Covet: Chapter 10 (Part 2 of 2)
Pairing: Jake Kiszka x f!Reader
Covet Summary:
Life was good. No, life was great.Â
Was.Â
Until.
Jake Kiszka crashed into the picture.
You welcomed him into your lifeâyour home.Â
Yes, he was your best friendâs 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.Â
Jake Kiszka came with so much you really didnât want.
At least thatâs what you tried to convince yourself.
Warnings: MINORS DNI (18+); angst; depression; feelings of stress and anxiety; feelings of sadness; abandonment issues; allusions to a dark, forgotten childhood; arguing; heart issues addressed (POTs); use of heart monitors; revisited, vivid memories of sex; jealousy; body changes as a result of pregnancy; suuuuper sore boobs; negative self-talk (stretch marks specifically); talk of baby + pregnancy; pregnancy hormones...things get heatedddd; reader and jake are both stubborn + turned on, but can't be together and it's TOUGH; cheating; heavy petting; rubbing of bodies against each other (see: dry humping); hands on boobs oopsies (as usual, PLEASE lmk if i missed anything that is triggering to you!)
Chapter Word Count: 16.7k+
a/n: hi babes⊠<3 this is my personal favorite part out of the two⊠so, let me know how you feel⊠;) love u all. busy day! i'm so sorry it's late. plz know i love you all sm <3
s/o to @joshym who is my favorite and the most wonderful encourager and sister in the entire universe. i love you more than i can say. you make life sunny and everything better <3
also, @alwaysonthemend, i love you so incredibly much and iâm so grateful for you and your unwavering support and texts that never fail to make my day <3
Please enjoy the playlist as you read đ€ (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
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âThe covetous man pines in plenty, like Tantalus up to the chin in water, and yet thirsty.â
-Thomas Adams
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November 25, 2022
Friendsgiving. A standing, solid tradition since the first Thanksgiving youâd spent as Joshâs friend. It had always been you, Elsie, Josh, Sam, and Daniel.
But this year, youâd be entertaining new people. One you were incredibly grateful for. Jake. And one you werenât even slightly sure about.
Maya.
She was the last person you wanted to celebrate a holiday all about Thankfulness with. But, you had to. Stupid ass shit that you couldnât control, so you had to just pretend to be fine with it.Â
To your benefit, you had a distraction â a fantastic, welcome one in Elsie. Elsie and a morning of grocery shopping.
For Friendsgiving, in a group chat between you two and the rest of the boys, Elsie had insisted that you two be in charge of pies. So, you two were currently wandering the aisles of Walmart with Pinterest up, recipes open to several flavors of pies that Elsie had decided the two of you should make.
And the way to make homemade crust since she refused to use store bought.Â
âIt will be a fun thing to try,â sheâd sworn, aggressively pinning a couple to your shared board.
You were the one in charge of grabbing things off the shelves, while she pushed the cart and bossed at you what to grab for each recipe. The makings for apple pie and pumpkin pie already rumbled around in the cart. So, now you were on to the final pies and their ingredients. The few cans of cherry pie filling had just landed in the cart when Elsie decided to confront you about Jake.Â
âWhatâs going on between you and Lover Boy?â She asked, trying to sound absentminded in her question, but you knew she was not thinking of it randomly. Sheâd most definitely waited for a moment to hit you with the question when you were forced to respond.Â
And, you were. You were currently completely stranded at a Walmart with only her and one car to get you back to the apartment. There was no escaping the question. So, you decided to do what you could and only answer halfway.
âWell, he knows,â you started, grabbing a bag of sugar off the shelf, avoiding her eyes. âAnd things are going good.â
âWhat a vague response,â she hummed. âWhy donât you grab a couple cans of blueberry filling and hit me with full honesty.â
Rolling your eyes, you grabbed the can and turned to face her. A blush painted your cheeks that you couldnât avoid. âI am being honest. He knows and things are good.â
âYeah, that answer works for a random Joe, but not your sister. Iâm not here for the fucking cliff notes.â
âI donât care what youâre âhere forâ, Elsie,â you grumbled, turning to walk ahead of her toward the flour. âAnd why didnât you ask me this yesterday when we had the entire day at Grandma and Grandpaâs?â
âIt didnât really feel like the right time to ask,â she defended, pointing to a particular bag of flour, which you grabbed and put in the cart. âI also didnât want to stop talking about the ridiculous fangirl experience because that shit was hilarious,â she paused, gasping. âOh! Speaking of fangirls and the other guys. . . When are you planning on telling Josh? I'm dying to start planning a baby shower and I want him to help me.â
âHe didnât tell you that I told him before my firstâ?â
âYou told him?!â She asked, astonished. The cart squeaked to a halt behind you.Â
Turning around with a laugh ready at your lips, you gawked at her. âWhat is wrong with you, Dramatic Ass?â
âUm,â she sharply started, hand on a hip. âMy sister and my boyfriend are keeping me in the dark, thatâs whatâs wrong.â
âJosh is busy and Iâm busy,â you responded slowly. âWeâre not 'keeping you in the dark'. Also, he just found out a few weeks ago. Itâs not like heâs known forâ.â
âA few weeks?!â
You swiveled fully around to face her completely. âEls. Josh has never been one to talk about other people and their lives to shoot the breeze. You know this. He wasnât going to bring it up if it didnât concern him.â
âWell, it does. It concerns both of us. Aunt and uncle? Hello?â
âItâs also just a giant ass thing that Iâm sure heâs still processing,â you argued. âGive him a fucking break.â
âIâm bringing this up to him,â she stubbornly stated, huffing and everything. âIâm going to make him own up to not telling me he knew.â
âYou knew and didnât tell him,â you reminded her.Â
âThatâs different; you didnât want me to tell him.â
âAnd what if he thought I didnât want you guys talking about it at all? Heâs very sensitive to stuff of that nature.â
âI donât know. Iâm still asking him,â she firmly stated, continuing to push the cart forward, effectively ending the conversation with her tone.Â
And, much to your joy, dropping the other part of the conversation as she went on a sassy rant about something Josh had done recently that pissed her off.Â
It lasted all the way home and you were damn happy. . .
Although, you did have to work a little magic to get her to stop being such an over-thinker and asshole when it came to Josh. You had to give a plentiful amount of examples as to how he was all of these amazing things wrapped in one and not the person her mind was trying to convince her that he was.Â
She had trauma and abandonment issues, too. . . she just didn't always show them like you.
But. . . it made you pause. Made you think of yourself and Jake. . . . your mind went to the clouds as you thought of your feelings towards him. You were still like this as you helped her carry in groceries, and only snapped out of it when she started bossing you again. Except this time, she was annoyingly giving you jobs around the kitchen to prepare the blessed pies.
-đŒđŒđŒ- Â
Jake had been the main chef for Friendsgiving.
All day, the apartment smelled heavenly thanks to his wondrous cooking. He'd started way early in the morning, and had awoken you with the incredible smells. . . but you had forced yourself to lay in bed rather than going about your morning routine. Truthfully, you really hadn't had to force yourself too much as you heard Maya's voice make unwelcome waves around the apartment through your door. You weren't in the mood for any of it this morning considering last night. Last night, when you'd seen him and Maya. . . . . Yeah, you'd still been in the process of blocking that the fuck out.
So, you'd only caught a little glimpse of him buzzing around the kitchen before Elsie and Josh had shown up. At which point, Elsie had been ready to hit Wally World.
But, now that you were back, you'd noticed that he'd taken charge of a few very important tasks. He'd roasted a giant turkey in the oven, made rolls and mashed potatoes from scratch, and a delicious gravy to accompany all of his dishes. Josh had been in charge of casseroles, and the other two hooligan men had been in charge of drinks and salad (a big bag of lettuce from Walmart with a bottle of Ranch and a plastic container of cherry tomatoes).Â
Maya had been in charge of nothing, claiming via Jake that she would be helping him. But all day long, sheâd just sat around, looking way too stupidly pretty, and watched him cook. Lazy ass.Â
While you and Elsie slaved away at dessert, thankfully Jake was done with his preparations (save for the turkey that still cooked and created the most appetizing aroma). Meaning that Maya had followed him and wasnât looming in the background as you made pie.
Which was good because you really did not need her around you any more than she had to be.
As you made pie after pie and sat them on top of the oven to go in once the turkey came out, you filled Elsie in on everything else that had taken place in your life as of late. Told her about the emergency room visit and everything youâd found out at the E.R.; how youâd come up with a solid morning routine to attempt a healthier pregnancy; and any intricate therapy detail that came to mind.Â
The boys had been sitting in the living room, playing music on a few guitars (Josh, filling up the apartment with old Elvis tunes). Then, opting to talk for the majority of the time.
So, you'd been able to gain precious time with your sister. She had encouraged you and supported you just like you knew she would. Sheâd also gotten onto you for not taking better care of yourself and not taking prenatal vitamins sooner.
âYou fucking idiot,â she laughed, bumping your shoulder with hers as she passed you in the kitchen with the last pie. âNo, but really. Iâm sorry that youâd been so stressed and overwhelmed to the point of forgetting to do shit like that. I wish Iâd lived closer to you for the beginning of it all.â
Your ears perked up at that. âYeah. . . Me too,â you said slyly, considering options as they filtered through your head. âWhat would it take for you to move closer? I donât want to be selfish, I just donât want to do this without you.âÂ
But, after the words came out of your mouth, you heard just how selfish they sounded. Though, thinking about her being with you for the baby had been something at the back of your mind that youâd been contemplating for weeks. It didnât mean you needed to drop that fucking bomb on her though. . . The baby wasnât her thoughtless decision that she needed to change her life for. . . It wasnât fair to her.Â
âIâm sorry, Els,â you slapped a hand to your forehead, shutting your eyes to avoid any further self-induced embarrassment. âI didnât even think about that before it slipped out. You donât have to change anyâ.â
âWell,â she started, coming close to you and removing your hand from your head. As she held your hand in hers, she continued speaking. You opened your eyes to her. âThat was actually my thing that I was waiting to tell you. . .,â she paused, trailing off. A slow smile lit up her features as her eyes brightened. âI put in a request for an office job attached to the company I work through. An office job for a branch of the company - based here in New York. . . Told them I didnât want to travel any longer and that Iâd appreciate something steadier as life changes. . .â
Your ears filled with excited static. âWhat?!â You gasped, eyes lifting with hope. âWhat did they say?!âÂ
âWell, a few people talked to a few people, and the director of the program Iâm in gave his permission and then recommendation to that part of the company,â she rushed out. âSo, in a few months, Iâll finish out my contract for this job and be living here full time for the new one.â
There was almost no time between the moment sheâd said the words and the moment youâd leapt from your spot in the kitchen to give her the tightest hug you could muster.Â
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Jakeâs POV
She looked fucking gorgeous today. Everyday, in fact. But for the past couple of days, all I could think about was how thankful I was to have her in my life. Tis the season. No matter what, I was very thankful for her. . . For so many reasons.Â
Though, the most prominent reason in my mind at the moment was how thankful I was to her for carrying our baby. So selfless and motherly and lovely. . .
So, I couldnât help stealing repeated glances at her. I just hoped I wasnât being too obvious. She was always beautiful, stunningâactual perfection walkingâbut the fact that our baby was in her belly just made matters much worse for me. She glowed in a way that she never had before. . . Drew my eye to her in a way that couldnât be stopped.
It was wrong for me to look at her like this. I was in a serious relationship with someone else. . . I definitely shouldnât have been eyeing her the way I was through the open layout, into the kitchen from my spot in the armchair. And especially not while I had my arm wrapped around my extremely hot girlfriend, and her nice fuckin' ass sitting halfway on my lap.
And, really. . . y/n had effectively brokenâno, shatteredâmy heart all of those months ago in the kitchen. She shouldn't have drawn my eye to her the way she did after what she'd said. But, I really couldn't hold that against her any longer. It didn't matter as much as it once had. . . not anymore.
But, we werenât meant to be. Honestly, I wasn't sure if I wanted us to be. . . It seemed too difficult for the two of us to manage. And, I had Maya. . . Mayamayamaya.
I would've been lying, though, if I said she wasnât the most incredibly created human being. She was sculpted by the gods. . . Meticulously made to ruin me. When she really shouldn't. Fuck.
And now that she held my baby. . . The way her tummy rounded out more than usual, under her sweaterâthat shit left me completely speechless.
The way she held pregnancy was unparalleled to every other woman that had ever done it before. She was ethereal. And as great as Maya's ass was, there was truly no comparing it to the way y/n's ass looked in those leggings Iâd seen her wear no less than a million times before. . . And just like every time before, I wanted to walk up behind her and feel the curve of it. Rip them the fuck down and bend her - dammit. I was so fuckinâ weak for her.
But anytime I felt Maya move against my arm, or lap, or smelled her perfume wave off of her with an action, I was reminded of how completely wrong it was for me to be checking y/n out. It was wrong how I couldnât get her out of my headâall the time, she was there. Even in the most intimate moments with Maya, she kept creeping the fuck into my thoughts.Â
But, truly, it just happened. Couldn't control it.
And, even when I got up to check on the turkey once more, I couldnât help my reaction when I passed her. When I'd accidentally brushed past her on her way out, the way my heart pounded in my chest as our bodies touched for a millisecond. She smelled so sweetâjust like a damned sugar cookie. And the way sheâd passed so delicately against me. Her top half had pressed against me for a stolen moment in time, her eyes catching mine as her precious bump skimmed my waist.
And her breasts. Felt those, too.
My chest tightened and my dick twitchedâit was almost too much. The air was stolen from my lungs.Â
We were so close for those few seconds.
âSorry,â she hushed, her eyes flicking up to look at me. A small smile was sitting on her lips, more out of embarrassment than anything. Her cheeks were the prettiest pink under my gaze.
But she wasnât the one to be embarrassed. I was the only one who should have been embarrassed â for how I was instantly a teenage boy again, just because of a little brush from her body.Â
âDonât be,â I mouthed, like we were sharing a secret. My lips lifted to reassure her and my eyes lit up with an emotion I couldnât explain if I tried.Â
Her face softened at my expression, and then she was gone.Â
And once Iâd gotten the turkey out of the oven, I was mostly back to normal. Iâd forced myself to think about sad images of roadkill enough to ruin the mood Iâd set in my head.Â
After breathing a few deep breaths, I called out that dinner was ready and all I could do was hope for the best for the rest of the day.Â
End of Jakeâs POV
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Thanksgiving carried on from when lunch started at two in the afternoon, to the evening, and saw your friend group (and Maya) sitting around the living room.
You were all bouncing back and forth with the Roku remote. Rotating around your semi-circle, every person took a turn choosing a YouTube video to cast.
It had turned into a sort of game of who could play a song that meant something to someone else in the room. Jake had just had the remote, right before Elsie, and had played a song for Josh. It had been some song from Seussical The Musical, to which Josh had sung along to every word. Heâd even gone so far as to get up to do a little performance of the song.Â
âThatâs exactly how it went,â Josh had chuckled heartily, the sound starting deep and lilting at the end. He dropped his arms from an obviously rehearsed dance routine, the song ending on a final high note. âI swear to God.â
âOh, Joshua,â Samâs eyes bugged as he looked at Jake with a laugh, who shared the moment of humor with him. âTrust me. We remember. Every single high school theatre production,â Sammy shook, as if reliving a traumatic memory. "All of it is seared into my poor, poor brain."
"Samuel, shut the fuck-," Josh started, before getting interrupted by his twin.
âDay in and day fucking out, Josh. Thatâs how often we heard those songs at homeâ for the months leading up to that damn musical,â Jake raised a thick brow. It made your tummy do somersaults - he was so handsome. âAnd I was lucky enough to hear it from backstage as crew. . . Every single rehearsal.â
âYeah, you really fucking hated those songs,â Josh noted with a bubbling laugh, sitting back down next to Elsie, his arm falling around her shoulders. âWhy would you make yourself suffer through that again?â
âJust playing the game,â Jake shrugged, rolling his eyes with a smile. He handed the remote over to Elsie, who sat on the couch, next to where he sat on the floor, in front of the couch. âBut goddamn if I donât ever hear it again, it will still be too soon.â
Sam agreed with a toast, raising his beer bottle as Jake lifted his. They nodded at each other from across the room. And you stared on, getting distracted by the woman who sat on the couch, criss-cross-applesauce, behind him, braiding his hair.Â
Fuck that bitch, you thought hotlyâ ridiculously.
Admittedly, it took too far too long to look away from her pop-up salon. But you eventually did, and watched the screen as Elsie started typing something into the search bar.Â
You knew better than to feel jealous of her. But, you couldnât help eyeing her from your place, as you snuggled into the armchair with your favorite fluffy blanket covering you. Just wanted to let the chair swallow you, so you nestled deeper and closed your eyes to imagine it.
âThis is one of y/nâs favorites,â Elsie said, the pre-video ad starting on the television. âThe first time she watched this, her life changed. The perfect mix of her love for classic rock and soul music.â
Instantly, you knew exactly which song she was talking about. And when the video started, your heart expanded in your chest, making everything feel fuzzy and light. Everything felt okay.Â
Change the World. . . . the Unplugged version. Eric Clapton and Babyface. . . . so many memories.
âThis is our childhood,â you said, voice thick with emotion. The amount of tears you cried on a weekly basis was nothing short of humiliating. The baby hormones were vicious in their attack.
âI canât tell you how many times we heard this as kids,â Elsie affirmed, looking over at Josh.Â
âGrandpa is a strangely huge fan of Babyface,â you giggled, throat loosening a little as the laughter bubbled from your chest. âThis Unplugged vinyl played on a loop for a period of time.â
âIt was that year we bought it for him for Christmas,â Elsie added, agreeing. She was watching the screen with tears in her eyes, too. âBut you ended up loving it so much,â she looked over to where you sat. âThat the next Christmas you got your own vinyl of it. From yours truly. You're welcome." She winked, blowing a little kiss your way.
âI do take partial blame for the constant looping on the living room record player,â you smiled, winking at her.Â
She winked back. âYeah, you and Grandpa had equal hand in his Unplugged record warping on this song.â
You grinned, sticking your tongue out at her as she did the same. When Eric Clapton started singing, you gave the screen your full attention. The sound of this song only brought back the happiest memories. Even before hearing Babyfaceâs cover, it was a family favorite. It was a song that made you feel whole.Â
It was the one song your Grandpa loved to sing to you. . . Before this version had ever come to your familyâs attention. He'd sing it in those soft moments that felt like glowing rays of sun hitting your skin on a hazy summer evening.
But when your Grandpa had heard the Unplugged cover on the radio, the Earth had shifted for him. . . And even though it didnât top your Grandpa singing it, the cover featuring Clapton held a special place in your heart with how often youâd heard it bouncing off the walls of the living room. It played so often that you associated it with some of your best days. . .
You'd still been innocent enough, still, to enjoy the world through a rose-tinted lens. And, far enough away from the trauma with your Mom that life had felt new. Ironically, the cover of the song had come around when your world was finally feeling like it had changed. It had been an intricately timed re-release of the lullaby your Grandfather had once poured over you as youâd drift to sleep on both restful and restless nights. The song felt safe â sort of like your Grandmotherâs cooking felt for you.Â
âYou know, itâs funny,â Joshâs voice cut through your drifting thoughts. You kept watching the two men on screen, but tuned in to your best friendâs dialogue. âJake loved this version, too. When YouTube came around, he would watch this version back to back, trying to memorize the way Babyface and Eric complimented each other on their guitars. He always wantedâ.â
âTo play both parts and record them on top of each other," Jake finished, watching the screen intently. Youâd let your eyes wander from the screen momentarily to see his expression after hearing Joshâs story. He still looked utterly invested; just like you imagined he had looked as a kid re-watching it over and over again on YouTube. âItâs not really an intricate piece. . . I just found it at a time when I wanted to try everything I could on guitar. I knew how to play better than most 14 year olds, yes, but I still didnât know half as much as I do now,â he explained, never looking away from the musicians.Â
You saw movement at his waist, and when you looked down to observe, he seemed to be playing a guitar part in the air. And you knew if he picked up the instrument right now, heâd match one of the men in time. Whichever one he was currently studying - you couldnât tell.Â
âI donât know why I never recorded myself playing both parts. Synced them over each other,â Jake mused, still playing in the air. âI used Garage Band like it was an addictive fucking drugâ.â
âYou can say that again,â Sam inserted, acting annoyed but still grinning so wide all the same.Â
âBut I just forgot about it, I guess,â the older, long-haired brother continued, as if he hadnât been interrupted. âIâm getting the urge to do it again now â itâs coming back strong,â he chuckled, looking down at his fingers with a brow raisedâjust like heâd do if he was actually playing.Â
It was fucking hot to watch him play so intently with nothing there to support him. Only his mind, full of the memorized chords from years ago. And to a song that meant so much to you.Â
âIâm sure the guys at the studio would let you do it with their recording equipment,â Danny offered, also watching the famed musicians with intrigue, glancing over at Jake.Â
Jake sucked in a breath, dropping his air guitar before leaning back against Maya, closing his eyes and sighing with one particular scratch of her nails against his scalp as she tugged out the french braid to start another.
Gag. You could vomit at the sight of their mushy-gushy behavior.
Your hand floated to your stomach to remind yourself of one thing you had that she didnât.Â
âNah,â Jake sighed, opening his eyes to stare at the ceiling. âI feel like it has to be done without the expensive stuff. It has to be recorded in a way that baby Jake would have recorded it. . . I justâ,â He wrinkled a brow, releasing a grumble under his breath.
There was something he was concerned about. . .
And, as he sat back up to watch the men finish out the song, Maya made a little huffing noise, crossing her arms over her impressive chest. But, in all of her perfection, she covered the noise with a small smile and a shake of her head. Just seemed to be joking with her little bratty act.
Oh, how cute and funny.
Sheâd looked over at Sammy, whoâd made a little sound at Jakeâs words. You followed the line of sight.
âWhatâs the deal, brother?â Sammy questioned, leaning forward to emphasize his care for Jake.Â
âI just donât have the time to do a little side project like thatâcanât even think about prioritizing it,â he replied, combing a hand through his hair, untangling anything that resembled a braid. Maya did outwardly pout at that. She whined his name and said something about her hard work. You couldnât help the tiny smirk that lifted your lips at the scene. You tried your best to hide it, and just focused on the screen again. âAnd even calling it a project sounds silly with everything else going on in life right now.â
Before you could feel too guilty for the situation under your palm that added to everything going on in his life, Josh spoke up with a giant gasp. Â
âBaby Jake!â The curly-headed twin exclaimed. You all looked in his direction, equally confused with knitted brows. âThatâs just it; record it like you would have back then with the intention that itâs for your baby. Something fun to do. But. . . Youâll prioritize the time if itâs for the baby. If you look at it that way, it wonât seem silly at all," he wiped his palms, arm back over Elsie as he finished with jazz hands. "Ta-da!"
As the song concluded and the next ad started (an ad for baby diapers, of all things), Maya was urgently pushing Jake out of the way, claiming she needed to pee. And as she passed between your line of sight and Jakeâs, you realized you were zoning out on him when your eyes met his, just as she rounded the couch.Â
He gave you a small smile, his eyes staying on yours, floating down to where your belly hid under your blanket, and then back to your face when he responded to Joshâs idea.Â
âYeah, that sounds like a good plan, Josh,â he said, gaze never once leaving yours.Â
The fire that rose from the pit of your tummy, all the way to your cheeks was not a new feeling with Jake, but for some reason. . . this time, it felt unlike any time ever before.Â
-đŒđŒđŒ-Â
Everyone had stayed, having decided to lounge on couches for the night to sleep. They were all in equally deep slumbers (save for Maya, most likely still completely awake and waiting for Jake in his bed).Â
Youâd all stayed up until the wee hours of the morningâmuch later than you had in a long time. The only way youâd been able to make it, the tiny cat naps youâd dozed in and out of. As youâd done that, everyone else had continued on with their little YouTube game.Â
Now, here you were, completely exhausted, practically dragging yourself to bed, ready to sleep. Just barely managed to wash your face before Jake had hopped into the bathroom, right after you, to brush his teeth.
But before you could make it inside your room, he passed by behind you. You werenât even looking. Youâd just smelled his heavenly cologne, a favorite scent of yours (and the babyâs, apparently) flood the space around you. You knew he wasnât actually drenched in the smell of sandalwood and vanilla, but your baby-powered-super-senses couldâve convinced you otherwise. He smelled delicious and you could easily drown in him.Â
Though, instead of focusing on that, you let yourself act on something that was threatening to leave your lips. No matter how hard you tried to stop it, your tired brain wouldnât let the words halt.Â
âPlease donât stop pursuing your dream or any other thing just because of everything thatâs happening with me and the baby,â you rushed out, peeking up through your lashes for a moment before locking eyes with your hand on the knob of your door. âI donât want you to ever feel like this is taking up too much space in your life or causing any unnecessary stress. You can back out whenever you want if you feel like thatâs what you need and I wonât be upset with you forâ.â
âNo,â Jake responded, soft and stern, moving to stand in front of you. You had no choice but to look up at him, he was standing so close to you. His eyes bore into yours. âIâm not going to back out. I couldnât do thatâwouldnât ever do that. I want this. I promise. Itâs everything else, I think, thatâs stressful. The baby is something I get to look forward to,â he reassured, his voice wavering just enough to worry you.Â
But you didnât let it get to you. Tiredness prevailed above any doubtful emotion you couldâve mustered. You could only sleepily nod your head at his words.Â
âThe baby inspires me even more to make it all happen,â he rasped in a velvety tone, assuring you. After, tucking a lock of hair behind his ear. Your sleepy eyes slowly followed the motion. You wished it was you. âEverything else is still exciting, too. . . But itâs a lot and it gets me thinking about how different everything is about to be. Itâs scary. Butâ itâs. . . the baby makes it all seem brighter. Better. Iâm not just doing it for me anymore. Not even for my brothers. Itâs for my baby,â his full lips spread into a loose, close-mouthed grin. âOur baby.â
Your tummy flip-flopped and all you wanted to do at that moment was kiss him. You felt the slightest inkling that he wanted the same, with the way heâd brought his body in front of you, closer than he needed to. But. . . you blamed it all on tiredness. There was no way you could trust yourself to make actual, coherent assumptions. You were getting carried away, and even though you wondered of the possibility that he could want it, you cut off the idea.Â
Tired or not, you knew one thing. He didnât want you. He had a girlfriend. A real relationship with a woman much more beautiful than you. So, before you could get trapped in his big, beautiful brown eyes any longer, you decided to bid him goodnight.Â
Though, just as youâd opened your door to go into your room, he stopped you. âHey, real quick,â he cleared his throat. You looked up at him, confused at the sudden stop. âMayaâum,â he shook his head, brows furrowed as he messed with his bottom lip. âShe told me that she wanted me to help however I possibly could. She wants me to be attentive and helpful in any way I can be.âÂ
He was right there - a step away. His breath, fanning over your face. You could smell the mint of his toothpaste. âObviously with limits,â his voice lowered a bit as his eyes peered down at you.Â
What was that supposed to mean? Surely he didnât mean. . . But, you responded the only way you could think to.
âObviously. . .,â you trailed off, raising a brow out of complete confusion for the conversationâs direction. âI wouldnât want you to cross any sort of boundary. Youâre in a relationship with her. Not me.âÂ
âYeah. Sheâs my girlfriend,â he replied, voice rasping on a hitched breath. His body felt as though it was wrapped around yours in an act of protection. Heâd brought his hand up, above your heads, as his body curved in towards you. After a pause, he continued. âBut I donât want to make any boundaries with the baby ever. Not at all. I want to be present. From now until always.âÂ
Suddenly, the moment was gone for you. There was no way heâd ever meant it as anything more. All heâd meant was you needed to remember there were boundaries. This was all about the baby. It was selfish to ever think any different.Â
You knew better than to believe any different than that. Your thoughts got out of hand so damn easily these days. Why did you let them wander so far when you fucking knew better?
You backed up, your back touching the doorframe behind you. He scrunched his brows, but you werenât sure why he was acting confused. It was late. You were definitely imagining things. He was just tired, too. . . that was all.Â
âSo. . .,â he cleared his throat. âJust let me know however I can help with the baby. Please.âÂ
âOkay,â you whispered with a quiet nod of your head.
âOkay,â he muttered with a gentle, distant grin. He nodded his head as well. And right before he opened the door to his room, his words barely touched the air as he told you goodnight.Â
-đŒđŒđŒ-
November 28, 2022
Covid. Gia had Covid.
Your heart broke for her having to deal with that absolutely terrible illness. And your nerves were climbing up the wall at not being able to see her. She wasnât so bad that you couldnât email her if you had questions or needed advice. But, you also knew better than to bother someone who was sick with something like Covid.Â
So, you were spending the time that you would have been gearing up to go to Giaâs office, on this chilly autumn day, pacing back and forth in your living room. Cuticles thin from chewing and perspiration accumulated at your hairline and under your arms, you werenât sure what to do.Â
The idea of losing time on healing before the baby arrived was stressful to say the very least. You didnât want to be any less of a mother than your baby deserved. He or she deserved a mentally stable mom. . . and in order to get there, you required several hours on Giaâs couch.Â
All that could wave through your one-track mind was how terrible you felt for being so stressed about your healing while Gia was so sick. She was the one who needed to get healthy sooner rather than later.
You tried to remember the words Gia had put at the tail end of the email she had sent. Sheâd put in a few words that reminded you how well she knew you.
Donât stress too much about the session being cancelled. :) Things happen and we have plenty of time, y/n.
Those words, typed specifically to assure you. Except, youâd worked yourself up too much for it to work very well after youâd read the title line of her email. Just a few, simple words: Out Sick â Sorry!
If even Giaâs words werenât helping to calm your nerves, you werenât sure how you were going to make it through to the next appointment.
After an hour of feeling unsure about literally everything, you decided the only way you were going to make it was by doing some other form of self care. And the first thing that came to your mind was food. Food always sounded good these days (nausea taking a backseat thanks to your meds and second trimester), and it would help you feel better while also supporting the babyâs health in the womb.
But it took you no time to get sad because you didnât know what kind of food you wanted. . .
Youâd resolved to just not being able to win at life for the day when you heard the front door jingle on the other side with the sound of a key unlocking.Â
Jake was home. Fuck. He was home to take you to therapy and you hadnât even thought to text him and tell himâ shit. Instead of doing what he would have rather been doing, heâd made a useless trip home.Â
It didnât take him long at all to notice you sulking next to the window, face-palming next to the it, where youâd been people watching minutes ago, from your vantage point a few stories up.Â
âWhatâs wrong?â He questioned, concerned, as he came right up beside you. âWhatâs going on?â
Whenever you looked up from having your eyes pressed into your hand, you refocused your eyes on his worried ones. âI donât have counseling today,â you sullenly stated. And rather than going into any more details, you just apologized. âIâm sorry I didnât tell you. There was no point in you coming home.â
âI wouldnât say that,â he calmly reassured. Again, you found his line of sight. His eyes felt like the sweetest reassurance. âYou look like you could use someone to talk to.â
âDonât waste your time on me,â you waved him off, scrunching your brows in an effort to seem nonchalant. âJust go back to doing what you were doing.â
âWell, I donât have any plans because I was planning on being with you all night,â he laughed just a bit, under his breath. He flicked at the tip of his nose with a pointer finger.Â
âAll night?â Your stomach swirled at the thought, but you also felt incredible guilt at stealing that time from him. âGod, Iâm so sorry, Jake.â
âPlease donât be.â It was his turn to wave you off while shaking his head. He swept a hand through his hair. âIâm glad I was hereâ glad that I am here.â
You didnât really know what to say. There wasnât anything you two could do that wouldnât get completely awkward after a while. Right? It was only four oâclock and he planned on spending the rest of the evening with you? What were you going toâ?
âWhat do you want to do?â He asked, adjusting his jacket over his shoulders. âWanna stay here? Order in? Go out and do something?â
Going out sounded like a date. . . and that felt wrong to do. But you also absolutely despised the idea of staying inside of the apartment to wallow for a second longer. . . .Â
And it didnât take you very long to realize you were still wanting food, hunger starting to feel like empty weight in your rounded tummy.Â
âFood?â
âFood,â he agreed with a grin, winking at you before turning around, effectively making your brain turn to complete mush as you grabbed your own jacket and followed him out the door.Â
-đŒđŒđŒ-
The night was one of the best youâd had in a while.
Heâd taken you to get Panera. Weird, yes, but their tomato basil soup had been calling your name the second itâd come to mind, as you'd searched places to eat.
And after sitting across from each other and just talking about his budding career and your classes, at Panera Bread. . . he'd told you he wanted to take you somewhere special. And, just as the sun was setting, youâd pulled up to a Barnes & Noble on your side of Brooklyn.
âTell me why youâre stressed,â heâd said, putting his car in park.
A used, four-door (hard top, thankfully) Jeep. An all-black, mid-thousands model. After riding around in it all evening, youâd noticed it rode really well. It was just slightly strange that he had a car. He hadnât had one when youâd been. . .
You cleared your throat, back on the subject at hand. âI never said I was stressed,â you stated, feeling ready to combat the truth. For whatever stupid reason.Â
âYou didnât have to say it,â he breathed deeply through his nose, turning down the classic rock station heâd been playing. âI know you.â
Deciding it wasnât worth a debate (because it was the truthâyou had been very stressed earlier), you sighed; running a hand through your loose, natural waves, you responded. âWell, Iâm just. . . this therapy is for me, yes, sure. But it really is mostly for the baby,â you explained. He sighed and you placed the hand youâd combed through your hair on your rounded bump, covered by your favorite oversized sweatshirt. âAnd having one session lost that I canât be working on getting healed for the baby stressed me the fuck out. Still kind of is,â you admitted, glancing out of the small, rectangular windshield. âI just want to be completely better by the time the baby is here.â
âWhat are you most worried about?â He softly pondered, prompting you to talk through it.Â
âThat Iâll be just like my mom and project my hurt onto my baby,â you said wetly, swallowing the thickness in your throat. âI have so much in me that I donât understand and it scares me how much I donât remember â canât remember,â you blinked to allow the new tear to make its way down your cheek before quickly reaching to wipe it away. âAnd it scares the shit out of me. It makes me. . . this terrible person to other people. I need to understand all of me, so my baby gets the best parts of me.â Sniffling, you swiped at your cheeks to rid yourself of the few more tears that cascaded down your cheeks. âAnd I donât even remember the last time I saw those best parts. . . . so if I canât see,â you huffed, your eyes finally piercing his, which stayed on you, intently listening âH-how is my child going to see them?â
Jake hummed, rubbed his chin. He never took his deep-set, amber-brown irises from yours. âItâs funny,â he started, a little grin ghosting over his lips as he spoke, âIâm seeing those best parts of you right now. I see those 'best parts of you' quite often.â
Your heart pounded in your chest, and you unzipped and reached into your belt bag for your heart monitor phone, willing it to not go off. There were butterflies wreaking havoc in your tummy. Naturally, your hands found their way to your tummy. His eyes followed that particular movement.
âHow do youâ?â You sniffed, shaking your head, zipping your bag back after a moment. âHow do you see those things? I havenât seen them since before you came into my liâ- for a long time. And never consistently. . .,â you rambled, eyebrows drawn together, thumbs rubbing circles over the tight bump. âIâve always been a bit of a wild card with my emotions. And finding out more of what I'd done from Elsie. . . I'm just way too similar to myâ.â
âDo you think she was as self aware as you are?â
âI donât know,â you answered, honestly. You would go with no, but. . . âI donât know her well enough to make that judgment.â
âOkay,â he nodded, sticking his bottom lip out. A grin found its way to his plush lips, looking so kissable in the cramped space of the car. You leaned further into the door so as to not tempt yourself of anything. He continued, âWell, I would say she probably wasnât. Or else you wouldnât be wracked with so much significant trauma. She wouldnât have left you hanging with so much to deal with. . . she would have been there for you. Helped you because she would've wanted to help herself. Would've been self aware enough for that,â he emphasized. âParents say stupid shit. They do stupid shit. Theyâre humans. What matters is how they ultimately react.â
âBut I react so brashly, Jake,â you argued, needing to be heard. âWhat happens if I do that to ourâ?â
âYou wonât. I know you wonât,â he consoled you, his eyes so earnest as he conveyed the words. âYou struggle with saying stupid shit. I do, too. So does everyone. Youâll figure out how to handle situations better, but it wonât be as hard as you think,â he shook his head, taking the keys from the ignition. âNot for you. You are determined. And youâre not this monster youâve made up in your head.â
âWell, â,â you started, interrupting him, only to be cut off.Â
âAnd your best parts are too many to name right now,â he surmised, winking at you once more. You rubbed wider, nervous circles on your tummy. âBut one of my favorites is your determination to help others. The way you care for others. And if a mother has those qualities,â he pointed a finger at your tummy, and trailed the finger up to point at your face. âShe will be one helluva fantastic mother. Iâm glad our baby will have you.â
âThank you,â you replied after the words had actually cracked the surface of your mental warfare. No voice appeared to combat what heâd said, so you let them sink, all the way down into your brain to truly consider for later. You didnât fight them. . . which you viewed as progress. âThank you so much. IâI needed to hear those things. And you were the perfect person to hear them from,â you blushed, crinkling your nose with the words. A smile settled on your lips, eyes drying. âBecause I know youâre going to be the best daddy to this baby. Iâve known it for a long time. . . So, it means a lot that you think the same. Seriously.â
âOf course I think so,â he smiled, glancing once more at your tummy. âAnd the way you're always holding our baby. . . you love her so, so much. Youâre already so intentional about loving her.â
âHer?â You asked aloud, wondering why heâd chosen that gender. Your hands held tighter to your tummy at the assumption. âWhy girl?â
He hummed, looking out the windshield, past your head, with a wide grin. âIt just feels right,â he concluded, before motioning at the windshield, nodding towards it. âLook.â
You did as he said, turning to see a mother and son (presumably) traipsing up to the store, just past the nearest cart corral. The little boy was skipping, and the mother was watching her like the entire world started and stopped with the child. The sky was bluer because he was around. You felt that.Â
âThe way youâre watching them says enough, honey,â he concurred. There was that nickname again. . . Honey. Your heart skipped a beat at the term. âI see it all over you. Youâre going to mess up. Parents do. My parents did a lot and I still think theyâve been the best parents.â When he gave a small, breathy laugh, you looked his way. He rubbed a finger over his bottom lip. âBut what good parents do after they mess up isâ they have humility and apologize. They show integrity to their child. You do that. Already. For me.â
Sitting across from him in the still air of the Jeep, you let your eyes bounce back and forth between his. His smell, warm, sweet, and woodsy, was enveloping every sense of your body, in the taut air of the vehicle. His breathing laced with yours, your heaving chest kept up with the rhythm of his. He was steadier than you. . . he seemed fine.Â
You felt anything but. Your emotions were going haywire at everything heâd just said. The man he was to you. . . he was too good to be true.Â
But, instead of letting yourself get sad that he wasn't yours, you looked at the store behind you and cleared your throat. It opened up your mind and the air in the car. He blinked a few times, tilting his head slightly, watching you.Â
âWondering why weâre here?â He asked.
âYeah.â
âWell, I thoughtâ letâs get out,â he said, pausing the conversation to unload from the Jeep. You followed his lead, taking the tall step as gracefully as you could to get down and out. The slip almost happenedâbut didnât. Thank god.Â
Joining him at the back of the car, you waited for him to lead the way and continue. You wrapped your jacket tighter around your body, over the sweatshirt. There was a bite in the air that hadnât been there before. Jake tightened his jacket, too, tucking his hands in the pockets of it. âI brought us here because I knew you were stressed. I knew it probably had to do with the baby,â he started, looking down at you. You felt his stare, looking up to meet it. âSo I thought maybe coming here to get some books to study and prepare would help you feel more at peace about whatever was on your mind,â he drew in a breath before blowing it out into the cold, dry air. âAnd now that I know it had to do with preparedness, this was kind ofâ.â
âPerfect,â you finished, nudging him with your shoulder.Â
He looked down for a second, his eyes read an unknown emotion before he kept on. âI know you probably have a lot of books already, butâ.â
âThereâs no such thing as too many,â you replied, leading the way through the automatic doors.Â
âPrecisely,â he agreed, coming to a stop as soon as the two of you had entered. Raising a brow, he looked down at you before throwing a thumb over to the in-store coffee house. âWant something?â
âYou donât even have to ask,â you responded with a light smile, walking toward the smell of comforting coffee and cakes.Â
-đŒđŒđŒ-
Heâd footed the bill the whole night. . . including the surplus of books from Barnes & Noble. It had been a hefty bill, but heâd refused to let you pay. He had convinced you it was part of co-parenting â sharing purchases. And this was one of his first purchases to make for the baby.
âThis was a good idea,â you mentioned at the end of the evening, juggling your one bag of books that youâd insisted Jake let you carry (the lightest one, after compromise) as you led the way up the stairs of your complex. âFocusing on other ways we can prepare for the baby, rather than worrying about what we canât control.â
âI have a decent idea every now and then,â he chuckled, out of breath as he handled the bulk.Â
Once you made it to the door, you unlocked it for the two of you.
And, for a moment, it felt so domestic.
It felt like a dream you shouldnât dream. Arriving home after a big shopping run, walking through the door together as you laughed at the heaviness of bags and discussed a few of the books youâd chosen.
And as you made your way through the door finally, it broke your heart to see the night go. He wasnât necessarily acting ready to end it, but the impending ending made your stomach turn. You wanted this for longer.Â
He was going on and on about all of the things heâd researched as of late concerning babies and pregnancy and everything in between. You decided on grabbing a Canada Dry from the fridge, letting him sort the books on the counter into categories as he kept conversation easily.
Every now and then, you offered a small response to show you were listening, but otherwise, you let him talk. You loved listening to him talk about all of this.Â
It made your heart feel ten times bigger. Though, as you took a sip of your ginger ale, watching him sort the books, your heart began to sink instead.Â
You couldnât help how much you adored his desire to learn about all things âbabyâ. He was already so good at his job as dad.
The way youâd felt all nightâso peaceful with him. . . you knew it was good for you. He was literally your mental safe place (you hadnât told him that though. Absolutely not). But. . . you knew it couldnât go past the feeling of good friendship. Co-parenthood.
The unfortunate part, though, was that you really felt unable to stop the way you were feeling for him. It felt new and familiar all at once.
Though, you knew you couldnât let yourself feel that way. You shouldnât.
But with the way his eyes lit up when you looked up at him again, after staring at your feet in your whirlwind of contemplation, you knew you were doomed.Â
There was no stopping the way that you felt about him.Â
-đŒđŒđŒ-
One morning at the very end of November, you woke up with a cold. A terrible one. The same cold that every other person in your classes was seeming to come down with. Theo had been gone with it all week, and you saw him more frequently than not to study. Youâd decided on one or two days a week after class. There were also the few people who sat around you in class, whoâd come down with it.
So, it was due time for you.Â
Normally, you would have tried to make it through the day. But, youâd done enough reading to learn that coming down with a serious infection like the flu or Covid could lead to a babyâs fetal development getting stunted. So, you played it safe and decided to stay home until you felt better. Â
You had called in to work that morning. And just after that, youâd emailed the professor you had that day to let him know. Everyone you had spoken to was understanding, luckily, which helped you to sleep very peacefully. You only hoped that the extra sleep wasnât just helpful to you, but alsoâmostlyâto the baby.
Sleeping off the sick seemed the best option. You hadnât really had the mental energy that morning to look into safe medicine to take for colds during pregnancy. So, sleeping it was.
Your colds were always intenseâall of your sicknesses were. When you got sick, it never failed to knock you on your ass. So instead of stressing over it all that morning, youïżœïżœd chosen sleep as the easier route.
You had been hoping that youâd wake up from a long nap feeling refreshed and better. . .but. . . you were not so lucky.
When your eyes fluttered open for the second time that day to find what was left of the evening sun peeking through your curtains, you officially knew it was time to figure something out. Your eyes were burningâhurt to open. There was an ache settled firmly in every bone in your bodyâwerenât sure if you were cold or hot. . .Â
You were definitely sick. More than a cold. No two ways about it.
When you turned to your bedside table for a drink from your Stanley, you found your bedside table had a couple new additions since youâd fallen asleep. There was a brand new Stanley sitting next to your old one. One youâd eyed for a few minutes online a week or so ago, and then decided against due to the monstrously obnoxious size. . .Â
Youâd talked to Jake about it after heâd noticed your pensive face looking at your phone screen for longer than necessary. . . And now, there it sat on your white, wooden night stand. A 64 ounce, rose quartz Stanley, in all of its glory.Â
And leaning against it and next to it were a concoction of helpful remedies with a couple of sticky notes to explain each of their benefits. The handwriting gave him away. Jake. In his scrawl, he detailed what to take and when, which ones you could take together. Heâd even written out the link to a website talking about pregnancy-safe cold meds. There was also a fruit punch Gatorade. When you reached out, it was still cold. Heâd been in recently.
Moving on from the drink and meds, you glanced at the Stanley and saw it had a sticky sitting underneath it, waiting to be read.Â
Plenty of water will help you and the baby stay healthy. It was worth itÂ
It had perfect timing and came in the mail today of all days
:) âJake
The note effectively had your head spinning from something other than sickness. . .his kind gesture, making your stomach do soft flips. Your hand floated to touch your tummy at the idea of him doing so sweet for you (and for the babyâhis baby).
After reading his advice on what to take, you went ahead and took some Tylenol for your headache and body aches, then used a nasal spray to help loosen up whatever drainage you could. The Vicks rub heâd left had been a welcome solvent on your chest, temples, and under your nose.Â
But, it didnât take long for your stomach to start rumbling, so you took that as your sign to find something that would ease the scratch in your throat and warm you up.Â
You went out to the kitchen for food, holding your brand new Stanley, taking several healthy sips of the iced water from it. When you bent down to pour food in Stevieâs dish, you realized there was already kibble in there. . . that Jake undoubtedly left for her.
You were sure your heart monitor was picking up all kinds of strange palpitations at his gestures.Â
Around the time youâd noticed Stevieâs food, you went to text him to tell him thank you. Only to find heâd sent a text about twenty minutes ago saying heâd left for the night. And while it made your heart sink, you knew you had no right to feel sad about it. . . especially when heâd done so much to help you before youâd even woken from your nap.Â
To add emphasis to that thought, you noticed at just the right time that heâd also left a couple Panera soups waiting on the counter for you. God. . . he was wonderful. You read the note heâd left with the two little sealed containers.
Soup is the best when youâre sick :)Â
âJakeÂ
Your body was already hurting a little less after youâd heated and almost instantly downed one of the delicious soups. A warm shower sounded more than tempting, so you didnât waste time throwing away your trash and making your way to grab the shower steamer pods heâd left for you on your bedside table (they were a pregnancy-safe brand, heâd assured on a sticky, which made you softly smile).Â
After placing them in the heating shower to begin dissolving the comforting notes of lavender and rose, you padded back to the kitchen for your new Stanley when you noticed something on the counter.
In an arranged group on the counter sat a few books you'd bought the other night. You recognized them. They sat with a notebook, stickies, and pens. Two of the books were closed, stacked, and tabbed with stickiesâall bright pinks, greens, and blues.
Though, there was one more, face up and open, as if heâd had to leave unplanned and hadnât had time to shut it. There was a pad of stickies sitting atop the page it was opened to. A pen was on top of the pad, which, when you walked closer, realized there was plenty of Jakeâs scrawl already written on it. The page had a heading that read:
Props and pillows and sleep, oh my!Â
And heâd written the following on his sticky, which lay upon the page:Â
âLook into pregnancy pillows for y/n
âBe patient!!Â
âDo what you can to help her find the right set up for sleep or restÂ
âAdhere to her sleep schedules (no loud sounds or bright lights when sheâs asleep, etc)Â
âShe needs sufficient rest (has healthy outcomes for her and the baby)
You went to look at the cover of the book, but before you could look at it, you stopped yourself. For some reason, it felt like an invasion of his privacy. Even though heâd left it open on the counter, these were his notes, not yours.
But just before you could walk any further to the bathroom and ignore his notes, the book stacked on top of the other had a note stuck to the top of it. And, written in bold, black sharpie, were the words Remember: Do WHATEVER you can to help y/n â itâs for the BABY!
The words itâs for the baby being written with finality at the end of the statement reminded you that chances were, all of this was not really for you. . . definitely not. You didnât deserve that from him. No, whatever was for you was done for the ultimate benefit of the baby.
All of everything he did was for the baby. All of the words of reassurance. The trip to the bookstore. Panera. The meds tonight. Taking you to counseling. . . ev-ery-thing.
And that was fine. . .
So why was a tear drawn to your eye as you sped away from the book that sat on top of the counter? And why had you felt the need to go back to your room on the way to the shower, to get the Stanley cup youâd bought yourself? Why did the thought of using the one Jake bought for you make your stomach feel all tangled and weird?
Because he doesnât care about you, a voice nagged, reminding you. It was a familiar voice, filtering in from the dark tresses of your mind. He doesnât care about you. This is for the baby. So if you feel like itâs for you, know itâs not. Let him help the baby. Donât be selfish. The baby matters most.Â
You couldnât help but agree with the voice. The baby did matter most. Not you.
So, you resolutely chose to wait out the calming scent of the steamer, until it all pooled down the drain. Stepping in when the scent was gone seemed the only option, as the way the shower calmed you was only for your benefit and not necessarily the babyâs.Â
Yes, it sounded fucked up and foolish in your head. But you were trying to navigate these thoughts the best you fucking could and you were grasping for something that made sense. But all you were doing was making no sense.Â
God, what the fuck, y/n?
And, stupidly, for whatever fucking selfish reason (because you knew for sure you were selfishâevidence proved that), you found yourself hiccuping on tears that hurt your already-aching body, under the lukewarm spray of the shower.
He didn't truly care about you. Not really. It was all for the baby.
-đŒđŒđŒ-Â
Once your mind was lucid after your little cold-sickness stint, you noticed stretch marks had started showing up. One by one, theyâd started becoming stark and apparent and made you feel gross.Â
The creams and oils youâd ordered seemed to help the slightest bit with the new darkness of the few tiger stripe-like lines. They truly looked heinous against your otherwise unmarred skin. Youâd felt insecurities really begin to kick in after youâd cried in the shower on the first day out of three of your sickness.Â
During the latter three days of your cold (or whatever the hell it was), youâd sulked and avoided Jakeâs help in whatever way you could. You wanted his help with the baby. Only with the baby. But the baby wasnât there yet.Â
So, you didnât need his help. He didnât need to care about you. Only the baby. It was common sense. And it would be fine.Â
But it still made you feel oddly unwanted. The feeling didnât matter.Â
But, for you, with your utterly complicated past, feeling unwanted came hurtling towards you, without any sign of stopping.
Since you were a child, feeling unwanted in your motherâs grimy home, a whole range of other negative emotions accompanied that familiar feeling. Most call it depression. Your oldest friend.
And, it had officially lit up for this new stage of your life. Why enjoy things for too long? It wasnât worth it. Right?
So, the way your skin was beginning to scar due to growth you absolutely couldnât control. . . it just set misery aflame in your amped-up insecurities and dispirit.Â
On the first night of December, the depressive thoughts persisted. You stood with your big sleep t-shirt tucked up under your heavy-ass boobs as you lathered your tummy up with the last oil in your new, nightly anti-stretch mark routine. As you did so, tears pooled in your eyes at the sight of yourself.Â
And, seemingly out of nowhere, your thoughts picked up on a different train. . . something you hadnât really taken time to be super upset about yet. The thought slipped in amongst the rest of your woes.Â
It was the thought of being a single mother.
And while it didnât matter and wasnât completely true, because Jake would be there, youâd still be doing it on your own in a sense. You would be on your own. The two of you definitely werenât together. He wouldnât be there with you. He would just be there, doing his own thing for the baby, with Maya by his side. (Nausea crept up at her name alone. Gag.)
You were going to be a single mother. Just like your own mothâ. No. You locked eyes with yourself in the mirror, momentarily stopping the massaging of your belly.Â
I will not let my mind go there, you asserted silently, staring daggers through your reflection. I am not her. I am not. I canât be. I wonât be. What would Gia say? What would Jake say?
Amidst your crying and sorrowful thoughts, the knock on the door of the bathroom kind of spooked you. And, in the depths of your despair, you couldnât really care fucking less who saw you right now. That was just how pitiful you felt.Â
âCome in,â you said, sniffing and trying to cover the sound of tears in your voice by swallowing them.Â
When the door began opening, you had to scoot over a little to let Jake in. You knew it was him. Heâd been home all night with you, while Maya was busy doing whatever the hell she needed to do for her job.Â
Heâd spent a couple hours catching up on New Girl with you and it had been nice. Except, anytime you thought about how it wasnât really for your benefit and rather him just being your friend for the baby. . . It just wasn't the same.
âYou okay?â He carefully pondered, coming to stand slightly behind you in the mirror.
But, as soon as he appeared next to you and saw your current state of dress, his eyes went immediately to your bare tummy. He stayed trained on the bump that continued to grow, day by day. Still not huge, but definitely not small.
Insecurities were instantly blossoming at his stare. He was not looking away for anything, lost in a trance. He was probably in shock at just how big your belly had gotten, compared to the last time heâd seen you like this. Chances were, he was repulsed by what he saw.Â
You effectively decided the stretch marks had been tended to enough for the night. You went to pull your Pratt shirt over the exposed skin. But to your surprise, his hand was shooting out, around your body, just as quick, to stop you before you could pull it down too far.Â
He definitely succeeded in stopping you, holding your wrist. You were in shock â skin flaming at his touch . . .felt it everywhere.Â
âI want to see,â he requested, sort of breathless. What? He wanted toâ? âYou lookâthis isâ.â
âUgly? Fat? Disgustâ?â
âBeautiful,â he firmly stated, his eyes finally locking with yours in the mirror at the word. âThis is beautiful. You are beautiful.â
His hand still held your hand over shirt, not daring to touch your belly. You couldnât move to make the position change. The fact that heâd just called you beautiful was like a lightning bolt to your entire nervous system.
âIâm notâ,â you shook your head, at a loss for words. You did not fully agree with him. Was it beautiful that you were holding the baby? Was the baby beautiful inside? Yes. But were you loving your body these days? Absolutely not. âThe stretch marks. . . Iâm so fucking big. . .â
âYou arenât,â he suddenly dropped his hand, and you were missing his touch as soon as it was gone. He went to lean against the bathroom counter, facing you. His eyes bounced between your belly and your eyes, settling on your irises as he continued. âYou are not any of the things you called yourself. I donât think any of those things when I see you. . . I donât even understand how you couldâ,â he shook his head, blinking once before finding your eyes. âI just see a woman who is special to me. A beautiful woman who is carrying my baby.â
Carrying my baby.Â
Those words. . . they did something to you. Your palms were sweaty as you held tighter to your shirt, rolled under your boobs.
âThe baby is beautiful,â you concurred. And surprisingly, you didnât trip over your words. âBut I amâ.â
âYou are beautiful. I am talking about you right now,â he stated, with no room for disagreement in his tone. âDonât discount that. Please.â
âAre you just saying these things because Iâm carrying your baby?â
Where did that come from? Shit. Nothing like baring your most vulnerable feelings to the very person you feel most vulnerable in front of. . .Â
âNo,â he said without pause. He sounded sure. âYou have always been beautiful. Itâs just. . . enhanced now. I canât. . .itâs hard to explain.â
You wanted to ask him to try to explain it but you didnât.
All of a sudden, you felt confident to ask more.Â
âYou donât just think so because of the baby? Do you just care about me because of the baby?â
Jesus. There it was.Â
âWeâve gone over this,â he sighed, rubbing circles against his temple. He didnât keep on with the action, instead stuffing his hands in his pockets as he found your eyes with his.Â
âI know, but I just. . . I feel like I donât matter. I mean, I really donât right now do I?" You sarcastically laughed, eyes watering. "All Iâm good for is being the big, fat incubator who hates her body and has ugly fucking stretch marks because my belly wonât slow the fuckâ.â
âItâs good that it wonât slow down,â he reassured, amber-brown irises smiling with his lopsided grin. âIt means the babyâs healthy and growing.â
âBut you do think Iâm an incubator,â you stubbornly persisted. âDidnât say anything to argue that.â Your tone unnecessarily snipped with your next words, âJake, you just want to help the baby. I know this. So just wait until the babyâs here. Donât worry about me or making me feel better if you just want to help theâ.â
âWhere are you getting this from?â
You stared at each other for a few moments. . . . He gave you a look that told you he could see you.
âMy mind is a really twisty place,â you huffed a humorless laugh, rubbing your own temples now. âIt never shuts the fuck up,â you pausedâdidnât want to say anything about the sticky note on the book that had spurred the thoughts. The same thoughts youâd voiced the night youâd told him. âIâm sorry. I know Iâve already been insecure about all of this shit. Itâs justâ.â
âI donât view you as an incubator,â he insisted, crossing his arms, strong fingers wrapping around stronger biceps. âI view you as a brave fucking woman who is being selfless as hell. Youâre growing a fucking human, y/n,â he said, grin widening. You felt your lips lift, too. He continued, âAnd I canât help but be amazed by that alone every. single. day. And while that is beautiful, yes - I wonât say it isnât because it is,â he unwaveringly asserted.Â
âBut. . . itâs more,â he kept on. âYouâve been this woman-the one in front of me - for a long ass timeâbefore I ever knew you. Though, since Iâve known you, Iâve had the privilege of seeing this woman. I knew your heart right off the batâsince the day Josh told me about this girl who was letting a man she didnât know move into her fucking home. Just because she cared about the situation. Didn't even know me," He raised a brow, lips quirking as yours did the same. âYouâre selfless andâ,â he paused.Â
His eyes shut briefly before opening to yours. Except this time. . . they were wet with emotion. Yours were, too. Your heart was pounding and you felt warm with a blush, from your chest to your face.
âAnd kind. So thoughtful when you donât need to be. You care a whole fuckinâ lot for others and sometimes it gets you in trouble because you get in your head and it hurts you,â he said, brows dipped with a shake of his head. âBut the fact that your heart is the way it is in spite of everything youâve been throughâI canât even imagine, y/n. All of that and so much fucking more makes you beautiful,â he tucked his hair behind his ears before they went back into his pockets. âSo, no, itâs not just because of the baby. Itâs just one more thing that makes you beautiful.â
You were utterly speechless, and you couldnât stop the wetness in your own eyes, a tear trickling down your own cheek. . . How could he even begin to say all of those things about you when youâd been so terrible to him? Always made assumptions?
You werenât sure how much time passed when you finally swallowed down your own tears and found the most simple words you could mutter. âThanks, Jake,â you whispered.
âDonât thank me,â he winked. It clicked with you that you could faintly hear your heart monitor phone going off in your room. It was alerting you of unusual heart activity. No fucking wonder - with the poetry the man had just spoken. He heard it, too, apparently, brows wrinkling. âWhat is that sound thatâs been going off for the last fewâ?â
âMy heart monitor phone. My heart is beating really fucking hard in my chest right now and the monitor picked up on the palpitations,â you blushed, tucking a lock of hair behind your ear as you finally pulled your shirt down. âIâm not used to hearing people say things like that about me. It just catches me off guard when youâ,â you coughed, blinking as you located some sense. âWhen anyone says sweet things like that to me.â
Then, you were back in time. Yet again. On the living room floor. That day it'd rained. . . a quiet, gray morning. He'd said things so like what he'd said just now. The same day those Aretha Franklin songs had sealed a place in your heart. Wellâ both of your hearts, apparently. . . according to Jake at the bar.
A comfortable silence had crept over the two of you that morning, heâd so obviously been watching youâ admiring youânot to be mistaken for anything else as you'd laid atop him.
His next words confirmed it.Â
âEven in the grayness of this morning, you shine so bright,â he said, almost absentmindedly. âYou fucking glow, y/n. Youâre just brilliant.â
All youâd been able to utter was a measly, âThank you.â The sound of tears in your throat, behind your response, had surprised you.
âHas no one ever told you?â Jake had pondered, his warm chest breathing steadily and comfortably beneath you.
Youâd explained how Josh and Elsie were kind to you, but. . . âhearing you say something like that. . .,â youâd emphasized to him. âThose words. . . It just feels good. I donât know,â youâd shaken your head, a tear falling to meet his tanned chest. âAnd no one has ever said those exact words to me, no.â
âYou are all of that and more, my loâ,â heâd cleared his throat, stopping himself from saying a word your heart was now longing so badly to hear. âYou are so many things wrapped in one, y/n. So many fantastic things.â
âStop,â youâd sniffed, more tears falling onto his chest. âYou donât have to say things like that. I promise Iâll still want to have sex with you if you donât,â youâd laughed, wiping your leftover tears. The words had sounded funny (true, but still funny) as theyâd left your mouth.Â
âI want to tell you those things,â heâd said, firm in his response. âYou deserve to hear those good things. Sex or not.â
And tonight had proven that he truly meant that statement. No sex, and still. . . .
But . . . goddamn. The sex.Â
With that thought in mind, you couldnât help but watch the sway of his ass in his tight black jeans as you followed out of the bathroom behind him. You bit your lip after bidding him goodnightâ only able to think of how fucking badly you missed the sex.Â
âI fucking love you,â he'd once told you - on the very night that had gotten you in this predicament. âAnd god, do I love fucking you. . .â
Not that word. . . Where had it come from just now?!
Love. Love. Love. Love. You hardly ever thought of him saying it to youâtried not to because it hurt and you knew it wasnât true anymore.
But when heâd said those sweet things about you being beautiful just now. . . apparently, your mind couldn't help but chant the word . . .and the sound of him saying it to you. Why?! He was just being kind.
It was so hard wanting him and not being able to have him. . . Not like you ever actually had him - but before you fucked everything up with your stupid, hurtful words.
And, god, did you still want him.Â
You couldnât have him like that â all of the reasons were plain as day. But. . . at least you still had the memories. The wonderful memories. But being pregnant made the memories so much worse. . . because one little thought of how he felt inside of you had you actually throbbing for him.
As soon as you got to your bed, you were reaching into your bedside table for your favorite little vibrating instrument. The thought of that morning. . . the idea of having your breasts pushed against his bare chest again as he told you things just like he did tonight. . . You knew it wouldnât take long for you to be unraveling.Â
Before long, you were feeling all of the tremors you craved from Jakeâs mouth, from the little toy held just right against your quivering bundle of nerves. And in less than five minutes, you were shuddering, body tensing and releasing as you breathily moaned his name into your pillow.
-đŒđŒđŒ-
December 4, 2022
Your week ended with a particularly exhausting day at the Black and Gold.Â
Inventory had come out of nowhere. And, with Josh busy with his new career, it was mostly on you to prepare for it.
The two other girls who worked with you couldnât give two shits and it showed when youâd shown up for a shift after theirs. Nothing was ever prepared in the evenings or the following mornings if they were in chargeâand inventory week was no exception.Â
In fact, it was glaringly more obvious when it was such an important week as inventory week.Â
And having to do all of that after your few solid days of feeling like complete and utter crap and while being pregnant? It had been one of the longest days youâd had in your whole life (dramatic? Maybe. But whatever.).Â
And to top it all off, youâd come home to the apartment being very warm to accommodate the cooler weather outside.Â
For normal people, it probably felt nice to come into the warmth. And, most likely, it wouldâve felt great to you before your pregnancy.
It was just too damn hot in the apartment tonight. Youâd wanted to come home and take a warm shower to wash off the day and relax your sore muscles, but the temperature of the place had you throwing that idea away real quick.
So instead, you hurriedly went about feeding Stevie before rushing to your bedroom to dig out the box fan stuffed at the top of your closet. Youâd bought it the summer the A/C had let out on you and your sister, and had kept it handy ever since for fear of it happening again.Â
And at this exact moment, it felt just as hot to you as it did that summer the A/C quit working.
The fan was plugged in and blowing at full blast, towards the bed, in no time. It was sitting on top of your vanity seat, pointing right at your side of the bed. The speed at which youâd gotten it situated was astounding. And your sheets were cool and crisp and tempting you to climb into them when you pulled your covers down.Â
But you couldnât climb in yet with the way your bladder was squeezing and hurting with how badly you needed to pee. Youâd put it off at the B&G, ready to get home. And then youâd come home to an uncomfortably steamy apartment.
Before heading to the bathroom, you stripped completely of your tight bra (thank you, God), your stuffy sweater and your leggings. Then, changed into a thin pair of pajama shorts and the first camisole you could find in your chest of drawers. And thankfully the thin strapped shirt had no built-in bra to constrict you.Â
Youâd welcomed Stevie into your room, her soft purrs and shaggy fur rubbing against your ankles as you promised her of your soon arrival back.Â
Finally, after peeing and washing your face, you were ready to lay right in front of that fan.Â
You stopped by the kitchen to quickly grab a Stanley from the counterâ to find nothing. No Stanley. Neither of them.
Shit.
Slapping your forehead, you remembered almost instantly where they still sat on the counter at the Black and Gold. Both of them. Your rush to leave and rest from your long day had prompted you to forget a couple of your most prized possessions.Â
Without your go-to water tumbler, you felt naked. And even more thirsty.Â
Your day had been long and hard and now you were paying for it. Ugh.
When you scanned the kitchen for a quick alternative, your eyes immediately landed on the case of waters that Jake had recently bought for rehearsals only. You didnât give two shits. You were bound to steal one to satiate your thirst.Â
The one problem was. . .
It was sitting atop the fridge. Out of your reach. And with the few inches Jake had on you, heâd stacked it up there so it would be out of the way. You remembered him saying those exact words as you eyed the package now. Hated those words.Â
Because not only was it out of the way, it was out of your reach. Out of your reach when you were dying of thirst and needed a drink of water. Stat.
Without thinking of risking anything, you went to grab a table chair quickly and quietly.
You had to be quiet because Jake was home and you did not want to wake him. Not when you were in cavewoman mode. . . and especially not with the way your tits and ass were flashing in your current choice of clothing. Or with the ugly heart monitor that was attached to your chest.
So, as carefully as possible, you sat the chair next to the side of the fridge with the waters and climbed on top of the seat to grab the case of Pure Life. Briefly, you worried about handling a heavy object while pregnant, but put it to the side when you realized pregnant women all over America handled water cases like this. You were fine.Â
In the lapse of time it took you to contemplate holding the waters, and getting it off the counter, you misplaced the package on the counter top. And right as you silently stepped off the chair, the waters came crashing down onto the floor of the kitchen. The harsh sound of plastic smashing against the ground, filled with several heavy bottles of water, seemed to linger in the air around you as you stood there. One foot still on the chair, one off ready to go.Â
Not able to change the fact that it crashed onto the ground, you just stood there and stared at the offensive case of water for a moment and cursed it for its loudness. But before you could silently wish harm for too long, you were bending to pick it up.Â
Once it had been safely placed back on the counter with careful hands, you glanced towards Jakeâs room. No movement or sound from it. He probably hadnât heard â deep in sleep.Â
And then. . . Your pregnant brain was sparking to life.Â
There was a fucking Brita in the fridge. Filled to the brim with ice cold water, versus the room temperature water in the case. Youâd just filled it this morning before class. And ice cold water sounded so much more appealing than lukewarm. . .Â
If only youâd remembered before that you had the filtered water waiting in the pitcher. . . There wouldnât have been a giant crash to possibly wake your roommate.Â
Putting all of the irritation out of your mind, you went to grab a glass quickly from the cabinet, then hastily pried the pitcher from the refrigerator. With nervous hands, you poured until the glass was literally overflowing.Â
âShit!â You whispered at the mess, anxious to be rid of this situation. Tired and thirsty and still feeling warm even in your cami and shorts, your ears rushed with white noise.
This was not ending up like youâd planned.
The pitcher had safely found its spot back in the fridge and you were finally taking a drink from your (overfilled) glass, when you decided to multitask and grab a few paper towels to clean up the counter.
But when they wouldnât rip off the roll, you yanked too hard. And that resulted in the water you were still drinking, to spill. It dripped down your chin, down your top mostly, and into the top of your shorts. Sensory overload was doing what it did best, overwhelming youâmaking you lose grip and had the glass falling from your hand and to the ground.Â
That shatter was much worse than the water case falling, the shards thankfully large, but the few sparkling pieces of glass had you shushing Stevie away when she approached with curiosity.Â
And if Stevie was approaching, then surely someone else had heardâ
âY/n, whatâs going on?â Jake hushed, his voice close behind you, sounding like it was coming from the entryway of the kitchen.Â
You stilled. Of course he'd woken up. Youâd made a fuck ton of noise. Real nice.
You turned on your heel, just the slightest bit, to peek over your shoulder at him. And with the luck youâd already had with the night, the action made you effectively slip from the bit of water that had made its way under your foot.Â
Falling, more likeâand not using the counter to catch yourself like a sane personâtowards the hard ground and glass, bumpâbabyâ firstâfuckfuckfuâ.
Jakeâs arms immediately wrapped around you, effectively stopping your fall. He hugged you tightly to him. One arm wrapped fully around your stomach, hand secured to your side, firmly in place. And the other handâ gripping your breast. . . fully.Â
He had you wrapped up in him, ass pulled into his crotch to keep you steady.
And ho-ly fuck.
Your nipple hardened instantly at the feeling of him holding your chest. Youâd been waiting to feel his hand hold your sore breasts. . . And your assumption had been correct. His touch eased the pain in them, felt deliciously goodâhis touch didnât hurt them like everyone else seemed to do on contact.Â
But then he began moving his hands away.Â
No.
âIâm sorryâ I-I didnât mean toâ.â
âStay.â
The word just slipped out as you grabbed hold of his hand, keeping it secured where heâd initially placed it, carefully situating his fingers over your nipple for the sensation you longed for.Â
And when you did, he squeezed the flesh through your thin shirt. His other hand gripped your hip, exposed just a bit by your shirt â the way his fingers held you there made you fearful that heâd leave marks.
You fucking hoped so.Â
And fuck, if he didnât like it, too. You could feel it against your ass.
The way he continued to massage his other hand on your chest, wrapping his fingers securely around your breast, feeling it, told you so, too. The impulsive urge to pull down the top of your shirt and give him full access was becoming more and more appealing by the second.Â
But you didnât do it. Didnât want to do too much and scare him away.Â
You just let his arm come to rest where he apparently wanted it to, fully over the other breast. He comfortably situated his arm, rubbed a purposeful thumb over your sensitive nipple.Â
âJake,â you whispered. Couldnât help it. He elicited this feeling. âPlease.â
With your words, he pressed his front harder against your ass. God, you could feel the shape of him.
Letting the moment take over, you decided to let your body lean into his, rested against him and pushed your ass purposefully into his hardening dick. The breath he sucked in was not lost on you, and you craved hearing it again, so you repeated the action against him.Â
His hand tightened around your breast, and he began massaging it as he used his grip to pull you even closer to him. His thumb moved to rub tight circles around your taut nipple. It felt so good. . . your head fell back against his shoulder, sucking in your own breath between your teeth. The way he gently kneaded the flesh in his strong grip had electricity shooting through your chest, all the way down to your toes.Â
Your heart was going crazy, beating frantically, barely letting up with its assault against your chest. The feeling of him against you was enough to make you lose your breath with the way your heart was clenching in your chest, all the way up to your throat.
And then you heard a familiar, faint beeping from your bedroom.
The blessed heart monitor phone. Tracking when your heart rate would increase. The stupid phone didnât need to tell you that it was beating hard right now. And so what if you fainted? You would do it in Jakeâs arms. No better place to be.Â
All you knew was that you were elated that it was still in your room â and quiet enough to the average ear that it hopefully didnât break the air of want between you and this man you wanted so. badly.Â
Jake hadnât heard it - or didn't care to stop if he had, that much seemed to be clear.
He angled his hips, pressing so cozily into your backside. You could feel all of him â moving in slow circles, while still pressed tightly to your ass. That continued on for a while until he nudged himself, right in the middle of your ass. You felt him pulsing. Tucked into you, making your core throb even more for him.
Your nerves were on fire, and when he began rolling his hips, thrusting into your ass. . . you released the tiniest moan. It was such a small sound that you briefly thought youâd imagined it. But then the hand that had been holding your hip came to wrap around your throat briefly, and then up to your mouth.Â
His breath came in hot waves against your ear, his voice gravelly with need. âItâs late. We shouldnât make noise like that. Itâs too late.â
After making his point known, his hand moved to sweep some hair over one shoulder, leaving your neck exposed for him to breathe hotly against. . . and then lick. Your breath hitched at the sensation of his wet tongue, making loose circles against your hot, sweating flesh.
âYou still taste so good,â he moaned with the words, ever so quietly. âYou always willâbut itâs like you taste sweeter than before. I canât evenâ.
But he never finished what he was saying, choosing instead to press sloppy kisses against your skin. His lips and his tongue, moving together to suck gently.Â
Fuck! What had gotten intoâ?
Your body relaxed into him all on its own, moving near enough to him that you felt like one.Â
Your ass ground against him, pressing so close. He kept with his motions as he angled his lips to hover above your bare shoulder, breath hot on your skin.
Though, his kisses stopped. But, he still released puffs of overexerted breaths, over your skin, wet from his mouth. It made your toes curl and your eyes fall closed. He didnât give your neck any more attention as he used his position to lean up and look over the front of your body, effectively pulling you even closer to him.Â
âGod,â he breathed, his breath hitting from exposed shoulder, onto your collar bones. Your motions continued, but just a little slower to keep him where he was, not wanting to somehow push him away. You felt him, throbbing steadily against your ass. âYouâre soaked.â
You have no idea, you silently, hotly responded, moving to rub your thighs together.
But you remembered your predicament. What he was talking about. Your clothes were completely soaked through. There had been so much water. He was talking about your clothes.
âI spilled my water,â you breathed back, so quiet.Â
âI can see that. Y/nâ fuck,â he rutted against your ass, his hand moving to the bottom of your full breast to hold it in a steady grip. You realized he was moving his hand to see the entire breast, your straining nipples through the soaked white fabric. âYour tits. . . theyâre so fuckingâ Goddammit.â
âSore,â you moaned back, your body arching in need against the hardness in his loose pajama pants. âHeavy.â
âGod, Iâm sorâ,â he went to move his hand again. And you once again brought your hand up to stop him.Â
âNo, Jake,â you held his hand in a tight grip, rubbing your thumb over the back of it. âFeels good.â
âYeah?â He questioned, raspy and needy.Â
Then, he was suddenly letting go of your chest to move your strap to do what you so desperately wanted.
Once it was draped over your shoulder, he moved a hand slowly over your sternum, into the front of your shirt. When he grazed his fingers over your oversensitive nipple, you whined, knees buckling. And, finally, he pulled your breast out to touch the air.Â
And just before he could hold it with the hand that was readily going to grasp it. . . his bedroom door was creaking open.Â
âJakey?â Mayaâs voice rang through the apartment. âYou okay?â
Of course she was here. Why wouldnât she be?Â
You hadnât heard the tell-tale sign of anyone taking steps towards the kitchen from the slightly creaky hallway, but you still decided you needed to get the fuck away from Jake. He was not yours.
You pulled away harshly and quickly, turning around all as you went to pull up your tank.
When you fully turned around, he was standing stock-still, watching your every move with your top, not letting his eyes fall away from your breasts. Your hard nipples. You felt the blush spread across your entire chest.
Then he bit his lip, your entire body heating at the motion, before he was responding.
You moved forward to hold his cheek, trying to wake him from the daze he was in. Your words barely hit the air, you were so quiet. âJake, go back to your room. Iâll clean this up so she doesnâtâ.â
âIâm good, babe,â he called back to her in a low tone, still honing in on your eyes. Your brows dipped, confused. He looked to the fridge, his hand coming to hold your bicep, keeping you there. Why was he not getting his ass back to his room? âY/nâs asleep and I really donât want to wake her,â he lied, eyes still glued to something to your left.
She could walk in and see he was lying! Why was he being so fucking careless?Â
âJust go back to bed,â he continued, leaving no room for argument or worry. âI dropped something when I was getting up to get some water.â
âOkay,â she responded, not using the same near-whispering tone as him. âJust donât be long, baby.â
âI wonât,â he simply said, amber-brown irises, tracing back to yours in the dim lighting of the kitchen, highlighted by the moon, shining in through the kitchen window. Full moon. Anything can happen.Â
And what was happening was wrong.Â
When you heard his bedroom door click closed and a little squeak from the bed to indicate someone had placed weight on it, you pulled away from him, his arm slowly dropping back to his side. The eyes that stared back at yours had a question behind them, but you didnât give him time to ask it.
âJake,â your tone clipped and quiet. You didnât want to break the ridiculous cover heâd mindlessly created. âWhy the fuck did you lie like that?â
âI didnât want her to come in here,â he cut back, his inflection reflecting the same hot energy as yours. âIf she wouldâve known we were both in here, she would have come looking. I donât need that,â he insisted. âAnd neither do you. Especially with your tits on full fucking display like that.â
You glanced down, after heâd motioned momentarily at your chest. And, his words rang true when you realized your entire fucking nipple and areola was visible through the material. Even in the darkness of night, you could tell as much. Your arms flew up to snugly cover them, flinching at the way it felt like sharp needles were pressing into your chest momentarily. Â
When you peered down to where you saw his hand moving, you realized he was palming himself through his pants. You felt yourself release, the slightest bit in your panties.
Your hands tightened closer to your chest, doing the opposite of what you wanted in that momentâyou wanted to bring your shirt down over yourself and let him finish on your waiting chesâ.
Suddenly the pressure against you was too much and your arms were falling from their place across your breasts. Thus, standing there, on full display. Right fucking there for stupid ass Maya to walk in at any moment.Â
Honestly, you were the stupid ass. And it seemed like Jake was, too.Â
Maya was the innocent one in all of this.
âGo wait in your room for me,â he whispered heatedly, his words piercing your heart at the anxious energy floating through your veins. âIâll clean this up. And then Iâll beâ.â
âButâ,â you brought your arms up to your chest again, covering yourself. It was a brainless move to flash your chest like that. You didnât want to tempt him in any way. âThis is my mess justâ.â
âY/n,â he all but spit in your direction with the harshness in his whisper. âI donât want you falling and hurting yourself on the water or glass. Please.â
Good point.Â
So, you decided youâd do as you were told, though not without the last word.
âFine,â you practically growled, stepping over water, his hand reaching out to you, trying to balance over a puddle pooled at your feet. You grabbed his hand, one arm covered your heaving chest, as you made your way over the mess, and finished your thought. âBut donât come to my room. Go back to bed. I donât want Maya toâ.â
âI donât care right nowâ,â he cut you off, but you didnât let him continue before interjecting.Â
âYou will in the morning, Jacob,â you bit back, making fiery eye contact, crossing your arms. The hiss you released at the feeling of both arms covering yourself again was embarrassing. So, you tried to play it off. âYou will. Just donât make the mistake of coming to see me tonâ.â
âIt wouldnât be a mistâ.â
âJake. Yes it would,â you insisted with a tense whisper, taking one step towards him, not taking your eyes from his once. âIâm not going to have you ruin what you have with her just to make a fucking mistake with me.â
Throughout the span of that small conversation, you saw his eyes go through every possible wave of emotion. His beautiful, deep set eyes had started wide with excitement, to now being filled with white hot frustration. He was mad.Â
The last emotion made its way straight to the pit of your tummy and to your panties as you felt them draw even wetter. Damn. Youâd take any sex with Jake right now, but angry sex? Dammit if that didnât get youâ.Â
No, y/n. Stop it.
âDo you not want this? Why were youâjust minutes ago if you donâtâ?â
âI never said I didnât want it.â You flat-out said, without a second thought. Why even lie when youâd just exposed yourself with whatever youâd just done with him? To him?
The two of you stood there, watching each other with flushed cheeks, hot breaths, and equally heaving chests.Â
God, you would not be able to hold onto your momentary flash of integrity if you didnât finish your thought and leave him.Â
âWe just canât do it. It wouldnât be right,â you sniffed. Shit. Your throat was tightening, eyes collecting tears. âI donât want to be the reason you leave a womanâthe woman you love,â you choked, foolishly, on the emotion that quickly made its way from your throat to your eyes. âI just want you to be happy.â
His own expression matched yours, his eyes pooled with tears of dejection. There were once more a couple moments, filled with silence.
Silence, aside from your deep breathing, and wrought with an energy you couldnât place. You had to get away from him.
âJust go to bed. I wonât fucking bother you,â he said, swallowing thickly. He then spoke your words from earlier. âAnd let me clean this up.â
Again, you sniffled, but nodded, looking down, to cover it with a barely there 'goodnight'.
He didnât say anything else, just went about his business in the kitchen to put things back together, turning his back on you altogether.
Suffice to say, you cried for a good chunk of time as you laid in bed, after changing into a big t-shirt.
Cried big, fat, somber tears.
The crying had even lasted long enough, keeping you up to hear the bed creak much more than necessary when Jake got back to his bedroom. . . The sound of soft, pleasured moans from both of them, accompanying the groans of the bed as they moved on top of it.
Lucky fucking you.Â
The bed that used to be yours when that room was yours. . . The acts being made against it that made you want to punch something - someone. Someone with long, black hair and a too-sweet expression.
Like a child, you growled and used a spare pillow to cover your ears until you couldnât hear anything through the plush filling of the pillow.
You also tried to distract yourself with TikToks, but you couldnât focus on your feed filled with BabyTok. It just made you sad and wistful as you thought of your day of book shopping with Jake. . .
About 30 minutes later, you figured the coast was clear. It had occurred to you after lying there, doing aimless shit, that you were still very thirsty. . . your tongue felt like cardboard in your mouth.Â
When you opened the door to go to the kitchen, though, you found a tumbler that didnât belong to you, waiting for you. And when you picked it up, you realized exactly who it belonged to. . . the words told you as much.Â
Merry Christmas, Jacob Thomas!Â
Love you,Â
MomÂ
The Cricut-vinyl lettering was placed carefully across the front of the black off-brand Yeti. What you found when you looked through the clear lid was a cup full of water. Iced water.
The crying that ensued as you closed the door and placed the cup on your nightstand was no surprise to you. The sweet action made your heart thrum with unbridled admiration for him.Â
You hated how things were now. . . how simply interacting with him the way you had was a mistake. When you compared it to the way things had been before the fateful day in the kitchen, it made your stomach sink and your eyes well with more tears.Â
Then there had been what youâd heard through the walls. . . it made you want to fucking vomit. But. . .youâd brought it on yourself. No question about it.Â
Aaand, more of the damn tears. . .
After taking a few healthy swigs from the cup, you felt sleep find you without warning. Your eyes were beginning to close on their own.
And, as you faded into a well-earned sleep, the only solace you found that night was the smooth bump of your tummy, which your hands held protectivelyâlonginglyâas you wandered to sleep.
-đŒđŒđŒ-
a/n: hmmmmm what do you think will follow that night in the kitchen?????
Change the World from Friendsgiving :)
ty for being the best readers in the world and pleaseee never hesitate to send in your wonderful thoughts! love youuuu <3
& as usual, it wouldnât let me tag some of yâall. :( so please check to see that youâre down there because if youâve asked to be on the taglist, i tried to tag you. buuuut tumblr wouldnât let me do it for everyone đ ugh. and if i somehow forgot to tag someone, please also let me know that! (i'm a NOOB and i have terrible memory)
Taglist:
@joshym, @gretavanfleetposts, @alyson814, @fretaganvleet, @lallisonl, @writingcold, @gvfpal, @twinszka, @jessicafg03, @reesetrippingthelight, @sacredjake, @laurenlovesgretavanfleet, @gretavangroove, @222headedcalf, @dreamssingold, @carbondancingthroughtime, @raviolilegs, @way-to-go-lad, @jakekiszkasmommy, @katgvf, @objectsinspvce, @jaketlover, @vanfleeter, @thetroublegetssoloud71, @seditabets, @jakekiszkapunchmeintheface, @jaketlove, @ohgodthefeeling-gvf, @starcatcher-jake, @anythingforjtk, @lucimoo, @indigostreakmorgan, @gretavanbear, @katelynn-gvf, @alwaysonthemend
@aintthatapity, @bowievanfleet, @fwzco, @takenbythemadness, @cherry-icecreamsmile, @laneygvf, @hi-hi-hello11, @sinarainbows, @jakesbarbarian, @mybussyinchrist, @becinabubblegvf, @heckingfrick, @danigvf, @pinkandsleepy1934, @derrangeddumpsterfire, @klarxtr, @josh-iamyour-mama, @abby-gvf, @cassyface, @gretavansabotage, @sacredtheslay, @alienobsever, @hollyco, @age0fwagner, @raceb14, @stardustcatcher, @styles-canvas, @ladywhimsymoon, @earthgrlsreasy, @peaceloveunitygvf
@torniturntomyarrow, @joshsbonnet, @llrosee, @starshine-gvf, @itsafullmoon, @gvfmarge, @creadliz98, @mackalah, @lek-gvf, @carlyfleet, @profitofthedune, @mefiorini, @welllauragvf, @highway-tuna, @dont-go-home-without-me, @sarah-gvf01, @polemicandcontent, @ageofbajabule, @texas-bbq-pringles
(i think i figured out the tags limit! woooohoooo!! boo, tumblr. you're not getting me down today lmao)
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