#how to use considerable in a sentence

[protonenglishhub]

Considerable Meaning 💡| Master This Word with Proton Time

Hey language learners! 🎓✨ Welcome back to another exciting word exploration with Proton Times! Today we’re diving into the word “considerable.” It's one of those words that adds power to your vocabulary and can totally level up your English game.

💡What Does "Considerable" Mean?

"Considerable" is an adjective that means large in amount, extent, or importance. If something is described as considerable, it’s no small thing—it stands out!

👉 Synonyms: significant, substantial, great, noteworthy

📝Examples of “Considerable” in Sentences:

She made a considerable effort to improve her English. (= She worked really hard!)

The project required a considerable investment of time and money.

There is considerable interest in Proton Times’ English grammar videos. 😎

The storm caused considerable damage to the city.

He gained considerable experience during his internship.

📌How to Use It?

Use “considerable” when you want to emphasize a big quantity or importance. It usually comes before a noun.

✅ Correct:

Considerable time

Considerable skill

Considerable attention

❌ Incorrect:

Time considerable ❌ (Adjectives come before the noun in English)

✨Try It Yourself:

Can you make a sentence using "considerable"? Post it in the comments or share it with #ProtonTimes!

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[coquelicoq]

good morning can i show you guys the christmas card my little sister wrote me in french (she does not know any french)

joyeux Noël, j'espère que vous comprenez ce que je dis compte tenu de la fiabilité de Google Translate. Jespère qu'à l'avenir nous voir plus de deux fois par an. Je ne sais pas vraiment quoi dire d'autre, alors joyeux Noël et j'espère que papa t'a offert. Profitez également des autres choses que je mets sur la carte au lieu de vous ècrire un essai complet.

and then she wrote me a little crossword and a "connect the language to its way of saying 'merry christmas'" game 😭

[the-saucy-wave-equation]

coming to the conclusion that the kind of writing that my old PI wants is overly simplified because she's overworked and just not thinking straight a bunch of the time

[violetrainbow412-blog]

Bob Reynolds NSFW headcanons ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

+18 MDNI!!

He's incredibly considerate. He's always checking in on you, on whether you're comfortable, on whether you want to continue, on whether he can touch you there, now, like this.

His hands were on your hips, firm but trembling. You could tell he was making an effort not to lose himself in the moment, even though you could feel how much he wanted it. “Are you okay?” he murmured, his voice raspier than usual, as if every syllable cost him. “Yes,” you replied, sliding your fingers along the back of his neck, pulling him closer. Bob closed his eyes for a second. He inhaled deeply. “I need you to tell me if you want to keep going, because I swear if you kiss me again like you did a minute ago, I won't have a head to think.” You smiled a little, but his gaze was intense. It burned. “I want to keep going.” “M'kay…” he exhaled, resting his forehead on yours. His lips barely touched yours, as if he were trying to retain control just out of respect for you. “Is this okay?” he asked, slowly running a hand down your back. “Yes, Bob…” His fingers slid a little lower, his breath ragged against your neck. “Can I…?” he didn’t finish the sentence. But his body spoke for him. His gaze, his breathing, his hands. “You can do anything,” you whispered. So needy And then he let out a low, almost inaudible moan and murmured against your skin: “God, I… You’re killing me.”

He has a thing about touching you with his hands. He loves using them slowly: on your waist, on your neck, on your lower back… as if caressing you were a ritual and not a casual action. He loves using his fingers to make you come. You could swear he likes giving you pleasure more than receiving it.

After sex, he stays silent. Not out of discomfort, but because he's processing everything. He stares at you with half-closed eyes, with a half-smile as if he doesn't know how someone like you can be with someone like him.

He's very verbal, but soft. He doesn't shout, he's not loud, but he whispers things close to your ear that make you lose your train of thought. They're almost always unintelligible grunts or sighs against your neck that make your hair stand on end.

He has a slow, steady pace. He's not rushed. He doesn't need to prove anything. He likes to take his time, explore, learn what you like, and repeat it until you can't take it anymore. Sometimes, he just stands there, looking at you, his fingers tangled in yours, his thrusts constant.

Aftercare is sacred. He covers you, cleans you, holds you. If he notices any part of you trembling, he stays longer. And he doesn't let you sleep without kissing your hair or telling you how important you are to him.

"Was that good for you?" "Of course it was, Bob," you whisper, leaning in to steal a kiss from his lips. "Do you want anything else?" "Just to have you close, sweetie."

Plus, he loves to be pampered.

He likes it when you touch him first. Because, even though he could take you hard if he wanted to, he loves feeling that you choose him. That you want him. That you're also as hot as he is. It gives him security, and when you do… he just goes crazy.

He has a soft spot for seeing you wearing his clothes. Sometimes you forget to do the laundry and steal a sweatshirt, a shirt, or a pair of sweatpants. The moment he sees you, his heart races and the blood pools in his cheeks. If you put your clothes on right out of the shower, with the fabric clinging to your still-wet body, the blood rushes further down his body.

"Is that my shirt?" "This one? Oh, yeah! Sorry, do you need it…?" "No," he says quickly. Suddenly, one of his hands tentatively goes to your waist, slipping under the fabric to your fresh skin. "You look…" His voice broke at the end, and the sentence hung in the air as if he didn't know how to finish it himself. "…too good, actually." You bit your lip, and his expression—that mix of restrained tenderness and ill-disguised desire—disarmed you more than you cared to admit. “You don't mind, do you?” “Huh-uh,” he hummed. With a mischievous, calculating expression, you stood on your toes to kiss him. The way you sucked on his lower lip just before you pulled away was such a lascivious move that he couldn't resist. There was no need for you to take off your shirt. He'd gladly do it for you.

He's a sucker for morning sex. There's something about seeing you with your hair disheveled, or your lips swollen from sleep, that drives him absolutely crazy. If you look at him in that state, he's no longer in control of himself and simply throws at you. The warmth of the sheets, the lethargy from previous sleep, and the softness of your skin are reasons enough for him to need you. After that, you usually take a shower together and although everyone in the tower suspects, no one says anything.

[nichuuu]

Analogous

Shin Yuna x Im Nayeon x M reader

(2nd instalment of De Selby)

Word count: 14k+

“A younger girl… And I’m talking much younger. Eight years younger than me I think.”

Normally, it feels like you’re worlds apart from Nayeon in her bed. You’re just her toy, her plaything, her doll.

Tonight though: it feels like she’s in the same world as you. She feels here — emotionally and physically present as her nails trace circles on your bare chest. Maybe it’s a trick of the light, or maybe even classic manipulation, but she feels like more than just someone who you fuck on the weekends.

“And you won’t be jealous?” you ask, indulging yourself and playing with her hair a little. She scoffs.

“You talk like we’re dating.” She shifts so that she has a cheek on your shoulder. A relationship with her wouldn’t really fly: she’s not gonna let you take care of her when she loves control more than anything. Still, it’s nice to dream about holding her hand sometimes. “I have no reason to be jealous, so why would I be?”

(It’s a question you’re asking yourself too honestly.)

“Dunno,” you muse, admittedly a little disheartened, “maybe it’s cause you’re kinda freaky… Just a thought.”

She smirks. “Trust me. A younger girl in this thing we’ve got going on isn’t gonna affect anything.” She starts tapping her nails against your chest. “Besides… You know you’re mine.”

Oh…

(Not sure how to feel about that last part.)

*

Last you checked: you weren’t expecting a guest today. 

“Uh,” you can’t help but mutter past her lips as you stagger back into your own apartment. She lifts her lips off yours out of consideration, and she takes a few moments to soak in the look of mixed emotions that has made its way onto your face. You don’t mean to be rude when you point at the other girl and ask, “do you wanna perhaps wanna, you know, fill me in on what’s going on here?”

Im Nayeon turns, looks over her shoulder, smiles. She turns back, cups your cheek with her hand. 

“Thought I’d bring some company tonight, just to spice things up.” Nayeon tells you, turning your head in a way that lets you get a good look at the younger girl standing at the door to your apartment. “Hope you don’t mind.” With her other hand, she makes a come hither motion, and tells the girl to close the door on her way in. The girl does as she’s told, and when she’s next to the both of you, Nayeon takes her by the hand and pulls her closer. 

“Introduce yourself sweetie,” Nayeon instructs—firm yet almost saccharine. Nayeon lets her thumb rub over the girl’s knuckles, a deceivingly sweet smile playing on her lips. “Tell him what we’ve rehearsed. Go on.”

She’s an eye-catcher for sure—the other girl, not Nayeon. Not that Nayeon isn’t already turning heads when she walks just about anywhere, but more that the other girl is just a rather far cry from what you're comfortable with. You’re so used to Nayeon’s gentle, piercing eyes that can probably break you with a look from her; those small, plump lips of hers that kiss you with precision and passion; those bunny cheeks that you love pinching so damn much that it probably should be considered an addiction. But this girl brings something new to the table, and you have to admit that it’s refreshing. 

Smoky, kinda innocent eyes that have a whole foot in the territory of doleful and another foot in the realm of entrancing; luscious long black hair; a face that could make just about anyone melt. Nayeon’s guest is certainly a few years younger than her, and certainly less lecherous than her senior at first glance. You don’t really know where or how Nayeon could pick up a girl that looks as sweet as this, and you certainly want to find out how a girl that looks like the textbook definition of ‘smoking hot’ could ever end up in a place like this. She’s clearly nervous, but you give her credit for being able to stand perfectly still with Nayeon’s hand starting to roam up her arm. 

“I’m Yuna… But you can call me whatever you want.”

The sentence has Nayeon’s fingerprints all over it, and you can assume with full certainty that she’s had this idea stewing in her head for at least a week or two. The smug grin on Nayeon’s face tells you that things are going according to plan, and her fingers latch themselves around Yuna’s forearm. 

“She’s a fun one to play with.” Now she’s directed her attention to you, looking right at you as she pulls the younger woman even close to the both of you: till you can literally feel Yuna’s breath in your ear. “A young little slut to spice things up.”

Nayeon takes her attention away from you, and with gentle hands on Yuna’s cheeks, she pulls the younger girl in for a kiss. It’s simple—no tongue or anything—but it’s enough to make the younger girl squirm a little where she stands. Nayeon’s clearly taking pleasure in this. Even with her lips locked with a girl younger than her, you can clearly see the whisper of a cheeky smile playing on the corners of her lips. You wonder if she’s gonna get more joy out of this than you at the end of the day.

The younger girl is released from the fierce lip-lock. She looks dazed, like she just took a hit of a blunt. Nayeon admires her craftsmanship for a moment, taking in the look on the poor girl’s face as she chuckles softly to herself, “oh my… Someone wasn’t quite ready, was she?”

Yuna’s at a clear loss for words. She tries to speak; her words fail her. You can’t exactly blame her though. Nayeon just kinda chooses when and where to be a bit of a minx, and you just have to roll with it. It’s fun, kinda hot; but not when you’re in a horrible place to get it and she decides that she just wants to blow you at some restaurant that you’re at. It’s a bit of a handful really, and you don’t quite know what to do with her sometimes. Wonder how Yuna fares?

“It’s okay,” Nayeon assures her, “you’re in good company now, though you're free to just watch if you’re still shy.”

The younger girl looks at her senior, then at you, then back to her senior. “I think I’d like to join in on this.”

Nayeon beams, her smile almost sweet if it isn’t for the fact that she’s quite literally happy to see a younger girl get it on with you and her. “That’s the spirit.”

And it’s confusing really: figuring out which of them is gonna make the first move. Yuna’s energy gives her an air of uncertainty, but you can sense some mischief within her that resonates at the same frequency of Nayeon’s. Yet there’s something a little different about her that you can’t quite place your finger on. Her youth is a breath of fresh air; there’s that young energy in her smile towards Nayeon that tells you that she’s eager but somewhat cautious. You would call her a mirror of Nayeon as they start discussing how she wants it, but you pick up on a bit of pickiness in her voice  that strays from Nayeon’s attitude. The older girl before you will take it however she likes, fuck herself on your cock till she cums and kinda leave you high and dry. Yuna on the other hand has some grungy ideas of where she wants you to cum and how she wants it to happen.

Okay, let’s return to home base and consolidate: they're similar but different; kinda conflicting yet go together like dinner and diatribes on a family reunion. There’s reason to believe that they are somewhat two sides of the same coin, yet simple observation contradicts the notion. Bottom line – it’s confusing.

“You know what?” Nayeon has a finger twirled in Yuna’s hair as she casts a glance at you. “How about we get you naked first… Then we figure out what we can do?”

Yuna seems to enjoy the proposal. The two women look at you, and Nayeon gestures with her head to come closer. As your feet land on the wood floor, Nayeon goes at a slower pace of walking as she rounds Yuna and stands behind her. She’s shorter than her by a considerable amount, but it doesn’t make her any less imposing as she pokes her head out from Yuna’s right side.

“Go on. Unwrap her,” Nayeon whispers, running a hand up Yuna’s stomach. “Let’s see what she has in store for us…”

And Yuna is more than glad to lift her arms up for you as you pull her sweater off her body. The girl has an amazing body – you’d give her that. Slim waist, wide hips, hourglass figures so defined that the sands of time would be jealous. A body to die for really, and the appeal only increases as she reaches behind her back and unclips her bra. Nayeon smiles as she tosses her article of clothing aside. 

“Tight and forthcoming?” The older woman muses. “Looks like we have quite the toy on our hands.”

Yuna’s gaze is almost searing as you step up to her. Her breathing is kinda unsteady, but you can’t exactly blame her. She’s half naked in front of two older people, with one of them running her hands along her smooth skin while the other cock their head and examine her from head to toe. If you were in her shoes, your blood would be racing and boiling fast. 

“Do what you want with me,” she whispers. She reaches forward and grasps your crotch through your pants. “I’m yours to take.”

You raise your eyebrows. “Did Nayeon teach you that?”

“Nope.” Speak of the devil and she doth answer on the younger woman’s behalf. “I only told her how to introduce herself, didn’t tell her what to say after,” Nayeon explains, a glint in her eye as she stares up at Yuna’s face. “Is it kinda fucked up if I wanna see her suck your dick?”

Yuna glances at her senior, then returns her gaze to you. “A little… But we can make it happen.”

Another point of difference – 2 actually: she doesn’t play around with her words and she’s pretty proactive. You like that. 

It’s a mess as you fumble with clothes, but it doesn’t take long for you guys to rid Yuna of the rest of her clothing and have her on her knees in the living room carpet. Her hands are delicate as she pulls down on the waistband of your boxers and frees your cock, and their even more so when she grips your throbbing shaft with both hands. On the chair that Nayeon pushed you onto, you watch her eyes as they survey what she’s working with.

“Wow…” she mutters, looking over to the right where Nayeon’s lounging on the sofa. “You had this all to yourself?”

Nayeon’s lips slant at an angle. “I know right? Better than any dildo you can find on the market.”

Yuna takes a moment to really look at the cock in her hands, eyes full of lustful wonder as she takes it in from all angles. She lets her mouth hang open for a little as she processes what she’s seeing, then she asks, “how does she even walk the next morning? I mean… This thing is girthy as fuck. Would probably split me open if I’m not careful.”

“It won’t,” Nayeon answers rather spontaneously, tapping her finger against a cushion as she watches Yuna pump your shaft with her lanky fingers. “It’ll fill you just right,” she leans against the handrest of the couch, watching intently as you push away some hair from Yuna’s face, “though I think it’ll look the best in your mouth.”

Yuna gets the gist. Her cheek presses itself against the inside of your thigh as she lifts your shaft and kisses it at the base, and she works her way up to the tip while one hand keeps your twitching cock steady. She gets to your head, and her lips take the sensitive part of you about halfway in, making sure you're looking (and you mean, like, really looking) as she lets her tongue lick the precum off from your leaking tip. Once she’s certain that she has your fullest attention, her jaw slacks and her shoulders rise; she takes a breath, closes her eyes.

There’s the hiss of an inhale — from you — as your head tilts back against the backrest while your cock enters the warm wet tavern of her mouth. She’s almost methodical in the way she takes you in, stopping halfway to adjust the angle of her head so that she can push forwards and down and drive the rest of your meat into your mouth. Her hands steady her, resting against your thighs as she tears a little. She’s a little more patient than her senior, waiting for a bit before she starts moving at a steady pace. Spit’s starting to drip down to her chin – will probably ruin the carpet if you cared enough (and you don’t). Nayeon’s been meaning to change this damn thing anyway. It’s seen too many juices and some dog piss in it from when her pomeranian was over those few times.

“Jesus,” is all you can hiss, through closed teeth of course. The young girl is nothing short of heavenly; she’s almost perfect at taking your dick as she starts to bob her head. The gurgling is kinda loud; spit flows like a stream down your shaft, only to be collected by that fastidious mouth as it traces a path – up and down and up and down. You wonder if there’s some make-up to be ruined.

“Won’t you look at that?” And you don’t even need to look over at the couch to know that Nayeon’s playing with herself. The squelching tells you lots, but the way her speech is kinda breathy tells you more than you need to know. She’s probably really turned by the sight of a younger woman taking cock into her mouth, riled up at the sight of tears flowing down her youthful cheeks. It’s borderline voyeuristic, pretty fucking freaky but also kinda hot. That’s her whole brand anyway. “She’s fucking taking your dick. My god…”

Yuna gurgles on your dick – probably some reply she’s trying to give but fails to because she has dick in her mouth. The suckle of her lips; the slide of her tongue against the base of your shaft; her throat kinda convulsing as she struggles and struggles – you don’t know if it’s all gonna be a bit too much, but now you’re really focusing on not trying to hurt her while your hands grab a handful of her hair in a fist. You’re assisting—or maybe forcing… Low-key goes both ways when there’s a very, very fine line between the two in this context—her, pulling her into your crotch and pushing her off just to pull her in again. It’s a vicious cycle – kinda doubling on the meaning while also butchering it: harsh and repetitive but there’s not a fucking instance where this produces a detrimental result.   

She comes up for air, your shaft pretty much dripping with spit as she takes a moment to gather herself. The gasping is hot, and so is the way she wipes her spit towards her mouth with the back of her hand. “God this is… Fuck...” she mutters, licking her lips while her fist is in constant fluid motion. Bruce Lee would be proud: she is like water.

“Keep it up darling,” the motions of Nayeon’s wrist have gotten quite sharp, sudden and lacking interval. Okay, maybe not sudden, but more… Desperate. It’s not like she isn’t gonna get her fair share of cock or anything, but she hasn’t been over for a while. There’s only so much that a vibrator and her fingers can do; she kinda needs to see it and revel in it for her to actually get off properly. You don’t know if watching a young girl take dick into her mouth is softening the blow dealt to her senses, but you kinda know that it’s still doing a number on her because she’s completely hiked up the hem of her dress to fuck herself with her fingers. There’s not much thought behind her actions, but she’s definitely letting herself go a little wild for the night. She is being indulged after all. 

“Am I doing good?” Yuna inquires, and it’s a question directed to both of you really. You give her a nod; Nayeon’s answer is verbal: Keep that up and you’re gonna make two people cum in the next five minutes. The young girl is pleased. She lets her tongue swirl around your tip, lick the cock before her from base to tip and sneak in some scissoring flicks of her tongue. Your hand finds itself on her cheek, thumb massaging the bone just above the flesh as she giggles and tosses her hair.

“You’re a doll,” you tell her. She smiles.

“That’s one of the many names I’ve been called,” she replies, letting your spit-covered head rub against her cheek. “Though I like the name cumslut the most.”

Oh.

Your grip on her cheek becomes more firm. “Okay then,” and your pushing her to the left so that her lips are in line with your head. “Open wide you fucking cumslut.”

The enthrallment in her eyes is apparent. Obedient, subservient, forthcoming, whatever; she parts her lips and lets her tongue hang out. Her eyelids flutter shut. You pull her forward. Nayeon cusses.

You're unbelievably hard in her mouth, and your member is ever so sensitive to every movement inside those cheeks of hers. The softness of her tongue, slickness of her drool, warmth of her cheeks… Too much to focus on with so little space for appreciation. You settle on fixating on the suction, the sweet vacuum her lips form around your length as she quite literally lets her mouth get used. Two hands around her head – pulling, pushing, pulling, pushing. A hot rhythm, not quite a dance but kinda cyclical like a routine. More perverse than any street jazz choreo you’ve seen though.

“Yuna,” you mutter, “ you’re so – fuck I – ugh… Your mouth.”

Somewhere in her throat, there’s space for a hum. Her hands are behind her back, locked in place by her own accord as she lets you fuck her mouth with no qualms. It’s smooth, almost natural till she gags a little on your dick and has to blink a bit. Slip n’ slide; front and back – she just takes your cock like an obedient little slut. It’s amazing, kinda dark, but still amazing nonetheless. The gurgling and the sound that comes from her throat that’s almost like swallowing; your fingers grasping the silky strands of her hair; eyes meeting hers. Fuck. 

You're desperate for a taste of heaven. You pull her down harder, faster. 

She gags, chokes, sucks a little harder. 

“Fuck this,” Nayeon hisses. “I’m joining in.”

And she straddles you before you can even blink, kissing you fiercely like she’s gonna die the next day and this is the last time she’s seeing you. Somewhere along the way, she’d shed her clothes. Now she’s nude and kissing you, jabbing her tongue into your mouth and exploring the feel of your teeth. Your cheeks are hers to hold, your mouth hers to own. 

She breaks the torrid kiss, “Yuna,” she drawls, playing with your hair as she speaks to the girl while looking at you. “Don’t ruin him too much. Leave some fun for me.”

The vibrations sent down your shaft make you tingle from head to toe – a product of Yuna’s attempted reply. You can’t see her anymore, but you can continue to just flow with the movements of pulling and pushing against her hair as Nayeon dives between her legs to get back to work. The older woman lets a sigh escape from her lips, pushing her fingers a little deeper. You can feel the heat against your crotch. Her hands move a little faster.

“Do you have any idea,” she whispers, her voice kind of striking that middle frequency between the gurgling and the squelching. “How fucking pent up I was in that damn dorm?”

Through your teeth, you reply. “No,” and you kinda twitch a little in Yuna’s mouth. “Do tell.”

She leans in, moans into your ear for good measure. “I was dripping every other day,” she reports, a lilt in her voice as she continues her work between her thighs. “Didn’t help that Momo was bringing a guy over and I could hear them fucking through the walls… My vibrator almost died that week.”

“Well…” you shudder as you speak, a familiar tingle building up from the base of your shaft. "You’ll have to wait your fucking turn.”

She smiles, quite sadistically you might add.

“That’s alright,” she tells you. Her forehead pressed against yours. “Just leave a load for me.”

And you have to hit her with an honest reply. “I’ll always have a load for you.”

“That’s what I thought.” She straightens her back and looks down at you. “I own this dick,” she announces to her audience of two. “Now cum in her mouth. I’m gonna get her to fucking swallow your load.” The orders are barked, not said. “I wanna watch.”

And she turns her toned back to you, leaving you with the view of the delicious curve of her back as she arches it while slicking her fingers with her own juices. You’re trying to hold on, desperately, but there’s only so much you can do when the mouth around you and the two women before you are this hot.

You don’t get to see it when it happens, but you can hear it and kinda imagine it when you cum right into Yuna’s mouth. You bet it’s kinda messy, but you’ll never know. Nayeon’s ass blocks the view – a trade off: view for a view. You hear the older woman hiss her commands—“Swallow. Fucking swallow you filthy little whore”—envison the sight of the young woman struggling to down your load as it pumps ito her wet hot mouth. A groan spills from your lips; a long-drawn sigh filters from Nayeon’s chest; Yuna gulps as she takes it all.

Your dick pops out of her mouth, all messy and slick with juices. Nayeon grabs it, pumps it, and without warning – shoves it into her cunt. 

And all at once it becomes too much: your over stimulated member twitches wildly in the grasps of her slick, hot walls as it begs for a break. The pleasure is horribly abundant, so much that it almost hurts. There’s no time to process the tight heat around you, voice your need for a break. Nayeon starts bouncing on her knees.

“Oh fuck yes.” Her hands shoot behind her, the left one failing to catch the handrest the first timebut gripping it tightly on the second attempt. Her knuckles go white. “I needed this. I needed to be filled by this fucking cock of yours.”

It’s too much; another load surges forth almost instantly. The hot semen paints her walls, shoots up from your already over-sensitive head and flows down her cunt. It leaks out; the squelching gets louder. Yuna’s tongue laps up the mix of juices that flow. Nayeon continues to ride.

Your fingers dig into the flesh of her waist, desperate to assist you in grounding yourself in this seemingly unreal reality. There’s a lack of words that can really describe your predicament, and if you’re to actually bring it across in a coherent sentence, it’ll probably something along the lines of “fuck” repeated at least a million times. You’re stuck in the chain of entry and exits of her pussy, a bundle of nerves beneath Im Nayeon while she mercilessly fucks herself on your cock. Right now: your dick is nothing but a mere toy for her to get off on, and she made that very clear from the moment she started throwing herself down onto your dick.

“Nayeon…” you heave. It’s an effort to even breathe.

“Shut it,” she hisses, not even casting a glance behind her. “I’m cumming on this cock one way or another and I don’t care how many fucking loads you give me.”

Yuna crawls around to the side of the chair. You hazard a glance at the young girl. She’s messy, sweaty and has residues of cum and drool at some areas around her mouth. She reaches out into the chair and takes you by the hand, squeezing it tightly in hers as if she knows that you’re fucking fading by the second. Every slam of Nayeon’s crotch against you is a mix of pleasure and pain, her moans almost like animalistic grunts.

“Fuck… You’re really filling her,” Yuna muses, watching the older girl take her liberties with your dick. “She must be so fucking tight right now.”

You swallow. “Yeah… It’s… Fuck…”

Yuna chuckles. Watching you struggle must kinda humour a little. She gives your hand a squeeze, encouraging you to hold on to what grasp of this world you have left. Her eyes sparkle, almost envious as she sees her senior bouncing on the dick she was taking into her mouth just a few moments ago. Her other hands snakes between her legs, flits circles of respite. Two girls getting off before you, similar but different.

Go ahead. Call this shit Tuesday.

*

“Be nice to her when I’m gone.”

You aren’t sure why Nayeon would need such a huge suitcase for a 10 day trip with her family. There’s no doubt in your mind that there’s probably tonnes of products in there that she wants to bring along for the fuck of it, but the damned thing looks like it was harbouring a small child. Not that Nayeon would ever do that, but it does help to paint a clearer picture of the sheer scale of her luggage. The airport X-ray is about to have a field day with this.

“Of course.” You’re kinda obvious about your ogling from the doorway as Nayeon does her hair with nothing but her leggings on. Yuna is still fast asleep in the room that you’d prepared for her, but you still kept your volume down just to play it safe. 

Nayeon smirks at you through the mirror. “I’m sure she’ll feel right at home with you.”

“Is that sarcasm I’m hearing?”

“Take it however you like. My eyes are up here by the way.”

You chuckle and walk up behind her. “Guilty as charged mademoiselle,” you apologise, though you're not all that ashamed of th fact that she’s caught you in th act of fucking her with your eyes.

Nayeon hits you with a scoff, a rather aloof one that screams ‘got you. Thought you were slick huh?’ even though it was within your fullest intentions for her to catch you looking. She had to be fair to you in this situation — kinda hard to look at anything else. Or maybe you’re misjudging her, maybe she knows full well that you were (and still are) catching a good look at those firm, perky mounds that sit proudly atop her chest. They fit perfectly in your hands, quite like a glove—OJ Simpson would hate that it fits that well—and a nicely-fitted set of bed sheets. What the fuck does that even mean? Frankly, you can’t quite put an explanation to it yourself; you’re kinda listing things that sound and feel right to you — things that give something enjoyable that little kick it needs to become something more congenial. 

(That sort of encapsulates her whole personality honestly. She’s already something to relish, cherish; the type of girl that makes other guys say ‘she’s a keeper’ even though they don’t have the slightest idea of what she really was like beyond cameras and public appearances. Kinda horny all the time, but also wants to cuddle you to sleep and call you all sorts of pet names after you’ve blindfolded and fucked her against three different flat surfaces – maybe breaking some expensive furniture in the process. Dominant, a little stubborn and a little pissy. Need you say more?)

“But for real: make her feel at home,” she says, setting down the curling iron and switching it off. She leaves it to cool down, puts on a sweater while she waits. “Poor girl’s been through enough. I promised her a safe haven, so try to make it one.”

The context behind her request is a little baffling. Just this morning Nayeon told you of Yuna’s falling out with an alleged highschool sweetheart, and she's taking shelter with you guys till legal matters are dealt with and she’s safe and sound. Guy started stalking her apparently, threatened her once or twice too. Fun times we live in.

Helping her hook the clasp of her necklace, you assure Nayeon that only your best effort would go into creating a safe space for her younger companion. Not to brag, but you’re pretty good at making friends—trust me. We’ll be tight before you even know it—with strangers. It’ll be like walking the dog; easy peasy. You get the idea right? Kinda running out of sayings. Nayeon seems pretty pleased with your promises.

“If you guys have fun, do send some videos,” she tells you, opening her drawer to pull out a pair of jeans. “I’ll be missing out on a lot if you don’t. That girl has a body even I wanna ravage.”

“So cock is not enough, huh?” you tease. She flicks her eyes to the mirror.

“Who said it wasn’t enough?” She cocks her head and makes eye contact through the mirror. “I literally ride you till you’re sore. Yuna’s just… an add-on. Like a side dish if you will.”

You chortle. “And I’m the main course?”

“Nope,” she giggles, unfolding her jeans. “That would be me.”

“That doesn’t even make sense.”

“If you want an admission of my wrongs, you’ll have to fuck it out of me.”

And she meets your eyes in the mirror. You smile, knowing that she’ll probably let you get away with this one.

“It’s really a shame…” you sigh. “These leggings were, like, really nice.”

*

Couple minutes later you’re giving her a kiss on the cheek as she hurries for the taxi that arrived five minutes ago. In the midst of the commotion, Yuna emerges from her room dressed in one of your shirts – just in time to wave goodbye to her senior before Nayeon slips away. You're not too sure if she’s fully registered the fact that she’ll be stuck with you for a full week, but hopefully once the realisation sets in, you’d already have made her comfortable. 

You turn. The way you meet her gaze is kinda awkward. She has a look of intrigue on her face as she rubs her arms and gazes back at you with those doleful eyes.

You clear your throat. “You uh… You like omelettes?”

*

On your phone screen, Nayeon just kinda stares back at you with a hundred-yard-stare type of look. Hotel wifi has her video freezing at a rate that would make Elsa proud, and she’s barely a human through all the pixelated fuck-what that clouds in front of her.

“I feel like we're focusing on vastly different things here, Nayeon.” You’re hoping that she can hear your voice over the roaring silence of shitty network bandwidth. “Not even a day too… I’m pretty sure the poor girl’s scared shitless of me.”

And while Nayeon’s video and audio buffer, it’s a good time to remind yourself of your mistake. Not that you forgot it or anything, but you just gotta make sure that everything that you tell Nayeon is accurate.

So it turned out that Yuna and breakables don’t really go well together. Nayeon seems to have forgotten to ask you to read some fine-prints, and you basically went in raw when you witnessed  the young girl’s clumsiness. Quite the butter-fingers: she broke a mug and a plate in one slip of her tray from her hands. The sound of shattering porcelain jarred her, and as she attempted to move out of her mess, the Dad in you spurred you to cry out in panic. Don’t move! you practically roar. Poor thing flinched like she’s being held at gun-point, started shivering a little as you rushed over to clear up the shards. You don’t quite know how to comfort her, and so you just tell her to just eat in her room if she’s uncomfortable. She took you up on that, and that ended the first non-sexual interaction you had with her.

Way to go… You deserve a star.

By the time you’re done pacing the room and have thrown yourself onto the bed, Nayeon reconnects back to the call. She’s in a bathroom, wearing airpods and sitting in what looks like a bathtub. From the fact that she's wearing a robe, you’ll bet good money on the really (and you can’t stress this enough) high chance that she’s wearing nothing else beneath that.

“Five star hotel and I get two bars of wifi everywhere except the damn toilet,” she huffs. Guess you were right about what the two of you were focusing on. No prizes for being right though; life’s a bitch. “Anyway, don’t think too much about it. She’s clumsy but she’s not unaware. I’m sure she’ll understand where you’re coming from.”

“Honestly”—you slide under the covers and heave a huge sigh—“I think I might find my thirteenth reason if she hates me tomorrow.”

Nayeon rolls her eyes. Yes: she’s painfully aware that you certainly won’t kill yourself over the fact that you may or may not have made a girl re-live her trauma, but the knowledge of that doesn’t stop her from expressing her disdain towards your little joke.

“Sleep on it. You’ll be fine tomorrow,” she assures you, now in full resolution and crystal clear audio and image. She segways into something else, “By the way, check out the link I’m sending you.”

Toilet wifi is truly doing her wonders cause you get the link in question right after she says it. And you aren’t sporting a fedora when you confidently identify the source as a Reddit thread, but it feels like you should be heading online to buy one and get it delivered via next-day delivery. (Ugh… You can feel the word m’lady threatening to burst forth from your mouth already.) Yuck.

Clicking on the link brings you to a community you’re no stranger to. You’ve heard of it once or twice, but never really had the time or energy to delve into the posts. Nayeon seems to have done some homework though — you’re taken to a very specific post, a clip that kinda blew up when it debuted. 

It takes no Oppenheimer to draw the conclusion that the post addresses Nayeon herself, and she’s clad in that all black bodysuit from that one Talk That Talk performance that hugs her figure and really makes all the curves on her body pop. You’d know: you fucked her in this outfit; railed her on the bed from the back with a pair of fuzzy pink handcuffs on her wrists if you want specifics. And if you want even more details: she didn’t let you cum till she’d came 3 times. Fun.

It’s a stunning outfit, and the appeal of the wonders it does to Nayeon’s body is only emphasised by how she runs her hands up from her hips, tracing the hourglass shape of her figure before she flips her hair. A pretty good Gif. Seems to have all 1410 commenters on their knees.

Now mind you: you’re on speaker phone with her right now. With that in mind, it sure as hell feels like Nayeon’s in the room with you as low sighs and salacious squelching starts filtering through Nayeon’s microphone and into your ears. A quick glance at the call window (that’s so helpfully converted to a small rectangle at the top right-hand corner of your phone) confirms 2 things while surprising you with a third find:

1) She’s very much naked under that robe. A bit of a no-brainer

2) She’s playing with herself – legs wide open and one of them (you can’t be arsed to really say which one) propped up on the rim of the bathtub as juice-slicked fingers work themselves between flushed folds.

3) The whole reason you can see the stuff in 2) is attributed to the fact that she's somehow leaned her phone against something in that bathtub to give you an almost artistic view of her. Emphasis on ‘almost’ because the close-up of her pretty, pink pussy is foreground to an even more sordid display of her half-lidded eyes and parted lips — baseness personified really.

Yuna becomes a secondary thought. “So… Has anyone told you that you’re kind of freaky?”

“Hey. I’m just a girl,” she muses, the look on her face a strong contender for the symbol of pure depravity. “Read the comments would you?”

“Twitter’s a much better place for this if—”

“Just stop being a smartass and read the fucking horny comments.”

You’re not intimidated by the aggression behind her voice for once, and it’s probably because she isn’t here to edge you if you don’t shut up. You take a moment to admire just how good she looks in this seemingly sempiternal display of what looks like lust itself, the Gif looping at least 3 times while you’re at it (and it’s like, the best 14 seconds of your life). The sun hits her at just the right, illuminating the best parts of her while shadows further define the shape of her curves – bringing forth the swell of her hips while making her tits and ass look bigger by a rather generous amount. Frankly, she looks good in just about anything really. Clothes on or off; hair tied up or let down; lingerie or fancy dress; lace or solid, she is the embodiment of sex.

“Hurry the fuck up,” she hisses, and it’s dripping with lethal lust and desire like venom from serpent fangs. Okay… There’s some mutual interest here with you and Nayeon. You’ll oblige.

“How nasty are we getting?” you inquire, all while you work the waistband of your pants down past your crotch so that your cock can spring free. You enlarge the window of the call, silently hypnotising yourself with the sight of Im Nayeon’s hand busying itself between her legs. “Are we going from the tame ones and progressing or…”

The look on her face tells you that she doesn’t give a shit; and she’s about this close to ending this filthy call and getting off on her own. Better conscience guides you to pick a random comment from the middle and get going with it.

“This one’s a thought provoker,” you preempt, scanning through the rather raunchy statement left behind by some undoubtedly turned-on user. “It says, ‘I wonder what she tells her stylist when she has to wear such outfits. It's like she must be really asking: I want something that will reveal my whole curvy figure. Nayeon is really the best girl’.”

“Mnph…” — she tilts her head back and lets out a gasp – an implosive suction of air that’s sharp yet so pleasing to your ears. “Curvy and… What was that again?”

“Best girl,” you reiterate, watching with a half-parted mouth as your hand matches the pace of Nayeeon’s fingers pumping in and out of the wet mess on the screen, “looks like someone’s got an eye for details.”

“They’d better. I think I looked fucking hot in that thing.”

You could second that opinion, though it was probably in your best interest to keep reading. This is basically your equivalent of putting fries into bags. You’re kinda okay with it, but you’re struggling to read this next one because of its horrible grammar, “her pussy must feel like heaven. With a tight body like that, she must know how she’s draining balls around the world.”

In the bathtub, she twitches. Her ring and middle finger are drenched when they’re removed from her pussy, but they don’t rest and find solid ground on her clit. They rub circles into Nayeon’s swollen nub, no doubt applying just the right amount of pressure onto the area while Nayeon is breathing all shaky and sounds like she’s been winded. In your books: this is basically her doing a backflip over the fine line between freaky and kinky, and basically exposing you to some new kink that she’s probably picked up from Sana.  If any of these commenters ever really had a sliver of an idea of what she’s really like behind the scenes, you doubt that the comments would be as merciful as this. Anyway, next.

“I bet she likes it raw. She probably loves being a good little fucktoy who takes unprotected dicks into that tight pussy and letting load after load fill her. I mean” —Nayeon starts to shudder a little, quaking and sighing as you get to the more explicit section of his comment—“she’d probably like it if I just ripped that dress off her body and spread her legs. She’ll moan like a slut when I put it in her and just start doing her raw. Imagine the way her tits will bounce. Fucking slut, she was made to be bred.”

She lets out this moan – inexplicable and undescribable. She urges you to keep going. You do just that.

“I want her mouth so bad. Bunny has those dick sucking lips that are made for cock, probably gives mad head and is so fucking sloppy with it. I bet she’ll let the drool drip from the corners of her mouth while she takes me in all the way, and she’ll probably thank me with her eyes when I grab her by the hair and start fucking her throat. I’m gonna destroy that pretty little face so bad, leave her so fucking messy and ruined that she’ll have to stop singing for at least a week. When I cum, I’m gonna make sure it goes down her throat and get some on that slutty face. She’s earned it.”

You’re watching her, pumping your fist around your cock while she lets her jaw slack and lets her moans sort of tumble from her mouth in batches. “More,” she pleads, fingers trembling as she lets her free hand slip beneath her robe and start giving attention to her tits. You’d kinda kill to see them now, but this view will have to do. “Read more. I want to hear it.”

“They're getting nastier,” you inform her. “This whole thread of comments is just 3 guys discussing how they want to share you in a gangbang.”

“Fuck yes. Please…”

She never finishes the sentence, but you get the gist. You persist. 

The next one is kinda paraphrased, partially because you’re projecting your own fantasies while simultaneously deciphering what this guy is trying to say across 5 separate comments. 

“I want nothing more”—and it’s getting really hard to breathe while Nayeon’s fucking herself senseless halfway across the world. Maybe if she hadn’t worn those damned airpods, you wouldn’t be hearing every single sordid little sound she makes (gasps, sighs, moans and a bunch of phonetic mish-mash that began with the letter ‘o’). You can’t tell if she’s already lost to the haze of pleasure, and even if she hasn’t she’s probably holding on by a thread thinner than hair; on the way there and probably reaching within the next five minutes—“than to pound her little pussy raw and give her a fat load.”

“Oh my fucking god…” she’s descending a little further into her own head, sinking beneath the sheer thrill of masturbating while her partner reads out all the perverse things that people would do to her. Her breaths are almost desperate – earthy and kind of like a product of raw emotion; akin to a groan or maybe even a grunt. At the same time, it’s like she’s struggling to take in the air she needs, fighting to find a reason to take a breath and distract her from this debauched world that she’s dived into. It isn’t just her mind that’s twisted here, but the minds of others too.  “Keep going. I need to know how they’re gonna ruin me.”

You’re trying to memorise the next line so you can watch, watch the subtle twitch in her right leg and the grunt-moan hybrid that’s produced from that pleasure stricken throat; the way she becomes a bundle of nerves like you and just starts losing it; the way her fingers go from rubbing to fluttering small circles of heavenly release into her body; the way the round breast that’s slipped out of the robe ripples with each movement from her shoulder. You’re more than happy to watch really; be a witness to the act of her bringing herself to the point of no return as she practically brims with pleasure and bliss that she’s bringing herself. You’re reading is like an add-on, some sick twisted DLC if you really think about it (you’re not really thinking much, but it’s a fun thing to consider). It’s quite like making a drink, albeit a little bit butchered – she’s pouring herself a glass while you wipe the rim with a lemon. The alcohol can spill on your fingers for all you care, you just wanna watch her make it overflow. 

TL;DR: you really wanna make her cum.

“I’ll fuck her mouth while you take her pussy”—this one is read word-for-word, verbatim, letter-for-letter. You like how it’s phrased, not quite poetry but beautiful in its own way—“make her gag on this cock till she’s ruining her mascara. We cum together. Give this little slut the spit roast creampie of her life.”

She half-sigh-half-moans – the type of noise she’d make when she’s on her back and being fucked into the mattress. She shifts, undoes the knot holding her robe together and lets the thing part from the middle and falls at her sides. Leaning back against the end of the bathtub, her pleading comes in the form of whines, soft ones that kinda float around the room while she endeavours to work her fingers a little harder. A free hand kneads her breast. Your breath hitches, cock pulsing in your fist as she arches her back and starts to gasp. You read the next lines, the boner-fueled words of some guy who probably had his cock in his hand while typing this out.

“I want her ass. I’ll make her ride it while she takes it up that bubble butt, then you guys an still fuck her pussy and mouth. She’ll be so messy, probably dripping from her pussy and her mouth while three dicks fuck the shit out of all three of her holes. You know what? I bet she’ll enjoy it. The slut flaunts her body like it’s a fucking prize. She’s asking for it.” 

There are like 2 more comments, but you never quite make it to the next parts. With a cry, Nayeon leans forward in the bathtub. She digs her fingers back into her slit, restarts the squelching and lets your speakers flood with a sordid symphony; squelch after squelch after squelch feels like music to your ears.  “Your cock.” It’s a demand, really raunchy, kinda racy and really (and you really mean really) fucking raw. Can’t quite figure out which part of her strips her of the filter that takes away the pure intoxicating venom that coats her words, but you couldn’t really give more of a shit right now. It’s hot, like, really fucking hot. “Show me your cock. Let me see you stroke it.”

And it’s almost at once that you switch back to the call and flip your camera around. You’ve been going at the same tempo for some time now, and you hope Nayeon can see the utter mess she’s made of you – precum leaking from your tip and your head all swollen and red. She moans, slips another digit inside of her and starts working all three of her fingers harder inside of her. 

“Ngh… I really wish that I could be filled with your cock right now,” she drawls. You’re not too sure if she knows that she’s projecting a shared desire right now. It’d be great to feel those warm walls wrapped around your shaft, slicking it with her juices while she rides you at a steady pace. Fuck… She’s ruining you, isn’t she? “With me baby. Cum. Make a mess for me.”

Her words are a little jumbled, but coherence doesn't really matter when she’s spitting pure filth from her lips. It doesn’t take long for either of you to get there, but you like to think that you meet her where she already is and kinda just go from there. At least that’s what you tell yourself as she convulses and is marred by her orgasm, and your cum leaks down your shaft and flows over your knuckles while you watch Your respective cameras capture it all – witnesses the mess you make at the hands of each other (and yourselves). You have to take a second, sit in the warm puddle of your own mess. It’s pooled on your stomach; cleaning up’s gonna be a chore.

“God…” Nayeon breathes. “Always wanted to try this.”

“Guessed as much,” you reply, sitting up in your bed and looking around for tissues. You spot a box of them on your desk. Great.

“Gotta go. Be in touch soon.”

She leaves you in the darkness of your room. From the corner of your eye, you spot a set of eyes watching you from the ajar door. You make out Yuna’s features before she closes the door, no doubt fleeing the scene. You aren’t sure how much she saw, but you hope that whatever she did see hadn’t scared her shitless.

Anyway, there are larger issues at hand.

*

It’s somewhere on the third or fourth night where it happens. For the record: you don’t go to her. She comes to you.

Weather forecast predicted hail, and for once they’re actually correct. It’s pissing it down – the glass on your room not left unscathed from the assault of hail falling from the sky. It’s awfully noisy, helluva hullabaloo. Hard to sleep in this weather really. You warned Yuna—who seems to have gotten a little more comfortable around you—about the horrid weather that you guys were about to be blessed with, and you can’t help but wonder if she’s fairing alright.

The knock on your door comes around a quarter after one. Yuna steps into your room, her silky nightdress kinda glowing in the low light as she sort of just stands there awkwardly. It’s quite like a child entering their parents room in the middle of the night to inform them that they’ve shat the bed. You look at her from under the covers for a bit, and when she continues to be a deer in headlights, you sit up in your bed. “You okay?”

“I’m um…” she begins, fiddling with her fingers as she speaks. “I-It’s noisy… And…”

You understand what she’s attempting to convey. You move to your right in bed, open the covers and pat on the space you’ve left for her. She smiles, grateful. When she settles into the space where Nayeon usually sleeps, you tell her to holler if she needs anything else. You leave her with that, and your back faces her when you—by the grace of some divine powers—drift off.

You wake up again in the early morning. The sleep wasn’t bad – kinda peaceful and dreamless and you want to close your eyes and drift back off. Unfortunately (actually kinda fortunately in this case), Yuna’s legs entangled with yours snaps you awake. You’re worried that you might have rolled into her while you were asleep (you really didn’t want to fuck up again), but her arm around your torso tells you otherwise. She’s cuddled up to you, head against your back and hugging you like you’re her personal soft toy – the usual kind of cuddling. Frankly, you’re at a loss for words. What happens in between is kind of a blur. You remember her stirring, and you remember turning around as slowly and gently as possible. What you don’t quite remember however, is how she ends up with a hand on your cheek. You vaguely remember her asking for some sort of permission, but your heart is beating so loudly in your ears that you can’t really hear or process much. She’s in the most vulnerable of positions right now, and the worst thing you could possibly do is fuck up. Your mishaps from the first day have you on edge.

And now you’re running through the events again in your head, doing your best to pick up on critical exposition that probably would explain the situation you're in. Words fail you as Yuna’s thumb traces a path across your cheek, sweeping back and forth languidly with the smallest of smiles on her face. Her eyes—those hypnotic doleful eyes—stare into yours, and you’re sniffing out some longing behind that gaze. 

“Nayeon put in a really good word for you,” she whispers, letting her gaze wander across your face. “She said that you were a trustworthy man… Someone who’ll take care of anyone because you can.”

You’re happy to hear of Nayeon’s positive appraisal of you, but it doesn’t stop your bad habit of cracking a joke in tense situations. “And what’s the customer’s review?”

You’re glad that she laughs. If she didn’t, you’d have to expand your list to include a 14th reason. 

“She told me to trust you and that I can feel safe around you,” she reports. She takes a moment to bring her eyes back to yours. Her smile grows wider. “I’m happy to say that I do… Largely.”

And all at once: a two tonne weight around your chest feels like it just dropped a twenty-story height. You aren’t sure if Yuna’s giggling because of the fact that you’re visibly relieved or because you heaved the loudest sigh of relief of your career.

“Man… I thought I’d completely fucked up after the first day,” you admit to her, relishing the feeling of your body relaxing in bed. “Never quite got to apologise for that.”

“And you don’t have to”—her smile is quite soothing to be honest, puts you right at ease after looking at it for a second or two— “I was just kinda shocked… And I kinda have a bad experience of being yelled at. Working on it though.”

Huh. Guess Nayeon was right about her.

“Still though,” you raise, rubbing your eyebrow. “I’m sorry.”

Yuna chortles. Her lips slant at an angle. “Forgiven and forgotten. Happy?”

You smile in response to the progress. “Hey. You go girl.”

She graces you with a wink. A moment of silence follows. 

“Did Nayeon ask you to be touchy with me?” you can’t help but inquire. It’s out of the blue, but hey: a burning question is a burning question. “I mean… It’s not everyday that a cute girl just pulls up in my bed and caresses my cheek.”

“She said that you’ll be fine”—she retracts the hand on your cheek. The two tonne weight starts rising to the 5th floor—“and are you flirting with me?”

(Two tonne weight falls. Phew… What a workout.)

“Maybe.” You don’t really like being blunt cause there’s always some merit in a bit of playing around. Now that you think back on it, you may or may not have picked this up from Nayeon. Damn girl is ruining you. “Take it how you want, just don’t think I’m being sarcastic.”

Yuna smirks a little. “Nayeon did say you like to play around with your words,” she lifts a finger and points away from the bed, “not sure if she influenced you,” she points towards you,  “or if you influenced her”.

“What if we’re both a little guilty?”

“Then I’ll be the outlier. Can I kiss you?”

And it feels like time stops. For the seconds that you stare at her in silence, one brain cell exerts maximum fucking effort to process the weight of her words. You wouldn’t have been as hesitant if she’d just kissed you directly, but now that she’s asking for consent first, you’re high-key at a loss for words. The sun’s starting to rise and the room’s being filled with this sorta radiant glow… Or maybe it’s just her.

“Woah,” you can’t help but muse. Of course, you’re exaggerating by quite a bit. “You are… Super blunt.”

“Figured you could use a change of pace.”

Then Yuna closes the distance between the two of you. She hesitates for a little, hovering over your lips for a bit before she finally decides to press her lips onto yours. It’s kinda sweet; her lips feel amazing and she’s really going down on you. You comb your hands through her hair, let the smell of sweet shampoo kinda intoxicate you a little while she tugs at your lower lip with her teeth. Unlike Nayeon, it feels like she’s kissing you because she wants to. The older girl sometimes makes it feel like she’s doing it for the sake of it, and then proceeds to tear through your clothes to get to your dick. Yuna takes her time, lets her hand on your face get familiar with the structure of your jaw as fingers graze them gently; introduces her index finger and thumb to your chin as she tips it to deepen the kiss a little.

“Hey,” she calls once the kiss is broken. She’s glowing in the light of the room, the smile on her face pretty fucking adorable. “Did Nayeon ever tell you that I look the best when I take it from the back?”

Again: super fucking blunt.

Clothes are never a hassle when you’re kinda in a rush, and Yuna’s night dress slips right off her body like the plate she dropped from the tray. You have her on her back, kinda half-mewing-half-keening as you catch a nipple in your mouth and suck on on it. The toned muscles on her stomach tense and relax, the rapid ebb and flow of pleasure in her system making her body move in all sorts of sensual ways as you palm her other breast.

And here’s the thing you like about Yuna: she lets you take her time with her, really revels in the sweetness of the moment while your trailing kisses down to her crotch. She moans for you – sweet music that tells you yeah that’s the spot while you acquaint and familiarise yourself with her body; she shifts herself accordingly – rolls to her side when you were kissing her plunging collarbones and opens her legs for you when you get to that pretty, pink pussy. It’s like she’s wired to please you, responding to your every move with a move of her own like you’re locked in a dance with her. It’s a welcome change of pace from having to fight and dirty talk your way to even get the chance to fuck Nayeon.

(In case you’re wondering: you do eat her out, but you kinda get lazy to really put into words. All you need to know are these few key points:

Firstly, she’s delicious, sweet and salty and kinda tangy. A bit of a subjective taste but you like it.

Secondly, her moans are really fucking adorable. They’re not even, like, purposefully made that way. She just kinda lets them flow from her mouth – choked-up cries of pleasure while warm thighs wrap around your ears. 

Lastly, when she cums, it’s fucking amazing. It’s like she brings heaven down to earth with her cries and makes sure you get to touch it as much as she can. Her body is fucking riveting – arches deliciously when she arrives and makes you twitch in your pants.

Bottom line: she’s really fucking hot, quite like Nayeon in the way she tries you on sometimes but patient and actually giving you the chance to talk dirty with her. Damn… She really is a change of pace.)

And so: reaching between your bodies with her on all fours, you grasp your cock in your right hand, slipping it between Yuna’s legs. The young woman spreads her thighs as best she can – readies herself for entry. Your head pushes between her lips, waiting for only a moment, before you thrust hard inside her, filling her to the hilt with your cock. She’s awfully tight, really fucking wet and God is it hot in there. You almost think molten iron seems to be brewing in her core.

“Tell me,” she huffs, a sly smile on her face as she props herself up on her elbows. “Am I better? Or is Nayeon still the best?”

You caress the swell of her ass. “Baby… I think you’ll be the best fuck I’ll have in a while.”

It’s almost cruel: the way you kinda just start thrusting without any warning. She likes it though, and you only know because she possesses the bluntness to do so.

“God you’re fucking big.” And her ass ripples with each thrust you deliver into that slick little pussy of her’s. “Fuck… How does Nayeon even manage you?”

(The thing you like about her is how she asks a question like it was some sort of objective statement – not a rhetorical question, just something for you to respond to.)

You fuck her harder in response to that, kinda push yourself all the way into her. The tip of your cock slams against her cervix and her cries ring throughout your room. Your room fills with the sort of visceral sound one would associate with skin slapping against skin. There are definitely some more words to be shared during sex – the girl has a little more things she wants to get off her chest, but what the whole exchange boils down to is a back and forth of her gasping and crying out and saying you’re the best dick she'll ever get and you telling her you love the feel of her little cunt.

(It's really not like you're trying to prove something by being super rough. Yuna just happens to really, really like the feel of a thick cock pounding into her. Maybe Nayeon was right – her taking it from the back was a good idea.

Or maybe she's just a slut.

Who knows?)

"Yeah," you growl. You reach forward and grab a handful of her hair, pull her body against yours. "Take my cock baby."

"I can take it," she gasps, the breath knocked out of her. Her fingers curl against the bedsheets and she's just taking your cock. She's a lot easier to please than Nayeon – less stubborn about being in control, but also much, much more willing to please. "Oh God, fuck me, please..."

You slam deep inside her. Her body jerks forward and the sound that comes from her mouth is a mix between a cry and a gasp. "Please what?"

"Fuck me harder," she says. She's practically begging for it. "Make me cum. Please, please make me cum!"

Taking up her request is all you really wanna do. She didn’t need to add the multiple pleads, but you took some pleasure in hearing it.

You grab ahold of her shoulders, pull her close till she's almost upright. "You're gonna cum around my dick," you growl. You start a series of rapid, hard thrusts and her body goes limp in your arms. "And you're gonna make a mess of yourself."

She nods frantically. She's a mess already, all sweaty and red. The sounds that leave her mouth are incoherent. With two fingers pressing hard and directly against her clit, you start circling on it, making her a complete fucking wreck in the middle of your room as you really try to get her off. There's a sweet spot you find after a moment – the pad of your digits slipping around the nub and her knees give, almost making her buckle until she's flat on her stomach on the bed, crying and shaking as you use her like a toy.

"Please... Fuck... Don't stop, oh God don't stop!" Her cries are like a prayer to you. You've never heard anything like it. You fuck her right through it, watching as her back arches and her legs twitch, until she's almost completely gone. There's only a little bit more left. She just needs a little extra push.

So you decide to go a little hard. You hold her by her hips, keep her legs shut, and thrust directly down onto her pussy with a force you'd only reserve for someone like Nayeon. Her eyes roll back in her head as you really take her like you've wanted to ever since you started; it's almost animalistic how you really try to get her to cum as hard as she can. You can almost feel her orgasm build up in her body. Her breathing grows shorter and more erratic and she's mewling in her throat – so close. You can taste it.

"You like my cock don't you?" You reach around, give her tits a squeeze. She almost cums from that.

"Yes," she whimpers. You know she's not playing the part – she genuinely wants your dick. "Please... Let me cum on your cock..."

(You don’t admit it verbally, but you like it when girls beg. Nayeon never does, and it’s a novelty now that she’s doing it.)

You hold her down with an arm on her lower back. Her head's to the side, hair plastered to her skin with sweat as you fuck her from behind. She's panting and whining, begging you for more; “please please more”. You like that. It's cute. You wanna hear it. So you go harder. She screams into the sheets, but the sounds are muffled, but she's pretty loud nonetheless. It's good to see her let go like this, really let loose and not hold anything back. There's a fire that she ignites inside you. "Fuck..."

It's like a little fire that ignites and grows bigger, burns brighter with each thrust. She's so tight and so fucking wet; the wet sounds that accompany each thrust really turns you on. Your body feels so hot. There's this warmth that spreads across your entire body with every passing second. She moans and cries, whimpering as you nail her into the sheets.

Then there's this moment of clarity that hits her, and she looks back at you – she smiles, eyes half-lidded and she whispers something to you.

"Cum inside me," she says. She's shaking. "Please..."

Your rhythm grows sloppy as you edge closer and closer to the climax. Your cock feels like it's growing harder, bigger – there's this throb in it and your body's all tensed up. It feels like something inside you is going to snap, break loose and make you cum. It's not the best feeling in the world, but the way it grows stronger and stronger really makes your toes curl and your skin tingle.

And she's so beautiful like this: spread out for you, skin sweaty, cheeks red, and ass in the air as you fuck her. It's the best way you can ever imagine her – she looks like she belongs to you like this, her body a playground for your lust, and she wants it just as much as you do. There's a mutual feeling between the two of you.

The pleasure comes and it hits you like a train. It feels like something inside your balls tighten and then snap and then there's this euphoria that envelopes you. You feel your cock pulse with every burst of semen that spurts from the head. Yuna cries as her pussy gets filled and filled, until it's running out and dripping from her cunt, but you can't stop fucking her. You want to feel that sweet, sweet release, to see how long it will go, to really enjoy this moment. She feels amazing, and your heart pounds and you want her so badly. You need her.

She cums — It's a hard, shuddering orgasm that wracks her body. She cums and she screams for you, and she makes a mess of herself as promised. It's really fucking hot – the way she completely loses her composure and her legs shudder violently as you pound her pussy through it all, soaking in the perverted pleasure she brings you while you fuck her freshly-creamed pussy till your hips kinda give. You collapse on her, panting and grunting on top of her while she struggles to breathe.

In this moment. She isn’t like Nayeon in the slightest.

She’s a welcome change of pace. 

*

“Thinking back… There were signs in highschool that I probably ignored.”

And the water sloshes around as Yuna shifts a little in the bathtub. She’s found it to her liking to prop herself up against you, let her head rest against your shoulder while you hold her close to your chest. You’ll admit that it’s a bit of an awkward arrangement, but there was no way you could just not indulge her after she asks to take a bath with you. 

“The worst part is that they weren’t even, like, subtle,” she tells you, just sort of staring out into the distance while she talked.  “He’d punch things when he got angry, even slapped a referee after he lost a game… Love is blind huh?”

You held her a little closer to your chest. “It’s okay. We all make mistakes.”

“Yeah, well, my mistakes left me with no physical scars but the emotional ones are plenty.”

You hope she can’t see you grimace. It’s hard to recover from these types of things, especially if you realise the stupidity behind your decisions.

“I’m sorry that happened to you,” you tell her, and you really mean it. “It must be difficult… You know: recovering.”

The front of her lips curve up. “Thanks. I try not to let it weigh me down too much but… Just kinda happens to come out every now and then.”

You get it, you really do. Not that you’ve been in an abusive relationship like hers before, but you understand what it’s like. It’s sad really: being unable to break out of a cycle that hurts you the more you try to stay and change it. You admire the young girl’s strength, envy her courage for finally breaking the cycle and freeing herself for good. 

“You’re safe now,” you whisper, moving some wet hair out of her face. “I will never hurt you. I promise.”

She smiles at that. “Thank you,” she says while pinching your cheek, “that means a lot to me.”

Then you bask in the silence for a little, taking in the smell of the bath salts and the feel of Yuna’s soft skin against yours. It’s a pretty romantic moment till Yuna’s bluntness breaks it.

“I’m, like, really wet,” she announces, gazing up at you from her position on your shoulder. You laugh. 

“Didn’t you just cum?”

“Good things come in threes.”

She fixes you with a look, like she knows that you’re gonna give in.

(And you know what? She’s absolutely right. Can’t say no to a pretty girl.)

*

“Well hello to you too.”

Nayeon sounds almost angry on the other side of the video call. On your end, you have your phone’s back camera pointed to the current situation: Yuna atop of you, thighs locked around your cock as her hips rock up and down steadily. Her thighs are warm, pillowy; makes you grit your teeth while she moves languidly.

“Nayeon!” Yuna exclaims, almost too saccharine as she keeps her eyes locked on yours. “We were just thinking of you.”

She isn’t lying. Just moments before her call came, you two were making a joke about how she’d never let you get away with as much as Yuna did. It was a pretty humorous conversation, almost comedic if it wasn’t for the fact that Yuna was tugging your sweats down your thighs. 

But, there she was, still moving in your lap. Yuna leans forward, hands planted on your chest as she continues to rock her hips, ass bouncing a little against your thighs.

You can hear a scoff from Nayeon.

Yuna turns her head to the screen, eyes looking at the phone but her hands still pushing on your chest, fingers flexing. "We really were," she whines, lips jutted into a pout. You watch her as her lips curl into a small smirk just a second later, her teeth peeking out, and you can feel your face grow warm when she looks back at you.

"Tell her what we were talking about," she orders, her voice soft but firm.

"Um...we were just, um—" you stutter out, and your throat goes dry as her hips keep going, her thigh muscles clenching around you.

"Go on."

"We were...just, uh, talking about how you're not here," you finally manage to get out.

"Aww, baby...” Nayeon is smiling. It’s sarcasm by the way; she's enjoying this as much as Yuna is.

Yuna's pout returns. "See, Nayeon?" She continues to roll her hips against you. "We were thinking of you,” she reiterates, making sure she has your eye contact while she fucks you with her heavenly thighs, “I know it's not fair that you aren't here, but he’s just so fucking hard… Someone had to do something about it.”

Nayeon gives a snort. “You two are lucky I’m not alone in my room right now.”

“And what would happen if you were?” Yuna challenges. You don’t recall her being this daring.

“Playing with myself, obviously,” the older girl replies. “You think I’d just watch you get him off with your thighs? I barely let that boy dominate me.”

Yuna chuckles and smiles your way.

“What a horrible situation,” she whispers, moving a little faster. “Luckily I’m here to pamper him.”

“And he’d better enjoy it while it lasts,” Nayeon smirks. “When I’m home he’s–”

Yuna cuts her off by hanging up. You stare wide-eyed in shock as she tosses the phone aside. “Too noisy. I can���t multitask,” she explains. “Call her back later. Let’s get back to it.”

With that, Yuna leans over you, her chest pressed to yours as she gives a slow grind in your lap, her hips moving in a figure eight. Your head rolls back, and you release a loud, drawn-out groan. Her thighs are so smooth against your cock, so warm, so soft. You wish you could bury your face in between them. The way her hips move is incredible; she knows what she wants, knows how to work you.

You try to sit up, but Yuna pushes you back down by your chest. Her lips curve into a smile, and she shakes her head.

"Stay down," she whispers, "you don't wanna ruin this, do you?"

"No."

"Then stay still. I'll make it quick."

Quick is an understatement. She's barely rocking her hips in your lap, but with how soft her thighs are, and the way they grip you like a vice, you know it'll probably be over sooner or later. You make a note to try and make this last for as long as you can. Yuna leans over you again, hands on your chest as she gives a rough buck of her hips. Your head snaps back and you let out a loud groan. She continues to grind against you, slowly, making sure to hit every sensitive part of your cock. You reach up to grab her hips, but she slaps your hands away.

"No touching," she tuts. "Let me do the work. You relax."

Your lips open to protest. She shushes you with a finger. 

"Own me later," she whispers, sliding the finger down to the point where your collar bones meet. "Let me take care of you now."

You gulp, nodding.

Yuna's hands settle back on your chest, nails dragging across your skin, making you shiver. She's looking at you with those doe eyes, those pretty pink lips curled into a smirk as her hips pick up pace. The friction is incredible; Yuna's thighs feel like silk wrapped around your cock, warm and soft; the way they're clamped around you has you seeing stars. Your breath hitches in your throat when Yuna moves faster.

(And another thing about her: she’s so fucking good at pleasuring you that she always makes you lose your ability to think.)

"Fuck..." You moan, throwing your head back. "Feels so good..."

She smiles at that, giving a small hum of approval. "Does it?" She asks. "Good."

You look up at her, watching her roll her hips. She's really putting in work, moving in all sorts of ways to make sure you're feeling the most pleasure. It's not lost on you; she's an angel, and you thank every god there is for having her. Your cock throbs between her thighs, aching. The head is flushed red and leaking precum, which smears all over Yuna's thighs as she keeps moving. Your toes curl in the sheets, fingers gripping the fabric as she rides you.

Yuna continues to roll her hips, giving a few rough bucks when she feels like it. You're groaning and moaning under her, letting out all kinds of sounds that make her chuckle. She's having fun teasing you, getting you close to orgasm only to slow down and watch your face contort with pleasure.

"Don't cum yet," she says softly, running her hands over your chest. "We just started."

"I-I know," you reply, breathless. "But I...fuck..."

Yuna giggles. "That good?"

"Yeah. Fuck… don't stop."

"Wouldn't dream of it, baby."

You throw your head back, your hips twitching under hers. Yuna chuckles, keeping her thighs locked around you. Your cock aches, throbbing between them as she moves; precum drips onto her legs, which only makes the slide easier for her. You're starting to sweat; your body's temperature rises with each passing moment, the feeling of her thighs overwhelming you. Yuna's so warm against you, so soft and pliable; you can't help but imagine her underneath you, moaning and writhing as you fuck her. The thought has you bucking your hips up into her, causing her to gasp.

"Someone's eager," Yuna teases, running a hand through her hair. "What's going through your head?"

You groan in response, your hands sliding down her sides to grip her hips. "Nothing," you lie.

She snorts, knowing full well what's on your mind.

"Liar." She rocks her hips forward. "What are you thinking about?"

You gaze at her for a moment. "If I said you... Would you believe me?"

She rolls her eyes. "Wouldn't put it past you," she stops moving for a bit to give you the attention. "What are you doing to me in your head?"

"I never said–"

"Please," she interjects "We both know you want to bend me over the nearest fucking surface and fuck my brains out right now."

Her thighs start moving again. Your head falls back and a moan escapes you.

"Can you blame me?" You say. She smiles.

"No, not really. I am pretty hot anyway."

(There’s that little bit of Nayeon in her.)

You nod. "You're so fucking good to me." You manage to get out.

Yuna chuckles. "Wanna know something?"

"What?"

"I love the way you feel between my thighs," she tells you. "And I love how you sound when I'm making you feel good. I want to hear more of it."

With that, she leans forward, pressing her lips to yours. Her hips keep moving, rolling against you at an agonizing pace, causing you to moan against her mouth. She's quite literally giving you everything you want, injecting some mischief here and there that makes it feel like Nayeon possesses her sporadically. She's more gentle though, more kind and more caring too. Okay, not that Nayeon doesn't care, but she's kinda ruthless when she's horny. Yuna's much more caring, and a lot more willing to be a pillow princess. She likes being pampered. She likes being loved on and adored. She wants to be fucked and she wants to be taken care of. It's a mutual feeling between the two of you. You'll worship her, and she'll love you for it.

Yuna pulls away from the kiss, moving to your neck. She gives it a few open-mouthed kisses, nipping at your skin. You sigh, letting your head fall back. She continues to rock her hips against yours, grinding down onto your cock. Her hands slide up your chest, nails digging into your skin, eliciting a gasp from you. 

Yuna chuckles, kissing up your neck to your ear. "You're so big," she whispers. "So fucking thick... Feels so good."

You groan, fingers gripping her hips.

"You like that?" She asks. "Like me talking about your cock?"

You nod.

"I love it," and she talks with a purr. "Love how it feels inside me... How deep it goes... How hard it throbs..." She whispers—no. Moans all this right into your ear. "Fuck... I really want this thing inside me right now."

"Later," you quickly propose. "Please?"

She laughs — sweet and melodic. "Never said that I would put it inside of me," she reminds you. "Now, you zip up and make a mess for me, okay?"

You moan in response, nodding your head. You can't deny her, not when she's making you feel this good.

Yuna keeps moving against you, her thighs clenching around your cock. She moves slowly, her hips rolling at an agonizing pace. Your cock is aching; you can feel yourself getting closer to your climax with each passing second.  Your eyes are glued to her thighs, watching them move. She looks so good on top of you. Her hips are hypnotic; your mind spins as she fucks you.

Your eyes move up to her face. Her eyes are closed, lips parted slightly as she focuses on her movements. Her hands are still on your chest, fingers flexing. Her breathing is heavy, warm breath fanning over your skin. You take in her beauty, letting it consume you. She's so fucking perfect, so angelic. Hard to believe how much of a slut she can be.

"I'm close," you manage to get out. "Yuna..."

She smiles. "Go ahead, baby."

"Don't wanna make a mess." You say.

Yuna giggles, her hips picking up pace. "Too late for that."

That's what sends you over the edge. 

You cum; it’s fucking messy. 

Cum fills the space between your dick and her thighs, slathering and flowing and spurting onto everything it can possibly get on. It slicks the insides of her legs; gets on her ass a little and pools beneath her crotch. Yuna hums in satisfaction, a smile on her face as she turns behind her to survey the damage.

“Clean up on aisle four,” she mutters, reaching back to wipe some cum off her ass. She sends her fingers into her mouth – makes a big show of sucking them clean. You can’t help but chuckle a little at the sight.

“Hey,” you call her, your hands reaching down to grope her ass. “I’m planning to change the sheets tomorrow.”

She gives you a look. “Are you saying that cause you’re actually going to? Or because you just want to fuck me right now.”

Oh and she’s perceiving you almost too accurately. You won’t admit your answer, even to yourself. 

“I dunno,” you shrug. “Either way: we’ll have to change the sheets.”

Yuna matches your game.

“Call Nayeon back,” she instructs. “Let’s show her what she’s missing.”

*

Again: Nayeon just kinda chooses when and where to be a bit of a minx, and you just have to roll with it really.

The decision—for today—was made somewhere halfway through the drive to fetch Yuna. You were just talking about how Nayeon had picked that girl up, and her voice trails off as she passes the exit sign. She just keeps on driving while pretending to look like she’s in the right. The GPS doesn’t lie though: it keeps on promoting her to U-turn at every opportunity that’s available to her. She ignores it of course, kinda tunes it out even though the instructions are really getting annoying now (and not to mention it sounds like it’s demanding her to go back this instant, like a mum who just can’t get her kid to listen). It’s like how she ignores you lately.

“She’s probably gonna think we crashed or something,” you muse, lurching in your seat a little as she takes a left. “We’re like, what, fifteen minutes late or something?”

“Nah,” Nayeon quickly refutes. She stops to let a BMW swerve around the corner before she gently taps on the gas. “She’s probably still packing her things,” the turning signal clicks at a steady tempo, stops after she takes the 3rd exit on the roundabout, “maybe even settling a bit of her make up or whatever.”

This is the most she’s spoken since her return.

You hazard a glance at the GPS. The blue line leading you back to your intended destination only grows longer, sometimes glitching a little as the turn of Nayeon’s car gives it the illusion that you’re heading back when she’s really just turning into a one way street. You can’t tell if she knows where she’s going or if she’s just throwing out random bullshit.

“Don’t look at me like that,” she grumbles, casting a rather nasty glance your way. “I’m just taking a shortcut. That’s all.”

(Is it not painfully obvious where this is going?)

And a few minutes later, she’s got you gritting your teeth in the backseat of her car. No smug remarks from her — she has your balls in her mouth and she’s getting real sloppy in some alley she’s parked in. You don’t know where to begin, where to find solid reasoning for what you’re witnessing and feeling right now. It’s pretty fucking asinine (and she probably knows that it is) and damn straight goes against all branches of logic. In no world does she have a valid reason for being this horny at 11am on a Saturday.

(Actually, there’s one reason: she just feels like it.)

“You do know that we’re both astronomically fucked if anyone so much as glances our way.” You’re ashamed to admit that this actually has you hissing, partly out of annoyance and partly out of pleasure. “You’re fucking ridiculous. I hope you know that.”

Nayeon spits on your cock. Her hands close into a fist around your shaft, her eyes almost empty as she spreads her saliva in a close to even layer over you. “Are you quite done?” She asks. The emptiness in her voice is kinda scary. It makes her sound exasperated, like she’s sick of your reasonings. “You know, you talk an awful lot for someone who literally writhes when I quite fucking literally touch your cock. Don’t act tough on me. We both know who you are. We both know you’re my toy.”

Figuring out if this is part of the bit is the hardest part of your predicament. She plays too much as of late: with her eyes, her tone, her facial expressions… Sometimes it makes you wonder if she really keeps you around just to satisfy her cock cravings or if she really wants you around. Ever since she’s gotten back, it feels like she’s been fucking you and Yuna with nothing but pure hate. You feel it in her eyes, in the violent buck of her hips when she rides you or even in the way she spanks Yuna with a little too much glee. It confounds you; admittedly: you’re petrified of the possibility that she’s straight up jealous of how your relationship with Yuna’s been going since she roped her into this mess.

You can’t help it. You need to know.

You grab her by the wrist, a little harder than you’d like but it’ll have to do. “Stop,” and you don’t mean to be assertive, but it’s all you can summon now. “I need you to answer me honestly.”

In the passenger-side seat, Nayeon fixes her gaze on yours. She tries to struggle from your grasp; you keep a firm grip.

“What are we?” you ask, straightforward; direct. You’ve been with Yuna enough times to know that this’ll elicit an honest response from her. “Cause it just feels like I’m just your piece of meat to fuck and own. We don’t talk, you don’t even look at me when we go to sleep… What are we Nayeon?”

And it makes her freeze. Your sincerity is scary to her — ropes her into your thoughts more than you usually do. She’s silent, face blanker than paper. Her fingers on the hand that you’ve got in your grasp curl a little. “We’re just fuck buddies… That’s all.”

You just stare at her for a second, soak in the weight of that statement. “Then why does it feel like you’re jealous of Yuna?”

“I’m not. What are you even…” You can tell she’s surprised — her eyes do that thing where they widen, and then she blinks. Your question is loaded to her: it catches her in a place where she’s made privy to the fact that her emotions are more out there and perceptible than she’d like.

You raise an eyebrow. “Come on… We both know that’s not true.”

Her plump lips purse. She looks away for a moment.

“And what would you do if I said I was jealous?” she raises. “Kick her out? Stop fucking her?”

She raises a valid argument. Frankly, you didn’t bring this up with the end goal of sorting this out. You just wanted the older girl to accept her emotions, maybe acknowledge that it’s a little petty and then kinda just move on. Of course, nothing with Nayeon is ever really that simple.

“You’re the one that brought her into this,” you remind her, partly because you feel like she isn’t acknowledging her fault in this situation and partly because you have nothing else to say.

She rips her hand away. “So it’s my fault then?”

“What?” you sit up a little in your seat. “No. That’s not what I’m saying.”

“Then what are you saying?”

Her eyes sear your soul with her frustration. This hurts her more than you think. “I’m saying we’re both a little guilty here,” you clarify. “We both have a part to play in how you feel, so maybe we should just talk this out.”

She goes quiet. Too quiet considering the circumstance.

“Later.” She decides. “I think better with a load inside of me.”

*

So to reiterate: they're similar but kinda different. 

“Jesus… Did you really have to get it on my dress?” Nayeon’s clearly pissed. The wet wipe in her hand rubs at the stain of her dress furiously, as if the aggressive motion will kinda just get it out magically. Yuna retires into your arms, her sweat-matted hair sticking to your chest a little. The syntax behind how you got to this point is more complicated that you’d care to elaborate on, but let’s just say: Nayeon was happier a second ago…

(Okay but to be fair: her dress was in the way when you pulled out. So it’s like, half your fault, but you like to play the victim.)

“Relax,” Yuna assures her senior. “It’ll wash right off.”

Nayeon clicks her tongue in annoyance. “You stop defending him. He knows what he’s done.”

Yuna giggles. She smiles up at you. “Yeah… He does.”

They don’t know it, but they’ve got a pretty good dynamic going: Mother-daughter; Spicy and Sweet; Sour Cream and Onion. They contrast, diverge; but they compliment each other almost perfectly. 

(It’s no family reunion; but it’s dinner and diatribes from here on out.)

—

Merry Christmas and Happy New Year. Hope you will be full of joy and fulfill your dreams next year!

Anyway! This is lokwey the start of a series where I just kinda explore more filthy and complicated things, stuff that’s just not quite right but somehow works. I won’t be following the same idols and people, so this isn’t exactly an interlinked series. Hard to explain but you guys can just come to your own conclusions really.

~Nichu

[listen-to-the-inner-walrus]

While we're here, I just want to add an example of a good response to Harris' video.

In the first half of the video, Harris briefly mentions a creator called Lukeypoo (who now goes by Luke Stephens) who had plagiarised Harris' Bloodborne review, and his response at the time was to deny it, signal to his alt right buddies and insult Harris.

After the video came out, Luke Stephens made a post on his community page regarding it:

For those, who can't see the screenshots, it reads:

A video went up on YouTube last night that showed something I did 6 years ago in early 2017, of which I'm very ashamed. I've talked about it on stream plenty since then and try to be very open about it, but I know a lot of people haven't been watching me since 2017 or have not heard me discuss this before. I don't want to hide from my mistakes or deflect, so very plainly here's what happened:

I was just starting on YouTube and I ripped off a phenomenal video on Bloodborne. It was a fantastic video by hbomberguy and after finding it through a Reddit post I tried to take his 1.5 hour masterpiece and make my own suckier version at around 7 minutes. I copied the premise, jokes, structure, and then pretended like it was all just a coincidence that they were so similar. I was a 19 year old idiot who thought it didn't matter because "he's a bigger creator so it's fine" and "it's just the internet." When I was rightly called out for copying his video I dodged, lied, and even attacked and insulted the appearance of those holding me to account, including hbomberguy himself. I copied someone's video, in parts word-for-word, and I pretended like *I* was the victim and *they* were being unreasonable. Unbelievable. There is no question at all: I was in the wrong, fully.

Let me be very clear: I whole heartedly disown who I was back then and what I did. Politically, religiously, and even morally/ethically I was a person that I hate today. I was an extremist, a bully, a religious zealot, and above all, a prick. This event sparked a spiral in my personal life that I didn't document online, but that has led me to who I am today. Someone who tries very hard to respect my fellow creators, audience, and to uphold a high ethical standard for myself. I strive every day to be a better man for myself, my family and kids, and for the community around me. And that's why I'm writing this, because I don't think we should hide from our mistakes or pretend they didn't happen. I screwed up, big time, and I stole the hard work of an incredibly talented creator and for that I'm incredibly sorry. I was 19, hard headed, and above all arrogant and unwilling to acknowledge I had screwed up. It took a couple years after that before I could openly admit what I had actually done, and that it took that long is all the more shameful.

I don't expect a response or certainly forgiveness, but for what it's worth, I am truly sorry for everything, @hbomberguy

For the last 6 years I've been working my butt off to be someone I can be proud of being and I hope you all can see that the man I am today is not the shameful excuse of a person I was back then.

I've never watched a video or stream by Luke Stephens so I can't attest as to his content, but this is one of the best responses I've seen to any kind of accusation, and so I lean towards believing him to be a better man than he was six years.

I thinks it's important to highlight the good response/s to Harris' video, to remind ourselves that plagiarism is not such an immoral action that from which you can't redeem yourself (though in Somerton's case, I'm less sure of that) if you take accountability for your actions, and to remember that in most cases, we should give people space to grow and become better.

The swiftness and brutality of Hbomberguy’s complete evisceration of James Somerton’s career cannot be overstated.

[butyoudidthis4what]

Quiet Part 2

Widower!Jack Abbott x Widow Single Mom!Reader

Part 1 can be found here!

23.9k || All my content is 18+ MDNI || CW: DOMESTIC JACK WITH READER'S BABY; Shy!Reader; Jack was in the army; reader's husband was in the army and died while deployed; discussions of loss of spouse; discussion of the death of Jack’s wife; suicidal ideation; briefest mention of thought of murder suicide (NOT directed at reader, in the context of Jack thinking about the guy who killed his wife, literally a single sentence); discussion of Jack’s injury; reference to death of parents (not Jack’s or Reader’s); grief; like lots of grief; guilt; so much fucking guilt for Jack and Reader; self hate for a bit for both Reader and Jack; baby is a boy but is not named; a bird; reference to past pregnancy, labor and delivery; crying; DTR conversation; thoughts about sex; angst; no use of Y/N or related

Summary: You and Jack define your relationship and work through more grief and guilt together.

AN: Twenty years later here we are with Part 2. Sorry about that 😅. Hopefully it was worth the wait. I don't know how I really feel about this (I know exactly how I feel and it's not fantastic but when is it ever). This is different from Part 1 in that there is less time jumping, but I think as they now are truly establishing their relationship and not working towards having one it makes sense. We also see considerably more emotion and grappling from Jack in this part. I considered doing a much more zoomed out kind of story with them but I like exploring emotions and such apparently so I didn't keep it as kind of quick to develop and move through their life as I originally thought I would. I don't know if that's good or bad, but it's reality lol. Again, it's kind of emotional but sweet in the beginning, and middle, but it gets funnier and fluffier (I hope) at the end. Anyway I hope you enjoy and thank you for reading!♥️

“I’m so sorry,” you murmur to Jack as you pull away from him a little. “I really thought I was ready.”

You and Jack have been home for a few hours now, sitting on the couch and starting a new series together. Your son is out hard from his big birthday adventures, didn’t even stir as Jack changed him into some pajamas and put him down for the night while you trimmed the end of the rose Jack gave you and put it in a slim glass vase. 

You’d spent most of your time on the couch leaning against Jack. You like being close to him, like feeling him next to you, warm and sturdy and soft and safe and real and alive. The little voice in the back of your mind telling you this was wrong and to think of your husband was still there, and at times you did feel some confliction, but with the help of your therapist and time that voice had become nothing but a whisper most of the time and more easily dealt with if it got a little louder. 

By the time whatever platform it is asked whether you were still watching Jack had his arm around your shoulders and you were pressed firmly against his side with your head resting against his shoulder and chest, one hand in your lap and the other resting on the lower part of his thigh. You’re in that same position now only you’re both turned in towards each other a bit more and the hand that was in your lap is cupping Jack’s face, your head no longer resting on him. 

When he’d asked if you wanted to watch another episode or head to bed you’d responded by asking to kiss him. Jack had eyed you carefully as he said of course, and that he would like that, but only if you were ready. And you were so sure that you were until you lent in to do it. Hence your apology.

Jack shakes his head a little, leans into your palm where it’s still cupping the side of his face. “Why are you apologizing? It’s okay to not be ready. I’m happy you told me and didn’t push yourself to do something you weren’t ready for. That’s what I want.” 

“No, I know.” You sigh and look down, thumb brushing over Jack’s cheek absentmindedly. “I just feel bad because earlier on our way back I said I was ready for this, for there to be an us, and maybe a little more and now I’m not ready for a little more.”

“I know it’s not easy and me saying this doesn’t make it all better, but please try not to feel bad. It’s okay. And I mean it.” Jack watches you carefully to gauge your reaction and make sure he’s not overstepping as he sets his hand on top of yours and squeezes gently to get you to look at him again. You do, and it hurts him to see how frustrated and upset with yourself you look. He knows how hard this all is. How easy it is to feel like you’re being disloyal. How hard it is to be vulnerable again. He wishes he could make it better for you, take away your struggle because he doesn’t like seeing you struggling and the concomitant hurting. “I’m glad you told me and listened to yourself. I want you to truly be ready for every step of this. I’m not going anywhere just because you say you’re ready for something and then the moment comes and you’re not. You don’t owe me anything, ever.”

“I know,” you mumble, looking away from him. “I just wanted to be ready. I want to kiss you, I really do. I want to give you that, give myself that. I just…” You sigh and pull your hand from his cheek, resting it back in your lap. You’re disappointed in yourself even though you know you shouldn’t be. You did a lot today, gave Jack and yourself a lot. You started a relationship for christ’s sake. You know he has no expectations of you but for some reason you apparently have them of yourself and holding hands and starting this with him and kind of cuddling him on the couch apparently don’t meet them. “I don’t know. I don’t know why it’s so hard.” 

Jack shakes his head slowly. “It was for me too at the beginning. I’m not sure I could articulate why either, but I understand, I promise.”

“I feel like I’ve ruined an otherwise great day.” You look up at him, eyes a little glassy. “And I want this Jack, I’m ready for this. For us to be in a relationship exclusively… for us to be a couple. I want that. A lot.” 

“Hey,” he draws the word out as he tilts his head at you, “you haven’t ruined anything. I promise. I had a great day. The best day I’ve had in a long, long fucking time. I’m really glad you invited me.” He tentatively grabs your hand from your lap and laces your fingers together. “I want that a lot too, to be in a relationship with you, exclusively. To be a couple. So let’s do it, yeah?”

You squeeze his hand, eyes rounded more than usual and brows pulled together. You can’t let go of this undefined concern you have. You’re happy, you genuinely are. Butterflies flutter away in your stomach at the thought of finally being with Jack and at the way he’s looking at you, small, excited smile and sparkling eyes. Like you just gave him some huge gift. It feels like you’ve given him barely anything. “Yeah, let’s do it.” You nod, give him a small smile and laugh a little, almost embarrassed for some reason. Jack is just so handsome and such a good man and you’re having such a vulnerable conversation and admitting your feelings for him. And even though you have before you still find yourself feeling like a teenager almost. “We’re a couple.”

Jack’s smile widens and he nods. “We’re a couple.” He leans forward just slightly before he stops himself. If you were ready he’d have leaned in and kissed you then. And if he’s honest with himself he is disappointed a little bit, but not with you, just that he can’t make you feel good like that, can’t show you how happy he is through a kiss, can’t claim you like that. Because he’s possessive already. He feels it, hard. Harder than he should this early on maybe. 

He looks at you so intensely, is clearly over the moon about this. You don’t realize you’re looking at him the same way, that he can tell how happy you are, how much you want this. 

You groan a little but keep your smile as you let your head fall against the side of his chest. “What?” he laughs softly. He lets his other hand come down and rub your back a little, hyper focused for just a second to gauge your reaction and make sure this is okay. He struggles with the line between asking and trying things because he doesn’t want to make you feel like he’s afraid to touch you, but at the same time he wants to be respectful and not make you uncomfortable.

You shrug against him. “I don’t know. I just feel like… a teenager learning her crush likes her back,” you laugh a little, words slightly mumbled against him. “And I guess I don’t understand it. Why you want me when I come with so much… baggage. And a baby.” 

Jack hums a little and you can feel the vibrations. It makes you shiver. Makes you imagine feeling them in a different context, your head resting on his chest after sex when he hums at something you say or how you run your hand over the part of his chest your head isn’t occupying as you curl into him. “Well, I think our baggage matches. Same pattern, maybe a different color since it’s not exactly the same. Or what is it the youths say these days. Different font.” 

You snort a laugh against him and pull back to look at him. “The youths? Different font?”

“What?” he laughs. “We get a lot of new grads on night shift. They teach me their lingo, keep me up to date and cool.” 

You give him a lopsided smile and tilt your head as you raise your eyebrows slightly. “Lingo?” 

Jack shakes his head. “I never said they were replacing what I grew up with.” He smirks at you. “And back to your point, you come with a baby and I come with baggage and missing a foot with extra trauma and PTSD from that. We all have our things. I want you because you’re beautiful, on the outside yes, but on the inside too. You’re a beautiful person. Caring, selfless to a fault sometimes, giving, funny, adorable, empathetic, so empathetic I know it makes you hurt at times, strong, you have to be the strongest person I know-”

“Jack,” you cut him off, unable to stomach anymore compliments that part of you disagrees with. “Thank you.” You smile and give a breathy laugh. “I’m not sure I understand it still, but… I know how genuine you are.”

He nods slowly. “Can I admit something? It might freak you out and if it does you can tell me to shut up or to leave and never come back-”

“Yes, and I very much doubt I’ll react like that.” You give him a knowing smile. 

Jack grimaces slightly, not quite in disbelief but in a you-haven’t-heard-what-I’m-about-to-say kind of way. He takes a deep breath and then lets it out. “I think we were supposed to meet. I never believed in fate or anything like that but then I saw you,” he shakes his head a little and looks away from you. “I saw you and I was drawn to you. It felt like I was supposed to know you. And then when I walked into the room with you it felt like I’d known you forever. You were familiar. It felt like I knew you’d understand me even if I didn’t know why at the time. And you do. Not just because we’re both widows but,” he shrugs, “you just get me. And I still feel all of that today. I have every day since we met.” 

He forces himself to look back up at you, stomach churning at the thought of seeing your reaction. Because he gets how that sounds, how it could make him look almost obsessive or kind of insane. But you’re just smiling softly at him. And your heart and your mind and your lips ache to kiss him, but you know that emotionally you’re not there. That it would be too much all in one day. 

“I felt the same thing,” you admit. Jack’s eyebrows raise and his head pulls back a little at the shock. He’d felt it in the room that day, like you felt whatever was between the two of you too, but he’d since convinced himself that he was projecting and just wanted you to feel it so he was telling himself it felt like you recognized it too. But you apparently really had. “It kind of freaked me out with how exhausted and scared and emotional I was,” you laugh quietly. “But believe me, I felt it too. Like we were supposed to know each other and were meeting for a reason. And believe me, my therapist and I have talked about it and then some because it was hard for me at first. The idea of this first sight kind of thing.”

“Really?” he whispers. 

“Really.” You nod. You squeeze Jack’s hand and drop your eyes. You hate that you can’t kiss him, don’t understand why you don’t feel ready for that. It’s just a kiss. One that you want. You hate your brain for it, for allowing your grief to still control you. Deep down you know it’s not that easy and you know that the kiss is a big deal because it’s with Jack and it’s going to mean something. It’s going to make you feel so many things. Things you felt for your husband. You need him to know though. That you do want him physically. “I really want to kiss you right now. I just want you to know that. That I do want to kiss you. And want more with you, physically. I wish that I was ready. I wish I could give you more physically so this felt like a real relationship.”

Jack can hear the emotion in your voice. He knows you’re probably closer to tears than you want him to know and that you’re beating yourself up pretty badly inside. He hates it. “Hey,” he says softly, slipping his hand out of yours and using his index finger to tilt your head back up to look at him when you don’t resist. He moves his hand up so that it cups your cheek. “This okay?” His eyes dart around your face looking for any hesitation or sign of distress as you nod and lean into his hand a bit. “First, I think we do more physical stuff than you think. Holding hands. Kind of cuddling on the couch. That’s all physical. But second, and more importantly, the physical stuff isn’t what makes or defines our relationship, yeah? You’re putting too much pressure on yourself I think. Probably being pretty mean to yourself. I don’t need to be able to kiss you to feel like I’m in a real relationship with you. I don’t need anything physical in particular to feel like that. Do you?”

“No.” You shake your head and then shrug a little. “But, I don’t know, I just think that sometimes for men it can be different maybe.”

Jack smiles at you. “Guess I’m not every man,” he teases with a little smirk. His heart soars when it makes you laugh a little. “What I need to know that I’m in a relationship with you is to know that you want to be in one with me, that you consider us to be in one, that you know I’m here for you for anything and everything, that I want you to tell me everything, that you know there is no judgment from me, and that you know that I know the same is true for you towards me. The physical stuff will come with time as you feel more ready. It doesn’t matter how long it takes. I’m content and happy in this relationship just as it is now. I promise. And I meant it too. You don’t owe me anything. You don’t need to give me anything in a physical sense for me to be happy or feel secure in our relationship.”

“I know,” you whisper. “I do, I promise. And I don’t need it to be happy or secure either but I want it. And I know you want it too.”

Jack squeezes your face softly and lets out a breath as he looks away from you for a second. You know he’s conflicted. He knows you know. It’s hard to formulate an answer because the last thing he wants is for you to feel pressure or like he’s just going to be in this relationship waiting around for the day you can kiss and makeout and have sex and then he’ll become really invested. But he also can’t lie to you and say he doesn’t want you. 

He returns his eyes to yours and hopes his reflect how genuine and honest he’s being. “Of course I want it. Of course I want you. Look at you.” Jack’s eyes trail over all of your body he can see in this position and the way he looks at you feels unholy in a way, needy and lusting and reverent. So incredibly reverent. You already know when you do get there Jack is going to worship you. He already looks like he’s ready to get on his knees just for the opportunity to gaze upon you, clothed or unclothed. “I’m not going to lie to you and say I don’t. But I need you to know I’m not going to be in this relationship just sitting around waiting for the day we can do more and have sex and then I’ll become truly invested. I’m all in now. I’m invested in this, in us and our relationship now. Okay?”

“Yes, but, Jack,” you shake your head at him a little, look desperate for him to hear and believe you, “please don’t think I doubted that for a second. Your commitment and investment. That’s not what I meant or how I meant to make it seem because I wouldn’t be ready and I wouldn’t be doing this with you if I felt like that for a second, I promise.”

“Hey, I didn’t think you did,” he soothes, thumb brushing over your cheek. “I just needed to say it for myself and so that you heard it explicitly from me.”

“Okay. Good.” You nod. “Good. I’m sorry, I know I’m making this a big deal and way more complicated and long of a conversation than it needed to be.”

“Please don’t apologize. You’re not doing any of that. We’re just having a conversation and communicating so we both know where we are. That’s healthy. And you voicing your worries and anxieties and your thoughts, that’s important. That’s what I want. I want to hear all of that kind of stuff.” He smiles at you, just a hint of a smirking edge. “I want to be there for my girlfriend, yeah?”

You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding at girlfriend. You knew that’s what you are, what you defined during this conversation but hearing it is different. It makes your heart race. “Yeah.” There’s barely any substance to the word with how breathed out it is and your reaction to the word makes Jack chuckle to himself a bit. You really are adorable. 

He knows this next question is going to fluster you further, but it’s an important one for him so that he doesn’t cross a line. “If you know, and it’s okay if you need a bit to think about it, how are you feeling about pet names? Being called one.” 

“Oh.” You blink at him. “I um…” You look down at your lap, suddenly even shyer than usual somehow with Jack’s intense gaze flustering you further. You don’t know what you were expecting him to ask but you guess it wasn’t that. It makes your brain a little fuzzier as you try to figure it out. You can’t believe Jack wants to call you a pet name. It’s sweet. And the way he asked and didn’t just do it is even sweeter. Toothache sweet. “Yes, yeah.” You nod at him and clear your throat, looking back into his eyes. “I’m okay with them. I can’t believe you want to call me one,” you laugh softly but incredulously, “but, um yeah. Yeah, I would like that. And you? Would you, or how, how do you feel? About them. Pet names.”

Jack beams at you, nodding a little. “I have to tell you that you’re so adorable when you’re flustered like this. When you get a little shyer on me.” His voice is lower than it normally is and Jack forces himself to keep looking into your eyes and not to glance down at your lips. He lets his words linger for a few seconds before clearing his throat and answering your question. “I would like that too. If you’re ready to use one with me, and it’s okay if you’re not.” You shake your head at him to indicate he doesn’t need to worry about that. That you are ready. 

“You have to tell me the one, though.” You cock your head at him, eyebrows pulling together in confusion. Jack swallows hard, his heart rate picking up. It’s always hard, bringing this side of things up. And he knows it’s liable to send you into a bit of a spiral, to shove your loss and your grief in your face, and on today of all days. He hates it. But not knowing might lead him to inadvertently hurt you worse one day. “The one I’m not allowed to call you because it belongs to you and your husband.” 

“Oh,” you say again, breathe it out this time as your eyes find the folded American flag in its box on display. You didn’t even think about that. And you are so so glad that Jack did because you know if he accidentally called you that one it would have sent you spiraling so hard. Just the question has your mind spinning a little because now it’s like a montage in your head, it’s all you can hear. Your husband calling you Angel. Jack knows what’s happening, what’s playing out in your mind. He recognizes the specific glaze to your eyes. And it’s happening for him too a bit. A montage of his wife calling him Darling. Always Darling. Almost never Jack. 

Jack’s hand pulling away from your face to take your hand again and squeezing it is what brings you back. You bring your eyes back to his. “Angel,” you whisper. 

He nods. “Darling,” he whispers back. You know what he means. That’s his one. 

You feel the tears stinging your eyes but you huff a laugh instead of cry. Jack’s eyebrows raise slightly. “I’m just realizing how fucked up that is. I never thought about it before. Angel. He called me Angel and then he went off and fucking died and became one if you believe in that shit.” You click your tongue behind your teeth as the tears start to fall. Because he died. Because he called you Angel. Because it’s your son’s first birthday and he isn’t here. Because you’re with Jack and you’re happy and it suddenly feels so wrong even though you know it’s what he would want. “Fucking Angel,” you whisper as you devolve into quiet tears. 

You’re not even fully conscious of doing it because it’s just so natural and feels so right. You crawl fully into Jack’s lap and curl into him, one arm wrapping around his neck and your other hand fisting at his shirt as you bury your face in his neck and slowly devolve into quiet and muffled sobs. 

The move shocks Jack into complete stillness for a moment. It’s by far the closest the two of you have ever been, the most physically intimate. And he’s so aware that you’re this close and sobbing into him over your dead husband. He feels responsible for your sobs too. He brought it up, forced you to think about it. He just didn’t want to call you the wrong thing. 

His mind spins as he tries to decide what to do. Is it taking advantage of you and your completely vulnerable state somehow if he reciprocates your touch right now? Do you want his touch? Would it be comforting? Will you think it means something negative if he doesn’t touch you? You wouldn’t have climbed into his lap and be clinging to him if you weren’t okay with him touching you and weren’t seeking out comfort from him, right? 

Jack wraps his arms around you slowly, paying close attention to see if you stiffen even slightly or show some other sign of discomfort. He lets one hand rest on your back and the other over your hair on the back of your head to hold you close. When you cling to him tighter in response he tightens his grip around you in turn, hoping the pressure will help ground you. “I know,” he murmurs. “I know.” 

You hate this. Hate being like this and asking Jack to deal with it and intruding on his space and ruining everything with your tears. But Jack is comfort. He’s your boyfriend now and he understands the reason you’re sobbing, the pain behind it. The grief. You trust him with this side of yourself, want his comforting touch and the grounding he offers even as your heart breaks for your husband and what you lost. You didn’t mean for this to happen and you know Jack feels responsible but it’s not his fault. He didn’t make it happen, didn’t make you feel like this. 

“I’m sorry,” you choke out against his neck in between hiccupped sobs. You immediately feel him shaking his head, hold you a little closer. 

“You have nothing to be sorry for.” He keeps his voice low, starts rubbing your back. “It’s okay. Let yourself feel it. I’ve got you.” Jack rocks you gently. “Let it all out. I understand. And you’re okay, you’re allowed to feel these feelings with me, okay?”

The way he knows exactly what to say makes you sob harder for a moment as you take every whispered reassurance to heart. “It’s so unfair Jack,” you sniffle against him before letting out a more audible sob, “for both of us, it’s so unfair. I hate it, I hate it so much. And, and I wish I could make it a little better for you like you, like you do for me. I’m so-sorry.”

Jack barely has time to process the stinging in his eyes before tears of his own are sliding down his face. For all of it. For you. For your loss. For his wife. For his loss. For how right you are, how un-fucking-fair the world is. For how you think you don’t make it a little better for him. 

“It is,” he whispers, “it’s so fucking unfair.” Jack takes in his own shuddery breath. “And you do, you do make it a little better. I promise.” He sniffles, goes to kiss the top of your head but stops himself, nuzzles his nose against you instead. 

It takes a bit longer for you to cry yourself out. Jack’s tears stopped well before yours and he never stopped whispering to you, never stopped holding you. Never made you feel like it was too much. Like you were too much. Like he needed this to stop and you to get out of his arms and leave him alone. Never rushed you.

And he keeps holding you once you stop crying, his hand still rubbing your back and the other still holding the back of your head to keep you close to him. You get to a point where you’re mostly quiet, only the occasional sharp stuttery breath. “I’m sorry,” you mumble against Jack’s neck. “That was unfair of me.”

He shakes his head. “No it wasn’t. You needed to let out some emotion. That’s part of what I’m here for, to hold you through that.” 

You shrug in his arms. “I don’t want you to think you caused it. By asking. I’m glad you asked.” You shift a little, pulling your head from his neck and resting the side of it in the crook of his shoulder, his hand on the back of your head quickly wiping the remnants of his tears and then coming down to wrap around you. “I… I don’t even know what that was. Or why it happened. It just does sometimes.” 

“It does for me too,” Jack murmurs. “And you don’t need to know what it was or why it happened. It can just happen.” 

It’s then you can hear the remnants of tears in Jack’s voice and the realization you made him cry is enough to bring you back to the brink of tears. “I’m sorry for making you cry and hurt.” Your whisper is so low he barely catches it. 

“You didn’t,” he says firmly, trying to emphasize that it wasn’t you. “You didn’t anymore than I made you cry and hurt.” He shrugs. “The world did,” he says simply.

There’s a lot more you want to say to that but you don’t. Because it doesn’t really matter at the end of the day. It happened. It’s the past now. You cried clinging to each other on your couch and made it to the other side of that overwhelming grief together. All you want is to be closer to Jack somehow. 

You shift again, pulling your head away from Jack’s body so that you can look at each other, his arms loosening around you automatically so that you’re free to move, to get off him if you want. But you don’t want that. 

“Jack?” Your voice is a little shaky and it feels so dumb to have it be shaky over what you’re about to ask him to do. It’s barely anything but for some reason it feels huge right now.

“Yeah?”

“Will you kiss my forehead?”

His eyebrows raise. It feels huge for him too right now. Almost as intimate as kissing your lips. Jack’s eyes search yours. “You sure?” 

He has to check. Has to make sure you really do want it and are ready for it. You nod, smile at him and his concern and need to check softly. He cares about you so much. Cares about your relationship so much. Doesn’t want to hurt you or ruin anything. “I am. I want it a lot. If you do.”

“Yeah, okay,” he whispers a little breathlessly. “Yeah, I want it too.”

He moves slowly, giving you time to pull away and change your mind. His hands move to your neck, thumbs along your jaw and he nods with slightly raised brows, asking if it’s okay. You nod a little and lean closer into him.

Both your and Jack’s eyes flutter closed when his lips make contact with your forehead. He doesn’t linger with this kiss, just plants a kiss on your forehead and pulls back a bit to see how you react and if you pull away. When he sees a smile ghost your lips and you stay where you are he leans back in for another and lets this one linger, lips pressed to the soft skin of your forehead for a good thirty seconds before he pulls away. 

You let your eyes flutter back open. “Thank you. I, I liked that. If you ever wanted to do it again. That would be okay with me.”

Jack gives you a crooked smile, gaze as intense as ever. “I like that too. And I would like to do it again, yeah.”

You nod at him. “Good,” you whisper. Your eyes leave his and track the tear stains on his cheek and neck until you see the mess of his neck and shirt that you made and cringe. “I’m so sorry I got you and your shirt all snotty and gross.” 

Jack chuckles. “I’m a doctor. That doesn’t phase me for a second. It’s one of the most benign bodily fluids to get on me.”

“Still.” A rather large yawn hits you and you cover your mouth, shaking your head. “I’m so sorry, that just came out of nowhere.” 

Seeing you yawn makes Jack yawn of course and he similarly covers his mouth. “It’s been a long day and crying can make you tired.” Jack lets his hand rest on your hip, watching you intently to see how you react. “You should get to bed and get some sleep as much as I’d love to stay out here and talk with you all night.” He squeezes your hip gently. 

“Probably, yeah.” You yawn again, this one not quite as big. “Definitely, apparently,” you laugh. “You should get some sleep too.”

Jack laughs with you. “Yeah, probably I should.” He offers you his hand to hold as you slide off him and stand up, grabbing the baby monitor. Once you take a step away he stands up behind you, rests his hand on your lower back as he walks you over to your bedroom door. “I had a really great day. Thank you for inviting me to spend it with you. And um,” Jack blushes again and looks away from you for a second. You have to bite your lip at it as you smile because it’s so cute and you can’t believe talking to you, anything related to you, is making him blush. He looks so cute flustered. You get it. Why he said it earlier. “I’m,” Jack clears his throat as he looks back at you, cheeks still a little tinged with pink. “I’m really happy about us.”

You beam at Jack. You know you must look ridiculous, so overly excited and happy. The whole thing is kind of surreal and even though you’re in your house in front of your bedroom door and Jack’s about to walk down the hall and into the guest room it feels like him dropping you off at your front door after a first date. “I am too.” His words echo in your mind and it’s a little bold for you but you’re just following him really. “I have to tell you that you’re so adorable when you’re flustered like this. When you get a little shy on me.”

Jack laughs, shaking his head at you. His blush deepens and you really could scream at how adorable he is. “Yeah, well, you have that effect on me. You wanna talk about feeling like a teenager.” He rolls his eyes at himself playfully. 

“I totally get it,” you giggle. You get slightly more serious, the giggle fading away while the huge, what you’re sure must be at least slightly goofy, smile doesn’t leave your face. Jack’s smiling too though, just as happy and excited as you. “Are you going to tell Robby and Dana?”

“Oh,” Jack scoffs a laugh and runs a hand through his hair. It shouldn’t make your heart stutter the way it does. “I don’t think I’ll even have to. They’ll just know. Just from looking at me the next time they bring you up. Which will be the next time I see them.” He shakes his head at them and then looks back at you, cheeks a little pink again, that boyish, slightly flustered smile gracing his face. “Are you okay if I show them pictures? Of him? And uh, you and him? And all of us?”

“Oh, um, yeah. Yeah, of course.” Now you’re the one flustered thinking about Jack wanting to show you and your son off. 

“Thank you. I know they’ll enjoy seeing him. Anyway,” he nods at you, “I should let you get some sleep.”

“Can we hug?” You blurt out before Jack can say anything else. 

It catches Jack off guard so it takes a second to process, but his smile widens as it does. “Of course we can, if you’re ready for that. I would like that.” 

You nod. “I am. Not really that much different from the couch, is it? Except I won’t be sobbing into you this time.” You laugh breathlessly just at the thought of hugging him and him wanting to hug you. 

“True,” Jack laughs softly with you. “If you need to cry again you can of course. And I’m going to let you lead, okay? Show me how tightly you want it. And if a hand goes somewhere you don’t like or I do something you don’t like please tell me right away.” 

“I will,” you assure him, “but I trust you and I know nothing like that will happen.”

He nods at you and steps closer, holding his arms out a bit so you can wrap yours around him. You hug him tight as he wraps his arms around you, pulling you in close to him. You nuzzle your face against his chest and take in several deep breaths through your nose to savor his scent before resting the side of your head on his chest and enjoying the sound of his heart beating and the feeling of his arms holding you, warm and strong and safe. Half of you wants to ask him for his shirt to sleep in but you know you’re not there, that the smell of another man in your bed would be a little too much for you right now. 

Jack nuzzles his nose in your hair, absentmindedly kisses the top of your head occasionally because he can do that now. And he can tell you like it by the way you squeeze him a little tighter when he does. You feel perfect in his arms and holding you like this makes his heart glow in a way it hasn’t in a long, long time. He feels happy and content in a way he wasn’t sure he would ever feel again after his wife.  

You could both stay like this for hours. But Jack knows you’re exhausted. Knows you have to work tomorrow. He relaxes his arms and pulls away just slightly. It has the desired effect, you look up at him wide-eyed with a small smile, able to guess what’s coming next. 

Jack slides his hands up your sides and then brings them to hold your face gently, smiling down at you like you’re the only thing that exists in this moment. He leans down and presses the softest kiss to your forehead, lets it linger as he tries to use the kiss to say thank you and he’s so happy because of you and he can’t believe you’re his girlfriend and he’ll wait as long as you need and he cares about you and you’re so incredibly important to him. He pulls his lips from your forehead eventually, only to bring them back down and give you a couple more kisses there, letting the last one linger just a little before his lips brush against your skin as he murmurs to you. “Goodnight, Sweetheart.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A day later Jack glances at the baby monitor when he hears your son stir a little. 

He shouldn’t be waking up yet, he didn’t go down that long ago and he is normally a very good napper. A good sleeper in general. True to form he just shifts around a little and then is back out. 

It makes Jack smile and laugh to himself as he resumes doing the dishes. Almost everything is in the now-running dishwasher but there are a few things that can’t go in and he’s giving your son’s highchair tray a good scrub. 

It’s Friday and Jack’s on a solid string of off days and so is home with your son. A kid at daycare is sick and honestly, Jack just likes being with your son, and so anymore it’s more common for your son to be with Jack than at daycare when Jack is off. You’re both looking forward to having the weekend together, especially now that you’re together. It’ll be your first weekend as a couple. You have absolutely no plans, but both of you kind of like that. 

As he scrubs Jack tries to formulate a plan to get you to let him take the monitor tonight so that he can get up with your son and you can sleep in tomorrow. He knows you’re going to fight him on it, but he wants to do it for you. He’ll just have to make sure he’s the one who grabs it when you guys get up to go to bed. 

The thought crosses his mind that maybe it’ll be a moot point. Maybe you’ll invite him to sleep in your bed with you. Just to sleep and be close, not for anything else and not even naked. But that thought quickly morphs into kicking himself mentally, asking himself why the actual fuck he’s thinking about that when you aren’t even ready to kiss and have been a couple for less than 24 fucking hours. 

He knows it’s because he wants that closeness with you. Wants to basically hug you all night. He would absolutely never pressure you into doing so, it’s just why he’s thinking about it. Thinking about your warm skin against his, your breathing slow and soft as you sleep curled into him, the little sounds you’d make in your sleep, how peaceful you’d look, and god the sound of your sleepy voice in the morning, spoken more into his chest than anything as you nuzzle against him and try to hide from the light and ask for five more minutes. 

No. Just no, Jack tells himself. He needs to stop. It feels wrong on so many levels to think about you like that, even though it’s not sexual. If only Jack knew the way you were miles away daydreaming in your office about effectively the same thing and about kissing him. 

He turns his thoughts elsewhere. What to make for dinner. He likes cooking for you and your son. He likes watching your face when you take first bites and is borderline addicted to the smiles you give him, the soft hums you give him that are really almost moans when you particularly like something, the praise of ‘this is amazing Jack’ and ‘god you really outdid yourself tonight’ and ‘fuck that’s good’ and ‘you spoil me’ and ‘this is incredible Jack, thank you for cooking’ you give him. 

But what to make? He could do something he’s made before and knows you like. He could try something new. Or you could get takeout. Make it kind of a mini-date at home. He knows your favorite places and dishes by now and he could wait until you get home to order, ask what place you’d prefer. Depending on how long your son naps and what kind of mood he’s in the three of you could potentially go out somewhere. But you did that last night. So maybe him making something is actually better. So he circles back to the question. What to make?  

While he’s letting ideas for dinner percolate in the back of his mind he thinks about how he needs to set up something so that you can meet Robby and Dana. He wants you to meet them of course but they’re also the two best potential babysitters if you end up liking them and feeling like you can trust them. And you’re going to need one if he’s going to ever be able to take you out on a real date. He loves doing stuff as the three of you, yes, but he still wants to date you. Just you. Do something with you that you guys couldn’t do with your son. Focus on each other.

Jack knows it’ll be hard for you to leave your son and he’s not going to force the issue of course, but he hopes that having a nurse or a doctor as a sitter will help allay at least some of your fears. He should probably think of a good date idea before bringing it up though. 

What if he had you cook with him tonight? If you wanted. Almost like a little cooking class date, just at home. You always talk about wanting to become a better cook. That could be fun right? Your son could watch from his highchair or Jack could baby-wear him with a wrap or the carrier. Depending on how late you get home and how early your son goes down for the night and how late you’re okay eating your son might even be asleep by then. Unlikely but not impossible. 

As he finishes the dishes he decides that he’ll go pick something to make and get a list of things to buy at the store. Then once your son is awake from his nap and maybe had a snack they can walk to the store together, maybe drive depending on how much is needed. 

Jack grabs the clean dish towel to dry his hands. And that’s when he realizes it. When he feels it. Or rather doesn’t feel it. His eyes snap to his left hand. 

No wedding ring. 

Jack’s stomach drops, fingers and toes going cold while adrenaline floods his system and shoves him right into fight or flight, breathing and heart rate picking up. He spins back to the sink, praying that he’ll find his ring resting in the sink or on the grate of the one side and that it didn’t slide down into the pipe on the garbage disposal side. Or that he didn’t lose it somewhere else and is just now noticing. How could he have not fucking noticed the second it came off?

A short burst of relief floods him when he finds it sitting against the grate. He’s quick to pick it up and hold it in the palm of his hand, stare down at it. He still can’t believe himself. That he didn’t feel it when it came off. He knows he was in his head and thinking but still. That’s his wedding ring. That’s her. One of a few things he has left of her and it came off and he didn’t feel it. The ring he’s worn every day for how many years now? And he didn’t fucking feel it come off. He’s the worst, his brain tells him as he slips into mentally berating himself. 

And the thing is, Jack has known he needs to take off his ring, especially now that you’re ready and in a relationship and together. He’s been mentally preparing for it and thinking about it. He’s been trying to work his way up to it. He was hoping to do it this weekend at some point. 

He never expected to not have a choice. For it to slip off while doing the dishes. He’s been doing the dishes for the past five years, scrubbing his hands at work for the past five years and nothing. It never came off. And he knows he does have a choice. He knows he could slip it back on right now. 

But instead he just stares at it in his palm. 

He doesn’t know what to do. It needed to come off. But he wanted to take it off. Have it be an intentional thing. Be talking to her in his mind when he did it, reassuring himself and her that it’s not that he doesn’t love her anymore because he does, he always will. And instead it came off and he didn’t notice. What does that tell her? But if he puts it back on how long will it be until he can bring himself to take it off again? Was he ever really going to work up to taking it off or did something like this need to happen? Is this a sign from the universe? Did it happen on purpose?

A tapping sound on the glass of the window behind the sink interrupts Jack’s thoughts. He looks up and there’s no fucking way this is real. A bird is there on the windowsill looking back at him and tilting its head back and forth at him how birds do. It’s not just any bird though. 

It’s a mourning dove. His wife’s favorite. 

The irony of the name was not lost on him the first time he saw one after she died. It was years ago. Five and a bit years ago. At her funeral. One had landed on her casket and Jack had come a little unglued for a minute, ended up squeezing Robby’s forearm so tight it was bruised for a couple of weeks. 

Since then they’ve become a little thing for him. He tells himself it’s silly, but he feels like they’re her in a way. A kind of manifestation of her spirit visiting him. Because he’s only seen them a few times since then and each of those times has been poignant. A couple of times when he visited her grave. A few times on the roof at work when his feet got a little too close to the ledge. Once after he kissed a woman other than her for the first time after her death. And now that he really thinks about it he realizes that one landed on the ground in front of him as he waited to cross the street on his way to work on the day he met you. 

He looks back down at his wedding ring and picks it up with his right hand, holds his left hand out as he thinks about putting it back on. More tapping on the glass and that familiar coo has him focusing back on the dove. It’s beautiful. Just like she was. It has a unique line of black feathers just above one of its eyes. It makes the usual blue ring that circles a mourning dove’s eye pop even more. 

It has to mean something, Jack tells himself. Except that’s crazy, right? It’s just a bird on a windowsill. It doesn’t mean it’s her visiting and trying to tell him something.

Jack stares back at it. It feels like a sign. All of it. His ring slipping off while doing the dishes at your house when it hasn’t before in over five years of doing dishes. The dove appearing. It feels like her telling him that it’s okay. It’s okay to not wear his ring. It’s okay to be with you. It feels like her blessing. 

He closes his right hand around his ring and the dove looks at him for a few more seconds, gives him a couple more coos before it flies off leaving Jack standing there trying to process everything that’s happened in the last five minutes. But then his mind goes blank for a moment and there’s nothing but the feeling of his wedding ring pressing into the palm of his right hand. 

Jack’s turning so his back is against the base cabinets as he slides to the floor, tears blurring his vision as it slams into him and consumes him. The memory of that ring going on his finger. Her face and how excited she was. How beautiful she looked in her white dress with that veil. How she could barely get her vows and the ring exchange out, not from tears but from giggles. How her it was. How she held onto his finger once she slid his ring on. How she didn’t let go until the very end of the ceremony when she could finally hold his face as they kissed for the first time as husband and wife. How she was obsessed with his left hand all night, constantly holding it and running her fingers over his ring. How she kissed it that night in bed. 

Jack doesn’t even realize how hard he’s sobbing as he clutches his right hand and ring to his chest, right over his heart. It all replays for him. How they met. Their first date. Their second date. Their first kiss. Their first time. Leaving for his first deployment while they were together. Coming back and her running and jumping into his arms, refusing to leave them all night. 

Getting to be home and spend time with her. All the things they did together in between deployments. Going abroad. Hiking. Renting a cottage on the beach in Connecticut for a weekend. Making dinner at home together. Fun dates. Their sadness when he found out he was being deployed again. Her tears when she had to hug him goodbye. His promise he’d come back to her.

An IED. Physical pain indescribable until the adrenaline fully hit as he tried to save the others around him. Looking down and realizing his foot was gone. 

Waking up in Germany. Waking up at Walter Reed to her asleep in a chair next to his bed. Surgeries. Moving to a hospital in Pittsburgh. Physical therapy. Depression. Finding his therapist. Her right by his side through it all. A prosthetic. An honorable discharge. Her being more than he could ever deserve as he struggled to adjust.

Medical school. Medical school graduation. The pride in her eyes and how tight she hugged him and her breath against his ear as she whispered how proud she was of him. Residency. 

Him picking out her engagement ring. Planning the proposal. Proposing. Wedding planning during residency. Their whole wedding. Their honeymoon. Their talks of kids and a house in the suburbs. Her saying how she wanted a group of little boys that were all the spitting image of their father. Plans to start trying once he became an attending.

Becoming an attending. Deciding not to actively try but more to just not prevent and see what happened for a bit. The death of her mom hitting her hard and putting the brakes on kids for a bit. Holding her as she cried. Helping her plan a funeral. Things slowly getting better. The death of her dad just a year later understandably obliterating it all. Holding her as she cried again. Helping her plan another funeral. Things slowly getting better again.

Deciding to actively try and track her cycle. An emergency medicine and trauma conference in Vegas. Hugging and kissing her goodbye at the airport. Dreaming of her surprising him with a ‘welcome home daddy’ sign when he got back. 

That phone call from Robby as he laid in his hotel bed reading some materials from one of the presentations. 

Denial. Numbness. Yelling at Robby that this wasn’t even close to a funny joke. The slow realization it was the truth. A drunk driver had taken her from him almost instantly but the driver got to walk away with a couple of bruises and a broken arm.

Robby getting him a ticket on the next plane home. Crying silently in that hotel bed because this couldn’t be real. Finally feeling it and sobbing in an airport bathroom with the sound of slot machines in the background. 

The blur of getting back home and Robby being there. Robby telling him the details of what happened and her injuries after he demanded them through a yell when Robby tried to tell him he didn’t need to know, that it wouldn’t make a difference and would just torture himself. Jack screaming at Robby and blaming him for not saving her when Jack knew based on what Robby told him that she was effectively DOA. That there was no hope of her surviving. That if the paramedics hadn’t happened to recognize her as his wife she almost certainly would’ve been pronounced on the scene and never even brought in. Dana grabbing him in the tightest hug as his screams turned into sobs, choked apologies and thank you for trying-s to Robby and asking what he was supposed to do.

Considering killing himself. Considering killing the driver that hit her and then killing himself. 

Planning her funeral. Seeing her again for the first time in her casket. Feeling a pain so deep and a grief so profound he was sure he would drop dead. Her funeral. Trying to give a eulogy. The dove. Watching her be lowered into the ground. Feeling like the photo of her to the side of her casket was mocking him. Feeling like a piece of shit for feeling that. The celebration of life after. Spending too much time comforting other people as they came up to him and apologized for his loss and talked about her. 

All consuming depression. Not leaving his bed for days. Laying on his side and looking at her pillow and crying because he was looking at her pillow and not her face. Because he’d never look at her face like that again. He’d never have her laying in bed with him again.

Slowly coming out of the depression. Finding a new normal. Deciding to live for her as much as it hurt. Working at the Pitt. Things getting better and life and himself feeling stable. Visiting her grave. The years eventually blurring together as he falls into a routine and goes to work and comes home and listens to the scanner and sleeps and goes back to work again. Some dates and casual flings, brief romances. Nothing serious. They grow fewer and farther between.  

And then Jack hits meeting you and his mind stops. 

The sobs don’t. The way he rocks himself slightly in an attempt to self soothe doesn’t. The choked out apologies to her for everything don’t. The way it feels like he’s right back there, on the day he lost her and the day he saw her in her casket doesn’t. The guilt he suddenly feels for being with you doesn’t. The guilt he feels for his wedding ring falling off and him not noticing while he was doing your dishes, washing your child’s highchair tray doesn’t. The ache that fucking dove and what felt like her blessing put in his heart doesn’t. 

Missing her so badly he can’t breathe doesn’t. But neither does his want and need and affection for you. 

Jack hasn’t cried like this in a good while. Hasn’t felt everything all over again and watched his entire life with her and the aftermath play out in his mind in even longer. And he doesn’t understand, or maybe isn’t letting himself understand, why he feels so sad and so guilty and why he had to replay everything in his mind. Why he’s still fucking sobbing and clutching his ring so hard it’ll take hours if not a full day for the indent it leaves behind to fade. 

Deep down Jack knows it’s a form of processing. He knows his ring coming off is a huge thing for him and he knows that’s okay and that this reaction is okay. He and his therapist have talked at length and repeatedly, especially recently, about his possible reactions to taking it off. But he didn’t really take it off, did he?

His sobs taper off as exhaustion hits and he runs out of tears. But his feelings don’t stop. He’s a storm of emotions, has guilt in every direction possible. He hits that numbness that accompanies exhaustion though and it’s a nice change, not feeling every emotion even as he knows he still has them. His head feels fuzzy and it gets harder to think.

Jack lets his head fall back against the cabinet and closes his eyes. It quickly becomes apparent to him though that if he stays here he’ll fall asleep here. So he forces himself up and to the guest bed, pretty much just flops onto it, head barely hitting a pillow. He looks at his ring for a few seconds before his eyes start to close, curls his hand back around it and brings it back close to heart as he falls into a deep sleep.

He wakes hours later to the sound of crying. It’s not a screaming cry like something is wrong or your son is deeply upset but still. It takes him a minute to come back to fully, to remember what happened, to remember the thing he’s still clutching in his right hand is his wedding ring. Jack rolls onto his back and runs his left hand over his face and through his hair to try and fight off the remnants of sleep. And he feels it of course, the lack of it, no metal ring gliding over his skin. 

As he sits up he opens his hand to look at his ring. He feels so fucking melodramatic now. It’s a ring. She’s been dead for over five years. It should have come off a long time ago. It’s not like he has to get rid of it. He just won’t be wearing it anymore. And yet he can’t let go of all those emotions. 

He goes to grab the baby monitor from the nightstand, vaguely wondering why the volume is turned so low but it’s not there. He’s confused for a minute but then it hits him. He left it by the sink. Your son was so quiet and he was so exhausted when he forced himself off the kitchen floor that he just left it there. So who fucking knows how long your son has been awake and crying. After it processes completely it jolts him awake, has him setting his ring on the nightstand and all but running to your son’s room, berating himself further the entire way. 

Jack cannot believe he did that. Forgot the monitor. Left your son nearly alone effectively. Him crying is bad enough but what if something had happened? What if he had started choking? What if someone had broken in? What if he’s been in there for fucking hours crying so long he’s going to get sick now? What if you’d come home to Jack passed out in bed and your son crying? How could you ever forgive him? Ever trust him again? More guilt surges through him and it’s enough to make him teary again because you trust him with your son and he forgot the monitor and your son is one and won’t understand why nobody came for him. Why Jack didn’t come for him. Why Jack left him in there crying alone. 

“Hi Baby,” Jack calls to your son as he opens the door and flicks the light on. “I’m so sorry Bud. I hope you weren’t in here upset for too long.” Your son starts to calm the second he hears Jack’s voice and sees him, small arms reaching up towards Jack asking to be picked up. The big alligator tears rolling down his face make Jack’s heart ache as he picks him up, chubby hands grabbing at Jack’s shirt while Jack settles him against his chest. 

Jack bounces slightly, cupping the back of your son’s head with the hand not holding him, thumb brushing back and forth soothingly. “I’m so sorry Honey.” He turns his head and kisses your son’s temple a few times. He’s stopped crying, he did pretty much as soon as he was in Jack’s arms, just the occasional sniffles and small hiccupped breaths as he settles back down. “I’ve got you. I’m sorry, I really am, and I’m here now, I’ve got you.” 

He settles into the rocking chair that’s there in the nursery and rocks with your son, presses a few more kisses to his head, breathing in the scent of baby shampoo. It calms him. Jack keeps whispering to your son, that he’s sorry and he’s here and everything’s okay and he’ll never do that again. Jack glances at his watch. It hasn’t actually been that long, really it’s been about the length of time your son usually naps for, so it’s unlikely he was crying for that long, right? Unless today was the day he couldn’t sleep and woke up earlier. There’s no way to know and Jack hates it, can only hope he woke up quickly and as soon as your son started crying. 

Your son rests quietly on his chest, hand playing with Jack’s shirt a bit to keep himself occupied, cooing and babbling to himself a little occasionally. It’s comforting, holding him like this and rocking. Jack knows he’s doing this more to soothe himself than your son who’s pretty much completely unbothered now. 

Jack thinks about what precipitated his passing out without the monitor as he holds your son close, namely his ring and the dove. 

Jack knows it was some kind of sign from her and the universe. The whole thing. He doesn’t care how it sounds. He knows it was her blessing. Her way of telling him she’s happy for him and he should be happy too and not feel guilty. And he wishes his guilt could be erased that easily, by a dove and his ring coming off. But it can’t. And it lingers. And Jack is so glad he has someone who understands and won’t hold it against him. Because he’s sure he won’t be out of this funk by the time you get home.    

Even though he knows you’ll understand and won’t hold it against him he still hates that he’s going to be a bit off with you, especially when you just started your relationship officially yesterday. Yes, you cried into him last night from grief but it feels different. Jack brought up pet names and asked a question specifically about your husband. That made you think of your husband. This is his ring falling off. Something that needed to happen anyway. His reaction could easily make it seem like he’s not ready for this or isn’t fully ready to commit to you and let her go in a way. And he doesn’t want you to think that because it’s not true. He is ready for this, he wants this with you so badly, wants you and he is ready to commit to you. He’s been ready and patiently waiting for you. 

He knows he needs to try and get out of his head. Your son starting to chew on his shirt pulls him out of his thoughts. 

“You hungry, little man? Want a snack? A real one, because my shirt isn’t going to do much for you.” Jack looks down at your son and pulls him away from his chest gently. “No it’s not,” he says in a bit of a baby voice, smiling and shaking his head at your son. “It can’t taste very good either.” 

Your son giggles up at Jack at his voice and the way he shakes his head, hands reach for Jack’s face. Jack playfully takes one of your son’s hands and brings it up, mouths at it and makes fake eating noises just to pull more laughter. Jack releases the hand and brings your son up a little closer, leans into him and kisses at his cheeks dramatically, tickling his face with his stubble and his hand on your son’s tummy. It earns him more pealing laughter and makes him smile widely at your son. He loves making your son laugh, could spend all day making him laugh. He loves making your son happy and hearing your son’s laugh helps him, makes him happier and relax a bit. It’s damn near audible serotonin. 

Your son’s eyes shine and he looks so happy, like Jack’s the best thing in the whole world and Jack doesn’t feel like he deserves it in the moment. But he tries to shove that aside to just focus on your son. Your son seems to love eye contact as much as Jack does so it’s easy to catch his gaze and talk to him softly, earnestly, almost achingly so. “I love you Honey, so so much. I hope you know that.”

And he does. Jack loves your son like he’s Jack’s own. Jack, like you, would walk straight into a burning building and through flames for him, would jump in front of a car for him, anything, without a second thought, he’d just do it. Instinctually. And if, god forbid, something ever happened to your son, Jack would bleed himself dry donating his O- blood to your son if that’s what was needed. 

Your son babbles at him in response, smiling at Jack and laughing while clapping his hands. Jack laughs with him and then sighs contentedly. “Alright, you. Let’s get you changed and then get a snack and text mommy and we’ll figure out the rest after, okay?”

Jack’s quick to get your son changed and out to the kitchen, turning off the monitor where it sits by the sink and shaking his head at himself. He’s nervous about telling you, about your reaction. He’d understand if you didn’t trust him with your son anymore, if it somehow ruined things. He just really hopes you still will trust him and nothing is ruined. He can pretty much assure you he’ll never do it again.

Once he has your son squared away with a snack and some water in his highchair Jack sits at the table next to him and texts you. Not telling you what happened never even crossed his mind. He debates calling you instead but he doesn’t want to interrupt your workday more than he has to.  

J - I’m so so sorry. I fell asleep and accidentally left the monitor in the other room. I woke up to him crying and I have no idea how long he was crying for. He calmed as soon as I picked him up and is okay now. Having a snack and some water. But I totally get if you don’t trust me with him anymore and don’t want me watching him by myself anymore. I’m so sorry

Jack stares at his phone waiting for your reply. He knows you’re at work and busy and it might be a bit before you even see that he texted you let alone have the time to read his message and reply. And he knows you might not even want to reply. He’s just praying that you give him something so he knows that you know what happened. 

You do. You don’t even take that long all things considered, it’s only a minute or so before those three dots appear. 

You - Hey, it’s okay, you have nothing to apologize for. I’ve done the same thing more than once, I promise

You - All that matters is he’s okay. Not surprised he calmed down as soon as you picked him up, he’s so enamored with you! 

You - And of course I still trust you with him. I’ve seen you with him and how aware of him you are and how in tune, so if I had to bet, I’d say he wasn’t crying long at all before it woke you up. And even if he had been crying for a while, it’s okay. I’d still trust you. Like I said, I’ve done it before more than once. It’s just one of those things that happens. Especially if you need a nap just as bad as he does!

Jack lets out a sigh of relief reading your texts. His head is still a fucking mess from everything and he hasn’t forgiven himself for this, he’s just so good at compartmentalizing it’s all in a box on a shelf to deal with later. 

J - Okay. I really am sorry though and I can pretty much guarantee you it won’t happen again

You reply quickly. 

You - It’s really okay, try not to feel bad about it. I know it’s not that easy but just know that I’m not upset or anything 

A few seconds later before Jack can respond there’s another message from you. 

You - You otherwise okay? 

Of course you’d pick up on it and know. Of course you’d worry about him. It makes Jack feel so good to know there’s someone out there who cares about him that much, who he’s that important to in a non-platonic sense. But at the same time part of him hates that he didn’t hide it better, that he’s worrying you and burdening you with himself. 

J - Yeah, just been a day kind of

J - Mentally. Nothing to do with him

He glances up at your son as he waits to see if you reply. “Good stuff?” he laughs, your son having devoured the cheerios Jack gave him. “Want some more?” Your son giggles and claps a bit as Jack pours some more out for him. “You’re the best, you know that Bud?”

You - I’m sorry, Jack. We can talk tonight if you want but don’t have to of course. Just know I’m here for you for whatever. I think I’ll probably be able to leave a little early today too

Jack bites his lip. He doesn’t know if he wants to talk about it, or how much he wants to talk about it. 

J - I know. And okay but don’t rush home on my account 

He sets his phone off to the side and turns his focus back to your son, scooting a bit closer to him. “Oh, thank you,” Jack chuckles when your son offers him a cheerio in his tiny pincer grasp and Jack lets him feed it to him, much to your son’s delight. He does it a few more times and Jack takes every cheerio offered until the two of them have eaten them all. 

Jack takes your son to the living room, sets him down on the floor and gets down to play with him. If you end up being able to leave work a bit early it really won’t be too long before you’re home. 

Playing with your son is a good distraction until it’s not and the walls of the box he’d put everything in start to crumble and all his feelings and guilt from earlier flood his mind. Jack’s at least able to focus on both your son and those feelings at once, not outwardly showing any distress or being off with your son or suddenly less interactive. The feelings just eat away at him inside. The guilt. 

Jack’s not even that aware of time passing until he hears your key in the door. “Hi!” you call out as you walk in and set your stuff down, kick out of your shoes. You’re glad to be home and done with the week and so excited to have a weekend with Jack. You walk into your living room and smile at the sight of Jack and your son on the floor together playing. 

“Hey,” Jack calls back. He lowers his voice as you walk into the room. “Who is that?” he asks your son, “Mommy home?” Your son claps and gets excited, starts to crawl over to you but doesn’t get super far. “How was your day?” 

“Oh you know,” you sigh. “Work.” Jack laughs softly. “How was your guys’ day?” You walk over to pick up your son. He’s still close to Jack and without even being fully conscious of it you run a hand through Jack’s hair affectionately before grabbing your son, picking him up and peppering his face with kisses, cooing at him softly that you missed him and you love him and did he have a good day with Jack.

Jack clears his throat as he stands up and walks over to sit on the couch. “Oh you know,” he repeats your words with a similar sigh, only his has an edge to it that concerns you. “You know.” 

You turn to really look at Jack as he sits on the couch and he hates the way your face drops when you see him. You can tell he cried at some point today and you’re guessing it happened before he fell asleep without the monitor. Your brows furrow together, eyes widening slightly in concern. Jack shakes his head and sighs, ready to apologize for ruining your mood and Friday night. But you speak first. 

“Jack?” You walk over and sit on the couch with your son on your lap near him, but leave a cushion between you in case he wants space. You’re worried about him, quite a lot. You’ve never seen him look this sad and almost lost. “What’s wrong honey?” 

Jack isn’t sure how to even begin to answer because it feels so ridiculous. You’ve had your rings off for a long time. He bets you weren’t like this when you took them off. And even if you were it was so close to when he died and you were pregnant. 

Jack doesn’t know what to say so he doesn’t say anything and just holds up his left hand. Your eyes slowly leave his and move to his hand. It doesn’t take you long to notice. And Jack can see it on your face the second you realize. Your eyes go back to his. 

“You took your wedding ring off.”

Jack brings his hand down and sighs, shaking his head. “I didn’t really take it off so much as it fell off while I was doing the dishes.” He looks down at his hand. “It’s on my nightstand, it didn’t get lost in the pipes or anything. I just…” He shrugs. He wants to look back up at you but he can’t bring himself to for some reason. “I didn’t expect it. I’ve done the dishes for over five years, scrubbed my hands at work and it never came off. But today it did. And the worst part is I didn’t even notice when it did. I didn’t realize it until I was drying my hands.”

You’re quiet as you try to think of what to say, what you would want to hear if you were in Jack’s position. And you’re trying to shove the massive guilt that’s hit you aside because this isn’t about you. This is about Jack. But if he hadn’t been doing your and your son’s dishes his ring wouldn’t have come off. It feels like it’s your fault somehow. 

“I… Jack I’m so sorry you didn’t get to do it on your own terms.” You want to move closer to him, rest your hand on him and squeeze reassuringly or hold his hand. But you’re not sure if he’d want that. “You can put it back on, Jack. If you need to or want to. That’s okay.”

Jack had a feeling you’d say that. And he can see in the way you shift a little that you want to be closer to him but aren’t sure if he’d want that. He’s not really sure either now that you’re talking about what happened and it’s all that’s in his mind again. “No.” He shakes his head. “No, it needed to come off. My therapist and I have talked about it. A lot,” he laughs dryly. He forces himself to look at you. “Especially recently, because it’s not fair to you. For us to be together and me to be wearing her ring-”

You’re shaking your head as he speaks and you have to interrupt him. “It’s not unfair to me Jack. It’s just not about fairness in general. I get it, you know I do.” And you do. But you can’t lie to yourself and say it wouldn’t be a little hard to see him put it back on, date him while he wears her ring. You’d never say that though and you imagine you don’t really have to. That Jack just knows because he can put himself in the same position. “If you’re not ready to have it off Jack, that’s okay. I promise.” And you do promise, because even if he did put it back on you would be okay with it even if it was a little hard. 

“I am. It’s been over five years. It needed to come off, truly. It was time.” You can see his eyes get a little glassy and it makes your heart ache for him. You know he must have sobbed about it and you hate that he was alone. Because you know what it’s like. You know what it’s like to suddenly no longer have your wedding ring on and be alone when it happens. You have no idea if he’d have wanted you around when he did it but at least he could have had the option. “I was thinking about it anyway. I was going to try to do it this weekend.” Jack bites his trembling lip and looks down for a moment before looking back up at you, the tears now visible in his eyes. “I just thought I’d get to do it. That it would be this intentional thing and I could talk to her while I did it, you know?”

You let out a shuddery breath and feel tears prick the back of your eyes. “Yeah,” you whisper, “I know. And I’m so sorry you didn’t get that Jack.”

Jack takes a breath and shrugs at you, all the emotion disappearing from his face for a second leaving him stone faced. “Stop apologizing. You have nothing to apologize for.” Jack’s eyes fall down to your son as he starts to babble and wiggle against you more before Jack can see your slight flinch at his words. His tone was sharper than he meant or realized. Colder. He almost sounded annoyed. 

You swallow hard. Both of you knew there would be some really difficult moments during your relationship. Days where the grief was all-consuming and the guilt eating you alive. You just didn’t expect one quite this early on while things are still so new. It’s okay that it is one, just unexpected. “Okay, I’m-” You stop yourself before you apologize again and Jack knows it, looks up at you and gives you the smallest amused smile. It falls quickly though when he sees how upset you are. He hates that he’s the cause. “I, you, um,” you let out a breath, “you’re of course welcome to stay here, always Jack, I hope you know that. And I’m here for you and this if that’s what you need. If you want to talk about, or be close or whatever it is that would help you. I don’t want it to sound like I want you to leave. Of course I’d like you to be here but more than that I want whatever you need and is best for you. I just, it’s also okay if you need to go home, Jack. Be alone and have some time to yourself. Time with her. Go visit her, maybe, if you think that would help.”

You look down at your son while you give Jack time to think, shift him on your lap a little and bounce him on your legs, earning you some squealing laughter. 

“Maybe,” Jack finally says. “I don’t know.” He’s not sure what would be better. The thought of being home and alone with his thoughts sounds awful. But maybe some of the guilt would pass if he wasn’t here with you as terrible as he knows that sounds and is. He doesn’t know. His brain just doesn’t know. He’s paralyzed in a way he hasn’t been in a long time. 

“That’s okay, it’s okay to not know.” You glance around the room as you keep bouncing your knees for your son. You’re trying to think of anything that might help him. Emotionally or just help him figure out what he wants and needs. “He and I can go into my room and give you some space, or go take a walk if that would help?”

Jack shakes his head, frowning at the ideas. “No. This is your house. I’m not confining you to a room in your own house or making you leave.”

“You’re not making me do anything Jack, I’m offering.”

“No.” He’s firm in his answer. “Maybe,” he swallows hard, “maybe I should go for a walk.” He’s not sure if being alone with his thoughts is a good idea but maybe a walk would at least clear his mind a bit. But he also feels bad about it, like he’s just leaving you as soon as he’s struggling with grief. He knows it’s a little more than just normal struggling, but still. He doesn’t want to be that guy, doesn’t want you to feel like you don’t help or he doesn’t want your comfort. 

You’re quiet for a moment, looking down at your son and pulling him up when he wants to stand and bounce on your legs. He’s getting close to walking. You’re not upset that Jack wants to leave and needs space, you’re not sad or hurt. It’s not that. You’re worried because you know how hard it is. How one thing in particular can seem like the best answer.

“Jack,” you whisper, force yourself to look at him so he understands your question. “Are you going to come back?” He nods. Jack understands what your question means. Is he suicidal. He hadn’t even thought about it really. It hadn’t crossed his mind as something to do now, largely, he thinks, because he has you and your son. But Jack hates the fact that he made you worry like that. About losing someone else. “Because you really need to come back, Jack.” You’re still whispering. “Even if it’s not to me.” 

Somehow Jack’s heart breaks a little more. “Hey,” he says softly, tilting his head at you. He reaches out and rests a hand just above your knee. “I didn’t even think about that. I’m going to come back, Sweetheart. To you.” He squeezes your thigh as he speaks, hoping his touch and the honesty he’s trying to project through his eyes will reassure you. “I think I should just try a walk and see if it clears my head or helps me decide what I want to do.”

You nod at him. “Okay. I hope it’ll help.” Jack nods at you and you let out a small breath as he gets up and makes his way to the front door. “Just, um, take your phone? Please. And be safe.” 

Jack smiles at you, lets out the softest laugh through his nose. “I’ve got it, yeah. And I will be.” He turns and rests a hand on the door handle but then turns back to you. “I don’t want you to think this means I’m not ready, or that I can’t be in a relationship with you. Because it doesn’t. I just didn’t expect it and-”

“Hey,” you cut him off gently, “I think a really big and meaningful thing on the grieving the loss of a spouse, I don’t know, checklist, for lack of a better word, happened unexpectedly today and so you’re having a really bad grief day. That’s okay. Those days will happen for both of us. And if on your walk you realize you aren’t ready or can’t be in a relationship with me that’s okay too.”

“I won’t.” He shakes his head. “Because even with all these thoughts and feelings and whatever else right now I feel ready and I want to be in a relationship with you. I just need to try and work it out in my head.” Jack takes in a shuddery breath. He feels like such an asshole for doing this to you. “I’m sorry for dumping all of this and then running.”

“You have nothing to apologize for, Jack. I don’t feel like you’re dumping anything. Or like you’re running.” You give him a small smile. “You’re taking a walk to clear your head. That’s healthy.”

“I’ll be back tonight. Even if I decide I need to spend some time at my place, okay?”

You nod at him and he turns back and opens the door, stepping out and locking it behind him so you don’t have to get up. You straighten out on the couch so that you’re facing the TV, holding your son close just like Jack did earlier in the day but letting him stay standing on your legs. 

You hate yourself for it but you start crying. Of course you start crying. You feel like you’re totally usurping Jack’s grief and feelings or using them and him somehow but you can’t stop the tears even as your son bounces on you and giggles. They’re not even for yourself, not really. They’re for Jack and how fucking badly you know he’s hurting right now, how much he’s missing her, how guilty in every way he’s feeling, how conflicted he is. Because you’ve been there since you met him. More than once. And you understand. You know your situations aren’t identical and you’d never say you understand perfectly or completely know what he’s going through but on a fairly deep level you understand. You know the emotions and how easily they can swallow you. You cry because you care so much about Jack and hate that he’s hurting and that you can’t do anything to make it better. 

Jack has no idea where he’s walking to. He considered your suggestion for a moment, going to see her. He knows that’s a kind of fucked up luxury he has. He can just go and visit her whenever he wants. You can’t go visit your husband easily like that. He’s in Arlington, a four hour drive away. And he knows you love that and are glad he’s honored there but he’s sure it hurts at times. It’s actually one piece of this he really can’t imagine. He can’t imagine not being able to go see her whenever he wanted.

But Jack decides visiting her right now doesn’t quite feel right. So he just walks. And walks. And walks. It all runs through his head again. Every emotion and feeling and scrap of guilt. He’s not even really fully aware of the conversation he’s having with himself in his head, of how he’s trying to process. He just doesn’t fight anything and lets it happen.

He’s so completely in his head and on auto-pilot that Jack doesn’t even know where he is or how he got here when he stops walking as he hits the entrance to a park. It kind of freaks him out how he doesn’t remember walking here but he just rolls with it, walks into the park and along the trail until he spots a bench a little off the path near some bushes. 

More than anything at this point, Jack finds himself struggling with the guilt. He feels guilty for doing this to you. For dropping this big emotional thing on you that clearly upset you for him and just leaving. For making you wonder if he was going to come back or if you’d never see him again and be stuck with another loss and cleaning out his clothes and belongings that are at your place just like you had to with your husband’s. For scaring you like that. For forgetting the monitor and letting your son cry. 

He knows that in some sense this guilt will be easier to let go. That it really will fade almost completely with time because he can spend time with you. He can apologize and reassure you. You guys can make new happy and fun memories, smile and laugh together.

Jack knows that’s not true for the rest of his guilt. His guilt for not noticing his ring coming off. For not putting it back on. For letting that piece of her go. His guilt for moving on with you even when he knows that’s what she would want, is what he would want for her. And he thought about that each time he was deployed and made her a video just in case he didn’t come back. He always told her. Grieve and then find someone else to share your life with and be happy with. He wanted that for her. But now that he’s here having to be the one to do it, it feels like some form of betrayal in a way. How could he possibly ever get over her? Jack knows it’s not really about getting over. Because he couldn’t really, in the same way you could never truly get over your husband. It’s not a breakup. Nobody chose to end the relationship. It was ripped away. 

But he knows it’s not betrayal. He knows that being with you, falling in love with you, doesn’t mean he doesn’t love her anymore, doesn’t diminish how much he loves her. Doesn’t make her some figure in his past that he’ll slowly come to think of less and less until he forgets her. He could never forget her and a part of him will always love her. He doesn’t think he could go a single day without thinking of her even if only for a second. And Jack knows that you would never let him. That if the day came where he started losing his memory that you’d be right by his side with pictures of the two of you and your family together but also with pictures of her and her and him together, tell him all the stories he’s told you about her. 

He knows it’s not betrayal and this is what she would want but it’s so fucking hard at times. He wishes he could just call her. Or that she had left a video telling him to grieve and find someone else. Maybe hearing it directly from her would help. But he can’t and she didn’t. All he has is a dove on your windowsill and while it feels so strongly like a sign and her blessing it’s hard to hold onto that belief at times. 

Jack lets out a long breath and closes his eyes, tips his head back and feels what’s left of the heat from the sun and the slight breeze across his face. He should head back soon so he doesn’t get back after dark. Or at least text you that he’s okay and still walking if it does get dark. But he still doesn’t know what to do. Doesn’t know what he needs. Whether to go back to his house for the night or even the weekend. 

He thinks he’s having an auditory hallucination when he first hears it. That coo of a dove. Jack opens his eyes slowly and brings his head back down. And sure enough there on the opposite end of the bench is a mourning dove. He gives a short laugh of disbelief. So he’s having a visual hallucination too, great. Because this can’t be real. And it especially can’t be real when the dove moves and Jack recognizes it as the same one that was on the windowsill. That line of black feathers just above one of its eyes too unique to be a different bird. 

But then a kid who must be four or five yells “Look mommy! A bird!” as they point to the bench. The kid’s mom looks over and nods, says something Jack can’t hear to her daughter. 

Jack tells himself to be relieved that he’s not hallucinating. But it just feels like too much, in every sense. It’s too perfect to be true and mean anything. But it’s also way too coincidental and on point to mean nothing. Right? 

The dove gives a soft coo and then tilts its head to one side as it looks at Jack, eyes almost squinting. He swears it’s a really? look that he’s given Robby a thousand times. Like really the dove had to come find him again to give him the same message. So maybe he is hallucinating. Might as well go full send then. “I’m not convinced that you’re not some very realistic fucking animatronic dove Robby’s controlling off in some fucking bush to try and help me,” Jack huffs and rolls his eyes, doesn’t believe a word of what he’s saying but still.

He can’t believe he’s actually fucking talking to the dove now. Joking with it. He has to laugh at himself and the dove coos a few times as he does, ruffling its feathers again. Jack rubs his face with his hands and shakes his head before looking back at the dove. He bites his lip when he feels that pressure behind his eyes. He won’t cry. Not with this dove. That’s the line. That has to be the fucking line. 

Jack and the dove just look at each other for a few minutes. Maybe it’s true, likely it’s Jack forcing himself to believe it, but it feels like sitting in her presence. He presses his lips in a line as they tremble slightly. “Yeah?” It’s a loaded question. 

He can’t believe he actually just asked that out loud. To the dove. The random bird in a park on a bench. Like it really means something. Like it’s actually her. But Jack wants to believe it is. He wants that comfort. Wants that sign. And he tells himself that’s okay. That it’s human. That humans have been looking for and seeing signs in all sorts of things forever. Jack needs to believe in this. And so he gives himself this and lets himself believe.

The dove coos back at him once. Jack smiles and shakes his head. After a few more coos at Jack the dove flies off. He watches it fly off, laughing as a few tears leak out of his eyes. He brings his head back down and rests his elbows on his knees, holds his face in his hand for a second and gives himself a single muffled sob through his laughter. Because the dove isn’t here now. He’s not crying with the dove. 

He wants to tell you. Jack needs to tell you. And maybe you’ll think he’s totally off the fucking rocker and break it off and that’ll be the real sign. He has a feeling you won’t though. 

Jack wipes his eyes and sniffles and then stands up. He walked on auto-pilot for so long that he actually has to use his phone to get directions to point him in the direction of your place. He feels much better, as kind of crazy as that fact makes him feel. He’ll stay at yours tonight. The whole weekend if you’ll let him. 

Eventually you force yourself to get up. The tears have at least lessened if not stopped completely. You take your son into your room with you and set him on the floor for a second while you change quickly. You don’t know what to do with yourself. Taking a walk with your son crosses your mind but you don’t want to accidentally run into Jack and have him feel like you’re stalking him or can’t give him space. You’re just restless. 

You could go to the park a few blocks up. You doubt Jack is going to go there if he’s taking a walk, it’s not a huge park you can really walk through. But still. You shouldn’t risk it. You sigh and pick your son up, head back to the living room and get down on the floor to play with him like Jack was. You feel like a terrible mother for not giving your son your full attention since you’ve been home so you do your best to go completely into mom mode and forget about everything but your son. 

Two or so hours pass and Jack still isn’t back. You head to the kitchen and put your son in his highchair, get some dinner ready for him. You consider making something for yourself and maybe Jack but you’re not even remotely hungry. You’re vaguely nauseous if anything. But at least the tears have truly stopped and you put in some eyedrops so your eyes hopefully won’t completely give you away when you see Jack again. You don’t want him to feel like you’re taking his trauma and struggle for yourself. 

You’re helping your son eat dinner when you hear the lock turn over and your front door open. It makes your heart rate pick up quite noticeably. You have no idea if the walk will have helped at all, if he’s going to just run in to tell you he’s leaving for tonight or the weekend or forever. Because you can’t help but catastrophize. You don’t even know whether to call out a greeting. But when he doesn’t offer one as he locks the door behind him you figure you shouldn’t either. 

“Hey,” Jack greets you as he walks into the kitchen, kissing the top of your head as he walks by before doing the same to your son who squeals in excitement at seeing Jack. He sounds much better. Happier.

You freeze for a second. It’s not what you expected so it catches you a little off guard. “Hey,” you reply, tracking Jack as he sits down at the table across from you, baby at the end in the middle. He looks lighter. He’s been crying at least a little but he looks lighter and happier and like he found some answers and worked things out and is almost at peace. It gives you whiplash for a few seconds before Jack’s eyes leave your son and turn back to you, that intense gaze of his helping to ground you. He flashes you one of those smiles of his that gives you butterflies. “The walk helped I take it?”

“It did,” he nods at you, still smiling. “Well, actually, it wasn’t really the walk, it was a bird.”

You raise your eyebrows and smile back at him, confusion ghosting your features. “A bird?”

“A bird,” he confirms. “The whole thing is going to sound insane, and like I said yesterday, if you want to kick me out forever at the end I’ll get it. And I’m sorry.” Jack softens a little. “I know you’re going to say don’t be, but I am.”

“And like I said yesterday I very much doubt that’s how I’ll react.” You give him a small smile and turn to help your son finish his dinner. “And you’re right, I’m going to say don’t be sorry because you have nothing to be sorry for. You didn’t do anything to be sorry for.” You glance over at him with a knowing smile. 

“Still am,” he teases and you roll your eyes affectionately. “What do you want to order for dinner?”

You laugh a little. “How do you know I didn’t make myself something and eat already?” 

Jack doesn’t miss a beat. “You never eat when you’re stressed or worried or anxious.” He shrugs. “It worries me sometimes.”

“I-” you start, but have to stop. He’s right. You never eat when you’re stressed. The fact that he cares about you enough to have noticed and have it worry him isn’t missed by your brain and it makes you feel warm all over.

“You know I’m right.” Jack smirks at you. 

“Doesn’t mean I have to like it,” you grumble at him, but have to smile at the sound of his soft laugh. You help your son finish the last bite of his dinner and shrug at Jack. “I don’t know. Whatever you want. Nothing sounds particularly good or bad.” You stand up and grab a pack of baby wipes, start using one to clean your son’s face. 

“I’ve got it, you grab him,” Jack murmurs once your son is clean. 

“No, you take him. You already washed all of this once today. I’ve got it this time.” You turn your attention to your son. “And you want to go see Jack, don’t you Baby?” Your son laughs, holds his arms up and makes grabby hands at both of you really, looking between you and Jack, but eventually settling on Jack. “You really going to tell that face no?” You click your tongue at Jack. 

“I could never,” Jack hums as he picks your son up. “And he knows it.” He bounces your son in his arms a little, smiling at him and making faces. He glances over at you as he does. “Nauseous?” 

You pause before setting the tray in the sink and starting to wash it. You don’t know why you’re surprised. The man clearly knows you and he’s a doctor. There’s probably some outward physical symptoms you were displaying. “A little,” you simper at him, “but it’s passing.” 

“Good.” Jack sits back down with your son and orders something quickly, the lightest of your favorite dishes. “Food’ll be here in twenty.” 

“You didn’t have to do that Jack.” You shoot him a look from the sink. 

“Wanted to.” You shake your head at him with a little smile and bite of your lip as Jack adjusts your son to bounce on him. “Honestly, I had this whole little cooking lesson date at home idea where he and I were going to go pick up ingredients and then when you got home we’d cook and I’d show you things and wear him or he’d chill in his highchair and then… my ring fell off and kind of derailed everything.” The end of the sentence is much quieter than the beginning. 

You look at Jack as you finish drying the tray and set it on the counter. He’s still focused on your son. As much as he’s feeling better he clearly still has some stuff lingering under the surface. “That’s a very sweet idea. I’m sure we can do it someday soon.”

“Yeah.” He nods and glances at you, gives you an uncharacteristically shy smile. “Anyway, I figure once the food is here and we’ve eaten and put him down for the night we could talk? And I could tell you about the bird. A dove, specifically.” 

“I’d like that.” You nod at him and drape the dish towel back over the oven handle and go back and sit across from your boys at the table. “A mourning dove?”

“Mhmm.” Jack confirms, making a face at your son and then tickling his tummy. They’re common enough that he’s not surprised you guessed it.

“Your wife’s favorite,” you say softly, giving Jack an understanding smile when he looks up at you. 

Jack blinks at you for a solid thirty seconds. It strikes him that you said it. As in you didn’t ask it. You said it because you know it’s true. You know they’re her favorite. He must have talked about it once and you remembered. You remembered. “Yeah.” Jack nods, a little dazed. 

Your smile widens a little. “You’re not the only one who notices and remembers things Sweetheart,” you tease him lightly. 

Jack huffs a laugh and rolls his eyes playfully, but his smile makes clear how he really feels. How touched he is. The two of you chat for a bit until the food arrives. Once it does you eat at the table together, your son happy to hang out in his highchair next to you both. You get him down for the night while Jack clears the table and wipes it down. And then you meet him on the couch. 

You pause for a second, unsure of where you should sit. As of late you and Jack have been sitting side by side on the couch and so normally you would just take the seat next to him and not think about it. But you’re not sure where he’s at tonight, if he wants you that close. 

He pats the seat next to him. “Here, please. If you want. It’s okay if you don’t.” 

“No, I do,” you nod as you walk over and sit next to him, put the monitor on the coffee table, “I just wasn’t sure where you were with it tonight.” 

“I appreciate you thinking about it, but I’d like you close. I like having you close.” 

“I, I like having you close too,” you admit with a shy smile and slightly lowered head. You both shift on the couch so that you’re slightly angled and can see each other.

 “I’m going to preface this all by saying I know how crazy and ridiculous some of this is going to sound. But I just… want to believe it. Need to. So I’m trying to let myself. And maybe that’s not the healthiest way to deal with everything, but I can try and figure that out with my therapist later.” You nod and give him an encouraging smile. 

And so Jack begins. He starts with what happened with his ring, finding it. He spells out all of the emotions and guilt and feelings he’s had throughout the day. There are tears from him, moments where you pull him close and let him cry into your neck and chest while you rub his back and kiss his curls. You reassure him at the right times, express your understanding of his feelings and especially of a lot of the guilt. 

Then he finally moves to the dove. He tells you about both instances, at the windowsill and the park and you listen, nod at times and smile. You don’t look at him like he’s crazy or like you’re just putting up with this until he stops talking and you can free yourself. You squeeze his hand and laugh with him when he does. 

Jack shrugs at the end. Even though your reaction has been nothing but positive as you listened he’s still worried about what you’ll have to say. Still feels exceptionally vulnerable. “So, yeah. That’s the story of the bird I guess,” he laughs weakly, clearly somewhat embarrassed. He squeezes your hand that he’s holding to tell you he’s ready to hear what you have to say.

“Oh Jack,” you sigh, squeezing his hand back. His heart races a little faster. He’s not sure what to make of your sigh. “I don’t think there’s any part of that story, of anything you just told me, that’s crazy or ridiculous or insane.” 

Jack lets out a long breath. “Thank you,” he whispers. 

“Nothing to thank me for Sweetheart, I’m being honest with you. That’s what I think.”

“No I know, but…” Jack trails off, not really sure where he wanted to take that sentence. 

“I know.” You nod at him for a second. Now that you have that out there and Jack has relaxed you take a minute to gather your thoughts. Jack can tell it’s what you’re doing by the look in your eye as you keep your eyes fixed on a spot on the wall. Once you have a rough idea of what you want to say you look back at him. “I think it’s like you said Jack. Humans search for meaning and signs in everything. It’s normal. Especially in this context. And I think that if that wasn’t a sign from her then nobody in history has ever truly received a sign from anybody or anything because what happened with that dove was, I don’t even know how to describe it. Intense? Overly coincidental? I guess I don’t know how anyone could have that happen and think it meant nothing and was just two random things that happened at a very specific time with no significance.”

“Okay, good. I’m glad it wasn’t just me.” Jack lets out a bit of a groaned laugh and runs a hand through his hair. 

“Even if it was Jack, who the fuck cares? The only thing that matters is what it meant to you. How it made you feel. What you believe it is. Everyone else’s and the world’s opinions on it are irrelevant. Even mine. To be clear I’m with you on this, I promise. I’m just saying. Nobody but you will ever truly understand what all of that felt like so who is anyone to judge or tell you that your interpretation is wrong?” You shrug at him like it’s so simple. 

And in a way Jack guesses that it is. Because you’re right. Nobody else could ever truly understand. Not even you. “Yeah. I guess I was busy judging myself on behalf of the world about it and never really thought about it like that.” He tilts his head at you. “I’m really glad you don’t think I’m weird for it and that you understand. And uh,” he looks down and grows quieter, almost nervous, “we’re okay, right?” You know he’s asking if you still consider the two of you to be together, a couple.

You smile at him, lean in and press a lingering kiss to his forehead. “We’re more than okay, Jack,” you whisper against his skin, press another quick kiss there and pull back. 

“Good,” he breathes. You look at each other in a comfortable silence for a minute. “Have you,” Jack pauses and debates whether to finish his question. “Have you ever had something like that happen to you? You don’t have to answer either. I just wondered.” 

You raise your eyebrows. “Oh, well, I, um, yes. But not quite in the same way? I don’t know. He…” You look down at your lap and laugh softly to yourself before looking back up at Jack. “My husband, he used to give me daisies. All the time, for everything. Every big thing, anniversaries, birthdays, sometimes just because. Before we started dating I must have mentioned it once and so he actually showed up to our first date with a little bouquet of them, it was very sweet. I actually pressed one of them and have it still. Anyway, after I gave birth, when I was in the hospital I had ended up telling the nurses about him and what happened, and my doctor already knew. They felt bad, obviously, and so because I didn’t really have anyone to celebrate with they all went in on getting me some nice flowers.” You let out a bit of a shuddery breath, eyes a little glassy as you think back on the memory.

“It was a bouquet of daisies,” Jack murmurs. 

You smile at him and nod. “It was a bouquet of daisies,” you confirm. “And I asked the nurse who brought them in if there was a reason for daisies and she said when she went to buy them they just kind of called to her.” You shrug. “So, it’s not quite the same, but in the moment and even now I like to believe that he was somehow behind it and was there with us.”

As much as the memory warms Jack’s heart, parts of it break it too. He still hates the thought of you not having anyone, not having any support during labor and birth and after. Hates how your husband’s death was still pretty fresh for you. He can’t even begin to imagine. “I think he was,” Jack nods, reaching out and taking your hand, hoping it gives you some comfort and doesn’t feel weird. “Both behind it and there with you.”

“Thank you.” You nod at him. “Now whenever I see them I think of him, tell myself he’s saying hi.”

Jack nods and gives you a gentle smile. “He is.” 

After a few seconds you and Jack both shift at the same time, lean in and hug each other. “Thank you for trusting me with all of that. The story and your feelings. I’m really glad she helped you find some peace. I would be regardless of what it was about.”

“Thank you for listening and trusting me with the daisies.” He turns his head and presses a kiss to your temple. 

Neither of you have to say anything else. You both get it, understand exactly what it meant to the other and for the two of you as a couple. You settle against Jack a bit once you break the hug.  

The mood is still a little somber. You guess that’s how you would describe it. You tilt your head and pull it back a little, give Jack a small smirk and try to help pick the mood up. You hope it doesn’t backfire. “You want me to ask Robby the first time I meet him if he has a very realistic animatronic mourning dove that he follows you around with?” 

“Please!” Jack snorts a laugh, “I would love to see his coughed out ‘excuse me?’ and his panicked and concerned eyes looking at me for a second before he gives you the actual fucking nicest, ‘no, I can’t say that I do,’ while internally trying to figure out how he’s going to casually pull me aside nicely ask me ‘what the fuck?’”

You giggle with him as Jack laughs at the thought. “You know I could never, right? I’m way too shy and socially awkward around people I don’t know to do that.”

Jack laughs as he nods. He lets his laughter trail off and grows a touch more serious, the smile he’s giving you dripping with the adoration and affection and gratefulness he has for you. “I do know that, yes, it’s something I lo-” Jack catches himself, “really like about you.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Jack is right. Kind of. He doesn’t have to tell Dana and Robby. But they don’t even have to ask to know. Just looking at him is enough. 

“Did Dr. Abbot get divorced?” Trinity poses the question to the group at the hub. 

Nobody answers for a moment. Half the people there don’t know and the other half don’t really want to spread Jack’s business. 

Robby can feel the eyes of the half of the group that doesn’t know on him. He slowly raises his head and shoots them all a don’t gossip look. “No.” He looks at her a little longer. “What prompted that question?” 

Trinity shrugs. “He just used to wear a wedding ring and isn’t now.” 

The iPad in Robby’s hands drops the few inches to the counter as he spins to look at Jack, who apparently just arrived and is speaking with Dana. 

“You have a good weekend?” Dana asks as she looks at Jack over her glasses with a knowing smile. 

“I did, thank you Dana,” he says a little saccharinely. “Did you? Or did you have to work?”

“No I had it off. It was fine. Didn’t do much.” She tries to keep it casual but Jack can see right through it and it almost makes him laugh as he sets his phone on the counter and grabs a few things out of his backpack and puts them in his pockets. “What about you? Do anything fun?” 

You text him and when it wakes his phone Dana’s fast enough to glance down and see his new wallpaper. A photo of the three of you. She keeps her head down as she smiles to herself. 

“I did yeah.” Jack doesn’t offer anything more much to her apparent chagrin. She clocks his ringless left hand when he picks up his phone, her eyes widening and mouth dropping open for a second before she closes it and looks back up at him. Jack looks at her. He knows she knows. “I’m going to put my stuff away now.” 

“Yeah, okay.” She nods at him, watching him walk towards the lockers. Once he’s out of sight she spins. “Robby!” She flicks her head to beckon him and walks away from the hub in the middle of the floor. 

“He’s not wearing his ring.” Robby whispers. 

“I know. And his phone’s wallpaper is a picture of the three of them.” Dana nudges his arm as she says it. 

“Really?”

“Mhmm. Something must have happened.” Dana pauses and glances over Robby’s shoulder to see if Jack is walking back to the floor yet. “He said he had a good weekend and did something fun but he didn’t give any other details.” 

“He’s gonna have to figure out something to say to everyone because Santos already asked if he got divorced because he’s not wearing his ring.” Robby gives Dana a look. They both know Jack is private by nature, but that at the same time he would absolutely hate people thinking he got a divorce. 

“He is.” She nods. “You think we can get him to talk?” She moves her chin subtly to point where Jack is walking back on the floor. 

Robby shakes his head slightly. “I don’t know.” The two turn their attention to Jack, watching as he starts walking to the hub.

He can feel their eyes on him. And they’re not exactly subtle or trying to hide it. He looks at them for a second and stops walking.

Jack sighs before turning and walking into the breakroom. As much as he acts annoyed about it he really does kind of like it. He likes having two people he trusts to talk to you about and show you off to. 

He crosses his arms over his chest as Dana and Robby walk in. “Can I help the two of you?” They both just raise their eyebrows at him. “Aren’t you both off? Go home.” 

“Can’t.” Robby shakes his head and clicks his tongue at Jack. “Haven’t run the board with you yet.” 

Jack scoffs. “Then let’s go fucking run it.” He takes a couple of steps forward. 

“So it led to more?” Dana finally asks, getting Jack to stop walking and cross his arms back over his chest. 

Jack looks at her stoically. “Does it matter to the two of you?” 

“Ha!” Robby laughs. “Yeah it matters Jack! You’re not wearing your ring! It’s been over five years and you haven’t taken it off and now you have her in your life and it comes off? It absolutely matters. She matters! She’s important!”

There’s a little pang for Jack when Robby mentions his ring and his lips turn down for just a split second, but both Robby and Dana catch it. “I didn’t ask if she mattered or if it mattered generally. I asked if it mattered specifically to the two of you.” 

“It does Jack!” Dana smiles at him. “Like I said before, we want to see you happy and support you.”

Jack looks at the two of them for a second before taking a deep breath and settling his hands on his hips. “Yes, if you must know, there’s more than just friendship now.” He can’t fight off the smile that pulls onto his face as he says it. Nor does he really want to.

“Oh yeah?” Dana’s smile grows and she raises her eyebrows at him. 

“Are you like together?” Robby asks. “Like is she your girlfriend? Or is it like the dating stage before you make it official?” 

“Oh my god,” Jack mutters, shaking his head and looking away from them. “Yes, we’re together and she’s my girlfriend, okay?”

“Since when?” Dana beams at him. Jack knows how happy she is for him, knows she and Robby have seen him at his lowest and truly do just want him to be happy and are excited for him and care and are accordingly being affectionately nosey. 

“Really?” Jack sighs. 

“Has to be pretty recent, we’d have noticed otherwise,” Robby says to Dana. 

“Really, I guess,” Jack mutters to himself. “Thursday night, okay? Thursday night.”

“So I’m guessing you haven’t been out on a real date yet,” Dana hums at him. “It’s important to go on dates without the baby. Real dates.” 

“Yes, I know, thank you.” Jack gives her an exaggeratedly annoyed smile. 

“And do romantic things,” Robby adds.

“I do romantic things! I know to do them! I-” Jack huffs and shakes his head. “What the fuck even is this? I don’t need dating or relationship advice! And we’ve been together all of five days, can we all slow the fuck down?”

“Listen,” Dana starts. “I’m just saying. I’ve been in the baby phase before and I know I was married, but it can be easy to fall into a routine and always have him with you. So if you guys ever need a sitter, I’m more than happy to do that for you, okay?”

“I would be happy to as well,” Robby offers. 

Jack nods at them both as he considers. “Yeah, I kind of like that. The idea of his sitter being a medical professional. And I’ve thought about it before. How the two of you would be my preferred sitters. But,” he shrugs at them, trying a little too hard to look uneffected, “he’s not my kid, so it’s not my decision.” 

“For some reason I think she’d take your opinion into consideration pretty seriously.” Dana smirks at him. 

“This would, you know, require us meeting her,” Robby teases him. 

Jack stares at him. “Thank you for that very helpful insight Michael.” 

“I’m just saying.” Robby smirks a little and shrugs at Jack. 

“Yes,” Jack sings the word a little, “she would like to meet you both. We’ll get it set up. Figure out something to do.”

“Good.” Dana nods approvingly. “We’ll be on our best behavior to convince her to let us babysit for you guys. Won’t we Robinavitch?” 

“Why’d you say it like that?” Robby looks at her with mock offense. “Of course I will be.” 

“She’s going to like you.” Jack rolls his eyes at the two of them. “She’s shy though, has some social anxiety. So if she’s quiet and seems a bit reserved it’s just because she’s shy and it has nothing to do with you guys. She opens up more as she gets comfortable but she’s just quiet by nature. So it’s different.” He nods at both of them. They both know what he means. That you’re not extroverted like his wife. That you’re kind of the polar opposite in a way. Jack clears his throat. “Now is there any other part of my relationship you’d like to plan or be involved in? You wanna actually plan the dates too?” Jack asks pointedly, though there’s enough of a ghost of a smile on his face for the two to know he’s not actually mad.

There’s silence for a few seconds but then Robby apparently just can’t help himself. “You have condoms? You should keep one in your wa-”

“Robby!” Dana lightly smacks his arm with the papers she’s holding as Jack glares at Robby with a set face. “Really? Even for you!” Dana shakes her head at him, but it’s quite obvious to Jack she’s biting down a smile. And when she turns back to look at Jack she gives him the quickest flash of a he’s right though look. 

“What? I just like fucking with him sometimes!” Robby half laughs as he twists and moves his body away from Dana and her papers. He looks back at Jack. 

Once he and Robby have locked eyes Jack speaks. “I’m going to give Myrna your home address,” he deadpans so stone faced and stoically he can see Robby have the quickest flash of worry that he might actually do it.

“Oh come on I was joking!” Robby holds his hands out to his side. After a beat he gives the smallest shrug and lowers his voice. “Kind of.” 

“See,” Jack looks at Dana and waves towards Robby, “and I was going to offer to show you guys pictures and then Michael had to open his fucking mouth.”

“Woah woah woah!” Dana shakes her head and moves closer to Jack, holding her hands up in acquiescence. “Don’t punish me for his bullshit! I didn’t say anything. I just volunteered to babysit!”

Robby scoffs loudly. “Thank you Dana, for the solidarity. I’m really feeling it right now.”

“I actually do genuinely appreciate you offering, Dana. We may take you up on that soon. But she’s not going to let you do it for free,” Jack tells her in a much softer voice. He pulls his phone out and starts pulling up some photos to show her. 

“I can babysit too!” Robby offers. “I’m also a medical professional you know!” 

Jack flicks his eyes up to look at Robby, stone faced again. “That’s debatable.” 

“I made one joke! After being so supportive-”

“Shut up and get over here to look,” Jack cuts him off with a slight cock of his head to tell Robby he’s just fucking with him back and not actually upset. “And yes, we might ask you to babysit one day too.”

Jack brings up a few random photos of your son that he’s taken over the months while watching him, a few of him and your son. “God, he is just too fuckin cute,” Dana laughs. 

“The cutest.” Jack smiles fondly as he looks at your son. 

He brings up a few more of your son, a couple of you and your son. Then he hits Thursday. 

“This was on Thursday. It was his first birthday. We took him to the zoo.” Jack laughs softly as he looks at the photos. “He loves animals.” He offers his phone to Dana. “You can go through.” 

Dana does, her and Robby laughing sweetly at some of them and awing at others. She stops on a photo of a three of you that you’d had someone take. “Oh Jack,” Dana coos, “you guys look so happy. All three of you.” 

“Yeah.” Robby nods, smiles to himself. “And that little boy loves you.”

Jack flushes at that. He’s not really sure why but it makes him a little emotional. He watches as Dana flicks through some more photos. “He’s a year old, he’s hit the stage of liking anyone who gives him attention.” He has no idea why he’s downplaying it like he doesn’t absolutely fucking love the fact that your son loves him.

Jack doesn’t have to see Robby to know he’s rolling his eyes. It’s clear in his voice. “That is so not true Jack. And he loved you that first time we met him.” 

“He’s right,” Dana agrees, “babies can be pretty good judges of character. They’ll stay away from and cry around people they don’t like. And he did love you when we met. So just accept the boy loves you.” 

Jack just hums in response. It makes him smile though. He loves your son too. “And she’s beautiful, Jack. You can tell you make her happy.” Dana looks away from the phone and at Jack. 

“Yeah,” he murmurs, smiling as he looks down at you, “she makes me happy too.”

Dana and Robby share a look. “You know she’d be really happy for you Jack,” Robby says softly, talking about Jack’s wife. “She would want this for you.” 

“He’s right again,” Dana whispers, leaning into Jack and wrapping an arm around him and giving him his phone back. 

Jack leans into her in a silent thank you. “Two times in one day,” he says quietly, “someone better mark it on the calendar.” Robby huffs at him but Jack looks up and smirks at him for a second before giving Robby a genuine, slightly emotional smile and tipping his head at him. “Thank you, Robby.” Robby returns Jack’s smile with an identical one of his own. “And thank you,” he tells Dana as he bumps into her and returns her half hug. “Can we go run the board now?” 

“I think we can,” Robby nods, clapping Jack on the shoulder as they walk towards the door. “But hey,” Robby pauses by the door, opening it so Dana can walk out but looking at Jack who raises his eyebrows at him. “You weren’t serious about giving Myrna my address?”

Jack’s stoic look returns, not a hint of real emotion on his face. “Not today,” he deadpans and walks out. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“I feel ridiculous for being this emotional about something so simple. It’s just a haircut.” You shake your head but lean into Jack a bit more as you both stand and watch your son get his hair cut. 

He’s needed it. He has for a bit you’ve just struggled to bring yourself to do it and life got busy. But earlier this week you’d worked yourself up to it and asked Jack if the place he got his hair cut also did kids’ hair. He’d been a little surprised by the question, for some reason it felt kind of meaningful in some way that you wanted your son to go to his barber shop. He told himself that realistically it was probably just because you didn’t know where else to go, but you could have gone wherever you get your hair done, but maybe they just don’t take kids. 

In any event your son is here at Jack’s barber shop getting a haircut. And you had asked Jack to come with you again once you made the appointment. He’d told you that you didn’t need to ask again, of course he would. You’ve been together a little over a week now and things have been good. Steady and sweet. Lots of hugs and forehead kisses and side cuddles on the couch when you’ve both been home at the same time. 

“First haircut, though. It’s kind of a big deal,” Jack murmurs to you, hand rubbing your back. 

“I don’t even know why I’m like this.”

“You don’t need to know why. You’re allowed to just feel. But I’m guessing it’s because it’s a sign of him growing up.” Jack presses a kiss to the top of your head. He’s not super sure how much you’ve thought about the end result but he wants you to be prepared. “Sweetheart, you know this haircut is most likely going to make him look much older?”

You go still and then Jack hears you sniffle. “No!” Your voice gets adorably high-pitched like you’re fighting back tears and you turn further into Jack and rest your forehead in the crook of his shoulder while you let a couple of tears fall. 

“I’ve got you,” Jack says with a sad little laugh, holding you close and rubbing your back. “I just wanted you to be prepared.” 

“I didn’t even think about that, I was just so focused on the haircut generally,” you mumble into him.

“I kind of thought so,” he murmurs, wiping away the one or two stray tears when you pull your face from his shoulder.

“God,” you huff at yourself, “when I said come with me to be my shoulder to cry on I didn’t think I was going to mean it literally.” 

Jack chuckles. “That’s alright, it’s part of what I’m here for. As in right now and generally, you know?” 

You look up at him and smile. You know he means as your boyfriend. “I do, yeah.” 

Later that night you and Jack are in the kitchen grabbing some water to take to bed with you and putting away a couple of things that have dried on the dish rack. You’d just finished watching your current show on the couch together like you often do. Jack had been right. The haircut makes your son look older. You’d had a little moment about it after you guys left the shop but you were able to move past it pretty quickly. 

Something about the day and the night has felt different for you. Jack has been so understanding and sweet and supportive and perfect, not just over the last week and a bit you’ve been together officially but even the three months before that, just in a different capacity. And you want more with him. You want to express your thanks and affection through more than hugs and side cuddles on the couch and forehead and cheek kisses. You want more of Jack. And you feel ready.

He’s putting the last of the dishes away.

“Hey Jack?”

“Yeah, Sweetheart?” His eyebrows raise a little as he shuts the cabinet door and turns to look at you. 

“Thank you. For today. Coming with me and holding me while I cried.” You shrug with a soft laugh. “I’m sorry you have to do so much of that right now.”

“You’re welcome. I was very happy to come, thank you for inviting me.” He walks closer to you but lets you initiate any touching. You wrap your arms around his waist loosely as you look up at him, his arms doing the same. “You have nothing to apologize for though. And I don’t feel like I’m having to hold you while you cry particularly often. Even if I was, I wouldn’t care. I mean I would care in the sense that I fucking hate seeing you upset, but not at the fact that you needed and wanted me to hold you. And I’m pretty sure you’ve held me while I cried recently too.” He tilts his head and gives you a little smirk. 

“I would anytime you needed.” You take a step closer to him and wrap your arms around him a little tighter, one of Jack’s arms around your waist while his other hand rubs up and down your back. 

Jack laughs softly, eyes crinkling so perfectly you could scream. “Same for you.” 

He looks beautiful in the flickering light of the lit candle on the kitchen table. Unfairly handsome with the way his skin glows and with his molten eyes and kissable and suckable lips and salt and pepper stubble. Jack’s thinking the same thing about you in this light. How the flickering light makes your eyes look like they’re shimmering, how the shadows hit perfectly to highlight your features and how the soft glow of the candle makes you look radiant. 

“What are you thinking about so hard?” you ask him a little breathlessly, closing the last of the distance between your bodies so that you’re flush against each other chest to chest, both your and Jack’s arms tightening around each other.

“That you’re beautiful,” he murmurs. “Incredibly so.” 

The smile that pulls on your face is bashful. “Funny, I was just thinking how incredibly handsome you are.” You lean your head up and in towards his, eyes dropping down to his lips for a second before returning to his eyes. “And how I’d like you to kiss me.” 

This close you can just about see Jack’s pupils dilate a little further. God does he fucking want to kiss you. But he finds himself unable to just do it without checking. “We don’t have to do this. You do not owe me. Not for going with you or because you cried and I held you or for anything at all. Ever.”

You nod at him. 

Jack brings his head down towards yours, tilting it slightly, eyes focused on your lips for a moment before going back to your eyes. “Say it please.” 

“I know. I know I don’t owe you,” you whisper, “I promise. I want this. I’ve been wanting this. And I’m ready.” 

“Okay,” he whispers, leaning his head down and towards yours further. Your lips are just about touching now.

“Jack,” you breathe against his lips. 

He nods once. “Yeah? You sure?” 

You nod at him. “Please.”

Jack doesn’t need asked twice. And so in your candle lit kitchen you share your first kiss. He presses his lips to yours in an almost painfully sweet and chaste kiss, holding his lips against yours just the right amount of time before he pulls away to look you in the eye, check in, see if you liked it, if you want more, if that’s enough for the night. 

The look in your eyes tells him all he needs to know just as the look in his tells you. But Jack doesn’t have time to even move in to kiss you again because you’re already kissing him, one hand resting on his chest while the other comes to cup his jaw and keep him close. 

You’re stealing kiss after kiss from each other, most of them starting to linger. Starting to get just a touch hotter. No open mouths or tongue or hard sucking, just more urgent.

Even kissing you Jack is respectful, though you expected absolutely nothing less with how he is, how he treats you. He lets you set the pace, follows your lead. There are soft noises of appreciation from each of you, the sounds slipping out easily even with the relatively chaste kissing you’re doing. 

You can feel the uncertainty of Jack’s hands as they rest against your hips, thumbs rubbing soft circles over your shirt. You know it’s not that he’s not confident or is particularly self-conscious, but that he’s not sure what you’re okay with, where you’re okay with his hands being. It makes you smile against his lips. 

“What?” he asks against your lips as he smiles just because you are. 

“Nothing.” You take another kiss. “You’re just very cute.”

“Oh?” Jack kisses you again.

You nod a little. “Yeah.” It’s mumbled against his lips. Your hands leave his chest and jaw to find his and bring them up to hold your face, silently communicating to him that it’s okay for him to hold your face like that, touch you like that. 

Jack doesn’t get to appreciate his hands holding your face very long because you’re grabbing them again, wrapping them around you and using your hand to make his hand squeeze and grab at your hip and waist, bring one up to hold the back of your neck, kissing each other all the while. “Thank you,” he murmurs against your lips. And he means it. He’s very thankful for you showing him what you’re okay with. 

“Thank you,” you mumble back, continuing to kiss him.

The last kiss breaks naturally and you pull apart. You’re both panting softly, less because you’re out of breath and more because you’re just worked up for each other. 

“That was…” You feel a little lightheaded. 

“Yeah.” Like you, Jack is a little dizzy from kissing you. “That felt so good.” He’s struggling to come up with words.

“Felt so… right,” you laugh, the sound breathless and airy. 

“Good.” Jack nods and smiles at you.  

“Did it for you?” you ask, suddenly a touch self-conscious. “Feel right?”

“Oh yeah, Sweetheart,” he drawls the first two words with a quiet and shaky laugh that says everything you need to know about just how good and right kissing you felt, “that felt right.” 

It’s then you get a good enough flicker of light to really notice the flush of his cheeks and neck. “Good.” You lean up and kiss him again.

The two of you kiss for another minute or so before you naturally break apart again. But this time Jack rests his forehead against yours. 

“We should probably go get some sleep,” Jack whispers.

“I’m not opposed to doing this all night.” You smile. 

Jack’s breathy laugh fans across your lips. “Neither am I. Believe me, neither am I.”

“I know you’re right though.” You can’t help the way your bottom lip pushes out in the slightest pout. 

“I really wish I wasn’t,” Jack groans before pulling his forehead from yours. 

You giggle at him. “But you are.” 

You share smiles before actually grabbing the water you in part initially came into the kitchen for. You grab the monitor and Jack blows the candle out as he follows you into the hallway, illuminated only by the nightlight you have so neither you, nor Jack now, has to blind yourself if you need to get to your son in the middle of the night. 

Like always as of late, Jack walks you to your bedroom door. “Thank you for a great day, Jack. And night.” You lean up and give him a quick kiss. “Goodnight, Sweetheart.”

He smiles at you. “No, thank you. For the great day and fantastic night.” Jack winks at you with a small slightly smirked smile that makes you bite your lip and laugh to yourself, bashful again. He leans back down asking for one last kiss that you’re happy to give him, along with a hug. “Goodnight, Sweetheart.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Jack’s finishing up his shift Wednesday morning around 8:30. A trauma had come in right at shift change, so he’s only just had the chance to run the board with Robby. He’s signing off on a few last things and then is out, looking forward to some sleep. 

He nods a quick goodbye to Dana and starts to leave the hub when he hears a baby crying.

But it’s not just a baby crying. Jack would recognize that cry anywhere. Ice starts to spread through his veins.

Your son is here and crying and he is decidedly not happy. It’s not his usual cry. And for Jack if your son is randomly showing up here in his ED and not happy and crying the way he is, it means something is wrong. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I hope it was okay and worth the wait and you enjoyed and I would love to hear your thoughts and comments! They give me much joy and inspiration! Liking, replies and reblogging are so so appreciated! My inbox is always open for thoughts, comments, and general screaming! As are my DMs! 🙂

Do we want more of these two? I have like seven thousand ideas for the two of them if more than just myself would like to see more of them lol. The next couple of parts would probably less time jumping like this one and then I think it would probably pick back up again. Let me know if you'd like more!

Thank you for all your support and for reading!! ♥️

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[protonenglishhub]

💡 Considerable Meaning & Sentence Use | English Tips by Proton Times

If you’ve ever wondered what the word “considerable” really means and how to use it in English, you’re in the right place! Let’s break down the considerable meaning, grammar, and examples — made simple.

💬 Considerable – What Does It Mean?

The word “considerable” is an adjective used to describe something large in amount or importance. It’s a powerful word that helps express scale or intensity.

Meaning:

“Significant in size, extent, or degree.”

So when something is “considerable,” it’s not small. It’s noticeable, important, and worth paying attention to.

✍️ How to Use Considerable in Sentences

Let’s look at real-life examples:

“The flood caused considerable damage to the village.”

“He spent a considerable amount of time preparing for the test.”

“There is considerable evidence supporting the theory.”

You can see that “considerable” works before nouns like damage, amount, and evidence.

🔠 Grammar Note

“Considerable” is an adjective, so it must describe a noun.

It doesn’t stand alone: ❌ “The donation was considerablely big.” ✅ “The donation was considerable.”

You can enhance it further with words like:

“a very considerable improvement”

“quite a considerable difference”

🧭 Why It’s Useful

Using a word like “considerable” instead of just “big” or “large” can make your English more refined and expressive. It’s especially useful in academic writing, business English, or storytelling.

📺 English Learning on YouTube – Proton Times

Want more breakdowns like this? I explain words like “considerable,” “substantial,” “moderate,” and more on my YouTube channel Proton Times. Hit that subscribe button and grow your English fluency with ease.

✨ Words open doors. Use “considerable” to express the depth and importance of what you’re talking about!

Tags/Keywords: considerable meaning, how to use considerable in English, examples of considerable in sentences, English vocabulary, learn English, Proton Times

[ilovenatasharomanoff2-0]

So high

Warnings: sub-top! Natasha, Pussy eating, cum eating, cowgirl, breeding, one slap, and yeah.

pairings: intersex: Natasha x fem reader.

Wordcount: 1.7k

Synopsis: You and Natasha decided to let loose and have some weed to ease your mind. Then, all of a sudden, Natasha becomes very horny and has a hard time fucking you.

A/n: Fear me because I'm back. This is going to be kind of bad and short as I get back into my flow, yk. Sorry. I didn't know how to end this, and this synopsis is so bad because I've never written one before for Smut.

"B-baby stop moving." Natasha slurs out to you as she has a firm grip on your ass. Her hard cock brushes up and down your thighs.

Soft moans and whimpers leave your mouth as you feel Natasha use her numb hands to get some friction on her crotch off of your pussy. Her eyes are bloodshot red and small mumbles leave her mouth about how hard she wants to fuck you.

"Fuck babe-can barely put my cock in your pussy." Her free hand is holding up the blunt to the side of your ass as she tries to push her cock into your pussy, which keeps on slipping out. A small smirk leaves Natasha's mouth as she finally feels you.

"Natasha..." You sigh out to your girlfriend. You turn your head back from the pillow where your face is stuffed to see what Natasha is doing.

She's focused on trying her hardest to put her cock in you, every attempt landing on it slipping out and bumping your clit. Her Ralph Lauren boxers are halfway down her thighs. Your eyes wander up her body slowly. The veins connecting to her v-line were more evident than ever. The faster she breathed, the more her abs accentuated.

"D-don't even worry babe, I..I got it. Swear." Natasha grunts out. Her hands finally being able to push her cock into you. A sudden moan leaves Natasha's mouth as she inches herself into you.

"Feels good, Nat, oh my god." You moan out into the pillow as you feel Natasha bottom out into you. You can still hear her loud moans. You can tell the weed the two of you did earlier had a more considerable effect on her than you.

"Shit, can't even move y/n." She mutters out as she falls on top of your body, her moans getting louder as you clench around her.

"Natasha?" you ask her. Her hands are wrapped around your waist as she quite literally clings to you.

Natasha appeared content with the situation at hand as she quietly spoke to herself once again, her lips moving almost imperceptibly. But you weren't. She got you all worked up so that she could fall right into your embrace.

"Holy fuck Natasha, what are you doing?"

"I'm fucking you." She mutters out to you and kisses her neck as her hips are still frozen in you.

As she moves her hips with gentle grace, a smile plays on her lips, exuding confidence as she asserts her claim over you. Her hands are under you on the bed as you are barely supporting the muscular weight that she has just put on top of you. Natasha's eyes are closed in a daze as she sets a reality of her fucking you.

"I-is it good?" She whines out into your ear as her hips make minor dents. It was filling; you can't even lie to yourself about her size. But, it wasn't filling enough to get you off.

"Natasha?" Your voice echoes softly in the dimly lit room as you gently call out to her, the sound barely audible amidst her. With a heavy heart, you turn your gaze, your eyes fixing upon her limp body draped heavily across your own.

"Oh-fuck, please keep on moaning o-out my name like that. Making you feel so good, I know I am."

"I knew this was a bad idea."

You groan audibly as you reluctantly switch positions with Natasha so she is at the bottom and you're at the top. Her dazed expression and lack of responsiveness just show you how truly out of it she is. Your hand quickly meets her cheeks and slaps it, bringing her out of her daze.

"Ouch! Tha-" She abruptly halts her sentence and lifts her gaze towards you. Her red eyes are now fixated on your body in all of your glory. How she isn't in control anymore, I mean, all she wanted to do was please you.

"W...what are you doing" She whines out, her hands quickly roaming up to your boobs to fondle with them. A small grunt leaves her mouth as you move your hips, which has her halting her movements on your chest and looking straight up at you.

"I'm getting myself off Natasha." You lean down and whisper into her ear.

"I-I thought I already did that...did I not?" She quickly pulls your body off of her chest to look at you in the eyes. Looking down at her, you see some of her hair falling out from the perfectly loose bun she had about an hour ago. Her mouth is agape. And her eyes are hazy as they look up yours, not letting go of the contact.

"Baby, take a wild guess. You're high out of your mind," You tell her and remove her flimsy arms away from you as you sit back on her cock. She groans again, feeling the movement, and you smile at her sensitivity.

"Sorry, I just wanted to make you feel good," she whispers softly as if she doesn't want you to hear. Her voice is tinged with vulnerability. Her eyes clouded as she quickly drew her faze away from you. She absentmindedly traces the contours of your thighs with her blunt nails, leaving faint, uneven lines along your skin.

You let out a low gasp, leaning down to kiss her gently before pulling back, the warmth of the moment tingling on your lips. "I know you did, Natasha," you murmur softly, your voice filled with tenderness and understanding. "I mean, do you think you could still help?"

As she shoots her eyes up to you, you smirk and look down at her. "How about this, you just lay there and let me work...and when I need help, you can help me, okay?"

She quickly nods with her flushed-out face and puts her hands on your hips. You quickly maneuver your arms on her shoulders and start moving your hips back and forth against her cock. You throw your head out, let out a low moan, and grip Natasha's shoulders tighter.

She's already lost in pleasure. Her whines and moans are becoming louder as you move against her sensitive cock. She moves her hands to your ass and leaves them there as she thinks she's helping you fuck yourself on her cock.

"This f-fucking pussy is so warm and fuck, tight. Y/n, please, oh god." She pants out to you like a dog. She's in awe as she watches you ride the loving life out of her.

Your hips fasted their pace, and both of your moans started overlapping with each other as you were both lost in pleasure. You lean down into her once more and move your hips up in down her length. You lean down on her neck and close your eyes as you feel Natasha buck up into you simultaneously, hitting that spot that makes you go crazy.

She uses one of her hands to hold your back, and the other has a firm grip on your ass.

"N-no Y/n, I'm going to cum p..please," She whines out to her, her hips starting to buck into you more, and you moan out into her ear. She uses all of her willpower and starts moving your ass up and down her cock, which has her seeing stars as you roll your eyes back from pure ecstasy.

She lets out a few loud moans and grunts before filling you up with her hot cum. Her hands are gripping your ass, and she's mumbling into your ear.

She finally lets go of the tight hold she has on your ass, and you sit up, which causes her body to twitch a bit as she is even more sensitive than before.

"You ready to help me now?"

She looks up at you with lidded eyes and a confused look.

"Don't look at me like that, Nat, I didn't get off yet."

"Oh-that's right. H..how can I help? Please let me help. Please." She begs to you. "Just tell me what you need, and I'll do everything possible. Fuck-you can sit on my face, you-" Her whining gets cut off by you slowly getting off of her length and onto her face.

That's the first good idea you've had today, Nat. You let out a long sigh as Natasha gets to work. Her hands are almost immediately on your ass, gripping it with her strong hands.

Moans flow out of your mouth as Natasha works her tongue up and down your folds, her nose being pressed into your clit adds a significant amount of pressure that had your head thrown back.

Natasha was eating your pussy like it was the last meal she would ever have; she whimpered loudly into your pussy, sending the uttermost pleasurable sensations through you. She lapped up your clit like she starving, and you were the only food that was around. She loved tasting you; she'd eat your pussy 24/7.

"N-nat, oh my god," You moan out to her as your eyes flutter shut. She only whimpers more, desperate to please you, to have you cum on her tongue. It was nasty, a nasty sight for someone to walk in on.

You shuddered as the tension was building up in your core. The rapid and longing swirls of her tongue were getting to you. She was going absolutely crazy over you. Wetness leaked from her chin and chest as she worked her mouth.

"Don't fucking stop Natasha," You whine out to her, desperate to release. She was just as hopeless as you to finally taste you on her skillful tongue.

"Please cum for me, y/n. Oh god, please." It's muffled and hard to hear as she pushes your pussy down onto her face, trying to get as close as she can. This girl is smothering herself, but she doesn't care.

Her tongue runs through your care and sucks your clit one last time before you come. Natasha graciously laps her tongue over your pussy, savoring the taste of you. You quickly gasp and pull your hips away from her, moving to sit on her abs.

As you catch your breath, you gaze down at her. Her cheeks are flushed a deep crimson, accentuating the beads of sweat glistening on her forehead and the bridge of her nose. The bottom of her face is soaked with your juices, her lips glistening wet.

"Was that good?"

[lady-ashfade]

⚘*ೃ Birds Above

´*: ･ﾟ⋆˒ Jacaerys & Baela Targaryen x Fem!Reader

╰･ﾟ✧☽ summary: the two have always known the love they shared for one another, even before their betrothal. Now that bond is threatened when another is promised to the prince.

╰･ﾟ✧☽ words: 3.5k

╰･ﾟ✧☽ warnings: angst, both being cold to the reader, reader being amazing, betrayal, a little oc on them both, fluff, reader is attracted to both sides, apologies.

𓅿 @wickedpotential wanted to be tagged when this was out.

The castle has its fair share of arguments, and disappointment throughout the war already. Most of them were between Jacaerys and his mother about the choice she’d make.

And never have the walls withstood this level of anger and yelling from the young prince.

“Why couldn’t we have made another deal or have you decided to constantly throw every insult my way.” Jacaerys stood with his voice raised to his mother— never thinking of her as the Queen in theses moments.

“We? Have you already forgotten that I am your queen?” Rhaenrya shouted back, “I am trying to win this war with the little we have. To gain another army of men to our side is worth more to us then wishes and hopes.” She slammed her hand against the table and turned away from him.

“What of baela? How do you think she feels to have another woman promised my hand? To have someone else for my attention to go to?” he hummed at the end of his sentence and his shoulders shrugging. Rhaenyra took a deep breath to think before she spoke again knowing there would be less good done from angry words.

Withdrawing her head from its low hanging she looked at her son with a softened gaze, “Aegon The Conquer had two Wifes so this is not unheard of, I hope you’ll both learn to be stable in the marriage,” her heels echoed off the walls when she walked towards him and rested her hand upon his cheek.

“We all have made sacrifices, Jacaerys. I am not asking you both to leave each other but to welcome someone new for us to win this war.”

The prince walked out of her quarters with haste to his steps and nostrils flaring at the overwhelming emotions burning inside him. Why must he be the one to constantly suffer from her deals, Dragonseeds claiming dragons and never being chosen to take action. It was his birth right to fight in this war and yet he’d be forced to stay away from anything dangerous — it was disrespectful.

His hands forced a new pair of doors open and they echoed off the walls they hit. His eyes dart across the room until he found the woman who had his heart, Baela, sitting at her decks with book beneath her hands but her eyes staring into his in shock.

“It’s insane,” he began, as he walked towards her as his mouth continues to run, “I did not agree to this— We did not agree to have another. She takes no consideration about me or you — her most loyal members of her council.” his feet wonders back and forth.

She listened to his words and tried to keep her own anger within, “She is your mother, and our Queen.” Beala pushed herself up off the chair. “And as The Queen, she must do what it takes for us to win back the throne.”

Jace took his sweet time searching her eyes for comfort — to see that she too was upset about this. “You’re talking as though this means nothing. Why are you so calm?” he shouted.

Baale grabbed ahold of his hands in hers to yank it toward her, her eyes now darkening and facial expression becoming more detailed, “I dislike all of this too. I don’t want to share you with anybody, let alone a woman I have never met,” her voice cracked.

“But I’d rather still be married to you then non at all,” she cupped his cheek. A sad smile resting on her lips.

Silents swept over the room as the pair took in each other. Leaning his forehead against hers, he laced his fingers with hers, “I wouldn’t let my heart belong to another as long as I live.” Jace whispers. His mouth drew closer to hers.

“We are bonded, my heart remains with yours.” Baela took his lips against hers to feel the sparks she craved each moment.

— ‧₊˚ ࣭˚⊹‧₊˚⋆⁺₊ ࣪✩₊˚.⋆—

A few nights have passed since the announcement of the new betrothal was first declared and the aid has been thick for everyone to notice. The prince and his betrothal rarely were seen without the other and harder to separate, and his grace was easily annoyed in council. When the queen spoke, Jace was quick to disagree or roll his eyes and though he was always vocal of his opinions, the men around heard more of it.

Now, they stand on either side of one other awaiting the arrival of their new addition while filled with lack of patiences.

Once you walk through the doorway something stops for both of them and yet they brush it off for another thing entirely. Baela took it as jealousy when you walked with such beauty her eyes couldn’t seem to pull away. If you were ugly she wouldn’t have needed to worry about his heart being stolen away. Jace knew you were beautiful— but he knew nothing of your personality, but he thought it easier to wed you if you were good looking.

You halted your movements as you stood before the Royal blood, bowing your head quietly to show respect. “My Queen, it’s a honor to be welcomed by your hospitality.”

Rhaenyra flicked her eyes on your every move with a kinda smile, “Likewise.”

You straighten back up before she points to her side were they stand — eye’s taking in all your being. “My Son Prince Jacaerys and his other betrothed, Beala Targaryen.”

The sweet dark hair that swept his head and curled perfectly made you wonder what it would feel like to rub your hand through them. His pale skin with little creases or imperfections was stunning, he really was a handsome prince. But your attention was pulled away when someone wrap their arm with his causing you to look at their smooth hands — up to their stunning face.

Beala Targaryen was the apple of your eyes. You’ve seen woman who made your heart flutter but never in a way that you’ve felt as of now. Silver curls fell across her shoulders and a few pieces braided upwards to keep some hair out of her face. Just like Jacaerys, her features were something the gods should be jealous of, her skin looked soft and her eyes looked full of fire — nothing has ever made you more enthralled.

Bending your knees you bow again at yourr new betroths with a smile on your lips, “A pleasure to meet you.” You hummed. Jace and Beala glared at your frame in investigation to see what you were like.

“My son will show you around the castle,” she spoke and earned a heated look from the both of them but she stood her ground, “I am sure you will take a liking to this place in do time.”

Beala had to force herself away from her lover and watch him walk out with you by his side, a polite smile on his face that filled herself with rage and jealousy. She knew his charm, and you would fall quickly to it because of the way it was — no one could resist him in her eyes. No woman with eyes could. And yet her eyes followed you. Your lips moving to speak words she could not hear with a pretty smile that made her stomach hurt from seeing.

Why must the gods send someone beautiful to marry him? Has the pain she felt from him having to be with another not great enough.

The waves are loud enough to hear from the castle halls from the openings as you walk by the prince’s side. It was calming and felt warm. You listened to his thoughts on the castle of his and followed his every move into each room. But his words stopped a few minutes ago as silence took over. Jace could not think of anything to continue on about since this bored him a bit and he refused to look at more then he had to. He was keeping his thoughts on his love, on Beala.

“Forgive me my prince,” you stop and folded your hands together, he turned with a raised attention, “I am feeling quite tired, should we could head back?”

The sunlight came right through the glasses windows and covered you in the golden light making you looked divine. His breath hitched in his throat. A soft breeze stroked your hair and made the strands slightly move.

“Uh- hmm. Sounds like a wonderful idea, my lady.” You tried to show him gratitude but he walked past you again and found himself quiet again and shut you out.

Must interactions, had disappointed you forth on. Of course you knew they had been in love before you entered the picture but you’d hope they would spare you the cruelties.

Countless days passed at dragonstone while you found yourself alone and in need of company of anyone. Beala had only spared you a few words that you could tell were forced through her teeth before leaving you alone. You tried to talk to her like a friend would and show her compliments.

“I’ve never seen something as beautiful as your dragon riding,” you smiled when seeing her in the halls. You’d been on the beach and saw her and her dragon moved around in the air so gracefully.

“Thank you, My Lady.” Beala took off her gloves and never stopped her movements of walking. You watched her, wanting to reach out or follow her. But had to stay back with the sour strings of your heart.

Jacaerys wasn’t much better and If not more hurtful. Yes, he was a gentleman and at least acknowledged your presence when he saw you. But he was always going back to her side, laughing and joking while you had to stand alone with no one to talk too. It was painful to watch them. You wanted to be by their side. You wanted attention from the both of them.

Why couldn’t they see you weren’t trying to tear them apart?

— ‧₊˚ ࣭˚⊹‧₊˚⋆⁺₊ ࣪✩₊˚.⋆—

It wasn’t until you started to be more content with your self and ignored them as well that they started to notice the lack of you. Beala had grown used to seeing you in the halls early in the morning, she hated it but she was used to it… now not seeing your smile felt unsettling. Almost like she missed it. Or how you didn’t make many notices of her new dresses. Of course when you did talk to her it still was just as warm and happy as before.

Jace grew used to your voice when he’d spend a little bit of time, his mother making it his job to do so, but still he grew to appreciate the quiet time with you. At breakfast you’d always tell him good morning and chat small with him but that had been gone in these past few days. All he ever got was a small smile and a bow before walking off with little care for him.

Now as the candle light flicked across their skin making the shadows appear more light in his chambers they found themselves talking non sense. Beala had her fingers laced with his while rubbing her thumb over his warm flesh while watching him talk. A dark curl feel right above his eye as it always did after a long day and his styling wasn’t as strong as the early hours of the morning.

“Do you think we have been to harsh,” her sudden voice made the prince stop talking and turn to his betrothed.

“What do you mean?” Jace pondered to her. His eyes narrowed and head lean to the side in confusion. Jace wouldn’t remember doing anything wrong in the past few days and much less her doing anything.

Baela sucked her teeth and looked down at their hands grasping each other as she repeated her thumbs movement for comfort. “Lady Y/n, have we been harsh more then we should have?” Baela pointed out. The flash of all the times she saw just the slightest bit of hurt in your eyes as she walked away from you. Or when jace left you alone to be at her side.

Jace began to wonder the same thing, “I have been the most cruel, Jace. To think of being shipped of to a new place in the middle of this bloody war and be married off — while having no one to turn too. And the only people that should be at her side treats her poorly.” her voice breaks and eyes being to sting of the tears gathering.

Jace sighed deeply and tugged their hands up towards his mouth and kissed hers. He tried to give her a comforting smile, “In truth I have been finding myself think of her as of late,” jace confessed. Bales looked up at him and he began to regret his words. “My love for you runs deep and no one will ever pull me away from you,” he trails on.

“But, I have heard of lovers being more then two.” Jace leans back and Baela watches a grin form on his cheeks, “Targaryen woman are allowed to love woman, it’s not unheard of. My mother seems to be very content with Lady Mysaria in daemon’s absences.”

Baela sniffed and whips her cheeks as a laugh rumbles from her lips. Jace was always there to make her feel better and is why she found happiness with him, why she was in love with him. “I thought my feelings were just jealousy, but I think i would like to see her by my side as well.”

Jace chuckled and stared at his beloved and raised both his brows, “Don’t stop on my accord. She is very beautiful and sweet natured, nor has she ever not mentioned you while we are together.” Baelas eyes spark at the thought of you mentioning her or even wanting to get to know her.

“What has she said?” She grabs ahold of his arm breaking free of his hands, she seems to be wanting to gossip.

Jace rolls his eyes playfully, “I seem to recall her asking for you to join us on walks many times, or asking very light details of what you like.”

Baela seems satisfied to hear this but wants more details so she spends all night asking about every convenience you’ve ever had with him. Or what you are like, how you talk or act. And she listened like he was singing her favorite tone.

Dragonstone was once again touched by the sunlight as the morning arrived and the waves from the shores peacefully crashing against the sand. You needed fresh air and to be alone, so you went down to the shores without anyone noticing. The salty air had grown costume to your nose and now felt normal and comfortable, just as well as the constant noise of the sea. You snuck down as sand covered your bare feet and your body swayed a bit while closing your eyes.

The birds from above flocked and called out together just as dragons did normally, the birds had become your only source of inspiration. They had each other to migrate with when times got cold. They could spread their wings and fly were ever they wanted, never being bond by anything. It has been lonely without any friends or people you could turn to, your maids have been a big help but you couldn’t speak to them about your troubles.

It was painful to keep silent, to constantly be forgotten and forced away.

But yet you faced the path laid out for you by the gods, by your father and the queen to win the war. If they wouldn’t like you after you tried hard then it wasn’t worth the breath trying to convince them otherwise. It was better to get used to it then yearn for something unfitting for you. The warmth felt wonderful on your skin, and perfect temperature water ran over your feet once in a while. You wondered if after the war is over you could return home and leave them be to their own accord. Opening your eyes with a sigh at the thought, you found a few birds flying around each other that resemble dancing.

As you focused on what’s in front of you the pair drew closer towards you, trying gain courage from each other of what they were about to attempt. Their footsteps covered up by every other sound from the open scene around them.

Jace was the one who broke you out of your thought, “You had us worried,” he called out and had caught your attention as you spun around party to looked at him, and you noticed her as well. “Our knights thought you’d been taken.” you smile at his attempts to be friendly.

“My apologies, Your Grace, My Lady, it was not intention to cause a fuss.” you turned back to the waves. Jacaerys stepped closer while Baela followed at his side while they took you in, seemingly looking peaceful and the most beautiful they had seen you.

“I quite like being here, alone,” they didn’t hear any ill tone in your voice but yet they took it badly, you must have come her alone often then, “Makes it easy to think.”

“And what exactly has you taken so deep in thought?” Jace questioned while propping his arm on his sword handle. The cape that feel from his shoulders matched Baels, both red and textured like the black mimicked scales on their clothes.

“Nothing worth sharing, my prince.” You deflect his question and it makes him a bit upset. If he hadn’t acted sour towards you then maybe you’d feel comfortable talking like you normally did. Baela decided to take a chance at it and walks past her beloved and right next to you. Your shoulders almost touching.

“You should see it from above,” Baela smiled as she looked ahead, “Especially when the wings of a dragon dropped and the water hits you just right.” she recalls many time that Moondancer has decided to get closer to the water.

You smiled at the thought of being on a dragon even if it did scare you. Being hundreds of feet in the air, knowing you could fall off at any moment is terrifying. But not if you were the one with wings…you’d much prefer being the dragon.

“It indeed does sound wonderful, but I much rather stay on the ground.” You hum and place your fingers together. Before you would recoil in joy at the fact they are speak with you but you’re now spectacle of their intentions.

“I could take you on a ride sometime, Moondancer will find joy in another spectator.” this is her way of flirting or showing a way of her taken interest in you.

You sigh and placed your hand in a swift motion, you couldn’t help but get irritated by their behavior. Everyday since you have arrived they have no interest in talking or barely acknowledging your presence. Suddenly, no warning they seem to acted as if nothing happened.

“Forgive me, though I appreciate your efforts and proposals, I can not accept. Much to my dismay upon my arrival you both have been eager to push me way. I respect your wishes, but I will not accept pity lies. I shall have my solitude alone while you both continue on,” you nod before getting the courage to leave the situation before tension arises.

The lovers share a glance once again in regret and guilt. They could not put blame on you for rejecting their offers, nor too speak plainly about their previous doings. Jacaerys wasn’t going to let you think they weren’t genuine now of wanting you. Even if you still wanted nothing to do with them.

“My lady, forgive us for our wrong doings when you arrived. I wish I could say we had no ill intentions but it’s not good for royals to lie,” he licked his lips and draw closer towards you. “We couldn’t imagine letting another into our love, much less on who shares love for…Everyone. I thought i would be the main attraction,” jace blushes and looked away.

Beala steps forwards too and smiles, “I was jealous, there was no hiding it. As soon as you step through the doors I knew your beauty was unmatched, i felt the need to complete.” your heart skipped a beat when her soft hands grabbed ahold of yours, her eyes just a lovely as you hoped they would be.

“You wanted to love us both, not just one. We have been struggling with the growing feelings for you as well and wanted to make up everything we did.” her thumbs traces over your wrist and skin gently.

You’ve watched countless times of her soft caresses at the dinner table, how her thumb and fingers rub of his knuckles, and tight fist. The light reflects from her eyes, as if her emotions were the cause while looking at him. And here she is, doing the same with you.

“If you’ll allow us, we’d like to fit you in,” his figure grows closer, so close to yours and beside her, his eyes never leaving your face.

“After all, you’ll be our wife.”

[delilahsturniolo]

⋆˚࿔ ۶ৎ brat!tamer matt making you get yourself off on his knee as a punishment

matt steps into the room, locking the door behind him with a sharp click. "you've been nothing but a brat all day, y'know that?" his voice is like velvet, smooth yet slightly rough, and you swallow thickly, feeling the familiar pull of arousal tug at your belly.

his words are accusatory, and you know you can't deny them. you've been aching for a fight all day, to test your limits with him. "well, what're you gonna do about it?" you challenge, trying to sound bold despite the quiver in your voice.

without missing a beat, matt saunters over to you, his eyes glinting with both amusement and irritation. "well, since you asked so nicely," he purrs, grasping your arm and pulling you to him, "let me show you what happens when you give attitude, love."

he doesn't give you the chance to respond before he sits on the edge of the bed, pulling you down to straddle his lap, sliding your panties down immediately but keeping your skirt on. he doesn't even bother to remove his jeans, letting the denim of his pants chafe deliciously against your sensitive skin. "c'mon," he urges, a smirk curling his lips as he watches you. "you're so desperate for it, aren't you? do it yourself."

you're too aroused to deny him, your pussy throbbing against his thigh as you start to rub yourself against him, seeking some kind of relief. but he's a bastard, he doesn't help you at all. in fact, all he does is watch you with a smirk on his face, his hands grasping your hips to keep you moving at a pace that's barely enough to stoke the flames within you.

you can't help but whine under your breath, grinding yourself against him more desperately. "matt..." you plead, shamelessly begging for him to touch you, to make you cum. "fuck, please..." you moan, feeling your bare pussy against his denim jeans. it was torture. but he just smirks at you. "use your words baby," he commands, giving your hip a hard squeeze.

"i want your cock," you admit begrudgingly, grinding down harder on his knee, feeling his bulge through his jeans. "please, matt, i need it. i'm so fucking wet..."

he hums in consideration, watching you with half-lidded eyes. "mmm," he finally hesitates, making you groan in relief. “gotta take me like a good girl though, or i’ll have to punish you more, don’t you think?” he teases.

and then he's flipping you onto your back, tugging your leggings off and plunging into you with absolutely no warning. you cry out at the sensation, your inner walls clenching around his length as he starts to move inside you. he's rough, brutal even, his hands pinning your wrists above your head as he fucks into you with force.

"that's it," he growls above you, his thrusts relentless. "take it all. feel my dick deep inside of you, huh baby?”

you moan beneath him, your body undulating with each thrust, completely at his mercy. and god, it's so fucking good, the way he's using you like this, treating you like his personal fucktoy.

your orgasm builds inside you rapidly, your vision going blurry as you near the edge. "matt, i'm—" but before you can finish the sentence, he reaches down between your bodies and presses hard on your clit, keeping you on the precipice but refusing to let you tip over.

"no, nope," he says curtly, pulling out of you with a wet pop and flipping you onto your stomach. "not yet. you aren’t cumming yet.”

he pushes back into you roughly, the change in angle making you cry out as he hits a particularly sensitive spot inside you. he keeps you on edge for what feels like hours, refusing to let you cum despite how badly you need it, you whine into his ear, he just laughs. “regret being such a brat now?”

finally, after what feels like an eternity, he slams into you particularly hard and grinds against your clit, sending you spiraling over the edge into a mind-blowing orgasm. you scream into the mattress as your pussy clenches around him, cumming so hard that it leaves you breathless and shaking.

he's not far behind you, his hips snapping into yours a few more times before he's cumming too, filling you up with his hot cum as he groans into your neck. you're left panting beneath him, still pinned by his weight as he rides out his climax.

“good girl, such a good girl..” he murmurs, his cum completely filling you up. “round two?”

© delilahsturniolo

💌: boi i wanna redo this whole au it’s literally not what i wanted it to be like at all 😭

[postmoe]

One Step at a Time. Yandere Anaxa

I have had the worst fucking week. Rather than going into the grief and financial disasters of it all, I also lost my 50/50 and my 75/25 to this man so FUCK YOU ANAXAGORAS.

forced kiss, kidnapping, self-deprecating reader

.

He's reading some hardcover book with no title. His eyes idly scan across the page though his expression shows no interest. Worst of all, he's leaning against the toilet door so you can't get in. You tried to walk away to use the other one, but he only grabbed you and pulled you back. That happened four times before you stopped.

"This is ridiculous," you huff, crossing your arms in frustration, "I'm about to piss on the floor."

Anaxa briefly raises his gaze to yours, "What's ridiculous is that you won't do this simple thing. You'd rather urinate on yourself than give me a kiss? Childish."

Your cheeks heat up, eyes unable to focus in his direction, "You don't get it! It's not that easy for me. My lips are really bad right now anyway..." Your tongue swipes them before your fingers lift up to touch the dryness and cracks in your skin. You've always been hyper aware of your flaws, it's why you closed yourself off for so long.

Being kidnapped and held hostage by this psycho has only raised your anxieties. It was only a matter of time before he got fed up of you ignoring his advances, so he came up with the brilliant idea of 'transactions'. You want to sit in the garden? Only if you hold hands. Hungry? Sit on his lap for a few minutes so he can hold you. Now you need to pee and he wants you to kiss him, which you've done before, but he added the word 'tongue' to the receipt and you're just not ready for that.

He's not taking your excuse. Your body jumps as he slams the book shut with one hand, pushing off the door to stand intimidatingly before you.

You try to hold your own but you're shaking like a leaf in Autumn, just before it falls. You think you will fall if you don't calm yourself soon. Anaxa finally speaks up, making no move to touch you or bring you closer, "Patience isn't my virtue, but thankfully I make up for it in my stubbornness. I'm not so grossed out by bodily fluids that you're getting out of this. However, you may not enjoy the lesson I have planned to speed up your progress if you fail to try yourself."

With a heavy frown, you hold your hands tightly to your chest, scenarios running wildly in your head as you try to decipher his sentence, "What... What does that mean? What lesson?"

There's no change in his face, nor his stance, yet you can feel the excitement dripping off every word, "I'm quite handy with rope. If I get you naked and examine you thoroughly, then you'd have no reason to hide anymore. It's my ideal outcome, though I do care about you enough to take in your consideration as well."

How ironic. It's just a kiss, just a little tongue. And honestly, he is the monster who has stolen you away, why care about what he thinks at all? If he's disgusted by you then that's his fault for not doing the research! So, with this new - barely there - resolve, you step closer and place your trembling hands on his chest. Awkwardly, you lick your lips and stand on the tips of your toes, "F-Fine. Just one kiss."

Anaxa's hands start by gently cupping your hips, where did the book go?, and pulls you closer so that your chest is against his. His lips meet with yours, ready for your jolt as one of his hands holds the back of your head so you don't squirm away once his tongue touches your bottom lip. Your little yelp is cute to him, his other hands large and pressing warmly between your shoulder blades. Eventually, you stop trembling so badly, relaxing into his hold while your tongue shyly moves against his once he enters your mouth. You expected it to be warmer, the muscle cool, wet and countering the warmth of his body to yours.

Once he declares it's enough, giving you a squeeze before allowing you to pull away, your face is red and gasping as your teary eyes look to his for confirmation. You have to swallow the built up saliva before you ask, "Can I go now?"

He doesn't want to let you go, he wants to keep kissing you until your head goes fuzzy and your legs give out. He wants you underneath him and crying out his name as he fucks you so good that even leaving his embrace feels like a sin. Why won't you just fall for him like he did for you? And they call him blasphemous. His thumb rubs soothingly against your bottom lips, pushing the plump flesh down and letting it bounce back tantalizingly. His voice is low, lips pressing to the corner of your mouth, "I love every part of you. Don't worry yourself so much. Not with me. One day, you'll see how silly all of this really is."

Finally, he leaves you alone. You hear his footsteps distancing as you try and gather yourself. It's inevitable, whether you like it or not, he will go all the way with you. You just have to try and make this last as long as you can, if not for your own sanity then your pride as a captive.

You can be stubborn, too.

[sharieb]

Can I request headcanons where Lads men reacting to being alone with Non MC Reader, because MC tricked both of them to hanging with the three of them, to ditch them on the day itself so both of them can go on a date please? But Reader reassured him that he doesn't need to be considerate and stay!

Left on Read, Right into His Arms

pairings: LADs x Non-Mc reader (you)

Genre: Fluff, slight Humour

Writer's note: I literally just received this request earlier in the morning, and I kid you not, I had way too much fun making this. (sit in front of my laptop, crackling like a gremlin in front of my very weirded out, yet equally concerned brother) . Hope you all enjoy. (for bro's sake and sanity)

🍎Caleb

The moment you spot only one cup of tea at the table, your heart drops. No MC. No third seat filled. Just Caleb, serene as ever. Wait... she said she’d be here. She swore she’d drag Caleb along so we could hang out... together.

I check my comm. No response. Then a half-baked reply flashes across the screen: "Smth came up. You’ll be fine ;)"

“She ditched us,” Caleb murmurs, after glancing at his own message thread.

You knew it. She ditched you both. She left you alone with him.

What you don’t realise is that Caleb, though perfectly composed on the outside, is internally recalculating every breath, every sentence, every second. He’s never been good at surprise emotional proximity. 'She left us alone. Just us. And she knew. She knew I wouldn’t be able to keep my cool.'

“You don’t have to stay, Caleb.”

You flinched at how you blurted that, too quickly. “I mean, she tricked both of us. You probably have better things to do. I won’t be offended—”

He sets his tea down with deliberate calm, eyes locking on yours. “You think I’m here because she asked?”

Your breath catches. “Aren’t you?”

His tone softens, but it cuts straight through you: “She invited me, yes. But I stayed because you said you’d be here.”

Oh. Oh no. Oh gods, he knows.

“...You don’t mind?” you manage.

A hint of a smile tugs at his lips. “I don’t mind. Unless you do. But if you don’t... I’d like to finish this tea with you.”

🐦‍⬛ Sylus

The warehouse is empty. Silent. Only Sylus and you, standing awkwardly in the echo of MC’s absence. She said she needed backup. She said we’d all be together. She knew I wouldn’t say no if Sylus was coming...'

You flick open your comm. Still no reply. One message marked "Read." Nothing more. 'She did this on purpose. She set me up with him. Alone.'

What you don’t know is that Sylus had already figured it out hours ago, and he's been pacing mentally ever since. He won’t admit it, but his heart jumped the second he realised it’d just be the two of you. 'Don’t act too eager. Don’t say something soft. You’re Sylus, not some idiot with heart-eyes. But damn it, she’s looking at you like that again—and now I can't stop thinking about how cute she is when she panics. Careful, or you'll end up saying something stupidly sweet by accident.' “That damn brat,”

Sylus huffs, reading something on his end. “She planned this.”

Your chest tightens. “Y-Yeah. You don’t have to stay, y’know. If she ditched us, you don’t have to suffer through awkward silence with me.”

He turns sharply, lips twitching into a crooked smirk. “You think I’m suffering? That’s adorable. Maybe I’m just here to see how red your face gets when you realise it’s just us.”

You freeze. “I mean-...not suffering suffering. Just. You didn’t ask for this. You probably had something better to do, and she just—”

He steps closer, close enough that you catch the faint scent of metal and spice. “You really think I need her to manipulate me into being near you?”

Your brain bluescreens. “I thought... she was the only reason you...”

Your words trail off.

He chuckles low, almost fondly. “You’ve got no idea how long I’ve waited to be this close to you, without her between us, little Dove.”

You are not breathing. Someone call Dr. Zayne.

❄️ Zayne

It was supposed to be a calm lunch. MC said she needed both of you to “decompress.” She even picked the café.

Zayne and you wait. Five minutes. Ten. Fifteen. You try calling her. No answer. You send a quick text: "Hey? You coming?"

No reply. Then, finally, a notification buzzes. A too-cheerful, clearly pre-written message: "Sorry! Something came up. You two have fun ;)" Wait. Wait, no. She set this up. Oh god. Oh, stars above.

Your heart starts thudding like it’s trying to kick through your ribs. You force a smile and glance at Zayne, who’s just started sipping his tea with unnerving composure.

Realising what was going on, Zayne’s calm face remains as a mask, while on the inside, he’s panicking. Okay, this is not good. What if I say the wrong thing? What if I make a fool of myself? But mostly... what if she thinks I don’t like her? “Hey, um... You don’t have to stay anymore.”

You say a bit too fast, trying not to visibly panic. “She clearly bailed. And this probably wasn’t... what you signed up for.”

Zayne blinks, caught mid-sip, then carefully places the cup down like it’s suddenly fragile. “Do I seem uncomfortable to you?” “No! I mean-...not at all. I just... I didn’t want you to think you had to be here just because-” “Because of her?”

Zayne asks, and it’s so gentle, so awkwardly sincere, you nearly combust.

You nod weakly, fiddling with the edge of your napkin. “Yeah. I mean... I thought maybe you were being polite.”

Zayne opens his mouth. Closes it. Looks to the side. Then finally mutters, “I don’t do things out of politeness. Not when it comes to you.”

Your heart stumbles. He clears his throat like it physically hurt to say that much. “You really thought I needed her here to want to see you?”

Zaynee adds, quieter now as he gazed at you. “I wouldn’t have come if it weren’t for you. Honestly, I almost cancelled when I thought it was just a group thing.”

Your jaw drops. “Wait-...you did?”

He gives the tiniest nod, ears turn the softest shade of pink. “I’m... not great with crowds. Or surprises. But I’m glad it turned out like this.”

“You are?” you breathe. “Only if you are,”

He replies quickly, eyes wide like he just realised he might’ve said too much, and his ears are now tinged a bright red.

The tension shifts... still awkward, still tender, but it’s sweet. And it’s yours.

🎨 Rafayel

The gallery is loud with art but silent between you. Just you and Rafayel. No MC. She told me it’d be a trio visit. Said she wanted me to see what he’s working on. But she’s not here. She’s not even answering my calls.

You check again. Finally, a single text: "This was for you two anyway. Enjoy <3" MC… you didn’t.

What you miss is Rafayel’s subtle shift; he’s been mentally rehearsing lines he never thought he’d need to say. All while acting unfazed. She left me with her. Alone. Don’t panic. You’ve had weeks to practise for this. “Ahh, abandoned again,”

Rafayel sings boredly, spinning lazily on his heel. “She’s clever, I’ll give her that.”

Your throat started to dry out from nervousness. “You don’t have to hang around, y’know. You probably had your own plans-”

“Plans?” Rafayel echoes, mock-offended. “Cutie, I cleared my whole afternoon the moment I heard you’d be here.”

You blink once, then two more times at what you just heard. “But... she was the one who invited-” “To see what I was painting?”

He steps closer, a rare seriousness in his gaze. “I wanted you to see it. Her being here... was just noise.” Okay. Okay. Heart, slow down. “You’re not... upset?” “That she ditched us?”

Rafayel grins as he took you hand in his. “Only because it ruined her chance to watch me fall for you in real time.”

✨ Xavier

You were supposed to stargaze. MC said she had a new telescope attachment. Said it’d be relaxing. Said you could all use the quiet.

But only one blanket’s here. One figure is seated on the hill with you. Xavier.

You check your comm. One reply: "He needs this. You do too. Trust me."

Then radio silence. She did this on purpose.

Xavier sits calm and still, but beneath the surface, his mind is already spiralling. What if I say the wrong thing? What if she leaves? I can't lose this moment. Not when it's finally just us. “You don’t have to stay.”

You murmur, fumbling with the hem of your baggy, oversized sweater. “It’s fine. You didn’t sign up for this.”

Xavier doesn’t look away from the sky as he replies. “Why would I leave?” “Because it’s just me now. And you don’t owe me-”

He finally turns to look at you. “I don’t stay out of obligation. I stayed because you were going to be here.”

The silence between you stretches. Soft. Fragile. “I thought... You only ever wanted peace. Quiet.” “And I find that in you. She knew it. That’s why she didn't come along.”

You’re not sure what’s brighter, the stars or the feeling blooming in your chest.

[livelaughlovesubs]

HII NINI can i ask for ‘forcing them to crawl on their hands and knees’ and ‘grinding their face into their own mess(with a foot pressed behind them if you may)’ with dazai pleasee i just know he’s pathetic enough to come untouched from that thank youu

Dom!reader x sub!dazai - reader is gn

Warning: pet play!!, teasing, dirty talk, use of pet names, begging, (pre)cum eating, masochistic dazai, stepping

Anniversary event

That reminds me when I decided to write sum’ angst for the first time, it was about dazai with abandonment issues, and people just WOULDNT STOP ASKING ME TO WRITE MORE CUZ THEY LOVED PATHETIC DAZAI SM???

He was such a good little pet. At times annoying, but still overwhelmingly fun. To be more specific, he was perfect for you, just the right amount of pathetic, just bratty enough to not overdo it and simply adorable. That smug little smirk he wears when he disobeys you, like right now.

You were sitting on the edge of the bed, waiting for him to enter the room. A few moments ago you gave him the order to come in after he finished washing up, which is why you were waiting for his arrival. Once he opened the door, he leaned against the frame and smiled at you, asking almost innocently, “you called?” He was wearing a bathrobe that revealed his chest ever so slightly. “Yes, come closer.” You waved your hand, making yourself comfortable now that he’s here.

“Why don’t you tell me why I’ve been summoned?” He stroked through his hair, some water droplets dripped down from the ends. You stared at him, not expecting him to misbehave already, “I thought you’d know better, puppy.” Dazai chuckled, as if he expected you to say that, and immediately answered, “oh what to do, i don’t know anything~” while he talked, he brought the back of his hand to his forehead, the other one holding his clothes together.

“Can’t you explain it to me again?” The brunette pondered, pouting after he finished his sentence. You caught him sneaking some glances over to you while giving a show. “Hah- have I been too lenient with you? To think you’ve forgotten how to act around me.” Of course you knew this was just another defiant game of his, it was something he did whenever he wanted to mess with you. Normally you’d brush it off, but this time, maybe you should play along.

“Then listen to my orders carefully, puppy.” You leaned back a little, raising your head high up, “firstly, strip.” For a split second, you saw his eyes change from calculated to excited, before he went back to being collected. “Will I be the only one stripping? Oh y/n~ that’s so perverted.” He turned his head to the side, to hide behind his raised shoulder for a bit. Look at him acting like some shy virgin, was he going to ask you to be gentle as well?

Soon after, the white fluffy robe fell down to the floor. His cheeks were slightly flushed, but he wasn’t embarrassed yet. “Are you going to stare all day?” The male asked with a light grin, taking a few steps forward before closing the door behind him. “I was being considerate towards you, or do you want to be touched so badly?” He slowly walked over to you, answering in a cheeky tone, “of course, you’ve been starving me of affection lately.”

Suddenly you raised your hand and said, “stop,” and so he did as you wanted, stopping in the middle of the room. You sighed deeply, almost as if disappointed, then sneered, “don’t walk, crawl to me.” A shudder ran down his spine, and he clenched his hand subconsciously. “Crawl? Why should I do that…” he crossed his arms in front of his chest, also signing, as if copying you. You didn’t let this irritate you and simply replied, “don’t you want to earn my praise for a change?”

His ears turned red when he heard that, but instead of retaliating any more, he dropped down to his knees and looked up at you, “please praise me plenty then, master ♡” What’s this? Look at him suddenly being all docile, crawling to you on all fourth and keeping eye contact the whole time. This man, unbelievable, he really had no shame.

As soon as he arrived, he positioned himself in front of you, still on his knees all nicely with his hands gripping the edge of the bed. “Have I been good?” He almost mewled, smiling so brightly with crimson cheeks. Your hand stroked through his hair, watching him nuzzle into your palm. He’s trying so hard, it’s making you almost feel bad.

“You did pretty well, but…” you slid back on the mattress, until you could place your foot on the back of his head. Afterward, you stepped down, forcing him to bow his head. “Look at that mess your little tail made.” An amused chuckled slipped from your lips, and you couldn’t stop grinning at his flustered expression. The blush was even spreading to his shoulders now, how adorable.

Dazai stared at the ground right below him, not like he had any other choices anyway. And it was evident what you meant. His poor hard-on has been leaking the whole time, without him noticing his own arousal. Most of his precum dripped all the way down his shaft and onto his thighs, though some also coated the floor beneath him. Before he could even ask for forgiveness, you pressed down harder, resulting in his face being mere inches away from the poodle of mess he himself made.

“I’m sure a good dog would know what to do?” You’ve been mumbled, noticing how he shuddered at your every word. “Y/n, I-” he couldn’t finish his sentence before you grind his face into the liquid, muttering almost to yourself, “so cute.” He whined at the harsh treatment, feeling his dick twitch in excitement. Without further delay, he stuck his tongue out and licked, making sure to make loud slurping sounds as well just to put on another show for you.

“Hnnnghh~ mhmm… uhm, mmghff…! ♡♥︎♡” More whimpers escaped his throat, and his eyes rolled to the back to his head. His body felt so hot, so electric. Hot tears steamed down his rosy cheeks. He could feel the pressure of your foot against his head, as well as his stomach curling and flutter. Simply hearing your low, slightly hitched breathing made his heart pound. After all, it meant you liked what he was doing, so he was doing a good job, right, right?

“Good boy.” You complimented him, holding your own head with your hands. “You’re doing so good, such a pretty boy.” He continued to lick across the dirtied spot, feeling a rush of heat coursing through his veins. The taste of his own fluids were maddening. It didn’t exactly have a taste, but just the thought of it and the act of doing it in front of you made it special. And exactly because he was so into it, you couldn’t stop the praise from spilling, “You are my good and obedient puppy, aren’t you?”

“Mhmm- mGhUuu~♡♡♥︎..!!!” Suddenly he moaned against the cold ground, and his toes curled. You were a little surprised which is why you moved your foot, wondering if he was actually chocking. Once he raised his head though, you understood what was up with him. Hah. This fucking pervert, cumming all over the floor over nothing.

His eyes were glazed over, hazy while his tongue hung out of his mouth. Tears and drool decorating that pretty face as he whispered meekly, “m’ sorry~♥︎♥︎♡” You stayed quiet for a moment, calming yourself down as little muffled laughs rang in his ears. After that, you teased, “maybe I shouldn’t have praised you so early on. Oh well, it just means you have to clean it again.”

[fight-nights-at-freddys]

MASTER POST OF PROSHIP RESOURCES!!! <3<3

this is just for links (bc i just have No Way of formatting this properly), so for more in-depth stuffs and credits, head to the google doc, or the carrd !! :3c

Fiction ≠ Reality

Violent media -

Does Media Violence Predict Societal Violence? It Depends on What You Look at and When

Video Game Violence Use Among “Vulnerable” Populations: The Impact of Violent Games on Delinquency and Bullying Among Children with Clinically Elevated Depression or Attention Deficit Symptoms

Extreme metal music and anger processing

On the Morality of Immoral Fiction: Reading Newgate Novels, 1830–1848

How gamers manage aggression: Situating skills in collaborative computer games

Examining desensitization using facial electromyography:Violent videogames, gender, and affective responding

'Bad' video game behavior increases players' moral sensitivity

Fiction and Morality: Investigating the Associations Between Reading Exposure, Empathy, Morality, and Moral Judgment

Comfortably Numb or Just Yet Another Movie? Media Violence Exposure Does Not Reduce Viewer Empathy for Victims of Real Violence Among Primarily Hispanic Viewers

Fantasy Crime: The Criminalisation of Fantasy Material Under Australia's Child Abuse Material Legislation

Being able to distinguish fiction from reality -

Effects of context on judgments concerning the reality status of novel entities

Children’s Causal Learning from Fiction: Assessing the Proximity Between Real and Fictional Worlds

Reality/Fiction Distinction and Fiction/Fiction Distinction during Sentence Comprehension

Reality = Relevance? Insights from Spontaneous Modulations of the Brain’s Default Network when Telling Apart Reality from Fiction

How does the brain tell the real from imagined?

Meeting George Bush versus Meeting Cinderella: The Neural Response When Telling Apart What is Real from What is Fictional in the Context of Our Reality

loli/shota/kodocon -

If I like lolicon, does it mean I’m a pedophile? A therapist’s view

Virtual Child Pornography, Human Trafficking and Japanese Law: Pop Culture, Harm and Legal Restrains

Lolicon: The Reality of ‘Virtual Child Pornography’ in Japan

Report: cartoon paedophilia harmless

‘The Lolicon Guy:’ Some Observations on Researching Unpopular Topics in Japan

Robot Ghosts And Wired Dreams Japanese Science Fiction From Origins To Anime [pg 227-228]

Australia's "child abuse material' legislation, internet regulation and the juridification of the imaginationjuridification of the imagination [pg 14-15]

Multiple Orientations as Animating Misdelivery: Theoretical Considerations on Sexuality Attracted to Nijigen (Two-Dimensional) Objects

Positive Impact on Mental Health

Art therapy -

The effectiveness of art therapy for anxiety in adults: A systematic review of randomised and non-randomised controlled trials

Efficacy of Art Therapy in Individuals With Personality Disorders Cluster B/C: A Randomized Controlled Trial

Effectiveness of Art Therapy With Adult Clients in 2018 - What Progress Has Been Made?

Benefits of Art Therapy in People Diagnosed With Personality Disorders: A Quantitative Survey

The Effectiveness of Art Therapy in the Treatment of Traumatized Adults: A Systematic Review on Art Therapy and Trauma

The clinical effectiveness and current practice of art therapy for trauma

Writing therapy -

Optimizing the perceived benefits and health outcomes of writing about traumatic life events

Expressive writing and post-traumatic stress disorder: Effects on trauma symptoms, mood states, and cortisol reactivity

Focused expressive writing as self-help for stress and trauma

Putting Stress into Words: The Impact of Writing on Physiological, Absentee, and Self-Reported Emotional Well-Being Measures

The writing cure: How expressive writing promotes health and emotional well-being

Effects of Writing About Traumatic Experiences: The Necessity for Narrative Structuring

Scriptotherapy: The effects of writing about traumatic events

Emotional and physical benefits of expressive writing

Emotional and Cognitive Processing in Sexual Assault Survivors' Narratives

Finding happiness in negative emotions: An experimental test of a novel expressive writing paradigm

An everyday activity as treatment for depression: The benefits of expressive writing for people diagnosed with major depressive disorder

Writing about emotional experiences as a therapeutic process

Effects of expressive writing on sexual dysfunction, depression, and PTSD in women with a history of childhood sexual abuse: Results from a randomized clinical trial

Written Emotional Disclosure: Testing Whether Social Disclosure Matters

Written emotional disclosure: A controlled study of the benefits of expressive writing homework in outpatient psychotherapy

Misc -

Emotional disclosure about traumas and its relation to health: Effects of previous disclosure and trauma severity

Treating complex trauma in adolescents: A phase-based integrative approach for play therapists

Emotional expression and physical health: Revising traumatic memories or fostering self-regulation?

Disclosure of Sexual Victimization: The Effects of Pennebaker's Emotional Disclosure Paradigm on Physical and Psychological Distress

Kink/Porn/Fantasies

Sexual fantasies -

A Critical Microethnographic Examination of Power Exchange, Role Idenity and Agency with Black BDSM Practitioners

Women's Rape Fantasies: An Empirical Evaluation of the Major Explanations

History, culture and practice of puppy play

What Exactly Is an Unusual Sexual Fantasy?

The Psychology of Kink: a Survey Study into the Relationships of Trauma and Attachment Style with BDSM Interests

Punishing Sexual Fantasy

Women's Erotic Rape Fantasies

Sexual Fantasy and Adult Attunement: Differentiating Preying from Playing

What Is So Appealing About Being Spanked, Flogged, Dominated, or Restrained? Answers from Practitioners of Sexual Masochism/Submission

Dark Fantasies, Part 1 - With Dr. Ian Kerner

Why Do Women Have Rape Fantasies

The 7 Most Common Sexual Fantasies and What to Do About Them

Sexual Fantasies

Pornography -

The Effects of Exposure to Virtual Child Pornography on Viewer Cognitions and Attitudes Toward Deviant Sexual Behavior

American Identities and Consumption of Japanese Homoerotica

The differentiation between consumers of hentai pornography and human pornography

Pornography Use and Holistic Sexual Functioning: A Systematic Review of Recent Research

Claiming Public Health Crisis to Regulate Sexual Outlets: A Critique of the State of Utah's Declaration on Pornography

Pornography and Sexual Dysfunction: Is There Any Relationship?

Reading and Living Yaoi: Male-Male Fantasy Narratives as Women's Sexual Subculture in Japan

Women's Consumption of Pornograpy: Pleasure, Contestation, and Empowerment

Pornography and Sexual Violence

The Sunny Side of Smut

Other -

Fantasy Sexual Material Use by People with Attractions to Children

Fictosexuality, Fictoromance, and Fictophilia: A Qualitative Study of Love and Desire for Fictional Characters

Exploring the Ownership of Child-Like Sex Dolls

Are Sex and Pornograpy Addiction Valid Disorders? Adding a Leisure Science Perspecive to the Sexological Critique

Littles: Affects and Aesthetics in Sexual Age-Play

An Exploratory Study of a New Kink Activity: "Pup Play"

Jaws Effect

The Jaws Effect: How movie narratives are used to influence policy responses to shark bites in Western Australia

The Shark Attacks That Were the Inspiration for Jaws

The Great White Hope (written by Peter Benchley, writer of Jaws)

The Jaws Myth [not a study BUT is an interesting read and provides some links to articles and studies]

Slenderman Stabbings

Out Came the Girls: Adolescent Girlhood, the Occult, and the Slender Man Phenomenon

Jury in Slender Man case finds Anissa Weier was mentally ill, will not go to prison

2nd teen in 'Slender Man' stabbing case to remain in institutional care for 40 years

Negative effects of online harassment

How stressful is online victimization? Effects of victim's personality and properties of the incident

Prevalence, Psychological Impact, and Coping of Cyberbully Victims Among College Students

Offline Consequences of Online Victimization

The Relative Importance of Online Victimization in Understanding Depression, Delinquency, and Substance Use

Internet trolling and everyday sadism: Parallel effects on pain perception and moral judgement

The MAD Model of Moral Contagion: The Role of Motivation, Attention, and Design in the Spread of Moralized Content Online

Morally Motivated Networked Harassment as Normative Reinforcement

When Online Harassment is Perceived as Justified

Violence on Reddit Support Forums Unique to r/NoFap

"It Makes Me, A Minor, Uncomfortable" Media and Morality in Anti-Shippers' Policing of Online Fandom

[charliemwrites]

Part 7 is finally here! I only gave this a quick look over so if there are any glaring issues (like a random cut off sentence) please let me know! I was just so excited to get this one out.

Content: Brandon.

For all the power and influence it has amassed, SpecGru is a notoriously discreet and secretive operation. Mind, no one’s ever strolling down the street shouting their criminal affiliations for God and everyone to hear, but even by criminal standards, SpecGru is like a collective boogeyman. By the time most anyone knows they’re there, it’s already too late – and the rare (verbal) survivors only ever see masks and guns.

Granted, no small part of SpecGru’s prestige comes from whispered stories and unconfirmed rumors. Criminals are locker room gossips, the lot of them. Not that it’s completely unfounded. An execution is an execution, whether someone died with all their teeth and nails or not. (Usually not)

Few people know Price as more than a shadowy theoretical. (Someone must be in charge, that’s how the mafia works.) Even fewer know his face, never mind his name. It’s just good business that way.

In fact, SpecGru’s entire inner circle is shrouded in mystery. There’s not just the gray silhouette of the Don looming over their enemies’ heads. There are the lieutenants to contend with as well, acting on his direct authority, speaking on his behalf (with permission, of course) in his absence.

And then there’s Price’s right hand, the de facto boss should something happen. His heir, for all intents and purposes.

For those that have met Price in person, and by extension his few but devoted confidants, there’s always debate.

Is it Soap, loud and brash, but sharp as a whip? A decisive man, affable with a hidden mean streak?

Or is it Ghost, the quiet and calculating figure always at his side? A deadly and brutal enemy, shrewd and observant?

Kyle lets them stew in their assumptions and reminds himself that they’ll learn eventually – or they’ll be dead. He’s not fussed either way. It would suit SpecGru just fine if a few of those knobs keeled over sooner rather than later.

If only they knew that the hand that would one day grip their leashes was currently holding your purse so that you could pet a cute dog.

Not that Kyle minds; you have good taste. In purses, that is – though the dog isn’t half bad. A fluffy white and grey thing with a stumpy tail, practically crawling onto your pretty blue skirt as you coo and fawn. He started recording the minute you handed him your bag. (Price owes him for this.)

“His name is Mister Beans,” the uni girl enthuses to you.

You practically sob. “Mister Beans!”

He’s loath to hurry you along, but he’s supposed to meet up with Price for a Business meeting in only a half hour. Thankfully, you’re a considerate sort and don’t linger for long.

“Thank you so much, have a great day!” you cheer to the young woman. Then you turn back to Kyle, smiling huge. “Wasn’t he so cute?”

He chuckles. “It was. Wish I could have pet him, but white hair on this suit…”

You hum sympathetically. “I have a lint roller in my apartment.”

“I’ll scratch the next one,” he promises, offering your purse back.

You take it with your far hand and another mumbled “thank you,” then loop your closer arm through his. Don’t even seem to think about it, just accept the escort automatically. Kyle tries not to beam with pride. He used to have to prompt you, holding his elbow out at an awkward angle for you to get the hint. Now, you reach for the arm of whoever you’re with on instinct – as you should. (Another thing Price owes him for.)

“Do you like little dogs?” you ask, strolling with him for your apartment.

In the office, you’re a speedy little thing. Zooming from your desk to Price’s and back at velocity deserving of a ticket. Soap calls you a busy bee and it’s apt. Fluttering to and fro with stacks of papers or your tablet (“Reginald” you call it) everyone knows to make way at the click-click of your smart heels.

Outside, though, your purposeful stride slows to something less awe-inspiringly machinelike. Little Miss at work is a much different creature from Little Miss off the clock – but Kyle quite likes both.

“My mum had a little white dog while I was growing up. Crusty old thing,” he explains. “Prefer medium sized myself. Like a corgi.”

You giggle. “Like the royal family?”

“Oi, I liked ‘em before that.”

You just laugh harder at his defensive tone, patting his arm. He’s always impressed by how fearlessly you joke and tease him and the others. Have taken everything in stride from the beginning, didn’t even flinch when you first met Simon. If he didn’t know better, he’d almost think you had no idea just who you arched your eyebrows at this morning because of a “scheduling disagreement.”

“Speaking of dogs…” you mutter, mirth disappearing.

He follows your gaze through the clear glass of the building’s entry vestibule. Your ex is standing inside, already spotted you and fluffing up like the cock he is.

“Mind keeping back, doll?” Kyle murmurs.

You make a noise of protest even as you hand him your keys. “He’s not going to do anything after what Soap did.”

There’s an ugly black cast around his hand and up his wrist. Kyle smirks at him through the door.

“Rather not take any chances,” he replies.

You huff a bit, but quietly slip your arm from his, letting him take the lead into the building. (He still holds the door for you of course – he’s not a numpty.)

“Get the fuck out, mate,” Kyle says as soon as the door opens.

Brandon looks downright taken aback. “And who the fuck are you?”

“None of your business,” you interrupt, stepping up beside Kyle.

“The hell it’s not!” Brandon replies, taking an angry (stupid) step forward. Kyle mirrors him, making a point of loosening up his shoulders. In a surprising display of good sense, Brandon stops there. “Look, bunny, a high-value man needs a high-value woman.”

Your voice comes out flat and unimpressed. “And that’s you, is it? A high-value man?

Brandon rolls his eyes but sighs, as if he’s trying to be patient with you. Kyle’s fingers twitch. His piece is burning a hole against his back.

“Obviously. I have a degree, a six-figure salary, and two properties – all under forty. I’m objectively attractive, work out regularly, don’t smoke. I’m a good catch, don’t kid yourself that you can do better.”

At Kyle’s elbow, you go very still. The type of still that precedes blood and screaming. He’s seen it in Ghost before.

“Then why are you here?” you ask, tongue dripping acid. “Since you’re such a catch.”

Brandon sighs and shakes his head, trying for fond exasperation and only achieving constipated.

“I’m not willing to just throw away two years. I’ve invested a lot in this relationship, and we can still make it work.” It actually starts to make Kyle nauseous, the way he talks about you like a business decision. “I mean, you have some things to make up for but eventually, we can go back to the way we were.”

“And what,” you say through gritted teeth, consonants sharp enough to pierce skin, “do I have to make up for?”

Kyle listens, flabbers absolutely gasted, as Brandon answers.

“You ran off to play desk bunny for a man I don’t know. God only knows what ‘favor’ you did to land that job. You’ve lowered your value as a marriable woman but there are ways to make it up to me—”

“Who the fuck do you think you’re talking to?”

Kyle’s ears ring like the first time he heard his mum curse.

Brandon looks taken aback too. You don’t give either of them a chance to respond.

“I know it’s not fucking me. Because if you were talking to me, you’d be stupider than you look.”

Brandon’s face flushes with anger. He takes another step forward. Kyle takes two in return, shaking his head in warning. Unfortunately, Brandon doesn’t know how to read his face any better than yours.

“C’mon, mate, it’s common sense. A lock that opens for any key and all that.”

Kyle’s heard it before. “Women ain’t locks, mate.”

“If you don’t get out of this building right fucking now, I will ruin your life,” you snarl.

Brandon does a double take. “Is that a threat? You can’t—"

“You bet your pasty ass it is,” you reply without missing a beat. You raise your voice every time he tries to interrupt, barreling through his weak protest like a train. “Fifteen fucking minutes. That’s all it would take to destroy you, your stupid sister, your bitchy mother, your pervert father, and that fucking slag you got pregnant twice.”

Kyle’s eyebrows rise with each word until he’s fairly certain they’ve floated up to the ceiling somewhere.

Brandon, though… Brandon’s face is ashen.

“How… how did you…?”

“Get. The fuck. Out.”

Kyle doesn’t give him the option to refuse. He scruffs Brandon by the back of his bland suit and shoves him out the first door of the vestibule. It closes and locks just as he turns around, a rebuttal finally juddering to his bloodless lips. You haven’t even turned to watch him go.

Kyle approaches you feeling a bit like he does coming to Price with shit news when he’s already pissed.

He almost says, you sure know how to pick ‘em – but thinks better of it. There’s practically frost forming beneath your feet, the air around you is icy.

“Walk you up, little miss?” he asks, offering his arm.

You gently take his arm and exhale heavily. “If you don’t mind.”

“Not at all.”

You invite him in at your door. Your hands are shaking a bit. He politely accepts, shooting Price the others a text that he’ll be a bit late. He’s not about to leave you in a state.

As usual, you step out of your shoes at the door, leaving you in your shimmery stockings, then pad to the kitchen.

“Tea?” you ask as he follows.

“I haven’t the time, doll, I’m sorry. I just want to make sure you’re alright before heading out.”

You turn, expression softening. Just like that, you’re back to your usual self, sweet as honey.

“I’ll be alright, I think,” you reply, sighing. “That was a long time coming.”

He leans his shoulder in the doorway, unable to help chuckling at the memory of your ex’s gobsmacked expression. The corners of your mouth curl up in shy amusement.

“Seemed like it,” he replies. “We should weaponize those f-bombs you dropped.”

That coaxes a giggle out. “Graves would be first on my list.”

“The boss’s too.” And oh, Kyle can’t wait to tell Price about this. (As if he needed another reason to hate Brandon and adore you.)

“Christ,” you groan, “you’re going to tell him about this, aren’t you?”

He’s at least able to muster an apologetic grimace. “You know I have to, sweets.”

“Suppose I’ll get the really good tea tomorrow,” you muse.

“He liked those pistachio scones from the corner café, too.”

You light up. It just so happens that they bake your favorite muffins too. “Good idea.”

“I’m full of ‘em.”

You snort, but there’s a fond smile on your face. Regretfully, he notes the time on the stove clock behind you.

“You’re sure you’re alright here by yourself?” he asks.

“I’m sure,” you promise, crossing to give him a warm hug. “I lock the door and windows like Simon told me.”

“Atta girl,” he says, pressing a chaste kiss to your cheek. “I’ll see you tomorrow morning, yeah?”

“Seven sharp!” you chirp.

He pauses at the door, “You call if there’s any trouble.”

You poke your head around the corner. “You don’t sign my paychecks; you can’t tell me what to do.”

He points right back at you. “That’s from the bossman direct.”

“Then he can tell me himself.”

He arches his brows. You blink.

“Don’t tell him I said that.”

He chokes back a chuckle. “Sweet dreams, little miss.”

“Get home safe, Kyle!”

As far as business meetings go, one with Los Vaqueros is almost pleasant. Sure, they always try to overprice their products, but haggling them down is practically a game between Price and Vargas by now. The shipping agreement between them and SpecGru is long established by now, a major link in the international arms market.

“Negotiations” are relaxed enough that Rudy and Valeria are playing cards with Ghost and Soap at the sitting table, whiskey glasses at their elbows. The plan for the next six months is all but set when Price suddenly jerks. In an instant, his face goes dark, shoulders tense.

“Something wrong, hermano?” Vargas asks.

“I’m getting a call.”

Soap and Ghost snap to attention.

There are only a handful of people that can reach Price during a meeting. All but one is in this room.

As he brings the phone to his ear, Kyle sees your name on the screen.

“Yes, love?” he answers.

Even from a couple feet away, Kyle can hear your voice through the receiver – high and panicked. Kyle’s already reaching for his keys.

“He fucking what?” Price barks.

Soap and Ghost jump to their feet, cards and drinks forgotten.

“Barricade the door, get a knife. We’ll be right there.”

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