#like why would you fucking do that what if my sister got covid what if she brought it back to the entire group home of individuals with
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Covet: Chapter 11 (Part 1 of 3)
Pairing: Jake Kiszka x f!Reader
Covet Summary:
Life was good. No, life was great.
Was.
Until.
Jake Kiszka crashed into the picture.
You welcomed him into your life—your home.
Yes, he was your best friend’s twin. But, he was also the one who would end up disrupting your whole world with his attitude, his troubles, and the annoyingly natural way he lured you in.
Jake Kiszka came with so much you really didn’t want.
At least that’s what you tried to convince yourself.
Warnings: MINORS DNI (18+); angst; mutual pining; crying + feelings of sadness; arguing; heart issues addressed (POTs); use of heart monitors; revisited, vivid memories of sexual encounters; JEALOUSYYY; body changes as a result of pregnancy; negative self-talk (that, off and on, turns positive); talks of baby + pregnancy; pregnancy hormones (+ acting on them hehe); reader and jake are both STUBBORN (as always); cheating; heavy petting; oral sex m!receiving; forgetfulness; vivid imaginings of sex; talks of EMDR + the possibility of revisiting dark places; jake being the best, most helpful baby daddy there ever was (as usual, PLEASE lmk if i missed anything that is triggering to you!)
Chapter 11 (Part 1) Word Count: 23.3k+
a/n: sorry for the looooong ass wait. same old, same old. life is busy. (also, @joshym and i did go to our first three greta shows on THIS leg and almost died, too - soooo that got in the way lmao.)
as always, big thank you to @joshym for being the best sister there ever was and supporting me in my writings + pursuits <3
and biiiigg thank you to @gretavangroupie for being the dopest proofreader + catching my little, dumb mistakes lmao <3
Please enjoy the playlist as you read 🖤 (fr, i listen to it nonstop when i write this.... all of the songs are pertinent to the story and aid in telling it - either already or eventually.)
Covet Masterlist
-🌼🌼🌼-
"...covetousness, looking more at what we would have than at what we have..."
-Joseph Hall
-🌼🌼🌼-
Chapter 11:
Monday
December 5th, 2022
Staring at the ceiling seemed like the best possible option. No rush to your morning or day. Class had been canceled due to a pipe bursting in the building it was held in. And after seeing that in your notifications, you’d also had a text from Gia – telling you she had to cancel your therapy session again, still recovering from the after-effects of Covid. You couldn’t be mad at her, but admittedly, it’d made your heart fall.
And to make your morning even better, when you opened your eyes, you were greeted by the sound of Jake and Maya. The most lovely way to wake up.
All you could hear through your door were two little fucking lovebirds out in the living room and kitchen area. . . The sound from the box fan you’d decided to keep next to your bed was your best companion in your bubble of endless sulking at Jake and Maya.
The ceiling fan above you was great entertainment as it rotated on a perfect pattern, seemingly in slow motion. And the box fan was hitting your face with the coolest, most refreshing air flow. Offered some sort of relief, at least.
In a moment that threatened to make you feel real sad, you felt the slightest bit free by the fans and their fresh air and consistent patterns. The serenity that rolled from them was your only saving grace.
Today was going to be a long day. There was nothing to do.
But, on a wild hair (and after a particularly grating laugh from Maya), you decided to text Theo and ask if he wanted to make up for yesterday's missed study session today. You didn’t know why you did it, but you did. And his text agreeing to it was instantaneous.
Theo, 8:34 a.m.: I would love that! Does 4:00 work for you? I have to work until 3:00 :(
You took your time responding and texted back lazily, not really wanting to do anything with him, but desperately wanting to get Jake out of your mind.
You, 8:37 a.m.: Sure! Sounds good.
This lovely day had already started with a drag. On top of Jake and Maya talking and giggling like teenagers through your door, the sky was gray outside your window, rain having poured all night long. A light drizzle was still hitting your window.
Your stomach rolled at the new smells of breakfast coming from the kitchen, Jake and Maya eating breakfast at your house after their fun night you’d been privy to through the walls.
The dreary cloudiness of the December day was offset by Maya’s squeaky laughs. It kept happening – she kept laughing her ass off at him. The Jake you knew could be funny from time to time, yes, but he wasn’t a comedic genius by any means. He really wasn’t that funny.
But, you’d learned she was adamant at being a good little textbook girlfriend. And it had become absolutely exhausting for you to experience — especially while you continued to carry her boyfriend’s baby.
Your mind got stuck in a thought when you came back to that. . . One little thing that had been bugging you, coming to your mind everyday since Maya had found out.
How in the fuck was she so okay with it? Her boyfriend living in the same house as a girl who was pregnant with his baby? How was she being so damn cool about it?
You grumbled much louder than necessary as you yanked the charger from your phone to check your Ovia app. The photo of what the baby looked like this week was the first thing you saw. You imagined what it looked like right this second. . . . You also wondered when you’d start to feel him or her move – to your surprise you weren’t really stressed that you hadn’t felt it yet. Based on your last doctor visit, you knew the baby was completely healthy and you were feeling much better than you had been a couple weeks ago. You were trying to be logical.
What you did let your mind wander to was what the baby was bound to look like. It was a normal thought process. Would it be a boy or girl? You didn’t even want to guess. Would it have Jake’s eyes and bright smile? You still hoped so – those continued to be the features you desired most of all.
Even though he was not at the top of your happy list right now, you wanted him to share in this with you. It was a conundrum. And, you couldn’t deny that his gesture last night had been so incredibly sweet—the personalized cup he’d left for you, full of iced water.
But, as soon as you went that route, your mind flicked to what hadn’t been so sweet. The not-so-sweet things your ears had been witness to right after he’d dropped the cup off at your door.
Your moment in the kitchen, nothing but an afterthought as soon as he’d gotten to his bedroom to find his goddess of a girlfriend waiting for him. He’d claimed to want you so badly in the kitchen, only to move right on from you to her.
But you weren’t an idiot. You knew he wasn’t yours like he was Maya’s. Although, it didn’t stop your heart from tearing in your chest as you listened to him fuck the girl he truly belonged to through the walls.
Simply put: you were just done witnessing their sex life. Done with it.
It was disheartening and made you feel insecure and sad in ways you really didn’t need to feel.
Your hand found your belly as you tried to get onto a happier train of thought. You read through all of your baby’s fun facts for Week 15. And, rubbing at the bare skin under your giant sleep shirt, you briefly wondered what Jake’s hands would feel like on your bare belly. Your belly, rounder every day with the baby you shared.
You felt your hormones hype up, tears gathering in the corners of your eyes at how much of a jumbled mess your life was.
And, while the predicament could’ve been blamed on you for breaking things off. . . You’d known, way back in August, that he was most likely bound to leave you for her. That day you’d picked him up from her house, their seamless connection had been obvious.
What was strange was every now and then, you heard these faint words from a memory in the back of your mind. His voice. His words. And it was always him arguing it – arguing the validity of him and Maya.
But the entire situation wouldn’t come back to you. So, you’d resolved that the words had been in a dream. They felt more like a dream. . . One you couldn’t reach back to. His stern voice telling you how wrong your assumptions were, a wavy non-memory. . . .
Though you still believed that no matter the case, whether you’d broken it off in August or waited until later, things would have turned out the same. Everything that happened was meant to happen. You’d still be pregnant and Maya would still be around.
There was no escaping the fact that Maya was going to be around. One way or another. Around and taking away the possibility for you and Jake to ever be together again. Not that he needed that. You weren’t good for him. You’d had your solid reasons for cutting things off.
But. . . why did those reasons seem to get hazier everyday? They were harder to place as the days went by.
You sighed deeply, deciding to focus on what else was real. . . The other things in the now that made you feel good. There was no reason to have any of that clouding your mind, to make you feel even worse than you already did.
Getting up, you made the bed and afterwards went to undress. Get ready for the day. But, as soon as you’d stripped your shirt and were standing naked in your panties, your heart sank. You heard something through the door that you really didn’t want to fucking hear.
“Your body looks so perfect in that, My,” Jake’s voice came through the door, sounding astonished. The cat call he made at her right after made a weight fall to the tresses of your tummy. “You are so beautiful. So damn pretty.”
And when your eyes caught sight of your bigger body— reflecting back at you through the mirror. . . .
The tears that leaked from your eyes were expected, your heart hung so heavy in your hollow chest. Words he’d just spoken to you not so long ago as you’d worked to rid yourself of stretch marks (your creams and oils working wonders, by the way, thank god).
“Beautiful,” he’d firmly stated while his eyes locked with yours in the mirror, just as he’d said the word. “This is beautiful. You are beautiful.”
You’d felt reassured by his words and pep talk that evening. . . It was stupid how his words had helped your mind to clear some darkness. It was stupid because obviously those words weren’t special for you. He’d say the same words to her in a heartbeat. You weren’t special.
And, no matter what he said about it not being because of the baby, it was true that he’d started being (more) attentive after finding out. The attentiveness had started almost as soon as he’d known about the baby. So, surely the words he’d said were just to perk your sad, pregnant feelings.
He was great at being attentive. You’d learned from past experience that he was like that if you were in any sort of relationship with him, too. And Maya was in more of a relationship with him than you fucking were right now, so . . . . of course he was bound to say that shit to her.
Her obvious, natural beauty being highlighted by him any chance he got was the opposite of what you needed to hear. You knew how pretty she was. Anyone with two eyes could tell; she was built so perfectly, her face was symmetrical as could be. . . And her smile, wide and shining, with the straightest teeth. He was dating Aphrodite herself (with more voluptuous curves than Aphrodite, even) and he’d be a fool to not state the truth.
And you. . . well, you were not built as well at the present time. And you were aware you’d hadn’t been built as well as her before the baby either. Her appearance had filled you with insecurities even then — and would continue to do so.
Jake could talk you up as much as he wanted. But you knew it wasn’t completely genuine and was just because he felt obligated.
You looked back to the mirror, watching to see the way your body looked as you turned to see the plump curve of your ass. Turning fully around, your hair flowed behind your shoulder as you eyed your backside. The world would never know if you were pregnant if they saw you from the back. . . You hadn’t even realized how normal the back of you still looked. All that had changed was your ass was slightly more plush with the baby weight. But, that wasn’t a bad thing.
The longer you looked at your backside, looking like your normal, used-to-be body. . . You realized how empty you felt to look at a version of you without your baby.
You kept your eyes trained on your body in the mirror as you spun back around on your heel to observe your front. Placing both hands on the tummy you had, your baby tucked safe as could be inside of you, you observed yourself.
There was no denying you were bloated while Maya was perfectly fit — her boobs and ass perky while yours weren’t as much so . . .
No, your whole body was changing to accommodate the little life you were growing. But. . . as you looked at yourself in the mirror, you were finding you were really okay with it. You rubbed your hands smoothly over your ever-growing stomach, tracing shapes on the smooth skin of your (now) stretch-mark-less tummy.
Your belly was growing. . . constantly. You knew that over time, it would continue to crowd you tighter and tighter in every space you occupied.
But. . . You were okay with that. All it meant was that the baby continued to grow and that was what mattered. . . It didn’t matter that you didn’t look like Maya.
But, it didn’t change one thing you knew you couldn’t grow to appreciate like you had your body. You weren’t sure you’d ever be okay that Jake was with Maya. . . And that made it all feel so much worse. Because, no matter how hard you tried, you knew you’d still subconsciously compare yourself to her because of his relationship with her.
And the sounds through the walls, both cutesy conversation and sex. . . The displays at the kitchen counter. . . It got you in your head. Because Jake. Jake was in your head. Always.
It made perfect sense that he wanted to constantly be intimate with her. They were dating. She was hot. He was more than hot.
You grumbled, squeezing your eyelids shut to ignore the image of them fucking — it mocked you behind your eyes. Then, there they were again at the kitchen island. Jake with his head thrown back in pleasure, with Maya on her knees in front of him. . . her perfectly manicured, white pearl acrylics clutching his shirt.
You didn’t even want to think about the scratches those nails had made on the tanned skin of his back. How she probably marked his back with her pristine, almond-shaped nails. . .
Crazy. You were going to go crazy.
Because while you could fully understand why she’d wanted to fuck him constantly (you’d been there – still were there), you hated witnessing it in any way. Why did it have to be right next to you? Or in front of you at the kitchen counter? How in the fuck could you rid yourself of that?
Then, it dawned on you as you changed into a comfier bra. . .
There were rules. There were apartment rules. There’d been no conversation about taking those away. Whatever happened during those months in the summer between you two was exempt. You’d been involved with each other. But now things were back to the way they’d started. No romance (just confusing, minor incidents, really). You were back to being two roommates. . . with a baby.
Those rules you’d rambled off to him in the living room all those months ago hadn’t just evaporated. And Maya. . . she wasn’t the one blatantly disrespecting the rules that had been set for so long. Jake was doing that – not Maya. She didn’t know about them. But Jake sure as hell did. You were sure they were still posted on the kitchen fridge, under schedules and shit. Right under his nose and he didn’t even fucking care. And he wasn’t following them worth shit.
Technically, those still stood. . . right? Had to. A baby made between you two didn’t eliminate them. It actually made you feel more validated since you carried his baby now. You were the one literally living everyday as a pregnant woman for his baby. . . The least he could do was not fuck his stupid ass girlfriend on the kitchen counter. Or right next door.
And, in no time, Maya was sitting at the back of your mind. Didn’t care about her. She didn’t matter right now. No, it was Jake who was making you so mad you couldn’t see straight. . . What the fuck was his problem?
-🌼🌼🌼-
Later in the day, after allowing yourself a little nap after a nice long shower, you got ready for your study sesh with Theo.
You took extra time on your hair and makeup — decided you wanted to look good. Focus on something – someone else. You were desperate to get your mind off of Jake.
Truth be told, you’d accelerated at hyperspeed to a raging emotion since you’d undressed and stood in your room, being forced to listen to him go on about how beautiful his girlfriend was.
And, it just got worse as you had to wait far too long to hear little giggles and goodbyes fade out of the apartment. Finally, at Maya’s departure around 9:30, Jake’s door had closed . . .
By that point, you’d had plenty of time to stew and ponder. You’d pondered multiple ways Jake was pissing you the fuck off. . . Some, very valid. . . others, not even close (you were hormonal, okay?!). You’d piled on more reasons in the shower to be irate with him, too, aggressively shampooing your scalp.
You had to admit, riding a wave of emotion over Jake that didn’t leave you in a mess of tears was actually pretty fun. . .
You’d let your mind wander down aimless paths. By the time you were getting dressed and ready for studying, you were fuming. So much frustration with him. And right now? Jake’s selfish, crude behavior had your full attention. . .
Admittedly, you knew nearly everything you were feeling was thanks to a surge in pregnancy hormones. Those super-human hormones were making you see only red at the thought of him. And, ridiculously, you didn’t try to tame your thoughts. No, you decided to just ride. Wanted to ride the winding rollercoaster of emotion for as long as you could. It felt good to just be angry with him.
Was that a pregnant woman thing? Did it make you a bad person?
. . . Because, well, even if it did make you a bad person, you didn’t care.
But. . . As you finished your light mauve lipliner, layering on chapstick, you realized maybe you should care. Not for Jake’s sake. For the baby’s sake, you didn’t want to put any unnecessary stress on the sweet love growing in your tummy.
So, you’d devised your plan. A plan to get your mind off Jake. Something to maybe piss him off a little. God only knew how he’d pissed you off time and again. He needed a taste.
You just needed a solid distraction. And what better distraction than another man to prove to Jake that you could play at a game.
Just because you were pregnant didn’t mean you couldn’t do as he did. . . You know. . . .mess around like him. How he performed his little stunts for God and everybody to see and hear. . . Would he be okay with it if you did the same? It seemed like an interesting experiment.
The spiral of negative emotion towards him had started with how selfish he was being with the apartment rules. Because, yes you were just sick and tired of Jake and Maya flaunting their shit. That was the root of it. And when your mind had wandered just far enough to retaliate. . . you’d decided to push in to the urge.
You wanted your own thing to show off. . . Your own person to be obnoxious and publicly affectionate with you. And you had the perfect person in mind. . . someone who’d shown interest time after time. . . Going all the way back to sophomore year of high school. The very same person who was about to spend the next few hours with you to study.
Though, you couldn’t help but wonder. . . Even with how interested he’d been before, would he mind your pregnancy?
You figured to test it; there was no use in trying to hide your round belly from your (admittedly cute) study buddy. Hopefully he’d find you, as a pregnant woman, just as appealing as he did before he knew you were pregnant.
You’d decided on your dark brown jumpsuit, which complimented your body just right. With the weather being chillier, you decided on a tight white mock neck underneath. The jumpsuit was your new favorite piece of clothing. You hadn’t worn it out yet, but it actually fit your changing body well. You’d ordered a few failed attempts at a jumper like Gia’s, and you’d finally found one that fit your rapidly transforming body. The material of the suit was soft and stretchy, meaning it would be a go-to for the next several months.
It wasn’t even maternity – that was your favorite part! Outfits like the one you were eyeing yourself in kept you from having to wear clothes made exclusively for pregnant women. In fact, due to its incredibly flexible nature, you already had a few other colors by the same brand in your Amazon cart. . . Cute, comfy, and not made for pregnant ladies only.
The idea of wearing maternity clothing was still something you were warming up to. . . You’d discovered on BabyTok that a lot of expecting mothers hated wearing maternity clothes. The general consensus (that you agreed with) was that it made them feel even more ostracized when they already felt like your body wasn’t your own.
After having the full ensemble put together, you turned to glimpse at your ass in the suit, adjusting your gold jewelry as you turned back around to face the front.
You were beyond happy with what you saw.
Adorable and sexy all in one outfit. Your curves were being hugged in all of the right places: boobs, belly, butt. And, even then, the jumper still left some mystery with its looser parts. . . You felt confident.
The white sneakers and white mini crew socks added the ideal final touch, helping you to feel even more comfortable and excited by your outfit with the other trendy addition. (Thank you, blessed Target and your off-brand tennis shoes.)
The thought made you momentarily think about making a Target baby registry when the time came. Would Jake want to be involved in that? You wanted him to be. . . Ugh. You actually hated how badly you wanted him to be in the middle of all of it with you.
You were supposed to be mad at him!
As you slung your belt bag over your chest, you huffed at the thought, tightening your bag a little to balance just right over your bigger breasts. And, as you did so, your mind started drifting. Drifting to the same eyes you always had waiting for you at the back of your mind. The eyes you wanted looking at you, admiring you. . . They weren’t Theo’s. Not at all. These eyes were Amber-brown and darkened naturally when they took you in (rather, they used to darken at you).
Then, there were the calloused hands you wanted to meet you at the end of the day, in your bedroom, to help you take off this outfit. Piece. By. Piece.
You growled to yourself, readjusting the belt bag once more to not be so tight over your boobs.
Damn that fucker. Jake was like a thorn in your side—making his way into thoughts of yours without giving you a chance to combat it.
God, you just needed to focus on another man. Jake had Maya. You needed someone, too. Right? It was going to help. It would be an attempt, at the very least, to get your mind off of your baby’s (smoking hot) daddy.
Once more, you eyed your outfit – your little round belly, in particular. You loved how it stretched the material at your waist just enough to see there was a baby in there. . . your baby. How could you be so proud of a life that you hadn’t even held in your arms yet?
Your phone dinged from where it laid on your comforter. You walked to check it, finding a quick text from Theo to ask if you wanted him to pick you up. And. . . you agreed . . . It was the perfect start to your plan.
As soon as you sent it, though, you suddenly felt a solid moment of pause at the idea of dating another man while being pregnant with Jake’s baby.
You didn’t want anyone else. Really. You knew it. Your body grew instantly uncomfortable at the idea of someone else. You craved one person in particular and it was not Theo. . . but who’s to say it couldn’t be Theo? Or any other man, for that matter? It could be. It could. . .
If Jake was able to move on from you, you could move the fuck on from him, too.
So, with that thought, you ignored the pull towards Jake. Didn’t need him infiltrating your fresh state of mind.
-🌼🌼🌼-
Once Theo had texted that he was about ten minutes away, you decided you’d make your way out to the living room.
But, of course, the other occupant of the living room at that moment was someone you did not intend on seeing. Didn’t want to see him. Jake, sitting on the couch watching some documentary.
He wasn’t wearing PJ’s on this gloomy, rainy Sunday afternoon, but rather a sexy ass outfit (What was he dressed up for? Could you not catch a fucking break?!).
Looking at him, all you could imagine was being held close enough to feel him hard, against your ass, hand cupping your breast just like you’d needed so badly. . .
Last night, he’d made you feel so many emotions. Two of which being seriously intense longing and lust. And he’d seemed to feel the exact same way. . .
. . .Only to go back to his room and make it no secret that he was fucking Maya into his mattress and not you.
He offered to come to you, y/n. . . a voice whispered, sounding like Elsie. It was something she would say. But, you already knew what you’d tell her. It was what you’d told him and what you’d been telling yourself.
It wasn’t right. Last night had been enough to make that apparent to you. . . and hopefully him, too. It would be a mistake and it wasn’t right. It wasn’t right at all to do that shit–even if the other person in the equation was someone you despised as much as you were growing to despise Maya.
But, alas, you had no ground to stand on. . . He wasn’t your boyf—.
Well, yeah, actually. You did have some ground. You would pull the motherfucking Baby Mama card if you had to.
You yanked a Canada Dry from the fridge before going to wait in the doorway for Theo.
Back to square one of being pissed with Jake. Hearing Maya outright crying and moaning his name repeatedly felt blasphemous (dramatic, but whatever). . . You were even more tired of hearing him – the same moans and groans that had once been your favorite sound. . . . You were just damn tired of it.
As you popped the can open to take a decent swig, you worked to convince yourself that it mostly annoyed you. Just because it kept you from getting enough sleep for you and a baby. But you knew, quite frankly, it was because you cared more than you should have about it.
What you didn’t care for was hearing said baby’s father fuck another woman any and every way she wanted.
Not when there was a time it had been you instead.
You let your eyes travel to him, sitting on the couch. The profile of his face was all you could see. The sharp outline of his jaw. . . The straight bridge of his nose, begging to be traced by your finger. His pretty mouth, lips slightly open before he licked them in anticipation at the screen in front of him.
Had he not noticed you? Or was he purposefully ignoring you? Whatever. It didn’t matter.
Even though it was wrong, you weren’t able to help the way your brain spiraled at the thoughts of endless summer days as you surveyed him. You thought of those blissful days where it had been you he was fucking so well you saw stars over and over again. . . leaving you with a dull ache between your legs from how fucking good he’d given it. . .
Ugh! No. You rubbed your thighs together, working to alleviate the thoughts that had your panties getting slightly damp. Motherfucker.
Because, again, everything you’d had to witness between him and Maya and he hadn’t even cared. . . . fucking jackass. Acted like he cared so much that day in the kitchen. Didn’t want to let go of what you’d had. But then he’d moved on to what had been patiently waiting for him. . . So fucking soon after. You hadn’t had time to catch your breath.
Truly. Fuck Jake Kiszka. The butterflies that jittered in your belly at your inappropriate thoughts were simply confused as hell. . .
“How you feeling today?” He asked, not looking away from the television, definitely sensing your presence behind him.
God. . . stop acting like you care.
“Fine,” you plainly stated, tone clipped, rubbing your belly briefly.
You looked away as soon as he turned his head in your direction, avoiding eye contact with him. But you could feel his eyes piercing burning holes in you from the couch. You busied yourself on your phone, ignoring him. You checked your Ovia app for the second time today.
“You sure about that?” He asked, his voice getting buried in the back of your mind as your eyes traced the new baby facts again.
Size of an avocado. Legs were officially longer than arms. . . could bend his or her knees and elbows now. . . Baby might be growing hair (would it be his color? Or yours?). . . Baby’s heart is still under construction but capable of pumping 25 quarts of blood a day. . .
You realized then and there that, in spite of how pissed you were with him, you wanted him to live all of this in real time with you – wanted to tell him all of these new things about the baby.
“Baby is the size of an avocado today,” you meekly stated, not wanting to get all mushy when you could have slapped him and felt fine with it.
“What?”
“What do you mean, what? I just told you what,” you snapped your eyes over to him on the couch, but realized he was standing and gathering his bag of almonds and glass of water to head over your way.
You moved closer to the door, not caring to smell hints of sandalwood or vanilla or citrus or amber . . . whatever the fuck he’d chosen to use to smell sexy today.
“Yeah,” he said, shaking his head on his way to the kitchen.
You followed every one of his movements; watched him put the almonds in the pantry, then eyed his firm grip on the glass cup as he finished the drink off in one final sip. His adam's apple bobbed in his throat as he closed his eyes to savor it. You saw as a few drops from the drink slipped from the glass, down his chin, and all the way to his chest. Damn. Right down the middle of his perfectly toned and tanned pectoral muscles. When he went to wash it in the sink, you observed closely as he swiped under his plump bottom lip with his thumb to catch the remnants of water.
In no time, he was done washing the cup and facing you again. A tiny grin quirked on his lips and you realized it was probably because you still had your mouth open watching him. Quickly, you shut it and raised a brow at him.
“Don’t smile at me.” You sounded ridiculous, but you were trying to cover up your moment of staring at him. Didn’t want to seem weak.
“I apologize for smiling,” he responded, his eyes rolling with the words the slightest bit. “What were you saying before?”
“You seriously already forgot?”
“No. God,” he cleared his throat, crossing his arms over his chest. “I was trying to spark the conversation to life again.”
“By acting like you forgot what I said?” Damn it all to hell – what was wrong with you?
“Why are you so upset?”
“I’m not,” you retorted, knowing better. You were upset. . . not about this, in particular. Just him. Just upset with him.
“Yes you are.”
“Stop,” you bit back, not wanting him to see through you. “If you would have just listened the first time and not asked me ‘what’, then we would already be done talki–,” growling with a huff, you frustratedly tucked a lock of hair behind your ear. “I blatantly said that it was about the baby. You knew what I was talking about,” you looked down at your phone, doom scrolling on the app – looking at past and future weeks in your pregnancy. “Just listen better next time and you won’t have to talk to me for so long.”
Okay, now you were letting off that you were weak. You sounded pathetic. Were you really feeling insecure about that at the root of it all? Did you feel like he didn’t want to talk to you?
If you were being honest, you did feel like a burden and the tears accumulating in the back of your throat were proof of it. Part of you felt completely inadequate and like he couldn’t care. But. . . if logic was to speak and remind of what was real, you would realize he was the one that initiated the conversation in the first place. Of course he wanted to talk to you. . .
Or was he just being nice?
“Goddamn, yes ma’am. Sorry for my lack of rapt attention and preparedness. I’ll pay better attention next time,” he grit back. “Jesus Christ.”
You couldn’t blame his frustration. There was no denying you sounded crazy. This was becoming something it didn’t need to because you were grumpy with him and just generally hormonal.
Looking down, you thought you’d offer some sort of apology. There was no use in being completely unreasonable. “I’m sorry I’m being so moody and grumpy. These hormones are all over the place,” you reasoned, not wanting to divulge your complete irritation with him you’d sat on all afternoon.
You saw him move from your peripheral. Quickly, you came to terms with the fact that he was coming close enough for you to smell him, despite your efforts to avoid him. And if he didn’t smell more incredible than any other man to ever exist. . . fuck.
You looked up from where you’d started checking your nails, not able to deny his closeness. It spiked your heart rate. He was leaning his back against the counter, right next to where you stood by the door. Personal space was a foreign concept, apparently.
His eyes drifted over you, your skin flaming at the attention from him. His gaze skated over your figure – no doubt he was taking in the outfit. You felt pretty fuckin’ hot. This was the first time you’d felt genuinely pretty in a long time. You could only hope he saw you and thought so, too.
“You look fucking—wow,” he commented, his voice low enough for you to feel his words. “I can’t put it into words. But, damn, this outfit,” he smirked, nodding his head at you before letting his eyes land on your round belly with a soft smile before he looked at you. “I like how the baby looks in it, too.”
You blushed. That was sweet as hell.
“Thanks,” you sunk your eyes into his before letting your eyes rake his figure. If he could do it, you would, too.
He looked fine as hell in his all black outfit with that damn mustache coming in again. . . You could think of a few things that could settle an argument or two. You thought of him exposing your bare breast last night, his dick hard and pressing into your ass. . . . Wanted to feel him grind against you right now. Quite frankly, looking at him, all you wanted to do was lay across the kitchen counter and let him –.
No.
That was the same counter he’d betrayed your rules on. Dammit. You were so mad at him. Was it legitimate? You couldn’t tell. Hormones and shit.
The knock against the door was what broke you from your reverie, eyes having been locked on him for far too long.
“You goin’ somewhere?” He asked, folding his arms tighter across his chest. You didn’t look at his biceps or the jewelry on his hands and wrists. Didn’t think of the way his earring hung just right for you to see it through the thick tresses of his long, wavy hair.
Instead, you took those thoughts and turned them into another woman moaning his name.
Goddamn, y/n. He hasn’t fucking cheated on you. For God’s sake. Slow your damn roll.
“Yes,” you stated, moving to check your makeup in the living room mirror. When you reaffirmed why you felt so damn confident today, you unlocked the door, opening it so Jake could see for himself. He’d moved from his space at the counter, behind you, out of curiosity.
“Hey, gorgeous,” Theo’s grin took up his entire boyish face, his fresh haircut complimented his square jawline well. His excited energy fed the tense air perfectly. Just like you wanted.
“Oh. . . study buddy. . . I remember you,” Jake commented behind you. His tone was almost mocking, challenging the situation. “Making flashcards or some shit, I presume?”
“Depends, man. Might have other goals in mind for today. . .,” Theo winked in Jake’s direction, then yours. You couldn’t help the smirk that fell across your features at his response to Jake. “Little Miss Hot Thang here still needs to go on a date with me like she promised. Maybe we can talk about that, too,” he winked at you. Your eyes smiled, but your lips couldn’t quite reach them.
Little Miss Hot Thang? What?
Though, you had to applaud Theo, he was playing into what you’d wanted perfectly – his little crush on you was shining through. The little cocky lilt in his tone that seemed to be consistently present made your skin crawl just a bit, but you were mostly used to it after all of the studying and times you’d sat next to him in class.
Right now, you only cared to make a point to Jake, though, and Theo’s tone was a non-issue. Though, you hoped his words were clicking with Jake like you wanted them to.
“Oh, yeah? Wanna take her out on a date?” Jake snipped from behind you.
Your eyes twinkled at the sound of his response, tummy somersaulting at the edge in his voice.
It was like a scene playing out exactly as you’d want it to as the viewer. . . The only thing that sucked, though, was that even with the two handsome men standing on either side of you, your body was still only pulling you to the wrong one. The handsome one behind you, dressed in all black. The same one smelling like the most incredible mixture of sandalwood, vanilla, and amber. You caught a whiff of something new, too. . . A different cologne?
You wanted to sink into him. . . let him hold you again, just like he had on Friday.
You did not feel pulled at all to the one in front of you, dressed in his dark wash skinny jeans and a Pratt Football Alumni sweatshirt. The man you didn’t want, that you were about to flirt with even more. It made you less and less excited by the minute for what you were egging on. . . Did you even want it? Was this a stupid idea? You were simply encouraging it for the sole purpose of giving Jake a taste of his own medicine.
Was it worth it?
It made you question if you were sure you wanted to continue entertaining it if you knew you didn’t actually want him.
“Of course I want to take her on a date. You kidding?” Theo smiled, not assuming anything but the best of the situation, his eyes finding yours flirtatiously. “Who wouldn’t?”
You gave a sideways grin to him, feeling unsure of it all.
“And you’re sure she wants it, too?” Jake asked, challenging him with a scoff in his tone.
Suddenly irked by his questioning, you turned your head to the side to address him, still not fully looking at him. You relied solely on your turned head for him to acknowledge that you were speaking to him.
“Not your damn business, Jake,” you snapped, contemplating your next words. “But, yes, I would love to go on a date with him, if you must know. Just like old times.”
You tacked the last words onto the end for extra emphasis. . . . For extra emphasis on the web of fibs you were delicately weaving.
The words made Theo’s smile grow as he leaned towards you, tucking a lock of freshly curled hair behind your ear.
The action made your heart rate pick up – which made you think. Perhaps there was hope you could string this along—just for long enough to shut Jake out. If the tall blonde man was making your heart rate speed up now, he would continue to do that, right? Maybe this revisited ‘romance’ would actually turn into more. . .
Ugh. But was that what you wanted?
The answer was more than likely a big fat no. Fuck no.
Though, you did like what it was doing to Jake. Especially when you looked over your shoulder and saw the pink tinge that had enveloped the apples of his cheeks, how his jaw was set in tight tension. His eyes were trained on Theodore, observing him. Judging him. And when you saw the sudden flare of his nostrils, you knew.
This was making him angry. You’d go as far to say jealous, even. Could it be?
And as horrible as you knew it was, it felt way too fucking good.
“Just like old times?” He questioned, pursing his lips and narrowing his eyes at the man in the doorway.
“We dated in high school,” Theo answered for you, completely oblivious of Jake’s irritation towards him. For all he knew, Jake was just an asshole. Was he even picking up on Jake’s mood?
Better that he didn’t. You didn’t want him thinking there was anything more between you and your roommate; even though the baby growing in your belly said much differently. But you were sure Jake’s little perturbed act was something Theo would eventually catch onto. . . . so, you tried to get him off of the subject one more time.
Matching his level of irritation seemed the only possible solution to shut him up.
You turned fully around to face the long-haired man. His arms were crossed, hands wrapped tightly around his biceps and squeezing intermittently. You observed his handsome features for maybe one second too long, but you couldn’t help it. The beauty mark on his right cheek, along with a couple of tiny scars under his left cheek bone caught your eye – parts of his face you’d memorized months ago. His tanned skin was the perfect canvas for every single precious mark it honed. Would your child have any of the same freckles he did?
Not letting yourself get too lost in that devastating train of thought, you tried to catch his eyes and to no avail. He was hard pressed to intimidate your study buddy or some shit.
When you cleared your throat to gain his attention, his hard gaze finally landed on you rather than the poor, unassuming man in Pratt gear behind you. But. . . . you lost all ammunition to say anything hateful to him when his stare penetrated your own. The way his eyes bore into yours made your breath catch in your throat.
You were right before – you could read him well. And while he was obviously angry and (oddly) jealous. . . . you also sensed a tinge of hurt behind his darkened irises. You’d seen his eyes falter like this before. . . the way he would try to hide the hurt behind a sort of tough act.
“Jake,” you whispered, reaching out to touch his arm. You didn’t know what you were trying to communicate to him, but you had a feeling he’d catch on to whatever it was.
He didn’t flinch away. No, he let you touch him, leaning into it the slightest bit. His eyes glimmered for the briefest moment, holding yours. . . . . Before he suddenly was moving away. You were losing him. And, instantly, you knew that the impending fling behind you was definitely not what you wanted.
God. What had your life come to?
“Alright, well, so be it,” the stark tone in his voice, along with the way his eyes stayed trained on yours, made your skin prick with goosebumps and all of your senses flare. “I suppose you’re right. Nothing you do truly is my business. Just as mine isn’t yours, right?”
Thankfully, his biting words made your skin flame once more in aggravation. You were mad at him. Right? You could fight those words.
You wanted to keep whatever upper hand you’d created, so you had to be quick with your next words. And actions.
You squinted at Jake, inhaling deeply and pursing your lips. Then, without taking another second to think it through, you turned once more. Leaning into Theo, you let your hand lay flat on his buff chest. The blonde then placed a sure hand on your hip, looking down at you with a raised brow and smirk. You sort of enjoyed it, but you also felt a little icky about it. Luckily, you knew how to keep face.
Looking over your shoulder once more to say something, the words caught in your throat when you saw his fists balled up, nails surely digging tiny abrasions in the palms of his hands.
You would venture to say his current feelings teetered on the edge of how you felt towards him and his girlfriend.
Feels great, doesn’t it, Jake?
Yeah. . . . . You were completely sure you wanted to play this little game. With the way he was reacting, you were getting curious to see just how far it could go. . .
From behind, you heard Jake shuffling away, his door closing a little louder than normal. A slam, yes, but not enough to alert Theo to anything going awry. The tall man’s blue-green eyes were sincerely sparkling as he grabbed hold of your hand gently.
-🌼🌼🌼-
You remembered you wanted to talk to Jake about the rules as you pulled out of the complex in Theo’s Mustang. His mouth was going a million miles a minute with shit you didn’t care much about. So, you used his personally-created distraction to your advantage and decided to text Jake about wanting to discuss something with him.
Might as well catch him while the fire’s hot. Maybe he’ll actually pay attention.
It took him a few minutes to respond. It made you momentarily question sending it to him after you’d just irked him as you had at the apartment.
Jake, 3:05 p.m.: oh. So you’re planning on coming back tonight, huh?
Your heart jumped in your throat. Motherfucker.
You, 3:05 p.m.: We are purely studying tonight.
Jake, 3:06 p.m.: is that what lover boy wants? A ‘pure’ little study date?
You glanced over at your classmate as your senses flamed with Jake’s words. Fuck him and his invasive questions. You locked your phone.
It was a good damn time to finally look up and acknowledge the other person in the car. You figured this, because as soon as you looked over to Theo, he was waiting on you, trying to include you in conversation. Just at that moment.
“Don’t you agree?”
Shit. Agree with what? You’d totally tuned him out.
“About. . .?” You trailed, feigning interest and trying to act like you were thinking of all of the things he’d said. “I’m still stuck on what you said earlier about. . .,” your eyes glanced at his Pratt sweatshirt. You cleared your throat, “About school.”
God, that was a step too far. Brave? Stupid? You didn’t even know if he’d mentioned school! Fuck.
But, you were relieved when he laughed, nodding his head as he went ahead at a green light. The smell of his Black Ice car freshener was almost too much for your pregnant super-senses.
“Yeah, me too. That professor is crazy!” He said, going ahead as the light changed. “No, but do you agree that this test is going to be a piece of cake?”
Wow. So he really had spent the past several minutes talking about school and a test? Shit. You had imagined there’d been more. Didn’t know why. It was Theo. He had a one-track-mind. He was all about school and Pratt.
Meanwhile, you weren’t even interested enough in school to carry a fully thought-out conversation about it, much less drone on and fucking on about it.
“Oh, yeah,” you knit your brows. “Piece of cake. We’ve got it in the bag.”
“So. . . you sure you don’t want to make tonight our date then?” He proposed, a blush rising in your cheeks with the lift of his brow. Oh.
Answer was. . . Yes. You were sure you didn’t want to go on a date tonight. Didn’t want to go on one at all, if you were honest. Or did you? With the way the blush hadn’t left your cheeks yet, you weren’t entirely sure how you felt about it at the moment.
It was confusing as hell. But, you’d dug your own grave. You had led him on.
Momentarily, you contemplated it. . . If you did it tonight, would that help you to get it over with sooner? Be rid of this guy who’d annoyed you more often than not in recent times?
Ugh. No. You couldn’t let it end after one night. You needed to drag it out.
“Why don’t we start with some studying and then we can talk a little more on that?” You tried, voice cracking a bit on the last word, feeling utterly unsure of it all.
“So . . . .,” he trailed, waiting for you to continue.
“So, I’d say we will find another night to have our date. Make it special,” you slapped a sweet grin on. Make it special? God, shut up, y/n. “I promise.”
His eyes shone, hand coming to grip yours. Fuck, yours were clammy as hell.
“Yeah, special,” he enthused, your stomach dropping at the word. “I like the sound of that, y/n.”
-🌼🌼🌼-
When you were finally home from your excursion, you could have sighed with the deepest relief. You’d have been lying if you said your social battery wasn’t drained. You’d worked to keep up with the flirtiness, acting flirty even when it felt completely unauthentic.
But. . . Unfortunately for you, there wasn’t a moment to sigh with relief, being immediately met by Jake. Still awake and reading a book in the armchair. Didn’t want to make him suspicious of you being turned off by Theo in any way. You needed to convince him that you were interested in the jock.
You figured you might as well start off strong.
“I really like him,” you breathed the supposed lie, not able to contain the eye roll threatening to expose your charade.
Jake hmphed from his spot in the chair, not even caring to look up from his book. “Good for you, y/n.” His tone was a grumble as he never lifted his eyes from the page, in fact turning to the next page, more invested in the literature than you.
You turned to hang your belt bag next to the door, swishing your leftover Pink Drink after the bag was put away. When you walked to put the drink on a coaster in the living room, you looked over to Jake, who was still busy reading. Even though he seemed to be ignoring you, you suddenly wanted to spend some time with him. But, before you could get situated on the couch, you decided on going to your room to change.
As comfortable as your outfit had been, it still wasn’t sweatpants. And the basket of freshly clean clothes you’d left on your floor held your comfiest pair of sweatpants and your biggest Pratt sweatshirt, made of the softest cotton material. You were quickly unlacing your tennis shoes and stripping out of your jumper and undershirt and bra (good god, so uncomfortable). Once you were in the set of comfy clothes, you felt instant relief.
You’d kept your socks on, feeling abnormally chilly. December’s evening weather was still sticking to your skin. It was fucking nice to not be burning up hot.
With one last glance to the side, you grabbed your own book to read, sitting on your bedside table. One from your recent night out with Jake. You figured it wouldn’t hurt you to sit with him in the living room and read at the same time as he did. It had the potential to be a nice, calm setting.
Just before you could make it out of your bedroom, you went to grab your fluffy blanket from your bed – only to find Stevie snoozing away on it. Your heart swelled at her deep sleeping breaths, completely at peace. Being as you were not about to wake her, you just decided to head to the living room and use the blanket you kept in there.
Water was your first priority before a blanket, though. Your mouth had turned to sandpaper in the time between leaving the living room and walking from your room, back to the common area. You were always thirsty these days.
Though, as you went to grab your giant Stanley from where you’d left it earlier, you noticed it freshly washed next to the sink. What. . .? You hadn’t–? Jake must’ve done it.
Your heart tripped over itself. Why did he. . .? Finding your voice, you asked him. “Did you wash my Stanley?”
“Yeah, figured you’d be thirsty when you got home,” he called from the living room, just loud enough for you to hear in the quietness of your apartment. “You fill that giant ass thing up at least twice a day and down it like it’s nothing. And I hadn’t seen you fill it up even once before you left.”
But. . . . he’d been so angry when you’d left earlier? Why was he taking care of you and your things?
“I filled it up when I came out this morning,” you clarified, shocked that he’d noticed your routine of sorts. “But I didn’t get to finish it before I left. Got left on the counter for a Canada Dry,” you made a noise of realization, thinking how delicious one of those would taste right now, too.
When you went to grab the ice cold can, you got the most stereotypical pregnant girl craving. Ice cream.
And. . . you had absolutely zero of it.
“Dammit,” you said to yourself, shutting the freezer door in quiet resolution. In slight frustration, you huffed, blowing hair off your face.
You’d survive. Still really freakin’ sad, though. You could feel the pout making its way to your features all on its own – you couldn’t control it. The cravings came with a vengeance in recent weeks.
When you got to the living room, you fluffed the cozy blanket that you kept on the back of the couch, wrapping it around your shoulders. And in no time, you were sitting, tucking yourself as far into the couch as possible, making sure to lean against the arm of the couch that allowed you to see Jake.
What if you wanted to talk to him about something you learned about the baby as you read? You’d want to see his face to talk to him. And what was wrong with liking a nice view as you read?
As soon as you’d snuggled in with a pillow tucked just right behind your back to support you, you went to open your book, only to find a disappointing reality.
There was no book. No Stanley filled with water. Just the Canada Dry. You’d left your book and your Stanley (still unfilled, forgot to do that, too, you thought) on the kitchen counter.
“Fuck!” You griped to yourself, letting your head fall, placing your hands over your face. You’d just gotten comfy and now you’d have to get up again. Getting comfortable was becoming a chore.
The tears were coming. Dammit.
But, in almost no time, you felt a presence next to you, his hand coming to rest on your shoulder.
“What’s going on?” Jake asked, nearby and your ears instantly tuning in to him, head still in your hands.
“Pregnant brain,” you mumbled, the words smooshed into an incoherent response.
“What?”
You sighed, bringing your hands to your cheeks to wipe any tears that might have made tracks. Luckily, most had fallen into your hands to avoid a mess of mascara. Though, Jake’s thumb came up briefly to wipe just under your right eye. His finger on your skin, so gentle and making your heart race.
There was no resentment in his eyes when you briefly caught them before looking away. It was as though earlier had never happened. No anger or irate energy between you two. Just compassion coming directly from the man next to you.
Then, his hand was gone, his arms crossing over the thigh, as he took a knee next to the couch. He had leaned in close enough that your head was fuzzy with the scent of him—he smelled so delicious. Although, that new fragrance to his cologne you’d smelled earlier. . . it was there again. What was it?
“New cologne?” You questioned, sniffing the onslaught of tears away.
“Doesn’t matter right now.”
“I wanna know.”
“Answer me first,” he insisted. “Why are you crying?”
You growled, irritated with his insistence. Looking over towards him, you locked eyes with his. Your heart leapt at how his eyes gazed back at yours. . . His stare was unwavering, showing just how much he cared.
“My pregnant brain,” you tried again, grumbling. The pouting still couldn’t be helped. “I forgot my fucking Stanley and book in the kitchen. And I just got comfortable,” you huffed, going to throw the blanket off from around you.
Jake’s hand came up, holding yours to stop you. “No, you stay. Let me get it.”
You didn’t have it in you to argue and not having to move sounded nice. His hand on yours also had you completely frozen. “Okay,” you whispered, eyes growing wet again at his kindness.
A loose grin spread across his pretty lips and he was gone at a moment’s notice to grab your things for you.
Your tummy fluttered at him, completely in awe of his gesture. Though, you shouldn’t have been. He kept doing things like this. Little things to help and show he cared. . .
Why were you upset with him again?
“Did you forget to fill the Stanley?” Jake questioned from the kitchen, your head snapping in his direction.
The tears were back, for God knows why. “Yes,” you cried. “I’m sorry you have to—.”
“Why are you sorry, honey?” he responded, inflection showing nothing but a genuine desire to help. “I’m here to help you. I told you this.”
Yeah, because Maya wants you to.
Aaand you were annoyed again.
“Thanks,” you mumbled, checking your less than pretty manicure. You could stand to have another done soon, the chipped black paint on your nails having seen better days.
In no time, he was walking back to you with the Stanley full and your book in his other hand. He was wrinkling his eyebrows, one raised a bit more than the other in curiosity at you. You felt how your face was still reading unhappiness. Thanks to your lovely thought process. But, then, your tummy rumbled (loudly), reminding you of the other reason you were cranky.
You flushed, embarrassed by the sound.
God, be a little more subtle, sweet baby. Please.
It had turned into even more than ice cream, though. You realized you hadn’t eaten since the morning and you were feeling it now. The ice cream didn’t even sound overwhelmingly delicious anymore. . . all you could do now was imagine how incredible a giant bowl of mixed melons would be with an even bigger bowl of pasta. Any kind. Every kind.
Damn. You really were going to have to get off this couch. Jake was not about to be your errand boy – you weren’t going to let him do that shit. It made you feel really bad to make him do all of the work and running around when you were fully capable.
You figured it would be best to save his willingness to help until you were further along. Lord knew he would get tired of this ‘helping’ thing eventually.
“You hungry?” He asked, sitting on the couch, alongside your stretched out legs. “I can get you whatever you–.”
“No,” you shook your head, moving to get up, managing to flip the blanket off of you this time without him stopping you. “I’m not going to make you do that shit.”
“You’re not making me do anything, y/n,” he said, emphasizing his kind words with another grin, this time laughing a bit to show his beautiful smile. “I want to do whatever I can to–.”
“Jake. That’s not fair to you,” you said, swinging your legs off the couch, abandoning the pillow supporting your achy back. This time, he did stop you again, placing his hand on your thigh, as soon as you’d been sitting next to him. His palm rested dangerously close to a place he shouldn’t be close to.
But, he wasn’t moving his hand and you sure as hell weren’t feeling an urge to move it. It felt so good to have him touching you again. And when he started rubbing gentle circles into the thickness of your thighs through your baggy sweatpants. . . Ugh.
Your mind flashed back to the kitchen, how he’d held you so close and massaged your breast. . . . the same way he was now massaging your thigh.
You were going to light on fire. . . with absolutely zero complaints. You’d die happy if you were set to flame by his touch alone.
Goddamn, y/n. Get it the fuck together.
Before you could immerse yourself any further into your thought process, your stomach made yet another animalistic sound you couldn’t control.
“God,” you shuddered, closing your eyes with a shake of your head. “That’s embarrassing.”
“How is it embarrassing?” He flashed his eyes at you, a dimple in his cheek with his words.
“Well, apparently the baby is just feeling the need to expose me from the inside out,” you complained, placing a hand to your heated forehead. “I can’t even fib and say I’m fine because you’d know I’m bullshitting you, thanks to our child.”
He chuckled, a sexy rasp to it. “I’m glad she’s exposing you because it helps me to know how I can assist you.”
“No, Jake,�� you groaned, rubbing your temples with your pointer finger and thumb. “I already told you. . . I don’t want you being unfair to yourself. Don’t hyperextend yourself on my behalf.”
He made a sound in the back of his throat, contemplating what he wanted to say next as he clutched firmly to your thigh, with his other hand now holding his chin. Tapping a couple times with his pointer, he let go of his face and your leg at the same time. Your leg automatically felt the loss, in sudden desperate need of his touch again.
Leaning forward, elbows pressed to his firm thighs, you watched as the muscles in his back flexed so exquisitely through his favorite thin, white, cut up t-shirt. Same one he’d been wearing so long ago, the night in the bathroom. . . when Theo had been over for a stupid fucking study session. Studying had been utterly fucking pointless that night after how Jake had handled you in the bathroom.
You shook yourself of the memory, already feeling yourself beginning to pulse with desire at the memory alone. How did he have this motherfucking hold on you? No other man had ever done this to you. Was it because you were carrying his baby? Did that make it inherently worse or some shit?
Watching carefully, you noticed how his arms filled out the sleeves more-so now than they had before. . . the sight quickly brought you back to the present. He’d slowly put on a little bit of weight, in all of the best areas possible.
Happier than before, perhaps?
You licked your lips absently, appreciating his figure while he was so near to you.
And, as if on cue, your stomach started to grumble again. Fuck. Mocking you and your starving ass. . . suddenly hungry for much more than fruit and pasta and motherfuckin’ ice cream.
“It’s for the baby,” he finally said, after having stared into space for way too long. “Let me do it if it’s for the baby, at least. Please. It’s all I can do right now – help you to help her.”
Her. You wondered why he was so set on that gender.
More than that, though, you were wondering why it felt like an actual punch to the chest that he wasn’t wanting to help you for you. You didn’t want him to. You’d been through this mental battle many more times than you cared to admit. It was so selfish to think about yourself over the baby. Of course he’d want to help the baby. It had nothing to do with an obligation to you.
“It’s the best I can do for my baby at the moment, y/n. I’m not doing anything else tonight, so it’s the perfect opportuni–.”
Your stomach growled once more and you had absolutely zero energy to be argumentative.
“Fine,” you relented with a sigh. “But, I am upset you’re doing all of this for me when there isn’t really a way I can repay you,” you remarked, getting up from your spot on the couch, stretching your limbs to loosen up as much as you could.
“Damn, my body hurts,” you mentioned, offhandedly. You were tense and your back wasn’t loving the extra weight getting added to your body by the day. Not to mention, your boobs felt so heavy — as always these days.
“Can we go somewhere to get stuff? Make it here or go out? I don’t care; we just don’t have what I want here.”
“Yeah, yeah,” he agreed without hesitation. “Absolutely.”
“Cool,” you grinned. “I’m sorry you have to–.”
“Don’t say sorry,” he groaned from deep in his throat, irritated but not irate.
You started a trek to your room to gather things to get ready when he made you stop in your tracks with one utterance of your name. “Y/n,” he started, tone stern. Right before you could walk away from the couch to grab your Chuck Taylors and put on a bra, you turned on your heel to observe him, ready to take whatever he had to say with as much ease as possible.
His tone sounded dangerous – your blood licked with desire at the commanding way he’d spoken your name.
You raised a brow, as if asking ‘what?’.
He continued, his eyes brightening when he got your attention, but he didn’t change the tone of his voice right away. It made your skin tingle. “I am the one who can’t begin to repay you.” Moving forward a couple steps, he held your cheek so delicately in his strong hand. “You’re growing my baby–our baby–every day. I can’t even begin to–,” he shook his head, dropping his hand as he went to cover his eyes, nose twitching with a light sniffle. When he looked up again, his eyes were threatening to let tears fall, but his voice was steady as he spoke. “You are not the one to worry about repayment. I don’t need anything in return for the things I’m doing to simply be there for you while you make a whole ass human being.”
The way your cheeks pinkened was uncontrollable. Hearing him say such intimate words was making your head spin. You wished those words could translate into him caring as much for you as he did the child you were carrying, but you knew there was a fat ass chance of that ever, ever happening. You’d given that up with him.
“You helped in making the little bean,” you replied, voice thicker than you expected, tacking a laugh to the end of your line. You hoped it distracted from the way your voice had held so much emotion.
Clearing your throat, you finally went to walk to your room. But, after walking halfway to your bedroom, you paused right before making it to the hallway from the living room.
Why, when you were just complaining of your aching body, were you about to go put on a damn bra?
“Would you mind if I went braless?” You asked, turning to your roommate, getting his opinion. Didn’t want to make him uncomfortable by any means.
Jake blinked a few times, having to cough a couple times to come to the question. Shit. Even the question alone had made him feel uneasy.
“It’s fine. I’ll go put one on,” you started, turning back around. Over your shoulder, you continued. “I don’t want to make you feel–.”
“I would rather you didn’t,” he said, voice husky, behind you.
The words made you stop in your tracks. You felt the muscles in your shoulders squeeze in anticipation at the words. Even when you knew nothing could come of his words, his opinions. . . you felt them everywhere.
Suddenly, you were back in the kitchen.
“. . .Y/n– fuck,” he’d rutted against your ass, his hand moving to the bottom of your full breast to hold it in a firm grip. You’d just realized him moving his hand to see the entire breast — your nipples, straining, through the soaked-through, white fabric. “Your tits. . . they’re so fucking– Goddammit.”
Then, he’d let go of your chest to move your strap to do what you’d so desperately wanted. Needed. Once it was draped over your shoulder, he had moved a hand slowly down over your tight sternum, into the front of your camisole. When he’d grazed his fingers over your oversensitive nipple, skirting over your breast to push your flimsy shirt down, you’d whined, knees buckling.
And, finally, as if you’d been waiting your whole life, he’d pulled your full breast out to touch the air.
The more you thought back on last night, you realized just how much he’d seemed to love your breasts. And, apparently, he wasn’t keeping it a secret from you since the incident.
“No use hiding that I like your tits, y/n. Always have. But. . . right now?” He began speaking in the present time, as if reading your thoughts. “I love how big and full they are. . . I love why they’re bigger. . .,” He sucked in a breath, the sound rattling through his teeth as his jaw clenched. There was no missing how he seemed to move in his black pants, adjusting his sudden. . . issue. You didn’t look down to watch him. Couldn’t. His voice was like velvet with his next words. “You should know how I feel about them after the way I touched you.”
Holy–.
Speechless. You were speechless. But, you had to say something in return, so you went with the first thing that came to your mind.
“Won’t wear one, then,” you sighed, breath caught in your lungs. Your panties were suddenly wet and sticking to you, close to you in a way you wanted him close to you. Did he want all of that? Or was it just your tits?
“Go wait in your room for me,” he’d whispered heatedly, his words piercing your heart at the anxious energy that had floated through your veins.
He had wanted it last night, but you’d rejected him. . . God.
But you literally couldn’t even imagine doing that.
You’d chosen to cut things off with him, and he’d moved on to Maya without a second thought. Any time you said no or stopped things (pre-pregnancy most definitely included), it was always her he chose. It was obvious who his heart always instantly wanted.
What tripped you up was the way he looked at you before he went to her. It was the same way he was drinking you in from the doorway at the moment.
Best to not overthink it.
Still, you couldn’t help what you said next. “I want you to be able to see what you like.”
-🌼🌼🌼-
“Why do you think the baby’s a girl?”
You asked the question as he was driving the two of you home from Walmart.
After walking the aisles with the sole purpose of getting exactly what you were craving, you’d left the store with everything that you’d wanted at home.
With your pick of fruit, ice cream, and the specific type of pasta that sounded good (Penne, for some reason), he’d taken the lead on finding the ingredients for the sauce. All he had asked you was if tomato sauce sounded best or if something else sounded better. A tomato-based sauce sounded arguably more delicious, so you’d answered as such.
Once satisfied with your response, he’d gone full ‘Chef Mode’ and had promised that you wouldn’t be disappointed with his go-to, ‘staple tomato sauce’. You’d responded with your trust for his plan, giggling at his intensity as he narrowed down which ingredients would make the tastiest sauce.
And, of course, he hadn’t allowed you to lift a finger when loading everything into the back of his Jeep. He’d helped you up and out of the passenger seat both at home and at the store, noticing your struggle to keep your balance.
“I already told you. It’s just a feeling,” he responded, turning left down a prettier street on the 30-minute drive back home. You were passing a garden park, the streets lined with tall light posts, older with intricate detail to align with the quaint part of town.
Lavender. . . So much of it, sprawled out in the park’s grass. It made your heart clench in your chest.
You looked at him from the corner of your eye, raising a brow with a sarcastic, skeptical face he wasn’t going to see. “You’re sure it’s not anything more? Some secret you have of wanting to be a girl dad? Braid hair? Use all of the bows in her hair?”
“Well. . . I guess that’s sort of it. I love the idea of having a boy, too, though. . .,” he said, his voice lilting at the end of the sentence to emphasize his genuine response. He sighed, scratching the side of his nose once. “It’s just. . . I really like the idea of a baby girl who reminds me of you,” he peeked over at you for a brief moment, making your heart speed at the words and the way he was looking at you. His eyes were dark in the light of the car, but his tan skin glowed under the yellow street lights. “Seeing you in her soft features. . .it gets me. She’d have your nose, your smile, your dimples, your beautiful, innocent eyes–.”
“Innocent? Oh, Jacob. You know better than that,” you laughed heartily, the words coming so smoothly from your mouth. Even after awkward lulls in your relationship with him, it seemed you could go back to that easy feeling so seamlessly – you’d found that recently. It hurt your heart that moments like this couldn’t last forever. “You know much better than that, sir.”
“You’re right, I do,” he chuckled along, clearing his throat before he adjusted himself a bit in the seat, inconspicuously. You pretended not to notice. “You can definitely be a freaky little thing when you want.”
Blushing, you were yet again caught off guard by him being so blatant with you. He kept saying things that made your heart become a flurry in your chest. You weren’t sure if you’d ever get used to it.
Not wanting to lose the moment, you responded with a question that tested the waters. You played into him, just a bit. “What was your favorite thing we did that was . . .freaky?”
Sucking in a breath through his teeth, he made a sound that told you he was deep in thought. “Hm. . . That’s hard for me. . . we had a lot of sex in that span of– yeah,” he blew out a breath, once again trying to subtly move around in his seat. And, again, you acted as though you didn’t notice. “I’d say the day in the pool is a top three – top tier – moment.”
“Oh, yeah? Why?”
“It was fuckin’ hot, I don’t know. . . I loved everything about it.” He blew out a breath, relaxing a bit against his seat as he brought a hand to rest at the top of his thigh. Dangerously close to his. . . .
You blinked as he started speaking again, switching your eyes back to his profile as he drove. “I think what turned me on the most, though, was that you were willing to give me head and ride me with everyone else so close,” he sucked in a sharp breath of air.
You caught sight of his hand, inching just the slightest bit closer to his crotch. His fingers were now splaying out to lay delicately against his zipper. Your eyes were trailing up his form just as he stopped at a stop sign. And without any preparation at all, he caught your eye as you watched him so closely.
Hot air caught in your lungs.
“Yeah. That was risky as fuck,” he finished, his eyes dark under the yellow street lights lining the road.
The way your heart lurched in your chest with the way he looked at you. . . . dammit. It made your breathing turn so heavy, filling up your lungs. When you breathed fully in, you puffed your chest out as you exhaled through your nose. And you would’ve been blind not to notice Jake’s eyes trail down. . . slowly. . . . to your full chest, staying there to admire what he saw.
In your peripheral vision, you noticed his hand inching. . . .closer. . .and closer to fully cup himself.
You didn’t dare look down, though — too afraid to break eye contact with him and suffocate the moment completely. But, before you could worry much more about it, he spoke.
“Fuck, y/n,” he rasped, his voice deeper and needy.
Surely this wasn’t happening again. . . . You couldn’t be tested like this again with him. You weren’t sure you’d be able to stop yourself this time.
Your cheeks were fully pink from hearing him say your name like that. It wasn’t new at all. No, you’d heard it many times before. He was desperate. Asking for help. Begging for it.
You’d come so close to each other the night before. . .
What happened next couldn’t be stopped if you tried.
Finally, you looked down to his hand to observe his predicament. And what you found made your body instantly, completely ready for him.
His thick shaft, straining against the tight black denim of his jeans . . . . The zipper of his jeans, aiding as well as it could in keeping him constrained. But it was no match for him.
The yellow street lamps above you created the perfect shadow to accentuate the sight before you. . . You could see the outline of him so incredibly well.
“Please, baby,” he whined, completely at your mercy.
What in the hell was going on? You didn’t know how it had suddenly escalated to this once again.
But, you knew you didn’t need any other word to convince you against what you wanted — needed — to do. He had taken such good care of you all night. . . You wanted a way to repay him.
Fuck Maya. You couldn’t help this. You were weak for him, no matter how hard you tried to hide it. The baby hormones were only making this ten times worse, you were sure.
Your hand, clammy yet purposeful in its movements, seemed to move in slow motion towards him.
And once you met his pants and settled a hand over where he needed you most, the car suddenly felt so small – too constricting. The hot air blowing from the vents was too much.
You felt your breath catch in your lungs right as he took in a harsh breath of air. Your skin tingled, your entire body covered in goosebumps, despite the warm car.
With baby hairs stuck to your damp forehead, you inhaled through your nose, letting your hand fully grasp his thickness. You felt his body shiver beneath your hand. You felt your own body react to the moment, clenching around nothing for him. Holding him through the denim was slightly difficult, but you did the best you could. Touching him like this again seemed unreal. Just holding him in your hand again like this. . . It was heavenly.
Though, you were finding as you squeezed just slightly, it was nothing like feeling the weight of it, bare in your hand. So, with a racing heart and soaking wet panties, you decided to make it happen.
With one hand still on his dick and the other on his belt buckle, you looked up to quickly gauge his reaction. His pupils were blown out, nearly filling his entire iris, glowing as he watched you under the old street post lamps.
You raised one brow, trying to school your features the best you could. But you knew there was no way you could honestly change the look of desire painting your features. Your heart hammered in your chest, your head light and airy.
“Can I. . .?” You breathed, the words almost stuck in your throat.
He cleared his throat and nodded his head a bit. “Yes, please,” he sighed, a whine at the end of please, while your hand absently stroked him. You watched his pretty face contort just the slightest bit any time you brushed the tip. He unbuckled his seatbelt, seeming to give the final go-ahead.
So, without any further direction, you moved the hand from his dick to unbuckle your seatbelt. The other hand stayed busy, unbuckling his leather belt and unbuttoning his jeans.
However, your seatbelt was not working in your favor, the latch stuck and not letting you pull the metal from the fastener.
“Goddammit!” You breathed in frustration, on the verge of tears at the fading opportunity and the stupid seatbelt ruining it all.
Without any words, you saw his hand come over, your gaze lingering on two purposeful digits pushing down on the red button to the fastener just right. Your breath caught.
The way your body buzzed at the sight, you knew you needed his hands on you, too. Needed him pushing those fingers into you, against you, rolling circles against you . . . .
Though, when you witnessed the seatbelt finally becoming undone, all thoughts for yourself were flying out the window. All you could think was that you were that much closer to seeing him. Holding him in your hand. Doing whatever this was with him.
Your panties were uncomfortably soaked when you resituated to lean over the gear shift. Though, when you did this, you remembered a new obstruction that you had to adjust with to get the position just right.
Your belly grazed the handle of the gearshift and you suddenly weren’t looking forward to having to lean over it. Though, within seconds, without having to be told, a hand came over — same hand that unbuckled the seatbelt — to shift the car into park. But after he was done, he kept it there, hand covering the gearshift to make it more comfortable for you to adjust.
Tears pricked your eyes when you glanced up at him under bashful lashes. “Thanks,” you muttered with a blush, leaning just a little further over to continue getting his pants undone.
“‘Course,” he replied, voice soft underneath the need. Genuinely concerned, he asked, “Is that better?”
“Yes. Much better,” you answered, no question to your tone.
When your hands finally got his belt buckle undone, you could have cheered with excitement. But, you kept it all to yourself as you unbuttoned his pants, wanting the moment to stay calm and warm and gentle.
Or did you want it to be gentle?
Before you could do anything else, your back started to feel the new weight that hung in front of you. This position, in the cramped car, wasn’t the best. You arched it, just a little, to try to relieve some pressure. You’d deal with the pain for a bit, though. . . For this — needed this.
What you didn’t want to deal with was having to get his jeans off. Not tonight. Not with your back beginning to ache the way it was. So, you simply pulled the zipper down, and with one more heated stare up at him through your lashes, you tucked a hand down into his pants. He didn’t take his eyes from yours.
Your gaze never wavered as you continued from the band of his boxer briefs, down further to finally have your hand meet his smooth, pink tip.
His eyes dared to flutter shut, but he kept them on you. His lips opened slightly to release a whine mixed with a guttural moan. And his stare. . . It was hot, heating your body all the way down to the tips of your toes.
He eyed you, almost possessively. It made your head spin and skin prick with desire for more – you were aching in your panties for him. He swallowed thickly, not daring to tear his eyes off of you for even a second.
You skated your hand to pay proper attention to the pillowy soft tip you could feel beneath your fingertips. Your touch was light at first as you stroked it, but you quickly went to massage it skillfully with your thumb, remembering how he liked that. You made sure to trace the delicately crease underneath it, watching how it made his body tremble.
Moving carefully, you spread the healthy amount of precum over the pillowy head of his thick shaft. His hips rutted up towards you, showing you how much he was enjoying it.
The deep moan he released made your legs clench together and your own moan released of its own volition from your mouth, under your breath. His sound was accompanied by the sight of his head, thrown back as much as he could, while still keeping his eyes trained on you. The sound and sight would be forever sealed in your memory.
With the jeans constricting your movements, you continued to handle his girth the best you could. His heated flesh, dick rock-hard and the skin of it so soft. . . You continued further down from the head, letting your line of sight finally trail down to his pants.
When you looked down, you were met with the sight of his dick, beginning to peek out from the top of his jeans. You’d pushed the pants down a little to access him, apparently, and it’d made the pretty pink tip of him almost fully visible.
It made your heart flip and tummy hurt to see him like that, swollen tip shiny under the dim lights from his arousal. He was so thick and ready — only a small view of him waiting, just above the waistband of his briefs.
You decided you’d take further advantage of the new access you’d created when you’d apparently pushed his jeans down. But, before you could go any further, you decided to wet your hand with some saliva. Wanted it to be as pleasurable for him as it could be.
Though, when you moved your body back and removed your hand from him, the strangled cry he emitted had your breath rattling in your chest.
“Don’t stop,” he whined, exhausted and needy for you.
You reached forward, eyes dark and trained on him. Grabbing his chin, you made him watch as you spit into your other hand.
His eyes flickered, jaw set as he knew what was coming. His breaths were sharp and labored, chest huffing as he waited for what was next.
And, just as your hand was on its way down to his pants, you changed your mind.
You wanted more. Yeah, you loved touching him with your hands, but there was something you liked much, much better. . .
With one swift movement, you skillfully rebalanced in your seat to have your knees in it as you bent completely over him. Your belly came to lean on his outstretched arm, the one belonging to the hand still holding the gear shift.
Hurriedly, you brought your hair behind your head and twisted it into a makeshift ponytail. Pushing back the sleeves of your sweatshirt, you knew the jeans were officially coming further down for the next part.
You tapped his thigh and he got the hint. Lifting his hips, he moved the left side of his waistband down as you took care of the right. And, finally, he was springing free from the black briefs.
Dear God — you’d forgotten just how pretty. . . .
Not wanting to waste another second, you grasped the hair at your neck as the other hand delicately grabbed hold of his length. You positioned it, just right. . . . And then, your lips were kissing his tip delicately before your wet mouth sank down over him.
You would never be able to find the proper words to describe how Jake Kiszka’s dick felt, laying heavy against your tongue. Going almost fully down once, you felt him hit the back of your throat. He cried your name, his free hand coming down to squeeze his thigh. Your eyes watered, lips not quite touching the bottom of his belly.
Once you were sure you had wet his dick completely with your mouth, you bobbed your head languidly, giving him long and slow licks. You savored every last inch of him with your tongue, moving a hand to cup where his balls sat in his pants.
His breath stuttered, a low sound released from the pit of his chest. “Holy fuck. I’ve missed you.”
The words were said softly, not so needily. . . You almost stopped to acknowledge them, but decided against it. It seemed best to ignore the words for now.
So, continuing, you let your tongue lick once more from the base of his dick all the way back to the tip. You grasped his shaft once more in your hand, giving him a few pumps, skimming the underside of the head with the tip of your tongue at the same time.
But, after feeling his thighs shake and hearing your name fall from his lips, you switched your course of action. Not yet.
With one final stroke of your tongue in the crease, you enveloped his throbbing tip in your mouth. After sucking on him for a minute, you went to move to the top of the head and curled your tongue around and into the slit at the peak of it. You licked every last piece of his earlier pre-release from him, wanting to savor it all for yourself.
Without warning, the sound of a horn blaring behind the Jeep, a car having come up — jolted you. The car’s lights were bright, bright enough to blind you and seemingly catch you in the act. So, you stopped at a moment’s notice, shuffling to wipe your mouth and get settled back down in your seat.
Jake took a while to come back to reality. As you buckled back into your seat, you kept an eye on him as he snapped out of it, blinking rapidly. His eyes averted from where they’d been and he used his hands to pull his pants back up, dick still hard with no relief.
Your heart fell as you watched him put himself away, tucking everything back where it belonged, adjusting. He went as fast as he could to buckle his belt, the car behind you honking once more.
“Fuck off,” you mumbled under your breath. “Be patient.”
Jake apparently hadn’t heard your reprimand to the car behind you. He just kept doing what he was doing, trying hard to get his shit together. After sliding his seatbelt back over his chest and lap, he lifted his hips in his seat to settle back in place, one hand clutching the top of the wheel.
He didn’t look your way, just kept his eyes trained forward. Wanted to seem inconspicuous to the car behind you, it seemed.
Following his lead, you turned, breathing hard and facing the front of the Jeep. You wiped your mouth, fluffing your hair back over your shoulder and pulled your sweatshirt sleeves down. The way your heart was beating in your chest was enough to make your heart monitor go off, but surprisingly it stayed silent.
You silently thanked it, not needing any more unwelcome interruption to the previous moment. Needed time to reset.
What the fuck had just happened?
You kept your eyes ahead, observing through the windshield.
The windshield was so clean, it looked as though it wasn’t even there. He obviously cared a lot for this car to keep it looking so nice. You liked how he liked things being kept in good condition. He paid attention.
Speaking of attention, you brought your mind back to the matter at hand before. . . . Trying your best to respond after everything that had just happened.
“The pool was pretty risky. You’re right,” you laughed breathily, still trying to deflate your stuffy airways. But I think that moment just beat it — risky for more reasons than one. . .
Thankfully, he wasn’t acting strange. He actually chuckled along with you, huffing under his heavy breaths. “Yeah.”
When you inhaled and exhaled again, it felt closer to full and even. You felt a faint smile find your lips.
You tried to refocus your brain. You’d think about how he’d felt against your tongue later. Or maybe you didn’t have to think about it. . . It honestly seemed so natural, it was like going back to normal. So strange. Or was it?
So, you went back to what he’d been talking about prior. . . It was making you think. Really think. Had you sort of wanted the guys to find out? By god. . . With a little contented sigh, you continued, “. . . You know, maybe I always secretly wanted them to know.”
“Wanted who to know what?” He sighed heavily, his breathing evening out next to you.
“I think I sort of wanted the guys to just find out. Might’ve made it easier to deal with if they just happened to see,” you explained, talking your own mind through the new train of thought. But. . . there was a reason it had been kept secret. “I just-just couldn’t get past the thought of Josh being upset with me.”
“Why would he have been upset with you?”
You could feel his stare piercing through you. Though, you kept your line of sight trained on a few drops of dried rain on his windshield. Didn’t dare look his way.
“I can’t get into all of that right now.”
You thought of everything Josh had said that kept you from pursuing things any further than you had. How he’d been so protective of his brother before you’d even gotten to know Jake at all. . . He wanted the best for Jake and you knew now, deep down, that you could do him nothing but harm. You weren’t the pick for a man who needed a woman who was good, all the way down to the soul. . . .there was too much that kept you from feeling safe for others. You were not pure enough for someone as dreamy and brilliant as Jake.
Your stomach suddenly hurt at the thought of what had just occurred. . . The guilt began to eat at you. You didn’t want him to lose someone good for him because of dumb sexual urges. But were they dumb urges? Or fully understandable and expected?
Fuck. You didn't know.
What you did know was that Maya was real. She was his girlfriend. She should be the only one doing what you just did. . .
No matter how much you cared for him and wanted him, Maya had been the right one for him all along.
As much as you despised her, she was a sweet woman who treated Jake very well. You saw it in her eyes, the way she’d mess with his hair, hold his hand, sit on his lap. . . They clicked in a way you could only hope to click with someone so illustrious as Jake Kiszka.
They got each other in a way you thought you had gotten him, months ago. . . but that thing between you two had been temporary – you’d known so all along.
And, chances were, he’d been seeing her the entire time anyway.
You felt sick at it all.
There was no way you alone were good enough for him. God, he was just so precious and unique in every way imaginable.
“It’s okay. You don’t have to. It’s the past now,” he reasoned, cracking your heart a little more in your chest. “I still reminisce, though.”
“Me too,” you whispered, tears stuck in the hollow of your throat. “I have a slight disagreement with you about something, though.”
He wrinkled his brow, turning to look both ways before going straight. He caught your eyes when he looked in your direction, and turned a wrinkled brow into a raised one.
“The baby has to have your smile and your eyes,” you reasoned, watching him as he continued straight. “Boy or girl. I’ve wanted those features on this baby’s face for a long time – since the moment I let myself think that far.” You weren’t about to tell him that his smile and his eyes were the sole reason you’d decided to keep the baby that day, on the way to the abortion clinic. The two intricate, incredible parts of his face that showed him – showed just how much of a gift he was to the world.
The same sort of gift you wanted to give the world, in his baby.
“We’ll see who wins their pick.”
“Mama gets first vote.”
“That’s fair,” he responded, flashing the same exact grin you imagined every day for your child.
-🌼🌼🌼-
It was raining again when you got home. The late-autumn, early-winter thunderstorm, a calming vibe for the apartment as Jake cooked in the kitchen.
The smell of italian seasonings and tomato sauce were heavenly, the pitter-pattering of rain against the kitchen window was marvelous. And the fact that you were casually hanging out with Jake? That was beyond the way either of the latter could make you feel.
(The fact that you’d had his dick in your mouth less than two hours ago was something you were trying to put far out of your mind for the time being.)
“Did you have plans tonight?” You wondered aloud, letting the words traipse out of your mouth on their own as you dried a dish with an already-dampened towel, having been working through your task as you waited on dinner. Jake was cooking the sauce and the pasta, and as he dirtied a dish or utensil from cooking, you’d clean it, dry it, and put it away.
He hadn’t wanted you to lift a finger, but after putting your foot down and giving him a look, he’d relented.
“Noticed you dressed up earlier,” you continued, putting a mixing bowl back in the cabinet.
Why were you asking this? You were just asking to be hurt by him saying he’d been with—.
“Yeah, meeting with the label execs,” he replied, moving the seasonings around in the minced onions, garlic, and green pepper, searing hot in the saucier; the new addition of garlic made your nose tingle with eagerness to eat. “Went well. Talked album release and all that shit.”
You watched him, his beautiful hair now meeting the tops of his shoulder blades. . . And, if you were being honest, you could’ve sighed with relief at the idea of him not being with Maya earlier tonight. Which. . . was admittedly unfair of you since you’d been out with another man earlier that day.
Yes, y/n. It’s not fair. And Jake’s relationship is not your business anymore, a gentle voice reminded you. You’re the one who called it quits and you have to be okay with not being the one he chooses. Who he chooses to spend his time with shouldn’t matter. . . No matter what you get yourself into. . .
Snapping from your thought, you noticed him reaching for one more tomato on the counter next to him. You could tell he was looking for the cutting board and knife, but he wasn’t going to find them as you’d already cleaned them.
Without having to be asked, you went ahead and got them back out for him.
His eyebrows were turned in with confusion as you placed them on the counter next to him, one brow raising with appreciation. “You’ve already washed them? I’m impressed – just used them,” he laughed under his breath, going about his task with chopping the red fruit. “I’m sorry to dirty them again.”
“Don’t be sorry,” you grinned, deciding to take a break. You washed your hands and dried them before leaning against the counter to watch him cook, glancing at the glowing green time of 9:33 p.m. on the stove. “You’re making dinner for me way later than you should be having to–you shouldn’t be–,” you stopped yourself, shaking your head. You knew how he’d disagree with your statement. “. . . I’m just trying to keep up with your mad chef skills. Professional chef, meet your professional dish-washer,” you bowed dramatically, only bending so far with the slightly protruding tummy at your waist.
When you rose up and pushed your back against the counter again, you laced both hands under your tummy and looked over at him. His dimple, fully present in his cheek with a bright grin lighting up his features. “You are so fucking cute,” he said, almost as if he couldn’t help it.
The little comment made your heart warm for like five seconds, but then he was turning to the island behind him to grab some salt for the tomato mixture cooking on the stove. It smelled heavenly, by the way – perfectly ripe tomatoes sizzling in olive oil with fresh vegetables, parsley, and cilantro. . .
But, as enticingly savory as the smell was. . . your eyes were still glued to the island.
Everything from your afternoon of contemplation was hurtling at full speed back into your mind.
Maya, on her knees. Jake, moaning. You, having to watch. As much as his relationship wasn’t your business, your apartment and its rules were.
And, in spite of what had happened in his car — or all of the sweet things he’d said tonight and the incredibly kind thing he was doing for you at the present moment. . .
You knew you had to bring up. You’d texted him about it earlier and everything. If you didn’t say anything about it now, you knew your pregnant brain would let you forget again.
It was also probably best to bring it up for another reason. A reality check. Because, as wrong as the action was to do out in the open, it wasn’t wrong for him to be doing it. It was wrong what happened in the Jeep. As much as it broke you. Your buzzing hormones were screaming at you.
It was wrong for him to treat you like anything more than a friend. Yes, you were carrying his child, but he had a girlfriend.
So, saying something about the instance might help to remind him that he had a girlfriend. . . And that you weren’t her.
You needed to bring her back in the discussion – as much as you fucking hated it, it was real life.
“I, um. . .,” you started, looking at your polish-less toenails. You really needed a self-care day. Both types of nail beds were looking terrible. Task at hand, y/n. “Jake, I wanted to talk to you about something.”
“What’s up?” He replied, voice open and ready to receive it.
You hoped he was ready to hear you and would understand where you were coming from.
“On, uh, on Thanksgiving. . . I–,” you struggled to begin. But, you had to spit it out. Had to get your point made. So, you trudged through. You let the image that was stained in your brian fuel you to say the words exactly as they needed to be said. Letting your back go straighter, and pushing your chest out with purpose, you asserted your claim. “I walked in on Maya and you. You, um, were pushed against the island,” you let your eyes trail there of their own volition. It spurred you on. “She was on her knees. It was obvious what was happening. And I don’t really think that it aligns with–.”
“With the rules,” he finished, sighing in a reflective sort of way. “Yeah, I know.”
You were shocked. He remembered? Then why–?
“Why did you let it happen then?” You asked, still not looking up at him, burning holes into the counter he’d been leant against as her mouth made lewd sounds, echoing in the small space even now. The image was absolutely unwelcome in every sense of the word.
“I was feeling the moment,” he sighed. You heard a burner click down and his own feet slide against the floor.
Looking back at your own feet, you caught a glimpse of his feet . . . facing yours. Ironically, you couldn’t help the New Girl reference spurring in your brain.
“A guy’s feet point at what they want, and his feet were pointing at you.” Cece’s voice was setting off tiny alarm bells in your head. Your heart rate picked up a bit at the idea of it – was this how Jess felt during that entire episode?
Then, you thought about how similarly Maya looked to Cece and you were sick to your stomach all over again. Fuck. She really did ruin everything. And you hated with a burning passion how aggravatingly stunning she was.
“Well, it may be best to not ‘feel the moment’ in the middle of the apartment,” you replied, your faster heart rate encouraging you to spit the words out. Finally, your eyes flicked up to him, only to find his eyes trained on the ground as well, and a blush on his cheeks. “There are rules for a reason, Jake. You agreed to them.”
You continued. “And not only did you break the rule about common spaces, you’ve also been having loud sex right next door while I try to sleep and I– it’s not good for me or the baby and–.”
“I’m sorry. I will tell her to be quieter.”
“I can hear you, too, Jacob.”
“Well, then. . . we’ll work on that.”
“Work on it?”
“Yeah. We’ll try to–.”
“You won’t try, Jake. You’ll just do. . . Just be quiet. Damn. It’s not rocket science.”
“Goddamn, y/n. I understand,” he replied, shaking his head as he glanced at you once and then back at the ground. “And I’m so damn sorry my responses are lacking today.”
Silence. It dragged for a minute or two — long enough for him to go back to checking the sauce, then coming back to face across from you again.
This was officially the longest day in history. You were tired of it. But, you also didn’t want it to be over. . . You’d liked spending so much time with him.
“How would you feel if you heard me next door having loud sex with someone?”
“I wouldn’t—,” he started, grumbling, jaw tense. “It’s not my business.”
“Didn’t ask if it was your business. I asked how you’d feel. Would it make you feel uncomfortable at all?”
“No.”
“Liar.”
“Why am I a liar?”
“Because, Jake, even if we didn’t have a past,” you placed an absentminded hand on your tummy. His eyes flickered down at the motion, but almost instantly found their way back to your face. “Loud sex makes other people feel uncomfortable.”
“Not me.”
“Want me to test your assumption? I could invite someone over and make sure to have the loudest sex to see how it makes you fee–.”
“No,” he responded, with no hesitation. “Well, not no. You can do whatever the hell you want– I just– fuck. I wouldn’t like it, y/n. Is that what you want me to say?”
“I want you to be honest.”
“I wouldn’t like hearing you fuck someone else,” he insisted without another thought, voice low with eyes dark enough to make your head swirl and your chest heat. “Especially while you’re pregnant with my baby.”
Your heart thumped a million miles a minute in your chest. Again, your heart monitor apparently let you have the moment.
“Well, I don’t like hearing my baby’s daddy moaning another woman’s name. And I especially don’t like seeing him getting sucked off by said woman either,” your words were true and harsh as they slid off your tongue. It felt good to say them. Have them out in the open.
“We’ll adjust it. I’ll talk to her.”
More silence. But, it wasn’t uncomfortable.
No, this was literally just a conversation. A conversation that needed to be had, between two people who knew each other well enough to make a damn baby.
As he checked the food once more, he flicked off the burners completely and slid the pans back to begin to cool a bit. He placed the sauce pan on the warmer. You just watched him – focused on the fact that he was right here, so present. . . .and all you wanted to do was kiss him. Even more than pulling his pants down again, you just wanted to wrap your arms around him and kiss him.
He was once again across from you, closer this time. You caught sight of his hands, nearing your face. And, just before he could gently grasp your face in his hands, he dropped them.
Backing up a bit, towards the oven, his eyes softened. His gaze settled on you in a way that made you want to curl up in him and cry. “You ready to eat?”
-🌼🌼🌼-
Jake’s POV
“Are you going to . . .?”
Her eyebrows wrinkled, questioning. She was nearly sleepwalking, her eyelids barely open. I knew she was tired and beyond ready for bed. It was selfish of me to ask, but I had to before I lost the fucking nerve.
“Are you going to have sex here?” I clarified, clearing my throat.
She scoffed, but a gentle smile stayed on her pretty face. “That isn’t your business, Jake. What is your business is that it won’t be loud if it happens. And I won’t be doing it out in spaces that you can see.”
At her words came the most unpleasant feeling. . . . and the sight I imagined – it made my stomach turn and my skin heat with jealousy.
Instead of Maya and me at that damn island, I saw y/n and that fuckass Theo guy. . . Him, towering over her. Her round belly, carrying my baby, being held in his football-playing hands as he pounded into her from behind.
He would be making her his in a way I sure as fuck didn’t want her to be. The way I knew how her delicate eyebrows would sink in at the feeling of him inside of her. . . the way her body would be giving in to him, soft, tight, and ready.
The way she’d moan like she did tonight as she sucked me off. . . . Fuck.
And the sounds she’d make. . . I knew the exact noises that would come from her mouth if he was fucking her– the wet sounds from her pretty pussy. . . I knew every single sound like the back of my hand. I’d elicited them from her over and over again for two of the most astounding months of my life.
I could practically feel her clenching around me at the thought. . . the way her body would basically give out with certain positions or motions of my hips. . . . and how she’d become absolute putty in my hands as her release climbed up her spine and spilled over my dick. . .
My dick twitched in my pants, but I tried like hell to stop it.
Hell. This was hell.
And the thoughts were damn near crippling me.
But she was right. It wasn’t my fucking business. I’d told her the same damn thing earlier. Fuck me.
As wrong as it felt for another man to be fucking the mother of my child, I had proven with my relationship and careless actions in it that I had moved on. Though, I hadn’t moved on. I wasn’t moving on. I thought I had been, but then. . . the moment I truly stopped to think about her being pregnant, that first night I’d known. . . I’d known for a damned well fact that I hadn’t moved on worth shit.
Poor Maya. I honestly felt like I was using her at this point. But. . . I did love her. Or so I had convinced myself over the time we’d been dating.
I was just desperate to cling to a woman who hadn’t hurt me. I was so tired of it, and Maya would never. She only ever wanted to please. And that felt so damn good.
“Okay,” was all I could respond with, through my clenched teeth. It was a pathetic response.
She breathed in deeply, her beautiful chest expanding under her sweatshirt. I could see her nipples, hard and ready beneath the thick material. Sweet hell. Was it for me? Or was it for him? Or. . . worse. . . was it for no one and her body was just always ready these days? Was that what happened to women when they were pregnant?
Was that why she’d suddenly been so eager tonight to throw away the morals she’d had just last night? Was a raging, uncontrollable libido to blame for what happened in my car tonight?
Fuck, I needed to do more research. I knew exactly what I’d be looking into tonight. . .
. . .After I finished what she’d started earlier.
“Okay,” she sighed, going to turn towards her bedroom.
“Does he know?” I couldn’t help but wonder, pushing the conversation further.
She didn’t even have to ask who. Because there was only one man in her sights and we both knew who the fuck the man was. Goddamn this guy. I hated him. Barely knew him, but I knew he wasn’t anything near what –who– she needed.
“Yes,” she replied, resolute. Turning, she rested her beautiful, curvy body against her door frame. “Telling him about the baby went well, actually.”
“When did you tell him?”
“Tonight. Told him when we got to the coffee shop,” she detailed, clasping her hands under her belly to hold it. Damn, I could watch her all day long. “He was bound to find out soon enough. I feel like I’m getting bigger every single day – already kind of giving it away.”
Fuck if I know it, baby. . .
Instead of saying the words aloud, all I did was nod and take in a steady breath through my nose and let it out slowly from deep in my chest. Her eyes trailed to my chest with the motion and I felt a moment of hope that she still wanted me as badly as she had in the kitchen. . . Even more so how she’d wanted me tonight.
All of the blood in my body was rushing towards my dick at the thought of her wet body in my arms last night, her hands and mouth on me in the Jeep. . .
Her see -through tank top. . . the way her swollen tits tempted to spill from the top of the shirt. . . how close I’d been to holding her full breast in my hand. . . her nipples, peaked so prettily and showing perfectly through the soaking wet cotton. She’d been ready. I knew her body.
And tonight. . . .? I couldn’t even get started on that.
I was just so confused. Just last night, she’d left and had refused me coming to her room. But tonight she’d taken the initiative to put her damn mouth on me.
After last night and tonight, I could throw Maya on her ass and not feel bad about it. Well, maybe a little bad.
Damn, it was shitty to admit it. Though, it somehow felt even shittier to go take out on her what I only wanted to do to y/n. . . And that had been exactly what I’d done.
“Is there anything else you need before I go to bed? I’m about to fall asleep standing up,” she blinked slowly, sleepily. . . so fucking cute. All I wanted to do right now was follow her to bed and make her sigh my name. . . Then, hold her in my arms afterward, watching her fall into a hopefully blissful sleep. . .
“No,” I cleared my throat. “Is there anything else I can do for you to make your night easier?”
“You’ve done just about everything you could’ve done, Jake,” she replied, smiling the most serenely beautiful, tired grin. . . her lips, tempting me to kiss her. The blush on her cheeks, pulling me closer.
But, all too soon, she was opening the door all the way to her bedroom, walking in and turning once more to look at me through the crack she’d made with the door. “‘Night.”
“Goodnight,” I muttered, in a daze caused by her beauty alone. Her pretty lips. Her body. Her face. Just her.
Damn. I was letting myself in too deep. Again.
It had happened without me fully realizing it. I’d just started falling for her again (Had I ever stopped? Or had I just been hurt?).
I hadn’t even let myself pause to think about how it could bite me in the ass.
But. . . did I care if it bit me in the ass? I wasn’t with y/n. . . I had a girlfriend. If all went to shit, I had Maya to lean back on. It was shitty for me to think like that, but damn.
Though, I couldn’t help but think. . . There wasn’t any harm in listening to my heart and simply being helpful and kind to the woman carrying my child. However that may look, I could be there for her. Right? I had a soft spot for her – I probably always would.
It was y/n. Even if she wasn’t pregnant with my kid, I’d always look at her a little more tenderly than most other people – well, all other people. She’d carved a place in my heart from the first moment I’d seen her.
There was truly no one like her.
Never would be.
End of Jake’s POV
-🌼🌼🌼-
A week later, you were hoping to slide out of class without attracting Theo’s attention, but he’d caught you and followed you all the way out to your damn car.
And, of course, he wouldn’t shut the fuck up about one particular thing you really didn’t want to talk to him about. Something that definitely wasn’t his business, even though he was trying like hell to make it that way.
It was your decision to lead him on, a voice tenderly reminded you. And you’re still going on that date with him. You promised you would. You have to put up with him for at least a little while longer.
“Well. . . is the baby’s father in the picture?” He asked, following his multitude of other yes/no questions, right as you’d opened your driver’s side door to escape him.
Fuck. What did you say? You didn’t want to freak him out. Annoying as he was, you still had a plan to at least try things with him to see if you could make something work with someone who wasn’t Jake. . . Still wanted to test the waters with the whole idea of seeing another guy. There was a chance you could end up giving things a real chance with Theo. And you didn’t want to spoil what could inevitably get your mind off of Jake by acting like you were with him in any capacity.
Because you weren’t. No matter what had happened in the kitchen or the Jeep.
You couldn’t tell him the full truth. It just didn’t seem entirely wise to tell him all of the details. . . just in case. What was a way you could tell him half of the truth?
“Kind of, kind of not,” you replied, not wanting to give much more. But, you added, “He’s not as present as I wish he could be.”
Not a lie, you thought. Because I do wish he was more present. Like, present in my bed, for instance. . . which he isn’t.
“Why not?” Theo asked, going to lean against your car.
Just before he could place his jeans-clad butt against your car, you spoke up. “Don’t lean against the car, please,” you tried, feeling uncomfortable that you even had to ask him. You just didn’t want him to scratch or dent your beloved Jetta.
“Oh,” he said, pouting a bit. “Is the car special to you or something?”
“Well, kind of. Elsie and I shared it when she lived here and still kind of do,” you told him. I also just don’t want just anyone leaning against my car; is that too much to ask?!
He made a noise of acknowledgement, but didn’t say anything further on the matter as he straightened up with a bit of an attitude. “Why isn’t the father present?”
You were not ready to explain. You didn’t know what to begin to say. . . didn’t want to say too much, but you also didn’t want to completely lie.
“He’s just not able to be fully involved,” you replied, looking down at your nails to pick at a snaggled cuticle. “He does what he can. Just not available to do all I wish he was able to do, I guess.”
It was a diversion and it wasn’t a lie. You just wanted to drop the conversation entirely.
“What do you mean by all of that?”
I don’t want to answer that, you grumbled internally. And you wouldn’t like the answer, Theodore.
“I don’t really want to get into it,” you explained, hiding an eye roll with a glance back at your car. You opened your door more, desperate for an escape. And a nap. . . You didn’t have any obligations ton—.
Dammit – you had therapy this evening. You were looking forward to it, but you weren’t really looking forward to having to be in such close quarters to Jake all evening. After last Monday, you hadn’t seen him as much. He was either gone for the album or at the apartment hanging out with the guys to discuss things. A time or two, Maya had been there, forcing you to make a last minute plan with Josh one night and an impromptu dinner plan with your grandparents the other. . .
It was so incredibly hard being so close while he was forced to be so distant, emotionally – especially after recent events.
The two of you just weren’t what you wished you could be.
God. Alcohol or weed would be lovely right now. Something to get my mind off of things, you wistfully acknowledged.
Then, you peered up at the man in front of you – remembered the entire reason you were giving him the time of day to begin with.
The perfect distraction was right here, in front of you. You pushed down the way your skin was buzzing with annoyance, and gave yourself a second to observe him. Maybe it could work out to just make yourself available to him. See where it could lead. . . .
So, you went ahead and added an ending statement to your earlier explanation, “But. . . . . we aren’t together, I can tell you that much.”
“Yeah?” He smirked, his eyes glinting in the afternoon sun.
And, your hormones worked in your favor as you eyed him, watched him move. . . he really was so fucking handsome. You couldn’t deny it. The more you allowed yourself to study his structure and looks, the easier it was to let your mind wander.
He shifted his broad shoulders, his alumni sweatshirt hugging his strong chest so well. . . For what it was worth, Theodore was hot – you could give him that. He was irritating, but perhaps his looks could make up for it if you allowed. . .
And, you couldn’t deny how much you loved the fact that he still seemed interested in you even though you were pregnant. Someone so seriously sexy still wanted you, all bloated and different. . . that was endearing. It was promising and validating.
“Yeah,” you blushed, looking back into his eyes from his chest. The more you genuinely entertained the thought of Theo, the further your mind traveled of its own accord. . . . You bit your lip as you checked him out, letting your eyes travel to his chest again, and back to his face, flicking over every feature.
One of your favorite features of his were his hooded eyelids. Even in high school, you’d always liked them on him for some reason. His lids and chiseled facial structure complimented his seafoam-colored irises, shining in the sunlight. As much of an open book he seemed, his model-worthy looks gave him an air of mystery that you enjoyed.
“Well, that makes it easier for us to plan our date,” he remarked, moving towards you.
Not sure if it was your raging hormones or what, you weren’t feeling any uneasiness over his proximity. In fact, your body seemed to welcome it with the way your skin heated under the lustful way he peered down at you. Your chest exhaled just enough for your breasts to skim his chest. He was suddenly very close.
You kept looking into his eyes, craning your neck to look up at him. Your eyelids fluttered with the way his stare was piercing you. What was happening? Where had your annoyance disappeared to?
“I want you, y/n,” he said, voice low. “I don’t give a damn if there’s a baby in you or that it’s another man’s baby . . . I want you just as badly as I did sophomore year of high school. You are perplexingly stunning – inside and out – always have been.”
Suddenly, with his words and the way his boyish Axe body spray penetrated your senses, you forgot how annoying he was. The Axe body spray didn’t repulse you like his Black Ice car freshener. No, it reminded you of simpler times – he reminded you of life in its simplest form. Being a teenager, a child – when there’d been much less stress. Your mother, further from your thoughts in high school than she’d ever been before. . . no adult obligation to face your past.
Back then, there hadn’t been a Jake entering your life, whose presence prompted you to fucking heal those wounds from your childhood. . . Those dark, twisted past hurts that you’d worked to cover up very well in high school.
You couldn’t remember why you’d ever been so irritated with him. Because the man standing in front of you right now was not one you were at all angered by. . . He made you feel light and carefree, like you could ignore the hard things and focus on the unimportant. . . You just felt all innocent suddenly, like you had so long ago.
This beautiful man with dirty-blonde hair was clouding your senses – he was the same boy who’d given you so many of your firsts. . . . This person, who was standing in front of you, wanting you just as badly as he had so many years ago. . . He was still so fine, all aggravating traits completely aside.
He stepped closer once more, your breasts aching with the added pressure of his chest. But – you barely had time to wince with the way your breath caught in your throat at his next action. He’d grasped your chin. And was ever-so-slowly leaning his face down towards yours.
You were not about to stop it. Couldn’t stop it if you wanted. And you definitely didn’t want to. Fuck it.
In seconds, his lips had found yours, giving your lips a welcome, proper kiss. His lips enveloped yours so attractively. You felt like a smitten teenage girl all over again. . . you were back in your grandparents’ driveway the summer before junior year, bidding him goodbye with tears in your eyes, right before he moved away. It’d sucked having to break up. . . because back then? You’d never once been annoyed by him, weren’t so jaded as you were now. You had enjoyed his company, in fact (even if Elsie didn’t much care for it, you had).
And, you were finding the same feeling slowly coming back.
Apparently, all you’d needed were a few minutes and a bold kiss to view him in a different light as an adult.
And baby hormones. Those definitely helped. You were horny as hell more frequently than you wished and you weren’t getting any.
The kitchen was one night. Jake’s car was one night. But honestly, both instances had left you even worse off than before.
Your body was feeling it.
He gave you one more sure kiss, slipping his tongue just the slightest bit past your lips. It made your pulse quicken and your neck hot, but he didn’t take it further than that. After he’d opened your door further for you, he’d leaned over to give you a tiny kiss on the cheek.
“I’ll text you,” he promised, winking your way.
Nodding, you batted your lashes at him, completely at his mercy for the time being. What the fuck had happened in the span of you leaving class and now?
Whatever it had been, it didn’t last as strongly as you would’ve wished. Because within minutes, with your R&B playlist blasting, you were feeling your phone vibrate against your lap. And when you picked it up to find Theodore’s name on your screen, you felt utterly disappointed.
Because as cute and strangely endearing as Theo suddenly was to you again, he was not the man you wanted most. It was proven again, as you saw Theo’s name flash across your screen that the only name you wanted to see on your screen was spelled J-a-k-e.
-🌼🌼🌼-
“I can’t stay to hang out after your session tonight,” Jake mentioned that evening, making a turn, bringing you closer to Gia’s office. “I’m sorry. Maya has this thing that she really wants me to be at, and I can’t let her down.”
Your heart plummeted in your chest, but you acted as though it hadn’t. As much as it hurt to hang out with him, it hurt worse when he’d leave you for her.
But. . . You knew that wasn’t fair. You’d stolen her boyfriend from her enough already. For every appointment he had to now drive you to, having him grope you in the kitchen, going down on him in his car. . .
It would be unfair to act as though she was the one asking for too much. He was hers. Him taking you to therapy was what asked too much, her needing him was quite the opposite. It was normal.
“That’s okay,” you said, tone especially light as the words left your lips. Damn – good act, y/n. Good job. “I want you to be able to be available to her.” As much as it fucking sucks to watch, it’s what life is now.
“Cool. Thanks,” he responded, sounding the slightest bit caught off-guard. Why? Had he expected you to be disappointed? He would’ve been right, but you weren’t about to let it on.
It was quiet for a few moments, then he came to a stop two streets away from the practice.
“So,” he started. And, as he moved a hand to turn down your playlist, his delicious, new sandalwood-vanilla scented cologne overwhelmed your ability to properly think. It seemed to exude from him with every action he took.
Your eyes flicked over his hand at his word, seeing his fist go to rest on his Jeep’s gear shift. God. The way his long fingers wrapped so well around the mechanism . . . . You thought of how they felt on your aching–.
Shaking your head the slightest, you glanced up at him. And, of course, his hauntingly beautiful side profile was even worse to look at than his strong hands. “What’s up?” You asked, voice stronger than you expected.
“Are you ready for tonight’s session?” He asked, eyes finding yours, earnest and genuinely curious. “Do you know what to expect?”
“Well,” you began, swallowing at what may await you tonight. Your eyes found your hands, fiddling with the hem of your oversized t-shirt. “I begin EMDR tonight. I haven’t gone to a dark, nitty-gritty place yet. So, I don’t know what to expect, really, no. . . I’ve only been to my Safe Place. I’m hoping tonight, my brain respects that it’s my first time and doesn’t force me down any too unwanted paths,” you chuckled humorlessly, willing it with your words. “Because I can’t control it – you might’ve read about that during your research. But, that’s why I have the Safe Place that I can escape to when things get too scary.”
Simply put, I’ll find you in the field of Lavender if it becomes too much, you tell him silently, eyes glancing over to his hand again. So strong and sure. . . he really did make you feel so safe. Even when it broke your heart to look at him for too long.
Goddammit. Your predicament sucked ass.
“Safe Place. . .”
“Yeah, it’s where you go when things become too much in your partial subconscious,” you explained, hoping he wouldn't ask any further about yours.
“That’s incredibly interesting,” he said, invested in every word. “I have read about it, actually. Lightly, at least. I won’t make you tell me yours. I know it’s a super personal thing,” he assured. Your heart fluttered at his genuine care for the situation. “But yours helps? It’ll be a good place to turn to if things get rocky today?”
“Yeah,” you responded, voice suddenly very teary at the thought of who your Safe Place was. The fact that it was the person sitting next to you, who seemed so honestly caring of the entire situation. Of course your mind had naturally conjured him. The way he made you feel in this moment was enough explanation. Your gaze traveled back over his figure, his soft, black sweater hugging him just right. “It felt like heaven last time,” you breathed, taken by him.
He must have sensed you looking, his eyes catching yours for the briefest moment, scanning your figure so quickly you momentarily thought you’d imagined it. Your tummy somersaulted. Before it could become anything more, the light he’d come to changed to green.
“I’m worried about my heart,” you absentmindedly commented, thinking of your recent run-in with the heart problems and the heart monitor still hidden beneath your shirt. Your eyes were trained on a line of old, weeping trees passing you outside the window.
He was weaving carefully down a side street in an expensive neighborhood. A neighborhood you’d gotten to know by now on your drives to sessions. Gia’s practice is right around the block. Your heart rate was already increasing at what could be awaiting you when you closed your eyes on her couch. “If it becomes too much, I don’t want my heart to fuckin’ Rick Roll me,” you finished, snorting at the ridiculous analogy. Hardly even made sense.
Jake’s signature laugh bounced throughout the car, sounding like Josh’s . . .but a little different. The sound made your pulse even out. A familiar, nice sound . . . Everything was okay. You’d be okay.
“Talk to Gia about it beforehand,” Jake suggested, laughter coming to a natural halt. He said the words, right as he pulled into the parking lot of the quaint private practice. “Rick Roll,” he said to himself, under his breath with a sighed laugh.
The office was modernized to the nines inside, all light colors and expensive trimmings. . . But on the outside, all that showed was an older, classic brick office building.
He switched the car off, pulling the keys from the ignition. The lack of keychains caught your eye, distracting you.
Focus on the matters at hand, y/n. . .
When he cleared his throat, you looked at him once more. “She will be willing to assist you however you need,” Jake reassured you with a sparkle in his eyes. “Just like she has always done for you. Just trust her.”
“Yeah,” you breathed. Throat clogged with wetness once more, you sniffed as you unbuckled along with Jake. “Trusting is hard for me. Are you coming inside with me?” You couldn’t help but comment on him moving to get out with you.
“Of course I am. I want to be there for you. Waiting in the lobby for you when you get out,” he smiled, opening his door. He looked over at you, raising a brow. “Don’t get out yet. I’ll help you out of this thing.”
Your heart soared at the way he cared, tears daring to fall as he got out to come to your side.
Seconds later, he was at your door, helping you out of the car. And as you walked through the parking lot to go inside, he huffed a laugh, not as a joke, but as an understanding form of acknowledgment to something. “I get the trust thing, though, honey. Hard for me, too.”
Honey. Always with that nickname these days.
Your line of sight darted to him from the corner of your eye, and you chuckled under your breath to agree. “Yeah. . .,” you said, eyes brushing down to mess with your cuticles for the second time that day. His arm came around your waist briefly, guiding you as you looked down.
At his touch, your skin became hot through the jacket and t-shirt you wore.
Your mind wandered to a few months ago as he kept a gentle hold on you, keeping you in step with him. The stinging feeling of guilt for making him trust you and then breaking his heart all in a matter of two months. . . . it made you want to scream, cry, yell. . . All at once.
You did it for his benefit, y/n. Remember?
But. . . .had you?
Blinking a few times, you focused on the building’s glowing sign, highlighting the early darkness of the winter evening. Finally, you fell back into the conversation, “Trauma response is what I’d call it,” you offered, clearing your throat of any emotion.
“Exactly,” he concurred. “A coping mechanism.”
Yes! You do get it. Why did you ever have to be an asshole to begin with? Maybe things could’ve been different. . ., your thoughts went back to the first day you’d met him, making your heart lurch in your chest. Or would it have been cut too short, no matter what? Is it simply how my story with you is meant to play out? Have you and then lose you?
The fact that you couldn’t indulge in a relationship with this man was one of the saddest, most unfortunate things the universe could offer you.
“You ready?” Jake asked, breaking the comfortable silence once you approached the door, his hand on the metal door handle.
You looked up and into his wide brown eyes, the amber in them sparkling under the parking lot lights. Your eyes studied his face for a second. . . just let yourself have a moment before answering him. Weird as it was, the deep circles under his eyes brought you comfort in that moment. The fact that they were a consistent feature of his, always prominent, made you breathe easier. . . . He was consistent.
He was real. He was here. You were okay. Everything was going to be okay.
“As I’ll ever be.”
-🌼🌼🌼-
a/n: hmmm... ;) what are they getting into? how do you feel about reader being so suddenly interested in theo? what about her plan? do you approve? did you like the bit of insight into jake's perspective?? :o
see you soon for parts 2 + 3, love bugs! <3 prepare yourselves, that's all i'll say........
#jake kiszka x reader#jake kiszka fic#jake kiszka fanfic#jake fic#my fics#covet#if you found this part intense in any capacity.....#just get ready for the rest of ch 11 lol <3
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im going to commit a violence
#my mom has covid and she’s had covid for like a week now and i just texted her asking how she was doing and she said she still doesnt feel#well and her chest has been hurting. she said she tried to go to her doctor but when she said she had chest pain her doctor told her to go#to the hospital. naturally she’s not doing that and said she’s just going to ‘wait until it goes away’#and then she said she would see me saturday for my brother’s birthday dinner which we were planning to have in a public restaurant. so if#my mom is planning on showing up to a public restaurant still sick with covid then i am not going to fucking be there like sorry to my#brother but we can hang out another time. anyway i am just so fucking pissed off that ppl treat covid like this#last weekend my mom considered bringing my sister with multiple health issues home from her group home for the weekend like normal. except#she fucking has covid. and she was still thinking of doing this#like why would you fucking do that what if my sister got covid what if she brought it back to the entire group home of individuals with#health complications#she didnt actually bring her home but its the same principle going into a public space. what about the people there will health issues or#who have relatives and friends with health issues#im going to call my brother and tell him im not going if our mom is and i told our sister about it too so im sure my mom will get pissy at#me about it but i’d rather deal with her being irritating than having covid so#sam speaks
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Forgotten Demon Twin 3/?
Prev | Next
Danny meets the Batfam. He almost gets what he wants
So, apparently, COVID and lack of sleep really get my creative juices going. Enjoy this next chapter.
Danny followed Damian with a distance between them. He had left the wakizashi behind but had hidden a few non-poisoned needles up his sleeve.
He studied his twin’s body language.
Damian seemed open, if a bit tense. He kept his posture non-threatening, probably to take Danny off-guard. Danny could hear the chatter in Damian’s comm. No doubt his father and other so-called siblings.
(Danny only had one sister, and she was asleep at home.)
They ended up in the park at three in the morning.
Danny wished he could put all this behind him and sleep. As always, though, his needs weren’t considered.
Danny could see the small group of people semi-hiding in the shadows with his enhanced senses. They all looked up when they heard Damian and Danny walk up to them. All of them got defensive when they saw Danny, though they tried to be subtle about it.
“Father, meet Danyal. Danyal, meet father and everyone else.”
“Boo, you suck! Introduce us, brat,” a man with white and black hair (who reeked of death, but who was he to judge) said.
“Seriously, you little demon, that’s your introduction,” a sleep-deprived teenager asked. (Honestly, sleep deprivation was such a mood.)
“Baby bat, how could you,” a blue-eyed young man asked. (Actually, a lot of the boys had blue eyes and black hair.)
The rest of the group started berating Damian for his introduction.
Danny was stunned. If anyone had even thought about doing that to Damian while in the League, they would’ve ended up with a sword through their chest. Here, these people were treating Damian like a snot-nosed younger brother…and he was letting them.
“Children,” the older man yelled out, “Enough!”
(An older man was haunting Bruce Wayne, but Danny ignored the man dressed as a butler. It wasn’t his business.)
Damian’s face got smug as everyone else quieted down. Some of them (the eldest among them) started pouting.
The older man, Bruce Wayne, walked up to Danny and held out his hand. Danny stared at it for a second before shaking it.
“It’s good to meet you, Danyal.”
“Danny, but you already knew that, didn’t you, Mr. Wayne?”
“Please, in that same vein, call me Bruce. And, yes, I have done a little bit of research before coming here.”
“Hn,” Danny hummed out.
“Great, another non-talkative one,” someone murmured.
Danny looked at the group and noticed that the sleep-deprived teenager suddenly seemed very alert with his calculating, narrowed eyes. Hmm, he would have to keep an eye on that one; he seemed like the most dangerous one. Not physically, but intelligent wise…well, Danny has learned to fear smart people.
He let go of Mr. Wayne—Bruce’s hand. (The older man following Bruce smiled gently at Danny.)
“So, to what do I owe this…unexpected pleasure,” Danny asked.
Everyone turned to look at Damian. The Heir seemed to be, was that embarrassment?
“Yeah, Demon Spawn, why don’t you tell Danny why we’re here?”
“Fuck off, Todd,” Damian hissed out.
Todd grinned. (The butler—he had to be a butler—frowned at Todd’s cussing.)
Bruce sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, “Children, please, not before introductions.”
“Yeah, B is right. Anyway, my name is Dick,” the eldest said. He got Danny’s hand and shook it.
“On purpose,” Danny asked.
Dick laughed good naturally.
“My parents weren’t from the US and didn’t know the word's second meaning. By the time I found out, I was attached to my nickname.”
The one who stunk of death spoke next.
“Name’s Jason. I’m the second,” he was interrupted by the petite Asian girl.
“Ahem.”
“I mean, I’m the third oldest.”
“Hello. Cassandra Cain. The second eldest. And you’re my new baby brother!”
Danny blinked, “Cassandra Cain? As in the ‘One Who is All’?”
The girl nodded while giving a thumbs-up. Danny gulped. He was so screwed.
“Tt, she’s not that impressive.”
Danny gave Damian a skeptical look for the first time in his life.
“Hi, I’m Duke Thomas. Why is your aura so weird?”
Danny blinked at the random question.
“Don’t know, dude, radioactive chemicals, maybe?”
Everyone stared at him with a look of horror.
“I’m joking.”
“Oh, hah,” Duke laughed, uncomfortable.
“Tim Drake,” sleep-deprived teenager said without adding anything else—honestly, mood.
“Of course, father already introduced himself, and you know who I am,” Damian said. He always had to have the last word, huh?
The ghost spoke last (not that anyone else would know.), “I’m Alfred Pennyworth. I know you can see me, Master Danny. It is a pleasure to meet you, even if it is after my death.”
Danny ignored the ghost.
“Great. Now, back to my original question: why are you guys here? If the League is gone, why bother with the unneeded spare?”
Everyone, minus the ghost, shifted uncomfortably. Even Damian. Danny narrowed his eyes; something big was going to happen.
“Danny,” Bruce started, “we found out about you recently—”
“Yeah, very recently,” Jason said.
“—and we wanted to meet you. We—I needed to make sure you were fine. I missed so much and could not protect you due to my lack of knowledge of your existence. I want to know if you need any help, and if you don’t, I’ll be here whenever you need it.”
Danny let Bruce’s words sink in. It didn’t take long for him to put the puzzle pieces together.
“Talia never mentioned me, did she?”
He turned to Damian, “Neither did you.”
Damian looked down at his feet, looking ashamed. Danny narrowed his eyes.
Too little, too late, brother.
Danny took a deep breath.
Here I go. It’s time to sell it.
“Look, I appreciate you checking on me, but I’m fine. I have a loving family and an awesome older sister. All of my friends are here. Amity Park is my home. I don’t want to leave. Please, I was never able to ask anything for myself. I'm asking now, begging, let me stay in Amity.”
“I have looked into the Fentons and have read some disturbing things,” Bruce said.
“What, the weapons? They can’t harm humans.”
They didn’t need to know Danny wasn’t fully human anymore.
“Not only that but a portal to the afterlife.”
“So my parents are a bit eccentric. If it makes you feel better, I can give you a full, unabridged copy of their work,” Danny lied. No way in the Infinite Realms Danny would give the freaking Batman more ammunition to take Danny away.
The ghost butler frowned at Danny’s lies and gave him a look of disappointment. Hah! The jokes on him that didn’t work on Danny.
“What about the reports of these so-called ghost attacks?”
Danny waved off the man’s concerns, “They rarely happen, and when they do, we have our own hero who takes care of it.”
Bruce gave him a calculating look. Cassandra was whispering in Tim’s ear. While she spoke, Tim started narrowing his eyes at Danny. Dammit, this was why he hated intelligent people. Danny was a decent liar, but he couldn’t come up with something if there were more than one detective.
Not to mention, he heard rumors about Cassandra’s abilities.
Time to bring out the sob story.
“Please, I don’t want to leave the only family I have ever known.”
Bruce narrowed his gaze. Bruce felt the boy was hiding something. He’d have to ask Cass what she saw.
“Maybe we should let him stay, B. We can always keep in touch, can’t we, little D?”
Danny nodded vigorously. Bruce almost gave in, but he had to ask.
“What about the report of the city being pulled into an alternate dimension? The Justice League hadn’t heard about this, and I know you know that I’m Batman. You could’ve reached out whenever to let us know.”
“I don’t know. It didn’t occur to me. The threat wasn’t that bad. There were just a few more ghosts than usual. Besides, other cities have seen stuff like this. We have two heroes, and the citizens got together to fight the threat.”
“So, there was a threat.”
“Listen, dude, I’m not here to assuage your guilt. I want to stay with my family. I deserve that much, at least, right?”
Danny refused to break eye contact first. He stared down the Batman; he knew the man wouldn’t kill his family, so he felt confident asking for what he wanted. After a few moments, Bruce sighed. Danny knew he had won.
“Young man, you should really tell your father the truth.”
Danny ignored Alfred. He wasn’t the boss of him.
“Okay, I’ll choose to believe you,” Bruce took a card out, “but if anything happens, and I mean anything, don’t hesitate to call me.”
Danny had almost been home free. A few more minutes, hell, seconds, and he would’ve gotten away with his lies and well-crafted half-truths.
Of course, that’s when everything went to shit.
Danny’s ghost sense went off. Bruce’s gaze narrowed, and Tim asked, “What was that?”
Before he could come up with a lie, he heard him. Fucking Skulker.
“I’ll have your skin, whelp,” he shouted and fired.
Danny didn’t think. He transformed and put up a shield around the group.
It didn’t even take Danny 10 seconds. He took out his anger on the so-called hunter and sucked him up in the thermos. He was going to get a month of soup time, at least!
Danny turned toward the stunned group.
“Um, surprise?” He said while giving jazz hands.
Bruce’s eyes narrowed in anger, “Well, Phantom, is there anything you’d like to say?”
“This is why honesty is the best policy, young sir.”
“Um, you’re all dreaming?”
Bruce crossed his arms.
“Really, Danyal? You thought that would work?” Damian asked, angry.
Tim was looking at him with triumph in his gaze. Dick looked disappointed, and Jason looked entrance by Danny’s predicament. Cass was shaking her head, and Duke was, weirdly enough, blocking his eyes.
Fucking Skulker, man.
“I think it’s time you told us the truth.”
Make that two months of soup time.
Danny sighed and hovered in the air, crossing his legs. He might as well get comfortable.
Yay, Alfred has appeared. Danny was a bit rude, but considering what Damian did to him when they first met, I think Danny was being downright pleasant
Danny: Lying through his teeth.
Tim: This little bastard isn't telling us everything.
Danny: Gets caught in the lie.
Tim: Ha! I knew it. Once a demon always a demon
yeah, Tim is a bit prejudiced, not that we should completely blame him after what Damian did to him
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Part 1.2 of the story between Crystal and Amelia.
After mercilessly raping your sister, you went to your room to cool off. Amelia was still reeling in the fact that she just got used by her brother. She decided to keep it in and brush it off. $2,000 ain’t that bad, she thought to herself. She’s been used to mediocre sex with her boyfriends and at least she’s getting paid.
On the other hand, Crystal was still ignoring you and continuing to post stories of her training of the NSFs in camp. She however, decided to soften up and started texting you back. And at least, she started sending you R21 pictures in camp to which you jerked off to almost every night.
Friday came and unfortunately, you were down with COVID, which meant you could not meet Crystal as you did not want to spread it to her.
Jeremy took this opportunity to send her all the way home. He was being led on by Crystal posting him on her IG even though Crystal had absolutely no intentions of leading him on. She was merely teasing and annoying you.
In the car ride, Crystal was casually chatting with Jeremy as they’re no longer in camp. She casually asked Jeremy, “Do you think all the boys in your squad want to fuck me?”
“Err, ma’am, I cannot speak for all the boys. Why do you ask?” Jeremy replied nervously, afraid that Crystal would find out that the his squad mates have been secretly jerking off with a smuggled in fleshlight to her photos together in the male toilet as if gangbanging her.
“Well, answer honestly. I’ve been hearing rumors.” Crystal replied.
“Well, erm, truth be told, you’re very attractive and naturally all of us have needs and sometimes we do think of you in an inappropriate way.” Jeremy confessed.
“Thank you for your honesty Jeremy. Truth be told, I knew Tristan was the one that smuggled in the fleshlight and I knew all of you were using it.” Crystal said, confirming Jeremy’s fears.
“Omg ma’am, I’m sorry. We should not have done that. Please don’t tell our OC. We just find you irresistibly attractive.” Jeremy blurted out, fearing that the whole squad would be charged.
“Do you find me attractive? Or am I the most attractive PT in base which naturally makes me your fap material by default?” Crystal asked, amused and loving the attention.
“To be honest, I think your body is fantastic. However, face wise, I think ma’am Angela is prettier.” Jeremy replied, carefully manipulating Crystal, hoping she’d react.
“I love that honesty. And for that, I will not report this. However, tell the squad not to bring a fleshlight or I will report all of you. Now, for your reward.” Crystal said as she reached over to Jeremy and put her hand on his groin, feeling around and instantly making him hard.
“Ma’am, what are you doing?” Jeremy blurted out, flustered and trying to concentrate whilst driving.
“Rewarding you. Unless you don’t want to be rewarded.” Crystal replied with a smirk.
“But but, don’t you have a boyfriend?” Jeremy replied.
“I do. Are you going to snitch on me? And honestly, do you even care if I have a boyfriend?” Crystal replied, unzipping his pants.
“Fuck him. I don’t even care if he is your boyfriend or outranks me. I’m richer and bigger and you know it.” Jeremy replied confidently.
“Good good. I like the confidence.” Crystal said as she started slowly jerking him off.
Throughout the ride, Crystal jerked Jeremy off at various speeds. With Jeremy not being able to jerk off for the past 2 days in camp, he sure had built up his sexual lust.
“If you can last till our car park, I’ll suck you off.” Crystal said, smirking at him and at the same time, hoping he could last because his cock is huge.
“Yes ma’am. I will do my best.” Jeremy replied.
Alas, Jeremy managed to keep it in till the car park.
“Let’s go to the backseat.” Jeremy said as Crystal and him got out of the car to sneak into the back seat. Unbeknownst to both of them, you were waiting at the void deck and you saw your gf and Jeremy enter the backseat. Filled with anger and lust, you walked over to confront them.
In the backseat, Crystal wasted no time and sucked Jeremy off immediately. The moment her small mouth closed in on his dick, Jeremy let out a huge groan of pleasure. He can’t believe that he is the first guy out of his squad to be pleasured by Crystal, the girl that all of them desperately wanted to fuck.
He could not control himself and he grabbed her head with both hands and controlled it like it was the fleshlight they all used. He started thrusting upwards into her mouth and despite her choking from his massive dick with her hands trying to push away, Jeremy did not care. He wanted to go deeper and deeper down her throat.
As you walked closer to the car, you could see the car moving and your worst fears were confirmed when you stood by the boot and looked in to see your beloved Crystal being used like a common street whore. As you were about to confront them, something sick arose in you. You decided to film it down like a cuck.
Meanwhile, as Crystal was being mouth fucked by Jeremy, all she could think of was how she wished your dick was this big and how you’d have the confidence to dominate her. After dominating all the NSFs during the week, she wishes to be dominated and Jeremy was the one filling that role, or rather filling her mouth up.
The deeper Jeremy tried to go, the more he grunted in pleasure and after a good 5 minutes of mouth fucking, he was about to cum.
“Ma’am, I’m about to unleash a huge load.” Jeremy said as he started being harder and solely using her head as a fuck toy, not giving a damn that Crystal at this point was choking and having difficulty breathing.
He then thrusted deeper a few more times with intensity and finally unleashed a huge load with such force that Crystal choked and spluttered and his hot cum came out from her nose.
As you saw that end happen, you quickly paused the filming and hurried away. Crystal was panting heavily and whilst annoyed, she was also incredibly wet.
“If only you could train with such intensity in camp.” Crystal said as she was wiping herself up.
“I’m sorry ma’am. I could not resist. But I will do my best in camp and prove to you I have what it takes to be the best trainee.” Jeremy said as he was cleaning up.
“Is that a promise? Because if you are not, I will fuck your buddy in front of you and let him cum in me. I’m going to cuck the fuck out of you.” Crystal replied.
Instantly turning hard, Jeremy made up his mind to agree and promise her. The two parted ways.
Back home, you had a raging boner and lustful anxious thoughts filled your mind. You could not confront your girlfriend. At that moment, as you were walking to your room, you saw your sister taking thirst trap pictures of herself and you instantly went into her room and locked the door.
“Kor, what are you doing?” Amelia asked, fearful but always anticipating the rough sex coming up.
“What do you think? I need a fuck toy and you are readily available for me. I’m going to use you for my own sexual frustrations whether you want it or not.” you replied as you unzipped your pants.
The End! DM me if you want a continuation of this series!
** Short excerpt of the next part **
“Kor, you’re so deep into me.” Amelia moaned in pleasure and pain.
“Kor please don’t cum in me. Please. I have a boyfriend. Please don’t cum in me.” Amelia begged as you were thrusting harder and faster, ignoring her pleas.
“Oh god. Fuck. Please don’t stop Kor. Please. I’m going to cum. Please don’t stop. I’ll be your fuck toy. Let me cum. Please.” Amelia begged you as she her struggles turned to moaning and pleasure.
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Have a little something this Friday
As I recover from COVID. It's the elusive Daniel Lives!AU:
“Evan.” She scolded, her voice traveling expertly over the din of the emergency room and yet interrupting no one. That was a talent Eddie didn’t have yet. He wasn’t sure if he ever would. “Don’t tell me you’re here because you got hurt again.”
Again.
Eddie filed that away for later. Maybe they were close with Evan not because he was the bartender at their favorite restaurant but because he was a frequent flier. But he didn’t look like a patient. The pocket of his jeans even had a little visitor’s ID badge pinned to it, his name written in neat, slanted handwriting. “No.” Evan shook his head with a crooked smile, rubbed his thumb over the pink splotch above his eye when he caught sight of Eddie a mere step behind her. “I’m visiting Maddie for lunch.”
Hen relaxed. Eddie didn’t think he knew her well enough to know the difference in how she carried herself and yet he recognized it all the same. The slump of her shoulders, the set of her hips. “Just Maddie today? Not Doctor Kendal?” She said the name like it didn’t taste good in her mouth and Evan caught it with an uneasy glance over his shoulder and a roll of his own eyes.
“Just Maddie.” Evan coughed and shifted his feet. “My sister,” he provided for Eddie’s benefit. “Hi.”
“Hi,” Eddie waved from by his hip. “Brother’s a doctor, sister is a…?”
“Nurse.”
“Nurse.” Eddie nodded in thanks. “Decided not to go into the family business?”
“Could you imagine?” Evan laughed and ducked his head. “I’d be, like, the worst medical professional ever. No bedside manner.”
“Don’t sell yourself short.” Hen scolded like it was second nature. “You’re a bar manager at twenty-seven. Most people don’t get there until they’re in their forties.”
Evan shrugged off the praise. “I thought you guys didn’t go past the doors. Like that’s your rule.”
Hen rolled her eyes at him. “It’s not a rule.” It sort of was a rule. It wasn’t enforced or anything, but a suggestion turned into a superstition from Bobby’s lips. Don’t go past the doors, he had told Eddie on his first call. Our job stops right here. And then they’d go on another call, do it all over again until it breathed of routine. But sometimes they ran out of equipment before they got back to the station and the hospitals kept extra supplies on hand for them to stock up whenever they needed it. “We need to stock up. Bobby’s outside if you want to say hey.”
Evan shrugged but made no motion to leave, and the motion of his shoulders knocked his quarter-zip just slightly off center from where it sat on his frame, unveiling a small scar at the base of his neck and the corner of a tattoo. “I have to swing upstairs,” he explained for his reasoning of why he wasn’t leaving the hospital anytime soon.
“Everything okay?” Eddie asked, frowning with his eyebrows.
Most people didn’t choose to hang around at a hospital. Granted, most people didn’t also know firefighters by name and rank. Most people, he was beginning to suspect, weren’t Evan Buckley. “Dan works upstairs.” Evan provided with a small, blushing smile.
It looked good on him.
Maybe Eddie was biased, because he was pretty sure everything looked good on him. He was more than a little pathetic but, really, it wasn’t like he didn’t have eyes. Still, Evan’s answer didn’t exactly provide Eddie with anything other than a nervous suspicion on just who Dan was. A boyfriend? The brother? A pet dog? The codename of a deadly disease? Really, it could be anything. “Don’t let him hear you call him that.” Hen warned wryly.
Evan rolled his eyes. “What’s he going to do? Whine about it?”
“Loudly.” Hen agreed. “But, hey, it’s your ears he’s whining to. Not mine.”
“Your brother doesn’t work in the ER too?” Eddie asked curiously, hoping for some context of the conversation within a conversation happening.
“Fuck, no.” Evan scoffed and then flushed at the look from a passing nurse. “Sorry.” He mumbled and rubbed at the back of his neck. “Dan doesn’t have the stomach for that. He works upstairs in oncology.”
“Cancer,” Eddie hummed. “That’s noble.”
“Sure.” Evan said with a smile and a bounce on his heels. “He thinks so too.” He had a feeling that was a… sore topic. “How’s Chris doing?”
Hen blinked. “Chris?”
It was Eddie’s turn to flush pink. “Uhm,” he cleared his throat. “He’s good.”
“Everything went okay at his doctor's appointment that earned him two prizes?”
Hen was staring at the side of Eddie’s face in amazement. He was rapidly becoming aware that he never even told her Christopher’s name. “Yeah, it was just routine. He just had a vaccine he had to get.” Eddie shrugged. “That’s, uhm… I didn’t expect you to remember that.”
“Why wouldn’t I remember it?” Evan tilted his head with a squint of his eyes. “You and your kid… make quite an impression, dad.”
The reaction was visceral. Eddie’s stomach twisted, his face was quick to follow suit and Evan’s lips pursed to hide a laugh that tried to bubble out of his throat. “Never again.” Eddie told him with a point.
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tuesday again 10/17/2023
started explaining why this one is a little lighter than last week's gallery wall behemoth bc of a uhhhh kind of dire week, personally and professionally speaking, but then realized when fic authors do that in front of chapters i don't actually care or require an excuse from them, im just delighted to have a new chapter.
listening
this is a deeply cheesy little folk song but the lyrics "man you name it and if we ain’t got it: we’ll get it" gave me a sensible chuckle.
youtube
now for a moment to expound upon houston: they truly have imported every possible food service establishment. the two chains i miss most from jersey, jersey mikes submarine sandwiches and 7-11 gas stations, are both here. i get that this is the fifth largest metro area in the US or whatever but both of these companies are SO niche. absolutely bonkers. spotify.
i think this started autoplaying after a playlist inspired by f/allout: new v/egas came on??
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reading
i originally had a very mean-spirited graf about the utility of a pool in northwestern massachusetts and the kind of person who can comfortably lose $31k, but it is genuinely awful that there are no rules around zelle. that money goes into a black fucking hole and there's no way to get it back, which is not the case for any other kind of recognized money except cryptocurrency
Did we confront Gary Kruglitz [the pool contractor]? Yes we did. We marched right into his office and grilled him hard until he defeated us with a simple and probing question: What's a zelle? It defied belief, we quickly realized, that a man who had been trapped in technological amber since the Nixon era was running a cyberscam designed to come between us and our money out of an AOL account.
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watching
Van Helsing (2004, dir. Sommers). this movie is horrible. this movie is terrific. i don't have anything to say about this movie bc i was distracted by equal opportunity tits and asses the entire time. the time of the “Kate Beckinsale in a corset” movie genre is long over but GOD. watched with my sister bc it's leaving tubi soon
playing
one week i will have the energy to try New Thing but until i do it’s genshin. there's a poetry event that has terribly boring minigames, but the story quest has finally tied a bow on a piece of folkore we came across in the very first release so that was fun!
wrapping up some stuff in sumeru bc im running out of map pins, this game has done one of the things i hate most: progress-locking one extremely long and tedious collectible hunt (the music gates) behind another extremely long and tedious collectible hunt (the robots locked in the vines). the next time i see one of those little fucking budget koroks i am going to drop kick it into the sun. what the fuck is the circumference of teyvat anyway. it feels like we have explored so little of this planet's surface
i have graphics turned down pretty low bc of performance issues on my elderly laptop and this is still such a remarkably pretty game. look at this big estuary leading off into the distance
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making
i wildly overextended myself this week, partially bc im trying to take advantage of this brief post-covid heightened immunity. lot of dinners. lot of late nights. on top of that BOTH of my siblings were in town for unrelated professional reasons this week :) no overlap so we did not have a nice fambly dinner :( but did have pretty okay separate dinners :) if they could learn to fucking communicate their trave plans and the number of peope that will be showing up at my home that would also be pretty okay >:(
one of the party games i played this week asked the question “what could you give a 40-minute PowerPoint presentation on” and i started saying facts about the downfall of the penn central railroad and they very nicely let me continue saying facts about the downfall of the penn central railroad, the largest bankruptcy in US history until ENRON, until the round timer went off.
i have some thoughts about Train Guys and how it's very easy to fall into being a Train Guy, bc there's a very easy template to follow, and there's a lot of Train Guy content, and have i been doing this bc i actually like trains, or bc it's easy to listen to Well There's Your Problem on repeat bc it's familiar and comforting, or do i just really really really fucking hate flying?
who could possibly say.
mackintosh update: allowed herself to be scooped up by my brother (who she met at christmas and loves) but did NOT allow herself to be pet by the strangers in his company. did hang out in the middle of the floor observing tho. a regular little extroverted socialite!
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what’s some of your favorite loz/Lu fics of all time? :)
Most of my favorite LU fics are here
but what you guys may not know is that I'm also a big fan of botw and modern au Zelink fics, however, take heed, most of these get a little spicy
Like Real People Do by ScarlettStorm: one of the best post-botw fics out there, lots of pining, I absolutely adore how Link's experience with Gender is portrayed, how he and Zelda are both treated as equally traumatized, as sometimes it feels like there's always one troubled one and one caregiver and I can get that for shorter fics but this one is long and beautifully balanced in that aspect. It also gets real horny at the end and in my opinion, it's very tasteful.
Alone With You by @deiliamedlini: honestly this author has a bunch of bangers, I'm waiting for their pirate au to finish so I can binge it all and I reread their Zelink oneshot collection all the time, this one is their modern high school au where Link is kind of a bad boy who is secretly Fucked Up, and Zelda is a popular girl and surprise surprise, they both get along really well. Normally I hate anything that reminds me of high school but this is the only exception. I love how previous characters are included, like how Link knows ASL bc he's friends with Pipit who is deaf and how Revali is a bitch and I still want to strangle him. Also big sister Aryll is a treasure and this fic does such a good job portraying Link's mental struggles and PTSD and how Zelda is being neglected and I'm also a big fan of the overarching plot of medical issues and trauma.
The Calamity of Link's Cargo Shorts by @zeldaseyebrows: I don't understand how someone can make smut so funny and so focused on Zelda's own self-hatred. Seriously though, there's a lot to love with this fic and I adore Zelda's pov. Sometimes you have to have sex before opening up emotionally and that's okay. Also, it's a modern au too, I just realized how many of these are modern aus.
Strangers in the Night by @zeldaelmo: Another modern au, this time Zelda has a kid from a ons with Link and he doesn't know about it for a bit, I just love Link being a dad and how they both work for a museum and there's just something about the courtroom scene that makes me want to reread it over and over again. Sometimes it's hit or miss with family ocs but Tetra is my favorite zelink child ever. All the fics on this list are ones I reread a lot but this one is the one I'm currently rereading bc it's been a few months lol. I love the domestic but also a little dysfunctional vibes, it's definitely not the normal romcom type of thing but I think I like this more.
K.K. Love Song by @airplanned: Again, modern au, pandemic edition. This one in particular has a certain unexplainable soft vibe, like there's some long-distance, Animal Crossing online romance and idk why I like it so much, I guess I was one of the suckers that got pulled in by new horizons when it came out so there's some strange kind of covid nostalgia and it's nice to see how a functional government would deal with the pandemic. Also, Link's grandma is a treasure and there's something sweet about crown princess Zelda meeting some guy on animal crossing and accidentally making him a public figure by dating him. Honestly, this author has a lot of great fics that I reread a lot lmao.
Farore's Day and Windvane Lane by Jenseits_der_Sterne: modern thanksgiving au, Zelda is a quirky scientist single mom and Link is her neighbor. I love Link being a nerd and Zelda being a bit of a disaster. Like she accidentally almost blows up her kitchen and he's just looking on with heart-eyes, after helping her put out the fires of course.
tbh, I'm probably not the best person to go for fic recs as I just find a few really good ones and then reread them till the end of time and rely on other people to recommend me things to read lmao, I hope this was at least a little helpful anyway.
#i really hope none of these authors mind being tagged#honestly i could probably go on by I'm on a time limit#i should probably read more though#im not great at finding diamonds in the rough I'm not great at searching for fics#I just reread the same ones over and over again#ask andromeda#fic recs#zelink#loz fic recs#for an aspec i really do love these little elves falling in love#i just realized that only one of these isn't a modern au#i genuinely didn't know that i read so many modern aus...
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The UC Theatre, Berkeley, CA, 12/31/23
As I was about to board my flight from Portland down to Oakland who should run up - after boarding was well in progress - but Amanda Fucking Palmer herself, with a large bag from Powell’s Books over her shoulder, which is so on-brand it’s not even funny. The whole crew was on the same flight with me. Cosmic coincidences.
The inimitable Kat Robichaud dominated as Mistress of Ceremonies, and she brought along some friends from the Misfit Cabaret, so this promised to be a great night from the start.
Kat kicked things off with her original song Charade, then The Sisters of Perpetual Indulgence provided a series of short, pithy blessings for the new year that managed to be funny, touching, and queer in equal measure.
Snatch Adams did an amazing burlesque routine involving a leaf blower and a giant balloon that she somehow got completely inside … and then removed her clothes.
Another original from Kat, and an extremely sexy dance from Aurora Rose, and it was time for the Dresden Dolls.
In 2017 Amanda did an NYE show a week after having a miscarriage and barely made it through the show. This show was similarly performed amidst some personal tragedy. Amanda had just learned that a good friend from New Zealand - whom she was actually en route to go visit - had died suddenly and tragically. And the longtime landlord / den mother of the artist collective Cloud Club, where Amanda “grew up” as an artist, was in hospice on his death bed (he passed early on the 2nd). While she did talk about this a little on stage for the most part she just powered through and delivered a killer show.
My favorite way to ring in the new year is with Amanda and/or the Dolls, and this show went a long way towards explaining why. Flamboyantly talented people providing astounding spectacle; who could ask for anything more? Halfway through the show my friend Nikki turned to me and said, “I can’t imagine being happier than I am right now!” I couldn’t agree more.
Annotated Set List:
Good Day (Brian on guitar to start)
Sex Changes
Gravity
Modern Moonlight
My Alcoholic Friends
Shores of California
Welcome to the Internet (Bo Burnham cover) - Before this song Amanda often asks, “Are there any young people in the audience?” and she typically chooses one to serenade during the ‘Waiting for YOOOOOU!’ bridge. Tonight this turned into a bit of a bidding war in which we started at 18 and worked our way down to 5. At one point Brian became an auctioneer, “I’ve got 16 here do I hear 15? 14! 14 going once, can I get … 13 over here!”
Mandy Goes to Med School
Amanda said she wanted to repeat the collective primal scream they had done last NYE, and while that’s true the tradition actually started at the very first solo show Amanda did in the States post COVID in August of ‘22.
“Close your eyes, and on the count of three I would like you to scream as loudly as possible to release the good, the bad, the ugly, the better, the unfulfilled, the loneliness, the whatever you fucking went through last year it’s now gone and you’ve got about an hour to sit with it if you wanna be sad or happy and then it’s all gonna go away and we’re gonna go into 2024 into a bucket of unicorn dreams!”
PRIMAL SCREAM!!
Mister God
Amanda said that she and Whitney had come up with a working title for the new Dresden Dolls album: Downer Bangers (“That was my nickname in high school!” quipped Nikki.)
“I found out this morning that a really good friend of mine from New Zealand just died really suddenly and tragically, and I’m in the middle of losing someone else in my life, and it’s just one of those days where you’re like, ‘This is happening, and I still have to play a show.’ This has happened to me enough that I know how to do it, but I’ve gotta tell you that it’s still really weird to get up in front of everybody while I’m going through what I’m going through. And here’s the great thing about being in the Dresden Dolls: I have a song for that! So I’m gonna play it.”
Houdini
Another Christmas (Brian on guitar, Amanda on jingle bells)
Amsterdam (Jacques Brel cover) (Brian on guitar, Amanda on beer) - At the beginning of the second stanza Amanda lost track of the lyrics. “In the port of Amsterdam, there’s a sailor who … ”
“Dies!” I helpfully yelled
“Dies … sorry, Tom.”
Hey don’t apologize to me; I live for this shit!
Missed Me - Brian has taken to really going all out on this one, often performing entire melodramatic vignettes. Tonight he just … left. Got up, left the stage, disappeared. He has played with briefly “leaving” during this song, but this time he was just gone. And Amanda had no idea what was going on. She was talking to the crowd - he’s really gone, I’m all alone, what do I do? sort of thing - when a large, potted plant crept up behind her. As Brian was creeping about the stage hiding behind the plant like a cartoon villain Amanda said, “This is the same guy who during soundcheck was like, ‘Let’s keep the intro really short.’” The antics went on so long that Amanda got flustered and got confused about where they were in the song. She looked at me and asked, “Is this right?” I gave her a big thumbs up.
Backstabber
Astronaut (A Brief History of Nearly Nothing) (Amanda Palmer cover)
Mrs. O - Quick restart after Amanda thought she detected a medical issue in the crowd, something that happened at both the LA and SD shows earlier in the month. It was a false alarm, and the band played on.
Delilah (featuring Kat Robichaud AND Whitney Moses (the OG!)) - Double Delilahs for double the pathos. Before starting Amanda entreated the crowd to sing along. “I want you to sing this song tonight for someone who needs it. And that someone might be you.”
Sing - Amanda was keeping one eye on the clock and the tempo on this one was a bit faster than normal so they could get it in before …
MIDNIGHT! Balloon drop! General pandemonium!
(You Gotta) Fight for Your Right (To Party!) (Beastie Boys cover) - Everyone on stage!
Coin-Operated Boy
War Pigs (Black Sabbath cover)
——
Girl Anachronism
Photo Gallery:
Preshow family portrait.
Destiney performed as a living statue before the show.
Snatch Adams, ladies and gentlemen.
The Dresden Dolls!
Welcome to the Internet
Another Christmas
Amsterdam!
Sometimes you just can’t see the drummer through the trees.
Dual Delilahs!
MIDNIGHT!!!
Submitted without comment.
Good night!
Traditional selfie with Whitney Moses and post-show family selfie featuring Michael!
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Legacy (what is a legacy?) Part 5
It’s planting seeds in a garden you never get to see I wrote some notes at the beginning of a song someone will sing for me
Hamilton, the world was wide enough. LMM.
one, two, three, four
Summary: Mike is 13. Born May 2009. Sid didn’t know he had a son. All Mike had was hope and a prayer for his and his half-sister’s safety.
(Sid is a dad of a teen he didn’t know about AU) Sidgeno.
Warnings: (for the total story) post-child abuse (all off-screen but it affects things and is spoken about often), learning how to parent, panic attacks, anxiety, based on last season, OCs?, realization about sexuality. Post breakups. Desperate lack of in-depth research for CPS in both PA/CA, melodrama?, kidfic, angst, slowburn, playing fast and loose with the law for drama/storytelling purposes.
Zhenya exchanged a quick look with Tanger over the top of Sid's head as they helped Sid into the chair. Both were thinking the same things: This kid was Sid's, and Sid had no idea this kid existed.
And more importantly, this kid was so fucking scared.
Tanger quirked an eyebrow up in question, and Zhenya shook his head. He didn't know why the kid was so terrified, either. But then again, he had never met his father for the first time after thirteen years - that sounded terrifying on its own.
The kid started talking when Sid looked less like he would keel over and get some color into his face. His name is Michael. He's 13. Born just before their first cup win in 2009. His birthday is May 30. His sister is three. Her name is Marisol. They are half-siblings. They are from Anaheim, California. He had a faint Spanish accent. There, but not prominent, like Nikita's accent when he spoke English. The kid spoke two languages.
Zhenya thought about what Michael was saying. Thirteen years… or really. Fourteen years, given how long a pregnancy lasts. It might have been before Sid and Kathy got serious, but only just before.
Sid and Kathy had refused to put a name on their relationship for years and were always going back and forth, whether they were on or off. It had been worse than him and Oksana, to be honest. But so much funnier. The team had spent many roadies chirping Sid about it. Sid had turned the same pink he always did.
It was in December of 2008 that Kathy finally came to a holiday skate after a fraught on again off again summer, and together they announced they were officially dating. Of course, that year, they won the cup, and until the start of last season, Sid and Kathy had been the "it" couple when it came to the Pens. But this kid. He was conceived just before all of that.
By Sid's sharp intake of breath, he was doing the same math. "You're…. from where?" Sid croaked out.
"Anaheim," Michael muttered, eyes glued on the floor. "In Orange County, California."
When Sid only nodded and said nothing else, still staring at Michael, the kid continued, voice quiet. "Mama always said she had no idea who my dad was. Just that he was kind and had a smile that made his eyes crinkle." The kid - and oh god, he was only a kid, wasn't he? - paused momentarily, glancing at Sidney before looking down at his feet again. "She thought... I sounded like him when I laughed."
Zhenya got a flash of 21-year-old Sid and that bright, broad grin he got when he was happy and laughing. Zhenya hadn't thought about how much work he would do to keep that smile going for years. After that cup win and before the concussions, Sid just smiled more.
"We watched a Ducks game on TV a few years ago, just before COVID, when I was 10. And she said you looked like my bio dad." Michael said in a rush to fill up the silence in the room. "She also said she thought his name started with an S. Something short."
That got a stifled snort from Tanger. Geno and Jen glared at Tanger because his laugh caused the kid to shrink down in the trainer's room single chair. His sister watched as everyone talked, clinging close. She hadn't said a word, and Zhenya was a little worried she didn't know how to talk - dispute being three.
"But before you guys could come out to play again, the pandemic happened and… yeah." Michael trailed off, watching the group of adults wearily.
Sid kept staring at the kid, apparently unable to do anything else. Sid opened his mouth several times, trying to form some form of speech. It was sporadic that Sid wasn't able to talk. His many years in front of the press ensured he always had something to say, even if it was just empty bullshit.
"What makes you think Sid is Papa?" Zhenya asked when it became clear that Sid wanted to ask something but couldn't. There had to be more of a reason than 'his mom thought Sid looked like his dad.' Even the most hopeful kid wouldn't just run away, travel across the country, and throw himself and his sister on a whim or a hope. Michael had to have another reason.
"I have a picture," Michael said, rushed. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a tiny iPhone. The phone was far from the newest version; it looked like a used phone even before the kid had gotten his hands on it. Zhenya hadn't seen a model that old in years.
Jen leaned over Michael's shoulder to watch as he found whatever he sought. Michael opened the phone to the photos app and quickly scrolled past some pictures that made Jen's face cloud over with anger and concern as she leaned over his shoulder.
"Can I ask about those photos?" Jen asked as evenly as Zhenya had ever heard her. Including, of course, that time when he had a Twitter mishap that had Anya laughing at him for months.
Michael froze. He didn't move for a heartbeat at all, and Zhenya was worried he would also shut down. Then Michael took a deep breath and slowly nodded. "Let me find this picture first." He didn't move much; he just resumed flipping through pictures.
Jen stepped back and took a deep breath. "That's fine. When you're ready." She said eventually. Then she glanced at the care worker, saying something with her expression alone that Zhenya couldn't read. It was a little too complicated.
It's a boundary, Zhenya realized, as Michael's back relaxed slightly at Jen's acceptance of his words. The kid was drawing a boundary. How much he trusted everyone in this room depended on how they reacted to his attempt.
The care worker looked like she approved of Jen's reaction. But then again, from where she was leaning on the wall, she could also see what was on the phone over the kid's shoulder. She had also gone red with anger when he was scrolling.
Whatever the kid was scrolling past had to be bad. Tanger and Zhenya exchanged another look over Sid's head. Zhenya was glad that the core knew each other so well. A kid learning to draw boundaries like a scared and burnt rookie? That wasn't a good sign at all.
Sid didn't seem to notice the look exchanged over his head, too focused on the kid before him. He did seem to register the boundary drawn, but Zhenya wasn't sure - Sid could be observant.
The sister, Marisol, Zhenya did his best to remember, squirmed from under his jacket, and pulled herself up to see his phone. He had a feeling that he would know these kids very well.
"Mama!" she said with a smile when Michael stopped swiping. Zhenya felt some of the worries leave his gut. She could speak; her voice was even more accented than Michael's.
Michal stared at the phone for one long moment before flipping it around to show Sid.
Jen and the Care Worker had both gone from angry to surprised. Jen recovered first, pulled out her phone, and typed some things into it. Then, she showed the care worker, who looked between Michael and Sid, the phone in Michael's hand and nodded.
Zhenya turned his attention back to the phone in Michael's hand.
The image on the screen was a scanned photo of a Polaroid. In the Polaroid, Sid leaned against a bar table, talking to a dark-haired woman. He gestured with his hands, a smile and a minor flush on his face. In front of them was a glass with a dark drink in it. Zhenya assumed it was rum. He was dressed in a tight t-shirt, tight pants, and a ball cap that hid his face slightly.
Sid looked happy. He also looked like he was on the prowl. Zhenya remembered that look fondly. When Zhenya had a passing crush on Sid (and most of the team had one at some point or another), Zhenya loved that look on Sid.
The dark-haired woman sitting across from Sid smiled back, just as entertained as Sid was. She was holding a beer and taking in whatever Sid said with interest. She was dressed up, looking very much like she wanted a good time. She looked faintly like both children in front of Zhenya. Clearly, their mother.
"Mama said her friend at the time was always bringing a Polaroid camera around, and this was the only picture she had of my bio dad." The kid said, his hands trembling slightly around the phone.
Sid hadn't taken his eyes off the phone. Instead, he reached out to touch the screen, then jerked his hands back before contacting the phone. "Can I see?" he asked instead.
Michael nodded slowly, still nervous. "You can't delete it." He blurted out when Sid took the phone from the kid's shaking hands. "It's pass locked."
Sid blinked at the kid; clearly, he didn't even think about that option. "I wasn't going to." he said, then took a deep breath, "But thank you for protecting it."
Pass-locking a photo was something Zhenya had seen many teammates do to prevent embarrassing images from being erased. However, this was a little more important.
"Are all of the photos pass-locked?" Jen asked gently.
"Yes," Michael said, looking around. Then, he met the gaze of Charlie, the equipment guy, "He showed me how."
Zhenya took in Charlie and Anthony for the first time since they entered the room and their upset but determined faces. He had nearly forgotten they were there. Both men looked grim, flanking the doorway. Zhenya realized they had already seen the other pictures on the kid's phone. They had been the ones to pull in Jen and the care worker.
"Good," Jen said approvingly to Michael.
Michael relaxed a tiny bit at the praise.
Tanger leaned over to look at the phone with Sid. "That looks just like you." He told Sid. "Stupid with that haircut." He chirped as if by rote.
"It is me," Sid laughed, sounding far away, responding out of habit. "I remember that bar." He made a complicated expression that Zhenya chose to mean that Sid remembered her too. Finally, Sid turned his attention back to Michael. "When did you realize that was me?"
"I hoped, after, well, Covid. But….” Michael trailed off, looking away. "I played hockey for a long time. And before… Before my parents died, I was on one of the traveling teams, the Anaheim Eagles. One of my coaches worked at a camp you were at. He had photos. You looked the same."
Sid reached out with a hand before returning it to his side, unsure if his reassurance would be wanted.
Michael took a deep, shaky breath, some of the composure that got him to Pittsburgh from Anaheim unraveling. "Mama only said you looked like him. She didn't know. I don't know. But… after… they hit Marisol, we had to leave. I took Marisol with me, packed my largest bag, and left. I had to." He was nearly crying, eyes liquid and red-rimmed. "They could hit me. I'm a hockey player. I'm tough. We play through pain." He said desperately, looking around at the players, nearly desperate for them to believe him.
"Of course," Zhenya said, reassuring the kid. "Hockey players strong."
Sid nodded firmly to back Zhenya up. Tanger made a noise of pain.
This wasn't something a kid should have dealt with. Of course, Zhenya hated it, but that was in the past, and the best they could do was help the kid.
Michael looked so relieved at being believed. "But Marisol is so small. So we had to go." Michael said as if he was still explaining himself.
"Protect family," Sid said, sounding a little distant as he slid the photos over to see the rest of the files. They were all pass-locked, too; a person could see them but couldn't delete them.
The slide show played was one of the hardest Zhenya had ever seen. The photos showed Michael and the little girl's bruises and marks on their limbs. They were clearly taken in a train station or bus stop bathroom.
Sid went further and further back. The photos weren't recent; some dated nearly six months ago. There wasn't anyone else in the pictures other than the kids. It was mainly of Michael; the few photos of Marisol were only at the start of the horrifying slide show.
Sid refocused back on Michael as he approached the photo scroll's end. "Protecting your family is a good thing."
Michael sat back in his chair, and Marisol hugged him. "We had to go. There was nowhere else to go." He said simply.
Zhenya believed him.
"What happened to your parents?" the care worker asked, voice kind. It was firm and practiced kindness. Zhenya had heard that tone before in parents who were controlling their emotions when something happened, and it wasn't (probably) the kid's fault.
Michael let a few tears fall then, despite doing his best to keep his voice even, "Car accident, over half a year ago. We're living with our aunt and her husband now." His voice was reedy and thin. Marisol flinched and tucked into her brother's side at the mention of their relatives.
He was sacred. So was she. None of the adults in the room doubted their fear.
"You did well. In getting her out. Gotta protect, eh?" Sid said. He met Michael's gaze evenly as he spoke, and like so many others, Michael was clearly entranced, his tear-swollen brown eyes meeting Sid's. They had the same eyes.
"I had to put her first," Michael muttered, breaking the contact. "I had to defend her."
They looked just like each other. While Zhenya would have missed it at first glance, he remembered the young Sid from all the tapes he used to watch. This kid looked just like Sid did at his age. The haircut was different, there was less confidence in Michael's frame, and the kid was definitely tanner than Sid had ever been, but the cheekbones were there.
The eyes were totally the same.
"Do you think your sister would like some food?" Tanger asked suddenly, breaking some of the tension. "We can walk to the player's lounge, talk to the chefs, and see if they have something for her."
Zhenya noticed how Michael's grip on Marisol tightened at Tanger's mention of taking Marisol somewhere without him. And Marisol hid further in Michael's jacket. By Tanger's grimace, he saw too.
"How about I text our chef what she would like, and we can get it and bring it back?" the trainer, Anthony, said. "You guys won't have to leave the room." Half the adults in the room, including Tanger and Sid, gave him a grateful look at the suggestion.
Michael hesitated, but Marisol leaned into his side, hiding her face; she was a little shy but caught the conversation. "Food? Like fries?" She asked into Michael's side, barely looking at Anthony out of the corner of her eyes.
"Do you like sweet potatoes?" Anthony asked. The Pens facilities might have fries in the concession stands, but what was available to the players was always a little healthier.
She hesitated, making a face like she didn't understand. Then, she pulled in closer to Michael.
“La Batata,” Michael murmured into her hair. “Te gustan mucho las batatas, Marisol.”
Her face cleared at the Spanish. "Si! I do!" she smiled brightly, all shyness and uncertainty forgotten.
Tanger said, "Let's go over to Anthony and talk to him about food for you, Marisol. Maybe we can pick something for your brother, too." He pointed at the phone that Anthony held up. "We'll be right over here on this bench." Tanger walked away from Sid's side and patted the trainer's bench on the other side of the room. Just far away from all for another conversation to occur, but still close. Still within eyesight. Anthony made sure there was a space between him and Tanger for Marisol so Michael's view would not be blocked.
Michael hesitated but put Marisol down on the floor when she squirmed. "I want something with rice and beans, Mari," he said, wiping his eyes with his sleeve.
Marisol nodded. “Que tal una quesadilla? Como el de Mamá?”
“Por supuesto. Si tienen alguno. ” Michael said.
Marisol, Tanger, and Anthony all started talking in low voices. Tanger suggested items, and Anthony looked them up so Marisol could see them.
Zhenya turned his attention to the kid in front of him and Sid.
"What made you take pictures?" the care worker asked, still flipping through the phone.
"I dunno." Michael shrugged, tucking himself into the chair in another attempt to make himself smaller. "I was worried about proof. So it's not my word versus hers." He said, then muttered even lower so Zhenya wasn't entirely sure he heard right what he said next. "Or his."
The care worker frowned even more at the phone, catching Michael's worries.
"Can you promise she'll be safe if you're not my dad? Like, she can't go back to my aunt." Michael asked, voice small, focused on Marisol. "She's, like, not good for us."
Sid flinched. "....I don't know, Michael," he said slowly, like it pained him to not agree instantly. He sat back in the chair he had been placed into.
Zhenya's heart reached out to him. Michael clearly only wanted his sister to be safe. And clearly, he thought where they came from wasn't safe at all.
The care worker stepped forward before Sid could finish. "Mr. Crosby can't promise that, Michael. We can only do our best."
"I did my research!" Michael turned and stared at her kind of angrily. The first emotion that Zhenya saw from him wasn't worry or sadness. "Pennsylvania won't send us back. Not really. California will allow "Interstate placements if the child has family or is under four years old." Michael said that as if he was quoting something. "And Marisol is three. And my family. We're good if he - Sid - he is my dad." Michael tripped over Sid's name a little, but he glared at the woman, daring her to say otherwise.
The care worker took it in stride. "But what happens if he's not your father, Michael?" The care worker asked, her voice even. "What did your research say?"
"Pennsylvania won't send us back. Not without good proof, we'll be safe where we're sent. I looked it up! I promise. I got the librarian to help me and everything." Michael pleaded. "We'll be safe. We might not get to stay together, but we'll be safe."
"Ok, Michael…" The care worker sighed. "But it's more complicated than that. Honestly, the system would take a long time to get you both back to California."
Michael's shoulders relaxed at the care worker's words. Zhenya wondered how much of Michael's stress was based on whether he could save his sister.
God, Zhenya could remember what that type of stress and desperation what that felt like. It felt like being pushed into a corner, and there was no other way out. Zhenya took an enormous risk when he fled Russia, and Michael took one just as large. And Michael even took his sister along. But, Jesus, he's so young. Even younger than Zhenya was when he made his own flight.
"But, Michael, we can't promise you can stay together," the care worker said, sounding apologetic. "We can try, but no promises."
"I know that!" Michael said quickly. "I know it doesn't always work out the way people want. Of course, I wanna stay with her, but…." Michael shrugged. "As long as she's safe. I'm ok with that. But we can't go back."
"I don't care. I will take them if need be," Sid muttered suddenly. "I can't let them go back."
Zhenya was surprised to find out if anyone else heard him in the room, as quiet as Sid was. "Sidney," Zhenya said warningly. Of course, he didn't really know what he was warning against, but there was no way that Sid had thought this entirely through.
Sid frowned up at him. "Geno, I would want to help even if we weren't connected."
Zhenya sighed. Sid would want to help. That was who Sid was. Zhenya wanted to help; they had to do something.
"Please. I didn't know what else to do," Michael said, looking at his feet again. He twisted his hands in his lap. "I just need her to be safe."
"You did a good thing getting her out of there," The care worker said; Geno would have to learn her name at some point. "But let's see what happens next. You don't have to face it alone."
#'sid has a teen he didn't know about' au#sidgeno#8771#i write?#this will take a while to write#working title: Legacy (what is a legacy?)
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I want to talk about outbreaks, poverty, and medical oppression.
I’m sure most of you are aware of long covid, the phenomenon that people who were infected with covid are having health problems they didn’t before infection that are now following them through their life. A lot of these situations have been disabling; I myself now have an extra disability tacked onto the list as well as many of my once abled friends joining me. Even my grandpa has developed a disability because of his infection. And this is something our family is not new to.
For the purpose of this story I’m going to call her aunt M. Aunt M was my grandma’s aunt, so technically my great aunt I believe. When she was a little girl she was completely able bodied like most of her immediate family. They had no known health problems that would cause anything like what happened to her. By this time polio was very well known about, vaccines were starting to be rolled out and treatments had started to become available to more people according to my uncle (her older brother). One day aunt M and her siblings go outside and find that their neighbors yard had flooded, so like a group of five kids in a small town with nothing else to do they play in the water. They had no idea that something so small would completely change the course of their little sister’s life. She ended up contracting polio, the only source anyone could think of was the standing water. As far as I’m aware no one else got sick or at the very least as sick as she did. It completely destroyed her lungs and her ability to walk, the muscles in her legs contracted and got stuck in a bent position and could hardly handle any weight. Aunt M spent the rest of her life using an oxygen machine and a power wheelchair once her family was able to save enough for one, and while you will not give her any pity because she never wanted any, I will tell her story to remind everyone of her. She shouldn’t have been disabled. She wouldn’t have lived a life of pain if not for one reason: poverty. You see the rich neighborhood a couple miles away had the resources. Any kids there were properly vaccinated and given treatments like leg braces to help them. Their family didn’t have any of that. No access to medication. No way to help her. She was very lucky that her symptoms didn’t get worse, she could’ve very easily died.
Aunt M passed away during the covid pandemics first year, it was very sudden and unexpected, we were all devastated. But part of me thinks it was slightly a blessing, a blessing that she wouldn’t have to watch her nephew go through the same thing. I was already disabled when this whole thing started, I already used a wheelchair and she knew that, I always felt a closeness to her because of it even though I hardly got to see her. But I got sick, more sick than usual, and ended up developing severe POTS. I have much less energy than I did before and that’s saying a lot, I have trouble pushing my wheelchair now because of my lung capacity and overall weakness. Hopefully soon I will be getting a power chair. And I can’t help but think of Aunt M.
I can’t help but think of all of the people like her, just innocent people who were living and then suddenly now their life is changed forever. I feel like it was easier for me because I had already accepted being disabled, sure more to worry about isn’t ideal but at least I’m no stranger to it. But think about that and think about aunt M. How a little less than a hundred years ago the same fucking thing happened.
Post polio syndrome and post covid syndrome are one in the same in a lot of ways. The effects they cause are surprisingly similar, at least in my family and experience, and it took years for people to admit post polio existed like it will for post covid. This is why it’s called a mass disabling event, people go into it relatively healthy and come out with health problems and disabilities that will never go away. The wealthier people can try out the experimental treatments and possibly be helped or cured, while the rest of us have to live with the proof that our government doesn’t know how to take care of their own people.
While POTS does effect the body differently than how polio effected their lungs and chests we need to comprehend how serious this is. Some people live with POTS and can mitigate their symptoms to the point of it barely effecting them, and some of us need to use wheelchairs because we can’t breathe or think while standing for longer than three minutes. It’s a syndrome with a wide variety of presentations and effects on patients, and it is a nervous system disorder so it may have more lasting effects than we can even think of right now.
Honestly I don’t have a point to summarize into, but just remember how the government handled polio and how it’s handled covid so far, I predict that when those of us who are young adults now are my aunt M’s age we’ll see the same fucking thing happen all over again. And we’ll sit there, with our long covid impacts and know, we haven’t learned a god damn thing.
I’ll end you with reiterating, do not hold any pity for my Aunt M, she was a very strong willed person who wouldn’t accept any amount of other people feeling bad for her, direct your emotions to the government who did this to her and us. Aunt M was healthy, she should’ve stayed healthy. Government inaction decided her fate for her.
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Hey bestie,
How are you? I hope you’re doing good! Me? Not so much after reading part 3 😭
My thoughts:
I wasn’t expecting us to finally get the fight from that night, so I was NOT prepared. This - When Azzi’s 18, Paige says those words, ones that sound a lot like giving up, and teaches Azzi that sometimes in life, even the people you thought would never make you feel this way, are the ones who'll break you the most – this broke me babe, and to think Azzi still held on despite everything. Like I know Paige was just hurting but maybe she does deserve the suffering (a little bit) after all.
The entire summer scene was fucking elite. Poor Katie and Tim, they just wanted a. nice. family. dinner!! And instead they had to sit through their daughter’s gay ass drama lmao, #freeKatieandTim
The bros standing ten toes down for Pazzi ✊ Jon and José not even trying sent me, like no sorry, P is our sister-in-law but we appreciate you dropping by. AND DREW, our MVP - Drew had looked over to Azzi then, his eyes wide and accusing, “you can’t be Azzi’s girlfriend.” – little man was a bit traumatised, like sorry pookie who is this girl and why is she claiming to be something she can’t possibly be? He’s the GOAT fr, I know when he and P got back home, he scolded tf outta her and it went something like- Drew: “Why are you letting Azzi be other people’s girlfriend?? That’s OUR pookie.” P: “I know, I’m trying bro!”. Drew: “Well try harder!!” *stomps away*.
Then the Cayman Islands - UCLA and UConn to each other: 😡😤🔪🤬🖕👿 while Azzi and Paige: 🥰😍🫂🤩💗👩❤️💋👩 and then there’s probably Carol like: 😩 (she’s so over all this)
And then the ending! I’m guessing P left without saying goodbye because she probably saw the text from Zoe and once again was promptly reminded of their reality? 🥺
Speaking of Zoe, oh girl I’m so sorry, you deserve better – like damn, she just wanted to share some fucking pizza!!
Also, jealous Azzi making an appearance! (I’m such a shameful sucker for the jealous Paige and Azzi trope, I’m sorry!)
Oh and one final thing on part 3 – babe I know you said writing **** was taking years off your life, but we really appreciate your sacrifice because it was absolute 🔥🔥
What’s next (potentially)?
Oh man where to from here huh… I feel like Paige is eventually gonna get to the point where she's like "choose me, pick me", only to realise that Azzi just can’t do it cause she can't trust her with her heart, and I know it's gonna hurt bad. And even though Paige needs and wants more, she’ll also take whatever she can get even if it’s slowly killing her, because it’s Azzi and she’d rather have a little bit of her than none at all 😔
Also, a tension-filled game between them in the final 4 coming up maybe??
That part where Katie shoots Azzi a look of disappointment – I wonder if momma Fudd will ever call out Azzi over whatever’s happening between her and Paige and poor Zoe?
Either way, something tells me we’ve still got a lot of angst coming our way, and look as much as I want our babies to finally just get their shit together, I just can’t say no to more angst you know, I’m just a girl. 🤷♀️
Oh and this part - she’s even less sure about how she’d survived that one year where they’d practically lived in each other’s skins – is this something (I'm guessing this is their covid era?) we go into a bit more?? I do love all the allusions/references to how long they’ve always been something more and the blurring of the lines but never fully crossing it obviously until that fateful summer of 2022. I guess it does explain somewhat, though, why Paige felt so betrayed about Azzi not choosing her (UConn) because baby girl probably thought “ok once we’re both at UConn, we can finally be together 😌” - like her dream/vision of them playing together and also being together got ripped away from her ❤️🩹
As always, bestie, thank you for existing, thank you for your talent and for being so generous in sharing it with us. You outdo yourself every. fucking. time. 💐
Quick non-ucla fic side note: ESPN’s Bracketology having Utah and UConn on opposing sides of the bracket, so basically they’re saying Utah vs UConn championship game where I get to watch AP and PB ball out? Yeah ok, give it to me. 🤪 #APHiveUP (but bleed blue always ofc)
Favourite quote/line:
“You always say the right things,” Paige says quietly, and then even quieter, she whispers under her breath, “you make it so hard Az.”
Big love always 💗,
-🙋♀️
Hi bestie,
Omg I'm sorry....again 😭
I was gonna wait a little longer with the fight but it felt right to have it in this chapter and I wanted it to be from Azzi's perspective because it would hit just a little harder
Poor Katie and Tim fr like they should have just gone on a cute date instead of having to deal with this craziness
The brothers are the biggest Pazzi shippers like they're actually tired of their sister's bullshit at this point. Drew with the biggest truth ever really just shut everybody else up. "GET OUR POOKIE BACK BEFORE I HAVE TO DO SOMETHING" - Drew Bueckers at some point probably
I was gonna add a line about Carol and Charisma just frowning at their teammates and being all exasperated and then fully forgot lmao but yeah UCLA and UConn are big mad at each other. Though writing Nika and KK are Muhl and Arnold felt so weird.
Bestie you might be the only person who got my hint which apparently was not as obvious as I thought 😭
Zoe, poor girlie pop, y'all are gonna be absolute wrecked for her soon because girlie's just a sweetheart who does not deserve this but got caught in it anyway
Jealous Azzi might actually be worse than jealous Paige in this universe lmao but the waitress was doing *too much*
Part 4 is honestly a bit of a mystery to me because I've dug myself a bit of a hole but never fear, I will angst myself out of it somehow. 😭
#APHiveUp YES EXACTLY BESTIE!! Utah vs UConn for the national championship because actually AP vs AE would be pretty fun too and listen not to get at my girl AP, but AE would win that and then UConn would win and that's the only valid ending.
As always, thank you for being here bestie. I love your long asks and how much you just get me and the UCLA fic which really wouldn't even be a thing without you.
Love you babes <3
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ᓚᘏᗢ Small (actually not so small) vent below. [Depression tw]
I don't know how to describe it exactly why but I got a massive mental burnout the other day. It may be not my bestest decision to share it here but I feel writing it down is better than keeping it for myself.
All the bad things that happened and still happen to me caught up. I feel awful. I lie awake the whole night only to break out in tears when my partner woke up. There was too much in my head to even spell out what exactly made me break down.
I am looking for a job for years, trying to get a normal daily shedule only to never get an answer and to fuck up my sleep shedule for the 100th time. I am getting 25 this year. My depression and panic disorder I developed when covid began seemed to 'heal' in a way. I went to group therapy, got medication which I still take to this day. I am stuck because I have trouble doing phone calls. Trouble TIPING IN numbers for real therapists.
Time is awful. When will I be done with learning a job? I will be 28 if it happens someone recruits me this year. And then I work. I will have so much less time for things I like. Speaking of which: I catch myself falling into the 'I don't enjoy the things I normally enjoyed' loop again. That was one of the main reasons for taking antidepresants and it now seems to crawl back.
I want to at least do something I enjoy. Writing, drawing, playing video games. I started to feel little joy in it again. It makes me angry to not be happy with my time. I don't want this.
I text my family less and less not because I am mentally exhausted but because of their believes. All except my dad (which I always had little contact to) openly and proudly boast about how they vote right wing parties in Germany. You can't discuss with them. I can't. Because I instantly start crying like some trauma haunted 12 year old back in the day when my mom raised her voice. This party I am speaking of actively stands for traditional beliefs, inbetween against lgbtqia+ (which, surprise, I am part of).
They only see points they like. "Oh, they won't get this through, you will be fine." BUT YOU VOTE FOR THESE BELIEVES. You actively support these anti lgbtqia+ shit only because you are racist and intolerant towards NORMAL PEOPLE who live their lives in Germany like everybody else for years.
Next thing is they hate my partner. Something that really only was a question of time passing. My mother always seems to dislike my and my sisters partners after some time. Finding little things she can pick on and passive aggressively point them out. Making everyone awkward and feeling unwelcomed. I feel unwelcome. It is my partner. My choice. You despite my choice and thus insult me with it. Family gatherings became horrible. My partner doesn't want to say anything because he is scared to 'mess up' and my mother getting fuel for her hatred. My sister is young and living with her. She took on my mother's believes politcal wise. I love her dearly but I feel like she also only plays mirage only to talk bad behind my back, which she usually does with other people.
I feel so alien. I don't even want to drive over there to my birthday. I would love to but it doesn't feel like my family anymore. It feels all so forced. My dog gets older too. He is the reason I still look forward a little bit when visiting them.
Writing this feels good in a way tho. Even if I know the majority of my moots only as little guys in my screen, I feel loved. I will observe my mental state these next weeks. If it doesn't get better, I'll call my doc and ask if we can higher my dosis. Just so I can think clearly and focus on important matters.
*Siiiigh* okay okay thanks for being lovely babes ♡
#this probably has so many typos but I just let my fingers write I did not proof read#depression tw#anxiety tw#⚕ ⦅ break time. ⦆⠀⠀/ ooc .
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Reality Bites: Dazed & Confused 4/6
A/N: So that cold I got? Yeah that was Covid. Sorry my posting schedule got completely derailed, butttt- that just means you guys are in for a treat. I will be posting the rest of Reality Bites: Dazed & Confused this weekend. All three final chapters. Get ready to binge babes!
Also- my co-author @allaboardthereadingrailroad posted the final chapter of Dazed’s sister story; Cruel Summer! Go eat that good shit up.
Warnings: Emotional damage(emotional damageeeee). Reader getting kinda handsy with a not willing Steve. Steve being a lovable lying prick. Teenage girl mental breakdown(which like- is the worst kind)
Pairing: Steve Harrington x Plus Sized Reader
Summary: The monsters come creeping in, and you turn to the least likely place for support.
Chapter Four: As The World Falls Down
“Bean, seriously, stop fucking moving”
You hiss, pins between your teeth. Glaring up at your friend.
She’s towering, high on the stool you’d forced her to climb atop. Holding the unfinished dress to her chest, what had been a simple leopard print piece of fabric was now form fitting, tailor made.
You’d give yourself all the credit, she looked amazing.
As much as she’d argue it Bean was an easy model, the fact that she hid all of that body under those baggy clothes was a travesty in itself.
One you’d made your duty to fix.
Now if she would just stop squirming so that you could finish the bottom hem.
You argue that no, hell no you’re not making it longer because her legs looked miles long, and her ass was peak.
“If I stab you, it's your fault. And if you get blood on my carpet, I swear you’re going to be the one scrubbing it out”
“Are you even listening to me?” Bean shoots back letting you man handle her so that you could get the thigh slit just right “I’m pretty sure that Hawkins is literally ground zero for some kind of Armageddon world ending shit”
“I hear you, babe. I’ve heard you for the last hour” You conform, sticking a pin strategically through the fabric “I can multitask you know”
“Then how are you not totally freaking out? If I’m right, which I know sounds insane, I know. But if I’m even, a fraction of a fraction right this means that this all started like two years ago. Will Byers, and Barb- ouch” you give her an innocent shrug, you’d warned her she was going to get poked “What if she didn't die from chemical poisoning. What if…what if one of those things killed her?”
You sigh deeply.
A throbbing headache stinging behind your left eye.
When Bean had called earlier, claiming to have loads of shit to tell you, you’d assumed it was going to be fun. A gossip sesh, one where you could work on her dress for the Bonfire.
Girls night; junk food and sex talk and hopefully, a fat smoke break.
You knew the minute you’d opened the door, letting your friend in, that an easy peasy girls night was not in the cards.
Her whispered “I couldn't tell you any of this over the phone” had all but sealed that deal.
And so, you let her spill.
Because that's what friends do.
You’d convinced her to let you finish her dress, your fingers itching for something, anything to keep them busy as Bean told you her story.
As she informed you of what she’d found out. Your brain literally couldn't wrap around it. Or maybe it just wouldn't, you don't know. All you know is that with every word, this all seemed darker, more insidious than you ever could have imagined.
“What happened to Barb was fucked up, like the most fucked up thing I’ve ever heard fucked up” you start, death by chemical spill had been insane enough to make the entire town stir. You included.
You’re very aware that Bean and Barb had been friends, so you choose your next words wisely. “But why would a company take that fall if they weren't really responsible? Hawkins National went completely belly up because of what they did to her”
“Because! What if they still were responsible? What if the cryptid came from them?”
“What? Like they made that alien creature in their lab? No way, no way a bunch of bumfuck Indiana scientists created that thing” you protest because why here?
Why not in a big city? DC or New York seemed more appropriate for the start of an apocalyptic event.
“I don't know if they created it, I don't know how any of it fits together yet. I just…it’s connected. And my little brother knows how”
And that's where she lost you- all this weirdo shit about the lab, even though you’d deny it because it was all too much, that could make sense. That your mind could grasp. Insane as it was, who the hell knew what the government did with DNA and tech and all that.
Now Lucas, Dustin and their little gang being involved? That you really couldnt fucking picture.
You finish pinning the map for the hem before standing, tossing any strays in the can on your dresser before turning back to your friend. Your best friend. Who damn near seemed in crisis mode.
The day you’d gone looking for her at Star Court, the one where she’d cut out early? She’d done it to go and interrogate the neighborhood kids you used to babysit, her brother included.
Played good cop, bad cop, Dungeon Master.
“Didn't he spend like all of his time in Mike Wheeler's basement until he started dating that redhead?”
“Max” Bean corrects with a nod.
“Max. Spawn of Satans sister. Whatever. Those boys barely used to see sunlight. And they played D&D and drank processed sugar until they got brain rot”
“I know! That's what I thought about it all too, but you didn't see their faces, Peach. They knew exactly what I was talking about. The moment I mentioned the demon dog I could see it, I told you it was like light bulbs went off over all of their heads. And then they tried to cover it all up”
“And Mike essentially gaslit you until you left” you clarify, retracing what she had told you.
“Yes! And Mike Wheeler tried to gaslight me because he knew that I knew that they know!” Bean curses, obviously still annoyed at the failed D&D interrogation.
She starts to do this thing, when she’s annoyed, like annoyed past the point of being able to stay cool. Constant movement. Leg shaking. Fist clenching. Teeth grinding.
“He’s always been an asshole kid. Capricorn. Bleh”
“So riddle me this, you can believe in stars and planets affecting us, but you don't believe anything I’m telling you?” her voice is defensive, that edge. And sad. A deadly combination.
You shake your head.
Because this is what you're not trying to do, not trying to make her feel alienated. You don't like the way she stares at you, chocolate eyes pleading, just on the verge of icing over.
“I know that I trust you, and I think youre the smartest fucking person in this town, probaly the county if were being real. But don't know if I want to believe any of this”
“Why?” She presses
“Because! I don't want to be scared to walk to my car at night. I’m stu- I’m not going away to school, Bean. So if all this shit is real, and I really don't want to be, but if it is? What am I supposed to do with that information?” Honesty, the raw kind. You dont grant that access to many, to anyone really.
But you’ll give it to her.
Staying, behind, in Hawkins had already been hard to digest. Add monsters on top of that? How are you supposed to accept that?
Bean lets out an understanding sound through her nose, stepping down from the stool, still holding the dress up by its not yet attached straps “I’m not trying to create something out of nothing”
“I know you're not” You reassure her, reaching out to rub her arm.
“You saw what I saw that night. That thing was not a dog, or any other known species. I wish it was, but wasn't”
You nod, tongue running across your upper teeth. Because…you know. You’ve known.
“Maybe we didn't hit a mange covered mutt. Maybe it was an alien or a xenowhatever. Maybe it fell from the sky and into the Evans’ cornfield, or it was cooked up in that lab. I- that I do believe. I think, even though it makes me feel like I need to be put in a padded room, that that might be real? But Lucas, Dustin and Mike being involved? I just dont fucking get it”
“Me neither. It has to have something to do with Will, because that whole thing was so sketchy”
“Mad sketchy” you agree, because it had always baffled you.
How was he lost in the forest, and what a coincidence it was that they’d found a body, of a kid just his age, during his time MIA.
You’d always just assumed it had something to do with the fact that Joyce Byers was obviously a recovering drug addict.
But what if it didn't.
“And what happened with Barb? It’s never sat right with me, ever. Nancy has always been so avoidant and weird when it comes up-” She confides, a deep frown marring her features
“You think Nancy has something to do with this?” Bean nods and you scoff out a cruel laugh “Nancy the priss Wheeler? She could barely handle freshman Gym Class. No way she could handle aliens”
“Cryptids” Bean offers in place of aliens and you roll your eyes. Smart ass. Literally.
“Whatever. Now that I believe even less. No fucking way those kids and Nancy were what, involved in this? Found Will? Knew Barb got killed by these things?” you downright refused to believe that. If that was the case, then all of them would be dead.
“Cause it wasn't just them, think about timelines. Jonathan Byers and Nancy? It never made sense that they got together. He’s such an Odd Ball, and he was even lower then me on the social totem pole at school. How do a priss and a loser end up together like that?” Bean holds out her hands, as if gesturing to the insanity of it all.
“For one, don't ever lump yourself with Jonathan Byers ever again. I will smack you” you warn, not liking that little bit at all. You shove your finger in her face for emphasis “And as for that extremely weird coupling, I don't know. Nancy developed a kink for guys who look like they could be budding serial killers”
“No” Bean shakes her head “Jonathan was involved by default, because of Will. I don't know how Nancy got mixed up in it, maybe through Mike? I told you. Schematics. But Steve, that's who I don't get. Why he was in it- maybe through her, then through the kids”
“What do you mean Steve? Steve, Steve?” You clarify, the name coming as a shock, thrown into the already impossible mix “You think Steve knows about this shit?- strip, I need to hem that”
“Timelines. Think about it, and when he and Dustin and the rest of the kids became friends. It was right before they released that story about Barb and the chemical leak at the lab” Bean explains as she shimmies out of the dress, almost losing her balance as she pulls it off, before handing it to you.
“What would he have to do with any of it, though?”
“Again, I don't know. And I know I keep saying that but there's holes, I’m trying to figure it out- but just, why did Steve become friends with Dustin? And the rest of the kids? Have you ever watched him around them? It’s like he’s constantly babysitting them. And it came out of nowhere! I’d never seen him anywhere my brother, and now it's like theyre all best friends. Because they all know whats going on”
You’d just chalked up Steve's very odd friendship with the kids to the trauma that came with him being neglected.
You wouldn't say it out loud, the Harringtons(especially Steve's mom) are a powerful family but Steve had always been alone. You had very few memories of his parents being anywhere when it counted. School functions. Sports games. Graduation. That coupled with the fact that Nancy had dumped him right around the time all of his friends had… you never had asked him how he and Dustin started hanging out. It never seemed important.
“”Do you see it yet?” Bean wonders, already back in her mom jeans and oversized Joy Division T-shirt “Tell me you see this shit”
You really wish you didn't. You wish you couldnt follow her train of thought through all that chaos.
You pinch the bridge of your nose, hard. Hard as you can. Your headache has turned into something spinning, and you're really trying to fight the nausea that threatened to accompany it.
Plopping down on the shell shaped chair in the corner, you try not to meet your own reflection in the mirror of the vanity. Clutch the dress so hard your knuckles go pale.
You can’t do this. Can’t admit it, to yourself or Bean.
Maybe there is something going on. Maybe the whole governments a sham, and Barb got murdered by whatever the fuck youd ran over.
Many the TV gives off killer radio waves like crazy old man Earl said it did.
Maybe you’d get hit by a bus tomorrow.
There were just too many variables. Too many plates spinning.
“I just…can’t. It’s not that I don’t believe you, because I know that you believe what you’re saying. But it’s all just too much. I think we should let it go, you know? Chalk it all up to something that maybe we shouldn’t try to figure out” they’re not dismissive, your words. But they’re not exactly supportive either
“I just needed to tell someone. I’ve felt like my heads literally going to explode for the last few days. I don't know” She sits on your bed then. And you see it, the tiredness, the sag of her shoulders “I thought you should know”
And really, you wish she hadn't.
“Don’t tell anyone else about this, okay?”…
Bean ends up having to leave, something about picking Lucas up from the arcade and shit she’s so late.
You make her promise, once again, not to tell anyone. And then a second promise, that she would still go to the bonfire with you at the end of the week.
You weren't doing all of this sewing for nothing.
She holds out her pinky, linking it through yours quick before she's jogging for her car. Pulling out of the long driveway. Gone.
You lock the front door and then the back door- and then you check the windows and lock them too.
The house is too empty, too cavernous.
Gnawing at the parts of your subconscious that had been set on fire by Beans visit. You feel about two seconds from crawling out of your skin, the hair at the back of your neck pink prick raised.
You perch on the brown leather recliner. Staring at the patterned wall, staring at nothing.
Diaphragmatic breaths, you hear your uncle's voice.
Calm down your heart rate, don't have a total panic attack. Bowie’s ear perks, but he doesn't move from the arm of the sectional- doesn't come to comfort you like he should. You feed him, he should love you.
Nothings how its supposed to be, is it?
Don't cry, it’s a stern command from your brain to your nervous system. You can handle this. You’re a grown up now, this is what grown ups do, right? Handle things?
It takes fifteen minutes for you to cave.
Snatching up the phone, you mentally curse the fact that it’s still rotary style and you have to take the time to twirl the numbers in, one by one. Your slightly trembling fingers not cooperating.
The line rings a few times,
“You’ve reached Doctor Elliot Y/L/N-
Please a message after the tone and I’ll get back to you as soon as possible”
You sit and stare at the phone in your hands, line beeping dead. Your mind races, and for a moment there’s a disconnect as panic rises like bile in the back of your throat, treacherous sniffles slipping through.
Who do you call? Bean just left.
Heather is probably hanging out with the usual crowd, and you don’t have the stomach to face a crowd right now.
A plethora of other names flash in your head. Jackie? Lisa? Ashley? No, no, no.
When had your circle gotten so small? Had you really isolated yourself to this extent? In one measly summer?
Grabbing the phone book, the pages fan fast as you search for the last name. E,F,G-H.
You dial the phone again.
It’s picked on the first ring.
“Hey, are you busy”
You’d become very well acquainted with the maroon BMW that parks in front of your house a half an hour later.
Furiously, you’d wiped at your eyes, tears unshed but still welling.
It felt like a time bomb, and you couldnt cry.
Wouldn't.
You didn't have waterproof mascara on, and more importantly, you’d rather die than cry in front of Steve Harrington.
Steve, who sits patiently in his parked car, waiting for you as you slip out of the house and down the stone path. All the while you’re unable to stop questioning yourself.
Why the fuck had you called him? Steve of all people?
Because he answered.
You decide to lean on that. He’d answered and that's all.
He answered and you needed for someone to put you back into your body. Steve's good at that. Good with his mouth and his fingers and sometimes, he’s even good with those pretty words. Cheesy as they are.
You slide into his passenger seat slamming the door closed behind you.
You hadn't really thought this far.
You’d been able to keep calm over the phone, smooth, coy. I have an empty house, you should come keep me company.
But now, as you sit in the dark…you don't know why you’d done this. You shouldn't have called him.
“Hey, I thought you had plans? What, B/R/N leave you hangin’?” Steve’s chewing on a twizzler, looking summertime light in an old jersey and a pair of athletic shorts. Rock the Bells, LL Cool J, making his speakers vibrate.
His words are molasses slow, or maybe that's your brain. Lagged. Too much information causing a mini data meltdown.
“Uh, no, she had to cut out to pick up Lucas” And it’s true. You leave out the part where she’d dropped an atomic bomb in your bedroom before she’d left, though. “I uh- I thought since you wanted to hang out earlier anyways I’d call. What you didn't want to see me?”
You can keep it together, you’ve got this.
You can look at him that way you know guys like. Reach over and run your fingers lightly over his exposed thigh.
He’s focused on your lips when you talk, and you know exactly what he’s thinking about.
Good.
This feels normal. This you know.
“Nah-uh, you canceled on me. Last minute, too-” You cut off whatever he was about to say next, reaching over the console to press your lips, hard, against his. Because it feels good, because you need to feel some sense of normalcy.
And Steve can do that for you. Cant he do this one thing for you?
He squawks, thrown off a little, but leaning into it none the less.
He's a good kisser, he does indeed do that tongue thing that everyone had raved about, every time. You moan into his mouth, moving fast. His car is so fucking small, a tight fit but you’ll make it work-
Peeling off the heather gray crewneck, you show off your lacy red bra, the see through one with the little white bow that you’d hooked on after calling him. Big dogs, this bra always works. It’s magic.
“Lets go inside” He proposes, and you shake your head hard, biting his lip, dragging his mouth back to yours.
No talking. No going inside, you don't want to stare at the cream colored walls of your bedroom. You don't want to look in the mirror of your vanity.
You don't want to feel real, and in that moment. You don't.
“Hey- Slow down a sec. Y/N?” Steves pull away, and you can't have that, your hands reach under the elastic of his shorts- “No, seriously, cool down, shit-” He’s grabbed your hand, his fingers overlapping yours and pressing into a soft fist, halting any movement.
“What?” You try to smile. You fail, can feel the grimace on your face, and you hope its dark enough that he cant see “You dont wanna fuck me?”
“Y/N…” It’s hesitant, and then he’s pulling back, and pushing your hand away. His big brown eyes, fucking doe like as they catch the street light glow. He looks worried, not turned on. It makes a pulse of irrational anger skip through your veins.
“You don't, huh? Why are you here if you don't want to fuck, Steve?” You demand, reaching for your discarded sweater because what the hell? Why did this keep happening?
All this unpredictability. It’s been like this since graduation, and no matter how hard you try, you can't manage to find your footing.
Between alien dogs and rejection, you think you’ve just about had enough.
You pull on your discarded top, hard, your hair flying everywhere. Messy, not attractive at all, manic-ly, you tuck it behind your ears. He doesn’t get to do this, you won't let him.
“I shouldn't have called you” You seethe, going for the handle. Before you make even more of a fool out of yourself.
“Stop- stop for a fucking second” He reaches over you, slamming the partially opened door shut “What's going on? You’re not acting like yourself, at all. Are you okay? ”
It’s such a simple question. Maybe it’s how he asks it, or maybe it's just that he asks it at all. His long arm is caging you in and you can't run, like you want to. Like you should.
Instead, you feel the floodgates break.
“Y/N, oh shit. Hey, it’s okay baby” Steve doesn't know what to do, as he watches you cover your face with your hands and shake apart. He’s never been good with this kind of shit.
“Don't call me that!” You wail muffled by your palms. This is already mortifying as it is. You didn't want that name, that already used name.
You remember it. Him and Nancy dating. Beginning of senior year. You remember him hugging her from behind in the hallways and whispering in her hair. Baby.
And then they went to Alien Hunting together. According to Bean.
“Okay I won't, but just look at me, please” Steves rubbing your arm, your thigh. Trying to be soothing but somehow managing to just be more overwhelming. Overstimulating “What’s wrong? Talk to me. Just talk to me because I’m really trying not to freak the fuck out, but I need to know what’s going on”
And tell him what? That you were going crazy?
“I cant. I cant t-t-talk to anyone”
“You can, whatever. You can talk to me about anything, C’mon. Just look at me” It’s his voice, not his words that makes you peek out. He sounds genuinely worried. Like if you dont reassure him that youre okay in 0.5 seconds he might actually freak out. Call your uncle or something.
Hah, good luck.
“We’re not even friends” You point out the fact and for some reason that makes him soften.
“Keep telling yourself that” He breathes out, grabbing one of your hands and pulling it completely away from your face “What's going on?”
You feel like you're under a microscope, when he looks at you like that. You’ve asked him to stop multiple times but he does it anyway. Everytime. Usually when he thinks you can't see.
“Nothing, I’m fine. I’m sorry- I just. Work, ya’ know? It sucks” the excuse is poor, even to your own ears.
Him and that stupid microscopic look. It’s uncomfortable for someone to look straight through you.
“You’re crying because of work?”
“Yeah” you sniffle, nodding and wiping at your face. “My boss is the worst”
“Bullshit-”
“It’s not!”
“Seriously, bullshit. I’ve seen you cry like maybe once in our entire lives. Not even Jamie-”
“Jimmy”
“Yeah, him. No way he can make you cry. Falling off of that cheer pyramid in front of like a hundred people during that Homecoming game didn't get you. No way your chump of a boss did” Steve really is bad at this, as hard as he tries. Its annoying, endearing, but annoying.
“Thanks for that horrible reminder” You laugh wetly. That day had been a shit show. Because the fat girl shouldn't have been so high up on the pyramid anyway. You don't know what had been worse? Your bruised tailbone or your bruised self-esteem.
“Sorry, I probably should've used a different example. I’m just saying, you can take a tumble” He gives that half grin and shakes your shoulder, like your one of his teammates. One of his adopted children.
Had he treated Nancy like this? Like she was one of the guys? What about the gaggle of other girls? You’d never cared to wonder. So why do you now?
That ever-present headache throbs something fierce.
“Did something happen?” He whispers it, thumb massaging circles into the skin of your upper arm. You’re a weakling for leaning into it.
You had made Bean pinky promise that she wouldn’t tell anyone,
“If I tell you something, you have to swear that you won’t think I'm crazy”
You were going to hell for breaking the sacred pinky.
“I think we're past that point” He jokes, and you shrug him off, turning in the seat until you can face him full on.
“Steve, I’m serious. This is fucking serious. I need you to swear” you give him a severe look, and then sigh “Fuck, who am I kidding. I think I’m crazy right now. I can't blame you if you do, too”
“I won't, okay? It can't be that bad”
“Oh no” You laugh humorlessly, reaching into his glove compartment. You know he keeps his pack of Camels in there. He can pretend he kicked the habit for everyone else, but he always tasted just slightly of menthol “This shits insane, like literally”
You smoke three of them between the two of you as you tell him your story.
In all of its fantastical impossible glory.
Of the dog, that wasn't canine at all. Of Bean, and her obsession with figuring it out, and of your own obsession with shutting the whole thing down. You tell him about the Dungeons and Dragons game, the kids and their weird reactions. Mike’s gaslighting. Lucas’ avoidance. About Nancy, and Jonathan and how they tied into it. Maybe. We think, or at least Bean does.
…You can't bring yourself to give voice to the last accusation. Not in its entirety.
His jaw is clenched, hard. Thick brows pulled tightly together. You've never seen this expression on him. You think it might be fear.
You didn’t mean to. Didn’t mean to transfer all that fear you were feeling onto someone else.
You want to grab his hand, want to reach out and physically calm him down, but well you're scared.
Of lots of things.
“I know you were with her, Nancy, at that time. Did any of this ever come up?” You hope he says no. If there's a god, if the universe really had its sick plan for why you and Steve Harrington kept clashing together like Baoding Balls, he’d say no.
“No” His head bobs, his fingers squeeze yours “ No, ba- Y/N, no. I’ve never heard anything like this, ever”
You exhale slow through, a phew of sorts. Steve wasn’t involved. You’d already known that, even before your inquiry.
He couldn’t be.
Fighting monsters? No way. This was the king of cool, raised in a cookie cutter neighborhood, every blade of grass in its place Steve Harrington. Nothing supernatural could ever happen to him, you just couldn’t see it. Couldn’t conjure up the mental image.
“I’m sorry- yeah. Of course you haven’t. You probably think I’m certifiable right now” you’re shaking your head, biting on the inside of your lip, blood drawing.
If the roles were reversed you’d probably tell him to grow up and block his number. Monsters? In Indiana. Yeah fuckin’ right.
“I don’t think you're crazy- hey. Come here, I don’t think you’re crazy”
Steve wraps his arms around you, his head resting in the crook of your neck.
He didn’t think you were crazy. Even when you’d all but asked him a question that would make most run from the hills.
He didn’t make fun of you.
“It’s gonna be okay” the reassurance is spoken into the thin skin, his voice vibrating against the side of your throat as he holds you.
And you believe him.
Ooooof. This chapters a monster. How are we feeling? Emotionally prepared for the last two? If you say yes then you arent reading the room friend.
#steve harrington x reader#Steve Harrington x plus size reader#steve harrington smut#steve harrington x plus sized reader#steve harrington x you#steve harrington imagines
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Whoops, it’s been a while, hasn’t it? I blame the covid. Totally wiped me out. It’s also been a busy few weeks at work, plus my kid got themselves a theme park pass, and half my free time is now spent driving to Thorpe Park. And, my sister has been to Greece about four times this year already ‘cause our mum’s been unwell, and that’s me on airport driving duty. Basically, too much real life, not enough simulated life. But! I’m ill again, which means I’ve finally managed to claw a few hours spare to post the Ramirez household. Say hi to Checo, everyone!
Right, time to drug your army of children.
Checo and Lisa: Actually, we would like to bang.
And I would like you to train your quads.
Lisa: Isn’t that what the nanny’s for?
Huh, apparently so!
But we can also add in a little parentification now that Tessa’s ageing up.
Tessa: These hands were made for jazz.
Yep, Tessa’s LTW is to become Lord of the Dance. We’ll see how that goes.
Max also grew up! Nobody noticed.
So yeah, this is Tessa’s life now.
Tessa: It’s not quite the dance party I was expecting.
Still, there are sweet moments along the way.
Erica: Huggles?
Alyson: Huggles!
Terence: Huggles?
Jacob: DOG FOOD ATTACK RARRRRGH.
Terence: D:
Tessa: Lock my door.
Lisa: I AM NOT-
Having a good time?
Lisa: GET SOME NEW MATERIAL.
Lisa: AND USE IT TO ENTERTAIN ME.
All right, here’s something funny.
Lisa: The... nanny?
Keep watching.
Nanny: I was so busy potty training the children, I forgot to potty train myself!
Lisa: It’s mean, but OK, it’s a little funny.
(That’s not all nanny piss btw, I’m just very bad at catching Max in the act.)
Speaking of piss.
Jacob: There there, good potty.
Checo: He can pee in a pot, he’s my favourite now.
Jacob: High chair.
Checo: You’re so right!
Lisa, alas, is not enjoying toddlers quite as much.
Lisa: I’m too pretty for this.
Erica: RELEASEEEEEE MEEEEEEE!
Terence: Laid a fresh one for you, mom.
Lisa: This is fine.
Tessa: OK, you put your left leg in, your left leg out. In, out, in, out, and shake it all about.
Terence: Sis, hey, sis, hey.
Erica: Hush please, I am concentrating.
Terence: That’s right, hand it over.
Erica: Oh. I see how it is.
Bath time for stinky boys.
A problem for future Sushi.
At last, the toddler stage is over!
Tessa: Do you wanna go first or...?
Checo: Oh yeah, sure, no problem.
Checo: But first, let me ogle my wife.
Tessa: Soon I will be at university and all of this will be behind me...
First up, Erica!
Erica: Yay!
Then Alyson!
Checo: Hooray for me!
Alyson: Hooray for cake.
Tessa ad Sharla: Happy birthday to the wall!
Next up is Jacob, assuming I haven’t got the names mixed up.
Kennedy: Toot toot.
Jacob: Limbo!
Lisa: Whew, right in the nick of time.
Lisa: So long as we ignore the bit where time kept going looping for three hours so I could finish this.
But yes, finally it’s Terence’s turn to grow up.
Benjamin: I’m gonna punch him.
Please don’t.
Benjamin: Gonna punch him so hard.
Celebrate good times, come on!
Erica: Wait a minute...
Erica: I hate that stupid bear outfit.
Alyson: I think he’s hibernating!
Jacob: Does he have to do it at the bottom of the stairs though?
Erica lives at the piano now.
Her OTH is Sports.
Tessa: Something about emergencies, I guess.
Lisa: Finally, I can start working on the damn car.
Good Lord.
Let’s have a little playtime interlude.
Mailman: Bills.
Erica: Do you accept lemonade?
Mailman: Not in exchange for bills.
Erica: How about in exchange for money?
Mailman: Technically, that is also bills.
Fuck that librarian.
Lisa: Whatever. I’m taking a nap.
Um.
Checo: Hot wife!
Freezing cold wife, actually. Wanna do something about that?
Checo: Nope!
Why? He hasn’t done anything.
Alyson: Yet.
Tessa: Ahhh, dance time!
Chess party.
Gaming party.
Just lots of cute family bonding moments.
Checo: I’m too sexy for my shirt.
Bath time for stinky boys. Which I know I said last time too, but I just really like this pet bath.
Werewolf: Is she OK?
No.
Lisa: Zzzz... piss...
Checo: On it.
Yeah she might actually die.
Gilbert: Yeah good luck with that.
Lisa: Ugh, what happened?
You lost your job and passed out in the absolute worst place possible.
Lisa: I’m freezing!
Don’t worry, you’re about to warm yourself up.
Lisa: Eek nooo!
Wanda: HAHAHAHAHA!
Lisa: This is because I laughed at the nanny, isn’t it?
Yeah, that probably didn’t help.
Anyway, over to Tessa.
Tessa: Look, somebody else is pissing themselves!
Buck:
Tessa: BAM! In the face!
Decided to check out the furniture store and once again, it is borked.
Cashier: It’s Kevin’s fault.
Other cashier: Yeah, definitely Kevin.
But you know what? I don’t know how to stop it from happening again, nobody’s got a business LTW anyway, so bye bye business!
Checo: And now to spend the profits.
Lisa: Mmm, that piss puddle really sets the mood.
...There is way too much piss in this update.
If you two make more quads, I will genuinely kill you.
Newspaper kid: Shake?
Tessa: Salute.
Tessa: Love love peace peace?
Cute little family dance party.
Terence: Except me.
Except you.
Jacob: I wanna join in!
Go right ahead, sweetie.
Alyson: Are you OK?
Terence: Clearly not.
Erica: You might be watching me, but who do you think is watching you?
Please don’t, I’m too ill for dep thinking.
Cute!
Please don’t die.
Lisa: Frostbite couldn’t do it, and electrocution ain’t gonna do it either.
Weekend! I sent Tessa out to do some singing...
...And then decided to start working on those dance contests for her LTW.
Alas, her first attempt was a failure.
Still, at least she doesn’t take it as badly as this poor townie.
Townie: I JUST WANNA DANCE LIKE NO-ONE’S WATCHING!
Everyone’s watching. Everyone.
Erica: I’m dying.
Alyson: You’re wearing a vest and shorts outside in winter, of course you’re dying.
Alyson: But now, a message about recycling.
Ah how sweet, doomed townie love.
Tessa: Hey, don’t mind me, just gonna practise my moves.
Wait a minute, that looks familiar...
I mean, without the shotgun, but yeah!
And the week ends with Alyson doing a little stargazing. Next up is a single sim household, so hopefully it won’t take me three months to write up. Hopefully!
Uberhood Index
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So the other day I got a phone call from a Jail / Prison line; I didn't recognize the number and I was talking to my Mother in Law at the time, so I just dismissed the call to voicemail. I didn't actually answer the call, so in the moment I didn't realize what it was.
Voicemail didn't pick up the beginning of whatever the system was trying to say, however- only the usual diatribe about "accepting the charges" and what-not. So I called the number back and it confirmed it was some kind of prison system / commissary service. But there was no option to speak to a real person to get more information or anything, so I just ended the call, shrugged it off, and moved on.
Then literally the next day I saw something- I don't remember where now- about some kind of a new phone scam going around where someone calls pretending to be from some kind of a prison or a jail. They claim to have a biological relative of yours in custody, then try to get their bail money from you- but because of Covid "you can't actually bring it to them". They either have to come pick it up, or you have to meet them at a different location.
Now mind you ... I have no idea if that information's actually true. I haven't actually looked into the validity of this scam or not, because frankly? I just do not care. However. I am wheezing big time at the possibility that it might have been what the call was, because if so? Honestly, they really picked the wrong mark to try and pull that on.
⤀ I am completely no contact with my immediate biological family, and have been for a hot minute now (bless HaShem), because they're all abusive people and I'm done with it.
⤀ The only people who even have this phone number in the first place are my Mother in Law, my Father in Law, my Husband, and maybe 3 to 4 close friends- plus the members of what Gardening organizations I'm in (Master Gardeners being literally the only reason I got the number in the first place after very happily not having a cellphone for nearly a decade) ... So even if I wasn't no contact with my family, they wouldn't even have this number to contact me. They'd still have my Husband's.
I have already flat out laughed at a Car Saleswoman and told her "Absolutely the fuck not" when my Sister listed me as a reference (without my permission) trying to get her last car, and the lady called and asked if she was "a trustworthy person to loan money to" ... I would absolutely, without any iota of shame, let my biological family rot in jail if they were stupid enough to get put in there. I'd literally laugh in the officers' faces and tell them to do the world a favor and keep whichever of the sorry idiots they got stuck with, honestly.
Like ... I am not a good mark for this. I am the worst mark for this specific kind of nonsense, actually- or any kind of nonsense involving my biological family, really.
Anyways. I haven't gotten any calls back from the number since and all my friends and family who have that number are accounted for, so 🤷♀️ Who knows what was actually going on with the call. But I kinda thought it was potentially really funny that that may have been why I got the call to begin with if that scam's real.
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So how was it?!?!?!
Ok this ended up being an entire book and I don’t think that’s quite what you were asking for sorry lmao
I FUCKED IT UP BUT IT WAS WILD TO BE PERCEIVED BY FUKIN PAPA EMERITUS IV
LIKE,,,,HE TALKED TO ME?????????? ME????????????????
but I had a plan and everything I was gonna ask which his fav outfit was and if we could wobble ass for the pose but I walked in there and he was like
Hi
and I was just like hi 👋
Then he just,,,,stared at me for a few seconds just like staring into my SOUL
then he looks back at the curtain where it opens
Then back at me then back at the curtain just looking at me like I was supposed to do something and I was like ???????? what is he doing???????
Then he points at the curtain and looks at it then me again and waits a second like I was supposed explain something but IDIOT me still didn’t get it
Then finally he goes like “was that your sister?”
And I was internally like OH FUCK IM STUPID bc I AM A TWIN and my sister went before me and we dressed the same HOPING FOR THAT EXACT REACTION
And he spoke SO SOFTLY I almost didn’t think I actually heard him for a second
So then I was like yes it was we are twins and told him how everybody always would try to argue with us and tell us we were identical even tho we aren’t and he was just LOOKING AT ME like this mf DOES NOT BREAK EYE CONTACT
Then he like gestured at his face and said something like well you look it/you look the same
Then didn’t say anything else for a second then the camera guy was like picture time and he went back behind the glass and I got scared and couldn’t make myself ask for a pose and I was panicking and just tried to copy him but I KNOW I fucked that up too
Then he was like well thank u for coming have fun etc and that was it
I ended up actually feeling much calmer than I thought I would in there but like my fukin mouth was like s twitching so bad the whole time and I have no idea why bc that’s never happened before in my LIFE bro probably thought I was like having a stroke or smth
And as soon as we started going back I was shaking SO BAD
As for the show it was FUKIN FANTASTIC of course but I gotta say the people around were kinda lame
The vibes were IMMACULATE yesterday at the barrier (after the crowd surfing/fight/getting smashed into the barrier incidents) it was SO MUCH more like I don’t wanna say fun bc it was fun both places but I can’t think of a better word??? On the floor I can now understand why people wait so long to get there and I really want to do it again
But now it’s about to be real Post Ritual Depression hours fr I can’t believe it’s over
Also while I didn’t get a hug from the real papa (which I would NOT have survived) but I did get a picture and a hug from a pretty good papa ii cosplayer and damb idek who the fuck that guy was but the feeling of a hug and he had the robes and stuff it was so 😩 I have not received a hug from anyone in like years and I’m not even lying I almost cried
And if you’re the anon that was asking about the covid tests they didn’t do it
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