#a part of me wonders if i can convince my sisters to just let us do the thing we’re doing with my twin as for both of us bc

[acrosstimeandspace]

trying to figure out something to do for my birthday while i’m at home because while it’s not for another few weeks i also won’t be able to come home until like. july if i’m able to get time off but also i’m trying to make it cheap and also disability friendly for my mom but so many things are in the fucking hotels. i’m going to tear them down with my hands they need to stop having things in them

[steddiealltheway]

Happy Halloween everyone!! Here is some type of no upside down AU fic :)

Eddie drums his hands on the cafeteria table and looks around at his friends. "Alright gentlemen, what are we doing for Halloween?"

He instantly gets a sense that something is off when Jeff and Gareth exchange a guilty look. Eddie leans forward and props his chin up on his hand. "Want to share with the class?"

Gareth sighs and looks at the table for a moment before bursting out, "Well, my sister and Jeff's brother really wanted to go out trick-or-treating this year, and you know how they've gotten close. And the deal was that either Jeff and I would stay at our houses manning the candy bowl, or we would go out with the kids."

Eddie huffs out, "And let me guess, you chose free candy, torturous walking, and a cutesy group costume."

Jeff smiles guiltily. "You're looking at Shaggy and Scooby-Doo."

"Adorable," Eddie says with a big fake smile before turning to Frank. "You're not leaving me high and dry though, isn't that right, Frank?"

Only, Frank seems to be just as guilty-looking as the others.

"Frank... Don't do this to me, man," Eddie pleads.

Frank sighs, "I told my mom I would do a Halloween horror movie night with her. Sorry, Eddie."

Eddie looks between all his friends, wondering if they're pulling a prank on him and fulfilling the trick part of trick-or-treat. But he slowly realizes that they're not. "Shit," he whispers, "I guess I needed to book you guys early," Eddie jokes, trying not to feel too let down.

Jeff pats his hand and says, "Hey, you can come with us. We need a bad guy in a mask."

Eddie scrunches up his nose. "Willingly walking miles and dealing with kids on an endless sugar high? No thanks. But... I appreciate the thought." He sits back and picks up a few of his pretzels before dropping them back in the bag. What is he going to do? He has always loved Halloween, his friends know this. But what's the point in celebrating if he's alone?

"You could go to Harrington's infamous ball," Frank suggests. Gareth and Jeff immediately start laughing loudly. Eddie just glares at Frank, but he doesn't seem to be joking as he defends himself, "I'm not kidding! Come on, free beer and witnessing a bunch of shit drama."

Eddie snorts. "Yeah, because I would be so welcomed there."

"It's not like people will really notice. I hear his place is jam-packed with random people every year. Plus, you could wear your bat masquerade mask," Jeff interjects.

Eddie sighs and puts his head in his hands. "You're not seriously trying to convince me to go, right?"

"I mean... we're not not trying to convince you," Gareth supplies unhelpfully. There's an oof sound that Eddie's sure is the result of Jeff elbowing him in the side. "But seriously, you can wear the mask so no one will recognize you and your slutty vampire outfit-"

"It's not slutty."

"It has a tight leather lace-up vest, it's a little slutty," Jeff stage whispers to Eddie.

Eddie groans and dramatically thuds his head down on the table before quickly looking up. "Let me get this right. You want me to go to Steve Harrington's Halloween party in a mask as a Cinderella-type vampire because you guys are ditching me?"

"Precisely. Except the part where we ditched you because we clearly invited you-"

"Okay! Okay!" Eddie cuts Jeff off waving his hands.

"And hey, we all know that you would love to get some one-on-one time with Harrington, and what's a better time to do this than undercover?" Jeff asks.

Eddie dramatically shushes him and whispers, "I told you guys that secret while entirely way too high, you cannot hold that information against me right now."

"He's right," Frank says, "You can finally find out if Harrington truly isn't an asshole."

"And see if he has the hots for you while you're wearing your-"

"I swear, Gareth, if you call the costume slutty again..."

"Okay, but are you wearing it with your leather pants?" Jeff asks, eyebrows raised.

Eddie sighs and looks down at his lunchbox. "Maybe," he begrudgingly admits.

"Slutty!" Frank loudly says, and Gareth and Jeff immediately burst out laughing.

Eddie covers his face in his hands before joining in on their laughter. "Maybe it's a little slutty," he admits.

As the boys celebrate their win, Eddie feels someone staring over at him. He glances toward Harrington's table where he's sitting next to his ex and her new boyfriend and finds him staring directly at him. Eddie's heart beats a little harder when Steve slightly smiles at him before redirecting his attention to Jonathan.

"Jesus Christ, he looked at me again," Eddie mutters.

"Dude, you always say this, but we never see him do it," Frank groans.

"Yeah, because you don't obsessively check out his table," Gareth says with a laugh before he suddenly frowns and turns to Eddie. "No offense."

"None taken," Eddie replies as he chews on his bottom lip, thinking deeply. If he goes to the party, he can finally confront his crush on the guy he's never truly interacted with unless you count all the times they catch each other's eye then... they would be interacting somewhat often.

He can also finally figure out if it's all in his head or not.

"Okay. I'm going to the Harrington party," Eddie announces.

"Seriously?" Jeff asks incredulously.

"You guys are just so convincing," Eddie says with his hands over his heart.

"Bullshit," Frank says, "You're just going for a chance to maybe say two words to him."

Eddie crosses his arms and asks, "And what would those two words be?"

"'Slutty vampire' in response to 'What are you dressed as?'" Jeff quickly jokes, earning a shriek of laughter from Gareth and Frank.

Eddie thanks whatever entity is responsible for making the bell ring to announce lunch is over. "I need new friends," Eddie lies as he gathers his stuff up.

As Gareth and Frank rush off, Jeff lays a hand on Eddie's arm and says, "Hey, we can do a Halloween slasher night if you want to this weekend. Also, don't hesitate to call if you need help getting ready or need a second pair of eyes to make sure Harrington will approve."

Eddie gives him a genuine small smile and squeezes his shoulder, "Thanks, man."

"Don't mention it," Jeff says as he walks off with a bright smile.

As Eddie watches him walk away, he catches Harrington staring at him out of the corner of his eye, but as soon as he glances over, he looks away looking... angry? Eddie just sighs and shakes his head. He needs to stop thinking that Harrington in any way has thoughts dedicated to him.

Maybe this party will be good for Eddie.

-:-:-:-:-:-

Eddie stares at his reflection in the mirror and twists and turns. Maybe the leather is slutty, but he thinks the plain black cape does well to soften the look a bit. He stares at his hair and all the glossy individually finger-curled strands making his hair look a little more tame than usual. But hell, his arms and fingers ache. He just hopes it's all worth it.

He puts on the bat mask and frowns before taking it off and digging around for his eyeliner pencil he knows he has somewhere in the bathroom. He quickly finds it in a random basket and applies it before smudging it a bit. He puts the mask back on and smiles. He likes the way it has an elegant almost lace-looking quality to the plastic that offsets the leather of his costume.

He wishes he could call Jeff for a final look, but he doesn't want to take any precious time away from him and his brother although they're probably done trick-or-treating by now. Plus, he knows that Jeff would tell him that he looks great and not to overthink it. So, that's exactly what he's going to do.

He grabs the bright orange flyer he found on the floor at school for the Harrington Halloween House Party and cringes at the alliteration. He's pretty sure it's been the same thing for the past three years though, so it's not like Harrington has an option of changing it.

Gosh, he needs to stop stalling and finally leave for the party. He glances at his watch and sees that it's almost eleven, so people should be finally arriving an hour fashionably late. Better to be a part of that crowd to not draw much attention.

He drives over quickly, parking a little down the road when he starts seeing other cars, not wanting to get stuck if he wants to leave early. He takes a deep breath before glancing in the mirror again. He's not recognizable... right? Right.

He gets out of his van and quickly starts walking toward the intimidatingly large house. He's glad to find a group of people rushing inside and even more people outside on the front lawn who aren't sparing him a second glance. Usually, he would come to one of these things with his infamous lunchbox and upsell his stash, but he knew it would give him away tonight. Plus, it's nice to not be on edge the whole time, wondering who is approaching him for drugs and who is approaching him with a slur.

As he makes his way inside, he grimaces at the loud pop music people are wildly dancing to and the smell of alcohol that permeates the house. It's only a few minutes before someone is shoving a cup of mysteriously bright red liquid in Eddie's hand. He takes a tentative sip and shrugs. It's not horrible especially since Eddie likes terribly sweet things, but he definitely isn't going to waste time getting a second cup.

He's on a mission. And his mission is to find Steve and hope that he's not somewhere with his tongue down some random girl's throat. Eddie tries to shove away the thoughts telling him that he shouldn't expect Steve Harrington to not be doing exactly that at his party. Plus, why would he spare time to talk to Eddie of all people?

Eddie takes another sip of his drink and makes his way through the crowd, not finding a single glimpse of that Harrington mane that's usually easy to spot. He goes outside the backdoor and frowns at all the people making out in the pool before heading back inside.

He glances around a few more times before settling back in a corner, downing the rest of his drink before giving up on his search and settling on people watching. But god it’s boring.

These people are boring.

It’s just the same situation over and over again. A couple getting uncomfortably handsy with each other, or a guy and girl eyeing each other up across the room as their friends hype them up in a way that’s either grotesque or filled with squeals.

And the room is hot. So unbearably hot that his leather pants are starting to cling to Eddie in an uncomfortable way that makes him want to rip them off.

Instead, he settles on climbing the stairs and going to find whatever bathroom he can to splash some cold water in his face and hopefully get a moment to himself.

He looks at all the closed doors, pressing his ear against them before quickly backing away whenever he hears something gross. But then his ear settles on one door and there’s the distinct sound of nothing on the other side that puts him at ease.

He twists the knob and walks into the room, freezing when he realizes that, one, this is not a bathroom, and, two, someone with Steve Harrington's distinctive hair swoop is sitting in the room.

The man turns and makes eye contact with Eddie who instantly dies a little inside as he realizes it is Steve. "Sorry. I didn't mean to barge in."

Steve gives him a small smile and says, "I don't mind."

Eddie doesn't know what to do other than hover in the doorway of the dark room. Steve continues to stare at him and eventually asks, "Want to join me?"

Yes. Hell yes, he does. But also, Eddie has the distinct feeling that this either has to be a dream or a prank. But he still nods.

"Do you mind locking the door behind you? I just... don't want anyone trying to use this room as a place to hook up or something."

Now this definitely sets off a few alarms in Eddie's head, but there's a weird air of sadness surrounding Steve that makes it seem... genuine. So Eddie closes the door and locks it behind him, slowly making his way over to Steve. As he gets closer, some of the light trailing in through his blinds catches on the glittering crown that he's holding in his hands.

Eddie gestures toward it. "King Steve?"

Steve smiles sadly and looks down at the crown. "Something like that."

Eddie carefully sits next to Steve, trying to keep a respectable distance between them on the bed. His eyes trace over Steve's costume, a clearly expensive, gorgeous prince or king costume. "So, what are you supposed to be?"

"Prince Charming," Steve answers easily. He glances over at Eddie and shrugs. "Nancy thought that it would be funny because of my 'Harrington charm' mixed with King Steve, but I don't know. I kind of hate that nickname." He shakes his head and changes the subject. "What are you supposed to be?"

"Slutty vampire," Eddie says almost automatically, startling a laugh out of Steve as Eddie curses under his breath and puts his hands over his face. As his fingers press into the mask on his face, he's startled by the realization that Steve doesn't know who he is. "Sorry, my friends kept saying that, and I insisted it wasn't what I was going for. But they won that argument in the end I guess." God, he can't believe he actually said that.

"You look maybe a little slutty but in a good way," Steve rushes to say the last part. He runs a hand through his hair, getting a bit flustered. "I mean you look nice."

"So do you," Eddie admits honestly.

Steve holds his hand out to him. "Steve."

Eddie takes his hand and says, "Cinderella."

Steve laughs again. "Really?"

"I got the mask and everything," Eddie explains, not yet wanting to ruin things when Steve finds out who he really is.

"Cinderella then," Steve says with a smile that makes Eddie feel a little weak in the knees. Thank god he's sitting down.

"So, what are you doing in here in the dark all by yourself, Prince Charming?"

"I'm not by myself, I'm with you," Steve easily deflects.

Eddie raises his eyebrows although he's pretty sure the mask partially covers them.

Steve looks down at the crown again and raises it up. "I just wanted to not be this for a little bit tonight. Plus, the music was giving me a headache - too many concussions." He pauses before turning to Eddie. "And what were you doing escaping from things?"

"Looking for some quiet," Eddie says and looks down at his unnaturally bare hands. He wishes he would've kept on his rings so he could fidget with them. "I was thinking about leaving, but I wanted to stay in case I found you."

Steve shifts a little on the bed, moving to face him. "And now that you've found me?"

Eddie glances up at him and considers it for a moment. "I hadn't really thought that far."

Steve runs a hand through his hair. "Well, I hope I'm not too disappointing."

"Not at all," Eddie insists, "Actually I thought you'd be-"

"An asshole?" Steve interjects quickly, his expression becoming oddly stoic.

Eddie shakes his head. "Preoccupied with someone else. Anyone other than me really."

Steve face softens and he leans in closer, eyes tracing over Eddie's face as if trying to figure out what's under the mask covering most of the upper half of his face. "You know you can tell me your real name, right?"

Eddie swallows and shakes his head. "Maybe I'll just leave a clue behind or something. Not my shoe though. I always hated that plot line."

Steve smiles brightly. "If it fit perfectly then why did it fall off?"

"Exactly!" Eddie says clapping his hands together excitedly. "Plus, with all that dancing, I just know that shoe did not smell good."

Steve throws his head back and laughs, and Eddie just watches him, filled with pride at being able to pull that reaction out of him. As his laughter dies down, Steve glances back down at the crown.

"You should put it on," Eddie blurts out. Steve looks up at him with his eyebrows raised. "I want to see the whole costume."

Steve reluctantly places the crown on his head and glances toward Eddie. It's strange, how it fits him so perfectly at first glance, but he can see how it personally affects Steve, as if it adds a weight to his entire demeanor.

"You look good, but I think I prefer you without," Eddie admits.

Steve quickly takes it off his head and places it behind him. "Yeah, that's because it messes up my best feature."

"That's strange, I didn't see it mess with your eyes, or your smile, or your nose, or your-"

Eddie's suddenly cut off when Steve leans in and kisses him. He just as quickly pulls away and says, "Sorry. I'm so sorry. I should've asked before I just-"

"Steve," Eddie says, laying a hand over Steve's.

Steve looks up at him nervously.

"Please do that again," Eddie says.

Steve sighs in relief and instantly closes the distance between them again, but Eddie is able to prepare for it, properly cupping his face and kissing him back. He feels like he's in a dream again as Steve deepens the kiss and runs his hands through the curls Eddie took so long to perfect. But he doesn't care at all.

There's a sudden loud ringing of a grandfather clock that pierces through the house causing the two of them to jump apart. "Jesus, I forgot that I told them they could play that creepy recording at midnight," Steve says and freezes. "Wait, it's midnight."

"And?"

"You're Cinderella."

Eddie tries to swallow down the pain of once again realizing that to Steve, he's just some random guy that he doesn't know. But Eddie smiles and says, "Well, lucky for you, the magic doesn't run out until one or two in the morning."

Steve smiles back and says, "Lucky me." But instead of kissing Eddie, he surprises him by asking, "Tell me something about yourself."

Eddie shrugs, trying to think of something that won't give him away. "I play the guitar."

"Oh, is that why you wear the..." Steve trails off, eyes flickering down to his neck before looking away. "Forget I said that. I thought I saw something."

Eddie's brows furrow, but he doesn't press him on it. "What about you? Tell me something most people don't know."

Steve thinks for a moment before smiling. "I almost didn't show up to this tonight. I was going to go trick-or-treating with some of the kids I sort of babysit. But Dustin told me they didn't need a babysitter tonight, so I ended up here."

The story twists at Eddie's heart a bit. Even with his disillusioned crush on Steve, he would've never guessed there was a group of kids he cared for so much.

Eddie reaches out and intertwines his fingers with Steve's. "I'm sure they miss you."

"I don't know. They were going in custom-made costumes for these characters they play as in D and D or something. They seemed really excited about it, so they've probably forgotten about me by now."

Eddie swallows down the entire spiel he wants to make about Hellfire Club and asking who the kids are so he might be able to recruit them and instead says, "Well, you're pretty unforgettable."

Steve smiles and opens his mouth to respond when there's a sudden loud knock on the door. Steve frowns and loudly says, "Occupied!"

A voice on the other side of the door loudly says, "I think your neighbors down the way ratted us out! Someone said the police are on their way."

"Shit," Steve mutters and runs his hands over his face. "I'll be right there! Just get rid of all the alcohol you can find and turn off the music. Party is over." He stands up and turns to Eddie offering his hand which Eddie takes.

They both stand up and Eddie realizes he's never stood directly next to him and is surprised that they seem to be the same height. God, it's so nice to be at eye level with him.

"I guess this is goodbye, Cinderella," Steve says sadly and tucks a strand of hair behind his ear. "Will you leave me with at least a kiss?"

"You're too charming to say no to," Eddie jokes before he leans in and kisses Steve again, lingering in the kiss for as long as he can before they both pull away as there's another loud knock on the door.

Steve squeezes Eddie's shoulder one last time and says, "I promise to find you." He rushes out the door quickly after and Eddie is left standing in Steve's room alone. He takes a deep breath before he leaves slowly, distancing the time they were seen with each other.

Luckily, things are in a bit of a frenzy as he leaves so he doubts anyone noticed him slipping out of the same room as Steve. But on his drive home, Eddie realizes he gave Steve absolutely nothing to identify him with. He curses and debates turning back until he sees Hopper's police car pass him.

Steve's never going to find him.

-:-:-:-:-:-

The entire weekend, Eddie's friends have the pleasure of hearing him share the story over and over again while simultaneously complaining about not leaving something equivalent to a shoe behind.

"Well, it sounds like you at least left him with a lot of your saliva," Gareth says one time, and Eddie has to get Jeff to hold him back.

Monday morning is the worst when he realizes he has to see Steve and pretend like nothing happened. Because there's no way he's going to tell Steve that he's Cinderella and expect him to not punch him in the face.

Okay, Steve doesn't seem the type to do that, but there's no way he would be excited to hear that Eddie's the guy he swapped spit with - god, he really needs to get Gareth's words out of his head. But Eddie thinks he'll be able to deal with Steve never knowing than Steve rejecting him.

He sees Steve here and there in the hall but is luckily able to divert his path so Steve never directly sees him. Unfortunately, Eddie knows Steve will be at the same table as always at lunch which is right in his line of sight.

When he sits down, his friends are already nudging him and cracking jokes about Prince Charming and whatnot that pisses Eddie off. It makes things worse when he sees Steve sitting with his back to him, which he's never done before. At one point, Eddie just snaps, gets up, and leaves the cafeteria saying he needs a minute. He rushes off to his locker, digging around for his spare pack of cigarettes when he hears a pair of footsteps to his left.

He sighs and closes the locker door, expecting to see a teacher who has followed him, expecting him to do something suspicious. Instead, he gets the shock of his life when he sees Steve walking right up to him.

As Steve approaches, Eddie dumbly says, "Are you looking to buy something?"

Steve runs a hand through his hair before shaking his head. "No, I'm not, Cinderella."

Eddie's eyes widen. There's no way...

"Did you really think I didn't know who you were?" Steve asks, and Eddie can't get a read on him, but he seems... upset.

"I'm sorry?"

Steve sighs and runs a hand through his hair again. “Eddie, I know it was you, and I want to know why you've been avoiding me all day. Like did it really mean nothing to you? Is that why you didn't tell me your name?"

Eddie's head spins a little too fast at the revelation, so he clarifies, "Wait, you knew it was me the whole time?"

"Yes. I thought you were just really pretending to be in character or something, but today you were icing me out. And I know we haven't really talked before Friday night, but I thought I was clear about wanting to change that."

"Then why did you face with your back toward me in the cafeteria?" Eddie blurts out without thinking.

"There was something on my chair," Steve answers easily.

"Oh." Okay, maybe Eddie is an idiot but, "Wait, you really knew who I was and still, "he lowers his voice and leans in, "...kissed me?"

A look of realization crosses over Steve's face before he smiles. "Eddie, I've been staring at you for weeks now, and I just hadn't gotten the courage to talk to you yet. You're pretty intimidating."

"Me? I'm intimidating? You're literally called 'King Steve.'" Steve frowns at the title, but Eddie continues, "I never thought I had a shot with you without the mask on - or even with the mask on. I was avoiding you today because I didn't want you to realize it was me and reject me."

"I thought you called yourself Cinderella because I was dressed as Prince Charming," Steve laughs.

"I didn't even realize that was Cinderella's prince!" Eddie nearly shrieks, laughing loudly along with Steve. "We're a disaster," he says through his laughter.

Steve takes a deep breath, trying to kill his laughter a little to say, "I think we should start over a little and go on a date. This time without fake names and the police showing up."

"No promises about the second one," Eddie says with a big smile.

Steve smiles and looks at him as if waiting for something.

"What?" Eddie asks.

Steve laughs anxiously. "Is that a yes to the date?"

"Oh! Christ. Yes! Yes, it is. Sorry," Eddie sighs and runs a hand over his face, noting the way his hands don't catch on a mask this time. Steve Harrington is fine with him being Cinderella - more than fine with it really. He narrows his eyes at Steve. "And this isn't a trick?"

"I thought it would be more of a treat," Steve jokes.

Eddie rolls his eyes and simultaneously laughs at the horrible pun. "Did you know that you're really charming?"

Another laugh is startled out of Steve who quickly tries to hide it. He looks down at the ground and says, "I'm having a hard time thinking of a joke about a slutty vampire."

Eddie groans, "Don't remind me."

"I wouldn't mind if you reminded me," Steve flirts.

"Christ," Eddie says, feeling a blush quickly rise on his cheeks.

The bell for lunch rings again, and this time Eddie wants to curse the entity responsible for it.

"I'll slip you my number later so you can call me later, Cinderella" Steve announces, walking back to the cafeteria where he left his stuff.

"I'm charmed," Eddie replies with a wink that has Steve getting slightly flustered.

As he rounds the corner and gets out of sight, Eddie can't help but think about how Steve really kept his promise about finding him. He also can't wait to have proof that all his friends were wrong, except maybe he was a little bit of a slutty vampire... But it definitely paid off.

And it definitely was a very happy Halloween.

[lovelytsunoda]

glad I crashed the wedding // oscar piastri

summary: she needed a wedding date. he wanted a reason to spend time with her. but of course, the inn only has one bed, and oscar makes her feel alive in a way she's never felt before.

pairing: oscar piastri x female! reader

warnings: sexual tension, one bed trope, difficult sister relationship (though they love each other very very much), eventual smut, fake dating (I’ve been reading too much Ana Huang lately)

“so let me get this straight,” she began, swirling the coconut-mango-pineapple icy drink in her hand, leaning back against the photocopier. “you, the great oscar piastri, wants to come home with me to be my date for my sisters wedding, and you don’t want anything in return?”

oscar nodded, a wide grin on his face as the copy machine continued to churn out waivers for the hot lap guests to sign. “that’s exactly what I’m saying.”

“but why?”

oscar shrugged, trying to come up with a convincing lie. “because I’m your friend. and this is what friends do.”

y/n sighed, sipping her drink before turning away from the driver. keeping eye contact was dangerous when it was with oscar piastri. when it was with the man who set her nerve endings on fire, who made her stomach churn like the rising tide with a gesture as small as a wave, or an offer to buy her a drink.

who had an accent that made her core throb, soaking her panties right through when she thought about how his voice would sound in her ear if he was whispering some less-than-holy things to her.

“I don’t want to subject you to the insanity. you might not want to be friends after you meet my family. we can’t even be in the same room sometimes, it’s like dropping a match onto a pile of dry leaves.”

oscar laughed and she tried to ignore the shivers the sound sent up her spine, the rising goose flesh on her arms as she counted the waivers, having to start the count over again more than a few times.

“I’m sure they’re not that bad.” oscar reasoned, taking the file folder from her, insisting on lightening her load. “I just want you to feel at ease.”

she rolled her eyes, grabbing her drink as she started to walk out of the motorhome. “I’ve been living in delias shadow since I was fourteen. she’s a well respected medical professional; and I went to a three year college. everything she does is perfect. hell, she’s getting married this weekend and here I am, convincing myself that letting you tag along is a good idea so I don’t look like I’m going to die alone.”

it’s not like she wasn’t successful. she was a part of the legal team for one one of the biggest racing names in the world. when Oscar’s contract dispute started, she had been the one who served otmar his papers (and to this day, saying the words “otmar szafanuer you have been served, see you in court” was still one of the finest moments of her career).

it’s just that delia always brought out the worst in her, every insecurity, every flaw she hated about herself. their childhood has been fraught with insecurity and competition.

she sighed, leaning against one of the paddocks scratchy palm trees, bark digging into the skin on her arms. oscar was still trying to plead his case, and she wondered why she was fighting it.

this is what she wanted, wasn’t it? oscar on her arm, making her feel like she was wanted, loved, even?

she took another sip of her drink before she spoke again.

“we’ll probably have to share a hotel room, and my dad might threaten you with his antique saw collection. you’ll also have to stop me from killing delia with my bare hands before the big day.”

oscar chuckled, handing back her file folder. “I think I can handle that.”

that goddamn smile. that’s where it all started, when she first started to think about his lips on hers, his hands in her hair, his mouth wrapped around her nipples.

why on earth was she agreeing to this?

“you’d better be up bright and early tomorrow. it’s a long flight and my dad is meeting us at the airport. as far as everyone knows, I’m not bringing a date.”

the feeling of his hand against the small of her back burned into her skin. she could feel his body heat through the thick fabric of her papaya golf shirt as he started guiding her towards the garage where the hot laps were being conducted.

“oscar, what are you doing?”

he grinned at her, baring his pearl-white teeth, in their slightly uneven top row. “if we’re going to convince your dad that we’re together, we’d better start practicing.”

god, this man was going to be the death of her.

————

she regretted inviting oscar along the second they got off the plane.

from the moment they passed through airport security, it was as if a switch had been flicked in her brain, converting him from the serious, driven race car driver she met at the track, to a man straight out of the romance book she had been listening to on the flight. his hand was rooted to her back protectively, and he wouldn't let her carry any of her luggage on her own.

she could get used to this, she thought, watching his t-shirt ride up over his defined abs as he reached into the overhead cabin to pull down her two small suitcases.

they walked peacefully through the terminal, oscar pushing the baggage cart with one hand, his free arm looped over her shoulder.

"you know you don't have to act like my boyfriend until we see my father, right?" she said hesitantly, running a thumb over his knuckles. "my feelings won't get hurt if you don't want to pretend when nobody else is around.

oscar acted like he was about to say something, but he was cut off by a shout across the airport.

"y/n!" the voice shouted. "there's my girl!"

"dad!" she shouted, breaking away from oscar's side to launch herself into her father's arms. the constant travel that came with working in formula one took it's toll, and she didn't get to see her father as often as she liked. she'd had to move to england to work with mclaren, and her family had stayed behind.

she never said she loved that part of her job, but a little space away from her family often made her appreciate them a little more.

"dad, i want you to meet someone." she started, waving at oscar, who lumbered over with the weighed-down baggage cart. "this is my boyfriend, oscar." despite the lie, and how foreign the words were, saying them almost felt right.

my boyfriend oscar.

"i'm carl, nice to meet you." her father said, his voice a slight bit more gentle than his usual grunt.

oscar shook carl's hand, a bit of weariness on his face as he slipped his smooth, dainty hand inside carl's larger, more calloused one. "nice to meet you, sir."

carl raised an eyebrow. "australian? you'd better not be giving my daughter any of those australian kisses."

"dad, what the hell!?" she whined, hiding her face behind her hands as a blush began to coat her cheeks. if there was one thing she definitely was not getting from oscar piastri, it was australian kisses.

oscar thought she was cute when she was flustered. it was such a shame it took him an hot minute to figure out why.

australian kisses are like french kisses, just down under. it was mark who had said it to him first, in an attempt to be funny. as the meaning set in for oscar, he found himself silently cursing mark webber.

but it didn't mean he didn't get half-hard thinking about having his head between y/n's thighs.

________

"you've got to be shitting me."

she knew they would be sharing a bedroom. all of the plus ones were rooming in the chic, trendy motel with the guests who had invited them. and that would have been fine.

except that this hotel only had a queen bed, done up with plush white sheets and a small turquoise blanket draped over the bottom half.

a queen bed that she would have to share with a man that she wished would fuck her brains out.

"i can call the main office if you want." oscar suggested softly, reaching for the door handle. "i can see if they have another room, or they could bring a cot in for me?"

she sighed, raking her hair over her head as she looked around the room. "don't bother. the motel only has fifteen rooms, and it's booked solid for delia's wedding, between her bridal party and the fiancée's family, i doubt they'd even really have a cot. we can manage, right?"

oscar nodded, hands buried deep in his sweatpant pockets. damn those gray sweats.

"we can make a towel barrier, and the bed is more than big enough for both of us. hell, we could probably have a threesome on that bed and still have space."

did oscar piastri not have a single drop of shame?

she shook her head, trying to forget the thought of a half-naked oscar hovering over her, whispering things in her ear. she made a grab for her suitcase placing it on the bed and grabbing a handful of clothes and a travel bath and body works bottle.

"i'm going for a shower, can we talk about this afterwards? i'm jet lagged and i really just want to sleep."

"sure." oscar shrugged, spreading hismelf out on the bed, arms over his head so that his shirt once again showed off his stunning lower torso.

she tried to stop herself from staring at the happy trail dipping under oscar's waistband, but she failed miserably, her eyes following the small trail of hair down to the waistband of his jack and jones boxers, to the impressive lump underneath his jeans.

if his cock was that big when it was soft, how would it feel when it was hard, throbbing and inside of her. just the mere thought was making heat grow between her legs-

nope. we're not going there today.

she squeaked out some kind of muffled statement, clutching her clothes to her chest and making a mad dash towards the bathroom door. a cold shower should fix this, right?

when oscar heard the shower turn on, the music clicking on soon after, he sat up on the bed, rubbing the tiredness out of his eyes. he knew he should shower as well, but the fatigue of air travel was beginning to set in. a small nap wouldn't hurt, right?

he got up from the bed, socked feet sliding against the laminate floor as he reached for the wheels on the bottom of y/n's suitcase. all he needed to do was close the suitcase, move it out of the way, close his eyes, and then drift of into a peaceful slumber.

all he had to do was hope that he didn't wake up hard, or moan her name in his sleep. it should be easy, right?

wrong. the suitcase slipped out of his grip, almost sliding off the bed before he thanked god for his reflexes, stopping the suitcase from hitting the floor, save for a few articles of clothing.

he leaned down picking up the black busted tour shirt and denim shorts, his breath catching in his throat when he saw what was resting on the area rug underneath.

it was a mass of bright peach lace, the color so close to the mclaren signature papaya, his heart hammering in his chest as he picked it up and unraveled the halter bralette. he bit back a moan as he stared at the lace and mesh that left very little to the imagination.

he started to think about his mild-mannered co-worker wearing it, her perky nipples pressing against the bright, skimpy fabric.

the mere thought sent all the blood rushing straight to his cock.

god, he was down so bad that it should be criminal.

he shouldn’t be thinking about whispering dirty sweet nothings against her skin, or sucking a hickey into her thigh before he plunges his tongue inside of her.

he shouldn’t be thinking about anything that would make his boner worse.

and that was when he heard the bathroom door open. and there wasn’t enough time to hide the sweat seeping from the pores on his skin, the tent in his sweatpants, or the fact that he was still holding the offending lingerie in his hands.

“it’s not what it looks like!” the driver sputters, turning around to face her, and bitting his lip to stop himself from losing whatever composure he has left.

she’s wearing booty shorts that barely cover her backside, the ass emblazoned with the acronym for the college she attended, her top half covered with a loose-fitting muscle tank sporting a skeleton on a surfboard, the sides of her bare tits just barely visible through the arm holes.

“oscar,” she breathed, voice raspy when she saw the tent pitched in his pants. “do i turn you on?”

“you have since the day I met you.” he admits, dropping the bra and slowly moving closer, hesitantly running his hands down her still-warm sides. “tell me, y/n, do you touch yourself when you think about me?”

“i could ask you the same.” she shot back, her voice wavering as she pressed her hand shakily against oscars clothed cock. “your boyfriend act didn’t feel like an act this morning.”

they shouldn’t be doing this. it was crossing so many lines. but when oscar looked her dead in the eyes and breathed out a single word, all thoughts of self control went out the window.

"yes."

she pressed her lips against his, nipples springing to attention as she pressed her front against his, his hands moving from her sides to squeeze and caress her breasts, her mouth falling open in a moan against his lips. oscar took that chance to slip his tongue inside her mouth, his hands migrating to her hair as he maneuvered their bodies towards the bed.

she took the lead once her back hit the mattress, practically ripping her tank top off and casting it aside, hands making a mad grab for oscar's plain white shirt while he kissed and marked up her neck.

she whimpered under his touch, and would have been embarrassed had she not been so turned on.

"oscar, please." she begged, spreading her thighs as she tried to grind her core against his thigh. "i need you. i need your cock so deep inside me that i can still feel it three days later."

oscar practically growled at the admission, pulling his lips off her right tit. "are you begging for me, pretty girl? do you want me to make you feel good? hm, want me to treat you right?"

"yes." she breathed, tucking a hand underneath his boxers. "please, oscar."

god, his name sounded so sexy rolling off her tongue. he couldn't think straight when she had her slender fingers wrapped around his cock.

"are you sure you want this? because once i have you, i won't let you go. i'll need more."

"i'm sure, oscar. and i'm not just saying that because i think your mild possessiveness is kind of hot."

oscar smiled, a small, imperceptible blush forming on his cheeks. "you think i'm hot."

"since the day i met you." she hummed, sewing her lips to his, her fingers tugging on his hair, a small moan leaving his throat.

"oh, so pretty boy likes it when i tug on his hair." she giggled. "i learn something new every day."

"keep talking like that, and you won't be able to walk in the morning."

"i look forward to it."

oscar looked around, his eyes settling on the mirror hanging opposite the bed, right next to the bathroom door. he felt his dick throb as an idea formed in his head, pulling away from the body lying prone on the bed.

"shorts off, all-fours on the bed facing that mirror." he ordered, trying to keep a gentle tone in his voice as he clambered off the bed, stripping out of his sweatpants and boxers, hard member jutting straight out as her touched himself, trying to find some kind of release from the pressure between his legs.

she shivered at the command before making a show of dropping her shorts to show off the cream coloured cotton thong she was wearing, laughing to herself when oscar's eyes rolled back in his skull, a moan escaping his throat.

"god, you're going to be the death of me, sweetheart."

she couldn't deny the excitement in her bones as she settled herself on the bed, arousal literally dripping down her thighs when she looked in the mirror and saw oscar looking at her, mounting the bed behind her before slapping his cock against her ass.

in a more tender, loving action, oscar leaned over her, pressing a kiss to the top of her spine.

"you're so pretty." he whispered, the compliment sinking into her skin like tattoo ink before he sunk into her, gripping her hips and closing his eyes to try and show some restraint as she got used to his size.

it was a sinful picture in that motel room mirror as he began to rut into her, watching her tits shake in the mirror, listening to her sweet whimpers and whines and pleads for more.

"god, yes, oscar! feels so-so fucking good, oh my god."

he met her eyes in the mirror, sweat running down his chest and dripping onto her back as he kept thrusting, the same relentless pace. "you're so good for me, pretty girl. so stunning, so sexy with my cock inside you like this. god, you're prefect. perfectly mine."

he practically growled the last word, knowing damn well that he was ruined for any other woman.

-------

they woke up in a tangled heap of limbs, not knowing where one body ended and the other began, lazily exchanging kisses as the sun rose outside.

"oscar, we have to go to the rehearsal." she whined as he kissed her neck. "if we're late, i'm never going to hear the end of it."

"don't care." oscar hums, running his hands up and down her sides. "i would gladly stay in bed with you all day and order room service so we don't ever have to leave."

"osc." she warned, sitting up in the bed and pulling the duvet over her chest. "we're going to the rehearsal. i'm a bridesmaid, remember?"

fifteen minutes later, oscar was in the bathroom steam-cleaning the wrinkles out of his suit while she tried on the bridesmaid dress, caramel fabric falling over her skin as she stared at herself in the mirror.

the same mirror where, just twelve hours before, she had watched oscar piastri fuck her brains out.

she felt heat on her hips, and didn't even need to look up to realize that it was oscars hands, gently caressing her skin through the satin. he gently kissed her shoulder blades, his hands moving to do up the zipper she couldn't quite reach.

"you look beautiful." he hummed, pressing a kiss to the side of her head. "you deserve better than me."

she giggled softly, tugging his arms away from her hips and around her waist, sinking back into his arms. "no i don't. you're exactly what i want, oscar. you're funny and you're sweet and you make me feel like the best version of myself. you're also really great in bed."

oscar laughed, kissing her softly. he would never get tired of feeling her lips against his. "the boyfriend stuff was never an act. and i volunteered to come with you this weekend because i wanted to get to know you off the track. who you are when you aren't serving legal papers to team principals."

"i only did that once. i missed out on the chance to fight with chip ganassi since arrow has a different legal team." she laughed. "i really like you, oscar."

"and i really like you too, y/n. my perfect, beautiful girl."

-------

the wedding came and went, marking the end of y/n and oscar's dream weekend, the reminder that very soon, they would all be going back to their real lives.

that she and oscar would need to figure out where they stood with each other.

but she didn't want to think about that. not while she was dancing with her sister, the pair of them finally getting along as they screeched the words to an old tove lo song.

oscar watched from the table, sitting next to y/n's mother and making polite conversation as his lovesick eyes found her under the disco lights.

"someone is feeling lovesick tonight." mrs. y/l/n hummed. "we heard you two last night. the motel walls aren't as thick as you think."

oscar blanched, coughing on his drink. "you heard all that?"

y/n's mom laughed. "her father had to leave the room and get a coffee before he walked in there and strangled you. y/n is always going to be his little girl. but she's growing up, and i think if she has you in her life, she'll be okay. you're good together."

oscar was about to say something else when a shout rang through the room. "delia is doing the bouquet toss!"

all of the members of each wedding party gathered in the middle of the floor, y/n's sister standing on the dj stand, her white dress brushing against the floor and picking up specs of dust and dirt, as she lifted the bouquet over her head.

y/n mother rested her hand on oscar's forearm, staring at him with a knowing look, hoping her other daughter would be the next to tie the knot.

sure enough, it was almost like fate as the boquet of white roses soared into the air, nailing y/n right in the face and tumbling into her arms as the other bridesmaids cheered. her face was pink and she was trying to hide behind the bouqet as delia came to pull her into a hug.

"i love you, sis. and i'm sorry i didn't know how to show it when we were younger." delia gushed, kissing her baby sister on the forehead before nodding her head at oscar. "you've got a good one. don't let him get away."

"i won't." she laughed, wiping at the tears threatening to fall down her cheeks. "i love you, deels."

the song changed, a slow kesha ballad humming through the speakers as the singer crooned about her old flame, and how they couldn't hold a candle to her current love. she turned away from her sister, who had just gone to find her new spouse to dance with, only to see oscar, looking dapper in his black suit and bowtie.

"can i have this dance, my love?"

she smiled, leaving her bouquet with her mother before stepping into oscar's arms, wishing for nothing more than to wrap herself around him like a woolen sweater. she rested her head against his chest, allowing herself to fall into him while they swayed to the music, his lips pressing a kiss to her forehead as dolly parton began to sing the second half of the song.

man, she could really get used to this.

get used to oscar.

TAGS:

@magnummagnussen @httpiastri @sidcrosbyspuck @scuderiamh @silverstonesainz @lorarri @love4lando @thatsdemko @diorleclerc

[flamingpudding]

I'm back with a part 4 if you want to do it it's kind of more of a crack write I just need Klarion trying to explain the family tree

But not explaining how he was made at all So Young Justice and the Justice League are now convinced that a the Ghost King was a teenage parent who is now 27 years old and just passed college with a degree in astronomy and machinery

Klarion's other parent is a a crazy fruit loop 64 year old millionaire who went to college with Klarion's Mom parents who had an emotionally unhealthy obsession with his mom's mother and then it passed on to his mom.

And he has an older sister who is technicality a clone of his mom but also has the bastards DNA so fundamentally making Ellie Vlad Master and Mom's first born kid but there's six other siblings that Klarion had that died back a while back but Mom got granddad who's apparently the time lord AKA Cronos which is a whole another long story to go back in time and save those kids get them fixed up and now Klarion technicality has seven older siblings which all do their own things

And then he starts mentioning his uncle who is a 9 ft yeti his technicality auntie who is a medieval ghost princess who can turn into a dragon his auntie Pandora and his his grandfather cronos

My names for the six other clone children are Donald (he/him), Cecelia (they/she), Bartholomew(Them/They), Kyle AKA Bite(He/It), Brutus(He/They), and then there's Danna (She/Her) who actually really like the name Dan and asked Klarion if could have it when Klarion changed his name

Sorry if this is a little bit too much I've just really been thinking about au for this after the last part you made I hope this helps you with your writing or at least makes you laugh but I really love the idea of Danny's AKA somewhat clone children and finding their own personalities and and fighting themselves out of just being failed clone of their mom also I love the idea of Danny going back in time to save the rest of the clone kids cuz now he's a mature adult who wants to save their lives and wants them to grow into their own people.

(⁠≧⁠▽⁠≦⁠)

I probably did way to much research into all the fandoms I am in to see what I could tie into this... And yet this feels shorter than it should but I also currently lack the time to add more. But for now I hope this will be satisfactorily.

Also this family tree idea especially the part of saving the melted clones. LOVE IT!

So even though it took me a while! here is Part 4 you inspired! Thanks so much for the ask!

------------------

"Dude, you are making us only curious!" Impulse spoke up as he sat down next to Klarion who had his head in his hands. "Like you and your mom can't just drop your family lore like that!"

The witch boy on the other hand looked up with narrowed eyes at the speedster. "What lore?"

"Let's see, the part that apparently a Vlad tried to kill your Grandpa to make friends several time. That your mom is 'ghost' adopted by the lord of time Cronos and Pandora, which makes us family too by the way, and that you have a sister that apparently is even crazier than what we got to know of your family so far." Wonder Girl counted off her fingers next to him grinning as she mentioned the part of probably being a part of his 'crazy' family too. Which hell yea, that sounded like a lot of fun to be explored she would have to talk with Wonder Woman about that as soon as possible.

"Also..." Red Robin added as he flipped through the photo album that apparently no one remembered he had. He was turning it around and pointed at a particular photo with a wild bunch of people in it that varied between more human and well... less humanoid people. One of them definitely was a Yeti and there was also what looked like living armor as well as Teekly (they knew that demon cat at least), a giant green dog and for some reasons there was a green aggressive looking Octopus in the background too. "...how are you related to a Yeti?"

"Hey that man there and those other teens in the picture actually have some resembles with you! Do you have older brothers too?" Superboy additionally asked as he moved around Red Robin to see the photo better pointing at a man that appeared to be in this late twenties, blue eyed, black haired and a little on the buffer side. If he didn't know any better and the fact that he should keep his mouth shut about their actual identities he would have jokingly asked Red Robin if his family would like to add more kids considering Klarions family apparently had a bunch of black haired blue eyed members too, judging by the photo at least.

"What are you talking about. That man is my mom and yes the others are actually my older brothers and that Yeti is uncle Frostbite who also happens to be the best medic in the Infinite Realms" The four teen heroes looked stunned at the picture and then back at the Ghost King that was smiling at them, still seated by the dinner table with their mentors. Who by the way were now perking up at the change of topic and the information they could gain with it, well Wonder Woman was more interested in the apparently extended family she had.

"Oh I remember we took this photo last year, it was such a hassle to get everyone into one place with them all being busy doing their own things." Danny mused for a moment, remembering fondly how he had to literally drag some of the kids home through a portal.

"It was more annoying than anything too since I was declared to be the youngest...." Klarion muttered also remembering that day not as fondly as his mother.

"Wait, wait, wait! That is a picture of your family? I need an explanation buddy!" Impulse cut in without shame, quickly removing the picture from the photo album to get a better look at it before holding it out to Klarion so he could explain all the individuals. "Plus why does your mom look soooo.... human?"

The witch boy on the other hand stared at him for a couple of seconds before looking over towards his mother as if waiting for something. After a moment the teen heroes as well as their mentors saw Danny nod with a little smile. "This dimension doesn't have the GIW so its fine, the Justice League Dark won't be a problem either, right?." Constantine flinched at the smile the Ghost King was giving him, muttering something under his breath as he had hoped his presence had been forgotten.

"Since mom is giving his okay...." Klarion mutter sitting crosslegged on the ground as he snatched the photo album from Red Robin and flipped through it. "Lets start with the easiest stuff to explain."

Danny chuckled noticing that not only the teen heroes but their mentors as well showed an interest. He choose to stay quiet letting the adults listen in on the kids, and if things went bad he would just ask Clockwork if they could revert time back to this moment and he would change his nod of permission to a shake of denial.

"Okay first of, this is my mom and his sister Jasmine, this is Danielle my older sister and that hulk with flaming white hair and blueish skin is me. That was before I got deaged because of destabilising." Klarion explained flipping to a photo of him, Danny, Jazz and Danielle. "Mom was around fifteen, Aunt Jazz about seventeen and Ellie should have been about a year old but she was aged up to twelve. They look human in this one because well they are. Mom was originally human and became what you call in this dimension a Meta through an accident."

"Wait... that would mean your mom... How could he have two kids at that age of fourteen? You look like an adult and your sister was aged up?" Wonder Girl couldn't help but ask as she looked from the photo and back to Danny at the dinner table again.

"That's cause Vlad was a fu-"

"Language Klarion!"

"Vlad was a fruitloop. That photo was taken shortly after Vlad and I sort of redeemed our selfs. Plus, mom didn't really have my sister and me willingly.... we were kind of forced upon him in a way." Klarion explained shrugging. "Old Man Vlad had an obsession with his mom that then turned on mom, which resulted in my oldest sister Danielle first. Actually, a lot of my elder siblings resulted from that, but they didn't survive it the first time, Mom got Old Man Clocks help to save them once he got used to being the Ghost King. I got added to the mix shortly after my sister, but... i wasn't in the best state of mind at first, kind of went through a redemption phase in which mom had to fix the timeline of our original home dimension, too."

Danny chuckled again at the disturbed looks the teens were giving his son as well as the looks their mentors sent him. He probably should correct Klarion's wording... but being one of the gremlins of his family he just smiled on, not commenting. He really understands now why Pops Clockwork liked watching the chaos he used to cause as teen, and still sometimes causes as adult.

"Klarion... how old is this Old Man Vlad?" Red Robin asked grimacing as his eyes under the mask flicked up to the Ghost King and then back to the witch boy both seemingly unbothered by the disturbing information they were sharing.

"In human years... probably around 67? You stop counting age at some point if your a halfa." Klarion shrugged, not noticing the grimaces of the teens around him. "Anyway, Ellie is sort of the first born. I came in after that, with my core being a mix of Mom and Vlad. Not DNA wise though since I came to be because of their ghost cores. That's why I look like that in this photo. Though human DNA wise I am probably now mostly Moms, we never bothered to ask the old man."

Danny muffled another chuckle, coughing as Superman sent him an incredulous look of shook while he felt Batmans burning gaze on him.

"You... mentioned more siblings?" Red Robin asked carefully sharing a look with his team, feeling like there was a whole lot of trauma in Klarions family he wasn't sure they should address or not. So asking after his siblings was probably, hopefully the safest option. They didn't know that while there was trauma in the witch boy's family it was not the kind they were imagining.

"Yea I got a bunch more brothers, Vlad was a evil crazy fuitloop, before he redeemed himself. They all kind of melted in one timeline but mom and Grandpa Clock found a way to save them." Klarion nodded flipping to another photo containing him, as he looked now, and all his siblings.

"So, Ellie you know about already. The one with the sunglasses and died hair is Bartholomew, second oldest. They made themselves a home in other dimension, barely at home cause he has to much fun messing with something called a 'Starstream' by being a 'Constellation' and throwing gold coins at 'Incarnations'. Don't ask me what that means, I barely pay attention when he gushes about his favorit 'Incarnation'. They spent like all their money and pocket money there. Aunt Jazz thinks he might develop a gambling addiction if we don't stop his spendings." The teen heroes eyed the teen that looked like a young adult grinning in the photo as the witch boy pointed at the one next to them. "The one with the vile is my elder brother Bite, most responsible one of this bunch. Mom even allowed him to take care of a couple of dimensions by taking the role of being their God of Death. I think he messed them up more than helped but he is doing a somewhat good job, even if he is sort of obsessed with making some red head his saint or something..."

"One of your sibs is a God?" Impulse gabbed and Klarion just blinked at him with a shrug. "My Grandfather is the ruler of Time, your point is? Wonder Girl is also related to a God of your dimension."

"Never mind him, moving on." A yelp resounded as Superboy pushed Impulse head down leaning in more to see the photo better. "You got one emo looking brother there!"

"Oh that's Yamikumo, he is like a year or two older than me right now, in human years. He barely got any of mom's powers so he choose to try to life a somewhat normal life but weirdly enough he choose a dimension that is ruled by people who have powers and abilities, you know like the Meta Humans of this dimension. Now that I think about it, he is also the only one who actually is studying on how to be a Hero."

"Do you end up fighting with him if he studies to be a hero?" Wonder Girl whisper asked him with a quick glance towards their mentors, to which Klarion shook his head. "As long as we leave the dimensions one of us choose to live in alone we usually don't fight about stuff like that, aside from the usual sibling fights that is. Then again I do have some siblings that like to make bets like who is better at ruling as demon lord, or who can safe a dying timeline quicker."

Danny chuckled again as he watched the kids, Klarion had definitely caused some misunderstandings with his wording. Then again it wasn't like Klarion said anything that wasn't true, but then again his son loved chaos. So there was a suspicion that Klarion intentionally choose the way he worded the explanation about how he and Ellie came to be as well as the rest of siblings.

"So....." Superman slowly started wondering how he should bring up the topic. "...you became a mom at 14?"

"Say Danny is there a way for me to meet this Vlad? You know since we are family." Wonder Woman also asked smiling in a certain way that reminded Danny of Valerie when she was mad but didn't want to show right away how mad she was, to which the Ghost King on reflex could do nothing but gulp for a moment. Not noticing that a green post it note appeared on the table before him.

[tongue-like-a-razor]

Faking It | Part I

Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x F!Reader

Summary: Fake dating your friend, Bradley Bradshaw - what could possibly go wrong? Your sister is getting married and you need a date. You enlist Bradley's help and the rest is history.

CW: none that I can think of except that the reader's height is described as shorter than Rooster's.

This idea has been plaguing me so I had to get it out haha Hope y'all enjoy!

Bradley watches you skeptically. You have yet to convince him that pretending to be your date for your sister’s wedding is an outstanding idea. Your mother has undoubtedly invited a whole slew of bachelors because she thinks you might need some help in the romance department. You decidedly do not. Despite the fact that you are struggling to even get a fake date.

You make a face at him. “I will owe you,” you say. “Anything you want.”

He shrugs. “I don’t want anything.”

You roll your eyes. “C’mon, Bradshaw,” you plead. “I’ll do your laundry for a week.”

He purses his lips, not looking overly enticed.

“I’ll come over once a day and do all your dishes.”

“We’ve got Hangman for that.”

“Hangman does your dishes?” you ask incredulously, trying to picture Jake Seresin in an apron with a dishtowel thrown over his shoulder.

Bradley chuckles. “He lost a bet last week.”

You let out a soft laugh, then get back to business. “I’ll clean your room,” you offer.

“I’ll have you know that my room is immaculate,” Bradley replies.

You scoff. “Then do this for me out of the goodness of your heart!”

Bradley chuckles slightly. “I don’t know, Y/N. This is a big ask.”

“Please, my mother is rounding up all the eligible males on the western seaboard as we speak.”

Bradley laughs. “What does your mother have against landlocked states?”

“I don’t know. Political ideology?”

Bradley snorts. “Have you asked Hangman?”

You groan. “Please don’t make me ask Hangman. He will never let me live this down.”

Bradley nods. “That is true.”

“It’s just a weekend. A few photos here and there. Some superficial chitchat with my grandparents about the importance of educational funding for our nation’s youth. My niece loves airplanes so you can tell her all about your latest mission” –

“My classified mission?”

“Well, leave out the classified parts,” you retort impatiently.

Bradley contemplates your proposal while your mind scrambles trying to determine something that might make it worth his while.

“Free drinks for a week,” you say, wiping the already dry bar to give your free hand something to do.

Bradley raises his eyebrows. “You can’t do that.”

You roll your eyes. Bradley Bradshaw will never go along with a scheme unless it is one hundred percent above board. “Meaning I will pay for them. I get a discount on the alcohol.”

Bradley gives you an amused look. “So, you wish to buy my services.”

You let out a frustrated groan. “I told you, I will do anything you want.”

“Well, I don’t want you paying my tab,” he replies casually.

You lean into the bar with a heavy sigh, bringing your face closer to his. “You are really grinding my gears, Bradshaw,” you say.

His eyes lift to your face as he lets out a wry chuckle.

“Do you really think a weekend with me will be so torturous?” you ask.

“Nah,” he says, leaning back in his stool nonchalantly, but you wonder if he does it to expand the space between your faces. “I wasn't actually going to refuse. Just like to see you sweat.”

He chuckles, ducking as you go to smack him with the towel you just used to wipe the bar.

…

“Aunt Barb is a hard-ass,” you say in a low voice, turning your head toward Bradley as your aunt makes a beeline for you at the rehearsal dinner. You end up talking into Bradley’s shoulder because he’s so much taller than you and he instinctively lowers his head so he can hear you better.

“What’s that, shorty?” he mutters, and you roll your eyes at the nickname. But the next moment, you can feel his breath on your forehead and you gulp when his palm flattens against your back. You had been the one who'd asked him to pretend to be your boyfriend, but you hadn’t actually considered what that might entail. Apparently, it entails Bradley Bradshaw’s hand on your lower back and a woozy sensation in your gut akin to a 200-foot roller coaster drop. You aren’t too fond of roller coasters.

You glance up at him and your eyes meet for a split second. Bradley promptly straightens his back. You let out an unsteady sigh and say, “Aunt Barb will be questioning you; be prepared. Have you read my notes?”

Bradley gives you a pointed look. “Of course, I read your notes.”

But as Aunt Barb approaches, you feel Bradley’s touch along your back waver until his hand finally drops at his side.

“Y/N!” your aunt exclaims, giving you a kiss on each cheek. She blinks up at Bradley expectantly.

“This is Bradley,” you say. “This is my aunt, Barb.”

Bradley holds out his hand. “It’s great to meet you,” he says.

Aunt Barb gives him a crafty smile. “Is this your boyfriend, Y/N?” she asks, but her question is directed more at Bradley than at you.

Bradley returns her smile. “That’s me,” he replies, giving you a quick glance.

“Oh, good,” your aunt says. “We were starting to get worried after that whole fiasco with Steven.”

You stare at her as Bradley turns to you. “Who’s Steven?” he asks.

Aunt Barb gives him a probing look. “You don’t know?”

Bradley eyes you inquisitively. “Should I?” he asks, still looking at you.

“Her ex, of course,” Barb continues. “He’s here, you know?”

You peel your gaze away from Bradley to look at your aunt. “What? Why?”

She shrugs. “He’s friends with the groom, of course. Or have you forgotten?”

You grimace. You don’t remember Steven being exceedingly close with your sister’s fiancé, so the fact that he somehow weaseled his way into this function aggravates you greatly.

When your aunt walks away, Bradley turns to you with his eyebrows raised. “Steven wasn’t in your notes.”

You give him a sour look. “He wasn’t supposed to be here.”

Bradley shrugs. “Still think you should’ve mentioned him. Was it serious?”

“Nope,” you respond curtly, ready to put the topic to rest.

Bradley seems to sense your reluctance to engage in this particular conversation and drops the subject. “Shall we go grab some drinks?”

You’re about to respond when your mother appears before you and you nearly bump into her. “Mom!” you exclaim in surprise.

“Y/N, why are you so jumpy?” she asks.

You shoot a nervous glance in Bradley’s direction, but he appears unfazed. “Afternoon, ma’am,” he says, bowing his head slightly.

Your mother looks over at Bradley with a judgemental air. “Are you the aviator?” she asks with a hint of distaste in her tone.

“Indeed,” Bradley responds, giving you a confident look before glancing back at your mother.

But your mother is no longer paying Bradley any attention. She turns back to you. “Steven is here,” she says.

You let out a sigh. “Yes, I know, mother.”

She gives you a knowing look before glancing back at Bradley. “We all thought they were going to get married,” she says with an artificial smile.

Bradley raises his eyebrows and nods his head slowly. “You must be disappointed,” he says.

Your mother seems pleased with his response and nods at Bradley vehemently. “They have a lot of history,” she says.

You close your eyes. “Mom, stop.”

“I’m just saying, he’s here,” your mom says. “Do with that what you will.”

You blink at her. “I will do nothing.”

Bradley watches you squirm sympathetically and, when you glance up at him defeatedly, he takes you by the hand. “Ma’am, it’s been a pleasure,” he says and starts to pull you away. “We just want to hit the bar before the first course.”

“Sure.” Your mom gives him a quick nod and throws a pointed look in your direction.

You cling to Bradley’s hand gratefully, even going as far as clutching at his arm with your other hand just to get away faster. “Thank you, thank you, thank you,” you whimper.

He looks down at you, squeezing your hand. “It’s why I’m here, right?” he says.

“Right,” you agree, feeling his bicep flex under your fingers as his hand tightens around yours.

…

After dinner, you make your way through the crowd to the bathroom. The evening is nearly over and it seems that you and Bradley have put on a reasonably convincing charade. Bradley’s relaxed disposition has made the evening infinitely more enjoyable than you could have imagined and you find yourself feeling almost sorry that the night is coming to an end. Almost. Because, after all, you won’t be able to take a real breath of relief until you’re in the comfort of your room.

You’re lost in your thoughts as you walk back to your table and you completely miss the fact that your ex-boyfriend has spotted you and is heading your way.

“Y/N!” he exclaims as if he’s surprised to see you attending your own sister’s wedding rehearsal.

You blink at him in alarm. “Steven,” you say with a slight grimace, kicking yourself for not checking your surroundings before making your way across the open floor.

Your eyes scan the tables, desperately searching for Bradley. When you locate him, you can see that he’s already watching you.

Steven steps closer to you, holding out his hands. “It’s good to see you, Y/N,” he says, leaning in for a hug.

You recoil as he tries to put his arms around you. “Is it?” you ask, holding up your hand to keep him back. The last time you saw him, he was throwing every insult imaginable in your direction.

Over Steven’s shoulder, you can see Bradley getting out his seat and starting to make his way toward the two of you, a stony expression on his face.

“You look great,” Steven continues, finally lowering his arms.

“Uh, thanks,” you say uneasily just as Bradley steps around Steven to face him.

“Everything alright here?” Bradley asks, his eyes sliding between you and Steven.

“Mm-hm,” you say, instinctively shifting closer to Bradley as Steven continues to scrutinize your every move.

“I’m Bradley,” he introduces himself, confidently extending his hand to Steven.

“Steven.” Steven takes his hand tentatively and you can see the slight wince on his face as Bradley crushes his hand in a handshake.

“I’ve heard a lot about you, Steven,” Bradley says, and you look up at him sharply.

“Oh, really?” Steven lifts his eyebrows, giving you a smirk.

“No,” Bradley replies flatly.

Steven blinks at him in confusion, clearly taken aback.

Bradley slides his arm around your waist possessively and you lean into him slightly, relieved that he’s playing his part so perfectly.

Steven gives Bradley a hostile look which Bradley expertly returns. Then, he lowers his face, saying, “Drink?”

“Yes, please,” you say, letting out a sigh.

“You take care, Steven,” Bradley says, wheeling you around in the direction of the bar.

Part 2

[chlorinecake]

🍌 forbidden fruit | j.sc

✼ plot: just the reader catching feelings for her younger sister’s swim coach and doing anything she can to get between his legs

✼ word count: 4.8k

✼ contains: swearing, an oc + anton, teasing with food, mild exhibitionism, unprotected sex (but he doesn’t finish inside), oral (m.r), fingering (f.r)

YOU WERE CONVINCED THAT that your younger sister was born into this world a mermaid, blessed with gorgeous locks and dazzling brown eyes that earned her the name Hazel at birth.

Though her hair now was often covered by a silicone swim cap with her honey-hued eyes shielded behind waterproof goggles, one thing that remained the same was her ability to swim as if the water simply carried her across its bumping waves.

You remember her first time in a pool like it was yesterday, her legs taking off with more ease than she ever had while walking, meanwhile, you sat idly in a donut floaty, cheering her on with smiles on both your faces.

Since then, Hazel never stopped swimming.

Though, you were more inclined to the creative arts rather than anything sporty.

Unless, the sport in question involved chasing after Hazel’s personal swim coach, Jung Sungchan: a former competitive swimmer himself until he opted to train after a minor injury.

You were careful not to let your eyes linger for longer than necessary whenever you stuck back to watch Hazel practice with him, despite the tantalizing view of Sungchan’s washboard abs poking through his swim shirt, or the way his wet hair clung to his sweaty forehead.

Well, with that description, it’s fair to say that your mind and imagination did all the lingering for you, his lower half being practically burned into your mind the moment you got a glimpse of his bulge one day.

Gosh, you felt like such a loser knowing that your main motivation to accompany your sister at swim lessons these days was for the sake of seeing Sungchan, despite how you'd barely even formed a decent relationship with him.

The key word here being decent-

“Breathe, Hazel, breathe!” Sungchan hollered, distracting you from your thoughts and drawing your attention back to your sister who had just beat her fastest 50 meter lap record of her life.

Sungchan met her at the end of the pool, “Less than 24 seconds,” she huffed proudly, just as he rejected their usual high five and instead, helped her out of the pool.

“What was that all about, hmm?”

“I’m not a baby anymore, Coach. I can hold my breath for a lot longer-”

“Don’t make anymore rookie mistakes, alright? It’s not always about time when we’re training, but efficiency.”

Hazel sighed at his words, taking off her goggles and letting them rest around her neck before looking back up at him, “Let me guess then… bobbing circuits as a punishment?”

“After break,” he smiled sarcastically, patting her on the shoulder while she chuckled at his behavior, walking off to the ladies locker room before passing a look your way, “Hey, ____?”

“Yeah, what’s up?”

“Would you mind getting me a snack from my duffel bag? It’s in the floral container.”

“Sure,” you said, uncrossing your legs and getting up from the bleachers while gathering each others things in a backpack.

Sungchan looked at the time on his watch, and it turned out that practice was already over for the day, “On second thought, how about I treat us all for lunch today?”

His offer caught the both of you off guard, “Seriously?,” Hazel questioned, “even after the little stunt I pulled?”

“You don’t have to come if you don’t want to,” he shrugged, washing some equipment down with a hose.

“Give me twelve minutes to get ready,” she said, skipping to the bathrooms and almost immediately turning on the shower.

You wondered how much you and Sungchan could get away with while your little sister showered.

In a perfect world, your desires would already be a part of your reality by now, instead of something that just kept you entertained during Hazel’s swim classes.

A smirk crept up Sungchan’s deer-like features, shamelessly peeking at you before directing the hose your way, splashing you with a bit of water while giggling to himself.

“What the- stop that, you big freaking dork,” you giggled back, covering your face with your hands while running over to him, grabbing the hose and turning the faucet off.

The way both your hands looked while wrapped around the dark green tube, your smaller ones contrasting with his much larger and veinier ones made your breath stop in your throat for a second, a certain memory of you two resurfacing in your thoughts.

He handed you a towel to dry off, shaking his hair out like a puppy as he took a few steps away from you, your mind finally coming back down to earth.

“My sister seems to be excelling with her training recently… you should really give her more credit for her hard work,” you started, knowing that he'd have a response to that.

“Uhuh,” he replied briefly, leaning down to loop the water hose around its designated hook on the wall, “last time I checked, motivation doesn’t start with fleeting praises, but notable progression.”

“She literally beat a record today, Coach,” you defended, tossing your old towel in the nearby laundry bin.

A bit of silence meddled between you two, your eyes trying their best to be normal as he walked closer to you, every muscle in his body standing out in your peripheral vision, almost making it pointless for you to even try looking away now.

“You already know you can call me Sungchan, ____,” he smirked, hooking a finger in the belt loop of your jeans, “and you’re still wet, by the way... ‘can see it outlining your panties…”

Gosh, you hated how your mind thought of something dirty when those words left his mouth, wanting to disappear as an unbeatable heat raised to your face, all over a brief moment between you two that started and ended with a water hose.

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟 Later...

The three of you were now eating lunch together at a newly opened seafood bar called Fin & Shell, just a few miles from the training center.

You were all making conversation about the quality of the fish and chips and their odd choice of placing a fruit bowl in the center of the table when Hazel got up to get more napkins, leaving you and Sungchan alone.

Your hand found his thigh under the table before stroking it, dangerously close to his private area.

“Interesting way to get your hands clean,” he joked plainly, making you laugh at yourself a bit before continuing.

“You know there's not a clean damn thing about what I'm doing right now,” you said, fingers tip-toeing around where you wanted to feel him most.

“I know what you want, ____, but I'm afraid you're out of luck these days...”

“And why's that?”

“Because, your sister looks up to me now... I've earned her respect, and it’d only hurt her if she found out about us, let alone our past,” he continued, taking a sip from his drink, “I don't wanna risk it interfering with her athletic progression.”

The fact that Sungchan valued Hazel's well-being more than you in this matter was quite baffling to be honest.

Though, you couldn't help but internally roll your eyes at his empathy, “We’ll just have to be sneaky about it, then,” you tried, hands going back to caress his now tense thighs.

“I’d rather penetrate you with this banana than my dick, ____,” he retorted playfully while picking one from the fruit basket, his cute little smile coming into show despite how you were hardly in the mood to joke around.

You took the banana from his grasp after watching him struggle to open it for a bit, looking him in the eyes while asking, “Can I have a bite?”

“Sure, but don’t be slutty about it,” he teased, looking as your teeth sunk into the banana's sweet flesh, plump lips seductively sealing with the bite before handing it back to him.

The image of you doing that would stain his mind for the next few hours, knowing deep down in the depths of his swim trunks that for professionalism or not, he was gonna get you to look at him like that again real soon.

“Uhhh, you two look strange... What’d I miss?,” Hazel chirped as she came back from her adventure to find napkins, sliding back next to you at the round table.

“Well,” you started, folding your hands over themselves, “Sungchan was just telling me about how he wouldn’t mind giving me beginner's swimming lessons tomorrow.”

“What?! No, I- ngh-,” he groaned, feeling as you applied pressure to his sensitive bulge, one of his hands flying over yours pleadingly as he redirected his initial sentence, “I mean,” he chuckled dryly, struggling to mask the way his facial features were twisting from your actions, “yeah. She’s um… really eager to develop some basic skills herself, y’know? For some sister bonding time…”

“Couldn’t have said it better myself,” you smiled, just as your sister began to speak.

“Oh… okay then! Sounds fun, I guess... Just don’t think I’ll be sharing my anti-fog goggles with you,” she giggled, looking at Sungchan before noticed the uncomfortable look on his face, your hand still pressing firmly against him, “you alright, Coach?”

“Yeah, just a bit... uhm...” he let out a shaky exhale, “sensitive… to my banana allergy...”

You felt his hand overcome yours with strength, making you retreat from your ministrations with a satisfied feeling in yourself.

“Okayyyy…” Hazel replied, raising her eyebrows dumbfoundedly as he got up from the table, pushing his chair in, “I’m gonna go get some water, but you two finish up. I'll be back in a bit.”

Hazel shrugged off the weird vibes y'all were giving off, taking a satisfied bite of the fish sandwich she'd ordered while you finished eating up your fries, finding immense pleasure in how flustered you got Sungchan to become.

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟 The next day...

You got up early the next morning, skipping your usual coffee run to avoid any 'pool cramps' while swimming as directed by myth Hazel.

You weren’t one to wear swim caps, so you just put your hair in a cute low-maintenance style, packing both you and her a mini snack to bring for the day ahead.

“Welcome, ladies,” Sungchan greeted, clapping his hands from all the energy pulsing through his veins, “There are de-fogged goggles on the rack over there… kudos to Anton for setting those up first thing, by the way.”

Anton?, you asked yourself, the name alone being nowhere near as familiar as the face you soon were met with, popping out of the water with a navy blue swimcap secured around his head, soft eyes meeting yours as an almost inaudible “hi” fell from his lips.

“Oh my God, Anton!” Hazel yelped, hopping in the water before swimming towards the later end of the pool to meet him, “last one back has to do the laundry.”

Almost immediately, your sister and him both took off with kicks like torpedos, meanwhile you tried piecing together where you recognized Anton from, and then it hit you:

He and your little sister used to train more often together back in the day, but after he got scouted for the swim team in New Jersey, you saw less and less of him over time…

Still and all, he looked quite similar to the sheepish boy Hazel used to crush on a few years back, excluding his now matured physique, of course.

They were already back to the wall by time your thoughts stopped, starting up some small talk between each other.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were gonna be back in town?” Hazel asked, out of breath from trying her hardest to out-swim Anton, who beat her by a landslide.

“Honestly I was surprised, myself. One of my mom’s coworker’s oldest son’s are getting married soon, so we flew out to celebrate... We don’t get back til a week from now, though.”

“Awesome! So that means we can spend more time together til you get back to your fancy New Jersey team,” she teased, shoving Anton’s shoulder playfully as he laughed off her words.

“Stop, you know I love it here, Hazel. This place made me who I am as a swimmer today...”

Sungchan suddenly blew the whistle around his neck, “Hazel, you’re supposed to be working on warm up’s and strength training right now. You can lallygag with Anton later, I’ll need his help and focus today.”

“His help? With what? I say this with all due respect, Coach, but aren’t you the professional here?”

“I indeed am… but he’ll be in charge of teaching ____ today.”

You and Hazel’s eyes widened simultaneously at Sungchan’s words, “You’re joking, right?”

“Nope,” he replied plainly, taking off his whistle necklace and tossing it on a nearby table, “Like you said, I’m the expert, and thus, my expertise is needed more with you, Hazel...”

Sungchan walked around the edge of the pool, keeping a steady pace as not to slip on any water as he met you where you sat, “____’s quite the handsy one, but I’m sure little Anton can manage her for the day,” he smirked, pinching your cheek before handing you a pair of goggles and walking off cheekily.

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟 ...

You’ll admit that your swimming lesson with Anton went well, though it was obvious you would’ve much rather spent that time with Sungchan, and you planned to give him a piece of your mind as soon as possible.

You had already showered up by now, approaching him in the pool area with every intent to get something out of him.

“So you making me splash around with a kid my sisters age was your way of getting back at me for the Fin & Shells thing, huh?,” you accused, watching as he put away some wet swimming equipment.

“You can’t make me back down that easily, y’know?”

He glanced at you for a quick second, “And what makes you think that’s my intention?”

“Just the plain fact that you’re scared to continue what we started…”

He narrowed his eyes, flicking the water off his hands before facing you head on, “No, but you should be,” he said, voice falling a little deeper, “you’ve seen me before, and that’s not something most girls are prepared for.”

“Please, don’t be so full of yourself,” you scoffed, mirroring his nonchalant voice as your eyes scanned his movements, legs following him all the way to the empty men’s locker room where he sat on a wall bench to relax, looking back at you with a slightly annoyed look on his face.

“You know?… All that stuff you said about professionalism was bullshit… we’ve crossed that line way long ago, and your size isn’t gonna get in the way… trust me...”

You made your way over to sit on his lap, straddling him with your hands at his shoulders.

“God, you’re so overbearing,” he sighed, your lips immediately finding his jawline, causing his words to fall out as hums instead of coherent syllables, “d’you understand what you’re playing with right now?”

“Mhm,” you hummed back, gently nibbling the space underneath his ear.

His hands clung to your loose top as a way to control himself, but also because he wanted more, your hips rocking against his being enough to make him feel needy.

Not that he’d ever admit that to you though…

Your hot and wet kisses started to trail from Sungchan’s neck and to his plush lips, your hands sliding under his shirt to feel him as he mirrored your energy, lips moving in sync.

He was giving in to your ministrations, and you could tell by his breathing, which had become jagged and heavy… not in a submissive way, but with desire.

Frustration, even.

The muscles in his abdomen tensed and relaxed as you went back to kissing his neck, hoping that your lips would leave a mark or two while you were at it, “We can worry about a backup plan later, Sungchan—”

He groaned faintly, just as you pressed your core harder against him, feeling his hardness grow between your thighs.

Sungchan’s mind was getting fuzzy to the point where your words became like background music, present to him, but impossible to really focus on.

And he didn’t like that one bit…

The way you persuaded him so easily, having his dry mouth on the verge of begging you to kiss him again.

If this was gonna happen between you two, he wanted to be the one in charge.

“Fine,” he said sharply, causing you to look into his dark brown eyes, which were still slightly watery from the chlorine in the pool water.

“I just need to make sure you can handle it first,” Sungchan continued, guiding you off of his lap by the waist before digging his thumb into your shoulder, forcing you down to your knees in front of him.

His hands found your hair, leading your cheek to his bulge and lifting his hips to grind into your face slightly, eager to explore the friction but still wanting to test himself.

Test his self-control despite how it was basically out the window by now.

You clung to his toned thighs to keep your balance, eyelids fluttering shut before he smacked you gently on the other cheek, making you look back up at him once again as he rutted a little harder.

“Too big for you, baby?,” he teased, all of that while snickering under his breath, biting his lip before a smirk appeared on his stupid hot face.

It was always strangely exciting honestly… watching him switch from hot to cold, turning himself on just from jumping your cheek.

Everything you’ve been waiting for.

“I can feel you twitching,” you hummed, turning your head to face his heat head on, giving him sirenic eyes as you poked your tongue out, licking a stripe along his clothed member, “can hardly taste you through these pants, though…”

He cooed at your words, stroking your hair as you kept licking him up, a dark spot forming on his pants from your spit and probably some of his precum.

“Can you at least pretend you’re not such an eager slut for me?” He tried teasing, even though his voice sounded a bit strained.

You trailed a finger from his clothed tip to the drawstring of his pants before pulling the bow a loose, “We both know that’s not what you really want, Sungie...”

Shimmying his pants down, you were not at all surprised when his cock sprung out like a hot stinger, slapping against his stomach with an angry vein trailing its underside.

“Fuck,” he cursed under his breath, watching as you didn’t hesitate to take him in your mouth, bobbing your head slowly to adjust to his size, but you could hardly fit more than half of him into your mouth.

“Easy there, ____,” he said in a deepened voice, feeling his balls tighten at the way you gagged around him, trying to fit it all in.

Releasing your lips with a pop, your jerked him with your hand, looking him dead in the eyes before reassuring him, “I can take it.”

“Prove it to me then…,” he challenged you, “or else this is all you’re getting…”

You internally scoffed at his words, “Having second thoughts?”

“No… Just don’t wanna risk breaking you before I even get started properly…”

The top of your tongue found his slit again, running rough stripes past it and suddenly asking, “We’re already taking a risk, why stop here?”

He let you continue fooling around with his dick for a little more until he pulled your chin away, looking you in the eyes-

“Get on your back.”

The voice you heard was enough to make you recognize what was really going on.

“W-what?,” you asked confusedly, having been snapped out of your mind, yet still feeling as though only half of you was present.

“I said get on your back? So we can stretch first?,” Anton said, mirroring the same dumbfounded look you had on your face.

“Oh... sorry, I uh... I got distracted...”

“Its okay,” he answered softly, leading you to the training mat on the floor, “let's just stay focused for now, alright? Once you fully lay down, start by pulling your knees to your chest to stretch out your hamstrings...”

Anton's voice faded into the background of your mind as your body continued to follow his instructions, somewhat thankful for the dark colored fitness clothes you wore considering how wet you'd gotten over your little memory about Sungchan.

It was the first time you actually did anything sexual with him.

It happened over four months ago, but you still remembered the whole thing like it happened yesterday.

Though, Sungchan eventually ended your secret fling for the sake of Hazel, not wanting to hurt her or risk ruining things between you two for 'fleeting feelings.'

Even so, you’d just been so down bad for him all this time that it was getting harder to respect that boundary of his...

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟 Later...

Hazel and Anton had ran off to get smoothies together after practice with your permission obviously, Sungchan having stayed back to put the lane lines back in the pool after y’all finished training.

You asked if it was okay for you to hang back in the pool til he shut down the area, just so you could 'work on what you learned.'

He didn't talk to you much, which only annoyed you, leading to your sneaky backup plan to get his attention.

“Sungchanie~,” you sang in a whiny tone, “I need your help!”

“What is it this time?,” he asked, not even looking at you as he busied himself with putting away the tool box he was using.

“My bikini top came off... it floated away…”

“____, stop messing around, alright?”

“I'm serious,” you pleaded facetiously, covering your chest with your arms to sell your performance, “I'd get it myself, but it’s in the deep, so I can't.”

He sighed with a stern look on his face before answering, "Alright, just- … gimme a sec."

Sungchan took off his shirt, tossing it to the side before diving in the pool to fish around for your bra.

He found it pretty quickly, swimming back to the surface while treading with it in his hand.

“This it?” He asked, regardless of how obvious the answer was.

“Mhm…” You nodded back with a lil too much enthusiasm, sitting at the swim steps and waiting for him to go back under the water as you sneakily took off you bikini bottom next, waiting to see his reaction once he came over to you.

Bubbles erupted from his nose underwater, the sight of your bare core causing him to stumble over his trained breathing pattern.

You giggled a bit at his reaction, still covering your tits as his head flew up, shaking the water from his hair in a way that only made you want him more, which obviously wasn't his intention given the look on his face.

“What do you think this is? Some kind of game?” He snapped sharply, tossing your bra to you and using the steps to get out of the pool, just as you reached for his wrist to pull him back.

“Sungchan, wait! I'm sorry—” you started, but his hand left yours anyway, feet moving in the opposite direction of you before a soft "please," left your lips, making him pause in his tracks.

He sighed, “What?,” but it sounded more like a statement than a question.

“Can't you see that I'm losing my mind over this?” you answered with a defeated voice.

“It's not a good time right now, ____—”

“God, would you stop being so uptight like you don't want this, too?”

“I never said anything like that—”

“Because you don't have to,” you interrupted, cutting him off as a lump formed in your throat, not from sadness, but from exhaustion: you didn't know how much longer you could keep chasing him…

Without hesitation, you started to put your two-piece back on, water splashing a bit with your movements as he stood there coldly, not even looking you in the eye as you continued to speak, “You're right, Sungchan... this is all just a silly little game, and I seriously should've stopped trying a long time ago-”

“Just shut up, alright?” he retorted, looking you in the eyes as his body inched closer towards you, your eyebrows furrowing at the harsh tone of his words.

“Excuse me—”

“You win, ____,” his voice was deeper this time, wet hands finding your neck before caressing up your face, everything going black once he found your lips, sealing the the tension with a kiss, “I'll let you have your way.”

HIs tongue tangled with yours as he pulled you impossibly close to him, your heart nearly beating out of your chest before he backed away, hands gripping at everything from your boobs to your hips as he kissed down your sensitive neck.

Your legs subconsciously parting for him as you felt him start to suck at the exposed flesh there.

You don't even remember saying much of anything once he found your bikini, sliding it over as his fingers came into contact with your folds, barely touching you before you started squirming.

“God, you're so dramatic,” he shook his head, applying pressure to your clit with his cold fingers, contrasted with your increasing warmth.

“It’s not my fault you make me this way,” you purred, letting him kiss on you so hard that he left little marks behind, already getting you so worked up that even the simplest of his ministrations seemed intense.

That was when he sped up the movements of his fingers, not even sure how long he'd been at that pace before you started to feel tantalized, wanting to feel his dick before he made you finish.

It was strange though, the way your slick stood out against the water, his fingers gliding in and out of your hole as his thumb circled your sweet spot.

He was making you fall apart, and at that, single-handedly.

“Sungchan~,” you whined shyly, thankful for his arm maintaining your balance as your hands remained around the loop of your bra, giving you something to grab onto as he kept fucking you with his fingers, “I wanna feel you...”

As simple as those four words were, Sungchan knew exactly what you meant and wanted from him, but decided to mess with you nonetheless…

“Baby? You're already falling apart… what makes you think you can handle any more?” he teased, trying to act all tough with you even though he was about to buss in his pants given how unreal you looked in this moment.

Lower lip swollen from the way you bit down on it to hide your sounds, neck sprouting with darkening hickeys, hands clinging to your own tits for leverage, and your wet hair sprawled all over your head...

This was a view that could never get old to him, if he was even lucky enough to see it every single day.

“Please... fuck, just- mmm,” you stumbled over your words, feeling lightheaded as moans fell from your mouth like rehearsed melodies, your back arching even more as his fingers were in knuckle-deep now, your approaching climax causing you to open up for him.

“Cum for me,” he whispered, putting his forehead against yours, thumb relentlessly toying with your clit as he grew more eager in his own pants.

As much as you wanted to refuse his words for the sake of saving your orgasm, you couldn't help but to release, creaming all over his long and slender fingers as you felt your high in every part of your body.

Sungchan didn't hesitate to pull his fingers away from you, sliding down his trousers and spreading your slick across his length under the water.

“You've got another one in you for me, yea?,” he asked, voice sounding rasp as he pressed his tip against you, your trembling thighs struggling to stay open.

“Gimme a sec to come down first,” you nearly begged, watching his eyes grow darker as he pushed through your thighs, hips meeting yours with a splash.

“You know we don't have time for that, ____,” he continued with a suppressed groan, feeling his dick warm up all your insides as he slid past your wetness and bottomed out, guiding your hands from your chest to his shoulders... “just hang on, okay?”

You barely even nodded before he started fucking into you, walls giving in to his size thanks to the water, but you'd be lying if you said it didn't hurt just a little bit.

He caught sight to your discomfort early on, catching your lips with his to keep your mind off the pain, both your breaths sounding shaky now from all the action.

He started to pick up the pace again, not bothering to hide his moans anymore as you clenched around him so hard, he didn't think he'd be able to get back out.

Your wet hands clung to his broad shoulders, glimmered with beads of the pool water from his movements.

Feeling your hips chase his as the pain faded back to pleasure, you knew you were close, especially considering how little time you had between orgasming.

His stamina impressed you honestly, given how he'd been working all day yet still had enough energy to fuck you like this.

A broken whimper fell from his pink lips, words getting lost in his throat even though he had no idea what he wanted to say in this moment.

He was practically intoxicated by the way you made him feel, cursing himself internally for pushing away so many times.

He panted your name out loud, teeth grazing your neck as his head hung in the space provided, feeling weak all of a sudden, “I'm close.”

“Then don't stop,” you huffed back, caressing his pretty face as he chased his high, the water rocking with his movements as he felt his stomach tighten, spurts of his sticky release barely having enough time to coat you before he pulled out, fisting himself in a failed attempt to catch his release.

“Aww, fuck... fuckkk,” he groaned, watching the strings of his cum slip past his fingers and into the water, some of it hitting your legs.

Of course he would've preferred to finish inside you, but he thought it'd be respectful to at least pull out.

You held him close with your thighs around him, giggling a bit at the way he struggled to contain himself.

“You really should've just came inside me, y’know,”you said, feeling a throb in your core after everything.

“Very funny,” was all he said before pulling up his swim trucks and splashing a bit of water on you.

It was interesting seeing how Sungchan could go from hot to playful in a matter of seconds with you.

After everything that'd just happened, the poor guy wasn't at all in the mood to re-clean the pool thanks to the mess you two just made.

So instead, he offered a hand to help you up before carrying you out of the pool, knowing that it wouldn't be easy for you to walk with your legs still shaking.

Neither of you knew how much time you had left til Anton and Hazel came back, but one thing for sure was that you and Sungchan would keep playing this game for a lot longer than planned.

You said so yourself... you'd just have to be more sneaky about it.

⚡︎ Special thanks to @wonbinisbabygurl for requesting this piece ~ (love you princess!!!)

⚡︎ Had to repost this story because the first time around, I wasn't satisfied with the engagement I received ;-; (only 14 notes in 24 hours), so hopefully people see this in the tags this time!!

⚡︎ 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐦 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 ( 𝐨𝐩𝐞𝐧 ) @squoxle @nikisvanillaccola @ashgonedash @yourmomscuntis2tighy @watamotee33 @addictedtohobi @antonartic

⚡︎ Feel free to also check out my RIIZE masterlist

[paperbackribs]

for the 'Eddie freaks out over How to Survive a Werewolf Attack' post and those who missed the upload on Ao3, this is the second part of the chapter from Steve's POV, with a little protective stobin to delight

🦇🐺🦇🐺🦇

Steve leaves the pulse of the woods behind him as he emerges from the trees that abut his backyard. He’d smelled Robin long before shifting back into his human form, the sharp mint of her shampoo mixing alongside the sweet earthiness that he now attributes to family. Never having had one, he nevertheless knows that the combination will always mean sister.

Circling the pool, its night lights cast an uncanny, rippling blue across the surface, he heads to where she sits under the warm yellow lights, propped on her elbows against the wrought-iron patio table. In her cupped hands rests a book with an overflowing tree protectively sheltering a dog and her pups, Woman and Nature carefully inscribed above them.

She stirs as he approaches, inserting a receipt between the pages to save her place and resting it beside her. Looking into her concerned eyes, Steve grimaces. “Well, that went well,” he says lightly, feeling the need to inject some humour into the memory or he may be tempted to dwell on the ache that wants to rise instead.

Robin’s face softens and he knows that she can feel his hurt even without him saying it. They’re so connected sometimes that he wonders if his wolf forged something with her when they’d sat there, bound and interrogated by Russians, only able to depend on each other. “He was a little freaked out from the unexpected is all and he just needs to get used to the idea before…”

She trails off and Steve finishes her sentence, “Before he can be in the same room as me? Robs, the guy practically had a panic attack on my mother’s Giorgetti rug. I could smell his fear: he was terrified that I was going to eat him or something.”

Robin’s lips firm as she drums her fingers over the book cover, “Yeah, well, that’s his problem. After you left, we gave him the rundown; that you’re just a normal wolf—”

Steve snorts: there’s nothing normal about his transformations at all, but Robin ignores him to continue, “—and hopefully if he’s affected by the bites then it’ll turn him into a normal bat too.”

“And how’d he take that?” Steve asks curiously.

“Oh, another meltdown,” Robin says blithely, “He’s now convinced that he’s going to turn into Bela Lugosi and will be prowling the night for his victims before we know it.” Steve laughs despite himself, already able to imagine Eddie making exaggerated gestures in the middle of the group.

“Did he hiss like a vampire?”

“Nah, but he did do that thing, you know with the cape?” She shields half her face with her forearm as if hiding menacingly behind it. Fond amusement fills Steve, as if often does when faced with Eddie’s dramatics only for it to quickly drain away at the reminder of how drastically he had taken Steve’s shift.

Robin notes his change of mood and scowls at an absent Eddie. “Scaredy-cat,” she mutters darkly, “Should have called him a scaredy-bat to his face.”

Steve chuckles and leans forward to gently tug on a lock of her blonde hair, “And then give him my nail bat…”

“So, he’d be a scaredy-bat with a nail bat that lost his bat-le shield.”

Steve waggles his hand in a so-so motion, “Could use some work.”

“Oh, screw you, buddy, I did all the work,” Robin’s eyes dance with humour even as she pokes him with a sharp finger at his ribs. Steve squirms away, “I gave you the nail bat!” He mock protests before the image of Eddie’s wide and terrified eyes crosses his mind again. He sighs, “Do you think I should avoid him for a while? Let him get used to the idea before springing myself on him again?”

Robin leans back with a too wide smile, its awkwardness immediately transparent. “What?” Steve asks suspiciously.

Her brow furrows in an apology that gives lie to the smile, “We’re meeting back here tomorrow. El thinks that she might be able to lead him through a change if he’s got it in him, and we all thought it better to get the potential of it all out of the way before Eddie devolves into one big puddle of fear.”

Rubbing the bridge of his forehead, Steve sighs, “So, not only is he freaked out by the sight of me but I’m going to see him in the next twenty-four hours.”

Robin looks at her bulky men’s watch with a grimace, “More like twelve. We figured that we should get it over sooner or later, and this way he can work out whether he wants to freak out over being a bat or a vampire.”

“Or neither,” Steve points out.

She shrugs, “It seems unlikely, right? Correlation doesn’t equal causation, and you may be the outlier, the one cool weirdo out there.”

“Thank you,” he says dryly even though he does appreciate her positive spin on his furry little situation.

It had been months after the events over Halloween, when he’d been bitten by a demo-dog, that he’d started to notice the first few small changes. At first, he’d been convinced that it was the world that had transformed: smells becoming deeper, sights becoming sharper, but after one night where he had been panicked to find that his feet were no longer so far away, and suspiciously clawed, that he’d come to the realisation that it was his senses that had evolved, not the sun or the trees or the perfume of his history teacher.

The kids, while excited, had been very little help, but their encouragement had made him feel less alone. He took Dustin’s attempt to turn him into a science experiment in stride and as an extension of the little butthead’s support. But it was when Robin had been brought into the Upside Down fold that he’d felt truly embraced.

Surprisingly, rather than turning to books and research, she’d listened to him instead. Asked Steve what he wanted to be called when he was turned and let him talk about the oddities and freedoms he’d found in this new version of himself.

Steve had already known that the wolf would be a part of him forever, but Robin’s role in his life had cemented that feeling into a bone-deep acceptance, an understanding that he wasn’t weird or wrong for his new transformation, but that it was simply another part of Steve. Or Furry Steve as Robin would gently tease him.

“Are you staying over?” He asks now, watching her smother a yawn and nod in agreement.

He stands, waiting until she walks through the door before flipping the light switch off, the flurry of moths above flutter in confusion at the sudden darkness. “We can practise some more on the way home tomorrow if you like.”

Robin had gained her license a month ago, but with no car to drive Steve was building her confidence by having her drive his. She often teased that their love was a true one since she’s the only one allowed to touch the bimmer.

Wrapping an arm around his waist, they walk through the kitchen and head to his bedroom in unspoken agreement. “That’d be great. Do you want to wolf-out or be on your side of the bed,” she counters sleepily, leaving her book on the counter as they pass.

He hums, thinking. Months ago, after they’d worked out that the Upside Down nightmares were better handled when they knew the other one was in the room, Robin had struggled with having Steve in her bed.

It’s not that he wasn’t welcome, she’d reassured him, or wanted, she’d said with a haunted expression, clearly thinking of having woken up silently screaming not moments before. But having his skin touch hers made her irritable in a way that she had no explanation for. Fur, however, was fine.

Since then, if Steve needed cuddles he was allowed to wolf-out, as they decided to call it. Once transformed, Robin had no problem with Steve’s fur covering her skin; rather, she quite liked the partial weight of his body.

He thinks that tonight he’d like the reassurance that there is one person who is not only unafraid of him but likes the differences that make him not-quite-human.

“Wolf-out,” he responds, letting go and allowing the wolf to unfold. The sweet musk of the kids sharpens, even with them having departed hours ago, as does the appealingly darker scent of Eddie, although it is bitterer than it normally is as if his fear had saturated the small space.

His tail drops sadly at the reminder, but Robin distracts him with scritches behind the ear before leading their way up the stairs to his bedroom. Steve pads behind, happy to have a friend in Robin and determinedly putting Eddie out of his mind for the rest of the night.

If you enjoyed any of this drop me a comment over at Ao3, it'd make my day! (fic now titled Swift Wings and a Brave Heart)

[bangchansgirlsblog]

i’ve been craving this for ages and finally decided to request upon it!!

stray kids x little sister reader (she’s about 17/18) she has been having a secret relationship with one of her school teachers called Mr. Kang (name inspo from song kang) and she has a “sleepover” arranged with her friend for a week.. on day 3 the boys went for a group walk and saw y/ns friend with her family but without y/n. The boys go over and find out that you were never staying with her.. They check your location after panicking only to realise it’s your teacher Mr. Kang’s house. They log into your computer and find all the messages between Kang and you. They are infuriated, when you return back.. let’s just say it’s hell reincarnated.

Thank you daddy- I mean Mr.Kang.

Part one.

**

"We can't keep doing this.." she whispered through her heavy breathes. Her skirt was slowly riding up her thigh as her pink laced panties were slowly being exposed.

Her face was red due to the heat from the make out session she was just in. Her shirt now unbuttoned halfway exposing her bra.

"What do you mean baby," he whispered in her ear as his hands slowly wondered around her body. "Jump for me princess,"

She wasn't thinking at all. The thought of being pleasured by him was all she could think about. Her legs wrapped around his torso as he slowly put her on top of the desk, knocking down books and papers to the floor.

"My brothers are gonna find out about us soon Mr.Kang. They'll kill me-"

"Shhh, we'll worry about that later bunny," he hushed her while slowly unzipping her skirt.

"Mr.Kang just- uhm," a moan escaped her mouth as his lips made contact with her sensitive skin. She was a mess. Her hair was everywhere and the hickeys that she received from a few hours ago were on display.

She felt good. She loved him. She loved being with him. She loved every moment with him but it was so wrong. Their relationship was so wrong. It had been 3 months. They had been going for 3 months and she still wasn't caught. It was baffling.

Their relationship only began during summer. She had no idea that he would end up being her teacher. They had met at one of the concerts the boys were doing. He had come with his friends and he really didn't want to go but his friends had convinced him too and when he set his eyes on her, he couldn't look away. She was beautiful and he knew he wanted her.

"Do you feel-" his deep voice was interrupted by a loud knocking. Y/n's eyes widen as she jumped off the desk and started to fix herself.

"Who is it?" He called as he too tried to fix himself.

"Mr.Kang? It's Chan. Y/n's brother," a familiar voice replied. He looked over at her small body and saw she had managed to get herself together quite quickly and started to collect her books.

"Come in!"

The door opened and a happy looking Chan walked in. His face was glowing and his hair was covered with a beanie meaning he had just come from the studio.

He quickly said a quick hello before helping Y/n grab her bag. "I hope you guys had a good study session. Thank you so much for watching her Sir," he thanks the older man.

"Oh, you don't need to thank me. She was an Angel and I hope, with all the studying we've done, she'll pass the next quiz," he had a smirk on his face. A smirk Y/n hated. He knew what he was doing.

"Well, I'll make sure to make her study more. Other than that. Have a good weekend," Chan gave him one last smile before waving goodbye and leaving the room with Y/n right behind her.

**

"Why do you look so red?" Chan asked when they got into the car. He had been watching and analyzing her for the past 5 minutes. "Do you not feel well?" He asked.

"No Channie, it was just really hot in there and I've been studying for hours," she sighed and played with her skirt.

"Oh, makes sense. Do you wanna eat something? We can stop for some hotpot-"

"No actually, I'm really tired Oppa. Maybe later in the evening?"

"Yeah that sounds fine, we can go with the boys," he replied and got his phone out of his pocket to text the family group chat.

They had a family group chat because once when they were traveling for one of their tours, I.N and Han thought it would be a good idea to disappear from the group which led them to missing their flight and Chan was so mad he made sure to make a group chat for whenever they had to split up.

Y/n looked out the window. The past few hours running through her mind. The thoughts making her feel wet under there as she thought about the way Mr.Kang would touch her, make her feel good, make her feel like-

One message:

Come over to mines tomorrow. Sleepover😘

The butterflies in her stomach started to dance once again. Her tummy doing somersaults making her feel all giddy and excited.

"Oppa? Can I go to Franchesca's tomorrow for a sleepover?" She looked over at her brother.

"Again? You've been going over there so much! We barley get time with you," he pouted earning a chuckle from Y/n.

"It's just for one night, I'll be back in the morning and we can hangout. All of us,"

He didn't look convinced but yet again, who was he to say no? This was his little sister. Their only girl in the family.

"Fine but make sure to tell Leeknow. You know how he gets," he shrugged and turned back his phone.

"Okay okay! Thank you, thank you," she giggled and jumped on him while kissing him all over his face.

"Okay okay, enough," he playfully rolled his eyes and raffled her hair.

**

Her night consisted of watching the boys do practice and have a big fat nap on the couch as they figured out the music part of it all. This was a routine most of the times after school. One of the boys would pick her up and then she would come over to the JYP building and watch the boys practice or record they even made her her own little corner in the 3 racha studio where she could do her homework and decorate it is much as she wanted to.

They really did love their little sister.

"Okay shall we go?" Han asked her since he was the last one closing up the studio. All the other boys were already down stairs waiting for them.

She grabbed her sweater and nodded, "yeah let's go jisung, I'm hungry," she groaned and carried her bag on one shoulder.

He chuckled and locked the doors and quickly made their way downstairs.

When they arrived at the restaurant and started to eat. Chan brought up the sleepover which leeknow was not so happy about.

"I don't, I just don't like them. I don't like their lifestyle and you've been over there too much jagi," he explained as he picked up the chopsticks.

"Please leeknow, she literally comes over all the time,"

"Yeah I know but I don't have a good feeling about this weekend, my older brother instincts are tingling," he looked over at the other boys trying to get some support.

"She'll be gone for one night Hyung, just let her go," Changbin backs her up. He thought about it for a bit before finally agreeing but only on one condition.

"You have to call me when you get there and I have to speak to her parents,"

Busted.

She giggled nervously before nodding, "Ofcourse min, I will. I promise," she played with her ring. A thing she only does when she's nervous and from the corner of Hyunjin's eyes, he noticed instantly and he knew for a fact something fishy was going on.

"So this sleepover...is it just the two of you?" Hyunjin asked while taking a sip from his cocktail.

"Yeah it will be, we're thinking of watching a movie-"

"What movie?" He cut her off quickly. "And what time will you leave tomorrow?"

"Hyung, chill. What's going on?" Han laughed and shoved him a little.

"Nothing...just curious," he shrugged and lifted one eyebrow. The restaurant was a bit empty and the service was good so when the waitress interrupted their conversation by giving them their bill she was so thankful because the conversation was no forgotten about.

**

"I just know it Changbin, I know she's lying about something," Hyunjin was pacing back and forth in the living room. Half the house was asleep and most of the boys were in their rooms.

Hyunjin and Changbin had decided to stay up and watch a movie. Leaving them alone in the living room.

"Why do you think she would lie about a sleepover Jinnie? I mean surely she wouldn't lie to us about that,"

"But Changbin, you know how suspicious she's been acting. Always over at Franchesca's. Staying for after school activities. Always coming home late. Changbin it's obvious she's doing something behind our backs,"

"Have you talked of Chan about it?" He asked while slowly taking a sip out of his mug.

"No, I just thought about it while we were at dinner. I need solid proof because if I tell Chan, he'll go absolutely crazy,"

"You're right, maybe we can check her phone while she's sleeping or something," Changbin suggested.

"Do you know her password?"

"No but she keeps it in her journal and I know where that is-"

"Her journal! Changbin that's it! We need to read her journal. Maybe she put down what she's doing in there," he whisper-shouted.

"Are you crazy?!" He whispered back, "that's like intruding her privacy Hyunjin! What if we don't find anything at all then it'll be a waste and she'll be mad,"

"I know I'm not wrong Binnie! I can feel it,"

"I hope you're right because if she finds out, we'll be the worst brothers of the century," he sighed and massaged his temples.

**

"Make sure to call if you need anything, okay?" Leeknow gave her assurance as he kissed her goodbye.

"And don't eat anything your not used too or don't know about!" Chan added and gave her a hug.

"I won't Oppa," she giggled and waved goodbye as she made her way to the car where the driver awaited her.

Once they saw the car drive away everyone disappeared doing their own thing while Hyunjin and Chan where on a mission. A big mission.

They went straight to her room and started looking for a journal.

"This feels so wrong," Changbin said as he opened and closed drawers.

"I know Hyung but we have too," he replied quickly and looked through her closet. It was long until they found out and it actually made Hyunjin laugh at the fact that their little sister sucked when it came to hiding her stuff from them.

"I found it!" He yelped and pulled out the book. It was old and quite beaten up but that didn't matter at all. Hyunjin made sure to remind himself to buy her a new one later.

"Okay! What does it say? What does it say?!" Changbin shrieked excitedly.

They sat on her bed and started to go through the book. Page by page by page. It was hours and hours reading boring things about highschool and boys and drama.

Hyunjin was about to run mad but Changbin was eating all the drama up. He was actually impressed at how interesting their little sisters life was.

"We're never going to find anything!" Hyunjin groaned when he looked at the time.

"I mean we can skip the parts? When did she start acting suspicious?"

"I'll say like 2-3 months ago, I don't know! What do you think?"

"I think it started during summer," Changbin commented.

"Then let's go look from there," Hyunjin started to skip the pages until finally.

September 27th 2023.

**

“….and we’re going to be making cookies. I just really hope everything goes well and my brothers don’t find out about this. Wish me luck!” Hyunjin slammed the book shut after finishing the last sentence.

He looked up at the boys who were listening to everything. His blood was boiling as he looked over at Changbin who was equally as angry.

They were shocked and traumatized.

What the hell was Y/n thinking?

[molsno]

I've already written about why male socialization is a myth that needs to be discarded, but in the responses to those posts, I sometimes find tme trans people who concede that yes, the concept of male socialization should be rejected, but refuse to let go of their own supposed female socialization. this always makes me quite reasonably angry, for two reasons:

I dislike it when people hijack my posts about transmisogyny to talk about things that aren't transmisogyny.

rejecting male socialization but embracing female socialization is still innately transmisogynistic.

you might find yourself wondering how that second point could possibly be true. it's true for a lot of reasons, and I'll explain to the best of my ability.

"female socialization" is the idea that people who were assigned female at birth undergo a universal experience of girlhood that stays with them the rest of their lives.

right off the bat, this concept raises alarm bells. first, it is a bold (and horribly incorrect) assertion to claim that there is any universal experience of girlhood that is shared by all people who were afab. what exactly constitutes girlhood varies greatly based on culture, time period, race, class, sexual orientation, and many, many other factors. disregarding transness for a moment, can you really say that, for example, white women and black women in modern day america, even with all else being equal, are socialized in the same way? the differences in "socialization" only become more stark the fewer commonalities two given people have. to give another example, a white gay trans man born in 2001 to an upper middle class family in a progressive city in the north is going to have a very different life than a cis straight mexican woman born in 1952 to an impoverished family and risked her life immigrating to the us in the deep south. can you really say anything meaningful about the "female socialization" that these two supposedly have in common? I think that b. binaohan said it best in "decolonizing trans/gender 101":

Then in a singular sense we most certainly cannot talk about 'male socialization' or 'female socialization' as things that exist. We can only talk about 'male socialization**s**' and 'female socialization**s**'. For if we take the multiplicity of identity seriously, as we must, then we are socialized as a whole person based on the nexus of the parts of our identity and our axes of oppression. ... Indeed, it gets complex enough that we could assert, easily, that each individual is socialized in unique ways that cannot be assumed true of any other person, since no one else shares our **exact** context. Not even my sister was socialized in the same way that I was.

and while I could just leave it at that and tell you to read the rest of their book (which you should), it wouldn't sit right with me if I just debunked the concept without explaining exactly why it's transmisogynistic at its core.

now, I should preface this by saying that I believe trans people have a right to identify however they want, and I think that trans people deserve the space to talk about their lives before transition without facing judgment. there are tme trans people who consider themselves women and there are trans men who don't consider themselves women at all but nonetheless have a lot of negative experiences with being expected to conform to womanhood. I don't want to deprive these people of the ability to talk about their life experiences. however, I do want them to keep in mind a few things.

first of all, "female socialization" is terf rhetoric. terfs talk all the time about how womanhood is inherently traumatic, which they regularly use as a talking point to convince trans men to detransition and join their side. when your whole ideology hinges on the belief that having been afab predestines you to a life of suffering, who is a better target to indoctrinate than trans people for whom being expected to conform to womanhood was a major source of trauma and dysphoria? the myth of female socialization is precisely why there are detransitioners in the terf movement who vehemently oppose trans rights.

that's why when tme trans people talk about having undergone female socialization, it's almost always steeped in the underlying implication that womanhood is an innately negative experience. even if they don't buy into the biological determinism central to radical feminism, that implication is still present. because, you see, womanhood can still be innately negative because the result of being viewed as and expected to be a woman is that you are inundated with misogyny.

that right there is why clinging to the notion of female socialization is transmisogynistic. it allows tme trans people, many of whom don't even consider themselves women, to position themselves as experts who understand womanhood and misogyny better than any trans woman ever could. that's why I find it disingenuous when a tme trans person claims to reject male socialization but still considers themself as having undergone female socialization; how could they possibly benefit from doing so, other than by claiming to be more oppressed than trans women, by virtue of supposedly experiencing more misogyny?

by being viewed as more oppressed than trans women on the basis of female socialization, they gain access to "women's only" spaces that trans women are denied access to. their voices are given priority in discussions about gendered oppression. people more readily view them as the victims when they come into interpersonal conflict with trans women. they become incapable of perpetrating transmisogyny on the basis of being the "more oppressed" category of trans people.

how exactly could such a person not be transmisogynistic, though? if they believe that gendered socialization is a valid and universal truth that one can never escape from, then what does it even mean for them to reject the concept of male socialization? if they were to actually, vehemently reject it, then they would no longer be able to leverage their own "female socialization" to imply that trans women aren't real, genuine women on account of not having experienced it. and make no mistake - there are very few tme trans people who subscribe to the myth of gendered socialization that even claim to reject male socialization. most of the time, they're very clear about their beliefs that trans women have some "masculine energy" that we can never truly get rid of after having undergone a lifetime of being expected to conform to manhood. and as a result, they continue to treat trans women as dangerous oppressors.

that's why gendered socialization as a concept needs to be abandoned wholesale. there's nothing wrong with talking about your experiences as a trans person, but giving any validity to this vile terf rhetoric always harms trans women, just like it was intended to do from its very inception.

[adventuringblind]

Church Girl

Oscar Piastri x Autistic!reader

Genre: hurt/comfort

Request: no (check masterlist for request status)

Summary: Church has a tendency to make people feel unwanted. When reader goes to visit her family, they convince her to go with them to the place she’s trying to forget. Good thing Oscar is there with her.

Warnings: toxic religious folk, religious trauma, creepy old men, panic attacks

Notes: okay so this goes out to my neurodivergents who were stuck in a church that didn’t understand them with peers who made them feel like they were an alien, adults who were always asking the wrong questions and judging their clothes, and were forced into the stereotypes they wanted you to fit in. Fire Drill by Melanie Martinez was on repeat while writing this.

This is loosely based on true events

Masterlist

Summer break is here which means it’s time to go visit family. She and Oscar board the plane to her home country, all smiles and laughs.

She’s missed them since being away. Her family hasn’t always understood her, but she loves them dearly.

When they arrived they were greeted with hugs and questions about the trip.

At the dinner table that night, Oscar was quick to realize that he didn’t fully realize how religious his girlfriends family is. It seemed to be their favorite topic.

The girl next to him was struggling with the conversation and he could feel her stimming under the table. She’d talked about her church experience a little with him. He didn’t want to push her so he didn’t know the full extent of everything that happened. He recalls her mom having to put up with some horrible people and the tears over how it hurt her to see her mom so broken in a place she should feel loved. How her sister felt she would never be good enough for their expectations. How her dad uses is to control them sometimes.

And yet they’d convinced them to go with. Well- more like she was trying to please and wants to spend time with her family.

In the lonesome of their room that night, she collapsed into him.

“I think I might vomit.”

He simply hold her. “Do you want to talk about it? We can always say we changed our minds.” He suggests. His attempt at reassuring her futile as she panics more.

“The people there judge so critically. It didn’t help that I was weird to kids my age and mature enough for the adults to ask me why I’m showing my shoulders because they’re a distraction.”

Oscar hums in understanding. Carful not to interrupt her explanation but still show he’s listening.

“They say it’s a stereotype, but it’s true. I’ve been teased and looked down on and made out to be over dramatic. My old youth pastor used to talk to my mom about my ‘behavior’ and how I argued with him to much. Then I yelled at him for getting in my personal space and saying things an adult should never say to a child, in my opinion. I was constantly told I talk to much about the wrong things and not enough about the right.”

Though Oscar’s shirt is getting wet, he doesn’t care. Her more harmful stimming habits are showing as he’s determined not to let that happen. She plays with his fingers instead. “I can’t do it Jack.”

The endearing nickname alerts him this is serious. He didn’t know how far this trauma had been rooted inside her. No wonder she struggles with her self-esteem, she was told her entire life she’d never measure up. She’d endured hours of countless awkward conversations and events she couldn’t wait to leave.

The worst part is that he knows it’s why she apologizes for everything. It didn’t matter how much she tried to look ‘normal’ she couldn’t get it right and people were mad at her for it.

“I will leave it up to you, but say the word and I’ll have us out of here in an hour.”

~

Oscar had half a mind just to feign sickness and tell them they can’t go. The girl pacing the room had yet to get dressed or pull the plug and say she doesn’t want to go.

“I say wear something comfortable and scandalous.” He leans back on the bed with a smirk.

“Since when are you so evil? And are you crazy? I’d get eaten by judgmental stares.”

“Let them stare. You deserve to be comfortable in whatever you wear without feeling judged and preyed on.”

~

They took a separate car from her parents. Partially because they wanted to leave early, mostly because in case of emergency they had an escape vehicle.

He could feel her trying to self soothe in the passenger seat. She’d finally settled for her favorite pair of pants and his sweatshirt. Comfort clothes for a hard situation definitely seemed like the best option.

He held her hand as they walked to the front door and stopped right outside. “Remember you’re not stuck. We can leave anytime you want.” She nods her head appreciatively, then they step through the doors.

He felt like the were underdressed. Which is an absolutely ridiculous notion because it’s eight in the morning and he’d rather be asleep. How these people look dressed for a ball at this hour is beyond him.

Oscar spots her family amongst the sea of people and weaves them into their vicinity.

“Y/N, hi! How are you? It’s been so long!” Chirps an elderly woman who awkwardly embraces the girl. She’s still as a board and yet the lady doesn’t get the hint.

“I’m alright.” She smiles politely.

“And who’s this young man?”

“My boyfriend, Oscar.”

He reaches out his hand to her and she shakes it. “It’s nice to meet you.” He offers his media coached smile.

“Oh are you two planning on settling down? Having kids?”

She shuffles awkwardly looking for a response. She hates invasive questions like these. Now would normally be where an inappropriate joke about Lando practically being their child would go but she thinks that might be wrong. But what’s even right in this situation?

“Not currently. I travel for work majority of the year so it would be difficult to start a family.” She’s grateful Oscar knows to manage conversation.

“Oh well… that’s to bad.” Then the woman shuffles away.

“I told you it’s bad.”

“I see your point. Did you know her?”

“No but apparently everyone is allowed to talk to you like that even if you just know a persons name because we’re a ‘church family’.

As they wait for the service to start, they pass the time by people watching. Snickering at the obvious fake smiles and perfect families people show off on Sunday mornings.

They are rudely interrupted by a male probably in his forties. “Excuse me, I have got to ask, are you two siblings?”

He must be newer, she thinks to herself, it’s not like she’s been gone that long. She shakes her head at the man, one hand in Oscar’s the other inside the sweatshirt pocket. “No sir, we’re dating actually.”

“That’s a real shock. He’s a keeper if that’s how you dress all the time and he still chose you.” His comment is directed at her. The social analysis kicking in. Is this sarcasm? Or maybe a joke she doesn’t get? Is he being serious?

“What do you mean by that?” Oscar is quick to ask back. Again, saving her from most likely saying something she shouldn’t.

“Most guys enjoy when a girl wears appropriate female clothing. I’m just saying she’s lucky to have you if this is what she wears all the time.” He eyes her up and down. “Would be prettier in a dress I reckon.”

“Nope. She’s pretty in everything she wears.” Oscar is dragging her off in the opposite direction before turning around. “Also, sir, I’m the lucky one.”

The service is long and boring. The two pass notes back and forth like they are in high school. Though they aren’t necessarily trying to hide the fact they are doing it.

When it’s over, they quickly tell her parents they are heading out because truthfully, the girl is in the verge of a meltdown from the over stimulation.

They get almost to the door before being stopped again by the last person she wanted to ever see again. Her old youth pastor.

“Y/N! I didn’t think you were ever coming back!” He goes to hug her but she steps back. Almost using Oscar as a barrier. “Awe don’t be like that.” He pouts.

“We were actually just heading out.” Oscar steps in. He didn’t like how the man is eyeing her. It’s uncomfortable for him and even more so for her.

“And you are…?”

“Oscar, her boyfriend.”

A look of shock spreads across his face. “That’s gooier to hear. I didn’t think she’d ever find someone.” Oscar doesn’t hesitate to use his sarcasm and over expressive facial expressions as he feigns curiosity.

“Why’s that?”

“I could never get her to shut up about things that weren’t important. And after the lengthy discussion we had with the board about her argumentative attitude with her male superiors, I just thought it would never happen.”

She didn’t tell him about that one. Oscar can see out of the corner of his eye how her head drops in shame. He doesn’t let go of her hand. “So you work with kids but when one doesn’t act the way you want you take to abusive behaviors? Glad to see a church full of people who are supposed to be loving are letting their youth get hurt by adults.” He says launder then necessary, but it gets his point across because people heard him.

He turns in his heels and places a protective arm around her waist as they walk to the car.

He knows she’s overstimulated, so he tries lets her go at her own pace when they get back to her parents house. The spare key still in the same place it’s been for years, so no need to wait outside.

In the safety of the room, she latches herself onto the Aussie. “I’m sorry.”

He holds her and does his best to soothe her. “You’ve nothing to apologize for. Those people are sick, I swear. I’m sorry you had to go through all that.”

“That meeting was the worst day of my life. Sitting in a room with a bunch of older men telling me how to behave. They made some jokes that they shouldn’t have and told me I’d never have a good life if I kept acting like I had been.” She’s wailing now.

Oscar can practically hear his hear shatter. How could people be so ignorant and blind?

“They said that my autism isn’t an excuse and that I need to try harder. Then they said maybe one of them can take me under their wing and show me how to treat a man right. I was barely eighteen.”

They spent the night like that. Her crying into his shoulder and him trying to calm her down. She fell asleep in his arms and he didn’t have the heart to move her and risk waking her up.

He couldn’t fathom someone telling her her brain being different means she’s not good enough. It’s what makes her unique in his eyes. How could someone not love the way her eyes light up when she talks about those interests that she never gets tired of. How her honesty and ability to stand her ground make conversations with her never dull.

Oscar leans down and kisses her head. “I don’t care who says you aren’t good enough, they are lying. You are for more then enough and I feel so special that you love me and are willing to share those pieces of yourself with me.”

[reidsdimples]

Accidental Baby Genius | Part 2

Based on the request from part 1

You tell Spencer about his child, years later.

Fluff/angst/no smut 🖤 🧸

Enjoy some AI renderings of Reid’s son 🫶🏻

3.5 Years later

“Mommy!” Your son raises his arms when you walk in the door. He hugs you tight around the neck.

“Roman,” you sigh and hold him for a minute. You push away the gnawing realization that’s been plaguing you for months.

He looks up at you with big brown eyes and sweeps his wavy brown locks from his face. You put your hand in his hair and mess it all up again and he laughs. Even his laugh- the way his face contorts- it’s so achingly familiar.

The cut of his jaw as he approaches three years old is becoming more pronounced. You can’t unsee it in him, Spencer Reid is his father. And if his looks weren’t enough of a convincer-

“Rome read me three Dr Seuss books and The Very Hungry Caterpillar today,” your sister informs you,

“Four!” He pouts.

Your two year old was reading at a fucking first grade level if not higher. You sigh, in awe of him.

A familiar heartache seizes you. Spencer has no idea that this amazing little boy is his son.

“I think it’s time,” you shake your head and inform your sister.

“I think so too,” she agrees.

Roman as back to his spot on the floor, building a Lego set of the Star Wars star destroyer which is huge and you can’t figure out how to build. But he’s over half done and you can watch him move around and articulate how to do it all day long.

You noticed about a week ago that he’s started to lick his bottom lip when he’s thinking, or bite it when he’s nervous. It’s not a trait he got from you.

In fact the only thing he seemed to get from you was his nose and ears but the jury was still out on that one. It’s like you birthed a mini Spencer Reid.

“Hey Romi,” you call him by his nickname and wave him over.

“Do you remember how you asked me about your dad?”

“Uhuhh,” he uses his palm to brush his hair back with his hands which are too big for him.

“How would you like to meet him?” He turns in your arms and lights up.

“Does he like reading?”

“He does,” you answer and fight back tears.

“What about counting, because I can count all the way to five thousand,” he starts talking faster when he’s excited.

“I think so,” you caress his small face and kiss his forehead.

—

“I didn’t know if this was still your number,” you say when Spencer answers his phone.

“I’ve had it for years, what’s up?” He seems distracted and you don’t want to do this over the phone.

“Can we talk… in person,” you ask.

“Sure?” He hasn’t spoken to you since about a month after you left the team so abruptly.

“How’s lunch tomorrow?” You ask.

“I thought you moved?” He presses.

“My sister and I moved to DC last month, I’m working at the pentagon now,” you inform him.

“Wow, okay,” you hear shuffling in the background. “Let’s do pizza, you still like Ray’s?” He asks because you two ate there all the time.

“Yeah, how about 1230?”

“Sounds good, see you then,” he hangs up.

Your sister takes your shaking hand but you calm yourself by looking at your beautiful boy.

You think Spencer will want to be a dad, you think he’s mentioned it before. Especially with how absent his father was. But you’re nervous and unsure. He would have every right to be angry with you, Roman was almost three. But it’s better late than never right?

-

“Spencer,” you beam nervously and he hugs you. He seems taller, his hair seems curlier, and he’s got some facial hair. He looks… matured. You wonder what he’s been through, what he’s seen with the BAU since you last saw him.

“Y/N, how are you?” He asks.

“Good, I’m good,” you guys sit outside and make idle chat about work.

You fall into easy conversation over pepperoni pizza and he laughs about some joke your coworker made about Aristotle.

“You said you needed to talk to me?” He crosses his legs and pushes his hair back with his palm(just like Roman does.)

“Spencer…” you shake your head and look down at your lap. Your throat tightens and it all comes down to this moment.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” He leans forward and drops his pizza.

“I’m so sorry,” you don’t expect to cry but you do. He drags the metal outdoor chair closer to you and touches your shoulder:

“Sorry for what? What’s going on?” He seems worried.

“I didn’t just leave the BAU for a new position,” you sigh and wipe your eyes. You turn in your chair towards him and pull your knees to your chest.

His brows are furrowed, full and dark just like your sons.

“I got pregnant,” you huff out a shaky breath.

He slides his chair back. You can’t look at him.

“What are you saying?” His voice is low.

“This is Roman,” you slide your phone across the table towards him. Your lock screen is a picture of your son staring at the camera as though he’s far beyond his years.

Spencer inspects it, his eyes scanning the photo frantically.

“That- he…” and then a tear falls down his face. “Do you have more pictures?”

You take your phone and give him your camera roll.

He swipes for a while, he’s biting his lip, his eyes bloodshot.

“He looks just like me,” he whispers a broken whisper and sits back down.

“I know,” you can hardly speak.

“How long have you known he was mine?” He doesn’t sound angry, just… sad.

“I’ve suspected it for a while, he started talking a year ago and… he’s just so smart. Sickeningly so…”

“He could talk at 1?”

“Spencer he can read books and do math at 2 and a half. I could kid myself on his looks for the first year or so of his life but…” you grab his hand and squeeze. “I’m so sorry.”

“Why did you leave? Why didn’t you tell me you were pregnant?” He asks and looks up at you.

“Because… you had just lost Maeve and there was a chance that the baby wouldn’t be yours and I didn’t want to make things harder on you,” you sniffle.

He rubs at his eye like he used to do when he got a headache.

“Why tell me now?” He asks.

“He asks about his daddy. And now that I know for a fact who that is… you deserve to know.”

“Daddy,” he whispers and his voice cracks as he looks at a photo of Roman as a baby baby.

“He’s even wearing…” he points at the picture.

“My sister was trying to make a point,” you smile softly.

He laughs a little at that.

“Do you want to meet him? You don’t have to. You never have to…”

“Of course I do,” he stops you.

“I don’t want anything from you. That’s not why I’m telling you this,” you assure him. “You can be as involved or not involved as you want.”

“Y/N, he’s my son. I want him to know me and I want to know him,” now he’s squeezing your hand. You nod, you’re relieved.

——

“Okay, are you ready?” You ask your son the next day.

“Yes!” He holds up his toy train that he brought his dad to the park.

You spot Spencer at a picnic table in the shade and pick up your son. The wind blows his hair around as you approach. Spencer stands, his eyes lighting up as he beholds Roman.

“Spencer Reid, this is Roman Jacob Reid,” you say proudly.

“Hi,” he smiles and waves at Roman who you stand on the table.

“I got you a train. It has my name on it, see. R-O-M-A-N,” he points at the letters. Spencer lets out an amazed huff and takes the red engine.

“It’s perfect!” He exaggerates.

“I’m changing his last name tomorrow,” you whisper to Spencer. “If that’s okay.”

“That would be amazing,” he smiles down at you.

“Okay stand back,” Roman pushes Spencer away from the table. “I’m going to show mommy that you’re strong because I’m strong and if I’m a superhero you’re a superhero!”

Spencer glances at you and has no idea what he means but then Roman jumps off of the table towards Spencer in a giant leap with a howling laugh. Spencer doesn’t miss a beat and catches him swiftly with the biggest smile of his face.

“See mommy! Strong! Now I know he’s my daddy for sure!” Roman exclaims.

“Romi be gentle with him,” you warn.

“Romi,” Spencer whispers as he tries out the nickname.

“Mommy says you’re a special agent, are you a spy? Like double oh seven?” Roman asks absentmindedly as he places the train into Spencer’s shoulder and moves it back and forth. He’s sitting on the table in front of his dad who looks like the world just fell in his lap. Your heart feels so full.

“Maybe, what do you know about 007?” He grins at his son.

“Some stuff,” he shrugs.

“I do know magic,” Spencer informs him.

“But magic isn’t real!” Roman swats his dad’s chest.

“No?” Spencer pinches Romans ear. “So you always have a quarter in there?”

“Woah!” Roman stands on the table in awe. “Do it again!”

“What about this? Is this yours?” He reaches towards his other ear and brings out a lollipop.

“It is now,” he giggles and snatches it. “Thank you,” he hugs Spencer around the neck.

Spencer looks at you and you’ve never seen him like this. He seems content, amazed, like he’s finally found a puzzle he can’t solve. You’re hugging Roman’s stuffed bear to your chest as you watch them.

“Thank you,” Spencer whispers to you and hugs Roman again. “Now let’s go get some ice cream,” Spencer says.

“Uh-oh you said the magic word,” you taunt as Roman squeals in excitement.

“I wanna be on your back,” Roman tells Spencer who obliges. He wraps his arms around Spencer’s neck, his legs around his waist while Spencer supports his legs.

He follows you to the ice cream shop across from the park. You think for the first time in a while, that everything just might be okay.

“Would it be weird for me to thank you?” You ask Spencer.

“Thank me for what?” He asks and licks his ice cream cone. Roman is in your lap, gently picking singular sprinkles off of his ice cream and eating them first. Like always.

“For him,” you hug him gently and kiss his head. Roman doesn’t react, too lost in his ice cream.

“You carried him, birth him, and raised him on your own until now. I should be thanking you. You’re incredible,” he stares into your eyes. Your heart skips a beat and you look away.

“Let’s just say we’re both grateful for him,” you smile. “I never knew, where you stood on children. If you ever wanted them.”

“Children bring such a light into our lives, especially people like us who work in the dark all of the times they remind us of wonder and innocence and show us compassion and patience. In their presence we are given the opportunity to rediscover the joy in simple moments, the thrill of exploration, and the power of unconditional love. I’ve always wanted children,” he explains.

You don’t know why you had any doubts about him.

“Well, they can be trying too,” you look down at your perfect child. “So I hear,” you shrug and both of you laugh.

[jakeyt]

Covet: Chapter 10 (Part 2 of 2)

Pairing: Jake Kiszka x f!Reader

Covet Summary:

Life was good. No, life was great. 

Was. 

Until.

Jake Kiszka crashed into the picture.

You welcomed him into your life—your home. 

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

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

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

Warnings: MINORS DNI (18+); angst; depression; feelings of stress and anxiety; feelings of sadness; abandonment issues; allusions to a dark, forgotten childhood; arguing; heart issues addressed (POTs); use of heart monitors; revisited, vivid memories of sex; jealousy; body changes as a result of pregnancy; suuuuper sore boobs; negative self-talk (stretch marks specifically); talk of baby + pregnancy; pregnancy hormones...things get heatedddd; reader and jake are both stubborn + turned on, but can't be together and it's TOUGH; cheating; heavy petting; rubbing of bodies against each other (see: dry humping); hands on boobs oopsies (as usual, PLEASE lmk if i missed anything that is triggering to you!)

Chapter Word Count: 16.7k+

a/n: hi babes… <3 this is my personal favorite part out of the two… so, let me know how you feel… ;) love u all. busy day! i'm so sorry it's late. plz know i love you all sm <3

s/o to @joshym who is my favorite and the most wonderful encourager and sister in the entire universe. i love you more than i can say. you make life sunny and everything better <3

also, @alwaysonthemend, i love you so incredibly much and i’m so grateful for you and your unwavering support and texts that never fail to make my day <3

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

Covet Masterlist

-🌼🌼🌼-

“The covetous man pines in plenty, like Tantalus up to the chin in water, and yet thirsty.”

-Thomas Adams

-🌼🌼🌼-

November 25, 2022

Friendsgiving. A standing, solid tradition since the first Thanksgiving you’d spent as Josh’s friend. It had always been you, Elsie, Josh, Sam, and Daniel.

But this year, you’d be entertaining new people. One you were incredibly grateful for. Jake. And one you weren’t even slightly sure about.

Maya.

She was the last person you wanted to celebrate a holiday all about Thankfulness with. But, you had to. Stupid ass shit that you couldn’t control, so you had to just pretend to be fine with it. 

To your benefit, you had a distraction – a fantastic, welcome one in Elsie. Elsie and a morning of grocery shopping.

For Friendsgiving, in a group chat between you two and the rest of the boys, Elsie had insisted that you two be in charge of pies. So, you two were currently wandering the aisles of Walmart with Pinterest up, recipes open to several flavors of pies that Elsie had decided the two of you should make.

And the way to make homemade crust since she refused to use store bought. 

“It will be a fun thing to try,” she’d sworn, aggressively pinning a couple to your shared board.

You were the one in charge of grabbing things off the shelves, while she pushed the cart and bossed at you what to grab for each recipe. The makings for apple pie and pumpkin pie already rumbled around in the cart. So, now you were on to the final pies and their ingredients. The few cans of cherry pie filling had just landed in the cart when Elsie decided to confront you about Jake. 

“What’s going on between you and Lover Boy?” She asked, trying to sound absentminded in her question, but you knew she was not thinking of it randomly. She’d most definitely waited for a moment to hit you with the question when you were forced to respond. 

And, you were. You were currently completely stranded at a Walmart with only her and one car to get you back to the apartment. There was no escaping the question. So, you decided to do what you could and only answer halfway.

“Well, he knows,” you started, grabbing a bag of sugar off the shelf, avoiding her eyes. “And things are going good.”

“What a vague response,” she hummed. “Why don’t you grab a couple cans of blueberry filling and hit me with full honesty.”

Rolling your eyes, you grabbed the can and turned to face her. A blush painted your cheeks that you couldn’t avoid. “I am being honest. He knows and things are good.”

“Yeah, that answer works for a random Joe, but not your sister. I’m not here for the fucking cliff notes.”

“I don’t care what you’re ‘here for’, Elsie,” you grumbled, turning to walk ahead of her toward the flour. “And why didn’t you ask me this yesterday when we had the entire day at Grandma and Grandpa’s?”

“It didn’t really feel like the right time to ask,” she defended, pointing to a particular bag of flour, which you grabbed and put in the cart. “I also didn’t want to stop talking about the ridiculous fangirl experience because that shit was hilarious,” she paused, gasping. “Oh! Speaking of fangirls and the other guys. . . When are you planning on telling Josh? I'm dying to start planning a baby shower and I want him to help me.”

“He didn’t tell you that I told him before my first–?”

“You told him?!” She asked, astonished. The cart squeaked to a halt behind you. 

Turning around with a laugh ready at your lips, you gawked at her. “What is wrong with you, Dramatic Ass?”

“Um,” she sharply started, hand on a hip. “My sister and my boyfriend are keeping me in the dark, that’s what’s wrong.”

“Josh is busy and I’m busy,” you responded slowly. “We’re not 'keeping you in the dark'. Also, he just found out a few weeks ago. It’s not like he’s known for–.”

“A few weeks?!”

You swiveled fully around to face her completely. “Els. Josh has never been one to talk about other people and their lives to shoot the breeze. You know this. He wasn’t going to bring it up if it didn’t concern him.”

“Well, it does. It concerns both of us. Aunt and uncle? Hello?”

“It’s also just a giant ass thing that I’m sure he’s still processing,” you argued. “Give him a fucking break.”

“I’m bringing this up to him,” she stubbornly stated, huffing and everything. “I’m going to make him own up to not telling me he knew.”

“You knew and didn’t tell him,” you reminded her. 

“That’s different; you didn’t want me to tell him.”

“And what if he thought I didn’t want you guys talking about it at all? He’s very sensitive to stuff of that nature.”

“I don’t know. I’m still asking him,” she firmly stated, continuing to push the cart forward, effectively ending the conversation with her tone. 

And, much to your joy, dropping the other part of the conversation as she went on a sassy rant about something Josh had done recently that pissed her off. 

It lasted all the way home and you were damn happy. . .

Although, you did have to work a little magic to get her to stop being such an over-thinker and asshole when it came to Josh. You had to give a plentiful amount of examples as to how he was all of these amazing things wrapped in one and not the person her mind was trying to convince her that he was. 

She had trauma and abandonment issues, too. . . she just didn't always show them like you.

But. . . it made you pause. Made you think of yourself and Jake. . . . your mind went to the clouds as you thought of your feelings towards him. You were still like this as you helped her carry in groceries, and only snapped out of it when she started bossing you again. Except this time, she was annoyingly giving you jobs around the kitchen to prepare the blessed pies.

-🌼🌼🌼-  

Jake had been the main chef for Friendsgiving.

All day, the apartment smelled heavenly thanks to his wondrous cooking. He'd started way early in the morning, and had awoken you with the incredible smells. . . but you had forced yourself to lay in bed rather than going about your morning routine. Truthfully, you really hadn't had to force yourself too much as you heard Maya's voice make unwelcome waves around the apartment through your door. You weren't in the mood for any of it this morning considering last night. Last night, when you'd seen him and Maya. . . . . Yeah, you'd still been in the process of blocking that the fuck out.

So, you'd only caught a little glimpse of him buzzing around the kitchen before Elsie and Josh had shown up. At which point, Elsie had been ready to hit Wally World.

But, now that you were back, you'd noticed that he'd taken charge of a few very important tasks. He'd roasted a giant turkey in the oven, made rolls and mashed potatoes from scratch, and a delicious gravy to accompany all of his dishes. Josh had been in charge of casseroles, and the other two hooligan men had been in charge of drinks and salad (a big bag of lettuce from Walmart with a bottle of Ranch and a plastic container of cherry tomatoes). 

Maya had been in charge of nothing, claiming via Jake that she would be helping him. But all day long, she’d just sat around, looking way too stupidly pretty, and watched him cook. Lazy ass. 

While you and Elsie slaved away at dessert, thankfully Jake was done with his preparations (save for the turkey that still cooked and created the most appetizing aroma). Meaning that Maya had followed him and wasn’t looming in the background as you made pie.

Which was good because you really did not need her around you any more than she had to be.

As you made pie after pie and sat them on top of the oven to go in once the turkey came out, you filled Elsie in on everything else that had taken place in your life as of late. Told her about the emergency room visit and everything you’d found out at the E.R.; how you’d come up with a solid morning routine to attempt a healthier pregnancy; and any intricate therapy detail that came to mind. 

The boys had been sitting in the living room, playing music on a few guitars (Josh, filling up the apartment with old Elvis tunes). Then, opting to talk for the majority of the time.

So, you'd been able to gain precious time with your sister. She had encouraged you and supported you just like you knew she would. She’d also gotten onto you for not taking better care of yourself and not taking prenatal vitamins sooner.

“You fucking idiot,” she laughed, bumping your shoulder with hers as she passed you in the kitchen with the last pie. “No, but really. I’m sorry that you’d been so stressed and overwhelmed to the point of forgetting to do shit like that. I wish I’d lived closer to you for the beginning of it all.”

Your ears perked up at that. “Yeah. . . Me too,” you said slyly, considering options as they filtered through your head. “What would it take for you to move closer? I don’t want to be selfish, I just don’t want to do this without you.” 

But, after the words came out  of your mouth, you heard just how selfish they sounded. Though, thinking about her being with you for the baby had been something at the back of your mind that you’d been contemplating for weeks. It didn’t mean you needed to drop that fucking bomb on her though. . . The baby wasn’t her thoughtless decision that she needed to change her life for. . . It wasn’t fair to her. 

“I’m sorry, Els,” you slapped a hand to your forehead, shutting your eyes to avoid any further self-induced embarrassment. “I didn’t even think about that before it slipped out. You don’t have to change any—.”

“Well,” she started, coming close to you and removing your hand from your head. As she held your hand in hers, she continued speaking. You opened your eyes to her. “That was actually my thing that I was waiting to tell you. . .,” she paused, trailing off. A slow smile lit up her features as her eyes brightened. “I put in a request for an office job attached to the company I work through. An office job for a branch of the company - based here in New York. . . Told them I didn’t want to travel any longer and that I’d appreciate something steadier as life changes. . .”

Your ears filled with excited static. “What?!” You gasped, eyes lifting with hope. “What did they say?!” 

“Well, a few people talked to a few people, and the director of the program I’m in gave his permission and then recommendation to that part of the company,” she rushed out. “So, in a few months, I’ll finish out my contract for this job and be living here full time for the new one.”

There was almost no time between the moment she’d said the words and the moment you’d leapt from your spot in the kitchen to give her the tightest hug you could muster. 

-🌼🌼🌼-

Jake’s POV

She looked fucking gorgeous today. Everyday, in fact. But for the past couple of days, all I could think about was how thankful I was to have her in my life. Tis the season. No matter what, I was very thankful for her. . . For so many reasons. 

Though, the most prominent reason in my mind at the moment was how thankful I was to her for carrying our baby. So selfless and motherly and lovely. . .

So, I couldn’t help stealing repeated glances at her. I just hoped I wasn’t being too obvious. She was always beautiful, stunning—actual perfection walking—but the fact that our baby was in her belly just made matters much worse for me. She glowed in a way that she never had before. . . Drew my eye to her in a way that couldn’t be stopped.

It was wrong for me to look at her like this. I was in a serious relationship with someone else. . . I definitely shouldn’t have been eyeing her the way I was through the open layout, into the kitchen from my spot in the armchair. And especially not while I had my arm wrapped around my extremely hot girlfriend, and her nice fuckin' ass sitting halfway on my lap.

And, really. . . y/n had effectively broken—no, shattered—my heart all of those months ago in the kitchen. She shouldn't have drawn my eye to her the way she did after what she'd said. But, I really couldn't hold that against her any longer. It didn't matter as much as it once had. . . not anymore.

But, we weren’t meant to be. Honestly, I wasn't sure if I wanted us to be. . . It seemed too difficult for the two of us to manage. And, I had Maya. . . Mayamayamaya.

I would've been lying, though, if I said she wasn’t the most incredibly created human being. She was sculpted by the gods. . . Meticulously made to ruin me. When she really shouldn't. Fuck.

And now that she held my baby. . . The way her tummy rounded out more than usual, under her sweater—that shit left me completely speechless.

The way she held pregnancy was unparalleled to every other woman that had ever done it before. She was ethereal. And as great as Maya's ass was, there was truly no comparing it to the way y/n's ass looked in those leggings I’d seen her wear no less than a million times before. . . And just like every time before, I wanted to walk up behind her and feel the curve of it. Rip them the fuck down and bend her - dammit. I was so fuckin’ weak for her.

But anytime I felt Maya move against my arm, or lap, or smelled her perfume wave off of her with an action, I was reminded of how completely wrong it was for me to be checking y/n out. It was wrong how I couldn’t get her out of my head—all the time, she was there. Even in the most intimate moments with Maya, she kept creeping the fuck into my thoughts. 

But, truly, it just happened. Couldn't control it.

And, even when I got up to check on the turkey once more, I couldn’t help my reaction when I passed her. When I'd accidentally brushed past her on her way out, the way my heart pounded in my chest as our bodies touched for a millisecond. She smelled so sweet—just like a damned sugar cookie. And the way she’d passed so delicately against me. Her top half had pressed against me for a stolen moment in time, her eyes catching mine as her precious bump skimmed my waist.

And her breasts. Felt those, too.

My chest tightened and my dick twitched—it was almost too much. The air was stolen from my lungs. 

We were so close for those few seconds.

“Sorry,” she hushed, her eyes flicking up to look at me. A small smile was sitting on her lips, more out of embarrassment than anything. Her cheeks were the prettiest pink under my gaze.

But she wasn’t the one to be embarrassed. I was the only one who should have been embarrassed — for how I was instantly a teenage boy again, just because of a little brush from her body. 

“Don’t be,” I mouthed, like we were sharing a secret. My lips lifted to reassure her and my eyes lit up with an emotion I couldn’t explain if I tried. 

Her face softened at my expression, and then she was gone. 

And once I’d gotten the turkey out of the oven, I was mostly back to normal. I’d forced myself to think about sad images of roadkill enough to ruin the mood I’d set in my head. 

After breathing a few deep breaths, I called out that dinner was ready and all I could do was hope for the best for the rest of the day. 

End of Jake’s POV

-🌼🌼🌼-

Thanksgiving carried on from when lunch started at two in the afternoon, to the evening, and saw your friend group (and Maya) sitting around the living room.

You were all bouncing back and forth with the Roku remote. Rotating around your semi-circle, every person took a turn choosing a YouTube video to cast.

It had turned into a sort of game of who could play a song that meant something to someone else in the room. Jake had just had the remote, right before Elsie, and had played a song for Josh. It had been some song from Seussical The Musical, to which Josh had sung along to every word. He’d even gone so far as to get up to do a little performance of the song. 

“That’s exactly how it went,” Josh had chuckled heartily, the sound starting deep and lilting at the end. He dropped his arms from an obviously rehearsed dance routine, the song ending on a final high note. “I swear to God.”

“Oh, Joshua,” Sam’s eyes bugged as he looked at Jake with a laugh, who shared the moment of humor with him. “Trust me. We remember. Every single high school theatre production,” Sammy shook, as if reliving a traumatic memory. "All of it is seared into my poor, poor brain."

"Samuel, shut the fuck-," Josh started, before getting interrupted by his twin.

“Day in and day fucking out, Josh. That’s how often we heard those songs at home— for the months leading up to that damn musical,” Jake raised a thick brow. It made your tummy do somersaults - he was so handsome. “And I was lucky enough to hear it from backstage as crew. . . Every single rehearsal.”

“Yeah, you really fucking hated those songs,” Josh noted with a bubbling laugh, sitting back down next to Elsie, his arm falling around her shoulders. “Why would you make yourself suffer through that again?”

“Just playing the game,” Jake shrugged, rolling his eyes with a smile. He handed the remote over to Elsie, who sat on the couch, next to where he sat on the floor, in front of the couch. “But goddamn if I don’t ever hear it again, it will still be too soon.”

Sam agreed with a toast, raising his beer bottle as Jake lifted his. They nodded at each other from across the room. And you stared on, getting distracted by the woman who sat on the couch, criss-cross-applesauce, behind him, braiding his hair. 

Fuck that bitch, you thought hotly— ridiculously.

Admittedly, it took too far too long to look away from her pop-up salon. But you eventually did, and watched the screen as Elsie started typing something into the search bar. 

You knew better than to feel jealous of her. But, you couldn’t help eyeing her from your place, as you snuggled into the armchair with your favorite fluffy blanket covering you. Just wanted to let the chair swallow you, so you nestled deeper and closed your eyes to imagine it.

“This is one of y/n’s favorites,” Elsie said, the pre-video ad starting on the television. “The first time she watched this, her life changed. The perfect mix of her love for classic rock and soul music.”

Instantly, you knew exactly which song she was talking about. And when the video started, your heart expanded in your chest, making everything feel fuzzy and light. Everything felt okay. 

Change the World. . . . the Unplugged version. Eric Clapton and Babyface. . . . so many memories.

“This is our childhood,” you said, voice thick with emotion. The amount of tears you cried on a weekly basis was nothing short of humiliating. The baby hormones were vicious in their attack.

“I can’t tell you how many times we heard this as kids,” Elsie affirmed, looking over at Josh. 

“Grandpa is a strangely huge fan of Babyface,” you giggled, throat loosening a little as the laughter bubbled from your chest. “This Unplugged vinyl played on a loop for a period of time.”

“It was that year we bought it for him for Christmas,” Elsie added, agreeing. She was watching the screen with tears in her eyes, too. “But you ended up loving it so much,” she looked over to where you sat. “That the next Christmas you got your own vinyl of it. From yours truly. You're welcome." She winked, blowing a little kiss your way.

“I do take partial blame for the constant looping on the living room record player,” you smiled, winking at her. 

She winked back. “Yeah, you and Grandpa had equal hand in his Unplugged record warping on this song.”

You grinned, sticking your tongue out at her as she did the same. When Eric Clapton started singing, you gave the screen your full attention. The sound of this song only brought back the happiest memories. Even before hearing Babyface’s cover, it was a family favorite. It was a song that made you feel whole. 

It was the one song your Grandpa loved to sing to you. . . Before this version had ever come to your family’s attention. He'd sing it in those soft moments that felt like glowing rays of sun hitting your skin on a hazy summer evening.

But when your Grandpa had heard the Unplugged cover on the radio, the Earth had shifted for him. . . And even though it didn’t top your Grandpa singing it, the cover featuring Clapton held a special place in your heart with how often you’d heard it bouncing off the walls of the living room. It played so often that you associated it with some of your best days. . .

You'd still been innocent enough, still, to enjoy the world through a rose-tinted lens. And, far enough away from the trauma with your Mom that life had felt new. Ironically, the cover of the song had come around when your world was finally feeling like it had changed. It had been an intricately timed re-release of the lullaby your Grandfather had once poured over you as you’d drift to sleep on both restful and restless nights. The song felt safe – sort of like your Grandmother’s cooking felt for you. 

“You know, it’s funny,” Josh’s voice cut through your drifting thoughts. You kept watching the two men on screen, but tuned in to your best friend’s dialogue. “Jake loved this version, too. When YouTube came around, he would watch this version back to back, trying to memorize the way Babyface and Eric complimented each other on their guitars. He always wanted–.”

“To play both parts and record them on top of each other," Jake finished, watching the screen intently. You’d let your eyes wander from the screen momentarily to see his expression after hearing Josh’s story. He still looked utterly invested; just like you imagined he had looked as a kid re-watching it over and over again on YouTube. “It’s not really an intricate piece. . . I just found it at a time when I wanted to try everything I could on guitar. I knew how to play better than most 14 year olds, yes, but I still didn’t know half as much as I do now,” he explained, never looking away from the musicians. 

You saw movement at his waist, and when you looked down to observe, he seemed to be playing a guitar part in the air. And you knew if he picked up the instrument right now, he’d match one of the men in time. Whichever one he was currently studying - you couldn’t tell. 

“I don’t know why I never recorded myself playing both parts. Synced them over each other,” Jake mused, still playing in the air. “I used Garage Band like it was an addictive fucking drug–.”

“You can say that again,” Sam inserted, acting annoyed but still grinning so wide all the same. 

“But I just forgot about it, I guess,” the older, long-haired brother continued, as if he hadn’t been interrupted. “I’m getting the urge to do it again now – it’s coming back strong,” he chuckled, looking down at his fingers with a brow raised–just like he’d do if he was actually playing. 

It was fucking hot to watch him play so intently with nothing there to support him. Only his mind, full of the memorized chords from years ago. And to a song that meant so much to you. 

“I’m sure the guys at the studio would let you do it with their recording equipment,” Danny offered, also watching the famed musicians with intrigue, glancing over at Jake. 

Jake sucked in a breath, dropping his air guitar before leaning back against Maya, closing his eyes and sighing with one particular scratch of her nails against his scalp as she tugged out the french braid to start another.

Gag. You could vomit at the sight of their mushy-gushy behavior.

Your hand floated to your stomach to remind yourself of one thing you had that she didn’t. 

“Nah,” Jake sighed, opening his eyes to stare at the ceiling. “I feel like it has to be done without the expensive stuff. It has to be recorded in a way that baby Jake would have recorded it. . . I just–,” He wrinkled a brow, releasing a grumble under his breath.

There was something he was concerned about. . .

And, as he sat back up to watch the men finish out the song, Maya made a little huffing noise, crossing her arms over her impressive chest. But, in all of her perfection, she covered the noise with a small smile and a shake of her head. Just seemed to be joking with her little bratty act.

Oh, how cute and funny.

She’d looked over at Sammy, who’d made a little sound at Jake’s words. You followed the line of sight.

“What’s the deal, brother?” Sammy questioned, leaning forward to emphasize his care for Jake. 

“I just don’t have the time to do a little side project like that–can’t even think about prioritizing it,” he replied, combing a hand through his hair, untangling anything that resembled a braid. Maya did outwardly pout at that. She whined his name and said something about her hard work. You couldn’t help the tiny smirk that lifted your lips at the scene. You tried your best to hide it, and just focused on the screen again. “And even calling it a project sounds silly with everything else going on in life right now.”

Before you could feel too guilty for the situation under your palm that added to everything going on in his life, Josh spoke up with a giant gasp.  

“Baby Jake!” The curly-headed twin exclaimed. You all looked in his direction, equally confused with knitted brows. “That’s just it; record it like you would have back then with the intention that it’s for your baby. Something fun to do. But. . . You’ll prioritize the time if it’s for the baby. If you look at it that way, it won’t seem silly at all," he wiped his palms, arm back over Elsie as he finished with jazz hands. "Ta-da!"

As the song concluded and the next ad started (an ad for baby diapers, of all things), Maya was urgently pushing Jake out of the way, claiming she needed to pee. And as she passed between your line of sight and Jake’s, you realized you were zoning out on him when your eyes met his, just as she rounded the couch. 

He gave you a small smile, his eyes staying on yours, floating down to where your belly hid under your blanket, and then back to your face when he responded to Josh’s idea. 

“Yeah, that sounds like a good plan, Josh,” he said, gaze never once leaving yours. 

The fire that rose from the pit of your tummy, all the way to your cheeks was not a new feeling with Jake, but for some reason. . . this time, it felt unlike any time ever before. 

-🌼🌼🌼- 

Everyone had stayed, having decided to lounge on couches for the night to sleep. They were all in equally deep slumbers (save for Maya, most likely still completely awake and waiting for Jake in his bed). 

You’d all stayed up until the wee hours of the morning–much later than you had in a long time. The only way you’d been able to make it, the tiny cat naps you’d dozed in and out of. As you’d done that, everyone else had continued on with their little YouTube game. 

Now, here you were, completely exhausted, practically dragging yourself to bed, ready to sleep. Just barely managed to wash your face before Jake had hopped into the bathroom, right after you, to brush his teeth.

But before you could make it inside your room, he passed by behind you. You weren’t even looking. You’d just smelled his heavenly cologne, a favorite scent of yours (and the baby’s, apparently) flood the space around you. You knew he wasn’t actually drenched in the smell of sandalwood and vanilla, but your baby-powered-super-senses could’ve convinced you otherwise. He smelled delicious and you could easily drown in him. 

Though, instead of focusing on that, you let yourself act on something that was threatening to leave your lips. No matter how hard you tried to stop it, your tired brain wouldn’t let the words halt. 

“Please don’t stop pursuing your dream or any other thing just because of everything that’s happening with me and the baby,” you rushed out, peeking up through your lashes for a moment before locking eyes with your hand on the knob of your door. “I don’t want you to ever feel like this is taking up too much space in your life or causing any unnecessary stress. You can back out whenever you want if you feel like that’s what you need and I won’t be upset with you for—.”

“No,” Jake responded, soft and stern, moving to stand in front of you. You had no choice but to look up at him, he was standing so close to you. His eyes bore into yours. “I’m not going to back out. I couldn’t do that–wouldn’t ever do that. I want this. I promise. It’s everything else, I think, that’s stressful. The baby is something I get to look forward to,” he reassured, his voice wavering just enough to worry you. 

But you didn’t let it get to you. Tiredness prevailed above any doubtful emotion you could’ve mustered. You could only sleepily nod your head at his words. 

“The baby inspires me even more to make it all happen,” he rasped in a velvety tone, assuring you. After, tucking a lock of hair behind his ear. Your sleepy eyes slowly followed the motion. You wished it was you. “Everything else is still exciting, too. . . But it’s a lot and it gets me thinking about how different everything is about to be. It’s scary. But– it’s. . . the baby makes it all seem brighter. Better. I’m not just doing it for me anymore. Not even for my brothers. It’s for my baby,” his full lips spread into a loose, close-mouthed grin. “Our baby.”

Your tummy flip-flopped and all you wanted to do at that moment was kiss him. You felt the slightest inkling that he wanted the same, with the way he’d brought his body in front of you, closer than he needed to. But. . . you blamed it all on tiredness. There was no way you could trust yourself to make actual, coherent assumptions. You were getting carried away, and even though you wondered of the possibility that he could want it, you cut off the idea. 

Tired or not, you knew one thing. He didn’t want you. He had a girlfriend. A real relationship with a woman much more beautiful than you. So, before you could get trapped in his big, beautiful brown eyes any longer, you decided to bid him goodnight. 

Though, just as you’d opened your door to go into your room, he stopped you. “Hey, real quick,” he cleared his throat. You looked up at him, confused at the sudden stop. “Maya–um,” he shook his head, brows furrowed as he messed with his bottom lip. “She told me that she wanted me to help however I possibly could. She wants me to be attentive and helpful in any way I can be.” 

He was right there - a step away. His breath, fanning over your face. You could smell the mint of his toothpaste. “Obviously with limits,” his voice lowered a bit as his eyes peered down at you. 

What was that supposed to mean? Surely he didn’t mean. . . But, you responded the only way you could think to.

“Obviously. . .,” you trailed off, raising a brow out of complete confusion for the conversation’s direction. “I wouldn’t want you to cross any sort of boundary. You’re in a relationship with her. Not me.” 

“Yeah. She’s my girlfriend,” he replied, voice rasping on a hitched breath. His body felt as though it was wrapped around yours in an act of protection. He’d brought his hand up, above your heads, as his body curved in towards you. After a pause, he continued. “But I don’t want to make any boundaries with the baby ever. Not at all. I want to be present. From now until always.” 

Suddenly, the moment was gone for you. There was no way he’d ever meant it as anything more. All he’d meant was you needed to remember there were boundaries. This was all about the baby. It was selfish to ever think any different. 

You knew better than to believe any different than that. Your thoughts got out of hand so damn easily these days. Why did you let them wander so far when you fucking knew better?

You backed up, your back touching the doorframe behind you. He scrunched his brows, but you weren’t sure why he was acting confused. It was late. You were definitely imagining things. He was just tired, too. . . that was all. 

“So. . .,” he cleared his throat. “Just let me know however I can help with the baby. Please.” 

“Okay,” you whispered with a quiet nod of your head.

“Okay,” he muttered with a gentle, distant grin. He nodded his head as well. And right before he opened the door to his room, his words barely touched the air as he told you goodnight. 

-🌼🌼🌼-

November 28, 2022

Covid. Gia had Covid.

Your heart broke for her having to deal with that absolutely terrible illness. And your nerves were climbing up the wall at not being able to see her. She wasn’t so bad that you couldn’t email her if you had questions or needed advice. But, you also knew better than to bother someone who was sick with something like Covid. 

So, you were spending the time that you would have been gearing up to go to Gia’s office, on this chilly autumn day, pacing back and forth in your living room. Cuticles thin from chewing and perspiration accumulated at your hairline and under your arms, you weren’t sure what to do. 

The idea of losing time on healing before the baby arrived was stressful to say the very least. You didn’t want to be any less of a mother than your baby deserved. He or she deserved a mentally stable mom. . . and in order to get there, you required several hours on Gia’s couch. 

All that could wave through your one-track mind was how terrible you felt for being so stressed about your healing while Gia was so sick. She was the one who needed to get healthy sooner rather than later.

You tried to remember the words Gia had put at the tail end of the email she had sent. She’d put in a few words that reminded you how well she knew you.

Don’t stress too much about the session being cancelled. :) Things happen and we have plenty of time, y/n.

Those words, typed specifically to assure you. Except, you’d worked yourself up too much for it to work very well after you’d read the title line of her email. Just a few, simple words: Out Sick – Sorry!

If even Gia’s words weren’t helping to calm your nerves, you weren’t sure how you were going to make it through to the next appointment.

After an hour of feeling unsure about literally everything, you decided the only way you were going to make it was by doing some other form of self care. And the first thing that came to your mind was food. Food always sounded good these days (nausea taking a backseat thanks to your meds and second trimester), and it would help you feel better while also supporting the baby’s health in the womb.

But it took you no time to get sad because you didn’t know what kind of food you wanted. . .

You’d resolved to just not being able to win at life for the day when you heard the front door jingle on the other side with the sound of a key unlocking. 

Jake was home. Fuck. He was home to take you to therapy and you hadn’t even thought to text him and tell him– shit. Instead of doing what he would have rather been doing, he’d made a useless trip home. 

It didn’t take him long at all to notice you sulking next to the window, face-palming next to the it, where you’d been people watching minutes ago, from your vantage point a few stories up. 

“What’s wrong?” He questioned, concerned, as he came right up beside you. “What’s going on?”

Whenever you looked up from having your eyes pressed into your hand, you refocused your eyes on his worried ones. “I don’t have counseling today,” you sullenly stated. And rather than going into any more details, you just apologized. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. There was no point in you coming home.”

“I wouldn’t say that,” he calmly reassured. Again, you found his line of sight. His eyes felt like the sweetest reassurance. “You look like you could use someone to talk to.”

“Don’t waste your time on me,” you waved him off, scrunching your brows in an effort to seem nonchalant. “Just go back to doing what you were doing.”

“Well, I don’t have any plans because I was planning on being with you all night,” he laughed just a bit, under his breath. He flicked at the tip of his nose with a pointer finger. 

“All night?” Your stomach swirled at the thought, but you also felt incredible guilt at stealing that time from him. “God, I’m so sorry, Jake.”

“Please don’t be.” It was his turn to wave you off while shaking his head. He swept a hand through his hair. “I’m glad I was here– glad that I am here.”

You didn’t really know what to say. There wasn’t anything you two could do that wouldn’t get completely awkward after a while. Right? It was only four o’clock and he planned on spending the rest of the evening with you? What were you going to–?

“What do you want to do?” He asked, adjusting his jacket over his shoulders. “Wanna stay here? Order in? Go out and do something?”

Going out sounded like a date. . . and that felt wrong to do. But you also absolutely despised the idea of staying inside of the apartment to wallow for a second longer. . . . 

And it didn’t take you very long to realize you were still wanting food, hunger starting to feel like empty weight in your rounded tummy. 

“Food?”

“Food,” he agreed with a grin, winking at you before turning around, effectively making your brain turn to complete mush as you grabbed your own jacket and followed him out the door. 

-🌼🌼🌼-

The night was one of the best you’d had in a while.

He’d taken you to get Panera. Weird, yes, but their tomato basil soup had been calling your name the second it’d come to mind, as you'd searched places to eat.

And after sitting across from each other and just talking about his budding career and your classes, at Panera Bread. . . he'd told you he wanted to take you somewhere special. And, just as the sun was setting, you’d pulled up to a Barnes & Noble on your side of Brooklyn.

“Tell me why you’re stressed,” he’d said, putting his car in park.

A used, four-door (hard top, thankfully) Jeep. An all-black, mid-thousands model. After riding around in it all evening, you’d noticed it rode really well. It was just slightly strange that he had a car. He hadn’t had one when you’d been. . .

You cleared your throat, back on the subject at hand. “I never said I was stressed,” you stated, feeling ready to combat the truth. For whatever stupid reason. 

“You didn’t have to say it,” he breathed deeply through his nose, turning down the classic rock station he’d been playing. “I know you.”

Deciding it wasn’t worth a debate (because it was the truth–you had been very stressed earlier), you sighed; running a hand through your loose, natural waves, you responded. “Well, I’m just. . . this therapy is for me, yes, sure. But it really is mostly for the baby,” you explained. He sighed and you placed the hand you’d combed through your hair on your rounded bump, covered by your favorite oversized sweatshirt. “And having one session lost that I can’t be working on getting healed for the baby stressed me the fuck out. Still kind of is,” you admitted, glancing out of the small, rectangular windshield. “I just want to be completely better by the time the baby is here.”

“What are you most worried about?” He softly pondered, prompting you to talk through it. 

“That I’ll be just like my mom and project my hurt onto my baby,” you said wetly, swallowing the thickness in your throat. “I have so much in me that I don’t understand and it scares me how much I don’t remember – can’t remember,” you blinked to allow the new tear to make its way down your cheek before quickly reaching to wipe it away. “And it scares the shit out of me. It makes me. . . this terrible person to other people. I need to understand all of me, so my baby gets the best parts of me.” Sniffling, you swiped at your cheeks to rid yourself of the few more tears that cascaded down your cheeks. “And I don’t even remember the last time I saw those best parts. . . . so if I can’t see,” you huffed, your eyes finally piercing his, which stayed on you, intently listening “H-how is my child going to see them?”

Jake hummed, rubbed his chin. He never took his deep-set, amber-brown irises from yours. “It’s funny,” he started, a little grin ghosting over his lips as he spoke, “I’m seeing those best parts of you right now. I see those 'best parts of you' quite often.”

Your heart pounded in your chest, and you unzipped and reached into your belt bag for your heart monitor phone, willing it to not go off. There were butterflies wreaking havoc in your tummy. Naturally, your hands found their way to your tummy. His eyes followed that particular movement.

“How do you–?” You sniffed, shaking your head, zipping your bag back after a moment. “How do you see those things? I haven’t seen them since before you came into my li–- for a long time. And never consistently. . .,” you rambled, eyebrows drawn together, thumbs rubbing circles over the tight bump. “I’ve always been a bit of a wild card with my emotions. And finding out more of what I'd done from Elsie. . . I'm just way too similar to my–.”

“Do you think she was as self aware as you are?”

“I don’t know,” you answered, honestly. You would go with no, but. . . “I don’t know her well enough to make that judgment.”

“Okay,” he nodded, sticking his bottom lip out. A grin found its way to his plush lips, looking so kissable in the cramped space of the car. You leaned further into the door so as to not tempt yourself of anything. He continued, “Well, I would say she probably wasn’t. Or else you wouldn’t be wracked with so much significant trauma. She wouldn’t have left you hanging with so much to deal with. . . she would have been there for you. Helped you because she would've wanted to help herself. Would've been self aware enough for that,” he emphasized. “Parents say stupid shit. They do stupid shit. They’re humans. What matters is how they ultimately react.”

“But I react so brashly, Jake,” you argued, needing to be heard. “What happens if I do that to our–?”

“You won’t. I know you won’t,” he consoled you, his eyes so earnest as he conveyed the words. “You struggle with saying stupid shit. I do, too. So does everyone. You’ll figure out how to handle situations better, but it won’t be as hard as you think,” he shook his head, taking the keys from the ignition. “Not for you. You are determined. And you’re not this monster you’ve made up in your head.”

“Well, –,” you started, interrupting him, only to be cut off. 

“And your best parts are too many to name right now,” he surmised, winking at you once more. You rubbed wider, nervous circles on your tummy. “But one of my favorites is your determination to help others. The way you care for others. And if a mother has those qualities,” he pointed a finger at your tummy, and trailed the finger up to point at your face. “She will be one helluva fantastic mother. I’m glad our baby will have you.”

“Thank you,” you replied after the words had actually cracked the surface of your mental warfare. No voice appeared to combat what he’d said, so you let them sink, all the way down into your brain to truly consider for later. You didn’t fight them. . . which you viewed as progress. “Thank you so much. I–I needed to hear those things. And you were the perfect person to hear them from,” you blushed, crinkling your nose with the words. A smile settled on your lips, eyes drying. “Because I know you’re going to be the best daddy to this baby. I’ve known it for a long time. . . So, it means a lot that you think the same. Seriously.”

“Of course I think so,” he smiled, glancing once more at your tummy. “And the way you're always holding our baby. . . you love her so, so much. You’re already so intentional about loving her.”

“Her?” You asked aloud, wondering why he’d chosen that gender. Your hands held tighter to your tummy at the assumption. “Why girl?”

He hummed, looking out the windshield, past your head, with a wide grin. “It just feels right,” he concluded, before motioning at the windshield, nodding towards it. “Look.”

You did as he said, turning to see a mother and son (presumably) traipsing up to the store, just past the nearest cart corral. The little boy was skipping, and the mother was watching her like the entire world started and stopped with the child. The sky was bluer because he was around. You felt that. 

“The way you’re watching them says enough, honey,” he concurred. There was that nickname again. . . Honey. Your heart skipped a beat at the term. “I see it all over you. You’re going to mess up. Parents do. My parents did a lot and I still think they’ve been the best parents.” When he gave a small, breathy laugh, you looked his way. He rubbed a finger over his bottom lip. “But what good parents do after they mess up is– they have humility and apologize. They show integrity to their child. You do that. Already. For me.”

Sitting across from him in the still air of the Jeep, you let your eyes bounce back and forth between his. His smell, warm, sweet, and woodsy, was enveloping every sense of your body, in the taut air of the vehicle. His breathing laced with yours, your heaving chest kept up with the rhythm of his. He was steadier than you. . . he seemed fine. 

You felt anything but. Your emotions were going haywire at everything he’d just said. The man he was to you. . . he was too good to be true. 

But, instead of letting yourself get sad that he wasn't yours, you looked at the store behind you and cleared your throat. It opened up your mind and the air in the car. He blinked a few times, tilting his head slightly, watching you. 

“Wondering why we’re here?” He asked.

“Yeah.”

“Well, I thought– let’s get out,” he said, pausing the conversation to unload from the Jeep. You followed his lead, taking the tall step as gracefully as you could to get down and out. The slip almost happened–but didn’t. Thank god. 

Joining him at the back of the car, you waited for him to lead the way and continue. You wrapped your jacket tighter around your body, over the sweatshirt. There was a bite in the air that hadn’t been there before. Jake tightened his jacket, too, tucking his hands in the pockets of it. “I brought us here because I knew you were stressed. I knew it probably had to do with the baby,” he started, looking down at you. You felt his stare, looking up to meet it. “So I thought maybe coming here to get some books to study and prepare would help you feel more at peace about whatever was on your mind,” he drew in a breath before blowing it out into the cold, dry air. “And now that I know it had to do with preparedness, this was kind of–.”

“Perfect,” you finished, nudging him with your shoulder. 

He looked down for a second, his eyes read an unknown emotion before he kept on. “I know you probably have a lot of books already, but–.”

“There’s no such thing as too many,” you replied, leading the way through the automatic doors. 

“Precisely,” he agreed, coming to a stop as soon as the two of you had entered. Raising a brow, he looked down at you before throwing a thumb over to the in-store coffee house. “Want something?”

“You don’t even have to ask,” you responded with a light smile, walking toward the smell of comforting coffee and cakes. 

-🌼🌼🌼-

He’d footed the bill the whole night. . . including the surplus of books from Barnes & Noble. It had been a hefty bill, but he’d refused to let you pay. He had convinced you it was part of co-parenting – sharing purchases. And this was one of his first purchases to make for the baby.

“This was a good idea,” you mentioned at the end of the evening, juggling your one bag of books that you’d insisted Jake let you carry (the lightest one, after compromise) as you led the way up the stairs of your complex. “Focusing on other ways we can prepare for the baby, rather than worrying about what we can’t control.”

“I have a decent idea every now and then,” he chuckled, out of breath as he handled the bulk. 

Once you made it to the door, you unlocked it for the two of you.

And, for a moment, it felt so domestic.

It felt like a dream you shouldn’t dream. Arriving home after a big shopping run, walking through the door together as you laughed at the heaviness of bags and discussed a few of the books you’d chosen.

And as you made your way through the door finally, it broke your heart to see the night go. He wasn’t necessarily acting ready to end it, but the impending ending made your stomach turn. You wanted this for longer. 

He was going on and on about all of the things he’d researched as of late concerning babies and pregnancy and everything in between. You decided on grabbing a Canada Dry from the fridge, letting him sort the books on the counter into categories as he kept conversation easily.

Every now and then, you offered a small response to show you were listening, but otherwise, you let him talk. You loved listening to him talk about all of this. 

It made your heart feel ten times bigger. Though, as you took a sip of your ginger ale, watching him sort the books, your heart began to sink instead. 

You couldn’t help how much you adored his desire to learn about all things ‘baby’. He was already so good at his job as dad.

The way you’d felt all night–so peaceful with him. . . you knew it was good for you. He was literally your mental safe place (you hadn’t told him that though. Absolutely not). But. . . you knew it couldn’t go past the feeling of good friendship. Co-parenthood.

The unfortunate part, though, was that you really felt unable to stop the way you were feeling for him. It felt new and familiar all at once.

Though, you knew you couldn’t let yourself feel that way. You shouldn’t.

But with the way his eyes lit up when you looked up at him again, after staring at your feet in your whirlwind of contemplation, you knew you were doomed. 

There was no stopping the way that you felt about him. 

-🌼🌼🌼-

One morning at the very end of November, you woke up with a cold. A terrible one. The same cold that every other person in your classes was seeming to come down with. Theo had been gone with it all week, and you saw him more frequently than not to study. You’d decided on one or two days a week after class. There were also the few people who sat around you in class, who’d come down with it.

So, it was due time for you. 

Normally, you would have tried to make it through the day. But, you’d done enough reading to learn that coming down with a serious infection like the flu or Covid could lead to a baby’s fetal development getting stunted. So, you played it safe and decided to stay home until you felt better.  

You had called in to work that morning. And just after that, you’d emailed the professor you had that day to let  him know. Everyone you had spoken to was understanding, luckily, which helped you to sleep very peacefully. You only hoped that the extra sleep wasn’t just helpful to you, but also–mostly–to the baby.

Sleeping off the sick seemed the best option. You hadn’t really had the mental energy that morning to look into safe medicine to take for colds during pregnancy. So, sleeping it was.

Your colds were always intense–all of your sicknesses were. When you got sick, it never failed to knock you on your ass. So instead of stressing over it all that morning, you’d chosen sleep as the easier route.

You had been hoping that you’d wake up from a long nap feeling refreshed and better. . .but. . . you were not so lucky.

When your eyes fluttered open for the second time that day to find what was left of the evening sun peeking through your curtains, you officially knew it was time to figure something out. Your eyes were burning–hurt to open. There was an ache settled firmly in every bone in your body–weren’t sure if you were cold or hot. . . 

You were definitely sick. More than a cold. No two ways about it.

When you turned to your bedside table for a drink from your Stanley, you found your bedside table had a couple new additions since you’d fallen asleep. There was a brand new Stanley sitting next to your old one. One you’d eyed for a few minutes online a week or so ago, and then decided against due to the monstrously obnoxious size. . . 

You’d talked to Jake about it after he’d noticed your pensive face looking at your phone screen for longer than necessary. . . And now, there it sat on your white, wooden night stand. A 64 ounce, rose quartz Stanley, in all of its glory. 

And leaning against it and next to it were a concoction of helpful remedies with a couple of sticky notes to explain each of their benefits. The handwriting gave him away. Jake. In his scrawl, he detailed what to take and when, which ones you could take together. He’d even written out the link to a website talking about pregnancy-safe cold meds. There was also a fruit punch Gatorade. When you reached out, it was still cold. He’d been in recently.

Moving on from the drink and meds, you glanced at the Stanley and saw it had a sticky sitting underneath it, waiting to be read. 

Plenty of water will help you and the baby stay healthy. It was worth it 

It had perfect timing and came in the mail today of all days

:) –Jake

The note effectively had your head spinning from something other than sickness. . .his kind gesture, making your stomach do soft flips. Your hand floated to touch your tummy at the idea of him doing so sweet for you (and for the baby–his baby).

After reading his advice on what to take, you went ahead and took some Tylenol for your headache and body aches, then used a nasal spray to help loosen up whatever drainage you could. The Vicks rub he’d left had been a welcome solvent on your chest, temples, and under your nose. 

But, it didn’t take long for your stomach to start rumbling, so you took that as your sign to find something that would ease the scratch in your throat and warm you up. 

You went out to the kitchen for food, holding your brand new Stanley, taking several healthy sips of the iced water from it. When you bent down to pour food in Stevie’s dish, you realized there was already kibble in there. . . that Jake undoubtedly left for her.

You were sure your heart monitor was picking up all kinds of strange palpitations at his gestures. 

Around the time you’d noticed Stevie’s food, you went to text him to tell him thank you. Only to find he’d sent a text about twenty minutes ago saying he’d left for the night. And while it made your heart sink, you knew you had no right to feel sad about it. . . especially when he’d done so much to help you before you’d even woken from your nap. 

To add emphasis to that thought, you noticed at just the right time that he’d also left a couple Panera soups waiting on the counter for you. God. . . he was wonderful. You read the note he’d left with the two little sealed containers.

Soup is the best when you’re sick :) 

–Jake 

Your body was already hurting a little less after you’d heated and almost instantly downed one of the delicious soups. A warm shower sounded more than tempting, so you didn’t waste time throwing away your trash and making your way to grab the shower steamer pods he’d left for you on your bedside table (they were a pregnancy-safe brand, he’d assured on a sticky, which made you softly smile). 

After placing them in the heating shower to begin dissolving the comforting notes of lavender and rose, you padded back to the kitchen for your new Stanley when you noticed something on the counter.

In an arranged group on the counter sat a few books you'd bought the other night. You recognized them. They sat with a notebook, stickies, and pens. Two of the books were closed, stacked, and tabbed with stickies–all bright pinks, greens, and blues.

Though, there was one more, face up and open, as if he’d had to leave unplanned and hadn’t had time to shut it. There was a pad of stickies sitting atop the page it was opened to. A pen was on top of the pad, which, when you walked closer, realized there was plenty of Jake’s scrawl already written on it. The page had a heading that read:

Props and pillows and sleep, oh my! 

And he’d written the following on his sticky, which lay upon the page: 

–Look into pregnancy pillows for y/n

–Be patient!! 

–Do what you can to help her find the right set up for sleep or rest 

–Adhere to her sleep schedules (no loud sounds or bright lights when she’s asleep, etc) 

–She needs sufficient rest (has healthy outcomes for her and the baby)

You went to look at the cover of the book, but before you could look at it, you stopped yourself. For some reason, it felt like an invasion of his privacy. Even though he’d left it open on the counter, these were his notes, not yours.

But just before you could walk any further to the bathroom and ignore his notes, the book stacked on top of the other had a note stuck to the top of it. And, written in bold, black sharpie, were the words Remember: Do WHATEVER you can to help y/n – it’s for the BABY!

The words it’s for the baby being written with finality at the end of the statement reminded you that chances were, all of this was not really for you. . . definitely not. You didn’t deserve that from him. No, whatever was for you was done for the ultimate benefit of the baby.

All of everything he did was for the baby. All of the words of reassurance. The trip to the bookstore. Panera. The meds tonight. Taking you to counseling. . . ev-ery-thing.

And that was fine. . .

So why was a tear drawn to your eye as you sped away from the book that sat on top of the counter? And why had you felt the need to go back to your room on the way to the shower, to get the Stanley cup you’d bought yourself? Why did the thought of using the one Jake bought for you make your stomach feel all tangled and weird?

Because he doesn’t care about you, a voice nagged, reminding you. It was a familiar voice, filtering in from the dark tresses of your mind. He doesn’t care about you. This is for the baby. So if you feel like it’s for you, know it’s not. Let him help the baby. Don’t be selfish. The baby matters most. 

You couldn’t help but agree with the voice. The baby did matter most. Not you.

So, you resolutely chose to wait out the calming scent of the steamer, until it all pooled down the drain. Stepping in when the scent was gone seemed the only option, as the way the shower calmed you was only for your benefit and not necessarily the baby’s. 

Yes, it sounded fucked up and foolish in your head. But you were trying to navigate these thoughts the best you fucking could and you were grasping for something that made sense. But all you were doing was making no sense. 

God, what the fuck, y/n?

And, stupidly, for whatever fucking selfish reason (because you knew for sure you were selfish–evidence proved that), you found yourself hiccuping on tears that hurt your already-aching body, under the lukewarm spray of the shower.

He didn't truly care about you. Not really. It was all for the baby.

-🌼🌼🌼- 

Once your mind was lucid after your little cold-sickness stint, you noticed stretch marks had started showing up. One by one, they’d started becoming stark and apparent and made you feel gross. 

The creams and oils you’d ordered seemed to help the slightest bit with the new darkness of the few tiger stripe-like lines. They truly looked heinous against your otherwise unmarred skin. You’d felt insecurities really begin to kick in after you’d cried in the shower on the first day out of three of your sickness. 

During the latter three days of your cold (or whatever the hell it was), you’d sulked and avoided Jake’s help in whatever way you could. You wanted his help with the baby. Only with the baby. But the baby wasn’t there yet. 

So, you didn’t need his help. He didn’t need to care about you. Only the baby. It was common sense. And it would be fine. 

But it still made you feel oddly unwanted. The feeling didn’t matter. 

But, for you, with your utterly complicated past, feeling unwanted came hurtling towards you, without any sign of stopping.

Since you were a child, feeling unwanted in your mother’s grimy home, a whole range of other negative emotions accompanied that familiar feeling. Most call it depression. Your oldest friend.

And, it had officially lit up for this new stage of your life. Why enjoy things for too long? It wasn’t worth it. Right?

So, the way your skin was beginning to scar due to growth you absolutely couldn’t control. . . it just set misery aflame in your amped-up insecurities and dispirit. 

On the first night of December, the depressive thoughts persisted. You stood with your big sleep t-shirt tucked up under your heavy-ass boobs as you lathered your tummy up with the last oil in your new, nightly anti-stretch mark routine. As you did so, tears pooled in your eyes at the sight of yourself. 

And, seemingly out of nowhere, your thoughts picked up on a different train. . . something you hadn’t really taken time to be super upset about yet. The thought slipped in amongst the rest of your woes. 

It was the thought of being a single mother.

And while it didn’t matter and wasn’t completely true, because Jake would be there, you’d still be doing it on your own in a sense. You would be on your own. The two of you definitely weren’t together. He wouldn’t be there with you. He would just be there, doing his own thing for the baby, with Maya by his side. (Nausea crept up at her name alone. Gag.)

You were going to be a single mother. Just like your own moth–. No. You locked eyes with yourself in the mirror, momentarily stopping the massaging of your belly. 

I will not let my mind go there, you asserted silently, staring daggers through your reflection. I am not her. I am not. I can’t be. I won’t be. What would Gia say? What would Jake say?

Amidst your crying and sorrowful thoughts, the knock on the door of the bathroom kind of spooked you. And, in the depths of your despair, you couldn’t really care fucking less who saw you right now. That was just how pitiful you felt. 

“Come in,” you said, sniffing and trying to cover the sound of tears in your voice by swallowing them. 

When the door began opening, you had to scoot over a little to let Jake in. You knew it was him. He’d been home all night with you, while Maya was busy doing whatever the hell she needed to do for her job. 

He’d spent a couple hours catching up on New Girl with you and it had been nice. Except, anytime you thought about how it wasn’t really for your benefit and rather him just being your friend for the baby. . . It just wasn't the same.

“You okay?” He carefully pondered, coming to stand slightly behind you in the mirror.

But, as soon as he appeared next to you and saw your current state of dress, his eyes went immediately to your bare tummy. He stayed trained on the bump that continued to grow, day by day. Still not huge, but definitely not small.

Insecurities were instantly blossoming at his stare. He was not looking away for anything, lost in a trance. He was probably in shock at just how big your belly had gotten, compared to the last time he’d seen you like this. Chances were, he was repulsed by what he saw. 

You effectively decided the stretch marks had been tended to enough for the night. You went to pull your Pratt shirt over the exposed skin. But to your surprise, his hand was shooting out, around your body, just as quick, to stop you before you could pull it down too far. 

He definitely succeeded in stopping you, holding your wrist. You were in shock – skin flaming at his touch . . .felt it everywhere. 

“I want to see,” he requested, sort of breathless. What? He wanted to–? “You look–this is–.”

“Ugly? Fat? Disgust–?”

“Beautiful,” he firmly stated, his eyes finally locking with yours in the mirror at the word. “This is beautiful. You are beautiful.”

His hand still held your hand over shirt, not daring to touch your belly. You couldn’t move to make the position change. The fact that he’d just called you beautiful was like a lightning bolt to your entire nervous system.

“I’m not–,” you shook your head, at a loss for words. You did not fully agree with him. Was it beautiful that you were holding the baby? Was the baby beautiful inside? Yes. But were you loving your body these days? Absolutely not. “The stretch marks. . . I’m so fucking big. . .”

“You aren’t,” he suddenly dropped his hand, and you were missing his touch as soon as it was gone. He went to lean against the bathroom counter, facing you. His eyes bounced between your belly and your eyes, settling on your irises as he continued. “You are not any of the things you called yourself. I don’t think any of those things when I see you. . . I don’t even understand how you could–,” he shook his head, blinking once before finding your eyes. “I just see a woman who is special to me. A beautiful woman who is carrying my baby.”

Carrying my baby. 

Those words. . . they did something to you. Your palms were sweaty as you held tighter to your shirt, rolled under your boobs.

“The baby is beautiful,” you concurred. And surprisingly, you didn’t trip over your words. “But I am–.”

“You are beautiful. I am talking about you right now,” he stated, with no room for disagreement in his tone. “Don’t discount that. Please.”

“Are you just saying these things because I’m carrying your baby?”

Where did that come from? Shit. Nothing like baring your most vulnerable feelings to the very person you feel most vulnerable in front of. . . 

“No,” he said without pause. He sounded sure. “You have always been beautiful. It’s just. . . enhanced now. I can’t. . .it’s hard to explain.”

You wanted to ask him to try to explain it but you didn’t.

All of a sudden, you felt confident to ask more. 

“You don’t just think so because of the baby? Do you just care about me because of the baby?”

Jesus. There it was. 

“We’ve gone over this,” he sighed, rubbing circles against his temple. He didn’t keep on with the action, instead stuffing his hands in his pockets as he found your eyes with his. 

“I know, but I just. . . I feel like I don’t matter. I mean, I really don’t right now do I?" You sarcastically laughed, eyes watering. "All I’m good for is being the big, fat incubator who hates her body and has ugly fucking stretch marks because my belly won’t slow the fuck–.”

“It’s good that it won’t slow down,” he reassured, amber-brown irises smiling with his lopsided grin. “It means the baby’s healthy and growing.”

“But you do think I’m an incubator,” you stubbornly persisted. “Didn’t say anything to argue that.” Your tone unnecessarily snipped with your next words, “Jake, you just want to help the baby. I know this. So just wait until the baby’s here. Don’t worry about me or making me feel better if you just want to help the–.”

“Where are you getting this from?”

You stared at each other for a few moments. . . . He gave you a look that told you he could see you.

“My mind is a really twisty place,” you huffed a humorless laugh, rubbing your own temples now. “It never shuts the fuck up,” you paused–didn’t want to say anything about the sticky note on the book that had spurred the thoughts. The same thoughts you’d voiced the night you’d told him. “I’m sorry. I know I’ve already been insecure about all of this shit. It’s just–.”

“I don’t view you as an incubator,” he insisted, crossing his arms, strong fingers wrapping around stronger biceps. “I view you as a brave fucking woman who is being selfless as hell. You’re growing a fucking human, y/n,” he said, grin widening. You felt your lips lift, too. He continued, “And I can’t help but be amazed by that alone every. single. day. And while that is beautiful, yes - I won’t say it isn’t because it is,” he unwaveringly asserted. 

“But. . . it’s more,” he kept on. “You’ve been this woman-the one in front of me - for a long ass time–before I ever knew you. Though, since I’ve known you, I’ve had the privilege of seeing this woman. I knew your heart right off the bat–since the day Josh told me about this girl who was letting a man she didn’t know move into her fucking home. Just because she cared about the situation. Didn't even know me," He raised a brow, lips quirking as yours did the same. “You’re selfless and–,” he paused. 

His eyes shut briefly before opening to yours. Except this time. . . they were wet with emotion. Yours were, too. Your heart was pounding and you felt warm with a blush, from your chest to your face.

“And kind. So thoughtful when you don’t need to be. You care a whole fuckin’ lot for others and sometimes it gets you in trouble because you get in your head and it hurts you,” he said, brows dipped with a shake of his head. “But the fact that your heart is the way it is in spite of everything you’ve been through–I can’t even imagine, y/n. All of that and so much fucking more makes you beautiful,” he tucked his hair behind his ears before they went back into his pockets. “So, no, it’s not just because of the baby. It’s just one more thing that makes you beautiful.”

You were utterly speechless, and you couldn’t stop the wetness in your own eyes, a tear trickling down your own cheek. . . How could he even begin to say all of those things about you when you’d been so terrible to him? Always made assumptions?

You weren’t sure how much time passed when you finally swallowed down your own tears and found the most simple words you could mutter. “Thanks, Jake,” you whispered.

“Don’t thank me,” he winked. It clicked with you that you could faintly hear your heart monitor phone going off in your room. It was alerting you of unusual heart activity. No fucking wonder - with the poetry the man had just spoken. He heard it, too, apparently, brows wrinkling. “What is that sound that’s been going off for the last few–?”

“My heart monitor phone. My heart is beating really fucking hard in my chest right now and the monitor picked up on the palpitations,” you blushed, tucking a lock of hair behind your ear as you finally pulled your shirt down. “I’m not used to hearing people say things like that about me. It just catches me off guard when you–,” you coughed, blinking as you located some sense. “When anyone says sweet things like that to me.”

Then, you were back in time. Yet again. On the living room floor. That day it'd rained. . . a quiet, gray morning. He'd said things so like what he'd said just now. The same day those Aretha Franklin songs had sealed a place in your heart. Well– both of your hearts, apparently. . . according to Jake at the bar.

A comfortable silence had crept over the two of you that morning, he’d so obviously been watching you– admiring you–not to be mistaken for anything else as you'd laid atop him.

His next words confirmed it. 

“Even in the grayness of this morning, you shine so bright,” he said, almost absentmindedly. “You fucking glow, y/n. You’re just brilliant.”

All you’d been able to utter was a measly, “Thank you.” The sound of tears in your throat, behind your response, had surprised you.

“Has no one ever told you?” Jake had pondered, his warm chest breathing steadily and comfortably beneath you.

You’d explained how Josh and Elsie were kind to you, but. . . “hearing you say something like that. . .,” you’d emphasized to him. “Those words. . . It just feels good. I don’t know,” you’d shaken your head, a tear falling to meet his tanned chest. “And no one has ever said those exact words to me, no.”

“You are all of that and more, my lo—,” he’d cleared his throat, stopping himself from saying a word your heart was now longing so badly to hear. “You are so many things wrapped in one, y/n. So many fantastic things.”

“Stop,” you’d sniffed, more tears falling onto his chest. “You don’t have to say things like that. I promise I’ll still want to have sex with you if you don’t,” you’d laughed, wiping your leftover tears. The words had sounded funny (true, but still funny) as they’d left your mouth. 

“I want to tell you those things,” he’d said, firm in his response. “You deserve to hear those good things. Sex or not.”

And tonight had proven that he truly meant that statement. No sex, and still. . . .

But . . . goddamn. The sex. 

With that thought in mind, you couldn’t help but watch the sway of his ass in his tight black jeans as you followed out of the bathroom behind him. You bit your lip after bidding him goodnight– only able to think of how fucking badly you missed the sex. 

“I fucking love you,” he'd once told you - on the very night that had gotten you in this predicament. “And god, do I love fucking you. . .”

Not that word. . . Where had it come from just now?!

Love. Love. Love. Love. You hardly ever thought of him saying it to you–tried not to because it hurt and you knew it wasn’t true anymore.

But when he’d said those sweet things about you being beautiful just now. . . apparently, your mind couldn't help but chant the word . . .and the sound of him saying it to you. Why?! He was just being kind.

It was so hard wanting him and not being able to have him. . . Not like you ever actually had him - but before you fucked everything up with your stupid, hurtful words.

And, god, did you still want him. 

You couldn’t have him like that – all of the reasons were plain as day. But. . . at least you still had the memories. The wonderful memories. But being pregnant made the memories so much worse. . . because one little thought of how he felt inside of you had you actually throbbing for him.

As soon as you got to your bed, you were reaching into your bedside table for your favorite little vibrating instrument. The thought of that morning. . . the idea of having your breasts pushed against his bare chest again as he told you things just like he did tonight. . . You knew it wouldn’t take long for you to be unraveling. 

Before long, you were feeling all of the tremors you craved from Jake’s mouth, from the little toy held just right against your quivering bundle of nerves. And in less than five minutes, you were  shuddering, body tensing and releasing as you breathily moaned his name into your pillow.

-🌼🌼🌼-

December 4, 2022

Your week ended with a particularly exhausting day at the Black and Gold. 

Inventory had come out of nowhere. And, with Josh busy with his new career, it was mostly on you to prepare for it.

The two other girls who worked with you couldn’t give two shits and it showed when you’d shown up for a shift after theirs. Nothing was ever prepared in the evenings or the following mornings if they were in charge—and inventory week was no exception. 

In fact, it was glaringly more obvious when it was such an important week as inventory week. 

And having to do all of that after your few solid days of feeling like complete and utter crap and while being pregnant? It had been one of the longest days you’d had in your whole life (dramatic? Maybe. But whatever.). 

And to top it all off, you’d come home to the apartment being very warm to accommodate the cooler weather outside. 

For normal people, it probably felt nice to come into the warmth. And, most likely, it would’ve felt great to you before your pregnancy.

It was just too damn hot in the apartment tonight. You’d wanted to come home and take a warm shower to wash off the day and relax your sore muscles, but the temperature of the place had you throwing that idea away real quick.

So instead, you hurriedly went about feeding Stevie before rushing to your bedroom to dig out the box fan stuffed at the top of your closet. You’d bought it the summer the A/C had let out on you and your sister, and had kept it handy ever since for fear of it happening again. 

And at this exact moment, it felt just as hot to you as it did that summer the A/C quit working.

The fan was plugged in and blowing at full blast, towards the bed, in no time. It was sitting on top of your vanity seat, pointing right at your side of the bed. The speed at which you’d gotten it situated was astounding. And your sheets were cool and crisp and tempting you to climb into them when you pulled your covers down. 

But you couldn’t climb in yet with the way your bladder was squeezing and hurting with how badly you needed to pee. You’d put it off at the B&G, ready to get home. And then you’d come home to an uncomfortably steamy apartment.

Before heading to the bathroom, you stripped completely of your tight bra (thank you, God), your stuffy sweater and your leggings. Then, changed into a thin pair of pajama shorts and the first camisole you could find in your chest of drawers. And thankfully the thin strapped shirt had no built-in bra to constrict you. 

You’d welcomed Stevie into your room, her soft purrs and shaggy fur rubbing against your ankles as you promised her of your soon arrival back. 

Finally, after peeing and washing your face, you were ready to lay right in front of that fan. 

You stopped by the kitchen to quickly grab a Stanley from the counter– to find nothing. No Stanley. Neither of them.

Shit.

Slapping your forehead, you remembered almost instantly where they still sat on the counter at the Black and Gold. Both of them. Your rush to leave and rest from your long day had prompted you to forget a couple of your most prized possessions. 

Without your go-to water tumbler, you felt naked. And even more thirsty. 

Your day had been long and hard and now you were paying for it. Ugh.

When you scanned the kitchen for a quick alternative, your eyes immediately landed on the case of waters that Jake had recently bought for rehearsals only. You didn’t give two shits. You were bound to steal one to satiate your thirst. 

The one problem was. . .

It was sitting atop the fridge. Out of your reach. And with the few inches Jake had on you, he’d stacked it up there so it would be out of the way. You remembered him saying those exact words as you eyed the package now. Hated those words. 

Because not only was it out of the way, it was out of your reach. Out of your reach when you were dying of thirst and needed a drink of water. Stat.

Without thinking of risking anything, you went to grab a table chair quickly and quietly.

You had to be quiet because Jake was home and you did not want to wake him. Not when you were in cavewoman mode. . . and especially not with the way your tits and ass were flashing in your current choice of clothing. Or with the ugly heart monitor that was attached to your chest.

So, as carefully as possible, you sat the chair next to the side of the fridge with the waters and climbed on top of the seat to grab the case of Pure Life. Briefly, you worried about handling a heavy object while pregnant, but put it to the side when you realized pregnant women all over America handled water cases like this. You were fine. 

In the lapse of time it took you to contemplate holding the waters, and getting it off the counter, you misplaced the package on the counter top. And right as you silently stepped off the chair, the waters came crashing down onto the floor of the kitchen. The harsh sound of plastic smashing against the ground, filled with several heavy bottles of water, seemed to linger in the air around you as you stood there. One foot still on the chair, one off ready to go. 

Not able to change the fact that it crashed onto the ground, you just stood there and stared at the offensive case of water for a moment and cursed it for its loudness. But before you could silently wish harm for too long, you were bending to pick it up. 

Once it had been safely placed back on the counter with careful hands, you glanced towards Jake’s room. No movement or sound from it. He probably hadn’t heard — deep in sleep. 

And then. . . Your pregnant brain was sparking to life. 

There was a fucking Brita in the fridge. Filled to the brim with ice cold water, versus the room temperature water in the case. You’d just filled it this morning before class. And ice cold water sounded so much more appealing than lukewarm. . . 

If only you’d remembered before that you had the filtered water waiting in the pitcher. . . There wouldn’t have been a giant crash to possibly wake your roommate. 

Putting all of the irritation out of your mind, you went to grab a glass quickly from the cabinet, then hastily pried the pitcher from the refrigerator. With nervous hands, you poured until the glass was literally overflowing. 

“Shit!” You whispered at the mess, anxious to be rid of this situation. Tired and thirsty and still feeling warm even in your cami and shorts, your ears rushed with white noise.

This was not ending up like you’d planned.

The pitcher had safely found its spot back in the fridge and you were finally taking a drink from your (overfilled) glass, when you decided to multitask and grab a few paper towels to clean up the counter.

But when they wouldn’t rip off the roll, you yanked too hard. And that resulted in the water you were still drinking, to spill. It dripped down your chin, down your top mostly, and into the top of your shorts. Sensory overload was doing what it did best, overwhelming you—making you lose grip and had the glass falling from your hand and to the ground. 

That shatter was much worse than the water case falling, the shards thankfully large, but the few sparkling pieces of glass had you shushing Stevie away when she approached with curiosity. 

And if Stevie was approaching, then surely someone else had heard—

“Y/n, what’s going on?” Jake hushed, his voice close behind you, sounding like it was coming from the entryway of the kitchen. 

You stilled. Of course he'd woken up. You’d made a fuck ton of noise. Real nice.

You turned on your heel, just the slightest bit, to peek over your shoulder at him. And with the luck you’d already had with the night, the action made you effectively slip from the bit of water that had made its way under your foot. 

Falling, more like—and not using the counter to catch yourself like a sane person—towards the hard ground and glass, bump—baby— first—fuckfuckfu—.

Jake’s arms immediately wrapped around you, effectively stopping your fall. He hugged you tightly to him. One arm wrapped fully around your stomach, hand secured to your side, firmly in place. And the other hand— gripping your breast. . . fully. 

He had you wrapped up in him, ass pulled into his crotch to keep you steady.

And ho-ly fuck.

Your nipple hardened instantly at the feeling of him holding your chest. You’d been waiting to feel his hand hold your sore breasts. . . And your assumption had been correct. His touch eased the pain in them, felt deliciously good—his touch didn’t hurt them like everyone else seemed to do on contact. 

But then he began moving his hands away. 

No.

“I’m sorry— I-I didn’t mean to—.”

“Stay.”

The word just slipped out as you grabbed hold of his hand, keeping it secured where he’d initially placed it, carefully situating his fingers over your nipple for the sensation you longed for. 

And when you did, he squeezed the flesh through your thin shirt. His other hand gripped your hip, exposed just a bit by your shirt – the way his fingers held you there made you fearful that he’d leave marks.

You fucking hoped so. 

And fuck, if he didn’t like it, too. You could feel it against your ass.

The way he continued to massage his other hand on your chest, wrapping his fingers securely around your breast, feeling it, told you so, too. The impulsive urge to pull down the top of your shirt and give him full access was becoming more and more appealing by the second. 

But you didn’t do it. Didn’t want to do too much and scare him away. 

You just let his arm come to rest where he apparently wanted it to, fully over the other breast. He comfortably situated his arm, rubbed a purposeful thumb over your sensitive nipple. 

“Jake,” you whispered. Couldn’t help it. He elicited this feeling. “Please.”

With your words, he pressed his front harder against your ass. God, you could feel the shape of him.

Letting the moment take over, you decided to let your body lean into his, rested against him and pushed your ass purposefully into his hardening dick. The breath he sucked in was not lost on you, and you craved hearing it again, so you repeated the action against him. 

His hand tightened around your breast, and he began massaging it as he used his grip to pull you even closer to him. His thumb moved to rub tight circles around your taut nipple. It felt so good. . . your head fell back against his shoulder, sucking in your own breath between your teeth. The way he gently kneaded the flesh in his strong grip had electricity shooting through your chest, all the way down to your toes. 

Your heart was going crazy, beating frantically, barely letting up with its assault against your chest. The feeling of him against you was enough to make you lose your breath with the way your heart was clenching in your chest, all the way up to your throat.

And then you heard a familiar, faint beeping from your bedroom.

The blessed heart monitor phone. Tracking when your heart rate would increase. The stupid phone didn’t need to tell you that it was beating hard right now. And so what if you fainted? You would do it in Jake’s arms. No better place to be. 

All you knew was that you were elated that it was still in your room – and quiet enough to the average ear that it hopefully didn’t break the air of want between you and this man you wanted so. badly. 

Jake hadn’t heard it - or didn't care to stop if he had, that much seemed to be clear.

He angled his hips, pressing so cozily into your backside. You could feel all of him – moving in slow circles, while still pressed tightly to your ass. That continued on for a while until he nudged himself, right in the middle of your ass. You felt him pulsing. Tucked into you, making your core throb even more for him.

Your nerves were on fire, and when he began rolling his hips, thrusting into your ass. . . you released the tiniest moan. It was such a small sound that you briefly thought you’d imagined it. But then the hand that had been holding your hip came to wrap around your throat briefly, and then up to your mouth. 

His breath came in hot waves against your ear, his voice gravelly with need. “It’s late. We shouldn’t make noise like that. It’s too late.”

After making his point known, his hand moved to sweep some hair over one shoulder, leaving your neck exposed for him to breathe hotly against. . . and then lick. Your breath hitched at the sensation of his wet tongue, making loose circles against your hot, sweating flesh.

“You still taste so good,” he moaned with the words, ever so quietly. “You always will–but it’s like you taste sweeter than before. I can’t even–.

But he never finished what he was saying, choosing instead to press sloppy kisses against your skin. His lips and his tongue, moving together to suck gently. 

Fuck! What had gotten into–?

Your body relaxed into him all on its own, moving near enough to him that you felt like one. 

Your ass ground against him, pressing so close. He kept with his motions as he angled his lips to hover above your bare shoulder, breath hot on your skin.

Though, his kisses stopped. But, he still released puffs of overexerted breaths, over your skin, wet from his mouth. It made your toes curl and your eyes fall closed. He didn’t give your neck any more attention as he used his position to lean up and look over the front of your body, effectively pulling you even closer to him. 

“God,” he breathed, his breath hitting from exposed shoulder, onto your collar bones. Your motions continued, but just a little slower to keep him where he was, not wanting to somehow push him away. You felt him, throbbing steadily against your ass. “You’re soaked.”

You have no idea, you silently, hotly responded, moving to rub your thighs together.

But you remembered your predicament. What he was talking about. Your clothes were completely soaked through. There had been so much water. He was talking about your clothes.

“I spilled my water,” you breathed back, so quiet. 

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

“Sore,” you moaned back, your body arching in need against the hardness in his loose pajama pants. “Heavy.”

“God, I’m sor–,” he went to move his hand again. And you once again brought your hand up to stop him. 

“No, Jake,” you held his hand in a tight grip, rubbing your thumb over the back of it. “Feels good.”

“Yeah?” He questioned, raspy and needy. 

Then, he was suddenly letting go of your chest to move your strap to do what you so desperately wanted.

Once it was draped over your shoulder, he moved a hand slowly over your sternum, into the front of your shirt. When he grazed his fingers over your oversensitive nipple, you whined, knees buckling. And, finally, he pulled your breast out to touch the air. 

And just before he could hold it with the hand that was readily going to grasp it. . . his bedroom door was creaking open. 

“Jakey?” Maya’s voice rang through the apartment. “You okay?”

Of course she was here. Why wouldn’t she be? 

You hadn’t heard the tell-tale sign of anyone taking steps towards the kitchen from the slightly creaky hallway, but you still decided you needed to get the fuck away from Jake. He was not yours.

You pulled away harshly and quickly, turning around all as you went to pull up your tank.

When you fully turned around, he was standing stock-still, watching your every move with your top, not letting his eyes fall away from your breasts. Your hard nipples. You felt the blush spread across your entire chest.

Then he bit his lip, your entire body heating at the motion, before he was responding.

You moved forward to hold his cheek, trying to wake him from the daze he was in. Your words barely hit the air, you were so quiet. “Jake, go back to your room. I’ll clean this up so she doesn’t–.”

“I’m good, babe,” he called back to her in a low tone, still honing in on your eyes. Your brows dipped, confused. He looked to the fridge, his hand coming to hold your bicep, keeping you there. Why was he not getting his ass back to his room? “Y/n’s asleep and I really don’t want to wake her,” he lied, eyes still glued to something to your left.

She could walk in and see he was lying! Why was he being so fucking careless? 

“Just go back to bed,” he continued, leaving no room for argument or worry. “I dropped something when I was getting up to get some water.”

“Okay,” she responded, not using the same near-whispering tone as him. “Just don’t be long, baby.”

“I won’t,” he simply said, amber-brown irises, tracing back to yours in the dim lighting of the kitchen, highlighted by the moon, shining in through the kitchen window. Full moon. Anything can happen. 

And what was happening was wrong. 

When you heard his bedroom door click closed and a little squeak from the bed to indicate someone had placed weight on it, you pulled away from him, his arm slowly dropping back to his side. The eyes that stared back at yours had a question behind them, but you didn’t give him time to ask it.

“Jake,” your tone clipped and quiet. You didn’t want to break the ridiculous cover he’d mindlessly created. “Why the fuck did you lie like that?”

“I didn’t want her to come in here,” he cut back, his inflection reflecting the same hot energy as yours. “If she would’ve known we were both in here, she would have come looking. I don’t need that,” he insisted. “And neither do you. Especially with your tits on full fucking display like that.”

You glanced down, after he’d motioned momentarily at your chest. And, his words rang true when you realized your entire fucking nipple and areola was visible through the material. Even in the darkness of night, you could tell as much. Your arms flew up to snugly cover them, flinching at the way it felt like sharp needles were pressing into your chest momentarily.  

When you peered down to where you saw his hand moving, you realized he was palming himself through his pants. You felt yourself release, the slightest bit in your panties.

Your hands tightened closer to your chest, doing the opposite of what you wanted in that moment–you wanted to bring your shirt down over yourself and let him finish on your waiting ches–.

Suddenly the pressure against you was too much and your arms were falling from their place across your breasts. Thus, standing there, on full display. Right fucking there for stupid ass Maya to walk in at any moment. 

Honestly, you were the stupid ass. And it seemed like Jake was, too. 

Maya was the innocent one in all of this.

“Go wait in your room for me,” he whispered heatedly, his words piercing your heart at the anxious energy floating through your veins. “I’ll clean this up. And then I’ll be—.”

“But–,” you brought your arms up to your chest again, covering yourself. It was a brainless move to flash your chest like that. You didn’t want to tempt him in any way. “This is my mess just–.”

“Y/n,” he all but spit in your direction with the harshness in his whisper. “I don’t want you falling and hurting yourself on the water or glass. Please.”

Good point. 

So, you decided you’d do as you were told, though not without the last word.

“Fine,” you practically growled, stepping over water, his hand reaching out to you, trying to balance over a puddle pooled at your feet. You grabbed his hand, one arm covered your heaving chest, as you made your way over the mess, and finished your thought. “But don’t come to my room. Go back to bed. I don’t want Maya to–.”

“I don’t care right now–,” he cut you off, but you didn’t let him continue before interjecting. 

“You will in the morning, Jacob,” you bit back, making fiery eye contact, crossing your arms. The hiss you released at the feeling of both arms covering yourself again was embarrassing. So, you tried to play it off. “You will. Just don’t make the mistake of coming to see me ton–.”

“It wouldn’t be a mist–.”

“Jake. Yes it would,” you insisted with a tense whisper, taking one step towards him, not taking your eyes from his once. “I’m not going to have you ruin what you have with her just to make a fucking mistake with me.”

Throughout the span of that small conversation, you saw his eyes go through every possible wave of emotion. His beautiful, deep set eyes had started wide with excitement, to now being filled with white hot frustration. He was mad. 

The last emotion made its way straight to the pit of your tummy and to your panties as you felt them draw even wetter. Damn. You’d take any sex with Jake right now, but angry sex? Dammit if that didn’t get you–. 

No, y/n. Stop it.

“Do you not want this? Why were you—just minutes ago if you don’t–?”

“I never said I didn’t want it.” You flat-out said, without a second thought. Why even lie when you’d just exposed yourself with whatever you’d just done with him? To him?

The two of you stood there, watching each other with flushed cheeks, hot breaths, and equally heaving chests. 

God, you would not be able to hold onto your momentary flash of integrity if you didn’t finish your thought and leave him. 

“We just can’t do it. It wouldn’t be right,” you sniffed. Shit. Your throat was tightening, eyes collecting tears. “I don’t want to be the reason you leave a woman–the woman you love,” you choked, foolishly, on the emotion that quickly made its way from your throat to your eyes. “I just want you to be happy.”

His own expression matched yours, his eyes pooled with tears of dejection. There were once more a couple moments, filled with silence.

Silence, aside from your deep breathing, and wrought with an energy you couldn’t place. You had to get away from him.

“Just go to bed. I won’t fucking bother you,” he said, swallowing thickly. He then spoke your words from earlier. “And let me clean this up.”

Again, you sniffled, but nodded, looking down, to cover it with a barely there 'goodnight'.

He didn’t say anything else, just went about his business in the kitchen to put things back together, turning his back on you altogether.

Suffice to say, you cried for a good chunk of time as you laid in bed, after changing into a big t-shirt.

Cried big, fat, somber tears.

The crying had even lasted long enough, keeping you up to hear the bed creak much more than necessary when Jake got back to his bedroom. . . The sound of soft, pleasured moans from both of them, accompanying the groans of the bed as they moved on top of it.

Lucky fucking you. 

The bed that used to be yours when that room was yours. . . The acts being made against it that made you want to punch something - someone. Someone with long, black hair and a too-sweet expression.

Like a child, you growled and used a spare pillow to cover your ears until you couldn’t hear anything through the plush filling of the pillow.

You also tried to distract yourself with TikToks, but you couldn’t focus on your feed filled with BabyTok. It just made you sad and wistful as you thought of your day of book shopping with Jake. . .

About 30 minutes later, you figured the coast was clear. It had occurred to you after lying there, doing aimless shit, that you were still very thirsty. . . your tongue felt like cardboard in your mouth. 

When you opened the door to go to the kitchen, though, you found a tumbler that didn’t belong to you, waiting for you. And when you picked it up, you realized exactly who it belonged to. . . the words told you as much. 

Merry Christmas, Jacob Thomas! 

Love you, 

Mom 

The Cricut-vinyl lettering was placed carefully across the front of the black off-brand Yeti. What you found when you looked through the clear lid was a cup full of water. Iced water.

The crying that ensued as you closed the door and placed the cup on your nightstand was no surprise to you. The sweet action made your heart thrum with unbridled admiration for him. 

You hated how things were now. . . how simply interacting with him the way you had was a mistake. When you compared it to the way things had been before the fateful day in the kitchen, it made your stomach sink and your eyes well with more tears. 

Then there had been what you’d heard through the walls. . . it made you want to fucking vomit. But. . .you’d brought it on yourself. No question about it. 

Aaand, more of the damn tears. . .

After taking a few healthy swigs from the cup, you felt sleep find you without warning. Your eyes were beginning to close on their own.

And, as you faded into a well-earned sleep, the only solace you found that night was the smooth bump of your tummy, which your hands held protectively–longingly–as you wandered to sleep.

-🌼🌼🌼-

a/n: hmmmmm what do you think will follow that night in the kitchen?????

Change the World from Friendsgiving :)

ty for being the best readers in the world and pleaseee never hesitate to send in your wonderful thoughts! love youuuu &lt;3

& as usual, it wouldn’t let me tag some of y’all. :( so please check to see that you’re down there because if you’ve asked to be on the taglist, i tried to tag you. buuuut tumblr wouldn’t let me do it for everyone 🙃 ugh. and if i somehow forgot to tag someone, please also let me know that! (i'm a NOOB and i have terrible memory)

Taglist:

@joshym, @gretavanfleetposts, @alyson814, @fretaganvleet, @lallisonl, @writingcold, @gvfpal, @twinszka, @jessicafg03, @reesetrippingthelight, @sacredjake, @laurenlovesgretavanfleet, @gretavangroove, @222headedcalf, @dreamssingold, @carbondancingthroughtime, @raviolilegs, @way-to-go-lad, @jakekiszkasmommy, @katgvf, @objectsinspvce, @jaketlover, @vanfleeter, @thetroublegetssoloud71, @seditabets, @jakekiszkapunchmeintheface, @jaketlove, @ohgodthefeeling-gvf, @starcatcher-jake, @anythingforjtk, @lucimoo, @indigostreakmorgan, @gretavanbear, @katelynn-gvf, @alwaysonthemend

@aintthatapity, @bowievanfleet, @fwzco, @takenbythemadness, @cherry-icecreamsmile, @laneygvf, @hi-hi-hello11, @sinarainbows, @jakesbarbarian, @mybussyinchrist, @becinabubblegvf, @heckingfrick, @danigvf, @pinkandsleepy1934, @derrangeddumpsterfire, @klarxtr, @josh-iamyour-mama, @abby-gvf, @cassyface, @gretavansabotage, @sacredtheslay, @alienobsever, @hollyco, @age0fwagner, @raceb14, @stardustcatcher, @styles-canvas, @ladywhimsymoon, @earthgrlsreasy, @peaceloveunitygvf

@torniturntomyarrow, @joshsbonnet, @llrosee, @starshine-gvf, @itsafullmoon, @gvfmarge, @creadliz98, @mackalah, @lek-gvf, @carlyfleet, @profitofthedune, @mefiorini, @welllauragvf, @highway-tuna, @dont-go-home-without-me, @sarah-gvf01, @polemicandcontent, @ageofbajabule, @texas-bbq-pringles

(i think i figured out the tags limit! woooohoooo!! boo, tumblr. you're not getting me down today lmao)

[klausysworld]

Yandere!Reader with Sub Klaus

Vulnerable for the taking

Klaus was known to be ruthless and terrifying. He was someone who always got what he wanted and would do whatever necessary to have it.

The small issue was: so am i.

So when i met him, and i saw just how broken he was inside, i knew that i wanted to keep him. His eyes were so sad as he wondered the streets of Mystic Falls, poor thing was just nearly killed by his step-father, betrayed by his sister and told nobody would ever love him. How that pathetic excuse of a father was wrong.

He took a seat on the local park bench. His face fell to his hands and his body began to shake with his sobs.

I silently sat beside him, my hands moved to lightly rub his back making his head shoot up, he looked at me with confused and teary eyes.

“What did they do to you?” I muttered seeing his blood stained shirt.

“Who are you?” He questioned quietly

“Someone who wants to help” i whispered and he frowned

“I don’t need help” he murmured though his face nuzzled my hands subconsciously as i held him. My thumbs brushed over his stubble making his eyes droop, he was surely exhausted after fighting for his life.

“No? Bet you’re tired though, where are you staying? Let me take you home” i whispered. Now of course i knew where he was staying, he was in a hotel just outside of town while his mansion was being built by the hybrids he had gathered the past couple weeks. I already had a copy of the key to his room and the receptionist was lovely but he was a paranoid man and I couldn’t frighten him off now could i?

“Come on Niklaus” i encouraged as he looked to me cautiously

“How do you know my name?” He questioned i smiled at him

“I met your sister, Rebekah, she asked me to check you made it out alive incase the others did something to her, which I believe it’s safe to assume that they have.” I explained and he sighed in what i presume to be relief.

It’s true, i became fast friends with Rebekah after offering her somewhere to sit for lunch, she was easy to get open up, she spilled everything about her family in the span of ten minutes. I liked her, she was very bouncy and joyful and then when she mentioned her brother who had murdered there mother and feared her father would murder him in an act of revenge, well it was a great opportunity to meet him and have him see me as someone good.

I may or may not have found out some information on him since his first mentioning in town. See Caroline, Bonnie and Elena weren’t exactly quiet with their talking about the supernatural, i found out like a lot.

So i ended up having a thing for him. It’s fine plus he’s a fun person to try and capture. I thought he’d be a little more angsty but thankfully i got him at a vulnerable time, he was quiet and exposed.

“You can come to my house if you don’t want to go back to wherever you’re staying?” I offered and his head nodded slightly

“Rebekah sent you?” He confirmed

“Bekah sent me, said that they were planning something with…Mikael?” I told him and that was enough evidence for him as he nodded and stood up letting me bring him to my home.

He stayed silent the entire time as i brought him to my room and gave him some clothes to change into and a towel for his shower. He thanked me quietly before disappearing into the bathroom. When he reemerged he was little keener to talk.

“How did you meet my sister?” He asked as i combed through his hair, i had convinced him i could help nourish his curls.

“School, she makes a big impression” I muttered gently getting out the little knots that had formed

“You must too if she chose to be friends with you” he hummed looking to me through the mirror infront of us

“I think she just needed someone to he kind to her” i said with a smile as his lips upturned back at me.

I added the mousse to his hair and gently brought my fingers through it to apply it evenly. I watched as his eyes fell shut and his lips parted as i massaged his scalp. I tugged lightly at a lock of his hair causing a moan to slip from his mouth, his eyes opening as his cheeks went bright pink and a smirked at him through the mirror

“Just let your hair dry naturally and ur should come out nice and curly” i told him while spraying his hair over and taking a step back. His eyes were already shades lighter than when i found him earlier as he smiled

“Can we sleep now? I’m exhausted” he muttered and i nodded

“Of course you can stay in my bed, I’ll be just downstairs” i told him gently stroking his face with the back of my fingers

“Nonsense you should stay in the bed with me. I won’t bite, promise” he said while beckoning me over to the bed and pulling me down with him.

“I don’t know…I’m told biting is your specialty” i hummed and he grinned showing me his sharp, deadly teeth making me roll my eyes and lay down beside him

“I have no reason to bite you” he mumbled as he shuffled closer to me.

He fell asleep with his head on my chest, mumbling to me about something I couldn’t quite make out while i wrapped my arms around him. He was such easy prey for someone who was known to be a predator.

———————————————————————

Since that day my home had become a safe haven of sorts for him. He was always sat waiting for me when i got home, eyes lighting up when i walked through the door.

It got to the point where he could only sleep if he were in my arms

“You keep the nightmares away” he murmured once as he nuzzled my neck and i hummed “Then I’ll just have to keep you here with me” and he didn’t seem too bothered by it, rather happy i would say as he nodded and kissed my neck tenderly.

He became more attached by the second and i loved it. He never put up a fight when i asked for him to stay, when i wouldn’t let him leave my hold and keep him in my bed all day.

I found that he was uncharacteristically well behaved and kind. He always had me do his hair and tend to his wounds. He would sit patiently and allow me to do whatever i like, he had grown to completely and utterly trust me.

It were as though he were a puppy and i were his master. He was obedient and learnt to follow me wherever i went.

His siblings didn’t mind me taking him, i kept him with me always. Got him to move in and everything. Sometimes his family would come visit

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen him so…comfortable” Elijah told me as he watched Niklaus cook our dinner

“Uhuh sure, i mean i knew he was a dog but this is stepping it up” Kol muttered making me glare and Rebekah smack the side of his head

“I think it’s sweet, he’s happy” she murmured with a small smile as she flicked her eyes between us.

Klaus was even more happy knowing his family liked me, all the more eager to stay with me.

It wasn’t long until i had him entirely.

How he thrived when he was beneath me was addicting, having him squirming and whining while he his hands stayed tied above him head “Please, please let me” he would whimper as he neared his high, eyes screwed shut as he hung onto the edge tightly “not yet, you gotta be good, just another minute” but he could never wait the whole moment.

I had him wrapped around my finger in every way,practically and sometimes literally on a leash. He came to me whenever he needed or wanted for something and i did whatever i could to get it for him. Whether it was stealing Elenas blood or punishing a certain Lockwood for a betrayal.

“I’ll keep you safe” i would assure him as he would smile back at me

“I know you will” he murmured

“Yeah?” I whispered kissing his cheek and he nodded as i climbed on top of him

“I know because i love you” he uttered and i felt my heart grow

“I love you too, i always will”

[luvneymar]

(3) THE BIRDS AND THE BEES — NEYMAR JR

SUMMARY: You and Neymar have to explain how babies are made to Davi, after the conversation you both reminisces about how your baby girl got here.

“Mommy I have a question.” Davi asked in a quiet voice. Davi has been weird all day asking you things just to say “nevermind” before a chance to express himself.

“Yes baby? You’ve been weird all day. Is there anything going on?” You asked him with a worried look on your face

“Uh, How did you get Valentina inside your belly? Did you swallow her?” Davi asked with an innocent smile. You smiled back at him so hard as you tried not to choke on your own spit. Neymar had been away for training today so it was just you and him.

“Huh, Okay. Uh Davi? Why don’t we wait till papa is here so we can explain it together?” You needed time to find an excuse that wasn’t to far from the truth, age appropriate & kid-friendly all in… 30 minutes, glancing at your watch.

“Okay!” As davi ran off to play with his toys you picked at your fingernails walking back and forth wondering how you could make Neymar fucking you into a sex coma as PG as possible.

As the clock ticked the less your braincells produced ideas. Figuring that calling Ney and telling him the situation before he arrived home would be the best idea.

The moment you reached to dial his number the front door had opened and Neymar had walked in. Oh Thank God. “Boa noite, família!” [Good Evening family!] Neymar placed his duffle bad in the hallways and plopped himself on to the couch.

Pulling you onto his lap sitting sideways he pulled you in for a kiss before calling out to his son. “Davi! I’m home!” He yelled out caressing your sore back. Ever since the pregnancy began he’s notice how tense you got in your back and shoulders and made it a mission to ease that tension almost every day.

The pitter patter of Davi’s small feet hit the floorboards as he came running to his dad and mom. “Hi daddy!” Neymar pulled him onto his other thigh and wrapped his hands around the both of you. “Mama can you and daddy pleasee answer my question?”

Neymar looked at you in confusion and whispered into your ear with a raspy voice. “what question?” You got shivers down your spine just thinking about what the outcome was when he last used that voice on you.

“Why don’t you ask him yourself Davi?” You tried as hard as you could to ignore any time of hormones that would arise while thinking about this topic let alone explaining it. Stupid pregnancy brain.

“Daddy I asked mama, How did she get Valentina inside her belly? Did she like swallow her?” Davi asked with an unsure voice hoping his baby sister wasn’t swallowed to be convinced.

Upon hearing that Neymar tried so hard not to laugh but hearing the last part made him burst out into a fit of laughter. You smacked him in his shoulder multiple times unable to control the smile on your face.

“Valentina was made when mommy and daddy were out and mommy had to many shots of tequila, soon after that mommy took off-.”

You elbowed him in the side and sent a nasty glare his way making sure he got the message as to not give 4 year old Davi the details about how your babygirl was conceived. “Sorry Sorry, Valentina was made when mommy and daddy were playing a game called horsey.”

“Oh, Can I play?” Davi asked innocently, You almost choked on your spit before shaking your head multiple times at Davi. “Oh no,no,no Davi baby you can’t, it’s for… Older people. Like me and daddy!”

“aww, are you sure I can’t play?” Davi pouts and looks up at you both with his big brown eyes. “I’m sure Davi.” Your short and firm answer made Davi drop the topic all together.

“Okay fine, bye mommy, bye daddy.” He ran off to play with his toys leaving you and Neymar alone in the common room. You turned to look at him just admiring his facial features.

“Something on my face princesa?” Neymar asks before turning to look at you. Shaking your head and scooting closer you put your head on his shoulder and drew circles around his abs.

“Are you trying to tempt me?”

“Maybe, Maybe not. The actual question here is… If I do, what are you gonna do about it?”

Neymar turned his head and poked his tongue at his cheek with a cocky look on his face. “The last time we went through this you ended up with Valentina. Are you sure you want to do this?”

“Actually…No!” You get up and run towards the hallway with Neymar not being that far behind you. Turning the corner was the guest bathroom and you ran into it barely closing the door on Neymar’s face.

“Open the door princesaa! Lemme in. I promise I won’t do anything.”

“Yes you will! You’re gonna kiss me, then touch my boobs, then it’ll lead to very bad things, so no!” You yell out in a playful manner tempting Neymar to think of dirty things.

“But you have amazing boobs.” Neymar stated using the voice of an intellectual. You couldn’t help but laugh at the voice he used explains how boobs are the greatest creation.

“Don’t tempt me Mr. Santos, you just wanna get in my pants. The doctor did say that sex this late into a pregnancy is just begging for pre-term labor.”

“I’m not! I promise I will never do anything to harm our precious Vale.” He placed his hand on his heart hoping you’d be convinced. You opened the door just enough to see his face before slowly opening the door and letting him in.

“Thank you princesa. I you know I could never be kept from you too long. I’d go insane.” He kissed your forehead before placing his forehead on yours & placing his hands on your waist sliding it down to your hips.

He dipped his hand into your underwear waistband snapping it against your pelvis. “HEY!” you shouted pulling away. “way to ruin the mood.” you pinched his side and walked away to sit on the edge of the bathroom.

“Sorry.” He muttered before following you sitting on the carpet below you. You caressed your pregnant belly soothing your baby. You took neymar’s hand and placed it on your stomach so he can feel his baby kick.

“Valentina is gonna be here soon isnt she?” He continued caressing your stomach feeling her movement and you smiled softly. He’s been so good with Davi even as a teen dad. It felt like yesterday when you gave birth to Davi as a teen mom dating your first love; an universal superstar.

“2 months left till she’s here. You know it felt like yesterday that you and I were just freaking out about being teen parents.” You confessed, that was a point in your life that was both traumatic & joyful.

“Yeah, seeing Davi for the first time just made all my doubts go away about being a teen dad” You smiled at the memory of seeing your baby boy for the first time and that sense of relief just washing over you.

You both sat in silence just enjoying each other’s presence. “You still tryna get into my pants?” You look down at him with a glare smacking his hand away that that tempted to ease into your underwear.

“Just had to see if that was still an option.” He laughed and stuck his tongue out with a cheeky grin. “Well it isn’t.” You pouted, standing up from the edge of the bathtub you begun to walk to the mirror and stared at yourself.

Neymar was right behind you stopping right behind you, he kissed your neck and looked at you through the mirror gripping your hips.“Once my last season at Santos is over, i’m gonna make you my Mrs. Santos. I promise.”

“Mmh, Really? You promise?”

“Really, I promise” He turned you around and kissed your lips gripping the side of your face, he pulled away leaving little room between your face. “Are you gonnna kiss me like that at our wedding?”

“Nope.” He smirks with a proud look on his face.

“Nope?” You raised your eyebrows at him putting your hands on your hips.

“No. Because if I do we’ll just end up fucking like rabbits at the alter.” You both looked at each other before bursting out into laughter. As you laughed you took in what he said and stopped laughing.

“Alter? Who said we’re getting married an alter?” You asked with confusion, the place of your wedding was always important to you even since you were a little girl. You always imagined it be at at a [place] or at a [religious building]

“what?” Neymar looked at you with a surprised face as you did the same. It’s funny because 5 minutes before you both were making marriage plans and now it seemed as if you didn’t know the man you were standing in-front of anymore.

← prev [ neymarsluv! ] next →

[simplydannie]

Veneer wakes up to find his sister gone… Only thing she left behind was a note. To keep the feeling of loneliness from building up, Veneer takes comfort in the company of the Trolls. All seem happy… except for Branch.

Part 2

Veneer,

Sorry for just leaving you like this. I know you’re hoping the Trolls can help us…. Maybe they can… but I need to figure some stuff out on my own. I just really need to figure who I am, and so do you. I changed you and I’m sorry. I didn’t want to tell you because I KNOW you would follow me. Not this time Veneer. I’ll be back, I don’t know when. Just stay out of trouble. Don’t do anything stupid. And PLEASE make some friends! Again, DO NOT FOLLOW ME! I’ll see when I see you.

- Velvet

Veneer awoke to find his sister’s room empty. She had gone and taken all her things. He didn’t know how long he cried for. First their parents, and now his sister has ran off to who knows where. He was alone… he was truly alone.

She couldn’t have gone back to Rageous…there was nothing for them there. If she went back they wouldn’t accept her on top… she’d go back to lower parts of Rageous…. Should he go after her? Should he drop everything and follow her? But she said not too? He felt so unsure.

The next couple of days after her disappearance he spent clinging to the Trolls. He was afraid to be alone, afraid dark thoughts would seep through. Floyd was more than happy to have Veneer around…

Floyd,

Don’t leave Veneer alone for too long. Keep an eye on him.

-Velvet

That’s all she had written him. Floyd wondered what she had met by that…So he kept him close. Slowly most of the Trolls accepted him, Poppy, Viva, and most of his brothers…Branch wasn’t to easily convinced.

Branch stared in jealousy one day as Floyd and Veneer talked during their stay in Bergentown, a big goofy smile on the Rageouns face. Veneer began to dress more normal, well normal for a Rageoun….

“Looks like Bitty B has a GIANT admirer.” John Dory chimed in.

“What?” Branch asked.

“The kid. He follows you around like no tomorrow! He really looks up to you.” JD smiled.

“Yeah! And I don’t know why! I guess “leave me alone, go away” means “let’s hang out” in his language.” Branch scoffed.

“Come on, give the kid a break…. He’s alone right now is. Who knows where Velvet went too.” John said.

“Probably to go steal more Trolls…. I don’t trust them. It’s sad how they have Floyd at the palm of their hands still.” Branch said as he glared at Veneer. He continued to frown on how well Floyd got along with him…. Floyd was his brother, not Veneers. Branch couldn’t take it anymore, he walked away…. He needed some space…. He needed to take a walk.

Branch made his way towards the gates that lead outside and followed a path.

As he walked he felt the ground shake slightly.

“What the heck?” He murmured.

“Branch!” Branch heard a voice… he grunted and rolled his eyes. Oh no, Branch growled. He ignored Veneers call as he approached… he kept walking.

“Hey wait! For something so small, you walk fast.” Once he caught up Veneer had no problem keeping up with Branch. They walked in silence for a moment.

“Where are you going?” Veneer asked.

“Forward.” Branch responded. Veneer giggled.

“Duh! But like where?” He asked again.

“Just forward Veneer.” Branches patience began wearing thin.

“Okay.” Veneer said. More silence…

“Hey! I did some, uh, lyrics. Silly huh? Would you like to take a look at them? I want your opinion. Oh! Maybe Brozone can use them for your next album! Cool right! Hey maybe you think I can help out? I can be your lighting and sound technician! Do you guys have machines for that in my size? Anyways…” Veneer kept rambling on. He was nervous, Veneer always rambled when he was nervous. He kept talking and talking that he didn’t see Branch ticking like a fuse bomb….

TICK. TICK.

“DUDE SHUT UP!” Branch yelled. Veneer stopped in his tracks, staring at Branch confused. “Can you not get the hint! You’re annoying Veneer! I don’t know why you keep following me around! I don’t trust you, I don’t trust your sister. You kidnapped my brother and nearly killed him! I never wanted you guys here, I DONT want to be your friend! I’ll NEVER forgive you! Can’t you understand why maybe your sister left! Maybe she couldn’t stand you! Because I definitely can’t right now!” Branch yelled staring up at Veneer. His breathing was hard as his anger fused…. The Rageoun was silent… Branch could see tears beginning to form in Veneers eyes. A lumped formed in Veneers throat…he wanted to say something… but he felt that whatever he would say wouldn’t matter. Veneer knew now how Branch really felt about him now, how everyone probably did. Maybe he was right? Velvet left because she couldn’t stand him…. No one ever did. He swallowed the lump in his throat and turned around. Hugging himself, Veneer walked away.

Branch just stared after him until he disappeared from his line of view. His anger began to go away. It was then Branch realized what he had said to Veneer…. Guilt began to settle in. No! Branch thought to himself… he wasn’t going to feel sorry. Kid or not, what Veneer did was unforgivable…Branch continued walking the opposite direction….. his mind was set… but his heart was still telling him that he shouldn’t have done that, he shouldn’t have said those things….

Branch didn’t know how fragile Veneer really was.

[thosehallowedhalls]

The 2 AM Christmas Tree Farm (2/2)

Pairing: Trystan Thorne/MC (Emma Rose)

Summary: Trystan is haunted by regrets. But when he's granted a wish to undo the worst of them, he finds that the price might be more than he's willing to pay.

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2

It’s the most surreal experience.

Juliana suggests that he spend today with her, since he took the day off anyway. Good thing, too, because he has no idea what he's supposed to be working on. He trails along as she irons out last-minute details for the ball, her signature charm and kindness ensuring that everyone receives her commentary with a genuine smile.

Every once in a while, he looks at her and his heart fills with joy at seeing her alive and obviously happy. Every time, however, a stab of pain and guilt follows. Pain, because he has lost the most important part of his life. Guilt, because wanting Emma back means wanting to go back to a life where two people he cares about died horrific deaths.

“Trystan?” Juliana tries to keep her tone light, but he can hear the concern underneath. “Are you all right? You’ve seemed distracted all morning.”

He gives her shoulder a reassuring squeeze. “I’m fine. It’s like I told you earlier, I didn’t sleep well.”

She clears her throat. “Thinking about Vasili again?”

His gaze swivels to meet hers. “What?”

“It’s been eight years since… well, since it happened.”

He’s unwilling to let this chance go. “I’ve been thinking about it, yes. It was a difficult night.”

“That’s an understatement. I’ve never been as relieved as I was the moment you walked out of the cabin and knocked him out. I don’t know what he would’ve done if it had been just us.”

I do, Trystan thinks grimly. “It must have been so hard for you.”

“It was hard for both of us. But I try to count my blessings.” She kisses his cheek. “I have plenty of those.”

He hesitates for a moment, trying to think of the best way to bring up his next question. “It affected Sebastyan, too.”

“How could it not? Finding out that the person you trust most in the world is capable of murder…” She shakes her head sadly. “Well, it’s no wonder he’s never been the same.”

“Still, it appears that Bas has plenty of blessings himself.” He wonders if Juliana still knows him well enough to pick up on the jealousy he can’t quite keep at bay.

“Behave,” she says. “I know you don’t like him, but you know he has changed.”

“I do. Moving out at twenty certainly isn’t something the old Bas would have done.”

She fidgets, looking uncomfortable. “Do we have to talk about it?”

“Why shouldn’t we?”

“Come on, Trystan.” She lowers her voice. “He got over me a long time ago. It isn’t fair to him or Emma to bring that up.”

Understanding comes in a flash. “He moved out so he wouldn’t have to see us together all the time.”

“And it was the right choice for all of us. That distance is one of the main reasons we were able to repair our friendship.” She smiles. “And the fact that he wasn’t living in the same palace as most of your siblings is why he was able to convince Emma to give him a chance.”

He takes a deep breath. He doesn’t want to hear this, but he knows he has to. “He’s lucky she did.”

“Oh, without a doubt. This is the happiest I’ve ever seen him. It might have taken them some time to get past the initial personality clash, but they’ve made up for lost time.”

“Right, yes. I never imagined they would get together when they first met.”

“Really? I could tell from the start. Whenever they got within five feet of each other, sparks flew.”

It’s suddenly hard to breathe. Stop talking. Please. “Did they? I never noticed.”

“Marguerite and I certainly did.”

“You talked about it?”

“Of course. She was the first to see it. She jokes that she would’ve paid more if she had known, when she hired Emma to find out who stole the designs from her collection, that she was hiring a future sister-in-law too.”

His heart in his throat, Trystan sinks his nails into his palms. “Sister-in-law?”

“Bas hasn’t said anything yet, but I know him. We’ll have another royal wedding soon.”

He can’t do this anymore. “If you have this covered, I think I’m going to lie down for a few minutes. It really was a bad night.”

As they stand in the parlor with their drinks that evening, he can’t help but remember the last family dinner he attended here. He couldn’t hold Emma’s hand or kiss her back then, either. But they exchanged covert smiles full of meaning – and promises for later.

This time, he’s standing with Juliana, something that would have made him inordinately happy once, as she chats with Marguerite. He supposes that he’s meant to be part of this conversation too, but all he’s managed so far are moderately well-timed monosyllables when they ask for his opinion on a topic.

From the corner of his eye, he sees Emma and Sebastyan standing close together, whispering to each other. They look lost in their own little world, and if he thought he’d been jealous before, it’s nothing compared to what he’s feeling now. She smiles at Bas the way she always smiles at him. Like he’s the only person in her world.

Feeling ill, he excuses himself and walks away.

He seeks shelter in one of the countless balconies in the palace, trying to breathe past the sheer grief of being thrust into a life he himself asked for without understanding the implications. This isn’t his life. He doesn’t want this to be his life. He wants New York, his friends, his job. Above all, he wants Emma.

As if conjured, she walks out and pauses upon seeing him. “My apologies, Your Majesty. I didn’t realize anyone was here.”

“No need to apologize. This balcony is big enough for both of us. And I told you to call me Trystan.”

“So you did.”

Apparently, Alternate Universe Emma can make him smile as easily as Original Emma. “But you’re planning to ignore me.”

“Yup.”

The single word amuses as much as it hurts. “Can I ask why?”

The look she gives him is so full of disdain, it feels like a punch to the gut.

“I deleted the mind-reading app from my phone, so I’m afraid I’ll have to ask you to use actual words.”

It would’ve made his Emma laugh. But this is Sebastyan’s Emma. The one who has given her loyalty to his brother, so she has no love lost for the irresponsible older brother who pawned his responsibilities onto Bas and treated him like an annoyance on top of it.

“Tempting, but I’d rather not get deported today, thanks all the same.”

“Consider this a free pass to tell me what you think of me. Deportation is off the table.”

“Fine. You’re an adult-sized toddler who’s spent his entire life dumping his responsibilities onto others. First your siblings, now your wife. And to top it all off, you have the gall to judge Sebastyan for not liking you.”

The words stab like knives. His lips twist into the mockery of a smile. “I did ask you.”

Emma’s eyes narrow. “You’re actually upset.”

He gives a humorless laugh. “Do you know many people who would be unbothered by that character assessment?”

“Astrid, the twins, Patryk.”

“And now you’re comparing me to them. It’s like a giant hug.”

Her lips twitch. “I’ll give you this, you’re probably not as bad as them.”

“Probably. Well, I can die happy now. Probably not as bad as a bunch of sociopathic narcissists is exactly how I want to be viewed.”

The look on her face… It reminds him of the way she looked at him when they were first getting to know each other. Reluctantly amused. Intrigued against her better judgement. Whatever happens next, he wants to fall to his knees and thank the universe for once again giving him the chance to see her look at him without animosity.

“It’s good to have goals.” She walks to the door, stops for a moment. “This has been… illuminating. Your Majesty.”

He watches her go, his heart aching.

“Oh.”

He jumps at the surprised sound, his head swiveling to meet Juliana’s eyes. There’s no mistaking the hurt in them. Guilt churns in him as he easily imagines what she saw on his face when he looked at Emma.

Longing.

“Juli…”

She turns on her heel and leaves.

Juliana doesn’t say a word – at first. She talks and laughs like nothing has happened, giving nobody any indication that anything’s amiss. But when his parents and siblings retire to their suites, she whirls on him.

“Is there something between you and Emma?”

“No!” Not in this universe, anyway. But he must have hesitated for a split second too long because twin sparks of fury and pain light up in Juliana’s eyes.

“How could you do this? She’s Sebastyan’s girlfriend!”

“Juli, there is nothing between me and Emma.”

Something in his tone takes the fight out of her. Sorrow fills her eyes. “Do you realize how sad you sound when you say that?”

What can he say to that? Deny it? It’s devastating to him that he and Emma aren’t together. This was supposed to be their Christmas. The first of their lives together.

“I don’t… I’m not sad.” He’s not. He’s heartbroken. And from the look on Juliana’s face, he’s not the only one.

“You forget, Trystan, I know what you look like when you’re in love. I would recognize that look in your eyes anywhere.”

“I’m not…” The words die in his throat. He can’t bear for her to think that her husband is in love with another woman. But everything in him revolts at the idea of denying his feelings for Emma. He’s not doing that. Not ever again. “Juli, I swear to you, the man you married only has eyes for you.”

It isn’t a lie. He’s sure that the Trystan who married Juliana has never stopped being in love with her. But… that’s not him. He stopped being the Trystan that Juliana knew eight years ago.

“I’ll sleep in my rooms tonight.”

Her little sidelong glance tells him that she’s hoping he’ll protest. But he can’t. Different universe or not, the only person he wants in his bed is Emma.

He retires to his own suite and tries not to think that somewhere in the floor below, Emma is sharing a room with Sebastyan.

Firs and spruces. Hot cocoa and candy. This time, Trystan recognizes the Christmas tree farm immediately. Relieved, he wanders off in search of Jacob.

“Looking for me?” He appears out of thin air, dragging a Douglas fir.

“What have you done?”

“I gave you what you wanted.”

“This is not what I wanted. I wanted to save Juliana and Sebastyan, not lock myself into a completely different life!”

“You wanted to make different choices, and I gave you the opportunity to do that. Different choices lead to different lives, Trystan.”

He grits his teeth. “Undo it.”

“I’m afraid I don’t have that power.”

“Are you saying I’m doomed to spend the rest of my life watching the woman I love be in love with someone else? That I lost my best friends and my job? And there’s nothing I can do about it?”

“You misunderstand. I can’t undo it. You can.”

“How?”

“You have to accept.”

“Accept what?”

Jacob smiles. “Everything.”

The Christmas ball is magnificent.

It meets 21-year-old Juliana’s expectations and then some. Trystan has never seen the ballroom so exquisitely decorated, or actual enjoyment on the faces of their guests.

He finds himself sitting at the main table, next to Juliana and right across from Emma and Sebastyan. He was worried at first that Juliana’s behavior towards Emma would be different, but he should have known better. Juli would never hold someone’s feelings against another person. Regardless of who either of them is.

As the night unfolds, conversation turns to Emma’s job. Private investigators are unusual enough to perk their tablemates’ interest.  

“What was your worst case?” Markarov asks.

Emma’s hand tightens on the stem of her wine glass, her eyes shadowed. Trystan knows, without a doubt, what she’s about to say. “Have you heard of the Heartache Killer?”

Some of the people at the table gasp. Others simply look confused.

“It’s the serial killer who murdered Sonja Dormer,” Juliana explains somberly.

“Oh, I remember that. The killer was never caught, were they?”

Trystan sucks in a breath.

“No,” Emma says, her expression shuttered. “As far as I know, the police never even got a real lead.”

“It’s a shame you couldn’t take the case after you found her,” Marguerite says. “You would’ve found the killer.”

“Yeah, well, I was hired to find Sonja. I wasn’t hired to find her murderer.” She sighs. “I wish I had been though. Her mother never got the answers she needed.”

Trystan stands up and excuses himself. It’s utterly unbecoming of a king, but he can’t be in this room any longer.

He makes his way to the same balcony where he and Emma talked yesterday. He needs the familiar to deal with the awful information he’s just learned. Eleanor and Tony are still out there. How many more victims are there now that the only people investigating are the likes of Morris and Holbeck?

He closes his eyes. How did he fail to consider that he and Emma only ever met because of Sonja’s murder? That the only reason she ever agreed to see him again after that first day was because he hired her to catch the killer? Without him and Emma, Sonja, Bethany, and Reese would never have gotten justice. Without the two of them, working side by side, Tony and Eleanor would still be at large, adding to their tally of victims.

It turns out he can’t undo his original life, the one he looked back on with such regret, without undoing the good he did for other people along with it. And if that’s the case… Does that mean he shouldn’t feel guilty in the first place? That he should accept that all lives come with good and bad experiences, that all choices lead to mixed outcomes, and you never know how far the ripple effect will reach? That it’s pointless to linger on "bad" choices unless it’s to learn from them?

Suddenly, something envelops Trystan. It’s a strange sensation, unusual enough that it takes him a moment to recognize it, break it down.

Relief.

Acceptance.

Peace.

The balcony, the palace, Drakovia, it all blurs around him. He feels a floating sensation for a second. Then it all goes black.

He awakens with a jolt. A quick look around tells him he’s half-seated, half-lying on the couch, the remote still in his hand. The Christmas tree he decorated with Emma glitters in the dark.

He’s home.

He stands, shoves his keys into his pocket, and leaves.

A quick visit to the bar lets him know that Emma already went home. He redirects his steps towards her apartment, knocking urgently on the door once, twice, three times when it takes her more than five seconds to answer.

“I’m coming! For the record, it’s too damn late for this.” She yanks the door open. “Trystan? What are you doing here?”

He drinks her in. She’s wearing the Christmas sweater that Ruby gave her after Thanksgiving, the one she made her promise to wear a few times before relegating it to the back of her closet. For all of Emma’s grumbling, he’s convinced that she secretly loves it.  Her hair stands on end around her face, and her eyes are bleary with sleep.

It’s Emma. His Emma.

He takes one long step, gathering her to his chest with crushing force. “I missed you.”

“O… kay. Trystan, it’s been, like, three hours.”

He holds her closer. “It felt longer.”

“Hey.” She runs a hand up and down his back. “What’s going on?”

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”

“Try me.”

“I will, but… let’s just stay like this for a while.” He buries his face in her neck, breathing in the scent of her. “Please.”

She says nothing. Instead, she tugs him into the apartment and leads him to her bed. They curl up together, not speaking, simply holding each other. It’s exactly what he needs.

“Emma?”

“Hmm?”

He cups her jaw and looks into her eyes. “I love you with every beat of my heart. You know that, right?”

She turns her head, kisses his palm. “Right back atcha.”

They lie there together until they fall asleep. For the first time, he doesn't regret a thing.