#the way i love my morning playlist and the pinterest one | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

hoseoksluna · 2 months

Text

LIQUID STARS | jjk

pairing: fuck buddy!jungkook x f. reader (feat. bam)

genre: angst, smut

word count: 11.8k

summary: to seal the deal, you give jungkook what he wants—your kiss, your cunt and your virginity.

playlist: liquid stars / pinterest board: wine

warnings: size kink, heavy dd/lg themes, provocation, dry humping, dirty talk, mentions of porn, oral sex (f. + m. receiving), multiple orgasms & countdown, dom/sub dynamics, reader has daddy issues (like the writer), first time, jealousy, inner child healing, plushie used during intercourse, jungkook fucks her numb & dumb, praise kink, cum eating, pet names and the establishment of a title, bondage, raw sex, tummy bulge, desperation, pain felt during intercourse, squirting

note: as difficult as it was to write this, i'm immensely thankful. this changed my life; it healed me and i'll dream about it for a long, long time. i was as exhausted as oc once i finished this, because i truly did give my all. everyone, this is part four to my series 'wine' and therefore the very end. this is the very beginning of jungkook's and oc's relationship. can be read as a standalone as there aren't any quirks from the other parts (except for bunny), though if you wish to read them now, now is the perfect time. now you can see the beautiful gradual development of their relationship. please, enjoy as you read and let me know your favorite parts bc i need to talk about this. heed the warnings as there are dd/lg themes that can be uncomfortable for some. thank you! and thank you for all the love on this series. i'll never forget it. i love you, guys. ʚɞ

side note: give some round of applause for 3D daddy provider jungkook everyone!! he deserves it!!!

Silky lilac bows adorn the tops of your pigtails that cascade down in loose braids, sprawled on the cotton of his pillow and on the soft belly of a bunny plushie. There are still traces of sunlight left on the bedding, which dissolve, little by little, into nothingness as the large star goes down, saying goodbye. It’s lightweight, the atmosphere—homely almost. And much to your surprise, you feel relatively at ease, despite the fact a man lies on top of you—a man you have a certain liking for.

It was natural for you to end up here and you, yourself, wished for it, even. Deemed it was only right after the man took you around for a walk while his silly Doberman guarded each and every step both of you had taken in sync, especially so when he persisted in buying you a small plastic ring of the same bunny you’re lying against. He didn’t even forget about his own canine friend waiting outside patiently like the obedient dog he is, and fed him the snackies he got for him as soon as he returned from the shop. You swore Bam was as giddy as you when he received his gift.

Now the ring glints in the last rays of the sun. His, too.

While yours is as white as the cloudy morning sky, Jungkook’s is as black as the drowsily dozing night sky. You think it’s the perfect contrast between the pair of you. Not that you should be noting these things, considering you’re just friends. But his skin is satiny soft, painted in impressionist tattoos, while his muscles, that his well-fitted T-shirt graciously allows you to see, are strong. You’re sure he could just lift you and throw you around without much of a strain. And it certainly doesn’t help that he’s such a striking image of pure beauty. How could you not notice these intertwinings when they’re this lovely?

You like him—without a shadow of doubt. Can feel the call of an emotional attachment forming the more he studies your skin with the tip of his index finger, embellished with the Miffy ring, and it’s owed to the fact you’ve never been touched this way before. No one has ever come this close, no one has ever been interested in the moles scattered upon your shoulders, in the veins that make the pathway to the column of your neck. No one has ever gazed twice at them—but Jungkook?

He hasn’t stopped looking at them ever since he laid you down in the middle of his bed.

How could you stop such a call? Such a lull, such a magnetic pull. You know you should, but for the meantime, you simply don’t want to. Can’t lose this moment, can’t lose this once in a lifetime opportunity—

Jungkook presses his lips against the prominent mole in the center of your left shoulder. Those pretty, puffy lips, closing against your skin, the smallest dart of tongue swiping past. It shocks you for a moment before the feeling dissolves beneath, adjusting within the freshness of your system. How could you refuse such dynamic poetry, expressed against your own forlorn body? When it’s so blatant that it’s natural, that your body willingly accepts it without a fight.

You couldn’t.

Stretching your fingers between the thick strands of his hair, you close your eyes to savor the feeling of being wanted. The movement of his mouth, going even as far as to the first vein rooted in your arm—following it with those half-closed pillows. Up, up until he finds the line of your collarbone. Jungkook pauses there, simply breathes against you before he interperses little pecks there, nibbles and gentle swipes of tongue. The lining of your top won’t let him go further down, so he changes direction—relies on the pathway of your veins to guide him to your neck. And there… at the first contact, you grip the roots of his hair.

His kisses and nibbles are much harder here. And what’s worse, he takes the sensitive skin into his mouth and sucks. You fail at containing the whimpers that break out of your mouth and Jungkook reacts to them. Hums ever so deeply, rocks his hips against the mattress. You wish you were a bit bigger so you could feel the collision, but you’re just so small compared to his large form. You imagine he’s writing down the poems collecting inside of him with each cursive roll of his tongue. Wonder if there’s enough paper on your skin for all his words.

“You sweet little thing,” Jungkook coos onto the crook of your neck, dragging his lips up and down before he stops at your jaw. You feel the warmth of his breath and his body heat seeps into yours, creating unity, blackening the ink. It feels strange, it feels so new. Brisk and springlike, like fresh air in a stuffed room. You want to stay here for a long time, tasting the wholeness of spring captured in him. You want his words to flush you red with the tinge of the entire sunlight that opens the buds of flowers during all seasons in a loop. “Can I kiss you?”

You haven’t gone beyond the innocent touching of hands with him. You brim with a tight feeling of thankfulness that he asked you such a graceful question, although something else steals your attention entirely.

“Little?” you say, the smile on your lips pulled so taut that it quivers ever so slightly. It makes you crazy that he calls you that, but you play the game. Revel in it. “What do you mean little? I’m bigger than you.”

Jungkook cocks his brow at you, mouth falling into a lopsided grin. He sits back and you feel a whiff of coldness pass by the perimeter of your body, as if someone opened the window and let the winter air in, when it’s just his brief distance that caused it. The forming attachment in you tenses and before you can think about your actions, your hand finds his knee, his thigh and traces slow patterns there. Jungkook suddenly squeezes your waist, surprising you, and the ecstatic fluttering of butterfly wings break havoc all over your body. The solidness of his hands, their weight, their firmness, giving life to your body, meaning. You note how his fingers touch when he has his hands enveloped around you like that. And the inkling that your body matters in his hands like that slips into your mind, spreading through its axis.

You bite your lower lip. A small ache begins to grow in your intimate parts. It’s so nice to be wanted, to be considered good enough to be touched, to be kissed.

“You? Bigger than me?” Jungkook squeezes your waist again. Sucks in a breath through his teeth. Smiles softly; in a way that you find unbearably endearing. “No, you’re just little. Just a tiny, little bug. So tiny in my hands.”

For the breath he inhaled, you exhale it.

He leaves his hands there when he bends over you, hovering his lips over yours. His weight, his heat. You sigh against him in relief, in a newly blossoming excitement that he’s back again. You spread your legs wider, feet grazing his calves—

“Let me kiss you, please.”

You’d give in, but the game is just so pleasurable.

Your laugh is but a breath. “You wanna kiss me?”

You exhaled, he inhaled.

“Don’t ask stupid questions.”

“Since when do friends kiss?” You cock your eyebrow at him just like he did, prodding your tongue on the inside of your cheek.

He hovers a little bit higher above you, hanging his head in defeat, sighing. Places his hands in fists on either side of you, caging you in.

“Premium friends do,” he mutters, lifting his head, face all serious. You dig your toe into the toned muscle of his thigh, twirling sweet little circles, gliding up and down. Watch as his eyes lid and he tries to control it. “Don’t do that or I’ll fuck you.”

Your body panics, but you will it to relax.

“Does that come with the premium subscription?”

Jungkook purses his lips, supports his weight on one hand as the other, the tattooed one, grips your jaw. He squishes your cheeks, bites his lip once—seemingly ponders whether he should play your game or not before he lets go of your pout, but still keeps his hand there. He traces the shape of your lips with this thumb, feeding his desire to kiss you with scraps.

“Yes,” he utters. “Kisses, orgasms, my dog. It’s all—”

Orgasms, not just sex. Orgasms.

“I get to take Bam?”

Jungkook tuts at you. “You get to take me,” he corrects you. “Though, can even such a little thing like you take me?”

Probably not. Definitely not.

“But what about Bam?”

He looks at you as if he couldn’t believe the words you’re saying, turning his head slightly to hear you better. Then, he scoffs, running his tongue across his lips swiftly, letting them express the enjoyment of your provocation by stretching into a smirk. He places his hand back on the right side of you, thinking over his words.

“Bam is mine, but you can pet him. You can kiss him.” You can hear the feigned venom in that word as he spits it and you grin, pleased with yourself. You enjoy doing this to him. “And if you’re good, I’ll let you take him out for his walkies.”

You gasp slowly, fingers absentmindedly gripping his thigh. Butterflies buzz you with a mere hint of arousal and to convey it, you wet your top lip with the tip of your tongue. The dominance, the principle of proving to him whether you’re deserving of something. Your heartbeat quickens, reaching for him with each swell.

Oh, you’ll be good. You’ll be good until he’s sick of it.

It seems he’s as pleased with himself as you were with yourself, reading your body language as he beams down at you, dimples poking holes in his cheeks. You want to stick your fingers there, pinch the skin at the corners of his mouth. Feel them, kiss them—

“Deal.”

Jungkook blinks at you. He most likely expected you to be difficult. You like the look of surprise on him. A sweet kind of glint perches itself upon his irises. You’re at awe of how he manages to be so adorable and alluring at the same time. You could never understand it. You deem he must be otherworldly.

“A kiss to seal the deal?” he tries, raising his brows, lowering himself to his elbows.

He skims his lips across your cheek, descending to your neck. Places one, singular kiss there. Lifts his head to hear your answer, a soft curtain of hair falling across his forehead.

You make a face as if you’re thinking about it.

Jungkook groans.

It’s cold, the way he turns away from you and it startles you—but then he slides his hands under your back and lifts you with ease, sitting you down on his lap. He moves you from the muscles on his thighs to the hardness of his intimate parts and you groan at the feeling of it. You’re wearing an airy short skirt with tights and knee socks underneath, the barrier so thin that you feel the solid, thick shape of him right under your femininity.

You rock against him once. Jungkook lets out a sound akin to yours, fingers flexing—hands almost reaching for your behind before he decides against it and keeps them planted against your back.

He desires your consent. And that makes you feel light-headed. Tipsy on the wholeness of him, on the pleasure coursing through your body.

You rock your hips again—and this time, Jungkook whimpers.

You take your hands and, slowly, you make a pathway down his chiseled chest. He twitches against you when your fingers pass by his nipples, his body following and squirming along. And once you reach the definition of his abdomen, your hands rise and fall against its quickening movement as his lungs heave. You’re mesmerized by his reaction to your touch. It’s as if it was his first time as well and something about that makes you woozy, savage and absolutely feline.

And something about the way you’re allowed to do as you please, whereas he’s not, strengthens that state of mind, enriches it, thoroughly worsens it.

You want him.

It began with a ring and ended right here.

And the process of your decision starts at his hips, finalizes at the pebbles of his nipples and finishes completely at the sides of his neck. He gives you the same, if not better, reaction, his manhood moving against you, and it’s settled.

The giving of virginity to seal the deal, not just a kiss.

Hovering your lips against his, you slip your hand to the place where you’re connected to feel up the shape of him. You moan onto him, vigorous power seizing you, propelling you to wrap your fingers around him. The breaths Jungkook emits are desperate, tortured, wafting over you, intoxicating you. It fills you with confidence unlike any other that you’re able to coax such a thing of beauty out of him—that you, the artist, have the upper hand momentarily while he doesn’t.

And he waits, depends on you. You want to cry due to how happy it makes you, due to the way it suffuses an empty part of you, left abandoned by someone who should’ve taken care of it a long, long time ago.

Because of that—if it’s kisses that he wants, you’ll give him as many as his body desires as a thank you.

“You’re so hard against me,” you whisper.

Jungkook grips your waist hard.

“If you want it, you have to seal the deal,” he mimics your intonation, voice deep, tingling your tummy.

“I want it.” You clutch both of your hands on his jawline, thumbs finding the invisible dimples.

“Kiss me, then.”

You whimper at the longing to do so. Your tummy clenches, butterflies inside swarm around and—

When you close your lips against his top lip, they burst into smithereens. Jungkook sighs in relief, enveloping you in his warmth.

The kiss is hungry. You expected his first taste of you to be careful, contemplative, but he goes all in. Takes charge of the lip lock, swallowing you whole, moving against you, uttering low sounds that make your head spin and you just comply. Accept that you’re the one who submits to his craving and you find yourself liking it; find yourself wanting to deepen your submission.

You wrap your legs around his waist, your head tilted as you reciprocate all of those hard kisses. When he comes up for air, he just gazes down at you, out of breath. One hand still on your back, the other cradles your cheek. There’s something puzzling in his eyes, as if he was fighting something within. You’re radiated by that energy, heavied down by it, letting him pet you like a puppy while you wait for the next step.

“You’re so good that I’m considering letting you take Bam out,” he breathes, curling a wisp of your hair behind your ear. “Sweet little thing.”

He pecks you once. You grind against his manhood and as he shortly groans onto your mouth, you splutter into giggles. Behind you, as if he heard him, the dog peeks his head out of the door, giving his Daddy a questioning look. Jungkook chuckles.

“Bam, house.”

The dog leaves and Jungkook sinks his fingers into your hair, sighing. Kisses you, again without tongue—only does what you’ve allowed him, but you overflow with the desire for more. He’s so considerate, so respectful and while you’re grateful for it, you want to break it. Your trust in him, made whole by all that he’s done for you, settled within you, made a bed in the sensitive parts of you that now shine. He doesn’t need to remain there—you want to go beyond that.

“Touch me, please.” You look up into his eyes as you say it, willing them to see with all your energy how much you want him.

He rubs soothing circles on your back. “If I touch you, I’ll fuck you, sweetheart.”

You lift your butt ever so slightly and bounce down on him, your skirt furling. Jungkook moans, pleasing you to the core. It’s bratty of you, but it serves him right for being so stubborn, so firm in his control. You want to break him.

“Can’t you see how much I want that?” you purr, bunching the cotton of his T-shirt in your fists.

He merely shakes his head, licking his lower lip, fucking with you. He tugs on one of your braided pigtail, the other hand gliding to your hipbone. “This little girl is horny? I couldn’t tell.”

A yellow light, sleepy in nature, spills through the blinds, latching onto the side of your neck. His eyes flick to it and his teeth sink into the wetness of his lip. He looks back at you when he says, “what was it that made you horny? The neck kisses?”

He straps both of his hands to your hipbones now, adjusting you so your sweetest spot rests against his cock, rocking your hips like he wants them to. He swallows down his noises, makes room for yours. You figure he wants to hear them.

You think about what made you horny. His respectful behavior. An electric spark spasms in your core at the memory and you roll your body against his at the impact—nipples pebbled, grazing below the hardness of his pecks. You moan loudly. He breathes heavily, can’t for the life of him contain that, gripping you with strength that will surely leave bruises. You add it to the list.

His control—the momentary, delicious lack of it, too. The dominance that follows it. His noises and how unrestrained he is when it comes to them. The allure and the attractive charm of his looks, blended with that insufferable cutesiness. His hard cock. The neck kisses, too, of course.

You summarize your answer and you tell him, “you.”

A hitch in his throat. “Fuck.”

Fuck, indeed. Fuck the steady rhythm—Jungkook speeds up your movement, the pace so fast your pigtails and your ribbons bounce, tits following suit. Your breath falls in step, moans echo within the walls of his room. He kisses you harshly, but that doesn’t silence you. He swallows your noises down, grunting.

“You wanna know what made me hard for you?”

You nod your head, lips forming a natural pout at the loss of contact.

“Those fucking pigtails of yours. The knee socks. How tiny you are in my hands. Seeing you lose your fucking mind when I kissed your neck. Those marks I left behind, hm, fuck yes. Those marks made me crazy,” he mutters, staring you down. “And you know what else?”

You wait for his answer as white flashes blind you, your roaring orgasm beckoning you close. He doesn’t stop rocking you against him, not once. Fills your brain with emptiness with his words coated wet by his dominant energy. You feel your own wetness soaking the fabric of your panties.

“Your brattiness,” he says. “I want to fuck it out of you and make a good girl out of you that won’t misbehave again with her smart words.”

A faint part of you, half affected by the pleasure he gives you, arises to stand up for you. “But I was good and you said so.”

He clicks his tongue, disapprovingly shaking his head. Slows down the pace so you’re able to hear him loud and clear, your orgasm backing away. “You see the thing is with little bratty girls like you, even when they act good for me, there’s still that dark little side of them that hides. Unless I fuck it out of them, they play with me. And trust me, I like the game until I don’t.”

You frown at him, but a moan betrays you. A fight throngs inside of you, his dominance yet again permeating you, causing you to flourish, but on the other hand, you don’t like being added to the mix. You want to be the only one—and it makes you angry that he had someone like you before you, that he even said it altogether. Though unfortunately, that’s something you can only keep to yourself.

The forming attachment breaks, splitting into two, with the knowledge that your wish is futile. You understand he said it for the sake of the role-play that you both naturally, wordlessly established through sexual attraction, but you still have a lot of getting used to within the dynamic. He’s experienced, you’re not. Though, when you think about it, he doesn’t know a thing about your purity. You never told him.

You blame yourself for your own pain. It’s your fault—you should’ve had a conversation with him about it before you let him do anything to you, instead of playing flirty games with him. You wouldn’t have gotten hurt, if he knew you were a virgin. The thought of what you’ve done stains you, makes you feel filthy, but you will it to kneel inside of you like a wounded animal. You need to be strong if you don’t want to storm out of his room in tears.

No attachment, no liking.

Just sex.

There’s still a frown to your face, despite the fact you set yourself free with your decision. Jungkook chuckles at it, oblivious to your internal storm.

“You didn’t like that, did you?” You didn’t like being compared to other girls he’d been with; there’s nothing to be said of the like about the role-play aspect. Being called bratty did rouse a moan out of you. “You prove my words right.”

You roll your eyes. Jungkook grips your ass hard and spanks you. As the sting reverberates, along with it comes the realization you got what you wanted.

You broke him.

And now you have to face the repercussions.

Good thing you’ve sobered up from the stupefaction of your arousal.

You cradle his face and kiss him deeply in effort to change the narrative. No feeling of affection from earlier hangs upon your heart and you find that it’s easier like this. No strings, no pain. It relieves you—so much that you sense a layer of lightness to your body and tiny, manageable tears well in your eyes. You get to enjoy this after all.

There’s radiance to your eyes, rooted in hope, and true softness to your words when you say, “I want you to fuck it out of me. I want you to be my first.”

You want to be different—your pride is uninfluenced by your decision. If he fucks it out of you, the new narrative you’re longing for will fully take place and make living through this bearable. You know you can’t have him the way you’d like, but if fate wrote that you’re to have him this way—you don’t mind altering it to the little desires you’re allowing yourself to have.

Once in a lifetime opportunity. You can’t lose it.

Jungkook is left astounded by your words, eyes widening, shock evident on his features. Like your words, he softens, unclenching his fingers from your suppleness, the darkness in his irises making a way for gentleness to come through. He rubs the small of your back, hands ascending to your spine, feeling the clip of your bra, until he finds the nape of your neck. He holds you there, tenderly, as if you were a porcelain doll he now was careful not to break.

The change in his demeanor is stark. It surprises you as well—and like everything that has happened within the hour, it isn’t something you expected from him. The emotion that emerges from the roundness of his eyes touches the hardness of your decision, tries to get through, pokes a gap inside, letting the light in.

He tucks his darkness back inside. Strokes the back of your head, the silky ends of your ribbons sifting through his slender fingers. You relax against him and your body does it for you. It welcomes his tenderness, glad for the truth to be out. You fight against it—against yourself, willing your decision not to break but remain firm.

No strings, no pain.

But to no avail. The light spreads. His light. Celestial twinkles of stars, small parts of him that make him who he is.

“You’ve never had anyone before me?” he husks, regret glossing over his eyes, holding your head firmly as he awaits your answer. More stars spill like liquid.

You shake your head ‘no’, your chest tightening.

He kisses you and there’s something different about the way he does it. Now you can sense the carefulness you searched for earlier and you taste the primal core of loving care in the movement of his lips. The kisses are long, deep. As if you’re a different person now, a girl unlike any of the ones he mentioned. Someone who matters, someone who’s solid. You’re back at the beginning.

A lump forms in your throat.

“You sure about this?” he asks.

One part of you, greater and illuminated by his stars, wants it gently like this, with flowers of innocence and purity besprinkled across his features, never leaving you out of his sight, taking care of you. But you fear that if you allow him to be tender, your heart will choose him again and cling to his side. The other, more faint part of you, affected by your decision, thinks it’s better to stick to the role-play, for there’s the aspect of illusoriness that will not bruise anyone’s hearts, especially not yours. It will make you horny, Jungkook will get you off and, glowing, you’ll go home.

You can’t decide. It’s too much of a heavy weight to bear on your shoulders. You can’t do it.

You need him to say the word. You need him to decide what will be the face of the trajectory of your premium friendship.

Flowery or deceitful?

A small candlelight in you hopes for gentleness and purity before your fear unfairly puffs it out.

“Yes, I’m sure. I want you.”

Jungkook lays you down and, at last, you feel his manhood against you. He bends to pepper apologetic kisses along the column of your neck and you feel the authenticity of his regret, thrumming against you warmly. Your breath hitches in your throat, the principle of the candlelight in you not being a high hope after all—

“I’m sorry. I should’ve gone about this better.” A kiss to your cheek; you stifle your sobs. “I should’ve checked in with you, but I jumped straight in. This was a mistake on my part. I’m sorry.”

He blames himself, not you.

You want to remain stoic, but his authenticity beckons yours to come out and envelop him whole, gives access to your emotions and you can’t stop the miniature teardrop from flowing down the side of your nose. Neither can you stop the words that follow its footsteps.

“I should’ve told you first,” you whisper, sniffling. Jungkook furrows his brows at the expression of your pain in tender emotion, wiping it away. “But I was bad—reckless.”

He chuckles softly, caressing your hair. “You’re an angel. Sent to my side for me. You weren’t bad. I didn’t mean what I'd said.”

His words, his touch, the kiss he adds to your cheek to punctuate his sentence—Jungkook erases everything that has just happened.

Newness rushes in your chest, the pouring of spring into summer permeates your whole being. You hear the birds sing, the rustle of flimsy flower petals on tree branches as the warm wind grazes it with its touch. Jungkook seals this feeling by pressing a kiss to your sternum.

He said it, so it must be so. You trust him.

The firmness of the cage around your decision unlatches. Doesn’t fly away like the birds. Is a little bit afraid of peeking out. The candlelight returns to light up the room around that cage, blossoming into the sun.

“We don’t have to do anything, if you don’t want to,” he says, looking up at you from the place where he dragged your top down to kiss your skin.

The sun rays in you absorb all of the darkness. The firmness extends one wing.

You run your fingers through his hair. Figure the only thing the summer in you is missing is the heat. You want him, you want sex and you don’t want to think about feelings or consequences. You don’t want to choose between anything anymore. You just want to enjoy yourself.

“I meant it when I said that I want you to be my first,” you say, fingers curling around his ear. Jungkook leans into your touch and it’s as if he’s massaging the wing to alleviate it from a cramp due to being tucked in for so long.

“Okay,” he sighs, taking your hands and pinning them on the pillow and bunny above your head. He sits up, examines you and you wonder if he can see how truly fragile you feel. “Do you trust me?”

He’s had half a year of going out with you, mingling his life with yours, spending money on you and treating you like an absolute treasure to build your overall trust. And what he did just now? How he erased your pain? Your nod is immediate; you don’t need to think twice.

“Of course I trust you.”

“Good.” A soft smile. “I’ll make sure your first time will be beautiful for you.”

Your heart thuds. His words steal all the breath in your lungs, smoothing out the surface of your body for his stars to fill. Tears prick at your waterline.

“Are you scared?”

You’re an empty canvas.

“Not anymore.”

Jungkook nods, gladness pulsating off of him. “I’ll be here the whole time. I won’t leave you, not even once, okay?”

“Okay.”

He finds the zipper on the side of your skirt and yanks it down. “How many times do you wanna come?”

The ridiculousness of the question makes you laugh and you hide your face beneath your palms. “To be honest, I don’t expect to come at all. It is my first time after all.”

You marvel at the honesty seeping out of you. His work, no doubt.

Jungkook frowns, ridding you of the skirt, fingers hooking under the hem of your top. At the reveal of your pink, flowery, see-through bra, he stops altogether, stunned. He fondles the material, grazing over your soft nipples, at last reaching the embroidery of the small petals. He gasps in wonder, eyes flicking to your intimate parts to see if you’re wearing a matching set.

The same flowers adorn the suppleness of your tummy.

Jungkook smiles at his discovery. Is hasty as he drags the nylon of your tights down your legs, along with your knee socks.

“I’ll decide how many times you come for me, then.”

Heat pools in your femininity. There it is, the dominance that you love. Yet this time, it’s laced with his gentleness. Heaven on earth—a meadow full of flowers in the middle of summer. Like the ones on your lingerie.

Joy grasps your heart. “Do I get to know before you start?”

Jungkook chuckles, pressing a kiss on your tummy. “What, you wanna count them down for me?”

You asked just because, but the idea excites you. You nod.

Your response prolongs the rumble of his laughter and you feel its vibration as he kisses his way up to your clothed breasts. You’d think he’d focus his attention on them, but he straightens—reaches for something behind him and retrieves your white knee socks. He bunches them in his hands and puts them on you as if he were dressing a child.

Paradoxically, goosebumps spread all over your thighs.

Smoothing the material over your thighs, he lies back down against you, lips latching on the spillage of your breasts that your bra gives him. While it feels dizzying, you still want to know the number. You poke him in the bulging muscle of his arm and in the process, you flush his cheeks red.

Jungkook pushes your tits together and licks over the line in the middle. The sight of the shine of his wet tongue against it drenches your pussy, ruining your pretty underwear, and you want him there, on your sweetest spot. Your nipples stand to attention and Jungkook listens to their call, thumbs brushing across them.

You mewl, grinding your hips against his stomach.

“Two times when I eat you out; two times around my cock,” he answers finally, awakening your butterflies. “How many times is that, then?”

Amidst the pleasure, you do the math. “Four.”

“That’s right. You think you can do that for me?”

You’re not sure. In fact, you’re not sure of anything—lost in his touch, in his energy.

“I don’t know,” you say, truthfully, skimming his face for a sliver of disappointment in his features.

You find none. Only tenderness—round, soft eyes, brown in the light he radiates, nose and mouth buried in your tits, sucking on the skin, making you feel good.

“That’s okay. We’ll try together. Nothing bad is gonna happen to you if you don’t come as many times. Or at all. I promise.”

Your chest clenches. You grab his face and kiss him, licking over his bottom lip before you slip your tongue inside. Jungkook grunts, rolls his own muscle over yours, tasting you, feeling you. He inhales sharply against you, once again taking charge of the kiss, taking each and every thought and negative feeling you had and crushing it to smithereens.

He lifts you and switches places with you, sitting you down on his lap with your back supported by his chest. He roams his hands all over you—tits, tummy, hips, sides and thighs while he busies his mouth on your shoulder. As your eyes follow each movement, you notice the marks he embellished your breasts with and your arousal grows—so much that you take his wandering hands and hook them under the waistband of your underwear, guiding them down your thighs.

There’s a change to his breath when his index and middle finger feels up the fleshiness of your cunt for the first time. Hard, raggedy and absolutely tormented. He glides those digits up and down your dewiness, listening for the squelching sound that makes his cock twitch beneath you.

He moans onto your neck, nose tracing the column on its way to your ear. “How do you touch yourself?”

A sudden shyness overtakes you and you turn your head, needing to hide in his neck this time. You remain silent, the words lodged in your throat.

Jungkook sees you.

“Do you rub your little clit from side to side or in circles?” he questions, helping you answer.

“I—I like both,” you whisper onto his skin, moving your hips so his fingers slip to your clit, the sweet spot where you need him the most. He grabs the back of your thigh and lifts it, spreading you open, meanwhile you chase the firmness of his fingers.

“Just like that, ride them,” he husks, eyes dazed, fixed on the roll of your pelvis. “Feels good, doesn’t it?”

Head on top of yours, you nod, never ceasing your movement, transfixed, just like him, by the constant way the pads of his fingers fondle your clit before dipping between your lips. The heat of the summer tightens in your lower belly and it’s a desperate litany of begging what your mouth utters, despite the fact you’re not really sure what you’re asking for, but you let him hear it. You’re close, so unbelievably close, yet still have a road to walk on before you, and you close your eyes to feel the delight of his touch more deeply, only to find that you manage to do nothing of the kind.

When you sense his eyes on you and by instinct you reciprocate his stare, that’s when you feel the depth you sought after. Mouth parted, pupils dilated, eyelashes a drowsy catastrophe, messy hair casting a soft shadow over the planes of his blissed-out face. You want to kiss him. You want to make him feel as good as he’s making you feel—

“Let me do it now,” Jungkook says hurriedly, sensing the nearness of your climax.

“Yes,” you croak out, halting the movement of your hips—and ‘yes’ is the word that ripples out of your mouth a hundred, a thousand more times when he spreads you wider and rubs his fingers on your clit from side to side.

He feels the pleasure in sync with you, accepting all of your yes’, twisting his face the moment yours does, quickening the rapidness of his hand once he switches to circles to carry you to your summer-breathed paradise.

And when you come all over his hand, he slips two fingers inside your hole.

He stills the buck of your hips.

You widen your eyes at the new feeling of fullness and, panicking and constricting around him, you look at Jungkook, who merely strengthens his hold around you.

“Trust me,” he says, breathing heavily. He doesn’t move his fingers past his first knuckles; he lets you adjust to the size. Gives you a kiss full of tongue to distract you. “Does it burn?”

You begin to pant against his mouth, the high of your orgasm long gone. You’re uncertain to count it as one when it was so short lived, ruined by the sudden plunge of his digits. But much to your surprise, you don’t detect any burn in your walls that he speaks of, which you realize was his intention.

“No, it just feels a bit uncomfortable.”

He kisses you again. You feel your lips go numb, eyes lidding at the pressure you feel as he sinks his fingers a little bit deeper and begins to move them sluggishly, your slick creating another ring for him around his fingers. You try to meet his thrusts as the visceral sensation of being filled by longer, thicker fingers settles within you and takes roots. You discover that movement is the key to parting the uncomfortable feeling and it steps to the side to let the pleasure walk forward.

Jungkook presses his palm flat against your clit, guides the pleasure to envelop your body when he plunges his fingers deeper, past the second knuckles and fucks you in swift jerks. Your mouth falls open in a silent moan and he fills in the sound, expressing his fiery delight for you at the clench of your walls against him, accommodating for him, for his desire to stretch you out, so when he finally enters you, no pain comes to greet you.

Deeper and harder—yes, that’s what feels good. You roll your body, becoming waves of the sea as wetness and the build up of pleasure—seafoam—is all your senses wrap around.

“Feels good, baby?”

His need to check in with you speeds up the nearing expansion of your orgasm. Pointer and pinky finger digging into the skin of your backside, you watch the in and out motion, the digits coming out wetter and wetter each time.

“Feels so fucking good. I’m gonna come. I’m so close.”

It’s quicker. Way quicker than your first tiny orgasm. He slips in and out of you so smoothly—you’re obsessed with the sight, ravaged by it entirely. You grind your hips and fuck yourself back, picking up the pace but slowing down instantly when you feel yourself at the peak of your climax.

You want to prolong it. You love the feeling too much to end it too soon.

Jungkook stops your movements fully.

“I want to be the one who makes you come,” he murmurs. “I want to be the one who fucks your brain out. I want to feel you squeeze around my fingers. Fuck, I want it so bad.”

His hand drifts to your neck just to hold you there, the other, the busy one, fingers you harder, your fast approaching orgasm blinding your senses. Your drenched cunt squelches around him, the sound so lewd it causes you to seek comfort—your hand flies to his on your throat, fingers wrapping around his wrist, the tip of your pointer reaching the fat bulb of bunny’s head on his ring.

Harder and faster. A scalding fire burns you and you just take it. Loll your head back against his shoulder, giving him the space to grip your jawline. Flames grow closer and closer, leaving a layer of sheen on your body in its wake. You feel the sudden need to pee.

“Oh my god, Gguk—” Your muscles tense. Close, so close. “Gguk, Gguk—”

“What, baby? What’s the matter?” he husks, squeezing your neck once. “You’re gonna come for me? Gonna come on my fingers?”

You nod quickly, too quickly. Flames of the sun, licking you. Flames of the summer heat. Just what you wanted.

Jungkook opens your jaw, swirling his tongue around yours. “Let go. Come for me. You can do it, I got you—I got you. Come for me, baby, please.”

Obeying his desperate order, you do.

A small stream of your pleasure, a faint fountain, trickles out of you and into his hand. He gasps, in unison with your whimpers, and you’re transmitted elsewhere. The wildly colorful, blooming meadow on a hill, overlooking the languorous sea and he’s there. Reaches behind himself. Offers you his hand. The wind ruffles his black hair, sweeps it back and you’re giddy—as giddy as Bam, as giddy as you were in the moment the slid the white bunny ring on your finger—to take the last two of his slender fingers, the pinky and the ring, and sit with him by the edge of the cliff.

“Did so well for me.”

The whisper takes you back and you awake.

You’re different. Incandescent. Of life, of stars and its light, of growing fondness for the man you sit perched on the lap of, whose fingers still remain sheathed inside of you. He changed you. Perpetually, absolutely. He changed you and made you into something new. Something that is softer, more elegant—smaller but assertive. Alluring and kind. Indisputably good.

He fucked everything negative out of you with his fingers. Left the vast canvas of stars inside of you.

You’re no longer a plain spread of cotton, but a living, breathing artwork. His artwork.

Once he fucks you with his cock, you wonder what further internal changes are going to occur within you.

You feel a great deal of gratitude for him—and you want to reciprocate all that he’s done for you. You want to work hard at it. Spoil him. Make him whimper. You believe he deserves it.

“You finger yourself often? How come you took my fingers so well, hm?”

You’re panting, unable to speak. Absorbing the sharpness of the stars, acclimatizing to the change.

“I guess you do, huh?” he deduces. “Good little girl, preparing herself for me.”

For the life of you, you can’t catch your breath.

Jungkook kisses your cheek deeply. Pecks you on the same spot a hundred times, slowly taking out his fingers. Lets you see your slick coating his fingers and, softly, you gasp at the little ripples of wrinkles upon the tips of his fingers, mouth parting.

And then he sinks them into your mouth.

His hardness twitches behind you and you moan, your daintily bittersweet taste making your head spin. And when you look at him, you’re met with the utmost pink-dusted adoration painted on his face. You kiss it, inhaling it, letting it flow into your system so it suffuses your bloodstream, letting him taste you. You may not feel your lips, but the sentient poetry of the stars begins to sing in you. His stars. You feel like a flushed floweret visited by a bee. Spent, but happy.

Happy to be wanted.

Good, because he said you were.

As if internally intertwined with him, you feel the identical heat tinge your cheeks.

He says nothing as he lays you down and spreads your legs back to the way they were. Though when he’s graced with the sight of your bare cunt in all her glory, his face says everything that his mouth isn’t capable of. Hunger and torture—lips agape, corners of the mouth shiny with the rush of drool and Jungkook wipes it away, then lowers his fingers to your clit, to your lips, becoming more acquainted with this intimate part of you that no one had seen before him. He traces your small hole, even going as far as to your other, tinier hole and you yelp, stopping his exploration.

Jungkook merely chuckles, eyes darting to yours. “You’re so pretty.” You grow so hot that you think you must be on fire. “Especially there.”

You mewl, shrinking, hands looking for anything to hold and finding his bunny plushie. You take her into your arms, inhaling a scent that could never be hers. You recognize immediately whose it is.

Musk, vanilla, wood.

The thought of Jungkook cradling her while he sleeps moves you and you pout.

“How we feeling?” he asks, still caressing your fleshy cunt, dripping with dew.

Overjoyed. Overstimulated.

Heavenly.

“Good.”

A foxy smile. “How many orgasms was that, hm?”

You don’t know where your shyness comes from and why it chokes all of the words you want to say. You bury your face in bunny for a moment, taking a breath to fight against it, so you can please him because that’s all you yearn to do.

You open your mouth, but no words come out.

Jungkook stifles a laugh and it makes you feel terrible. And it’s worse when he leans over to kiss you, turns his head at the last moment and faces bunny.

“Bunny, how many times did she come?” he asks her, offering her his ear to hear her answer. Looks at you. Widens his eyes. Gasps. “Two,” he mouths. Listens some more. Nods. “I know she thought she wouldn’t come at all. Crazy, right?” Then he lets out an endearing sound. “She said she’d believed you could do it the moment you said it. She’s so happy for you. How cute,” he coos.

You giggle, the bridge in your throat loosening, light flooding you, over and over, until you think you can’t take any more of it. You feel so full, so happy and the sensation threatens to pour out of your tear ducts.

It heals something within you—that he treats you like this at your most vulnerable state. Your inner child flares, the stars the strength that fixes her stoop, helping her arise, stand straight, stand powerfully.

He smiles down fondly at you. “So what number are we at?”

You hide your face behind your hands. “Two.”

“What did you say? I didn’t catch that.”

You drop your hands and with as much energy as you can muster, you repeat the number.

He purrs, caressing your cheek. “Good girl.” As a reward, as if the praise wasn’t enough, he kisses you deeply. “Will you let me taste you?”

You swallow his desire, but speak up your own, “I want to taste you first, please.”

Jungkook hums, curses under his breath. He straightens and kneels before your form, fingers pinching the back of his T-shirt and pulling it over his body. You catch the sight of his broad shoulders, of each dip and muscle, and your irises grown in width. Him ridding himself of his clothes dishevels his hair and as he untangles his arms from the material, he smiles down at you, noticing your stare.

He caresses the back of your thigh before his hand flies to his hard length. He palms himself once, then continues to undress—tugs his sweatpants down to his knees, though he doesn’t bother himself to fully take them off. The shape of him is more prominent through the fabric of his white Calvins, the bulge of his mushroom wet and pellucid, and you sit up, hand itching to touch him, to join his in making him feel good, but he cups your chin—forcing you to look up at him.

He swipes his thumb over your lips. “You want it?”

You nod. “So bad.”

Jungkook curses again, the sound low and rough.

“Touch it,” he orders and both of your hands listen, wrapping around his girth, squeezing beneath the head of his cock. The thickness of him makes you see the light of the stars that you sense fluttering feverishly inside of you. Your mind is too empty, too washed out by your orgasm, by the change that you don’t even think about how you’re going to take him. Jungkook hisses, tilting his head back before he looks down at you intently. “You did this before?”

You’ve never seen one in real life before, let alone touched one.

“I’ve never let anyone get this close.”

Jungkook strokes your pigtails. “How come you know what to do then?”

Instinct or memory from porn you watched—you don’t know, it all blends together within the fuzziness of your mind. And you tell him.

“I watch a lot of porn.”

Jungkook smiles coyly and it strikes you. You’ve never seen him smile this way before or, even, feel this way before. All you know from him is dominance, dominance and dominance.

You release him from the confines of his boxers and repress your gasp. His ever glistening tip reaches just below his navel and the thickness of his girth obscures most of his pubic hair. Along with the sound of your surprise, you also have a hard time swallowing the saliva collecting in your mouth.

“I want you so bad,” you whisper, needy eyes looking up at him. Shy, too shy to let your gaze linger at the most intimate part of him.

He sucks in a breath at your words, hissing. And you need him inside of you all over again.

Fuck fuzzines in your mind. You’re fuzzy all over. Wrecked with nerves, suddenly. Your hands tremble, hovering in front of his manhood. Jungkook covers them with his, soothing you, and guides you to his shaft. Wraps your fingers around him. Doesn’t let go.

The feel of him under his supervision is slow. He allows you to take in every ridge of him, every vein—the softness of his skin, the warmth and the weight. Round after round, up and down, until you get familiarized with him. A trickle of his male essence drips down the side of him and your tongue instinctively darts out. Like your hands, Jungkook’s breath shakes and he anticipates your next move, despite the fact he’s in charge.

He’s been patient all this time, giving you the time you needed. But that hardly applies when you have him in your hands, when you own his neediness. His whimpers while he waits coax your slick out of you, soaking the bedding beneath you and you can’t take it anymore.

Neither, evidently, can he.

“Baby, please,” Jungkook croaks out. Tortured, so terribly tortured. Grip tight and clammy around your hands.

So vulnerable.

You ache.

You lick up a stripe of his essence on the side of his cock and Jungkook shudders. Shifting onto your knees, you show him the milkie on the tip of your tongue and Jungkook pulls your hair, tilting your head back. Kisses you nastily, licking into your mouth. Moans, lowly. Then, he holds his girth at the base and pushes your head.

When you take him, a mewl ripples around the thickness of him. His eyes roll back and his grasp of your hair tightens, burning your scalp, adding to the fire. He lets you feel it out; lets you figure out what to do, testing your knowledge from the porn you’ve watched. And the tensing of his stomach divulges his strained effort not to fuck your mouth.

You go slow about it. Swirling your tongue around that rosy head of his, along that delicious ridge, licking a flat stripe across that line of his slit. Getting to know him in all those intimate places, relying on your senses—on them to tell you what he likes. Your hand begins to move on its own, gliding back and forth in tandem with your tongue stimulating his sensitivity. You try not to think about how you can barely fit him in your mouth, because if you do—you’ll ruin his bedsheets.

But then Jungkook hums in approval, sending a gush of wetness out of you and you whimper—you whimper at the worsening ache you feel, at the helplessness that pools in your system by being just so filthily wet and horny.

He moves your hand faster. Breath jagged, bedroom eyes zeroing down on you. And then—

Jungkook moans your name. Over and over, clenching and unclenching his hand on the back of your head.

“Don’t have to teach you shit,” he spits. “You just watch porn all day, don’t you? Naughty girl.”

Losing control for a split second, he rams his cock into your throat—and you don’t panic, you don’t yelp. Instead, you groan.

He pulls you away from him with a sharp tug. Kisses you harshly. Shoves you down into the pillows with one push on your sternum.

Bending you in half, he drinks your cunt. Lips immediately suck on your needy bundle of nerves and it’s so fast you don’t even know which part of you he’s focusing on because he’s everywhere. Clit, hole, clit, hole—sucking, licking. Alternating, alternating so swiftly and deliciously that you completely lose your mind.

And then he lifts your hips and holds them in the air, wanting you to see what he’s doing to you. Like you, he darts out his tongue and teases you, hovering the muscle above your clit. Shiny, nimble, capable of doing unspeakable things to you. He watches as your pussy drools for him and he chuckles darkly. Tongue lowering to collect it, but unlike you he never does it. He lets the dew trickle down your skin.

“Cute little pussy. So wet. Wetter than when I fucked it. You liked playing with me on your knees, didn’t you?”

With your fucked out brain, you don’t think it’s taunting what he’s doing. You deem it’s just him reveling in what he’s able to do to your body—in the fact that he owns it, that he teaches it new things. The glint in his dusky, lustful eyes proves it.

Jungkook drags a long stripe on your clit, making your eyes flutter closed and your teeth to sink into your bottom lip to cage in your moans.

“Talk to me.”

You can’t. You don’t know how to talk.

He stares you down.

No answer from you. Just hard pants. Pussy drooling.

“I won’t play with you, then.”

Panic. “No.”

He cocks a brow at you. “No?”

Silence.

He begins to lower you down but you grip his forearm.

“Jungkook.”

Bent over above you, head low, he merely flicks his eyes to yours. Duskiness, such blackening duskiness in those orbs.

“Beg.”

All your muscles tense. Wetness gushes out of you.

Lucky for you, that word he wants is the one you haven’t forgotten.

“Please.”

“Please what?”

You groan in frustration.

“Be nice or—”

“Please, lick me.”

That dark chuckle. You feel yourself becoming obsessed with it.

“Where?”

A challenge. Your throat dries up.

“There.”

He shakes his head disapprovingly, making a sound that expresses just how much he didn’t like that.

“Try again. Last chance, little girl.”

The loving smile on his face says everything about how that threat is feigned. You hear it tell you—you have as many chances as you need. He’s merely encouraging you to step out of your comfort zone.

And something about that mellow, hidden kindness gently ushers you to do just that.

“Lick my clit, please.”

A hum. A long stripe on that sensitive, thumping spot. A roll of his tongue forward and backward.

“Like this?”

You choke out a moan.

“Yes, please.”

“Or—” He blows on you, causing you to tremble. “Like this?”

He shakes his head against you briskly, not yet at a full tilt. Just like his, your body shudders in his hands and he tightens his grip on your supple hips. You can’t take it, the pleasure is overwhelming and—

“Look at me,” he orders and you open your eyes, immediately. “Like this?”

Jungkook adds more pressure and rapidness to the movement, leaving you glazed sweetly in the sheen of his saliva. He moves your hips up and down on the firmness of his tongue and you scream, taking a strong hold of his hair.

“Oh my god, yes, fuck, Daddy—”

Shocked, Jungkook groans against your pussy, slowing down to ingest what your mouth has just uttered. It’s more than natural to call him by a title like this, instinctual, innate. It fits him so well and it drenches your pussy, your slick amalgamating with his liquid love. You’re certain he feels the rush.

Your Daddy.

You roll your hips against his tongue. Dark and more dark, those eyes of his. Bottomless pit.

“Fuck yes, call me Daddy again.”

The whimpers you let out are pathetic and Jungkook shudders at them, groaning. You whine the title over and over again, a verdant, dreamlike litany of your feminine sexuality pampered, cared for, supervised. Jungkook accepts the gravity of it all, each declaration propelling him to suck your clit harder, bruises forming on your hips from his deathly grip, black eyes never leaving yours, hypnotizing you.

And when you come like this, it’s unification what happens.

You’re bound to him and he’s bound to you.

Daddy and little girl.

Throughout your sexual experience today, you had a hard time accepting things but this—this is something that slept inside of you all your life and just now has been awoken to a flickering canvas of bright stars. You feel it blink, adjust to the piercing light, before it smiles dolefully—happy to be conscious, happy to be caressed.

Jungkook kisses you and takes his time. The taste of your femininity, the fresh coldness of your change, the strong wine of his desire. You’re drunk. You’re slurring your mewls.

And one thing about unification, it’s a mirror.

You swallow down the same mewls, uttered by his throat.

“Daddy’s gonna give it to you,” he whispers, adjusting between your legs. “Will be gentle. You’re safe with me.”

He rakes the tip of his length along the entirety of your little sea-kissed seashell.

“You want it? You want Daddy’s cock inside of you?”

Jungkook looks into your eyes deeply as he asks you that question, the tip ready at your significantly smaller hole. He peppers kisses along your jawline and chin.

“I’m scared it’ll hurt,” you murmur, brows furrowed.

He kisses your cheek, the corner of your mouth.

“We’ll chase the pain away,” he promises.

Your frown deepens.

“But what if it doesn’t fit?”

You expect him to chuckle, but he does no such thing. He absorbs your worry by kissing you tenderly. Then he glances at your body. Remembers he never took off your bra and fixes his mistake.

“You may be small, but you were made to take me,” he says and your heart skips a beat; you wonder if he understands the gravity of his words as they take roots within you, rising to bloom into splendid flowers. “Besides, my dick is tiny. You won’t even feel it.”

It is so far from the truth that you burst into giggles. He laughs along with you—a mirror reflected.

Stars and flowers. Sea and freshness. You were made to take him. You trust him.

He kisses your breasts, licking over your nipple—but briefly. Holding his shaft, he asks if you’re ready. You nod, your fingers desperately searching for his and Jungkook notices. Sinking slowly inside of you, he grabs his bunny plushie and tucks her into the crook of your elbow.

There’s a pinch of pain, blended with the feeling of discomfort as your walls stretch around his head.

Seeing it painted on your face, Jungkook draws close, enveloping you and bunny in his heat. Pushes a little more in. You wail softly, the pain intensifying. Fear intermingles with your features and Jungkook—the worry in his countenance makes you almost weep.

“Hold onto me,” he says, brows scrunched, so—so serious. “Relax, baby. I got you.”

You hook your arms around his neck, bunny sandwiched between your chest and his. Jungkook saves this time to let you adjust around him.

“I know it hurts,” he whispers onto your mouth, index finger, the ringed one, stretching to graze your cheek. “Just relax your muscles for me. It’ll feel good soon.”

You nod, trusting him.

He pecks you. Smiles.

“How many orgasms are we at?”

You roll your eyes, your own smile threatening your lips. “Three.”

Jungkook hums. Pecks you again. You feel your walls loosening, little by little.

A smug smirk. “You didn’t expect that, did you?”

“You obliterated my expectations.”

“Just wait until I fuck you properly.”

You blush, eyes twinkling.

“Pretty girl.” He kisses you and you feel your attachment forming again, though this time—newly. As light, as free as an entanglement of seaweed upon seashore, you and him. Connected. Bound. No fear, not even a hint of it. “I heard you watch porn.”

Your flush deepens. Jungkook sinks a little deeper. A faint pain—nothing bad.

“Who told you?” You laugh, the sound ridding you of your shyness.

But Jungkook grows solemn.

“Tell me what kind you watch,” he whispers, angling his head to give you a tiny kiss.

Your cheeks hurt from the smiling, from the onrush of emotions within you, sloshing to and fro. You feel hot all over.

“The one where all the focus is on the girl,” you whisper back. “The guy uses all kinds of toys on her and she just takes it. Comes so many times and there’s a countdown for it.”

Humming, he begins to nibble on the skin beneath your jaw, making your breath shallow. He pushes in another inch—and the pain is worse. You tighten your grip around him.

“And how many times do you come when you watch it?” Deep, deep is his voice, the calmness to your nerves due to the pricking you feel.

“I don’t stop coming.”

Jungkook swears under his breath and clenches his digits into a fist beside your head.

“And you finger yourself?”

You nod, confidently. Another inch. He smiles at your confirmation of his deduction.

“How many fingers?”

You scoff. “Just one.”

“Well done,” he praises, kissing you once, keeping his mouth on you even as he asks, “ready?”

You nod, again, even though there’s fright to your eyes. He sees it and he brushes his eyelashes against your eyelids while he kisses you, taking it all away. And he doesn’t stop, even as he pulls out and thrusts back into your heat. Gently, so awfully gently.

He didn’t break his promise.

Jungkook rocks his hips in slow, sensual, prolonged staccatos, moaning into your parted mouth. You’re so focused on him—on the bulging of his muscles on the either side of your head, the broadness of his shoulders, the slick sweat dripping down his neck, right from the top of his tattoo; on the sheerness of his pleasure as he moves in and out, carefully so as to not frighten you, that the pain quickly subsides.

And there you feel it.

The sensation unlike any other.

He rams into you, seeing the wrinkle between your brows smoothing, the lust clouding your eyes as the delight spreads all over your body, bringing along little dots of goosebumps. The night sea, windless, still hot from the afternoon’s goodbye kiss. You feel it—and you feel it deeply, sinking inside of you with every inch of his manhood. So much that you meet his thrusts.

“That’s it, baby. Fuck yes,” Jungkook murmurs, enraging the waves within. “Feels good, doesn’t it? Being fucked?”

Stars and its light. He picks up the pace, hooking your leg over his shoulder, entering you deeper and deeper, giving you more than half. The thrill of feeling so full—you curse, you moan, you can’t hold it in, even if you tried. And Jungkook coos at your conveyance of the pleasure he’s giving you, never lifting his eyes off of yours, off of your features, your emotions. Surveying you, controlling you, making sure you’re okay—more than okay.

You sense the pressure coil deep within your core, the sense of your climax approaching and you’re astonished at how quick it is. You halt your own movements, needing—wanting him to be the one to get you there, the one who owns your orgasms.

“Gguk, Gguk, fuck—”

“I know,” he breathes. “I’m gonna make you come all over my cock.”

He fucks you harder, making you cry out. Deep, deep staccatos, so different from the slow, languid ones. You can’t catch your breath, the sea within you sloshes violently and then—

Softly, you sprinkle him with your fountain of pleasure. Not enough to drive him out, but sweetly enough to force him to groan against you and pound you harder into the mattress. Continuing as if you hadn’t come.

You don’t have the time or the space to think about what just happened—he fucks each and every thought of you.

“My little squirter,” Jungkook mutters, kissing you. “One more, baby. One more for me and I’ll paint you with my cummie. Hm, you want that?” You’re gone, flung out of this world into a tranquil island. The palm trees, the sea and his cock. Your emotions are numb, body limp. All you feel is his cock, ramming and ramming into you. “Or you wanna swallow it for me like a good girl?”

“Swallow, please,” you croak out and Jungkook makes a sound of approval. Rewards you by giving you the full thing, filling you balls-deep.

“You feel me?” He kisses you, tugging your bottom lip with his teeth.

Glorious, glorious delight. You can’t breathe. Too much.

“I feel you—” You lift your head to look down where you’re connected. “I—I feel you in my stomach.”

Sitting back, he lifts your hips and palms the bulge just a little bit above your mound. Feels it move under him once he resumes fucking you. He replaces his hand with yours, keeping you distracted as he undoes the ribbon in your hair and ties your wrists with it. Right there above the bulge, where he fucks you. Then he latches onto your hips and jackhammers his cock into you, watching as your tits along with bunny bounce with each slam.

“You look so pretty like this, tied up for me, taking all that I’m giving you,” he says, thumbing your clit, making you cry out. “Such a good fucking girl for me. I’m bringing you up so well.”

“Daddy,” you call out and Jungkook nods.

“Yes, that’s right. Daddy is fucking you so good.”

White flashes. Seafoam. The pressure in your tummy deepening and deepening. The roar of the night sea and your body following—you come all over him, painting him iridescent with your dewiness. His joggers, dragged halfway down his thighs, his boxers are all ruined—pelvis, thighs and cock glistening. It’s such a beautiful image to you that it suffuses you with energy and you begin to speak.

“Please, come for me.”

Surprised, Jungkook chuckles. “Don’t you have orgasms to count down?”

The ever persistent need for control. You kiss him, slip your tongue into his mouth to shut him up and you struggle against your ribbon, for the feeling of kissing him without your hands makes you feel iffy.

“Five. I came five times for you just like you wanted,” you whisper. “You fucked me so good. I’ll never forget it.”

And it’s the truth.

Jungkook pecks you once deeply, humming into the kiss. He pulls out of you and whilst he strokes his cock, his fingers tug down the ribbon around your wrists. You take your place on your knees, gazing with awe and hunger at his shiny length. And as if he needed it, he plunges his fingers into your mouth for more lubrication. Then, grabbing your jawline gently, he pulls you in towards his cock, letting your lips play with his tip the way you like it as he jerks himself off. You flick your tongue under the ridge of his head and his length twitches, stunning you. You do it again, more rapidly, and you don’t stop until Jungkook begins to tremble. Pulling him inside your mouth, then out, flicking faster and faster. Repeat.

Jungkook grunts.

“Yes, like that, princess. Fuck, I’m gonna come for you.”

He announces it, but it still comes as a surprise when the first rope of hot cum spills onto your flushed cheek. You suck him harder for a moment before you stick out your tongue, eyes flick up, as he empties his balls for you, his hand never ceasing the swift tug on his length.

And he just keeps coming. Rope after rope. Liquid star after star.

And you swallow it all.

Spent, sweaty and breathless, he helps you swallow it. Dragging his fingers to the places your tongue can’t reach, he feeds you his cum and you suck on his digits. Your heart thuds in your ribcage, especially when he begins to play with your tongue, smiling down at you in that dopey way.

He pats you on the cheek once you show him you’ve swallowed it all.

“Good girl. Good little princess.”

That you are. A changed person for all eternity.

“Is your tummy full?”

You nod, beaming vehemently up at him, the aftertaste of the bitterness of his liquid stars still wafting through your senses.

The three forbidden words rise in your tongue, even though you don’t believe them—you think it’s just the opulence of new emotions and experience that forces those words on your tongue. But they remain adamant when he bathes you clean, when he brushes your hair and gives you his clothes to wear to bed. They provoke you right there on the tip of your tongue when he gives you his zipper hoodie to wear on his balcony once you tell him you need a smoke and he joins you, giving you his pack of cigarettes.

And they come off the edge, in a different form, when you tell him of how he changed you while you hold his hand and he caresses your damp strands with a cigarette propped between his index and middle fingers, kissing your cheek. The smoke fixes a makeshift halo around both of your heads. One body, one halo. Bound.

“You’re such a lovable person, Gguk.”

What you don’t know is that those mere words changed the entire trajectory of his life. Yours, too.

BACK to masterlist / read part one, read part two, part three

#jungkook x oc #jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #jungkook smut #bts smut #bts imagine #jungkook imagine #jeon jungkook #bts scenarios #jungkook scenarios #jungkook fluff #btscreatorscorner #kpop smut #jungkook one shot

3K notes · View notes

evermorecountsastherapy · 2 months

Text

★ of literature and lingering contingence ★

pairing: Gale Dekarios (BG3) x fem!reader (unnamed, no use of y/n, second person)

tags/warnings: fluff, teasing, literary references, established relationship, post-canon, shameless smut (soooo much of it), soft dom gale, porn with plot, praise kink, multiple orgasms, orgasm denial, oral sex, rough sex, love confessions, a lot of sappy stuff toward the end, explicit sexual content: MDNI please

word count: 12,400

a/n: recently was gripped by the most powerful wave of Gale brain rot that I have ever experienced and this absolute monstrosity emerged as a result. initially vaguely inspired by this fanart that has rerouted and taken over every single one of my functioning braincells (I don't know the artist, pls pls let me me know if you do! I owe them a life debt for creating that piece!) this was also inspired by the literary masterpiece Jane Eyre by Charlotte Brontë (let's just pretend it exists in 1492 DR, alright?) if requested, I will consider writing a second part to this story, seeing as I really enjoyed writing this. as a fair warning, this is about 85% filth and 15% sappy lovesick stuff so enter at your own risk!

★ AO3 link ★

✦ playlist link ✦

Enjoy!

image taken from Pinterest

Out of all the days in the week, Sundays had to be your favourite.

It was the one day where you never had any obligations or responsibilities to worry about, and you often found yourself with nothing to do but relax.

It wasn't, however, this lack of routine that you loved so much but rather the fact that Gale's schedule followed a very similar pattern as yours, leaving nothing for both of you to do but spend the entire day in each other's company. After the perilous, action-packed journey you'd both come back from a mere few months ago, you were both more than happy to catch up on quality down time together.

And this Sunday had turned out to be no different. You'd been tucked away together in his tower all day, watching as the bright sun rose early that morning through the crack in the balcony's drapes, your bodies tangled both together and in the soft sheets. Later on that afternoon, you'd watched it set again from where you were nestled together on his worn antique couch, his head using your lower stomach as a pillow and his body encased between your legs beneath the blanket he had thrown over the both of you, a worn copy of Jane Eyre open in his hands.

A few weeks prior, the two of you had been discussing your favourite books over dinner (as was a popular topic of discussion wherever you and him were involved) and at one point, you'd casually quoted that very same literary work. This earned you a puzzled look from Gale, his brow quirking in a way you realized he genuinely didn't catch your reference. You were equally surprised by this revelation; until then, you had yet to mention a book that Gale hadn't already read and meticulously analyzed.

This was a definitely a first.

The thought made you somewhat giddy, already planning to be up at the crack of dawn the next morning to grab your equally well-loved and annotated copy from your place on the other side of Waterdeep. You were in the process of selling your old apartment, seeing as you had moved in with Gale after the War and spent the majority of your time outside of work with him at his tower. It would be a good opportunity to bring a few more of your things over to his place, as you had been doing over these last few months.

So that was exactly what you did. Every night from then on, after Gale had finished grading papers for the students he taught at Blackstaff and you'd cleaned yourself up after a long day at the House of Healing, the two of you would curl up on the living room couch next to the blazing mantle and read the story of Jane Eyre together. The idea that his initial reading should be a group activity and that he would be the narrator of the story was entirely his idea, and one that you'd found hard to refuse. You did love the sound of his voice, so listening to it perpetually for hours was only an added bonus.

This was precisely where you found yourself now, once again curled up on his couch watching as dusk fell and lingered on the corners of the room, the addition of flickering candlelight creating the coziest atmosphere in the little space. Head nestled in the space between your lower abdomen and pubic bone, your lover's voice read the words off the pages in front of him with a hushed enthusiasm that made you think he would be wonderful as a children's storyteller. You would have to mention that to him later.

"...still he looked preciously grim, cushioning his massive head against the swelling back of his chair, and receiving the light of the fire on his granite-hewn features, and in his great, dark eyes; for he had great, dark eyes, and very fine eyes, too—not without a certain change in their depths sometimes, which, if it was not softness, reminded you, at least, of that feeling. He had been looking two minutes at the fire, and I had been looking the same length of time at him, when, turning suddenly, he caught my gaze fastened on his physiognomy." Gale read aloud, his voice hypnotically rhythmic.

Each word he spoke reverberated on to your stomach, sending gentle, electrical pulses all throughout your body. The feeling was enough to warm you a little more with each passing minute, a familiar yet patient desire beginning to grow inside of you. Your fingers began to lightly play with his loose locks in an attempt to distract you from your growing arousal, his hair so gently manipulated you doubted he could even feel your ministrations.

"'You examine me, Miss Eyre,' said he: 'do you think me handsome?'"

You smiled as you immediately recognized this as one of your favourite parts in the book, your hands idly starting to braid a small section of his hair to mask your excitement. By the way the pitch of his voice had changed ever so slightly, you were inclined to think Gale was genuinely interested in where the dialogue in the story might go from here.

"I should, if I had deliberated, have replied to this question by something conventionally vague and polite; but the answer somehow slipped from my tongue before I was aware—'No, sir.'"

Gale let out a hearty chuckle as he read the last dialogue tag, resting the book face down for a moment on his lap to peer up at you.

"This girl reminds me of someone I know, actually," he said with a grin.

This earned him a quiet laugh back, only briefly pausing your braiding to look at his smiling face. "Oh yeah? And who might that be?" You asked playfully, your minding immediately thinking of your mutual friend, Shadowheart.

"You, my love," he answered, his grin now taking on a more mischievous air to it that rendered your lungs temporarily useless as your heart skipped a beat, the feeling leaving you a little light-headed. With how much his smile grew after your reaction, you were sure he had a fairly good idea of how he was affecting you.

"Keep going!" You laughed before the blush in your cheeks could grow anymore, setting him back on track with a light tap of your free hand against his stubbled cheek. Looking pleased with himself, he picked the book back up and continued reading.

"'Ah! By my word! there is something singular about you,' said he: 'you have the air of a little nonnette; quaint, quiet, grave, and simple, as you sit with your hands before you, and your eyes generally bent on the carpet (except, by-the-bye, when they are directed piercingly to my face; as just now, for instance); and when one asks you a question, or makes a remark to which you are obliged to reply, you rap out a round rejoinder, which, if not blunt, is at least brusque. What do you mean by it?'" He finished reading the last line with a sigh, lowering the book slightly to look up at you once again.

"I'd say he's definitely into her, wouldn't you agree?" He conjectured aloud.

You smiled, happy to see his engagement in the story you loved so dearly. "Uh-huh," you agreed, focusing your concentration on finishing the little braid in his hair.

"What is it that you're so busy with up there, hm?" He asked, reaching his hand up to touch the braid you'd just completed. A smile spread back across his lips as he realized what you'd done with his hair. "Oh, that feels like it looks lovely. Thank you, dear."

He reached over to set the book onto the coffee table, pushing the empty mugs the two of you had been sipping warm tea from earlier aside to make room for it. With a small, barely audible sigh, he sat up between your legs and twisted his torso to face you, his hand resting just beside your outer thigh to support his body weight.

"I might make this to be part of the signature look. What do you think? I'll admit I feel considerably more handsome with it." He said, caressing the braid with one hand, his big eyes boring into yours with a lingering glint of mischief. "Do you think me handsome, young lady?"

Every functioning braincell in your body screamed "yes!" at the question he posed to you, especially seeing as you had let him know how attractive you found him on more than one occasion that week alone. If he hadn't quoted Mr. Rochester so eloquently, you might have been inclined to answer in this same way. Something mischievous, however, bubbled up inside you when he said it, your curiosity wanting to see what might become of teasing him ever so slightly.

"No, sir," you answered, a slight quirk in your lips.

His eyes seemed to grow darker almost instantly, a smirk forming as a product of your quip. For what it was worth, you assumed the borrowed line would earn you little more than a hearty laugh and an incentive for him to continue reading. Your emphasis on the title (one you had never taken to calling him before) looked to have stirred something more than innocent amusement inside of him and you briefly wondered if calling him that was the best decision on your part.

You did need your legs to work come tomorrow, after all.

The thought sent a shiver down your spine, your mind giving you flashbacks of that time on the road with the party when you'd decided to tease him a little too thoroughly. The result? Yours and Gale's night of passion had become so intense that you had no choice but to stay back at camp the next day, every muscle in your body sore and aching. Gale had stayed back with you, ever the gentleman, doting on you and almost ridiculously apologetic for the adventure you'd be missing out on that day because of him. As sorry as he was, however, it didn't stop him from fucking you senseless against a tree in the forest a short distance from the camp when you'd begged him. Against your better judgement, you'd teased him like that on more than one occasion since you'd been back from your travels together and each end result turned out to be better (or worse) than the last, if that was even possible.

Without breaking eye contact, he slowly moved closer toward you, walking his hands forward along the cushion underneath of you, the insides of his wrists just barely brushing the sides of your torso. Your breath caught in your chest as he hovered over you, dark eyes staring back into yours like a starved predator that had just found its next meal.

"No?" He breathed, his face mere inches away from yours. Candlelight flickered off his sharp features, the sight momentarily mesmerizing you and causing you to shift your gaze away from his intense eyes and onto his rosy lips, delicate and soft looking compared to his somewhat rugged features. He noticed this shift in your attention almost immediately, bringing his index finger up under your chin to gently guide your gaze back toward him.

"Say it again." He commanded, voice stern.

A familiar dizzying feeling that originated in your stomach came over as you processed his words. It left you a little breathless once again, your senses now properly heady with growing desire.

"No, I don't think you handsome." You near-whispered back to him, his lips so close to yours now that they were almost touching, causing your eyelids to droop slightly with desire. "Sir."

His head dropped painstakingly closer at your confession, the space between your mouths so miniscule it would've only taken you to flinch to touch your lips to his. His warm breath mixed with yours and you wanted nothing more in that moment than to wrap your arms around his neck and properly smother him. But at the same time, you also wanted to know what game he was playing at, genuinely curious to see where this might lead. You were the one who had started it, after all.

Slowly, he lowered his lips to yours, only giving you the faintest whisper of a kiss before you felt a smile grow on his lips and he whispered against your mouth, "And I think you're a liar."

The words reacted with your body in a way that threatened to prove him right, that warm feeling pooling in your lower abdomen turning a temperature not far off from molten lava. Gale must have easily picked up on this from the way he let out a breathy little laugh into the corner of your mouth, his neatly stubbled chin brushing against yours slightly.

"And you know how I feel about liars, don't you, love?" He teased in that voice usually saved for his classroom at Blackstaff, his mouth moving to place delicate kisses along your cheek and slowly working his way down, his head burrowing itself in the crook of your neck. Your hands finally betrayed you, your arms snaking their way around the sides of his head, your fingers threading themselves through his soft hair in an attempt to keep him in that position.

His affections moved lower down your neck and into the space just below your clavicle, his one hand moving to fiddle with the little buttons that held closed one of the old button up shirts of his you'd thrown on earlier that morning. It was your usual Sunday attire, the length of it long enough to rest just above your knees, the need to wear pants with it futile when it would just be the two of you for the day. That and you knew how crazy it drove him to see you in nothing but one of his shirts and a thin pair of underwear.

Freeing the first button, he brough his mouth back down to your skin as he worked on the next ones. "Not only do they need to be punished for their miscreant behaviors, but that behavior also needs to be rectified if there is any hope of them recovering from their impropriety." He said somewhat breathlessly against your chest, the sound vibrating throughout your entire body.

No sooner did the final button on your shirt give way was the thin material being yanked open by eager hands, the slight chill that lingered in the tower causing your bare nipples to perk. Gale pulled away slightly to rake his eyes over your partially exposed body, his gaze like a comforting caress you'd come to know so well and long for so often.

He whispered something under his breath that sounded much like 'Gods...' before shifting back down to press his warm mouth to the space between your breasts. The feeling was like no other. It was magical; he was magical, with or without the power of the Weave.

His soft lips drifted over your breast to land on your nipple, kissing it softly while looking up to meet your eyes, asking for permission. You sucked in a short breath and managed to nod ever so slightly, too focused on what he was doing to be able to think clearly. Slowly, his wet tongue met with your sensitive nipple, the sensation of that mixed with the suction his mouth had created driving you wild. Against your own volition, your back arched upward into him as if you were nothing more than a marionette whose strings were tied to his practiced fingertips, every movement your body made just an extension of his careful manipulation of your desire. You didn't particularly mind; Gale was one of the only guys you'd ever met who had taken so much time to learn in great detail the ways in which to make you feel good. It was something you never thought you'd come to have in life, though now that you had it, you knew you would never be able to settle for anything less.

A pathetic-sounding whimper escaped past your lips as his tongue swirled around your nipple for a final time before alternating to your other breast. You could feel how his breathing had increased since he had started his form of worship on your body, his exhales fanning out in little pants of warm air over your breast. It was almost too much to bear.

Before you could open your mouth to demand he just take you already, his mouth detached itself from your breast to trail intermittent kisses down your stomach, his eyes never leaving yours. You felt your heart skip a beat as he passed over your navel, his fingers coming to rest at the waistband of your underwear.

"Shall we continue?" He asked with his chin hovering just above your pubic bone, a certain hunger palpable in his aura. "Or will I need to find other ways to change my pretty little liar's mind?"

You managed a desperate nod and when he didn't make any move to continue, a strangled, "Yes, please."

Your words seemed to appease him and with a swift motion, your underwear was down your legs and being slipped off your ankles, falling to the floor along with the blanket the two of you had been covered up with earlier. He snaked his arms under your knees, pushing them up gently and guiding your feet over his shoulders so that you were fully exposed to him. You felt your heart rate spike a little when his hands came to rub along your outer thighs and hips reverently, placing little kisses along your inner thighs and inching closer and closer to the apex of them.

A breathless gasp escaped you as you watched him place a firm kiss to the center of your clit, the sudden sensation making you squirm in his grasp. A quick, victorious smile spread across his lips at your reaction and you had the sudden premonition that you were really about to be in for it.

Opening his mouth slightly, he placed that 'practiced' tongue of his flat against that little bundle of nerves before curling it wickedly to swirl the bud around in a way that made your head spin. The sensation itself was almost too much to bear, though in the same breath, you prayed to any god you could think of just to beg that he would never stop.

As if he could read your mind, his mouth moved further down your slit to lap at the pooling wetness that gathered farther down. A low moan escaped your chest at the sight and you felt him smile again in response, his eyelids fluttering slightly to look at you through thick lashes.

"How's the view, my dear?" He asked teasingly, pulling away from your heat slightly to give you a good look at the thick layer of your juices that glistened on and around his lips, showcasing the sinful mess like some kind of artwork. "Changed your mind yet?"

You contemplated this for a second while frantically trying to catch your breath, the way he was looking at you from between your dampened thighs making this a near impossible task itself. As much as you wanted to admit how you loved the way he looked from your current perspective, you loved toying with his ego just as much. It was simply too much fun, not to mention exceptionally rewarding (sexually and otherwise) for you more often than not.

"I- I'd like to see the full extent of your talents before... coming to a decision." Throwing what you hoped was a seductive smile his way, you added, "If you'd be willing to indulge me, that is."

This earned you one of his heart-stopping smirks, that sparkle in his eyes a telltale sign of both his amusement and arousal. "Oh, finally found your words, have you? If you insist, my little minx." He retorted, voice suddenly dropping down to that husky octave he knew drove you wild. "I'd be my pleasure."

Yep, you definitely were not going to be walk out of this one on functional legs. That much you were now certain about.

His eyes still locked with yours, he sank his face down between your legs once again, his tongue moving to press against your entrance this time while his nose nestled itself against your clit. The feeling set off an intense fluttering sensation in your stomach and you had to fight the sudden urge to buck against him.

Without warning, his hands curled themselves around the back of your thighs and gripped your hips firmly, pulling you up to meet his face at an even more flush angle. With the better access granted to him from your new position, he started lapping away at your pussy with such fervor you couldn't help the desperate whimpers you tried to supress from escaping the back of your throat. He continued to work his tongue up and down your delicate folds, occasionally breaking rhythm to push his tongue into your tight pussy teasingly.

The way he was working your sex felt nothing short of heavenly, a juxtaposition to the absolutely sinful noises coming from both his mouth and intense suckling. His eyes closed at some point in the process, his brow furrowed in deep concentration and - from what you could see in the dim candlelight - a light blush beginning to creep into his cheeks, staining them an adorably rosy pink. The sight itself was nearly enough to send you over the edge. He truly was beautiful.

Your pleasure took on new heights when his thumb crept along your hip to land on your clit, circling it with just enough pressure to make you squirm uncontrollably. Your hand moved instinctively to clutch the top of his head, your fingers finding purchase in his smooth tresses in yet another desperate attempt to keep him right where he was. The added stimulation was almost too much, and you felt that familiar string of desire grow taught behind your navel with every swipe of his tongue. Gale, sensing the fast-approaching crest of your orgasm, took this as motivation to increase the intensity of his ministrations, his tongue lapping at your wet cunt like a man starved. Your chest heaved to a point you were certain you couldn't take anymore, a few sections of your loose hair sticking to and curling around your neck a little more each time you tossed your head from side to side on the plush pillow your neck rested on. The change in pace caused the cross between a whimper and a moan to escape from the back of your throat and your grip on his hair grew impossibly tighter.

"Mmm... that's it, darling. Let me hear that pretty voice of yours. You're doing so good for me, so good..." he breathed against your pussy, his warm breath on your sensitive parts only adding to the sweet torture. His eyes flitted open, locking directly onto yours while his thumb - ever persistent - continued it's own form of artistry on your clit. "Now, come for me."

His words were enough to finally push you over the edge, your climax surging through your body in wave of pure ecstasy. A desperate moan erupted from within you as your hips bucked into his face, your voice ringing out suddenly in the space around you. A low, guttural sound released itself from deep within his chest and reverberated deliciously off your pussy as he ate you through completion. The feeling was utterly intoxicating, and you were certain nothing you had ever experienced up until that point felt nearly as good as this.

"Good girl, falling apart so beautifully for me," he praised as he softly lowered your trembling hips back down to meet the couch cushion after giving your clit one last kiss and pulling away slightly. His chest heaved with exertion as he licked his lips with a lascivious smile. "Might I dare ask for the verdict? Or is it too soon?"

Your hands moved to brush away a few loose strands of hair from where they fell in front of his eyes, your palm resting on his stubbled cheek. Taking quiet notice of the way his ends of his hair had started to curl slightly from your mixed perspirations, you realized you felt about as flush as he looked though you had no intentions of leaving the extent of your fun at that for the night. A blissful post-orgasmic haze washed over you and you felt that you were all but glowing with how much love you harbored for him in that particular moment.

"You've never looked so beautiful as you do now," you answered, trying to catch your breath. "How is it that you're my man?"

He smiled, a rare and bashful boyish kind that only emerged as a result of any praise you gave him. Over time, you'd found this to be a reaction only you could stir from him, whether it was in relation to his beautifully bright mind and the extensive knowledge he kept within it or his considerable talent both in and out of the bedroom. Either way, you always loved seeing the way your words could affect him. After all, you'd just experienced (yet again) how much a few words from him could affect you. It only seemed fair.

Speaking of fair, you were reminded of how much you suddenly longed to even the scoreboard between the two of you and at least attempt to show him an equal act of reciprocity as he came over you again, the noticeable bulge in his trousers brushing briefly against your thigh as he brought himself to hover over you. The feeling intensified as he brought his lips down to meet yours once again, the lingering taste of yourself on his tongue driving you even more wild.

"I am yours, body and soul," he whispered between kisses. "And you, my dear, are all mine."

His tongue tangled with yours with a way that moved from sweet and gentle to hungry and primal, as if he was trying to further prove his point by claiming you with his mouth. The intensity of it was enough to stoke the fire in your core again, the thought of him laying claim to you in such a way intercepting any coherent though from forming in your head. You nearly forgot about your improvised plan as his hands roved their way up your sides and kneaded your breasts in a way you knew he wasn't finished wringing pleasure from you and showing you the ways in which you were his. Appealing as it was to you, the thought of how he would look writhing under you as you drew out wave after wave of pleasure from him was really what set your loins alight.

"There is another angle that I'd like to test out, however," you managed to breathe out against his fervent kisses, causing him to slow ever so slightly in interest.

He raised an eyebrow, a curious look glimmering in his eye. "Is that so?"

You nodded.

"And what might that be?" He asked.

You dragged your hands along his torso just as he had done to you, goosebumps rising in their wake. "Let me show you," you whispered against his lips.

His lips met with your again as you began to sit up from where you lay on the couch, placing a gentle hand to his chest as you pushed him onto his back and your other hand moved a pillow under his head, careful to never break your kiss in the process. You felt his breath hitch as you fumbled with the buttons on his long cardigan, his hands coming up to weave themselves in your hair. The thought of pleasing him so easily made your heart soar; you wanted to nothing more than to make him feel as good as he had made you feel and it made you indescribably happy to know you were already on your way there.

Little time elapsed between the point where you finished undoing the last button on his sweater and when it was being shrugged down and off his shoulders, landing somewhere on the floor beside the couch. You finally broke your intense kiss to move slightly back and take in the view of his bare chest before you.

The sight of him never failed to take your breath away; his broad shoulders and defined muscles looking like they were carefully crafted by the hands of the gods themselves, the flickering candlelight highlighting the depth of his considerable pectoral muscles and the swirls of dark hair that ran along them and down his chest. You couldn't help but follow the little trail from where it was thickest across his sternum down to where it thinned out slightly over his abdominal muscles and then grew denser where his trousers rested. The thought of what lies beneath them made your core clench around nothing, your need to pleasure him growing with each passing minute.

You watched the rise and fall of his chest quicken as you laid your hands on his stomach gently, moving them up slowly toward his pectorals in exploration as you lowered your head to burrow into his neck. His hands took hold of your torso to bring it flush against his as you alternated between placing delicate kisses on his neck and gently nipping at it, moving into that spot just below his right ear you knew made him particularly responsive. Sure enough, a low groan escaped him as your lips met his skin there, his hands tightening their grip on you. You smiled before jutting your tongue out to press it against his warm neck and then sealing it by pressing a kiss over it once more.

This seemed to stir something entirely new and hungry in him, his hands now desperately seeking purchase on the sides of your head and bringing your lips up to meet his once again. He let out another groan as he devoured you, your mouths moving in a frantic tandem against each other in an intense dance of tongues and lips. You wanted it to last forever.

Pulling away slightly for air, you watched as a small string of saliva connected your bottom lips. The sight of it made you feel weak with desire, suddenly picturing what that same string of spittle might look on other certain parts of him. From the way he was eyeing your lip in return, you guessed the sight ignited something similar in him.

"You torture me, wicked girl" he rasped.

"Oh, sweet thing," you smiled innocently, "we're only getting started."

You saw his eyes widen ever so slightly at your insinuation and you felt a sense of pride in your choice of words. It wasn't easy to leave Gale Dekarios speechless, though you'd just done it singlehandedly.

Lowering your lips back to down to meet his chest, you heard him sharply inhale above you as you placed gentle kisses down his sternum and through the trail of hair that grew there. His scent filled your nostrils: a mix of the sweet-smelling body wash he used, the musk that rubbed off the ancient leather-bound books he always had his nose stuck in, and a tinge of sweat that had accumulated over the course of the day. It had to be one of your favourite scents, so familiar to you by now that it had, at some point, started to smell like home to you. You relaxed at the thought, any lingering anxiety you harbored and carried with you up until that point melting away into nothingness.

Your kisses trailed lower down his stomach as you dragged your fingernails lightly along his chest as you went, his breaths increasing a little more the closer you got to the waistband of his loose-fitting trousers. When you could travel down no farther, you moved your hands to rest on top of his hips, gently massaging the muscles underneath and looking back up to meet his eyes once again.

You knew this type of intercourse - one where he was the one on the receiving end, rather than the other way around - was a sensitive area for him. For years, he'd become accustomed to sexual experiences that only served to satisfy the other party: his goddess. Gale was nothing if not a generous lover and as much as you believed him when he told how arousing he found going down on you, the thought of him not receiving the same amount of care and devotion he gave to his goddess - to you - simply didn't sit right with you.

Mystra had him smitten from a young age, using her celestial power to always extract exactly what she wanted from him. The thought made you sick on the best of days, and what was even worse was how Gale had stood completely oblivious to her toxic manipulation of him until you entered his life not even a year ago. To heal from the damage that she'd inflicted over such a considerably long time was no small feat for him, though it was a battle you refused to let him fight alone in. You were in it together, no matter how rough the road ahead got at times. And oh, could it get rough.

You recalled one of the nights you'd spent together early on in your relationship when you'd begun to explore each other's bodies more freely. What started as an innocent make out session in his tent quickly turned heated and desperate, the thrill of the newfound lust sizzling between the two of you giving you the confidence to attempt to try something new. You'd accumulated a certain amount of guilt over the previous few nights from how he would spend literal hours pleasuring you in ways you hadn't dreamed possible up until that point and then proceed to tuck both of you into bed when he sensed you were well and truly spent for the time being, not giving you the chance to even attempt to return the favor.

On this particular night, however, you'd managed to beat him to the chase. All was well until you'd shimmied his night pants down his legs and took hold of his cock, stroking it in a way you hoped felt at least alright to him. His muscles tensed at your touch and his face contorted slightly, raising himself up suddenly on his elbows in alarm.

"W-What are you doing, love? I thought..." he asked, his sudden concerning behavior instantly causing you to believe you'd done something wrong. It was your first time having done such things to a man before, and the confidence you felt in your abilities was already scarce and dwindling to start off with.

You instantly pulled back, taking your hands off his body and shoving them under your arms as if you'd been burned as your heart began to hammer in your chest. "Oh gods, I'm sorry, Gale. I- I can't believe I... I’m really sorry, I've never done this before and I was... just... just trying to make you feel good too, as you've done for me all these nights. It just seemed... fair to me." You rambled as your voice began to quiver, desperately fighting back the sudden onslaught of tears that threatened to prickle through and overflow so easily. The last thing you wanted to do was upset him and ruin this beautiful thing you'd built together.

The look on his face at your confession was equal parts remorseful and understanding. "Oh love, no. You are doing wonderfully. I'm the one at fault here and I apologize, I regret not wording that question better. I just... well, these are new sensations to me, you see. I am uh... somewhat unexperienced in this area as well." He scratched the back of his head, his cheeks reddening slightly from what you assumed was both his own confession and how his body was currently fully exposed. You reached over to retrieve one of his blankets and drape it over him gently, hoping it would help him to feel less self conscious.

Realization hit you like an early morning light as you smoothed the blanket down. "Have you ever had...?" You asked quietly. To think Gale - your sweet, precious Gale who could give head intense enough to cause you to nearly leave your body all together and was by far the most doting lover you'd ever known - had yet to experience a basic level of reciprocity from a lover at this point in his life was something you had a hard time wrapping your head around. If that was simply something thing he wasn't into, then that was completely understandable in and of itself. But to never have had that offer given to him in the first place? What kind of relationship had he had with this goddess of his?

"Would you laugh if I said I hadn't?" He answered, his voice dropping down to the same octave as yours.

"Are you kidding? Of course not!" You reassured him, taking one of his hands to give it a firm squeeze of solidarity. "Though the question is... is this something you want? I would really love to give this to you, but only if you're comfortable with it."

His hand gave yours a squeeze back almost instantaneously, maneuvering the placement of his to thread his fingers in between yours. "I would love nothing more. Though I will warn you, the experience might not... last very long. Considering..." He said sheepishly, giving you a half smile and motioning to the tent that had been created between his legs when you placed the blanket over him.

"Gale Dekarios, you are an utter fool if you think I care even for a second about such things." You leaned over to kiss him once before returning to your original position between his legs, taking the blanket on his lap with you.

Gale had been truthful in his confession, as always. He had come undone for you with little more than a bit of light teasing and a few strokes to his cock, your warm mouth wrapping around the tip to catch his spend in an attempt to please him further. It definitely seemed to work, the intensity of the orgasm that ripped through him bringing him to literal tears. The reaction flattered you more than anything, though you were a little concerned about the true meaning of the tears that erupted from him so suddenly.

After gently redressing his lower half, putting out the lanterns in his tent, and pulling a blanket over the both of you, you settled beside him in bed for the night. He'd nuzzled his head into your shoulder and wrapped his arms around you, bringing your body as close to his as possible.

And then he'd gently wept into your shoulder for the better part of an hour.

It was the most vulnerability he'd shown you until that point, and your heart broke to know he'd been carrying around that hurt within him for heaven knows how long. Despite it all, you felt a certain energy change in the tent that night, as if years worth of trauma had begun to lift itself off his shoulders. You'd be lying if you said you hadn't cried along with him when he started whispering how sorry he was; sorry that he was so weak and naive in the face of Mystra, sorry that he loved you so much and smothered you with his emotions like this, sorry that he was the one you decided to love.

How he could ever believe such things to be true felt like someone driving a stake right through your heart and twisting the handle maliciously. Since the moment you made the decision to pull him out of that mysterious rune after you'd crashed on the Nautiloid, you'd felt nothing but pure, blossoming adoration for the man. With his flowery language and bad jokes, he emerged as a small but bright and persistent beacon of light in your otherwise bleak life and for that you were forever grateful. When he told you the story behind his need for magical artifacts and of what Mystra had done to him - how she'd used him for so many years and then simply tossed him aside at the drop of a hat - you'd struggled to fight back tears the entire time he talked, his face alarmingly calm and passive as he spoke of his mistreatment. His words replayed themselves in your mind as you tried to fall asleep each night from then on, utterly and thoroughly disgusted with the woman this sweet wizard worshipped and even more furious at the fact that she'd done such a good job of pulling the wool over his eyes for so long. And then came the night when dear old Elminster barged his way into your camp to deliver Gale his death sentence, handed down by none other than the conniving goddess herself. His emotions had been intense that night, though you could hardly call your moment in the meadow together "smothering". You loved him, even with all his strings attached. You loved him, and nothing could ever change that, not even death.

And so, this was exactly what you told him, your voice unwavering as you professed your conviction into the top of his head. His tears began to slow as he whispered over and over how much he loved you and how glad he was to have found you between jagged inhales. You echoed his sentiments and placed soft kisses to sporadic spots on his head, wishing there was a way to kiss all the hurt off of him. While massaging small circles into his bare back with your fingertips, you felt his breathing begin to slow and after a few minutes you knew he had fallen asleep in your arms.

Something between you had shifted that night, as if both of you had finally realized how much you needed each other. The rest was history from there.

How far you'd come in those few months to end up where you were now, lounging and making love to each other on his couch in Waterdeep. You could recall when the very idea of relaxing a random Sunday away on a couch seemed like a luxury, never mind being able to spend that day alongside the love of your life. There was a time when certain death loomed over your head so heavily it might as well have been set in stone, making the idea of dreaming up a future beyond a few weeks in advance feel laughable. Hells, Gale had even been given orders to sacrifice himself by his ex-goddess, hadn't he? Yet here you both were, against all odds.

As you looked into his eyes from your position between his legs - a position so similar to the one you'd been in that night - you briefly entertained the idea of his mind drifting back to that very same memory you shared with him. You wondered if he too contemplated the unexpected turn your lives had taken you in and the mystery behind the lucky hand both of you had ultimately been dealt. Either way, you were contented to know that everything had turned out for the better.

"Tell me, baby," you whispered, your tone equal parts seductive and playful. "Is this what you want?" You slipped your index finger just under the waistband of his trousers and dragged it along his skin lightly, watching his reaction carefully.

He sucked in a breath, his eyes growing dark once again. "Yes. Oh gods, yes." When you simply raised an eyebrow, he added a pained, "Please."

Satisfied, you undid the fastenings on his trousers and pulled them down his legs, throwing them in the general direction he'd thrown your underwear earlier. His cock sprang free from it's confines immediately, painfully erect from where it stood in front of your face. You looked back up at him once more, waiting for just one more sign of approval.

His hand squeezed the one that rested again on his hip in return, his other hand reaching down to cup your cheek gently. His fingers brushed against your jawline briefly before threading themselves through your hair and gathering it up and away from your face. You smiled at the endearing gesture (even if it was only to give him a better view of what you were doing) and placed your hand around the base of his cock, marveling at its size. Gale truly was a work of art, inside and out.

Slowly, you brought your hand up his shaft and rested your thumb on his swollen tip, relaxing your hand to mold to his girth as you went. You saw him tilt his head up to the ceiling in your periphery, his other hand detaching itself from yours to tangle his fingers in your hair on the other side of your head. Any loose strands that had potential for getting in the way went with it, clearing the way for you to work your own kind of magic on him.

After stroking his length a few times, you lowered your lips to gently kiss the tip of his cock. His fingers in your hair tightened in response and you couldn't help but smile; how fast this man could fold from simple foreplay never failed to amaze you. Lifting slightly to lick your lips, you lowered back down onto his cock, this time slowly taking him into your mouth. Breathing through your nose, you took as much of him as you could before hollowing out your cheeks and sucking in that way you knew made him melt beneath you.

"Oh - oh, fuck! Yes, just like that. Don't stop, please - don't..." he cried out above you, that usual eloquent vocabulary he was so predisposed to using now replaced by half-finished, non-sensical sentences.

You eagerly take his encouragement to continue and begin what starts as a slow bob along his length, your lips stretching around his girth as his cock stinks a little farther down your throat with each pass. Your pace gradually picks up, the little beads of saliva escaping your lips mixing with his milky precum, aiding your ability to glide along his length. As you do, you feel your tongue trace down one of his veins and his pulse began to hammer in your mouth. You'd never felt anything quite like it before, the sensation sending tangible pools of heat between your legs once again, your body and clit alike buzzing with arousal.

Your hand drifts back to the base of his cock as you come up for air, his tip slipping from your mouth with a little pop that coaxed his eyes open again. He looked confused at the sudden loss of stimulation coming from your mouth and you tried telling yourself it was only to tease him along, not because your vision had become almost completely obscured by your watering eyes and you were in desperate need of a minute to catch your breath. Well, you thought, maybe it was a bit of both.

"Is it oh-" he started, interrupted by a clever flick of your wrist around his shaft. "Is it your intent t- to break me into a thousand pieces with your sweet torment?" His voice shook a great deal more than you presumed he intended for it to with each syllable that passed through his lips. "Because if it is... you've shattered me."

Smiling, you continued to pump his length torturously, moving to settle back down to where his balls lay to pepper wet kisses over the surface of them. "Perhaps..." you teased as he moaned again loudly, your explorative ministration clearly affecting him in the best of ways. "Besides ... your mind is my treasure, and if it were broken, it would be my treasure still."

Your quote's origin was lost on him, though the meaning of your words definitely was not. You looked forward to the day when the two of you would come across that very same line in the book you were reading, however long that might take you.

"Waxing poetic as we're making love, are you now? If I didn't know any better, I might think my habits are starting to rub off on you."

You shot him a wicked smile before trailing your tongue up his length, already dripping with your combined fluids. When you reach the top, you take one last inhale through your nose before taking him in your mouth again, doing your best to concentrate on relaxing your throat as you take him in as far as you can manage. You feel the little patch of curls at his root brush against the tip of your nose as you hold yourself there, the fingers he had threaded in your hair pulling at your scalp painfully.

Although you sensed his release was fast approaching, he pulled your head off his cock forcefully with little warning. His sudden change in behavior confused you, though you knew from the wild look in his eye when he brought your head up to be in line with his that you had done nothing to upset him, but rather the opposite.

"Did you really think you'd get away with that, little minx?" He taunted, propping himself up on the hand that didn't have your hair in a death grip, leaning in to give you a sloppy, breathless kiss. When you gave no immediate answer, he yanked your hair back a little, causing you to gasp. "Hmm? What was that?"

The sudden dark edge he had taken on shifted something within you, the increasing amount of adrenaline now running through your body igniting you need for him in ways you didn't know were possible. You knew this game he aimed to play; he told you he once read how a little bit of danger - of fear - could heighten other senses simultaneously as a way of flirting before your relationship had taken flight. Of course, you had given it right back to him, much to his incredulity, though he had yet to demonstrate his knowledge of the subject with you up until that point.

You shook your head weakly in response to his demanding question. When he merely raised an eyebrow, you managed to squeak out a pathetic, "No."

"No? 'No' what?" He asked again, shifting his bodyweight to sit up fully on his knees, his hand drifting to lazily stroke his cock beneath you. When he purposely dragged the tip along your stomach, you attempted to advert your eyes from his to look down. He was, unfortunately for you, already one step ahead of you and pulled your head back a little harder this time to force you to look at him over your nose. "Not yet, little mouse."

The new pet name had you feeling like you were practically coming apart at the seams and you barely managed a shaky inhale through your nose, all other senses completely and utterly overwhelmed.

"No, I didn't think that," You panted, voice barely above a whisper. The pieces finally clicked into place in your head and you added, in the most innocent way possible, what he really wanted: a squeaky little, “Sir."

If getting him to absolutely ravage you meant you were to be a helpless little mouse in his eyes, then you swore to fuck you were about to be the squeakiest little rodent in all of Faerûn.

"Turn around." Came his curt reply, letting go of your hair abruptly to allow you to move freely. You had no objection to his order, spinning around to sit obediently on your knees with your back to him. With hurried desperation, he helped you shrug the shirt you hadn't fully taken off before down your shoulders and onto the floor, wiggling back into him until his knees brushed the backside of yours, your shins abducted to rest along his outer thighs.

He wasted no time in rising on his knees, snaking his left arm around your hip to laying his hand flush against your lower abdomen while his right curled its way around your throat, tilting your head back slightly so you could glance over your shoulder at him. He had made sure to press his body as closely as he could against your backside in the process, his hardness pressed into the curve of your ass in a way that would've had you squirming if not for his firm grip on you.

"Look at you, needy little thing. What do you say we try another form of stimulation, hmm? Perhaps one that involves me bending you over and fucking you completely senseless until your mind is shattered into a thousand little pieces, just as you had intended for me?" His left hand trails lower to the apex of your thighs as he speaks, the pad of his middle finger rubbing your clit menacingly. The sensation has you whimpering in frustration, tears beginning to prick at the corners of your eyes from all his tortuous teasing.

"Yes, please, yes," you beg, desperately grinding back into him with a force that had him panting in your ear along with you.

Much to your dismay, he abruptly removed his adept finger from where it swirled idly around your clit, your body aching at the loss of such sweet stimulation. Before you could think much of it, however, his hand began manipulating his member, sliding it along your slick entrance and through your clenched thighs. It wasn't long before he was pressing the thick head of his cock into you, your back arching in response.

With what remained of his self-control, he gradually pushed into you, allowing you a few extra moments to adjust around his girth. Both of you let out a low groan of relief when he was finally fully seated inside you, his cock buried to the hilt. The feeling was nothing short of exquisite and you could feel your body already thrumming with pleasure.

Slowly, he started to thrust his hips up into yours, his warm sex burying deep within of you as his hand moved to grip your hip hard enough to leave bruises. The snap of hips gradually turned more forceful, and you could feel where the tip of him gently nudged at your cervix with each thrust. The sensation had you crying out, his loose grip on your throat suddenly growing firm.

"You feel so good, you know that?" He praised in your ear, your hair falling in your face from the force he was pounding into you with. His statement was punctuated with a low moan that just about made you lose your mind, the sound of his skin slapping against yours only adding to the effect. You felt like a ragdoll in his grip, your legs now completely useless and the rest of your body not far off from being delightfully limp.

As if sensing this weakness in you, he moved to gently hinge you forward so you could rest on your forearms, thoughtfully placing one of the thicker pillows under your stomach for support. You were instantly thankful for the short reprieve, especially when he lowered down to press his stomach into your back, his thrusts growing in intensity and desperation. Almost every part of his body was flush against yours as he fucked into you with abandon and you almost screamed aloud when his hand came to rest on your clit once more, massaging it in a way that nearly had your vision going black. It was no surprise to find your orgasm rapidly cresting once more, the buildup to it releasing frustrated tears from your eyes.

"That's it, my love, keep going. You're being such a good girl." He praised in your ear, using the hand he kept at your throat to turn your head to the side. Between his words and the speed at which he was suddenly strumming your clit at, you felt about ready to explode from the intensity of your pleasure. "I want you to come for me. Don't you dare hold back, I want to hear everything. I want to feel you."

It was the million sensations you felt crashing down on you all at once that finally tipped you over the edge, writhing beneath him helplessly as wave of earth-shattering euphoria washed over you. A synchronized moan released from both of you as you clenched around him, coaxing Gale to his own end. Driving into you one final time, you felt him spill himself as far inside you as he could manage, slumping against your back as you both fought to catch your breath.

"That was... wow," you breathed after a moment of silence. "Who taught you how to fuck like that?" As soon as the words left your mouth, you instantly regretted them. "Actually, never mind. I don't need to know that."

He laughed, kissing your cheek as you felt him twitch inside you for a final time. The feeling caused instant butterflies to take flight behind your navel, a contented little sigh leaving your chest. Despite both of you being truly and utterly spent for the rest of the night, his cock remained buried deep inside you, neither of you possessing the strength to peel apart from each other quite yet.

"Funny enough, a good portion of that came from that novel on your beside table you seem to like so much. The rest... well, I'm afraid that was all improvisation on my part, darling."

Your eyes widened at his words, instantly chiding yourself for leaving that book out in the open where his curious eyes would no doubt take a peek into it.

"You're kidding! Oh, please say you're messing with me!" You pleaded, somewhat horrified. You supposed you couldn't be too angry with him, though. The circumstances had turned out to be highly in your favor, after all.

"Unfortunately, I'm not. Though I already presumed you to have an excellent taste in fiction, the scene where he makes love to her on the kitchen table was truly riveting, if I do say so myself." He teased, idly drawing squiggly little lines up your spine.

"I'm never living this one down, am I?" You asked with your face buried in palms, though you already suspected what the answer would be.

"Not as long as I'm around, sweetheart." He confirmed placing a firm kiss to the bony prominence in the back of your neck. "I love you, so, so very much." He confessed into your shoulder, the sincerity in his voice stealing the air from your lungs once again.

Just as you were about to echo the endearment, you eye caught on a colourful flash of something in your shared room across the hall. Raising your head up to squint in the mysterious object's direction, you quickly realized it was the dress you'd pulled out to wear tonight. To Morena's birthday dinner. With Gale. Tonight.

You whipped your head around to look at the clock on the wall, panic quickly setting in.

5:47.

Oh, this was about to be disastrous.

"Gale! Your mother!" You exclaimed, pulling away from him abruptly. You felt his spend leak from you slightly as his now flaccid cock exited your pussy, eliciting a pained groan from him.

"What does my mother have to do with this?" He gestured vaguely to your ravaged features, leaking sex and all.

"It's her birthday and she invited us over for supper, remember? We're about to be late!" You picked up the previously discarded blanket on the floor to wrap it around your naked body and scurried into the bedroom, your legs still a little weak and wobbly.

"Surely she won't mind if we're a little tardy, dear." He protested from the couch, lying back into the cushions.

It took you giving him a stern look and trotting back to physically drag him off the couch to get him to acquiesce to your warning. Just as you were about to turn back to getting yourself ready, you remembered how your previous conversation had been cut short.

Taking his hand in yours and looking up to meet his gaze, you said, "And you must know I love you, too. Beyond what words could ever describe."

A shy smile spread across his face, his eyes shimmering in the flickering candlelight. Bringing your hand up to his lips, he placed a the softest of kisses to the back of it, his eyes never breaking contact with yours. You clutched the two ends of the blanket wrapped around you together desperately, as if it was your last piece of sanity rather than the only thing keeping you - against your better judgement - from climbing him like a tree right then and there.

"Of course I do, my love. But I enjoy hearing you tell me all the same." Time seemed to slow as you stood there together, the sight of his naked body before you making it difficult to think straight.

"C'mon, you tease. We've got..." You glanced at the clock again, your tone taking on a more playful edge, "...under 10 minutes to get out the door and you don't even have any clothes on."

"Maybe I would," he countered with a laugh, "if you hadn't stripped them off of me so eagerly."

"Don't act like you didn't do it to me first!" You laughed back, swatting at his chest and heading to the bathroom this time, waiting until the physical distance between you forced you to let go of his hand.

"I'm going for a shower," You announced as you walked away, looking over your shoulder at him when he remained suspiciously quiet. Sure enough, a smug grin had taken form on his face, and you knew what was going on in that pretty head of his almost immediately. "That wasn't an invitation, wizard!

Under the guise that you were too short on time, he had decided to treat your declaration as an invitation anyway, despite your initial protests. It was certainly a struggle cleaning the smell of sex off you in a few short minutes whilst also trying to keep his ever-wandering hands off you, but you'd managed just fine in the end.

The next few minutes passed in a flurry of frenzied last-minute preparations. Gale used a spell to instantly dry your hair to perfection, casting the same one on himself shortly after. You quickly rolled a pair of pantyhose up your legs before shimming into your new dress as he slotted a belt through the loopholes in his pants, his hair adorably ruffled.

To commemorate Morena's 65th birthday, you'd decided (with some reluctance) to splurge on a new dress for the occasion. It wasn't until you went dress shopping one afternoon a few weeks prior, however, that you realized how difficult it was to find a nice one that didn't cost you a whole month's wage. After an entire day of scouring what seemed like every store in Waterdeep to no avail, you'd nearly given up all hope of finding one.

That was, until you bumped into a familiar looking pale elf on the street after dusk.

He had greeted you with his signature, "Darling!" immediately after recognizing you, pulling you in for a friendly hug.

"What are you doing, roaming the streets at such an hour? That foolish wizard of yours hasn't lost his touch already, has he?" He asked, ever the gossip as he linked your arms together and near dragged you up the road with him with his ridiculous amount of enthusiasm.

"It's nice to see you too, Astarion," you laughed, jogging a little to keep up with him. "I was out looking for a dress. Gale's mother's birthday is in a few weeks' time, and I have absolutely nothing to wear."

"Oh dear. That is quite the problem indeed." He replied, a grave look on his face. "Though, one I might be obliged to help you with, if you so wish."

You surveyed his face for any signs of mockery but quickly came up short. "In exchange for..."

He placed a hand to his chest, a gasping dramatically in mock offense. "I am hurt that you think so lowly of me, darling. What do you take me as? Some deceitful, thieving rogue?"

You laughed again, glad to be reunited with the deceitful, thieving rogue once more. "I am not letting you suck on my neck in exchange for making me a dress, Asty. Those days are long since over."

He stuck out his bottom lip at you, pouting. "Not even a nibble? I can suck on your wrist instead, if that's the problem." He asked innocently and you had to swat him away playfully when he tried to take hold of your wrist.

"I will pay you in gold, just as in any other regular trade agreement. Do we have a deal?" You stopped to look at him straight on, letting him know you were serious about this.

He pretended to ponder your offer for a moment before coming to a conclusion. "100 gold, you keep me company for an afternoon back in Baldur's Gate and the most magnificent dress you have ever laid your pretty eyes upon will be delivered to you in no more than 10 days time." He reasoned with an air of finality. When you raised your eyebrows at him expectantly, he added, "And the wizard can come, too, I suppose. I quite miss his terrible jokes, if I'm being honest." He reached his hand out for you to shake. "Deal?"

Smiling, you gave his hand a firm shake. "Deal." You had been meaning to visit him more often anyway, so you were quite satisfied with his added condition to the deal.

He smiled back at you, pleased. "Wonderful. Let's get you measured up."

After a good hour of wrapping a measuring tape around you in about a hundred different angles and coming up with a general design, you'd invited him to spend the night with you and Gale rather than pay for a room at the inn, an offer he agreed to readily. The two of you scurried arm in arm toward yours and Gale's abode, giggling your way through the now dark and winding streets, excited to see your what your lover's reaction might be when you walked through the door with a dear friend to both of you.

Apparently, Astarion had been in Waterdeep at the time to sort out some kind of business deal he had made with a local bard who hadn't kept up his end of the bargain. He only flashed you both a wicked grin when Gale had asked how he intended to handle the dispute before quickly changing the subject, causing you to chuckle softly into your glass of wine. That poor bard, you thought, though you supposed he had it coming if he was so dense as to cheat Astarion of all people over.

He was gone before either of you awoke the next morning, a note with the address to his place in Baldur's Gate scrawled on it in neat cursive and placed inside a beautiful vase of wildflowers on your kitchen table. Within the following week, a skillfully decorated box was delivered to your door from Baldur's Gate, a beautiful dress made just for you tucked inside.

The colour of it was a dark enough purple to almost be considered black, sleek and formed to hug your every curve perfectly. The length of it trailed down to brush no lower than your ankles, the material fanning out past your knees in a little skirt that allowed you to move your legs easier in it. He had added two-tiered layers of frilly hemming around the bottom of the skirt, the material a pearly, ivory white that shimmered ever so slightly in the light. He'd chosen simple heart-shaped neckline for the dress, using that same pearly material to create thin straps on either side for support, little white bows tied to where they met with the dress on either side. As you observed the way you looked with it on in the mirror, you were certain you wouldn't find a more perfect dress in all of the Sword Coast.

Gale came over to you just as you were putting in your finest pair of heart-shaped silver earrings, your dress still unzipped in the back due to the impossible range of motion you'd have to possess to do it up yourself. He was already dressed up in a sharp looking suit you'd picked out with him a while back in Baldur's Gate, the purple of his suit jacket a similar shade of purple to your dress. Delicate-looking flowers embroidered in silver crawled up artfully alongside the silver clasps holding the jacket closed on each side, the pattern stopping at his shoulders where a sweeping cape was clasped into place. His pants were made of a smug-fitting, leathery material to match his high-collared undershirt, the few silver rings he adorned on each hand glinting slightly in the firelight. What you loved most of all about his outfit, however, was the charm that hung from his right ear: a simple sliver sword pointed downward with a heart driven through it. You'd gotten it for him a few weeks after you'd come home from your adventure, the earing he wore in honour of Mystra long since been discarded along the road to Baldur's Gate and immediately swapped for the new one.

His hair seemed to be the only thing he had left to get ready, and you chuckled when he approached you with this comb and a hair tie. You both knew he was perfectly capable of doing it on his own, though he was thoroughly convinced it always looked better when you did it. Turning around and crouching down a little for you, you swept the top portion of his smooth hair up and back toward the back of his head, the strands of gray usually well-hidden by its rich brown colour now well apparent to you in the firelight. The sight of them only made you love him that much more, a gentle reminder of how very human he was.

Tying off the loose bun, you fixed any fly-aways and adjusted its position to perfection, proud of your quick handiwork.

"Zip me?" You asked him, turning around yourself as he turned back to face you.

He was more than happy to oblige, his finger gliding the zipper up your back at a much slower speed than necessary. When he reached the top, he leaned down to give your bare shoulder a quick kiss before whispering in your ear.

"Wait here." Was all he said to you before walking over to his bedside table and pulling a small box out of the drawer. As confused as you were in that moment, you obeyed his gentle order, only stealing a quick peek over your shoulder to satiate your curiosity.

All you heard was the soft sound of him removing the box lid before his hands came around your head to drape something around your neck and close the clasp at the back with a barely perceptible clink, the little cold piece of metal resting an inch or so below the jugular notch between your clavicles. You held it between your fingers and looked down to find a singular sliver charm identical to the one hanging from his ear threaded through a delicate silver chain. The gesture made you start to tear up, turning back around to face him.

"I wanted to wait to give it to you until your birthday, but you look so beautiful in that dress that I-" You cut off any remaining words in that sentence with a passionate kiss landing directly onto his unsuspecting lips, standing up on your toes and cradling both side of his face with your hands. He quickly deepened the kiss, his hands gripping your waist and gently pulling you into him.

"Do you like it?" He asked when you both came up for air, his magnificent brown eyes searching yours for anything that might answer his question. You thought it was probably the stupidest question that you had ever heard come out of his mouth. You were still too tearful to tease him about it, so instead you indulged him.

"I love it, Gale. Just as I love you." You punctuated your sentiments with another soft, languid kiss to his lips. Pulling back after a few moments, you were reminded of a line you particularly adored from the novel you were reading together earlier. "All my heart is yours, sir: it belongs to you; and with you it would remain, were fate to exile the rest of me from your presence forever.” You quoted to him, each word flowing from your lips with unwavering confidence.

He leaned forward to rest his forehead against yours, his eyes glassy and brimming with tears. "And every piece of my heart is yours, along with my soul, my body, and whatever else you'll have of me. It's yours, and it was always going to be yours, in the end."

You brushed a lock of hair from his eyes and took one of his hands in your other, stroking the back of it with your thumb reassuringly. "I think it's time to go, love." You reminded him gently.

He nodded, picking up the gift basket you'd made together for his mother. He looked to you again, his gaze soft.

"Ready?" He asked.

"Always," you answered, giving his hand a little squeeze. Your gaze remained unwaveringly focused on him, wanting to absorb this wholesome moment you'd shared as best as you possibly could, locking it away in your mind for safe keeping.

If fate had been so generous to grant you this soft epilogue, then by the gods you were going to make sure every minute that brought you closer to the end was spent to its fullest, your lover's hand in yours.

~★~

Thank you for reading!

251 notes · View notes

noirflms · 12 days

Text

THE HOUSEHUSBAND LIFE — hq men

haikyuu men as househusbands. or haikyuu men who’d be good househusbands in general.

— ୨୧ ˖ ˚ AKAASHI KEIJI !

he is the one who keeps track of finance in the house , keeps track of how much you should spend even if you get a six-sum salary and love spending it on him even if he doesn't like it because he wants you to save for the future.

he also pretty much cooks all sorts of dishes and morning tea made by him is served to you in bed , he is just the best. buys groceries when you're out to work , keeps the house neat and clean — it's a penthouse so it's not much work as it's not that dirty all the time — keeps track of your health and if you're pretty much not skipping breakfast or lunch cuz he's there to spoon feed you at dinner.

he's not much fan of laundry just knows he has to fold it and keep it neatly in your shared closet and is pretty much a the best husband of all ( according to your mother ).

— ୨୧ ˖ ˚ SUGAWARA KOUSHI !

he is that type of house-husband who actually takes care of the loundry more than cooking and cleaning but still cleans the house just the way you like it — organized and neatly done. he doesn't step in the kitchen for he knows he might burn whatever he cooks so you don't let him step in there , it's either you come home and cook but if your tired , it's take out time!

whenever he does laundry he has a habit of smelling the clothes before folding for he like the smell of the detergent you use and the clothing softener should be if the best company because that is kinda professional when you go to work wearing soft and clean clothes.

dusts around the house with music playing in the background and does all the cleaning while blasting Oliva Rodrigo on the amazon echo you brought so he won't have to go on connecting his phone to the Bluetooth other than that he is just the best husband you could ask for.

— ୨୧ ˖ ˚ KITA SHINSUKE !

he is the package , can cook , cleans , does laundry , keeps track of all budgets and savings , knows every nook and cranny of the house and is happy being a house-husband for you. kita buys the best clothing softener and detergent , is a man of his words for if he promises breakfast in bed for you then you get it.

he sets up the house according to a taste that suits him and you like almsot all the time after seeing it on pinterest — yes HE HAS PINTEREST and you can't change my mind — cooks the best meals like you're in heaven to be eating such delicious meals , laundry is done and the house smells like lavander and you don't know how he does that and he keep it a secret ( it's just him using scented house cleaning stuff ).

grocery shopping is done with you because it's to lonely for him to go out so it's shopping time on the weekends , he is like a stay at home mum but you love him and for god sake who wouldn't want a man like KITA SHINSUKE.

— ୨୧ ˖ ˚ YAMAGUCHI TADASHI !

you enter the house with the smell of the most delicious food being cooked and when I say delicious , it's over the top delicious. he loves cooking so much that he forgets he has to clean as well and do laundry. yamaguchi almost does everything before stepping into the kitchen and prepare a bento for you in the early morning with starting to think for dinner — even though lunch is not even thought out yet — and what to be baked when your home.

it may not seem like but he has a passion for baking good for you.

he blasts playlist made for him by you and tsukki , and does the cleaning and laundry because sometimes it's to lonely in the house , he keeps track of time and when you're gonna come so he could prepare a bubble bath and then start with the cooking so you could have been relaxed and come eat with him.

when it's a weekend , he wakes up late but the breakfast is in his hands to be cooked , and in the evening it's time for him and you to have a baking session and you cherish this baby more than anything.

241 notes · View notes

dynsdiary · 27 days

Text

━━ my pov of ellie iii

warnings : use of yn, lowkey self inserted uhh, using spotify cause the blend thingy but PLEASE BOYCOTT SPOTIFY GUYS !!!

cr : @idontgetanysleep & pinterest for the pics

ellie's taglist (lmk if u wanna be add / remove) : @ellstronaut , @dinaissoprettyoml , @julienology , @euphternal , @sapphhicslut

also chat, boop me !!

part i ⟶ part ii

DAILY CLICK

DONT BUY TLOU

WAYS TO HELP PALESTINE

⭐️ she’s the type of person who is not into pda that much (but you guys still do pda like holding hands/hand on waist or shoulder & some kisses here n there) BUT SHE LOVE YOU LOUD & PROUDLY!! 🍮 all of her social media bios would be something like “taken by @yourtag” or “e + your initial : ♡” or “i love my wife” KNOWING DAMN WELL YALL ARE NOT MARRY (yet… 😏) 🕯️ her page would be filled with your pictures / something that has you in it. and would caption like “she saw it first” or “yn chose it for me” like okay we get it ellie 🙄✋

⭐️ GUYS HEAR ME OUT!!!! she’s the type that would wait for you to get ready and be like “oh it's okay, i can wait. just make sure to be safe & look pretty f’me” LIKE HIHIRHEUDBSOANA 🍮 would let you do her hair (tiny braids !!!) 🕯️ she so corny guys i just know it

⭐️ omg few months or maybe even weeks of you two talking she would be asking you if you have spotify (boycott spotify guys!!) and ask you if you wanna do a blend, she just wanna know you better through your music taste 🍮 WOULD TOTALLY FREAK OUT WHEN THE RESULTS ARE ABOVE 80 “she’s my soulmate, i knew it” and do hand YES! gesture thingy (pls know what im saying (◞‸◟) ) 🕯️ why, just why, her gf had to live 34764482939 away from her!! (ellie is being dramatic but so real)

⭐️ WOULD LEARN YOUR FAV SONGS TO PLAY ON HER GUITAR AND SENT YOU VIDEOS OF HER PLAYING IT AND BE LIKE “for you, baby” or post it on her story and captioned (?) “for my girl @yourtag” 🍮 i know she makes a lot of playlists for you. started when you were her crush, then you were in the talking stage with her, then the two of you dating, then songs that reminded her of you

🕯️ SHE WOULD SING TO CLAIRO's SONGS WITH YOUU AND DANCING AROUND IN THE KITCHEN OR 3 AM TO THE SMITHS OMGOMG

⭐️ her home & lock screen is your picture, it doesn’t matter if the pictures of both of you tgt or just you. 🍮 matching stuff with you LIKE HELLO YES SHE LOVE IT !!!! immediately drop everything when you ask her if she wanna matches w you, per examples :

🕯️ she just a biggest simp ever!!! ⭐️ loveee calling you especially facetime, she just adore looking at your pretty face, your sweet smile & listen to your cute laughs every time ellie cracks a joke. 🍮 would cut & peel fruits for you, and you do it to her as well 🕯️ text you in 3 in the morning for her & you scolding her for not sleeping

⭐️ blurts out i love you one time and since then she just wont stop saying how much she loves you 🍮 since you guys are in ldr :(, ellie had to give you gifts & all that by giving you a package but the good thing is that you can keep the letters she wrote for you and the drawing she gave you as well !! 🕯️ HER FRICKING JOURNAL IS FULL WITH YOU..... not kidding...and some sweet details that she had noticed about you

⭐️ always tweeting how she wished she's with you and would diff tweet something like " 'if she wanted, she would', then WHY IS SHE NOT TELEPORTING HERE, NEXT TO ME, LAYIN ON MY ARM, WHYYY" (this is so me coded lol)

🍮 omg would do streaks with you to update abt each other's day and also locket

🕯️ timezone sucks so be ready to be wake to 99+ tiktoks ellie had sent you while you were sleeping. (you did the same thing too)

⭐️ movie night every friday !!

🍮 few years of ldr and both you & ellie had decided to moved in together

🕯️ would surprise you once in awhile and vice versa

⭐️ girly would treat the teddy bear that you gifted her like its her CHILD (it is)

🍮 ellie who loves you very dearly

🕯️ ellie is your girlfriend & also now, your roommate (hehe hinted)

REMINDER !!

that neil is a zionist and therefore dont buy his games, doesnt matter remastered or not !!!

before you leave, have you DONATE TO PALESTINE today? ITS FREE TOO !!

#written by ellslvr ❦#ellie williams #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams headcanons #ellie williams fluff #ellie williams x female reader #ellie williams x you #ellie williams x y/n #ellie williams imagine #ellie williams fanfiction #ellie x fem reader #ellie x reader

186 notes · View notes

flowerflowerflo · 1 month

Text

girl's guide to academic success: part 2 ⊹˚. ♡

🧸𓂃 ࣪˖ using media to ur advantage

i think i mentioned this in my romanticism post but pinterest is ur best friend. if i know anything about it u can trust i have a pinterest board for it; thats the same for school. gather motivating pictures & and pretty images that align with ur personal goals and style and make u wanna get up and work! i also use tumblr for this too. i'll link a couple blogs i love for this later on <3

🧸𓂃 ࣪˖ surroundings

if ur studying, make sure u actually enjoy the place you're studying in, or try to to the best of your extent. whenever i study im 9 times out of 10 always at my desk and ive decorated my desk specifically so that it motivates me to get up and do whatever i need to do + its super pretty and makes me smile every time i see it <3 decorate ur area with little trinkets and both things u love and things that motivate you, and switch it up when you can! don't stay in the same place all the time. spontaneity is fun!!!

🧸𓂃 ࣪˖ personalisation

make it pleasing to look at so ur more motivated to go back and revise over them if needed, and so you have something to do as well that is still related to your work if ur someone who gets distracted easily like myself. some inspo i use for my work:

🧸𓂃 ࣪˖ hydration!

make sure ur drinking lots of water !! i drink lots of water and lots of tea whenever im studying or doing any kind of schoolwork and it helps me a lot, + its just those little bits of comfort yk

🧸𓂃 ࣪˖ music and concentration

i work way better with any music in the background but if you're someone who gets distracted easily i'd recommend making a specific playlist for studying and listening to non-lyrical music like lofi, video game soundtracks, classical music, instrumentals of songs u like, etc. (i'm not telling you to go against the rules of ur school but i put a headphone in in class sometimes and cover it with my hair just because i know i work way better with it and it helps me a lot bc most of the people in my classes are so freaking loud. so if ur allowed 100% go for it but i don't recommend what i do if you have a strict school)

🧸𓂃 ࣪˖ prioritising ur health & compromising

like i said in my other post, prioritise your health over anything else. if you didn't get a good nights sleep last night and you have a test tomorrow and need to study, then compromise; if you already know a lot about it or its not fate changing or life altering in some way or you can go over it quickly in the morning or something, go to sleep. your health is always more important in the long run and will help you to do even better in the future in every area of ur life

links ⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡ (some of my fav studyblr girlblog posts!)

study methods: @4theitgirls

studying plans as an accounting major: @iluvprettygirls

study tips: @honeytonedhottie

academic burnout: @seulhrts

elle woods: @4theitgirls

productivity hacks: @theambitiouswoman

paris geller: @4theitgirls

i also personally recommend @zooxanthellae for one of the study blogs! she does a lot of studyblr posts under the tag #zoostudies & they're SO CUTE ♡

lots of love <3

208 notes · View notes

thyme-in-a-bubble · 1 month

Text

the soaring arrow

fused with the foe, chapter two

a/n: we getting somewhere in this one... progress... and by progress, i of course mean that we are one chapter closer to when they finally get to be happy and in love.

summary: “…do you still wanna learn?”

warnings: king!steve rogers x reader, fantasy AU (monsters, but not much magic), original fantasy world, enemies to lovers, arranged marriage, slow burn, innocent!reader, violence, gore, injury, weapons, big scary dire bear, a bit of a cliffhanger of an ending to this chapter (the drama is here, it has arrived, in the majestic for of [spoiler])

word count: 4706

∼ gentle reminder that feedback, but especially reblogs are the way you support writers on here ∽

previous chapter | series masterlist | next chapter

info about the world | maps | pinterest board | playlist

masterlist | join my taglist

Rising yet again from the plush stool, your feet carried you the short distance back around to the opposing seat. Your elbow came to rest against the edge of the small games table as you glanced down at the chequered board and your chin swiftly found your propped-up palm as a bored breath seeped from your lungs.

As you moved one of the ivory pieces, the thoughts you’d been trying to keep at bay for weeks slipped through ever so slightly. The king hadn’t talked to you since the wedding, in fact, whenever you’d been in the same room with each other, his gaze never found you.

You might as well have been invisible.

The arm beneath your face slowly melted down till it layed flat against the table and you let your head follow along. Slumped over, your cheek pressed against your forearm.

Raising your gaze from your up-close perspective of the chess pieces, it fell upon the man leaning

against the wall by the exit. Dark locks only half tied up, a crossbow was strapped to his broad back as his stormy gaze stayed low and locked on the small dagger he absentmindedly twirled and flipped in his fingers.

Letting out another sigh, you didn’t bother straightening out before you asked, “so, is this just how it’s gonna be?”

Halting his fiddling, Barnes’ eyes met yours, “pardon me, your majesty?”

“You just lurking wherever I am, is that how it’s gonna be for the rest of my life?” you lifted yourself only slightly so that both of your palms pressed into your soft cheeks to prop it up.

“No, I’m just here till you get settled, then I’ll go back to my usual business,” the advisor stated.

“And when will that be?”

“I don’t know, your majesty,” he sheathed the short blade at his side, “why? If it’s because you don’t care for my presence then please just say so, I won’t be offended if you’d rather have a different warden looking out for you.”

“No,” you sat up properly, “it’s not that, not at all, I just–… could I maybe go for a walk?” the question hesitantly left your lips.

“Sure, you can,” he nodded slightly, “where do you wanna go? I could show you the Valarian Ward in town, there are lots of museums there you might like–”

“No,” you cut his offer off, “I meant if I could go for a walk on my own.”

“Oh… well, I’m not entirely sure that’s the best idea…” he uttered carefully.

“I am your queen, aren’t I? So, can’t I just command you to let me go by myself?” you tried, blinking up at him like a little puppy, “please, Barnes.”

A low sigh then flowed from his lips as his stare raked across the floor. A moment passed before he opened his mouth again, slowly saying as his gaze stayed averted, “your majesty, I am gonna leave for a moment, I suddenly remembered that I forgot something in my chambers this morning. Please excuse me as I momentarily won’t be here watch where you go,” his eyes flicked up to meet yours, “you got that?”

“Yes,” a bright smile stretched across your features, “I understand what you’re saying,” as you instantly shot up to your feet, “thank you, Barnes.”

Though half regretting his choice already, he still offered you a half-hearted smile, “you’re welcome, your majesty.”

Bending down, you plucked a long-stemmed daisy and added it to the bouquet of wildflowers your left fist was tightly enclosed around. As you lifted yourself back up, your vision washed over the blossoming meadow you stood on, located on the hill directly north of the castle. From here only parts of the seaside community were perceivable, as from this angle the mountainous fortress blocked off the vast majority of Borün city, only the edges closest to the main road, like the city stables and the water mill, caught your gaze. But the farmlands that curved over the rolling hills west of the town had no obstructions in their path. The vision of golden fields as well as wide pens that housed both fuzzy brown cows and round little sheep, that blissfully soaked in the mild afternoon sun, couldn’t help but bring a smile to your lips.

Peeking over your shoulder, the warnings of the king’s right-hand man faintly echoed in your mind as you glanced at the thick forest. Temptation had swayed your feet to carry you dangerously close to the edge. The Noll woods didn’t seem that dangerous from this angle, perhaps it was safe enough on the perimeter and it was just the dangers deep within it that they were so terrified of. So, the next thing you knew, your leisurely stride had crossed the meadow and the dark wilderness had swallowed you whole.

Extending an arm as your feet slowly walked over the crunchy leaves and the pillowy moss clusters, you felt the cool leaves brush against your open palm, almost as if you were greeting each and every one of them as you passed. The chirping birds high up in the dense treetops sang a pleasant melody that caused a bright smile to bloom on your lips.

You weren’t sure how long you ventured forth, deeper and deeper into the twisted forest, but eventually, a small and speckled bush caught your eye, ripe with the vibrant berries you recognised from the layered cake that you had been served for tea just a few days prior. The fabric of the long burgundy cloak you wore billowed behind you as you rushed to pluck the small fruits. A soft hum vibrated at your lips as you tasted their tart sweetness, popping them in your mouth one by one.

Though just as your head was up in the clouds, over the moon about this little slice of paradise you had discovered, a low growl emanated from the tall shrubs just behind the berry bush. Your fingers froze in an instant and the fruits in your berry-stained palm rolled to the ground. Slowly, you raised your gaze as a giant snout pushed through the dense plants and the creature’s rotten breath fanned across your cheeks, causing your stomach to churn.

Holding your breath, petrified with fear, you willed your feet to shuffle back at a terrifyingly slow pace. Your entire body trembled like a leaf on the wind as your eyes stayed glued on the dark animal slowly creeping into the clearing.

A bear, though at least three times the size of any normal one, came stomping into the light. Its footsteps were heavy enough to make the forest floor quake. Long and gnarly teeth curled up over its drooping lip as viscus slobber, and what looked like blood, dripped from its gums, staining the blades of grass below with every hefty step. Nowhere on its scarred skull were something that resembled eyes, so as it sniffed loudly, your hair nearly rustling in the gust, the blind monster detected precisely where you stood.

A snarl rumbled out from its toothy maw as it clawed closer to you like a predator playing with its food just before it pounced. Eclipsing the dabbled sunlight that streamed in through the tree canopy, the massive creature blocked off any chance you had of escape. The petrifying roar it then let out caused your hands to instinctively shoot up in front of your face.

Falling back, you collided with the thick tree trunk right behind you. Adrenaline pumped so furiously throughout your body that the tree almost felt like a pillow, as your body was so filled with terror that it didn’t let you notice any of the pain.

Through your shielding fingers, you caught sight of a swift movement, though it wasn’t the ravaging bear before you. From out of nowhere a broad figure suddenly appeared, slipping in between you and the creature.

Your eyes widened as you saw the king hold a shield up high, groaning from the strain as he blocked the monster’s mighty attack. Drawing a stout axe at his belt, he sliced it low, catching one of the bear’s legs and causing it to reel back enough for him to bash the shield against its snout, sending it back a few paces. The arching blows he then landed on the gnawing beast were a brutal blur to your eyes as he didn’t yield till the monster was slain and its blood stained the mossy forest floor.

Slowly turning to face you, crimson dabbled his features and tainted his beard as he stared you down and roared, “what the hell were you thinking?” his broad chest still heaved from the battle as he took a step closer to you, “you’re not in Obelón anymore, you can’t just wander off!”

“I–… I’m sorry,” you said weakly, your eyes felt heavy as you stumbled to distance yourself from the tree trunk, “I didn’t–”

“You didn’t what?” inching closer, he sheathed his weapons, “think you’d bump into a dire bear? What if it had been something worse, huh? What then? Do you have any idea of what kind of dangers lurk in these shadows?”

Black spots dappled your vision as you just managed a faintly utter, “I’m s-sorr–,” before you collapsed.

As the king caught you in his arms, your cloak unfurled to reveal the silks of your gown ripped and peeking out from the shreds was a grave wound on your waist.

When you finally woke up, you weren’t in the forest any longer, but warm under the covers in your own bed.

You weren’t sure what you noticed first, the familiar surroundings or the sharp sting that throbbed at your side. Wincing silently, you pulled down the blankets and saw the clean cloths that bandaged the injury. As you carefully ran a fingertip over the dressing, a figure at the foot of the bed caught your hazy gaze.

Slumped over on a small stool with his head resting against his folded-up arms, there sat the king, completely out cold.

A clay pitcher of water stood on the adjacent bedside table beside a few empty cups that had a deep green tint to the glass. Carefully, as to not rouse the slumbering monarch, you reached for the jug in order to quench the thirst that scratched at your throat. As your fingertips brushed against the handle and moved it just a tad, an aching wave suddenly washed over you as the attempt stretched and disturbed your injured waist enough for you to recoil back, accidentally tugging at the decanter in the process and retroactively knocking over one of the nearby glasses.

As soon as it smashed to the stone floor, the king bolted up like he’d been struck by lightning.

“Sorry, I’m sorry,” you rushed as you clutched your throbbing side and leaned back against the pillows, “I just wanted something to drink.”

Still groggy, he sucked in a breath as he squinted over at you in the bed, “don’t move,” his voice was deep from sleep, “I’ll get it,” and he reached over to fill up the glass that didn’t fall to its doom, “here,” handing it to you, his eyes stayed on you as you took a sip, “how are you feeling?”

Lowing the drink to your lap, you watched the water ripple gently in the glass as you uttered, “I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking I’d run into any monsters, I just wanted to see the forest. I’ve never been in a real forest before, so I just–… I’m sorry…”

A low sigh flowed from the king’s lips before he asked, “how are you feeling, dove? Does it hurt badly? Because I can fetch you some herbs if it does.”

“It’s not pleasant, but I’ll manage,” as you always did. Your pain tolerance was through the roof when it had to be, “I’m sorry.”

“Would you please stop apologising?” your tense gaze finally flickered up to meet his, “I understand you wandering out on your own, I even understand you wanting to explore the forest, but what I don’t understand is why you didn’t bring a weapon with you. I know you don’t know too much about this kingdom, but you must have a basic understanding of just how dangerous it is, especially The Noll Woods. So why didn’t you bring anything to protect yourself with?”

“What?” you blinked, “I don’t own a weapon.”

Eyes widening, his brows shot up, “you don’t?”

“No…” you shifted lightly under his gaze, “why are you looking at me like that?”

Leaning forward slightly, he asked, “dove, do you not know how to fight?”

“Why would I know how to fight?”

“Why would you–…” he echoed faintly before lowing his gaze to the blankets spread out on the canopy bed, “gods, I knew that Obelón’s high walls helped protect its people from many creatures, but I know even that doesn’t stop the citizens from knowing the basics at least. Why didn’t you ever?” he found your eyes once more, “you’re of royal birth. Why haven’t you been in lessons since you were a child?”

Shifting your grasp around the glass, you uttered, “…my father wouldn’t let me…” your brows were still deeply knitted as you said, “I thought it was improper for fine ladies to have such skills.”

“It’s not,” he shook his head, “trust me. Some of the best fighters I’ve ever known were fine ladies such as yourself.”

“Really?” you couldn’t help but inch forward a bit.

“Yeah, my mom for one taught me a lot of what I know, as well as–…” an unreadable expression briefly washed over his features as his sentence suddenly crumbled, “well, others…”

“I always wanted to learn,” you thought back, “used to spy on my brothers when they were training, even tried to convince Callum to teach me in secret, but none of it ever worked out… my dad always found out and then he’d–…” your gaze stayed locked on the outline of your legs beneath the covers as you felt a shiver run down your spine, “I, uhm… I learned to stop doing that. Going against his rules.”

After he helped you place the glass back beside the pitcher, the king’s deep timbre filled the chamber once more, “…do you still wanna learn?”

The gentle wind kissed your cheeks as you squinted your eyes at the circular target close to the ivy-covered outer wall of the front courtyard. Though the training area stood nestled between the warden’s barracks and the royal stables, the king’s right-hand man had ensured that there wouldn’t be as many people crowding the common area as there usually were, a gesture you’d become thankful for as the act of learning an entirely new skill was intimidating enough without having the added commotion of experts in the field directly next to you, granting you the perspective of just how green you were.

Over countless days, bedridden in your chambers, the wound to your side had scabbed over and healed nearly completely. Though the wait was significant, it hadn’t felt that dreary, since at the first dawn you woke, the king’s presence had been exchanged for a tall stack of meticulously selected books. The majority of them were factual records about Eflorr, the land, the history, everything that had been out of your fingertips in the library of your birthplace. But occasionally in between the tomes of the kingdom were books of completely different genres. There was a wide and worn book of fables that had whimsical illustrations on each page, a pocket-sized novel counting the mystery of a fictional rogue, as well as a collection of flowery poems.

Letting the nocked arrow fly, it didn’t pierce itself into the bullseye your eyes were boring a hole into, but instead joined the cluster lodged in the ground.

“I am never gonna get this,” you muttered, nearly tossing the training bow from you.

“Oh, don’t lose hope yet, your majesty,” you twisted your neck to see Barnes standing by the small, open-style stables adjacent to where you stood, petting the cheek of the black horse that stuck its head over the fence, “you’ve only been going for a few days.”

Drawing another arrow from the quiver not yet strapped to your back, but simply resting on the small stool scooted close, you attempted once more, and though it didn’t hit the target, the arrowhead did wedge itself in between two of the stones on the wall behind it.

“Not bad,” your body jumped at the unexpected voice, “you’re getting closer.”

Spinning around, you saw the king, arms crossed and leaning against the building directly behind you, “your majesty!” your eyes grew to the size of saucers, “h-hello.”

“You need to relax your bow arm more,” he pushed himself off of the wall and walked up to you.

“What?” you blinked, still slightly stunned and scrambling to catch up to the fact that he was even there.

“Here,” he stepped up behind you and a sharp breath of air filled your lungs as his touch found the limb clutching the bow, “you need to relax this arm,” his presence ghosted against your spine as his touch adjusted your appendage to the proper angle, “and lower it just a bit,” plucking up an arrow, he too nocked it for you and let his fingers linger over yours as you drew the string back tight, “use the corner of your lips as an anchor,” as the feathery fletching tickled your cheek, you could have sworn that you felt his curled knuckle shyly brush against your features as well, “and since you’re not very brawny, try and keep a bit of tension right here, it’ll help,” his hand slid down to your waist, the other palm briefly joining on the other side before he let go of you. You could feel the gentle gust of his breath on the shell of your ear as his low voice instructed you, “give it a try.”

The arrow then soared through the air and lodged itself into the outermost ring of the target, “oh my gods,” you squealed, your body victoriously wiggling at the sight, “I did it!”

“Atta girl,” he smiled at the result, and you turned your head to gaze back at him, the fact that he hadn’t shifted back yet caused a shiver to crawl up your spine, “see? I knew you could do it,” his eyes finally flickered down to yours, though when the close proximity dawned on him, only a second passed before his feet began to move, “anyways,” clearing his throat, his vision now seemed to wander over anything but you, “uhm… good job,” he offered your upper arm a small pat, “keep it up,” then turned to the high warden still off to the side, “Buck, I need you to take a look at something for me, up in the war room.”

Giving the horse one last scratch, Barnes answered his friend, “sure thing.”

“You know the king well, correct?” you asked the soldier as he walked with you down to breakfast. At this point, you’d gotten fairly used to Barnes acting as your shadow.

“You could say that,” the corners of his lips curled up in a soft smile, “my mom was a servant here at the castle, so I essentially grew up alongside him. Then as soon as I was old enough, I joined the wardens, partly just to stay at his side. So yes, I do know him well,” he nodded slowly, “I know him very well.”

Rounding the corner, you walked down a long hallway with windows facing out toward the sea all along the right wall. Motes of dust hung suspended in the morning sunbeams that spilt into the hall, perfectly still, like flakes of gold leaf trapped in resin.

Glancing over at him once more as you stepped through one of the golden rays, you slowly opened your mouth once more, “can I ask something?”

“You can ask me anything you’d like,” he met your eye.

“Does–…” you hesitated a moment before averting your gaze to gather up the courage to utter, “does the king have someone else?”

Gently cocking his head, Barnes echoed, “someone else?”

“Does he have someone else?” you repeated, sensing heat creep up in your cheeks.

“Oh, uh,” he breathed as you reached the end of the hallway and he stretched out his arm to push open the door you’d arrived at, “no, not that I know of.”

As he opened the door to the smaller of the dining rooms for you to enter, you noticed that you’d been unconsciously gnawing at the inner part of your bottom lip till it nearly bled and you forced yourself to stop, “alright…”

When you crossed over the threshold, Barnes stayed put on the other side, though offered you a small nod before the heavy doors fell shut behind you.

Turning to face the long table centred in the chamber, your eyes suddenly grew wide as an unexpected figure sat on the far end.

“Good morning,” the king glanced up at you as he popped the piece of strawberry lodged on the tip of his fork into his mouth.

“Your majesty! I–, I–…” you blinked a second, finding it impossible to get your feet to move the last few paces over to your set place, “I thought you took your breakfast up in your personal chambers.”

“Felt like a change in scenery today,” he plucked up a porcelain cup filled with steaming tea and brought it to his lips, though paused before taking a sip, “is that alright?”

“Of course, it is,” a shudder ran through you as you shook yourself out of your stupor and sat down at the table.

A generous spread of options layed arced around your empty plate. From seasonal fruits, cut up and arranged on an oblong platter, to hearty bread, sliced and toasted, propped up for it to stay crisp, the selection never ceased to make your belly rumble in want.

When your plate was filled up and you slowly began to pick away at it, the king’s voice suddenly echoed from the other end of the table.

“Are you busy this afternoon?”

“Busy?” you lifted your gaze and sent it down past the short floral centrepiece to look at him, “no, your majesty, not in particular. Why do you ask?”

His elbow was propped against the edge of the table and his hand gently rested against his beard as he continued to stare at you, “I was wondering if you’d care to promenade with me.”

“I know it doesn’t look like much from this angle,” the king pointed to the dark cave entrance on the cliff that the castle stood upon, “but that emergency exit has saved countless monarchs.”

“So, the tunnel leads up to the basement?” you glanced down to the part of the coastline still a ways further down the pebbly beach.

“Yep, opens up into the wine cellar, it’s actually one of the racks that’s concealed as the door down.”

Glancing up at him as you slowly walked beside one another, an amused smile curled up on your lip, “clever.”

“Yeah, my mom thought so, she was the one who implemented it.”

The corners of your lips then dropped back down, and you waited a second before asking softly, “when did she pass?”

“A while ago now…” his vision briefly flickered down to look at the waves foam at the shore, “anyways, I’d recommend taking a guide with you if you’re gonna go exploring in the cave because it can be easy to get lost if you didn’t grow up with it as your playground.”

“I’ll remember that,” a faint chuckle bubbled out of you.

The pebbles crunched beneath your slow stride as you made your way down the beach, closer and closer to where the fort loomed and the docks beyond flourished into the bustling city.

After he’d bent down to pick up a smooth, dark rock, the royal then spoke in a slightly apprehensive tone, “hey, I actually wanted to talk to you about something…”

Noticing that his stride had halted, you stopped as well, “yes, your majesty?”

His gaze stayed on the small rock in his palm as he turned it a few times, “I know I haven’t exactly been the warmest towards you, I haven’t given you any solid reason to trust or even like me,” his ocean eyes then lifted to meet yours, “but we are supposed to rule together, be a team. So, I propose that we call a truce. Let’s start over and try and be friends,” his broad hand then extended.

Clasping your fingers around his palm, you shook on it, “truce,” and a small smile bloomed as you then returned to your walk.

Your eyes didn’t stray long from him, staring at him inquisitively till he, on a glance, noticed.

“What?”

“It’s just,” you squinted over at the man walking beside you, the water gentle and calm behind him, “I don’t even really know you…”

“Well,” he breathed, as if that setback was easy enough to remedy, “what would you like to know?”

“I don’t know…” as you continued to stare at him, your fingers absentmindedly fiddled with the opalescent stone attached to the chain hanging from your neck, “tell me everything.”

“Everything?” his eyebrows raised a second before he exhaled lowly, “alright… uhm,” he then lowered his gaze as he scrambled his brain, “my favourite colour is blue. I can’t stand pears,” he began to list off, “I know I don’t look it now, but I was a very scrawny kid, sick all the time. I’m excellent at skipping rocks, actually learned how to just down there from an old family friend. What else… uh, I don’t have a lot of free time, but the little I do, I tend to either read, history in particular, as well as draw or paint, whenever I have the chance.”

“Paint?” you chuckled as that was one of the last things you thought he’d say.

“Yes,” he nodded, “not many, but a few of my pieces are strung up around the castle.”

“I will have to keep my eye out for those, your majesty,” you smiled.

“Oh, and please, no more of that,” he pleaded, “you shouldn’t call me your majesty any longer, we’re friends now,” he momentarily turned to toss the rock into the rippling sea, and a small ring bloomed on the surface as it delved in, “you are my wife,” the corners of his lips tugged upwards as he faced you once more, “you should call me by my name.”

“Alright, Steve,” the name felt oddly intimate on your tongue, “I’ll try my best to do better.”

As he smiled down at you, a shadow suddenly soared across the sky above both of your heads. Lifting your eyes to the clouds above, they swiftly went wide in fear as you saw the creature that flew straight towards the village.

“Oh gods, is that a–”

“Dragon,” Steve uttered before you could.

The winged behemoth of a beast had scales like the darkest tree bark, but in the sunlight it soared through, they shined regally like an oil spill.

Grabbing you by the hand as warning bells rang out over the seaside community, Steve dragged you with him and he addressed the two wardens that had lingered a few paces back while you both were out, “take her inside, through the cave, stay low, away from any windows.”

“Yes, my liege,” they swiftly replied and moved to defend you, but as the king’s grasp left yours, you reached out to halt him.

“Wait!” your fingers rushed to snag your lucky charm off, “here,” and you layed the fine necklace into his open palm before finding his eyes one last time and uttering, “please don’t die.”

Closing his fist around the jewel, he offered you a grave nod before the wardens led you into the cave and the king rushed down the banks and up the algae-slick steps that led up to the harbour.

249 notes · View notes

shindisworld · 10 months

Text

Pinterest pics & scenarios that remind me of what it’d be like dating E1610!Miles

Miles ❤️🕷️

Unlike his Earth 42 counterpart, this sweet baby absolutely loves taking pictures with you

It literally doesn’t matter how ridiculous he looks, as long as he makes you smile that’s all he cares about 🥹

He has a photo album of you two in his drawer with small notes around the pictures

There’s notes like

“when I first realized I loved you <3”

“First date! :)”

Or just a simple “mi vida”

Don’t even get me started on his lockscreen-

It’s literally a collage of you 😭

“Baby when did you get so many pictures of me?”

He shrugs “I just take one every time I think you look pretty”

“There’s a pic of me devouring a burger, Miles”

“Well I always think you look pretty soooo”

This boy is so clingy in the cutest way possible

Good morning texts, good night texts, making sure you’ve eaten and drank something that day, or just sending you lyrics that reminds him of you

“Every time I look into your eyes I see it, you’re all I need” (Get You by Daniel Caesar ft. Kali Uchis)

“Milesssss 🥹❤️”

Whenever his patrol ends he always tries his best to stop by your place just to see you sleeping in your bed before he heads back to his place

You’re his rock, with everything he has to deal with in his life you remind him that he’s still a teen and doesn’t have to have so many burdens and responsibilities

He’ll text you at all hours of the night. He would feel so bad for waking you up but he just has to let you know how much he loves you 😭

“I thought about you a lot today, I miss your pretty eyes, your smile, your hair…ok maybe I miss everything about you. I can’t wait to see you, babe! 🥰❤️”

“Baby I missed you too but it’s 2 in the morning, I’ll see you tomorrow so don’t worry 🫶🏽”

“Well now I definitely can’t sleep because I’m too excited that I get to see my girl 😩😘”

He makes you giggle at your phone from his antics 🤭

Overall Miles is like a golden retriever boyfriend, he literally loves you so much and needs everyone to know that

He’s the type who’s faces immediately lights up as soon as you come into the room

Will try and rizz you up…notice how I said try? 💀

Sweet boy is trying so hard 😭

But it makes you smile and he thinks it’s all worth it even if his ego is a little bruised

He loves to touch you, nothing crazy, just simply holding hands, locking pinkies, hugs, kisses on the cheek, really anything that you’re comfortable with

He’ll def share anything with you

You cold? Well why didn’t you just say so? 🤨

Immediately takes off his jacket and gives it to you

Hungry?

Shares his food without a second thought

“Baby are you sure you don’t mind sharing with me?”

“Babe of course I don’t mind, please, eat as much as you want” 🥹

Now onto a veryyyy important aspect of Miles: his sketchbook

He would rather get chased down by Miguel again before anyone other than you sees it 💀

Literally sketches of you on almost every. single. page.

He’s not embarrassed of you, of course he isn’t.

It’s just the sheer amount of drawings of you that makes him a little shy to show anyone the sketchbook 🫣

He makes you a playlist without you even asking

Like he just sends it to you one day with a text that says

“Hey y/n/n my love! I made this for you because it reminds me of you and helps whenever I miss you. I hope you like it, beautiful 🫶🏾”

I need to stop, I got a little carried away 💀

EXTRA: his contact for you is “My Sunflower 🌻😘”

Ok I’m done fr this time! 🌚💜

#miles morales #miles morales x you #miles morales hcs #miles morales x reader #miles morales fluff #he is literally perfect #atsv miles #itsv miles

523 notes · View notes

jakeyt · 2 months

Text

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 <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)

#jake kiszka x reader #jake kiszka fic #jake kiszka fanfic #jake fic #my fics #covet #i am so DAMN excited for what's coming

123 notes · View notes

fluentmoviequoter · 2 months

Text

Our Songs

Requested Here! Here's the Instagram video that inspired this amazing request!!

Pairing: David "Deacon" Kay x fem!wife!reader

Summary: Deacon sings your song every chance he gets, but when he finds out why you love to hear him sing, he introduces more Sinatra into your life.

Warnings: fluff!!! song lyrics are italicized! if you're only interested in Deacon x reader, stop at the double divider because there's a baby past that break.

Word Count: 1.0k+ words

Playlist (in order of inclusion): I've Got You Under My Skin, You Make Me Feel So Young, The Best is Yet To Come, From the Bottom to the Top, All My Tomorrows (all by Frank Sinatra)

Picture from Pinterest (crossing my fingers that I haven't used this one already but not taking the time to check)

Deacon Kay is a man of many talents. Since meeting Deacon and falling in love with him, every day, you learn about a talent you haven’t seen before. There’s nothing he can’t do, as far as you’re concerned, and you become more convinced of this after you get married.

When you get home from a long day, Deacon is in the kitchen, and you’re greeted by a mouth-watering scent. You take a deep breath, releasing the tension and stress left over from the day. Walking toward the kitchen, you stop when you hear Deacon humming. As you lean against the island, you watch his back as he stirs a pot on the stove before bending to check the pan in the oven. His humming continues, and you close your eyes as you place the song. It played during your first date, and Deacon decided it was your song, so you played it at your wedding, on your honeymoon, and many times after.

“You know,” you begin quietly, “if I’d known you sounded better than Sinatra sooner, you would’ve been asked to sing at the wedding.”

Deacon smiles as he turns toward you. “You flatter me.”

“You make it easy.”

Deacon pulls you against him, hugging you tightly. He loosens his grip on you, but you keep your cheek pressed to his chest, his steady heartbeat a reminder of how much love you share with him. Deacon rubs your back before he sways you gently, humming again before he starts singing.

“I'd tried so, not to give in

I said to myself this affair never will go so well

But why should I try to resist when baby I know so well

I've got you under my skin

I'd sacrifice anything come what might

For the sake of having you near

In spite of a warning voice that comes in the night

And repeats, repeats in my ear.”

“I love you,” you say against Deacon’s chest.

He pushes you out and spins you, smiling at your laugh as you lay your arms over his shoulders, hooking your hands behind his neck. Deacon wraps his arms around your waist, looking into your eyes as he begins singing again.

“You make me feel so young

You make me feel there are songs to be sung

Bells to be rung

And a wonderful fling to be flung

And even when I'm old and gray

I'm gonna feel the way I do today

'Cause you make me feel so young

You make me feel so young

You make me feel so spring has sprung

And every time I see you grin

I'm such a happy individual.”

“I’m going to fall in love with you again,” you murmur.

“Then I’m never going to stop singing,” Deacon replies, then kisses your forehead.

“Hondo will love that; you can kick down a door and then sing ‘Fly Me to the Moon.’”

“Why limit it to Sinatra? There has to be better breaching music.”

You hum in agreement, using your hands behind Deacon’s neck to pull him into a kiss. When you pull back, ready for dinner, you remind Deacon that you love him more than any song could capture or explain.

✯✯✯✯✯

When you wake up the following morning, it’s still dark outside, but Deacon’s voice is floating in from the bathroom.

“Wait 'til your charms are right for these arms to surround

You think you've flown before, but baby, you ain't left the ground

Wait 'til you're locked in my embrace

Wait 'til I draw you near

Wait 'til you see that sunshine place

Ain't nothin' like it here

The best is yet to come, and babe, won't it be fine?

The best is yet to come, come the day you're mine

Come the day you're mine

And you're gonna be mine.”

You smile as he enters the bedroom, and he returns to his rightful place beside you.

“Sorry if I woke you up,” Deacon apologizes.

“You didn’t. But I wouldn’t want to wake up to anything else.”

“I’m starting to think you love the singing more than me.”

“The opposite,” you explain. “I love the singing because it’s you.”

Deacon kisses you, and you smile into the kiss.

✯✯✯✯✯

“And when we have a little Deacon? What will you sing then?” you ask, making yourself comfortable against Deacon’s side.

With your heart pressed to his, Deacon quickly decides on a song.

“From the Bottom to the Top,” he answers.

“I may need a demonstration.”

Deacon kisses you, distracting you from your question. He hums into the kiss, and you pull yourself closer, enjoying the joy of being wholly in love with Deacon.

✯✯✯✯✯

The nursery is empty when you wake. Walking through the house, you hear Deacon and follow his voice.

“Everything I got

No, it's not a lot

From the bottom to the top

You can have all of me

I will try at one o'clock, two o'clock, three o'clock, four

To keep you satisfied

I will try those anything, everything, anything more

To hold you by my side

You can make me laugh

You can make me cry

You can change my heart

If you'll only try

By the stars above

You can have my love.”

When you find Deacon sitting by the patio door, looking down at your baby, you can't help but smile. Moving to sit beside him, you lean your head on Deacon’s shoulder.

“Takes after you,” Deacons says softly. “The moment I start singing, the crying stops.”

“Because you sing from love,” you point out. “And we know you love us.”

“That I do,” Deacon agrees, turning to kiss you.

Your baby coos against Deacon’s chest, and you chuckle as you kiss his jaw.

“I think we need an encore.”

Deacon smiles at you before singing,

“Today I may not have a thing at all

Except for just a dream or two

But I've got lots of plans for tomorrow

And all my tomorrows belong to you.”

“All of my tomorrows are you, Mr. Kay," you whisper.

“And mine are you, Mrs. Kay.”

#david deacon kay x reader #deacon kay x reader #david kay x reader #david deacon kay #deacon kay #deacon kay fluff #requests #fem!reader #hanna writes✯

56 notes · View notes

prettygirlmjmjmj · 5 months

Text

Romanticising school and studying

Going to school everyday can get a little monotonous at times, especially if you aren't a massive fan of all your subjects or don't like the class your in for a variety of reasons (annoying classmates, bad teacher etc). Romanticising school can help make going seem more appealing, help motivate you and ensure that you actually start to enjoy going - as well as meaning you look and feel pretty every day. These tips are ones I personally follow and they have helped me stay organised and motivated (so much so that people often describe me as 'that girl'). I really hope they help you too or at least inspire you to find ways to romanticise school/studying!!

Create school playlists. This is a playlist to put on while studying, going to school or when you need to feel a little bit more enthusiastic about school. Give it a pretty cover and title and pick songs that make you feel happy and motivated.

If you get to pick your own clothes, pick clothes that make you feel cute and comfortable, with jewellery to add extra details to your outfit. If you wear a school uniform (which I used to have to wear) try and find ways to make it cuter without breaking uniform rules, for example wearing bows/ribbons in your hair, jewellery, cute socks, stylish shoes and jumpers/cardigans.

Try to buy pretty school essentials. For example a nice bag, pencil case and stationary, an adorable water bottle, a lunch box and a pretty notebook.

Add stickers to your school book covers! Try to either find ones which fit the subject (for example quotes for literature) or just stickers that you love. Decorating your notebooks make them a little cuter and might help motivate you to open them more!

Make your notes colourful and pretty. I love taking colourful, fun notes (I'm pretty well known for it in my classes) and it always help my notes be more memorable and also easier to read and turn into additional revision resources. If you aren't sure where to start, pinterest always has super pretty note inspo.

Try and join clubs or activities which are around things that you love such as an art club or a football club! This is a great way of meeting new people but also making your day more interesting and busy.

Before you start studying, set your desk up. Turn lamps on, light candles, open a window, fill your water bottle up and get your favourite highlighters and pens! This will make it easier to start studying and make it feel more cozy, helping you to study for longer.

Have a delicious and nice looking breakfast. Nourishing your body in the mornings will help you to feel more energised and motivated for the day ahead. My favourite breakfasts (and the ones I think are the most aesthetic) always involve fresh fruits.

Bring a book with you to school! I always bring at least two books to school with me, one book that will be good for gaining more knowledge in classes and the other that's just a fun read. This will give you something to do when you're bored other than scrolling on your phone.

Find role models to inspire you to do better in school. Whether they are real people or fictional characters, try and find role models who inspire you to study harder and do better in school. Think about why you admire them and try to adopt those qualities yourself.

Try studying outside or in a café you love every once in a while. Order your fave drink and snack, put on your playlist and get studying.

Try to participate more in school or engage in class discussions. Verbalising your ideas and getting feedback on them can be so helpful, and so motivating especially when you make a good point or get something right.

Create a vision board or pinterest board themed around how you want your school experience to be. Look at it regularly and try to motivate yourself to fit that vision.

Install studying/school apps on your phone so you can revise between breaks or make revision a little quicker! Some apps I recommend are: quizlet (best app for making flashcards), flora (cute little timer), notion (great for organisation), wunderlist (to do lists), wild journey (relaxing sounds for studying) and xmind (for digital mindmaps).

Try studying with a group, a friend or with a 'study with me' youtube video! This is a great way of keeping yourself disciplined and motivated and of studying with real people can help you feel more motivated.

Thank you for reading! Good luck and all my love, mj.

#glow up era #that girl #glow up #self development #self care #glow up journey #self love #it girl #girl blogger #girlblogging #study inspiration #study motivation #study blog #studyblr #studyspo #study aesthetic #studying #student #student life

106 notes · View notes

inawearyworld · 4 months

Text

free if you truly wish to be: chapter v

the power of a found family heist saves the day (six of crows who??) (god these summaries have become rather unhinged over the course of this fic huh)

2023!wonka x oc, this chapter ~2.3k

just wanted to say thank you to all you lovely people who've read and loved this fic! please lmk what you think, like reblog yadda yadda yadda. i'm euphrasiepontmercy on ao3 if you want to see any more of my near-embarrassingly escapist writing :) there will certainly be more wren coming in the form of playlists, pinterest boards, drawings, etc

so much love <3

part four fic masterlist

The next day, for half of a moment upon awakening, she thought the whole past month had been a dream. That she’d go on living in her unpierced golden cage, that there was nothing revealed and nothing to reveal, that things could be fine for a little while longer.

Then she heard the blaring vocal warmups of the comedian who lived down the hall.

…Okay, then.

It’s real.

She stayed up in Piper’s room, hoping to escape notice from the owners of the establishment, whom she’d never seen but hated due to their imprisonment of her friends. She’d warned them all the previous night that the Chocolate Cartel had seemed about to propose a surely sinister deal to Wonka-regrettably all but Noodle, who was asleep, and who she thought would probably take the hit the hardest, whatever hit that might be.

She wasn’t sure where to go from here.

Willy had wound up under the thumb of men who would gladly destroy him, the wash crew was nowhere near the freedom they deserved, and she herself was disgraced and thrown out by the only practical lifeline she’d had for two years, the man she’d thought she’d loved.

She realized, though, that the chain of actions that led to finally standing up to Felix was the first thing she’d done in two years that she didn’t regret.

That new sense of assurance, though, wouldn’t put any food on her family’s table.

Or her own.

And still, the thrumming in the back of her heart took the form of olive eyes, soft curls, and chocolate-dot freckles. How much danger was he in? Had he really lost all hope?

Was he even alive?

The only venture she’d made that morning was a careful one to Lottie’s room; the telephonist had snuck her a bit of gruel and told her she could borrow some of her clothes for the day. When she got back to Piper’s, she heard a large clank against the wall, and opened the window to investigate.

She was met with those same olive eyes, accompanied by a tired but teasing smile.

“We have really got to stop meeting like this.”

Relief flooded her so thoroughly that every rational thought momentarily disappeared, and suddenly Wren realized that she was kissing him.

And that he was kissing her back.

And that he was very precariously perched on a very tall ladder.

“I, ah…”

She trailed off, struck speechless by the haze in his expression that could be described in no way but adoring.

“You’re alive,” she breathed. “You’re here.”

“So are you.”

“And you feel the same way?”

“Very much so.”

Apparently unable to form any longer sentences, they fell into shaking, half-disbelieving laughter.

“Wrap it up, Romeo, a person can only keep this steady for so long,” came Piper’s voice from below, and Willy laughed again.

“Alright, I-well.”

“Yeah?”

She watched him run through the events of the past hours in his mind as he tried to sum it up, and he quickly shook his head.

“Come on down, we’ll all explain what happened. Then we need your help to rescue Noodle.”

And so they did. Once the whole crew had been informed of all that had happened, they planned and began to carry out their heist, and Wren-while still fully aware of the danger-allowed part of herself to be thrilled at finally having adventures with a found, created family like she’d read about all her life.

There were a few variables, of course-there was a plan for if Willy and Noodle were caught by the Cartel and a plan for if they weren’t, which, of course, they were. Wren flitted through various windows enough to throw a surely-still-reeling Felix slightly off his game, enough that he’d gladly drown his thoughts in the planted Hoverchocs. She also misdirected those who somehow weren’t distracted by the giraffe, allowing the Oompa-Loompa to enter the cathedral and do his part.

What she wasn’t expecting to do was help him to rescue the pair from death by chocolate.

She’d started to make her way out of the cathedral when she heard a shout of “thank you, little orange man!” from under the ground. Puzzled, she’d looked down to see a chocolate-drenched Noodle and Willy gasping for breath under a circle of glass and flooring as the brown liquid receded. She startled, then quickly came to her wits in time to break the surface and pull each of them through, all three falling into each other’s arms.

“What-”

“Oh, God-”

“What on earth-”

“Thanks, Wren-”

“What happened?”

“The plan,” Willy said, pausing to clear his throat of chocolate, “ran into a few setbacks.”

“I can see that.”

“But,” and here he reached into his vest to produce a large and somewhat soaked envelope, “I brought you this, from the vault.”

Wren opened it carefully to see that its contents were luckily mostly untouched by chocolate. Half of them she recognized as what she’d sent to her family, the things that Felix had withheld, but the rest of the envelopes were graced with her mom’s handwriting.

She’d thought she’d cried more in the past days than ever before, but apparently there were still plenty of tears left, and they all threatened to break loose upon that sight.

They’ve been writing to me all this time.

It was devastating and hopeful all at once. Her husband had spent two years keeping her from contacting her family and keeping them from the reassurance that she cared, but now that she had the letters, she could finally start to make things right.

Also in the massive envelope was a shinier letter, addressed to her from the city’s opera house, stating that a new artistic director had been hired: one who didn’t live in fear of the Cartel, had programmed Romeo et Juliette for the upcoming season, and wished nothing more than for Madame Fickelgruber to play the second title role. Not because of her association, not her relative fame, but her.

She hurriedly looked at the postage date; it wasn’t too late for her to write back and accept.

It’s not too late.

The thought, and its application to just about everything, filled her with light.

She didn’t know why Felix had kept all of this instead of throwing it out; possibly to feed his own ego, to know that his wife was in demand but he was the one that had her. Whatever it was, Willy had found the truth and held it even when he’d thought all was lost, and given it to her the moment he’d had the chance.

“And we found out why Slugworth was acting so weird,” Noodle said excitedly, still catching her breath. “We’re related, if you can believe it-but my parents really did care-and my mom, we-we found her!”

“Oh, Noodle, that’s wonderful,” she gasped, pulling the girl into a hug.

“Yeah, Willy managed to find her name in the ledger-but even after that, he kept looking around the vault until he found that envelope. Said it was for you-that we’d find your family, too.”

Tears brimmed in Wren’s eyes as she nodded to the girl with a smile of sweet solidarity. She then looked over to meet Willy’s gaze, more grateful than she’d ever been, and saw that he’d been watching her with a compassionate blend of sympathy and shared hope.

“Thank you,” she breathed, and kissed him again, heedless of the mess. “I know this will come as no surprise, but-”

“I taste like chocolate?”

“I could get used to it.”

“Okay, WE GET IT,” came Noodle’s laugh, “you like each other, it finally happened, hallelujah. Now-look!”

They all turned to the door to see the unmistakable silhouettes of the Cartel, and Willy grinned. It was time for the final phase of their plan.

The three misfits helped each other off the ground and made their way to the cathedral’s entrance, just in time to hear Prodnose’s “in which they died” followed by the men’s laughter.

“I wouldn’t be so sure about that.”

All heads turned at his voice, and Wren grinned to see all three chocolatiers pale at the sight of them.

“Wonka!” shouted Slugworth.

“Florence,” formed Fickelgruber.

“What?” piped Prodnose.

“Officer, would you kindly take a look at this?”

Willy handed the ledger he’d held to Officer Affable, and Noodle smiled as she stepped forward.

“It details every single illegal payment these men have ever made. Thousands of them.”

“Affable, don’t listen to her. She’s lying,” the Chief said, but Affable had already opened the ledger.

“Well, of course she is,” said Slugworth, his clear nervousness betraying him. Wren smirked and looked back to Affable.

“She’s not, sir. She’s absolutely right, it’s…incredible.”

The Chief blinked, then tried as he might to take back control.

“Oh. Well. Then it sounds like a case for the Chief of Police. Give it to me, Affable, I’ll take it from here.”

“I can’t do that, I’m afraid, sir.”

“And why’s that?”

“Because your name’s written down here, sir. A lot. Gentlemen, you’re under arrest,” he said, addressing the Cartel with the latter statement.

Slugworth nodded slightly, his eyes widening, and barely turned to his colleagues when he spoke to them.

“Run.”

And run they did, but they didn’t get far. Gasps went up in the crowd as the Chocolate Cartel took to the air once again, and the other trio strolled down to the base of the fountain.

“Wha-what’s happening,” Slugworth cried, “why are we airborne?”

“You didn’t eat any of those chocolates, did you, Mr. Slugworth?” Willy asked, knowing full well that he’d won.

God, certainty looked good on him.

“Why?”

“Because they’re Hoverchocs! Delayed action. But extra strong.”

“Florence!-” Felix called, the adrenaline of flight having pitched his voice up nearly an octave as he grabbed onto Prodnose’s leg with one hand and reached to her with the other. “Just forget it all, my pet, I’ll forgive you in time, don’t worry, we’ll get rid of him again and all will be well-”

He always was one for the dramatics.

And that’s something I can easily match.

She looked straight at him, made a show of removing her wedding ring, held it aloft until it glinted in the sun, and let it go, allowing it to tumble through the air and land directly on the edge of a convenient storm drain.

Felix let out a strangled gasp, his eyes not on her but rather trailing the expensive ring as it fell. From his vantage point, it was gone forever in that drain, and she was happy to let him believe that; she’d pick it up later and send it to her family.

Though, perhaps, with her dream off to a real start, she’d finally be able to make her own way in the world and help to support her family on her own accord.

That thought was sweeter than any amount of candy.

“You think you’re so clever, don’t you, Wonka?” Slugworth was saying. He went on to rattle off assurances on how the Cartel could still defeat him, a frantic gloat of their societal power over him, but Wren barely heard it; she was becoming progressively more distracted by Willy’s slight and slowly growing smirk.

“I wish I’d thought of that.”

Then, with something close to darkness, he looked up at them through the chocolate that framed his eyelashes, and Wren thought for a moment that she might faint.

Noodle gave her signal, the ground started to rattle, and Wren’s heart beat faster and faster.

No going back now.

She took a last look at Felix, feeling strangely sorry for him despite herself. In another world, perhaps, he could have been given the space to regard his humble past without shame, could have used it to become a more compassionate person.

Then she reminded herself that, in this world, he had tried to kill two people and had possibly already killed many more, spent his life prioritizing appearance over literally anything else, lied to her countless times, and allowed his chocolate monopoly to uphold an elitist society.

And this world was the one she lived in.

And this world was the one in which the frozen fountain burst with chocolate, rocketing the three men who’d clung to it up and out until they were sailing through the sky.

“Don’t worry, gentlemen!” Willy was calling to them. “You’ll come down eventually, I think. Probably.”

He then turned to her and whispered, “they will.” Through all of this, he still refused to completely harm anyone. The bare minimum, perhaps, but more compassion than the Cartel would have faced opposite any other foe. She smiled and squeezed his hand in silent thanks.

With that, he threw a few ingredients into the chocolate fountain, causing it to sparkle as it never had before, and invited the crowd to enjoy.

As the wash crew came together in relief and celebration, Wren realized that the teasing phrase she’d spoken earlier had more meaning than she’d originally known.

She could indeed get used to this.

Not too much of a time later, that same group stood in that same town square on those same cathedral steps, but there was something different in the air.

The Cartel had indeed come safely down from the skies after a few hours on that fateful day, and had promptly been arrested by the newly appointed and much more just Chief Affable of Police. There was more color in the town, more music; everything had seemed a bit lighter, or maybe that was just how it felt to be genuinely living in love.

Because now, Wren Matterson was able to write back and forth with her family again. Now, she was in rehearsals for a role she adored. Now, she was coming into a state of self-empowerment unlike anything she’d ever known. Now, she spent time not perched restless on a fainting couch, but laughing with and learning from a better group of friends than she ever could have imagined, and had even worked together to reunite one of them with her own mom, which they were just about to do.

And right now, in this very moment, Willy Wonka, with tears of grateful closure in his eyes, carefully broke apart his mother’s last chocolate bar, handing a piece of it to each of these dear, dear friends. He then looked to Wren with an expression she was still bowled over by every time, and reached into his pocket.

With a soft but sparkling smile, he opened his hand to reveal an emerald-wrapped, heart-shaped almond milk chocolate.

So, no, Wren Matterson was no longer fine. She was so much better than fine.

She was free.

#fiytwtb #wonka 2023 #wonka #wonka movie #willy wonka x reader #timothee chalamet #timothee chalamet fanfiction #timothee chalamet fic #timothee x reader #timothée chalamet #wonka fanfic #wonka fanfiction #timothée chalamet x reader

59 notes · View notes

e-dubbc11 · 9 months

Text

Songbird Pt. 4

Photos are not mine. They are courtesy of Pinterest/Google

Pairing: Billy Russo x F! Reader

Warnings: Stalker behavior, swearing, little violent, guns and knives mentioned, attempted kidnapping. Mention of conceal carry

Word Count: 5.8k-ish

Summary: Part 4 of 4. After getting another letter, reader is tired of being scared and Billy is there for her, he’s angry, wants to take care of it and protect her.

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

A/N: I don’t really have much to say except, I love this series but this final part gave me some problems so I hope it came out alright. And to everyone who has enjoyed this series, thank you SO much! A couple more songs from the playlist are in this part…Dear Jessie by Madonna and Songbird by Fleetwood Mac (one of my favorite songs)

As always, thank you for reading! I appreciate it so much and comments, reblogs are welcome and encouraged. Don’t be shy to tell me your favorite part. 💕💕 💕

…I’m the one who’s been watching you and protecting you, making sure you’re ok. And now you think you don’t need me anymore because you have him!? Well, he can’t have you. You’re mine, he doesn’t love you like I do. And just know if I can’t have you, nobody will.

“Did Bob give this to you?” You asked her.

She shook her head and through tears, she said. “No, no…this one came in the mail. See, he says here in the beginning that he couldn’t risk being recognized if he dropped it off again.”

You paced the room, and tried to grind out the words between gritted teeth. “This one is definitely a threat and this asshole obviously doesn’t know what I do for a living. Honestly baby, this is very poorly executed.” You joked trying to make her smile.

She did crack a smile briefly but the worry returned to her face. “Billy, if something were to happen to you, I don’t know—“

You crouched down so you were eye level with her and cupped her face. “Y/n, nothing is gonna happen to me, ok? This is my job and I will do whatever I have to, to keep you safe, do you understand me?”

Pulling her into an embrace, she squeezed you tightly and you felt her nod against your shoulder. “Yes…” She said, in a frightened voice. “I understand. Thank you.”

The tension in her shoulders eased while you held her in your arms, her perfume invading your sense of smell, and her fingers were nervously picking at the fabric of your dress shirt.

You really would be lost without her. She meant everything to you. She taught you how to actually be in a relationship, not asking for anything or taking advantage of you. She genuinely cared about you.

You had flashbacks to the song she sang that first night you saw her perform.

“So, tell me have you ever really, really, really, ever loved a woman?”

It played like a broken record in your head because no, you’ve never been in love…ever. But it was different now…with her. You finally understood what Frank meant by quality over quantity.

You were in love with her.

When she called you about the first letter, there wasn’t any hesitation. Still rubbing the sleep out of your eyes, you rushed to be with her, so she didn’t have to be alone. There were a lot of changes in you that even Frank noticed.

He said you were smiling more, he knew when you were reading one of her texts because of the silly grin stretched across your face, you dropped everything if she needed you, and your apartment actually felt like a home.

Watching her cook in her apron, seeing her book resting on the coffee table, and standing next to her while you both brush your teeth in the morning, they all brought a smile to your face and you never wanted that feeling to go away or be taken away from you.

It frightened you to feel this way but your inner voice kept saying “just tell her…say it.”

As you held her against you, the words just fell out of your mouth. “I love you.”

Her body stiffened in your embrace as she asked. “What did you just say?” She pulled away slightly and began to fidget with the buttons on your shirt, looking up at you with those beautiful eyes of hers. She knew what you said, she just wanted to hear you say it again.

“I’ve never been in love before, y/n. But I imagine it feels like this. I think about you when you’re not around, I get excited on my way home from work because I know you’re here waiting for me, I love seeing your toothbrush next to mine, and the smell of your perfume on my shirts after you hug me…I could go on and on about all the reasons why I’m in love with you.”

She wiped the tear away from her cheek and smiled. “Keep going, I don’t mind.” She chuckled. “I love you too, Billy.”

You drew her in close to kiss her again, her arms snaked around your neck while pressing her soft lips against yours. She inhaled sharply as you moved to kiss her neck and she said something that made the hair on the back of your neck stand up.

“BILLY!! I know who it is!”

You

Pulling away from him, you couldn’t believe that you didn’t realize it sooner. He said it right in that second letter.

“…I’m the one who’s been watching you and protecting you, making sure you’re ok. And now you think you don’t need me anymore because you have him!?”

“I do, I know who it is!” You exclaimed.

Billy stared at you wide eyed. “Well I’m very interested in hearing about it, baby. Who is it?”

Your heart was racing as you said. “It’s Nick…security at the club, it has to be. Think about it, he didn’t like you from the start, and in that second letter he said he’s been watching me, protecting me, and because you’re around me all the time, I don’t need him anymore.”

He pondered for a minute, looking down at the floor and flicked his gaze back to you. “That definitely makes a lot of sense. I think you might be right, my love.” He said.

You placed the second letter in a plastic bag and took it down to the police station so they could put it with the other one and test it for fingerprints. They didn’t find any on either letter and said you could file a restraining order.

Billy got in Detective Mahoney’s face and through gnashed teeth, he said “He threatened her in this letter. Do you really think a piece of paper is gonna stop this guy? But I forgot. You’re the NYPD, you never get shit wrong do ya?” Billy said sarcastically with a wicked smile.

You shouldn’t be but you were really turned on watching him. His words came out in a low growl, staring at the detective with those intense eyes, and gently squeezing your hand as if to tell you “I’ll keep you safe.”

“Come on, Billy. Let’s go. You warned them, that’s all we can do…it’s in their hands now.” You told him, glaring at the detective on the way out.

As soon as you stepped outside, Billy turned to face you. “Tell me what’s in your purse, baby.”

You knew what he meant by that. “You know what’s in my purse, Billy. I have conceal carry for a reason. But what are we gonna do? I’m supposed to sing at the club on Friday.” You said.

“I dunno, but we’ll figure it out.” He said as the two of you headed for home.

Billy

“Well he’ll probably try and get you alone.” You told her.

Her hands were folded and resting in her lap. “But Billy, there are a lot of people there. He wouldn’t do anything in front of everyone, would he?” She asked.

You shrugged your shoulders. “I dunno, I don’t know how stable he is. He may not care if he gets caught or how many people see him at this point.” You said. “If he sees I’m not there, he may actually try something.”

She sat in front of you, a concerned look in her eyes but she was tougher than she seemed. She didn’t let anyone push her around which, you had to admit, was such a turn on.

You remembered the first time you spoke to her at the club, she was tenacious and feisty on the outside but she let her guard down and let you in. You let her in too…told her about your mother but also about the group home, Arthur, and being in combat.

The letters scared her at first, but now she was just angry. She hated feeling like that. Singing made her happy and she didn’t want to be scared to do it. She wasn’t going to be intimidated by Nick anymore.

The flowers he had sent to the apartment didn’t make it past the front desk because you told the building manager not to deliver anything to her door without permission. There was a note attached to it and all it said was “See you Friday, we’ll be together soon. I love you.”

She had enough. Seeing those words written on that card made her sick to her stomach, they made your skin crawl and your blood boil. After finally finding someone that you cared enough about to share your life with and tell her all about your past, this asshole was threatening to take her away from you.

And you weren’t going to let that happen.

You

Billy wasn’t in the car with you when you arrived at the club on Friday. He was in another car close behind you and thought if Nick saw you were alone, it would be the best way to catch him off guard.

Looking around while your band set up, you didn’t see Nick anywhere so you asked the owner if he was working tonight. She told you that he called in sick so you texted Billy.

She said he called in sick tonight so he’s not here.

A text from Billy came back quickly.

Oh he’s here somewhere. I know he is. Don’t let your guard down, keep your purse with you at all times and remember what we talked about. I love you.

A slight smile danced across your lips at the sight of those three words. It was amazing to feel loved again after such a long time and from someone who you didn’t think was capable of love for anyone other than himself. But you had judged Billy too quickly.

Yes, he had a reputation of being a womanizer, using women and then moving onto the next one but he made an effort with you. He was your friend first before anything. A friend you could laugh with, talk to, and tell your deepest secrets to. A friend that turned away advances from other women even when they showed up at his door unexpectedly and he didn’t lie about it.

It was one of the first nights you were staying with Billy and you heard voices as you were getting out of the shower. You couldn’t hear exactly what they were saying, only bits and pieces but Billy’s voice was soft but stern. “I don’t know how you got up here but you need to go….Yes, someone else is here…her name is none of your business…good luck getting info about Kandahar…I know that’s all you wanted from me anyway…yeah, I found out about that…people talk, Dinah…goodnight.”

Fresh out of the shower, you walked out of the bathroom asking who was at the door. He easily could have lied but he didn’t.

“It was Agent Madani. I don’t know how she got up here, probably flashed her badge. I’m sorry. It won’t happen again.” He had said, pulling you in close to his chest.

Billy Russo was so much more than he gave himself credit for and you were probably the first person to ever tell him that. He was one of the strongest people you’ve ever met, thoughtful, sweet and funny but he never showed that vulnerability to any woman…except you.

You looked down at those three words on your phone again.

I love you.

You loved him too, so much and you made sure to write him back.

I love you too.

Billy didn’t think Nick would make a scene in front of a crowd of people and he made sure he was out of sight to make it seem like he wasn’t there. Billy did say he would place some of his Anvil employees around the club disguised as regular patrons pretending they were there to just watch the show.

“Your boyfriend isn’t here tonight, y/n?” One of your band members asked.

Shaking your head back and forth with your lips pressed firmly together, you then replied. “No, he had to work tonight. It was important so he couldn’t get out of it.” You said with a slight frown.

“Well don’t worry, you’ll still have your regular groupies to fawn all over you.” Jimmy said, smiling at you.

“We’ll save the new song we’ve been practicing for when he’s here, ok?” You said.

Jimmy nodded. “You got it, boss.”

After the first few songs, you almost forgot about Nick. It felt great to be on stage tonight even though Billy wasn’t there to watch but you were very aware of your surroundings and kept an eye out for anything out of the ordinary.

You didn’t want to feel scared in a place that brought you so much joy. It was one of the places that you could feel completely at ease at, a place where you felt comfortable and the place where the man you were in love with first introduced himself to you.

Billy was everything you had been looking for in a relationship and a few things you weren’t. He was jealous and possessive at times but you were convinced it was because he didn’t want to lose what he had waited his whole life to finally have. Someone who loved him for who he was.

You never would have dreamed that a man you had dubbed “The Penthouse Playboy” would now be someone you couldn’t picture your life without and it made your chest ache to think about going just one day without talking to him, seeing him, raking your fingers through his raven colored hair, or looking into his deep brown eyes.

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Frank sitting at the bar alone and scanning the room while also keeping his eyes on you. Aside from Frank, you really didn’t know which club patrons were actually patrons and which were Anvil employees. Billy probably wanted it that way as if not to alarm you and made it easier for them to blend in with everyone else.

The last song before your break was Dear Jessie.

Baby face don't grow so fast Make a special wish that will always last Rub this magic lantern He will make your dreams come true for you Ride the rainbow to the other side Catch a falling star and then take a ride To the river that sings and the clover that Brings good luck to you, it's all true

You had asked the manager earlier if they could make the lights as dim as possible, lying to her by saying that the bright lights were too much tonight because you had a slight headache.

She accommodated as best she could and it did make it easier to see people in the crowd, people getting up to use the restroom, going to get another drink at the bar, or just walking in and out to get some fresh air.

Pink elephants and lemonade, dear Jessie Hear the laughter running through the love parade Candy kisses and a sunny day, dear Jessie See the roses raining on the love parade

When you arrived at the club earlier, the car pulled right up to the curb and you watched as the car that had Billy riding in it, drove past you and kept going so you really didn’t have any idea where he was. There was someone else in the crowd that you recognized, sitting a couple stools down from Frank…It was the detective that was speaking to Billy about the restraining order.

What was he doing here?

Your heart was racing and your warm hands gripped the microphone tightly as you continued to give the audience the show you wanted to give them and one that they deserved.

On the merry-go-round of lovers and white turtle doves Leprechauns floatin' by, this is your lullaby Sugarplum fingertips kissing your honey lips Close your eyes sleepy head, is it time for your bed Never forget what I've said, hang on, you're already there

The song was almost over and you heard Billy’s voice in your head “When the song’s over and it’s time to take your break, go out to the car, you may not see him but I’m sure he’ll be watching you.”

You knew Billy was right because even though you couldn’t see Nick, there was a feeling deep down in the pit of your stomach that you couldn’t shake, that someone was watching you and not in a good way.

Pink elephants and lemonade, dear Jessie Hear the laughter running through the love parade Candy kisses and a sunny day, dear Jessie See the roses raining on the love parade Your dreams are made inside the love parade It's a holiday inside your love parade

“Thank you, so much. We’re gonna take a little break but we’ll be back shortly.” You said with a nervous smile.

Walking off the stage, you unzipped the part of your bag that held your .22 and reached inside to rest your hand on it while walking outside. Frank never let his gaze go far away from you and out of the corner of your eye, you noticed him get up from his barstool as you were walking out.

From behind the “employees only” door, someone quickly stepped in close behind you.

“Just keep walkin’, beautiful.” The familiar voice said. “And take your hand out of your bag, slowly.”

Your body tensed when you felt something sharp in the middle of your back as you walked toward the town car.

“W-where am I going, Nick?” You asked as he linked his arm up with yours and moved the blade from your back to your left side, lightly poking you in the ribs.

“Walk toward the car. Your boyfriend’s not here, is he. I would have seen him if he was.” He said with a low growl.

“H-he had to work tonight. Why are you doing this, Nick?” You asked with a hitch in your voice.

“It’s me, I’m the one that’s watched over you to make sure no one comes near you while you’re on stage. I protect you, not HIM.” The knife quickly pierced through your sweater and cut you. It wasn’t bad, just enough to break the skin…or so you thought.

“I’m sorry, Nick. I never meant to hurt you but Billy is the man I want to be with. I am really sorry.” You said again. “Please just let me go.”

He was starting to get flustered, his nostrils were flaring and he was taking deep breaths in and out, almost panting because he was so angry.

Shaking his head back and forth, he said “No…no, I love you and we’re going to be together. Now get in the car.”

You were trying to act as normal as possible as to not scare Nick into doing something rash but you’d be lying to yourself if you weren’t terrified of what he might do to you.

Slowly, your free hand shaking, you reached for the handle and opened the door. You were blocking Nick’s view of inside the car so he didn’t see Billy sitting on the opposite bench seat until he was already inside the car and closed the door.

“Don’t you move, asshole.” Billy said. His face flushed with rage, pointing his gun right at Nick’s head. “I’ll paint the inside of this car with your brain and not lose any sleep over it, you got that?! Nod if you understand.”

Nick nodded but still had his blade stuck slightly in your side. You didn’t know which was more alarming, Billy’s threats or the stoic look on Nick’s face.

“Get that knife away from her now and drop it on the floor.” His voice was sharp and he had an angry shape to his mouth, almost changing the shape of his face. Billy was furious.

Nick removed the knife from your side, dropped it onto the car floor and you could feel a little blood trickling down and dipping below the waist of your jeans.

“Did he hurt you, sweetheart?” The ruthless hardening sound to his voice was frightening.

“I-I’m o-ok, Billy…I’m ok.” You replied.

Billy moved the knife with his foot out of Nick’s reach.

“Get outta the car, baby…out on the street side. I got him, ok?” He said.

You nodded and opened the door carefully, making sure there weren’t any cars coming and practically fell into Frank’s arms, as he was waiting on the other side of the door for you.

“You ok, sweetheart?” He asked.

The gash in your side hurt more than you initially thought it did and he noticed the hole in your sweater.

“You’re bleedin’ kid…come on. It’s ok, you’re safe.”

With your body shivering, you let Frank lead you back on to the sidewalk which is when he lifted your sweater to look at the wound in your side. And you almost didn’t notice the detective open the car door, pointing his gun at Nick and telling him to get out of the car, slowly, with his hands where he could see them.

Frank called out for Billy as he was getting out of the car.

“Hey Bill! She’s gotta cut that’s gonna need some stitches!”

Detective Mahoney had Nick pinned up against the car and was putting him in handcuffs when Billy bypassed you after hearing you were going to need stitches, pushed the detective out of the way, turned Nick around to face him and punched him right in the face.

Mahoney shouted. “Russo!!! Let me do my job, alright!!!?” And he forced himself in between Billy and Nick.

You were still confused on why the detective was there in the first place when he didn’t take the letters seriously when you and Billy went to the station.

“Frank? Mahoney listened to what we had to say, told me I could file a restraining order but he wasn’t going to do anything…almost like he didn’t believe me. What changed?” You asked, wincing at the pain in your side.

Frank chuckled a little after Billy punched Nick and said. “Well sweetheart, Bill and I sometimes need to use our “powers of persuasion” when something like this comes up. We weren’t taking “no” for an answer, they were smart and took us seriously the second time.” He said with a wink.

You gave him a warm smile while Billy rushed to you.

“You ok, baby? Lemme see…” He said, lifting your sweater to look at the wound.

You tried to reassure him. “It’s not bad, Billy. I’m ok.”

Billy kissed your forehead. “Well let’s go get this stitched, it shouldn’t take long.”

Mahoney called out as you waited for the other car to pull up. “Uniformed officers will take your statements at the hospital!”

“Thank you for this, Frankie.” Billy said shaking Frank’s hand.

You wrapped your arms around Frank’s torso and he kissed the top of your head. “Thank you, Frank…you’re such a good friend to him.”

“I’d do anything for him, kid.” He leaned in to whisper in your ear. “Plus, I like seeing him happy. Now go get that taken care of, yeah?”

As the car pulled away and headed for the hospital, you glanced out the window to see Nick being put inside a police car. Billy pulled you in close, putting pressure on your stab wound and held you as tightly as he possibly could.

“I’m so glad you’re alright, sweet girl.” He said kissing the top of your head.

You listened to his heartbeat racing inside his chest. “Thanks to you, my handsome hero.”

He smiled against the top of your head. “Is that my new nickname?”

“I dunno…I’ll have to think about it.” You said with a wide smile. “What do you think about Cobra?”

The two of you started laughing.

He pinched your chin in between his forefinger and thumb, angled your face up toward him, and softly pressed his lips to yours.

“Thank you, Billy.” You said.

He gazed down at you, his handsome face finally at ease when he said. “I’ll always protect you, my little songbird.”

**********

After being stitched up and the confrontation with Nick, you hadn’t been back to the club in about four weeks. He did end up getting charged with stalking, assault with a deadly weapon, and attempted kidnapping.

Billy helped you recover in every way he could. You went back to work right away, did every day errands, went back to your weekly routines, practicing with your band, and back to singing in the stairwell but you hadn’t done any singing in public since then.

But maybe now you were finally ready.

Billy

You hated sleeping alone. Staring up at the ceiling in the darkness of your bedroom, you thought about how easy it had been, getting used to having her next to you every night but since she had gone back to her apartment, you didn’t have her to sleep next to EVERY night. She did most nights but not every night.

You missed her on these nights, hated the cold empty space next to you normally occupied by her warm body, you missed touching her soft skin in the middle of the night, hearing her gently hum in her sleep as you brushed your beard against the back of her neck and smiling against her shoulder…you missed all of it.

On nights you had to work late, you would come home to leftover dinner in your fridge that she had made at her place and she would always make extra for you, there would always be a little note on your kitchen counter from her “Hope you had a good day, handsome. Dinner’s in the fridge, I love you.”

But you wanted her sleeping in your bedroom on those late work nights, not hers. You wanted to walk into your apartment and smell the food she had cooked or inhale the scent of the candle she was burning. You missed seeing her books on the coffee table, and hearing her chuckle as she read a funny passage.

You loved her and loved having someone to finally share your life with but dreaded the nights you had to spend without her and wondered if she felt the same way about you.

You wanted to be there for her in case she had a nightmare about Corey or Nick, telling her that it’s ok, you were there for her and she was safe. You needed to tell her you wanted to come home to her, no matter what time it was. You wanted to see her apron hung in the kitchen, or the mug she drank her nighttime tea out of, washed and left to dry in the dish strainer.

You wanted her to live with you.

She said she was ready to start singing at the club again and her first show was coming up on Saturday. You thought it would be the perfect time to ask her and really hoped she would say yes.

“I want her to live with me, Frankie.” You said to Frank with Maria sitting next to him, waiting for her show to start.

A smirk stretched across his face when he replied. “Well…I never thought I’d see the day, Bill. You’re really serious, aren’t you. Bill the Beaut…in love.”

Maria smiled and playfully slapped Frank on the shoulder. “Oh don’t tease him, Frank. I think it’s great and she’s wonderful, she really is Billy. We are SO happy for you.”

Even though you knew she loved you, you were still worried she might say no. “I just hope she says yes.”

As if right on cue, the lights went down and the spotlight appeared on the stage. She was ready.

You

It had been over a month since you performed last and it wasn’t exactly a happy memory so it was no wonder that your heart was beating out of your chest. The nervous flutters in your stomach wouldn’t stop but you closed your eyes in relief when you saw Billy, Frank and Maria at their usual table after walking out on stage.

Billy had his drink resting on the table next to the single red rose he planned on giving to you at some point tonight. He always gave you the most perfect rose every time, you wondered how much time he spent looking for the right one. He was a perfectionist, it only made sense that he would want your rose to be perfect also.

There were more people in the crowd than you were used to seeing, then again it had been awhile since you performed last, maybe people were excited to see you back. Under the bright lights, you settled into your spot while the audience applauded.

The faces you could make out gazed at you with wide smiles but no one had a bigger smile on their face than Billy. He was so happy you were back to doing what you loved to do.

“Thank you all for coming tonight. It feels really nice to be back and to see familiar faces again. I’ve missed being up here. This first song I’d like to do is dedicated to someone that I didn’t even like when I met him.”

The audience chuckled a little.

“And I’ll admit that I judged him too quickly but he surprised me and now I can’t picture my life without him. So Billy, my handsome hero, this one is for you…I hope you like it.”

Billy

Frank leaned in and whispered. “Which song is it, Bill?”

“I don’t know…she said she had been practicing a new song that she chose for me but she never let me hear it.” You said.

For you, there'll be no more crying For you, the sun will be shining And I feel that when I'm with you It's alright, I know it's right

To you, I'll give the world To you, I'll never be cold 'Cause I feel that when I'm with you It's alright, I know it's right

Her voice sounded even more beautiful than before, if that was even possible. You couldn’t take your eyes off of her as she moved toward your table while the lyrics permanently etched themselves onto your heart. The song reminded you of your relationship with her...give and take, the way it’s supposed to be.

And the songbirds are singing, Like they know the score And I love you, I love you, I love you Like never before

She did love you like never before. You never knew what it was like because you had been on your own from a young age, no one cared, and no one gave you a chance to be loved. She took a chance on you though, maybe against her better judgement but you would be forever grateful that she had.

And I wish you all the love in the world But most of all, I wish it from myself

Another smile tugged at the corners of her mouth and yours as well, her eyes were glassy but it didn’t hinder her performance at all.

And the songbirds keep singing Like they know the score And I love you, I love you, I love you Like never before, like never before, Like never before

If you had to pick one song and only one song for her to sing to you for the rest of your life, it would be Songbird. And it wasn’t just because she chose it specifically for you but because it was how you always wanted your relationship with her to be.

You planned to give her the world because even with all of your faults, she wanted you and…she loved you.

You

You barely got out the last notes before Billy stood up, cupped your cheeks and gently pressed his lips to yours, flashing his perfect smile at you as he pulled away, and mouthed “I love you.”

“I love you too.” You mouthed back with a smile.

It was hard to hear anything over the applause and the whistles but Billy leaned down and asked you in your ear. “Move in with me?”

Your expression softened. “Are you sure, Billy?”

“Please?” He asked. “I really love having someone to come home to and I want that someone to be you.”

You wiped a tear that trickled down your cheek.

“How can I say no to that?” You said with a warm smile. “But are you really sure?”

Billy brushed a second tear away from your cheek with his thumb.

“Yes, I am very sure sweet girl. I’ll try my best not to drive you crazy.” He said.

You snaked your arms around his neck, pushed yourself up onto your toes, and pressed yourself flush with his chest as you leaned in to kiss him again. Retreating back to look into his penetrating brown eyes, you smiled and said “You already drive me crazy, Mr. Russo but let’s try it under a shared roof.”

“Is that a yes?” He asked.

“Yes, Billy. I will move in with you.” You said with a warm smile. “Now let me finish my set, soldier.” And you gently pressed your lips to his as he handed you your rose.

Billy

She held onto that rose for the rest of her show just like every other one before it. She never put it down and song after song, you felt like she was singing only for you. People were wandering in off the street into the club just like you had done that first night, they were drawn to her like a moth to a flame but she didn’t seem to notice.

She only had eyes for you.

Her love for you was unexpected, it was pure, and at times you felt it was undeserving. What had you done in your life to deserve someone like her? You’ve been to war, been in combat and have done unspeakable things but she didn’t turn you away when you told her those stories or when you had those bad dreams.

“There’s no shame in bad dreams, Billy.” She had told you.

And maybe you were finally starting to believe her. She did everything to reassure you that you deserved to be loved, that what happened to you as a child wasn’t your fault, and how proud she was that you didn’t use it as an excuse but you used it to make yourself better, stronger, and successful.

She loved the man underneath the suit, helped heal your scars inside and out, and you would never be able to thank her enough for it.

She was exactly what you needed, she was your home, and all you had ever wanted.

She was your beautiful little Songbird.

Tag List: @mindidjarin @saintmurd0ck @wheresthesunshinesblog @rafaelakelley @idaoftheburningmind @snowkestrel @xdervyxccgh @mattmurdocksscars @fakehappy27 @music-indie-tv @fictional-hooman @kayhi808 @munsonownsmyass @gijos @celestialams @idek-what-to-put @anastasianeedstoread @ratsys @k-marzolf @nutmeg17 @rosaleenablack @vaguekayla @qu1etwolf @danzer8705

Others that might enjoy: @itwasthereaminuteago @fluffyprettykitty @jvanilly @simple-lovebot @russosafehaven @mrsbillyrusso @imagine-a-fictional-boyfriend

If you’d like to be added (or removed from) my tag list(s) for the ever so handsome Billy Russo, just let me know and thank you again for reading! 💕💕💕 If I tagged you but you didn’t want to be, just let me know and I’ll never do it again.

#billy russo x reader #billy russo imagine #billy russo fanfic #billy russo #billy russo fanfiction #billy russo angst #billy russo fluff

84 notes · View notes

darkened-writer · 2 years

Text

Suspirium Into Stupor─| 01

summary || ❝He watched you go, blinking in realization and revelation. He watched you with a look of yearning. But he couldn’t stay here, he had a journey ahead, one you couldn’t join him on.❞

pairing || Morpheus x Fem!Reader

word count || 2,756

warnings || SPOILERS FOR EPISODE 3???

notes || This fic has been the main one I have been planning since the first episode, and it will follow the events of each episode! So, I hope you enjoy!

P.S. I made a Pinterest board and Spotify Playlist for this fic, just for the visuals and overall vibe of the series! Enjoy that as well!

“My first question… I had a leather pouch, filled with sand. Where is it?”

“It was sold, In London, last purchased by a magic user called “Johanna Constantine”.”

“Constantine? I knew a Constantine. But that was three-hundred years ago. You said last purchased; does she still have the sand?”

“Dream… You know better than that. You get one question, one answer.”

“My apologies…”

Dreaded rain pelted down upon the windowsill, the refractions of the light from the streetlamps created an odd, orangey ambiance inside of the two-bedroom apartment; the TV in the front room was still buzzing with life, playing a late night gameshow on a low volume. Two pizza boxes adorned the coffee table, a couple of empty beer cans crushed and thrown next to the boxes.

Johanna Constantine was draped upon the couch with her legs intertwined with her best-friends, mouth hung slightly open in her slumber until awoken by the alarm on her phone playing a jingle, bright notes making the woman groan with annoyance. She never was a morning person, but she had to get to work. She sat up, grabbing her shoes from under the coffee table and seemingly slipping them onto her feet, lacing them with a satisfied grumble.

“You have work this early, Jo…?”

“Y/N, you could’ve kept sleepin’.”

Johanna looked decent for having woken up early in the morning, however Y/N looked a bit worse for wear, hair poking in all manner of direction, and the hem of her shirt riding up her stomach.

“You wake up, I wake up, it’s a fair deal.”

While Y/N spoke, Johanna grabbed her pure white coat, slipping it over her black turtleneck, and buttoning it up.

“My sleep schedule is dog shit as of now anyways… so getting up with you won’t hurt a bit.”

This aroused a chuckle from the Constantine, her boots clicking on the wooden floor as she made her way over to her well-exhausted friend and planted a gentle kiss on her forehead, noting the warmth of her face from shoving it into the couch.

“I’ll be back later—I’ll get you a latte and a pastry from the shop if I have the time.”

“Little Nina’s shop on ninth?”

“You bet.”

“God bless you, my angel Constantine!”

“Love you too!”

And, with a shut of the door, Johanna was gone, and Y/N was left to her devices. The feeling of needing to sleep creeping up on her. But a feeling in her gut told her that she should stay up, that Joanna may need her, so she kept her eyes open and on the TV.

When Johanna finally arrived back to your shared apartment, she seemed a tad stressed but still had her hands full, holding a cupholder that had two lattes and two pastries. She spoke of how she expelled a demon from the man the Princess was going to marry, neglecting to mention the tall and mysterious fellow with a voice that imprinted into her eardrums. Dream of the Endless, whom she’d have to track down his sand to appease him in his desperation for his tools. Helm, Sand, and his precious ruby, all on his mind as he had lost track of Johanna, being conveniently distracted by the Raven, “Matthew”. But Johanna just wanted to sleep, and knowing that Johanna was safe, you chose to sleep along with her, cuddling like two bear cubs in a shallow cave after finishing your lattes and delicious pastries.

You dreamt of green, the long grass caressing your calves, the sun beating down on your head and rolling down your shoulders. And, most of all, you dreamt of the trees, that stretching taller, and taller, hugging your frame with the branches and leaves. You truly felt the peace and euphoria that comes with being one with the Earth, with no limits and no expectations. The sound of a waterfall graced your ears, subtle but noticeable as you eventually crossed enough foliage to see it. It sparkled along with the sun beams, rushing down and crashing into the rocks beneath it, brutal beauty.

“Y/N, wake up-...!”

The darkness of the living room greeted your eyes that were just starting to get used to the oasis within your dream, Johanna’s hands grasping your shoulders softly but resolute. But your eyes weren’t on her dark brown ones, but the star-crossed ones of the man behind her. He loomed, trench coat almost as dark as his aura, and yet his skin complimented it all. Pale and chalky looking from the distance between you both. His hair was sparse and wild, framing his face perfectly, the man was sublime.

“Help me look in my office, would you? For a pouch of sand…— you remember it?”

“Erm…” His eyes were still on you.

“Yes, I remember…”

Rising to your feet, you stretched, bringing your arms above your head and letting out a groan of satisfaction as you followed Johanna to her office, the papers scattered everywhere giving you an odd feeling of comfort as she made a beeline for her desk, fiddling with her many trinkets and papers. The mysterious man trailed behind, standing and watching as you and Johanna both looked in different corners of the office.

“Why do humans love objects so much…?”

His voice came out, airless and stifling, his pronunciation giving him a sense of “wiseness” over just about anyone with “normal” dialect.

“You seem pretty attached to your sand—”

“It’s not just an object, it’s a part of me.”

His words left you pondering who or what he was, keeper of sand and speaking as if humans are foolish. Perhaps a god? Johanna had taught you quite a bit of supernatural knowledge that you wouldn’t doubt if he was an omnipotent being.

“If that's true, how’d you happen to lose it?”

“It was stolen by another magic user called Burgess.”

Johanna perked up, your own head turning towards the two speaking.

“Wait, not Roderick Burgess? The old Demon King himself, eh? Everyone used to say he was a fake. Said he had the Devil locked up in his basement. How the fuck did you…”

A pregnant pause, before it dawned on her, yourself still being left clueless. Johanna and the man both stared at each other as it finally clicked for her.

“Shit. Wasn’t the Devil he had locked up in his basement, was it?” Just his gaze confirmed that he was the one locked up, and you felt sympathy pulling at your heart.

“Were you down there? All this time?”

His gaze shifted to the side, towards photobooth pictures you knew Johanna never wanted to throw out, of her and her ex-girlfriend. His hand grabbed the picture, pulling it up and out of its “spot”.

“Is this you?”

“Why? Do I look that different? Or younger?”

He paused, considering, “No… Happy”.

Johanna sighed, “Shit. I know where your sand is.”

She turned to you, now grasping the picture and you felt your heart sink immediately.

“You really left this “Sand Pouch” with her? Johanna…”

“I know, I know—… Just, get ready to leave, we’re going to her flat.” She left the office, to likely put on her boots and jacket once again, leaving you in the room with the alluring stranger, his eyes landing on you.

“How do you know Constantine?”

“Best friends, for about six years… question is, how do YOU know her?”

The corner of his lips twitched up a bit, “She had my sand, and now I want it back.”

“Are you some sort of sand god or something…?”

His brows furrowed, “You really weren’t informed? I’m Morpheus, Dream of the Endless.”

A book that Johanna had kept in her office came to mind, the memory of opening up the book and blowing the dust off of the pages, reading the fine print about the various “Endless” and their power. The man in front of you was the Sandman, creator of dreams and nightmares, the “King” of the Dreaming.

“The tomes of the Endless really didn’t capture your essence well, Dreamlord.”

You brush past him, suddenly remembering that you were going to go with the two, but while your thoughts were centered on leaving, Morpheus was puzzled. Did you really read a history book about him AND his family? Perhaps you were gifted in magic as Constantine was? You did have an aura around you, of someone who could do damage given the circumstances. And, to say that piqued his interest in you and your origins, would be an understatement.

“Who is she? The woman in the picture.”

The moon was shining upon the three of you, as you were walking in tandem towards the apartment of Rachel Moodie, Johanna’s ex whom she was still hung over on. Having kept many pictures of each other together, it was clear that Johanna missed her.

“Her name’s Rachel, Rachel Moodie.”

“Does she deal in magic as well?” Johanna scoffs.

“God, no. No, she’s actually a decent person. Proper job… nice family. Fuckin’ hated all the magic stuff.”

“And, yet you left the sand with her.”

“No, I did not leave it with her. Sort of left it. And her.”

His expression showed a minimal amount of empathy toward her, yet he seemed to know the feeling of heartbreak. Plenty of past lovers, you’d assume due to being “immortal”.

“I was staying at her place. She interpreted that as us living together, which we weren’t, so, one night, I just went on a job and… never went back.”

“Why?”

“Because it never ends well, does it?”

“What? Love?” Her statement struck a chord for him.

“No. I suppose it doesn’t.”

“I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but people around me tend to get ripped in half or cast down to hell, except Y/N of course…— But it was safer for her if I left.”

“Did you tell her that?”

“No.” She stops walking, stopping in front of Rachel’s apartment door.

“I suppose I’ll have to now… This is her, or it used to be. It’s been six months. Maybe she might’ve moved house. Please, have moved house-”

Staying stood next to Morpheus, you watched Johanna go to press the buzzer for Rachel’s apartment, pressing it to get clearance to go inside.

“Oh, bollocks.”

There was awkward silence for a bit before she spoke again, “Maybe we’ll get lucky, and she won’t be-”

BUZZ!

“That’s weird. She didn’t even ask who it is. Maybe she’s expecting someone. This could get awkward. More… awkward. You two wait here-”

“I’m coming with you.” You both said it in unison, peering at each other from peripheral vision, and Johanna let a smirk paint on her lips.

“No, neither of you are coming in with me. Do you have any idea how much she probably hates me? Do you have any ex-girlfriends?”

This caused him to pause, looking down as if remembering something.

“We will not wait long.”

“You won’t have to. She’s gonna slam the door in my face, like I’m about to do to you two… right now.” As quickly as she was stood there talking, she vanished behind the door. Your own shoulders slacking as you walked over to a wall to lean against it. And eventually, rain started to pour from the oily black skies, giving the air an earthy smell similar to wet, freshly cut grass. A raven swooped down from the raining showers and settled in front of Morpheus, before squawking like it was talking. And Morpheus seemed to be listening intently.

“Matthew, I-”

Matthew? The raven had a name?

He peered up after a bit, focused on something other than the present moment as you marveled at the Raven.

“Matthew? Psttt.. hello…!”

The raven turned to look at you then back at Morpheus, speaking to him as if he could understand, and apparently, he could, a slight smirk twitching at his lips.

“What did that raven tell you?”

“Nothing flattering…”

“Oh.”

Matthew flew away back into the rain and Morpheus went to open the door, your own hand stopping his with a grip on his wrist. He was oddly cold, like the air circulating around you two, almost sending a shiver up your arm.

“We must help Constantine and her ex-lover, follow me, Y/N.”

His tone was neutral and yet you knew to follow him as he guided you to Rachel’s apartment, like he had been here once before. And when he opened the door, sand falling to the floor in the figure of a woman, you knew. Johanna’s heartbroken expression, you knew.

“Rach.”

“Constantine. Wake up.”

Her trance was broken immediately after he spoke that statement, Morpheus stepping up towards her, gentle and forgiving.

“What did you do to me?”

“It was the sand.”

“Where’s Rachel?”

All of our expressions darkened, Johanna taking off towards Rachel’s room.

“Rachel? Rach?”

A weak voice spoke out from the silence, the tone was like Rachel was choking on quicksand, throat clogged with each and every grain.

“Jo? Jo? Is that you?”

Rachel’s face that was once wide, full of life, now looked sucked dry of all that made her shine as a person. Her arms skinny and molded to her bones, shallow chest rising up and down, up and down. And the grey and blue bedding cradled her form like a newborn babe. This visual created a pit in your own stomach, having to see someone you knew suddenly devoid of livelihood.

“That’s such a wonderful dream.” Rachel was groaning in pain, and you knew in your heart that she was probably going to pass, sooner rather than later as Johanna walked carefully and meticulously up to her. Morpheus’s gaze dropped to the lone pouch of sand in Rachel’s loose grasp, and his eyes shone with a brief bit of sadness.

“What’s happened to her?”

“It was not meant for humans.” He reached for the pouch, grasping it but Rachel began to whine as if the sand was keeping her alive, and tethered to living.

“No, no! No, give it back. Please. It hurts.”

Ripping it from her clutches, he made his way back to the door of the room, without looking at her dying form.

“We can go—”

You and Johanna were both unmoving, “What?”

“What? We can’t go. We can’t leave her like this.”

She was writhing in pain, and the sight made you wince.

“We can’t help her. The sand was the only thing keeping her alive.”

Johanna walked up to Morpheus, obviously confrontational, but you kept your attention on your dying friend, laying a hand onto her frail one in meaningless support.

“Y/N? You’re here too?”

“Yeah, Rach, of course I am…”

This put a smile on her pale lips.

“Wait outside.”

Morpheus moved past you towards Rachel, and you gave him a small nod in acknowledgement, the two of you watching Johanna kiss Rachel’s head.

“Rach…”

“I’m sorry, Jo. I’m so sorry.”

“It’s my fault. All of it. Should never have left it with you. Should never have left.”

“Well, you came back, though. Didn’t you?”

A kiss on the forehead and Johanna was gone.

“Thank you, Morpheus.”

He stayed silent, his eyes on your back as you left the same way Johanna did.

Thank you.

You said thank you.

You could hear him approaching, your arms busy being wrapped around Johanna in comfort, for both her and you. Her gaze was on the rain and yours immediately gravitated to Dream.

“She died in peace. In her sleep.”

“We’ll let her dad know… You know, she was actually a good person. There are a few of them out there, you know. They’re not all like me and Roderick Burgess.”

“You are not Roderick Burgess.”

This gave her a fleeting smile, before she unraveled from your arms to walk towards him. Yourself staying leaning against the ceramic wall, watching the two speak.

“And what’s your friend’s name?”

Matthew way down the corridor and you smiled at the raven.

“His name is Matthew, but he is not my-”

“Look after him, Matthew. He needs it.”

Tossing you an umbrella, she turned and opened hers up to the sky and walked out into the rain.

“Constantine!”

She turned.

“That nightmare won’t trouble you anymore.”

A smile before mouthing, ‘come on’ to you and you yourself turned your gaze to Dream. His eyes boring into you, like planes of stars, a galaxy of stars.

“Your help means plenty, Morpheus. I hope you find all of your tools…”

“Thank you, Y/N… Safe travels.”

“Likewise, Dream lord…”

Similar to Johanna, you opened your umbrella and speed walked to catch up to her, feeling the rain hit your jacket and eyes on your figure. He watched you go, blinking in realization and revelation. He watched you with a look of yearning. But he couldn’t stay here, he had a journey ahead, one you couldn’t join him on.

Thank you, Morpheus.

Thank you, Y/N… Safe travels.

#the sandman #dream x reader #morpheus x reader #dream of the endless #netflix sandman #dream the endless x reader #morpheus x you #xreader #fanfiction

446 notes · View notes

paracosmicparadox · 11 months

Text

FFXV headcanons / expanded canons Part The Second, because again, I desire character depth like I need it to breathe and if storebought isn't available, I will make it myself with my own two hands. Find Part The First here.

Ardyn: Listens to music solely in the cabaret genre or heavy metal; you can't change my mind on this (like you're flipping through his playlist and one moment its playing Kabaret Sybarit, then it switches violently and without warning to System of a Down and just about breaks your eardrums)

His closet rivals his living room in terms of size and depth (it's concerning; people get lost in there amongst his innumerable trench coats and ruffled shirts)

No coffee, no tea, only wine. Ravus and Verstael have to listen to his drunken rambling every other night and it is ghastly

Gossips like no other

He's a hoarder. You walk into his home and there are trinkets and baubles on every surface---it's gotten quite extreme

Has breakdowns in the shower

Has journals full of half-finished poetry lying about everywhere (he references the story of Julius Caesar and Marcus Brutus a lot because of the parallels to him and Somnus, and bc at this point he doesn't really care if he digs himself deeper into that rut of grief and anger)

Can't keep a plant alive to save his life; not even a cactus

He was a theater kid once upon a time

Luna: Actually legit super athletic. You can't really see it bc her muscles don't bulge, but she can and will judo flip a man effortlessly

Has the smallest handwriting you've ever seen

She's got mad art skills; there's a work-in-progress painting or pastel piece on her desk constantly

Certified history buff. This chick can recall the most obscure bits and details of Eos's past and will infodump to you if you're willing to listen

Actually works really hard to be a good person---it doesn't come naturally to her; she's no saint and she has to make a conscious effort to be as gentle as she is on a daily basis, and that in itself makes her an excellent human being

Names each and every one of her plants

Loves bugs and takes a thrill in the fact that they kinda gross Noct out

Has the "Hydrate or Dydrate" water bottle bc she forgets and needs to remind herself to imbibe H2O

Her Pinterest account is the stuff of legends

Ravus: He's so awkward in social situations---really, he's just awkward in general, but it's most obvious when someone's trying to talk to him and he's glaring daggers straight into their soul

Before his mother died, he was the kindest child. He was the sweetheart of the family and would make flower crowns with toddler Luna and make breakfast in the mornings for his family. When he withdrew, it pained those who knew him immensely

The Super Smash Bros grandmaster (he's horrible at Mario Kart though, which frustrates him to no end)

Already has some arthritic problems in his knuckles and in his knees. He always had bad joints, but it's getting worse with the years

A pro at calligraphy and fancy lettering

His art skills are just as good if not better than Luna's. He only works in graphite and charcoal, but his drawings are the most heartwrenchingly beautiful things you've ever seen

Can regularly be found in a museum or in a library

Plays D&D on the weekends when he can with an online party (the campaign's been going on for nearly 2 years; he plays a level 8 Drow Warlock)

Aranea: Owns a motorcycle---you can't change my mind.

Mixes grenadine with everything. Champagne? She's adding grenadine. Wine? Grenadine time baby. Tequila? Gimme that sweet pomegranate syrup.

AO3 angst fics are her guilty pleasure

Probably has a pilot's license (in all honesty if it was an irl setting instead of Final Fantasy, she probably would've been in the Airforce)

Wears cologne instead of perfume because it makes her seem more roguish and she likes the scent better

She's always wanted a pet snake (one of those white pythons curious faces and boopable snoots)

Raging bisexual

Knows her way on an aerial silk like nobody's business

Major vulnerability issues (she cares so, SO deeply, but no one can EVER. KNOW. except Prompto. Prompto knows.)

Best buds with Prompto ever since the events in Niflheim at the Magitek Production Facility (they facetime each other every Wednesday)

She's a sucker for a good horror flick

#ffxv #ff15 #prompto #noctis #noctis lucis caelum #gladiolus amicitia #ignis scientia #prompto argentum #aranea highwind #ardyn lucis caelum #ravus nox fleuret #lunafreya nox fleuret #headcanon #I don't know I finished this game ages ago but I've been thinking about it lately

75 notes · View notes

boygiwrites · 2 months

Text

Harley D. Dixon 26

Harley D. Dixon's Pinterest Board!

Harley D. Dixon's Playlist!

📖Chapter List.

Author's Note.

We. Are. Back!!

It's been almost six months!! 😶 Motivation comes and goes, but I'm very happy to be posting again. Like I said in a comment on Ao3, this book is too special to me to ever abandon. Thank you for your patience!! 💙

When Rick kicks the stool out from under Jim's feet, there's a simple crunch sound, and then he's dead.

I watch from afar as his body dangles from the rafters like a doll filled with sand, wondering why I thought it would be louder. It feels like I can breathe again. As if I've had a noose of my own wrapped around my throat until this very moment. Jim's dead. He ain't a threat. Just dead and dangling. Silence pours out across the farm. It feels strangely comforting; a hug from somebody you thought you didn't like.

I know Dale would disagree. I don't gotta ask to know he didn't want this.

If he weren't under six feet of dirt and bugs right now, I think I'd tell him I'm sorry.

Not just for Jim having to die, but also for being angry. He knew it never did nobody any good to be angry. If I hadn't told Carl to leave that muddy walker alone, wanting it to suffer and pay for some crime weren't even its fault, then maybe Dale would still be here.

I kinda realize in this moment that I don't care if dead people don't gotta see bad things. Because Dale ain't get to see the good things anymore, either. Like books and soup. Hugs, jokes. The baby, once it's born. Neither does Momma or Sophia or Shane.

It's like Jim said. I should be dead by now. On account of all laws of nature and chance, I should be long dead.

But obviously, I ain't.

And I'd be a stupid, silly, brainless little girl to not think that makes me at least a little bit lucky.

As I fiddle with the metal buckle of my overalls, Dad and Rick carry Jim outta the shed, their hands hooked around the dead man's armpits and ankles. Carol's probably thinking something like, He's with his loved ones now. But I ain't Carol, and I don't believe in heaven, so all I'm thinking is, I hope it didn't hurt. I've never had my neck snapped before, so I wouldn't know. They shuffle over to the pile of wood and walker bodies, tossing him on top, dusting their hands off on their pants. They's gonna burn him. No graves for them that ain't family.

Good. We have enough of those, anyway.

Dad and Rick turn away from the pile, their faces largely blank.

Before they can see me, I stand from my spot near the fence and scurry away, because I know I'm not meant to be watching.

That morning, everybody gets busy doing something. Whether it's bringing supplies into the house or cleaning a grimy rifle, nobody's twiddling they thumbs. There's something about putting work into a thing that needs it that clears the mind, I guess. Stops us from thinking about Jim, anyhow. Me, I help out by going around with a basket of fresh fruit, handing them out to anybody who wants some.

The first people I swing by are Rick and T. They've begun reinforcing the fences together, using old metal sheets and planks of wood to barricade any weak points they find. They gratefully take a juicy pear each, leaning against their handiwork to bite into the sweet flesh, groaning at the taste. Something nice happens in my chest when I see them smile. It's like looking at a puppy. You just can't be sad.

"Wow, this is good," T-Dog nods, turning the fruit over in his hand. "Thanks, Harley."

Rick doesn't say nothin', but I'm just glad to see him enjoying himself. Even for just a moment.

I head over to Patricia and Carol next, who are scrubbing at some laundry over by the trees. I earn myself two more smiles when they take a couple peaches, leaving them to their own devices and making my way through everyone else. Herschel, keeping Maggie company as she hangs up some wet clothes over a line in the sun. Jacqui and Lori, tidying up camp a bit, preparing lunch. Jimmy, polishing guns.

When I give a pear to Dad, who's fixing some of his crossbow bolts, he kisses my cheek as thanks.

And Beth. I don't forget her. She sits in the bay window of her bedroom, nibbling away at a green apple.

I know eating a good piece of fruit ain't never stopped nobody from wanting to kill themselves, but everything counts.

I've only got a peach, apple, and a pear left tumbling around in my basket when I approach Glenn and Andrea. They're stood around the hood of Dale's RV, frowning into the rubber tubes and gears like there's a jigsaw puzzle in there, muttering to each other.

"You gotta tap it three times," I think he's saying, pointing at something, "And—"

"— And give her a twist," Andrea sighs, throwing her hands up. "I know, I know."

Glenn notices me out the corner of his eye. He doesn't light up exactly, but the tension leaves his shoulders. "Oh. Hey, Harley."

"Hey." I give a little smile, holding out the basket. "Y'all want some fruit?"

"Ugh. Yes, please."

They each pick one out, leaving me with the apple. I toss the basket onto the nearby folding chair and bite into its waxy skin, the sugary juices leaking down my chin. It's sweet as candy. Well, from what I remember candy tastin' like, anyway. It's delicious.

Andrea seems to agree. "God. Remind me to always become stranded on a farm with an orchard."

Glenn bites a chunk out of his peach as he takes the screwdriver from the blonde, scooting around her to stand in front of the exposed engine. "Here. Let me have a go... Dale told me that in these old vehicles, the points get corroded."

I wipe my sticky chin, watching as he pokes around with the small tool.

Dale knew everything there was to know about this RV. Whenever it broke down, he didn't even need to check beneath the hood before he knew exactly what was wrong with it. Hell, even I've picked up on its quirks by now, and I know jack about vehicles. There's all sorts of screws and bolts and duck tape crammed into the poor thing's inner workings, but it just refuses to die. Like a stubborn old mule.

A bit like Dale. No matter how many times ya put that old man down, he'd come back ten times stronger.

"I let him down," Glenn suddenly sighs, and it's easy to know who he's talking about.

I glance over his shoulder, through the front windshield. Dale's ridiculous amount of souvenir air fresheners still hang from the mirror. Oklahoma. Illinois. Missouri. Kansas. That ain't even half of 'em. We used to tease him about them, but he always just laughed us off and recited some philosophical quote from a dead guy about how memories feed the soul, or whatever.

Nobody ever understood it when he said stuff like that, but I still know we all miss it.

"He was proud of you," Andrea tells him; then me, "Both of you."

I sheepishly look away, picking at the stem of my apple. No, he weren't. But that's nice of her to say.

"That's easy for you to say." Glenn shakes his head. "You had his back."

She doesn't know what to say for a moment.

"Well... All I know is that there's no way he didn't know how much we all cared for him, even in the end. He was too smart for that."

I got no doubts about that. He knew everything. Knew everything about the RV, about poetry, about us. He was just one of them types of people. I only wish I hadn't argued with him that day, but I argue with Dad all the time, and he still loves me. So, can't all be bad.

Glenn pulls back from the engine with a resolute, "Welp... That should do it."

When Andrea climbs inside and twists the key into the ignition, I'm proven right. This old RV just refuses to die.

"Well done, Glenn," I smile over the noise of the engine. "You did it."

He turns to me with a smile of his own, looking proud of himself.

After that, he and Dad leave the farm to search for a hearing aid.

Maggie hands them a list of houses they can try their luck in, and then we exchange the usual goodbye hugs and kisses before waving them off. There ain't no use in sitting around, wondering if they're going to get bitten and die because of me, so I leave to find something I can distract myself with instead. Luckily, Rick and T-Dog are more than happy to let me help them out with the fences.

If we're gonna get serious about staying here at the farm, we're gonna have to make some upgrades.

I obidiently tail them as they work, lugging around a bucket filled with rusty nails to pass to them.

"You know, Harley," Rick grunts as he hammers a scrap of metal to the wooden posts, "Carl still ain't stopped chewin' my ear off about all those things you taught him the other day. If I have to hear the word 'mushroom' one more time... I'll go crazy."

I pluck a nail from the pile and hand it to T-Dog.

Just to be annoying, I say, "Mushroom, mushroom, mushroom."

"Hey. Watch it." He scolds me, but not very well. He's smiling. "Anyway. You two ain't on good terms right now, are you?"

I raise a brow. "How'd ya know?"

"Well, I figured you'd be playin' with him right now if you were. And to be honest, he's been in a bit of a mood lately."

I huff a little, silently cursing Rick's parents for making him like this. "We squabbled. That's all."

He hums thoughtfully.

"Whenever I argued with my sisters," T-Dog tells us, "They'd start messin' with me. They'd hide my Xbox controller. Eat my snacks."

Rick chuckles. "They sound nice."

"Yeah, you could say that," He chuckles along with him. "A real pair of peaches."

"Well, Carl ain't done any of that," I suppose, adjusting the bucket in my grasp, "But he did call me a stupid baby."

Rick turns to look at me. "What?"

"He snitched on me about the shed and called me a stupid baby. Then I told him I hated his guts."

As I stand there, he fixes at me with a funny, What am I going to do with you?, sort of look, until he returns his attention to the work at hand. "Well, he was right to 'snitch' on you, but I'll have a talk with him when I can. It's not okay to name-call."

"I think it's 'cause he's gonna be a brother soon." I think aloud. "He said he's gotta protect me."

T-Dog argues, "You got all of us here to protect you. Boy's got nothing to stress about."

"I know. He just likes bein' somebody's keeper."

Hammering the last nail into the metal, Rick gives the thing a bit of a shake to test its strength, pleased to see it won't budge.

"Okay, I think this one's good." He decides. "Let's move onto the next one."

As we gradually make our way down the fence line, we continue chatting away about other useless things. The weather, future plans for the farm. Something we don't talk about, though, is the baby inside Lori's belly. I don't think Rick wants to think about it, let alone talk about it. He must be mulling over all the hundreds of things that could go wrong. As the leader, that's his special talent.

By the time we reach the area around the barn, I'm not listening to the conversation anymore. It's difficult to concentrate on making out their voices for such a long time, so I just tune myself out, absentmindedly gazing past the two of them, into the field.

That's when I notice something off about the burning pile.

It's still sitting there, a boring bunch of wood and junk, but the problem is I can't seem to spot Jim's body on it.

I know they didn't move it to some other place, and it's definitely not been lit on fire yet, so it can't be that.

When Rick holds out his hand for me to pass him another nail, I leave him hanging. He frowns down at me in concern; confusion. I think he says my name, but then he follows my gaze, followed suit by T-Dog. I can tell the exact moment they catch on.

"Okay," T-Dog levels with nobody in particular, holding up his hands, "That's creepy as shit."

"Stay here," Rick wearily tells us, before jogging away to investigate.

I don't need to be told twice. Clutching the bucket to my stomach like it's a teddy bear, I huddle closer to T, letting him step in front of me as if a chupacabra is gonna pop out from under the debris and gobble us all up. We watch Rick approach the burn pile, creeping up on it, concerned he might wake it up. He peeps this way and that, the hammer held tight in his grasp, ready to strike.

Was Jim bit, I find myself wondering, Was he bit, and we just didn't notice?

No. No, that can't be right. If he was bit, he would've turned long before we had the chance to hang him.

Rick flinches backward. He gawks at his own two feet. I think he might've crossed paths with a snake, or even that chupacabra, but then a hand shoots out from behind the burn pile and we learn the thing tryna bite him ain't an animal. It's got black hair and a grubby red shirt, a pair of milky eyeballs. It's Jim. He crawls after Rick like he's tryna avenge his own death, his neck still swollen and wrong.

Once he's absorbed his own shock, Rick brings the hammer down on Jim's skull, but he's fresh, so it's not mushy like it is usually. He has to bludgeon him two, three, four more times before the bone cracks open like an egg, wet brains dribbling down his face.

We all catch our breaths. I don't think any of us were prepared to watch Jim die twice today.

"Where was the bite?" T-Dog calls out, sounding like he's about to barf all over himself.

Rick kneels to check under Jim's shirt, flip him over, roll up his pant legs, because of course he does. There has to be a bite.

But when he stands, he calls back, "I can't see one."

There's a gaping pause between us all.

"Well, it ain't on his ass cheek, is it?"

Rick raises a brow as he steps over the body. "You wanna go check, be my guest."

"Nah, thank you, man." He answers drily, eyeing the blood dripping from the head of the hammer. "Well, what the Hell happened?"

Instead of telling us he doesn't know, or offering up a theory, Rick just sighs. He tosses the hammer into the little wagon we've been pulling along with us, rubbing at the faint wrinkles on his forehead. I remain hiding behind T-Dog. I know there's no snake or chupacabra to be heard of, and now, not even a Jim. But I don't like the danger in the air. The danger of something being wrong and not knowing what it is.

Rick lowers his hand, gaze landing on me. He keeps it there for a moment.

To be a walker, you gotta get bit. I can't see one. Everyone knows that.

"Come on," He eventually mutters, reaching to take the heavy bucket from me. "Let's get back to the house."

"Rick, what's wrong?" I whine as he grabs my hand. "We ain't workin' on the fence no more? Why?"

T-Dog snatches up the handle of the wagon and hurries after us.

"Don't worry about it, honey," He soothes, giving my fingers a squeeze. "The grownups will handle it, okay?"

Rick says this, just like he always has, but all he does when we get back to camp is eat lunch and talk to Maggie about our progress on the fence. I decide it's not a big deal. I trust him. Maybe he's just waiting until me and Carl aren't around to talk with the other adults about it. Maybe Jim did somehow get bit while he was in the shed. Maybe it really was on his ass cheek. I won't pretend to know.

In any case, I dig into my scrambled eggs and buttered bread without giving it much more thought.

After lunch, the three of us go back to working on the fence, anyway.

"Hope you enjoyed the apple."

With her forehead resting against the window, Beth gazes down at the farm, like some lonely angel peering down at another world. The afternoon sun gently contours the subtle curves of her girlish face, which isn't looking nearly as dreadfully pale as it did before.

"I did," She answers sweetly, smiling as I come to sit next to her on the thin cushions. "Thanks, by the way."

I give a shrug. "Yer sister says peach and pear season's just about up, so all we's got for a while is apples, anyway."

She surprises me by giggling at me, a pretty tinkling sound that suits her. "That shouldn't be a problem for you, right?"

My cheeks go warm. "Huh?"

"I saw you," She explains, a fondness in her eyes. "Chowin' down on that apple just before."

"When I was wit' Glenn and Andrea?"

She nods. "You were smiling. It was nice."

I contemplate calling her a stalker, but all that comes outta my mouth is an amused scoff, rolling my eyes and turning to look out the window. I understand why she likes it up here. I can see the whole farm. People milling about camp, chickens pecking at the ground. And off in the distance, the herd of black cows dotting the paddocks like little beetles, munching on bales of hay. And quiet. Precious quiet.

I glance at the distant treeline, thinking about the recent whispers of the horde. I brush it off quick as I can.

I steal a glance at Beth, instead.

That little smile is still pulling at her lips, a lively glint in the soft green of her eyes.

For some reason - mainly my talent for speaking without thinking - I ask her suddenly, "Do you still wanna die?"

She stiffens ever so slightly, and I only have a few short moments to feel awful about it before she meets my eyes.

"I just mean," I continue, wishing I ever knew the right thing to say. I think back to when Carl was in my exact position, asking nicely for me to not do what Beth did. He also threatened to smack me in the face, but I don't imagine that would go over too well with Beth. Neither would shouting at her like Dad. So, I just do something stupid, another one of my talents, and I improvise. "I been worried about you. Not, like, pity or nothin', but... I know how you feel. And after Dale... I realized that just 'cause people die, it don't mean I gotta die, too. It ain't a reason to wanna die. It's a reason to wanna live. 'Cause I'm just glad I ever knew Dale and Sophia and everyone else that died at all."

I feel encouraged by her glassy expression to keep talking. Not that I could stop myself if I tried.

"So that makes us lucky, y'know. Yer Momma's dead. My Momma's dead. But we loved 'em, and you can keep lovin' other people, but not if you're in a grave somewhere. Besides, it would just pass it on to them that would miss us. Not worth it, if ya ask me."

When I finish my word puke, she pins me with a tense, watery look that makes my insides cramp up.

"Maggie told me," She says, "That if I decided to keep living, that I'd find moments where I'd know I made the right decision."

She takes a deep breath, chuckling afterward.

"I think this is one of those moments," She decides.

"It is?"

I feel a weird sense of pride. I know me and my stupid apple and bad advice didn't singlehandedly solve anythin', but I was able to make her realize she don't got nothin' to regret by surviving her own mind, and that's more than enough for me.

I nod, trying not to smile, because this is supposed to be a serious moment. "Good. That's... good."

Her chuckles turn into laughter. "Why you so awkward all the darn time, Harley?"

Then I'm being wrapped up in a hug. I hate hugs. But this one ain't too terrible.

When we part, I ask her, "Are we friends?"

She seems to find that funny. "'Course."

"Well, my Dad and Glenn are gonna be gone for a few more hours," I tell her, "So, we should play something 'til then."

Beth warns me that she's seventeen years old, so she might not be able to play the same way me and Carl play, but that's okay. We don't have to play pretend or anything. We can do something she likes. Apparently, that's painting our nails. I have to try not to pull a face, but I guess I end up pulling one anyway, because she bursts into giggles and pulls me to my feet. I'm not the biggest fan of girly things. It's just not what I grew up with. I'm used to scuffing my nails while climbing trees and playing in the dirt, not painting them. But I'll give it a go.

"What's your favorite color?" She asks me, setting me down on her bed and rummaging through her desk.

"Yellow," I chirp.

"Actually," She lilts, pulling out a little bottle of yellow polish, squinting at the label. "It's Electric Spring Citrus."

I scoot over to make room for her on the bed, presenting my nails to her.

The afternoon slips away easily after that.

Nighttime paints over the orange sky.

Me and Beth have migrated downstairs by the time the sun has disappeared beneath the farm, lured in by the domestic commotion of dinner being prepared. It's soup again. I recognise the smell by now. While we wait to be served by Maggie and Patricia, the rest of us gather around the coffee table, ribbing each other as we break the rules of a card game Jacqui suggests. Carl keeps cheating by lying about what cards he has, but he's too dumb to realize he'll have to show them to us at some point. I laugh hysterically when he loses.

"You weren't listenin' to the rules, was ya?" I enjoy taunting him as he goes red. "Typical!"

He complains, "Shut up, Harley!"

"Okay, okay," Lori placates, doing a very bad job of hiding her smile behind her fan of cards. "Settle down."

I almost don't think about Dad and Glenn or Dale or Sophia or Shane or Momma for the whole game. By my standards, that makes for a good time. Carl continues losing miserably, whining even more miserably-er, while Jacqui beats us over and over again.

I'm reminded of the night we had our first dinner together - The one where Patricia made everyone feel super uncomfortable, and then I almost died. It's hard to believe this is the same house and the same people. Probably because it's filled with laughter.

We continue playing even through dinner.

When I lose for the fifth time, I take my bowl of soup and retire to one of the sofas, settling in next to Rick and quietly sipping at the warm broth. He sends me a bit of a look as if to ask me if I'm okay, probably reading my face in that weird way he got, noticing I'm thinking about Dad and Glenn. I reply with a simple nod. He doesn't seem satisfied with that response, but he can't do nothin' about it.

It's too noisy in here for him to talk to me, and neither of us know a single lick of sign language.

So, he just gives me a thumbs up and hopes it gets the point across. They'll be okay.

Eventually, even Herschel gets roped into playing.

"Hey, I actually happen to know a thing or two about this," He tells us, before proceeding to eviscerate Jacqui at her own game.

We all go awww, as she throws down her cards.

"Darn..." She sighs. "You weren't lyin', old man."

"As Jesus as my witness," He holds up a hand, "I never lie."

Lori asks, "Where'd you learn to get this good?"

"I used to spend a lot of my time in bars, young lady." He explains. "I got more than enough practice finessing card games."

"Well, I'd say it paid off."

He raises his fluffy white brows. "They used to call me Great-Hand Greene back in the day, you know."

Everybody in the room can't help but laugh.

"Now, Daddy," Maggie exclaims, "That's a lie!"

Great-Hand Greene calmly enlightens her, "It surely isn't."

This is the moment headlights turn into the driveway. Everyone turns to look. My heart squeezes. Dad and Glenn. The two lights come to a sudden stop, watching us like two eyeballs through the dark. The sound of doors slamming. I place my bowl on the coffee table and hurry out of the lounge room, followed by some other footsteps. But when I reach the foyer, the door bursts open without my doing.

Dad first, then Glenn. Both of my lungs deflating in relief, and then both of them knotting right back up again.

"That horde's headed this way," Dad wastes no time in announcing, "And it ain't stopping for nothin'."

Everybody freezes. A horde? The horde? Headed our way? Right now?

Rick pushes past everyone. "You saw it?"

"Trust me, man." He jokes dryly, shaking his head. "You can't miss this thing anymore."

"There were hundreds of them," Glenn agrees, frantic. His hair is suckered to his forehead with sweat, even though the season's turned. "We were over by Mallory Road when we caught wind of them; got us stuck for a couple hours until we could slip past."

"Not that it matters now," Dad snides.

Maggie asks, "Were you able to get the hearin' aid?"

He gives a nod, but nobody's paying attention. "Bits and pieces."

"Patricia," Herschel orders, our card game long forgotten, "Kill the lights."

We follow Rick out onto the porch. The night welcomes us with a cold gust of wind. At first, I can't see much of anythin', but then the lights blink out one by one and my stomach drops into the floorboards. On the other side of the field, leaking out from between the trees, are bodies, bodies, and bodies, so many it's not worth trying to count. They make the group on the highway look like a couple of stragglers.

As the mass amount feet stumble up the driveway, I'm hit with the feeling that our fences aren't going save us.

"I'll get the guns." Andrea mutters, and I think that feeling has hit everyone else, too.

Rick runs off in the direction of the cars. It's where we've kept our bags of emergency supplies for a time like this. Does that mean we're gonna leave? Or are we gonna fight? Is it even possible? I didn't even get to finish my soup. That feels important, somehow.

"Maybe they're just passing." Somebody stupidly guesses. "Like that herd on the highway."

"Should we go back inside?"

"Not unless there's a tunnel downstairs I don't know about." Dad drawls, gazing out. "Horde this size will rip the house down."

I worry up at him, "Daddy, I don't want it to rip the house down."

He shushes me, putting a strong hand on the nape of my neck, squeezing reassuringly. I let it calm me. I feel a fool for panicking, but if there were ever a time to panic, it would be now. I cling to him as Andrea dumps the bag of guns on the floor. She passes them out to everyone that got two thumbs and a brain. Maggie, Glenn, Dad, Rick. Jimmy. Even Herschel. Nobody is being left out of this fight.

Not even me and Carl. A gun is pushed each of our hands. You know how to use it, I remind myself.

"This the plan, then?" Dad confirms with everyone, because it's crazy. "We take 'em all on?"

Andrea passes me a loaded mag. I don't have to count the bullets inside to know it's not enough.

"We have guns. We have cars."

"We kill as many as we can." She's on board. "We'll use the cars to lead the rest of them off the farm."

"The burn pile," Glenn adds, "There's a bunch of kerosine and matches down there. We could lure them into the barn, set it on fire."

Rick climbs back onto the porch. "Bags are all packed. If things start to get hairy, we can leave."

"We're not leaving." Herschel argues.

"Herschel—"

"This is my farm." His voice booms as he pumps a pair of fat bullets into his shotgun's chamber, fire in his eyes. "I'll die here."

"Alright." Dad lilts over the droning rumble of death incoming, looking around for objections. "It's as good a night as any."

I get herded into Maggie's car. Dad gives my face a kiss and slams the door shut. I bump the mag up into the chamber. I know how to use it. I do. Two more slams. Glenn at the wheel, Maggie in the passenger seat. I've shot two walkers before, when I was out in the woods with Shane. I just have to do it again. And after that, again and again until they're all gone. Glenn stomps on the gas. The car screeches forward, ripping through the grass, barrelling into the night. I don't even bother buckling myself in. That's not how I would die tonight.

"You got enough ammo back there, honey?" Maggie fusses, digging through the glovebox and throwing me a spare.

"Thanks." I catch the cardboard box, trying not to shiver as Glenn rolls down all the windows. Groans and wind flood the car.

He shouts, "Start shooting!"

Just like that, gunshots erupt from all possible angles.

I grip my pistol tight, aim it out the window. You're gonna hold it like this, Shane's voice tells me, Firm. Confident. You're the one in control, here. I'm in control. My home's bein' invaded by the dead, and a horde this size might rip the house down, but I'm in control. The car spins. I lurch. It's hard to aim like this, but I gotta try. I line my eye up with the wobbling sight. I breathe in and out.

I squeeze. BANG.

I can't even tell what I hit, or if I hit anything at all, but it don't matter. I squeeze again. BANG.

Glenn weaves us in and out, around, through the horde, never getting too close, never veering too far.

In the other car, T-Dog, Andrea, and Carl. They swerve around us, shooting down every dead bastard they can hit.

I squeeze. BANG.

BANG, and again, BANG, and again, BANG.

The jaw of a nearby walker explodes off its meaty hinges. It swings around. It trips. It slumps. I've killed it.

"How we doing back there, Harley?" Glenn calls out. "You okay?"

"I— I'm fine!" I shout back, pulling my body back into my seat to reload.

I peel open the box of ammo. A curse falls from my tongue when the little bullets go tumbling onto my feet, rolling under the seats. I quickly snatch them up, shoving them into the mag. On the other side of the car door, fireworks of gunpowder and bullets, squealing tires and breaking bones, a blazing Hellfire lighting up the sky. Orange and roaring. I notice it, then. Dad. Rick. That must be them. They've set the barn on fire. It's cracking and falling to pieces, a burning church. The walkers fight to get inside like it's the last Sunday on Earth.

An important beam succumbs to the flames, snapping in half like a broken twig, bringing the rest down with it.

I hear wood breaking, and then there are chickens running lose across the field, screaming, flapping.

I squeeze and I squeeze and I squeeze. BANG.

A rotten old man crumples to the ground. BANG.

A lady's shoulder bursts open, a pop of bone and muscle. BANG.

A girl with one of the poor birds in her mouth, choking on feathers, dead. BANG.

For every one we kill, five more are there within a heartbeat to replace it. Glenn's foot falters on the pedal, and we come to a crawl, and then a stop, unable to do much but watch as the farm is consumed. This is a losing battle. There's no other type.

Herschel said we weren't leaving tonight, but that can't be true. I guess he is a liar, after all.

"We gotta go," Maggie's shaking her head, the tears in her eyes collecting like little pearls. "We're not gonna win this. We gotta go."

As if only to prove her point, the barn collapses once and for all. I almost feel like crying.

"I'm sorry, Maggie." Glenn says weakly.

Yeah. Me, too. I gaze out at the oak tree, still standing bravely; the little wooden crosses clueless beneath it.

As Glenn drives us back into the chaos, my pistol stays in my lap. I don't got any bullets left, anyway. I just sit there, watching everything pan by. Mine and Dad's camping spot, tucked away in the distant trees, just how we liked it. The crumbled fireplace where I talked to Dale for the last time. The shed. The swing outside it me and Carl used to play on. The orchard. The patch of dirt where Sophia died.

I wish I had the power to know when things were gonna end. That way, I could've savoured my last day.

It's not as cool as the superpower's them people in Carl's comics got, but it's the one I'd want.

It was silly. Working on the fences today with Rick and T-Dog made me think we were gonna be okay.

When I look up, we're approaching the house. Jacqui's sitting on the porch steps all by herself, staring out at us.

Glenn pulls us in close, getting out and hovering around the hood of the car, waving her over. "Come on! We gotta go!"

I crawl across the seats and shove open the door. "Jacqui? Come on!"

She's not coming. Why is she not coming? The door is open. We can all leave together. When I call out her name again, she convulses ever so slightly, as if she's got a bad cough but doesn't wanna let it out. I feel my face fall all at once. Her arm gives out, slumping from her neck, into her lap. I notice the blood first, all ten gallons of it, and then the bite. Her muscles spasm again. Oh. No, no, no.

"Jacqui?" I call out uselessly, but Glenn's already back in the driver's seat and Jacqui's already dying.

"C-Close your door, Harley," He orders, slamming his own.

She's dying. We can't stay here. I know both these things, but it still takes everything in me to pull the door shut.

After that, the deaths just keep coming. We drive past Patricia as the horde pull her into their mouths, Jimmy as he stumbles from the RV, clutching at his open throat. There's nothing we can do for any of them, but we manage to reach Carol just in time. She climbs into the seat next to me, and we ask her if she's seen anybody else, but she hasn't; she hasn't seen anybody.

Turning my face to the open window, I let the wind dry my tears, seein' as my Daddy ain't here to do it for me.

The faces of the horde pass by, a sea of rats on a burning ship.

I want to go collect my things. I want to pet the cows one last time. I want to do everything we won't get to.

My body lurches all on its own, then.

A face in the crowd. It's different from the rest. I'm not good with faces or names, something my teachers used to grumble over, but I'm good with this one. That one walker, tucked in with the rest of them, wearing the Police cap. It's Shane Walsh, dead and walking.

How? How is that possible? Why are the tears back tenfold, now?

Lit by the moon and the flames, I see his broken cheekbones for the first time since that day, the way they're bulbous like apples, mishappen like clay. Everything about him is wrong. His nose is broke. Clothes all mussed up. Ribs pouring. His eyes are glossed over. He don't seem to mind his broken body, or the fire, or the smoke. He just wants what all other walkers want. To bite into something. It's him, but not.

I almost want him to look at me. I clutch my locket, wanting our eyes to meet just to make him prove it.

This just can't be true. He didn't get bit. He got shot and beaten, but he didn't get bit.

As if I've willed him to do it, he looks my way.

"Carol," I croak, watching as he noses at the air like the animal Dad always said he was, "You got any bullets left?"

I feel something being placed in my hand. It feels just like the locket, but colder. I shakily load it into the chamber; lift the gun. I believe in you, His voice is back. Now line your eye up with the sight. I stare down the barrel, carefully placing his face on top of the sights. I only have this one bullet. I can't miss. Not only because I need to put him down, but because I think I want to make him proud.

Breathe, I take a deep breath, In and out.

Damn it. These fuckin' tears, they're messing up my aim. I smack them away and line up my shot again.

And squeeze.

BANG.

All the air rushes outta my lungs as his body hits the ground, disappearing amongst the horde.

I lower the gun.

Carol's already looking at me before I glance her way.

When we peel onto the highway, I can still see the flames burning over the tops of the trees, like some old religious painting.

Maggie breaks the silence. "What if nobody else made it?"

Nobody answers. I preferred it when the only noise in the car was the gentle humming of the engine, but I can't blame her for asking. We got no idea who else made it out alive. The four of us are all alone out here. Ain't no phone number we can just dial to ask if they're alright.

"They made it," Glenn eventually just decides, staring out at his high beams on the dark road. "They had to."

"Well, how are we going to find them?" Carol asks innocently, petting my hair as I lay my head in her lap. "They could be anywhere."

Maggie sighs. "We could circle back to that place I found y'all on the highway?"

"No," Mumbles Glenn. I can see his finger tapping against the wheel. "No, the horde came from that direction."

That's where our ideas run dry.

"Glenn?" I whine, clutching at my temple. He glances at me in the mirror, concern in his eyes. "My head. The ringing. Hurts."

He makes a troubled sound. "It must've been all those gunshots... I'm sorry."

Carol suggests, "Maybe we should just stop somewhere for the night."

There's a pause between them, but it's a short one, because it doesn't take much for Glenn to agree. He's musing to himself about how we can't drive all night. It would be a better use of gas to drive in the daylight. But really, we all know it's because he's a big softie.

He pulls us into a little nook on the side of the highway, killing the engine and turning on the ceiling light.

"I'm sorry," He says again, as if he put the ringing inside my head himself. "Maybe there's something in the supplies?"

Maggie unzippers the bag at her feet, pushing around the stuff inside it, shaking her head. "Just some water. Thirsty?"

I shake my head.

"I think we should all get some sleep." Says Carol, her voice a whisper.

Yeah. A good sleep sounds really good right about now. I think we've earnt it. Georgia will still be here when we wake up.

"Okay." He reaches up to press the ceiling button that turns on the moon, its dim white light spilling across the console in the dark. We all loosen slightly, completely exhausted. "We can just pick up again tomorrow. I'm sure the others are doing the same thing."

"Goodnight," Maggie tries to smile, reaching around her seat to stroke my shoulder.

"Goodnight," I mumble, echoed by Glenn and Carol, and then it's silent.

I close my eyes.

No eggs and buttered bread for breakfast today. Just a stale granola bar I gotta split with Carol, and a sip of water I gotta split with all three of them. After we take turns peein' in the bushes outside, we're back on the road again, and we're on it all day.

I don't know where we're going. I don't think Glenn knows, either.

I'm starting to think we might be driving all night, too, by the time we run into the others. That's right, the others. Herschel's shitty old pick-up truck is parked in a swath of brown leaves on the side of the road, right next to Dad's motorcycle and another grey car.

When Glenn pulls on the brake, I think we're all crying happy tears, but I'm too busy crying happy tears to notice.

I climb out, grinning, running into my Dad's arms.

"Harley," He sighs in relief as he picks me up, squeezes me tight. "I knew they'd take good care of ya."

"I knew you'd take good care of you," I giggle, hooking my chin over his shoulder.

"How did you guys find each other?" Glenn marvels.

"Well, when I saw their little Toyota goin' the speed limit," He nods behind him, "Figured there just had to be a cop at the wheel."

As chuckles break out between the group, he places me back on the ground.

Maggie asks, "Where's the rest of us?"

"We're the only ones that made it so far," Rick answers, and it's now I notice just how much smaller we are now; barely ten. We're just as alone as we were when it was just me, Glenn, Maggie, and Carol. No shelter, no food, no direction. Feathers in the wind.

"Where's Andrea?"

Lori shakes her head. "She was with us at the farm, but we got separated."

"Did you see Jacqui?"

Jacqui. Poor Jacqui. Maggie, Glenn, and I share a look without even meaning to.

"It was awful, Dad," I mutter, the memory caught in my throat, "We found 'er by the house, but we had to leave her behind."

Glenn explains, "She was bit."

"They got Patricia, too." Beth says. "Took her right in front of me. I was holdin' onto her, Daddy, but they just..."

"We saw Jimmy, too." Maggie sighs as Herschel wraps her little sister in a hug. "He was in the RV. It got overrun."

"But, you guys definitely saw Andrea?"

"There— There were walkers everywhere," Lori seems sorry to say, "But, yeah. We saw her."

"Well, we have to go back for her."

Rick argues, "We don't even know if she's still there."

"She ain't." Dad butts in. "She's either somewhere else or she's dead."

"So, we're not even gonna look for her?"

"No. We gotta keep moving." Rick agrees. "There's walkers all over the place."

Maggie scoffs, "That's an understatement if I ever heard one."

"I say we head East." Dad suggests, pointing vaguely in the direction of the sinking sun, cresting through the fog. "Head East, and stay off any main roads like this one. Bigger the road, the more walkers we gon' run into. The more assholes like this one."

He lifts his hands from where he's been resting them on my back, swinging the crossbow off his shoulder.

"I got him." He grumbles, sending a bolt through the stray walker's nose.

"Well, I hate to tell you guys," T-Dog scratches at his head, "But we been riding red for the past hour."

"We can't all fit into two cars."

Rick decides, "We'll have to make a run for some gas in the morning."

"Spend the night here?" Beth hisses, shivering lightly. "I'm freezin'."

"We'll build a fire." He gestures at my Dad. "You can go out lookin' for firewood, but stay close."

He raises a greasy brow. "I only got so many arrows, man. We can't just sit here with our asses hangin' out."

"Watch your mouth," He snips.

Glenn raises his hands at the group. "Everyone just stop panicking, and listen to Rick."

"Look, Glenn and I can go make a run right now," Maggie placates, "Try and scrounge up some gas so we can get back on the road."

"No." He shuts her down. "We stay together. God forbid something happens and people get stranded without a car."

That other side of Rick is back - Someone I might as well start callin' Second Rick; Scary Rick - and everyone can tell. It's the same one that was outside the shed, telling us with no room for argument that he was going to execute Jim. He's tense. He's a rubber band pulled tight, his eyes darting from face to face, just waiting for a flash of disagreement from somebody for him to pounce on.

I make sure he don't find one on my face. I'm not keen on upsettin' him.

Glenn's a little braver than me, though, because he says incredulously, "Rick, we're stranded now."

He shakes his head. Not listening. Not accepting it. Just, No, no, no.

"I know it looks bad," He reasons, even though we don't need to be told. "We've all been through Hell and worse. But we found each other. I wasn't sure. I really wasn't, but..." He scans our faces again, a little less coldly this time, taking us all in. "But we did it. We're together, and that's all that matters. We'll find shelter someplace. It's gotta be out there somewhere. It's gotta be."

But we had shelter already, I feel like shouting at him, I don't want another one.

"Rick, look around, okay?" Glenn's voice raises. "There's walkers everywhere. They're— They're migrating or something."

"There's gotta be a place not just where we hole up," Rick doubles down without care for what he's saying, smacking his knuckles into his palm. "But that we can fortify. Hunker down. Pull something together for ourselves. Build a life for each other."

That's what we tried to do at the farm. He should know that. He was the one fixing the fences with me.

"I know it's out there," He says angrily, as if that place he's talkin' about is hiding just to spite him. "We just have to find it."

I muster up the courage to voice my thoughts.

"But, Rick," I say, "How many those places we already been?"

He shakes his head again. "We fooled ourselves into thinking they were safe. We won't make that mistake again."

At the quarry, our mistake was being too close to the city. That was way back in the beginning when nobody had died yet, and we thought we just had to wait it out until the army came. But they didn't. And after that, our second mistake was trusting Jenner. We wanted answers, but we almost lost everything trying to get 'em. Then, the farm. I guess that was a mistake, too, now. You never know 'til after.

I don't say anything to that. It's cold, and I'm hungry, and I don't want to argue any more.

He's pleased with my silence. "Okay... We make camp tonight here; get back on the road at the break of day."

Carol murmurs something.

Whatever it was, Beth agrees with her. "What if walkers come through, or another group like Jim's?"

"Speaking of Jim," T-Dog fixes Rick with a look. "We ever gonna talk about him?"

Lori's confused. "What do you mean? What could possibly be left to talk about?"

"We saw him turn," He's happy to reveal to everyone. "Thing is, though, he wasn't bit."

"How is that possible?"

"Shane, too." I blurt. "I— I saw him when the farm went down."

Lori turns her gawking expression onto her husband. "What the Hell is going on?"

He's not looking at any of us. He's glaring at some ordinary pebble on the ground, brooding, hesitating.

Then, "We're all infected."

What?

It's so vague and profound that nobody knows what to make of it.

My Dad does us all a favor and squints at him. "How you mean?"

"At the CDC," He confesses, his voice a hoarse whisper that I can only just make out, "Jenner told me. Whatever it is, we all carry it."

We all carry—? The germs that make the dead ones come back? We all carry them?

He's been lyin' to us this whole time. The CDC, that was months ago.

Sometimes, lying ain't just sayin' something. It's not sayin' something. Daddy taught me that the night I told him I'd had a good day at school, and then come dinnertime, I let it slip that Ethan, the boy that sat behind me in class, had actually punched me in the belly that day at lunch. He got so mad. He ripped off my shirt. There was a purple blotch on my pale skin. Then he taught me how to punch boys back.

That's what Rick's done. He's hidden a purple blotch from us, and now we should be angry.

Carol steps forward, her silver brows pinched. "And you never said anything?"

I consider my body. I don't feel sick. Not like I did when we thought I was bitten.

Rick lamely asks, "Would it have made a difference?"

Yes, I think, but he already knows that.

Glenn accuses him, "You knew. You knew this whole time."

So, that's why Jim and Shane woke back up. You don't gotta get bit. You just gotta die and come back with enough to be able to bite.

That means even if you jumped off a bridge and all your bones were broken and you died, you would still come back.

My—

My Momma would'a still come back.

"How could I have known for sure, huh? Until we found Jim, I had no proof Jenner was even tellin' the truth. You saw how crazy that mother f—"

Glenn cuts him off. "That is not your call. Okay?"

"When Daryl found out about the walkers in the barn," Lori adds, "He told everyone as soon as he had the chance."

Rick don't care. "Well... I thought it best if people didn't know."

Glenn and Dad look right at me. Like they've both thought the same thing I have. They're the only ones here that know what happened to my Momma. I remember telling Glenn about it at the CDC. Momma. We were outta the city when it happened. It was the night the world ended twice. First when we got the call, and again when our neighbours tried to eat us. It's a lot of people's worst ever night. It's mine.

I won't ever know for sure, but I'd be kidding myself if I thought the rules didn't apply to my Momma.

At least we know that if any of us were to die, the others would make sure we didn't turn. Survivor's honor, or whatever it's called.

The silence goes on for so long that he just gives us one last look over, turns, and walks away. Nobody cares where.

Dad crouches; looks up at me. "You okay, baby?"

"Yeah," My voice wobbles, but I'm telling the truth. "I just... Don't wanna think about it."

Glenn clears his throat. "Well, it looks like we don't have much of a choice about this. We need to set up camp."

As everyone slowly breaks off to do their part, Dad takes my hand and leads me over to his motorcycle. "Got somethin' for ya."

Oh, right. The hearing aid; bits and pieces.

I'd almost forgotten.

"I hope it ain't complicated," I tell him, fiddling with my craggled ear. "Maggie said Herschel don't know about this stuff."

"We'll figure it out." He promises, before squeezing my hand and letting it go. "I ain't even sure if they work."

He opens the saddlebag, taking out a wrinkled plastic bag. He reaches in and pulls out what looks like an unusually shaped piece of skin-colored plastic with a rubber bulb on the end. And two other hearing aids, one brown and one purple, the type I'd recognise.

He stuffs the bag away and tucks some hair behind my good ear, making room to stick the first one in.

"I think it goes like that." He leans in closer, messing around with something on the back of it. "How do I—...?"

Something clicks.

All of a sudden, there are birds in the trees.

My eyes go wide, jaw dropping, gawking out at the forest like I've never seen one before.

A grin sneaks its way onto my face.

"The birds," I muse quietly, taking in the sounds of their distant chirps. "I can hear 'em, Dad."

It's not perfect. It's not as crisp as it was before. I think the batteries are low. But I don't care. It's still one of my favorite sounds.

He's smiling faintly up at me. "Good."

"Dad, your voice!"

"My voice?"

"I forgot what it's s'posed to sound like," I giggle. "It's so loud. And annoying."

He snorts, giving my butt a smack for being silly. "Well now when ya tire of my naggin', you can just pull that thing out."

As quickly as it had come to life, it makes a crackling noise, a sudden beep, and then there are no more birds.

I pluck the aid out my ear, giving it a bittersweet look. It didn't last forever, but it was nice while it did.

He mumbles something; then, louder, "We'll find some more batteries soon. Sorry, baby."

"Don't be sorry." I say. "It was perfect."

After packing them back into the saddlebag, we leave to collect firewood together. I imagine the sounds of the birds around us.

Night comes. We can't stop it.

I pretend we're camping.

We're not stranded. No, we just decided to go on a camping trip together because we thought it would be fun. That's why we're all huddled around a campfire in the dark, instead of sleeping in our beds at the farm. I'm curled up against Dad's stomach, which is better than a bed, I think. Beth's cuddled into her Dad's side, too, staring into the flames while Maggie and Glenn whisper to each other beside them.

I wish we had a deck of cards. I wish any of us would wanna play.

We got nothing but a wall of stone to protect us from the forest on the other side, but I pretend that away, too.

I just focus on the sound of an owl hooting somewhere off in the trees. I bet it ain't scared. Owls; they know the night.

Tomorrow, we're gonna have cheap steak and ketchup for breakfast, and then Merle's gonna let me sit on his shoulders just like always.

"We're not safe with him," Carol suddenly mutters, and that's not something I can pretend away. I'm back here, now, and we're stranded. No steak. No ketchup. No Merle. "Keeping something like that from us. Why do we need him? He's just gonna pull us all down."

Maybe I don't wanna be camping, anyway. It's good enough right here, surrounded by the people I care about.

"Nah." Dad's voice is a rumble in my lower back. "Rick's done alright by me and mine."

I cuddle further into him, shuddering lightly as he rubs my cold arms. His leather vest don't make a great blanket.

"You're his henchman." She reminds him. "And I'm a burden."

He scoffs. "And Harley?"

"You both deserve better," She says softly, her face pensive in the orange light.

It don't matter what we deserve, I told Shane when he said the same thing.

Unamused, Dad pries, "What do you want?"

"A man of honor."

"Rick has honor."

They leave it at that. I think they wish we had a deck of cards, too.

The owl hoots again.

Then, a branch breaks.

CRACK.

I straighten.

"What was that?" Beth murmurs worriedly. "Was it a walker?"

We all stare off into the dark, ready to fight whatever might come out of it.

"Could be anythin'," Dad mumbles as he stands, readying his bow. "Could be a racoon. Could be a possum. Could be the Easter bunny."

Carol hugs herself. "We need to leave. I mean, what are we waiting for?"

"Which way?" Glenn asks.

Maggie points at the thin trees behind T-Dog. "It came from over there."

"That's back from where we came."

"Yeah."

"The last thing we need is for everyone to be running off in the dark." Rick scolds us, reminding us he's here. The light from the fire washes him in flame, the dried blood on his forehead glistening with sweat. "We don't have the vehicles. No one's travelling on foot."

"Don't panic," Herschel soothes us all calmly, still clutching his shotgun.

Maggie argues, "I'm— I'm not sittin' here, waitin' for another herd to blow through. We need to move. Now."

"No one is goin' anywhere," Rick snarls.

"Do something!"

"I am doin' somethin'!" He retorts. If he really was that rubber band, this is the part where he would snap in two. "I am keepin' this group together. Alive! I've been doing that all along, no matter what. I didn't ask for this. I shot my best friend for you people, for Christ's sakes! For you Daryl, and you, Harley. I was the one that took care of Jim. Me! Everything! Everything has been on me!"

I know I said we were supposed to be angry with him. But, actually, I think we're just scared.

Lori's holding Carl's head to her chest. Dad stands in front of me, as if he doesn't want me to see. T-Dog, Glenn, Maggie; all with their mouths sealed shut, not sure where to look, or what to say. Is this really the same Rick that comforted me at dinner?

"Maybe you people are better off without me." He shrugs, taunting us. "Sure. Go ahead."

I've never had to be a leader before. I did have to kill Shane, but Rick's done so much more for us. I'm not better off without him.

"I say there's a place for us out there, but maybe—" He's just rambling, now. "Maybe it's just another pipe dream. Maybe I'm— Maybe I'm fooling myself again. I'm just as much a sucker as Shane was. But, hey, why don't you go find out yourself?"

He sweeps his hand behind him, presenting us with the forest.

"Huh? Send me a postcard."

I can't hear the owl anymore. I think it flew away.

"Go on. There's the door. You think you can do better? Let's see how far you get."

I pull the leather of Dad's vest up to my face, shyly peeping over the top of it; breathing shakily. I don't want to see how far I can get. I want to stay right here with my people, whether we're starving or not; freezing or not. I think everyone else does, too.

Or at the very least, they want to stay here where there's a warm fire and guns.

"No takers?" He lilts. "Fine. But get one thing straight. If you're staying—"

He pins every single one of us with a look.

"— This isn't a democracy, anymore."

That word Dale used. The one that means things is fair.

Then he sits right back down where he was before, like he didn't just threaten to abandon us all.

Slowly, everyone else sits back down too, because there's nothing else to do. We all heard him. We can't leave. When Dad settles in behind me again, I squirrel into his chest, his arms wrapping around me. There's no sound except for the branches crackling in the fire and the heartbeat beneath his shirt. I don't know where we go from here. But I do know Dad will keep me safe, and Rick will keep the group safe. He's worked himself raw and bloody to make sure we survive. The fish fry, the CDC, the highway, Shane, the fall of the farm. All of it.

We didn't survive all that bullshit just to fall apart now. There's still something out there for us.

We just have to find it.

Author's Notes.

I sincerely hope you enjoyed 😊

I'm sad to see the farm go, but we had a nice time while we were there.

Please leave a comment! I'm anxious to hear from you all after so long :)

#the walking dead #twd fanfiction #fanfic #daryl dixon #daryl dixon daughter #twd #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon twd #angst #rick grimes #reader #original character #daryl dixon x reader #twd daryl #daryl fanfiction #daryl twd

9 notes · View notes