes when you glanced up at him under bashful lashes. “Thanks,” you muttered with a blush, leaning just a little further over to continue getting his pants undone. 

“‘Course,” he replied, voice soft underneath the need. Genuinely concerned, he asked, “Is that better?”

“Yes. Much better,” you answered, no question to your tone. 

When your hands finally got his belt buckle undone, you could have cheered with excitement. But, you kept it all to yourself as you unbuttoned his pants, wanting the moment to stay calm and warm and gentle. 

Or did you want it to be gentle?

Before you could do anything else, your back started to feel the new weight that hung in front of you. This position, in the cramped car, wasn’t the best. You arched it, just a little, to try to relieve some pressure. You’d deal with the pain for a bit, though. . . For this — needed this.

What you didn’t want to deal with was having to get his jeans off. Not tonight. Not with your back beginning to ache the way it was. So, you simply pulled the zipper down, and with one more heated stare up at him through your lashes, you tucked a hand down into his pants. He didn’t take his eyes from yours. 

Your gaze never wavered as you continued from the band of his boxer briefs, down further to finally have your hand meet his smooth, pink tip. 

His eyes dared to flutter shut, but he kept them on you. His lips opened slightly to release a whine mixed with a guttural moan. And his stare. . . It was hot, heating your body all the way down to the tips of your toes. 

He eyed you, almost possessively. It made your head spin and skin prick with desire for more – you were aching in your panties for him. He swallowed thickly, not daring to tear his eyes off of you for even a second.

You skated your hand to pay proper attention to the pillowy soft tip you could feel beneath your fingertips. Your touch was light at first as you stroked it, but you quickly went to massage it skillfully with your thumb, remembering how he liked that. You made sure to trace the delicately crease underneath it, watching how it made his body tremble.

Moving carefully, you spread the healthy amount of precum over the pillowy head of his thick shaft. His hips rutted up towards you, showing you how much he was enjoying it.

The deep moan he released made your legs clench together and your own moan released of its own volition from your mouth, under your breath. His sound was accompanied by the sight of his head, thrown back as much as he could, while still keeping his eyes trained on you. The sound and sight would be forever sealed in your memory.

With the jeans constricting your movements, you continued to handle his girth the best you could.  His heated flesh, dick rock-hard and the skin of it so soft. . . You continued further down from the head, letting your line of sight finally trail down to his pants. 

When you looked down, you were met with the sight of his dick, beginning to peek out from the top of his jeans. You’d pushed the pants down a little to access him, apparently, and it’d made the pretty pink tip of him almost fully visible. 

It made your heart flip and tummy hurt to see him like that, swollen tip shiny under the dim lights from his arousal. He was so thick and ready — only a small view of him waiting, just above the waistband of his briefs. 

You decided you’d take further advantage of the new access you’d created when you’d apparently pushed his jeans down. But, before you could go any further, you decided to wet your hand with some saliva. Wanted it to be as pleasurable for him as it could be. 

Though, when you moved your body back and removed your hand from him, the strangled cry he emitted had your breath rattling in your chest.

“Don’t stop,” he whined, exhausted and needy for you.

You reached forward, eyes dark and trained on him. Grabbing his chin, you made him watch as you spit into your other hand. 

His eyes flickered, jaw set as he knew what was coming. His breaths were sharp and labored, chest huffing as he waited for what was next. 

And, just as your hand was on its way down to his pants, you changed your mind. 

You wanted more. Yeah, you loved touching him with your hands, but there was something you liked much, much better. . . 

With one swift movement, you skillfully rebalanced in your seat to have your knees in it as you bent completely over him. Your belly came to lean on his outstretched arm, the one belonging to the hand still holding the gear shift.

Hurriedly, you brought your hair behind your head and twisted it into a makeshift ponytail. Pushing back the sleeves of your sweatshirt, you knew the jeans were officially coming further down for the next part. 

You tapped his thigh and he got the hint. Lifting his hips, he moved the left side of his waistband down as you took care of the right. And, finally, he was springing free from the black briefs. 

Dear God — you’d forgotten just how pretty. . . . 

Not wanting to waste another second, you grasped the hair at your neck as the other hand delicately grabbed hold of his length. You positioned it, just right. . . . And then, your lips were kissing his tip delicately before your wet mouth sank down over him. 

You would never be able to find the proper words to describe how Jake Kiszka’s dick felt, laying heavy against your tongue. Going almost fully down once, you felt him hit the back of your throat. He cried your name, his free hand coming down to squeeze his thigh. Your eyes watered, lips not quite touching the bottom of his belly.

Once you were sure you had wet his dick completely with your mouth, you bobbed your head languidly, giving him long and slow licks. You savored every last inch of him with your tongue, moving a hand to cup where his balls sat in his pants.

His breath stuttered, a low sound released from the pit of his chest. “Holy fuck. I’ve missed you.”

The words were said softly, not so needily. . . You almost stopped to acknowledge them, but decided against it. It seemed best to ignore the words for now. 

So, continuing, you let your tongue lick once more from the base of his dick all the way back to the tip. You grasped his shaft once more in your hand, giving him a few pumps, skimming the underside of the head with the tip of your tongue at the same time.

But, after feeling his thighs shake and hearing your name fall from his lips, you switched your course of action. Not yet. 

With one final stroke of your tongue in the crease, you enveloped his throbbing tip in your mouth. After sucking on him for a minute, you went to move to the top of the head and curled your tongue around and into the slit at the peak of it. You licked every last piece of his earlier pre-release from him, wanting to savor it all for yourself. 

Without warning, the sound of a horn blaring behind the Jeep, a car having come up — jolted you. The car’s lights were bright, bright enough to blind you and seemingly catch you in the act. So, you stopped at a moment’s notice, shuffling to wipe your mouth and get settled back down in your seat. 

Jake took a while to come back to reality. As you buckled back into your seat, you kept an eye on him as he snapped out of it, blinking rapidly. His eyes averted from where they’d been and he used his hands to pull his pants back up, dick still hard with no relief.

Your heart fell as you watched him put himself away, tucking everything back where it belonged, adjusting. He went as fast as he could to buckle his belt, the car behind you honking once more. 

“Fuck off,” you mumbled under your breath. “Be patient.”

Jake apparently hadn’t heard your reprimand to the car behind you. He just kept doing what he was doing, trying hard to get his shit together. After sliding his seatbelt back over his chest and lap, he lifted his hips in his seat to settle back in place, one hand clutching the top of the wheel. 

He didn’t look your way, just kept his eyes trained forward. Wanted to seem inconspicuous to the car behind you, it seemed. 

Following his lead, you turned, breathing hard and facing the front of the Jeep. You wiped your mouth, fluffing your hair back over your shoulder and pulled your sweatshirt sleeves down. The way your heart was beating in your chest was enough to make your heart monitor go off, but surprisingly it stayed silent. 

You silently thanked it, not needing any more unwelcome interruption to the previous moment. Needed time to reset. 

What the fuck had just happened?

You kept your eyes ahead, observing through the windshield. 

The windshield was so clean, it looked as though it wasn’t even there. He obviously cared a lot for this car to keep it looking so nice. You liked how he liked things being kept in good condition. He paid attention. 

Speaking of attention, you brought your mind back to the matter at hand before. . . . Trying your best to respond after everything that had just happened. 

“The pool was pretty risky. You’re right,” you laughed breathily, still trying to deflate your stuffy airways. But I think that moment just beat it — risky for more reasons than one. . . 

Thankfully, he wasn’t acting strange. He actually chuckled along with you, huffing under his heavy breaths. “Yeah.”

When you inhaled and exhaled again, it felt closer to full and even. You felt a faint smile find your lips. 

You tried to refocus your brain. You’d think about how he’d felt against your tongue later. Or maybe you didn’t have to think about it. . . It honestly seemed so natural, it was like going back to normal. So strange. Or was it?

So, you went back to what he’d been talking about prior. . . It was making you think. Really think. Had you sort of wanted the guys to find out? By god. . . With a little contented sigh, you continued, “. . . You know, maybe I always secretly wanted them to know.”

“Wanted who to know what?” He sighed heavily, his breathing evening out next to you.

“I think I sort of wanted the guys to just find out. Might’ve made it easier to deal with if they just happened to see,” you explained, talking your own mind through the new train of thought. But. . . there was a reason it had been kept secret. “I just-just couldn’t get past the thought of Josh being upset with me.”

“Why would he have been upset with you?”

You could feel his stare piercing through you. Though, you kept your line of sight trained on a few drops of dried rain on his windshield. Didn’t dare look his way.

“I can’t get into all of that right now.”

You thought of everything Josh had said that kept you from pursuing things any further than you had. How he’d been so protective of his brother before you’d even gotten to know Jake at all. . . He wanted the best for Jake and you knew now, deep down, that you could do him nothing but harm. You weren’t the pick for a man who needed a woman who was good, all the way down to the soul. . . .there was too much that kept you from feeling safe for others. You were not pure enough for someone as dreamy and brilliant as Jake.

Your stomach suddenly hurt at the thought of what had just occurred. . . The guilt began to eat at you. You didn’t want him to lose someone good for him because of dumb sexual urges. But were they dumb urges? Or fully understandable and expected?

Fuck. You didn't know. 

What you did know was that Maya was real. She was his girlfriend. She should be the only one doing what you just did. . . 

No matter how much you cared for him and wanted him, Maya had been the right one for him all along. 

As much as you despised her, she was a sweet woman who treated Jake very well. You saw it in her eyes, the way she’d mess with his hair, hold his hand, sit on his lap. . . They clicked in a way you could only hope to click with someone so illustrious as Jake Kiszka. 

They got each other in a way you thought you had gotten him, months ago. . . but that thing between you two had been temporary – you’d known so all along.

And, chances were, he’d been seeing her the entire time anyway. 

You felt sick at it all. 

There was no way you alone were good enough for him. God, he was just so precious and unique in every way imaginable. 

“It’s okay. You don’t have to. It’s the past now,” he reasoned, cracking your heart a little more in your chest. “I still reminisce, though.”

“Me too,” you whispered, tears stuck in the hollow of your throat. “I have a slight disagreement with you about something, though.” 

He wrinkled his brow, turning to look both ways before going straight. He caught your eyes when he looked in your direction, and turned a wrinkled brow into a raised one.

“The baby has to have your smile and your eyes,” you reasoned, watching him as he continued straight. “Boy or girl. I’ve wanted those features on this baby’s face for a long time – since the moment I let myself think that far.” You weren’t about to tell him that his smile and his eyes were the sole reason you’d decided to keep the baby that day, on the way to the abortion clinic. The two intricate, incredible parts of his face that showed him – showed just how much of a gift he was to the world. 

The same sort of gift you wanted to give the world, in his baby.

“We’ll see who wins their pick.”

“Mama gets first vote.”

“That’s fair,” he responded, flashing the same exact grin you imagined every day for your child.

-🌼🌼🌼-

It was raining again when you got home. The late-autumn, early-winter thunderstorm, a calming vibe for the apartment as Jake cooked in the kitchen. 

The smell of italian seasonings and tomato sauce were heavenly, the pitter-pattering of rain against the kitchen window was marvelous. And the fact that you were casually hanging out with Jake? That was beyond the way either of the latter could make you feel.

(The fact that you’d had his dick in your mouth less than two hours ago was something you were trying to put far out of your mind for the time being.)

“Did you have plans tonight?” You wondered aloud, letting the words traipse out of your mouth on their own as you dried a dish with an already-dampened towel, having been working through your task as you waited on dinner. Jake was cooking the sauce and the pasta, and as he dirtied a dish or utensil from cooking, you’d clean it, dry it, and put it away. 

He hadn’t wanted you to lift a finger, but after putting your foot down and giving him a look, he’d relented.

“Noticed you dressed up earlier,” you continued, putting a mixing bowl back in the cabinet.

Why were you asking this? You were just asking to be hurt by him saying he’d been with—.

“Yeah, meeting with the label execs,” he replied, moving the seasonings around in the minced onions, garlic, and green pepper, searing hot in the saucier; the new addition of garlic made your nose tingle with eagerness to eat. “Went well. Talked album release and all that shit.”

You watched him, his beautiful hair now meeting the tops of his shoulder blades. . . And, if you were being honest, you could’ve sighed with relief at the idea of him not being with Maya earlier tonight. Which. . . was admittedly unfair of you since you’d been out with another man earlier that day.

Yes, y/n. It’s not fair. And Jake’s relationship is not your business anymore, a gentle voice reminded you. You’re the one who called it quits and you have to be okay with not being the one he chooses. Who he chooses to spend his time with shouldn’t matter. . . No matter what you get yourself into. . .

Snapping from your thought, you noticed him reaching for one more tomato on the counter next to him. You could tell he was looking for the cutting board and knife, but he wasn’t going to find them as you’d already cleaned them. 

Without having to be asked, you went ahead and got them back out for him. 

His eyebrows were turned in with confusion as you placed them on the counter next to him, one brow raising with appreciation. “You’ve already washed them? I’m impressed – just used them,” he laughed under his breath, going about his task with chopping the red fruit. “I’m sorry to dirty them again.”

“Don’t be sorry,” you grinned, deciding to take a break. You washed your hands and dried them before leaning against the counter to watch him cook, glancing at the glowing green time of 9:33 p.m. on the stove. “You’re making dinner for me way later than you should be having to–you shouldn’t be–,” you stopped yourself, shaking your head. You knew how he’d disagree with your statement. “. . . I’m just trying to keep up with your mad chef skills. Professional chef, meet your professional dish-washer,” you bowed dramatically, only bending so far with the slightly protruding tummy at your waist. 

When you rose up and pushed your back against the counter again, you laced both hands under your tummy and looked over at him. His dimple, fully present in his cheek with a bright grin lighting up his features. “You are so fucking cute,” he said, almost as if he couldn’t help it. 

The little comment made your heart warm for like five seconds, but then he was turning to the island behind him to grab some salt for the tomato mixture cooking on the stove. It smelled heavenly, by the way – perfectly ripe tomatoes sizzling in olive oil with fresh vegetables, parsley, and cilantro. . . 

But, as enticingly savory as the smell was. . . your eyes were still glued to the island. 

Everything from your afternoon of contemplation was hurtling at full speed back into your mind.

Maya, on her knees. Jake, moaning. You, having to watch. As much as his relationship wasn’t your business, your apartment and its rules were. 

And, in spite of what had happened in his car — or all of the sweet things he’d said tonight and the incredibly kind thing he was doing for you at the present moment. . . 

You knew you had to bring up. You’d texted him about it earlier and everything. If you didn’t say anything about it now, you knew your pregnant brain would let you forget again. 

It was also probably best to bring it up for another reason. A reality check. Because, as wrong as the action was to do out in the open, it wasn’t wrong for him to be doing it. It was wrong what happened in the Jeep. As much as it broke you. Your buzzing hormones were screaming at you. 

It was wrong for him to treat you like anything more than a friend. Yes, you were carrying his child, but he had a girlfriend. 

So, saying something about the instance might help to remind him that he had a girlfriend. . . And that you weren’t her. 

You needed to bring her back in the discussion – as much as you fucking hated it, it was real life.

“I, um. . .,” you started, looking at your polish-less toenails. You really needed a self-care day. Both types of nail beds were looking terrible. Task at hand, y/n. “Jake, I wanted to talk to you about something.”

“What’s up?” He replied, voice open and ready to receive it. 

You hoped he was ready to hear you and would understand where you were coming from. 

“On, uh, on Thanksgiving. . . I–,” you struggled to begin. But, you had to spit it out. Had to get your point made. So, you trudged through. You let the image that was stained in your brian fuel you to say the words exactly as they needed to be said. Letting your back go straighter, and pushing your chest out with purpose, you asserted your claim. “I walked in on Maya and you. You, um, were pushed against the island,” you let your eyes trail there of their own volition. It spurred you on. “She was on her knees. It was obvious what was happening. And I don’t really think that it aligns with–.”

“With the rules,” he finished, sighing in a reflective sort of way. “Yeah, I know.”

You were shocked. He remembered? Then why–?

“Why did you let it happen then?” You asked, still not looking up at him, burning holes into the counter he’d been leant against as her mouth made lewd sounds, echoing in the small space even now. The image was absolutely unwelcome in every sense of the word. 

“I was feeling the moment,” he sighed. You heard a burner click down and his own feet slide against the floor. 

Looking back at your own feet, you caught a glimpse of his feet . . . facing yours. Ironically, you couldn’t help the New Girl reference spurring in your brain. 

“A guy’s feet point at what they want, and his feet were pointing at you.” Cece’s voice was setting off tiny alarm bells in your head. Your heart rate picked up a bit at the idea of it – was this how Jess felt during that entire episode? 

Then, you thought about how similarly Maya looked to Cece and you were sick to your stomach all over again. Fuck. She really did ruin everything. And you hated with a burning passion how aggravatingly stunning she was.

“Well, it may be best to not ‘feel the moment’ in the middle of the apartment,” you replied, your faster heart rate encouraging you to spit the words out. Finally, your eyes flicked up to him, only to find his eyes trained on the ground as well, and a blush on his cheeks. “There are rules for a reason, Jake. You agreed to them.”

You continued. “And not only did you break the rule about common spaces, you’ve also been having loud sex right next door while I try to sleep and I– it’s not good for me or the baby and–.”

“I’m sorry. I will tell her to be quieter.”

“I can hear you, too, Jacob.”

“Well, then. . . we’ll work on that.”

“Work on it?”

“Yeah. We’ll try to–.”

“You won’t try, Jake. You’ll just do. . . Just be quiet. Damn. It’s not rocket science.”

“Goddamn, y/n. I understand,” he replied, shaking his head as he glanced at you once and then back at the ground. “And I’m so damn sorry my responses are lacking today.”

Silence. It dragged for a minute or two — long enough for him to go back to checking the sauce, then coming back to face across from you again. 

This was officially the longest day in history. You were tired of it. But, you also didn’t want it to be over. . . You’d liked spending so much time with him.

“How would you feel if you heard me next door having loud sex with someone?”

“I wouldn’t—,” he started, grumbling, jaw tense. “It’s not my business.”

“Didn’t ask if it was your business. I asked how you’d feel. Would it make you feel uncomfortable at all?”

“No.”

“Liar.”

“Why am I a liar?”

“Because, Jake, even if we didn’t have a past,” you placed an absentminded hand on your tummy. His eyes flickered down at the motion, but almost instantly found their way back to your face. “Loud sex makes other people feel uncomfortable.”

“Not me.”

“Want me to test your assumption? I could invite someone over and make sure to have the loudest sex to see how it makes you fee–.”

“No,” he responded, with no hesitation. “Well, not no. You can do whatever the hell you want– I just– fuck. I wouldn’t like it, y/n. Is that what you want me to say?”

“I want you to be honest.”

“I wouldn’t like hearing you fuck someone else,” he insisted without another thought, voice low with eyes dark enough to make your head swirl and your chest heat. “Especially while you’re pregnant with my baby.”

Your heart thumped a million miles a minute in your chest. Again, your heart monitor apparently let you have the moment. “Well, I don’t like hearing my baby’s daddy moaning another woman’s name. And I especially don’t like seeing him getting sucked off by said woman either,” your words were true and harsh as they slid off your tongue. It felt good to say them. Have them out in the open.

“We’ll adjust it. I’ll talk to her.”

More silence. But, it wasn’t uncomfortable. 

No, this was literally just a conversation. A conversation that needed to be had, between two people who knew each other well enough to make a damn baby. 

As he checked the food once more, he flicked off the burners completely and slid the pans back to begin to cool a bit. He placed the sauce pan on the warmer. You just watched him – focused on the fact that he was right here, so present. . . .and all you wanted to do was kiss him. Even more than pulling his pants down again, you just wanted to wrap your arms around him and kiss him. 

He was once again across from you, closer this time. You caught sight of his hands, nearing your face. And, just before he could gently grasp your face in his hands, he dropped them. 

Backing up a bit, towards the oven, his eyes softened. His gaze settled on you in a way that made you want to curl up in him and cry. “You ready to eat?”

-🌼🌼🌼-

Jake’s POV

“Are you going to . . .?”

Her eyebrows wrinkled, questioning. She was nearly sleepwalking, her eyelids barely open. I knew she was tired and beyond ready for bed. It was selfish of me to ask, but I had to before I lost the fucking nerve.

“Are you going to have sex here?” I clarified, clearing my throat.

She scoffed, but a gentle smile stayed on her pretty face. “That isn’t your business, Jake. What is your business is that it won’t be loud if it happens. And I won’t be doing it out in spaces that you can see.”

At her words came the most unpleasant feeling. . . . and the sight I imagined – it made my stomach turn and my skin heat with jealousy. 

Instead of Maya and me at that damn island, I saw y/n and that fuckass Theo guy. . . Him, towering over her. Her round belly, carrying my baby, being held in his football-playing hands as he pounded into her from behind. 

He would be making her his in a way I sure as fuck didn’t want her to be. The way I knew how her delicate eyebrows would sink in at the feeling of him inside of her. . . the way her body would be giving in to him, soft, tight, and ready.

The way she’d moan like she did tonight as she sucked me off. . . . Fuck.

And the sounds she’d make. . . I knew the exact noises that would come from her mouth if he was fucking her– the wet sounds from her pretty pussy. . . I knew every single sound like the back of my hand. I’d elicited them from her over and over again for two of the most astounding months of my life. 

I could practically feel her clenching around me at the thought. . . the way her body would basically give out with certain positions or motions of my hips. . . . and how she’d become absolute putty in my hands as her release climbed up her spine and spilled over my dick. . .

My dick twitched in my pants, but I tried like hell to stop it. 

Hell. This was hell.

And the thoughts were damn near crippling me. 

But she was right. It wasn’t my fucking business. I’d told her the same damn thing earlier. Fuck me.

As wrong as it felt for another man to be fucking the mother of my child, I had proven with my relationship and careless actions in it that I had moved on. Though, I hadn’t moved on. I wasn’t moving on. I thought I had been, but then. . . the moment I truly stopped to think about her being pregnant, that first night I’d known. . . I’d known for a damned well fact that I hadn’t moved on worth shit.

Poor Maya. I honestly felt like I was using her at this point. But. . . I did love her. Or so I had convinced myself over the time we’d been dating. 

I was just desperate to cling to a woman who hadn’t hurt me. I was so tired of it, and Maya would never. She only ever wanted to please. And that felt so damn good. 

“Okay,” was all I could respond with, through my clenched teeth. It was a pathetic response. 

She breathed in deeply, her beautiful chest expanding under her sweatshirt. I could see her nipples, hard and ready beneath the thick material. Sweet hell.  Was it for me? Or was it for him? Or. . . worse. . . was it for no one and her body was just always ready these days? Was that what happened to women when they were pregnant? 

Was that why she’d suddenly been so eager tonight to throw away the morals she’d had just last night? Was a raging, uncontrollable libido to blame for what happened in my car tonight? 

Fuck, I needed to do more research. I knew exactly what I’d be looking into tonight. . . 

. . .After I finished what she’d started earlier. 

“Okay,” she sighed, going to turn towards her bedroom. 

“Does he know?” I couldn’t help but wonder, pushing the conversation further.

She didn’t even have to ask who. Because there was only one man in her sights and we both knew who the fuck the man was. Goddamn this guy. I hated him. Barely knew him, but I knew he wasn’t anything near what –who– she needed. 

“Yes,” she replied, resolute. Turning, she rested her beautiful, curvy body against her door frame. “Telling him about the baby went well, actually.”

“When did you tell him?”

“Tonight. Told him when we got to the coffee shop,” she detailed, clasping her hands under her belly to hold it. Damn, I could watch her all day long. “He was bound to find out soon enough. I feel like I’m getting bigger every single day – already kind of giving it away.”

Fuck if I know it, baby. . . 

Instead of saying the words aloud, all I did was nod and take in a steady breath through my nose and let it out slowly from deep in my chest. Her eyes trailed to my chest with the motion and I felt a moment of hope that she still wanted me as badly as she had in the kitchen. . . Even more so how she’d wanted me tonight. 

All of the blood in my body was rushing towards my dick at the thought of her wet body in my arms last night, her hands and mouth on me in the Jeep. . . 

Her see -through tank top. . . the way her swollen tits tempted to spill from the top of the shirt. . . how close I’d been to holding her full breast in my hand. . . her nipples, peaked so prettily and showing perfectly through the soaking wet cotton. She’d been ready. I knew her body. 

And tonight. . . .? I couldn’t even get started on that.

I was just so confused. Just last night, she’d left and had refused me coming to her room. But tonight she’d taken the initiative to put her damn mouth on me.

After last night and tonight, I could throw Maya on her ass and not feel bad about it. Well, maybe a little bad. 

Damn, it was shitty to admit it. Though, it somehow felt even shittier to go take out on her what I only wanted to do to y/n. . . And that had been exactly what I’d done.

“Is there anything else you need before I go to bed? I’m about to fall asleep standing up,” she blinked slowly, sleepily. . . so fucking cute. All I wanted to do right now was follow her to bed and make her sigh my name. . . Then, hold her in my arms afterward, watching her fall into a hopefully blissful sleep. . .

“No,” I cleared my throat. “Is there anything else I can do for you to make your night easier?”

“You’ve done just about everything you could’ve done, Jake,” she replied, smiling the most serenely beautiful, tired grin. . . her lips, tempting me to kiss her. The blush on her cheeks, pulling me closer. 

But, all too soon, she was opening the door all the way to her bedroom, walking in and turning once more to look at me through the crack she’d made with the door. “‘Night.”

“Goodnight,” I muttered, in a daze caused by her beauty alone. Her pretty lips. Her body. Her face. Just her. 

Damn. I was letting myself in too deep. Again. 

It had happened without me fully realizing it. I’d just started falling for her again (Had I ever stopped? Or had I just been hurt?). 

I hadn’t even let myself pause to think about how it could bite me in the ass. 

But. . . did I care if it bit me in the ass? I wasn’t with y/n. . . I had a girlfriend. If all went to shit, I had Maya to lean back on. It was shitty for me to think like that, but damn.

Though, I couldn’t help but think. . . There wasn’t any harm in listening to my heart and simply being helpful and kind to the woman carrying my child. However that may look, I could be there for her. Right? I had a soft spot for her – I probably always would. 

It was y/n. Even if she wasn’t pregnant with my kid, I’d always look at her a little more tenderly than most other people – well, all other people. She’d carved a place in my heart from the first moment I’d seen her. 

There was truly no one like her.

Never would be.

End of Jake’s POV

-🌼🌼🌼-

A week later, you were hoping to slide out of class without attracting Theo’s attention, but he’d caught you and followed you all the way out to your damn car. 

And, of course, he wouldn’t shut the fuck up about one particular thing you really didn’t want to talk to him about. Something that definitely wasn’t his business, even though he was trying like hell to make it that way. 

It was your decision to lead him on, a voice tenderly reminded you. And you’re still going on that date with him. You promised you would. You have to put up with him for at least a little while longer. 

“Well. . . is the baby’s father in the picture?” He asked, following his multitude of other yes/no questions, right as you’d opened your driver’s side door to escape him. 

Fuck. What did you say? You didn’t want to freak him out. Annoying as he was, you still had a plan to at least try things with him to see if you could make something work with someone who wasn’t Jake. . . Still wanted to test the waters with the whole idea of seeing another guy. There was a chance you could end up giving things a real chance with Theo. And you didn’t want to spoil what could inevitably get your mind off of Jake by acting like you were with him in any capacity. 

Because you weren’t. No matter what had happened in the kitchen or the Jeep.

You couldn’t tell him the full truth. It just didn’t seem entirely wise to tell him all of the details. . . just in case. What was a way you could tell him half of the truth? 

“Kind of, kind of not,” you replied, not wanting to give much more. But, you added, “He’s not as present as I wish he could be.”

Not a lie, you thought. Because I do wish he was more present. Like, present in my bed, for instance. . .  which he isn’t.

“Why not?” Theo asked, going to lean against your car. 

Just before he could place his jeans-clad butt against your car, you spoke up. “Don’t lean against the car, please,” you tried, feeling uncomfortable that you even had to ask him. You just didn’t want him to scratch or dent your beloved Jetta. 

“Oh,” he said, pouting a bit. “Is the car special to you or something?”

“Well, kind of. Elsie and I shared it when she lived here and still kind of do,” you told him. I also just don’t want just anyone leaning against my car; is that too much to ask?!

He made a noise of acknowledgement, but didn’t say anything further on the matter as he straightened up with a bit of an attitude. “Why isn’t the father present?”

You were not ready to explain. You didn’t know what to begin to say. . . didn’t want to say too much, but you also didn’t want to completely lie. 

“He’s just not able to be fully involved,” you replied, looking down at your nails to pick at a snaggled cuticle. “He does what he can. Just not available to do all I wish he was able to do, I guess.”

It was a diversion and it wasn’t a lie. You just wanted to drop the conversation entirely. 

“What do you mean by all of that?”

I don’t want to answer that, you grumbled internally. And you wouldn’t like the answer, Theodore. 

“I don’t really want to get into it,” you explained, hiding an eye roll with a glance back at your car. You opened your door more, desperate for an escape. And a nap. . . You didn’t have any obligations ton—.

Dammit – you had therapy this evening. You were looking forward to it, but you weren’t really looking forward to having to be in such close quarters to Jake all evening. After last Monday, you hadn’t seen him as much. He was either gone for the album or at the apartment hanging out with the guys to discuss things. A time or two, Maya had been there, forcing you to make a last minute plan with Josh one night and an impromptu dinner plan with your grandparents the other. . . 

It was so incredibly hard being so close while he was forced to be so distant, emotionally – especially after recent events. 

The two of you just weren’t what you wished you could be.

God. Alcohol or weed would be lovely right now. Something to get my mind off of things, you wistfully acknowledged. 

Then, you peered up at the man in front of you – remembered the entire reason you were giving him the time of day to begin with.

The perfect distraction was right here, in front of you. You pushed down the way your skin was buzzing with annoyance, and gave yourself a second to observe him. Maybe it could work out to just make yourself available to him. See where it could lead. . . . 

So, you went ahead and added an ending statement to your earlier explanation, “But. . . . . we aren’t together, I can tell you that much.”

“Yeah?” He smirked, his eyes glinting in the afternoon sun. 

And, your hormones worked in your favor as you eyed him, watched him move. . . he really was so fucking handsome. You couldn’t deny it. The more you allowed yourself to study his structure and looks, the easier it was to let your mind wander. 

He shifted his broad shoulders, his alumni sweatshirt hugging his strong chest so well. . . For what it was worth, Theodore was hot – you could give him that. He was irritating, but perhaps his looks could make up for it if you allowed. . .

And, you couldn’t deny how much you loved the fact that he still seemed interested in you even though you were pregnant. Someone so seriously sexy still wanted you, all bloated and different. . . that was endearing. It was promising and validating. 

“Yeah,” you blushed, looking back into his eyes from his chest. The more you genuinely entertained the thought of Theo, the further your mind traveled of its own accord. . . . You bit your lip as you checked him out, letting your eyes travel to his chest again, and back to his face, flicking over every feature. 

One of your favorite features of his were his hooded eyelids. Even in high school, you’d always liked them on him for some reason. His lids and chiseled facial structure complimented his seafoam-colored irises, shining in the sunlight. As much of an open book he seemed, his model-worthy looks gave him an air of mystery that you enjoyed. 

“Well, that makes it easier for us to plan our date,” he remarked, moving towards you. 

Not sure if it was your raging hormones or what, you weren’t feeling any uneasiness over his proximity. In fact, your body seemed to welcome it with the way your skin heated under the lustful way he peered down at you. Your chest exhaled just enough for your breasts to skim his chest. He was suddenly very close. 

You kept looking into his eyes, craning your neck to look up at him. Your eyelids fluttered with the way his stare was piercing you. What was happening? Where had your annoyance disappeared to?

“I want you, y/n,” he said, voice low. “I don’t give a damn if there’s a baby in you or that it’s another man’s baby . . . I want you just as badly as I did sophomore year of high school. You are perplexingly stunning – inside and out – always have been.” 

Suddenly, with his words and the way his boyish Axe body spray penetrated your senses, you forgot how annoying he was. The Axe body spray didn’t repulse you like his Black Ice car freshener. No, it reminded you of simpler times – he reminded you of life in its simplest form. Being a teenager, a child – when there’d been much less stress. Your mother, further from your thoughts in high school than she’d ever been before. . . no adult obligation to face your past.

Back then, there hadn’t been a Jake entering your life, whose presence prompted you to fucking heal those wounds from your childhood. . . Those dark, twisted past hurts that you’d worked to cover up very well in high school. 

You couldn’t remember why you’d ever been so irritated with him. Because the man standing in front of you right now was not one you were at all angered by. . . He made you feel light and carefree, like you could ignore the hard things and focus on the unimportant. . . You just felt all innocent suddenly, like you had so long ago.

This beautiful man with dirty-blonde hair was clouding your senses – he was the same boy who’d given you so many of your firsts. . . . This person, who was standing in front of you, wanting you just as badly as he had so many years ago. . . He was still so fine, all aggravating traits completely aside.

He stepped closer once more, your breasts aching with the added pressure of his chest. But – you barely had time to wince with the way your breath caught in your throat at his next action. He’d grasped your chin. And was ever-so-slowly leaning his face down towards yours. 

You were not about to stop it. Couldn’t stop it if you wanted. And you definitely didn’t want to. Fuck it.

In seconds, his lips had found yours, giving your lips a welcome, proper kiss. His lips enveloped yours so attractively. You felt like a smitten teenage girl all over again. . . you were back in your grandparents’ driveway the summer before junior year, bidding him goodbye with tears in your eyes, right before he moved away. It’d sucked having to break up. . . because back then? You’d never once been annoyed by him, weren’t so jaded as you were now. You had enjoyed his company, in fact (even if Elsie didn’t much care for it, you had). 

And, you were finding the same feeling slowly coming back. 

Apparently, all you’d needed were a few minutes and a bold kiss to view him in a different light as an adult. 

And baby hormones. Those definitely helped. You were horny as hell more frequently than you wished and you weren’t getting any. 

The kitchen was one night. Jake’s car was one night. But honestly, both instances had left you even worse off than before.

Your body was feeling it.

He gave you one more sure kiss, slipping his tongue just the slightest bit past your lips. It made your pulse quicken and your neck hot, but he didn’t take it further than that. After he’d opened your door further for you, he’d leaned over to give you a tiny kiss on the cheek. 

“I’ll text you,” he promised, winking your way. 

Nodding, you batted your lashes at him, completely at his mercy for the time being. What the fuck had happened in the span of you leaving class and now? 

Whatever it had been, it didn’t last as strongly as you would’ve wished. Because within minutes, with your R&B playlist blasting, you were feeling your phone vibrate against your lap. And when you picked it up to find Theodore’s name on your screen, you felt utterly disappointed. 

Because as cute and strangely endearing as Theo suddenly was to you again, he was not the man you wanted most. It was proven again, as you saw Theo’s name flash across your screen that the only name you wanted to see on your screen was spelled J-a-k-e. 

-🌼🌼🌼-

“I can’t stay to hang out after your session tonight,” Jake mentioned that evening, making a turn, bringing you closer to Gia’s office. “I’m sorry. Maya has this thing that she really wants me to be at, and I can’t let her down.”

Your heart plummeted in your chest, but you acted as though it hadn’t. As much as it hurt to hang out with him, it hurt worse when he’d leave you for her. 

But. . . You knew that wasn’t fair. You’d stolen her boyfriend from her enough already. For every appointment he had to now drive you to, having him grope you in the kitchen, going down on him in his car. . . 

It would be unfair to act as though she was the one asking for too much. He was hers. Him taking you to therapy was what asked too much, her needing him was quite the opposite. It was normal. 

“That’s okay,” you said, tone especially light as the words left your lips. Damn – good act, y/n. Good job. “I want you to be able to be available to her.” As much as it fucking sucks to watch, it’s what life is now.

“Cool. Thanks,” he responded, sounding the slightest bit caught off-guard. Why? Had he expected you to be disappointed? He would’ve been right, but you weren’t about to let it on.

It was quiet for a few moments, then he came to a stop two streets away from the practice. 

“So,” he started. And, as he moved a hand to turn down your playlist, his delicious, new sandalwood-vanilla scented cologne overwhelmed your ability to properly think. It seemed to exude from him with every action he took. 

Your eyes flicked over his hand at his word, seeing his fist go to rest on his Jeep’s gear shift. God. The way his long fingers wrapped so well around the mechanism . . . . You thought of how they felt on your aching–. 

Shaking your head the slightest, you glanced up at him. And, of course, his hauntingly beautiful side profile was even worse to look at than his strong hands. “What’s up?” You asked, voice stronger than you expected.

“Are you ready for tonight’s session?” He asked, eyes finding yours, earnest and genuinely curious. “Do you know what to expect?”

“Well,” you began, swallowing at what may await you tonight. Your eyes found your hands, fiddling with the hem of your oversized t-shirt. “I begin EMDR tonight. I haven’t gone to a dark, nitty-gritty place yet. So, I don’t know what to expect, really, no. . . I’ve only been to my Safe Place. I’m hoping tonight, my brain respects that it’s my first time and doesn’t force me down any too unwanted paths,” you chuckled humorlessly, willing it with your words. “Because I can’t control it – you might’ve read about that during your research. But, that’s why I have the Safe Place that I can escape to when things get too scary.”

Simply put, I’ll find you in the field of Lavender if it becomes too much, you tell him silently, eyes glancing over to his hand again. So strong and sure. . . he really did make you feel so safe. Even when it broke your heart to look at him for too long. 

Goddammit. Your predicament sucked ass.

“Safe Place. . .”

“Yeah, it’s where you go when things become too much in your partial subconscious,” you explained, hoping he wouldn't ask any further about yours. 

“That’s incredibly interesting,” he said, invested in every word. “I have read about it, actually. Lightly, at least. I won’t make you tell me yours. I know it’s a super personal thing,” he assured. Your heart fluttered at his genuine care for the situation. “But yours helps? It’ll be a good place to turn to if things get rocky today?”

“Yeah,” you responded, voice suddenly very teary at the thought of who your Safe Place was. The fact that it was the person sitting next to you, who seemed so honestly caring of the entire situation. Of course your mind had naturally conjured him. The way he made you feel in this moment was enough explanation. Your gaze traveled back over his figure, his soft, black sweater hugging him just right. “It felt like heaven last time,” you breathed, taken by him.

He must have sensed you looking, his eyes catching yours for the briefest moment, scanning your figure so quickly you momentarily thought you’d imagined it. Your tummy somersaulted. Before it could become anything more, the light he’d come to changed to green.

“I’m worried about my heart,” you absentmindedly commented, thinking of your recent run-in with the heart problems and the heart monitor still hidden beneath your shirt. Your eyes were trained on a line of old, weeping trees passing you outside the window. 

He was weaving carefully down a side street in an expensive neighborhood. A neighborhood you’d gotten to know by now on your drives to sessions. Gia’s practice is right around the block. Your heart rate was already increasing at what could be awaiting you when you closed your eyes on her couch. “If it becomes too much, I don’t want my heart to fuckin’ Rick Roll me,” you finished, snorting at the ridiculous analogy. Hardly even made sense.

Jake’s signature laugh bounced throughout the car, sounding like Josh’s . . .but a little different. The sound made your pulse even out. A familiar, nice sound . . . Everything was okay. You’d be okay. 

“Talk to Gia about it beforehand,” Jake suggested, laughter coming to a natural halt. He said the words, right as he pulled into the parking lot of the quaint private practice. “Rick Roll,” he said to himself, under his breath with a sighed laugh.

The office was modernized to the nines inside, all light colors and expensive trimmings. . . But on the outside, all that showed was an older, classic brick office building. 

He switched the car off, pulling the keys from the ignition. The lack of keychains caught your eye, distracting you.

Focus on the matters at hand, y/n. . . 

When he cleared his throat, you looked at him once more. “She will be willing to assist you however you need,” Jake reassured you with a sparkle in his eyes. “Just like she has always done for you. Just trust her.”

“Yeah,” you breathed. Throat clogged with wetness once more, you sniffed as you unbuckled along with Jake. “Trusting is hard for me. Are you coming inside with me?” You couldn’t help but comment on him moving to get out with you.

“Of course I am. I want to be there for you. Waiting in the lobby for you when you get out,” he smiled, opening his door. He looked over at you, raising a brow. “Don’t get out yet. I’ll help you out of this thing.”

Your heart soared at the way he cared, tears daring to fall as he got out to come to your side. 

Seconds later, he was at your door, helping you out of the car. And as you walked through the parking lot to go inside, he huffed a laugh, not as a joke, but as an understanding form of acknowledgment to something. “I get the trust thing, though, honey. Hard for me, too.”

Honey. Always with that nickname these days.

Your line of sight darted to him from the corner of your eye, and you chuckled under your breath to agree. “Yeah. . .,” you said, eyes brushing down to mess with your cuticles for the second time that day. His arm came around your waist briefly, guiding you as you looked down. 

At his touch, your skin became hot through the jacket and t-shirt you wore.

Your mind wandered to a few months ago as he kept a gentle hold on you, keeping you in step with him. The stinging feeling of guilt for making him trust you and then breaking his heart all in a matter of two months. . . . it made you want to scream, cry, yell. . . All at once. 

You did it for his benefit, y/n. Remember? 

But. . . .had you?

Blinking a few times, you focused on the building’s glowing sign, highlighting the early darkness of the winter evening. Finally, you fell back into the conversation, “Trauma response is what I’d call it,” you offered, clearing your throat of any emotion. 

“Exactly,” he concurred. “A coping mechanism.”

Yes! You do get it. Why did you ever have to be an asshole to begin with? Maybe things could’ve been different. . ., your thoughts went back to the first day you’d met him, making your heart lurch in your chest. Or would it have been cut too short, no matter what? Is it simply how my story with you is meant to play out? Have you and then lose you?

The fact that you couldn’t indulge in a relationship with this man was one of the saddest, most unfortunate things the universe could offer you. 

“You ready?” Jake asked, breaking the comfortable silence once you approached the door, his hand on the metal door handle. 

You looked up and into his wide brown eyes, the amber in them sparkling under the parking lot lights. Your eyes studied his face for a second. . . just let yourself have a moment before answering him. Weird as it was, the deep circles under his eyes brought you comfort in that moment. The fact that they were a consistent feature of his, always prominent, made you breathe easier. . . . He was consistent.

He was real. He was here. You were okay. Everything was going to be okay. 

“As I’ll ever be.” 

-🌼🌼🌼-

a/n: hmmm... ;) what are they getting into? how do you feel about reader being so suddenly interested in theo? what about her plan? do you approve? did you like the bit of insight into jake's perspective?? :o

see you soon for parts 2 + 3, love bugs! <3 prepare yourselves, that's all i'll say........

[corruptedcaps]

Fake IDs

As promised, here is the winner of my latest poll. Also fun side note that this story is inspired by an idea from the great @misseviehyde

“I don’t know Lisa, this girl doesn’t really look like me.” Fran said as she worriedly looked at the fake ID that Lisa had handed her. It they were going to get into the Sorority party then they needed to bring alcohol and being freshmen there was no way of doing that without getting fake IDs.

“Don’t worry, the lady who sold them told me they world work perfectly. She said no one will even think twice about whether we are the girls on the ID’s, Melissa and Francesca. Besides no one looks at pictures anymore, not since they introduced the fingerprint security feature.” Lisa said matter of factly as if she had done this a million times.

“Yeah but these don’t have any fingerprints on them!” Fran said somewhat panicky as she looked at the space beside the picture where the fingerprint would usually be. The picture of Francesca seemed to look at her with distain. She reminded Fran of all the mean girls from high school with her the flowing hair shiny hair, her pouty full lips, strikingly blue eyes and smooth complexion.

“Relax, the lady explained it all. We put our thumbs on the space for ten seconds and it takes our fingerprint. It’s heat activated or something. Now stop stalling and let’s do this.” Lisa said impatiently.

In truth Fran didn’t even want to go to the Sorority party but Lisa begged her to go. Fran always felt she danced to the beat of Lisa’s music but she was the only person friendly to her at this new school away from home.

As Fran and Lisa placed their thumbs on the back of the IDs, an overwhelming surge of energy enveloped them, triggering a slow and pleasurable transformation.

Fran's once dull and ragged nails began to shimmer with a lustrous shine, growing longer and perfectly manicured. Her legs seemed to elongate, taking on a graceful and alluring curve that caught everyone's eye. Her skin, once plagued by imperfections, became smooth and radiant, glowing with a captivating allure. Her lips, once unremarkable, turned into a sultry and inviting pout that demanded attention. Her once dull lifeless hair transformed into glossy, brown strands that cascaded down her shoulders in a mesmerizing fashion.

"Oh, fuck I don’t know what’s happening but look at me!" Fran declared, a wicked grin forming on her face. "I'm becoming the epitome of beauty!"

With every passing second, Fran's demeanor shifted from surprise to arrogance. Her posture straightened, exuding confidence and dominance. She stood taller, her every movement commanding attention, and she revelled in the newfound sexiness that radiated from her very being.

Lisa's transformation was no less dramatic. Her nails took on a delicate elegance, her legs becoming slender and enchanting. Her skin became a flawless canvas, radiating an ethereal glow that seemed to draw people closer to her. Her lips transformed into a captivating smile that was both inviting and submissive. Her brown hair became a soft and gentle cascade of chestnut locks with blonde slutty streaks that framed her face like a halo.

As Lisa's physical changes progressed, her demeanor underwent a radical shift. She became increasingly docile and subservient, her posture bending to Fran's every whim. With each passing moment, she found herself more entranced by Fran's beauty and authority, unable to resist her friend's new domineering presence.

"Fran, you look absolutely stunning!" Lisa gushed, her voice trembling with awe. "I can't believe how lucky I am to be by your side. You're like a queen, and I'm just honored to be your friend."

Fran's cruel smirk widened, her newfound arrogance fuelling her desire to exert control over Lisa even more. She relished in the power she now held over her once-bossy friend, enjoying every moment of Lisa's submission.

"Of course, I do," Fran replied with an air of superiority. "And I’m ‘Francesca’ remember? In fact ‘Melissa’ let’s get our back stories straight in case anyone asks. We’re new here because our old college kicked us out for bullying but my rich daddy made it go away as long as we switched schools.”

The words seemed to flow through Francesca like she was reading from a book of facts. The more she spoke the more the world around them began to change. Their cheap, poorly built apartment that they stood in transformed becoming bigger, cleaner and filled with expensive things. Neither girl seemed to notice.

“In our old college I was head of the cheerleading team and sorority president. I majored in fashion but I was mostly on the lookout for a hot guy to bag so I could become his trophy wife.” Francesca said with a pleasurable shiver as her fantasies became concrete memories.

“Oh babe that’s so hawt, what about me?” Melissa said eager to hear her backstory. Her eyes sparkled with admiration for Francesca.

“You’re my loyal bestie of course. You do anything and everything I say. You eat up gossip as if your life depended on it and feed it to me. You’re a dumb bimbo who loves cock and partying.” Francesca said finishing up and causing the two girls to throw their heads back as their minds rewrote to the new reality. Within moments they tilted their heads back none the wiser to the two unpopular dorks they used to be.

“We have to dress way more slutty for the frat party.” Francesca said as she swung open the door to her filled to brim walk in closet. She ran her fingers over slutty tops and skirts looking for the right outfit for them.

“Frat party? I thought we were going to the Sorority party?” Melissa said as she twirled her hair and played with her tits in the mirror. Francesca threw clothes out of the closet to Melissa, breaking her gaze with her own reflection. With a giggle Melissa instantly got naked and hungrily put on the white top and checkered skirt.

Francesca meanwhile strutted out of the closet wearing a top that barely held in her plastic paid for tits and a skirt that hid the absence of underwear. She felt hot and dangerous. She didn’t know why but she felt like a new woman and couldn’t wait to get out and have all eyes on her.

“Change of plans, all the hawt guys will be at the Frat party. Besides, we’ll take over the Sorority soon enough.” Francesca said as she shot Melissa a wicked grin that was returned in earnest.

“Oh babe you’re so fucking nasty. I can’t wait to get to the party! I’m going to break my record for dick sucking tonight.” Melissa said with a mischievous giggle.

“Then come on slut, let’s to to the store and pick up some drinks.” Francesca said as she walked towards the door and Melissa loyally followed.

That night the two girls were a huge hit at the Frat party, in every way. Melissa was true to her word and sucked off over a dozen guys, most of them having girlfriends. She loved the taste of a cheating cock.

Francesca however settled for just one dick that night, but her choice was calcullated. He was the head of the Frat and the richest guy on campus to boot. With his kind of power at her disposal she would be queen of the college soon enough and the Sorority would be all hers to command.

As she rode her new man’s dick slowly she smiled to herself as she thought about how she met him before even getting to the party. Her and Melissa were at the store where they realized they had forgot their IDs. This was never a problem for either of them, they usually just flirted with someone there until they got what they wanted. Francesca just so happened to flirt with the most handsome and well hung guy around.

She honestly didn’t even know why she had an ID, she found it much more fun to uses her powers of seduction to get what she wanted.

[nervousd]

Side Story— Decisions

→ Infatuation | m.list

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#SYNOPSIS— the avatar program is getting their funds cut by Quaritch influencing Parker. You’re the saving grace they need

#WARNING(S)— This is a dark fic, yandere, manipulative/ manipulation, unhealthy obsession, unhealthy fixation, implications of dubcon, non-consensual touching, dark quaritch, abuse of power, dubcon, smut, overstimulation, cunnilingus, panty sniffing(?) sniffing kink(?) older man/younger woman, age gap

#CHARACTER(S)— Colonel Miles Quaritch

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❝ You see— you see, I mean they’re just pissing on us without even the courtesy of informing us sooner— I’m going to Selfridge ❞ Grace’s outburst we’re to be expected. Once again, Selfridge had cut the resources and money flowing into the avatar program. He claimed spending too many resources on a program that’s failing is a waste of money. Rather— they’ll be using those resources on their military seeing as how the savages have gotten hostile.

But it was all a bunch of nonsense— Quaritch was the one doing this. He was manipulating Selfridge into cutting the funds for the program, he demanded that his men needed more weapons. How the avatar program wasn’t helping them at all— it was just a puppeteer show meant for laughs. Selfridge being the moron he is agreed to Quaritch demands.

Not a second later, Grace returned with cheeks bright red. She fumed, ❝ The nerve of him! How could he do this us?! ❞ She went off to rant about his corporate butt claiming his idiocy will be the ruin for us. ❞ It’s all because of Quaritch sticking his nose into my program— ❞ Grace huffed, digging the sides of her lab coat looking for her pack of cigarettes. ❝ Where are my cigarettes? Where are my goddamn cigarettes? ❞ You hurried to her, handing her a cigarette. She blew the cloud of smoke, relief filling her body. You coughed, wincing at the smell ❝ Sorry kid ❞

After years of working for her, you politely replied with a smile, knowing what to expect from her antics. Max coughed into his hands, avoiding eye contact with Grace, ❝ Well maybe we can work something out with the Colonel? ❞ Grace scoffed, ❝ He’s a happy trigger moron! What can we do to persuade him!?Nothing—! ❞ Her words trailed off as they landed on you.

It was only till later that you caught the meaning of her gaze. Your breath hitched at the back of your throat, it was no secret to anyone that the Colonel had his eye on you. ❝Grace no— we can’t do that to her ❞ Max tried reasoning with her, standing up for your sake. Grace nodded, shaking her head ❝Right— I’m sorry kid. I won’t— ❞ her words trailed off as she took another drag from her cigarette. ❝ What about her? What can she do? ❞ The stillness in the atmosphere was broken by the curiosity laced in Jakes voice. ❝ Right I forgot you’re new here so you wouldn’t know. The Head of Security has a thing for our secretary ❞

Jake stayed quiet,processing the new information. He hesitated, a blank emotionless expression crossed over his face the relaxation of an idea presenting itself to him ❝ If she can— can you? Would you be willing to do it? Please— we can’t have them cutting our budget ❞ Grace voice bellowed ❝Jake! You can’t ask her to do such a thing! ❞ Jake let out a scoff, ❝ It’s our only chance doc, if she can persuade the Colonel he can convince Selfridge to give us back our funding. It’s our only shot! ❞ They spat out arguments between each other, shouting and screaming as they bickered back and forth.

A terrible weight laid on your shoulders, would you be willing to do this? For them? Would you be willing to do this to to yourself? To be at his mercy? You dreaded doing such a thing but for them? Anything for them— ❝ I’ll do it ❞ you replied, voice breaking as you spoke. Their endless quarreling stopped, they looked at you in disbelief. You covered your face with shaking hands, looking up at all three of them. You flashed them a half-smile ❝I’ll convince Quaritch to put in a word to Selfridge for us ❞ Without waiting for any other remarks you turned on your heel.

Several long strides brought you to his office, you let out a shaky breath. Wiping the tears from the corner of your eyes, you exhaled; releasing some of the tension that settled on your shoulders. You knocked on the door, patiently waiting for the confirmation to walk in. A muffled sound from behind the door was enough clearance for you. The unmistakable creaking of the hinges of his door was loud enough to announce your presence.

There Quaritch was scribbling on documents, pausing his actions his head shifted to your direction. He flashed you a grin, a sudden sickening sensation coursed throughout your body. ❝ Well looky here— ❞ his voice drawled out, grutal and raspy. His eyes remained fixated on you, taking in the sight like a sponge soaking up water. He himself won’t admit it— but he was pleasantly thrilled to have you coming to him. His chuckle was light and laced with a hum of amusement ❝ I would done this much sooner if I had known that threatening the puppeteer program would lead you to come to me— you surely took your time. Not that I’m complaining ❞

Several long strides brought him to you. ❝ I needed a distraction and with you coming to me with those glassy eyes of yours— well it sure gives me something to think about ❞ His hand came up to caress your cheek, brushing gently against the corner of your eye wiping a stray tear. Your breath hitched, wide eyes gazing up at him. The gears in your head clicked together, was this all planned out? Did he know you would come to him? Your lip trembled, throat clogging up as you tried to find the words to say ❝ Convince Selfridge to bring back the funding ❞ Quaritch quirked up his eyebrows, ❝ I can do that but what’s in it for me?❞

You sniffled quietly, a solemn tear cascading down your cheek. With shaky limbs you clutched onto his hand, pressing your face against it ❝ Whatever you want, I’m sure I can satisfy it❞ With the way the Colonel's lips curled up and his eyes crinkled in delight, it was clear that he understood the meaning in your words. He’s been waiting to hear those words from you since forever— nothing but a dream come true. His chuckle was light and laced with a hum of amusement, ❝ I have a few things in mind ❞

His fingers tangled in your hair, giving a harsh tug at your roots. You cried out in pain ❝ Don’t make me wait ❞ his lips brushed against yours. Your hands shook as you cradled his jaw in your hands, you leaned forward pressing your lips against his. He kissed back with fever, insatiable and unable to get enough. A nip on your lip was enough to grant a gasp from you. He took the opportunity, slipping his tongue inside. You whined against him, hands pushing against his chest. Tears pricked at the corner of your eyes as he deepened the kiss.

You squirmed in his hold, having lost the rhythm to the kiss. His greedy hands slid along your hip, tracing the curve as he groped your skin. Even as you pulled back from his kiss the hand clasped behind your neck brought you back to him. ❝ no more❞ you whispered breathlessly against his lips. He ignored your pleas, his mouth forming a scowl. He was clearly displeased with your hesitance towards him. You came to him, pleading— begging. And with that sweet voice of yours? Whimpering and whining— Quaritch sighed, kisses coming out sloppy and frantic than the previous kisses.

Batting your eyelashes with watered eyes, offering yourself to him. So who was he to refuse? He’ll take everything you have to offer and more. He won’t have you backing off from this proposition. He can’t— he won’t. His hold on you tightens, arms strong in their hold. The thought alone of letting you leave his embrace had his mind in shambles. You were finally in his grasp, where he wanted you. He whispered your name between kisses, trailing them down your neck. You whined, turning your head away from him, whimpering as you pushed against his chest having had enough of his frantic kissing.

He pressed himself against your body, snapping his hips upwards to get any sort of fiction. His chest rumbled as he mouthed your neck leaving trials of wet kisses. He dove back to yours lips, ravishing you with kiss after kiss; sneaking his tongue inside. His tongue wrapped around yours, groaning in delight to feel you kissing him back with the same fever. He pulled back from the kiss, tongue swiping over his lips. He showed his delight in an obvious way, fingers ghosting over your skin before clasping his hand against yours. He pressed his cheekbone to your open palm, giving a quick kiss to your wrist.

It was odd to see the sudden affection he gave you— quite the contrary you didn’t expect such an action to come from him. It was soothing in a way— to see he’s not just another muscled brute. It was sudden, the way his hands slid underneath your thighs picking you up. You yelped, surprised by his movements; clinging onto his broad shoulders. He settled himself on his chair, placing you on his desk. Papers and folders scattered across the floor from the impact. His fingers ghosted over your bare skin leaving goosebumps in their wake.

His rough calloused hands caught hold of your thighs. Spreading them apart eagerly, his fingers pressed deep into your skin. His sudden actions caused you to fall back from the table, leaving yourself bare to him. You’re cheeks flushed in embarrassment, thighs snapping back together. The colonel scoffed, fingers pinching your skin. ❝ Now that won’t do— Spread em ❞ Tears raced down your cheek, humiliated and distraught by the actions you would be forced to do. You spread your legs, open and inviting towards the older male.

He tossed your legs over his broad shoulders, burying his face in your covered cunt. You whined in embarrassment, heart pounding against your chest. He rubbed his cheek against your inner thigh, giving a quick nip to your skin. His fingers crept up towards the dip of your hips, pulling off your panties. He snagged them in his hand pocketing them. You freeze, tears streaming down your cheeks. His hands slid underneath your knee spreading your legs wide apart.

His tongue swiped over his lips, greedily staring at your uncovered cunt. ❝ look at you, all pretty and wet. Just for me right? Yeah— just for me ❞ His fingers prodded your wet cunt, cooing at the slickness you were producing. Silky soft and tight like a vice— promising pleasure. A needy minx— you were just asking for it weren’t you? He peppered your cunt with open mouthed kisses, tongue lapping up your slick. You shuffled in discomfort inching away from him slowly. But to your displeasure he had noticed your little scheme. His hands instantly dipped towards your ass, pulling you forward to his pleasure. The sudden shift in movement nearly caused you to fall, your back arched uncomfortable; heels digging onto his broad back.

Quaritch clenched his jaw, pursing his lips in annoyance. Why did you have to be so much trouble? Why do you make this difficult? A good spanking is ought to tame that attitude of yours. His hand came down to strike on the outside of your thigh, a scream erupting from your throat from the sudden impact. ❝ Behave or the deal is off and we wouldn’t want that do we? ❞ Your eyes scrunched up, lip trembling with distraught. It wasn’t pleasurable— nothing about this was pleasurable. Your stomach seemed to rise to your throat, threatening to spill all over. But you had to hold it in, this was the deal. He got what he wanted and you get what you wanted. It was fair— part of the deal.

Quaritch nearly moaned at the taste of your flavor bursting into his tastebuds. Had he known you would of tasted this damn good he would of resulted in other methods to get you in his arms sooner. He should of transferred you to his department— kept you naked in his dorm for his pleasure. Easy access to your bare pussy, keep you there forever. His own personal cocksleeve— He would take the time to savor you— not like this. This was different, this was a quick fix he needed. He needed to take now— he can’t have you backing out. Once he’s done with you— oh you’ll be back. Begging for more— He plunged back into your wet cunt, grip tightening as your squirmed from his ministrations. His nose bumped repeatedly against your clit, tongue dragging across your folds.

You bit your lip, trying to stay silent— but atlast his tongue plunged into your hole suddenly causing you to clamp your thighs on his head. Your hands tugging onto his hair as he sloppily ate you out. Everything was overwhelming— with the way his tongue is lapping up everything you have to offer. Low groans came from within his chest, rumbling in the pleasant taste your cunt provided him with. His blue eyes seemed to glaze over as his actions become more vigorous and intense. The slurping sounds coming from his actions we’re nearly pornographic— the way his tongue kept on thrusting and lapping caused the coil in your stomach to snap. You gasped letting out a loud moan, back arching off the desk as you squealed as he continued to nip and suck

Tears pricked the corner of your eyes as you whined pathetically. Quaritch let out a chuckle, he wanted nothing more but to coax those cute moans out of you, see your overstimulated puffy cunt drooling for attention. His thumbs spread your cunt, eyeing your fluttering hole. A needy thing he mused. You were begging to be filled up nicely and who was he to deny you that pleasure? To deny himself? ❝God— you taste good ❞ His eyes rolled to the back of his head, swollen lips and nose covered in your slick— god you tasted divine— he wants more. Quaritch pulled you closer by the hips, tongue swirling around your clit. You whined, chest arching from the sheer pleasure he’s giving you. You’ve already cummed once— you can’t handle another one. You squirmed in his hold, hips thrusting up, sideways— anything to be away from his mouth. It’s too much— his mouth, his tongue against your cunt sends you into fits of sobs.

Quaritch scowled, arms clamping over your thighs to cease your struggling ❝ One more— just one more sweetheart ❞ he runs his tongue on the hood of your clit, groaning in response. You wince, screaming out his name, Quaritch peers up at you not bothering to halt in his ministrations. He was drunk off your screams— taste and the breathy moans you would let out.

When he does eventually stop with torturing you, your met with him between your thighs with his chin dripping in your slick. Your eyes fill with tears before he dips his head, tongue lapping up your overstimulated cunt. He doesn’t let up until your cumming, wailing for him. He leaned back, gazing at the mess he made. Your fluttering hole clenched around nothing, puffy and swollen from his relentless attack on your cunt. He wanted nothing more but to fill you up with his cock— but not now. He’ll save that moment for another day, get you nice and prepped just for him. Make it romantic— candles and petals scattered. His mouth curled up at the corner of his lips, yeah you’ll like that won’t you?

With one last kiss on the tip of your clit, Quaritch gave your outer thigh a firm slap. ❝ That wasn’t so bad now was it? No— you enjoyed it didn’t you? That’s my good girl ❞ He cooed mockingly—sickeningly. His gaze traveled to your eyes where he was met with pouting lips and tear stained cheeks. Chest heaving drawing attention to your bust — he’ll have his own fun with them soon. You were far too godamn pretty to let go off— His throat bobbed— cock twitching in his pants. On second thought maybe you can handle a couple of rounds more.

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@drinking-tea-and-be-obsessed

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━━━ : © NERVOUS.D

[lex-the-flex]

Infectious Defenses

Las Plagas! Leon S. Kennedy x reader

Summary: Trapped by Lord Saddler, the man believes he has the best weapon at his fingertips. Unbeknownst to him, nothing can break the alliance between two of the greatest D.S.O Agents.

Word Count: 1.2k

Warning(s): HEAVY ANGST, brief action and violence, descriptions of injuries, Las Plagas nearly takes control of Leon, mentions of brainwashing, the reader being a badass, and MEGA FLUFF!

A/N: I’M SO HYPED FOR THIS GAME!! And the new trailer made me loose my mind!! I hope you enjoy and feedback is appreciated!

The heavy rainfall made seeing the pathway to the cathedral nearly impossible in the dead of night. Hoisting Leon closer to you, there was no room to breathe, and your muscles started to ache from carrying his weight against your tired body.

Coughing more frequently, Leon tried his best to cover his mouth, but he couldn't. Letting his left arm dangle, the only thing he could do was trudge his feet along the gravel trail to the church's entrance.

"Come on, Leon. It's just a little further." You shouted against the rain, hoping he'd hear you.

"I'm trying, Y/N..." Leon mumbled in between another coughing fit.

Reaching the cathedral's front steps, you pushed the door open with your hip, hoping the barrel of your submachine gun tied to your back would provide a little help. With the large wooden doors swinging open, the force alone made you and Leon fall to the floor.

Breaking your fall, Leon held you in his muscular arms, not wanting you to collide with the stone flooring. Heaving past your shoulder, Leon gasped for a rush of cold air, begging for anything to enter his collapsing lungs.

Even when he's dying, Leon is ever the gentleman.

Moving to your knees, you carefully held a hand on Leon's chest, hoping to keep him still. Grabbing your wrist, the young man wheezed for any kind of saving grace. Taking a few herbs from your hip pouch, you held the medicinal mixture to Leon's chapped lips, he swallowed the remedy with a few sips of water out of a spare canteen from Luis.

Laying back, Leon slowly released his grip on your wrist, the agent's breathing returned to normal. Focusing on continuing the flow from in through his nose and out the mouth, Leon balances on his elbows.

"Y/N? You okay?" Leon asked and a crease formed in between his dark brows.

Motioning for your barely bleeding shoulder, a small quiet giggle escapes from your lips, and a quick smile fills the corners of Leon's dull pinkish lips.

"What?" He asks, returning to his normal self.

But before you can respond, an echo of vile laughter fills the cathedral's empty hall, and your face drops. Turning to the altar, Leon subconsciously clutched your arm in his hand as he rose from his spot on the ground.

"So the lambs decided to return to their Shepard after all. But don't worry, you'll soon become one of us, Mr. Kennedy. Then your partner shall fall in line right behind you." Lord Saddler explained as the two of you stood to your feet.

“You're wrong. I don't carry the same blood as you and your men." Leon said, pacing to the foot of the altar.

“Ah but you do, my boy. Once the egg hatches, you will see the true path.” Saddler snickered, waving his hand towards his infested staff.

"Leon, what's he talking about?" You ask, standing at his side.

"Ah, so you don't know, Ms. L/N. You were more than fortunate enough to escape my grasp. It'll be a miracle once you accept this wondrous gift!" Saddler projects, with a smirk lighting up his eerie face.

The Lord's spine-tingling eyes try to break your spirit, but you stand strong beside Leon. Unclipping your own modified handgun, you aim the barrel toward the sadistic leader.

"Nah ah ah. I wouldn't do that if I were you." Saddler mocks you, wagging his finger in your direction.

Your pointer finger barely begins to squeeze the trigger just as Leon begins to heavily wheeze. Reaching for the base of his neck, Leon descends to his knees, as if he can no longer stand up straight.

"Leon, are you alright? Here, take my hand." You instruct never letting go of your gun.

Rejecting your hand, Leon pushes you back causing you to stumble towards a pillar.

"Don't come near me, Y/N! I can't... I can't--" Leon replies, staggering in place.

Beneath his olive skin, a series of dark crimson veins begin to emerge on top of his own. Clasping his hands on his chest, Leon takes in a few uneven gasps out of desperation, hoping, praying for this to just be a bad dream.

"Ah yes, the time has come!" Saddler praises, praising the power before him.

Switching targets, you can't decide whether to aim at Saddler or Leon, you choose the latter. With a firm stance, you begin to march toward Saddler with your gun held high. But before you can reach the foot of the altar, the sight of Leon taking hold of your gun startles you.

Swiping the gun from your hands, the D.S.O. Agent tosses your piece of artillery across the room. Your hands start to shake uncontrollably as you try to cover the gasp that sneaks from your mouth. Gazing over the man who now stood before you, it was as if Leon became a different person in a matter of seconds.

"Exult all! And let it be so!!" Saddler shouts, witnessing the true marvel before him.

Sinking to the very mold of the pillar, your fingers grip the old stone, hoping the cold will soothe your sweaty palms. Watching the dark mass inch its way up Leon's neck, he faces the ceiling. Gritting his teeth together, a terrifying scream escapes Leon's lips, and it shakes you to your very core.

You've never heard Leon scream. Let alone in pain. This man was not your partner, friend, or the man who shared the same infatuation with.

This was not your Leon.

Making eye contact with your gun, you bolt towards it, ducking under Leon's attack. Switching the safety off, you aim the gun at Saddler and shoot. The bullet makes contact with Saddler's shoulder and he falls through a hidden trap door behind the waist-high flat table.

The moment Saddler disappears, Leon collapses to the ground, and the terror that once controlled him is gone. Rushing to his side, the crimson colored veins vanished.

"Leon?" You question, nudging his exposed skin with the butt of your gun.

Jerking awake, Leon held up his hand to see the sight of your gun aimed at him. Wiping his sweaty face, he looks around the cathedral.

"What happened?" He innocently asks, trying to process what had just occurred.

Just like that, it was like a dam opened, and a rush of tears flowed down your face. Standing before you, Leon takes your shoulders in his hands, and leans his forehead against yours.

"You, you lost control, Leon. It's like you... became a different person." You tried to explain through a series of sobs.

"But I didn't, Y/N. I won't let that virus take me. I'm here and I don't plan on going anywhere." Leon whispered to ease your sobs, taking you closer in his arms.

re taglist ~

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[oskea93]

Tis the Way the Wind Blows, Hummingbird (Intro)

Caleb Sykes x OC Horizon universe

⚠️ Warning ⚠️ Story will contain moments of physical, sexual, emotional, and verbal abuse, cursing, murder, suicidal ideations, childbirth, scalping, death, etc. Please do not read if you are triggered by any of these warnings. If you've seen the film or just read about it online, you already know that Caleb is a bad guy. He will remain a bad guy throughout this story as well. He will not be liked and will be vile in every way. Just a heads up if you were looking for a happy Jamie story.

Author's note: Hello and welcome to my new fic! So, I went and see Horizon (twice now) and I just had to write about everyone's favorite western villain. Jamie was amazing in this film, like he is in all his moves. Caleb is a ruthless asshole and he will stay a ruthless asshole in this story as well. I started off this story in the future - kind of like mid end just to give a small taste of the drama that will soon unfold. The next chapter will show the relationship between Elizabeth and Caleb - spoiler - it will not be pretty...

● If you would like to be tagged, please comment below ● Taglist: @austinswhitewolf, @carriewritesblog, @isla-bell-blog, @jcbbby, @eve18ahs

“You know that he’ll kill you once he finds you – even gets word that you're in these parts.”

I kept my gaze focused on the snowy mountains to the East of us, the warm spring wind flowing through my red locks, carrying with it a sense of both renewal and reckoning. As the sun dipped lower in the sky, casting a golden hue over the rugged peaks, I felt a surge of conflicting emotions welling up inside me.

"Maybe that's what I want," I whispered, my eyes connecting with the older man's beside me, his weathered face reflecting wisdom and understanding. "Maybe I want him to find me, to confront me, so I can finally make him feel the pain that he inflicted upon me for all those years."

Grady let out a scoff, his voice rough with years of experience and a hint of skepticism. "You thinkin' that you'll be able to kill that crazy sumbitch? That whole goddamn family is off their rockers, Elizabeth. That boy especially – his eyes are wilder than a banshee."

I let out a sigh, the weight of my words hanging heavy in the air. "I'm not afraid of them anymore, Grady." The truth spilled out, raw and unfiltered, a truth that I had wrestled with for far too many years. "As long as that little girl is nowhere in his sight or the sight of that pack of wolves he calls brothers-" I stopped mid-sentence, a sudden chill running down my spine as our gazes reconnected. "I don't care what happens to me."

The older man stayed silent for a moment, his face betraying a mix of disbelief and concern as my words lingered in the air, heavy with the weight of unspoken truths. "You're just gonna let that little girl grow up without a mama? Have her go to some home and let a bunch of strangers take care of her? I thought you had more sense than that, youngin."

"She ain't gonna be with a stranger, Grady," I insisted, my voice firm with conviction as I met his gaze. His eyebrows creased in confusion, a mix of surprise and uncertainty flickering in his eyes. "If I don't make it back, I want you to raise her just like you rais-"

"No-" Grady interjected, his hands waving in the air as he took a step back, a look of protest on his wrinkled face.

"Grady, listen, please," I implored, closing the distance between us as I followed in his tracks. "You are the only constant in both of our lives. You're the only one I trust with her – she needs you just like I did all those years ago."

His back, hunched over from years of work, moved slowly with each deep breath as he processed my words. "Emily loves you, Grady, and you love her too. At least if I do die, I will die knowing that my daughter will always be protected and loved."

"I'm too old to be carin for a six-year-old child, Elizabeth," Grady retorted, a smirk forming across my face in response to his protest.

"You've been saying that for years, Grady dear," I remarked softly, my hand resting gently on his shoulder. "Pretty sure those were the same words you uttered when I was placed upon your porch many years ago. Looks like you're still here, sir."

His aging body slowly turned around, his eyes glistening with threatening tears, a testament to the emotions churning beneath the surface. "Caleb is a ruthless man, Lizzie," Grady's tone was low, filled with a mixture of concern and a hint of fear. "He's the lowest of the barrel – capable of doing anything to anyone, including his wife and mother to his child."

I gave him a tight smile, my hand squeezing his bicep in a gesture of reassurance and solidarity. "I'll make sure he draws first."

[deiaiko]

#20.8 Spar

"Are you up for a spar, Viole?" Novick asked after they finished snacking on the garlic bread. He was always competitive, especially when he was introduced to new people. However, Dan and Gyetang also looked excited to join. From what Agni caught, they were curious as to how talented Viole could be to have  earned his status as a slayer candidate, which was understandable.

Still, Agni huffed in amusement. His team still chose to train even though he had called today off. Though Agni wasn't against it. He felt like it'd be good for both him and Grace, since exercise always took their minds off things. Bam seemed a little reluctant, but he went along with it, especially after Grace said it'd be a good bonding experience.

Everyone moved to the training area and they made a quick bracket match. Grace reminded Agni not to overexert himself in this spar, even though Agni insisted that he was fine. But he understood why Grace was worried, since he would be too if Grace were in his place.

The first round was Dan against Gyetang. Both of them had improved a little bit from the last time Agni watched their spar. Gyetang was able to read Dan's movement the moment the spar began, and act accordingly to counter his attack. Though in the end Dan still gained the upper hand once he was able to render Gyetang's fuuma shuriken useless.

The second round was Grace against Agni, which would have ended fairly quickly if Grace used his reverse flow control. But since he didn't, he and Grace had shinsu enhanced martial art combat instead. Agni could tell that Grace was avoiding hitting his leg. In a real fight, Agni would use that to his advantage, but on this occasion he appreciated Grace's thoughtfulness. However, none of them went easy with the other, so they dragged out the fight until Agni ran out of stamina.

The third round was Bam against Novick. Despite it being the first match, Novick went all out on Bam by using his ultimate moves as a start. Still, Bam kept up with him, though he kept on the defensive. It wasn't until Novick and Grace encouraged Bam to attack that things finally got more interesting. Novick was slowly pushed onto the defensive, though Agni knew that Bam was still holding back. However, all of Novick's attempts at challenging Grace seemed to pay off, and Agni could see that he was still able to keep up. However, Bam's attack pattern was different from Grace, and one of his bangs took Novick off guard, allowing Bam to subdue him. Even though Novick was clearly still okay enough to keep going and break himself free from Bam, he raised his hand in surrender and ended the round.

Since this spar was for the team to get to know Bam, and everyone knew that Grace was the strongest, the fourth round was voted to be Bam against Dan. Having seen the first round, Bam was able to predict Dan's attack. However, that didn't mean that Bam was prepared to go against Dan’s speed. Bam tried to use reverse flow control on him, but Dan was too slippery to get caught in it. He was used to having to deal with Grace's, so he was able to read Bam's aim. Dan didn't waste time and successfully pinned Bam down to the ground the moment Bam let his guard down. However, it seemed to trigger a fight response from Bam, and he summoned a bang behind Dan. Agni intervened by creating a barrier to null the shot which could cause serious injury, but the bang had already been snuffed out before it exploded. Agni looked at Grace who exhaled in relief with his hand half raised, before calling the match over. Everyone else was too stunned by the outcome until Dan offered a hand and pulled Bam up to his feet. Then Gyetang and Novick finally cheered and congratulated them both.

As they waited for Bam to cool down after two matches in a row, Novick challenged Agni to a spar. It was understandable, since Agni usually was too busy to join their afternoon routine. However, Agni was still worn out from his previous match and a little under the weather, so he aimed to end this one as soon as possible, especially because Novick was a tank which would put Agni at a disadvantage if the match was dragged out. As soon as the match began, Agni activated his lighthouse flow control to stop Novick and teleported behind him. He froze Novick's limbs before he was able to reinforce himself with shinsu, and pointed a knife at his neck.

"Not going easy on me, huh?" Novick chuckled as he admitted defeat. 

Agni melted the ice on Novick's limbs and stepped away to the spectator seats. "I would be at a disadvantage, otherwise."

Since it ended too fast, Novick challenged Dan next. Compared to what he had with Bam and Agni, he went relatively easy on Dan. But in the end, Novick still came out as the winner since Dan was built for agility, not power.

As if saving the best for last, Novick finally challenged Grace for a spar. It went as it usually would. Grace was just humoring Novick, but at least he managed to make it believable and kept Novick on his toes. Agni had seen what Grace was actually capable of, after all. Practicing with them like this was actually wasting potential on Grace's part. He would grow stronger quicker if he faced an opponent that was on his level or above. But Grace looked like he was having fun, so who was Agni to ruin it?

The last match was Bam against Grace, which everyone had been looking forward to. Grace assured Bam that he could go all out with him, which prompted Agni to reinforce the barrier that surrounded the training area even more than usual. At first, neither of them made any move to attack, but it was interesting to see the differences in their mirrored stances. 

"You can have the first move," Grace taunted.

Bam summoned two bangs and released them toward Grace. They were easily blocked. 

"Is that all? I know that you can do better."

Agni thought it was harsh of Grace to say that. A regular on this floor that could control two powerful bangs was already considered a prodigy. But Agni understood the frustration. He himself had been far harsher on his younger self. Their teams were far behind, and would not survive had they lived during wartime. It was a scary thought.

Grace decided to step forward, and Bam switched to his reverse flow control stance. However, nothing happened as Grace kept on closing their distance. Bam frowned and ran forward, pressing his palm in front of Grace's chest. Grace didn't move away from the touch, looking at Bam with anticipation.

"Go on," Grace said when Bam hesitated a moment too long.

Bam bit his lip, before releasing his flare wave explosion. Grace's eyebrows twitched in pain. Even though Agni could feel the wave, it was not as destructive as he had predicted, even with his lowered standards.

"One more time, but you have to give it your all." Grace very rarely used his strict voice, but when he did, it was a clear warning that he was displeased. "If you refuse to, then I will start to go on the offensive."

Bam inhaled sharply and forced himself to release another flare wave explosion that was finally close to the level that Agni predicted Bam could do. Grace covered his mouth and coughed, and Agni saw a glimpse of red. However, Agni kept firm on his seat, since Grace was smiling at Bam.

"That's right, don't hold back." Grace jumped back to create some distance and got in his defensive stance again.

Bam got more serious after that, and his bangs were formed with more concentration. Grace carefully landed a few blows and slowly shifted to offense, while still creating some openings for Bam to take advantage of. Their exchanged blows got fiercer, and it was finally clear that they were having fun.

Not too long after, Bam was starting to run low on stamina, but at one point he managed to sneak behind Grace and hit him with another flare wave explosion. However, Grace saw it coming, so he repelled some of the waves to decrease the damage that he took. Unfortunately, it fired back at Bam and injured his arm. They decided to stop the match then, as Bam seemed really close to passing out. Grace held Bam's shoulders to steady him on his wobbly feet, and gently lowered him so they both sat down on the floor. Agni approached them just in case his help was needed.

"Are you okay?" Grace asked, getting more frantic when Bam suddenly looked like he was having a heart attack. Agni froze in his steps when a red exoskeleton grew and enveloped Bam, healing his injured arm. But Grace seemed less surprised and just comforted Bam until the exoskeleton disappeared.

Agni squatted down next to them and whispered to Grace, "What the heck was that?!"

"Blue Thryssa, incomplete form." Grace looked thoughtfully at Bam, who was staring back at Grace with a confused and scared look. "Your wound healed now, see? It's fine."

"Are you sure?" Bam rubbed his healed arm. He winced, "It's, uh…talking to me?"

"Hmm, maybe I can help you understand it." Grace sat down cross-legged and got in his meditative state, placing his palm on Bam's back.

Everyone else had come closer around them as well, curious about what was happening. A moment later, a transparent blue horn started to form on Grace and Bam's left temple. It surprised Agni because he thought Grace had lost the powers that he had absorbed when they traveled back in time.

When Grace opened his eyes, he gave Agni a look that said they would talk about it later. Bam came back to his senses a moment later. Dan and Gyetang could no longer contain their curiosity and began asking Bam and Grace questions, but the topic soon drifted to more general conversation because Bam was just as lost as they were. Agni called the sparring session over and Dan went to prepare dinner. Bam and Gyetang joined him in the kitchen, and the sight of them getting along together was heartwarming. 

Agni took a seat in the cafeteria, and Grace followed to sit next to him. Agni released the fish from his lighthouse bowl to roam around the kitchen, while Grace exhaled and stretched his arms. All the bruises on his skin were almost healed already.

"Well…?" Agni prompted Grace to start talking.

"Hm." Grace leaned back on his chair and rubbed the back of his neck, "After seeing what Bam is capable of, it made me think about how far I've come."

There was sadness in those golden eyes that tugged at Agni's heartstrings. Both of them had been broken so many times that no amount of fixing could bring both of them to what they used to be. Velt came and swam between them, nuzzling onto Grace's arm before settling on Agni's side. Her company was appreciated, and Agni gave her a few pats. Grace smiled as he watched them.

"About the Blue Thryssa though…" Grace stopped himself when Novick approached them and took a seat nearby.

Agni and Grace shared a quick glance. Honestly, Agni would prefer to talk in private with Grace when they brought up their time travel stuff, but it wasn't like they were actively trying to hide it either. Novick also didn't seem to mind, as his attention was more at whatever was happening in the kitchen.

Grace shrugged and continued their conversation, "It was like…I felt my own Thryssa resonate, and it said it doesn't have any recollection since, you know. It felt like I had just woken it up."

Agni hummed thoughtfully, "Could it be that you didn't actually lose them?" 

"Maybe? I couldn't feel any others though." Grace tried to do something with his left hand, then frowned when nothing happened. "I can't transform it either."

"Oh, hm." If Agni recalled, the transformation was when they were with the beastkin. "I guess you have to get yourself or Bam to get it from Doom."

"I thought the same."

"Well then, guess I will have to update our plan soon."

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[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Unexpected 22

Sequel to Unsolicited

Warnings: non/dubcon, pregnancy, car sex, Lloyd being the worst, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

It’s a flicker at first. A tickle in your thigh, along your pelvis, then deeper down. A pluck within, a coolness delving into your warmth, rough against soft. You moan through slightly parted lips, half a snore as you slowly rouse from your hazy sleep. A slumber so intense, you have no dreams, no thoughts, a rare peace.

The fire stokes hire, razing up your spine and nestling behind your stomach. Another breathy sigh, this one from deep in your chest. Your eyes snap open at the brush along your hip bone, the stirring of air across your naked torso, rob untied and open, a hand kneading your chest as another crawls along your cunt.

You lift your head, your eyes bleary, mind swirling. It takes a moment before you can make out the figure knelt on the bed between your legs, dragging his face along your pelvis. The latent flow of pleasure spikes and you swing at him, smacking the crown of his head before his mouth can stray any lower.

“Are you kidding me?” You exclaim, “are you stupid?”

“Hey,” Lloyd sits up and rubs his head, “what the f–”

“Yeah, what the fuck?” You snarl, “you think you can just… touch me. I’m sleeping and you just–” Another eruption of rage ripples through you. You pull your leg back and aim a kick at him, “you fucking asshole.”

“Jesus, calm down,” he barely keeps you from slamming your heel into his crotch, “I’m going–”

“No, do you really think this is how this is going to go,” you sweep the robe closed and bounce to the edge of the bed. You hug yourself as you stand, grunting at the effort, “you think you can just fuck your way out of everything.”

“I’m not trying to get out of anything, I’m trying to get in–”

“Enough,” you slap his chest as he gets off the bed, “you’re not sleeping beside me. You’re not even sleeping in this room. You can find somewhere else.”

“You can’t banish me from my own room–”

“I can’t?” You challenge, “what can I do, Lloyd? Get on my knees? Beg? Carry your child? I don’t get it, if you don’t care about this child, then why am I pregnant right now?”

He stares at you and has the grace to look ashamed, even in the low din of the night. His eyes drift away and he exhales, reaching to rub the side of his neck. He throws up his hand and shrugs.

“I meant it. When I… said sorry.”

“We both know that was only cause mommy told you to,” you insist, “and if you don’t get the fuck away from me, I’ll tell.”

“You’ll tell? What are you? A kid?”

“Well, if it’s the only thing that can put sense into you–”

“Would you just listen?” He snarls, “I am fucking sorry. I’m sorry I lost my cool. I’m sorry I flirted with those girls. I’m sorry you felt the need to go sleep out in the cold because we had one little fight. And I’m sorry I got fucking pissed when you fucked me and yelled your ex’s name. Don’t you be sorry for that, that’s on me, right?”

“How dare you. How fucking dare you. Don’t put this on me. You’re not sorry. Not to me. You’re sorry for yourself because you’re not getting what you want.”

“What I want? What I want keeps you with a roof over your head and food in your belly. Baby, if I didn’t want you, we wouldn’t be here–”

“Oh I fucking wish,” you sneer, “I fucking wish. Lloyd, are you really that fucking delusional? You think I want this? You think I wanted to come here and clean up your mess and suck your dick? That I wanted to marry you at some fucked up shotgun wedding? Or that I want to be forty and bloated with your baby?”

You growl and turn, swiping away the lamp in anger. It smashes as you fall back onto the mattress and grip your lower back. 

“I wanted to do something nice for my husband, you ruined that. I wanted to leave his cheating ass, you ruined that too. I wanted to make it on my own, work my own way out, you ruined that. You ruined my body, you ruined everything I had and it was barely anything,” you glare at the wall, you can’t stand to look at him, “you must be really fucking proud, Marion.”

He’s quiet. You hear the slow intake of air and the slower release through his nose. He clicks his tongue and shifts his weight, “no, you want me. We got chemistry, peaches, even it’s only below the waist.”

“Tell yourself whatever you want,” you grab the pillow, hugging it to your side as you lean forward to rise again, “I’ll go. I can’t have you near me right now.”

“No, you have the bed,” he says bluntly, “you and… the baby. I don’t wanna crowd you.”

You stay as you are, head low as you wait, watching him from your peripheral. He retreats, stopping at the dresser to slide open a drawer. The silence is thick and throttling. Finally, the door clicks shut softly in his stead.

You lift your legs up and fall onto your side. Typical, the asshole ruined the first good sleep you’d gotten in months.

💎

You dream of the grass and the sky. You dream of Dottie and her menagerie of toys. You dream of Harlan and his silent certainty. Lloyd and his looming presence, circling the distortion of scenes, pieced together from the fragments of your reality.

The chaos of your mind is splintered by a knock at the door. You grumble but refuse to break the surface. You don’t want to be awake, you just want to sleep. Your body wants it. You feel heavy but empty. Drained entirely.

The knock comes again and you cover your face with your arm. You groan and scratch the side of your nose. Morning always comes too soon. You roll onto your back and force yourself up, eyes drooping as you try to blink away the crust of sleep.

“What?” You garble as you sit back against the pillow.

There’s a noise on the other side of the door, the tenuous wobble of glass as it slowly opens from the other side. You swear you’re still dreaming as your vision clears and the wood swings back from the frame. Lloyd proudly enters with a tray, keeping it from tipping as he regains his balance.

He smirks as he presents his offerings, “ta da! All for you, Mrs. Hansen.”

“I’m still dreaming, aren’t I?”

“Oh? Of me? That’s a good sign,” he struts over and firmly places the tray over your lap, steadying it on the folding legs, “french toast, fruit, a little sugar on top. Oh, and decaf, orange juice, syrup–”

He points around the tray as he lists the content. You wrinkle your nose and look up at him. You’re confused. So confused.

“Why?”

“Why? Uh, why not?” He chuckles as he steps back. His dark tee shirt is powdered with sugar and a smear of egg. 

“Lloyd,” you say.

He sighs and shows his palms, “that’s it. That’s my apology.” He declares in a stunted cadence, “this is sorry. I’m sorry, so I brought you breakfast?”

“Yeah, but why?” You repeat.

He gulps and puts his hands on his hips, “I… don’t fucking know. I googled it and that’s what I got. Breakfast in bed.”

You blink then peek down at the plate. It’s not burnt at least. In fact, you’re surprised at the presentation. The sugar is sprinkled across the eggy bread and fruit, while slightly askew, is placed all around the rim. There’s even an apple cut in slices and arranged like a flower at the center. The hair stands on the back of your neck.

“What’s in this?”

“Egg, milk, bread…” he begins, “oh, come on, peaches, I’m trying. This is me trying,” he whines, “I don’t fucking try and I’m trying. For you.”

You’re not dumb. You know this isn’t just about you. This is his ego. He doesn’t like being left out and for the last two days, he’s been sidelined; no donut, no hug from mama, and no manicures. Your stomach gurgles in battle with your obstinacy.

“It’s a start,” you say curtly, “but this isn’t it, Marion.”

“Please, don’t call me that,” he pleads, “I’m begging you.”

“Marion, you know, if you’re trying, you don’t tell me what to do,” you pick up the fork, “so be a good boy and let me have my breakfast. In peace.”

[onehopefuldreamer]

So I think I just figured out the optimal order of events for Stray Gods Act II for me.

Thanks to some very kind people on the Stray Gods Discord I was made aware that if you don't immediately go to Aphrodite's party but visit the Reliquary and Medusa's lair first you get completely different information from Aphrodite and Eros than if you'd first gone there. By some stroke of luck I had just done The Ritual (because I'm pretty much always replaying this game...) so I went back and redid things. And my gosh, am I never going to do The Ritual first again!

It's not only the information Grace receives that is much better, but also the flow of events actually feels much more natural this way. Especially if you romance Persephone because this gives her extra time to get to know Grace a little before you trigger You and I and it just feels so right. This also gives Grace a chance to tell Apollo she's worried about the way her investigation is going when he checks in with her instead of lying and saying she's fine. I love that! But also - you get a slightly different conversation with Pan after visiting Medusa which I liked heaps better personally.

What I ended up loving the most was that if you'd been naughty like me and flirted with everyone but Apollo when you talk with him about suspecting Pan after The Ritual he actually tells Grace to give Pan the benefit of the doubt and is very supportive of her which is completely adorable. Then, because I had been flirting with Pan, Persephone made Grace choose between her and him which was also a really nice touch and had me giggling and kicking my feet. I had no idea I needed to hear Persephone say "And what of Pan? Is he also 'incredible'?" but it gave me so much joy, you have no idea. I also ended up testing the option where you choose Pan over Persephone and she was very understanding and supportive while also shutting down any flirting from that point onwards. The only thing that disappointed me was that Persepone didn't seem to care that my Grace was also flirting with Freddie. That wasn't mentioned at all.

And now I need to do yet another replay after I finish this one and go for Pan because man, the dude has charm in spades and I love him and I wish I could romance Persephone, Freddie and him all at once. I might even like him more than Freddie which probably makes me a bad lesbian but it is what it is. His song is my favourite romance song right after You and I too, it's so catchy and joyful. Damn, I really need to romance him soon, don't I?

Fun fact: because I stopped my replay right before doing The Ritual after going to the Reliquary and visiting Medusa last night I ended up dreaming of an alternate version of Persephone and Grace's talk leading to You and I which had Persephone more open and forthcoming about Calliope and Grace very supportive and understanding. Then I'm pretty sure I dreamed a whole alternate version of You and I where Grace and Persephone actually sang together. I'm pretty pissed I don't remember any details because damn... I wish that were real. And I wish I could have recorded it. It was so good.

[jamdoughnutmagician]

A Cut Above The Rest

Mechanic!Eddie x Fem!Hairdresser!Reader

Back To Work (Part 6)

Summary:You make good on your promise of giving Steve his haircut, whilst also learning a few things from him about Eddie.

Word Count:1, 131 (sorry it's a short one this time!)

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Masterlist Series Masterlist

You drive your way over to Steve’s home, a modest little place, an apartment on the edge of the town not from where he works in the coffee shop.

You knock at his door with your hairdresser’s kit in a bag slung over your shoulder.

“Steve! It’s me!” you shout from behind the door. 

He opens up the door, dressed in an old, well-worn t-shirt and a pair of shorter than you expected shorts. So this is what Steve ‘The Hair’ Harrington wears on his day off, huh?

“Hey! How are you?” he says, welcoming you into his apartment.

“Good thanks.” you nod. “So where do you want to do this? '' you ask, gesturing to your heavy bag of haidresser’s equipment.

“Oh you can put your stuff right here, it’ll be fine.” he says, tapping his hand against the small dining table in his kitchen.

You set down your bag as he pulls out a chair from underneath the table and sits down.

“So what are we doing today, Steve?” you ask, as you swish a hair-dressing cape around his shoulders to stop the hair going all over his clothes.

“Anything you can do that doesn’t involve any kind of clippers going anywhere near my head would be deeply appreciated, thank you.”

“Don’t worry you’re in safe hands with me.” you reassure, as you rake your fingers through his tousled mess of hair. “You’re going to feel like a new man once I’m done with you, Harrington.”

You grab your water bottle and begin by spritzing his hair just enough to wet everything down, before turning to grab your comb to slick through his hair. Then you reach into your kit to pull out your scissors to start snipping away at the longer strands. You alternate between snipping the hair and combing your brush through to ensure that everything is the right length.

“I drove past a perfectly good barber’s shop on my way here, so what’s this hang-up you have over hair clippers and going to the barbers?” You ask, easily falling into the natural chatter that you used on all your clients. It was one of the skills you prided yourself on, to put people at ease 

“Well, it’s just that when I was a kid my mom would always take me to the salon with her when she went, and I would get my hair cut there too sometimes. Then, one day, my dad took me to a barber shop, said it was about time that a boy like me should be going to the same barber’s as his old man, said that my long hair made me look like a girl, then they clipped my hair so short. I cried the whole time.” he says, the hurt in voice still present even now. "I even have a little scar at the back where the guy got a bit too trigger-happy with the clippers." He huffs.

Sure enough through the layers, there it is. A small line of scarring where the base of his skull flows down to his neck, where the hair refuses to grow.

"I guess I wanted to grow my hair out as an act of rebellion?" He offers, as some semblance of explanation. 

“For what it’s worth, I think you suit longer hair in my opinion. I’m just here to tidy you up.” you reassure with a hand on his shoulder.

“Thanks. Anyway! Enough about me, a little birdy told me that you went on a date with a certain metal-head yesterday?” he asks, his voice raising slightly in a teasing tone. 

“A little birdy, huh? You mean Robin.” you poke back with a laugh. “Yeah, Eddie took me out to the Maple Bridge fall festival. It was nice.” you answer, with a slight smile playing at your lips as you begin to refine Steve’s layers.

 “Maple Bridge, huh?” he retorts with a smirk that despite the fact that you couldn’t see his face, you just knew was gracing his features. “Interesting.”

“Yeah, we picked pumpkins and had a quiet drink in the barn. I had a nice time with him. Why is that interesting?” you say, unsure what Steve was getting at with his line of questioning.

“I’ve known Eddie for a few years, and if it’s one thing I know about him is that he loves the fall, like, all of it. Halloween, Pumpkins, Pumpkin Pie, everything. The whole shebang. He goes to the Maple Bridge festival every year. Never misses it.

Steve keeps talking as you start to ruffle a texturising clay through his now freshly cut hair, listening intently as he speaks.  

“..And for the past few years he’s always gone alone. We’ve all offered to go with him, of course, but he always insists on going by himself. So, he must really like you if he’s taken you there on a first date.”

“I don’t know what to say.” you stammer at the revelation of this news. 

“Look, I’m hosting a Halloween party next week. Robin's gonna be there, you can invite Eddie, it’ll be great, I promise.”

“Alright. I’m down for a party.” you say, as you reach for your hairdryer.

“Good. Of course it’s a costume party, so I expect to see you all dressed up.” he laughs.

You cut Steve off with the loud sound of your hairdryer, completely ignoring him.

“Alright! That’s you all done.” You say as you gather your kit up.

“Thank you so much, you’ve done an awesome job of it. Better than any other haircut I've had before, that's for sure." he says with a smile ruffling his fingers through his freshly styled hair. “This is for you.” he nods, pressing the money into your hand.

"Oh thank you!" You smile, slipping your money into your back pocket.

"Seriously! I'm going to be coming to you for my haircuts from now on!" Steve praises.

"Anytime! It was a delight to work on such a glorious head of hair such as yours" You nod.

"I really do hope you come to the party, it'll be nice to have some more friendly faces there!"

"I'll see you then!" And with that, you wave him goodbye as you make your way out of his apartment. 

You burst through the door to Robin’s apartment, dropping your bag on the floor as you come in.

"Robin. I need your help." you rush out in a panicked tone.

"What’s going on?” she spluttered back, matching your alarmed nature.

"Steve invited me to his Halloween party next week and I need to find a costume."

Robin breathes a sigh of relief, you always did have a flair for the dramatics.

"Don't worry, we'll find you something, We can hit up the mall tomorrow, there's gotta be something there."

@penguinsandpotterheads @xxhellfiregirlxx @sunflowerdaydreamer @mmunson86 @avalon-wolf @ali-r3n @jesssssmaybankk