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osarina · 10 months ago

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ᡣ𐭩 I, CARRION

FEATURING: beast dazai osamu

SUMMARY: the day of the event has arrived and dazai is second guessing everything, but it's too late for him to back out now.{wordcount: 12k; fem!reader; romance & tragedy}

AUTHOR'S NOTES: PART FOUR wow guys we're really getting into the meat of the fic now. HAHAH this is the chapter i had to split into two parts, initially it was going to be one big one but then it would've been a whopping 23k words and that's a bit much even for me. i didn't want to cross the 20k realm HAHAHH. anyway, this chapter really was a pleasure to write, the second scene was my favorite but the ending was SOOOO close to usurping it

GENERAL WARNINGS: again, i'll just leave this warning on every chapter - dazai struggles a lot with disassociation/derealization & losing himself in the pages of the book. as always please let me know if i forgot any warnings

SEE: UNREAL UNEARTH SERIES MASTERLIST READ: BADLANDS SIDE A

“Gin-chan, I’m so nervous.”

You pace around Dazai’s penthouse anxiously, twisting your fingers in front of your body. The event is taking place tomorrow night. You still don’t have an outfit for it—Dazai told you not to worry about it, you’re still worrying about it because what does that even mean? You don’t know what to expect from the event, and Gin is evasive when you ask her about what will happen, just keeps telling you that it’ll be fine as long as you stay with Dazai.

“There’s no reason to be nervous,” Gin says, as she always does, still tapping away at her laptop. Glasses hang off the bridge of her nose and there are dark circles beneath her eyes. You feel a bit ashamed about constantly going on about your nerves when you know damn well she, Dazai and all of the other executives of his company have been working nonstop the past few days trying to finish preparations. “Dazai-san will be with you the whole time, and if he has to talk business, someone will sit with you until he can get back so you’re not feeling awkward.”

Somehow, you think that might be even more awkward because you doubt a random person is going to want to babysit you while Dazai is busy, but you don’t voice your thoughts, instead just withering as you circle the large room for the sixth time in the past five minutes.

You’ve hardly seen Dazai all week. You don’t really mind, you know he’s swamped with work and you’ve been keeping yourself busy going out cafe hopping and shopping. Gin comes with you when she can, but it’s usually Nakajima Atsushi or Tachihara Michizo that joins you—Gin had introduced you to the two security guards a week ago when she’d been too busy to come with you to a cafe downtown. You don’t mind the company but you can’t help but wonder why Dazai is so insistent that someone comes with you.

Well. You can’t help but wonder about a lot of things, really. You’re pretty certain that Dazai is still hiding something major from you. You don’t know a lot about business, and you especially don’t know anything about his business, but something isn’t right. You’re not stupid and everyone is not as slick as they think themselves to be, you see how tense and anxious people get when you mention him to them, more so than the average worker would be at the mere mention of their boss, and everyone in the entire damn building is armed, even though they clearly try to hide it whenever you’re in the area.

You and your friends have joked about the uber wealthy before, and how no one above a certain tax bracket obtains their wealth without some sort of blood money; you’re about 99% sure that’s what’s taking place here too, and it would certainly explain all of the secrecy. More so than trade secrets at least, you feel a bit dumb for that to have even been an explanation in your mind. You just don’t know the specifics. You don’t know if you want to know the specifics, you think you’d prefer to remain ignorant because 1) you definitely don’t want to have any sort of culpability, not when you’re on path to graduate school and hopefully a very prestigious job with the government, and 2) … you don’t want to face the reality of what that would mean.

You like Dazai. More than like him. You’ve been slowly coming to terms with the fact that you really, truly care for him, and if you end up learning the… specifics of his job, then you’re going to be forced into making a decision you don’t want to make: preserving your future and morals or risking them for him. And you’re not going to sit around and claim to be some upstanding, virtuous person. You’re not. But you are ambitious, and you’ve had your mind set on your future since you learned how to pick up a pen and write. You’ve worked your entire life to get where you are now, slaved your way through a prestigious undergraduate school in Japan and spent months preparing for the entrance exams for graduate school, only to what? Throw it all away for some man?

God, you almost feel sick. Distantly, you wonder how awful of a person you must be for the threat to your future success to be the main reason why you’re questioning yourself, and not the fact that it’s very likely that Dazai and his conglomerate have some sort of business with Japan’s underground, maybe even direct dealings with the mafia itself.

You pause from where you’re pacing around the room, eyes widening a bit as another realization hits you. You had thought it was odd that Dazai and Gin and all of the executives of the conglomerate have been so stressed and anxious over an event that they’re not even hosting, but what if… Your throat spasms a bit as you swallow, wondering if Dazai is about to bring you not to an event hosted by their rival, but to an event hosted by the mafia. You don’t think he would put you in danger like that, you don’t want to think he would put you in danger like that and you wonder if you’re just sending yourself down a spiral of unnecessary paranoia.

But it doesn’t make sense. Dazai is enamored by you, and you don’t think you’re being conceited by saying that because he has made it abundantly clear. There’s no way he would ever put you in danger like that. Not unless… you feel a bit green remembering his reaction to you saying that you’d go out on your own and stay with your friend the weekend of the event. You could feel the anxiety radiating off of him for a split second before he asked you to come with him. You also remember how he always makes sure someone is with you when you go out, and god, you swear you’re not a conspiracy theorist but nothing is making sense when you look at it through your rose-tinted lenses but looking at it through these lenses. The lenses of a man who is obviously smitten with you, and who might have dealings with the mafia—of course he wouldn’t want you to go out on your own because he’d be scared that you might be targeted as a means to get to him.

Oh, you feel dizzy. What have you gotten yourself into?

“Are you okay?” Gin is looking up at you, brows furrowed in concern. “You look a little sick.”

“I’m fine,” you say, but the words sound pathetic even to your own ears and you know Gin doesn’t believe you from the way she tilts her head to the side to study you.

Luckily, you’re saved by the bell. Literally.

Your head snaps to the side as the elevator dings, and ordinarily, you would be ecstatic because who else would be coming up to the penthouse besides Dazai and while you’ve certainly missed him over the past week with how busy he’s been, you’re not sure if you’re ready to see him right now with the way your thoughts have just spiraled, because you think you might blurt something out that you can’t take back.

But, for better or for worse, it is not Dazai that enters the penthouse.

“Good morning, ladies,” a familiar voice croons as the elevator doors slide open. Your eyes light up as you whip around, eyes falling upon a face you haven’t seen in almost two weeks. “I come bearing gifts.”

“Albatross!” you say, excited, a smile splitting your face, because yes, even knowing about the possible affiliation with the mafia, you’re still excited to see the blonde—he’s never been anything but sweet to you, and he’s really the only one besides Gin and Chuuya who doesn’t treat you weirdly because of your relationship with Dazai.

“D’aw, look at it, Lippmann, told you the doll would still remember me,” Albatross grins, dark glasses hanging on the bridge of his nose as he tosses you a wink and then looks back toward the elevator.

Your gaze follows his, and your eyes fall upon a vaguely familiar person stepping out of the elevator and into the penthouse, carrying a few boxes. Pale hair cut into a bob, a pretty, androgynous face, dressed to the nines in a light purple waistcoat and matching pants—where have you seen him before? Wait-

“You’re-!” you begin, eyes wide and lips parting in shock.

“Walter Lippmann,” the man greets you with a kind smile and soft eyes, you feel a bit flustered, you can hardly meet his gaze. “Everybody just calls me Lippmann though.”

You try to speak, but you’re a bit starstruck—the last thing you’d expected was for a movie star to step into the penthouse. You’re looking between Albatross and Gin and then hesitantly back at Lippmann as you try to figure out what’s going on.

Albatross cackles. “Looks like she’s gotta crush, Lippmann. Better not let the boss find out, he’ll get jealous.”

“Albatross,” you complain, hands flying to cover your hot face. “Not true, I’m just surprised. Am I allowed to be surprised?”

“Yeah, sure, doll, that’s it,” Albatross says, clearly not believing you at all as he throws himself onto the couch next to Gin, looking up at you. “The boss asked us to pick up a dress for you. Go try it on, I’m going to raid his liquor cabinet while you do—if he asks, you better take the blame.”

You see Gin roll her eyes. “You will not raid his liquor cabinet, Albatross,” she says firmly, but the man only winks at her.

You turn your attention back to Lippmann, who’s carrying the dress in a garment bag, a shoe box tucked under his other arm. He gives you a small smile and then motions for you to follow him; you’re still starstruck as you follow him into Dazai’s bedroom, pointedly ignoring the way Albatross snickers.

You watch as Lippmann hangs the garment bag up on the closet, placing the shoebox down on the bed. He turns toward you after and says, “Try it on and make sure it fits properly. And make sure you like it.”

You nod, lips parting to speak but no words leave your lips. You look up at the garment bag, down to the shoes, and back to Lippmann and then you ask, “How do you… how do you know Dazai?”

Lippmann gives you another gentle smile, tucking a strand of hair behind his ear. You notice, a bit curiously, that he seems to take a moment before he speaks, as if choosing his words carefully.

“I knew Dazai’s father,” he says after a few seconds. “I work with the Mori Corporation sometimes regarding press and political matters. Like a spokesperson when Dazai is unable to.”

Hm, you think to yourself before nodding, a movie star as a spokesperson for a corporation, that’s a bit odd, isn’t it?

Your brows furrow slightly as you try to fit the new knowledge in with all of the rest you’ve put together over the past few weeks but it’s just another jagged puzzle piece that’s not fitting in anywhere.

“I’m a huge fan of your movies,” you finally tell him, rubbing the back of your neck as you toss him a sheepish smile. “Like, no joke, almost cried when you had your discussion panel for The Good Society three months ago because it was two days before my entrance exam to grad school so I couldn’t go.”

Lippman laughs, pale cheeks flushing as he looks down at the ground before back up at you. “Honestly, you didn’t miss out. The whole panel was a mess, and the AC broke twenty minutes before, so it was ridiculously hot.”

You don’t really know what to say to that, cursing the fact that you are 1) still half dazed on top of 2) already being naturally awkward, but Walter Lippmann is Walter Lippmann, so of course he knows just what to say and do.

He nods to the dress that he hung up on the closet. “Try it on and then give us a show,” he says, winking at you before he makes his way out of Dazai’s bedroom back into the other room with Albatross and Gin.

You sigh when you’re alone again, tilting your head up to look at the ceiling for a moment, wondering what your life has become before you make your way over to the dress. You unzip the garment bag, curious to see what Dazai had picked for you, and your eyes shoot open when you see the red gown within the bag. Smooth and silky, off-the-shoulder, it’s probably the most expensive thing you’ve ever laid your eyes upon; you feel like you shouldn’t even touch it, much less put it on.

But Lippmann and Albatross and Gin are out there waiting, you can hear them talking through the door, so you force yourself to gingerly pull it off of the hanger, careful to not be too rough with the material. It doesn’t take you too long to get your clothes off and the dress on, but when you do, you can hardly bring yourself to move away from the mirror.

You look beautiful. You do. The dress is a perfect fit, it compliments your skin, it compliments your hair. You look beautiful, but you feel like a fraud, like a clown in a ball gown, hoping that the beauty of the dress would draw attention from the fact that it’s not meant for someone like you.

You don’t know how long you stand there, staring at your reflection. Too long, evidently, because you hear a sharp knock at the door and Lippman’s concerned voice asking if you’ve gotten the dress on.

“Yeah,” you say quietly. “I’m dressed.”

You hear the door to Dazai’s bedroom creak open but you don’t turn to look.

“I think this costs more than my student loans,” you breathe out, staring at yourself in the mirror. You smooth your hands over the silky material, eyes catching the way it clings to you perfectly. “God, where the hell did he get something like this? It’s like it was made for me.”

“Probably was,” Lippmann says from where he’s leaning against the doorframe, lips quirked up into a half smile as he tosses you another wink. “Perks of dating one of the richest men in Japan.”

You let out a noise caught between a whimper and a laugh, suddenly feeling very, very out of place.

Lippmann clearly catches your sudden change in attitude and his brows furrow. “Do you not like it?” he asks curiously. “There’s plenty of time for him to send for something else.”

“No, no,” you hurry to say, voice catching. Although you’re unsure how twenty-hour hours constitutes ‘plenty of time’, but you digress. “It’s perfect. It is.”

“What’s the issue then?”

“I just…” you trail off, eyes lingering in the mirror. “I feel silly, I guess. How obvious is it that I’ve never worn anything like this before?”

“Silly?” Lippmann asks, amused, peeling off the doorframe to make his way over to you. You swallow thickly as he straightens your posture and then uses two fingers to make you raise your chin. “You look stunning. Like a woman who belongs on the arm of the most influential man in Japan… Like a woman who doesn’t need to be on the arm of any man.”

Your face feels a bit hot as you let out a puff of laughter. “Now you’re exaggerating.”

“I certainly am not,” Lippmann says firmly, taking a step back. “You’re only getting in your head. From what Chuuya has told me about you, you’re more than suited to outwit and outclass anyone in attendance at that event.”

Your face feels hotter now, smiling as you roll your eyes. “Flatterer,” you say, but you feel a bit better, chest lighter as your gaze turns back to look at the mirror. “... Do you-”

A sharp whistle from the door draws your attention from Lippmann; there’s a lecherous smile on Albatross’s face as he leans against the frame and looks at you, glasses hanging off the bridge of his nose. “Damn, if you weren’t the boss’s girl…”

Gin slaps him hard on the back of his head, glaring at him before turning a small smile to you. “You look beautiful,” she says softly. “He’ll be speechless when he sees you tomorrow.”

Your throat feels tight as your lashes flutter, a smile on your lips as you look down at the ground. Even though the concerns of your realizations from before still weigh heavily in the back of your mind, you can’t help but feel a bit giddy at the thought of seeing Dazai tomorrow.

The giddiness is long gone.

You still haven’t gotten dressed.

You’re sitting at the edge of Dazai’s bed in your bra and panties, staring at the wall with your knees pulled to your chest. Your dress is hanging on the closet on the far side of the room, heels sitting on the floor beneath it. You’ve done your makeup and you put your earrings on already—pretty, dangly diamonds that are the most expensive thing you own, the last thing your brother gifted you before he cut you off entirely. You need to be getting dressed, Dazai will be up here any second to pick you up to leave for the event, but you just can’t bring yourself to put the dress on, anxiety eating away at you.

It’s not even because of the realization you’d come to yesterday, it’s because you think you’re about to make a fool out of yourself. Even if you’re wrong about the theory that you might be heading into an event hosted by the mafia and their associates, you’re still heading into an event that’s going to be attended by people who are much wealthier than you, and you already feel out of place and you’re not even there.

The dress is beautiful, but you think you’ll look like a clown in it, everyone will know that you’re not from the same sector of life as them with a single glance. Lippmann’s words from yesterday are in one ear out the other now that you’re closer to the actual time of the event.

You’re so lost in your thoughts that you don’t even hear the bing of the elevator arriving at the penthouse, and you don’t notice Dazai until he pushes open the cracked door to step into the bedroom. And you feel like you should be embarrassed sitting half naked on his bed, rather than being dressed and waiting for him, but you can’t muster it, eyes dragging up from the wall to land on his concerned expression.

And he’s a sight, you think. He’s so handsome. Absently, you think he might be more handsome than the last time you saw him but you think that’s a bit ridiculous because he hasn’t changed at all. He’s wearing the same long black coat and burgundy scarf, but the sleek, dark suit he wears beneath it is different, more expensive than all of the others that he’s donned the past few months you’ve known him.

His lips are turned downward as he approaches you, placing a blue box down on his dresser, dark eye soft with concern, and you also can’t help but notice that he still wears the bandages around the upper left side of his face, covering his eye. You want to know what’s beneath them desperately, but you can’t bring yourself to ask, hoping that he’ll show you on his own terms.

He stands in front of you, and you rest your chin on your knees as you stare forward, staring at his abdomen instead of looking up at his face. But he doesn’t let your gaze linger there, bringing his right hand to cup your cheek so he can gently lift your face upward, forcing you to meet his eyes. You can feel the rough edges of his bandages scraping against your skin, and you instinctively lean into his touch. You try to remind yourself of all of the realizations you’d come to yesterday, tell yourself to not be as at ease with him, at least have some semblance of your guard up, but you fail.

“What’s wrong?” he asks you softly, letting you lean into his touch as he brings his other hand up to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. “Are you okay?”

And you feel selfish, you realize, as you try to figure out what to tell him. You can’t even fathom the amount of money he spent on your dress and the shoes, and here you are being a baby because you’re self conscious. You don’t even want to reply to him, so you try to turn your face away but he doesn’t let you.

“Tell me,” he says quietly. “I’ll fix it, whatever it is.”

“It’s silly,” you finally breathe out, averting your gaze to the ground as you let your eyes flutter shut, turning your face in his hand to kiss his palm before leaning back into it. “I’m being a baby, I’m sorry.”

“It’s not silly if it has you upset,” Dazai tells you, and he kneels down in front of you to catch your gaze again and briefly, you think it’s absurd that you have such a powerful man at your whims like this, kneeling before you, willing to do anything to make sure that you’re content and happy. It makes your throat swell a bit, those inferior feelings rising back to your chest with a vengeance, because what the hell did you do to deserve this? There’s nothing special about you. “Tell me what’s wrong, let me help.”

“I just don’t understand.”

Oh my god, your voice cracks, you can feel your eyes go a bit misty, and instantly, Dazai’s concerned gaze is narrowing, as if trying to calculate what exactly is the source of your distress so he can remove it, and it only makes you want to cry more because what did you do to deserve all of this?

If you’re right about all of the assumptions you made the other day, and Dazai is bringing you to this event even though by all means he should not because there’s likely going to be a lot of shady business occurring that could incriminate him and all of the other people at this event, then why? Why would he risk that just for a girl he met a few months ago? You can’t fathom it.

God, you know better than anyone the effects imposter syndrome can have on a person in school, but the last thing you expected was to be dealing with it in love too.

Love, the word makes your stomach churn because you do love him, you realize, as he stares up at you desperately trying to figure out what’s wrong so he can fix it. And how scary is that, considering only twenty-four hours ago you came to the realization that he’s very likely involved in the underground, in some way or another, and you had to come to terms with the fact that you’d have to choose between your future and a man. But he’s not just a man, he’s a man that you love in spite of everything you’ve put together.

A tear spills over your cheek and Dazai’s gaze becomes alarmed as he instantly wipes it away with his thumb before caressing your cheek gently.

“What don’t you understand?” he presses quietly. “Talk to me.”

Where do you fucking start?

You want to cry even more but you force yourself not to, you can’t afford to let your makeup get anymore messed up than it already is. Instead you sniffle a bit and try to blink away the tears.

“This,” you finally say, and your voice cracks again, you take a wet breath. Dazai’s lips part a bit, as if he wants to speak but he’s not sure what to say, brows furrowing. “There’s nothing special about me, Dazai, and I don’t understand why you’ve gone to the lengths that you have for me. Meeting me at that club every Friday as if you’re not always swamped with work, indulging me whenever I want to do things. You gave me a place to stay after only knowing me for a few weeks, gave up your own room, your own bed, so I could be comfortable while you slept at your desk. You’ve made sure people are always with me so I never get bored or lonely. You’ve given me literally everything I could possibly ask for and I’ve just been freeloading off of you for two and a half weeks now. Now, I’m going to go with you to this event and end up embarrassing you because I’m going to stick out like a sore thumb compared to everyone else there. They’ll know I don’t belong there and I just-”

You cut yourself off, and you want to avert your gaze from Dazai’s but you can’t bring yourself to. Instead, you watch as something akin to amusement flashes through his eye. He takes one of your hands into his and brings it up to his lips, eye sliding shut for a moment as he kisses your knuckles. You let out a shaky puff of air as his lips linger for a moment before he looks up at you again through his lashes.

“Let me help you get dressed,” he murmurs, and you look down at the ground now as you nod, letting him help you to your feet and lead you over to where the dress is hanging up on the closet door.

He pulls it off the hanger and guides you into it, pulling it up and adjusting it so that it covers you properly. He steps behind you, and you realize that he also has you standing in front of the floor length mirror set up on his closet door. You sniffle a bit again as you look at yourself in the mirror.

Your makeup looks a bit smudged beneath your eye from the tears gathering at your lash line, but somehow, you still look beautiful. You think it’s only because of the dress, the way it clings to your body so nicely and brightens all of your features. You take in another shuddered gulp of air when you feel Dazai begin to zip up the back of your dress slowly, each brush of his fingers against your skin lights your nerves on fire, and once he finally has it zipped to the top, he kisses the nape of your neck, hands falling to your hips to caress them gently. Your eyes flutter shut as you lean back against him, his comforting hold settling your turbulent emotions.

“I met you at the club every Friday because you were the only relief I had from reality,” he finally says, resting his forehead on your shoulder as he holds you. “I indulged your requests because I was indulging in you myself. Every moment I spent with you, I allowed myself to be Dazai Osamu, the person, and not the… Not what I’ve had to become to keep this organization running.”

Your breath catches, lips parting at his words but no sound escapes them. He kisses the nape of your neck one last time before he moves to stand in front of you, kneeling down again as he grabs one of your heels and undos the buckle. You watch with bated breath as he lifts your left foot from the ground to kiss your ankle before sliding the heel on, deft fingers fasting the clasp.

“I gave you a place to stay because I was selfish and I wanted you around more,” he sighs, resting his forehead against your knee now as he lingers there for a moment before moving on to repeat the process with your other foot, kissing your ankle and slipping the heel on. He continues, “Likewise, I have kept you surrounded by people because I have been desperately afraid that you’re going to get bored and want to leave because work leaves me little time to be around. Unfortunately, I’m not the generous person you’re making me out to be, I’m horribly self-serving and greedy, especially when it comes to you.”

He looks up at you now from where he’s kneeling in front of you, gaze searching your face. You want to reach out and cup his cheek, so you do, and immediately, he’s turning his face to kiss your palm just as you’d done to him before letting his eye slide shut as he leans into your touch, as if basking in it.

“I would give you anything you want,” he admits softly, keeping his gaze shut as he holds your palm against his face. “Anything. And if it was something outside of my reach, I would make it in my reach. There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you, no lengths I wouldn’t go to and no lines I wouldn’t cross.”

You think your lungs might be burning, you don’t think you can breathe as you stare down at him, heart thudding in your swelling chest, tears building in your eyes again but this time not out of insecurity. Dazai finally rises to his feet after placing one last kiss upon your knuckles, and he doesn’t say anything as he makes his way over to the dresser where he’d placed the blue box.

You don’t move, watching as he opens it and pulls something out before making his way back over to you, standing behind you. He looks at you through the mirror as he lifts his hands to place a glittering diamond necklace upon your collarbone. You can’t breathe again, you realize, it’s cool against your skin and you think it might be the most expensive thing you’ve ever laid your eyes upon, dozens upon dozens of white diamonds shimmering in the mirror in front of you. Your skin feels like it’s on fire as his fingers brush the nape of your neck as he clasps it onto you.

“You are beautiful,” he says, voice so raw that you almost shiver at the intensity of it. His fingers brush your hips as if he’s afraid to touch you. “You are beautiful, and intelligent, and everything I have ever wanted. You deserve so much more than me, more than you’ll ever be able to understand, and I’m sorry that I’m not a good enough man to do what’s right and let you go. The last thing you should ever be doubting is this.”

His eye slides shut again as he lets out a soft puff of air, the warmth fans across the back of your neck and you think you could spend forever in this moment with him, wishing that you could freeze time.

“You said that you thought it was fate that brought us together,” he finally finishes, voice quiet as he references what you told him the first time you met. “Don’t ever doubt your place with me. Wherever I am, you belong, whether it’s a club, or an apartment, or an event.”

“I thought you hate the idea of fate,” you say, voice a bit choked as you try to force the tears back again.

“I do,” he affirms, “but if fate brought us together, then far be it from me to deny the one thing in this world that has ever made me happy.”

You love him.

You feel sick to your stomach—be it from butterflies or the implications of the realization. The words threaten to burst from your lips but you swallow them, instead, another tear trails down your face and he sees it through the mirror, lifting his hand to wipe it away before leaning a bit over your shoulder to press his lips to your jaw.

“I’m ruining my makeup,” you rasp, letting out another shaky breath.

He smiles against your skin.

“You’ll be beautiful still,” he murmurs before pulling back, admiring you for a moment before he asks: “Are you ready to go?”

You nod. “Yeah,” you say, a bit breathless. “I’m ready.”

“Everyone is staring at us.”

You’re not wrong, exactly. As soon as the two of you had entered the room, all attention was sent your way, and though the music was loud enough to drown out most chatter (intentional, of course, so unsavory ears can’t overhear even more unsavory dealings), Dazai couldn’t help but notice the hush that spread through the room at the sight of you. The boss of the Port Mafia with a date on his arm was certainly a sight to behold to all of the rest of the occupants of the event hall,.

“Can you blame them? You look beautiful,” he says, voice laced with a teasing edge that is certainly not matched in his expression. Dazai knew people would be looking at you if he brought you here. Still, he wants to gouge their eyes out.

His arm tightens around you as he tucks you into his side, cold gaze sweeping across the massive event hall. At least two hundred people are attending Nabokov’s event—an even mixture of pharmaceutical tycoons, technology barons, politicians and mafiosos.

At first glance, he recognizes four different mafias in attendance.

Mishima Yukio of the Sun and Steel stands by one of his associates, the president of Mitsubishi Chemical Group; the man’s dark eyes card over Dazai with lazy interest, before his head tilts to the side as he studies you.

Dazai thinks that the Sun and Steel might be the Port Mafia’s only allies in attendance, and even then, allies might be taking it too far. The extent of Dazai’s dealing with Mishima was a general agreement to not encroach the Sun and Steel’s monopoly over the narcotics industry—which Dazai never intended on doing anyway because the industry is far more trouble than it's worth—and an unspoken promise to protect Japan’s underground from foreign mafias.

Dazai wonders if that unspoken promise still holds or if the Russians have cut a deal with him.

Nabokov’s Pale Flame, obviously, is in attendance, along with the remnants of Leo Tolstoy’s Three Deaths. Tolstoy himself is sitting at the bar, a glass of whiskey in hand as he leans back on the stool, gaze focused on you. Nabokov is off to the left, making his way across the room to greet Dazai, a curious expression on his face. Dazai recognizes Cao Xueqin of the Red Chamber sitting near Kitazawa Michihiro of Fuji Electric, one of the Port Mafia’s closest associates; and Dazai thinks that might be a bit foreboding, both because of the presence of the Chinese and the company he’s keeping.

Dostoevsky’s House of the Dead is nowhere to be seen, but Dazai knows that they’re here. Somewhere. He just has to find him—and he will.

More eyes are on you than him, and although that was to be expected, Dazai can’t fight the doubt that suddenly swirls in his chest, wondering if he’d made the right decision. If you hadn’t been on people’s radar already, you definitely are now, and the thought makes him a bit sick to his stomach. He tries to console himself with the fact that this was the lesser of two evils—the mere chance of you being on the radar of any of the mafias in this room, no matter how slim it might be, was not something he could gamble with. There was no way he could let you go out alone and unprotected. People like them, people like him, would jump on the chance to take advantage of the weakness and he couldn’t let that happen.

But is this really any better?

He’s thrown you into a pit of snakes, and you’re ignorant to all of the threats around you. His gaze drifts back down to you, catching the way your brows are knit together slightly, the way your lips are pressed in a thin line. There’s an indecipherable look in your eyes as your gaze shifts over the room, and Dazai wonders if you know more than you’re letting on. That’s another scary thought, but he can at least find comfort in it for now because it’ll have you keeping your guard up around these people. He’ll just have to deal with the consequences later.

He dips his head down to your ear, speaking quietly before Nabokov finally reaches him: “Just follow my lead, you’ll be fine.”

The look you shoot at him is nothing short of withering, and Dazai can’t help the smile that curves at the corners of his lips as he lifts his head back up to subtly brush his lips against your temple. He catches sight of movement from the corner of his eye and any softness that might’ve been visible in his expression washes away instantly.

“Dazai,” Nabokov greets, beady eyes flickering between you and Dazai, partially curious about you and partially nervous about Dazai. Dazai tilts his head to the side, becoming increasingly more unamused the longer Nabokov’s gaze lingers on you. “I’m glad you came. I wanted to apologize for not being able to attend our planned meeting a few months ago.”

“So I heard.” Dazai’s voice is short and distant, more focused on the feeling of you tucked into his side than the conversation at hand. He has to force himself to keep his gaze steady on Nabokov, wanting to look down at you, but he contents himself with letting his hand slide down to your hip, rubbing absent circles against the silky material of your dress.

Nabokov fumbles over Dazai’s clipped response, a bead of sweat gathering at the corner of his forehead. He wishes he could peer into your head and see what you’re thinking, about him, about this, about everything. He doesn’t know if he’ll be able to get through the night without you realizing who he is, what he is, and that thought scares him because he thinks that maybe he should have been the one to explain it to you, so he could at least try to paint himself in a better light. Although, he’s not sure what sort of light would make anything about him look better.

“Who is this?” Nabokov finally asks, turning his attention toward you. Dazai doesn’t like the way he looks at you, eyes raking over you like you’re a piece of meat.

“My partner.” To Dazai’s credit, his voice is much smoother than the turbulent emotions in his chest would suggest. “Where is your wife, Nabokov?”

Nabokov doesn’t even respond to the question, laughing loudly. “Never thought I’d see the day you found yourself a lover, Dazai,” he chuckles and then holds his hand out to you. “Vladimir Nabokov.”

You shift a bit to take his hand, but Dazai is faster, lithe fingers wrapping around Nabokov’s wrist in an agonizingly tight grip. Nabokov winces, Dazai’s face is cold as he stares down at the man.

“Keep your hands to yourself,” he warns, keeping his voice low.

Vladimir Nabokov. Invitation to a Beheading. An ability that grants its user to draw a target into an interdimensional space through physical touch—Dazai isn’t sure what the space entails because no one has ever left it alive.

Nabokov tries to laugh it off, weaker this time as he takes his hand back and shakes out his wrist. “My, Dazai, possessive, aren’t you?”

“Very,” Dazai agrees idly. “Be sure to remember that.”

Nabokov gives him another wavering smile, and Dazai can’t help but wonder how Dostoevsky could have possibly thought anyone would believe the man could head the tripartite alliance of the Pale Flame, Three Deaths, and the House of the Dead. Anyone with half of a brain would know that Dostoevsky is behind their union. Maybe that’s what he wanted, Dazai notes absently as he watches Nabokov’s gaze flicker to the upper left corner of the room. Dazai follows it to where a camera is positioned, encompassing most of the event hall.

The smile on his lips is nearly as chilly as the air-conditioned room around him.

There you are.

Dazai’s gaze cuts back to Kouyou, who’s standing a few feet behind you and Dazai with Chuuya, Ace and Piano Man. The woman inclines her head in recognition of his silent order as she fans her face lightly, taking a step away to make a call to Hirotsu, who should be stationed around the building with the rest of the Black Lizards by now, prepared to move in at the first sign of danger.

Nabokov looks as if he’s going to speak again, which inclines Dazai to believe that he’s seeking something out in particular for Dostoevsky, and from the way he keeps glancing at you, Dazai assumes it has to do with you. So as the man's lips waver, eyes darting as he tries to formulate another conversation opener, Dazai speaks before he can get the words out.

“If you don’t mind,” he says, voice cold and clipped as he all but dismisses Nabokov, who flushes a bit, nodding and apologizing before stepping away.

Dazai realizes that he probably has not prepped you enough for this event, but in his defense, he’s been swamped with his own preparations and how is he supposed to prepare you when he can’t even fully explain all of the dangers? But now, it’s making him anxious, because at some point tonight he’s going to have to step away from you to meet with Nabokov in one of the backrooms, likely with Tolstoy, Cao, and Mishima. Dazai’s executives will have to be there with him, and Tachihara is supposed to slip from the shadows to join you while you wait for his return, but there’s likely going to be at least a good two to three minutes where you’ll be alone until Tachihara can get to you. That’s assuming he doesn’t get caught up on the way over.

He needs to talk to you, at least warn you about the ability users attending the event so you don’t accidentally stumble into a potentially lethal situation without him around.

If he goes to the bar, Tolstoy will take advantage to try to sweep you into a conversation, picking up right where Nabokov left off. If he goes off to the left side of the room, Cao will make his way over to interrupt. If he goes off to the right side of the room, Mishima is there. The only place… Dazai inhales as his gaze focuses on the massive dance floor of the event hall, dozens of couples are spinning around already, and it will be loud enough there for the music to drown out his conversation with you from unwelcome listeners.

He turns his attention to you, holding his palm up and tucking one arm behind his back as he asks lightly, “May I have this dance?”

Your eyes widen a bit in surprise, seemingly hyper aware of all of the hungry, curious glances of the other attendants directed your way, but he’s only focused on you, and the way your eyes glitter beneath the chandelier’s lights, and the way your dress clings to your body, and the way a soft smile tugs at your lips. He thinks that even if you hadn’t entered the event on his arm, all of the room’s attention would be on you still, because you’re beautiful, and captivating, and Dazai doesn’t think he’ll ever understand how he managed to pull you in one lifetime, much less all of them.

You place your hand in his and Dazai guides you across the floor, intent on finding the perfect space. It’s hardly obvious the way that the other people on the dance floor would inch away as the two of you passed by, intent on staying out of Dazai’s way and letting him have whatever space he wants, but you pick up on it, he thinks, seeing the curious look in your eyes as your gaze sweeps around the people around you. He bites back a sigh, because he’s sure that you’re tallying everything up in your head trying to put it all together, and once you get that final puzzle piece, everything will be over.

His chest sinks at the thought of losing you, but he forces it away. He has to focus on the situation at hand because even a single slip up could be fatal—not only for him, but for you too. As soon as he reaches a suitable spot on the dance floor, he tugs you a bit closer to him, hands sliding down to your waist. Your own arms instantly come up to loop around his neck as you look up at him through your lashes and Dazai suddenly feels breathless, vision tunneling and heartbeat stuttering at the way you look at him.

God, how is he supposed to focus with you around? He can hardly concentrate on anything but you. He’s flying too close to the sun. Has been since the moment he met you. Drawing you into his life and keeping you there, now bringing you here, so many gambles, too many gambles… the heat is scorching, and it’s only a matter of time before his wings burn. If he was smart, he’d let you go so that you don’t burn with him, but his fingers only bite deeper into your waist at the thought.

The music is slow, and the two of you sway in tune to it. The other couples give a wide berth, some casting wary looks at Dazai, ones that he’s sure you’re catching. He doesn’t know where to start, or how to start; what does he tell you that doesn’t condemn him? Luckily, he doesn’t have to start the conversation because you do, for better or for worse.

“Was that man the rival that Gin mentioned?” you ask curiously, and Dazai can’t help but notice there’s a strange look in your eyes as you ask it, one that he can’t place.

He hesitates, but then says, “No. He wasn’t. I haven’t seen him yet.”

You hum lightly, fingers toying with the hair at the nape of his neck in a way that makes him shiver. But his eyes narrow when he realizes that you don’t look the slightest bit surprised by his answer.

“You knew that already,” he accuses lightly, and he forces himself to swallow the lump that suddenly forms in his throat because if you figured that out on your own already, what else have you figured out? God, he knew this was risky, you’ve always been ridiculously perceptive—he just needs to get through tonight without you putting everything together, then he’ll be fine.

“I suspected it,” you finally affirm his accusation, gaze searching his face. “He was nervous talking to you. If he was your rival, I’d expect him to be a bit more… assured. And he kept looking up toward a camera, like he knew someone was watching that he’d have to answer to.”

Oh, you did pick up on a lot more than he expected. He doesn’t think that the smile he gives you quite meets his eyes, if the way your brows furrow have anything to say about it, but he distracts you by bringing his hand up from your waist to cup your cheek, thumb brushing over your bottom lip as he murmurs, “That’s my girl, always so smart.”

Your lashes flutter as you avert your gaze, a tell tale sign of you being flustered. His lips quirk up into a more genuine smile, hand dropping back down to your waist. He can do this, he tells himself, he just has to be careful, tell you enough to make sure your guard is up and you know to at least some extent that the people in this room aren’t to be trusted.

“There are a lot of ability users in here,” he finally warns, careful to keep his voice low even with the music covering his words. “Do your best to keep your distance from people. I’ll stay with you as much as I can, but I’m going to get pulled away sooner or later. Chuuya or Piano Man will stay with you when they can, and if they’re pulled away, Tachihara is going to come down to stay with you.”

“... That’s why you didn’t let him shake my hand,” you say, realization flashing through your eyes, another puzzle piece fitting behind your eyes and Dazai has to be careful because it’s only a matter of time before you’re given that final piece and everything comes together. “What’s his ability?”

“... Nothing good,” he answers after a few moments of silence, but you’re not content with that, brows furrowing. He sighs. “No confirmation on it, we only know it’s lethal. Many are in here.”

Your eyes widen and then you look a bit skeptical. “And you think they would use it here? In public?” you ask slowly.

To Dazai’s horror, it is not skepticism tainting your tone, but rather, you’re fishing for information, trying to put more pieces together, and he doesn’t have much choice but to give you answers because he can’t risk you setting your guard down even for a second.

He chooses his words carefully. “... There is little they wouldn’t do to get ahead in our business.”

“Hm,” is all you say in response, something akin to understanding flashing through your eyes and Dazai dreads to know what his answer has just told you. He feels distinctly like he’s playing chess against an opponent he did not anticipate and he’s at a disadvantage because the opponent is you. He can feel your shoulders slump suddenly, an unfamiliar expression crossing over your face; you look tired, as if you’d aged twenty years in a matter of seconds. “What did you get me involved with, Dazai?”

You say it so softly that Dazai barely hears it himself, and he knows. He knows that you’ve figured something out, he doesn’t know what and he doesn’t want to know what. He wants to evade it as long as possible, because the moment he has to have this conversation with you, he knows he’ll lose you. He can’t think about that now, it’ll throw him off and this is the last place he can allow himself to be thrown off.

Instead, his grip on your waist tightens again, gaze averting down toward the ground.

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs. The words weigh heavy on his tongue, not just an apology for tonight but an apology for accepting your offer for a drink two months ago, knowing he wouldn’t be strong enough to let it be a single night of indulgence; an apology for seeking you out again afterward, knowing that he would be sentencing you to death.

He feels sick.

What is he doing?

Why are you here?

What has he done?

“Dazai.”

You say his name but Dazai hardly hears you. God, he can feel it happening, where his fingers are pressed against your body, the skin suddenly goes cold and stiff, his surroundings are blurring, the people fading into the background. This isn’t the place. Nabokov. Tolstoy. Mishima. Cao. He can’t lose himself, not now, but his grip on reality is starting to waver, the pages pile around him.

“Dazai.”

What has he done?

Everything he’s planned for, seven years of careful calculations and planning gone down the drain. How does he even fix this? Can he fix this? His mind races, but he’s not even sure he’s thinking coherent thoughts, trying to ground himself to the present because he needs to stay here, he can figure out how to fix it later, when you’re not in danger but-

His vision swims. Not now. He can see it—he can see you. Still on the ground. Sometimes there’s blood, so much that he can hardly recognize you (but he can, of course, he can always recognize you, even when your body is littered with more gaping wounds than not). Sometimes it looks like you’re sleeping, so much so that Dazai kneels next to you, begging you to wake up (he knows in his heart that it’s futile. he can’t stop himself from trying). His head spins, he loses track of where he is and then-

“Osamu.”

His breath catches, gaze zeroing in on you. You. Alive. Your brows are furrowed in concern, searching his face to try to draw him back to reality. He thinks his grip on your waist must be painful but he can’t bring himself to loosen it at all. He stares at you, still desperately trying to keep himself grounded because although you’ve brought him back mostly, the corners of the pages still linger in the edge of his vision, threatening to consume him again.

“You can’t leave me,” you tell him quietly. “You brought me here. I need you here with me. Don’t go off somewhere I can’t follow.”

Oh.

He lets out a breath, slow and maybe a bit more shaky than he would’ve liked, but he tries to focus on the situation at hand. He loosens his grip on your waist, rubbing a gentle circle over your hip in an apology.

His gaze drifts around the room, Nabokov is in deep conversation with Cao, hardly paying attention to anything going on, but Cao’s sharp, dark eyes are pointed over Nabokov’s shoulder, scanning the dance floor. He’s looking for someone—not Dazai, which is a bit worrying, and he becomes all the more attentive to everyone in the vicinity, trying to make sure none of the Red Chamber’s assassins made it through the security. If any organization would be able to pull it off, it would be them.

Once he’s decided the coast is clear, he turns his gaze back to the bar. Tolstoy is looking at him—blue eyes sharp, blonde hair hanging in them, a curious expression on his face as he sips at his drink and watches as Dazai dances with you. As soon as Tolstoy notices Dazai has caught him, his lips curl up into a smirk and he raises his drink. Dazai’s expression is cold as he looks away, seeking out Mishima only to find the man nowhere to be found.

Hm.

Chuuya and Kouyou are entertaining idle conversation with two executives of the Sun and Steel, both keeping a sharp eye on where you and Dazai sway on the dance floor. Piano Man is entertaining several politicians, doing a good job at ensuring that none of the other foreign executives get any chance to get their ears. Ace, Dazai notes, is in deep conversation in the shadows with one of the executives of the Three Deaths.

Interesting.

He finally draws his attention back to you, a small smile on his lips as he recalls what you’d said to drag him from his spiral.

Osamu,

“You called me Osamu,” he murmurs, a warm feeling spreading through his chest as he focuses on that instead, trying to ease himself back into reality. Technically, he’s heard you say his given name before. Well. Not technically. It was never you and it was never him, rather it was vague memories of other yous and other hims, but it was nothing in comparison to hearing you actually say it.

You look embarrassed, averting your gaze. “I didn’t know how to get your attention, I’m s-”

“Say it again,” he whispers, lifting his hand back up to your chin to tilt your face back up, forcing you to look at him. His eyes search yours, watching the way you can hardly hold his gaze. You look hesitant, so he continues with, “Please.”

“... Osamu,” you say again, breathless, and god, Dazai wishes the two of you were anywhere but here. He wants to press you back against his bed, run his lips up and down your body, map out all of your curves with his hand. He wants to watch you come undone on his tongue and on his fingers—he wants you, he wants you more than anything else in the world. Every time he’s tried to take the next step with you the past few weeks, he either got interrupted by work or he ended up getting cold feet, nervous about making a mistake.

Before his thoughts can spiral even more, the music picks up to a faster paced waltz. Your eyes widen, watching as all of the other couples shift into the respective dance. You look up at him, a bit panicked, clearly not sure what to do, and his lips curl up in amusement, beckoning you to lace your fingers with his to take the stance the other couples were taking.

“I don’t know this da-” you begin, voice hushed.

“Just follow my lead,” he repeats the same words he spoke to you when they entered the hall. “You’ll be fine. Trust me.”

You exhale, studying his face for a moment before sighing and mimicking the stance the other women took with their partners. He can feel your fingers wavering against his as he interlocks your fingers and he rubs his thumb over the back of your hand soothingly.

“Keep your eyes on me,” he tells you, just as the music finally picks up for the dance to start.

He thinks you’re worried for nothing. You moved smoothly in line with him and in tune with the music, gliding across the dance floor as if you’ve danced with him hundreds of times before, your body so in sync with his that the two of you put all of the other couples to shame. Not that any of them matter, of course, you’re all that Dazai can focus on. Your eyes never leave his, not even for the sparest of moments, and Dazai feels like he’s caught in a trance, lost in your eyes and the feeling of your body so close to his, hyper aware of the way your your hand rests on his shoulder and the way your fingers are wrapped tight around his.

God, there’s something so otherworldly about you. Doesn’t know if it’s heavenly or supernatural, if you’re his angel sent to lead him to salvation or his very own siren singing a sweet melody to lead him to ruin. Doesn’t think he cares either way—salvation, damnation, none of it matters as long as he has you.

“Not so bad, hm?” he murmurs, sweeping you out into a spin before pulling you back to him, closer this time. He can feel your chest brush his and he prays you can’t feel the way he’s lost control of his heart, painfully cognizant of the erratic thumping. His hand slides from your hip to the small of your back, holding you close to him. He could stay in this moment forever, surroundings drowning out; all he can see is you, all that matters is you.

“Yeah,” you say softly. “Not so bad.”

His lips part to respond but he’s interrupted when he sees movement from the corner of his eye, freezing.

“Dazai.”

Dazai stiffens as a familiar voice speaks from behind him, shifting to stand partially in front of you as his gaze cuts to the side to see Mishima’s familiar figure standing a few feet away. Turning to face him, he asks, “Do you need something?”

“I’d like to speak to you before we meet with Tolstoy, Nabokov and Cao.”

Mishima’s voice leaves no room for argument, dark eyes absent of any emotion as he waits for Dazai to follow him. Dazai’s jaw tightens, eyes drifting back to you as he tries to figure out what to do. He can’t leave you here, not with Cao’s hawk-like gaze trained on the dancefloor and Tolstoy waiting for the opportunity to make a move. But he does need to talk to Mishima, have some idea of where he stands with the Sun and Steel before facing all of the foreigners.

“May I have this dance?”

Dazai hadn’t even heard Chuuya approach, turning to the side to watch as he holds a hand out toward you expectantly, quick to step in to take Dazai’s place so that you’re not alone. You shoot Dazai a concerned glance, brows furrowing a bit, before you place your hand in Chuuya’s.

Chuuya leads you back onto the dance floor, Dazai’s gaze lingers for a few moments, a bitter feeling spreads through his chest because that should be him, and it’s wholly unfair that he has to deal with all of this unsavory business when he should be spending time with you.

He should just kill them all here and be done with it.

The words ring through his head, echoing, tempting. He inhales and forces himself to look away as you loop your arms around Chuuya’s shoulders, swaying in tune to the slow song playing. He turns his attention back to Mishima, voice cool and expression void of emotion:

“Speak.”

Dancing with Nakahara Chuuya is awkward. Awkward is even being generous. It’s not like he’s a bad dancer—in fact, it’s clear that he’s a very good one. He’s smooth on his feet as he spins you around the dance floor, but he’s so stiff. He’s careful to keep space between the two of you, hands never dipping lower than your sides, lips pressed together. He hardly even looks at you, his attention is more on where Dazai had stepped to the side to speak with the dark-haired man who’d interrupted the two of you, but you’re grateful for it, because it’s giving you a chance to gather your thoughts.

You think Dazai might’ve inadvertently confirmed your suspicions from yesterday. You don’t know who these people are, but there’s no way any ordinary business event would be dangerous enough for Dazai to genuinely worry that someone might kill you in a room crowded with two hundred people. A part of you wonders if it’s just different for ability users, that they’re not scared of committing crimes in public because they have an ability that prevents them from getting caught, but you know you’re just trying to make excuses at this point.

Your gaze drifts back over to the older, light-haired man with dark eyes who’d approached you and Dazai when you walked in. He’s off to the side talking with a Chinese man dressed in a red suit—your gaze lingers, trying to piece together the puzzle in your head desperately, but all of the edges are jagged and confusing, you can’t seem to figure out where they each fit with each other.

You’d thought maybe that Dazai and his business was somehow affiliated with the mafia, because no one with the amount of money and success that he has gets it cleanly, but now you can’t help but hesitate, reconsidering your original theory. Vladimir Nabokov had been scared of Dazai. And it’s not like you haven’t noticed the effect that Dazai has on people. Whenever you’re around people with him, they get tense and on edge, but it’s different seeing the effect he has on someone who doesn’t even work for him, a foreigner supposed to be one of Dazai’s associates if you understood what he meant about not showing up to a meeting.

Who are you, Dazai?

You don’t even know if you want to know. You love Dazai. You do. You knew it earlier in the night. You know it now. It’s something you can no longer hide or deny. You remember the concerned look on his face when he saw how upset you were. You can feel the way his lips brushed the nape of your neck as he explained why he kept meeting you at the club, the way he kissed your ankles as he knelt in front of you and told you how he was selfish for keeping you around, how he kissed your palm and leaned into your touch as he promised you anything you want. God, you love him, you don’t think anyone has ever looked at you the way he does; no one has ever spoken to you the way he does.

You love him, and it scares you because you’re realizing you still don’t know anything about him, not really, and you’re also realizing that there’s a high chance he’s been lying to you about what he does. It scares you even more that your first instinct isn’t to run. Because you should run. This should make you run. He brought you to an event with people so dangerous that he’s afraid they might try to hurt you, or worse, but you don’t want to run, because you’d be running from him and you don’t want to run from him.

Could you sacrifice everything for him though?

Fuck your morals—everything you’ve worked for, all of the years slaving away to put yourself on the path to success. You’ve told yourself your entire life that it would be all you would focus on, that it would all be worth it in the end. You convinced yourself that maybe if you proved yourself enough, your brother would return to your life; he’d be proud of you and he’d come back to you. You know he’s still out there somewhere, you get letters with no return address every month—the only thing in the envelope is a check with a dubious amount of money, but it’s in his hand writing, so you know it’s him.

A part of you wants to cry, frustration clawing at your chest: the future you’ve worked so hard for, or love? The question you’ve dreaded since your epiphany yesterday is finally thrown right in front of your face, and you need an answer. The two are mutually exclusive—you will not be able to pursue the career you want with Dazai Osamu, not in the way you want at least. And you don’t want to do all of this work to just end up being another shady politician.

“Penny for your thoughts?”

Your gaze snaps up to Chuuya, who’s suddenly looking at you, and you don’t really know how to respond.

I’m pretty sure you guys are part of the fucking Mafia and you’re all hiding it from me, but also I don’t want to know if you are because that’s going to force me to make a decision that I don’t want to make so I’d rather live in ignorance.

“My thoughts are only worth a penny?” You deflect with a grin instead, hoping it meets your eyes.

It doesn’t, evidently, because Chuuya’s eyes narrow a bit, and then he tilts his head to the side and hits you with a more direct: “What’s wrong?”

“I’m just worried,” you finally say, not entirely lying but also not telling the truth.

“About?” Chuuya presses and you sigh, exhaling a bit.

“He mentioned that there were dangerous people here,” you tell him quietly. “I’m just nervous for when you guys go to your meeting… I’m guessing it’s going to be soon.”

Chuuya’s brows furrow and you can see the thoughts racing behind his eyes before he speaks again. “You’ll be fine,” he tells you. “We have people all over the event hall, and Tachihara is going to sit with you until you Dazai can get back. Dazai shouldn’t have worried you with all of this. He shouldn’t have even-”

He cuts himself off, jaw tightening, but you know what he’s going to say: he shouldn’t have even brought you here.

“I don’t know what he’s thinking,” Chuuya says quietly, and you think he might be talking more to himself than anything else now, but you listen anyway. “He’s always been hard to read but this is…”

He stops speaking out loud, as if he’s realized that you’re there again, and instead he shakes his head. “You’ll be fine. Back at the headquarters before you know it.”

You aren’t so sure.

Your gaze drifts to the side as you watch Nabokov and the Chinese man make their way over to Dazai and the man he’s talking to. The blonde at the bar that Dazai kept looking at also stands up, drink in his hand as walks in the same direction.

Chuuya spits out a curse under his breath and gives you an apologetic look. Your heart sinks and your throat feels a bit tight—he doesn’t abandon you right away though, pressing his hand to the middle of your back as he guides you across the dancefloor to the bar, all the while keeping a keen eye on what’s happening on the other side of the room.

He pulls the barstool out for you, eyes still trained on where Dazai is standing with Kouyou, two men that work for him you haven’t met yet, and the four men you assume are business associates of his. Dazai is looking at you, an indecipherable expression on his face. You’re looking at him, suddenly anxious at the thought of being left alone, a bad feeling sweeping over you.

“Tachihara will be over here soon,” Chuuya finally says to you, tearing his gaze from his coworkers to look back down at you. He flags down the bartender to order a drink for you. “You’ll be fine. Knowing Dazai, the meeting won’t last long anyway.”

Your shoulders only slump a bit as you nod, thanking the bartender quietly for your drink as he hurries to bring it back to you, taking a sip of it. Chuuya doesn’t say much else—once you’re settled in your seat and have your drink, he squeezes your shoulder before making his way back over to the intimidating group of people standing on the opposite side of the room.

Your gaze meets Dazai’s conflicted one one last time before he’s forced to turn away and disappears down a side hall deeper into the building. You sigh as you twirl your drink around, the clear liquid sloshing dangerously close to the brim of your glass as your eyes twist around the event hall, seeking out Tachihara, or Atsushi, or anyone that works with Dazai because you’re feeling distinctly vulnerable alone. You find none of them. You can feel eyes on you—most you’re sure are harmless curiosity, wanting to know who exactly came in on the arm of Dazai Osamu, but you know some aren’t nearly as harmless, you can feel the hungry stares of vicious opportunists directed at your back and you don’t feel comfortable sitting alone.

You don’t even get five minutes to yourself.

“Is this seat taken?”

You’re startled by the unfamiliar voice, head snapping to the side. Your gaze focuses on a pretty man with soft features, shoulder-length black hair and gentle purple eyes. Your lips part to speak, but no words leave them, caught off-guard by his sudden appearance. He looks harmless enough, but there’s something about him that has you on edge—something simmering beneath the surface of his deceptive eyes that you can’t quite place but you know you don’t like.

“I mean no harm,” he says smoothly, lips curving up into an amiable smile. “I’m an old friend of Dazai’s. I only want to talk.”

An old friend. You don’t buy it, but you don’t want to risk antagonizing him, Dazai’s warning about the many lethal ability users prowling the event ringing through your head. You just hope that Tachihara shows up sooner rather than later as you finally shake your head.

“It’s not taken,” you say quietly, motioning to the stool as you take another generous sip of your drink.

The dark-haired man smiles at you as he takes a seat at the bar next to you, teeth glimmering like knives beneath the lighting of the chandelier. Instantly, you feel like you’ve made a mistake, a chill running down your spine as your eyes meet purple ones that are not quite so gentle anymore. Sharp and shrewd instead. Calculating. Dangerous.

“Fyodor Dostoevsky. A pleasure, truly.”

#dazai x reader #dazai x you #dazai osamu x reader #dazai osamu x you #bsd x reader #bsd x you #bungo stray dogs x reader #bungo stray dogs x you

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cjlouwho · 3 months ago

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Good Day for a Breakdown

(This fic features Juniper from my Uncle Eddie series. You can still read this without ever reading those stories. Juniper is Buck and Tommy's daughter.)

By the time Tommy and Juniper started their day, Evan had been at work for a couple of hours. He wasn't supposed to be working today. They were all supposed to be heading to the zoo together.

But the opportunity for overtime came up, and they'd been saving for a trip in the summer.

So, Papa and Juniper day it was!

Tommy had the whole day planned and everything seemed to be right on schedule for a full half hour... then it all fell apart.

First, Juniper's toast wasn't buttery enough. Then there was too much butter. Then she didn't want toast at all, and wanted cereal instead.

After cleaning up half the cereal that ended up on the floor, Tommy and Juniper headed to her bedroom to get dressed.

That's when the screaming started.

She wanted her white shirt, but not that white shirt. She wanted the specific white shirt that was in the laundry room soaking in stain remover after an applesauce incident the night before.

The pants Tommy tried to put on her were too tight around her tummy, then the next pair were too loose and “wiggly.”

Also, she hated every single pair of shoes she owned.

When Tommy looked at the clock and saw it wasn't even ten yet, he decided right then and there that the zoo was no longer in question.

Cue the next round of screams.

When Juniper turned two, everyone joked that they better get ready. The terrible two's would come, and they'd come with a vengeance.

Except they didn't.

And that made Buck and Tommy feel exceptionally lucky.

Until Juniper reached three. That's when her terrible two's started.

Things had calmed down recently. Her outbursts were less frequent and were usually over within a few minutes.

Not today though. Today was nonstop, and Tommy felt every bit of it.

There was no nap for Juniper today. The mere mention of it had her throwing her books to the ground in the living room, even taking a couple and ripping out the pages before Tommy could get to them.

Playing outside was a disaster, because she wanted to put her hands in the dirt and when Tommy finally said okay and she did it, she hated the feeling of it on her hands and was immediately yelling for him to get it off.

Later on, when he grabbed her up to stop her from slamming head first into their back door, she bit down on his shoulder so hard he yelped and nearly dropped her.

Tommy remembered watching videos when the temper tantrums first began. The gentle parenting ones where the moms tried to reason with their hyperventilating children.

He hated those videos.

There was no reasoning with this child. Not on one of these days.

He gave up on cleaning the individual messes. They could stay right where they were until she went to sleep.

If she ever went to sleep.

He had to get through bath time first. Where the water wasn't the right temperature, and the bubbles were too bubbly, and she threw every bath toy over Tommy's head and against the bathroom wall.

Tommy looked at his watch, 7:00 staring back at him. Evan should have been home an hour ago.

They didn't let themselves worry if the other was late, not until three hours had passed without a text or call. Otherwise, they were to assume the other was simply running late and would be home as soon as possible.

With a sigh, Tommy pulled the plug in the tub to let the water drain. Which was apparently an act of war in Juniper's eyes.

When he finally got her into bed, she denied every bedtime storybook he offered her. She ended up falling asleep while sobbing into his chest.

After gently getting her settled into bed, Tommy headed out into the living room to clean up. That's when the front door slowly opened and Buck walked in.

“Hey,” he greeted quietly with a smile, knowing Juniper would be out by now.

“Hey,” Tommy replied, leaning in as Buck walked over for a kiss. “Get a last minute call?”

“Sort of,” he answered, glancing around at the disaster that was their living room. “Wow. Busy day, huh?”

“Yeah, um.” Tommy turned, bending to grab some of Junie's toys. “What do you mean, sort of?”

“Got a call at like five after six. Didn't expect it to take so long to get wrapped up.”

“C shift wasn't in yet?” Tommy asked.

“They were there. Just getting in. It seemed like it would be a quick call.” Buck shrugged. “It had been an easy shift, so I figured I'd help out.”

Tommy stood there in the dead center of their living room, Juniper's toys tossed all around, with two of her teddy bears in his hand. He nodded, tightening his lips together until they were nearly white. Once he found his voice again, he cleared his throat. “Well, at least it was an easy shift, right?”

“Yeah, it really was.” Without asking any questions, Buck picked up a couple of broken crayons from the floor and headed into the kitchen to throw them away. He acted so nonchalant about it that, had Tommy had any crayons in his own hand, they would have crumbled into little dust with how hard he was clenching his fists.

“Did you cook that chicken tonight?” Buck called out.

Tommy sighed. “Uh, no. No, I never had a chance.”

“Mm,” Buck hummed, disappointed. “Can't refreeze it. We'll have to throw it out tomorrow.”

Tommy tossed a blanket from the floor onto the couch. “I will take it out when I leave for work in the morning.”

“I hate to waste it,” Buck said, opening the fridge and pulling it out. “Maybe I'll make something with it really quick. That way you'll have something for lunch tomorrow too.”

It wasn't a slight against him, Tommy knew that. But it felt like it. It felt like Evan was telling him, “You're basically throwing money away, Tommy. You really couldn't shove some chicken in a pan and throw it in the oven? I guess I could do it after working twelve hours of overtime. Oh, and I'll also be making you lunch for tomorrow, which you didn't bother to do for me today.”

He was usually on the other side of this. Usually the one reminding Evan what he actually said instead of what Evan heard.

But today sucked, and everyone and everything was against him.

“Is there anything you're craving?” Buck asked, heading back to the fridge for more ingredients. “Nothing fancy though. It's gotta be a one pot meal and-”

“So you could have come home?” Tommy questioned, abandoning the mess in the living room to come talk to Buck. “But you went on a call instead?”

Slowly, Buck closed the fridge door and turned to Tommy, staring at him for a moment before asking, “A- Are you mad at me right now?”

“Why would I be mad at you?”

“I think that's a question for me to ask, because I have no idea.”

“Evan, I-” Tommy huffed out a breath, motioning back toward the living room. “Do you not see the disaster back there?”

“Yeah, I mentioned it when I came in.”

Beginning to get a little pissed off at Evan's obliviousness, Tommy walked back over to the living room, grabbing two books off the floor and bringing them to Buck. “She destroyed these before I could stop her. Tore the pages right out. One's the mind-numbingly boring My Two Daddies book you got her-”

“Hey!”

“And the other was the one my mom gave me when I was little. They're trash now.” He dramatically dropped the books into the trash can to further prove his point... whatever his point actually was.

“Tommy-”

“That was right after the second time I had to blow in her face to get her to stop holding her breath.”

That's when the full realization finally hit Buck. “She had one of her breakdown days, didn't she?”

“Ya think?”

“It's been a while. I thought those were over.”

“Oh, no. She just laid dormant until she got me alone. Which I shouldn't have been, because you weren't even supposed to work today.”

Buck paused. “Wait a minute,” he said, glaring over at Tommy. “Are you mad because I took overtime? Overtime that we both agreed I'd take to help pay for our trip this summer?”

“We agreed to taking some overtime,” Tommy replied, “but you didn't tell me you'd taken overtime for today until after you said yes.”

Buck cocked his head to the side. “I didn't know I needed your permission to work.”

“That's not what I-”

“Do I need to ask for your permission on a daily basis? My regular shift starts back in two days, should I ask if it's okay to go now, or wait until the day of? I think Bobby would prefer to have a little extra time to find someone to fill in should it not please you.”

“Evan.”

“Maybe I should have Carla come over on the days you're alone with Juniper if you can't handle her.” Buck knew that wasn't fair before the words left his mouth. He'd been alone with Juniper on one of her breakdown days. It was like endless torture.

The worst part was Tommy stopped fighting back right then and there. He stared at Buck, lips pursed. After a few seconds, he nodded, eyes now wet and red-rimmed. “I'm gonna go for a run,” he said softly, defeated.

He turned for the door, grabbing his shoes on the way out.

“Wait, Tom-” By the time Buck had found his voice again, it was too late. Tommy was out the door, closing it quietly behind him.

*****

When Tommy walked back into the house nearly two hours later, it was dimly lit. He could hear soft jazz playing in the living room. As he stepped in further, he saw that the house had been picked up, all of Juniper's toys put away. The little disasters from the day were gone, just a memory now.

He could hear Evan in the kitchen, could smell something cooking. Tommy's stomach growled, a reminder that he'd never been able to sit for lunch.

When he reached the kitchen, Evan was next to the stove, freshly showered and changed into sweats and one of Tommy's t-shirts. He wasn't messing with the food. Instead, he was working on something beside it. As Tommy got a better look, he could see that it was the book his mom had given him when he was young. Buck was concentrating hard as he taped the pages back together.

Tommy's chest ached. He knew it should make him feel better. Should make him feel relieved, happy, thankful. Anything other than a complete and total failure.

Buck turned then, jumping slightly when he saw Tommy. “I didn't hear you come in,” he said, a cautious smile on his face. “I think we should put your book up until Junie's a little older. I kept the other one in the trash,” he continued with a nervous laugh. “You were right, it sucked.”

And that's when Tommy broke. His face crumpled and his shoulders fell and within a matter of seconds Buck had his arms around Tommy, holding him tight.

Tommy accepted the hug, tucking his head into Buck's neck and wrapping his own arms around Buck's waist.

“I'm so sorry,” Buck whispered into the space between them. “I didn't mean what I said. I'm sorry.”

“I'm not-” Tommy sucked in a shaky breath. “It's not because of you.”

Buck turned his head, leaving a gentle kiss on Tommy's temple. “I'm still sorry.”

“S'okay.”

They stood there for a while in silence, Buck running his fingers through Tommy's hair.

“All I kept thinking,” Tommy said after a few minutes, sniffling as he continued to cling to Buck, “was that my drill sergeants never made me cry. One day alone with a three year old broke me.”

Even as he let out a laugh, Buck rubbed at Tommy's back soothingly. “The army should rethink bootcamp. Let angry toddlers train the soldiers.”

“Graduation rate would go way down.”

Tommy's stomach growled again, and Buck leaned back so he could look at him. “You hungry?” he asked, wiping a tear from Tommy's cheek.

Tommy nodded. “Sorry you had to cook after working all day.”

“I didn't mind,” Buck assured him, taking his hand and leading him to the table. “I told you, it was an easy day, plus I don't have work tomorrow.”

He pulled out Tommy's chair, not letting go of his hand until he was fully seated. He kissed the top of Tommy's head before going into the kitchen to fix them each a bowl of soup.

“Did you wanna get a shower before you eat?” Buck asked.

He shook his head, wiping at his eyes. “I didn't really run,” Tommy admitted. “I walked to the end of the block and sat on the curb for an hour and a half.”

“Did it help at all?”

“Not a bit. God, Evan, it was such a bad day,” he said, resting his head in his hands. “I didn't mean to take it out on you.”

Buck walked over, sliding Tommy's bowl over to him before sitting down beside him. “It's not like I made it any easier. I wasn't even really paying attention.”

“I just... I had the whole day planned. We were gonna go to the zoo, have lunch out, be back home for nap time. Then I was gonna take her with me to the gym so she could go to that kids class she loves, make dinner, have her fed and bathed. We'd clean the house up together, and I'd get to read her a story or two, then she'd be fast asleep by the time you got home. And then we'd have dinner together and, well,” he shrugged, “you know.”

Buck tried to hide a grin, reaching out and taking Tommy's hand. “Honey, she's asleep, I think you can say you'd like to fuck me.”

Tommy groaned, hanging his head down dramatically. “I would. I really would.”

Buck laughed. “Well, some of those things were accomplished.”

“No, she's only asleep because she screamed herself to sleep. I had nothing to do with it.”

“We're also having dinner together,” Buck pointed out. “And I'd be more than happy for you know,” he added with a wink, “after dinner.”

Tommy gave Buck's hand a squeeze.

“This is really good,” he said, taking another bite of the soup. “Thanks for cooking.”

“Thanks for eating with me.”

“Thanks for fixing my book.”

Buck smiled. “Thanks for being such a good Papa that our kid isn't afraid to have a bad day.”

Tommy smiled back at him, even as tears filled his eyes again. “Thanks for being the best partner I could ever ask for.”

“Thanks for loving me.”

Tommy lifted Buck's hand, pressing a kiss to his knuckles. “Always.”

#bucktommy #911 #tommy kinard #evan buckley #ft. juniper #this goes out to my oldest niece for the many temper tantrums I had to deal with #that sucked glad it's over!

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mintsturniolo · 4 months ago

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cozy day in (m.s)

bf!matt sturniolo x f!reader

a/n: kinda short. unedited. couldn't think of a title. wrote it in the middle of class. still working on a request i randomly remembered i had. if you don't like the pre-add the name, you can add your own name or not. totally up to you 🤍

summary: just a small blurb about matt surprising his girl with her favorite dessert while she reads

Matt walked into his room with a plate of cookies, excited to show his girlfriend Isla what he’d been up to. He smiled when he saw the sight in front of him. Isla was curled up in bed, fully invested in the book she was reading. She looked up when she sensed that someone had entered the room. “Hey,” she said, a smile forming as Matt joined her on the bed. “What are you eating?”

Matt smiled as he set the plate on Isla’s lap. “Well you’ve been talking nonstop about how much you like pumpkin cookies so I asked Chris to help me out.”

“Oh my gosh. I haven’t had these in years,” Isla gasped, excitement filling her voice as she picked up the dessert.

Matt watched anxiously as Isla took a bite. “Do you like it?” he asked.

Isla nodded as she gently brushed her lips against Matt’s. “I love them. They’re so good,” she replied.

Matt layed down, resting his head on Isla’s chest as he took another cookie for himself. Isla went back to her book as she gently scratched Matt’s back. The couple remained like this for several minutes before Matt shifted to be able to see what Isla was reading. He raised an eyebrow as he read the sentence in front of him. “Who’s true power?” he asked curiously.

Isla glanced to see what Matt was looking at. “He’s a High Lord and most of the other kingdoms fear him,” she explained.

“Mm,” Matt mumbled, still reading the rest of the page. “So he’s the love interest?”

“One of the main reasons I’m reading it,” Isla replied, earning an overdramatic sigh from Matt. “What?” she asked.

“How will I ever compete with a High Lord?” he pouted, causing Isla to start laughing.

Isla held up the last cookie on the plate. “I mean it doesn’t get any better than this,” she told Matt.

“So you really like them?” Matt asked, even though he knew the answer.

Isla gently kissed Matt’s lips. “And I love you for making them. You made my day.”

Matt kissed Isla back. “Next time you’re joining me in the kitchen.”

“Only if you read my next series with me,” Isla said eagerly. “I’ve been told it’s really good.”

Taglist:

@adirtylittleheart @sturniolo04 @yourenogoodforme @flouvela @mattyblover07 @sturnioloveniamh @slutforsturniolos

#sturniolo fanfic #fluff #matt sturniolo #matt sturniolo x reader #sturniolo x reader #imagine

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justbelievinginmagic · 21 days ago

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im(mortal) - part 3: blurred.

pairing(s): vampire!enhypen ot7 x fem!reader. series summary: Seven souls struggle with the bitter dregs of eternal life. As they hide amongst human society, they try to discover a cure for their curse, decade after decade, century into century. In their investigations, they find more than they could imagine brewing including a strange magnetic pull towards a human woman. Will they be able to find their humanity once more or will their world crumble beneath the weight of immortality? glimpse: Jake gives into temptation and pulls his blood-brothers into his fascinations with the human woman that makes his vampiric heart beat faster than ever. warnings/tags: Inspired by Enhypen's MVs lore, Vampire AU, sort of Soulmate AU, College AU, heavy science fiction inspiration, ot7 x reader but not poly ot7 (but some are really close tbh), 3rd person POV, use of YN, Ni-ki written as Riki, mature topics, vampire typical themes, vampire lore, mentions of blood, biting, death, other vampire things, canon typical violence, descriptions of blood & sounds of blood, bloodlusting, stealing blood bags, mentions of illnesses, mentions of medicine, obsessive tendencies from Jake, lowkey stalking lets be real, flirting, suggestive themes, let me know if there needs to be more tags! word count: 8.7k previous chapter <- -> next chapter series masterlist

“According to an anonymous tip, there have been 10 confirmed cases of a novel illness with unknown etiology at Desolis General Hospital. Doctors are working quick to identify its source and possible treatment. This is a developing situation, so, as always, wash your hands and when coug-” The newscaster read off the teleprompter with little gravity to his tone. It held the same old ‘newscaster tone’ inflecting at odd moments to keep the viewers’ attention.

In the hospital’s waiting room, a normal human could barely hear it over the busy hustle and bustle. The beeping of medical equipment, the shuffling of papers, and the gossiping of the front desk admins all overlapped to make the audio nearly inaudible. The few patients waiting in uncomfortable plastic chairs had to rely on the severely delayed black-boxed subtitles popping up below the newscast. But, Jungwon could hear it. Jungwon could hear a pen drop two doors down; he could hear the phlegmy cough from the old man in the waiting room; he could hear the doctors discussing private patient information behind their closed office doors. And of course, he could hear the siren call of a hospital full of hearts. Beating, thudding, pumping, and pulsing. Nonstop. Overwhelming. Constant.

He could hear everything as he continued his night-shift on the second floor of the Desolis General Hospital. Jungwon rounded a corner, raising the surgical mask up over his nose as he rolled the freshly sanitized and plastic-sealed equipment down the hall.

“What do you think?” a concerned voice chimed, half-muffled by the oak door Jungwon strolled past.

“I think they’re blowing it out of proportion frankly – especially with that news article,” an elderly-sounding man argued.

“What could it be then?”

“Anemia,” the man coughed after his reply. “Strange severe cases of anemia. Chest pains, shortness of breath, extreme fatigue, and even pica. Odd, yes. Novel, no.”

His tone held an air of finality. Like there was no other explanation except that.

“Ten concurring cases of low-iron deficiency, doctor?” the woman laughed in disbelief. There was a shuffle, the squeaking of leathered seat and another cough into a hanky.

“Give them -,” the man’s voice was strained, scratchy, “- a blood transfusion; prescribe iron-pills and a diet change. Bingo. All fixed.” He chortled lowly.

“Any links between the patients? Living situations, shared restaurants, or places of works? This is all just a coincidence?” she queried, unconvinced.

“None that we could find. I really think it’s just luck. Bad luck.”

Jungwon huffed, heat billowing out of his mask and into his eyes. More blood transfusions meant more of Sunghoon and Jay getting ‘dinner.” Sunghoon will hate this. While he was good at tracking and breaking and entering, he wasn’t the best with carefulness. There was an air of confidence and optimism that Jungwon just didn’t have in his slow-beating heart anymore. Mistakes were always around the corner. There had been times where Jay had to fix Sunghoon’s mess-ups. Some Jungwon told him; others he kept secret.

It’d be easier if Jungwon could just pocket a few IVs of blood. But it was too dangerous now. Ugh. So inconvenient.

His phone vibrated in his pocket. Once, twice, three times. His brows crinkled. They know he’s working tonight. They know when his break was. (His schedule was posted on the fridge via a yellow sticky note – like always.)

So why were they texting him? And who?

It could be Sunoo. He’d been moody after dinner earlier, but Jungwon welcomed it. A sassy Sunoo was better than a despondent Sunoo after all. He’d do anything to have him be how he was before. He sighed out.

Or perhaps it was Sunghoon. He’d been practicing ice-skating lately and would send the group chat updates of his routines. He was happier now Jungwon noted. He smiled at the thought.

Pushing the cart into a darkened closet, he whipped out his phone. His face was illuminated by the blue glow.

It was neither.

It was Jay.

FYI Jake’s not home.

Well, shit.

“Stop digging through my head,” Sunghoon commented, the tone like a little sibling annoying his older sibling.

He passed by Heeseung without even a glance, walking from one room to the next. It nearly looked like he was floating. Too smooth and far too ethereal to look human. But then, the illusion was broken as Sunghoon’s hand rose to rub at his eye, blinking against the bright lights blearily. His glasses (yes, he was the only immortal with prescription glasses) were shifted up the bridge of his nose. He looked this way and that for his charger.

He had an essay to write, and his laptop died. You’d think with all the money Jungwon had they’d have chargers everywhere, but nope. Like any family, they’d borrow chargers and forget to give them back or move them while cleaning or have them fall behind cushions or couches.

Heeseung followed quickly behind the other man. His gaze firm as he stared down the back of Sunghoon’s head.

“You know something,” Heeseung bit out, less with venom and more with frustration.

Sunghoon had this strange ability that was nothing otherworldly, but ever-annoying for the vampire who could know anything and everything with a little mind-reading. Sunghoon was able to just babble in his brain. This and that, science ramble from his classes, his routines for ice skating, sometimes just ‘Heeseung, stop snooping’ on repeat. Anything and everything except the information Heeseung wanted to know.

“Yeah, I know something. Me, not you,” Sunghoon almost sing-songed, blank faced as he continued his search.

Sunghoon hated when Heeseung tried to look inside his brain. He’d gotten so good at avoiding his blood-brother’s skill out of pure hard-work and spite. He liked his privacy. It was hard enough to get any with six forever-roommates.

“Jake’s been acting weird since class, and he’s now nowhere around the house, and you talked to him last. I saw that,” Heeseung ranted.

That was the flicker of a memory Heeseung latched onto. Jake and Sunghoon talking only a short time ago (there was a hint of ‘I need to do my homework’ in the background of Sunghoon’s mind). Jake looked frazzled as he spoke quickly, eyes darting this way and that before he turned and walked out the door.

Meanwhile, in the present, Sunghoon focused on looking for his charger. Visualizing his charger, its white boxy form. The prongs. The twisted cord. The clear initials written in black ink.

“Stop thinking about the charger,” Heeseung complained, head tilting back in exasperation. “How are you so good at hiding your real thoughts?”

“Just to bug you, hyung,” Sunghoon said as he checked behind a pillow on the sofa. Nope, not there.

Jay, who sat on the opposite side of the sofa, raised a brow at the pair. Heeseung huffed.

“C’mon, where did he go? It’s for his safety!” Heeseung argued.

Sunghoon rolled his eyes. Jake didn’t look unsafe when he had come to him with the bribe of silence in exchange of his portion of blood. He looked restless. Mussed dark hair, his eyes glowing in the bright lights of the mansion. He even could smell fire in his hair. He’s just worked up. Sunghoon knew where he’d go when it came to frustration – the ice rink. Surely, Jake had his own place he went. It was his business. And it’d stay his business.

“He’ll be fine. He can’t hurt a fly,” Sunghoon argued, waving a hand in nonchalance before checking behind another pillow.

Jay stood, and glanced behind the pillow he had been squishing. Nope, nothing. Sunghoon ran a tongue over his fangs, restlessly. God, where did he put his charger? Did someone move it?

“Jay, tell him that it’s for the safety of the flock for him to tell me where Jake went,” Heeseung looked towards the other for support.

Jay glanced over the vampire men; their emotions easy to read like the aroma of scented candles. Frustration, deep and nutty, filled his senses; concern that tasted like too-strong brewed tea burned in the back of his throat; doubt that was icy cool like chewing gum hit like a wave.

Sunghoon gave Jay a look; one that was half pleading, half annoyed.

“He’s not gonna do anything,” Sunghoon sighed out, trying to defend Jake.

“Jay,” Heeseung huffed again. His chin tilted as he looked over at his blood-brother despairingly.

There wasn’t any deception. Jay knew the taste of that; salty as sorrow but with the bitter bite of sulfur. Guilt. Deception. Whatever you’d call it. It was vacant.

“He’s telling the truth, Seungie,” Jay conceded, returning to his seat, and swinging his laptop over his knees. “He really doesn’t think there is any danger.”

“He’s a kid,” Heeseung cried out.

“Really can’t keep playing that card,” Sunghoon sighed out, plopping down besides Jay. “We’re over a hundred years old now, you know?”

“Niki,” Heeseung called out instead, turning towards the stairwell.

“I didn’t take his charger!” It was immediately yelled back. Almost too quick.

Jay could smell the salty, volcanic ash of a lie. He laughed under his breath, shaking his head.

“You did steal it!” Sunghoon complained. “Give it back now. What the heck, Riki?”

“No, come here,” Heeseung demanded instead. “I need you to go get Jake.”

“Is that necessary?” Jay asked tentatively.

Jay’s face was one of concern now, a grimace falling over his face as he was once again pulled from his computer science assignment. He pushed his laptop onto the coffee table.

“Sunghoon would’ve stopped him; this is a little… much,” Jay commented.

Heeseung raised a brow, questioningly. It was for their safety…right? Jungwon would agree if he was here. He would! Besides… Riki loved a good game of hide and go seek.

There was a soft lulling in Heeseung’s veins, something that said everything was fine. Everything was fine. Deep breath, lavender haze.

“Jay!” he exclaimed out; anger fizzing over Jay’s tongue at Heeseung’s rapid shift in emotions. “Don’t use your powers against me.”

“Don’t use them against them,” Jay warned, brows raised. He looked at Sunghoon as if he was example A.

There was a sag in Heeseung’s shoulders before he turned to face the youngest of them, leaning over the stairs’ banister. A sharp smile bit at Riki’s face.

“Jake is hiding?” he wiggled his brows.

Sighing at the youngest’s excitement sweet on his tongue, Jay turned back to his coding. With Riki intrigued, they’d never be able to stop him now. He loved his freedom too much.

“You think you’ll be able to find him?” Heeseung asked, but when he spoke to Riki, there was a change in tone.

A challenge. Playful. Less like an older brother and more like a friend.

“Give me a few hours and he’ll be back here,” Riki promised.

“Hours don’t mean anything to a boy who can stop time,” Sunghoon commented. He made a grabby hand towards Riki who tossed the lost-stolen-borrowed charger his way.

“You want to take up the challenge instead, tracker?” Heeseung retorted.

Sunghoon’s hands raised in defense. He hated being defined by his ‘skills’, and Heeseung knew it. “Have fun, Riki.”

The youngest laughed out, a mouth full of fangs as he grinned. He never got to do anything fun nowadays. This will be a good hunt.

“Go find him and bring him back before Jungwon gets home.”

Riki offered the three vampires a salute before, in a flash, he was gone.

As night fell, a storm crawled into the city. Rolling clouds of thunder and lightning crashed over the tall skyscrapers and stacked-upon-stacked buildings. The smell of petrichor engulfed the streets as rain poured and trickled down the pavement in rivulets. Even amongst the heavy downpour, Jake could still smell her, hear her, feel her. His hand rose to press against his chest, tugging at his hoodie to feel his heart race. It was like something he had never felt before. Amazed and bewildered, he stared at her from his spot in the woods.

Her heart pulsed in a quick beat, but the melody was becoming familiar to him. Why could he hear her so well? He had no idea. But what he did know was that there was a rush of calm seeing her safe and dry beneath the bus stop’s awning. Her heart was racing, but it wasn’t from fear. All she was doing now was scrolling through her phone, shifting to glance up and down the street every so often. Aware. But even then, she didn’t see him, hidden in the brush.

Dark overgrown bushes and thick pine-tree trunks kept him covered and hidden from her watchful gaze. The rain pitter-pattered, making the dirt beneath his feet muddy. His hoodie had been pulled up over his head (despite the umbrella in his hand that he had taken from the foyer of the mansion.) but he still felt droplets of water hit his face.

He didn’t want her to see him. He didn’t want to scare her. He just wanted to admire. To observe? He didn’t know. He just had to see her.

Jake’s head lulled to rest against a nearby tree as he felt the breath of life tumble through him. Sweat had dried on his neck earlier, and now it tingled in the cool humid air. When was the last time he got chills from the air? His mouth watered at the tempting smell of her, but the hunger always clawed in the pit of his stomach. It wasn’t new. Yes, their Heartbeat was a new addition but… he could admire not obsess. He’d ignore his hunger, the Beast, the bite of his fangs. He didn’t want to bite her. He did, but… he didn’t. It didn’t make sense in his head. He felt dizzy. The streetlights flickered.

Her siren-heart calmed him into a whirl, losing his thoughts. Her heart was pretty, he decided. Was it delirium? Was he being driven mad by the thu-thump-thu-thumping that hadn’t left his eardrums since she was introduced to him that evening? Obsession? Fascination? Insanity? Jake didn’t know.

“I knew it was a crush,” a voice whispered into Jake’s ear.

Jolting out of his state, the brush around them rustled. Riki let out a laugh as he stumbled back. His fangs gleamed in the glow of the streetlights. His hair and clothes were just a smidge wet; the faint staining of raindrops on is broad shoulders as he giggled jovially at his blood-brother. He looked at him with a knowing, prideful look.

After all, Riki had won the game. He found Jake.

“Wait – what?” Jake processed Riki’s words. “No, no, it's not a crush.”

It was something different. He didn’t have a word for it. Something animalistic. Uncontrollable. A pull in his gut. His heart?

Besides, the vampire flock didn’t do crushes. How was a mortal supposed to mingle with immortals? It was a fool’s errand. Jungwon had always warned against it.

“You’re literally stalking her, bro,” Riki commented, his laughter dying down as he took a few steps forward.

“I’m not! I’m just—” Jake reached out to stop the younger from going any further, not wanting her to spot them. “- curious.”

“Uh-huh.” Riki replied, unconvinced as he sidestepped Jake’s grasp. “Relax! She can’t see us.”

It’s only then Jake processed that the world had quieted, zapping away all sound (except for her heart beat, because, of course, it defied even their strange powers). Thu-thump-thu-thump-thu-thump, it kept him company as he glanced around.

Droplets of water sparkled, frozen still in the air like a million diamonds. The approaching bus down the street was stagnant as it froze through a puddle, a snapshot of a splash erupting from its wheels. He hadn’t been sucked into one of Riki’s time freezes in a long time. They hadn’t needed them, and Riki was often exhausted by them, no matter how good he got at his trick.

“Why are you even here?” Jake asked, confused and a flash of worry curdled through him. “Are you good? Around her?”

That annoyed Riki, his lips curling up into a sneer. He felt like he will never escape the title of baby, of wild, of ‘bloodthirsty.’ Even now, Jake was looking after him – when Riki was the one on the search for him! Jake was the one that was supposedly not good right now. Yet still… they asked if he was okay. It annoyed him.

Pushing past the bushes and bramble, Riki flashed Jake a smile, too mischievous to feel comfortable. Jake was quick to follow, getting thwapped by stray ferns Riki had just pushed aside.

“Wait—Riki,” Jake called out.

Prowling closer to her, Riki glanced over her features. Frozen perfectly in place, YN had been scrolling through her phone, glassy eyes unseeing in the time freeze. The younger vampire squatted to meet her eyeline. Hooded eyes examined her. The glow of the phone lit up her face in a blue glow. Pretty eyes, he thought.

“Cute,” Riki commented to Jake. A hand reached out to fiddle with her hair, watching it bounce back into its place as soon as he stopped touching it. He pushed it aside to glance at the column of her throat. “Pretty neck.”

Riki sent a look at Jake, his tongue flicking to touch one fang. Teasingly.

“Stop it,” Jake commanded, his brows furrowing as he walked closer.

Her heart hadn’t accelerated; the thu-thump melody steady as beating drum. But his anxiety rose. He didn’t like Riki so close. The way his fangs peeked out as he smiled up at her.

Riki hadn’t taken to vampirism with kindness. He’d tried to drain one of their own after all – he had drained countless humans throughout the years. Whether it was for control or lack of thereof, his violence peaked while with Heeseung. Alone in their little shabby apartment, he had become something akin to a nightmare. Humans dropped like flies in the city they terrorized; mystery animal attacks some said. Rumors of myths and legends bloomed. Jake didn’t think Riki ever really evolved past that. (Not like himself, of course. He had been good. He had never drained another human like the night of his turning. He refused. He had control. Riki didn’t.)

That control edged and tickled at the back of his brain as he saw Riki’s fingers stroke over her neck, tauntingly. His eyes were heavy-lidded as he glanced over his shoulder at the other. A curl of a smirk on his fangs. Jake let out a low chitter, the sound animalistic in his throat. A warning to the other to stop.

Riki’s gaze fell into crescent moons. His cheeks softening as he let out a laugh, his hand fell away and he stepped back. Rising to his full height, he let out a laugh.

“I’m kidding,” he stressed.

Jake didn’t find it funny. His eyes flickered back to her. Her heart thudded in his chest. He sighed.

“She is pretty, though. What’s up with you two if it’s not a crush?” Riki’s chin rose towards Jake in acknowledgement.

It wasn’t a crush, Jake insisted.

“We’re nothing,” Jake insisted. “She’s just weird. I—”

The vampire faltered looking over her once more. It was strange to see no breath tumble from her mouth and yet the growing-familiar heart beat remained. He swallowed.

“I can hear her heart. Loudly. I heard it from class; I heard it walking home; I heard it at home. No matter how far I go, it’s there. She’s there. Even now, it’s beating fast.”

Thu-thump. Thu-thump. Thu-thump.

She stared onwards at the potential danger in front of her. Jake huffed through his nose, glancing away from her innocent face.

Riki tilted his head at his blood-brother, almost puppy like. That was weird. His bloody-red eyes flashed to the human once more. She looked normal. He had seen plenty of pretty girls. Plenty of human girls that he bit into without a care in the world. They bled all the same. Their hearts teased and tempted. A constant fight in his soul. One that he oftentimes lost.

But now that he was staring at her – Riki felt something. Or really, he felt nothing. The rage that often shadowed him was absent, leaving him feeling breathless. His stomach wasn’t cramping; there wasn’t the constant itching in his veins to bite, bite, bite, drink, drink, drink. It was just… gone. Paused in the presence of this weird mortal.

His smolder, the heavied lidded look and taunting raise of his brows that often was tacked onto Riki’s face, dropped. A youthful look of surprise, of relief, and of confusion flickered over his face in a kaleidoscope. Parted pout, raised brows, and large eyes, he looked an image of the same little boy who had entered the orphanage and couldn’t say his own name without stuttering.

It felt so freeing to not be bounded by the Beast he realized. But also, dreadfully grounding because… he had committed so many beastly things. Drained so many humans without a second thought, all in the name of that hunger. A hunger gorged by the simple presence of this human girl.

Weird. Bad. Bad. Bad.

He didn’t know what was bad – the situation, the woman… or himself.

Riki took an uncertain step back. Throat tight, a horrible maelstrom of upset tumbled up his throat. Was he going to be sick? Everything felt overwhelming.

“Riki?” Jake asked, sensing the sudden combustion of something within the younger.

Was he going to pounce on the girl, his Heart? No. No. He wouldn’t let that happen. (If anyone was going to taste her blood, it’d be him – a Beast within Jake’s mind growled out).

His hand went to Riki’s shoulder, only for the younger to pull away with vigor. Stumbling back, his electrified eyes met Jake’s. Fright riddled his features as he felt himself fall away into a flurry of bats. His fingers holding their world in a pause unraveled with his composure. And the world rushed into a bloom of life.

The downpour resumed in a flood; the bus down the street honked to life as it slammed through a puddle. A wave of dirtied water splashed onto the pavement. Cars, electricity, the chitter of the light beside the bus-stop all joined the ever-present melody of their fast-beating heart.

Jake stumbled back from her, back hitting the bus stop’s support with a metal thunk.

YN’s head snapped to the side as she let out a small yelp. Wide eyes met his. Her body curled into herself as she jumped, startled.

“Woah, when did you get here?” she exclaimed.

He was like a ghost! She hadn’t heard anyone approaching; it was scary to know she could be snuck up on so suddenly. Her heart had jittered even faster. Jake fell into its warmth – his cheeks hot, his neck hot around her.

“Just now,” he lied, flashing a charming smile as his hand rose to rub that back of his neck.

He hadn’t planned on this – he wasn’t going to approach her. He just had wanted to see her, examine her. What was special about her? Something had to be if even Riki ran away from her.

Jake stepped out of the rain and under the cover of the bus stop, damp from the rain now.

“Sorry for scaring you,” he bumbled out, his tone gentle and kind. The lamp-glow made his skin golden and warm. The raindrops clinging to his skin looked like sparkling gems.

Taking in his soft features, she nodded slowly. “Its fine,” she acquiesced. “I’ve got to pay more attention,” she instead lamented, trying to ease him.

His – or was it hers – heart bloomed, fluttering at a butterfly’s wings pace.

Swallowing down his burning throat, he smiled.

“Jake, right?” she clarified.

As if she’d forget him. The pretty boy who had helped give her notes but also ran out like she was some plague.

“Yeah, yeah.”

As if he’d forget her. The bite of her name in between his jaw was so tasty.

Their hearts beat in tandem, and he couldn’t help but breath out in wonder. With a wet splash, the bus pulled up to the bus stop.

“Oh, this is my bus; is it yours?” she asked, nudging her thumb towards it.

Jake could get lost in her heartbeat- the tantalizing newness of it, the melody that was siren-like and yet soothing in his veins.

“Uh, huh,” he replied, blood-struck staring at her. He blink, blink, blinked. “Yeah.”

No, it wasn’t. But he couldn’t help but accept, couldn’t help but want to be around her. Like the seas being controlled by the moon, she was a magnetic force. It was something so new, so strange. So addictive.

YN fiddled with the strap of her bag as she stood. He didn’t move to go ahead of her and, so, she walked ahead, climbing the steps of the bus with familiarity. A cool rush of air-conditioned air kissed her skin and made him shiver. He actually shivered! When was the last time he felt cold? She swiped her bus pass; he paid the few dollars with a flash of his (read: Jungwon’s) credit card.

The bus was full - a blurred symphony of heart beats. All supporting the main melody of his Heart; her Heart. He didn’t even care for them; she was the focus. There were only two spots left, tucked into the back of the bus. YN took her spot, closest to the rain dropped window. The warmth of the engine radiated through the seat and made her feel safe and cozy.

Jake paused in the middle of the walkway as he looked side to side. There weren’t any other spots. Was it okay if he joined her? Was it creepy or stalking like Riki had said? Before he could contemplate his morals or if he was too much of this or that, she patted the seat beside her.

YN’s gaze locked with his, with blushed cheeks that he wanted to bite, kiss, soothe, feel. Jake swallowed but his feet moved on demand, tugged by the invisible string on his slow-beating heart. He settled in beside her. Hot. Cold. There was the clash, crawling over his skin and into his cells. He took a small breath in, hoping it didn’t sound too shuddering as it felt. His lungs burned, but he wanted more His hands rubbed over his jeaned knees before one hand combed through his lightly-damp locks.

The bus shivered and jolted as it began its route once more. Well, now he was stuck on a bus. All he had wanted to do was see her. He glanced her way, looking at her from the corner of his eye. Everyone else on the bus were on their phones. Should he be? Her hand still held her phone, limp in her lap as she looked out the foggy window.

He felt out-of-place. Like a fish out of water. Like a bat in daylight.

“What’s your major?” She asked after a while, glancing his way.

Her smile was sweet and dull.

“Lit,” he replied with a grin of his own. His smile was sharp and sincere. “You?”

“Still figuring it out,” she admitted, stretching her limbs and glancing away in thought. “Thinking about nursing, maybe.”

There was a soft huff in her tone as she looked his way once more. “Mom was a nurse. Dad was a doctor. His dad was a doctor. And his dad was a doctor. And her mom was nurse. Blah, blah, blah.” She rolled her eyes lightly. “It’s been pushed on me since I could walk.” She laughed.

It mingled with her heartbeat so beautifully, he thought. He chuckled out, echoing her soft laughter.

“What do you want to do with lit? Write? Or teach?”

He didn’t know. Jake couldn’t focus. Or was it the heat in his cheeks that made his head feel lopsided? His stomach clenched, but it wasn’t from hunger. His heart raced and raced. Everything felt more, more than it already did. He used to be able to see the world in microscopic sense, but now it all seemed hazy, haloing her. He could just see her, high definition.

She was looking at him, not too worrisome thankfully. He felt like he looked crazy but, in her eyes, he was just bumbling, shy, sweet. His hands rubbed his knees gently, nervous. Long fingers fiddling over the fabric clumsily. It was cute.

“Not sure yet,” he admitted, soft voiced. “I just liked reading.”

He swallowed. She swallowed. He could see the pulse of her heart in her throat. The Beast itched under his skin. Just a taste, just a little bit. No.

He glanced away.

“I-Are you from around here?” he asked.

“No, no,” she shook her head. “I’m from Riverfield. In the country. I have an apartment in the city while I’m in school. What about you?”

Jake nodded, focusing on her words. “I share a home with some friends.” The fib has rolled off his tongue before; it was second-nature. “Over on the west end of the city.”

“That’s, uh, in the completely opposite direction,” she noted. This bus was going towards the east, deeper into the city’s depths.

Her uncertainty tinkled out; her finger fiddled with the side of her phone.

“I’m visiting a friend,” he made up.

“Oh.”

Before another silence could crash over them, Jake added. “My friend is a nursing major. He’s in the same class as us.”

“Oh, cool,” she replied with a smile. “Maybe I’ll see if he likes the program next class.”

“Yeah,” he murmured.

The lull that followed felt like forever. Jake felt like a live-wire. His body buzzed. His heart raced. Her closeness only made him feel hotter and hotter. The bus lights flickered. His eyes flashed to them; the fluorescents burning brighter at his gaze. His breath shuddered. Was that because of him? He needed to control himself. Why did he feel so different? Alive? It was scary. Jake’s teeth nibbled into his cheek; the lights shuddered.

The bus braked harshly, suddenly. His arm immediately reached out across her, protecting her as they jerked forward. Her body slammed into his long arm, and he kept her steady. He swore his heart skyrocketed. Dilated eyes met hers. Her own eyes looked startled as she let go of his arm. When had she grasped onto him? Did she feel this pull too? He let out a soft breath.

“Thanks,” YN replied as she leaned back into her chair; the bus had moved normally, driving through the streets once more.

“No problem,” he breathed. He finally lowered his arm.

His ears felt burning. Jake scratched at the back of his neck. He probably seemed so strange… He had to not be so weird. How? How?

“Did you decipher my notes?” he wondered.

Blush. She blushed. Blush, blush, blush. Her cheeks hot and red and bite-able like a red apple. He felt his throat burn but he only fell more into his racing heart as she smiled. Her smile was so pretty.

“Not all of them,” she admitted with a chuckle.

“Let me help.” He offered. “We’re both here.”

She adjusted her phone, raising it, and swiping through it with ease. “I guess.”

He scooted closer, his cologne flooding her senses. There was a hint of rainwater in his hair that dripped onto her; it felt like it sizzled on her bare skin. Jake pointed at words here and there, helping breakdown his writing.

“You’d think with having doctors as parents I’d be able to decipher any sort of handwriting,” she joked.

“Nah; mine looks ancient,” he replied cooly. “I don’t blame you. It’s my fault. Here – that says ‘would be promising’.” He sounded a bit uncertain, but his gaze flickered back to her with a wide-eyed innocence. He was sweet. Helpful. Even if he felt like he was burning up inside, she felt the same thing. Her arms tingled. Her heart thudded fast.

The rest of the bus drive was spent huddled closer. Their arms brushed against one another; their breaths shared as they slide through picture after picture, analyzing their notes together. The bus rolled to a stop, and she glanced up.

“This is my stop,” she announced, gathering her bag from the ground.

Standing, she goes to slide her phone into her pocket before pausing. “Can we exchange numbers?” she asked, looking down at him.

His heart was pounding. Or was it her heart? He couldn’t tell. But he couldn’t help but feel the buzz; the hum of excitement. That’s what this was. He wanted to keep talking. Learning more about this strange woman. Why did her heart sing for him? Why did it feel like it was their heart? He wanted to know why she was so special?

“Just in case I need more deciphering expertise,” she teased, her hand outstretched her phone his way and he took it carefully.

Rain poured harder as he typed his name and number into her contacts. There was a grumble from the bus driver, impatient, but, at this point in the night, there were few passengers on board. The bus was coming to its last few stops. The rain thudded against the metal roof of the bus in a downpour, fogging the view of the apartment complex.

Jake nudged her with his umbrella, getting her attention once more. He looked up at her with such a kind smile, his cheeks sweet and soft despite the sharpness of his lips and teeth. Her phone was outstretched her way, as well as the handle to an umbrella.

“Here. And take my umbrella,” he encouraged.

“Seriously?” she exclaimed, taking her phone back. His name ‘Jake’ stared back simply… she was going to add an emoji later (maybe a beating heart since her heart seemed to act up around him.) Her heart was pounding even now. All he was doing was being sweet, and yet she felt like she was going to pass out.

“Its pouring, YN,” he glanced out the nearby window. “Please.”

He nudged the umbrella her way again. Their fingers brushed, and electricity flared between them. Skin-to-skin contact, it made his cells burn bright and vibrant. So bright that the bus’s lights went out in a pop. Startling the passengers, even Jake jumped in his spot.

“Goddammit,” the bus driver cursed out.

The pair had jumped apart. YN was a few steps back; Jake was pressed deep into his seat, hand pressed to his chest. It tingled still.

“This bus is like a danger-zone,” YN joked, glancing upward at the sizzling lights. “Thank you. For the umbrella… I’ll give it back in class?”

He let out a laugh, airy and disbelieving.

“Yeah. No worries really. Yeah.” He sounded flustered.

“Yeah,” she smiled as she continued walking backwards. “Be safe.”

She waved lightly as she exited the bus. A soft goodnight on her tongue to the befuddled bus driver before she walked through the downpour. His umbrella shielding her from the rain as she rushed towards the complex.

He watched all along. The lights of the bus flickered on again, slowly at the rhythm of their heart beat.

She was something special.

Once her apartment door closed behind her, YN screeched.

Her hands going to hide her face. He is so cute! Her heart was about to explode. Jake had been drooled over by all the girls at school. He looked like a model, acting aloof, was probably rich. But here… oh he was just a kind guy. He was sweet and helpful. He lent her his umbrella. She squealed again.

Sighing out dream-struck, she walked through her apartment, shedding her jacket and tossing it on the nearby couch. Dinner first – maybe a shower to warm her up. But, she was so warm now, her body buzzing with butterflies. She couldn’t help but dance about as she prepared a simple dinner of left overs, making sure to pour out her pills out onto a napkin, so she wouldn’t forget to take them… again.

Jake had escaped the bus finally at the next stop, wriggling past the last few passengers before walking through an unfamiliar cityscape before finding the forest’s edge. It was then he disappeared into the skies in a flurry of bats.

He whooshed into human form at the front door of their home. Riki leaned up against the doorway. He looked disheveled.

“Where did you go?” Jake exclaimed. “You totally ditched me.”

Riki’s face turned red as he glanced aside. “You were the one that wanted to see her so badly. So, you got to.” His retort was childish, defensive as he crossed his arms over his chest.

“I scared her,” Jake retorted.

“You were stalking her,” Riki said blankly.

“We were,” Jake argued. That wasn’t any better. He shook his head lightly, damp hair flicking water onto the younger. Riki flinched and made a fuss. “You were the one to get so close.” Jake said simply.

Riki tried to shrug nonchalantly as he turned on his heel to unlock the front door and walk inside.

“You got to talk to her, didn’t you? Do you have her number now?” Riki teased.

Their brotherly back and forth was cut short at the sight of the flock all gathered in the nearby living room. Including Jungwon.

“Where have you two been?” Jungwon bit out. His brow furrowed; a mimicry of a father scorned.

“Hey dad,” Riki teased, raising his brows at him before plopping down on the couch besides Sunoo. The pair shared a look. Riki curled his legs into his chest, arms going to lock around them.

“I’ve been texting you, calling you; I was close to emailing you,” Jungwon continued, emphasizing each option. His own fangs were flashing in the bright lights of the mansion as he crossed his arms. “Where were you?”

“No where,” Jake said, his voice trailing off as he walked further into the room. All eyes rested on him, looking him up and down.

“Jake,” Heeseung was the one to speak up, raising a brow from his spot beside Sunghoon. His tone was warning.

“She’s fine. I’m fine. Niki is fine,” Jake gestured to their youngest who flashed a peace sign. Jay looked over Riki carefully, tilting his head at what he felt.

“Everything’s fine,” Jake finished.

Jungwon sent a disapproving look at the other. This was a definite scolding and Jake’s high from being around her dulled. He sat down on the opposite side of Sunoo who squeezed his knee reassuringly.

None of them liked being scolded – it reminded them of the nurses and doctors and orphanages.

“You know what happened last time one of us had a control problem,” Jungwon lamented.

It sent a heaviness over the flock. They all looked aside. Sunoo frowned and hid into his arms. He wished he had his teddy bear in this moment.

Jungwon didn’t understand Jake. Jake out of everyone should know this. He had sworn to never hurt someone again after his change. Why was he playing with fire? Running around, chasing, stalking a human!

Jake played with a frayed edge on his jeans.

“Yeah, look at Sunoo. He’s had more problems than any of us with humans, but you’d be happy if he was out and about.” Jake muttered out dejectedly.

His words weren’t sharp but they still stung. Both Sunoo and Jungwon. Sunoo’s grimace grew.

“No, I wouldn’t.” Jungwon argued.

Sunoo’s face screwed into a displeased scowl, curling more into Riki as they spoke of his shortcomings. He had been in a good mood, and it was quickly fizzling out. He wanted to go up to his room. He was tempted to just fly there.

“I’d be careful. We know these things are delicate.” Jungwon argued.

“Jay too.” Jake pointed out, frowning and gesturing at the vampire. “He hates humans, but you encourage him to try to take classes to get used to them! What’s so different about me going to see her?” Jake argued with upturn brows.

Why was he being targeted? He’d been good. So, what if he messed up and set some lights up in a blaze earlier? He was fine with her. He sat next to her for over thirty minutes, and he didn’t bite her. He had control. He had control. Nothing went wrong!

“You purposely went after her,” Jungwon stressed. “Without telling us.”

“He told me,” Sunghoon mumbled, raising his knee to his chest casually. Heeseung slapped his arm. The glasses-wearing vampire shrugged

“What is so interesting about her, Jake?” Jungwon sighed out, sitting down on the couch with a huff.

“She’s just… different,” Jake mumbled. Riki nodded nearby.

“I’m not going to hurt her. I swear it. I just… am intrigued by her.” Jake promised.

There was a disbelieving lull in the room, but Jungwon sighed out, head tilting back and with reluctance the argument was over. Mostly at the exhaustion of fighting with them. He didn’t want to fight. His shoulders sagged.

“Fine.” He mumbled.

Jake nodded firmly, devoutly. He wouldn’t hurt her. Not his Heart.

His phone buzzed.

‘Hey Jake! It’s YN.’

His grin was blinding, and it caught the attention of every single vampire in the room.

It was the next class, and Jake was excited. His stomach was in butterflies; his heart thumping eagerly. Maybe it was her heart too. Their Heart, he had begun to think. The week had been a long one – one full of strange observations. His heart was more active than ever. It was no longer slow and steady but a constantly changing beating thing. It lit his cells alight and he felt more alive than ever.

His heart acted up more when he texted her. They spoke of his notes at first. Then the class itself but then they had already jumped to good morning and good night texts. He knew she was watching a new drama. She knew he liked hip-hop and he had made a Spotify playlist for the pair of them to add new songs for one another. It was nice. It was more than nice. Jake loved having a new friend for the first time in literally decades.

He had texted her that he was on the way to the lecture hall and to save him a seat – something he added after his stomach roiled in nerves for over five minutes.

As he opened the doors to the lecture hall, he was shellshocked to see Jungwon and Heeseung already there. And sandwiched in between them was YN. Jake flushed red, his skin turning a pleasant tawny pink. Was it embarrassment or anger or jealousy? He couldn’t tell. He felt overwhelmed and hot at the sight of YN giggling at Jungwon’s words. The flock leader smiled at her, sweet cheeks pillowing in bashfulness.

‘Why are they here!?’ Jake whined internally.

‘Jealous much?’ Heeseung raised his brows, teasingly, as he communicated telepathically with Jake.

Jake glared at the other before his eyes softened as he glanced over at YN. Her hair was so pretty, haloed in the setting sun. Everything was a pretty orange-bright in the lecture hall; the windows in the back painting the room in a sunset glow. Licking his lips and swallowing down the dryness of hunger-thirst and anxiety (both only making the scratchiness of his throat worse).

“Hey Jake,” she beamed over as he began to climb the stairs to the trio. Her desk-table had been tugged out already and her notebook splayed open.

“Hi,” he greeted, still far from their seats. “You’ve met Jungwon and Heeseung I see.” He smiled, albeit a bit forced.

Jungwon was leaned in close to YN, his elbow on the armrest closest to her. He flashed Jake a smile full of fangs. If Jake wouldn’t tell him what was so different about the human, he was determined to find out himself. That’s what Jungwon did best – investigate. Investigate and protect. He’d do anything to know things in advance so that he and his blood-brothers would never be caught off guard again. They’d never be hurt like that again.

And so, he investigated. Looked her up on social media, searched her name in search engines. And it all came back normal. A good student, a few parties on her Instagram, photos of aesthetically pleasing country sides and forests. A small town almost country girl turned big city college student.

She was debating about a nursing major. That was something she told him as she sat down, asking who was the nurse. He liked her boldness and he told her what he thought honestly. He mentioned the long hours of interning. She was empathetic, kind at his struggles. Her hand had squeezed his as if it’d comfort him and he swore there was an electric shock.

But other than that… she was normal.

‘What are you doing?’ Jake exclaimed at Heeseung.

‘Getting to know your hyperfixation,’ Heeseung argued back.

‘But-‘ there was a pettiness and possessiveness. ‘She’s mine! My Heart.’

‘You texted her nonstop, you giggle at every message – what’s so interesting? We wanted to know.’

‘Ive only known her for a week, hyung! Don’t scare her away.’

‘We aren’t! Theyre talking about nursing and doctor stuff.’

“Heeseung?”

Heeseung blinked, sound coming back into focus as her call. He had been so focused on their conversation, a telepathic effort that he hadnt heard her call his name twice. He looked to her. Her smile was sweet as she repeated the question.

“What’s your major?” she asked. “Sorry for not asking earlier. Jake had hyped up Jungwon’s major.”

“You’re okay,” he reassured her with a charming grin. “I’m a music major.”

“Oh wow!” she exclaimed. “That’s so cool. What’s, like, your thing? Is it more traditional music or-?” she trailed off, giving him the floor to talk.

“I started off with the piano,” he said. “We all did,” he admitted, glancing at Jake and Jungwon. “I like songwriting the most compared to instrumentals.”

He preened at her reaction, hearing how she awed and flustered at the thought of a poetic man. He smiled. There was a passing thought, did they grow up together?

Her gaze flickered to Jake as he plopped his bag down and sat down next to Heeseung. His bag hit the motorcycle visor besides Heeseung’s foot.

“What motorcycle do you have?” she asked.

“You want a ride?” he teased, staring her down. Charming, flirtatiously.

Her cheeks flushed, and he grinned. He heard Jungwon’s playful disagreement, an internal roll of his eyes. Jake’s outraged ‘What?’ But Heeseung realized… he hadn’t heard her thoughts. He swallowed. Leaning closer, he stared at her with his entrancing eyes. She giggled a bit and shifted her gaze away.

Nothing… still.

“I was just curious. Jake took the bus the other day – do you all ride motorcycles?” she asked instead, looking over at Jungwon.

Heeseung chuckled, a bit distressed as he looked over at Jake. A flash of insecurity twinkled in his eyes.

‘What’s up?’ Jake asked silently.

‘I can’t hear her thoughts.’ His telepathic freak out made Jake’s brows crinkle in confusion.

“Only Heeseung is the daredevil.” Jungwon replied.

There was a polite hum from the very man mentioned before YN’s eyes widened.

“Oh, Jake, before I forget, I have your umbrella!” she exclaimed, reaching into her bag.

As she ducked her head, Jake and Jungwon mouthed words at each other quickly. Mostly in surprise, wondering what was wrong with Heeseung. He seemed so out of it. Starstruck. When her head popped back up and her hand held a transparent umbrella, they both smiled at her, close lipped.

“That’s my umbrella,” Jungwon commented, raising a brow at Jake. “I was looking for it a few days ago and you said you didn’t know where it—"

“Whoops,” Jake charmed as he took hold of the outstretched umbrella.

“Well, thank you again – and to you too, Jungwon,” she acquiesced, glancing at him with a gentle gratefulness.

He felt a whirl in his stomach, and he couldn’t help the bright almost youthful grin from tumbling to his lips.

“Its no problem,” he replied.

‘Whipped.’ Heeseung teased even in his distress.

‘Do you want to ride?’ Jungwon teased back, his gaze hardening as he looked over at Heeseung. Heeseung raised his brows, biting his lip with a fang before looking back at his phone. Trying to process the strangeness in his head. He tried hearing her thoughts now, focusing on her. But it felt like the more he focused on her, the more distant her thought became. It was something he had never experienced before.

More students were tumbling in now, making the room louder and louder. Both with their thoughts and their conversations. Their own conversation steered towards the class, their workloads, even the weather. Normal and easy things. Every now and then, Jake would ask about something they texted like if she liked this song or that song. Heeseung continued to try to hear her thoughts, staring her down when she wasn’t looking. YN could feel his gaze still, a constant light blush on her cheeks at the attention. Jungwon observed her as well.

He observed and investigated. Looking over her phone when it buzzed, showing her texts between her and her friends. She was going to a party this weekend it looked like. A reminder to go get groceries today was set. A reoccurring alarm that read ‘take medicine (don’t turn off and think you’ll remember go take them now)’ had a pop up from earlier in the day in her notifications.

While she was cute and polite, he still didn’t quite get it. She wasn’t other-earthly. Yes, his heart seemed to thud faster around her. Which hadn’t happened before. And sure, the world slowed and seemed calm and not as overwhelming. Okay, it was strange. She was strange. But still, utterly normal.

After the class and after they packed up their bags, she said goodbye to Jungwon and Heeseung easily with a little wave, standing close to Jake. The soft fluffy haired vampire adjusted his backpack as he waited patiently for her. Jungwon noticed that. He seemed calmer now – not unhinged like last week. Maybe she was okay with him, he pondered. His head tilted as he looked at Jake.

“You’re not coming with us?”

Jake shook his head, swallowing albeit a bit nervously. “We’re going to go study.” He said.

“There’s a new coffee-shop down the street,” YN told them. “Jake saw it and said we should go there.”

‘You like her.’ Heeseung stated simply, telepathically.

Jake’s cheek burned a pretty-red, and that was his answer.

“See you later then,” Heeseung leewayed for Jungwon who despite his best efforts still clung to his worry.

There was always a hint of guilt, a hint of worry for his friends. Even now, after a hundred years. He just wanted them safe. Heeseung knew that.

Heeseung also wanted all of them to be happy. And he knew Jungwon wanted that too, deep down.

With an arm thrown around Jungwon’s shoulder, the two were off, heading up the stairs of the lecture hall to the upper exits.

“Your friends are really nice,” they heard YN say to Jake softly. “They saw me sitting by myself and joined me.”

“They didn’t bug you?” Jake asked gently.

“No way. Jungwon told me all about his nursing job and the program here. He was really helpful. He offered to give me a tour if I wanted it. Heeseung was nice too. He’s funny.”

Jungwon and Heeseung preened, hearing her even as they continued to walk further and further away.

“They’re like my brothers,” Jake chuckled. “I know they can come off strong, but they mean well.”

“They were nice. Now, come on. I owe you a coffee, right? For the umbrella last week?” she teased. Her hand tugged at his sleeve, daringly.

Jake’s low chuckle sent butterflies up her spine.

“No way,” he replied walking to catch up with her. His fingers brushed over hers but he didn’t grab her hand… yet. “I’ll buy for us. My treat.”

By then, it was harder to hear the couple. Heeseung and Jungwon were walking side by side on the street, far from the university now. It was only then they spoke.

“I get it,” Jungwon said simply. Admittingly.

“Me too,” Heeseung agreed. “I couldn’t hear her thoughts, Jungwon.”

The pair shared a look.

“We’ll talk about it at home,” Jungwon promised before they flurried into a flock of bats right as a car passed the duo.

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moonlitstoriess · 7 months ago

Text

Across the Universe-Final Chapter (Fenrys x reader)

Summary: Y/n has everything she needs in life. A family, friends, a safe place she calls home and most importantly a male whom she loves. What happens when it all changes when Y/n finds out about the betrayal of her lover and her so called family? Well, ending up in Terrasen and in queen Aelin's court was not what she expected but what she will need to start her new journey full of surprises.

Warnings: SMUT, Minors dni, some angst, violence, mentions of trauma.

See masterlist

A/n: Well, here we are guys, the end of the road. Final chapter. Thank you all so much for reading and loving this series just as much as I loved writing it. This one is quite long so I suggest you get a snack, get comfy and begin reading. Enjoy and I hope to see you again next time! <3

The next day passed swiftly with y/n training some more together with Dorian, Aelin, and Yrene, spending time with Fenrys and watching the others plan their attack on the valg. As the hours ticked by, y/n felt a heavy weight settle on her shoulders not just because of the thought of going home, but also failure. What if she fails? What if she can't even open the gates? What if the others fail? What if.....something happens to Fenrys?!

She didn't want to think about that. She didn't want to think about the "what ifs". Aelin told her how all she had to do was reach as deep as possible within herself to find her own abilities and bring them up. The queen also told y/n that once she opens the gate, she has to feel relaxed and confident in her self because no one will be able to save her or bring her back except herself.

It was later in the night that while they were having dinner, Arthur came rushing in with the Book of Breathings in his hand. His eyes were wide and his breaths were ragged as he set the book right next to Aelin.

"Forgive me, my queen, for interrupting your moment but there is an issue, this book is talking nonstop. No matter how many wards I put, it won't stop acting out of the ordinary."

Lysandra chuckled, "That thing always acts out of the ordinary, Arthur, just ignore it."

The librarian nervously shook his head as he said, "No, you don't understand. Just- just listen. It keeps on hissing and talking over and over. None of my spells work on it."

"He is close"

"Shifting gates"

"Trying, he is trying to come"

Rowan immediately gets up, taking the book in his hand, "Is it the valg or the foreigners?"

"Coming, he is coming"

"Shifting"

"Y/n, I think you should be the one to talk to this book because it seems like you are the only one it will ever answer due to your connection." Aelin's eyes were wide with worry as she adressed her.

Y/n hesitantly nodded her head and got up, Fenrys right behind her as she gestured for Rowan to put the book on the table that was standing between two couches. Once the prince set it down, she took a quick breath, reminded herself that Fenrys was right beside her, that she was safe, and opened her mouth.

"Is it Rhysand?"

"Yes."

"Is he coming alone?"

"No."

"Who else is coming?"

"All except the seer."

So Elain wasn't coming then. Y/n saw from her peripheral vision how Lucien's tense shoulders slightly sagged with relief.

With the room completely silent and all eyes on her, y/n leaned a little more towards the book and asked,

"Are they successful? Have they been able to find a way?"

"They have been trying. Lord of Night is close, true to his name as the most powerful fae, he has managed to get close."

"How?"

"Second-in-command"

"Amren? Did she find a way for Rhys to use his powers and find a solution?"

"A deal with Koschei. She made a deal."

Amren made a deal with one of the Old Gods? This can not end well.

"What kind of a deal?"

"Unknown. Koschei knew of my power and blocked everything but her out."

Y/n sighed but asked her final question.

"If they manage to get through, when will they arrive? You need a gate for that."

"Soon."

Soon. They may arrive soon. Y/n's heart felt heavier with each tense and silent second that passed.

"Well, it seems we will be having some guests soon."

Lorcan's sarcastic tone brought y/n out of her trance, causing her to look around the room before she felt Fenrys' hand in hers, gently soothing her.

Manon crossed her arms over her chest. "Whether they come or not is up to them to figure out but all we need is to be prepared for tomorrow which, I hope that we are."

As the discussion goes on, Aelin steps towards y/n, glancing between her and Fenrys, joined by their hands.

"Y/n, could I take you away for a moment?"

Fenrys looks down at her, his eyes questioning before she nods her head with a small smile and turns towards the queen. "Of course,"

Aelin smiles and gestures towards the other side of the room, away from all the noise. Fenrys squeezes her hand one last time in support and moves towards where everyone seems to be gathered in a circle, arguing.

Once she reached the queen, y/n looked at her expectantly, waiting to hear what she has to say. Aelin sighed before looking y/n straight in the eyes. "There is something that I didn't tell you about the closing of the gates."

Y/n's eyebrows furrowed. "But I thought you and Dorian told me everything that happened with you two when you were closing them."

"Dorian did tell you everything about what happened to him. I, however, didn't tell you what happened to me once I kicked Dorian out."

"Didn't you meet and then kill the Gods?"

"Yes, but after that I.....I ended up falling through worlds."

Y/n's eyebrows hit her hairline as she gasped "What?! How- What?!"

Aelin smiled slightly, "Well, after my 'lovely' encounter with the Gods, I ended up falling through worlds. So many different places, each more unique than the last. But it was too quick, I was just falling- almost flying through each gate. I was starting to loose hope when I fell into one world and saw a fae male with his pregnant mate looking up into the sky. It is thanks to whoever he was that I managed to slow down and find my way back home, back to my family, friends and most importantly, my mate."

Y/n's eyes were wide with wonder as she took a moment to process her words. After a minute, she cleared her throat, "That- that is unbelievable. Do you mean the same will happen to me?"

Aelin's expression turned serious as she placed her hand on y/n's shoulder and said, "That's what I wanted to talk to you about. I am not sure if such a thing will happen to you because I wasn't expecting it either but, whatever the case is, I wanted you to be aware of it. To be prepared and in the small chance that it does happen, be ready to find your way home because no one will be able to help you."

"And what if I can't? You said someone helped you to slow down. What if no one helps me? What if I just keep falling and falling forever?"

Aelin shook her head. "Listen to me, y/n. Yes, I may have gotten help to find my way back to this world but what mainly guided me was well, myself. My determination to see Rowan once again, my will to go back home and my confidence in my journey were what kept me from loosing my mind. I want you to do the same. Believe in yourself because if you don't, then no one will and you will fail to find your way back home. To your true home."

Y/n sighed "And how will I know where my true home is?"

She noted the quick glance Aelin gave to Fenrys before smiling back at her. "Home is wherever your heart is."

The queen gave her a small squeeze on the shoulder before joining her mate, leaving y/n to ponder what she meant. Deciding that she needed a moment of peace to herself, she left the room and headed towards...well, she had no idea where. All y/n knew was that she had to be alone for a little while and gather her thoughts.

Y/n kept on climbing stair after stair in one of the far towers of the palace. She might have been here for some time now, but y/n hadn't really explored the whole place, not that there even was any time for that, which is why she just kept following the stairs which seemed to keep moving upwards. She could just fly up now but y/n didn't think she had the energy for that at the moment.

Once she reached the top, there was a wooden door right in front the stairs, waiting for her to open it. When she did, the view knocked the breath out of her mouth. Y/n was standing on the rooftop of one of the palace towers, the night sky above painted in shimmering stars, the moon casting its glow over the fields and waters everywhere. This view was vastly different from the one she saw in the balcony because this place is so much more higher and-

Soft cushions! How lovely and peaceful. Y/n wished she could just stop the time and stay here like this forever. With a small smile, she sat down on one of the soft, large cushions and admired the view, or at least tried to with the kind of a mind she had right now. So much was happening, so many uncertainities, so many questions and complications, y/n didn't know what to do anymore. She just wanted to

"Disappear and never come back." Y/n closed her eyes as she pondered over what she just said out loud for only the stars in the night sky to hear.

“If you even think about disappearing, you’d better be ready for me to chase you to the ends of any world because I refuse to let your light be snuffed out.”

Y/n's eyes immediately pop open, her breath catching in surprise. She looks up to find Fenrys standing right above her, his intensity and passion clear in every line of his face.

Very well then, maybe the stars weren't the only ones to hear her small confession.

"Fenrys, what are you doing here- did you follow me?!"

He gave her a small smile and moved to sit next to her.

"In case you didn't know, my attention these days seems to only be focused on you so if you leave, that means I leave too."

"Don't you wish to be with your family? After all, tomorrow we have a battle to fight. I thought maybe you would want some privacy within the walls of your home-"

He gently took her hands in his larger ones and looked at her with an intense and serious gaze that couldn't even be explained.

"You are my home, y/n. You are my family. There is no me without you, I realize."

She scoffed. "Do not get your hopes up too high. There is a chance that I will simply die while trying to open the gates-"

His grip on her hands tightened. "Don't you dare finish that sentence, y/n."

The low growl that left his lips shouldn't make her feel this way, because this isn't the right time but.....y/n still felt her body betray her.

Her eyes widened slightly as she whispered, "You- you could move on-"

His face was mere inches away from her now, eyes intensely boring into hers. "Move on? You believe I could move on from the death of my mate?! My beloved? You?! Oh, princess if you die, I die too."

"W-what?! No!"

He smiled slightly, "Yes, I will kill myself so that I don't have to stay without my other half for who knows how long."

"Fenrys I-"

"I know, you haven't said anything about accepting or rejecting the bond but mate or not, I am hopelessly attached to you, y/n. This isn't obsession anymore, it's beyond that, I think...I think that I am starting to truly fall in love with you. Therefore, just as I said about never letting you disappear, I mean it even in death. I will follow you in death too."

Her eyes became glossy with tears as she smiled at Fenrys before hugging him and burying her face in the crook of his neck, smelling that delicious scent that is so distinctively him. Y/n felt his arms wrap protectively around her, his grip tightening as he pressed them as close as possible together.

She sighed, content to be in this male's arms before saying, "I have made my decision, Fen. I have an answer."

His arms slightly loosened from around her as she leaned back to look at him, her palms on his chest, a happy smile covering her face. Fenrys' gaze was full of mixed emotions, worry and fear being the main ones as he gazed expectantly at her.

With a determined voice she said, "Fenrys, I-"

But her sentence was cut off as a sharp pain overtook her body, making her bend over, hand going staright to her chest. Fenrys was immediately helping her, holding her firm yet gently as his shaky voice kept saying, "Y/n! What is happening?! Please princess, talk to me."

But she couldn't. Not when her whole body felt like it was being stabbed in all the places. Not when her chest felt heavy and she couldn't even breathe, let alone talk.

All she heard was the Book of Breathing's voice invading her mind and hissing, "They are close! They are coming!" "Come to me! Tell the queen to bring me to you!"

Everything was a blur, she distantly felt Fenrys pick her up and start running but her mind was in too much pain to process what was truly going on. The pain was becoming too much, too unbearable. At some point, y/n started screaming in agony. Or did she? She couldn't think anymore, didn't know what was real or imaginary.

Through the haze and the blur, she could only register that there were multiple heads around her, probably Aelin and others. There was a buzz in her ears that blocked out all the outer noises, including her cries and screams, except one.....Fenrys' rich, honey-like voice became her light at the end of a dark tunnel.

"Please, y/n, hold on a little more!"

"Princess, I am begging you, don't leave me!!"

"Y/n! Stay awake! Please!"

"Help her! Isolde, Yrene help her!"

"Don't fucking try to take me away Lorcan!!"

But then, all her pain suddenly stopped. Her muscles relaxed and her breathing slowly returned to normal, heart beating at a standard rate. Her mind started to slowly become aware as the books voice stopped banging through her walls. She slowly opened her eyes, hand immediately touching her face to feel her tear stained cheeks.

Her vision was still unclear but she could make out the silhouettes around her and just as she predicted, everyone was in the room, probably worriedly watching her-

She felt a hand on top of hers....not just any hand, Fenrys' hand. Her body seems to recognize and react to all of his touches.

"Y/n, princess, do you hear me?"

Her throat felt so dry and painful due to all the screams she had let out but, y/n managed to croak out a small "Y-yes"

She registered a couple of relieved sighs from around the room, someone saying "Oh, thank Aelin."

"Me? Why me?"

"You know, for being a queen, you still ask such silly questions. Whatever, the answer is....because you killed the Gods, of course!"

"Watch how you speak to my queen, Dorian."

"I-"

"Will you all silence yourselves?! Refocus your attention back to y/n, please!"

Y/n shut her eyes, hand gripping Fenrys' as she whispered, "Water, please."

She felt Fenrys grip loosen from her hand only to come behind her and help lift her into a sitting position as someone else helped her drink it.

Once she drank enough, y/n slowly opened her eyes, her haze starting to clear out as she noted the looks everyone around her were giving-

There was something on her lap.

Y/n tilted her head down and saw the same book that has been the bane of her existence ever since it sent her here, sitting right there, on her lap.

This is why her pain stopped. She is with the Book of Breathings, just like it told her.

"You kept screaming 'bring me the book' so, I ordered for it to immediately be brought here." Aelin's gentle voice invaded her mind, clearing her haze even more as y/n looked up at the queen in front of her bed.

The only word y/n could mutter as her hands gently touched the book was, "It says that they are coming. Rhys is ripping open the gates."

"Which explains your pain because you and the gates are clearly connected."

She slowly nodded her head at Aedion's words as Fenrys rubbed her back. "Let them come, then. No harm will come to you, princess. Not while I am here."

Lysandra cleared her throat "Not while we are here."

Aelin crossed her arms "I am aware that none of us are fond of those foreigners but, I will not tolerate any violence on my grounds unless they start it so, we shall greet them like we would anyone else. I am not saying be kind or all smiles, no. Just don't restort to physical violence and it shall be good. I am looking at you, Fenrys."

Fenrys just growled something incoherent and kept his gaze on the ground.

Dorian clapped his hands, "Well, it seems like none of us are getting any sleep tonight so we might as well go over our plans for one last time."

And as the hours passed and dawn started to slowly crack, y/n began to slowly burst with energy as she watched everyone around her plan, eat, drink, talk and plan some more. Her doubts forgotten temporarily as she snuggled closer to Fenrys' chest on the bed.

It was when she finally came outside with Fenrys to follow everyone into the war council room at the other end of the palace grounds, that it happened. The ground shook nonstop, the vibrations going all over her body. Fenrys immediately lunged for her, pinning her to the ground and covering her body with his as a blinding light just erupted all over the place, causing the guards and the rest of the court to also duck for a hiding spot and block their eyes.

A short moment later, the light vanished, leaving only a trail of smoke around. What in the Mother's name was tha-

A large gate opened and in came.....Rhysand, followed by the rest of them.

Cassian, Amren, Nesta, Feyre, Mor and.....Azriel. Oh, Gods.

Fenrys' heart was beating out of his chest as he tried to reel his mind back from what just happened while helping y/n up. Everyone around them were also getting up when another gate opened and in came complete strangers. As usual, Fenrys' first instinct was to move y/n to stand behind him but when he tried to do so, he saw how unmoving she was, her gaze transfixedon the newcomers.

That is when it clicked for him. This was Rhysand and his court. Fenrys turned his intense and calculating gaze towards them as Aelin and Rowan came forward, followed by the rest of the court while the guards surrounded the area.

The male standing at the front seemed poised and polished, even though his gaze told you all you needed to know. This had to be Rhysand. Holding his hand, was a golden-brown haired female with blue eyes. Probably Rhysands mate. There was a shoulder-length haired male with red siphons and wings just like y/n's except much larger. Next to him was a tall female with the same physical appearances as the other one. Probably sisters. There were two more females one tall, with golden blond hair, and the other short with black hair. The short one he saw once when she somehow appeared in his room and y/n called her.....Amren? And lastly, there was another winged male. Short, black hair cut close to his scalp, with a few strands covering his brows, golden-brown eyes and blue siphons. And some dark mist like things swirling all around him.

He already knew which was Rhysand so Fenrys took him out of the portrait. It was either the long haired one or the short haired one. The female beside long haired one was leaning too close to him. Too close to be considered nothing. And he was trying to shield her with his wing. So, they were definitely mates or atleast in some sort of a relationship. That left only the one with the blue siphons and weird shadows and from the way his eyes were looking all over the place in search of something, or rather someone, Fenrys knew that this had to be Azriel.

He was about to go towards him when he felt a hand on his shoulder. He turned his head sideways to see y/n looking at him with pleading eyes. "Please, not now." She whispered and how could he ever say no to her.

"It's you," Aelin's voice made them both turn their head towards where everyone was, the queen now standing face to face with Rhysand.

The high lord gave Fenrys' queen a smirk as he said, "So we meet again."

Aedion turned his head towards his cousin. "Aelin? What do you mean?"

She just kept looking at the male as she said to no one in particular, "Remember when I told you that I was falling through worlds? Well, I ended up in his world and saw him with his pregnant mate, looking into the sky. I was falling too fast so I thought I would just quickly pass through there but then I somehow slowed down due to the dark magic that enveloped me. You looked at me like you already knew where I was and gave me a smile and a wave before I was once again moving through worlds."

Rhysand nodded his head slightly as the female beside him said, "Rhys? Really?"

Aelin looked at the female, "I have to thank your mate. If it wasn't for him, I would have completely flown by my world and kept on falling for eternity. Thank you.....Rhysand."

That seemed to shock them all as Rhysand's eyes widened slightly before he once again was looking at the queen with cold indifference as he said, "How do you know my name?"

"Lucien," The blond female's gasp made the inner circle look beyond Aelin, Rowan, Lysandra and Aedion to see the rest of the court standing close by.

Lucien gave them all a cold look before drawing Petrah closer and holding her hand, the witches gaze never wavering away from the blond female's.

"What is this?! How did you end up here?!" The male with red siphons was now demanding as his eyes took in the whole area, coming to land on Fenrys, still not seeing y/n behind his tall and broad body.

Before anyone could answer, the short female said, "You are looking at the wrong one, Cassian." And then, as if she knew, her gaze darted to Fenrys before moving behind him, causing everyone else to also follow in her lead.

Fenrys felt y/n let out a deep sigh before moving to stand right beside him. He didn't want her to see them or for them to see her. All Fenrys wanted was to take her into his arms and disappear to a place where he could hide her forever. Just them two. They didn't deserve to set their nasty gazes on her. Especially not that fucker Azriel. Fenrys was barely keeping his rage at bay, one wrong move and they are done for.

He saw how all of their expressions went from being skeptical to being shocked. Azriel the most of all. He nearly fell down on his knees if not for the blond beside him, gripping him by the arm to try and stabilize him. He let out a disbelieving "Y/n..." as his shaking hands came to grip his hair.

Fenrys took her hand, silently letting her know that he and the rest of them are here, with her and that no harm will come her way. Y/n looked at each of them with the cold indifference she once used to give to Fenrys and that made him feel a little better knowing that they weren't getting any nice gestures or words out of her.

Rhysand looked at Azriel before saying, "Y/n, we have been looking everywhere for you. You have no idea how difficult it was to try and locate you, next time try to not disappear so suddenly on us, alright?" His statement landed flat as y/n gave no reaction to her once high lord.

That's my witchling, Fenrys proudly thought to himself.

Azriel tried to slowly take steps towards her but was stopped by Rowan and Aedion who stood in front of Fenrys while Dorian, Chaol and Lorcan had his and y/n's back. "Not so fast, bat. Who said you could go near her?"

Rowans tone made the winged male's gaze snap to him before moving to look at y/n. "Y/n! Please, my love, please, let us talk. I am begging you, let me in."

My love? My fucking love?

Oh, this male has a death wish, that is for sure.

"Don't." Lorcan's quiet but firm command from behind Fenrys made him pause and take in a deep breath to still cling into that thin thread of not resorting to violence and murder.

He felt y/n's hand shake as she also took in a sharp breath. Now, he was starting to doubt everything. To worry. What if she chooses Azriel? What if she leaves?

But then, he heard her say, "I have nothing to say to you, Azriel."

Azriel, however kept shaking his head, trying but failing to pass through Rowan and Lorcan. Although he is a quite big male, he is nothing near Fenrys and his two brothers, Rowan and Lorcan. None of them were. This would be over before it even began.

"No! No! You don't understand. Please, y/n! Let us talk! Let me explain!"

"Come home now, y/n. We found you." came Cassians voice from the other side.

"Yes, let us go back home and talk rationally there." Rhysands mate said as she looked kindly at y/n. But Fenrys knew better than to trust that look. After all, didn't she also contribute to y/n's declining mental state?

"You are safe now, you are with us once more, come." Fenrys noticed how Rhysands voice held a pleading tone within it as he addressed y/n.

Azriel kept on looking straight at her, either ignoring or not seeing Fenrys standing right beside her. That made him very irritated.

Y/n, still keeping her indifferent mask, said with a cold tone, "I am not coming home."

That shocked not just the inner circle, but Fenrys and his family too as everyone now looked at her.

Azriel's eyes widened as he immediately asked, "What?! Why?! Y/n, no! you know that we are together, that we must solve this issue and b happy once more-"

"No. You have a mate."

"No! I don't love her, I love you-"

"No, you don't."

"Why?! Why are you doing this to me?! Please, my love, Please, come home."

"I can't."

"Why?!"

"Because I have a mate!!"

That seemed to shut Azriel up as his and the inner circle's eyes widened in utter shock.

Y/n continued, her tone harsh as she tightly gripped Fenrys' hand.

"I have a mate here and I am not leaving. I also found my true family here, the one that doesn't neglect me or my troubles for their own benefit. My purpose is here, my life is here, my home is here."

Then she turned her head towards Fenrys, her gaze immediately softening as a small smile graced her lucious lips before she said, "I accept. I accept the bond, Fen."

The second she said that, Fenrys felt an overwhelming feeling overtake him as their bond finally came alive and he was flooded with both her and his emotions. Fenrys couldn't hide the huge smile that overtook him as he asked, "Really?!"

She smiled and nodded. "Really."

He couldn't believe this. He couldn't even explain what he was feeling. All Fenrys now knew was that she was truly his and he was truly hers. She won't leave. They are together forever.

"I accept the bond as well, princess."

He barely managed to finish his sentence before she gripped the collar of his shirt and pulled him down to kiss him. Fenrys immediately took a hold of her waist as he kissed her back just as hungrily and ferociously. Once he remembered that they have an audience, he hesitantly pulled away but not without giving her lips one last peck, a promise of more to come later on.

When they both looked back around, Fenrys saw how his family had knowing and proud looks on their faces, some smiling and some, like the idiots Dorian and Aedion, fully smirking mischeviously. On the other hand, Rhysand and his court were in pure and utter shock and seeing Azriels pain stricken face as he looked between him and her brought Fenrys so much pleasure.

"I am not leaving either." Came Lucien's voice as they all looked back at him.

The female beside the male whom Amren called Cassian recovered from her shock and crossed her arms. "Let me guess, you have found your mate as well, haven't you?"

The prince nodded his head as he let go of Petrah's hand only to pull her closer by the waist.

The blond female said, "And what about your brother? Your family?Elain-"

"I have ended everything with Elain. She was no true mate of mine."

"But she is sorry, Lucien. She is so sorry for treating you that way, for letting you go-"

"Well, too late. I couldn't really give less of a fuck anymore."

The blond female's gaze moved to Petrah before coming back to Lucien. "You know, I always knew you would end up being a traitor. I guess being a snake runs in the family-"

"Finish that sentence, I dare you." Petrah's tone was filled with warning as she glared back at the blond.

"Oh really? And what will happen when he will leave you too, claiming some bullshit like you weren't true mates and he needs to move on. What then? Believe me, you are nothing but a toy for him."

Before Lucien could say anything, Petrah moved away and started to slowly go towards the blond. A smirk overtaking her face as she said, "It's not my fault that the ladies of Prythian are such insecure crybabies. I know your true intentions, Mor. I know them very well. You couldn't care less about Lucien's mate fiasco, your problem is with his brother. You keep on projecting your anger at him because of his brother but let me tell you something, not anymore. You will not longer say stupid shit at him unless you want me to rip your tounge out."

Mor's gaze turned angry as she also came closer but faltered in her steps when Petrah let her iron teeth and nails show slightly. Manon's voice came loud and confident as she stood beside the witch.

"Careful with how you talk to us iron teeth witches, and especially be careful when I am present because you are trying to insult my subject. My second-in-command. And I don't take well to anyone trying to cross my kin. That includes y/n."

"You are a witch?"

"Y/n isn't your kin, witch. She is an Illyrian."

Nesta and Rhysand spoke at the same time, the female's eyes filled with wonder as she asked her question while the high lords gaze harsh as he looked straight at Manon.

Manon smirked and looked back at y/n, causing her to smirk back before pulling away from Fenrys and going towards the witch.

"I am an iron teeth witch as well." She easily let her teeth and nails show enough to have them surprised and then retracted them back.

The stunned silence and the increasing tension between Azriel and Fenrys was cut off by Aelin who cleared her throat, forcing Fenrys to stop glaring at the Illyrian who was glaring back just as harshly.

"Rhysand, I believe you got your answer from y/n. She wishes to stay here, with us and with her mate. I hope you will only act rationally and respect her wishes-"

"Respect her wishes? Her wish to throw us away like she wasn't with us for so many years? Her wish to completely discard the family-"

"Family?!" Y/n's once again cold voice cut Nesta off from her rambling as she looked slightly dumbstruck at y/n.

"You call yourselves my family?! Well, let me tell you something, my dear 'family', a family doesn't neglect its members, a family doesn't cover up the dirt of one of its members just because they saw him as closer to them," She directs her glare at Mor, "A family doesn't walk in on one of their own having a panick attack and then pretends as if nothing happened." Her gaze roams over everyone now, "A family doesn't say 'it is in the past, get over it' when someone tells them of their troubles, a family doesn't ignore someone who is clearly descending into depression and pretend as if everything is perfect. And lastly...." Her gaze stops on Azriel "A family doesn't get to pretend like they are loyal and care about you when all they had been doing was hiding the truth from me about the male I once loved."

The male I once loved.

Fenrys couldn't hide the smirk on his face as he watched them all, stunned in silence, Azriel's wide eyes staring at her in shock, body trembling, clearly out of words.

He was so proud of her. So, so, proud of his y/n, his witchling, his princess,

His mate.

"Y/n-"

"No-"

"Oh, y/n-"

"I am so sorry-"

"It was none of our intention-"

"Save it. All of you. Rhysand, you got your answer from me. I am not coming with you. You may leave now."

"No, actually, they can't."

Everyone looked at Dorian who now pushed through Rowan and Aedion to get to the front and faced Rhysand.

"The lunar eclipse is today, in about eight or nine hours from now and if they open the gates once more,"

"The magic will shift again, causing the gates to open in wrong locations," Amren seemingly caught on to the kings theory.

He nodded his head before continuing, "And because y/n has the special connection with the book, the gates and all, she may end up failing when trying to close them. Or worse, she could end up in different places. We can't risk it. I suggest you stay until the lunar eclipse. Once that starts, y/n will be busy with the gates while we will be busy with the valgs. She will close every gate. Once defeated, she can manage to send you home before finally sealing this gate as well."

Dorian was looking at Aelin now, expecting her to say something. She nodded her head as she looked back at Rhysand. "What do you say? And before you ask, I swear this is no ruse to get you all trapped or whatever, y/n will truly close the gates today. No violence or harm shall come from our side to you unless you start it. Then, I can't promise you anything.

Before Rhysand could say anything, Cassian asked, "What is a valg and how for Mother's sake can y/n connect with gates?"

Feyre nudged him in the ribs before looking back at Aelin, "We accept. We will stay for the next however many hours and help-"

"Your help isn't needed." Both y/n and Lysandra spoke at the same time, their gazes equally defensive.

"Needed or not, that is the only way we can ensure they don't end up in a wrong place and then blame us for it." Azriel's glare went towards Rowan as he said, "You think you are so smart, don't you? You think you know it all? How fucking pathetic."

Clearly, Azriel wasn't in his right mind right now but that didn't make Fenrys any less furious for the way that prick talked to his friend and prince.

Rowan didn't even give Azriel an ounce of his attention as he took ahold of Aelin's waist, pulling her closer and looked at Rhysand. "I assume you are their ruler. What do you say?"

Rhysand assesed everyone before looking back at the queen and the prince consort as he said, "We may have hurt y/n and broken her trust but she hasn't broken ours. If she trusts you enough to be here, we shall trust you enough to be here. I also swear to keep my members in line and make sure no harm comes from our side either."

Aelin nodded as she said, "Very well, then. Follow me." She turned to leave with Rowan beside her followed by everyone else but Fenrys stayed back when he saw y/n quickly say something to Aelin before coming towards him only to be stopped by Azriel getting in her way.

Oh, you little fucker.

"Y/n, please, there has been a misunderstanding. Please, let us talk-"

She didn't even acknowledge a word he said as she moved past him and headed straight towards Fenrys, taking ahold of his hand before moving in the opposite direction to the wing in which her room was located in.

She saw how Fenrys gave the Illyrian a smirk before turning around and following his mate.

"I have been dying to get to you! I have been so sorry! Please!"

His cries for her went on deaf ears as she led her mate towards the palace. Once inside her room, Fenrys said, "What was that about-"

"Shhhh"

She silenced him with a quick peck to his lips before once more taking his hand and a small lamp while leading him towards the very place she felt the need to show him. The Crystal Caverns. When she moved the creaked floorboard, Fenrys' shock was evident on his face as he looked at the stairs leading into the darkness beyond.

"What- how- what is this? Since when has it been here?"

She turned to look at him and smiled. "I discovered it a little while after I came here. Trust me, Fen. You won't regret it. Just follow me."

He took ahold of her hand as he said with the most serious tone ever, "I will always follow you, my princess. I trust you enough to lead me anywhere."

She couldn't hide the overflow of emotions she felt for him and from the looks on his face, Fenrys felt all of them as well through the now golden bond.

After a while of walking while telling Fenrys all about the place, they finally arrived at the breathtaking location of crystal caverns. Y/n watched every move and reaction that Fenrys made as his wide eyes took in the place, mouth wide open in utter bewilderment.

She smiled and let him look around as she moved towards the small glittering lake, staring into the beautiful and translucent colors eminating from it due to the crystals underwater.

"It is beautiful, isn't it, Fen?"

"It is, but not as beautiful as you." His voice sounded from right near her ear, slightly startling her as y/n turned her head sideways and looked at him.

And then, she whispered the words that changed the mood completely.

"My mate,"

Fenrys' eyes visibly turned darker as his pupils dilated, his breath suddenly coming in ragged breaths and the small scent of his arousal hitting her nose immediately. Y/n herself felt all hot as she squeezed her thighs to try and keep her arousal from him but....from the way Fenrys suddenly turned her around and breathed her in, nuzzling his head in her neck and groaning, y/n knew it was fruitless to hide from him. Not anymore.

He pulled his head away slightly, face mere inches away from hers as he whispered, "Ask me to kiss you."

Her reply came immediately, "Kiss me, Fenrys."

She barely managed to finish the sentence when his lips collided with hers. His tounge invading her mouth as they both fought for dominance in their hungry kiss, Fenrys eventually getting the upper hand.

Without breaking the kiss, she tugged at his tunic, signaling for him to take it off. Fenrys didn't need anymore telling as he immediately ripped it away, hands then coming to help her unclasp her ties in the back of her dress. Once that was on the floor, she was left in her undergarments which caused him to break away and step back to admire her body, her scars and her curves.

She tried to move her hands and cover her exposed areas but his fierce, dominating voice stopped her in her tracks.

"Don't you dare."

She put her hands down immediately, letting him devour her with just his yes. Another wave of arousal overtook her as she felt herself getting wetter.

"Take off your undergarments and get in the water, princess."

She did as he told her, slowly taking off each piece while keeping her eyes on his. Once she was completely naked, Fenrys groaned loudly as he took her in from head to toe.

"Gods, you are perfect. And all fucking mine."

"And you are mine."

He clearly enjoyed her posessive tone as slowly started to take down his pants with a smirk. "Oh, yeah, princess?"

She nodded her head slowly, eyes admiring every inch of him as Fenrys took off his last garment that hid his prominent erection from her. And oh Gods.....the sheer size and girth of him made her knees buckle. His tip was all red and angry, waiting for her.

She slowly glided her gaze back to his before turning around and seductively swaying her hips on her way towards the lake. Once she entered it, the warm water reaching her mid-ribs, she turned to look at him. Fenrys' eyes never left hers as he took deliberately slow steps towards her, eventually also immersing himself in the water.

They were standing chest to chest now, Fenrys' hand slowly rised out of the water as he moved a strand of her hair behind her ear. He then gently took ahold of the back of her head, bringing their lips closer as her arms went to his biceps. The kiss was full of words they couldn't express. Desperation, hunger, posessiveness, obsession and adoration. Both of their hands exploring each others assets as he gently squeezed her cheek underwater causing a small yelp to come out of her, granting him the access he needed to fully devour her mouth.

After a while, his mouth moved to her jaw and then her neck, leaving open mouthed and desperate kisses but also bites that clearly marked her as his. Y/n tried to hide her moans but stopped when he lifted his head, looking down on her as he said in an attractively raspy voice, "Don't hide your pretty noises from me, princess. There is no one here and even if there was, they would know that you are mine and mine alone so sing for me, witchling."

She did as he asked, letting her moans out as Fenrys kept on going lower and lower, kissing over her collarbones and scars before reaching her breasts and sucking one, while playing with the other. She could feel his hard erection pressing right against her now, causing her to squeeze her thighs which led to Fenrys letting out a strangled moan.

"Fen, please,"

He lifted his head, one hand slowly submerging underwater to slowly find its way towards the place she needed him in the most.

"Please what?"

"Please-" Her gasp cut off her sentence as one of his long and thick fingers entered her mound, causing her eyes to roll back and hands clench on his biceps.

"Please what, princess?"

"I-" A second finger entered her, making her head fall onto his shoulder, small moans emitting from her mouth.

"Princess, what happened?"

Before she even processed his words, a third finger was inside her, invading her walls as his pace quickened, his palm now hitting her cunt as she felt that spark within her build up.

"D-don't s-s-stop"

"Wasn't planning to, princess."

His other hand took ahold the back of her neck as he moved her head back and attacked her neck once more. Her release was quickly building up and his lips on her neck just intesified it tenfold.

His lips came to her ear, hot breath hitting her as he said, "You are mine now, this cunt is mine, this ass is mine, this body is mine, your everything is mine. You are mine and I will prove it to you in every possible way."

That was her undoing as with a final thrust, she let out a loud moan and came all over his fingers, chest heaving up and down as she slowly looked at him through the haze within her and oh, Gods....he was watching her the entire time, his intense and hungry eyes fixed on her completely as he slowly took his hand out from underwater and licked his fingers, groaning at the taste of her on his tounge, causing her to flush red.

"Y/n-"

Y/n didn't give him a chance to finish his sentence before she leapt on to him, joining their lips once more and tasting herself on his tounge. She pulled away slightly, both of them panting heavily as she whispered, "Fuck me, Fenrys."

He groaned out a "Fuck, princess. You are killing me. Jump."

She wasted no time in jumping on to him, Fenrys catching her under the thighs as he lined his cock with her entrance. He slowly entered her, inch by inch, making her let out a silent moan before he kissed her fiercely. Her grip behind his neck tightened as her hands tangled in his hair and her mound took in more and more of him with each stretch until he was fully inside her.

He gave her time to adjust before she nuzzled her head in his neck and whispered a "Move, please."

He started off slow, not wanting to hurt her and y/n already felt so full, her pain quickly dissolving into pleasure as she soon started to kiss and bite his throat, causing him to moan loudly as he picked up his pace, balls slapping against her skin.

Their moans echoed all throughout the place as her walls tightened around him, his tip constantly hitting her spongy spot. Her mind was completely hazy, her mouth was open, everything was a blank. She thought nothing but Fenrys and how good he felt. How she never wanted to leave this cave and make this moment end. She wanted to be with him, forever.

They came together and stayed like that for a while before their newly mated bond caused their insatiable need for one another to renew. After they fucked like rabbits in almost every part of the cave, after Fenrys ate her out who knows how many times more, they were both spent as they lay on the ground, limbs all tangled, bodies all wet with sweat and water as she put her head on his beating chest while he caressed her hair and looked up at the crystals covering the rocky ceilings.

"You know, we Illyrian's have very sensitive wings."

"Yes, you told that to Eva."

"But what I didn't tell her is that, that sensitivity also applies in sex. There is a specific place within the muscles in our wings that if touched properly, we can just cum from that alone."

"Oh, yeah? Hmmm I will test that out for my self soon enough then."

But then she felt his hand on her back, touching her biggest scar and suddenly her mood dampened.

"Who gave you all these scars, princess?"

She sighed and closed her eyes as she whispered, "A cruel monster."

His hands kept on gently caressing her even though she felt his body slightly stiffen as he whispered back, "Where is he now?"

"Dead."

"You killed him?" She heard the surprise in his voice as she nodded her head, still refusing to look at him and said, "My first kill. I was twenty."

"How did he give these scars to you?"

"Let that be a story for another time. I don't wish to talk about it now."

And so they didn't talk. Not with words atleast. But Fenrys made sure to show her all the love with his body as they stayed in the crystal caverns for a little more before bathing in the small lake and then leaving the place hand in hand. Their joy at finally being joined in both body and soul emanating from them both.

Fenrys had never felt so fulfilled in his life before. Finally being with his mate after years of being alone brought him the peace he has been seeking for so long. Even though they are about to face something so terrifying, Fenrys knew that they would be fine as long as their bond stayed strong.

Everyone was in the war council chamber when they entered the room. His protective instincts made Fenrys draw her closer to his body before moving towards the side of the area in which his family was. The high lord, who was listening to Aelin's plans carefully, failed to hide the shame on his face when y/n entered the room. All of their eyes were on her as Fenrys led her to sit with the women; Manon, Petrah, Yrene, Lysandra and Elide.

The anger from Azriel could be felt even if they were miles and miles apart and that alone made Fenrys full with pride.

"Finally, after three hours, you decide to grace us with your prese- oh, now I see." Lorcan had the most mischevious grin on his face as he smelled Fenrys and then looked over at y/n.

Fenrys, still not taking his eyes off of Azriel's intense gaze from across the room, asked Lorcan, "How was it while we were gone?"

Lorcan just scoffed as he looked around the place, his eyes coming to land on Rowan and Aelin explaining whatever to Rhysand and his court.

"I came this close to ripping off that Cassians head about three times in the past hour alone. He is giving all of us these dirty looks, well, how about he tries to give me that look when I am punching him into the ground. His mate-Nesta- is no different- did you know, she also has some death powers like bringing dead people to her feet or something? Apparently they call her lady death."

"Anyways, then that Mor kept looking at Lucien and Petrah which caused her to at some point yell at Mor something like 'If you keep staring some more, I won't hesitate to rip your throat out' and that caused Mor to challenge her and then the whole place turned into a disaster of two sides arguing before Rhysand managed to interfere and calm his court down."

And then, Lorcan's eyes widened as he turned to look at Fenrys with a huge smile and hit him on the arm. "Oooh and my favorite moment was when in the middle of a somewhat civil-as civil as you can get with these barbarians-discussion, Azriel asked where was y/n and Dorian decided it would be a great idea to provoke him by saying 'with her mate, probably fucking.' Oh, Godsss, you should have seen that pricks face, Fenrys. It was like all the color got drained out of him."

Fenrys noted to thank Dorian later on for that as a huge grin overtook his face. He then looked towards the windows where his beautiful mate was with Manon, Petrah and Yrene now, listening attentively as the healer explained something to her by pointing into the book. Even seeing her caused a soft smile to overtake his features as he admired what was now his.

Once all of this was over, he would take her away for some time where it could be just the two of them, basking in their newly found relationship. He looked back at Lorcan and said, "Care for a walk?"

"I would love to." Dorian's voice interrupted Lorcan's as the king popped from behind Lorcan.

Lorcan rolled his eyes. "No one invited you, little king."

Dorian just shrugged as Chaol, Lucien and Aedion also came to stand with them.

"Oh, well. We are all about to risk our lives once more so might as well have a lovely little walk beforehand."

Aedion nodded his head. "Rowan and Aelin seem to have it handled. Just get me out of here, please. I don't know how much of this tension I can take."

Fenrys sighed, "Very well. Looks like what was meant to be an only two person chat will end up becoming a five person chat."

Lucien smirked, "We can't miss the exciting conversation about how you and y/n mated, you know."

Chaol rolled his eyes as they moved to first kiss their women a temporary goodbye. "You are acting as if you and Petrah didn't also just newly mate."

Lucien hugged his mate before pressing a soft kiss to her cheek, causing her to smile up at him. "We will take turns in telling."

Fenrys ignored the rest of the conversation as he moved to kiss his woman fiercely, leaving her breathless once they detached, her eyes once more filling with lust.

"We will be back soon, little warrior."

Her eyes darted to the others before a small blush crept up her cheeks and she smiled while nodding.

Gods, she was so adorable, Fenrys just wanted to eat her whole.

They left the room and headed towards the royal gardens when an irritating voice stopped them.

"You think you can take my mate from me and get away with it, you viper?!"

Fenrys and the others immediately turned around to find Azriel and Cassian heading straight towards them as Cassian tried but failed to hold him back by the shoulder.

Lorcan and Aedion immediately stepped forward but Fenrys pushed them back, all of their warnings of 'Don't do it.' 'Don't fall for his games' 'He is just provoking you' 'Ignore him' fell on deaf ears as Fenrys stood proud and tall when Azriel--who turned out to be a couple of inches shorter--came to stand right in front of his face.

Cassian, whose slightly anxious eyes now darted towards Lorcan due to his huge size, tried to once again push his brother back but failed miserably when Azriel snarled in Fenrys' face.

"You won't get away with this. She is mine and she knows it. Y/n will come home with me and we will be together once more."

Fenrys kept his indifferent mask on as he said, "Don't you have a mate? Hmmm I wonder what she would think if her beloved is here trying to get back what was never his to begin with."

Azriels eyes narrowed into slits as he said, "You are no mate for her. You are undeserving of her. Who do you think you are? Nobody but a stranger from a different world who interfered with our relationship-"

The dam broke.

The wolf was unleashed.

Fenrys landed his first blow right into Azriel's jaw and hit him with the second one right in the ribs before he even had time to think about it.

Azriel staggered back, a sharp breath escaping his lips as he struggled to regain his footing. His eyes, usually calm and calculating, now burned with a fierce, unyielding fire. The air between them crackled with tension, charged with the raw energy of their confrontation.

With a snarl, Azriel righted himself, his dark wings flaring as he used their power to launch himself back into the fray. He swung a powerful arc with his staff, aiming to catch Fenrys off guard. But Fenrys was ready. With a swift, practiced move, he dodged the blow and countered with a spinning kick that connected solidly with Azriel’s midsection.

In the distance, he could hear shouts and screams. Probably his brothers stopping Cassian or maybe Lorcan too, is releasing his anger on Cassian or maybe they are trying to stop Fenrys. Whatever the case is, he didn't care. Fenrys tried. He tried for y/n. Tried for his queen and tried for his brother but no, Azriel had to breach the line and now, he was facing the consequences.

Azriel grunted, the impact sending him crashing into a nearby stone pillar. He pushed himself up with a growl of determination, wiping a trickle of blood from his split lip. His gaze locked onto Fenrys with renewed intensity.

“Is that all you’ve got?” Azriel’s voice was a low, dangerous growl.

Fenrys smirked, the adrenaline of battle fueling his movements. He advanced, his movements fluid and fierce, each step calculated to keep Azriel on the defensive. He feigned a left jab, only to deliver a right hook to Azriel’s temple.

Maybe in their world, Azriel, Cassian and Rhysand are considered the best, the largest, the most powerful. But here? Azriel was nothing but a faeling for Fenrys. None of them were match for the Cadre.

Azriel reeled, but he quickly recovered, his eyes narrowing as he harnessed his power. In a swift, fluid motion, he conjured a blade of shadow and lashed out with it. The dark blade cut through the air with a menacing hiss. Fenrys barely had time to react, raising his forearm to block the strike. The blade scraped against his skin, leaving a searing, burning sensation in its wake.

He spread his wings wide, using them to shield himself from Fenrys’s next onslaught. As Fenrys closed in, Azriel’s dark magic surged, swirling around him in a protective barrier.

Fenrys didn’t hesitate. He gathered his strength and charged through the barrier with a roar, breaking through the swirling shadows and driving Azriel back with a brutal series of strikes. The clash of their powers reverberated through the air, each blow resonating with the intensity of their struggle.

Azriel’s breath came in ragged gasps as he fought to keep up with Fenrys’s relentless assault. Azriel's shadows seemingly decided to leave him alone, disappearing into who knows where. Fenrys managed to pin him to the ground, delivering blow after blow, his anger knowing no bounds or limits.

He could shift into a wolf but then that would mean that he has to kill Azriel and although he would love nothing more, Fenrys was still sensible enough to know that by doing it, he would unleash a myriad of unwanted problems.

He saw nothing and heard nothing but Azriel and his bone crunching under Fenrys' fists. Oh the pleasure it brought to him to finally have him like this-

Two small hands were on his, trying to drag him away-

He would know these hands and this scent anywhere. The only one who can ever calm him down. His princess, his witchling, his mate.

Y/n.

"Fen, please stop this!"

"Please, Fenrys!"

He let go of Azriel as y/n managed to drag him away, the rest of their family coming to circle all around him.

"Gods, Fenrys. Are you out of your mind?!" Aedion.

"I think I made it clear when I said no fights!" Aelin.

"You did so good, Fenrys. Thanks to you I got to punch Cassian when he tried to attack us for beating up Azriel." fucking Lorcan.

"Look at your hands!" Yrene.

"Why did I even try with warning you in the first place?" Rowan.

"Fen, please, look at me." His love, y/n.

Fenrys' eyes immediately snapped up to her and before anyone could say anything else, he grabbed her by the waist and hoisted her up onto his shoulder, pushing through others and heading towards the palace.

"Fenrys!"

"Fen, please put me down!"

He ignored her.

A sigh. "Atleast go to the healing hut where we can do something about those bloody knuckles of yours."

He obliged.

Once in the healing hut, he put her down before she knocked on Isolde's door and entered it once the healer opened it.

"Oh Fenrys, what have you done?" Isolde said while slightly shaking her head and gesturing for them to sit down as she went to search for some medicine. Y/n turned to look at him with all the worry in the world evident in her hypnotizing eyes.

"What were you thinking? You promised-"

"He provoked me too much. I couldn't hold it back anymore."

She sighed as Isolde came back with a small wooden box in her hand, giving it to y/n. "Apply this salve over his injuries, they should heal in a days time."

Y/n nodded and said her thanks before the healer turned and left to another corner of the room. Y/n opened the circular box and wiped some of the salve with her fingers before taking his right hand in hers and gently applying it onto them.

"Well, thank you."

Fenrys' eyes widened slightly. "Thank you? For what?"

She smiled. "For standing up for me. For protecting my honor. Azriel is in a horrible condition, you know. If you continued some more, he would end up dead."

Fenrys grunted. "Should've kept punching, then."

She moved her hands from his to his face, cupping it and bringing him closer to her as she looked between his eyes, "I am glad you didn't, Fen. What you already have done has been more than enough. I am so proud of you for everything."

He smiled softly at her as his arm came around her waist, pulling her closer to him as he delivered a soft kiss to his mate's delectable lips.

The next hours passed in high tensions as neither of the courts spoke with each other, only acknowledging one another when needed. As the hours drew closer, y/n just kept her anxious thoughts at bay by burying herself in her mate's arms as they sat on a couch in the sitting room with their family around.

Finally, as she watched her mate and friends choose weapons for the battle, y/n felt her fears slowly to start creeping up-

"Everything will be fine, you will do just fine." Yrene's soothing voice sounded in her ear as they both stood on the sidelines and watched everything going around them.

Dorian entered the room with the book in hand, heading towards them as he said, "The best place for this will be in the forest, ladies. We don't need to destroy any furniture, you know."

Y/n and Yrene smiled as the former said, "Let us get going as well then."

"And not say farewell to us?" Aelin's feigned hurt tone made them look at her, all strapped with weapons as y/n said, "Of course not before that."

"Good, because I don't think I can leave without kissing you some more." Lorcan said to his wife as Elide giggled.

"Get a room, you two." Dorian's disgust at them vanished the second he had Manon in his arms and began devouring her face.

"Such babies," Yrene said while shaking her head as she let her husband hug her tightly.

In the other side of the room, Lysandra, Aedion and Eva were having their own family moment as Fenrys approached y/n.

“Be careful please,” she said as Fenrys hugged her in his arms, inhaling her scent.

“If being careful means coming back to you, then I most certainly will be.”

She nuzzled her head in his chest, “I am afraid, Fen.”

He kissed the top of her head gently, “Don’t be, I will send you energy through the bond if I feel you declining.”

She closed her eyes, pure bliss overtaking her “Hmmm”

“If any of those vipers try to do something to you-“

“Fen, no. They won’t because they are ashamed to even look at me in the eye. I will be fine.”

“We are leaving, everyone!” Aelin’s voice boomed across the room as the couples began detaching.

“Ask me to kiss you.”

She smiled and pulled away. “Not this time, Fen. I will kiss you when you comeback home to me. Alive.”

He smiled back and said, “Very well, witch.”

And before she knew it, with a final look, he was heading towards Rowan and Aelin.

Once they were gone, Dorian told the guards to inform Rhysand and his court that it is time.

As they began preparing for their short journey to the woods, the inner circle entered. Y/n felt her body tense slightly but decided to ignore them all and keep her hands busy with helping Yrene roll the scriptures.

Lucien came into the room a moment later as Eva crossed her arms and asked him, “And where, pray tell, were you?”

He just smiled sheepishly and said, “Can’t a male have his privacy with his mate?”

Elide snickered before they heard a scoff from the other side of the room….Mor.

Y/n put her hand on his shoulder and whispered, “Ignore them, they will be gone soon, Lu.”

He just nodded his head stiffly but didn’t say anything else.

“Very well, everyone. Time to leave.” Dorian announced as he exited the door, book in hand.

During their walk, y/n felt like she could cut the tension with a knife as the inner circle followed them through the woods. At some point, Nesta tried to speak to her but y/n cut her off with an ‘I don’t want to hear it.’

More also tried apologizing for the whole panic attack situation but, y/n ignored her too. Azriel could barely even walk, let alone breathe as Cassian, who had a giant bruise on his cheekbone, held his brother up.

She just kept close to her friends and followed the path Dorian went. When they finally arrived, the place looked like some sort of a ritual point. A huge circle made out of stone held up large boulders with unique carvings on them as green ivy’s covered most of the ground and surrounding area.

Dorian placed the book in the very center and then turned to look at y/n. “Tell it to open the right page.”

Y/n came forward and put her hand on the book, her body filling with energy as she looked down at the object and said, “Open the right page.”

The book needed no more commands as it’s pages flipped through on their own accord, coming to land on a text with ancient writing.

Yrene nodded her head before turning to look at the inner circle. “Since you all will be leaving together, I suggest you do not separate at all.”

Rhysand gave her a short, curt, nod before turning to his court and saying something in a low voice to them.

Dorian looked at Lucien, Elide, Eva, Yrene and then at her as he said, “Very well, family. Y/n, the lunar eclipse shall begin in…when will it begin again Yrene?”

The healer looked up into the sky and said, “If my calculations were correct, in exactly two minutes.”

“So, once the eclipse begins, I put my hand on this writing and hone in my energy?”

They all gave her small nods before Eva asked, “Are we sure that the gates will open?”

Dorian just sighed. “For our sake, let us hope that they will.”

“I think it is starting.” Elide announced as she looked upwards, followed by everyone else as y/n heard Feyre gasp and say, “What is happening?”

“It is time.” Dorian looked at y/n, a small encouraging smile on his face as Yrene opened her scriptures and began reciting the spells she deciphered from the book in the library. What they did, y/n had no idea but she trusted the healer too much to ever doubt her skills.

Elide, Lucien and Eva stood nearby, observing and ready to help at any second as the inner circle too, came closer.

Y/n could feel all the eyes on her as she sighed and closed her eyes, bringing her palm up and on to the page.

The second her hand landed on the magical writing, her blood felt molten, her body feeling too heavy. It was like she was burning from the inside.

And then, all of a sudden, it was as if something gripped her from the back and yanked her into darkness.

“Elara’s daughter”

“The connected”

“The key”

“The chosen one”

Multiple ancient voices were hissing all around her as y/n kept on falling through the darkness.

“Have you come to close the gates, child?”

“Fool, you shall die.”

She fell and fell until her back hit something strong. With a groan, y/n got up and looked around, only mist and fog were around her. What was this place?

She couldn’t see much due to the fog but she tried her best and stretched her arms in front of her to try and feel where she was going.

“You think you can close the gates and keep end the valgs?”

She suddenly turned around to find a towering figure emerging from the mist. Cloaked in shadows, its eyes glowed a piercing blue, cutting through the darkness. The figure seemed to absorb the very light around it, creating an aura of dread that chilled y/n to her core.

"You think you can close the gates and end the valgs?" The voice echoed again, this time more pronounced, filled with both curiosity and malice.

"I have to," y/n whispered, her voice trembling yet determined. "It's my destiny."

The figure laughed, a cold, harsh sound that reverberated through the void. "Destiny, child? Or a curse?"

With a wave of its hand, the mist parted, revealing a path lined with ancient, rune-covered stones. "Follow the path if you dare. But beware, for not all who tread here return."

Determined, y/n took a deep breath and stepped forward, her resolve hardening with each step. The path seemed endless, winding through the fog, with the voices of the ancients whispering warnings and secrets in her ears. The weight of her destiny pressed heavily upon her, but she knew she had no choice but to continue.

The path led y/n deeper into the mist, where the air grew colder and the whispers grew louder, each step echoing with an ominous finality. As she continued, the runes on the stones began to glow faintly, casting eerie shadows that danced and shifted around her.

After what felt like an eternity, she arrived at a massive, ancient gate made of black stone, covered in intricate carvings and sigils that seemed to pulse with a dark energy. This was the source of the whispers, the place where the voices of the ancients converged.

Before the gate stood a tall, imposing figure draped in dark robes, its face hidden beneath a hood. In its hands, it held a staff topped with a glowing crystal, emanating an otherworldly light.

"You have arrived, Elara’s daughter," the figure intoned, its voice resonating with a power that shook y/n to her core. "This is the Gate of Shadows, the barrier between worlds. To close it, you must face the darkness within and without."

The gate slowly began to creak open, revealing a swirling vortex of shadows and light beyond. The figure raised its staff, and the crystal’s glow intensified, casting a protective circle around y/n.

"Step forward, child, and confront your destiny. But remember, the darkness will test you. Only those with the purest hearts and strongest wills can prevail."

With a deep breath, y/n stepped through the gate, into the heart of the vortex, ready to face whatever trials awaited her within.

As y/n stepped through the gate, she felt an immediate pull, like being drawn into a powerful current. The swirling shadows and light enveloped her, and she was plunged into a world of chaotic energy. Shapes and figures moved within the darkness, whispering her name, taunting and challenging her resolve.

The first trial began almost instantly. The shadows coalesced into a figure resembling her mother, Elara. The figure’s eyes glowed with an unearthly light, and its voice was a haunting echo of her mother’s.

"Do you really think you can succeed where I failed?" the shadow-Elara taunted. "You are but a child, untested and weak."

Y/n’s heart ached at the sight, but she stood firm, clenching her fists. "I am stronger than you think. I carry your legacy, and I will not fail."

The shadow-Elara lunged at her, its form twisting into a monstrous shape. Y/n dodged and summoned her inner strength, feeling the magic within her pulse and surge. With a fierce cry, she released a burst of light, dispelling the shadow.

The vortex shifted, and y/n found herself in a vast, desolate landscape, the sky above a swirling mass of storm clouds. In the distance, she saw a figure standing alone. As she approached, she realized it was herself, a mirror image staring back at her with cold, calculating eyes.

"This is your second trial," the doppelgänger said, its voice a perfect replica of her own. "You must confront your own fears and doubts. Are you ready to face yourself?"

Y/n nodded, feeling a mix of fear and determination. "I am ready."

The battle was intense, with the doppelgänger matching her every move, every spell, every strike. But y/n drew on the memories of her journey, the lessons learned, the bonds formed. With each strike, she remembered her purpose, her friends, and her promise to end the valgs. Her iron fangs and claws working nonstop to help her in defeating her own self.

Finally, with a powerful surge of magic, y/n overwhelmed her doppelgänger, who dissolved into a swirl of shadows. Breathing heavily, she stood victorious, but exhausted.

The landscape shifted once more, and y/n found herself in a serene, beautiful garden, a stark contrast to the trials she had just faced. In the center of the garden stood a towering tree, its branches covered in shimmering, golden leaves. At its base, a small, intricately carved box rested, emanating a soft, warm light.

As she approached the tree, the ancient voices returned, now gentle and guiding. "This is the heart of the gate. To close it, you must place your hand upon the box and channel your magic. But be warned, the gate will resist, and the valgs will try to stop you."

With renewed determination, y/n placed her hand on the box. Immediately, she felt a surge of resistance, as if the gate itself was fighting against her. Dark figures began to emerge from the shadows, the valgs intent on stopping her.

Drawing on every ounce of her strength and magic, y/n focused on the box, channeling her energy into it. The light grew brighter, pushing back the darkness. The valgs advanced, but she held firm, determined to see this through. Black, foggy claws were on her from every side, trying to drag her back as ugly voices said, “You won’t prevail. You won’t prevail.”

With a final, powerful burst of magic, the light from the box exploded outward, engulfing the garden and the shadows. The ancient voices cried out in triumph as the gate began to close, the vortex of shadows and light dissipating.

As the world around her faded to white, y/n felt a sense of peace wash over her. She had faced her trials, confronted her fears, and emerged victorious. The gate was closed, and the valgs were no more. Or at-least she hoped that was the case-

“Y/n.”

She turned around to find the inner circle. They were in some sort of a hallway that seemed to glow white from all around. Behind Rhysand and his court was a gate that was slowly-very slowly- closing.

They all looked at her with so much shame, with so much guilt. Y/n sighed and decided to speak first because she knew that this would be the last time they ever saw one another.

“I forgive you all. I won’t forget any of it but I do not wish for us to part with unfortunate feelings towards one another.”

Feyre was fully tearing up as Rhysand gripped her hand. For the first time, she saw Amren’s eyes full with sadness as her unusually soft voice called out to her, “We shall carry this guilt with us forever, girl.”

Nesta who was standing next to Amren, nodded her head, a tear sliding down her cheek as she said, “I am happy to know that you have found a family that will truly cherish you.”

“That will succeed in the places we failed.” Mor said mournfully.

Rhysand gave her a small, grateful smile as he said, “It was my honor to have known you for so long. Your invaluable presence will never be replaced.”

As they began turning one by one and entering the closing gate, Cassian’s pained face looked at her. “I am so sorry, sweets. So sorry for letting you down.”

She gave him a small smile as he too, turned around and went through the gate, leaving only Azriel behind as he looked back at the now quickly closing gate and then at her.

“Y/n-“

“I understand, Azriel. We had a beautiful time while together and I believe that is something I shall never forget. In a way, we both prepared each other to ultimately meet our mates. Now go, be with her. I wish you both well.”

He gave her a small smile. “I will forever carry this guilt with me, but I wish you the best as well. My love for you will never cease to exist, y/n dearest.”

Then, he turned around and entered the gate, giving her final look of gratitude before the gate closed completely.

She sighed and turned around, taking a step forward-

Her foot fell through a hole. She was falling once more. World after world, gate after gate, she saw glimpses of different realms, different places before their gates too, sealed off completely.

She saw a world with tall buildings and shimmering lights, a world filled with vast dunes and oasis cities, a world where a whole civilization was underwater, a world where multiple Islands were floating in the air.

She went through world after world, the gates shutting off after she passed through each until she was slowing down, down, down….

When she finally opened her eyes with a gasp, she found herself back in the real world, the ancient writing still glowing faintly beneath her hand. She was exhausted but triumphant. The voices of the ancients had fallen silent, and a calm, serene silence enveloped her.

“Oh thank the Gods!” Yrene’s overjoyed voice was the first thing that she heard before Eva was on her, hugging her tightly.

Y/n was drained. She was panting heavily and felt like her body would collapse at any second when everyone gathered around her, congratulating her.

Eva put her hands on her hips and puffed out her chest as she looked at Dorian. “Sooo, I win the bet. Give me my 15 gold coins.”

The king rolled his eyes playfully but said, “You said she would be back in two hours. She came back in three.”

“Well, unlike Lucien who bet ten minutes, I was close enough.”

Lucien laughed as he said, “In my defence, I had no idea it would take this long.”

Elide put her arm under y/n’s shoulder as Dorian hoisted her up from the other side, “Ignore them, we were bored while your body was immersed in a trance so we made bets about how quickly you would return.”

Y/n didn’t feel like she had the energy to reply to anything so she gave a small smile as they slowly made their way out of the woods while Dorian kept bickering with Eva, others interfering at some point.

The moment y/n was back in her room, she collapsed on the bed and slept away who knows how many hours. When she awoke, Fenrys was beside her, an arm draped protectively over her waist.

His eyes were open as he seemingly admired her. Y/n couldn’t keep her joy and relief at seeing her mate come back in one piece contained as she jumped on to him, draping her arms around his shoulders and nuzzling her nose into his neck.

He hissed a little which caused her to immediately detach and pull the covers away to find his left arm bandaged.

“Fenrys! What- Are you well? I am so sorry-“

He put his right arms around her waist and pressed her body against his, smiling. “Just a scratch don’t worry. Isolde said it will heal in a week. I am better now that you are with me.”

She looked worriedly all over him before sighing and putting her head back on his chest.

“Did you manage to kill them?”

"We killed and killed. None of us could even stop to take a breath. There were so many of them it's like they keep inbreeding. At some point, I started becoming worried when I couldn't feel you through the bond and then I started full on panicking when the valgs wouldn't die because it meant that there was a chance something happened to you. But it wasn't like I could leave, I was stuck killing valg after valg. Then, however, they all suddenly fell to the ground mid-fight. All of them. That's when we all realized that you did, after all, manage to close the gates."

He kissed the top of her head as y/n listened to his beating heart, ensuring herself that he was real, alive and with her.

"Are there any injured?"

"Lysandra's leg got injured and a small amount of skin was ripped off of Lorcan's ribs but other than that, we are all well. Tired, exhausted even, but well."

She nodded her head. "What now?"

"Now? Now we get to finally live in peace. Together. Now we get all the time in the universe for each other."

She smiled. "I like that. I very much like that."

He slightly pushed her away so that they were looking at each others eyes as Fenrys said, "I believe you owe me a long overdue kiss?"

Y/n laughed and said, "Hmmm do I?"

His expression turned into longing as he whispered, eyes trained on her lips, "Ask me to kiss you."

She wasted no time in replying. "Kiss me, Fenrys."

He kissed her longingly, lovingly, hungrily, fiercely and softly. He kissed her until they couldn't breath anymore and once he left her lips, he moved down to her jaw, neck, slowly undressing her as he went lower to her breasts and then even lower. Heat was already pooling below her stomach as they basked in the feel of each other, knowing that they were finally in each others arms and that nothing could ever seperate them.

After a couple of hours, when they both entered the sitting room, they saw everyone gathered there, Lysandra's right foot was perched atop Aedions lap as Lorcan also lay on the opposite couch with his head on Elide's lap.

Everyone else was coupled up with their significant others, basking in the moment.

"Well, dearest y/n, welcome to the family." Aelin's proud voice echoed around the room as she looked at y/n with a bright smile, Rowan too smiled as he sat beside his queen and mate.

Y/n reciprocated their smile with her own. "Thank you. All of you. I am very grateful that you accepted me to your circle."

Lysandra waved her hand in the air, "Nonsense, you are one of us now, we are the ones who are grateful to have you with us."

"Are you going to take the blood oath now?" Chaol's question made all eyes turn to Aelin but the queen just smiled and looked at Manon who smiled back at y/n.

"Actually, me and Manon have already discussed this between ourselves since y/n is after all, an iron teeth witch and the mate of someone who is blood sworn to me. And we decided that..."

"That it is up to her to decide. She may or may not choose to do the blood oath. My only wish is that she comes and visits us in the witch kingdom."

Y/n smiled as Fenrys hugged her waist, "Of course I will. I will come visit all of you. There is so much to explore in this world, I can't wait to see it all with my own eyes."

Fenrys kissed the top of her head as he said, "We shall do it together, you will see all the beauty of our world, I swear it."

"Well, if you don't come to Adarlan first, I will be seriously wounded." Dorian put his hand on his chest as his head fell on top of Manon's, who was snuggled up in his arms.

"Oh, shush, you. Witch kingdom it is." Petrah hit him on the head as she passed by them with Lucien holding her hands.

"Oh, here we go again." Lysandra rolled her eyes as Aedion laughed.

Yrene, who was braiding Eva's hair, said, "Actually, she should go to the Southern continent first. I am sure Nesryn would love to meet her. Oh! I could show you where I lived for so long-"

"No! I think-"

"Gods, you are all such babies-"

"Shush Aelin!"

"Did you just tell my wife to shush?"

"Calm down, Rowan. Dorian has just been itching to get a beating from me for the past week."

"I would love to see you try-"

Y/n smiled and side hugged Fenrys as they watched their beloved family argue and bicker.

Suddenly, Fenrys whispered in her ear, "I promise to love and cherish you across the universe."

Oh, how she was ready for this new adventure to begin.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Taglist: @ladespedidas @mis-lil-red @going-through-shit @kaitttttttt @blackgirlmagicforever

@acotar-writing @paleidiot @snoopyspace @stained-glass-eyes0708 @saltedcoffeescotch

@wallacewillow0773638 @cleverzonkwombatsludge @crazylokonugget @bunnyredgirl

@fullmoon-94 @thecraziestcrayon @idkwahr

@sstrohma @optimisticbabydreamer @rcarbo1 @batboygirlie

@glaciuswduo @rosewood-cafe @hannzoaks @mybestfriendmademe @anuttellaa

#acotar #throne of glass #fenrys moonbeam #fenrys x reader #azriel #maasverse #sarah j maas #sjmaas #throne of glass x reader #illyrian

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georgiapeach30513 · 7 months ago

Text

With Your Touch, Part 6

Summary: Lloyd and you have to establish clear boundaries

Pairings: Lloyd Hansen X Reader

Rating: mature

Warnings: explicit language, D/s dynamics, mentions of abuse, misogyny, detailed ways Lloyd wants to murder The Verb, Lyla Bee 🥺, 18+ ONLY

Word Count: 5K

Series Masterlist

Lloyd blows a soft breath of air over your face, and you remain asleep. Holding onto Lyla, while he clings to you both. It didn’t take long after the too serious conversation for you to nearly pass out from exhaustion, and he just holds you. His eyes move between you and Lyla, and he wonders how he ever got here. Gulping because you’ve ruined him.

He’s no longer the man that he used to be; careless, cocky, arrogant, snide, brutal, and so many other things. He’s Lloyd. He’s daddy. He’s heard you working with Lyla trying to get her to say that one word. When in reality he wishes that you would start teaching her another word. Mama.

It’s a title that you do deserve. More than he even deserves the name daddy. You spend nonstop time with her. Enjoy her. Take care of her like she is your own. And you are happy doing it. The way the two of you are curled into one another, he doesn’t have to question it. This is a mother’s love. A mother’s touch. She’s yours. And in that process of becoming a mother, you’re healing yourself of the deeply embedded wounds of your raising.

He doesn’t doubt you’ll continue to give Lyla the love and care that she deserves, but now it’s his job to make sure you have the love and care that you deserve. If you are to be giving yourself freely to him and Lyla, he has to reciprocate. He has to make changes. Tonight was too close. You could have been hurt more than you were. And you were hurt enough, and because of your upbringing, you just accept that men should be allowed to walk all over you, and use you to their every whim.

You’re to be seen not heard, and some big bad man will give you enough money for you to keep your mouth shut. Acting like money was worth it for the hell that you’re enduring. He doesn’t want you to think that what Chase did to you was okay, or that you deserved it because he was your boyfriend. That just makes it all the more worse. He was supposed to protect you. Lloyd will give you all the time that you need to process that, and he will be waiting. He’s never been more sure about something in his life. He wants you, and your worth the patience he has to have.

“Lloyd,” Ari says at the door of Lyla’s room. Lloyd rolls his eyes up to meet Ari’s, and he watches his partner sigh. It didn’t take a genius to know that Lloyd’s obsession has slowly turned into love. “He’s on his way to the warehouse,” Lloyd nods. He’ll deal with Chase slowly later.

“You guys need sleep,” Lloyd gives him a head nod, keeping his eyes on you. You and Lyla are keeping him grounded when his body is raging with the need to seek revenge. “Lloyd.”

“You’re going to wake her up. You…”

“Shh, her room is clean, and new sheets, but I think she and Lyla would sleep better in your bedroom,” he finally meets Ari’s eyes. “Yes. Not that you need my permission, but take them in your room. We need to talk,” Ari retreats quickly. He never is one to linger. He’s right. Lloyd shouldn’t hold the two of you all night, but he would.

He stands slowly, and only Lyla stirs. Her chubby cheeks smoosh more into your body, making her more adorable from her comfort being close to you. He doesn’t know how he’s going to get the baby out of the tangle of your arms without waking you, but he’ll stay there and wait for you to drift off again.

He treats your body like you’re the most delicate porcelain as he carries the two of you into his bedroom. Your body is so spent you only hum as he lays you down. Trying to untangle your arms around Lyla, and he lays her down right beside you. In the place that would be in between him and you. If he planned on sleeping tonight.

His heart feels as empty as his arms when he walks down the hall and into the living room. Staring at Ari who is distracted by something on the table, “What do you want me to do?”

“We’re not staying here,” Ari gives a nod. “I’m going to take some time off,” Ari nods again. “And I want that little prick kept alive. I need him mended, so I can torture that stye painfully slow. I want to rip his entrails out with my bare hands, and I want him to watch me finger knit with it.”

“You’re very graphic. But I don’t think you know how to knit of any kind,” Lloyd would find out. He wants the putrid stench to fade from life, knowing Lloyd Hansen took that last breath from him.

“I’ll figure it out on my time off. What more is there to discuss?”

Ari’s fingers drum on the table, contemplating how he’s going to talk to Lloyd about this. He’s a sensitive soul. Becoming more sensitive when it comes to ‘his girls’. “You’re falling,” Lloyd doesn’t respond. He doesn’t have to explain himself to Ari. The only one he will discuss his feelings with is asleep.

“I’ve seen it for a while. But tonight — Lloyd, you’re in fucking deep. Chase isn’t your enemy, and you battered his face,” not his enemy? Chase defiled you. That Verb deserved more pain than he felt tonight.

“What was I supposed to do? He was,” Lloyd’s face turns from anger to deep seeded agony. The veins in his arms ripple thinking about your pitiful cries. And that man antagonizing you. Demanding you, and you wailed. Your cries will haunt him, but the pain he made you suffer is unforgivable. “You didn’t hear her.”

“That’s not what I’m saying, and you know.”

“Then fucking say it.”

“You don’t like to get bloody. You wanted to feel his pain,” Lloyd starts to shake his head, but Ari raises a gun. “You could have shot him. Admit to me that you love the girl.”

“I don’t have to admit shit,” Ari smirks. Starting to lean back on the couch. “And even if I did, what does it fucking matter?”

“Why do you want to kill her father?” That is a bit more complicated. He didn’t see Roman physically harm you, but he knew he hurt you just by your actions alone.

“He tried killing her spirit. It seems fair. Is there a problem here?” Ari smiles, shaking his head no. “I feel you have something to say, and if you do, say it.”

“I have. You denied it. Lloyd, I hope you know what you’re doing. You’re making it a dangerous world for these two girls. They will need security detail. Or you’re going to have to scale back. I need you to know, I’ve got your back. That’s all. I’m not here to tease you, I just want you to admit to yourself how much that woman is sinking into your soul,” Lloyd breathes in deeply. Giving a nod to his friend as he turns to go down the hallway and back to his girls.

“And Lloyd. Take a bath. She’ll thank you for it. I had someone scrub the security footage. Nobody knows that the foul stench of an abscess tooth was here. That girl has been through a lot because of Roman. Maybe try talking to her about those experiences and how you can be different.”

“Are you giving me advice?”

“Yep,” Ari pops the p as he goes to stand up. “She wants to take care of you, too, buddy. She’s a good one. Don’t fuck it up.”

Lloyd watches as his most trusted friend leaves the apartment, and he collects himself, running his palm down the front of his face. He has no idea what he’s doing. He just knows that he wants to do it, and be with you. That’s all that mattered to him. Not the difficulty that could come with being with you. He’d make it work. He was already waiting on the final piece of the puzzle to make sure Lyla would be nowhere, but with him. And you.

You jump up in bed. Wiping off your arms, and face. Feeling him all over you. The creep’s smell was all over your skin, and you had to get him off. And then the panic. You weren’t in your room. You’re alone. “Lloyd! Lloyd!”

Smoke seeps beneath a door, and you know you’re dreaming. Looking down to your side, a sleepy Lyla whines, wiping at her eyes. “What are you doing? Lloyd!” You scream again, picking her up, you hold her close to you. Your skin crawls, and your chest tightens. You couldn’t breathe.

“L-L-Lloyd,” it sounds strangled as tears fall down your face. Feeling like the walls are caving in. You want to rock in place, but if that was smoke, then there’s fire. And you have to get out. “Lloyd!”

The door opens up, and Lloyd in just a towel has his eyes searching around the room. It wasn’t smoke. “Sweetheart,” he rushes over to your side, and pulls you and Lyla into his wet chest. “Are you okay?”

“Where,” you begin, and gulp. You try to calm yourself, and focus on his breathing. Lyla giggling a bit helps. Not to mention the steady rhythm of his heartbeat, “Where am I?”

“My bedroom. Is everything okay?”

“Yeah. What…tonight wasn’t a nightmare?” Lloyd whispers no, and rubs a hand down your cheek. His grip never tightens, and your cheek is damp from the beads of water on his titties, and your tears. “I need to shower,” Lloyd reaches for Lyla, and she quickly looks up at you. Leaning into your body like a hug, not wanting to be away from you. “Can daddy hold you? I’ll…Lloyd can you sit in there with me?”

It’s nothing sexual, just the need to not be alone. “Yeah. Lyla, come on, baby. Let’s let Dolly take a quick shower. And we’re going to keep her safe and cozy. You want to wear one of my shirts?” You give him a nod and a smile. Words are a bit difficult now. Scooting to the edge of the bed, you give Lyla a kiss on her head before walking into the bathroom with the door open and you remove your clothes.

It doesn’t occur to you to close the door because that will create a barrier between you, and you don’t want that; fear it even. You don’t turn to see if Lloyd is watching, again, it’s not sexual. It just feels right.

Lloyd softly sings to Lyla while he sits on the edge of the sink, and you shower. His bathroom is so much nicer than yours. Shower heads in every direction and you let the water and soap wash the night down the drain. Breathing in the steam, and using his lullabies as a way to set you at ease.

“Did you kill him?”

Lloyd waits too long to respond, so you assume he did, but just doesn’t want to tell you. You aren’t new to death, “Do you want me to answer truthfully?”

“I’d prefer that,” closing your eyes, you stand in the warmth. Turning the water up as high as you can stand, you let the heat sanitize you from Chase’s touch, and your skin prickles and burns with the flowing fire.

“No, I didn’t,” his voice is so flat. “Why are you asking?”

“Do you plan on killing him?”

“Yes. Are you wanting me to spare him?” You peek around the edge of the shower. Your eyes lock in on his, and shake your head no. “I would if you wanted me to.”

Him saying that means more than you thought it would. You turn the water off, stepping right into his line of vision, and he fails to keep his eyes on yours. Instead his sight is roaming all over your dripping body. “I want you to do what’s necessary. One time when I was a child I begged my father to spare a man. He obliged. A week later we were thanked with a threat and the head of my mother’s cat. I won’t ask that of anyone ever again.”

He licks his lips as you grab a towel and begin to dry yourself off. Lyla already asleep again, but his hungry eyes can’t stop fucking you. It’s sick with the conversation at hand, but you love it. Love that he can boldly ogle you with no shame or care. And still not touch you. “The Verb isn’t a threat to me past a good beating. He’s not an enemy to my organization. But he is an enemy of mine, and he will pay for his sins against you.”

“I trust you,” you answer, leaving too many buttons undone as you walk in front of him. “You do what you need to. What you feel is the most satisfying and best.”

“Don’t tempt me,” his eyes are hard as he stares at your hardened nipples peaking up through his shirt. The ribbons of water wettening the material, and leaving little to the imagination.

“Don’t tempt you with my body or my approval of carrying out Chase’s punishment?” He smirks as his eyes linger at your chest. His desire to rip the shirt open, and attach his mouth to your tit blinding him. You purposefully didn’t fully dry yourself off. Letting the material mold to your curves. “Lloyd?”

“Either,” he gives a final look down your chest before he meets your eyes, “You’ve been tempting me the moment you walked into my life. And if it wasn’t for what that fucker did tonight, I would really be struggling to contain myself. If you want attention, ask. You don’t have to be a tease.”

You take a slow calculated breath. Your own eyes drifting down his toned impeccable body. Each cord of muscle is tightened as he tries to contain his need to pounce on you and claim you. The way he cradles Lyla with a delicate touch, makes him so much more sexy, “Will you — hold me tonight?”

He smirks. Extending the baby towards you. “I’m going to get her bassinet. That way I can hold you all night long,” you whimper at the thought. Nothing could make you feel more secure than his arms.

“Can you put her on my side of the bed?”

“Of course,” he bows as he walks out of the bathroom. Traveling the short distance to her room, you gaze down at her perfectly smooth skin. She’s the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen. It seems silly, but the times you’ve imagined her being yours, and calling you mama are far too many. You love her. It didn't matter how much you wanted her to be yours, she couldn’t be. She had a mother elsewhere.

“Alright. I’m going to roll this here. You go ahead and put the Lyla Bee there, and we can snuggle,” with a lingering kiss to her head, you lay her into the bassinet. You get into the bed first, and place a hand on hers. Needing to feel her steady breathing, and you look over your shoulder as Lloyd lifts up the plush blankets. His boxers sit low on his waist. So low you see the sprinkling of hair right above his cock, and you wish he would just be nude.

He slides into the bed, and you release a sigh of relief as his arm wraps around your waist and pulls you tight up against his front. His mustache tickles the back on your neck, and you’ve never felt safer. Here in his arms makes sense and feels so right. Your eyes slowly close, and you feel a single kiss on your skin. But choose not to say anything, and he gives you another before inhaling your scent. And then, lightness.

A man with so much power that can strike instant fear should not be as soft as he is with you and Lyla, and yet, here you are. Wrapped in a secure safety cocoon of his arms, while you hold onto his baby. Resting in a sleepless dream. It’s the first time in years. And you love it.

Lyla shakes her head no, giggling because Lloyd tries to take her out of your arms. Her chubby little hands slap at his, until he finally relents, and quits torturing her. “Fine. Fine. I was going to show you your room, but maybe I should start with,” Lloyd gulps as he looks at you. His face flexes, and you wonder if he’s at war with himself. “Let’s look at Dolly’s room.”

“My room?” Lloyd nods, looking over you confused. “Our room,” Lloyd’s eyebrows raise as he nods his head. He may get used to you being more assertive. “I don’t want to be alone,” you haven’t wanted to be alone since that night. And now that he’s brought you out of the city, you want to be by his side, and prefer that Lyla is there as well.

“I didn’t ask for your explanation. If you’re comfortable with that, and that’s what you want. I think we’re both aware of where this relationship is going. And there’s something else I’d like to discuss,” Lyla lets out a big scream, her hand slaps your chest, and you look towards her. You’ll deal with his comment about where the relationship is going momentarily. Right now a nearly ten month old is begging for your attention.

Her mouth opens and closes, “Are you going to say dada? Go on, Lyla Bee, say dada.”

“Ahhh!” She screeches, looking up at you. A bit of frustration linked on her face, “Ma,” your eyes go wide looking towards Lloyd. “Mamamamamamama!!!” her daddy claps his hands. Laughing, smiling, and reaching towards her. Congratulating Lyla on her outburst of saying — mama.

“You did it! Oh my beautiful baby! You came in way too early, but you couldn’t help it,” your chest heaves with how hard you’re breathing. Unable to fully describe what you’re feeling, or even how you feel. She called you mama.

It’s not until you’re wiping your cheeks that you realize you’re even crying. You’ve never loved someone the way that you do Lyla, and even if you’ve imagined being her mother, and don’t correct people that call you her mom this is almost too much. Like the things you’ve been wanting are coming to fruition. Lloyd whispers your name as he pulls you into an embrace. He rests his chin on the top of your head, swaying the three of you back and forth. This would almost feel like it is going too fast had you not been watching Lyla for months.

“That’s what I wanted to talk to you about.”

“I’m not her mother though.”

“No, you’re not. You’re her mom,” Lyla repeats the syllable over and over again. Giggling, and trying to get your attention by smacking at your shoulder. “You might not have birthed her, but you’ve become her mom. It only seems fair, and if you don’t want her to call you that,” he exhales slowly, and you furrow your brows watching his face show so many emotions. “I’ll respect your wishes,” he didn’t want to respect your wishes, and still he would.

“Where does that leave us?”

“Just where we are. Me, waiting patiently for you to decide where you want this relationship to go.”

“And if I don’t want anything romantic?” This is such a lie, but you need to know. Would he force into a relationship if you said you didn’t want it.

“Then why are you asking about our room?” You didn’t realize you had been trying to backtrack the status that you had set until now. Lloyd offered for you to have a separate room from his, and you insisted that you share. Lloyd offered to sleep on the couch while you were in his room, but you pouted for him to snuggle with you, and he did.

He had given you space, ample amounts of times. Allowed you to set the tone of the relationship, and it was you every time that was pulling him back into something romantic. It wasn’t trauma bonding. While there was a traumatic experience between the two of you, you’d been feeling things for him long before that night.

You goaded him. You teased him. You felt yourself come over and over again with his name on your mouth. Pranced in front of cameras he hid in your room and put on a show for him. You wanted him to break, and he never did. You heard him stroking his cock and moaning your name, but that’s because you went looking. He didn’t cross boundaries that you had put up.

“I’ll admit that I sowed the seeds of my attraction towards you, and made it clear immediately. When I pulled you over my lap and spanked you, I did enjoy seeing your pussy leaking, dripping, and clenching around nothing. I knew that you wanted more than anything for me to fuck you right there. Have you leaned over the couch while I fucked you so deep you can’t see straight. But until you explicitly say the words, I am just your employer. But Lyla is something else entirely.”

Those filthy words oddly sound like a beautiful sonnet. Yes, Lloyd pushed, and even demanded to be a dominant role in your life, but it wasn’t a push that made you hate him. It made you desire him more. And you have spent months wishing the man would just tell you what he was going to do to and for you.

You are so tired of being what others wanted. He got it. You wanted it, despite how depraved it may be. So he made the decision from you. Letting you sink into his world of sin without compromising your morals, because he was making you. But you wanted him to.

There are ways that you are becoming exactly what was expected of you, a kept woman. Except the way that Lloyd treated you, it was like you actually had autonomy in the situation. With Chase it was what he wanted, when he wanted it. Lloyd gave you a freedom that you didn’t think you would ever get, and you hadn’t realized it. And then he made you crave his rules. Because you also wanted to break some of those rules. Wanted to see him lose control because you knew he would take you to a place where you didn’t have to think.

“Explain this to me like I’m a child.”

“I can’t explain the things I want to do to you then. Because you’re not a child.”

“Then just put it into simple terms,” his mouth quirks crookedly. As if this animalistic part of him understands the delicate dynamic of your relationship. Balance. It all relies on balance, and trust, and love, and respect. All things that you’ve never been given.

“When Lyla is awake, we are as normal a couple as our neighbors,” gone is the city life. Lloyd couldn’t take such chances with you and her. Now you’re out in the suburbs with sprawling land on the property, secluded at home and still close enough to a small town that you and Lyla can live and not have people constantly watching you.

“When she’s asleep, everything will depend on your behavior.”

“Oh?” You inquire. Your fingers softly scratch over Lloyd’s belly, and the sweetest little baby smiles her two tooth grin, looking between the two of her favorite people.

“You’re pushing it now because Lyla can’t talk. But if you misbehave, I will have to punish you. I will have to drag you over my lap, while your bare ass gets spanked. And depending on how well you take it, I just may put you on your knees, so I can fuck you like the slut you are,” he pauses, waiting to see how you respond to his degradation. Reading your visual cues. His lips press just below your ear, and he chuckles.

“You’re heating up. I bet if I put my hand between your thighs, I could feel your cunt pulsing with a need to have me buried in you. You need a safe word. And I will obey. And I will not go further if you want me to stop.”

Your mind races as his hand travels from your hip. Dipping lower and lower. Skirting over your core to the other leg. “What will it be?”

“Night — nightingale.”

“Good girl,” you preen, but his hand stops their movement. “Now, do you want to make lunch or watch the baby.”

“What?” You look at him confused. He was just…he’s a fucking tease.

“The things I want to do to you, Lyla Bee has no business being a part of. However, it is lunch time, and I’m famished. If you’re ready for me to fuck that pretty little pussy stupid, you’ll have to wait,” you glower at him, and he smiles. “That’s for all those times you put on a show for me. Exposing those pert tits. Later, if you don’t want me to touch you, you can give me a striptease. And I will keep my hands off you, and just watch, until you say go. Here, you take the baby. I’ll make us some lunch.”

“You’re mean,” you whine. It is obnoxious how pitiful you sound, but he is teasing you. Touching you everywhere that you want him, and denying you.

“Aww,” he kisses your temple softly, handing you the baby. His mouth lingers on your skin. His warm breath fans over you, and thankfully Lyla giggles to break the trance, “But I’m not cruel. If you want me, you get this, so we have to be adults and be patient. But I can promise you, I will treat you with the utmost respect, and I will never make you feel like you are a prop in our lives. Do you understand that? Teasing is fun, but I won’t push you beyond your limits. If you need me to be what I am when we’re sleeping, I need to know. If you need me to fuck you stupid, I need to know. If you want me to make sweet beautiful love with you, I need to know.”

“You’re giving me a choice?” You’ve never been given a choice as to how sex should be. You just let them decide for you.

“It was always your choice,” he answers solemnly. His head bows, and he walks away to quickly. His own head spinning as to what you could have endured, especially with that infected cut on his arm. The Verb. One day, Lloyd will enjoy ending The Verb’s life so slowly that he begs for a quick kill. It won’t happen.

“Where’s Lloyd?” Roman demands, walking into Ari’s office. He gets too close to the man, and with one finger, Ari pushes him back. Roman is a nobody in this organization. Ari could end him before Roman even blinks. But then he’d piss off Lloyd, “Levinson, where is Lloyd?”

“Not here,” he doesn't have to tell Roman anything about Lloyd’s whereabouts. That is a need to know basis.

“He hasn’t been here for over a week,” your father’s stature is pathetic. He’s a tall wide man, but he doesn’t have the control to wield fear into people. Lloyd could eat him alive. Smiling at the man while he forks out his innards. Roman may look the part, and he may be smart, but he’s a fool.

“I take it you didn’t hear about the break into his apartment?”

“That doesn’t warrant his absence,” oh, Ari may have to keep this conversation to himself. Anything involving you, sets Lloyd in a terrible mood. Ari’s eyes slowly glance down the man’s body. “What?”

“Do you even know who is living with Lloyd?”

“My daughter,” there’s a pregnant pause between the two of the men, before Ari chuckles. Roman could never understand feelings such as love. Women are lesser beings to him, and none lesser than you, “I don’t see any reason to get all upset and for him to be missing.”

“You didn’t even ask what happened,” Roman stands there, immobile. His eyes are blank. “Someone broke into your daughter’s room.”

“She’s alive?”

“Yeah,” Ari didn’t quite subscribe to the fact that Roman hated his daughter like Lloyd thinks, until this moment. His expressions never waivers. He’s completely unphased.

“Where’s Lloyd then?” Rolling his eyes, Ari sighs, and turns his chair back around. He doesn’t even flinch when Roman's hand slaps the wall. His voice growling and low, “He’s fucking her, isn’t he? Her bitch of a mother taught her well. Spread your legs for a willing participant to make you rich. Guess she learned from the best. Do I get a bonus for giving Lloyd a live in sex doll?”

Ari smirks, staring at the computer screen. Letting Roman monologue his way into a bigger pile of shit than he already was. “We’re the same. I guess you need a pretty one with good breeding to be your broodmare, and on your arm for galas. But Lloyd Hansen will always have his professionals that he can really have fun with. Women like my daughter are to be kept at home.”

Keep going, asshole. Ari gets it. He didn’t even know you like Lloyd did. But what is going on between the two of you, is nothing that Roman is describing. Roman is explaining himself, creating excuses to the way he is. His only wife, and his only child. Lloyd isn’t Roman, and that man is far from being Lloyd. No one but Ari has seen the way that Lloyd watches you curiously. Or the fact that he had a special task in finding Lyla’s egg donor. Lloyd would have her killed before she took Lyla away from you.

“I guess his next goal is to pretend the baby is my daughter’s. He’ll probably fuck her raw until she gives him a legitimate child,” Ari grits his teeth. The disdain he has for you and Lyla is appalling. “If she ends up pregnant, he owes me,” he says, spinning on his heels. “At least she’s worth something now.”

“He owes you a bullet in your fucking head, you idiotic moron,” Lloyd had mentioned it was time to prune the people in his circle. He knows the next one to go. But Lloyd wouldn’t be back until you allowed him in. And he’d almost broke down your walls now. You’d been letting him in little by little. Trusting him a bit more not to break you. And only then would Lloyd return. You are his only assignment. And the only thing that mattered to him.

His girls.

Masterlist

@tis-thedamn-season @marveloustaylortot @pono-pura-vida @peaches1958 @seitmai

@smile1318 @andydrysdalerogers @cjand10 @midnightramyeoncravings @kmc1989

@pandaxnienke @theinheriteddutchess @rainydayandmondays @buckybarnesisdaddy @patzammit

@rebeccapineapple @slutforchrisjamalevans @marvel-wifey-86 @jesevans

@ughdontbeboring @infantasywonderland @vampy-doll @i-like-to-read-13

@missacidburn928 @charmed-asylum @superflannel @hisredheadedgoddess28 @lostinspace33

@abbyyourlocalmilf @saranghaey @rogersbarber @tas-renee @kmm-fluv

#with your touch #lloyd hansen #lloyd hansen x reader #lloyd hansen x fem!reader #lloyd hansen x female reader #lloyd hansen x y/n #lloyd hansen x you #lloyd hansen fic #lloyd hansen fics #lloyd hansen fanfic #lloyd hansen fanfics #lloyd hansen fanfiction #chris evans #chris evans character #the gray man

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jakeyt · 24 days ago

Text

Covet: Chapter 12 (Pt 3 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; tension; recollected memories of traumatic situations; memories of very self-destructive coping mechanisms used by a teenager; crying + feelings of sadness; self deprecation/worries of being a bad mother; mentions of a (very) toxic and absent mother; vivid memories of sexual encounters; body changes as a result of pregnancy; talks of baby + pregnancy; jealous!reader; possessive!jake; pregnancy hormones of multiple variety; INFIDELITY; (intense) phone sex; self-pleasure m!receiving; self-pleasure f!receiving; loooots of dirty talk that is absolutely 18+ (!!!!); elsie + josh being our voices; mentions/talk of being unable to have children; evil evil evil inner monologue via maya (i'm sorry - it had to happen); (((yes she's just as dreadful on the inside as you'd think))); massive amounts of (very negative + hateful) manipulation; BABY KICKS <3333; PLEASE lmk if i missed anything that is triggering to you!)

Chapter 12 (Part 3) Word Count: 47.6k+ (......um. yeah.... about that....)

a/n: ok. so. yeah. wednesday obviously hadn't been ~~the day~~ LMFAO. dear lord. IM V SORRY I AM ME <3 but, fr, has anyone on here ever struggled w migraines? how about w a brain stem aura? they last for days and make you move very slow + put you out of commission !!!! so fun !!!!

in all reality, this was supposed to be edited + uploaded in december... but, life.

i love you all and welcome to the delicious, official mid-point of this monstrous series <3 every single one of you mean the world to me. i hope you know that you reading and commenting and liking and messaging brings THE utmost joy to this woman's fragile heart :') thank u, my sweet loves. we're in this together. <3 "until the very end"

btw: these next few chapters will pick up right where the previous leaves off... that includes this one :)

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

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.)

Specific songs that accompany this chapter: “We Might Even Be Falling In Love” — Victoria Monet ft. Bryson Tiller; “We Might Even Be Falling In Love/Jaguar” — Victoria Monet + co. (orchestral arrangement); “Merry Christmas Baby” — Booker T. & the M.G.’s

Covet Masterlist

"We are ever striving after what is forbidden... and coveting what is denied us."

Ovid

December 23, 2022

After a short five hours of work, Elsie had been there at 8:00 on the dot to pick you up.

Although, when she’d arrived, you’d still been checking out a few regular customers who’d stayed a little too close to closing time. Last minute Christmas shopping, of course. There was no way you were going to rush the customers. You’d even told Elsie she’d have to wait a bit. You cared for these regulars dearly, so you’d chosen to take your time. They were special to you and you were grateful to be able to wish them all a 'Happy Holidays'.

You really appreciated the extra time catching up with these people. And almost all of them were dying to know how your pregnancy was faring and you didn’t hesitate on filling them in and showing them the sonogram pictures on your phone. It meant a lot to you that these sweet people cared so much. They’d made up so many of your working days for the past four years, permanently creating a home in your heart.

And, the last of the stragglers had been none other than little brown-haired Stacy. The high school girl you and Josh and taken a liking to instantly – ironically, both of you being on the clock the first day she’d entered the store. She was a tender soul. A thin girl with freckles covering her heart-shaped face with glasses, just a smidgen too big for her petite features. Every pair she got, oversized in comparison to her slimness. Even as the other customers exited the store with one more ‘Merry Christmas, y/n!’, she’d continued to pick through bins.

But, by the way she’d hunched over as soon as the bell had chimed to indicate the others' departure, you knew something wasn’t right. And then she’d rubbed at her eyes, making your heart break in your chest. You assumed she needed more time, hence her looking past the very last minute. Though, knowing the kind hearted girl like the back of your hand after knowing her for so long, you knew she felt bad for needing more time. So, you’d urged her to continue browsing. There was an innate need in your chest to make sure she was okay and wasn’t hurting any longer. You needed her to be okay. Especially this close to Christmas.

“Stacy, just hang around for a bit and keep looking,” you gently spurred her to not give up yet. “Take your time. I have plans with Josh and my sister, but those aren’t for another hour or so. You have time.”

“But–you’re pregnant, y/n. You need to be off your feet. You need to leave,” she tried, making her way to the front without anything in hand. Her shoulders, sunken and her posture telling that she definitely hadn’t been successful in her search for vinyl. “It’s not your fault I got off work so late, y/n. You need to rest for the baby.”

“The baby is fine,” you encouraged her with a gentle smile and a raised brow, making your way over, hands stuffed in the front pocket of Jake's hoodie to fight the cold air seeping into the older store on the chilly evening. Just as she’d made it to the door to leave, you met her there. Bringing one hand out of the pocket, you put a hand on her bicep, you spoke to her as she turned to face you. “Seriously. All is well, nice, and cozy in there and I didn’t even get here until late afternoon. I’m fine. The baby is fine. Now you need to be fine.”

She nipped at her bottom lip with worry, timidly glancing up at you. “Are you sure?” Yet, even after you nodded, she continued. “Because it’s also not your fault that the Black and Gold is closed tomorrow and the next day is Christmas, so why would you guys be opened on Christmas?" She said it all so fast, you knew she was on the verge of having a break down. You'd been there. "I should have planned better, y/n. I’m just really stressed right now and I–.”

“Stacy,” you interrupted her, placing a hand on each of her shoulders to squeeze them in reassurance. “It is o-kay, sister. Plus, if it makes you feel any better, we do have chairs behind the desk. If I need to sit, I can. You only have tonight to find your vinyls.”

Even through her glasses, you could see the tears beginning to glass over her eyes. “Thank you, y/n. I owe you.”

“No you don’t, silly,” you giggled, giving her shoulders one more measured press before you texted Elsie a quick explanation. Then, pocketing your phone, you were moving down the aisles of bins in an effort to help her. “But, while we look. . . I did want to know how the college hunt is going. Also, what exactly is it we are looking for?”

After she told you the records, you immediately began to help her. You knew exactly where to find a few of them, so you instantly went to do that for her as she began to tell you about her school findings.

Stacy was right up there with the regulars who had preceded her in line – a little more so, if you were being honest. She was set to graduate high school in May, when you were set to graduate college yourself. So frequently when she’d visited the store in recent months, you’d asked her how college searching was going. You knew that finding the perfect school was important to the girl, just as it had been to you. Your decision had been easy, though, as your heart had always naturally longed to follow in Elsie’s footsteps.

And, yes, while you and Josh both had taken an instant liking to Stacy as soon as she’d started coming into the B&G a couple years prior. . . it was different for you. Josh loved her quirky personality – as did you. But you found her even more special because the quiet, unsure spirit she housed reminded you so much of your own during your high school years.

But. . . you hadn't always been that version of yourself. No, up until high school, you'd been the opposite.

You remembered now (with Elsie and therapy’s help) how you’d been chaotically fiery as a child. How, as a young girl, you easily used to become overstimulated to the point of raging aggravation. . . . But, that had (mostly) only lasted through your pre-teen years. And once you’d come into your early teens, you’d wanted to fucking change. Those parts of you had been ugly and humiliating and you didn’t want to identify with them — at least back then.

You’d only recently begun to recall random things from your childhood from time to time (thank you, EMDR). Thankfully, there weren’t many of the extremely triggering moments that popped up. Like the trials with your mother or a man named Mr. Morgan. Nothing too scary intruded during your day-to-day. . .

No, it was the ‘easier’ stuff from your childhood that came to mind; whether it be in dreams or randomly as you completed mundane tasks. These recollections were of little things you’d done to yourself growing up that had permanently scarred you. It had become obvious that you used to be very self aware. You’d felt too self aware back then, actually.

A lot like Stacy seemed. Self aware. But yours had been rather negative, where hers seemed more positive, most of the time.

In all fairness, you hadn’t even known what the words ‘self aware’ meant until a school counselor, Mrs. Reams – with curly, graying hair and ready to retire – had droned on at you. The ‘self awareness’ had felt stifling and gloomy and never ending. Like a massive thundering, swaying hurricane you were stuck in – desperate to cling to the eye of it. But the eye of your storm had always been just out of reach.

Admittedly, it was a lot for a kid – especially a traumatized one. So, at thirteen years old, you’d decided enough was enough.

You’d taken what you assumed were ‘proper steps’ and had sat after school for an entire week with good ‘ol Mrs. Reams. All in an effort to learn what she had called ‘coping mechanisms.’ Again, you hadn’t understood that term either – until she’d referred to them as 'skills learned to adapt and survive'. Then, the wrinkly woman had explained some examples (explained them rather poorly, you might add). And after meeting with Mrs. Reams, you’d even gone so far as to use your Grandpa’s laptop to further search for ways to ‘cope.’

The idea of ‘forgetting things’ had been one way in particular that had gotten your attention — when it’d fallen from Mrs. Reams’ skinny, flimsy lips. “Memory suppression,” she’d recited, monotone. There had been a pamphlet and everything that she’d handed you. One picture had caught your eye of a teen girl. She was crying and sitting on the floor, with her head trapped between her arms.

“What does it do?”

“It’s a way of forcing the traumatic memories to the back of your mind,” she’d replied, already standing to gather her things as you’d sat on the couch. Unmoving, still considering the conversation to be only midway through.

But, when Mrs. Reams had turned off her lamp, you’d gotten the hint. Time to leave. . .

That was when the search had officially begun, though . . . With Grandpa’s laptop. The hours and days worth of research you’d done to forget things. (It was important to note that you'd never failed to clear the browser history, lest he tell your Grandma his search history out of worry. And the possibility of them both confronting you with smothering, misplaced love and care. . . It was not what you'd wanted).

‘Memory Suppression’ was your goal, so those were the words you’d typed into Google. Over and over again. (‘Memory Replacement was a term you’d seen in your hours of time researching. And that had been the easier term to comprehend for your thirteen year old mind). Those blue, underlined letters on Google’s search results had never looked as pretty as they had on that first rainy afternoon in April. A couple days after your meeting with Reams - the perfect opportunity to use the laptop. Your grandparents and Elsie, having been gone for one of Elsie’s track meets. You’d claimed you had ‘too much homework’ to go.

And so the process had begun. . . ‘Memory Suppression’ . . . a helpful friend and your worst enemy wrapped totally in one. An intense and slightly subtle form of self harm, in the end. The hours of time researching, leaving you ill-informed. Your teenage mind had been (understandably) incapable of truly wrapping around the concept well enough to complete the skills healthily.

There had been ways that you’d literally transformed yourself to the point of a sort of internal mutilation. You’d succeeded in tying yourself in such tight, tricky knots that you were now, as an adult, tangled and confused. And, essentially, you were now void of incredibly essential memories that you needed to remember in order to heal.

You’d found a lot of strategies. Many of these strategies to complete the process of suppressing memories had required a lot of time spent alone. So, usually late at night (or into the earliest hours of the morning) when everyone was asleep, you’d lock your bedroom door. Once it was locked, you’d shut off all of your lights to feel utterly isolated. And, for an hour and a half, night after night you had sat there and forced yourself to feel, feel, feel and block, block, block. Knees, hugged tight to your chest. For an entire year.

You’d timed yourself every night and everything. You’d obsessively cared about getting your ‘time’ in. That grueling, horrid time had been spent unhealthily blocking out the known, problematic times in your past. You’d altered the ‘fight or flight’ traits by convincing yourself that the times you’d spent learning them had never actually happened. It was all relative to preteen y/n. After a while, there had even come this dark voice that’d begun to enter your mind amidst the changes. And, the voice hadn’t ever truly left – accompanying you into adulthood. Narrated your every move.

This voice had been yet another unhealthy coping mechanism that your immature mind had initially conjured. A classic mechanism called ‘Self-Talk’ – but yours hadn’t been anywhere near what therapists recommend. It wasn’t ‘Positive Self-Talk.’ Your ‘talk’ had just been things you thought about yourself. Whether they be negative, positive, true, or false. . . Usually, the ‘talk’ brought with it the most hateful words and phrases you could imagine at that time about yourself – which had been supplied in abundance. And, it had been nice in a sense. For a time.

That time spent in the darkest and most demoralizing solitude had worked wonders for you as a teenager. And, after one particularly “successful” night, where you’d awoken in the morning and felt more dazed than traumatized, you wanted to tell someone. Figuring Mrs. Reams was the ideal candidate (being that she’d been the one to give you the initial push), you wanted to tell her.

So, after a class, when you’d passed the counselor in the hallway, you’d found that as the perfect opportunity. . . . Only for her to mix you up with a completely different student all together. Referred to a 'dead dog' and a 'father with an ailing illness'. . . But, absolutely nothing to do with anything you’d told her or talked with her about.

And then when she’d called you by the wrong name, you’d known for sure. She had forgotten about you. You weren’t important to her. She didn’t give two shits. Her blatant ignorance when it came to you was another fun tidbit you’d added to your pile of “reasons” you had issues. Trust was shaky as fuck - even with people like counselors that you were supposed to trust the most. And that incident had caught you in the tresses of already learning new (bad) coping skills. So, you’d tacked on the idea that trusting people was bullshit unless they earned it. Your mom had begun this idea, and then Reams had really nailed it into the coffin.

The fact that it had hurt so badly, but hurt less than other memories meant you could really use it, though. So, that you did. After school, you’d sat in your car and effectively sobbed over the ordeal. All your life, people had just continued to prove why you couldn’t trust anyone’s genuinity besides your family’s (grandparents and Elsie only, until Josh).

Thankfully, that day, no one had witnessed the breakdown. Elsie hadn’t ridden home with you, thanks to a track meet. And, luckily your grandparents had never missed her track meets or your choir events. So, you’d had the entire evening to yourself. Yet again. You’d taken a long, sad shower and sobbed over the joke that was your life. You’d sat on the floor of the tub and lamented over how little you’d seemed to matter. Time and again.

But, after a few fat and ugly tears, you’d gotten an idea. Which was: taking advantage of the newer and less traumatic sadness. You could use the counselor forgetting about you. Turn the event around to suffocate some darker moments from your dingy, messy past. It was a brand new, fresh wound, right at the front of your mind, that you could use to cover a repulsive, red, unhealed scar.

It had still hurt like fucking hell to drag out the traumatic shit in order to cover it with new, painful shit. None of the process had been easy or fun. It’d hurt like a bitch. The entire time, you’d given yourself plenty of additional issues to sort through by doing it to yourself. Though, you’d clung onto it back then. Survival mode. And you’d continued to use the strategy. . . Forgetting the devastating things and forcing 'normal' life events to 'erase' horrendous, not-so-normal occasions. All of the bullshit method, used to cover the reality of why you were doing it in the first place. . . And, really. It had worked.

Hence why you always got especially angry or sad or scared with newer situations. . . It was all finally making sense as things came back to you. You were just paying the consequences now by not knowing how to handle your emotions as an adult.

“I found the other two!” Stacy squealed two rows over from you. Her excitement, breaking you from your apparent reverie.

It was funny how therapy was truly assisting you in remembering so much of this shit. All of the pieces were clicking together and occasionally left you stunned. But the the feeling was getting a little easier to come out of everyday. . . Thankfully.

You looked over to where the younger girl was, in the country music section. A part of the store you, admittedly, did not look at very often. You hadn’t been able to be much help in that area. However, the three blues records you’d put yourself in charge of had been safely secured within a couple of minutes. “And I found the others,” you replied with a giggle, grounding yourself with the now. The present time. Centered yourself in the Black and Gold – in your current plans with Josh and Elsie.

Your stomach rumbled on your way down the record aisle and you were very rapidly realizing how long it had been since you’d eaten. You really were hungry as fuck. And if you weren’t happy about that, you knew for sure that Lavender wasn’t happy about it. You didn’t want to kick Stacy out, but it was past 8:30. You saw as much when you slid open your lockscreen to your texts.

Two new ones from Els. Fucking Do Not Disturb. You continued to succeed in not checking your thread with Jake, pressing Elsie’s contact in your pinned as soon as you opened your texts.

Elsie, 8:33 p.m.: 🧍‍♀️

Elsie, 8:35 p.m.: Y/n. Seriously. Come the fuck on. We’ve got plans in like 45 minutes. 👏🏻👏🏻👏🏻😐 ALSO, we still need to get your pictures taken before dinner. Don’t forget you wanted to do that. We planned that. You NEED TO do that shit. Trust me, bitch. 😮‍💨🤤🍆

You laughed outright at her texts. She was so fucking funny. But – she was right. You had plans and you did still want to take those pictures. Badly. The idea of posting something like you’d found on Pinterest, so electrifying. . . There were butterflies in your tummy just thinking of it.

And now that Stacy was smiling again and making conversation like normal as you made your way to her, you were very ready to leave.

Walking over to her, records cradled in one arm to your chest while the other held your tummy, you smiled down at the small brunette and asked a question you hoped she’d answer with a ‘yes’. “You ready?”

And to your delight, the answer was exactly as you’d wished.

After some conversation and contemplation with Elsie, she’d come up with the idea that you should make an actual post with its own picture and a story post with another picture.

“Close Friends only, perhaps?” She’d thrown out into the universe. And at that, you’d just snorted with a ‘maybe, weirdo.’

She’d continued to brainstorm it all with you as you took a shower to rinse your body. With the cold weather you had seriously wanted it. Your muscles already hurt all the time nowadays, and the chilliness outside did not help matters. Yet, when you’d gotten into the shower, you’d caught a glimpse of the vibrator that had started it all, not even twenty four hours ago. . . And, unfortunately, at the exact same moment you saw it, Elsie wasn’t there as a distraction from the memories. She had gone to grab something she’d forgotten from the car.

Thankfully, though, the warm water felt so nice against your skin that it helped you refocus. You hardly even thought about the night before with Jake. . . and Elsie didn’t take too long to return. And talking to her was the exact cure you needed for all of it. As you showered, she was busy looking at the Pinterest board you’d created at the nail salon, having added her as a collaborator while you were at work.

“Oh. . . I like this,” she commented from the other side of the curtain from her spot on top of the toilet seat.

“Which one?” You asked as you rinsed shampoo through your hair for the first step of rinse and repeat.

“The comparison picture? Like, one of your flat, pre-baby tummy with a comparison to your tummy now? Black and white?”

“Oh, yes. I think I’m sold on that one for sure,” you replied as you began to lather your hair for the second and final time. “I loved that one. I actually already found a picture to use with it during a lull period on my shift.”

Ironically, the picture you’d settled on was tied to a rather memorable day. It was one of you in your all-black bikini. You’d taken it before heading to the AirBnB the day you’d fucked Jake in the pool. It was your favorite. Your go-to swimsuit. And that morning, when you’d put it on, the confidence had been plentiful. . . That swimsuit in particular had always worked wonders at helping you feel sexy. There were the smallest pieces of lace that extended from the hems to cover the outer curves of your ass and cleavage. . . And it had led to a quite wonderful moment of your bikini-clad body riding Jake's as you'd made out on your bed.

And, then, of course. . . the pool. The pool had been the greatest reward.

“Phone’s on the counter. I favorited it. Go to my favorites,” you added, starting your conditioner.

Not one to pass up the opportunity to snoop through your phone, your curly haired sister seemed to immediately locate the photo you’d found. Or, you assumed at least, with the wolf whistling beyond the shower curtain. She wasted no time complimenting you with her words next. “Damn, sis! I see you! Fuckin’ hot ass.”

As she surveyed the picture, she explained that in order to fulfill the aesthetic aspect of the photo comparison, you had to incorporate the same colors in the new photo. So, again, all black. You were glad — it made your options very attractive.

You asked her if you could do a black bra and jeans rather than panties — you didn’t want to mimic the swimsuit bottoms. . . It seemed too risqué and very awkward to completely replicate the barely-there summertime clothing. Besides. . . You hadn’t worn the swimsuit since that day and you didn’t feel like putting it back on, lest more sadness creep in.

“Sure. That will look amazing. But. . . Why don’t you put on the swimsuit again?” She wondered aloud, humming the melody to a Sam Cooke song that you couldn’t name off the top of your head. (Your mind was busy shuffling through nerves in anticipation of the pictures. . . How would you do your hair? Just blow dry? Didn’t want to go all out. . .) “Wearing the same thing could make for an even more aesthetically pleasing side by side.”

“Elsie. No,” you shook your hair out under the stream of water in the shower, rubbing your fingers through to get all of the conditioner washed out. Then you grabbed some sugar scrub for your arms and legs. Might as well exfoliate. “I don’t want to take a picture wearing a bikini in the middle of December. That would look ridiculous,” you’d replied, telling only half of the truth. But, you decided to tack on the extra little bit. No use lying about it. “And I also don’t really feel like putting that swimsuit on again. Memories associated with it and shit.”

“Jake?”

“Yes.”

“Niiiice,” she slyly answered before her phone pinged to inform her of a new text. You rolled your eyes at her response, grinning to yourself at the memory.

“Josh will be here in like fifteen,” your sister alerted you before she let out a groan of irritation. “He’s actually running on time for once — the singular time I am not. I fucking swear, y/n. . . I love him more than anything, but his issue with promptness makes me want to scream.”

You snorted at that, finishing your body washing a bit hastier due to his near arrival. And before you knew it, you were done and pulling the curtain open. She was already waiting, hand extended with the first of two towels you'd set out.

“He has always been like that, Els,” you giggled, wrapping your hair in the towel, holding your hand out for the other that she was already handing your way. Both of you were two-towel believers. One for hair, one for body. Almost always. . . last night not being one of those times. . . Far more important matters had been at hand than the thorough drying of your hair a second towel could do. “I’m afraid there is no changing him. . . . And you knew that about him before you got together, so I have no sympathy."

She only hummed in annoyance, before she was continuing on with your conversation, nails tapping against her screen. “Anyways. . . the other picture. . . For your story,” she cleared her throat. The noise gained your attention, looking over at her as you wrapped your body in the towel, pulling it to tuck under your arms. She was showing you the other picture you’d chosen for inspiration. The sexy one from the nail salon. Butterflies went batshit in your tummy. This was the one you were most excited to take. You didn’t have anything picked out for it, but you figured the black bra would do. . . some black underwear to accompany.

And, of course, his shirt. Was it too daring? Over-confident? Did you care? For once, you really didn’t. Not with last night still playing on a loop in the back of your mind.

She pulled the phone back to herself, fingers sliding on the screen to indicate she was texting, but she kept on helping you all the while, continuing to speak. “The sexier one. . . Do you mentally have something picked out for that already?”

You went about toothpasting your toothbrush as she continued to zone in on her phone screen. “Maybe. . . I’ll probably just use the same black bra as the other one,” you’d said, as you brought the toothbrush up, preparing to brush as you looked up at her through the mirror, where she stood behind you now. She was taking turns watching you and checking her phone. “I’m gonna brush. Wanna go figure out lighting?”

“Oh, lighting? Sister. . . I’m impressed by your determination to get these photos just right. . . .” she raised an eyebrow at you. “What gives?”

“I’m a horny ass pregnant woman who is finally feeling sexy, Elsie. That’s what gives.”

Her only response was laughter as she opened the door to the bathroom, closing it behind her on her way out to begin her task.

There were no words for the black, lacy set.

All you knew was that it was fucking gorgeous. Stunning. Sexy as fuck. Everything you wanted and more for the photo. It was laid out and awaiting your body, on your bed, as your room’s lighting accentuated the allure of the black, lacy, sheer piece.

Along with the lingerie, you'd come to find your room all ready after you’d finally finished in the bathroom. And, Elsie’s Victoria’s Secret surprise had been laid out for you on your bed, the little pink bag sitting beside it. She’d assured you of a few things as she’d taken in your reaction, her face resembling the Cheshire cat. In her words, the lingerie was ‘not part of your Christmas’ since she’d ‘already gotten you enough shit.’ She, instead, insisted you call it her ‘donation to assist in getting your ass fucking laid’.

You’d rolled your eyes at the last part, but still said thank you because there was simply nothing else to say. She’d also laid out the makeup she felt was best for the pictures (you’d always trusted her makeup advice and she knew it). Your hair was already done, blow dried and brushed through exquisitely, shiny and cascading beautifully down your back. Els had even lit candles, adding to the darker, enticing vibe you were going for. . . Not so dark that you’d be a silhouette. Not even close, actually. The lamp next to your bedside and the tall one she’d brought in from the living room (that she’d already promised to ‘put back’), added to the multiple candles’ lighting in the most erotic way.

You were going to be bathed in a golden hue as the room around you was dimmed and mysterious. The theme of the photos was something you were sure would turn Jake on. And, as much as you didn’t want him to be the sole reason you were taking these (it wasn’t), it had been a big motivation to get your makeup on and get the pictures taken. The voice in the back of your head was telling you to stop thinking of him and his reaction, for fear that he might not react at all. Might see it and ignore it. No sign that he’d seen anything aside from his name popping up on the list of people who’d seen your story.

“This is going to have to be a Close Friends story,” you’d emphasized, giggling as you’d toyed with the piece laying on the bed once more before you'd gone to begin your ‘no-makeup makeup’ look.

Now, your makeup was almost completely done. And Josh was apparently pulling up with coffee for Elsie and a hot chocolate for you.

“I thought he was going to be here like twenty-some minutes ago?” You’d asked, genuinely curious as you finished the blending of your blush. Eyeing your cheeks once it was completely on, you grinned. Your complexion looked wonderful and your face was officially done. “Why’d you make him stop for damn coffee?”

Now all you had left were your eyes and lips. You’d be wearing brown mascara with your lips simply shiny from lip oil.

“How did you know I made him?” She asked, feigning offense. All you did was level her with a stare, only seconds later she huffed. “Whatever. I’m a caffeine addict. The first step to healing is acknowledging the issue, so kiss my ass," she came up behind you and fluffed your hair once before observing your makeup with a smile. "Also, I was stalling his ass. He can work on my time for once.”

You’d only snorted before going to finish your mascara. “Should the light be on for the first one?” You asked, your mouth moving awkwardly as you focused on your mascara application. One more coat. "And can you find me some jeans? American Eagle, please. . ."

“Absolutely. To both,” she replied, going to find what you trusted to be the perfect light wash jeans for you in your closet. “The button’s gonna be open on the jeans, right?” She called from where she was in your miniature walk-in closet.

“Yes,” you confirmed, curling your lashes once more – just how you wanted – with the curve of your finger. “Black bra, light wash jeans, open button.”

She was just coming out of your closet when you started stripping yourself of your towel before grabbing the black bra you’d decided on from your underwear drawer. “Light on?” She asked, your light wash mom jeans thrown over her arm.

“Yeah, go ahead. For the first one.”

When you turned to face the mirror after getting the bra on, you got the first good look of your tits since last night. And since last night, they’d changed. Fucking hell. Pregnancy was astounding, truly. Good ways and bad alike. How the fuck could a body change so damn quickly?

You eyed your swollen chest and the blue veins that had once lurked in light, subdued tracks across your growing breasts. . . But not anymore. Subdued was a thing of the past, apparently. Because today, as you eyed yourself, you saw displeasingly prominent tracks. Dark indigo, both purple and blue in their tint, now. They trailed from beneath the cups of your bra to midway up your chest. They weren't dark-dark. . .just enough that you definitely noticed a difference.

“Why? Why today of all days? Why now?” You lamented (admittedly dramatically) aloud, turning to the side to look from that position. And unfortunately, they were just as unattractive from that angle.

“What’s wrong?” Elsie responded with worry, laying your jeans on the bed as she rushed up behind you.

You were facing the mirror once more when she came up behind you, concern painting her prettily petite features. Her blue eyes swam with panic. But you saw when she noticed you eyeing your breasts, bringing a hand up underneath each to see how they looked when lifted in the bra. Still horrible, you found.

“Dear god, y/n. I know exactly what you’re looking at. Yes, you have darker veins in your tits. Your milk supply is coming in,” she informed you, as if you were an inept idiot. She was seeming to forget how you had spent an insane amount of time, cumulatively, doing research on all things pregnancy. "I'll explain. . .See, when the milk comes in, the blood flow affects the veins in your boobies-."

“I’m not a fucking child, Elsie. I know what happens and I knew that this was bound to happen. I know why it’s happening,” you explained, suddenly wanting to slap her for how much she’d annoyed you. “The veins just don’t get this dark for every woman and I was already feeling insecure about my body last night. Thankfully, I started feeling better last night. But now? Now, I’m feeling like shit about myself again. And we’re about to take pictures–.”

“They’re not even bad, y/n. And you know I'd tell you if I thought they were ug,” she said sternly, backing up from you to grab the jeans from the bed. “I happen to think you’re overreacting.”

“Elsie, you aren’t allowed to have an opinion,” you snapped, your chest heating with aggravation. “You’re not the pregnant woman experiencing these obscene body changes.”

“Okay, first of all, I’m going to pretend you didn’t tell me that. If I’m not allowed to have an opinion, I think I might die. So. . .,” she paused, holding the jeans out to you in the reflection behind you. “Just quit looking and put these on. I’m hungry.”

You grumbled the words back at her, dropping your heavy tits and slowly turning to face her. “But seriously – why in the fuck did they have to pop up today? Right before pictures?”

“Because your body knew it needed the additional sexy,” she replied with a wiggle of her perfectly waxed brows, filled in just right. “Jake will think it’s sexy.”

The jeans were tugged from her hands with another slight growl from your lips. Thinking about Jake seeing your now-strikingly veiny boobs was not a pleasurable thought. Your un-confronted attempts to get his attention were sure to backfire in your face. Even if you knew Jake would most likely compliment them, it wasn’t guaranteed that he’d actually find them sexy. Who in their right mind would think that? She rolled her eyes at your huffing as you pulled the denim over your fat ass. Seriously, there was no winning. Veiny tits, fat ass, thicker thighs, bloated everything. . .

Fuck. So much for feeling sexy enough to take these blessed pictures. You were having second thoughts. After you got your jeans on, you leveled her with a glare. Your brain was officially a mess. And the front door was opening, adding to the crashing waves that had become your brain. You could hear the slight creak of it and you heard Josh upon his entry, as he quite literally sang his arrival.

“I’ll be out in a second, babe!” Elsie shouted towards the living room before sending her gaze back to you, one eyebrow raised.

She opened her mouth to speak, but you were speaking before she could get another word in. “How in the sweet heavens are these thick, dark blue veins sexy? And how am I supposed to think I’m hot enough to take these pictures now?”

“You’re shitting me, right?” She asked, grabbing your phone for you from your bed and whipping it out at you to take. Reluctantly, you grabbed it (more forcefully than you probably should have). Your eyes were still communicating discontent with it all. “Open up your damn camera, so we can get to the good ones. Once you’re in that lingerie and getting in your thoughts about sex with your baby daddy, we’ll be fine. Swear.”

You found it so lovely that all it took was the mere mention of sex with Jake for your heart to start hammering against your rib cage. She was right. Your head was dizzy just in preparation for the thoughts. . .thinking about him to get you in the mood sounded incredible.

And at that, you were suddenly ready to take pictures. But then, you were looking back in your tall mirror at your fucking roadmaps and you weren’t ready anymore.

“I don’t even want to take the first picture. How am I going to want to be all sensua—?”

“Y/n. Shut the fuck up and quit being melodramatic,” she insisted, bossing you in a way you (admittedly) needed. But, it didn’t mean you liked it. You snarled a lip at her, still glaring because you felt like it. “If you keep up the attitude, little sis, I’m going to go sit in the living room with my boyfriend and force you to take these by yourself. I’m not down for your shit and you know it. So, make your choice, bitch.”

Placing a hand on your tummy, you grounded yourself. Planted your feet. Out with the negative, y/n.

You thought about your boobs, got a good image of them in your head and imagined how, in a few months, you’d be using them for someone who mattered much more than you. And the reason they were changing in the ways they were, was solely due to the little one who took precedence over anything and everybody. And everybody most definitely included yourself. If you could do the multitude of other uncomfortable things you had already done for her, the least you could do was take a damn picture. You wanted the world to know of her. Everyone, ever. And that began with a post of you proudly posing with the bump that housed her.

For Lavender. You could do it. For her. She was someone to be proud of in every capacity, even if for now, that was just an Instagram post.

“Fine,” you moaned, turning from your sister. Her curls were seeming to stand on end with her frustration and restlessness towards you and your back and forth mental battle. “Help me pose in this damn mirror.”

The lace felt just as good on your body as you initially imagined it would. The insecurities had dissipated as you’d continued to remind yourself of the baby girl who was thriving inside of you. She needed a mother who was proud of her, and that you were, in spite of personal insecurities. And, posing for the picture in the mirror - holding your bump - made your heart long for the moment you'd finally get to hold her in your arms. And at that, everything else simply didn't matter.

Every change on and in your body was because of her. And she was worth all of it and more.

So, by the end of your ‘innocent’ announcement photos, you were already in a much better mindset. It had only been a few of those pictures and that one pose. Your phone, up and covering your face as you gave proper camera attention to your bump. You held the phone with the hand on the side of your body furthest from the mirror. Elsie had insisted it was a 'natural' pose and you 'keep it that way'.

The said the same thing when you went to touch your belly with the palm of the other hand. You truly adored touching your baby in this way. Putting a hand to your tummy was the thing closest to holding her. You'd found, over time, you weren’t one to move your hand quickly once it was placed there. Liked feeling close to her. . .

But now, you were most definitely not holding your body. No, you were focusing on the rest of your body. You’d adjusted as much was needed, but it hadn’t been a lot. The two piece set had fit your body like it was quite actually made for you. The black, sheer, lacy lingerie Elsie had gifted you was of smutty romantic novel dreams.

You were focused on putting on some lipliner to accentuate your lips beneath your lip oil and touching up your lashes. All the while, Elsie had been gone helping Josh with his task of finding a shirt of Jake's. Though, that was a task that should have taken five minutes or less. . . and it had now taken almost twenty and you were getting antsy. And irritated. And frustrated. And grumpy. And envious of their freedom. . .

You couldn't lie. Your current predicament with Jake was ass. Not at all what Josh and Elsie had and you wanted to scream for it.

Honestly, most of it was definitely credited to the fact that you were hungry as fuck. Your stomach was growling more than you liked, so you were hesitant, yet again, to imagine how distraught Lavender was over the hunger.

At this point, you imagined the stomach growling was actually her saying her first words. Imagining her inside, begging you with ‘feed me, mommy’s’ was enough to make your heart race with anticipation. You needed to get these pictures taken to tell the world of her. . . and, perhaps, possibly, get a reaction from her father. If you were lucky.

And, as you eyed the lacy ensemble on your body once more, turning to the side and poking out a hip. . . You hoped to god - hoped that her aforementioned sexy ass father would see it and love it. And, perhaps, let you know, too. . . Again. . . if you were lucky.

You were snapped from the thought of his opinion as Elsie was crashing into your space once again. Swiveling on a heel, you gave her a look that said everything you were thinking. Or at least you tried to translate it to say, ‘Thanks for leaving me to suffer in hunger and anxious excitement for a damn quickie, bitch.’

“Okay, so Josh has secured the shirt,” Elsie said in a rush, not looking at you and hurriedly shutting the door behind her. Her hair was much messier than it had been when she’d left you. And when she finally looked up at you to urge you to get moving, you noticed her salmon-colored lip liner-lip oil combo. . . had smudged down to her damn chin. “Shut up, bitch,” she said, without a second thought. “I haven’t seen the man for a hot damn minute and I missed him. Give me a break.”

“You just saw him last night," you huffed an annoyed laughed at her excuses.

“We’re making up for lost time.”

You could’ve gagged. “I’m starving, Elsie. I’m ready to take these so we can go eat.”

“Y/n,” she huffed, voice pitching a bit higher with her annoyance. “I’m doing you a damn favor by helping you. You’re going to appreciate it without judging my ass.”

Damn. She was right. And you were grateful. But still. Pregnancy hormones and cravings and hunger and hungry baby — they were no joke. . . You figured you’d bother her a little more. Just because little sisters had to meet their monthly quota.

“Your niece is hungry, Elsie,” you remarked, watching as she began unbuttoning the shirt Josh had found. "I am quite actually eating for two and I have to make sure she is eating enough."

Her eyes flicked up to yours and there was a bit of fire in them. Along with an unspoken guilt. “For that I am sorry. We will get this finished up before you know it. I promise,” she finished with the buttons, offering the white dress shirt to you.

You’d only seen him wear this a slim number of times. Very slim. Label meetings. A few lessons with higher paying clients (you internally gagged at the idea of Maya being one of said clientele). And Halloween night.

Goddamn, he’d done it for you that night. When he’d been dressed as the most breathtaking pirate you’d ever fucking seen. When you grasped the shirt, you didn’t hesitate in bringing it up to your nose to smell it. Amber. Vanilla. Sandalwood. Paradise. Safety. Love.

When you heard Elsie’s snort just past you, you realized what you’d just done in front of her watchful eyes. You kept your head down, wanting to avoid said eyes. The oceans of teal and dark blue were most surely judging you just as she’d asked you to not judge her. Albeit, your little stunt was a little more creepy. Okay, very creepy. Weird as fuck. Whatever.

“Don’t judge me, Elsie,” you muttered, still letting your eyes shift nervously at the carpet on which your toes wiggled. “I’m just—.”

“A horny ass ho ho ho. . .What a Merry Christmas to Jake!” She finished with a singular loud cackle, flipping the light switch off behind her. The lights off with the candles and lamps was still an absolute ambient dream. “Y/n. Seriously, though. It’s okay, babe. Like I said, I get it,” she giggled a little more as you let the cool fabric slip over your arms. You could’ve sighed with relief at the hug from the material. But you didn’t. Not after your display. “He’s going to be chokin’ the chicken tonight no matter what. Maya’s stank ass will be the last damn thing on his mind when you post thes–.”

“Els!” You finally let your head wrench up from your shame. But you couldn’t dig at her for what she’d said. It was hilarious. 'Chokin’ the chicken'? Where did she get this shit? All she was met with, though, was a little smirk on your lips. She was such a little devious rat. . . . and you loved it. You faux-scolded her. “Quit that. . .,” you shook your head, messing with the buttons of the shirt for something to do with your hands. “He can’t even do that shit with Maya around. Not that he’d even want—.”

“Oh my god. Y/n. Be so fucking for real.”

“Even if we don’t like her and she sucks and I really, really can’t stand—.”

“See? You can barely say a nice word about her. She’s a whore,” she pursed her lips with a toss of her eyes and hair over her shoulder. She then went to the mirror you’d just been standing in front of to touch up her lips. Using a finger to touch up the edges, she hummed and spoke the best she could as she completed the job. “You want it, he wants it. And I, for one, am not going to pretend like him buffing the banana is not the end goal with these pictures.”

Buffing the banana? What in the sweet fuck?

“I honestly just want to post a pregnancy announcement,” you reminded her, knowing it wasn’t the full truth. Not at all.

“Also," she continued as if you hadn't said what you had. It was bullshit and she knew it. "I can almost guarantee he’ll be finding time for himself in the bathroom in that little town— what’s it called?”

“Oh my god,” with a flat brow, you gave her a look with your deadpan response. “It’s Charleston, Elsie. . . One would think you’re not a world-fucking-traveler. You know how big Charleston is. Now you're just being a rat for the hell of it."

“I know I am. . . It's fun," she winked at your expression. "Sometimes I just feel like being a bitch. Especially about things concerning her,” she said, digging through her belt bag on the dresser for her gloss. Never one to reapply the original lip. Only gloss after her lips were smudged.

You shook your head at her. "Which room did you christen so I can sanitize it?"

"Jake's, duh," she replied, as if that were supposed to be a given.

But it just left you standing there with your mouth agape. What in the-? "What in the hell? His own brother's room?" You turned your voice down, so as not to make Josh privy to the conversation. "I've-we've-he and I have-so many times-. God, Elsie. . .," you shook your head and massaged your temples. For the briefest moment, Maya didn't fucking exist. No other woman did, in fact. Because all you could think about was how that room belonged to you and Jake. Only the two of you. "Please tell me it wasn't the bed."

"Not the bed. God, no. Too far," she seemed offended like that idea was so incredibly dirty to even consider. God - your sister was a trip when it came to one Joshua Michael Kiszka. "It was the desk. And, in that moment, it wasn't Jake's anymore. . . it was only us in that moment," she explained, popping her lips a couple times to ensure the gloss was doing what she wanted. And still, she put on another coat. You were ashamed that your mind had literally been following the same thought process only seconds ago. "When the feeling strikes, it strikes," she continued in a strange tone as her lips curled for the application. "Don't tell me you wouldn't do it anywhere if Jake were to approach you for it."

You wanted to continue the argument, but. . .She had a point. The thought alone had you wanting to bend over as an offering to the man. . . Wearing his shirt as he claimed you over and over again. . . Hard. Rough. Passionate. Talk about making up for lost time. . . Fuck. The though alone - you were growing desperate with no route for escape. . . In the next moment, when you shifted to tousle your hair away from your hot face, the shirt brushed just right across your chest. And suddenly, there was only one thing you wanted. . .

So, without another thought, you were giving into a sudden urge. Turning from her, you faced the bed. And once your front was safely hidden from her sight, you very subtly brushed the lapels of his shirt against your nipples. The sensation was enough to make you shiver - the peaks of your breasts grew taut and damn near painful at the way it lit you up. . . All for him and fuck - it felt so good. Your toes curled into the carpet, eyes closing at the feeling as you continued to use his shirt for stimulation. The lace and sheer material were the ideal match for his button down and your sensitive tits.

“Yeah, you know I'm right. It’s the precise reason you want to take this second one with Jake’s shirt covering your almost-naked body,” she sarcastically interjected, playing a little too well into your current thoughts and actions for your liking. Your cheeks blushed, feeling like you'd been caught when she hadn't even turned around. When she popped her lips for a third time, though, you knew she was finished. And you were on edge for more reasons than one. So, you stopped what you were doing and went to get on the bed. Didn’t want to seem suspicious.

“Oh, the things this poor bed has witnessed. . .,” she pushed out a breath, grabbing your phone from where it laid on the edge of the bed. You rubbed your brow with a finger, ready to get the show on the road and feeling sympathetic for your bed and the way she spoke of it. (And the way she was so right. . . Your insatiable ass.) “Woo-wee, mama," she emphasized the words with a pat-pat-pat to the bed.

With a groan, you went from a sitting position on the bed to move on all fours. Had to find a good place to pose. But, moving like this was quickly becoming too much of a reminder of the night prior. So, you didn’t stay like that for long before you were scooting around the bed on your knees. Which, again, was a stark reminder of how his mouth had tucked up and inside — so well — from this angle. At the same time, his shirt once again brushed your tender nipples. Goddammit!

“Elsie, how do you want me?” You wondered aloud, done with the dilly-dallying. Turning to face her to clear your mind, you knew your expression was pinched in an effort to have her understand your frustration.

And the mischievous smirk she gave you was not helpful. But, somehow, it did still trick your mind enough for your lips to part with your own grin. “I think we should only focus on using the position from that photo. Do you remember it?”

“Duh, bitch,” you bit out, once again irritated. The hormones were not working in your favor or your sister’s. Not with the additional hunger overtaking you to push it to a higher degree.

“Alright, so bend those knees,” she encouraged, ignoring your snippiness. All she did was move to prepare for the exact spot she needed as the photographer for the photo aesthetic. So, you did just as she said, posing the exact same way the woman in the picture had. When you loosened your hips to get your ass close to the fabric of your down comforter, you ruffled the covers around you for a special effect.

The bed shouldn’t look too pristine. . . Not for the idea I’m trying to create. . .You thought, face feeling hot at the implications of this photo.

You didn’t get down too low to the covers either; imagined where a face might lay below your hips, nestled between your thighs. A handsome face with amber-brown eyes and full lips, top one curled in a grin special to only him. . . Last night had been a reel in your head all day, but now it wasn’t playing at the back. No, it was playing at the front. Widescreen in a fucking cinema.

Slowly, before you had processed anything else, your hips had begun moving again with some assistance from his persistent hold on your hips. He’d gone to fully grip your ass, assisting you in grinding down, hard against his strong, flattened, and fucking wet tongue. He hadn’t stopped once the entire time. His fucking stamina was otherworldly. And, even though you’d just (kind of) come back to, you’d already started to fall apart again. It had hit you suddenly – when you’d felt his hums switch to a low growl against your labia, right before he’d gone back in for a sloppy kiss. You’d instantly gone back in the throes of all things Jake; your body had become utterly numb as you sunk as far as you could onto his face.

The growls and groans had continued from his mouth – you’d felt every single one against your center as he’d worked to tilt your body just so, his nose, having nudged against your aching core. Right where all of the nerves met - just briefly. Your toes had curled tighter at the contact, amidst the harsh ride of your orgasm on his lips. He’d wanted you to feel every bit of work he was putting in. Every movement of his mouth was crucial to your enjoyment of the moment and he’d made damn sure you knew that.

You’d made the mistake in that moment of looking down as you’d groggily returned from your third orgasm, to the then-present time. Because, when you’d looked down, you’d been offered the opposite of reprieve. With a slow glance just past your round tummy, you’d caught sight of the very bottom of his chin and the strong column of his neck below you. And what you’d beheld had been intoxicatingly beautiful. . . And shocking.

All of your release, all over his tanned skin. . . He’d become fucking soaked. Had you squir–? Fuck. The knowledge of the fact that you'd done so. . . just enough to make a fire light up in the pit of your tummy. The flood of heat that’d enveloped your belly, washing over your entire body in a rush of glorious overstimulation, had been the only sign you’d had of a fourth orgasm.

“Oh my god,” you remembered whimpering, your body, having been incapable of handling itself as you’d let out a choked sob, tears flooding down your cheeks at the care you were being shown. Your hands had finally slipped further, nestling on the insides of his thighs. You’d leaned forward just a bit to grasp him better, the want for his dick back inside of you had been a burning desire as you got closer to it. It had been obvious that he’d been beyond ready for you — stretched readily, angrily, and so thick. . . All. For. You.

Too fucking bad nothing had come of it. That thought alone was enough to gain a sense of self in the present time. But god, you were still feeling things from the memory. Things you really didn’t want to be feeling in front of your sister. Your cheeks alone were hot from the thought of him last night, as you’d been positioned – just like you were now – in the same exact spot. You had to control the reactions your body was desiring to emit at the memory.

Not in front of Elsie. Have some respect for yourself, y/n, the voice in your head counseled you. Couldn’t tell if it was the mean one or the nice one. . . Either way, it was correct in its advice.

“I see what you did there,” she appreciatively noted, snapping a photo at the same time you messed with the blanket. “Keep moving in candid ways. You’re already killing it with that gorgeous face. I’m so fucking jealous of those darker features from Grandpa’s side of the family.”

“Please don’t talk about our Grandfather right now,” you replied, cheeks cooling when you shot her a glare. You were sure your face showed utter disgust. Because, ew.

“Alright. Almost done,” she said with a slight snort of a laugh, getting off the bed from the curved position she’d made to get the last round of pictures. She snapped a few from a standing position at the end of the bed. Then a few more, with only her chest and arms leaning on the mattress. You were sure you had at least good one from all of these as she kept complimenting you after every few. God, you were so thankful for her mindfulness and helpfulness. You really would be lost without her. She really didn’t have to be doing this, but here she was. “These are going to be so fucking hot, sis.”

You breathed out with a smile, feigning an incredible amount of effort that you hadn’t used with the back of your hand across your forehead. Though, ironically, your next breath was, actually, from back pain alone. While the position was really attractive, it was starting to hurt a bit. No Jake below you to make you feel better this time. You really did love how incredibly well it resembled last night. . . But your baby was growing everyday and your back was unappreciative. . . Especially in new, abnormal positions such as the one you were in.

The look of pain went unnoticed by your sister as she had gone to speak loudly to Josh through a crack in the door. One hand on the knob and phone in the other, she looked over at you quizzically. “How would you feel about The Monkey King?”

Anything sounded delicious. . . And The Monkey King had hit the fucking spot all two times you'd eaten there. You were in shock at the suggestion. Seriously. The Monkey King? The restaurant was not cheap. Even with grandparents who provided more than well, you’d only ever been to the restaurant a couple of times in your entire life.

“Um. . . Who will be pay–?” You began, with a scrunched brow before Josh interrupted you with a 'me, mama!'.

However, that voice had come from way too close. Was he directly outside of the room? Why was he not in the living room? You did not like the idea of your male best friend being so near when you were in such flimsy and revealing clothing.

You’re literally posting these on Instagram, y/n, a little voice spoke to you. Pretty sure Josh is the least of your worries.

“Sounds like a plan,” you agreed, grimacing again from the pain in your back just as she’d turned to speak with him again.

Thankfully, she was back within seconds with one last idea. There was a choir singing "Hallelujah" in the distance - you were sure of it. “Okay. . . One more pose I just thought of. Stay on your knees, but lightly grab the lapel of his shirt.” You did just that, following her instructions, your fingers brushing the ends of your hair strands.

“How can he afford that?” You asked as she fidgeted with the lapels of the shirt. It was honestly astounding that he’d just thrown that expensive ass restaurant out there as a recommendation like it was nothing.

“You should see the money they’ve made from some of this promotional shit with their label,” she bragged on the band’s behalf – but you knew it was more on Josh’s behalf.

“Seriously? Without a tour, even?” You wondered, letting your eyes meet hers once at the question. “Or a damn album release itself?”

She told you to ‘keep the pose’ before she responded. “It’s a lot of explanation and words and Josh talks so much that I don’t always catch everything he says,” she explained, pursing her lips before telling you to look down again. “But from what I’ve gathered, they are doing a lot of shit for the label and with the label. . . The type of shit that racks up some big money.”

“That’s incredible,” you said, speechless as you surged with a deep sense of pride for Jake specifically.

It was impossible to communicate the amount of emotion you felt for his career taking off. So quickly, too, in the grand scheme of things. Absolutely awe-inspiring for anyone to witness. It was proof that if he wouldn’t have stopped after high school, he’d have gone farther than he already was going now. The fact that they were going so far now and doing so well for themselves was further confirmation that you couldn’t ever let Jake abandon a damned thing for you. Or for Lavender. She had to see him do this wonderful, once-in-a-lifetime thing — live this dream out. In the long run, it would inspire her to follow her own dreams. It sounded stupid to already be saying shit like that, yes. . . But it was how your hormones laid things out for you — mentally and emotionally. And it really did make sense. . .

The thought alone was enough to help you stand firm in your desire for him to not be with you. And you didn’t want him with someone like Maya. You were so passed that. She wasn’t good like he was. They didn’t fit and it was hell watching them together because he was better - far better - than her. Being so close and intimate with him again was (very slowly) helping to clear your head of the bullshit that you'd orchestrated in your mind that she was right for him. Jacob Thomas Kiszka wasn’t right for anybody. He was too good for this world and no one was good enough for his heart. Even if he were to believe it wasn’t true, you believed it. And you would continue to believe it for him if you had to. You loved him enough to believe in anything for him.

You were jealous of him and Maya, yes. And you wanted him to leave her. But it went beyond that. So far beyond that. In the end, it had virtually nothing to do with Maya and everything to do with Jake. Jake deserved to live his dream without a woman tying him down. While you wanted all of him more than anything, you knew you’d only ever give so much of yourself. Only for his benefit. You would use your body to show him your love for as long as time would allow. You wanted that shit and he’d made it seem like he did, too. You’d be his friend, too. Being his friend, alone, was a gift. His friend, first and foremost.

Your entire heart — everything that came with a relationship — was too much for him and you refused to burden him with it. You loved him too much for that. God. . .you really fucking loved him. So much it physically hurt. The love you had for him was the reason you were so adamant about not letting him push anything away like he’d been forced to before. His future was right around the corner. The life that he was destined for. . . One outlined with fame and adoration from fans who loved the music he made.

He’d helped you reclaim a hellton of shit in your life. The least you could do for him was not squander it with a relationship. A relationship with a broken woman. His baby would know that he loved her. You’d make sure of it. You knew he’d make sure of it. Lavender Kiszka would only bring joy and hope in her wake — just like she already did. You brought confusion and unsureness and a broken heart from things that weren’t his doing.

Yes, your goal was to have those things healed before Lavender was in your arms. But. . that was another thing. It was for her. The healing, the getting better. . . At your core, you knew it was for her. Not him. Not even for you, as much as it was her. She needed your devoted attention. And that did not include him working tirelessly to keep up with your bullshit. No, Lavender needed to be his main focus, too.

After Elsie claimed she’d gotten the ‘perfect shot’, she left you to get changed for the night. But. . you couldn’t take off the lingerie yet. Didn’t want to. It made you feel so fucking incredible, in the end. Even when you went to brush your hair and touch up your lips in the mirror and caught sight of your vein-ridden tits. . .you didn’t begin to feel like shit. No, the veins that stared back at you above the cups of your bralette weren’t quite so offensive anymore. Not when you associated them with why they were so prominent.

You slipped a nice, black v-neck sweater over your head to match the expensiveness of the restaurant you’d be going to. And when it was just the sweater and the lacy underwear (that did not cover your ass), you turned to the side and smoothed a gentle, loving hand over your bump. She was worth every bit of everything. And so was her daddy.

“How about I post a story of you and Els? That’ll break the ice,” Josh brainstormed as all three of you got settled into your seats at The Monkey King. “We can see if he’s online.”

For the past half hour of leaving your home and waiting for a table at The Monkey King, Elsie and Josh had been talking you down from being worried. Worried about posting your pictures. The non-sexy comparison one would be first. You already had that post queued up on your end. But. . . you’d been leaning into hesitancy. You were waiting — because of nerves forcing you to believe that Jake wouldn’t even react to them.

Why would he? He was with his girlfriend, for god’s sake! And you’d even told him to ignore you. And, stupidly, you’d voiced the moronic worries to Josh and Elsie who hadn’t stopped giving ideas for the past almost-forty minutes now. But they just didn't get it. You needed a little more time. . . You just needed a bit to boost your courage to post anything at all — especially the risqué story. And that one was set to come after the first post. . . So, as it went, the sooner you posted the first. . .

Elsie had been right about the last set of pictures she'd snapped. There had been one photo in particular that had been perfect. When you looked at it, it was hard to believe it was even you. But that was how you knew it was fucking good and hot as hell. Your hair had been the slightest bit tousled from your moving around for the pictures, your hand holding onto the left lapel of his shirt. . . Your legs, opened into a small 'V' and bent at the knee, ass nearly touching the bed in your 'relaxed' position.

And your tits. Damn. In spite of the veins, you still loved how they looked at this stage in your pregnancy. They were ideally round and swollen in a way that would make any boob-lover’s day. Yes, the veins were noticeable. But you actually understood Elsie’s point about them adding a sexy touch. You saw yourself as this ethereal sort of pregnant woman in the sensuous picture. You’d made it black and white for an added noir effect. . . And it was actually perfect. But, still. You were nervous.

“I swear if this is actually about your titties. . .,” Elsie began, somehow reading your mind in her creepy ass sister way. Her words got an abrupt response from her boyfriend.

“A woman’s body is magnificent in any light, y/n. Don’t be ashamed of it, mama,” Josh encouraged, catching your eyes and blushing cheeks. His brown irises held compassion and empathy.

“Thanks, Jo—.”

“Yeah, y/n,” Elsie cut in, earning herself a glare from you. “And that especially goes for pregnant bodies.”

“I believe if my twin were here he’d have to agree,” Josh inserted, looking at Elsie when he said it. He was literally using it as a conversation piece to add onto her statement. Josh was an appreciator of the human anatomy — of all of its beautiful features and abilities.

But it felt like you were being put on the spot. Like Elsie had said some shit. Something that would make him feel the need to encourage you with a statement in reference to Jake and your boobs. “What the fuck did you say to him, Elsie?” You wondered, being cut off by the waiter coming to take your drink orders.

For once, you actually got a drink with caffeine. Coke. You knew from reading, that a little caffeine wouldn’t hurt the baby and you were craving the unhealthy carbonated drink. Christmas and Coke just went together. When the waiter had gone, you went to say more to Elsie — really chew her out — but it was Josh who spoke first.

“I don’t even know what you’re referring to, y/n,” he clarified, gaining your line of sight. His eyes screamed genuinity. You knew he wasn’t lying. “I just felt the need to insert what I knew. What I know about the man. Because. . .,” he cleared his throat, leveling you with a pinning stare. His lips quirked. “Because, I know — based on what you told me, y/n —, that that stupid ass motherfucker is part of the reason you’re nervous to post anything.”

“What, do you know that Jake’s a boob guy or something?” Elsie tried, smirking at her boyfriend. “I mean. . .could have guessed that based on the way I’ve caught him looking at y/n’s on the few occasions I’ve been around to witness it.”

What? He did that? And often enough that Elsie had noticed it after only a few visits?

“You do make quite the impeccable point, my dear. . . The fucker can’t take his damned eyes off of them,” Josh agreed with a puff of air from his lips, quantified to a laugh. “It’s hilarious, actually. Thinks he’s being subtle.”

You had no idea what they were talking about. There had only been a few times that you had caught his eyes roaming. . . And usually, it was just the two of you who were there when he did it. “I don’t know what the fuck you guys are talking about,” you interjected. “Surely he doesn’t—.”

“Y/n. Even if I hadn’t caught him doing it, he told me his goddamn self,” Josh informed you, placing his fingers together in a pyramid in front of his face. As if he were some sort of great scholar discussing this shit. “That day after he groped you in front of us all and got himself off in the bathroom — which he also admitted to, by the way. He actually told me the shit about your body whilst admitting to yanking his fucking chain.”

Okay, they had to stop with the variety of terms they used to describe sex things. “Where the fuck do you guys hear the variety of ways to refer to male and female genitalia?”

“Urban Dictionary,” they said in unison, side eyeing one another with a little grin as they bumped shoulders.

You rolled your eyes.

“We just get on there for fun sometimes,” Elsie explained, rubbing Josh’s arm lovingly as the drinks got to the table.

“You’re both gross,” you replied as you watched them fucking Eskimo kiss in front of you. God, you were so damn single.

For a number of seconds, they continued on as if you weren’t there. All handsy and flirty and in love. You stared at them blankly and with self-pity. . . All you wanted, with one person in particular. But you just couldn’t do it.

You were caught off guard when the waiter was suddenly back with your drinks, asking for your orders. You quickly ordered your meal, having checked the menu online on the way to the restaurant. The way your stomach had been calling out for help had simply left you no other choice. When the server was yet again gone, with the orders tucked into his apron, you let your eyes roam back over to your two best friends. Thankfully, they were back from Love Island. Though, unfortunately, they were both eyeing you with measured stares of awaiting nature.

“What, you two?” You snapped at them, arching a brow as you took a long sip of your Coke. Which, as you'd expected, hit the spot just right.

“You’re not even going to react?” Josh quizzed you, raised a brow as he took a sip of his piping hot green tea. “I just told you that Jake told me how much he loved your body.”

To tell him or not to tell him. . . Fuck. Whatever. What was the harm?

“I don’t need to react to that Josh,” you began. After one more little sip of your Coke, you placed your phone on the table. The confidence was coming; you could do it. “Because last night I think his mouth did a pretty impeccable job informing me — on my body.”

“In her body,” Elsie added, with a pointed look at Josh.

The curly headed twin almost shot green tea out of his nose, choking slightly as he swallowed his most recent sip. “What?!”

“Yes, Joshua, we both took your sage advice. Thank you so much, Wise Counselor,” you griped, for no reason besides how hungry you were. Because, truly, you were grateful. Josh was working wondrous Christmas miracles in Brooklyn, NY.

“Dr. JMK,” Elsie wiggled her brows at him, patting his back as his coughs turned to little huffs and puffs. “My favorite therapist.”

You didn’t even have to guess that they were referring to sex. Not with the way he was smirking and rubbing at his bottom lip as his breathing calmed. His eyes, darkened and looking in the distance - far away from you. Then, he was whispering in her ear and you wanted to gag. Again.

Their public display of affection was enough to encourage you to go to your own little world. And the most effective way to do that at the time being was to just get the damn picture posted. Just the comparison. The one in the jeans. You could do that. With the caption up and ready and everything, all you had to do was click a certain button.

So, you did it. Posted. Just like that.

The left side, the picture of you in a black bra with your jeans undone in the front to showcase your protruding lower tummy. And then, of course, the right side was the picture of your pre-baby body the day you went to the pool. In your little black swimsuit – but just enough of the picture to be a near-replica picture of the one you’d taken that evening. Just your face behind the phone, your chest, your tummy, and the very top curve of your ass.

The focal point of both pictures, being how your body had changed. Which, you had to admit. . . you were beginning to prefer the baby bod. Whether that was thanks to Jake’s assistance the night before or the fact that your changing body meant your daughter was growing - well and healthily. . . you weren’t sure. Though, you were leaning more towards being proud of the little human you were housing. She was right there, obvious to everyone, all of the time, and you loved that fact. Lavender made the cutest little bump. And when you weren’t in your head about your appearance, you could see just how much you loved your bump. You were admittedly blessed with quite the adorable round tummy.

And, after comparing your body to hoards of other pregnant women, you knew you were also blessed with incredible pregnancy-induced tits. You’d seen plenty of other women who had perfectly suited bodies to accompany their pregnancy… but, you were glad to simply prefer yours than compare it to others’. Your nipples were still smaller and lighter, those not having changed too much (strangely, you were terrified for those to change). It was nice to not have to get used to those changing along with everything else (Seriously. Everything else: belly, ass, thighs, swollen feet — the works.). The only thing that had really changed about your breasts was the size of them. They’d grown beautifully larger, in your opinion. Round, sexily swollen, and sitting just right on your body above your bump. . . (If you took time to consider it, you could understand why Jake had focused on them so intentionally the night before.)

Seriously, where this confidence was coming from, you had no idea. You assumed it had to do with the night before.

You stared at the post for just a moment longer, not daring to refresh the page to see any comments, likes or anything of the sort. The caption was very sweet, the ideal thing to accompany the black and white side-by-side comparison. It was simple, pointing out the obvious. (Your tummy was still small-ish, yes. However, it was also pretty clear that you were, in fact, more than a little pregnant.)

For your caption, you’d written:

Just a bit of a difference… 🤭🫶 May 2023 🐣💜

The notification ping! on Elsie’s phone went off with your post. At the noise, you looked up at your sister to see her reaction to it. Thankfully, it had been enough to break her and Josh from their mini lovefest (seriously, thank god). She’d given you an eye with a smirk that said she was proud of you before she picked up her phone to see the post. Josh was looking over her shoulder as she clicked through to the app, curious to see the highly anticipated post finally up and in action.

“Oh, y/n. . . . it is perfect!” She’d excitedly squealed, instantly double clicking her screen with her pointer. She flourished the action with a little flick of her wrist, which made you laugh. And soon, Josh was readily getting his phone out to, presumably, do the same. “I’m gonna comment and share it to my story. . . How about you post your story pic, sis? Please. I’m dying.”

Still maneuvering around his phone like he was a grandpa, Josh held the phone away from his face a bit to get a good look. With a gentle grin, he double clicked before sending a wink your way. “So cute, Mama. Jake’s going to love it.”

“I can’t look to see if he’s liked it yet,” you admitted out loud, only eyeing the post for a second longer before you started preparing your story post. “And I literally just posted, so I know I sound ambitious even referring to it yet.” It seemed like the right time to get the truly risque picture set and ready while you were feeling so good about your figure. . . And to distract you from Jake possibly seeing the other post.

“We don’t have to quite yet. Els, why don’t you. . .?” Josh said across from you. From your peripheral, you noticed he was gearing up his phone to take a picture of you. You glanced up at him just as Elsie was moving around the table to sit beside you. The crinkle in your brow questioned what they were doing, but you didn’t have to ask as he was revealing it himself on his next breath. “I’m going to make that story post I mentioned earlier. And, if he sees mine, then I’ll be able to call him on his shit if he doesn’t pay attention to yours.”

“Josh,” you scolded with a stern brow. Though, in spite of your slight disagreement with the plan, you went along with it. It did make sense. . . you just weren’t sure you wanted him calling Jake out. You said as much, just as he got the phone set up just right to get the best angle. “You shouldn't call him out for anything. He is with Maya. His focus doesn’t need to be on me. I’m just being weird about him seeing it.”

With another glance, you eyed your phone screen before turning it on its face – didn’t want to show how it was opened to a new Insta story. The black and white picture of you in the sexy black lingerie and Jake’s shirt, only awaiting a song to accompany it for your second post of the night.

“We all want to know his reaction, sis,” Elsie clarified as she snuggled up beside you, wrapping her arm around you and pulling you close. “Now, smile for my boyfriend.”

You did just as she said, the smile not hard to fake at all. This night was honestly of your dreams, getting to be with your two best friends. Elsie living in New York again still felt too good to be true. . . But, it was, in fact, very true. And you were overjoyed. There was only one person truly missing.

Josh continued to narrate as he took a few pictures. “I want him to see what he’s missing out on, too. Selfishly, I’m also pissed he’s spending any time away from me this holiday season, too. . .,” he grumpily noted. “I thought that the ‘prioritizing the girlfriend’ shit was behind us.”

With a flush in your cheeks, you couldn’t help but agree that it was aggravating that he was away. “Yeah, it sucks that he’s not here,” you said, not really caring to be transparent about that. It was just Josh and Elsie. . . you were tired of hiding all of these pent up feelings from them. There were only certain things you were not about to divulge to them. . . . like your love for the man. “I was looking forward to spending some of the holiday with him, too.”

The curly headed man turned the phone around to show you the pictures with measured scrolls between the pictures. “I feel you, mama,” he solemnly noted in return. “Tell me to stop when you see the one you love.”

They were all very good. Josh knew his way behind a camera. . . truly knew how to make people look their best. But there was one in particular you instantly stopped him at. It was the happiest you’d seen yourself for a hot damn second and Elsie looked majestically gorgeous with her curly hair falling around her petite, fairy-like features with ease.

“That one is my favorite,” you said, tapping the screen to hit the favorite button to emphasize your point. “I love our smiles in it. You look gorgeous, Els.”

“This is about you, sis,” she grasped Josh’s wrist to halt him from moving his phone away just yet. “Do you like how you look in it?”

You shook your head at her insistence, smiling at her. Gently, you lifted her fingers from Josh’s wrist and grasped her hand in your own. “Yes, Elsie. I love how we both look in it,” you promised her, keeping her hand in a tight grip when she gave you a grin to match your own. “But can you please stay beside me for a bit? I need you right here when I post this fucking sensuous story.”

“Yes, silly,” she responded, a glint in her eye as she winked. “Do you want to post first? Or do you want Josh to?”

From the side, you saw Josh pause before placing his phone on the table. “You stopped me just in time, babe. . . Was just about to post it. Instantly knew the song to make him feel guilty with, and put it on there, too," he said, relief and a giggle evident in his tone. “And before either of you see it, yes. I can confirm my words are a little braggy, but I like them that way.”

“I’m sure whatever you said was fine, Joshy,” you said to him with a pat on the back of his hand, curious at the song. But. . . you didn't worry too much about it, though, since you had your own shit to worry about.

His lips quirked under his mustache before he asked you the same question as your sister. “So, you first or me? What would you like best, mama?”

“And Close Friends only or do you want Maya to see it, too?” Elsie asked, brow raised when you caught her eyes next. “Honestly, that would be poetic fucking justice for her to–.”

“No, Els. Only Close Friends. No Maya,” you rolled your eyes at her antics. “I don’t want her to feel any type of way over me posting this. Want her to enjoy Christmas and not worry about me or any of this,” you motioned to your belly.

Silently, you added that you really didn’t want to give her any reason to question you. Didn’t want her to catch on to anything you and Jake had done right before they’d left town. . . . or the fact that you were wearing his damned shirt. You liked it being posted in a sort of secret. For a second, you sat and contemplated it, though. You knew what you truly wanted to do. You were ready. Mostly. “I think I’m gonna post mine. Then, if he’s ignored that and my actual post-post, we’ll see if he’s actually online and not interacting with me if he’s viewing your story.”

“Sounds good,” Josh agreed with an approving purse of his lips. “The floor is yours.”

For some reason, you were beginning to question all of your concern about wanting him seeing it. . . was it stupid? Juvenile? “Why do I even care about him being online, again?” You questioned, out loud, to them. It was better than drowning completely in your own thoughts.

“Because you care about him and you want him to see these,” Elsie said, knowing you better than you knew yourself. “You know you look good and you want him to see you.”

Briefly, you questioned your motives. “But, like. . .is this okay? Am I using my daughter for some sort of weird, personal gain or some shit?”

“Oh, babe. No. Not in the slightest, sis,” Elsie insisted with a squeeze to your bicep. She went to grasp your arm with both of her hands, urging you to look at her. And you did, eyes glazing with tears as you observed the sincerity in hers. “Get out of your head. Are you using your body to take sexy pictures while you look so fucking good pregnant? Yes. I would judge you if you didn’t take sexy maternity pictures. . . And I will judge you if you don’t take more with a professional, later in the pregnancy.”

“You’re taking advantage of being confident in your current state,” Josh added on. You looked over at him, a smirk present on his lips to encourage you. “And I’m glad you are. Every woman should feel divine as fuck in her body while carrying a human life. That’s fucking incredible shit that only you women are able to do and you should fully flaunt the fact that you’re doing that shit. It’s fuckin’ badass, y/n.”

“I completely and wholeheartedly second that,” Elsie tacked on to the end, your gaze going back to hers. She grasped your chin in between her dainty, soft fingers. “Don’t convince yourself of this shit about you being selfish or whatever. I know that's what you're doing. You're confident! It's good to be confident. And you'll get to teach your daughter the same. Don’t you dare dim your light. . . because you won’t want her to dim hers. Yes, you’re posting this to look sexy for Jake, but you did it for yourself, too. And–.”

“And ultimately, it is for Lavender,” Josh finished for Elsie.

Her name. Your eyes snapped over to him, instantly welling with tears at hearing her name flit from his lips. Out in the wild.

It took him a second to register what you were reacting to, but when he did, his expression went flat and his eyes went sympathetic. “Fuck, y/n. I– I didn’t even–,” he rubbed an eyebrow before using his hands to aid in explaining himself. (Which he did not need to do, but you couldn’t say that yet. All you could do was simply sit there in shock at hearing her name in the damn wild.) “Jacob told me. He told me of the significance of it and everything and he just really wanted me to know. . . . Told me to keep my mouth shut and not tell anyone. Because, duh. He wanted to wait for your time for everyone else to find out. But, again– he did tell me you would most likely be okay with me knowing and I just really fucking hope he was correct in this–.”

“Yes!” You adamantly interrupted him, a huge smile lighting up your features at all of it. “Yes. I absolutely am fine with the fact that he told you. I would’ve told him to, but pregnancy brain and all – just slipped my mind,” you shook your head with a contented smile, catching his eyes once more. “I just– I loved hearing you say her name, Josh.” His own smile widened under his mustache as his eyes got glossy. He reached a hand out for you, which you gripped surely and tightly to communicate your love to him.

It’d definitely caught you off guard. But you truly were elated that Jake had told him. You liked it being only your little circle of people that knew. Just your circle. You hoped Jake viewed it as special as you that only your few chosen people knew about her gender. . .And now, a couple more new the name. Only Josh and Elsie. In your heart, you knew he viewed it the same. You’d bet anything on it.

So, feeling emotions rise in your chest and love pouring out of your ears at the support from all areas. . . you decided it was time. And without a second thought, you went for it. Posted the picture, which you’d edited to be a faded and fairly aesthetic black and white tone. On top of the photo were thoughtfully curated words and a favorite holiday-esque tune of yours to match them.

Your words, ‘Most definitely ✨falling in love✨ with my favorite gift ever.’ And, to add to the darker and more mysterious vibe of the shot, you’d tacked on a tiny black heart under the text.

The song you’d chosen was by one of your current favorite artists. Victoria Monet. An orchestral, instrumental rendition of her tune, “We Might Even Be Falling In Love.” The song had been released by her a couple of Christmases ago, with a bunch of her other tracks that she’d added a Christmas sound to. The song fit the overall theme of the story exquisitely. Sexy for Jake to hear as he watched the story, yet loving to fit the message meant for Lavender. And of course, Christmas-y for the season and the text you’d added.

Even with the nerves whistling through your system, you relished in the fact that it was out now. For everyone to see. For a specific person to see. You watched it play through again, admiring the way you looked in it. Elsie had done a damn good job, you were impressed.

“Ready for me to post mine, mama?” Josh asked, breaking you from your reverie of the fact that you’d just posted the picture.

You blinked at him once. Twice. And then told him yes. But it was barely any time after he posted his story that you decided to finally click through to your notifications. When you did, you saw a name you were awfully enthusiastic to see. And that was an understatement.

jakekiszka liked your photo.

16m

jakekiszka commented: 💜

16m

Sixteen minutes ago. . . You clicked through to the post, noticing the time stamp implied that you’d posted it nearly the same length of time ago, save for a couple of minutes. Fuck. He’d seen it basically right away? You couldn’t help the smile that floated to comfortably sit on your lips in silent relief. And on top of seeing it right off the bat, he’d been the first to comment, many others following to offer comments and likes to offer congratulations. Elsie and Josh, taking the cake for the first people to like the post. . . But Jake had taken the time to comment.

And a purple heart, at that. To match yours. For your girl.

Jake’s POV

The initial post had been enough to make me forget where I was. Then she’d posted her story. And the concept of space and time and the people around me mattered fucking none. My dick, doing all of the thinking in my damn pants. . . Daring to react like it wanted to. Goddammit.

She was wearing nearly nothing, only the most breathtaking lacy and sheer bra and panties. Matching. She’d put fucking thought into this. Her tits, so fuckin' heavy and swollen for what they were preparing. . . And when I noticed it was my goddamned shirt on top of her basically naked body - those perfect tits - I was done for. I knew exactly what she was doing. I crossed my legs, rubbing at my jaw in complete and utter appreciation of her heavenly fucking body. My phone, hidden from Maya the best it could’ve been.

I made sure Maya was still engaged in whatever she was talking about with her dad before I turned to the side just slightly to avoid her eyes on the screen. And I really took a moment to digest the image on my phone. My thumb was holding the story in place like my damn life depended on it. . . My dick was fucking aching to do something about what I was looking at. . . And right here, at dinner with Maya and her father, I felt myself getting real fucking hard for y/n. Couldn’t stop it if I fuckin’ tried. This image was sealed in my mind.

Fuck. And I'd been I’d been so damn good. . .

After spending the entire day wanting to continue our conversation from earlier, I hadn’t. A few times, away from Maya’s eyes, I’d opened our thread and almost started something. But I had refrained each and every time. I’d done a damn good job of honoring her wishes by focusing on Maya. I knew that y/n had a point with her insistence on that and I knew it was the right thing to do. Ignore her and think about Maya. . . I knew she’d had a point.

But, still. After last night, all I wanted to fucking do was wrap myself up in all things y/n. Being away from her right now was fucking torture. And not being able to talk to her at all? Worst part of all. But I couldn’t respect her wishes to not communicate when she was posting shit like this.

It lit a fire under my skin. . .

The little act even made me grit my teeth in anger at her. Why did she get to pull shit like this, but I wasn’t allowed to simply text her? Didn’t seem fair to me and I fucking wished there was something I could do about articulating this point to her. Words really wouldn't do it justice. I wanted to use my mouth, my hands, my cock to get the damned point through to her.

But I couldn’t fucking do that at the moment, could I? I crossed my legs tighter together, crushing my fuckin' nuts. Though, I didn't care too much at the moment. . . I was too busy contemplating what was happening in my mind and my damn pants. It was starting to hurt — trying to conceal the throbbing problem in my jeans. So, I decided I needed to say or do something. Teach her a fucking lesson. I just didn’t know how.

Fuck, she needed to understand that she couldn’t do shit like this when I wasn’t around. When I was with my girlfriend.

All I wanted to do was make her understand that this wasn’t fair. . . . Wanted to use my body and hers to do so. . . But I fucking couldn’t do that, now could I? Then — as my dick strained just a bit harder in my jeans, threatening to expose me — I got an idea. Without taking even a second to consider anything, I clicked my phone closed before I turned to Maya.

“I’ve gotta call Josh about something,” I told her, gaining her big brown eyes, making sure to sound as sincere as I could. I felt sort of shitty doing it, but my dick was doing all of the thinking at the moment. My brain was not in charge. “I’ll be real quick.”

“You’re good,” she smiled, patting my thigh and leaning in to give me a kiss on the cheek I didn’t want from her at the present time. “Make it quick, though? This place closes in a couple of hours and I want you to try all of the desserts that come out on the tray. . . I have a story for each and every one.”

Again, not really thinking much, all I could do was offer a quick smile and an ‘mhm’ before rising from my chair quickly and quietly. I did my best to walk with my ass facing the table, covering my front the best I could with my phone and sweater. Without needing much time, thinking on efficiency mode, I found the sign for the bathrooms in no time.

Once I made it to the family stall bathroom, I unbuttoned my pants for some relief. I sighed at the feeling of my jeans not crushing my fucking pulsing cock. And while, yes, it felt better, it was still not good enough. Not even fucking close. I opened my text thread with her. It only took me half a minute to decide on what I wanted to say.

Me, 9:53 p.m.: okay so

Me, 9:53 p.m.: I’m not allowed to talk to you... But you can apparently get fucking naked and wear my shirt when I’m not there to do something about it?

I reached into my briefs and gave myself a few strokes, getting impossibly harder as I watched her name on my screen. Just her name had my head fuzzy as shit right now. I continued to pay special attention to my dick. It was dense as fuckin' lead, so my hand only offered decent satiation. It was nothing compared to her hand, her mouth. . . And especially not her wet and fucking warm pussy. That shit hugged my dick like a damn glove.

I studied her contact picture in my phone. . . Fuck. She was so damn perfect. No other woman compared. I still had her picture in my phone set as one I’d taken over the summer. . . From that day at Sam’s AirBnB pool. Her, laying on the edge of the pool, arms crossed to hold her up right beside where I still still sat in the pool. She was grinning down at me, smile wide enough that I could see her dimples. Her eyes, squinted shut, under the summer sun. The way her skin glowed under the sun. . . And if I were to click through to see the whole picture, I’d be able to see each and every droplet of water that had been clinging so flawlessly to her soft skin.

The swimsuit in the contact photo, the same damn one as the post from earlier in the evening. God. . .That post had been pure perfection. The black bra and jeans, the swimsuit. . .I’d clicked through to that first post so quickly— as soon as I’d gotten the notification. (Yes, my post notifications were still on for her. . . I’d initially set them up over the summer when she’d posted quite frequently.) Standing in this bathroom, I came to the realization that the baby reveal post had been the first real post she’d made since summertime, aside from the occasional story.

The first post alone — an incredible way to come back. Damn. As soon as I had gotten the notification that she’d posted, my heart had started hammering in my chest. Like I was a fuckin’ teenager with a damn crush. She’d had that effect on me since day one.

The picture of her in her cute little black swimsuit — the one with the lace that shaped seamlessly to her tits. . . Then, there was the new picture of her that it had been compared to. Y/n, posing in the mirror. Wearing only a black bra and worn jeans, the fly undone to show off her cute, round belly. The belly that was holding my baby girl.

Goddamn.

And those tits. . .I could still feel them, what they'd felt like in my hands. In my mouth. In the picture, they'd been sitting just right in that maternity bra – something I’d never known to be hot until y/n was the one wearing it. I couldn’t help but think she made everything sexier. More beautiful. But god, did I want to hold those motherfuckers in my hands again — grip them and make her whine for more. Lick her tender nipples into my mouth. . . Shit. . . . .My hand continued to wrap around my dick, pumping the best it could. A sad comparison to y/n. . . . . . Fuck, I missed her.

I went back to Instagram with the hand that still held my phone. When I was back on the app, I had to click away from the story post. Art in its finest form. But, as I exited from it, I mentally promised that image that I’d damn well be back. I just had to look at the other post. Let my delusional ass travel back to summer time. That older photo in the black and white comparison. . . I’d recognized that cute ass photo right away.

The day it was taken, locked in my fucking memory. The photo from her post had been taken right before we’d left for the pool. I’d caught a glimpse of her taking it, right before knocking on her door with a gentle rap of my knuckles. The door, only being cracked, easily opened for me to enter. . . That had been normal for us. Doors open. Casual entry. God, things had been so damn perfect.

She’d smiled at me with this secretive little grin on her pretty lips. And that had led to me sauntering over to her to take her in my arms. I could remember every detail from the moment— the way she’d melted into my grasp, the freckles that dusted her nose and cheeks, and the way her soft lips had tasted like her coconut chapstick. . .

Before I could get too carried away with my memory, my phone buzzed in my hand. Her name, floating across the top of my screen. I tapped that shit on sight, letting my eager hand ease up a bit on my dick, but kept a sure hold of it in my flexing fist.

Y/n, 9:57 p.m.: Jacob. What the fuck did I say about texting me?

Oh, fuck no. She was not going to tell me what to fucking do. Not when she’d pulled her shit. She'd known what she was doing with her little photoshoot. That picture with her tits out, pussy just about visible in her lacy panties — and in my clothes. Yeah. . . Y/n was the furthest thing from an idiot. She knew. This meant she was the one who needed a damn talking to.

Me, 9:58 p.m.: oh baby... You will NOT tell me what to do any fuckin more today

Her next reply came quicker, barely enough time for me to register that she'd read mine.

Y/n, 9:59 p.m.: Yeah? And what gives YOU the right to decide that, Jake? I’m pretty sure I can make MY OWN damn choices, baby.

Me, 9:59 p.m.: yeah. But you telling me to stop texting you and to focus on my girlfriend… that IS you telling me what to do

Me, 10:00 p.m.: and just like you I get to make my own damn choices. YOUR little stunt tonight is making it pretty damn hard for me to not want to talk to you. Quite frankly… I wanna do more than talk to you

Me, 10:01 p.m.: looks like I need to teach your ass a little lesson, hm?

But, after I sent that, I just stood there. My hand, loose and lazing up and down, on my dick, for a good while, waiting for her to answer. After a few long ass minutes, I started to get fuckin’ pissed. I didn’t have time to wait on her shit. She’d started this mess, she needed to fucking finish it. And I was on a stupid fucking time limit. Had to try this goddamn dessert tray. Fuck. I was just aware of one very clear thing. . . I was aware that there was no way I could go out like this. At that thought, I lifted my hand from my aching dick. Damn near ready to bust and lacking real attention. I let my boxers snap against my hips. Leaning against the wall, I got into the best position I could to get a picture for her.

I opened the camera in my texts with her, letting my hand go to grip my straining cock over my briefs. Tilting my phone just right, I made sure she could see the entire imprint. Every detail. Tip to base. My wrist lifted my sweater just a bit. And from the exposed skin at the bottom of my abdomen and down, it was clear what was happening in my damn underwear. She’d be able to see what the fuck was going on for me right now. What she’d caused.

As I finished taking the picture, feeling satisfied with the result, my phone buzzed in my hand. Her name, yet again, at the top of my screen. But I couldn’t read her text before I sent the photo, as was the case with iPhones. So, very quickly, I went ahead and sent it so I could see what she’d said.

Y/n, 10:06 p.m.: Please, Jake. Tell me about this ‘stunt.’ And how it concerns you.

Oh? Okay.

Me, 10:06 p.m.: you’re wearing my damn shirt, y/n. That’s how the fuck it concerns me

At the same time I finished that text, my picture was finally sent.

Me, 10:06 p.m.: so. now thanks to you my dick hurts like a motherfucker. I want your tight fuckin pussy around me so damn bad but I can’t have that shit can I?

Shockingly, she didn’t take forever to respond this time. It appeared all she’d needed was a damn reality check.

Y/n, 10:06 p.m.: I never said you couldn’t have my pussy.

She was determined to make me go crazy. . . goddammit. Though, I was soon distracted by her next text, which made it clear to me that she’d seen my photo.

Y/n, 10:07 p.m.: Oh.. okay. Fuck me, then, huh? Wanna fuck me over with a picture like that? Real nice, babe. Way to return the favor.

Dammit. I wished I could fuck her. My hand slipped into my briefs again as I sent my text. I imagined how I'd hold her hips. . . my dick, pounding into that slick heat over and over and over. . . Damn. It was hard to type with one hand, but so fucking worth it to (hopefully) get off with her help. . . It had been too damn long. Come on, y/n. . .

Me, 10:07 p.m.: damn right I’ll fuck you, baby. If I had MY way I’d fuck you right here, right now. Take you out to the fucking middle of this restaurant. Put on a little show for everyone... show them how damn well I can fuck that sweet pussy

The thought was debilitating. My knees, getting weak as I’d typed that shit. I would love to show her off to all of the people in this goddamn establishment. Make everyone else appreciate this perfect woman. Those swollen tits, already so much bigger than they’d once been. And that was considering they’d already been ideal before. Prettiest, perkiest fuckin’ tits. And, the bigger they got, the more of them I got to appreciate. And that ass. . . It just got bigger and rounder, the more she grew with my baby. Then there was the cutest damn bump; always growing with that hard ass work I couldn’t even begin to pretend to imagine. She was working fucking magic in that body every damned day. I'd never admired a woman so much in my life.

Fuck it all. I could've blow my fuckin' load at the thought alone. How indescribably hot it was that she was taking such care, every damn day, of my baby that lived inside of her. My hand began to move in a pattern of torturously slow and a speed right in the middle of fast and slow. . . Had to pace myself. . . I wasn’t going to last with this thought process.

Y/n, 10:08 p.m.: Fuck, Jake. Shut the fuck up.

Me, 10:08 p.m.: no way baby. It’s my turn to make YOU imagine this shit

Y/n, 10:07 p.m.: Now you’re trying to get the upper hand? Is that how it is, Jake?

Me, 10:08 p.m.: seems fair… Wouldn’t you say?

Y/n, 10:08 p.m.: I'm just pissed to hell that you’re not going to send me a fully naked picture of your pretty dick. That’s fucking rude, babe.

The little grin that lifted my lips was out of nothing but pure appreciation for her. God. She made my fucking head spin. She was a dream and a half. And now that I’d had a bite of her again, allowed myself to give in to what I’d been keeping myself from? It’d been bad enough when she’d given me that incomparable head at the fuckin’ stoplight a while back. . . A domestic ass grocery trip that had turned into a whole lot more. . . Satisfied more than her cravings that night.

But, honestly. . . While the head was fuckin’ killer, her body was the one that deserved worship. All of her. . . Goddammit. And now that I knew how much sweeter her pussy tasted? My hand started to move in languid, pulsing pumps up and down my dick, thinking of her body. . . How delicious she was. . . Fuck. It was only a month or so ago, I’d read that pregnant women sometimes emanate a different smell. . . a different taste. . . And now that I knew that shit was goddamned true? I couldn’t control when my hand began to move a touch faster, fist tightening in a way that had my eyes daring to cross. Her pregnant body— fuck everything on this earth that wasn’t her and her beautiful body.

My mind had been a constant loop of her bedroom. Nonstop. I could still taste her. . . Fuckin’ swore on that shit. Even before pregnancy, nothing on the goddamned earth had tasted better than her release. But now that she was carrying my baby? It was even more magnificent. It was warm fucking honey. More delicious than that. . . the most addictive, intoxicating taste. A drug that I couldn’t get enough of and wanted to keep devouring. I shook my head of this path of thought, coming back to reality to text her back. She was walking on thin damn ice with me.

Me, 10:09 p.m.: you don’t get to talk about me being rude when you started this shit, baby. I wouldn’t be in the fuckin bathroom at this fuckass restaurant if you hadn’t posted your little story

Y/n, 10:10 p.m.: did you listen to the song?

God, y/n. My hand stilled around my dick, pausing so I could focus on only her. I couldn’t take much more of this. . .

Me, 10:10 p.m.: couldn’t. You posted it while I was at the damn table with my girlfriend

Y/n, 10:10 p.m.: But you said that you’re in the bathroom now?

Me, 10:10 p.m.: Yes

Y/n, 10:11 p.m.: So… listen to the damn song. Tell me if you remember that melody.

God, her love for music was so sexy to me. I couldn’t even be mad when I let go of my dick to gain some sanity. This woman captivated me on a regular basis with how much she loved music. That wall at home, with racks of vinyl. . . Seriously. Music was a way of life for her. She translated her emotions using it. Just like me. Women like her weren’t only rare, they were fucking extinct. We talked to each other with melodies and rhythms. And sometimes, it was only with our eyes. God.

Like that night at the bar when she’d caught me, unabashedly eyefucking her. Then, to make matters worse, she'd held my gaze like her life had depended on it. I’d seen every emotion pass from her irises to mine. We hadn’t been talking at the time, so this had been a big moment for me. She’d known – she knew – what that song was to us. “You’re All I Need” and “Natural Woman” were our songs. But, for some reason, "You're All I Need", specifically, would forever feel like making love to her. . . There was no stopping the imagining of her tight pussy around my dick when I heard that song in particular. Shit, even that night, I’d reminisced about fucking her to that song with Maya sitting right next to me.

But. . . I couldn’t feel too bad. Because it was y/n. And to think she’d been sitting there, knowingly pregnant with my baby as we’d shared that moment. . . It made me sort of angry, sure. But not so much anymore. No, now it was just real damn captivating to me that she’d been so openly obvious about all she was feeling. With my baby in her belly. Even if it were just with her eyes. . . her eyes meant the world.

Carrying Lavender had helped y/n. Our baby girl had assisted in her being braver with her emotions. . . and I fucking loved it. Lavender and music – working together to bring this enigmatic, worthy woman out of her convoluted and complicated shell. She was still hiding, yes, but she was easing back into that girl from the summertime. The one who’d wanted me to stop in the middle of sex to put on an Aretha vinyl. . . . The love I’d felt for her when she’d asked that of me. I’d felt so in love with her in that moment. . . on that rainy morning. I had known then that my love and admiration for her had surpassed any and everything else in my life. . . . God.

Why did that have to change? Why had she so willingly let me go? Was it all trauma related? Or was there a part of her that really didn’t want me? Because, there was no forgetting how easily she’d drawn lines. I just had to remind my (hopeful) thoughts. . . even if she was coming back to that version of herself now, she had still put up this massive roadblock back then that had changed things. Not everything, but enough.

Though, whatever may have changed and would continue to change, she’d always hold a place in my heart. Firmly in her grasp. She’d always live there. No matter how much she’d hurt or would continue to hurt me, her spot in my heart was eternal. I felt this all-encompassing ache at the thought of her that I’d never felt before her, or since her. . . Only y/n.

I’d felt it everyday for her since the moment I’d laid eyes on her. And, as I stood in this bathroom, with her on the other side of the phone. . . I realized just how far she’d truly come. Where she was once afraid of letting me in at all, apparently now she was okay with publicly posting a song I should recognize the melody to. . . And with a sensual photograph of her, at that? This was all a huge fucking deal for me. And, well. . . that shit was just hot as fuck.

As I clicked through my phone, to see her story again, I paused on my home screen for a a brief moment. Appreciated the picture I’d taken of a sonogram shot. . . No gender reveal was obvious – didn’t want anyone knowing that yet. Well, besides Josh. . . who I’d spilled that shit to (couldn’t help myself – had to tell my fuckin’ twin). I couldn’t help but admire my baby girl. She was the first thing I saw on my phone, every time I sused it. She'd successfully secured her place on my lock and home screen.

I’d just been too consumed in her mother for the past several minutes to pause on her picture until now. . . God, I loved this little girl. So much more than she already knew. Didn’t know until her – how much one could love another - I loved this little, tiny person so goddamn much. This tiny person I hadn’t even held in my arms yet. . . But god, I’d kill for that little girl. Already.

When y/n’s story was on my phone screen again, I took a moment to just look at her (again). But after I’d taken a proper amount of time to ogle at the damn photo of my dreams, I let the story play through again. Tried to ignore my stupid, impossibly hard dick for y/n, and turned up the sound.

The song on her story was incredible. Not something I’d normally have found to put on a playlist, but it was damned good. And her taste to a T. A track, completely composed with an orchestra. No lyrics. Just melody. A symphonic melody. I had an affinity for orchestral compositions, so I’d immediately closed out the story when the little snippet ended. Searched for it on Spotify, then immediately added it to a playlist I had specifically for that style of music.

Orchestral Equilibrium was what I’d titled the playlist, long ago when I'd made it. And, I instantly pressed the box and the square, sending the list in a text to y/n. Just wanted her to have access to a playlist I loved so much. Because, apparently, she loved these types of arrangements as well. A lover of philharmonic symphonies, too? On top of her other otherworldly tastes in genre? She was a woman unlike any other, truly.

Me, 10:14 p.m.: added it to my playlist :) that arrangement is fantastic

Y/n, 10:14 p.m.: 🥹🤭I’m really glad you liked it.

I assumed another text was coming. . . I just knew she’d send something along the lines of “but… do you remember me playing it?”. . . Something of the sort. She’d asked a question, after all. Needed her answer. So, when the ellipses appeared and then disappeared to be replaced by a new text, I wasn’t surprised in the slightest.

Y/n, 10:15 p.m.: Do you remember me playing it though?? 🤔

And there we go, I breathed a laugh to myself as I read it, the grin still stuck on my face. I had quoted it practically verbatim, too. Knew her well. And while I hadn’t heard this version specifically yet, I’d heard one a lot like it. . . So, hastily, so as not to lose y/n on the other end of the phone, I pulled up my Spotify again.

When I opened the app, it was still showing my Orchestral Equilibrium playlist. It took me zero time to realize it had a new like. One like, where there’d been none before. The grin that floated to my features was the most natural reaction to something so precious. She was precious. Such a small act that. But, I knew that as a fellow music lover, the act was as big to her as it was to me.

After a second, I typed in the song “We Might Even Be Falling In Love.” The title of the song from her story. And the first result, a black and white picture of a man and woman, caught my eye. I recognized it. From y/n’s Apple CarPlay screen. I pressed play on the song, pulled up the album photo to get a good look at it. Yeah. I remembered it. What the screen had looked like the day she’d picked me up from the guitar lesson. The lesson I had not wanted to be at, but kept a positive face about. I had wanted to be with y/n that day. . . Could still remember that shit.

(Same as every day I’d had something going on, when she’d been free. Was even worse when I'd wake up with her wrapped around me and have to say goodbye. . . Wasn't to say that, on those mornings, the goodbye sex wasn't real damn good.)

Music was the way my brain moved. I lived in a constant state of melodious tunings. My mind, an assonance of grandeur, all on its own. I’d gotten so used to it, I hardly realized it wasn’t normal to hear music on a constant loop in your head. But, because my brain worked that way, I could hear a song and be transported back to moments in my past instantly.

The car’s cool air had been blowing through her lustrous locks and against her radiant, sun kissed face. She might as well have been moving in slow motion — like a fuckin’ romance film. I’d watched the goosebumps appear on her flushed skin, the freckles that’d twinkled on her beautiful face. The twitch of her nose when a few strands of hair had tickled her face.

I’d watched her so closely – observed every intricate detail of her features. She was spellbinding. Irresistibly breathtaking in every possible capacity. It had been out of my control entirely when I’d gone to grip her thigh, wishing I was touching her skin for extra relief from the skin to skin contact. Yet, even though she’d been wearing jeans, I’d taken advantage of what I could do to calm her. She’d seemed burdened, as always. I'd always hated how much she kept on her shoulders. Wanted to take it all away from her. Make things easier.

The way I’d felt for her – it was beyond what words could articulate. I felt tender, yet animalistic for her all at once. I’d wanted to make everything better for her all of the time. The little switches in her mood were so apparent to me. . . I could tell from a mile away if she was thinking or in her head. . . And, for some reason, she had been at that moment. But it was okay. I could make it okay – had to. For her.

Her cheeks had begun to grow pink, even with the air blowing on her face. So I’d known – she’d felt at least a touch of peace. Her skin reacted beautifully with her emotions, a piece of art on her features that marked a pathway to her soul.

In that moment, all I’d been able to think about was showing her what she meant to me. And while I hadn’t been in the right place to lay her down and express myself with my body and hers, I could do one thing. When her cheeks had grown a touch more pink, she’d bashfully grinned. The dimple in her cheek, such a tiny detail, but so precious to me. It’d encouraged me. This one way to convey what she meant to me came to mind. . . Carefully, hand still holding tightly to her thigh, I leaned over the armrest and touched my lips to her blushing cheek. Right where the dimple pinched her skin, my mouth met.

Her skin, like the finest velvet, under my lips. Fuck. I’d only lingered for a moment, knowing if I didn’t stop, I’d end up fucking her right there. And we had somewhere to be. Her grandparents were waiting.

But, before I could even move fully away, she’d been swiveling her body. Setting her eyes, once again, on the street ahead before she put the car in drive. Why is she pulling away so quickly? What do I mean to her?, I’d wondered. Still, those thoughts constantly cycled through my head. What did I mean to her? In that moment, my eyes had drifted to her thigh and my hand there. My hand. . . it looked so fucking good against her, holding her.

Underneath my hand, I could feel her muscles flex as she pressed down on the brake to keep the car in place. She’d been busy on her phone, thumbs moving as she scrolled. Without even glancing at the screen, I’d already known she was picking the perfect music to serenade us to our destination. Music was a big fuckin’ deal to y/n. And that was fucking heaven for me. The first thing about her that made me fall.

And now, it made my heart beat fast for one more reason. I know that she had our baby girl listening to the best damn music. Lavender would, naturally, love music. I knew it. And that made my heart fuckin' rush with an exhilarated sort of adulation.

The song she’d ended up choosing, I’d genuinely really liked. It hadn’t been my taste, per se, but it could’ve been. Reminded me of her and her very eclectic taste. This style, one she really loved. I'd noticed. Those songs heavy with the bass and rhythm. A true rhythm and blues admirer. The way the bass bumped against the speakers. And the rhythm, really fucking delicious. It made my head bob, foot tapping to keep in time. Good fuckin’ music, honestly. More Josh’s speed than mine. But, more than him, it really, truly reminded me of y/n.

And the fact that I correlated this type of music to her. . .made it even better to me than if I were to try to give it a shot for Josh. No, for y/n, I was willing to immerse myself in her taste of music. Just a way for me to swim even deeper into the crashing waves of her soul.

“I actually like this,” I’d commented, trying to make things seem okay. Because they were. Had to convince her. Was she doing okay? God, I hadn’t been able to tell. . .

She was worth knowing that her world was okay. That she was safe. She was worth all of that and more.

The summer had been one of the most incredible fantasies, come to life. Just a bit of a girl I wanted all of, but still. I’d gotten a bit. . . More than I could've gotten had I continued to dick around with her like the asshole I'd been before. So, I knew I'd treasure what I had gotten -forever. Though, frequently, back then when I'd have these thoughts, I’d reminded myself that she hadn’t wanted forever.

Nonetheless, I’d caught onto these little quirks she had. I'd decided, however long she’d give me the access to her soul, I'd use every moment I could to discover more, more, more. Because of this, I had started to really notice those minuscule moments where she’d begin to pull away. Even if she did want to pull away. Even if she didn’t want me, I’d still wanted to help her. All I wanted to do was make things easier for her. Be a safe place for her. Her muscle had seemed to relax under my touch once she’d started to drive. Though, I had not wanted to move my hand from her. In fact, I did what the fuck I could with our location. Even if I couldn’t lay her down, I could still appreciate her - her body. Communicate my care for her, to her with my touch.

I’d let my thumb twirl over her thigh, making thoughtful circles. She’d sighed, seemed to enjoy the attention. And when she’d done that, I’d known she was feeling better. So, I continued, urging her to talk to me. Always wanted to talk to her. “What’s it called?”

I paused the song on my phone int the Carmella's bathroom, the memory still so clear in my head. And, the title of it. . . Had she been telling me something? With the song? The title, subject matter of the track. . . Made me wonder. My mind was suddenly, in the present time, going insane at the possibility that she’d been telling me something with her song choice way back then. . . Had I been too much of a moron to realize? But - no. It didn’t matter now — was too late now.

Me, 10:17 p.m.: That night at your grandparents :) You played it on the way there

Me, 10:18 p.m.: I really did like the composition of it on your story. It’s gorgeous. Accompanies your picture real damn well 🔥

Y/n, 10:18 p.m.: 🤭I really love it too… I thought of something after I posted it, though.

Me, 10:19 p.m.: and what’s that?

Y/n, 10:19 p.m.: Something else happened right before I played that for you, too. Remember?

Yes. Fuck yes, I remembered the entire night. Every single detail.

I'd taken my time with her that night. Laid her on her back, her tits, laying just like always on her soft chest, so pretty, full, and supple. I'd taken one of her smooth thighs and held it up by my arm as I'd fucked her with raw passion. Slow thrusts, on my knees to get the best angle to feel every bit of her, to make sure she could feel me. . . Every whimper and whine and moan that had fallen from her lips that night, the praise and encouragement I'd given her for the sounds - a little more notable than before. A momentous occasion, I'd call it. It had just felt different for me. After I'd witnessed her, breaking down. . . openly crying and panicking - desperate for comfort - in her grandparents' hallway.

The noises she'd made, as I fucked her slow and deep, hitting every inch of her with a feverish force. I'd taken that night as an opportunity to use my body as a vessel - to help her truly understand the fact that I was a safe ground for her to fall on. I always wanted to be safe person for her. I could only hope she felt as safe with me as I longed for her to. Then, at the end, as she'd fallen apart, soaking my dick in her release, she'd moaned from the pit of her tummy to the depths of her chest. Almost like she felt that same relief from the new connection. That beautiful sound, forever a part of my walls. Like it should have been.

This newer, revered sort of dance that had started happening between our bodies. It had always been more with her than any other woman, but that one morning, with the songs - things had changed. She'd given me a glimpse of her head and heart and past. And then directly after that conversation, the way I'd held her body on the pallet of blankets. I'd watched her so closely, every line of her face one I wanted memorized for all time. And, I'd almost damn well spilled into her on that living room floor because I'd been so distracted by her face and her noises - fuck. And then. . . there was that night, after her grandparents'. Before and afterwards, she’d let me in, just a little more - opened up to me. In the hallway and then right there in my bed. As we’d laid in my bed, sweaty and fulfilled. Her hair fanned over my heaving chest, when she'd told me more details from her past. Told me enough that it had impacted me. I'd vowed to help her that night, and I'd kept that promise. Intended to keep it. As long as she'd let me.

But, now wasn't the time for reminiscing - my dick twitching in my pants, reminding me itself to get on with the fucking matter at hand. The memories of fucking her and the closeness - weren't doing me any favors. Goddamn. I needed her help. With one thing in particular. Soon.

Y/n, 10:20 p.m.: It was the night I got to see Maya for the first time. Realized you’d been seeing this fucking goddess of a woman for lessons all summer. Felt so insecure that you’d been around her for her lessons every week.

Again, with her assumptive fucking ass. Here we went. . .again.

Me, 10:20 p.m.: well. For one it wasn’t every week. She didn’t have lessons every week

Be easier on her, Jacob, a voice counseling me. One that sounded strangely like Josh.

Me, 10:20 p.m.: and two… I’m sorry you felt insecure… but there was never anything you needed to feel insecure about, honey

There were a few minutes between that text and her next one. . . I could only assume she was pondering something. Always in her damn head. I walked a fine line whenever she’d get like this. I always contemplated whether to insert myself in her thoughts to get them to shut up. Or, whether it was best to just let her think through it, so she could think and heal – uninterrupted.

She had to figure some of this shit out on her own (with Gia’s help, of course). . . But it didn’t mean it made it easy for me to just sit around and watch. I hated watching her, while also knowing she was spiraling. This was at least the slightest bit easier, though. . . Since I didn’t have to watch her pretty face fold in that way it would. Her brows scrunched, mouth puckered, or a straight line as she’d chew the inside of her lip or cheek. This incredible woman, rigid with cruel self doubt and years worth of confusion that was unraveling. I typed and deleted and re-typed a few things. . . But, after a minute of doing so, I decided I needed to give her space.

I’d learned there was little I could do to get her out of her headspaces, anyhow, so I usually just waited them out. . . Unless I found it was absolutely necessary for me to step in and battle the voices. Help her battle these hateful, never-ending thoughts. . . So, instead, I used my time for good and checked on that Ovia app she’d told me about. Checked on Lavender’s growth for the week. Just to remind myself of all of the terms. . . I checked this thing every fucking day. Wanted to know exactly what was going on with her little body.

Every time I'd checked the app, I'd read through the same paragraphs of information for that given week. The first paragraph of information for this week explained a bunch. Her neurons, making connections with her muscles. . . helping her to gain strength in her legs. . . Her arms and legs, in proportion with the rest of her tiny body, now. . . Only about nine inches long (at most). . . About nine ounces (again, at most). . . She was starting to become covered in a waxy substance called Vernix Caseosa, which protected her unharmed skin from any amniotic fluid. . .I was losing myself in my girl, completely forgetting about everything else for a minute as everything became about her. My body, the least of my concerns – losing speed and fucking forgotten as it all became about Lavender. But, I hadn’t been able to get much further than the first bit of information. Because, after refreshing my memory of a few of her developments, my phone was buzzing in my hands. Y/n’s name, at the top of my screen.

I gave a silent goodbye to Lavender as I went back to her mother.

Y/n, 10:23 p.m.: It’s fine. It’s in the past now. I just thought about that shit after I posted it… Sooo, I’m just glad I gave that shit a new correlation tonight. Now it belongs to being excited for my baby.

Her saying that made something in my mind click. It had clicked before, of course. The night we got high — first time I’d fully realized. Her own damn mouth, telling me so. . . And multiple times since, when she’d spoken of Maya. . . When she’d seen Maya that night, after the lesson — that had really been the beginning of the end for us. Knowing y/n, it made perfect sense for her to go down a rabbit hole at seeing Maya. Seeing how beautiful Maya was. . . Should have known y/n would take that the wrong way and compare herself. Why did she do that though? If only she would’ve known. No one had ever compared to her in my mind. Y/n's beauty was unparalleled.

I’d tried to explain it all to her. Tried real damn hard to communicate my feelings on it to her. . . Over and over. She just never listened. Or cared to listen to me. She’d chosen to be stubborn, give in to the harshness of her thoughts. . . continued to do so. And now. . . I was with Maya. In a very serious relationship with her. And y/n was being very clear about it being the past. She had no desire to discuss it. No desire to approach the shit that had come from that night she’d seen Maya for the first time.

Now my mind was spinning with the following weeks. The one truly positive thing that had followed was the night we’d conceived Lavender. The night we'd gotten high. . . Then how it’d all fuckin' downspiraled. . . With no way for me to stop it. No competing with y/n’s stubborn insecurities and persistent moments of self-deprecation. . . That only led to self-destruction. I’d had no chance to get through. Her mind had been made up and everything had changed. Those weeks after, when I’d taken time to fall for Maya, after y/n had closed herself off completely. . . I hadn’t wanted to look at her, she'd hurt me so damn bad. But. . . I hadn’t wanted to leave the apartment, either. Even with more money, I’d wanted to stay close to her. I was fucked in the brain. Stupid.

But I’d been desperate for her — all the while, heartbroken and lost and confused. And she hadn’t given two fucks about any of it. And that was a paramount reason I'd stayed with Maya. She was consistent. Nothing to question about her intentions with me. While y/n had ignored me, Maya had been there to pick up every single piece - just like she'd been there for me before. . . after my first heartbreak.

The same woman as before. . . Maya was always. the. same. Except this time, Maya and I hadn't been 'the same'. We’d become more. It meant more to me than aimlessly fucking a ridiculously hot woman against and on every solid surface of her giant home. Because the relationship with y/n had been different than the relationship with Amelia. After Amelia, I'd believed love was nothing more than a social construct to destroy the human mind. Stopped believing in it. Because I'd realized that I hadn't actually been in love with Amelia for a long while. She'd been a high school girlfriend that I'd tried to extend past high school.

That was why y/n had made me so angry at first. When we'd first met. I hadn't wanted to be in love again because I hadn't thought love was real. And she'd shown me, so damn quickly, that I'd been dead wrong about love. Because, with y/n, I felt it all. Exponential. Otherworldly. An astronomical and cosmic connection, only designed in the stars for us to find. A purposeful accident, finding true love. I'd been destined to find y/n. Everything had led me to her, it'd seemed. Love had been real. A way of life, not a pointless, hollow sensation like I'd believed before her.

So, after y/n, I'd been so hungry to find that connection with someone else. I'd been embarrassed and ashamed that I'd fallen so hard for a woman that hadn't felt the same for me. . . . At least not enough to fight for me. I'd known love was real this time. And I'd needed to find it with someone else to erase the marks y/n had carved into my heart. So, who better than a woman I'd already gotten to know, just a little, over the summer? And even better that she'd been someone that made y/n jealous. That had been an asshole move, yes. But, wise decisions weren't ever made with a genuinely broken heart. Though, I'd come to quickly find that the love I'd felt with y/n was exclusive to y/n. I'd found a love in Maya, but not the same as y/n. I didn't want to admit that I loved her anymore. I'd worked to erase that. . . But my love for Maya's just paled in comparison to the love I'd felt for y/n.

So, while y/n had lose some of me, she hadn't lost all of me. She still had me. A big fuckin’ piece. Always would. And no, the ‘piece’ of me wasn’t our Lavender. Our Lavender really just worked as an additional metaphor for how much of me y/n truly had. . . I was an eternal fool for y/n.

But. . . Not completely. I wasn’t fool enough to risk my heart in her hands again. Because, well. She’d proven she didn’t want to fight for me. She didn’t want to listen. She hadn’t listened to me.

And, at the moment, I had to reject the overwhelming urge to make this conversation become any more than it was. . . Reject the urge to fight for her. When I wasn’t sure she’d ever do it for me. We’d lost that. That chance. Because I was with Maya now. And I didn’t want to make that shit change. That stability. Not for the very real possibility that y/n would only ever repeatedly say no to me. All for the sake of her own damned pride or whatever the fuck. . . Hell, her lack of love for me, perhaps? I really did still question the hell out of that shit. All I knew for sure was that the woman I was currently with loved me. And I loved her. Fuck yes I loved Maya. Who wouldn’t?

But. . . when I glanced down at the screen, my heart was no longer on Maya. Because I saw a word. An important word. That nine ounce little girl. . . whose arms and legs were finally proportional with her body. . . This word that brought me back, crawling on my knees like a lost puppy, to y/n. Because on top of being so much to me, she was also the mother of my child. . . A fucking superwoman. Just had to correct her phrase. . .

Me, 10:25 p.m.: our baby… :)

Y/n, 10:25 p.m.: Yes. Of course. Our baby. :)😘

Ridiculous as it was, I had to resist the urge to cry. I had never felt this effect from a woman until her. This incessant, perpetual longing. A longing that hurt, yet felt so fulfilling, all at once. And it just continued to be true; because, no matter how mad she made me, my dick was still plenty hard. Only for her. It was still ready, for something it wasn’t going to get tonight. I was literally staying rock fuckin' solid at the simple, pathetic fact that she was texting me. And, with barely any time to process it, she was texting me again.

Y/n, 10:26 p.m.: By the way… you mentioned you’re in the bathroom?

Y/n, 10:26 p.m.: …are you still?

Didn’t know where this was going, but it took me no time to respond. My dick twitched in anticipation. . . Getting harder again, coming back to life fully with almost zero assistance. . . Sorcery.

Me, 10:27 p.m.: yep. All because of YOUR damn picture. Fuckin ridiculous. All your damn fault

Y/n, 10:28 p.m.: Well, you got your fucking revenge, Jacob. I had to go to the damn bathroom after YOUR picture. And those texts… about fucking me??? Damn it, Jacob. Thank god for family stalls.

Me, 10:28 p.m.: you’re telling me lol

Y/n, 10:29 p.m.: And a safety rail to lean my ass against… better angle for my fingers. Humiliating as fuck, but. It's what I have. You knew you’d do this to me, Jacob Thomas… 😒

And… my hand was going to hold my dick. Yet again. The back of my head hit the wall of the one stall. This was torture. My dick was red fuckin' hot with this aggravating need for her. . .

Me, 10:29 p.m.: damn straight I knew that shit, baby. You gonna fuck yourself well with those fingers for me? Make that pussy ache a little more for me?

I stroked my dick slowly. But, as good as it felt, it could only be so enjoyable. My hand was not even nearly soft enough to replicate her hands. Fuck me. I needed her.

Y/n, 10:29 p.m.: Fuck, Jake. Yes… So wet for you, baby. Gonna do the best I can to pretend my fingers are your dick... but I know they won’t even fucking compare. Miss it so bad... Been so long.

God. My fist tightened around myself, desperate for the pressure. Still wasn’t enough. I could feel sweat, accumulating at my hairline. My hair, sticking to my neck as my breath came out in hot puffs. I was a mess.

Y/n, 10:30 p.m.: And… you were right when you said I started it. Really fucking loved wearing your shirt. Made me miss you more than I already was. And I just had to include you in those pictures somehow… 💜

Fuck. The heart? And she was admitting that she missed me? Today had been a clusterfuck of emotions. . . My heart was barely holding on. . .She was so damn special to me. And I needed her so desperately at this moment. Hated the stupid ass result of last night.

Me, 10:31 p.m.: I miss you baby. So damn bad

She didn’t respond to that right away. It made me worry for a hot damn minute about whether or not I’d said too much and freaked her out. . . But I didn’t sit there for too long. Made myself gather my thoughts so we could finish this damn thing. My dick was begging me to do something about it. Matter at hand, Jacob.

Me, 10:34 p.m.: so that post...

Y/n, 10:34 p.m.: What about it?

Her instantaneous response reassured me that I hadn’t needed to worry, so that made it easy for me to pick up exactly where I wanted. . . Start us down the path that I was desperate to go down.

Me, 10:35 p.m.: let’s talk about you wearing my shirt

Y/n, 10:35 p.m.: Let’s.

Me, 10:35 p.m.: you wore it for me? Thought about me every time you spread your pretty legs for those pictures?

Y/n, 10:35 p.m.: Jake. Let’s just say it’s safe to assume that if I post myself in that type of position, it’s for you. Whether I’m in your clothes or not… 😶

Y/n, 10:36 p.m.: I really did think about you the whole time I was taking them…

Hell fuckin’ right she thought about me. . . .

Me, 10:36 p.m.: oh yeah?

Y/n, 10:36 p.m.: Yeah. Your shirt felt so good against my nipples, baby… :( Might sound weird, but...

My hand squeezed tight at the base, flexing intermittently to get some mild relief. Then, I skated to the top, massaging only my tip. . . Imagined her mouth. How good it would feel to have my dick, about ready to bust, pressed between her tits. . .

Me, 10:37 p.m.: fuck, y/n. Not weird at all baby. I hope to god it helped you in some way. Hated leaving your beautiful body last night

Y/n, 10:38 p.m.: Not my favorite situation. But it is what it is.

Me, 10:38 p.m.: is what it is

Yeah, Jake. It is what it fuckin’ is and it will continue to be like this if you don’t get a damn move on.

Me, 10:39 p.m.: so my shirt… did you get yourself off after you took those? Wearing it?

Y/n, 10:39 p.m.: No, actually… :( Went to dinner with Elsie and Josh right after taking them. No time. Didn’t help that they made me wait for pictures while they had a damn quickie… lol. Got behind on time… no time for my imagination to go as wild as I wanted…

Me, 10:40 p.m.: those fuckers…

Y/n, 10:40 p.m.: Literally. Hahah :p

I glanced at the time at the top of my phone. . . I’d been in here for forty minutes. . . If this didn’t already look suspicious, god knew it was about to. . . If I didn’t get the fuck out of here and back to that table.

Me, 10:40 p.m.: but you had all that time while they were doing that shit… had you already been in my shirt?

Y/n, 10:41 p.m.: No. :( I would’ve taken that opportunity to get off to you, wearing your clothes… right in the spot you fucked me with your mouth last night.

God help me. My dick throbbed in my hand. I felt it – that familiar sensation. . . . But I needed something more. I wasn’t going to finish until I had what I wanted from her. . . And I knew exactly what it was that I wanted.

Y/n, 10:41 p.m.: Promise I would have done it… 🤞

Me, 10:42 p.m.: prove it, then

Y/n, 10:42 p.m.: How the fuck am I supposed to do that? I don’t have your shirt.

Me, 10:42 p.m.: you damn well know how, sweetheart

Y/n, 10:42 p.m.: Oh, do I?

My lips curled into a wry smile, my hand pausing on my cock to focus on her attitude. . . She was something else. And I needed her to quit with this shit before I decided to really take it out on her tomorrow night. . . She wouldn’t even know what was coming when I’d finally have the chance to walk through our front door. . .

Me, 10:43 p.m.: y/n. Baby. tell me what the fuck you’re wearing before I stop playing nice.

Y/n, 10:43 p.m.: You act as though I’m not pregnant with your child. Show me some respect.

What she didn’t realize (or, maybe she did) was that there wasn’t a single woman that I respected more than her. She had all of my respect held in the palms of her pretty hands. Right where she held my useless heart. Her mind, her unparalleled beauty, her immaculate body. . .Fuck. I needed her. Every bit of her. My hand itched to continue its ministrations. . . But I had to get her to work with me.

Me, 10:44 p.m.: y/n. Dammit. I know you are and that shit turns me the fuck on. You know this. Jesus fuck.

Me, 10:44 p.m.: it’s why I’m in this bathroom with my hand down my pants right now. The fact that you put that gorgeous body that’s holding my baby on display... You’re making me wait and you know damn well how all of this is making me feel. How your body makes me feel...

Y/n, 10:45 p.m.: Do I?

Her little games were doing something real damn bad to me. I dropped my dick with an exhausted huff. I grasped my phone in both of my hands, willing my dick to be patient. If I kept playing with myself, I wasn’t going to last worth shit. And I needed to fucking last. She needed to stop. . . . Was walking a real fragile line with me right now. . .

Me, 10:45 p.m.: if you ask me that question one more damn time…..

Me, 10:45 p.m.: seriously. Need I give you a play by play of last night? Did I not make that shit stick? Did my mouth not do a good enough job for you? Seemed to, but seems like you’re not thinking about how well I treated you… hm?

Y/n, 10:46 p.m.: Fuck, Jake. Of course it stuck. I can still feel you between my thighs… So damn wet for you right now. Have been since you left. I just... NEED you. I don't think you understand the dire need, baby. I’m fucking miserable as hell that you’re not here. Need you so damn bad.

Me, 10:46 p.m.: there we go, sweetheart…

The fuck I didn't understand. I understood real damn well. I couldn’t get her sweet taste out of my mouth if I had tried. Fuck that dessert tray. After last night, I was completely convinced that there was nothing on this planet as sweet as her. Intoxicating. Addicting. My entire body was on edge for her and the things her body could do. . . If I, god forbid, never had her again, I’d spend the rest of my days searching for a taste so sweet. It would be a fruitless outcome, though. Only she could ever satisfy such an intense craving.

Y/n, 10:47 p.m.: And that damn shirt was nothing compared to your mouth.

Me, 10:47 p.m.: I hope the fuck it wasn’t. I don’t want anything else on your body that makes you feel as good as my mouth does

Y/n, 10:48 p.m.: You don’t need to worry about that, baby. I’m not the one on a date with my girlfriend, now am I?

And there she was again, walking that extremely fragile line. . . .

Me, 10:48 p.m.: watch it

She was quick with her response to that. Seemed like she’d been waiting for it.

Y/n, 10:48 p.m.: Why? When I’m going to have to think about HER getting you off all fucking night? Nothing against her, but… damn it. The idea of another woman on you makes me want to tear down this entire establishment.

Fuck. My dick was pleading for attention from me. The way she’d said all of that made me want to drop everything and go to her. . . . Let her be the woman with my dick in her mouth. God only knew I wanted her to be the woman doing that. . . At least for tonight. Didn’t want anyone else.

Y/n, 10:49 p.m.: These pregnancy hormones are no joke. Lol.

Yeah. . . and neither was the idea of leaving my girlfriend, high and dry in her hometown. Knew I couldn’t do that shit. So, y/n needed to do what she could from there to prove to me that she could be the woman getting me off. . . Do what she could to make me reach that peak. . . It wasn’t impossible. Not at all.

Me, 10:50 p.m.: Y/n. Maya does not have to be the one getting me off tonight… I’m talking to YOU for a reason. I’ve left her at the damn table for you

Y/n, 10:50 p.m.: What does she think you’re doing??

Me, 10:50 p.m.: the fuck does that matter?

Y/n, 10:50 p.m.: It matters.

Dear god.

Me, 10:51 p.m.: she thinks I’m talking to Josh

Y/n, 10:51 p.m.: ??? This entire time?!

Y/n, 10:51 p.m.: Jacob Thomas Kiszka. Get back out to the table. Jesus.

This woman was surely mistaken if she believed I was about to move out of this bathroom in this state. Absolutely fuckin’ not. Besides. . . I didn’t want to follow her instructions. I’d told her this.

Me, 10:52 p.m.: what did I tell you about telling me what to do?

Y/n, 10:52 p.m.: What the fuck are you going to do about it from there, smartass? I don’t need her to find out you’re talking to me and be mad at me. So, please. It’s Christmas. Supposed to avoid the negative shit at this time of year.

If Maya were to find out (god, please, no) and wanted to be mad at y/n, that would be fucking ridiculous. I wouldn’t let her be mad at y/n over this. If she were to say something, I would correct that shit right away. But she wasn’t going to find out it was y/n I was speaking to. . . Wanted to keep this thing a secret, so it could last as long as possible. . . Just like summertime, if this was what I was going to get with y/n (all she'd give and all I’d let myself have, too), I wanted to savor it.

Me, 10:52 p.m.: why would I do that yet when I haven’t gotten what I wanted?

Y/n, 10:53 p.m.: What is it that you want? Want me to talk to you until you finish? Let's get it done, then. So you can go back to the table.

Okay, the fucking attitude needed to stop.

Me, 10:53 p.m.: jesus. Don’t think you could sound more thrilled if you tried

Y/n, 10:53 p.m.: Well, I’m pissed, Jake. Pissed that this isn't happening in person. Pissed that I couldn’t do it last night. Pissed you’re not here still. Wanna get down on my knees for you more than anything. Suck that pretty cock clean...Fuck! But all I can do is WISH I fucking could. Like an idiot. It all just pisses me the fuck off.

Y/n, 10:54 p.m.: Happy?

Damn. I was just relieved we were, apparently, in the same damn boat.

Me, 10:54 p.m.: well, no. I’m not ‘happy’ at all... I’m pissed about all of that too

Y/n, 10:54 p.m.: Just hate that we have to do this through the phone. It sucks and it’s stupid.

Me, 10:54 p.m.: and I agree with that too... I’m sorry baby :(

Y/n, 10:55 p.m.: Not your fault her dad lives twelve hours away. Ha :/

Me, 10:55 p.m.: What can I do for you? Wanna help you feel better now. First. Now that I know you're as sad as I am. Need you to be better...

Y/n, 10:55 p.m.: Um, no…? I wanna help YOU, Jake. However I can, from here. I need to be the one to please you, baby. Let me.

And, like an asshole, I couldn't deny her. Wanted to hold true to my word, but. . . She'd gotten me here, after all.

Me, 10:55 p.m.: oh yeah?

Y/n, 10:56 p.m.: Baby, I take f u l l responsibility for being the one that caused you to be in that damn bathroom. And I intend on NOT letting anyone else see you through it… That dick is MINE to take care of right now and I promise I’ll do it well.

Well then. If she could prove to be a good girl, she’d be able to see me through it. . . And my dick was absolutely hers. She was damn right.

Y/n, 10:56 p.m.: What can I do for you, baby?

My hand jerked against my dick at the mere thought of what I was about to ask her for. . . Had been thinking about them all night. . .

Me, 10:57 p.m.: I wanna see those beautiful tits… need to see ALL of you

Y/n, 10:57 p.m.: Go look at your girlfriend’s.

The way my eyebrow raised at my screen. The scoff that left my lips, entirely provoked by her behavior. . . She was testing me. Not being good for me. . . So, I’d test her right back. See if she truly wanted to be a little tease. . . And I was genuinely wondering. . . Wasn’t sure what exactly she was doing with this. I assumed she was playing around, but. . . Just in case.

Me, 10:58 p.m.: is that really what you want me to do?

Her response was instantaneous.

Y/n, 10:58 p.m.: Not at all.

Okay. Was just being a little tease, then. . . Had a feeling. Now, back to our regularly scheduled programming. . .

Me, 10:59 p.m.: that’s what I thought. Don't be a fucking brat, baby... you know better

Me, 10:59 p.m.: Yes I do... I'm sorry. 🧎‍♀️

Oh. On her knees? Fuck. If only she were fucking here. Before she took any picture, I had to know. So, with a swift thumb, I began my burning question.

Me, 10:59 p.m.: tell me first…

Y/n, 10:59 p.m.: Anything.

Don’t say that. Fuck.

Me, 11:00 p.m.: you still wearing that lacy thing from your picture? Under your clothes? I could see the entire outline of your nipples through that bra… And those panties did very, very little to hide you…

Damn I wanted to get possessive so badly. Kept typing and re-typing. . . But. . . I had literally zero say in that considering I chose to not be with her. It was just. . . the more I thought about how revealing that shit was — how it hadn’t been for only me. I wanted her to know that sense of jealousy. Wanted her to know how my stomach twisted at the thought of anyone else seeing her like that. Wanted her for my eyes only. But I knew that was not right and not the move. Sometimes, I was ashamed of the way my brain worked. . . Stupid ass shit that came with the chemically wired male brain. It was what I always accredited feelings like that to. At the end of the day, I was only a man. A man who was weak for her. . . and that body was just too damn beautiful for me to be willing to share it. But I had to be okay with sharing it. She wasn’t mine. And she could flaunt that body if she wanted. Whether we were together or not.

Y/n, 11:02 p.m.: That was the point ;)

When my phone buzzed next, my eyes went to the time. And my stomach fell. Because, fuck. It was already past 11:00? I couldn’t even take time to appreciate her text. Because, when I'd glanced at the time, I'd felt like shit momentarily. This had taken much longer than I’d initially intended. . .I needed to finish this. And while I loved her flirtiness, my question was still hanging in the air and I needed an answer before we moved on.

Me, 11:02 p.m.: you still haven’t answered me.

Y/n, 11:02 p.m.: What was the question, again? Must’ve forgotten.

Me, 11:03 p.m.: why are you playing dumb with me? do you seriously enjoy putting me through this?

Y/n, 11:03 p.m.: 🤭

She was so goddamn cute. Only y/n could succeed in making emoji reactions cute. Never felt like that before her about the stupid ass yellow faces.

Me, 11:03 p.m.: well. Since you won’t answer me about the lace… I think the least you could do for me is let me see your tits

Y/n, 11:04 p.m.: Jesus. A bit needy, aren’t we?

Me, 11:04 p.m.: a bit patronizing, aren’t you?

Seriously? Out of everything, the word patronizing was going to burst her bubble? I could only guess that was why I was left on read for two solid minutes.

Y/n, 11:06 p.m.: 🙄 oh yeah? Patronizing? Asshole.

Yep.

Me, 11:06 p.m.: 😒 dear god, y/n

Y/n, 11:06 p.m.: Practice a little patience, Jacob. You really don’t think you’ll get what you want?

Patience? I had given her nothing but patience. I didn’t even have time for patience at the time being, but I’d damn well given it to her. Had no choice.

God, no girl had ever put me in such a state. I felt utterly pathetic standing in a fucking bathroom, stroking myself because of the unrelenting desire I felt for her. And the little game she was playing with me. . . She knew what she was doing to me. She was no fool. I swallowed what little saliva was left in my dry mouth when I watched those little bubbles appear under her last text. Waiting, patiently, to see those incredible tits that nothing could compare to. . . Because apparently, I was going to get what I wanted. . . The pure anticipation of seeing them pop up on the screen of my phone had my cock pulsing, throbbing. Fuck. I needed her so bad – it was hurting me. What the fuck had she done to me?

Y/n, 11:08 p.m.: Here you go, baby 😘

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

But – I stood there for a bit. . . wondering why I was seeing only words. No picture. Had to be the fucking cell service. Why was the service such shit in this goddamned bathroom at this very moment? Several seconds, too many seconds passed. . . as I waited for the next text from her to come through.

And when it finally did. . . God, such a little fucking tease.

Me, 11:09 p.m.: y/n.

Y/n, 11:09 p.m.: Yes? ;)

Me, 11:09 p.m.: you know what I want, sweetheart…

Y/n, 11:10 p.m.: I was just answering your question about the lace piece... AND I showed my boobs. Just like you asked… I’m confused… Is that not what you wanted? 🤔

Well, she was right about that. She certainly answered my question. She was still donning that pretty black lace. Almost sheer enough to see what I was craving. Almost. Enough to make my dick ache all the more. So impossibly fucking hard for her. I needed more.

The way she’d pulled her sweater below her tits, using her forearm to push them up, covering herself just enough with it that I couldn’t see everything the bra's material could’ve shown me. . . . Still, I bit my lip and willed my dick to calm down. Just the thought of her bare tits was enough to get me off. I had to see them. . . Nothing less. Couldn’t go the rest of the godforsaken night without having a photo of her tits to get me through it.

Me, 11:11 p.m.: come on, baby... you know that’s not what the fuck I want. I need to see ALL of you... you give me what I want and I'll return the favor...

I wanted to be pissed. But, fucking hell. I just couldn’t. She was my kryptonite. The sweat was pooling on my palms. My phone was threatening to slip out of one hand, the other gripped tight around my dick, imagining it was her instead. (Fucking hilarious that I was even trying to imagine it was her — she had the warmest fucking pussy. . . And so damn wet now that she was pregnant. Couldn’t even explain how incredible that was, by the way - not even to myself.)

Y/n, 11:12 p.m.: Yeah? And what might that favor be?

Jesus. I could hear her saying that to me. Hushed and sultry, the sexiest voice I’d ever known. Especially in these types of moments. She’d adopt a little rasp to her tone, just enough that her velvet voice would deepen just a bit. It took everything in me to not just call her. Listen to that pretty voice while I look at her incredible tits. I knew I couldn’t, though. This shit was risky enough. Couldn’t add her another layer to it.

Me, 11:12 p.m.: well, you seemed awfully bent out of shape over not getting to see all of my dick… we help each other out in this little mess we’ve created?

Y/n, 11:13 p.m.: Oh, so now you’re bribing me… Lucky enough for you, I’m not opposed to a little bribery. Especially if it means I get what I want.

What she wants. Fuck.

Y/n, 11:13 p.m.: And yes. Seeing your dick is exactly what I want right now, so.... 😘 Just give me a sec, k?

I couldn’t bring myself to type another fucking word. All I could do was wait, stroke myself slowly in anticipation for her next message. That blinking ellipses. . . taunting me as I used every bit of my strength to not crumble. I had to hold myself the fuck together.

And then. . . The photo finally came in.

Those perfect, gorgeous tits on the screen of my phone. Fuck. No matter how many times I’d seen them, it was like the first time every time. The most beautiful set of full tits. Fuckin' stacked. She'd pushed them up with her forearm that rested beneath them. Her right hand cupping her left breast, fingers touching the perked nipple. And the right one, fully bare and exposed. Those tits. . . so round, always the perfect size to hold in the palm of my hand . . . But, now, big enough that they spilled from my grip. . . Just enough to make my dick throb at the thought. God, I could feel those pretty tits against my fingertips. . . In my mouth. So fucking soft. I pumped my dick, taking careful consideration for how close I was as I took in the entire image.

What I loved about the photo just as much, if not more than her chest, was that I could see the lower half of her face. Her rosy lips, kissable as fuck, curved in the sexiest little half-smile. Her bottom lip tucked deliciously under perfect teeth. Jesus, fuck. I felt myself getting close, starting under my belly button, my balls tightening to the point of pain. But only the best kind of pain, of course. . . Just wished she was here to hold them in her hand. . . My dick felt hot, pulsing in my grip. . . I could feel it coming.

Y/n, 11:15 p.m.: Well? I think I deserve to see what that ^^ did to you… ;)

Me, 11:15 p.m.: you sure as fuck do, baby

Just like before, I opened the camera in our text thread and positioned the phone just right. Not much different than before, only I made sure that this time, she’d be able to really see what the fuck she’d done to me. How it was even worse than before. How close I was. . . She’d been a good girl and she deserved to see just how good.

I was twitching ridiculously from this little game we had started with each other. And if I were to be honest with myself, the pure fucking risk of it all only made it so much worse. My goddamned girlfriend only feet away from me. Nothing more than a few walls and a door to separate us. I knew it was wrong. And I knew I should've cared about that a lot more than I fucking did. But when it came to y/n, Maya became nothing more than the girl that was there to help me get over her. Clearly, that wasn’t working worth fucking shit. Y/n made that little dream fucking impossible.

I pulled my briefs down just enough. Enough that I could free myself from the tight material. I snapped the photo the same as I had before, letting my sweater lift to give a clear view of my lower stomach on down. I gripped my cock with my hand once again, hissing through my teeth as I did so. One wrong touch, and I was done for. . .

Y/n, 11:17 p.m.: Oh, fuck… you’re so close, aren’t you, baby? Poor thing… 🙁

Me, 11:17 p.m.: y/n… I’ve been close since you posted that picture lol

Y/n, 11:17 p.m.: Well, then… You ready to let go for me?

Me, 11:17 p.m.: never been more ready for any other fuckin thing in my life…

Except, the next thing that showed up on my screen wasn’t a text. . . No, she was fucking calling me - what I’d been too much of a coward to do, she was doing it for me. Without even realizing how badly I'd wanted it - she just knew me. Wanted the same as me. Fuck. My heart started hammering in my fuckin’ chest the moment I saw that beautiful name show up, along with the photo of her from the summer, filling up the whole damn screen. . .Hearing her voice was bound to set me off. . . And I was damn ready for it, so I pressed that green button.

“Thought it might help to hear my voice,” she began, her tone bright, but more sultry than anything. It instantly captivated me — just like I knew it would. “Have you spit in your hand yet?”

Shit. No. I hadn’t. “Not yet,” I breathily laughed in response, before doing just that. When my hand was wet, I let it wrap around my dick once more. . . Felt much better. But, still. “Not as good as your pussy, though, baby.”

“Yeah,” she responded, her breath hitching on a bit of a whine. Fuck. Was she—? At the same time—? Oh, I fucking hoped to god she was. “Tell me about it. . .”

“Y/n,” I said, questioning and stern all at once. Wanted her to listen to me. Needed her to stop what she was doing so she could hear me. It was about damn time she did something I asked of her.

“What, Jake?” She sighed, with a huff. Sounded irritated. Good.

“Oh. . .,” I began, ready to correct her attitude. “You’re about to behave as if you’re the one who’s been jacking off to your picture for the past hour?”

“Almost as long,” she snapped back. She was frustrated. . . Right where I wanted her.

Before I replied, I heard a noise in the background of her call. It sounded like a hand smacking against skin. What in the—? “What was that?”

“I was just making sure it was clear to you, Jacob, that I am not about to be bossed around by you,” she said, each word in its own breath. She was making a point, it seemed. “It was the hand that’s been shoved between my legs. Slapped my thigh with it because I’m impatient.”

“Well, me fuckin’ too. No need to act like such a damn brat,” I said with an intentional edge in my tone. “I was simply saying your name to ask if you were touching yourself already. Seems you were, hm?”

“I’m a horny woman with pregnancy hormones that escalate at lightning speed, Jacob,” she responded, not taking my shit for a second. (And, I had to say, I really liked it.) “My skin was all tingly at the table at the idea of what you were doing. . . It led to me to the damn restroom. Pulling my pants down as soon as I was in here.”

“Touché,” I agreed with a grin. “Except for the pregnancy hormones part. . . Don’t have those.”

Why was I stalling? My dick was hard in my stilled hand, pulsing in my fist. . . And I’d been ignoring it. It was also late and I needed to get to my girlfriend. Couldn’t help this, though. . . I just wanted to revel in the sound of her voice. Wanted to simply talk to her. No sex. Just us.

But, my body wasn’t going to let me forget about the very present problem at my groin. So, as not to reject the need, I let my hand glide. My steady fist, readily pumping myself before I was addressing her again. “Go ahead and begin again. . . We’ll talk each other through it, baby,” I said with a heavy breath that turned to a grunt with one particular press of my fist to the tip. Now that I could hear her voice, I’d made up my mind that I needed her to get there before me.

“Thank you,” she breathed, relieved. Her breathing was picking up on the other end of the call. The sound made my dick feel as though it was getting impossibly harder. But that definitely wasn’t possible, so I knew it just meant that one tiny jerk meant I was going to crumble. “Miss you so much, Jake,” the words left her lips on a choked sob, my name nothing but a whimper.

So. . . She’d really been waiting for my permission? Damn. . . Just wanted her under me right fucking now. Life wasn’t fair. “Yeah? Why don’t you help me understand how much, sweetheart,” I urged her, knowing I was close to finishing and just wanted to hear her voice again.

“Let’s just say, whether I finish or not tonight–.”

“You will,” I interrupted, with zero room for argument in my tone. “I will stay in this bathroom as long as I need to get you off, baby. Don’t you worry.”

And I meant every damn word. Her finishing came before everything else at the moment. Including myself. . . Which was a lot to say since, at the moment, I knew I’d explode if I were to be breathed on the wrong way. I let go of my cock to spit in my hand again, before bringing it back down to wrap around me. I gasped at the touch of it, but tried to keep a cool front for y/n.

“Jacob,” she said suddenly, insistent with the utterance of my name. “Let me fucking finish what I was going to say,” she paused, seemingly waiting for me to talk. But I was not going to. “I was saying. . . whether I finish tonight or not, it won’t matter. Because I know I can only do so much to myself. It will be nothing like what you’d do for me. . . I’m still going to be a mess. Makes me want to scream.”

My lips turned up in a sly, yet doleful close-lipped grin. “It’s okay, baby,” I began, attempting to reassure her when I felt the same exact way. “Because, either way, you’re gonna be soaking those fingers and that’s what matters to me. . . And my name is going to be the one falling off of your lips,” I took a second to let that sink in. I heard her push air through her lips, breathing heavily before a moan of acknowledgement. But it wasn't enough for me. “Do you understand me?”

“Yes, Jake. I promise I understand. I promise, baby,” she gasped. All I could hear were her sharp breaths as she repeated the promise. I imagined how frantically she was moving those fingers. I knew now how much honesty she spoke when she told me of how difficult those pregnancy hormones were. Knew just how high her libido was. . . . .

“How close are you, sweetheart?” I said, holding myself and only giving my dick attention if I felt it twitch. Needed her to get there.

Before she even began to speak, she was huffing on the other end before she let out a little whimpering noise that had my balls tensing in a way that made me realize I had to let go of my dick for a moment before something else might occur. Not yet.

“I am so close. Was close before I even got to the bathroom. The knowledge of you getting off to that picture alone had my panties wet,” she explained, making a groan release from deep in my chest. I encouraged her to continue, giving myself a swift pump before she began speaking again. “Wish I could explain – just want to crawl out of my skin with this need for you,” she said on a labored breath before she was whining again. Fuck. Hand off of the dick, Jake. “When I tell you I’m miserable for you, Jake. . . I have never experienced these feelings before now. There is nothing in the world that will be able to stop me from coming if we keep– fuck. Yes,” she whimpered, before practically growling. I knew that noise; she'd hit a spot. Fuck yes. “I’m just waiting for you to give me the word, to talk me to the edge. . . Want you to do it.”

“Fuck, y/n. . . That’s–.”

“Let’s just say - I learned something new about my body last night. . . my damn clit - you've made it pulsate in a way I didn’t know it could,” she gasped on a breath, her little noises coming through the line, and into my ear, beautifully. “I can’t touch it until you’re ready for me to finish because once I do, it’s over. So embarrassing. . . I can’t believe I’m this wound up.”

“It suits you, baby. . . Love when you’re so damn needy and desperate for me,” I said on a mewl that quickly translated to a growl. My hand was itching to touch my dick, and I couldn’t resist the single stroke I gave myself before continuing. I groaned when I let go of myself again. “You want me so damn bad, hm? Tell me how badly you want this, y/n. . .”

“I just did, Jacob,” she replied, frustration clearly marking every single word.

“Oh? You’re going to use that tone?” The voice in my head seemed to judge me, in agreement with my dick - and the time on the damn clock - that we were cutting it real damn short. Come on, Jake. . . We don’t have time for the games, dude. . .

But – I couldn’t give it to her if she wasn’t going to be good. She knew better.

“I’m s-sorry, babe. I just–I can’t–,” she purred, apparently hitting another sensitive spot. . . had me wishing I was the one hitting the inside of her like that. God knew I could go much deeper than those fingers. Stretch her wider. “I want you so badly that I would run on my own two feet all of the way to South Carolina right fucking now if I were a crazy person. There. I said it. And it’s the truth, Jake. Humiliating as fuck.”

“I’d do the same damn thing for you, sweet girl,” I replied, my heart lodged in my throat and dick at the thought. “Now. . . how wet are those fingers?”

“S-soaked,” she gasped back, my ear tingling at the tremor in the word.

“How many do you have inside of you right now?” I asked, not able to help it when my head fell back against the wall. Couldn’t touch my dick yet – was punishing myself for the sake of her pleasure. But it was worth every second of denial.

“Only one. ‘M s-so tight, Jake.”

Fuck. Me. I knew how goddamn tight she was. But. . . “I fuckin’ know you are, baby. . . Just like you should be. But, do you think you could fit one more finger in there for me?”

“Don’t know, Jake,” she choked before releasing a trembling whimper. “But I’ll try. For you.”

“Good girl,” I encouraged her before eyeing my angry fuckin' dick. That motherfucker was hanging on for dear life.

“I did it. Two,” she breathed before letting out a strangled groan. “F-feels so good. . .”

My cock was past the point of strain – in need of my grip. So, I went ahead and spit in my hand again before wrapping a hand at the base, moving at a torturously slow speed to the tip.

“Oh, baby. . . I’m so damn proud of you,” I moaned, unable to reject the way ‘proud’ trickled pathetically from my lips.

“‘M gonna cum like this, Jake,” she said with a trembling, needy whine. “I will. . . Promise.”

“Full of so many promises, aren’t you?” I pushed her, letting my hand continue its agonizing pace against myself. “Do you promise your tight pussy will still be ready for me when I get home? Gotta keep that shit ready for me. . .”

“Oh, yes, Jake. I will be because I know– shit. You’re s-so– so damn thick. I– Fuck!” She let out an intense cry that would’ve scared me if I didn’t know better. I knew exactly what it meant when she got this loud. . . Could only mean one thing. “Jake, baby– I’m g-gonna– but want you to– before–.”

“No fuckin’ way, sweetheart,” I interrupted her, sweat dripping down my forehead from the utter exertion required of me to wait. But I wouldn’t before her. “I’m not going to cum until I know your thighs are soaked with everything you have. . .”

“No, Jacob Thomas,” she argued back, voice suddenly sharper than it had been for the past several minutes. She’d found some sort of strength in her and I heard that damned slap against her thigh again, in the background of the call. Goddammit, y/n. “No fucking way am I going to not cum at the same time as you. I won’t finish this unless you finish with me.”

Okay, that option was starting to sound pretty appealing. . . My cock was a ticking time bomb in my hands, just waiting for the word to bust. . . “Jesus Christ, y/n,” I grunted, letting my hand tighten once more around my shaft. If we were going to do it like that. . . “Fine. Then you damn well better put those fingers back in that pretty pussy because I’m damn fuckin’ ready.”

“How’d you–?”

“Heard that goddamn slap against your thigh for a second time,” I bit back, patience gone. “Stopping while you know I’m about to–.”

“That’s why I stopped, asshole! Want you to cum all over your hand while you say my name,” she sighed. It was the same one she’d give when I’d sink into her. So, I knew those fingers were back where they belonged. “You just haven’t let me talk you to the edge like I wanted to and I’m mad about it–.”

“Y/n, fuck!” The heel of my palm nudged the underside of my tip in a way I thought would be my undoing. I couldn’t help how loud the curse word had drifted off my lips. . . dammit. And it’d been loud enough to very possibly gain the attention of anyone near these bathrooms. Quiet ass establishment. I brought my voice back to a hush for the next thing I said. “Your voice– and the filthy noises you’ve been making– shit. Trust me when I say you’ve done your part, sweetheart.”

“Really?”

The way her voice had quieted just a bit; her question was completely genuine. That ‘really?’ was so incredibly her. . . She sounded hopeful that I was telling the truth. And I knew why she was asking. I knew her and I knew she’d seriously wanted to keep her word. She wanted to make damn sure I was being honest before she let this continue.

The smirk that tugged at my lips was easy, turning into a full-blown smile when I reassured her as my hand stilled. My dick was crying out to me, but I had to reassure her first. “Yes, baby. You did your part with that post,” I chuckled under my breath at the culprit in all of this. “Anything you did was going to send me over the edge. . . . Especially after last night. But, I just wanted to talk to you so badly– just wanted an excuse to keep texting you until you were tired of my ass. Then you called and– it was over for me the moment I heard your voice.”

Every word I said was true as fuck. But, I shut my mouth and gave her a chance to speak. . . Needed it. “Shit, Jake. . . Over for you? Did you already–?”

“No,” I insisted, letting my hand continue its ministrations on my dick. Nice and slow. . . “Trust me when I say, babydoll, you’re going to know when that happens.”

Babydoll. . . hadn’t used that one on her yet, but I liked it. . . It fit her.

“I fucking better,” she replied, her voice breaking up a bit as she began to breathe heavily. She was working herself up again and we were not stopping this time.

Spitting in my hand once more, a sense of finality laced all throughout me, I let my palm go to very delicately grasp my dick. And then, as I felt necessary, I applied pressure, my head falling against the wall for the umpteenth time. I was hot, all over, my cock like fire in my hand. . . It throbbed in the most fulfilling way as I let my hand do what it’d wanted to all night.

“Jake?” She tried from the other side of the call, her voice pulling me out of my thoughts for the time being.

“Yes, baby?” I replied, not able to stop my hand from moving, but tried my damn best to let her voice control me. But that shit was damn near impossible at this point in the night.

“I really do miss you,” she said. I heard her sweet voice choke up a bit – for more than sexual reasons.

Again, I knew this because I felt it, too. “I miss you, sweetheart. So fucking much. I can promise you that,” I insisted, the rumble in my chest, coming to life in the tone of my voice when I spoke next. “But just think about how ready you’re going to be for me. . . When I finally see you again. . . When I finally get to fuck you like we both want. . .”

“Gonna feel so good,” she said with a hiccup and a quiet, shaky sigh. “Can’t wait to feel you fill me up again, baby. . .”

I was going to burn this place down. “Tell me just how hard you want me to fuck you, y/n. . .,” I began, feeling those words leave my lips was like seeing the light at the end of a tunnel I’d been trying to reach for years.

“Shit, Jake. . . I’m just ready to see you finish again. Been so long. . . Haven’t gotten to taste you on my tongue–.”

“The night in the Jee–?”

“But you never came for me that night. . . Remember? I haven’t gotten to taste you for so long and fuck– I miss the way it feels when I swallow you down—I need it,” she beautifully sighed, then moaned on the cutest little lilt of a laugh.

I couldn’t emit a proper response. What in the fuck did I even say to that? A pornographic harmony, spoken to leave no fucking man alive. . . Said just for me. . .Fuck, I was so ready to come for her again. My dick was swelling with this urgency for her. . . So damn close.

She wasn’t finished, though, so I didn’t have to form a coherent thought as my eyes began to roll back in my head. Her smooth voice, like damn silk flooding my ears, “. . .or feel you spill out of me since the night we. . . you know. . .”

Even in the heat of this moment, I couldn’t stop myself from asking. . . My heart, being fucking stupid, begging for answers. “Do you remember much from that night?” I asked, my voice faltering.

I knew most of the tremor in my tone came from the feelings flowing through me from my current desire to let the agony from tonight end in triumph. But. . . I wasn’t a fool. I knew it was also faltering because I wondered this shit every day. Ridiculously, that night was a sensitive topic for me. . . for reasons not concerning our daughter.

“Oh, Jake. . . I remember it so well. Every single day, I remember just a little more. . . My brain–no, my heart won’t let me forget, baby,” she said, voice cracking on the last few words.

There was a little sniffle behind her words. . . By the way she’d sniffed, I knew she was trying to hide it. And, ironically, at the same damn time, I felt that familiar, tight sensation – constricting my throat – daring me to cry. But now was not the time. We’d discuss this later. Now that I knew she hadn’t forgotten as much of it as I’d previously thought, we damn well were going to finish this conversation.

“It’s because that shit isn’t meant to be forgotten, babydoll,” I rushed out as I clung on for dear life. My cock seemed to hum with pleasure under my palm, a sort of feeling of appreciation from my body for what was on the precipice of occurring.

On top of her words, my mind went crazy thinking of how she’d fall apart. . . When I'd fuck her, watching her finish was always my final undoing. . . Every time, I was left a man spent with nothing left to give. . . A man who only knew her name. . .

Last night, I’d been so enraptured at the prospect of sinking inside of her again. . . I couldn’t help but remember – how her thighs had trembled above me last night. Every angle had been glorious, but being underneath her, eating her pussy while I watched her full body take everything it was given. Watched her heavenly tits bounce while her thighs tempted to squeeze my head, over and over – shit. How well she’d fallen apart. She’d opened up for me – completely – soaking me when I’d made her release fully. . . It had been exquisite – all of her, covering my face and chest in the most mouth watering arousal.

And, after making her finish multiple times (just like I’d wanted), I'd been so close to finally giving her what she’d wanted. But I hadn’t gotten to give it to her. Hadn’t had the chance to enjoy the feeling of her swollen, soaking wet pussy, sheathing my dick. I’d felt the thrumming, pounding beating of my pulse, all the way from my balls, to my heavy ass dick, to my dizzy mind. . . And then. . . Maya had fucking knocked. Mine and y/n’s luck was shit.

Josh and Elsie had been a non-issue. I knew them well enough to know that if y/n were to have put them off for what we’d been doing, they’d have let us at it. Hell, they probably would have celebrated (fucking weirdos). And she’d just about let them off easily when Maya had made her presence known.

I’d been so fucking angry over it. The sinking feeling that had happened in my gut at that moment had made me shut down. . . And like the fuckin’ dick of a boyfriend I was, it hadn’t had shit to do with feeling bad for doing anything to (possibly) ruin things with Maya. No, all my brain could spit at me was how close I’d been to finally being buried in y/n again. And how viciously it’d been yanked from me. By a single knock. Not tonight. No, I was going to see this shit through.

“Keep going, baby,” I told her. I was not letting that shit happen again. No interruptions. We would get our beautiful ending. Together. I wasn’t stepping foot out of this goddamn bathroom until then. “Keep fucking yourself for me, honey. Don’t stop.”

“Jake. . .,” she cooed in response, not much more than a whisper that had fallen off her tongue. “S-say my name, Jake. . .Please, baby.” Fuck. The prettiest goddamn voice to ever grace my ears. Melodic. Tantalizing. And her breathing, still labored, coming out in tiny huffs. High in pitch — they had become quicker. The sweetest staggered huffs, tiny gasps. She was close. I could hear it. In her voice, her breathing. Imagined her nimble fingers - thrusting in and out of her soaked pussy.

I was fucking done for. Those little noises alone, setting my body alight. My dick threatened to spill with the gentlest touch of my hand. So fucking careful. “I hear you, y/n,” I sighed, barely finding the air in my own lungs. I closed my eyes, picturing her in the very spot she was in. Getting herself off, all by herself. “G-give it to me, babydoll. Please. Let me hear you finish for me.”

Desperation had completely taken over, with a strength unfathomable. My dick was throbbing under my palm. My head became light and fuzzy, lacking all the blood I needed to keep myself upright for much longer. And then, I swore I heard it. The technology behind these damn iPhones could be so sweet. Because, after really concentrating on the faint sound, I knew I heard it. Those slick sounds, from her pretty little fingers working her oversensitive pussy, so well. . . Fuck yes. She breathed the most ethereal sound. The sound. The one right before she'd. . .God, fuck. I bit my lip, hard enough to draw blood. I tasted it on my tongue, focused on it instead of the urge to pump myself one last fucking time.

“T-talk to me, babydoll. Need to hear, — Jesus!. . .,” My dick twitched against my palm, creating almost enough friction to force my end. No. Not fucking yet. We had to do it together. I would settle for no fucking less. “Let me hear you, y/n. Don’t fucking hold back for me.”

“J-Jake! I’m cumm — fuck!”

She was there. She was fucking there, making all the same pretty noises she had made last night when my tongue was in the same place her fingers were now. Tasting her when she. . . god, fuck! A string of spit left my lips, my mouth hanging open with the gasped breaths. And, as if on purpose, past my sweater, it met my lower abdomen. I shivered as it slid down to the base of my dick. I reached for it, coated my hand and gripped my dick - squeezed it real fucking hard. It felt so exhilaratingly good that it hurt.

“Cum with me, Jake. . . P-lease,” she pleaded, and that was all it fucking took.

With the iron grip of my hand, I pumped myself with haste — Once, twice. . . I hissed through my goddamn teeth, bit the fuck out of my tongue to keep my volume to a low rumble. I squeezed my eyes shut, so hard it nearly hurt. My head had fallen back against the wall, my balls and stomach tightened painfully with the movement of my hand. She was still moaning in my ear, still working that gorgeous fucking pussy with her fingers when I felt the closest I had all fucking night.

I pumped my dick again, and again. And with one more thrust of my fist, I coated my fucking hand. God —it hit me so fucking hard. The building up from the entire night— The moment I saw that blessed Instagram story, the texts, her tits, and then her fucking voice. . . Just her. Everything that was her. My every thought of her left my body numb and trembling with pure goddamn pleasure. Tear inducing.

I felt so close to her, and she wasn’t even here with me. Not physically. Not the way I wanted. But the fact that I did feel that way was a testament to the undeniable effect she had on me. Not even fucking here, and she still had me worked up as though she were. Still had this claim over my body - like it belonged only to her.

And apparently, I had the same effect on her.

My jaw had gone slack, and the only thing my lips could muster was her name. “Y/n, y/n, y/n. . .”

“There you go, baby. Fuck — listen to you. . .”

I kept stroking myself, slowly and fucking carefully as the blood had started returning to my head. My body was vibrating. My dick was tender as fuck. Sensitive to the goddamn touch. But I couldn’t let go of myself. Not yet. Not when she was on the other end of the line. Waiting for me. “How are those fingers? Are they fuckin' soaked like I wanted?”

“So-s very soaked, baby,” she sighed between heaving breaths. “I think I. . . I'm actually - my thighs. They're drenched. It’s just like last night. . . when it'd covered your chest and face. . . Did I just. . . ? Fuck.”

Fucking Christ. “Did you squirt for me, baby?”

“I’m pretty damn sure I did,” she breathily giggled, my heart picking up speed at the sound. “Th-the insides of my thighs are seriously drenched to fuck.”

I chuckled along with her, under my breath as I tried damn hard to not book a stupidly impulsive flight to New York. Even though we were done, I still wasn’t finished speaking to her. I knew it was late, but I needed to hold onto this moment with her. It was all I had at the moment. “How are Josh and Elsie tonight? Disturbingly flirty and shit?”

She began laughing outright at that, though her voice still cracked a bit from the rasp in her throat. She was exhausted. . .Could only imagine. . . And I was all the way in South Caro-fucking-lina. But, she succeeded in snapping me from my irritation, with a sigh, so beautiful, into my ear as she agreed. “Oh, you already know. . . And talking about the most absurd shit they find on Urban fucking Dictionary of all places. . .,” she laughed again, taking a deep breath before she told me about the place she was at tonight. The food sounded much better than the wallet-breaking, tiny-ass portions I’d had earlier in the evening. . . But it had been Maya’s favorite, so we’d had to go. Just like the dessert establishment we were at now.

I was about to respond to another remark she’d made about Elsie and Josh’s escapades – still on my blissful high. . . . When we were interrupted. By a goddamn fucking knock. The sound of a knock on the door was truly becoming one I hated at this point.

And when I heard the voice on the other side of the door. . . . My blood ran cold.

“Jakey? You almost done talking to Josh?” Maya. Voice calm and kind – completely unassuming.

I loved my girlfriend, but dammit if hearing her knock made me want to punch the nearest wall with all of the strength I could’ve possibly mustered. . . However, I stood in the same place I’d been for the last almost two hours. My hand, still comfortably around my dick. And the result of the phone fucking I’d just partaken in, all over my hand. . . Shit.

Though, unlike last night, bit by bit – second by second –I began to feel guilty. Because, now, my girlfriend had been left at the table – abandoned by me – for the better part of almost two hours while I did this shit. I checked the lock on the door with a careful eye, terrified that I’d somehow forgotten to lock it. The thought of what might occur if she were to open the door had me wanting to throw up. I felt so goddamn terrible. What the fuck was I doing?

I had these two beautiful women – who I cared for so deeply – hanging on by a thread. Granted, how I felt for y/n was worlds different than I felt for Maya. . . In that way, I meant that my love for Maya was the type of love I could explain. . . It was a deep love. But. . . the way I felt for y/n? I didn’t even know where to begin. . . It was beyond words. And where I felt deeply for Maya, it didn’t stop at ‘deep’ for y/n.

No, with y/n, I felt like I was constantly drowning in the most beloved waters. . . Desperate for air while also enjoying the feeling of being utterly encompassed by these stunning, yet treacherous waves. . .

But. . . in the end, they were both special to me and I was fucking with both of them. I didn’t know what to do.

“Jake?!” Maya’s knuckles hit the door once more, her voice level raising in a way that made me want to tell her to quiet down. This was her quiet restaurant that she knew so well. . . She’d already given me the talk about not speaking loudly in the place. So, apparently she was irritated enough that she–. “Jake!”

Okay, not quite as loud, but definitely obvious that she was fed up with waiting on me. I couldn’t blame her. . . I’d just give her some excuse about how Josh was really going through it or some shit. She’d have to understand that.

And, just as she was tapping against the door once again, y/n was in my ear. . . Her soft voice, making me feel lighter – better. “Hey. . . what’s wrong, baby?” She questioned, real concern guiding her tone. I knew that she’d noticed that something was off by the way I’d just stopped interacting. “Was it something I sai–?”

“Jakey, please, I’m really worried about you, baby!” Maya squeaked from the other side of the door.

“I have to go,” I hurriedly hushed into the phone, hoping y/n would be the easier one to put off this time. She’d understand. Right? “I’m sorry,” rushed through my lips as I pressed the red end button for the call.

I hated doing it to her, but she’d be easier to explain this all to. . . She’d been very understanding about me needing to dedicate time to Maya in the past. . . And she’d already told me to get off the phone and go back to her earlier in the conversation. . .

In complete shame, I looked down at my hand that held the phone. Our texts, staring back at me and making me immediately miss her. Fuck. It was like I’d escaped to this other world with her for such a short time. . . Only to be yanked back to earth. Was she going to be mad at me now? Then, there was the evidence on my other hand. My release, covering the hand that was holding my dick (that was still too hard to leave the bathroom). . . It was drying real quick, making a sticky mess over my skin.

I felt like shit. This wasn’t supposed to be so damn difficult. . . I just wished we still had the easiness of a few months ago. . . Very little interruptions, so much time for only each other. No one in the way. . . I felt like I could’ve cried in that fuckin’ Carmella’s single stall bathroom. Stupid as it was. . . But I’d been waiting for this and hadn’t even been able to begin to enjoy the post-coital bliss.

Was y/n okay? She was also covered in herself. Completely alone in the bathroom of whatever restaurant she was at. With Josh and Elsie. I really would have left South Carolina right that instant if I could’ve. Flown back on the next flight to be with them. But I couldn’t. I had made this commitment to Maya and I had to see it through.

But. . . My heart hurt for the woman in New York, so fucking precious to me, who I’d effectively worked up and thoroughly drained. Only for me to leave her immediately upon finishing. And her gentle voice in my ear. . . It’d been so nice — creating that familiar swirly feeling in my chest. Yet, no matter how she’d made me feel, I’d just left her.

Fuck—I couldn’t even worry about that. Not when my girlfriend was still outside the bathroom, making her presence known with little intermittent spurts of knocking. Damn. . . the woman really liked to knock until there was zero doubt of her presence. My teeth had ground together every time I heard her after the first knock. It was a lot — considering it had happened at least ten times in the span of a couple of minutes.

My attention was drawn back to my hands. . . To the phone in my grasp that was awfully silent. Why was I expecting anything from her? Why would she want to text me? With how I’d left things just now, my heart would be broken if roles were reversed.

Dick move, Jake, my thoughts called out, judging me. Way to use her and then hang up, asshole.

I shook my head of the thought, knowing it to be true, but not having the energy nor the time to deal with it. Not when Maya was still doing her best to make sure I knew she was still out there. My phone got clicked to lock and slipped into my back pocket. Then, I was trying to silently pull up my briefs and pants, zip my jeans, and maneuver very quietly around the bathroom, so as not to make Maya question anything else.

Just needed to wash my hands. . . Get my fucking semen off of my hands before she saw that shit. I triple checked the bathroom door to make sure I’d locked it. And when I’d reassured myself again, I turned the faucet on.

Talk, Jacob. “Yeah, My, I’m okay—sorry,” I finally called out, panicking to get myself cleaned up and get this night over with. When I said I felt like shit, I meant it. Pure, utter shit for hanging up on y/n, with no explanation and no warning, but I had no other choice. “Josh was just really going through it. . . Needed me to talk him down.”

“Oh. . .,” she began from the other side, her voice breaking just a little. But what caught me was the way the word was spoken – as if to question what I was saying. She had no reason to question it. “Saw he posted on his story like right before you came to the bathroom to talk to him. . . He’s with y/n and Elsie. They looked pretty happy in his story.”

Mother of fuck. Of all times, Josh. Thank you, brother.

Improvise, Jake. Improvise. . . “Yeah. . . They were really awesome at being there for him tonight when I couldn’t be,” I said on a whim, soaping and washing my hands for a second time under the water as it heated to scalding. Was helping to snap me back to reality. “He’s just having a hard time. I didn’t know how else to help him from here other than staying on the phone with him.”

“Is he better now?” She asked, seeming legitimately curious over the illegitimate situation. The lie.

“Y-yeah,” I stuttered, drying my hands against my pants, not wanting to hear the harsh noise of the hand dryer. I wasn’t sure I could handle that at the time being. . . “He’s fine. Feeling much more like himself.”

“I’d hope so,” Maya laughed, the sound seeming more mocking than anything. She was over the bullshit of me being in the bathroom. I understood that for sure. “You’ve been in there long enough. . . The dessert tray is at the table. And lucky for you, there’s no ice cream.”

She seemed like she was joking, but I could hear a slight edge in her tone that wasn’t usually there. So, I busted ass. Made sure my face was wiped of any residual sweat and that it wasn’t flushed to fuck. Thankfully, I seemed to look relatively put together. . . And I believed (really hoped) to have washed all of the leftover smell off of me that could indicate I’d been doing what I’d been doing.

After a deep breath in and out, I slapped a smile on my face and left the nerves in the bathroom. . . . And when I saw her beautiful face, completely aloof as to what had just happened, I felt a punch in the gut. The same punch I felt when I instantly thought of how y/n was going, five states away from me. . . Was she crying? Was she going to be able to clean up okay? She’d had her entire body out for me tonight, only for me to leave her. Fuck. It was all on a loop in my damned head.

As Maya talked to me about the fucking dessert tray, I contemplated my next steps with y/n. And once we were seated back at the table, I immediately noticed her father was glaring at me. And while I was never one to disrespect a partner’s parent, he didn’t fucking know me. It didn’t help that, at the present moment in time, I was not in the mood to deal with any shit. After giving him a forced smile, I decided to ignore him and continue to ponder my mess of thoughts concerning y/n.

I decided the best (and only) option was to text her. So, I took a few moments while Maya and her dad started in on a conversation. And from the sound of it, she’d apparently stopped in the middle of to come get me from the bathroom. God. Could she not have just waited to finish her damn conversation before coming to me? It would’ve been better for all parties involved. God. Whatever. All it meant was I had an ample opportunity to send this text.

Me, 11:35 p.m.: I’m so sorry, baby… I promise you I didn’t want to leave. Maya came to the door and needed me. I promise it had absolutely nothing to do with you, y/n

When I sent it, I decided the least I could do was look at Maya to pretend as though I was listening. The conversation happening between them wasn’t one I could participate in – they were talking strictly about work. I wasn’t needed here. But, as the minutes ticked by, I realized. . . y/n was fed up with me. She’d read my message at the time I’d sent, and still, five minutes later, there was zero response from her. I hadn’t even witnessed the little ellipses bubble when I occasionally opened my phone to check on a response.

I could admit. Shitty as it was, the woman beside me had barely been a thought to me all night. Even still, as I sat there, with a forced smile and a dick I was begging to soften all of the way, she wasn’t who I was thinking about. I decided to go to Instagram. Curiosity had me wanting to check Josh’s story to see what Maya had been referring to.

And, the picture on his story was enough to make my breath catch in my throat. The bright smile on y/n’s face and her hair, falling so prettily over her shoulder. In this picture that had apparently been taken before the texting and the phone call. . . She’d been so full of joy. Goddammit. Then, there was the song he’d used – I knew it very well. "Merry Christmas Baby" by Booker T & the M.G.’s. And I knew exactly why he’d used it. He’d used it to get my attention. This was one we’d regularly listened to at Christmastime as a family, growing up. I could remember the day I’d learned the guitar part and everything – a snow day during our freshman year of high school.

Weird that I remembered that. But, he’d known it was special. He'd known that it would trigger some sort of memory for me. Make me feel something. What was he trying to say? Was he just mocking me by putting a sentimental song on his story to accompany a picture of her? Was he trying to make me jealous? Knowing my brother, I was sure to fuck that he was doing all of the above.

Fuck you, Josh. Seriously.

After eyeing her for just a moment longer in Josh’s photo, I decided that while Maya was engaged in such an intense conversation with her father, I could go look at y/n’s story again. With a clear head. Really appreciate the picture this time. So, with a quick message to Josh telling him to ‘go fuck himself’, and a glance in Maya’s direction to make sure she wasn’t looking, I speedily tapped y/n’s name in Josh’s story. And once I was on her profile, I made hasty work of my mission by clicking on her cute little icon photo.

And there she was. I was quickly realizing, though, that maybe it was a mistake to look at it because it was only making me angrier that we’d essentially been cut off in the bathroom. I had needed her – before, during, and after. I’d taken the fucking L last night in her bed by not getting to fuck her and done so again tonight by sacrificing talking to her after getting her off.

The lace on her skin – it was just so fucking gorgeous. I wanted nothing more than to pull it over her tits myself and pay those pretty nipples some real attention. . . God, her tits. Then there was the underwear, nearly see through. . . How I’d pull those to the side and fuck her sensitive pussy until her perfect legs trembled, yet again, with my name on her lips. Her pretty release, seeping out of her, right before I’d let loose inside of her. . . And when my spend would trickle from her tight, pulsing cunt, I’d pull those sexy little panties back over her. Cover her up and let her feel me against her until she understood to not post shit like this without me near.

My dreams were stalled when her name flashed across my screen, though. I didn’t even wait to read it. Had to talk to her.

Y/n, 11:41 p.m.: I’m not talking about promises anymore tonight, Jake.

Goddammit, Jake. What the fuck had you done, man?

Me, 11:41 p.m.: you know that I wanted to talk you down from that, baby… you know me. You know me better than that

Thankfully, she immediately read that one and responded. Fucking win.

Y/n, 11:41 p.m.: Just hate that you’re gone and it was just a vicious reminder of why you’re gone… I’m just being selfish. Ignore me.

She was being selfish? Fuck no she wasn’t.

Me, 11:42 p.m.: you are NOT selfish, y/n. Please don’t say that about yourself. Wish you wouldn’t say shit like that

Y/n, 11:42 p.m.: I jacked off with you while you were with your g i r l f r i e n d tonight, Jake. No, actually… while you made HER wait for ME. It was all my fault and I am so sorry.

Oh, fuck no she was not going to apologize.

Me, 11:42 p.m.: sweet girl… don’t you dare say sorry for anything. That was the peak moment of my entire day :)

Me, 11:42 p.m.: don’t overthink any of this. Please. The situation is what’s shitty… not you. The situation could be MUCH fucking better

What was I implying? Surely I wasn’t considering what it would be like to not be dating Maya. . . That would be fucked up. But– dammit. I couldn’t help how drawn I was to this girl on the other side of my phone. As I waited for her to respond, I went to her photo again. Sound turned down, of course. . . Maya was still busy conversing. I was fine.

There was a solid minute to appreciate the way y/n’s breasts were swelling – how gorgeously marked by veins. . .– fuck. All for my baby– shit fuck. I was truly realizing, as my stomach turned in arousal at her body – looking at this again had not been a good idea. And, as if a saving grace, her name was at the top of my screen again.

Y/n, 11:44 p.m.: You deserve to be happy, Jake. That is the best “situation” for me.

God. What was she implying, now?

I didn’t know what to say in response to that, so instead, I decided to switch back to her Instagram story and tell her exactly what I thought of it. Perfect. That’s what it – she – was. Y/n. . . Her heart, her face, her body. . . she was perfect. Maybe not for me, due to everything that had transpired between us. So much history in a shorter amount of time. . . . but she was the most perfect specimen that graced this Earth.

Before her, I hadn’t been sure about having kids. But with this woman? My uncertainty about having kids was out the window. When she was the mother of my children, I didn’t care how many there were. Anything that came from her would surely be flawless and so easily lovable. God, the singular thought that there would be a tiny her also gracing the planet in a few months?. . .

I’d never felt the amorous flame – this pure, overwhelming light inside of my chest. . . . All because of y/n. The chance we’d taken over the summer. . . The chance of a lifetime.

Y/n. . .she was worth all of it and more.

End of Jake’s POV

Maya’s POV

When Jake got back from the bathroom, I assumed the night would continue as it had started. Jake’s attention being on me. All on me.

A whole twelve hours away from Brooklyn, New-fucking-York — where there were possible distractions galore. But here, there truly were none. A glorious victory for me. The one complaint I’d had before now had been earlier in the day. He’d been immersed in his phone this morning as we’d walked around my favorite Charleston shopping centers. Though, even if it had annoyed me at first, I hadn’t complained. Because, he’d bought me any and everything I’d wanted. Merry Christmas to me!

And, as he’d told me, he’d been texting with his brothers. Which, I could only get so annoyed by. They were fun enough and seemed to like me a lot. So, they passed in my book. Really, more than ‘like me’, I knew his brothers loved me. And obviously, I appreciated this. They saw me for me.

Occasionally, I still stopped to silently appreciate Josh. His noble act of stopping the display in the living room on that horrid game night. And then, going the extra mile and stepping in to talk to Jake the morning after. . .? God. A keeper for sure. At this point, I didn’t think I’d ever make Jake cut off communication with his family. . . And that was saying something. I’d definitely done it with boyfriends in the past when their family members rubbed me the wrong way, so. . . He was lucky he had a decent family.

Even if I did like his brothers, though, it had gotten annoying after about an hour and a half. Every time I’d wanted his attention, he’d tell me to ‘wait a second.’ But, thankfully, once he’d put the phone away finally, his focus had all been on me. He’d looked frustrated (which had annoyed me), but when I’d asked him what had been wrong, he just shook his head. It was obvious after one try that he hadn’t really wanted to talk about it. So, I’d dropped it. He’d talk to me if he needed to. No use poking him. All day long, I’d told him memories of my childhood. Little things from when I’d come to stay with my dad. Everywhere I looked, there was something to tell him about that had to do with me. It was heaven. Had been. Not any-fucking-more.

Because, when he’d gotten back from the hour and a half long conversation with Josh in the bathroom, I’d borne witness to his fucking screen. And the sight had not made me very happy. I’d had every reason to lose it when I initially saw that green circle around her picture. That classic pick-me bitch icon she used for Instagram. Trying to stay all natural with her lightly edited photo. Her, in a (surely cheap) white sweater, and a New York Yankee baseball cap on. A little cutesy grin on her features. Trying to look all adorable and shit. And failing. Puh-lease. Stupid fucking bitch. Y/n. The baby momma whore.

And, unfortunately, even if she was a giant slut, I had to admit, she was very pretty. . . Well, had been very pretty. . . She was subpar now with the baby bump constantly expanding at her abdomen. More and more by the day. Gross.

Even more disgusting and sneaky, after a hasty glance at my own Instagram, I’d soon noticed she hadn’t included me in that little green bubble of Close Friends. But. . . To be fair, of course she wouldn’t – I had the thing she wanted. Her envy of me drew the line at us being ‘close friends.’ Women were naturally envious of me, intimidated by me. Had been my entire life. It was why I still had zero female friends. Bitches were haters.

I really, sincerely knew it was simply because she was jealous of me — as she should’ve been. . . But, she’d succeeded in getting under my skin. No one ever did that shit anymore — except for y/n. I was a very pleasant person, but y/n. . .Oh, that bitch brought out the worst in me. Close Friends. I could’ve strangled someone.

Seriously. Whore. A whore who was posting shit like this to lure my boyfriend in. And, no. She couldn’t have him. She got to have his baby. That was plenty for her. It was too much, if I were to be honest. But no one was asking me.

I had to put up with a lot from her. Most women would have dragged her away from him by her hair. Told her to get the fuck out of his life. And then told her to fuck off and give another woman (me) the chance to treat him better than she had. Like trapping him, right before he started his career, by getting pregnant in a primarily fuck buddy circumstance.

Crazy to think Jake had lied to me about that, by the way. . . When we first really got together in September, I’d questioned him about living with another woman. And, he’d fed me a bullshit line about being ‘just roommates’ with her. “Just roommates,” he’d told me. “It’s just the most convenient living situation.” And, I’d believed him. Like a fool.

That was before I’d had to spend my Thanksgiving focusing on the new knowledge that his roommate was pregnant with his kid. He’d so carefully told me the morning of the blessed holiday. And seriously, I’d been a stunning girlfriend to him when he’d told me. I’d had and still did have every right to be pissed. But I’d reacted as calmly as possible. . . Even if I’d been exploding on the inside. No woman would put up with that besides me. ‘Just roommates’ my incredible, fat ass. ‘Just roommates’ with a damned history of fucking each other enough to make a kid from it. She was lucky I hadn’t screamed in her pretty little face by now. Couldn’t upset the pregnant lady. God forbid. Lest I be a terrible person to all of society.

And she had that heart thing Jake had told me about. Pits? The Pits? Stupid name for a disorder. Something made-up about her heart beating too damn fast. So, on top of being pregnant, she was also at risk with whatever the fuck that illness was that she had. Sounded like a y/n problem, not mine. She was a true ‘pick-me’ girl. To her core, always begging for attention.

God. . . I had such a good heart. Loads of tolerance for the never ending bullshit. I had been the bigger person through all of this. The biggest person, actually. Well. . . not physically. I could’ve laughed at that. No, no. That spot belonged to Jake’s fuck buddy roommate. Past fuck buddy, of course. I knew I gave it to him so fucking good now; he didn’t need her or her tired ass, fat ass pregnant body. That show, The Biggest Loser — right in front of me.

She’d had her chance. When her body was tight and her face wasn’t at risk of fattening like a pregnant bitch. And now she seemed to think she could offer him anything worthy in this body? Her new (not improved) one, which only got progressively fatter every time I saw her? Though, no matter how fat she was, she still never managed to shoot her shot. Reference: game night. Her, being a disgusting whore in front of us all. And Jake, still sleeping next to me that night. . . as she’d slept with that moron from her school. Comedy. Peak comedy.

I looked over briefly at his screen again. It had been a couple of minutes since I’d last checked on him. And he was still on that damned story of hers. Why?! What did she have to offer that I didn’t? Nothing. Seriously. If all she had to offer him was that kid, that was still nothing compared to me.

A baby was all she had to offer him. A tiny little thing that took up hardly any space. So, I knew I made her insecure. How could I not?

And my body wasn’t bloated and expanding with an unexpected kid like hers was. My body was the same as it had been when Jake and I’d first gotten together. The day of the guitar lesson, at the beginning of summer. The guitar lesson that had led to me being bent over my kitchen counter, where he’d fucked me until my eyes had watered. So fucking good. Best sex of my life — and that was saying something, too. That ‘situationship’ of ours had only lasted for a few (too-short) weeks. . . And, towards the end of it, I’d been able to tell she was pissing him off. The sex had gotten rougher and he’d been harsher when he’d spoken to me. But I was there for him. Talked through life with him. His breakup, those stupid rules that y/n had put in place at one point (control freak). . .

I’d even gone to a few of those shows of his — which I’d never seen her at. Only that festival when she wore that white outfit that had done very little to cover her up. Just like this story he was still looking at. Barely anything to cover her fat ass body. Slut. She constantly gave me every reason to believe I made her insecure. . . This story, for one. Couldn’t handle her precious roommate being with his fucking girlfriend. Had to post this shit to try and get his attention.

But. . . he was still looking. . . Seriously. What gives? Did he just feel bad for her or what? Was he gawking, repulsed by her ugly body like I was? In shock that she’d post such a horrendous thing?

I thought back to last night, her hiding herself under that hoodie when she’d left Jake’s apartment. I knew why she’d done that shit. She probably couldn’t stand the sight of herself anymore, especially when she knew I was around. Couldn’t let Jake make the unfair comparisons when I was so near, so she chose to hide. Good. Best option for her. Hide, bitch. She was insane if she thought he found her attractive right now. Sure, maybe he did before she got knocked up. But not now. Again, comedic to think he could find her anywhere near pretty.

Besides, she had no hope for post-pregnancy either. Everyone knew women were at risk of losing their entire figure when they had kids. And I had no doubt she would. But that wouldn’t happen to me. Not ever. I would stay looking just like this, just how Jake liked. My tight, not pregnant body. God, just – it was Jake. I couldn’t let her have him.

There was not a chance in fucking hell that I’d let her have him. I knew she still wanted him. I knew she did. Any girl would want to be with Jake. I knew for a damned fact that every woman who saw him wanted to be with him. I’d seen the bitches staring at him. Everywhere we went. What woman wouldn’t want him? He had everything anyone could ever want in a man — anything I could ever want. He was a long-haired fucking rockstar on his way to a huge fucking career with a killer body. He was the definition of perfect. And I was the one who had him.

Besides, it was kind of fun to be around her knowing that he’d chosen me. At this point, I’d only tolerated her because I liked being the winner. Watching her be pregnant, fat, and sad while I got to suck face with her baby daddy right in front of her pathetic ass. . . Like a blue fucking ribbon.

Even after a couple of minutes more of conversation with my dad, I noticed with a sideways glance that Jake was switching hastily between apps. What the fuck was he—? But before I could see a glimpse of his texts, once again, he was back on Instagram. And looking at her hideous post. I was shocked to find it was the other one. The one I could see, on her page. Ugly, cheap ass, deplorable maternity bra for her engorged tits. And equally cheap American Eagle jeans. However, that post did stop me in my tracks the slightest bit. . . Before she was pregnant, she really had been very easy on the eyes. Nice, tight body. Decent ass. Perky tits. Good skin.

But man, compared to the picture of her now. . . It was sad how she’d let herself go. Disheartening, really. The woman was just so fucking fat right now. And the unfortunate thing was, she’d probably only allowed herself to get pregnant in the first place, to keep him. It was just hilarious that she believed getting fat would make him want to stick around and be with her. Carrying his kid or not, she was fat.

Truth hurts, you fucking delusional and selfish cunt, I thought as I did the ‘right’ thing and liked her stupid post.

It didn’t matter in the long run. A nice little gesture. Sure. I could do that – because I knew I was the one he wanted. All along. He knew that he’d hit the fucking jackpot with me. I knew, from his mouth, that he’d regretted letting me go. On a couple of occasions, after a few shows where drinks had run aplenty, he’d told me as much.

But. . . I knew that if she could dig her claws into him, she’d somehow be able to figure out a way to manipulate him into going back to her. Even if it were just for sex. If she was given the chance, of course. . .Except, as long as I was around, he wouldn’t be able to even think about going back to her. As long as he had me, he wouldn’t want her. Wouldn’t need anything from her. All she was good for was making the kid. Her body was a waste, her manipulation tactics were tried and true. . . She was only surface level pretty. . .but everything else about her was shit.

Too bad he didn’t care about her. This pregnancy wasn’t about her for Jake. Because, while she may have thought that Jake was helping her, he obviously was not. I could read him like a book. I knew him so well. And I knew everything he did was only for his kid. That kid was the only reason he had jack fuck to do with her. He only felt like he had that obligation to her. And, like the kind, understanding, Christian woman that I was, I’d let it slide this long. . . Too damn long.

She’d already tried to pull one over on me. On that stupid game night, she’d tried. With her tiny ass shorts and tight shirt to show off her bulging, overweight tits. And then, right there, in front of all of us, she’d spread her legs for him. In front of me, the love of Jake’s life. I was still shocked that, for some reason, he’d fallen for that shit. Even with me sitting right there. I’d watched her pick at him and be a little bitch about getting comfortable. I could only imagine it was hard to get situated and comfortable with that fat, disgusting body.

I’d wanted so badly to make a comment about her being so gross, but I’d known then, just as I did now. . . I had to keep face — especially in front of Jake. I was just grateful Josh saw that it was wrong, too. When he’d come in, telling me to nicely leave so he could (presumably) personally discuss the ludicrous situation with Jake. Discuss the whore and her conniving ways. I trusted that Josh had told Jake everything I would have. Surely. What else?

With another side eye at Jake’s screen, I saw him switching from texts and Insta — again. Except this time, I saw her name on his texts. Did she really need to be distracting him this badly? Could the bitch not have waited for his assistance with baby shit? God. . .Jake was simply too nice and blinded by that kid in her belly. Thought he had to do so much for his fucking kid. And y/n only used that. She constantly took advantage of Jake. She got under his skin and tricked him into shit using that kid as collateral damage. Seriously.

What. A. Vicious. Whore.

The worst part of all of it was. . . I’d let her get this close. But now that I’d seen this little trick she’d just pulled, I was not so sure I could keep my mouth shut anymore. Her claws had no place in my man. Who the fuck did she think she was that she could put him on her Close Friends list like that? And post that hoe ass picture to her Close Friends? The little stupid bitch just wanted to make sure he would see that slutty picture.

I just thought it was pretty pathetic that she was showing off her body like that when she was going to be a literal mom. Didn’t seem like something a mom should do. . . Not to me. What would the kid think? Growing up knowing its mom cared more about flaunting her body than being a good mom? And that just proved my point that she didn’t give a fuck about anyone but herself. Didn’t give a flying fuck about him. She was an embarrassment. Right along with that clump of cells in her belly.

I had let her cross too many lines. And I could make it so she’d never get Jake alone again if I really wanted to. Shit, I’m sure I could even convince him to let me move into the apartment. Never give them a moment alone. Yet, while I was worried about her advances, I wasn’t worried about how Jake viewed her. I knew he loved the kid, but I couldn’t believe for a second that he could ever think she was worth it.

Which was why I couldn’t fucking understand why he was still looking at it. It had been minutes of this aimless conversation with my father about my branch of his company in New York. An hour while Jake went to talk to Josh and then came back to the table to look at y/n on his screen. Post, story, post, story. The occasional text with her. Couldn't see what they were saying. He was quick. Whatever. Probably some stupid ass pregnancy bullshit.

And now he was back on the blessed story. How was he looking at it? God. I still couldn’t tell. Was he glaring? I didn’t know. All I knew was he’d been holding his thumb on the screen for a long fucking time so her story wouldn’t close out. There was no chance he actually liked that, right? There was no way.

His thumb had held the screen long enough, but when he finally moved it and let the story play through, I started to feel a little better about her little trick she’d tried to pull. . . But it didn’t actually get to play through. Because then, he’d slid his thumb up on the raunchy ass photo and clicked the fucking heart eye emoji to react to it. That was fucking shitty enough. Then, the fucking fire emoji reaction came next. What the hell? Two emoji reactions?

What did it for me, though, was when he’d slid his thumb again, tapped the send message bubble and typed out ‘God fucking damn… So perfect’. What in the fuck?! Did the idiot think I couldn’t see over his shoulder? Seriously? Why was he encouraging her behavior? Nope. Not fucking okay. I was not going to let him get away with that.

“God. . . She is just so pretty, Jake,” I finally said with all of the sugar I could muster in my tone. Sweet, but invading his space just enough to let him know that I’d seen everything. The way he’d jumped out of his seat at the sound of my voice made it pretty clear that he didn’t realize I was looking. And it gave me a sick satisfaction. Caught ya, buddy.

I knew I’d caught him off guard. . . that little ‘she looks really good, doesn’t she?’ sort of comment in response to his moment of openly staring at her. The blush that was slowly but surely covering his features as I blinked my long lashes at him pissed me off. . . And the message. I couldn’t scratch it out of my mind. What the fuck? Had he simply sent it because he felt bad for her? Had he been taking a long moment to pity her? Or, in some part of his brain, had he actually thought she looked good like that?

God. I hoped not. Jake was smarter than that — classier than that. . . Than to think she looked anywhere near attractive as a pregnant sow. What could actually be so hot about an overweight, bloated body? The man had good taste, so surely not. . . I mean, he was dating me, for God’s sake. All he’d ever done with her was fuck her. She had her rightful place secured. Below me.

It was quite funny, actually, how little she’d truly had of him. It made a smug grin come to my face, just as he was looking over his shoulder at me. He was locking his phone at the same time that I turned my grin into one of faux authentic appreciation for her. But seriously. Fuck that bitch. I was really doing such a good job at this front I was putting on. I bet that he couldn’t tell that I was actually pissed about it. I’d gotten quite good at this ridiculous act to hide my distaste for her.

For added effect, I tacked on an extra bit of falseness that made me want to puke. “She carries pregnancy so well, huh?” I was doing damn good at keeping this smile on my fucking face. Part of the reason I was trying so hard to look nice and undeceiving was to make sure he knew that I was the more beautiful of the two of us. Both looks-wise and heart-wise, I beat that bitch by a landslide.

And even if it pained me, I would keep up this stupid act that I liked her. . . If all it meant was I could keep him, that would be enough. Because no matter what, I just wanted him to know I was the better person of the two of us. He was staring at me, at a complete loss for words. It made me want to question him. But considering we were at this restaurant with my father, at a very nice establishment. . . now was not the time or place.

“Who is it, MyMy?” My father had asked from across the way, which just made me raise a brow at Jake. “Who is pretty?”

Oh. . . yes. I hadn’t told my father about Jake’s situation. I’d known better than to do that. My father would not be happy to know I was dating a man who’d knocked up another woman. Whether it was before me or after me, my father wouldn’t hesitate to have very little patience for that.

And, as much as I wanted to shame Jake for his actions, ruining Jake’s image for my father was not what I wanted in the long run. Not at all. He’d done so enough on his own. . . Leaving the table for so fucking long. No. I had to try my best to make him look good. I wanted to keep Jake in my life. But, my father had to find out sometime. . . if I was going to have the role in this kid’s life that I knew I was bound to take on. Mommy #2. Or simply, a variation of Mom or Mommy or Momma. . . Any of those titles had a nice little ring to them.

“Do you want to tell him, Jakey?” I posed the question, so innocently, to my boyfriend with a couple of flutters of my dark lashes. “It’s your exciting news to share.”

His expression was one of peak confusion. Like he thought I’d already told my father about his predicament. . . Ha! There was no way in hell my father would have greeted him with such open arms had he already known. Who in the fuck did Jake Kiszka think my father was?

It really showed how little Jake actually knew about being a good, decent father. He had a lot to learn. When he was leaning over to whisper in my ear, I was momentarily sidetracked from my thoughts by how damn good he smelled. It should’ve been a crime to turn someone on so effortlessly. . . With only a mere cologne.

“Does he not know?” He asked me, his tone slightly clipped in my ear. Like he was upset with me, of all people. That was fucking laughable!

I moved towards him, muttering quietly in his ear with a tiny smile that was somehow sticking to my features. All in the name of an act. “I wanted you to get to share our exciting news, sweetie.”

Our. Yes, our. Even if thinking of the kid invading my life with its dad made me want to vomit profusely, I wanted to continue to be with Jake. And fuck y/n if she thought this kid only belonged to them. I was in this for the long haul because of my love and desire to be with Jake. . . Wanted to get to see his fame come to be and be a part of that with him.

“I uh –,” Jake started, slowly pulling away from me as his eyes darted back and forth between my dad and me. Eventually, his eyes landed in his lap. A look of. . .defeat? Shame? Good. Sit in it, Jacob.

“Well, I had a thing with this girl,” he began, ruffling the front of his hair like he so often did. It pissed me off when he’d do it — messing up his hair for nothing. “Wasn’t too serious, I suppose. . . But, well. . .,” he paused once more and I reached over to grasp his hand. I gave it a slight squeeze to urge him to keep going. Jesus Christ.

“Well what, son?” My father urged, his face showing zero patience for his lagging. Seriously. Same, Dad.

“She's pregnant.” Deplorable fucking words that made me want to scream. But they were out there. Fucking clear as day.

My dad straightened his body against the back of his chair, setting his fork down on his plate firmly before crossing his arms. He wasn’t happy, but in such a nice eatery, he would keep his cool. All about the image in this family. Although, his face was set, hard as stone. Lips, a flat line, and his jaw so impossibly tight with quiet aggravation. . . I knew that look from my father very well. He could hide his irritation from most, but not me. Not when it was a look I found so fucking impressive.

This look – one he’d give people when he was all ears, but not in a good way. Not in an understanding way. I rarely got the look. My father had told me nearly my entire life how I could do little wrong. He’d always understood me. This look had always been reserved for the people who had wronged me, or him, or us.

Amir Mustafa – my father – he was. . . a simply powerful man. I’d looked up to him and his ability to control people and situations for my entire life. Many employees of ours had gotten this brash, stern look right before getting kicked to the fucking curb. He did it all my laugh growing up, right in front of me, to countless miserable people. (And now I got to do the exact same thing to my employees. . .) I watched my father, seeing the wheels in his mind beginning to turn. And god knew my father was not going to let this news set easily over our barely touched dessert trays.

“And she’s, um. . .,” Jake looked at me again as he cleared his throat, a look of fear and embarrassment on his face. For the sake of putting on this ridiculous show of understanding for him, my grin widened.

Thankfully, Jake quit stupidly pursing his lips. His mouth, opening timidly right before he said the punch line. “The baby is—. She’s pregnant with—with my baby.”

And there it was! He was so stiff under my hands, which still held onto his arm in the spirit of fake pride and togetherness with this obscene news.

I was glad he was so stiff underneath me. He needed to sit in this. Because god knew — I’d be embarrassed if I were him, too. Embarrassed to admit I was the father of her offspring. And, yeah, I knew this wasn’t easy for him. But he didn’t deserve for it to be easy. He’d gotten himself into this mess. And put me in the middle of it with him. The little stunt that had gotten him here had happened after he’d left me high and dry over the summer. . . If only he’d have stayed with me. He wouldn’t be in this ludicrous situation. But, in spite of how he deserved to be treated by me, I just sat and smiled. Supported his mistake-making ass.

God. . . I was so easygoing and compassionate for this man. So kind hearted and patient to put up with his and y/n’s bullshit. He was so lucky to have me. Even more lucky to have me than I was to have him. . . And that was saying something. He was a gift, sure. But I was a serious gift to him to stick around during this shit. Though, I would let him sit in his uncomfortable, messy truth that he had to come clean about — to my dad. I couldn’t keep picking up Jakey’s mess. Fuck no!

I was just so excited for my dad’s reaction. It was, undoubtedly, going to be in my favor. Knowing my father, I wondered if now was the time he’d reveal the little secret I’d kept from Jake. Surely this information would set him over the edge enough that he’d mention it. Get offended that this had been flaunted in front of my face for ‘X’ amount of time. He’d get spitting angry for one very specific reason.

This reason. . . Well, it was one my father had cared much more for than I ever had. . . Getting this certain information years ago hadn’t bothered me at all, really. But my father? He’d always hated the idea for me. This man had defended my honor when it came to topics such as this. And now that I was directly involved in the pregnancy of someone else?

“The baby is due in May,” Jake continued, apparently feeling the need to fill the air with more words.

Rather than rolling my eyes like I wanted, I let my faux smile widen at my dad. I even grabbed Jake’s arm tighter, laying my head on his shoulder, as though we were telling my daddy the news together. But, of course, I wasn’t about to say a damned word. I’d let Jake do all the talking. Wasn’t really my news to share, honestly. His little fucking joyride he was paying the consequences for. Besides, the less I had to speak her name, the better.

I had zero problem putting Jake through this awkward little confession. Especially after I had caught sight of his little interaction with y/n’s instagram post. He deserved it after that. No matter the reason for messaging her. He was dating me. Other women shouldn’t exist. He deserved my dad’s piercing stare; this stare, smothering Jake for a long time before anyone else spoke. I knew what that meant, too. It meant my dad had a lot to say, but he was letting it all sink in before he said all that he was thinking.

I knew he wouldn’t speak out of anger. I knew he would say it all in a way that would make Jake feel really bad about the whole fucking thing. Make him think about it in ways he hadn’t yet. But I also knew where it was going. That little something I hadn’t brought up to Jake yet. I was waiting for the right time, and for the appropriate situation to come up. The situation that I would come out on top of. For once, everything wouldn’t be about her.

With a sarcastic smile on his face, my dad finally took a breath to begin his response. And I, still hanging onto Jake’s tense arm, kept the same smug ass grin on mine. “This is certainly news to me,” my dad said, with zero congratulations. There was none necessary. Fuck this kid, seriously. My father kept his arms crossed tight against his puffed chest. “And this girl. . . I assume, then, that she’s still in the picture? Do you see her often?”

I could feel Jake taking a deep breath at that question. The air was shaky as he breathed it out of his nose, his arm rock solid with the increase of tension. And, god. . .Try as I might have. . . The flexing of his muscles began to turn me on. Yeah, I knew it was an inappropriate response given the situation. I rubbed my thighs together subtly under the table. I could feel however I wanted, though. I wasn’t the one in the hot seat. And in that moment, I felt solid in the fact that Jake’s tension was because of me. And that made me want him all the more, because I knew that tension was because of how much he cared about me. And I was loving it.

I wanted him to feel tense about it. He was finally getting an idea about how I felt about the whole situation. Being with Jake was all I desired, and I was willing to go through this shit to be with him. But he needed to be slapped in the face with the reality of it all. And I was glad my dad would be the one to make him understand my side. I couldn’t be the one to do it. I needed to keep up my nice girl act in front of everyone. Not let on to the fact that it all pissed me the fuck off.

Jake looked at me with wide eyes, and I just smiled. I wasn’t going to help him explain that shit. I left the floor open for him to tell my dad about the fucked up living situation. Maybe Jake saying the words out loud to someone outside of the whole thing — seeing someone else’s perspective on it — would make him understand how I felt about it. I waited, on baited breath, ready to listen to Jake give my dad the truth. He lived with this woman. And I couldn’t deny, he deserved a negative reaction for it. . . For what he was putting me through.

The sexy man under my hands gulped as he turned his attention back to my dad, whose piercing glare never let up. I swore he didn’t blink once as he waited for Jake’s response, his thin lips under his black mustache pursed.

“She’s. . .,” Jake cleared his throat once more, and his body stiffened completely against the back of his chair as he sucked in a deep breath. I kept my grip on him, held his arm even tighter than before, felt the sudden urge to dig my nails into the muscles. Fuck. I watched my dad’s eyes flit to me, then narrow in on Jake. “She’s my, uh—she’s actually my roommate.”

Jake’s hand shot up to his scalp, fluffing his hair and smoothing it back down. God. Stop messing with your hair. You’re ruining it. Then he began rubbing away at his chin. Little nervous ticks of his that pissed. me. off. But, I was more focused on the excited nerves surfacing in me about admitting the fucked up truth. It made me shiver with excitement.

When I looked over at my dad, I got even more thrilled. Because it was obvious he was far from happy with that news. It was apparent in his body language, and the silent non-verbals he was communicating to Jake. The clenching jaw, the breathy chuckle of disbelief. Jake knew it was fucked up. He wouldn't have been so goddamn nervous about admitting it if he didn’t know. The way he hesitated before delivering the news said that he was probably not so proud to admit such a thing. Who would be? And who would want to tell their girlfriend’s dad about such a thing?

Let’s just say, he was lucky my dad had never been the physically violent type. No, his weapon of choice was always in his words, in the way he could manipulate people with them. Watching him get what he’d wanted out of people my whole life taught me a lot; he taught me how to get what I wanted out of people. I knew how to play nice, learned to easily pick up on how people ticked and used that to my advantage. I’d learned to tell people the things they wanted to hear, made people like me by faking whatever I needed to in order to earn their trust.

My dad was always quick to acclimate himself to any situation, to anybody with a simple manipulation tactic based on what he'd known about them. And I always did the very same thing. Because of that little trait of ours, I knew what he was going to say and how he was going to say it. He knew just what to say to pull even more guilt from Jake. That’s why I never told him, because I knew the right time would come. And this was the right time. Perfect, actually.

He let the silence linger just a bit longer, making sure Jake was nice and petrified of his reaction. “You know, Mr. Kiszka,” my dad said as he uncrossed his arms, his voice much softer than Jake had probably expected, given the harsh breath he’d sucked in when my dad began speaking.

But I knew exactly what my dad was thinking, how he was feeling. I knew the sweet voice was only a front, a tactic he used often when he wanted to make someone feel, well, like shit. “I, uh, don’t know if MyMy has told you this yet. . .,” he paused with a sincere smile, making sure the silence hung in the air even more to add to the effect of the news.

I smiled too when Jake looked at me again. A sad smile, though. As sad as I could make it. My dad and I locked eyes and communicated with each other that we were on the same page. Silently, of course. We could always speak with our eyes. I carefully nodded my head at him, giving him the ‘okay’ to keep going.

I could feel Jake’s arm loosen just a little under my fingers when he looked back to my dad. His pretty lips were parted and his eyebrows were scrunched. He had no idea what was coming. I felt a little bad for him because of that, actually. No one should have to carry as much guilt as my poor Jake did. With as much as I knew he really loved me, I knew this would hurt.

“Jake,” my dad said as he leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. “I’m overjoyed for you — overjoyed that you’ll have this singular opportunity to experience being a father.”

He was using the exact tactic I knew he would. Excited for Jake, but with a tone that held sorrow for me. I felt it coming. I had to contain myself—I was ready for it. Ready for the news that would seal Jake’s guilt and keep him with me. My father cleared his throat before he laced his hands together, eyes intent on Jake’s. “Because our beautiful MyMy will never be able to carry a child.” There it was.

Jake stiffened under my hold before he looked down at me. I laid my head on his shoulder, even sniffed a few fake tears. It was true—I was born with a defect that made it impossible for me to ever become pregnant. Sure, it was sad. Whatever. Sad for most women, maybe. My dad had always felt horrible about it. But for me, it was a different story.

I had always viewed it as a positive thing. I didn’t want kids. I had never wanted kids. No, definitely not my cup of tea. First of all, kids were simply a nuisance to me. I was glad I’d never had to worry about getting pregnant. Second of all, having a kid would undoubtedly take the attention away from me – only my kid getting the attention. Yeah, no thanks. And, third, it just meant I got to have a lot of unprotected fun. Well. . . until Jake. Who hated having sex without condoms. Probably despised that he was having a kid in the first place and wanted to be extra safe, but didn’t want to say so. That was probably why he was protecting himself so well. But, now, that was something he knew he never had to worry about. No surprises, no accidents.

Knowing Jake, I knew this “sad” fact about me was something I could use to make him feel bad for me. Another little tactic I’d learned from my father. And that combined with me knowing the way Jake ticked. . . This little “unfortunate” truth about my body would force him to sympathize with me. Make him feel so bad that he’d stop giving such a fuck about y/n and give more fucks about me.

“Maya. . . why didn’t you—,” Jake’s voice was solemn, shocked. He looked me in the eyes, with his that had started glassing over. He was about to cry? Ugh, poor thing. He felt it right along with me. He knew that my heart had been broken by the triggering news of him becoming a father. Something I would never be able to give him. “Why didn’t you tell me this?”

I mustered all the fake emotion my body was able to create, even shed a few alligator tears to really add to the effect. “I’m sorry, Jakey. I didn’t want to cause you anymore stress, baby. You’re already under so much.” All because of the mistake baby and stupid ass y/n's attention-seeking ass, I added silently. I sniffed to cover my inward irritation. It was the last of my tears, though, so I decided to lean in and kiss his stiff lips. My poor Jake. So full of sadness for me that he couldn’t even kiss me back. “You know, with y/n and all. I didn’t want to add anymore pressure to you. I just didn’t want you to feel bad for me.” Because she does such a good job at making you feel bad for her and I'm better than that, I added (once again) silently.

“Feel bad for—?” He looked at me in pure confusion, and I was starting to get upset over his lack of a response. I had fully expected him to hold me right when he was told the news, tell me how much he loved me and that he’s sorry for everything he had put me through in our time together.

But to my shock, he pulled his arm away from me. Completely yanking it from my hand. A knee-jerk response, I thought. Maybe his way of coping with such a thing was to withdraw, let it really sink in before comforting me in such a difficult moment. I’ll say this, though – he should’ve considered himself lucky that my dad hadn’t been paying close enough attention to pick up on that little move of his. Yeah, he surely would’ve put Jake in his place had he witnessed that. Dad had reached for some chocolate something sitting on the giant dessert charcuterie board during the awkward lull. This had kept his eyes focused elsewhere when Jake had pulled that little trick. God. . . this lull - inevitably caused by Jake. Aggravating. . . BUT, I was understanding. So, even if it were annoying, I didn’t take that as a bad sign. I not only knew that it wasn’t anything more than Jake’s way of dealing with the news, but I was the calm and stable girlfriend that didn’t flip shit over those things.

“I know this may be hard for you to hear, Mr. Kiszka,” my father said, his voice breaking through the silence that Jake had opted for. “Especially since you clearly aren’t opposed to having a family. Not the careful type, are ya, son?” My dad laughed, and I laughed, too. Made it seem as though it wasn’t a big deal to have a baby momma. I didn’t want Jake to take this whole having a kid with y/n thing any more seriously than he already had been. Yeah, it was a big deal. But why make him think it was the biggest deal in his life? When I was right there?

“Listen,” my dad continued. “You and I both know that our Maya is worth it. She’s worth more than all of the babies in the world. She’s no less of a woman because of it. You’re enough of a man to understand that. Isn’t that right, Mr. Kiszka?”

Jake just stared into his lap. His eyes were squinted from the crinkle in his brows. He must’ve not heard my dad, because he wasn’t very quick to respond. And it really began to annoy me when he didn’t respond at all. It was like his mind was somewhere else. And I didn’t like it, because I didn’t know where it was. It took me nudging his shoulder to get his fucking attention. And even then, he’d asked my father to repeat himself when he lifted his head. When he decided to join us at the table again.

When my dad said everything for the second time, and then cleared his throat for emphasis, Jake nodded his head. “Y-yes, sir. She—uh, yeah. Yeah, she is.”

That didn’t convince me for shit. He sounded unsure, like he didn’t believe it. It could’ve been the shock of the news that made him sound that way. Had to be. He knew it was true. He knew I was worth more than any—than his—baby. Having me at his side was the real prize. He knew that. But it still felt. . . Not how I wanted it to feel. He wasn’t giving enough. I wanted him to give more. More of a reaction, more of a response, more to me.

I started having a hard time putting on a front any longer, because I was confused. I looked at my dad. And he was confused, too. But he didn’t say anything else. The best thing to do at that point was to let Jake stew on his words.

And even though my little act was beginning to crumble, I still managed to put on another smile. I squeezed Jake’s thigh, holding my hand there to offer him the reassurance that he wasn’t offering me. He’d hear about this later, that was for certain. “Thank you, baby,” I said to him, keeping my hand on him to remind him of who was by his side.

A woman who had put up with more from him than any woman would. Me.

End of Maya’s POV

It was Christmas Eve when you felt the first kick.

At first, you hadn’t been totally sure what it was, waking up in a panic in the middle of the night.

You’d felt something rustle in your tummy. . . thought it was an upset stomach, leading to something that could possibly be wrong. But when you’d realized you didn’t feel sick, you’d let yourself lay there and think as the little thumping feeling happened again in your tummy. The feeling had you reflecting on Dr. Rose’s words from your last visit. You’d been on your way out, with fresh knowledge of the fact that there was a baby girl bouncing around in your tummy. After hearing how (apparently) active she was, you’d asked about kicking. When would you finally be able to feel the baby kick?

Dr. Rose had answered wisely and unworried, knowing the answer without even having to think about it. “I’d be surprised if you didn’t start feelin’ your sweet girl’s purposeful movements within the next couple of weeks. The “Quickening,” as it’s most often called. When she starts movin’ to tell ya she’s there,” she’d winked, explaining as she clicked a few buttons to get your next appointment set up on the front desk’s computer. The office had been empty at that point, as you’d been the last patient that day. An early evening appointment, as you remembered. “The movements feel strange at first, just a warnin'. Like a little flutter in your tummy, but different. I’d say what most compare them to are tiny pulses. Each kick from the foot or elbow being flung – they feel like a single pulse of a heartbeat – that’s what I hear from first-time mothers more than anythin’ else.”

And that was exactly what it felt like to you. Right now. Honest to God. The feeling was so strange; odd enough that it’d literally awoken you.

Lavender had woken you up. Your baby girl.

And her little movements — so purposeful. They truly felt like teeny tiny heartbeats in your belly. You looked down, lifting your giant t-shirt to observe. Stevie had rustled for the briefest of moments at your feet, but had snuggled back down when she’d realized you weren’t in trouble. You watched your tight, round tummy to observe if you could see any of the movements. . . you knew it wasn’t unusual for babies to be visible from the outside. Little imprints from their feet or hands. . . . you’d watched enough TikToks to know that.

It was a few minutes that you watched and waited, but the movements stayed internal. No external evidence. . . Too early for that, surely. But. . .you knew there was a way to feel them externally. If you just touched your tummy where you felt her on the inside, you’d be able to feel her right under the palm of your hand.

Yet, as badly as you wanted to touch where you felt it, you were also hyper aware of not doing so much that could inadvertently make the baby stop. Yes, it sounded unlikely, but you’d been dying to feel her and you wanted the feeling to last as long as it could. However it could. It was the craziest sensation and completely took your breath away. . . you could have felt it happen forever and it still wouldn’t have been long enough.

But. . . you had to feel closer to her. She was right there. You couldn’t stop yourself if you tried. And, when you gently placed your hands on the taut skin of your tummy, your breath caught in your throat. Tears immediately sprung to your eyes. It was unlike anything else ever. . . To feel your baby girl moving under your hand. Little, tiny kicks as if to say ‘hello, mommy!’.

Very carefully, you went to raise onto your knees, the softness of your sheets pressing delicately into your soft skin. You kept your t-shirt raised, then put your palm on your belly once more. . . And it took almost no time to feel her. Still. She just kept on going. . . Dr. Rose had said she was active. . . And god, you loved it. You could tell now. She was old enough to show you herself – finally.

God. Tonight had truly been a night to rival all others. First, the Nutcracker. Then, the wonderful bubble bath you’d treated yourself to, to combat the cold temperatures from the evening. And finally. . . the cherry on top – Lavender kicking.

The only person missing from all of it. . . the one you wanted there most — for all of it. . . . . .Was the same one who’d left you on delivered for the past twenty four hours. An entire day of nothing.

The texts that had started after your earth-shattering, toe-fucking-curling phone call – the texts that he’d started. But, no response after your final text (which had not been the type of text to end a conversation on). Nothing in response to you when you’d responded to his Instagram message. You’d taken fucking courage and responded with a damn heart, too. It was terrifying using a heart in a text with someone you were secretly in love with. . . And it had been the second time you’d done it last night. But. . .he hadn’t even seen it. Hadn’t even cared to look.

You were so damn confused. And hurt.

But, the night before with Josh and Elsie, watching movies into the wee hours of Christmas Eve morning. And then, with your time with them and your grandparents at the ballet tonight. These events had been more than enough to raise your spirits. The ballet, gelato at Amorino, and having your people with you had done very well at distracting you. You’d taken time to tell your grandparents the gender and the name, but hadn’t divulged the full significance of the name. All they knew was that the plant was a favorite of yours that correlated with certain events that concerned your pregnancy with Lav.

When you’d gotten home, you had felt a hint of sadness as the dark, empty apartment had surrounded you. The disheartening feeling that came with the lack of communication with Jake. The deafening static of crickets from your phone’s text and Instagram message thread with Jake. You’d kept your phone on Do Not Disturb, but the urge to check to see if he’d responded had been too strong on a few occasions that evening.

So, in order to get your mind off of it, you’d focused on Stevie for a long while. You’d fed her, given her a couple of her favorite treats, snuggled and pet her as you’d scrolled TikTok. . .

And before long, you’d decided on self care; a bubble bath. And it had been very nice. So damn nice. You’d used the little bath tray Elsie had gotten for you the Christmas before last, filled your bath with a lavender-scented bubble bath soap, threw in a pink bath bomb, and lit many candles that smelled like your favorite plant.

On a last minute thought, right before you’d settled in the tub, you decided on a movie. So, with your phone on a stand on the toilet seat, you’d watched through Barbie in The Nutcracker. It was a favorite of yours and Elsie’s that you’d watched the night previous with Josh when they’d stayed the night with you. But the temptation to watch it again had been too great and it always lifted your spirits to indulge in it.

Once the bath had done its job at relaxing you, sleep had come easily. Though, it was as if Lavender had known that you’d needed a touch more of encouragement to see through Christmas Eve. To see through her father ignoring you.

It’s fine, you’d told yourself all night. He’s not yours. You can only be so upset. Get. Over. It.

Yet, with Lavender giving the tiniest, feather-light kicks to your palm, Jake was, once again, on your mind. How badly you wanted him here for this. Home. With you.

When you glanced at your phone screen, you noticed it was already past midnight. . . You had no clue what the flight schedules were and he hadn’t told you shit about when he’d be headed home. Considering he’d ignored you completely all day long. . . But, seriously. You couldn’t blame him. You weren’t together. He didn’t necessarily owe you that specific knowledge.

So, all you could do in the waiting was sit there, on your knees and feel her. . . Let the warm sensation that was blooming in your chest take over. For the millionth time in the past two days, though, you really fucking hated this trip that Jake was on that had taken him away from you. . . Because he should’ve been here for this.

Lavender’s very first kicks.

Jake’s POV

Only ten minutes away from home. Only. Ten. Minutes.

I didn’t know where this had come from, but it hadn’t stopped for the past three and a half hours. On the way to the airport, waiting at the airport, on the way to the car at the airport, and now. . . On our way to y/n’s apartment. Home.

All of this shit from Maya, directed at me, coincided with me doing shit I’d gone out of my way to do for her. I’d taken time away from my Christmas with Josh – with y/n – for this little trip to South Carolina to see her father. . . I’d absolutely gone out of my way to do that shit to make her happy. But apparently what I did wasn’t enough as she was pointing out ways she needed me to give her more.

“I just feel like you’re not giving me all of you, Jake,” she’d said as we’d ventured through the airport in South Carolina. “For instance, your baby. . . I don’t even know half of anything about the baby.”

“You’re holding back. There’s so much more to you and what’s going on in your life all of the time. . . So much more that I’m not getting,” was what she’d continued on with as we’d boarded the plane to come home. “And as your girlfriend, I feel I deserve all of who you are. . . I love you, Jakey. . .So I want more of you.”

Then, waiting at baggage claim at LaGuardia, it had persisted. Holding onto my arm as I’d given her kiss after kiss to get her to stop talking. . . But, of course, that hadn’t worked. “I just can’t believe there is so much about all of the baby stuff that I still don’t know, Jakey. . . There’s all kinds of fun, exciting shit that I don’t know and I want to,” she’d explained, one hand going to slide into my back pocket as the other had only tightened on my bicep.

I’d looked down at her, raising a brow at her antics. Yes, it was sweet of her to care. . . It was just a lot. I didn’t know why she was so adamant about all of it. If it had been because of insecurities due to seeing my response to y/n’s story, I had already said sorry for responding to it.

And for not knowing how the fuck to explain it when she’d brought it up to me, I’d done a damn good job lying to her. Obviously, I’d had to lie. I’d talked her down from all of the story shit. I’d done all I could to lie my way out of that. I couldn’t honestly tell her it hadn’t meant anything, but I’d lied enough that I felt she’d fallen for it. I’d told her that I’d only been talking about my baby’s perfection. . . . I had just known, when it came up over breakfast (just the two of us, thank god), that I had to hide it – this thing between y/n and me that had come to be again. I couldn’t lose it just because I was foolish enough with my actions for Maya to see some words and shit.

Much to my relief, she’d bought it. She had been totally fine after I’d explained it, it’d seemed. . .Was it the fact that I now knew about her inability to have kids? Was she feeling better about having that all out in the open? More open to discussing things about the baby? Or was there something else that she was insecure or upset over? I didn’t know how to explain this sudden influx of demands and the nonstop talking. It was new. These tangents she just kept going and going. Even with just my eyebrow raises and half assed replies — she’d taken those as indicators to continue.

“I’ll wait, though. . . For a bit. I love you enough to wait, but. . . Only for so long before I get really hurt. . . You know?” She’d rubbed my arm right before I’d had to leave her to grab her first (enormous) bag. And still, when I came back with it, she was wrapping around me the same as before and kept going. “I’m dying to be more involved. I want all of you. Wanna help you however I can. Really, baby. . .” And, she’d gone the extra mile on that one, rubbing her incredible tits against my arm as she’d grasped my ass through my jeans, left hand still in my back pocket.

Once we’d gotten her second (equally huge) bag and my one duffel, we’d had to make a quick stop in a single stall bathroom. I’d already been on edge about getting home to y/n after last night. . .and after Maya’s little trick with her boobs? I was but a man who loved a good set of fuckin’ tits. And Maya knew that – pulled that shit on purpose, And while I was definitely not complaining, I was beyond ready to get home. Thankfully, there hadn’t been a whole lot of talking in the bathroom. It had just been a lot of skin slapping against skin. And her (slightly irritating) whines I’d covered with my hand. It hadn’t been too bad, as I’d finished pretty quickly after getting her there even quicker. Because, seriously. I was tired from the trip and ready to get home.

However, she had tried to make me pause to discuss why I had still put on a condom when I knew now that she couldn’t have kids. . . I didn’t explain to her that it was because I simply never had sex without condoms (unless it was y/n, of course). I’d just acted as though I hadn’t heard the question and said some shit about getting home.

Getting home was the goal.

But even after that quickie and after me ignoring that one question about the condom, she was on the same shit from before. . . So. Fucking. Persistent.

“I just don’t know how else to get you to understand I’m hurting for more, baby. . . I’m in the dark and it does not feel good. If you’ll just let me around more and if you just tell me more about your baby and all of the baby news. . . I’ll feel so much better. I want to stick around for the long haul, but I need to feel more connected to it all. . . It’s important to me.”

She wasn’t wrong at the fact that I hadn’t given her as much of me as I could, with all of this baby stuff. But, I still felt like I was doing a pretty damn good job for my predicament. I had a child now. A child that deserved more of my time than Maya did. I also had a responsibility (and a burning fucking desire) to be there for y/n. I couldn’t just be everything, all of the time, for Maya. Not anymore. But she was suddenly acting as though that was what she needed to stick around.

I especially didn’t want to lose her – break up with her – after finding out her news. Not like I had wanted to lose her or anything before. . . But now, I knew how much I really wanted her to stay around. I felt for her. Very deeply, I felt for her. I loved her and I wanted to do everything in my power to give her even half of the good she’d given me for the majority of our relationship. The entire time I’d known Maya, she had been a helper for me. A listening ear. A sweet and kind confidant, no matter the situation. Through my heartbreak and joy, she was there and she was good for me. To me. She showed her love for me and her heart on a daily basis. I knew that I had a prize in Maya. It was one of the biggest reasons I hadn’t broken things off with her to be with y/n.

That brought me to the paramount reason I couldn’t end things with her. The painful realization that y/n could very well not ever want me. At least not in the way I wanted her. How I’d always wanted her. Y/n wanted things to stay the way they were. She had already said plenty to indicate that she didn’t want to change the arrangement we used to have (and were hopefully going to have again). I didn’t want to risk losing Maya, only to not have y/n. I’d stayed with Maya to fill that void. I couldn’t trust that y/n wouldn’t still hurt me if I gave her all of me. . . I knew y/n very well — and well enough that I knew she could still get scared enough to lead us back to the day in the kitchen. And we couldn’t do that yelling at each other shit anymore with a baby around. . . Y/n’s inability to commit and my longing for that with her. . . Not a good match. And that was all we’d come to, yet again, if I were to try to take us beyond the just-fucking.

And, then, there were the two talks (yes, two – one at Carmella’s and one afterwards) her dad had given me. . . All of the talk of her not being able to have kids and the good she deserved. I couldn’t lose her. Her father’s words were the final reason for not ending things with Maya. The tense moment, at his home, on repeat in my head. Said he’d “wanted a moment to talk with me about everything” – only him and me.

It had happened after we’d gotten back to his massive and expensive home, from that famous sweet treats place called Carmella’s. Fuckin’ Carmella’s.

When we’d gotten to her dad’s house, it had been late enough that Maya had wanted to go to bed, lay in her (probably) 100 percent cotton Egyptian sheets. It was obvious that they had money – a lot of it. . . And it was obvious that her father loved to spoil her with it. To each their own. But, I hadn’t wanted to sleep yet.

No, after my day, I’d wanted to take a shower to relax my mind. . .to think about everything that I’d found out about from Maya’s father. Not Maya, but her father. That had stung like a massive bitch, but not nearly as badly as I’d expected. . . Though, in my head, I could only imagine having babies with y/n. I’d mentioned more babies to her before and I’d meant that shit. Had slipped up when saying it, but in my heart, I’d known. It was the truth.

Considering this, I’d only really been sad for Maya, more than me. . . Not really sad for me at all. Just hurt that she’d kept that from me. I just couldn’t feel sadness for it on my future’s behalf because I didn’t want her to be the mother to my children. Didn’t trust her with that. Loved her, but not enough to be my future babies’ mom. . . . Only trusted y/n that much.

It was odd, because even if I didn’t trust y/n with my heart, I explicitly trusted only her with my kids. I think it was because I knew she was only scared to care that deeply for me – it seemed wouldn’t ever let herself. But I knew, wholeheartedly, that she could care for our children like that. That she would. Already was. Lavender was a lucky baby girl to have a mommy like her. . . To have her as a mommy specifically. Because y/n’s heart was so incredibly huge.

In the end, I was just pissed the fuck off that she’d let her dad tell me. She was a thirty year old woman who’d damn sure informed other people of it, so why not me? I was someone she’d told me she wanted to spend the rest of her life with. . . She felt comfortable enough telling me plenty of other things. Personal things.

It’d been quite a lot to process with her giant father there, eyes stony as he’d stared me down. I hadn’t even wanted to worry about his opinion of me. . . I would’ve preferred to only discuss this type of thing with Maya. Even if I didn’t want it with her, her lack of care to inform me of it sooner had pissed me off beyond words. It was like she’d wanted me to be humiliated. But. . . I knew Maya better than that, right? She’d never been like that before. . . . Conniving or anything of the sort. Perhaps she truly had been worried to tell me because she wanted to spend the rest of her life with me.

When I’d finally somewhat calmed down from it after my long, hot shower, I’d only had y/n in mind. So, after I’d changed into my pajamas, I’d been on my way to call her from the front porch. Just wanted to hear her voice. To ease me. . . And, I’d be able to explain my sudden, unexpected absence. But, right before I could exit the hallway of Maya's old room, her father. Amir. Her father was humongous. Towered over me by a solid foot of height, and was easily 280 pounds of man.

He’d approached me with purposeful steps and quiet footfalls. He didn’t want to disturb Maya’s sleep, but he’d wanted to make a point with me. That much had been obvious right off the bat. And, just as I’d gone to greet him, he’d held a large hand up, in front of my face.

“I’ll control this conversation, Mr. Kiszka,” he’d rumbled at me, my name having come from deep in his puffed chest.

I’d been nervous as fuck. The man intimidated me in a way I fucking hated. And I was tired of news about Maya coming from him. I hadn’t known if I could handle anything more that he could’ve wanted to tell me. What was next?, I’d wondered. Was Maya going fucking blind, too? And couldn’t tell me that, herself, either?

My mind had begun swirling with other things that she possibly just hadn’t told me yet.

“Yes sir,” I’d offered on a shaky breath. (I wasn’t easily intimidated, so I hated how this man made me feel so fucking small – in stature and as a human being.)

At my words, he’d held up his hand again. His features, curving down to say ‘don’t test me’. “I wanted to take a moment to talk – just you and me,” he’d all but growled, crossing his massive arms across his chest.

After being scolded for speaking twice already, I’d only nodded while (sadly) placing my phone in my pocket. I’d known, based on his tone and stance, that I wouldn’t be able to go outside anytime soon. “Maya has been perfect her entire life. She has always been a dream. And she does not deserve to be treated like she isn’t just because you got yourself into a sticky situation,” he’d told me, backing me up against the nearest wall of the hallway. This moment had been worlds different from the restaurant. With Maya there, he'd taken a calm and cool approach.

Though, when it was just me, he’d been a lot more serious than before. Quiet, stern. Intent on intimidating the fuck out of me.

“And, I’m inclined to believe, Mr. Kiszka, that if you haven’t ended things with my daughter by now,” he’d taken a deep breath in through his flared nostrils, gripping his arms to the point that his thick fingers, umber brown in color, had turned white. I’d swallowed – thickly. “Well, it seems to me you don’t intend to. You want my baby girl to stick around. You’ve kept her around and forced her to experience all of this, led her around by a string. . . . And all while she can’t have her own children.”

He’d walked close enough to me that my back was up against the wall, arms limp and lifeless at my sides as I hadn’t dared to look away from his almost-entirely-black irises. His pupils, dilated in his apparent rage. With his next words, I’d felt tiny droplets of spit land on my forehead. I hadn’t been able to control my fury, being spoken to like he had spoken to me. My fists had tightened at my sides and my entire body had stiffened to the point of completely unmoving. “It would be a seriously dark and ugly mark on your character, Mr. Kiskza,” he’d spat my name at me, the words landed on my face in the form of his saliva. He’d been fucking snarling at me. No fucking joke. “To force my Maya through all of this and then get rid of her as though she doesn’t matter. . . My sweet angel of a daughter.”

I had never one to let people get to me, intimidate me all for the purpose of knocking me down and making me feel small. And, angry as I was, this conversation with her dad had certainly succeeded in shrinking me, inch by inch. . . . In that moment, I’d like shit for ever thinking of anyone but Maya. Felt tiny as a fucking mouse. . . Like gutter trash. Which, I knew, was what he’d wanted. And, he’d fully succeeded in getting it from me. . . I had put up with that shit, and let myself feel small all for the sake of loving his daughter enough to feel guilty for putting her through the shit I had. He’d had just a bit more to say, but had waited. Tapping his foot in anticipation for my response. As if I were his child, getting disciplined for stealing fucking cookies from the cookie jar.

After a nod of confirmation from me that I’d heard his words, he’d cleared his throat and continued.

“Our Maya deserves the world and if you don’t give it to her for the simple fact that you’re going to have a child, you’d be a damned fool. And you’d be cheapening my baby girl of the opportunity to be an incredible second mother to your child.”

I hadn’t even dared to argue with him over my child not needing a second mother. She’d have a solid one mother — already did, in fact. Y/n was the only mother I wanted for our baby girl. Lavender didn’t need multiple mothers. Only one perfect mother. And she already had one. Maya could be someone in my daughter’s life, but not a mother. I didn’t want her doing that. I wouldn’t allow her to be a mother to my baby girl. Maya’s father had been wrong for insinuating anything different than that.

But he wouldn’t have listened to me for a second. Not if it had anything to do with questioning his word. And everything else he’d said had struck me enough that I hadn’t wanted to correct him at that moment. Come to think of it, his little confrontation and how shitty it had made me feel was definitely part of the reason I’d been on edge for the past almost-twenty four hours.

And, unfortunately now, we were trapped in her car for the time being – as we’d driven to the airport in her car. Thankfully, I was driving – so I got to control the speed at which we got back to my place. I’d also needed some sort of distraction from the way her voice was grating on my ever-loving nerves – this nonstop questioning. The mere sound of her voice felt like a nail being driven in my eardrum. Again, this was something new that had recently developed. . . Most of my irritation with Maya, though, I was attributing to an insane amount of tiredness. All of the traveling. All of the talks. All of the emotions surrounding the texts and the phone call.

“Jake, I don’t understand why you’re keeping anything from me. None of it is that big of a deal, babe. . . . It’s just cutesy little baby stuff.”

Where was this coming from?

“What about the gender, babe? That’s a good one! Just the gender. . . Everyone is going to know it soon anyway,” she tried to reason, as I mentally pled with the traffic light to just fucking change. “If I just knew what we were expecting. . .”

Goddammit. Not the gender. What the fuck? Seriously – Maya, confronting me about wanting to know the goddamned gender, had been the last thing I’d needed to deal with. I did not want to tell her. That was exclusively mine and y/n’s to share for now, along with my twin and her sister. There was no reason for Maya to know.

But. . . . she was pushing me awfully close to a breaking point of some capacity. And I’d never felt that way with Maya. This way. This longing to just get her to shut up, somehow, some way. This ongoing frustration with her was something new. Something I felt starting last night at Carmella’s . . . . Hanging on to me – clinging to me when that had been the last thing I wanted at that moment.

I didn’t want to be annoyed with someone who I wanted so badly to love unconditionally. She’d done so much for me; the least I could do for her was try to get past wherever this vexation had come from. But god – I could hardly take anymore. I was just tired, surely. . . I was ready to get home and lay in my own bed. Speaking of which. . . I had no idea if Maya was planning on staying the night, but I really, really hoped she was planning on going to her own home, too.

Didn’t want her to stay with me. For multiple reasons, but mostly one. One very beautiful reason, hopefully still waiting for me. . .

“Jakey, please, babe. I just want to know as much as I can so I can start buying baby clothes for–.”

“No, Maya. Fuck!” I finally snapped, voice raising a decibel higher than it should have in the small space of the car. I’d been giving half assed responses for the past few hours – spent a lot of time giving her a variety of ways to say ‘I’ll try my best’ or 'let me think about it’. But I couldn’t take it anymore. Thankfully, the traffic light switched within seconds of my heated way of reply. I felt really fucking bad – didn’t want to snap at her. But it had been threatening to leave my lips for the past several hours and I couldn’t hold it in any longer. The last few words that somewhat sputtered from my mouth were from utter irritation and they couldn’t be contained, even if they were unintelligible. “I’m not–I can’t– The fucking–? God! No. Please fucking stop. Just for a minute.”

My words hung there, uncomfortably, for a few seconds before I heard her sigh. She was not happy about my response, but I’d had enough.

“Well,” she replied, her voice more of a huff than anything. She was noticeably upset. And I wanted to roll my eyes at her sudden theatrics. She’d never been like this. I couldn’t handle this shit right now.

But. . . when I heard a subtle sniff, I looked over at her with regret painted on my features. And, just like the sniff implied, there were legitimate tears accumulating in her pretty eyes. I hadn’t ever seen her cry for the entirety of our relationship. Even when we’d just been fucking at the beginning of summer. . . And for the past few months of dating her, never a single tear. . . Maya had never cried. Last night at Carmella’s was the first time I had ever seen that from her. Those tears after her dad told me the news. . . It had been hard to see from her.

Maya was a dream, usually. So sweet, yet extremely even tempered – not one to frequently break her calm resolve. It was something I loved about her. She was predictable. But I couldn’t have predicted anything at Carmella’s, just like I couldn’t have predicted this. Had I not tried well enough to know her? Fuck. That made me feel really shitty. Seriously, was it a bad thing that I’d never seen Maya cry until last night? And the idea that I’d made her cry. . . the idea that I could make any woman cry. . . I couldn’t help but think of y/n’s tears. . . when she'd been forced to tell me about being pregnant with Lavender. How easily she’d broken down. And I’d hated it. . . didn’t want to see her cry. God.

And while seeing Maya cry wasn’t nearly as bad as seeing y/n cry, it was still tugging at me – eating at me. There was another traffic light. The last one. Right before we got to the apartment. I could see the complex. And while I really didn’t want to tell her the gender, I couldn’t stand the sniffling anymore. . . When I glanced over and saw a few tears spill from her eyes to her beautiful caramel-toned cheeks. . . Fuck. She was so pretty. And I loved her so much. . . it wasn’t that I didn’t love her.

I just. . . fuck. I knew what the fuck it was. It was the other reason – the main reason I was so urgent to get back home. The person I was so fucking anxious to simply be around again. The person I’d been missing since the damned moment I had to leave her — unexpectedly.

The woman that, no matter what, was popping into my mind. At every turn, I was relating things to her. For a reason. And I knew why. I fucking knew. . . . Ever since moving to New York, I had spent a lot of time thinking. And in this thinking, I’d come up with a theory. A theory that life was a song. And, no not like a song. Life was a song. Every person had their own enigmatic masterpiece, unfolding to reveal more of the melody everyday. And by the time a person died, the melody would be chaotic and beautiful – all at once. The life song, all tied up with instruments unique to every person. Every incident in life, a different lyric that described a person.

Then, of course, in every song, there was a chorus and a bridge. The chorus in life was what a person came back to – at every turn, there was the same chorus to tie you back to the true meaning behind the song. The chorus was the reminder that, no matter what, it existed. And, without it, the song would be empty – meaningless. Every song had a chorus and it was undoubtedly, the predominant and most essential part of the song.

And then, there was a bridge. The bridge was the triumphant part of the song that made the entire song make sense. . . The Sui Generis, as I’d call it. This idiosyncratic, rare, special section of the song – so unlike the rest of the melody. . . The bridge made goosebumps build because it made one wonder – where had it been for the entire song? It was so magnificent and beauteous that it made the song have purpose, standing out from everything around it.

And, while I didn’t want to admit this, I had to. It was undeniable. Y/n was my chorus. Lavender was my bridge. . . And if y/n was my chorus, it only meant one thing. . .

I loved y/n. And I loved her more than Maya. So much more. An infinite amount. Wrong as it was, it was true. But, to be ‘fair’, I loved her more than I’d ever loved anyone. Anyone. I loved y/n past the point of life being a song. . . Past death, I would always love y/n – I’d always love her – and so fucking much. I hadn’t seen her coming, but the love had been unstoppable – unavoidable. . . . She was destined to come along and be my chorus.

And with that, I would forever feel this need to protect her and what she wanted held sacred. . . . and in this instance, I also wanted it kept sacred. I watched my fingers flex against the steering wheel, my emotions piling so high. . . I let out several breaths to calm myself. Thought of y/n. What would she want me to say? Honestly, as the light changed, I really thought about it.

In all of what y/n would always be to me. . . the gender of our baby was only a small piece in the grand scheme of things. . . There were so many other things that were more important. Like the baby alone. Lavender, on her own, was only mine and y/n’s. She was who was important. Nothing could change that. The same, unchanging fact I’d been sticking to, mentally, since Maya’s dad had confronted me. . .

Goddammit. Everything he’d told me. . . . What Maya had finally admitted to me. . . . How she couldn’t have kids. Fuck. She just wanted to experience it. Just this once. She wanted to feel the excitement of the preparation for a baby. And, the gender of a baby was a huge part of that thrill. . . the fun.

Surely y/n would understand all of this, right? If I were to let Maya in to this little part. . . She had been intent on me prioritizing Maya anyway. . . She wouldn’t want Maya to be sad over something that I could just tell her? Right?

As I was finally turning into the complex parking lot, she spoke up again. Her tear-filled voice chipped, once more, at my heart. “L-look. . . I’m sorry, Jake,” she started, at the same moment that I turned into a visitor parking space. I let out a deep breath through my nose, coming to my decision before I even let myself look into the wet pools of her dark chocolate eyes again. But when I did, my heart broke further. Her full lips, trembling. “I’m just excited and I’m ready to start planning for it–the baby. And I–.”

“She’s a girl,” I hastily cut in, averting my eyes towards the windshield, closing them as I spit it out. Just had to say it. Before I could beat myself up for telling her. Didn’t want to regret that I’d said it. “The baby–she’s a– she’s a girl.”

a/n: for one, i apologize for maya's pov. she is, in fact, a hateful ****, as elsie would say. buuut it was necessary. and - ohhhhh, jake...... like, shit, guys.... what's gonna happen next? i mean for the love of all things holy, y/n is upstairs feeling kicks while maya is KEEPING JAKE IN THE PARKING LOT UGH !!!! guys. what. w d y m ???

i love you all !!! ....+ you can ask @joshym + @builtbybrokenbells if you don't believe me....... but, PLEASE BELIEVE ME WHEN I SAY -- chapter 13 is, in fact, JUST AROUND THE CORNER !!!! SEE U SOON <3

AS ALWAYS -- please send in asks, respond to chapters, etc. I PROMISE I SEE THEM AND IT IS THE BEST REWARD FOR THE DAYS, WEEKS, AND MONTHS SPENT WRITING THIS STORY! <333 this story takes up SO MUCH time in my already busy family-filled, work-filled, etc. life, but YOU all make it WORTH IT. So I LOVE to hear from you!!!!! <3 xoxoxo

trying my best to keep up w the Covet Visualizer... you may view it if you'd like. however, you don't NEED TO. i simply am a very visual person, sooo i made it for my fellow visual learners/lovers. the photos i pulled inspo from for y/n's photos in this chapter will be in the visualizer :D !!! (IF YOU DO CHOOSE TO USE IT, PLEASE VIEW IT IN PRINT LAYOUT!! — esp if you’re using the docs app/are on your phone!!)

Taglist (continued in reblog):

@joshym, @jakekiszkapunchmeintheface, @jaketlover, @ohgodthefeeling-gvf, @starcatcher-jake, @anythingforjtk, @lucimoo, @indigostreakmorgan, @gretavanbear, @katelynn-gvf, @alwaysonthemend @aintthatapity, @bowievanfleet, @fwzco, @takenbythemadness, @cherry-icecreamsmile, @laneygvf, @hi-hi-hello11, @sinarainbows, @jakesbarbarian, @mybussyinchrist, @becinabubblegvf, @heckingfrick, @danigvf, @pinkandsleepy1934, @derrangeddumpsterfire, @klarxtr, @josh-iamyour-mama, @abby-gvf, @cassyface, @gretavansabotage, @sacredtheslay, @alienobsever, @hollyco, @age0fwagner, @raceb14, @stardustcatcher, @styles-canvas, @ladywhimsymoon, @earthgrlsreasy, @peaceloveunitygvf @torniturntomyarrow, @joshsbonnet, @llrosee, @starshine-gvf, @itsafullmoon, @gvfmarge, @creadliz98, @mackalah, @lek-gvf, @carlyfleet, @profitofthedune, @mefiorini, @welllauragvf, @highway-tuna, @dont-go-home-without-me, @sarah-gvf01, @polemicandcontent, @ageofbajabule, @texas-bbq-pringles, @jennyraye20

I always try to tag everyone, but you all know how it goes! ughhh (taglist will be cont. in reblog !!) Please make sure you’re filling out my Google Form if you would like to be tagged and aren’t already on the taglist! <3

#jake kiszka x reader #jake kiszka fic #jake kiszka fanfic #jake fic #my fics #covet #MINOR (non-spoilery) WRITER THOUGHTS IN TAGSSSS #MAYA SUCKS #loooove josh + els and their weird/cute relationship <3 (i cry)#jake..... bro.... get it together bb #y/n. you are precious and deserve the world <333 #hehehehe #i just LOVE the convenience of iphones..... don't you????#;)))))#oh #and yeah... jake definitely has a preg!kink in this lil 'verse of mine.... ;)#DUHHH #jake kiszka smut #MINORS DNI

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