Black Reader, OC, &Writers Appreciation

or some nights baran will lay next to you in bed and start slowly kissing you from your neck down to your chest, her mouth watering each second she kisses closer to your breasts, then she starts tugging at your shirt, signaling she wants it off of you.

once your shirt is off, her mouth instantly attacks your breasts, roughly kissing and sucking on your soft skin, leaving red marks with each kiss, as she listens to your soft whimpers. then she wraps her lips around one of your nipples gently sucking and swirling her tongue around the sensitive bud. her fingers occupy your other nipple, pinching and rolling it between them, your soft whimpers quickly turn into loud moans from the sensation.

after a while, you're a moaning mess next to her, but she doesn't let up, she's in heaven. but it's too much for you, your fingers softly tug at her hair, attempting to pull her from your nipple.

"just need a few more minutes," baran says, looking up at you through her lashes, soft pout forming on her lips. "can you do that for me, baby?"

and you softly nod, giving your girlfriend what she wants.

there are nights where baran will fall asleep, her mouth still latched to one of your nipples and one of her hands cupping your other breast, all while she's sound asleep.

sometimes baran will drag you along with her on her morning run just to see your tits bounce as you run next to her. she has to slow herself down to match your pace, but it's so worth it to her to have you by her side, not only to have a little show in the morning, but she also enjoys your company and the jokes you make about being out of shape.

baran who buys you the cutest bras from your favorite lingerie stores just to see the pretty patterns clinging to your tits. her favorites are the see through lace bras that show your hardened nipples underneath, they make her mouth water and her cunt drool, soaking her panties.

"so so pretty f'me, azizam." she mumbles, looking over your body as you stand in front of her, showcasing the new bras she bought you, and making you smile at her compliment.

baran who strips you naked and makes you get onto your knees in front of her to suck her strap as she sits back on the couch, watching the faux cock fill up your pretty mouth, with her hand lazily gripping one of her own breasts. then she has the best idea pop into her head.

she laces her fingers into your hair and gently pulls you from her strap, admiring your wrecked face for a moment before speaking up.

"i want you to try sliding it between your tits," baran gestures towards the strap on you just had buried in your mouth.

she guides you in what she wants you to do, telling you to squeeze your breasts around the dildo between her legs, and slide them up and down the length. you do as she instructed fucking her strap between your plump breasts as she watches in awe, groaning slightly.

part of baran wishes the cock were real so she could feel the pretty tits fucking it, and so she could reward you afterwards by painting your pretty tits, and even prettier face, with her cum.

sometimes when you're both lounging on the couch together, watching a movie or something, baran will slip one of her hands underneath your shirt, cupping one of your breasts, and resting her hand there.

whenever you're bored at home while baran is working, you send her pictures of yourself and what you do throughout the day. sometimes you "accidentally" send her a picture of you in one of her favorite bras, your breasts sitting perfectly and your face in the frame, giving her the cute little pout she loves so much.

you know the picture is driving your girlfriend insane, and that she's barely making it through her shift after you sent her that picture. but you also know that as soon as she gets home, she'll be giving you and your tits the attention they deserve from her.

One

Two

Three

The tapping of Heaven’s almond shaped nails against the side of her thigh occur in conjunction with each deep, quiet, counted breath taken and the subsequent exhale. While her eyes remain shut during the short, simple but effective exercise learned in therapy, they snap open only a few seconds later in order to implement another learned coping mechanism. Heaven starts off easy, utilizing what can be seen without any additional movement, give or take subtle utilization of peripheral vision. She counts the walls. Four. Two more than the amount of chairs that surround the graphite gray table. White chairs with legs that look sturdy but rocked and briefly scraped against the gray concrete floor when she sat down and placed her black Hermes bag in the empty seat next to her. The buzzing of the fluorescent ceiling lights serve as a sort of buffer for the muffled outside noise. A surprising thing she  noticed she being escorted in. 

Heaven always thought these sort of rooms were soundproof. Made so that no sound from within traveled outward and no sound outside traveled inward. Just like the room as seen and depicted in any legal based television program or cinematic film. It just seemed like the sort of thing that made sense what with the nature of such a place. But perhaps it’s the opposite. Privacy of that nature is only allotted for the freed.

Not the imprisoned. 

The guard who escorted her remains with his feet planted near the door. He offered nothing but a silent nod of acknowledgment, his left hand remaining on his holstered gun, the right resting his side, waiting and watchful. It’s appreciated. While her emotions have been all over the place from the moment she woke up this morning, any sort of anxiety or fear haven’t been because of the potential danger. 

At least, not towards her.

And not in the way most people in such a situation would suspect. 

Heaven redirects her focus to the faint scratches on the table and is seconds from lifting her wrist to check the time. The gold Piaget watch—a Christmas gift from Roman a few years back—the only source allotted to her to do so, her phone and other non-allowed items checked in upon their arrival. But it’s a failed effort when a sudden knock disturbs final attempts at settlement. 

It’s hard to say exactly what traverses through her the moment the door opens and a room of two temporarily increases to four before descending into three. The squeak and creak of those same sneakers against the cold floor in conjunction with almost rhythmic whirring. Something locking and clanking upon final placement. Directly across from her. A quiet, barely audible and brief conversation between the two guards transpiring before the one who transported departs and the one who remains stands exactly as he’s been since he escorted her in.

The silence that follows the sound of the door closing is thick. Unintentional. Heaven has no desire to play any games, to see who will fold first. She just….she’s not sure what to say. Not really. And it’s the strangest fucking thing in the world. To be sitting across from someone that, once upon a time, she believed to be her end all, be all. The first and the last. 

The reality that is theirs, however, couldn’t be anymore farther from that.

It’s been roughly two months since they’ve been in the same space. God knows how long since they’ve been physically this close to one another. And while he hardly looked like the same handsome man she was once head over heels with during the trial, the continued decline in his appearance is even more drastic. 

Dark roots grown out and poorly transitioning into the faded, bleached ends. She never could understand the thought process for some of his hair choices, including the most recent cut, unevenly shaved on the sides, a sort of mullet in the middle. It’s roughly the same with the only difference being the obvious lack of refreshed color. Faded and dull. Similar to his eyes. Deep, dark, heavy bags that were almost non-existent before the ruination. Chapped lips. Slightly gaunt cheeks. He’s lost some weight. Maybe a lot. It’s hard to tell what with the almost baggy fit of his orange jumpsuit, a size too large or just ill fitting altogether. Insignificant in the grand scheme of things. Comfort is the last thing prioritized in such a place and for such a person.

“You come to gloat?” 

His voice takes her back. She hasn’t heard him speak since….

It’s been a long time. He’s said not a word throughout the entire trial. Not during any of the testimonies given. Not even her own. As she often tearfully and angrily testified. Relaying in detail the litany of atrocities committed during their marriage. Including the retelling of what she now knows and recognizes to have been abuse. Abuse that, all things considered, and in the most heartbreaking of ways, weighs lowly on the scale of egregiousness regarding his actions.

A few one worded responses to the judge, but even those were muttered, with him often being asked to repeat himself. And at that point, Heaven had tuned him out. 

But there’s no doing that when he sits right across from her. 

Her silence is clearly irksome, the irritation in his gruff voice increased. “Came to rub shit in my face?”

Heaven stills. Just continues to stare at him offering nothing more than a poker face and a surprisingly, easily crafted stoic expression. If she was unsure what level of anger and rage still remained, she’s almost sure now that it’s all but dissipated. Or rather her purpose outweighs her emotions.

Either way, she maintains the calm. 

She lifts a perfectly arched brow, refusing to show and give him anything other than facts. “You haven’t been sentenced yet.”

“You a lot of things, Heaven, but stupid ain’t one of them.” He scoffs. “We both know how this shit gon’ turn out.” 

He’s not wrong.

There’s no denying that whatever sentence will be issued three days from now, it won’t be light. It also won’t be what he deserves though.

Heaven is almost certain that there is no sentence that adequately fits the depth of his crimes.

Not in this life anyway. 

“Why are you here?” He issues his question once more, volume once again transcending to the next level. The first and only flash of anything in his empty eyes making a brief appearance. Anger. “I  already saw what you had to say.”

That was, in the strangest way, one of the things throughout this whole process that she detested the most. His having the right to read her victim impact statement ahead of time. She understood it from a legal standpoint, but morally, it felt unfair. It felt unfair that he had the legal right to protest and defend himself from facts that he can’t dispute, even if he wanted to. The strong case presented by the DA all but cemented that. 

Heaven desired to witness and see his face as she read aloud the six page letter she wrote, edited, scrapped, rewrote, and picked apart line by line for almost two weeks before settling on the final draft. Wanted to watch in real time the live reaction to her raw, uncut, final words. But sitting across from him right now, seeing the same heartless man she saw that day as he hovered over her, choking the life out of her, fully intending to take her life….she knows now it wouldn’t have made a difference.

Even in real time, his reaction would be the same.

Nothing. 

“You’re right.” She nods, dark red lips pressed together. “I did already say what I have to say.” A beat. “But you haven’t heard what she has to say.”

A quick flick of her eyes to the guard in the corner of the room results in him walking over to the door. Jey turns to the man before looking back at Heaven.

“What’s going on?”

Naturally, she ignores him. Instead angles her body towards the door the guard knocked on twice. A few seconds later, it opens, and for the first time since she sat down, something warm floats through her chest. 

For a moment, she’s surprised. She expected him to be holding her, as he always and usually does when escorting her. But then Heaven remembers. Remembers the request made.

She asked to walk on her own.

Hence the way he simply holds her hand.

Her black pleated shirt brushes against her knees, white socks with black ruffles sticking out past the tongue of her sneakers. Her white shirt, tucked into the skirt, is a size too large but was her preference. A portion of his tribal tattoo, covered in gold, the outline of his famous Superman punch sprawled across the middle of her chest. Her dark hair is pulled up into two space buns, gold butterfly clips clipped near each. A gold bracelet on each wrist and necklace to match complete the look. The splash of rainbow fur, clutched against her chest with her left arm, pointed ear lightly brushing against her jaw, is a contrast to her otherwise monochromatic outfit. Her lips are pressed together and her chin is held high, but when she locks gazes with Heaven, there’s a shift.

The feet of the chair screech loudly when Heaven scoots back, opening her arms right as Macy breaks away from Roman in exchange to greet her mama.

Heaven closes her eyes and sighs softly. “Hi, baby,” she murmurs into the top of Macy’s head, her daughter’s fingers digging at her arm. Creating an anchor. A safe space to land and deplane. Heaven briefly meets Roman’s guarded gaze only for it to quickly switch to the man across from his girls. Small bumps sprout across the back of her neck.

If looks could kill….

It’s more or less the same way he’s looked at Jey since the start of the trial. When he did allow himself to look. Majority of the time, Heaven kept her hand intertwined with his or one on his bicep. Keeping him grounded. 

In more than just the physical. 

Macy shifting in her lap redirects her focus, however, as her brave little girl repositions herself so that she no longer has her face buried in Heaven’s chest. She’s instead facing the man she once called daddy. 

And for the first time since the onset of the trial—even before that—Heaven observes something different in Jey. A short, brief glimmer of something other than anger, hate, and disdain. 

They’re still present but far less intense. 

It’s welcomed. Provides a modicum of relief in a situation Heaven still isn’t 100% sure she was right in agreeing to.

And she knows Roman feels the same. 

Lord knows that when Macy first brought up her desire to see Jey, to speak with him, the ‘no’ couldn’t come out fast enough. A delivery that could have been better, for sure, but it was such a jarring, unexpected, anxiety inducing question that Heaven knows both she and Roman immediately went into fight or flight. Answered from a place of fear and panic.

Understandably so.

There’s a reason they were adamant from the very beginning about keeping their daughter as far away from Jey as possible. While they prioritized filing for a lifetime restraining order, they also implored Heaven’s parents to see what legal strings they could pull, if possible, to expedite the process of Jey’s parental rights being terminated so that they could begin the process of having Roman legally recognized as Macy’s father. Her safety, healing, and erasing any connection and right Jey had to Macy were number one on their list.

Thus them being floored when she asked not once but several times about this. Even brought it up to her therapist, Mack, hence a collaborative meeting with all four to discuss where such a thing came from and best ways to handle it.

Heaven knows that both she and Roman entered that session all but convinced that they weren’t going to change their minds. There was a reason the DA hadn’t even considered calling Macy to testify. On top of her being too young, given the nature of the crime, it would be far too traumatizing to put her in such a situation. 

And Macy has already been traumatized enough. Been through more than any seven year-old should have to overcome.

To say her journey since the fire has been difficult would be an understatement. 

A year later, she still can’t sleep by herself. They’ve tried on a few occasions, and each one has resulted in Macy hysterical, in tears, and on the brink of a panic attack. Even the aid of Candy, their 2 year old German Shepherd, and Macy’s ESA, sleeping at the edge of the bed doesn’t stop her from burying herself into Roman’s chest, Cookie in her arms. 

And even when surrounded by every source of comfort she’s identified, there are still nights where she wakes up screaming, crying, and kicking, haunted by nightmares Heaven knows all too well. 

She’s had a handful herself.

But a mother’s priorities will always be her children. 

Macy’s separation anxiety was so severe in the weeks following her discharge from the hospital that either Heaven or Roman had to be with her at all times. Even leaving her in a different room of the house produced a level of anxiety that had her eyes watering and arms reaching for someone to hold her. So much so that when they attempted to drop her off at school for the first day of first grade , they’d barely made the hall before she was running out the classroom, tears streaming down her face, crying, “please don’t leave me!”

They ended up pulling her from school, Roman hiring a private tutor to come to the house to teach her for the remainder of the school year.

And while Candy and consistent therapy have helped immensely, enough to where she’s now back in school, a month into the second grade, she still has her moments. She always will. Just like her mother, Macy was diagnosed with PTSD in the month following the fire. She’ll never be the same exact child she was before, but then again, neither will anyone else involved. 

No one has or ever will be the same, because that’s how survival works. You escape with your life but not without the version of yourself that existed before that trauma. That part of you is lost forever. Never to be found. 

Never to be regained. 

Alternatives were offered. The most obvious being Macy writing a victim impact statement just like her mom, and she was open to that. As long as she could read it to him. In person. Additional suggestions either met with dislike or the same additive of her somehow speaking to Jey personally, it became abundantly clear that this wasn’t just something Macy wanted.

It was what she needed.

And that realization was something Heaven, while not thrilled about, understood. Jey abandoned her. The person who was supposed to protect her left her. Even as she cried and begged for him not to. Heaven and Roman were able to speak their peace. Testifying throughout the trial and even just being in the court room, present and aware of every development and outcome from each day of said trial granted them a voice. Their letters being the final nail in the coffin. Macy has not been granted that level of space to express, and thus, her almost need to utilize this moment for just that.

To finally have her voice heard.  

“What the hell?” Jey finally breaks from his stunned silence, eyes nervously flitting to the guard. “I ain’t agree to this.” 

But the man remains as he has since the very beginning.

Silent.

“Sure you did.” Heaven tilts her head to the side. “Remember? Your lawyer said you signed off on it.”

Jey opens his mouth, and she’s partially prepared for him to say something out of pocket. Her arms instinctively tighten around Macy, but nothing comes out. He instead curses lowly, looking away before nodding to himself. 

“Right…” He turns to her once more, and it’s not lost on her how he seems to intentionally keep himself from looking at Macy. “You are a Jackson.” 

She raises her chin, wise enough to not comment on what most likely goes over Macy’s head, perhaps the guard as well. Heaven takes great pride in knowing that her parents, for how accomplished they are and have been, especially as African Americans, have never been the ones to play the game. The one where machinations run rampant and blackmail is a form of insurance. Television and overall media have been known to sensationalize, but they’ve never been entirely wrong.

Truth exists between the dramatization. 

Clarence and Shelia, however, reached the level of success they’ve attained through hard work and unmatched dedication and determination. The only thing they’re devoted to more than their careers is that of their daughter, and especially their granddaughter.

There isn’t anything they wouldn’t do for Heaven and Macy.

Hence why it was nothing more than a simple favor for them to pull some strings behind the scenes to ensure that Jey wasn’t aware of this meeting really being for Macy. Not Heaven. She knew that if he knew Macy wanted to see him, he’d immediately say no. Not that that would necessarily make much of a difference, either.

Again, there are a plethora of perks that come with being the daughter of Shelia and Clarence Jackson.

Including rules being malleable. 

“Actually,” she starts, feeling the way Macy holds Cookie closer to her chest, much like herself, her comfort stuffed animal presents with marginal outward indicators of survival. Despite the house she and Macy once called home more or less destroyed beyond the point of rehabbing, the firefighters pulled Cookie from the wreckage and despite obvious sighs of wear and tear, the body of Macy’s favorite stuffed animal remained enough for repair vs replacement. Hence Roman tracking down and sending Cookie to a stuffed animal restoration service that had their little girl’s stuffed companion looking just as it did before the fire. 

If not better. 

“I’m a Reigns.”

Heaven sees the moment his eyes drop to her hands that are locked in front of Macy’s stomach. Her left hand intentionally over her right. She picks up on the exact moment anger flashes in his irises that reflect the 10-carat, elongated cushion, D-F color, VVS clarity diamond rock on her finger.

And so is she.

An unspoken twist of the knife in his back. A knife he grabbed and intended to use against her. 

She just got the upper hand. 

“Macy has something she wants to say to you.” 

It’s as she reminds Jey of the purpose of this meeting that she once more witnesses the shift. The way he presses his chapped lips together, an unspoken response—or retort—retained as Macy wiggles on her lap. 

Heaven’s grasp tightens once more.

“I—I just wanna say that—that you were really really mean to me.” There’s something about her opening statement, words that Heaven already heard and read—but words that carry with them a different weight leaving her mouth—that demands the focus of the room. Even as she stammers, there’s an undertone of determination and anger that stirs up a whirlwind of emotions in Heaven. “You hurt my feelings and you hurt my mommy, and I don’t like you anymore!” 

“Macy—”

She doesn’t even give him the opportunity, doubling down on what Heaven and Roman have heard several times over now in a variety of manners. “You’re a bad bad man and a big meanine, and I’m glad you’re not my daddy cause you were a really bad daddy.” 

“Macy, please—”

“And I don’t wanna see you anymore, or—or ever again, you—you, butthead!”

Anyone without context of the situation unfolding would, perhaps, find the interaction humorous. This little girl, holding a stuffed animal, with her face contorted in anger, her arms protectively wrapped around her stuffed animal.

But for Heaven, it’s a sight that nearly brings tears to her eyes. Macy, sitting across from this man who almost caused her to lose her life, a man who should have protected her only to abandon her in her greatest time of need, expressing so clearly and without hesitation her raw, unfiltered sentiments. Infantile wording aside, it’s one of the most fortitudinous, powerful, admirable things Heaven has witnessed in some time. If ever.

She holds Macy tighter, closing her eyes and kissing the top of her head.

I’m so proud of you.

An unspoken expression of admiration in comparison to the almost dumbfounded countenance that Jey wears, lips remaining pushed together, nothing but silence in the wake of Macy’s brave address. 

It’s then that Macy turns around, looking up at Heaven, her little fingers moving against Cookie’s stomach.

I love you, mommy.

Heaven swallows. Macy dismounting off her lap allows her to sign back, I love you, too, baby girl.

Acknowledgement that makes her firstborn beam brightly before she dashes over to Roman who’d silently observed the entire interaction. He bends down and meets Macy just in time as she throws her body against his. Heaven watches him stand back up and kiss her temple, murmuring something that makes his expression soften for the first time. Big hand cradling the back of her head before his eyes close. Another scene that tugs at Heaven’s heart. 

The love he holds for his daughter is sempiternal. 

Heaven clears her throat and wipes at her watery eyes just as Roman opens his. Nonverbal communication between them, a small nod from her husband before he turns to leave without another word, Macy still in his arms. 

Her amazing, lionhearted little fighter.

“So that’s what this is about?” Jey’s grating voice forces Heaven’s attention as she drags her gaze back over to see whatever shock that was bred in the midst of Macy’s speech is long gone. That same vexation returned in its stead. “You just wanted to rub shit in and use her to do it?”

Heaven blinks once, and then twice, her mouth opening and closing before she manages a whispered, low, single word. “What?” But it’s when he says nothing, turning his head and running his hand over his haggard looking face, that something starts to brew within. “That’s what you got from this?” She leans over the table, nails digging into the metal, eyes narrowed. “She almost died because of you.” Even saying it aloud makes Heaven feel as if a boulder has been dropped onto her chest, voice clipped and tight. “She cod—” 

Silence

Some things…..some things are just too painful to revisit. Having to discuss, in detail, the nightmare that was Macy’s hospitalization, including that moment, is something she can’t bring herself to relive. Hasn’t even allowed herself to process in therapy.

She can’t. 

Heaven shakes her head and adjusts her purse. Scoots back in the chair and starts to walk away when a loud banging sound forces her to turn around. Out the corner of her eye, she sees the guard in the corner drop his hand to his waist. Over his gun. But she raises her hand, eyes focused on the man before and below her. 

“And I ain’t suffered?” Jey huffs. Heaven watches with a muted expression as he too backs away from the table for the first time. Studies the motion and movement of him rolling to the side of the table, the large wheels squeaking against the floor. Slowly rakes her eyes over his body, once strong and padded with muscles and fat that fit his frame. That worked for him in a way that carried him to what ended up being the peak of his career. Now withered away. Thick legs and thighs all but slim and lithe. He’s far from skin and bones, but the pronounced bulge of his knees that pokes out again the jumpsuit confirms that he has lost a lot of weight. Understandably so. 

A man who was once active from the day he could walk, who everyone always joked at having ADHD given his inability to stay still for too long, rendered still in an unforgivable, permanent way. Healing from the beating that broke several ribs, punctured his lung, and left him clinging to life eventually came in the form of an almost two week long stint in the ICU. But the single bullet lodged in his back, the location an impossible one for surgeons to operate on and remove, wasn’t as forgiving. There was no recovering from that. The bullet severed his spinal cord. His paralysis from the waist down, initially thought to perhaps be temporary, permanent and creating a different kind of punishment. One, in many ways, Heaven knows that, for Jey, will always outweigh whatever sentence awaits him.

Because the sentencing is punishment that offers flexibility. The confines of the prison with various rooms and extension that offer small, minute tastes of what freedom looks and feels like. Equally cruel as it is welcomed for some. A reminder of what impends of what will always be eluded. Reward perfectly balanced with consequence.

For Jey, there is no flexibility with this consequence.

Heaven knows that that’s what tears him up the most.

Prison isn’t his punishment.

Paralysis is. 

And he admits as such, angrily gesturing down to his lap. “I’m never getting out of here, and even if I do, what the fuck am I gon’ do?” His bottom lip trembles, something rising and simmering in his undertone. “I can’t do shit!” He snaps, scoffing and shaking his head, resting and leaning into his despair. “My career over. Life over. Ain’t nothing I got left but my anger.”

Heaven stares at him. Stares at this man she once thought hung the sun, moon, and stars in the sky. That she truly believed would be her forever until the day she died. And, in a strange, wicked sort of way, that was almost the case. 

She almost died because of him. 

Macy almost died because of him.

No…..murdered.

They were almost murdered because of him, and even now, in the face of two lives he almost took—one with deliberate intention and the other with callous negligence—he still can only think about himself. 

He hasn’t changed.

And he never will. 

Heaven lifts her eyes to his, met with nothing but dense hostility and self-pity. All of which bounce off and land in the pile of irrelevance and insignificance, right where they belong. 

Just like him. 

“Goodbye, Jey.” 

Jey Uso, former WWE Superstar and cousin to fellow WWE Superstar Roman Reigns, was sentenced on Thursday to 40 years in federal prison on several charges, including the attempted murder of his now ex-wife, Heaven Reigns. This comes after a month long trial that included over 700 pieces of evidence presented to the court, as well as both Mr. and Mrs. Reigns taking the witness stand to testify. The story has received massive media coverage both domestic and abroad given the celebrity status of the involved parties as well as the scandalous nature of the case. 

Mr. Uso’s rapid downfall came on the brink of an illustrious career and seemingly perfect family life. In 2024, at the peak of said career, Uso, while watching the then five year-old child he shared with Heaven, became intoxicated (his BAC was later revealed to be 3x the legal limit) and passed out with a cigar in hand. This resulted in the home catching fire. Uso escaped with minor injuries, but the child, Macy Reigns, was severely injured and placed in a medically induced coma. She was hospitalized for almost two weeks before being discharged.

Uso and Reigns [Roman] reportedly engaged in an altercation at the hospital while the child was being treated, and witnesses reported that Heaven then revealed Mr. Reigns as Macy’s biological father. This, as referenced by the prosecutors during the trial, was believed to be the major catalyst for Uso’s violent attack.

Jey reportedly sent Roman a threatening text message approximately an hour before tracking down Heaven at The Four Seasons, where her parents, famed attorneys Shelia and Clarence Jackson, had booked a room upon learning of the fire. It was there that Jey assaulted and attempted to murder Heaven. Roman reportedly arrived at the hotel prior to authorities and attempted to de-escalate the situation, but a scuffle ensued between the two men, which resulted in Mrs. Reigns being shot. 

Heaven underwent emergency surgery and was intubated and heavily sedated for 48 hours. She ultimately recovered and was discharged a week later.

A manhunt then ensued after Uso attempted to flee but was eventually found three days after the shooting following an anonymous tip. Reports surfaced that relatives of Uso and Reigns were complicit in helping him evade authorities, but no charges were ever made in conjunction to this claim. Uso was later found unconscious, beaten, and shot in an abandoned home. Doctors were reportedly unable to remove the bullet from Uso that severed his spine and left him paralyzed from the waist down. Following his release from the hospital, he was formally arrested by the Tampa Police Department. 

Both Mr. Reigns and his son, San Franciso 49ers player Nathan Reigns, were initially listed as suspects in Uso’s shooting, but both were cleared when the shooter turned himself in. It was then revealed that Mr. Reigns then wife and Heaven’s cousin, Camryn Reigns, hired a hitman to kill Jey Uso in fear of his disclosing their alliance and stratagem.

Subpoenaed texts and phone logs revealed that both Camryn and Jey engaged in a years long affair that dated back to high school. Emails allegedly showed the two discussing and planning their lie regarding Nathan Reigns paternity to avoid Jey being a teenage father and Camryn believing Roman to have more “potential” than his cousin. Other emails and texts also revealed constant communication over the years that prosecutors highlight to emphasize malicious intent and coercion.  This included Camryn reportedly walking Uso through ways to save his marriage amidst alcohol addiction and abuse that Heaven disclosed while on the witness stand. 

Several mental health and medical professionals involved in the care and treatment of both Heaven and Macy also took the witness stand. It was reported that Macy was diagnosed with PTSD several months after the fire and had to be homeschooled because of extreme separation anxiety. In addition, it was also shared that she remains unable to sleep alone and now has an emotional support animal, the latter of which came at the recommendation of her therapist. Now eight, she is reportedly back in school but remains in consistent therapy. 

Heaven, who was three months pregnant at the time, left her job at a law firm where she worked as a paralegal, while Reigns also took an indefinite leave from WWE. In spring of this year, it was reported that Heaven’s petition to have Jey’s parental rights terminated and Roman legally recognized as Macy’s father were granted. It’s also been reported that Macy’s last name was legally changed to Reigns.

Around this time, Roman’s former wife, Camryn Jackson, was sentenced to 30 years in Florida Department of Corrections. Jackson was being tried in two separate cases, one of which was Solicitation to Commit First-Degree Murder. The other charges were for a slew of crimes regarding her businesses including, racketeering, money laundering, witness tampering, and more. 

She was found guilty on all charges in both cases, despite it being rumored both she and Uso were trying to work out deals with the DA to share key information regarding their crimes in exchange for lighter sentences. 

These deals, seemingly, failed to materialize. 

In addition…..

OP: This a continuation/combined thread from the initial one following Jey Uso’s trial.  I know we hate these two tabloid cesspools, but they have the most recent, up to date information.  https://www.tmz.com/2026/09/08/jey-uso-sentenced-to-40-years-update/ https://www.dailymail.com/sport/wwe/article-157513/jey-uso-found-guilty-in-attempted-murder-trial.html

——————

@sayyestoheav3nn: YES! This might just be the best thing I’ve read all day idc. 🥺

@annoyedkayah2395 THAT’S WHAT HIS ASS GET. I KNOW ROMAN AND HEAVEN SO HAPPY. 

@unapologeticqueen94: Won’t He do it! It’s still so crazy to me how this all played out. 😩

@unapologeticqueen94 replying to @annoyedkayah2395: Same. And to think what had already been spilled on here was only the tip of the iceberg….

@mackfinstathrowitback: Good riddance. I hope he rots in that prison for the rest of his miserable ass life. 

@privateeyes95: H and R must be so relieved that this is all over. 

@youluvego: Still say they should have left his ass in a burning house. Without the wheelchair. 🙂

@aldrigmer444 replying to @youluvego: I wish you could hear the way I screamed at this. 😭

@suhlestuh: Someone pointed out earlier in the thread how in the the photos of Heaven and Roman walking hand in hand, in and out of court throughout during the trial, you could always see/tell how distraught she was in the afters. ☹️

@beas-mind replying to @suhlestuh: Can you blame her? Some of those recaps from the court reporters were hard for me to listen to. I can’t imagine how it was for them.

@nadadork: I read somewhere that they had to take several breaks throughout the whole thing because Heaven kept breaking down on the witness stand. 😕

@fearlesschimera replying to @nadadork: Yes and no. It was said one or two times she needed a break while testifying about Jey’s abuse and Macy’s recovery journey. The other breaks were during testimony given by others.

@mytribalnightmare: I don’t know how she did it TBH. 

@southerngirl41: I’m still kinda shocked how much we saw Roman in all of this. He’s usually so private. 

@xnightmarexpunkx replying to @southerngirl41: I’m not. Idk how private anyone could be with how public this all has been. Not to mention, it’s obvious he’s deeply devoted and in love with Heaven. It’s always been obvious tbh, but with how he openly admitted and acknowledged it during the trial confirmed it.

@diamondlifeee: This really is the best thing ever. Macy and Heaven finally got the justice they deserve. 🥺🥺🥺🥺

@callmekayd: He really did put it all out on the table in that trial. 

@differenttastemakerkitty replying to @callmekayd: He kind of had to or else he’d be held in contempt of court. 

@palmwinemami: Naw. He could have plead the fifth like his slow ass cousin.

@drivefouronthefloor replying to @palmwinemami: Jey didn’t even do that. He didn’t testify at all, and I don’t blame him. The case against him was so solid and the defense so weak, there really wasn’t anything to say to dig him out of that big ass hole he put himself in. 

@/livingandlovinglife26: Got the notification and started crying at my desk. As a DV survivor and mother myself, Heaven’s story has resonated so deeply with me. 

@/stupidbitch1: Am I missing something here? Yeah, Jey tried to kill her, hence the attempted murder charge, but prior to that, it was the punch in the ER and another years prior. Not condoning any of it, but I just find it weird how some folks are trying to make this and Heaven out to be something that it’s/she’s not. 

@/annoying1 replying to @/stupidbitch1: Shhhh. Not so loud. Her defense squad gon’ come after you, girl. 🙃

@/stupidbitch1 replying to @/annoying1: Thank you! The way everyone is trying to make it seem like she was some poor, battered housewife is insane. Her parents are famous lawyers. She grew up privileged and rich. If Jey was this horrible monster the entire time they were together, she had plenty of options. And she couldn’t have been too scared of him to be openly fucking his cousin who was also her cousin and supposed “sister” husband. Come on now. 😒

@beas-mind replying to @/annoying1 and @/stupidbitch1: You both sound so ignorant right now. I truly don’t know where to start. It’s obvious you haven’t read the court transcripts or just….educated yourself on the specifics of the case. DV is DV. Isolated or consistent, it doesn’t matter. It’s all the same. All wrong. Heaven said herself during her testimony that she truly hadn’t remembered the abuse and that it wasn’t until a conversation with her mom, ironically, the day of the fire, that triggered the memories. Even the expert witness cosigned this being a common thing amongst many survivors. 

@sayyestoheav3nn: We really got people in here defending an abusive ass alcoholic who almost killed his daughter and literally tried to kill his wife….

@/dumbhoe1 replying to @/stupidbitch1 and @/annoying1: Don’t waste your time or breath. These people so biased. It’s appalling. 

@jayjayem1999 replying to @/dumbhoe1: Biased how? Everyone is literally laying out facts.

@/stupidbitch1 replying to @jayjayem1999: Yes. Facts to support their biases. Let’s call a spade a spade. Only reason ya’ll riding so hard for Heaven is cause she’s a brown skin, monoracial black woman. She’s also a cheater and a liar, but ya’ll not trying to hear that. 

@annoyedkayah2395: YA’LL DONT LIKE THESE TWO BUT IN THEY THREAD??? IF YOU DON'T GO ON SOMEWHERE AND BE STEVIE WONDER TF

@/annoying1 replying to @/stupidbitch1: Exactly. Not to mention the self-haters that are trying to live vicariously through her cause of that hoe ass light skin man she stole from her cousin. 

@unapologeticqueen94 replying to @/annoying1 and @/stupidbitch1: I KNOW ya’ll not talking about Camryn trifling ass. The same cousin who literally been scheming and plotting against this girl since they were kids? Who gave Jey Heaven’s location knowing his ass wasn’t trying to bring her no flowers? Who gave Jey almost 100k after his dumbass almost bankrupt he and Heaven solely because she didn’t want her cousin leaving SlowMan cause she knew Roman was gon’ divorce her ass to be with the real love of his life? Who KNEW Jey was abusing her cousin and was smiling in Heaven face while secretly advising him on ways to manipulate Heaven into staying with him? Who PAID for the engagement ring that Jey proposed to Heaven with? A proposal that only happened because Camryn trifling ass TOLD him he needed to propose cause it was the only way to keep Heaven from leaving him after he sent her to the ER? 

@privateeyes95 replying to @unapologeticqueen94: Don’t forget how she and Jey literally pinned a child on Roman she knew wasn’t his and Jey knew was his. Just because she wanted to trap Roman. 

@chocovibesonly: Ya’ll, don’t pay the Free R Kelly gang no mind. They been all up over this site throughout the whole trial saying the same problematic shit. It’s gotta be rage bait at this point. 

@annoying1 replying to @chocovibesonly: We’re rage baiting for holding a black woman accountable for wronging another black woman? Heaven was literally fucking that man all over CAMRYN’S house. Had him pretending to be that child’s uncle when she knew all along he was the father.

@southerngirl41 replying to @/annoying1: Like how she knew Jey was Nathan’s biological father?

@callmekayd: As someone who’s been fully engaged with any and all information regarding this trial and the situation as a whole, Heaven and Roman were wild and wrong for carrying on as they did. But when you look at everything Jey and Camryn did, how they orchestrated everything so that H and R wouldn’t be together. Hurting whoever they needed to in the process with no regard for anyone else…Heaven and Roman did nothing wrong. 

@tribalray10 replying to @callmekayd: I agree with all of this. It’s crazy as hell when you think about it because in most situations, H and R would be dragged through the mud, but all they are is two people who love each other and were kept apart because of fake ass, evil ass, jealous ass people. 😓

@fame-ass-ers: I know this is probably the wrong time to bring this up, but am I the only one still shook and clutching pearls by all the details that came about Heaven and Roman’s sex life? 😅

@unapologeticqueen94 replying to @fame-ass-ers: LISTEN!!!! We knew his ass was putting her through that mattress, but the way my jaw dropped when they asked about how often they was getting it on, and they both said several times a week. Sometimes twice a day. 😩😩😩😩

@jaded-human replying to @fame-ass-ers: Wait, whaaaatttttt? How I miss this!

@fame-ass-ers replying to @jaded-human: Girl, yes. One of the folks who was attending the trial gave all the details. I believe it was part of Jey’s weak ass defense attempt to villainize Heaven and attack her character. I’ll PM you the link.

@Incog: Wow. So I guess cheating is okay if you’re brown or dark skinned or pretty. You’re all disgusting. 

@Incog: Did he pick any of ya’ll yet?

@Incog: I’ll wait. 

@chocovibesonly: @/The Admin Thread Derailment and Incognito Abuse

@itskii01: Sometimes I really wish Condi would close this shit off and stop allowing new members to join. 😒

@Incog replying to @itskii01: Who’s Condi?

@itskii01: I rest my case. 

The corner of her lips slowly but surely stretch and lift until the smile spread across her face makes her skin feel taught and tight. Small, barely visible lines sprouting near her eyes that squint when she makes the transition from inside to outside. Her Gucci flip flops slapping against the quartz stone as she lifts her her hand to create a makeshift visor from the scorching sun that illuminates the backyard. 

A backyard that’s filled with a variety of sounds—music, chatter, laughter—that last one being the thing to make the warmth bloom in her stomach. Walking across the patio to the rattan loungers that line the pool, a loud gasp leaps from her mouth at the same time the leap of a body into the pool from the diving board snatches her focus.

Breathing is briefly halted. Her fingers grasp at the sheer material of her orange bikini cover, knotted on the side and sitting right above the pudge of her stomach. She scratches her nails against her thigh, feeling the tips dig into her skin. The tightening sensation in her chest canceled out by the sight of two bodies emerging from under the water. 

Macy’s happy laughter does away with Heaven’s tension, her shoulders falling and relaxing at the sight of her sweet little girl.

Arms raised happily, her hair tucked away and under her swim cap. A set of tanned arms around her body, his own hair weighed down by the water. Loose, short curls sticking against the side of his face. Nate smiles and lifts his hand when Macy turns to look at him, securing a high five before he gestures to Heaven.

Macy’s eyes light up. “Mommy!”

Heaven’s smile deepens. Nathan lets her down and wades with her as she swims to the edge of the pool where Heaven meets her. He helps lift her from the water as Heaven leans down and carries out the rest of the task. Macy beams up at her mom, signing, did you see me, mommy?

Heaven laughs and signs back. Sure did, baby. You’re doing such a good job. 

Nathan scoffs from where he leans over the side of the pool, inked arms across the stone. “She’s got a good teacher.” 

Heaven rolls her eyes as Macy, clueless to what was just said given the absence of her hearing aids, turns to him. I’m gonna swim faster than you some day.

Nathan sucks his teeth and shakes his head. No way. Never gonna happen. He kicks off the wall, lips turned into a smirk as he manages a quick, you’re too slow.

Macy gasps and spins around, giving herself just enough space to “run” as she jumps back in the water. 

Heaven waits until she emerges, Nathan once more near and close, ensuring she stays afloat as she splashes water at his face.

“Be careful.” Her warning is accompanied by her quick signing, Macy’s focus back on her brother as he continues to help her strengthen her swimming skills. It’s still a bit of a struggle, what with her being in the water without her hearing aids. But it’s one Heaven is working through, and seeing how happy it makes her baby is more than reason enough for her to learn how to manage her discomfort for the sake of he child’s happiness.

Macy more than deserves it.

“Mama!”

Heaven snaps her head to the side, once more, that familiar warm, glowing feeling in belly rising and traveling, wrapping itself around her heart. 

“There’s my baby.”

Assisting in closing the distance, Heaven reaches her arms at the same time her mom does. Shelia’s arm secured under her bottom, dark coils damp and dripping small droplets of water down her honeyed complexion. She wears that happy smile and grasps at Heaven’s hand while she kisses her temple.

Shelia watched the interaction with an undeniable expression of pride and lighthearted humor. “She started wiggling the moment she heard your voice. Or saw you come out.”

“She knows her mama.” Heaven giggles, looking down at her youngest daughter. “Don’t you, Lia?”

Kalia beams up, pouty lips stretched and revealing all 11 of her teeth. 12, if you include the small speck of white starting to protrude from her gums. Something she’s recently made sure her parents don’t forget about via her screeching and whining. Especially when it’s time for her to eat. 

Shelia stands before her daughter and granddaughter, reaching and caressing the back of her head. “She looks so much like Macy when she was her age.”

Heaven briefly darts her gaze from her baby daughter to her mother. “She does.” Outside of Kalia’s complexion being a few shades lighter and her texture slightly looser than Macy’s, a side by side photo would otherwise indicate, at the very least, fraternal twins. The differences, so far, seem to be more personality based than appearance based. Macy was always a calm baby. Kalia….not so much.

Heaven shifts her daughter from one side to the other, allowing her baby girl to tug at her hair with one hand and grab at her boobs with the other. It makes her chuckle quietly. “Where’s—”

“You already know.” 

A quick dragging of her gaze behind her mother makes Heaven chuckle once more.

Of course.

She grabs Kalia’s little hand, helping her wave goodbye before the two make their way across the yard. The smile growing on mother and daughter’s face as the distance closes, sun shifting and highlighting several side profiles, including the first who turns from the grill to greet them.

Turns just enough for Heaven to meet another set of eyes, smaller, just like the rest of him. Chunky arms and chubby cheeks that stretch into a smile as he opens his mouth, making loud happy sounds.

“Mama!” 

The same word. The same warmth and joy that blooms in abundance. 

Heaven steps up onto the patio, her father and Jimmy’s attention set on her as she leans over to kiss the top of Kanoa’s head, coils softly brushing her lips.

“Hi, baby boy.”

Her son.

Naturally, she straightens up just in time to catch Roman’s mouth for a quick peck. 

“Hey, baby,” he murmurs, right as she adjusts Kalia once more when she starts wiggling her arms. An expected reaction, as is the next thing.

Whining and bailing from both babies who are now looking at each other, both wearing the same pout and scowl. Small, short arms wagging in the air, as if swatting away a pesky gnat. Except the gnat is each other.

Roman sighs. “There they go.” 

And without any words needing to be said, they exchange babies. Heaven holding Kanoa, and Roman holding Kalia. It grants momentary peace as the parents affectionately interact with their 13 month-old twins, but it’s a short lived span of peace.

The babbling, whining, and wiggling resume.

Clarence chuckles, arms crossed as he shakes his head. “And to think those two shared a womb for nine months.” 

Jimmy chimes in as Heaven kisses Kanoa’s little palm. Roman manages to flip over the burgers on the grill as Kalia attempts to pull his hair from the hair tie. In a couple minutes, Heaven has no doubt, she’ll find success. She always does. “So much for the family tradition of tag team champs.”

“It’s just with us,” Heaven sighs, looking between her youngest as they continue to exchange “words” and attempted blows, all in the name of jealousy. “They don’t do it with anyone else.”

And they don’t. Most of the time, Kalia and Kanoa are thick as thieves. Interacting and playing just fine, even sharing in ways that most babies their age struggle with.

Except when it comes to their parents.

If Kalia sees Roman or Heaven holding Kanoa, whatever adorable smile that was on her face is wiped away with the quickness. A tantrum unfolding within a matter of minutes. And vice versa with Kanoa. It’s almost as if they want their parents to themselves. Don’t want to share. Sometimes a funny thing to behold but also something both Heaven and Roman pray they grow out of.

Sooner rather than later. 

“Food’s almost ready,” Roman updates, Heaven nodding, turning to see her mom sitting near the edge of the pool, watching Nathan continue to assist Macy with her swimming lessons. 

Candy on the other side, on her stomach, tongue out and tail wagging. An understandable placement. She’s never too far from Macy. Not far at all.

True to his word, dinner is served not too long after. Thus, gathering everyone around the two Teak wood tables that are conjoined together to accommodate the large group of individuals. Not to mention the two high chairs that are pulled up, each placed right next to Heaven and Roman. Both remain unused. Kalia and Kanoa instead opt to “sit” on their parents laps, often reaching and attempting to steal from their plates, despite being fed the appropriate portions for such young babies. 

“I’m telling you,” Shelia starts, wiping at the corner of her mouth, her gaze set across the table where her daughter and son-in-law sit. She lifts her hand, index finger bouncing between the two, the light reflecting off her wedding ring and highlighting the subtle sparkles in her ruby red nail polish. “Those two are gonna be the ones to test ya’ll.” 

Beside her, Clarence nods, offering agreement and a point of distinction. “Macy was never as wild as they are.”

Heaven rolls her eyes, bouncing Kalia while guiding a chunk of her Hawaiian bread that she broke off to her mouth. Naturally, her fingers grab at the bread that she plops in her mouth, chewing slowly as if needing to make sure it tastes the same as her last few bites. “Daddy.”

Roman lifts his head, momentarily distracted from interacting with Kanoa, who uses that brief distraction to swipe a fry off the plate, and turns to his wife. Heaven, seconds away from panicking, never more grateful to see her father had been looking at something on his phone, as had her mom. Thus the way she elbows him, earning a quiet grunt as she looks at him with an unspoken, “are you insane?”

Unfortunately, while the interaction is missed by, perhaps the people it needed to be missed by the most, that’s not the case for others.

Nathan stares across the table with an undeniable look of disgust. “If ya’ll want me to go to therapy, then all you gotta do is say so.”

His comment catches the attention of Macy who sits beside him, at the end of the table, Candy laying on the ground beside her, Cookie in her lap. She looks up at him with a bright smile. “Are you gonna see Mrs. Tess, too?” 

Tess being Macy’s therapist she’s worked with weekly since the the fire.

“He gon see some lady, that’s for sure.” Jimmy’s unnecessary addition earns him a similar response as Heaven to Roman. He grunts loudly when Naomi slaps him on his arm, muttering something lost under the chatter of the rest of the table. Primarily on the other end where Clarence, Shelia, and Patrice, Roman’s mother, are in the midst of laughing at something completely unrelated to the NSFW interaction that, somehow, managed to remain under the radar. 

For the most part. 

Patrice’s lips stretch into a smile. She lifts her glasses to the top of her sandy brown hair, cut in a short bob that brushes against her jawline that’s sharp, much like the rest of her features. While Roman held a close resemblance to his father, his smile, the same as Patrice, reveal how much of his mother’s looks he inherited just the same. 

“That explains it.” She blots the corner of her eyes with the back of her hand, gesturing over to her son. “Roman was just like the twins as babies. Always moving. Always wanting to get into something.”

“See, that was Heaven when she hit her terrible two’s. Prior to that, she was a little angel. Proved that we did right by naming her what we did.” 

“Well, ya’ll should have named those two—” Jimmy snaps his finger, face contorted in deep focus,  majority of the adults already knowing it’s about to be some shit with him. “What’s the name of them twin girls from The Shining?”

“Jimmy.”

“Uncle Jimmy.”

“Jim.” 

Various sounds of protests and chastening evoke a temporary respite with the colored commentary from the self-proclaimed comedian in the family. Jimmy lifts his hands, palms carrying lingering crumbs from the meal he’d all but devoured less than ten minutes after stacking his plate with an ungodly amount of food. Somewhat similar to Roman. But in her husband’s defense, he’s sharing his with their son who seems like he’s going to take after his daddy’s side of the family when it comes to appetite. 

Boy can eat. It’s partially why Heaven was relieved when she started the process of incorporating food into the babies’ diets. It seemed like every hour on the hour Kanoa was wanting to nurse again. Developing motor skills allowing his loud cries to eventually transition into the groping, smacking, and squeezing of her breast. Even now, she has to correct him when he attempts to reach inside of her bra. 

He’s determined as hell, too.

“Fine, I’ll change the subject,” Jimmy smacks his teeth, looking over at Heaven as she helps hold the cup of apple juice that Kalia is currently drinking from. “Heaven, how’s it going working for that Mormon lady?” 

She closes her eyes as Roman makes a sound beside her.

“Jim,” Naomi expresses, exasperation splashed all over her face and voice as she turns to look at her husband. Silky, dark tresses splashed across her shoulder, smooth, beautiful melanin shining and shimmering under the sun that sneaks past the shade allotted by the Reigns covered patio. “You got one more time.” 

“She’s not Mormon, Jimmy,” Heaven corrects while also offering an answer. “But good. Really good. I like it there, and she’s one of the nicest people I’ve ever met.” 

“Most Mormon people are, so I hear—”

“Jimmy!”

“What?” He defends, shaking his head, saying something that’s missed as Heaven looks over at her dad. 

“Wait, is the organization Mormon based?” Clarence turns to his wife, Patrice also paying attention what with the way she looks between the involved parties. “Did you know that?” 

“It is not a Mormon organization,” Heaven stresses, leaning back in her chair, bouncing her leg as Kalia moves to stand up on her lap. “And my boss is not Mormon. But even if she was, that wouldn’t have stopped me from accepting the position.”

And it wouldn’t have. 

There were several variables that Heaven sat on and pondered over deeply before ultimately making the decision to leave the place she’d worked at for so long in favor of something that was both old and new.

The biggest one, perhaps, was returning to work after….everything that happened. That they were still in the midst of. Macy. The trial. Having twin babies that weren’t even a year yet. All of it.

Heaven can still recall the similar expressions she received when initially bringing it up to both her husband and parents. They thought she was crazy for wanting to return to work so “soon.” Were all, essentially, in agreement that she needed to allow herself the continued, necessary time to heal and adjust to all the changes.

She didn’t necessarily disagree. 

She was still working to find her rhyme and rhythm in several areas of her life, and it wasn’t even working, itself, that was calling her name. That resonated with her. Forever a woman with a strong work ethic, family always came first. Always. 

But it was the nature of the work that captured and snagged her attention. 

It was the organization. 

Alma’s Hope.

The largest, domestic, non-profit organization focusing on providing resources and safe havens for women and children seeking asylum from abusive households. They have shelters all over the country and even a few in Mexico. Heaven was familiar with the organization, had come across the name a few times over the years, but it was when she was looking up something recommended by her therapist that she stumbled across them once more. A chance reminder of something that, at one point in her life, she would have sworn up and down would never be a part of her story. 

Never in a million years did she think that she’d end up a survivor of domestic violence. 

But she is.

And it’s still something she’s trying to come to terms with, has focused on in a handful of therapy sessions. 

Like many, Heaven had a generic, default definition of such a thing. A conceptualization formulated based off of stereotypical media depictions. Most more overt examples. Heaven didn’t have to spend extra time in the mirror applying makeup to hide bruises that only multiplied as time went on. She wasn’t being isolated from her family. Wasn’t constantly trying to come up with excuses to explain to the ER doctors how she’d sustained such injuries. Not on a consistent basis. It did, eventually, occur. The isolated incident where Jey’s verbal and emotional abuse while battling alcoholism escalated into physical abuse.

He’d hit her. 

Left her bruised. 

Left her bleeding. 

Left her sitting on the edge of the patient table struggling with an excuse to feed that would be believed.

She was in the mirror, tears streaming down her face as she tried to hide the bruise. That was her, and coming to terms with that, with the fact that Jey’s abuse started long before the night he tried to kill her, has been nothing short of difficult. 

But it’s also been liberating and empowering. Largely due to Heaven reaching out to the local shelter and learning what made and makes Alma’s Hope so different than the “usual” safe havens. The infinite number of resources, from therapy, insurance, monthly vouchers, and housing allowances when those seeking asylum “graduate” from the in-house program and are placed in secure subdivisions owned and overseen by the organization. A massive collective striving to protect and educate. And when Heaven attended one of the support group meetings for women who weren’t actively in a DV situation, didn’t require protection, but were looking to define and navigate what “after” looks like, she knew that she wanted to contribute. Wanted to give back more than she received. That, unexpectedly, came in the form of a job offer from the CEO. A position within the legal department that offered an unheard of level of flexibility. Hybrid with a full slate of benefits, regardless if Heaven opted for part time vs full time. Decent, salaried pay. Paid, mandatory mental health days in conjunction with unlimited PTO. If Heaven hadn’t personally met and interacted with several staff members, including the founder herself, she’d have balked. It was too good to be true, but it wasn’t. It was very much true, and it was something Heaven almost felt like she had to accept. 

Not because she felt pressured. But because it felt like a necessary component in this next chapter of a new, different, scary, yet somehow improved life of hers. Eventually coming to terms with what she’d survived and using it to support others like her. 

Other survivors.

Thus, when she explained it that way, she was met with newfound sense of understanding and agreement from Roman and her parents. And a few months into the acceptance, she has zero regrets. Heaven loves what she does now. Still paralegal work but for a completely different cause and reasons. 

Reasons that matter so much more than anything she’s done prior to this. 

“How many kids?” Nathan’s wide eyes in conjunction with his exclamation break Heaven from her thoughts. Especially when he turns his focus to her. “You sure they ain’t Mormon?”

“Oh my God,” she murmurs, eyes closed, head tilted back. “If ya’ll don—”

“Mommy. Daddy. What’s Mormon?”

Macy’s unexpected insertion into the conversation, her voice soft and curious, prompts Heaven to open her eyes and lower her head to see Macy “sneaking” food to Candy. 

“Something you’re not allowed to be.”

Heaven snaps her head to look at Roman, Kanoa fisting and pulling on his shirt. “Roman.” 

“Baby girl is right,” Jimmy cosigns, his loud ass chewing muffling his voice and commentary that not even a mouth full of food can stop. “We Baptist over here.”

Nathan shakes his head, pointing out, “dad, grandma, and basically that entire side of my family are Catholic.”

“That’s close enough. Baptist and Catholic are just second cousins, twice removed.” 

But as the majority of the table admonish Jimmy for being, well, Jimmy, Heaven can’t help the small smile at play on her face. 

She smiles because as out of pocket his commentary is, the entire conversation is, it’s a dynamic, at one point, she thought to be lost forever.

She thought a lot of the dynamics regarding several individuals sitting at the table to be lost and gone forever.

Heaven is far from naive nor is she stupid. Regardless of the fact that Jey’s crimes far outweigh anything she did or could have ever done, she recognizes that her own actions, Roman’s actions, even without the violence that followed, would have fractured the family unit. The deception, secrecy, years long affair, withholding true paternity while feigning a false one, and everything else that got picked up and flung at she and Roman during the trial by the defense, would shatter anyone’s family. And in many ways, it has.

Rikishi and Tala haven’t spoken to Heaven and, subsequently, Macy, since roughly three months following the fire. And that last interaction was nothing short of nasty. Harsh, hurtful words from both ends that ultimately resulted in no contact. An outcome Heaven knows would have been reached regardless when they chose to stand by Jey during the trial. Believed and sided with the defense in that it was Heaven’s actions over the years that contributed to his “psychotic break.” Her knowingly and “openly” engaging in an affair with a man she always knew to be Macy’s real father while constantly “badgering” and “vilifying” an “innocent” man. 

But they weren’t the only ones. 

Several members of Jey and Roman’s side of the family sided with him. Have cut off contact with Roman as well. 

The bulk, however, have all condemned Jey’s actions and denounced him altogether.

Including Jimmy.

That….that will always be the most surprising thing to Heaven. Not because, morally speaking, it didn’t make sense. It made all the sense. Jimmy witnessed Jey assault her in the hospital, and if that, for whatever reason, wasn’t enough, everything else certainly was. 

It took a little time, sure. A few weeks of Jimmy disengaging from everyone, needing time to collect himself. Heaven understood it. Roman, however, was less understanding. Believed that it should have been an immediate, “fuck you” to Jey. 

She disagreed. 

There’s being brothers, and there’s being twins. Having grown up with the guys, she knows how close Jimmy and Jey were. Has seen firsthand how Jimmy always tried to look out for his little brother. She grieved on his behalf. Losing a brother in the way that he did, in some ways, is a worst fate then death. Death, arguably, would be easier. There’s finality in that realm. No options or wonderings. With this, there will always be, she’s certain, a part of him that wonders if and how things could have been different. 

Sometimes she, too, wonders the same. 

Breaking away from the table isn’t terribly difficult. Handing off Kalia to Roman was initially met with a scowl and whining—from both the babies. But dissatisfaction at being “abandoned” is set aside in favor of her youngest redirecting her irritation to her brother who was more than ready to match energy. The last thing Heaven overhears is Roman lecturing the twins for swatting at each other.

Yeah….

Something tells her that while Macy seemingly has zero interest in wrestling, that won’t be the case for the twins. 

The minute they’re old enough to be put into some sort of sport, Heaven will be first in line to ensure their spots. They have way too much energy that needs to be channeled in a healthy manner. One that won’t send their parents to an early grave. She’s almost certain the strand of gray hair her hairdresser pointed out at her last appointment is solely due to them. 

Leaning back against the counter, her thumb swipes up the last open app on her phone when she darts her eyes up from the screen. 

Her small smile met with a similar one. Head craned up, she hits the side button, placing it on the granite behind her. “Hey.” 

Nathan walks to lean against island so he’s standing opposite of her. Mirroring her position, he crosses his arms over one another, dark ink, old mixed with new, a brief reminder of what’d resulted in her subtly nodding towards the house for him to follow her. 

“Hey,” he greets. His eyes narrowing, sprouting small, minimal lines around his eye area, makes her smile deepen. He looks so much like Roman when he does that. “You gon’ tell me what’s up?” But an expression of suspicion morphs into horror. “You’re not pregnant, are you?”

And now Heaven is the one mirroring him, her eyes widening. “Absolutely not. You know your dad got a vasectomy.” 

It was a decision they’d come to shortly before the twins were born. An easy one, too. Neither one of them were interested or wanting to expand their family anymore than the current members. Hence his vasectomy and her tubal litigation. 

“Well, I don’t know. You working for that lady with 18 kids and counting—”

“Nathan.” Heaven rolls her eyes and shifts her weight from one foot to another, the quiet laughter between them dying down and allowing for the transition into what she really wants to discuss with him. Needs to. “She reached out to you again, didn’t she?” 

And just like that, any trace of humor disappears. He looks away, tip of his tongue wetting the corner of his mouth. “Look—”

“Nathan,” Heaven interrupts. It’s never been in her nature to be that person. To not allow for free, open communication. But similar to Roman, she knows Nathan like the back of her hand. Knows that he’s so much like Roman that anything to come out of his mouth next would be deflection and unproductive, thus her interruption. “I told you before, and I’m gonna say it again, what happened between myself and Camryn had nothing to do with you.”

“A—”

She steps closer. “It doesn’t change the fact that she’s your mother, and at the end of the day, if you want to speak with her, if you want to try to repair things with her, then baby, that’s what I want you to do.” Heaven shakes her head, voice softening, “don’t allow my situation to dictate yours.”

Because despite this conversation happening once or twice already, that’s exactly what’s happened. 

Heaven knows for a fact that Nathan hasn’t spoken to Camryn since that day in the hospital, the altercation in the hallway where she unknowingly revealed several life changing truths. And it wasn’t even a conversation between mother and son in as much as, it seems, a dissolution of the pairing. 

She learned through Roman that Nathan was contemplating a visit to see Camryn in jail while she was awaiting trial, but he’d changed his mind last minute. He also hasn’t responded to Cam’s attempts to speak with him, information Heaven obtained through her parents legal connections. Again, she would never use them to benefit herself, but she’d damn sure use them for the people she loves.

And she has. 

“That woman stopped being my mother the minute she told him where you were.”

Nathan’s cold, emotionless response to her heartfelt message is both doleful and surprising. For one and many reasons. 

Heaven will be the first to admit that her own feelings towards the woman she once considered a sister more than anything are….complicated, to say the least. Macy being on the brink of death was terrifying enough to the point that Heaven finding out about her cousin and husband having an affair exposed via sex tapes wasn’t something that had really registered at that moment. But the confrontation at the hospital, learning that Camryn had lied to and manipulated her about Nathan’s paternity, amongst other things, triggered something. It triggered anger that would only and exponentially extrapolate over time as all of the skeletons started being yanked from the closet.

The years of lies.

Of scheming. Of plotting. 

Of…..evilness. 

How someone she shared so many special, precious moments with was at the same time the mastermind behind some of Heaven’s darkest moments, too. The ineffable concept of this woman who she’d laughed with, cried with, gone through life with—from first kisses, first heartbreaks, late night clubbing, and Mari concerts that were often documented in IG posts now scrubbed from a profile that’s as barren as the relationship, sisterhood, between two cousins—was nothing more than a facade. Kindness used to cloak and conceal transgressions. The entire time Heaven believed Camryn was helping her keep pressure applied to gushing, painful wounds, she was also the one who caused said wounds and always had another knife cunningly hidden behind her back, just waiting to be used. 

Heaven still can’t quite comprehend what she could have done so egregious to warrant her cousin, starting back to when they were kids, doing anything and everything she could to keep Roman for herself. Her commitment to ensuring Heaven never learned of and realized that her now husband has wanted and loved her far longer than she ever realized. 

How Camryn played such a critical, pivotal role in keeping Heaven from the man she now knows, without a shadow of a doubt, is her soulmate. The man she was always supposed to be with. 

That sort of realization, however, is what started to attenuate her anger. Allowed the hurt to bleed in, and God does that shit hurt.

But Heaven never ever wanted or wants her pain to influence the young man before her. 

She reaches to touch his arm. “Nath—“

“She knew what he was gonna do, and even if she didn’t, all that other shit she did?” Anger flashes in his eyes, his arm tense under her palm. “Naw….she’s dead to me.” 

Heaven closes her eyes. “B—”

“I didn’t lose anything.” He’s the one interrupting now, prompting Heaven to take a deep breath and will her eyes back open to see Nathan looking down at her. “I never had anything to lose regarding her in the first place.” 

Words that break her heart, because as dispassionate as Nathan can be, often taking after his father when it comes to heavier emotions, there will always be that little boy inside of him that grieves never having that relationship with Camryn she knows he wanted for so long. Even if he won’t admit or acknowledge it, Heaven knows it to be true. 

He continues, in true Nathan fashion, curbing the heaviness with lighthearted humor. “I’ve got my dad. I got Macy. Future lil’ Bonnie and Clyde—”

It’s minimally effective, provoking a small, budding grin. “Nath—”

“And I got my mom,” he continues, voice and eyes softening, the corner of his lips also tugged upwards. “I’ve always had her.” 

At that, Heaven has nothing to say, nothing to follow up with in terms of stressing and emphasizing true support of whatever he wants. Whatever relationship he desires with his mother, she is 100% behind. She just wants him to be happy and true to his wants and needs. It’s only in that moment, however, that she realizes those needs don’t come from the woman who brought him into this world.

Perhaps they never did.

They came from her.

They always came from her. 

Emotion stirs as she steps forward, reaching and pulling his down into a hug that he effortlessly and gleefully accepts. Her eyes shut, clamping and concealing the tears. Heaven kisses the side of his head. “I love you, Nathan.” 

His arms enclosed around her, reciprocating her verbal and non-verbal acts of affection and love, are wholeheartedly solidified when he gives life to what’s always existed just below the surface. “I love you, too.” A beat. “Mama.” 

“Mommy.”

“Yeah, baby?”

Heaven closes the book, placing it on the nightstand and turning around just in time to see that instead of sitting on the edge of the bed or climbing off, Macy is still tucked in, hands holding up her blanket. Cookie under the pink and purple princess bedding beside her and Candy lounged at the floor of the bed, on her stomach, eyes shut but ears perked. Always alert until she knows for certain that her charge is sound asleep.  

“I think….” She trails off as Heaven comes to sit on the bed beside her. Macy then meets her mother’s worried gaze. “I think I wanna sleep in my room tonight.” She then quickly adds, almost nervously. “Me, Cookie, and Candy.” 

Heaven grows quiet as she observes her seven year-old daughter, partially waiting for her to change her mind. To claim it as a joke of sorts, though she fails to see the humor. Just like she fails to see any indication that Macy doesn’t mean exactly what she just said.

“Babies are down.” Heaven turns to see Roman walking into the room, rubbing his hands together as if knocking away invisible, lingering residue. His hair down, but the lasting effects of the hair tie evident in the way his dark tresses are naturally smoothed back like he’d laid it down with a silk scarf. His dark blue shirt fits snug around his big arms and clings to his chest while the flannel pajama pants have a looser fit and flare down at the bottom, brushing against his Ugg slippers. His nighttime look completed by the dark rimmed glasses sitting on the bridge of his nose. 

Perfect timing.  

Heaven shakes her head, working to find the words that feel almost strange, almost wrong once they leave her mouth. “Macy…” She waits until he walks over, sitting on the other side of the bed, reaching over to caress Macy’s temple. “Macy wants to sleep in her room tonight.” Roman lifts his gaze from his daughter to his wife. “Alone.”

His eyes immediately return to Macy, expression shifting from that of adoration to concern. 

“Macy….”

She squints and wipes at her eyes with the back of her hand. “Jey went away to where the bad people go, right?” 

Heaven rolls her tongue across the back of her bottom row teeth, a simple but effective technique to avoid the toll such a brief, unexpected conversation is having on her. Primarily Macy’s most recent question. Not just her wanting an additional layer of reassurance, but the use of his name.

Macy hasn’t uttered it since before the fire. 

“Yes, baby,” she finally answers. “He’s going away for a very very long time.”

Forever, essentially. The fact of the matter is that Jey will never see the light of day again. The day of sentencing, in the courtroom full of individuals who were either on one side or the other, most in support of Heaven and Co, was the last and closest experience he’ll ever have pertaining to “freedom.”

Jey will die in prison, and that’s just a fact.

But she’s not done. Macy flips her gaze back to Roman, her little lips pressed together, voice softening again. “So he can’t hurt me or mommy again, right?”

And once more, Heaven closes her eyes, unable to hold back the burning sensation of tears she’d give anything to keep at bay.

“No, he can’t.” Roman answers with swiftness and sincerity, his gaze focused on her as he cups her face. “And I won’t let anything or anyone ever hurt you or mommy ever again, I promise.”

Words that Heaven takes to heart and pockets for another day, time, and setting. Him accompanying her on several therapy sessions, her own, Macy’s, and even collab sessions between all three, has revealed that Roman still holds a moderate—probably more—amount of guilt regarding what happened. He blames himself, and Heaven hates that.

Hates it with everything in her, but she also somewhat expected it. In many ways, Roman is a traditional man. Believes his job as a man is to be a protector, and despite Heaven not being his legal partner at the time, and his identity as Macy’s biological father still an unspoken truth, he believed his duty was to protect them. And in his mind, he didn’t. That’s just how he views it. No matter how many times Heaven has attempted to convince him otherwise.

Similar to how she’s attempted to talk him into getting his own therapist, something he’s consistently put off. Cited wanting to focus on Macy, her, and the trial before exploring that. Partially true. Mostly avoidance behavior. 

Classic Roman. 

But it’s something Heaven is determined to not give up on. 

She won’t.

She can’t.

“Then we’ll be okay,” Macy supplies, offering a small smile as she looks down at the end of the bed. “Right, Candy?” 

Her four legged best friend’s response is a lift of her head and small bark, followed by her climbing up and laying down as she did on the floor, just now on the edge of the mattress. Right where Macy can see and reach her.

Where she needs her.

“May May, are you sure?” Heaven asks once more, her daughter turning her head to look at her. “You know you can sleep with mommy and daddy as long as you need to.”

“I know,” she answers in that mellifluous voice that Heaven craves when her baby girl isn’t around. Macy being homeschooled until she was able to successful transition back to attending brick and mortar spoiled Heaven. Roman, too. “But I don’t need to anymore.” Her eyes flick between her parents, voice raising an octave, embedded with a hint of pride. “I’m not scared anymore.”

Heaven’s mouth drops ever so slightly, as does that weight in her chest that collapses to the bottom of her stomach. She briefly makes eye contact with Roman, who, despite his efforts to remain emotionally indiscernible, is incapable of completely containing his emotional response to such a simple but powerful statement.

One that means the fucking world to a set of parents who’ve only wanted and done everything within their power to support and help their daughter. To provide Macy with everything she’s needed or could need over the past year and some change in healing from a trauma no child should have to face. It’s been one of the hardest things Heaven has personally had to go through, had to witness. And yet, here she is. Their brave little girl.

Their Macy.

Hugs, kisses, and a final reiteration to come wake them up if she needs anything, anything at all, are what follow. Roman and Heaven lingering near the door, watching as she signs a final I Love You before cradling Cookie and turning over on her side. Candy lifts her head once more only to immediately lower back down on top of Macy’s short legs. Final, protective placement. 

A nonverbal act of reassurance.

I got her. 

The minute they’re back in their bedroom, double doors closed, Heaven turns around and closes the distance between the two of them. 

“Hey,” she starts, smoothing her hands up Roman’s chest, gently ruffling his shirt. “Roman,” she continues, deepening her voice just enough so that he looks down at her instead of at the closed doors as if doing so will make Macy’s knock come sooner. Because she knows that’s exactly what he’s expecting. “She’s…she’s okay.”

His jaw ticks, and she lifts her left hand to cup his face. “And if she isn’t…” Another noticeable, visible flash of concern in his eyes that she attempts to quell. “Then she knows where to find us.” 

As they always have and always will make themselves readily available for their children. 

No matter what. 

His reluctance remains, however, prompting Heaven to opt for another angle. “Come on.” She leans up on her toes, pressing them into the soles of her slippers. Heaven kisses his cheek and drops her hand to grab his. “Let’s go shower.”

Persuasion starts to take its course as he flicks his eyes flick over her body. His right hand lowers and cushions her hip, soft material of her dress embedded in between his long, thick fingers. “We already showered.” 

“Not together,” she corrects. Heaven tilts her head to the side, rubbing the pad of her thumb over his coarse, rough knuckles. “And are you really turning down an opportunity for us to be naked together—”

A knock on the door immediately yanks them from the moment, but while it tosses Roman back into fight or flight mode, Heaven was able to pick up on the nature and pattern of said knock. Hence the way she tightens her grip on Roman’s hand when he moves to walk towards the door. 

“Don’t let me interrupt ya’ll from being nasty.” Nathan’s voice sounds from the other side. Heaven, having kept her eyes on her husband, noticing the way his strong shoulders drop, the definition of his side profile slightly minimized. Relaxation setting back in all around. “Just wanted to tell you I’m heading out.” 

Roman frowns as Heaven moves her body against his, wrapping her arms around his waist. She wastes no time in mouthing, ‘date’ when he looks down, his lips making a silent ‘oh’ of acknowledgment. “Alright. Text us when you get there. Have fun. Be safe.”

“I will,” Nathan agrees. “Love ya’ll.” 

“Love you, too.”

“Love you, too, baby.” 

Synonymous responses followed by the soft sound of footsteps from the other side that eventually fade into silence. 

Roman looks down, returning his wife’s embrace, hands on the small of her back. “Isn’t it kind of late for him to be going out?” He lifts his wrist, verifying said time as Heaven bites back a smile. “And how the hell did he find time to squeeze in a date when he’s gotta be back in Cali—”

“He’s 24, Roman,” she reminds, lips curved into a wry smile. “Besides, I think he really likes this one.”

At that, his brow props upward, hand smoothing over the curve of her ass. “Yeah.”

Heaven nods. “Said he might even invite her to the next game we attend so we can meet her.”

“Damn,” he curses. “It’s that serious?” 

She bites on the corner of her lip, quickly working on a reply that both satisfies without oversharing. “Something like that.” If things continue to go well between Nathan and the girl he’s been seeing, consistently, for the past three or so months, Heaven knows that he would like to be the one to explain to Roman the….situation. Primarily the young woman’s occupation. 

A stripper.

Err, midnight ballerina, as she’s seen them called on social media.

At first, she was a little surprised. Skeptical. Fell right into that outdated hole of judgment and stereotypes, but then she remembered that this is Nathan. Like his father, he’s good at reading people. Not to mention, he’s far too astute to “allow” himself to be finessed and manipulated. If he says this girl is good people, that’s good enough for her. She trusts his judgment.

And so does Roman.

But his first instinct always has, and always will be, to look out for his son. That includes anyone who might be looking to use or take advantage of a young man who’s making more money in one year than some might see in an entire lifeline. Not to mention the investments Roman made Nathan setup the minute he signed his first contract, on top of a college savings account that’s remained untouched since its creation when Nathan was 10, as his entire four years of college were covered via his scholarships.

Add in his personal savings, no touch savings, and even the account Roman has set aside with money solely for Nathan, despite Nathan not knowing about said account…..he’s set.

Loaded as fuck.

Like father, like son.

Roman just wants to protect not only Nathan, but his assets and likeness. 

Thus, she knows it’s best to let father and son handle that conversation when the time comes. She’ll just be there to offer support and insight when necessary. 

 And something tells her, especially given how cautious Roman has become after everything over the past almost two years, that he’s going to be guarded. 

She can’t blame him, either.

Heaven yelps when he slides both hands under her ass cheeks and hikes her up onto his waist. Starts to ask him what the hell he’s doing when he starts walking them towards their connected master bathroom. 

Almost an hour later, bodies cleansed and moisturized, courtesy of the effective, talented hands of one another, they’re laid up together in bed. Roman between her spread legs, his fingers making light caresses up and down her glowing skin. Her own hands embedded in his hair, down and air dried in its naturally voluminous state. She works her fingers through his scalp, all the while watching how he keeps his eyes open but his hand to the left of him near the phone that’s remained dark since they climbed into bed. The baby monitor situated on the nightstand on her side of the bed also another source of silence, as the only sound that fills their master bedroom is that which filters through the double doors that lead to the forever busy, boisterous city that is Miami. 

At one point, amongst many other discussions occurring in the wake of the fire that all but obliterated the home Heaven once shared with her ex-husband and Macy, there were talks of moving. Leaving the city. Transitioning elsewhere. Tampa, near the top of the list. Heaven and Macy staying/living with him in the house he once shared with Camryn just wasn’t an option. As many memories it held, some good, some bad, some somewhere in between, both Heaven and Roman agreed that there was more discomfort with making it their permanent residence than benefits. Even more, he wanted to find a place for them that carried no memories but the ones that would be made in this new chapter of his life. 

A new start required fresh soil and a solid foundation to be built upon, and if not for the time it would take to build and include what exactly he’d prefer their home to have, that’s exactly what they would have done. But it all worked out, as he’d hired the same realtor who helped him find the house that’s now sold and the one they live in now that’s, somehow, even larger and grander than the last.

Not that any of that even mattered to Heaven. She just wanted a home, and any place that had him, Macy, the twins, and even Nathan, was home.

Granted, she will never deny the peace that comes with being in a place that’s not borrowed or stolen. It’s hers.

It’s theirs.

“Are you working Bad Blood this year?” 

Her question is a gentle stir to the silence. She watches and feels the subtle rise and fall of his big body against hers, leaning down to kiss his forehead.

“Not sure yet.” 

At that, she rolls her eyes, tilting her head to the side, uncaring of the way he keeps his lids shut.  “You know you want to.” The small smile playing on his full lips as he takes another close mouthed breath confirms as such. Heaven mimics his actions, also sighing, lips pressed into his temple. “Do it, babe,” she murmurs. “You know we’ll be there to cheer you on, Mr. World Heavyweight Champion.” 

When Roman told Heaven that he was taking an indefinite leave from WWE, it came at no surprise whatsoever. With everything that occurred—Macy, Jey, the pregnancy—it only made sense that he too took a step back. Like herself, his priority was supporting Macy and navigating the legal fallout of everything that occurred. But as the months passed and they neared almost a year since Roman stepped away, Heaven started to drop subtle hints regarding his tentative return timeline. Not to rush him, far from it, but rather to let him know that it was okay. That they were okay, because she knows her husband better than anyone on this earth.

Knows that he would never return. That he would just leave his elimination at the 2025 Rumble as his final in-ring appearance. That if it was between work and family, he would always choose family. That, for Roman, there was no choice to make.

It was just family.

Period.

But while healing and recovering often require finding a new norm amongst the wreckage of the storm, if something can be salvaged, like the items not completely destroyed and damaged by the fire that almost took their daughter’s life, they should be retained. Heaven knows how much Roman’s career means to him. All the work he put in to get to where he is. All the sacrifices. It felt wrong to not encourage him to reclaim something she knew brought him joy.

Even more, juxtaposed to the year prior that’d been so focused on Jey, so catered towards launching his star, there was almost a petty part of her that wanted to see Roman take back everything he’d selflessly helped his cousin obtain. 

“2025 was his year,” she said, sitting on Roman’s lap, hands on his cheeks, the sound of their kids playing in the background a soft buffer. “You make 2026 your year.” 

And he did just that.

Heaven can still recall the way she jumped the moment the opening of his I Am Greatness theme played throughout Michigan Stadium. The way her eyes instantly shifted to Macy who’d insisted on keeping her hearing aids in, to the way her twin babies smiled and wiggled, even with their own headphones on. As if the powerful, magnetic sound of the beating drums demanded their attention and focus even without being directly heard. 

Heaven has attended plenty of Roman’s shows over the years, but his surprise, unannounced return at the 2026 Royal Rumble remains the loudest pop she’s ever heard. The only thing to outdo it was the thunderous applause and roar of celebration that flowed throughout the stadium when he tossed Gunther out that ring. 

When he won.

Tears filled her eyes watching the way he dropped to his knees, panting, sweating, holding onto the rope, head down. The gold writing etched on his gloves and in his custom Nikes. The names of their children. Of her. The way Macy clapped and cheered happily in Nathan’s arms as he too expressed congratulations. Kanoa and Kalia, six months old and oblivious to the specifics of what occurred, also beaming with joy, feeding off the jubilation that surrounded them. 

Heaven had never felt so relieved that she pushed Roman on the subject of bringing them. She knew he could do it, knew he would do it, and she wanted to ensure he knew they were all there to support and cheer him on.

No one knows just how deeply his win, and subsequent backlash, back in 2015 affected him. Heaven has a pretty damn good idea. Better than most. But even she is not exempt from being shut down and having the conversation diverted at any attempt to get him to open up. It hurt him. Deeply. A hurt that, in her opinion, was largely chipped away by such a win and recapture of glory eleven years later.

Most of that healing and rewriting of history, however, came not from applause vs boo’s. It came from the presence of his family, of the kids, of herself, all of whom had a front row seat to one of the best sights she’d witnessed all year. Smiles stretched and spread when he climbed out of the ring and met them ringside. Nathan hyping and dapping him up. Macy wrapping her arms around his neck, wiggling and moving in unwavering excitement. Similar to that of Kanoa and Kalia, though far too young to understand what just occurred, offering babbles lost under the sound of his theme blasting throughout the stadium. And when he finally reached her, shifted his eyes from their youngest to her, bent over to hug and hold her as she stroked the back of his neck, it was all but confirmed. 

Without a doubt confirmed when two months later, a similar outcome, response, and reaction as he won the World Heavyweight Championship in the main event of WrestleMania. If Heaven thought the pop for his rumble win was something, the one at mania nearly left her ears ringing for almost two days straight.

But it was all so so worth it. Everything about that night was magical and special. From his moving, almost sentimental entrance—slideshow of those who came before him and who he works to this day to honor and respect—the names of the kids and herself, again, etched and sown into his gear, and especially in the emotional celebration that, once more, occurred ringside. 

That…..that meant more to him than any win. 

His family. 

“I’ll think about.” Roman’s answer tugs Heaven away from the recalling of pleasant, enjoyable memories. Ones that have felt like they increase in frequency and duration as time passes. As to be expected. Time doesn’t heal all, but it does ease the aches just a bit. And healing occurring alongside the pillars of support and love will always provide the necessary space for it to flourish and flow. 

Heaven’s eyes bounce to where Roman has his phone lifted, his thumb moving to unlock and navigate to the most recently used app. Seconds later, footage that’s essentially the exact same as the last time he checked shortly before they stepped into the shower together. 

Cribs stationed on either side of the nursery, names spelled out on the wall above said cribs, in the stereotypical pink and blue. Similar to the bedding and overall theme of a room Heaven spent far more time decorating than what was necessary, but it’d become an outlet. Something she could throw herself into. That she could control. A gracious, necessary space of mercy and release. One that still carries with it the peaceful and comforting atmosphere that, though she can’t prove it, aids in the way her twins so easily go down for bed. 

Evident in the way they both are turned on their stomachs, lips slightly parted, little bodies rising up and down in slow, steady motions. 

“It’s amazing how they sleep through the night,” she murmurs. 

Roman chuckles. “That’s cause they use up all their energy during the day.”

She smiles and nestles her head against his temple. “I don’t know where they get all that from, either.” 

“You and me both,” he agrees. “All I know is we’re signing them up for as many sports as we can the minute they’re old enough.”

“Roman.”

Not that she necessarily disagrees as it was the same thought that she had earlier in the day, there’s an element of exaggeration that fuels his motive. Kanoa and Kalia, while far from unafraid to express discontent and dissatisfaction in the way of babbles, screams, whines, and the tossing of whatever is in the closest vicinity, really are good babies. Heaven has noticed that they just tend to become more temperamental in the usual situations that would aggravate most young children. Hunger. Sleepiness. Overstimulated. 

Not that much different from the man complaining about them. 

“What?” He angles his head to look at her. “Heav, they gotta get that shit out somehow. I’m not about to be 50 something chasing them around this house.”

She rolls her eyes. He can be dramatic as hell sometimes. “You sound like Jimmy.”

“About once a year, he says something actually accurate.”

Heaven flicks his shoulder and continues to massage his scalp. She also watches how he switches over to the other camera that, again, greets them the same it did the last time he checked.

Macy, in bed, Cookie cradled in her arms and Candy at the edge of the bed. 

Sleeping. 

A calming, assuring image that only goes so far. Hence the way she reaches for his phone, Roman only casting her a brief glance before he hands it to her. He remains quiet as she clicks around and navigates to Apple Music—one day she’ll get him to switch to Spotify—quickly searching and playing the desired tune.

As the silence that filled the room is imbued with a familiar, well known tune for her, Heaven places the phone back beside her husband who looks over at her with a scowl that reminds her of the twins when they’re cranky. All of her kids, it seems, took after their daddy when it comes to that damn scowl. 

“Isn’t this the song that plays when someone dies on that hospital show you like?”

“Roman.” As much as he likes to talk about Jimmy, he isn’t that far off with some of the shit he says. They both have no filter. Just in different ways. “It’s Greys Anatomy. If you would stop falling asleep every time I try to watch it with you—”

“I’m not watching that shit, Heaven. I told you that.”

The way he shuts her down almost immediately isn’t the least bit surprising. For all of the many, many things the man she’s holding has done, will do, and will always do for her, the one thing she’s never been able to talk him into is watching one of her favorite shows with her. Any of her favorite shows, really. They’ll watch movies together, but even that’s far and few in between outside of the animated, family friendly programs and films the kids like to watch. Beyond that, it’s a no-go. Ever since they were teenagers, Roman has always found Heaven’s taste in shows too “female focused” for him. To this day, she’s still not sure what exactly that means. 

She snorts. “Yeah, cause you’d rather watch that violence.”

“Damn straight.” 

Heaven flicks his shoulder. If it’s got gore, action, or a weird combination of both, he’s there. For her, there are a million and one things she’d rather do than subject herself to that macabre shit.

As the music continues to play in the background, reaching one of her favorite parts, she refocuses the conversation. “And yeah, it is synonymous with character deaths, but….” Once more, she leans over and kisses his temple, murmuring a soft, “just….listen.” 

If I lay here

If I just lay here

Would you lie with me and just forget the world?

Words that manifest and penetrate, Heaven watching how he closes his eyes once more, the most subtle tick of his jaw and falter of his lips telltales of her spontaneous idea and spur of the moment plan proving to be effective.

In more ways than expected. 

Heaven smooths her hands down his chest and then over his shoulders, giving a gentle squeeze. For most, it’d be a gesture that requires clarification, but not Roman. 

He knows what she needs, even without her even saying a word. 

All that I am

All that I ever was

Is here in your perfect eyes, they're all I can see

In a matter of seconds, he’s no longer in between her legs and her body is no longer propped up by the set of pillows set against their headboard. She’s instead curled against him, arm over his stomach, her cheek pressed into his chest. He pulls her closer, as if their bodies aren’t already molded together. As if they aren’t already one in every way that counts.

“Something did die, Roman,” she whispers. “That….that died.” That unnamed but known entity she refuses to give life to by naming and addressing. They’ve lived it. Survived it. “And this….this is where we breathe. Where we live.”

Because life is made up of more than just fleeting moments of joy and happiness. It’s frustration mixed with disappointment and tainted with occasional loss. Trauma and grief that co-exist, go hand in hand, but almost always follow up with the clearing of the sky and disappearing of the clouds. 

Heaven was once told that it can’t rain forever. She didn’t understand it then. 

She understands it now. 

“We’re here. We made it here. That’s what matters.” After everything that was thrown and meant to work against them, to keep one half from the other half, and despite every single odd that could exist, they made it. They made it. “Somewhere beyond right and wrong,” A beat. “That’s where we found each other.” 

a/n: and there we have it, folks. the long ass , too long awaited conclusion.

this is not the ending i wanted to go with. my initial thought/idea when starting to flesh out the story following the massive, positive response to rls was one much different than this. in my initial plot, macy ends up passing away, and jey is "mysteriously" found murdered.

thus, the storyline following roman and heaven trying to navigate life post macy's murder, heaven's pregnancy, as well as a bit of a "mystery" aspect where i would play around with "who killed jey" and a focus on roman and nathan as the potential suspects.

specifically, i wanted to explore the dichotomy of grief and love. exploration of how two people navigate a new norm that's juxtaposed to a past they can't seem to let go and heal from. heaven struggling to find joy in her pregnancy, and roman struggling with the guilt of it all. together, their shared regret at their actions that, to them, resulted in the loss of their daughter. the story concluding with roman and heaven meeting the little girl who received macy's heart, as they chose to donate her organs.

"we couldn't save our baby, but we had the opportunity to save someone else's. and that's what we did. an act of love. because that's what macy was to and for us. the representation and embodiment of love."

that's what the heaven sent short would have shown. but i had to be honest with myself and realize that i really do not have the time to adequately and properly write out such a layered storyline the way i'd want to. not with all the other 5011 wip's i got going on. thus, this alternative ending.

anyhoo, much appreciation and thanks to everyone who read this hot mess express of a mini series. forever grateful and thankful for you kind souls. i feel as though this ending could have been better, but you've all waited long enough for a conclusion. i just hope this one was satisfactory.

"Baby!"

Cameron's voice from the shower echoed, as you were preoccupied with your phone on the bed. He'd called your name just a second ago, but you were engrossed by a tutorial on how to make the perfect homemade matcha.

"What?" You finally answered.

"Get your ass in here."

The demand in his tone made you giggle and you felt an overwhelming sense of bliss. You did as your baby said and made way to the en suite luxury bathroom of the penthouse you both lived in.

Before you ever met Cameron Cade, you'd heard things about the three-time Superbowl winning quarterback of the Bakersfield Bengals.

How talented he was on the field.

Rumors about his breakup with his ex, Jasmine.

Conspiracy theories about his discreet training with the legend, Isaiah White.

That was all you knew until you met him at a house party in Los Angeles.

He'd come up to you first, polite and chill. Easy to talk to. You found out that you were both 25 years old. He was from Houston, while you'd grown up in El Paso. A lot of Don Toliver's songs were on both of your Spotify playlists, and you both agreed that Power started falling off around season 4.

Then Cam got you into a deep conversation about the importance of mental health and how he almost gave up on football during draft season. It made for good conversation and your earlier assumption that all athletes were shallow meatheads was challenged.

The hours you spent talking turned into an intense makeout session in one of the guest bedrooms—and neither of you had even touched alcohol that night. Cameron tongue kissed you, which you obliged, and you felt butterflies and sparks and the need to see if his print was really printing, all at once. Once you started moaning like you had no good sense, you knew you were going home with him.

So instead leaving with the girls you came with, you hopped into Cameron's Lexus.

Once you'd arrived to his place, he spent a good half hour on the couch playing with your pussy. What followed was 24 hours of you and Cameron Cade slutting each other out until neither of you could take it anymore.

You thought nothing would come from such an unforgettable night, because at the end of the day, it was a one night stand. But Cameron couldn't leave you alone. Just a week later, he asked you out.

Now here you were, two years deep and so in love with each other. He was the best boyfriend you'd ever had and you synced so well together. You admired his work ethic and he loved how intelligent you were. While football was his career path, yours was event planning, and you felt supported and encouraged by him. Not to mention, the sex was the absolute bomb.

Everything wasn't perfect, though.

There were bitches who tried their best to weave their way into your lives, even though you had no doubts about Cameron's fidelity.

Then there were Cam's night tremors. They didn't happen often, but when they hit, they were bad. He'd sweat bullets while chanting "hut" over and over until you shook him awake. He still refused to see a doctor about it.

But overall, you were happy, and so was he.

You stood across from your man, separated by the glass panels of his huge, walk in shower. He'd just turned on the water, so there wasn't any mist to block you from seeing him clearly. As water ran down his chiseled body he was stroking himself slowly, waiting for you to join him.

You lifted your oversized T-shirt just above your ribcage so he could admire your figure as you twirled around. He liked you in boyshorts more than thongs or G-strings, so you wore them more often than not. This one in particular had his first name embroidered in big letters in the front and his last name in the back. He licked his lips when you slapped your own ass.

"Take that shit off and get in here."

You rolled your eyes. "I just took a shower!"

"So? Come take another one."

You just stared at him, conflicted. No matter how careful Cameron was, shower sex always scared you a little. The worrier in you pictured his tall ass taking one misstep and cracking his head wide open. With you as added weight and how hard he liked to fuck, it sounded like the gateway to a body horror feature film.

Cam sighed in disappointment and that immediately folded you. A sad Cameron was your least favorite Cameron, so you stripped, threw on a shower cap, and got in.

Just ten minutes later, your mouth was hanging open as you held onto Cam's neck for dear life. His muscular arms were hooked under your knees, keeping you mid-air as he bounced you on his dick. Your fears were long forgotten as your gut tightened and you cried out from how deep he was hitting. You'd reached another climax.

Cameron groaned, barely hanging on as your walls fluttered.

"This pussy be cumming easy. Fuuuuck…" he panted, pulling your ass cheeks apart so he could keep up the brutal pace. Between the smacking of your bodies, how your face twisted in pleasure, and the loudness of your choked sobs, his control was slipping.

"I'm about to bust," he warned. "Cum again, baby. C'mon." He sucked hard on your neck, encouraging you.

You started shrieking his name as your next orgasm came crashing down. Cameron cursed and his thrusts became erratic, until he moaned through his release. Both of you were panting like you'd run a marathon.

You kissed for a long time before he pulled out and gently set you on your feet. He placed a kiss on your forehead and you felt warmth spread in the pit of your belly, satiated and content.

He smirked as he grabbed both of your washcloths from the hanging shower caddy. Wetting them in the stream of water, he rubbed both cloths with soap and handed over yours.

"I love you," he hummed as he began scrubbing his body.

You grinned just the same as you did the first time he admitted it.

"I love you too, Cam."

“Oh. Are we being monitored, officer?”

Kevin dips his head as he lightly rolls the stroller that contains your youngest back and forth in front of him, “That’s right. Last i checked, berries wasn’t on the list of safe fruits right now. Matter of fact, I should call up a health inspector in this city to come through.”

“Don’t.” You hiss, pushing off your ankles (knowing you’ll regret that later) to get to your feet, “Start nothing, Kevin Ladell Atwater. We’re on vacation.”

In Carlsbad, California to be exact.

It was between here and Florida to be honest. Kevin wasn’t big on flying—he even considered driving but you persuaded that it would be somewhat easier with an antsy five year old and a clingy, yet sensitive two year old to just hop on a flight.

Which was easy for you to say, considering you had six years experience being a flight attendant once upon a time.

Kevin blinks, “So that means I gotta stop doing my duty as a husband and a father?”

“Here you go.” You mutter, dusting remains of grass off the back of your thighs, then bend to pick up the crate of red berries you collected, making your way to the middle to see your five year old’s progress, “Wow, Yaya! You have mommy beat. Good job, pretty girl.”

The perfect combination of you and Kevin grins right up at you, though the gummy smile belongs entirely to her father. Her two coarse puffs were full and reached towards the softening sun.

“Tanks, mommy!” She says in her high-pitched tone, bouncing on her feet.

Kevin chims in, “Yeah, you’re doing real well, peanut. Just remember what daddy said, no bite until clean.”

With the crate in one of your hands and balancing it against your hip you send the man a warning look before gently resting a hand down on Yaya’s shoulder.

This was not the time to ruin the vibe—even if you knew Kevin had the right to be concerned with all these recalls and virus outbreaks because of the food lately.

You just wanted to create memorable experiences for your kids even if Kevin was definitely being a typical dad about it all.

“Tell daddy this isn’t Halloween.” You whisper down to Yaya, who turns to repeat back to the brown skinned man.

Kevin looks up from his now pulled out phone at you two, “I know what season it is. And I don’t regret checking all the candy either. My mom checked mine back in the day, so imma do the same for as long as we go trick or treatin’.”

He was right.

People could be so vile.

You definitely remember one of your cousins biting into a blade when you were around eleven. Which turned you away from chocolate for good.

Can we say trauma?

“And stay eating up all the best candy too.” You tease, helping Yaya pick up her mini basket and making sure she could hold it properly.

Kevin lightly shrugs, “Sharing is caring.”

You roll your eyes, puffing out a laugh as you and your five year old meet Kevin and your sleeping baby boy, Azari.

As the Atwater family you’ve spent a nice amount of time out and about today, peeking to see what time it is on Kevin’s phone before nudging your head that you were ready to call it.

Kevin does a U-turn with the stroller, pocketing his phone, then takes the small basket from Yaya to rest along the top of the stroller. Once it was balanced enough, he spreads his fingers out, reaching down to hold Yaya’s hand and steering the stroller with the other.

It’s the perfect picture.

As if you haven’t taken loads since you arrived on the property but nonetheless, Kevin stops at the right moment, encouraging Yaya to, “Look at mommy for the thousandth time today and say cheese,” to add more to your photos of adventure.

Smiling softly at the capture, you dip your head, shoving your phone back into your olive cargo shorts, then spin around, hiking the carton of strawberries up against your hip and lead the way through the fields towards the main shop.

𖤓 ｡𖦹°‧ ⋆☀︎. ˖°𓇼⋆

𖤓 ｡𖦹°‧ ⋆☀︎. ˖°𓇼⋆

𖤓 ｡𖦹°‧ ⋆☀︎. ˖°𓇼⋆

𖤓 ｡𖦹°‧ ⋆☀︎. ˖°𓇼⋆

𖤓 ｡𖦹°‧ ⋆☀︎. ˖°𓇼⋆

When you get back to the Airbnb, it’s teamwork getting Yaya and a fussy, “Zari,” bathed and into bed. By the time you finished exploring the strawberries and checking out the shop, you spent over fifteen minutes inside of the rental car trying to pick a spot to have dinner, with a suddenly awakened Zari letting you both know how he truly felt about it.

The boy could put you two through it.

It was always a case of terrible two’s (before he even arrived two years around the sun) with the kid…but of course you didn’t love him any less.

So you claimed…

That’s a joke y’all!

Promise.

Didn’t mean Zari never had the power to tire you out though.

Kevin managed to talk him down calmly as always when you couldn’t get through to him.

Once Kevin let you know Zari was finally down, he told you he was finally gonna jump in the shower, leaving you on the balcony as you tended to your scrap book with pastel orange sickle skies.

You’d be lying if you said you didn’t start to doze off…even with the mocktail you concocted to give you a bit of strength to take on the battle that is bedtime for the kids.

Crickets chirped into the warm evening while the breeze carried hints of ocean spray and cedar.

Although you’ve moved away from Chicago to Ohio going on about six months now, it always felt good to get away. Without constantly worrying about the fear of starting over. To go where no one knows your name or your story, becoming just another face in a relaxed but lively town.

And you weren’t doing it alone.

You built a whole family you weren’t sure you’d ever have.

But you did.

They were yours.

You’re awakened by the touch of his fingertips.

Heat.

Delicate.

Before they’re firm enough to grip your bare thigh.

Kevin had to make sure that you always knew he was there.

Which apparently included squeezing your meat because Jill Scott said something about it once…or at least that’s how Kevin interpreted it.

Your eyes slowly peel open to your husband gently taking your tortoise glass away from you to place far from your ajar scrapbook.

Sitting up straight so you don’t get a further crick in your neck, you lean back, peeking up at the handsome man who’s grinning down at you.

“Uh huh, Caught you Slippin’ like you always do me.” He speaks, smelling of fresh soap and a pinch of musk while he takes a seat beside you on the edge of the outdoor furniture.

His elbows dig into his knees, holding onto the baby monitor while glancing at the tablet which stood on the table behind the scrapbook you were working on. It had the view of both Yara sleeping in a twin sized bed, hands locked securely around her stuffed sheep, Sheepa, and Zari was also resting in toddler made bed near by.

“It’s only one picture in there. Specifically on the plane when you swore you weren’t gonna fall asleep.” You inform with a croak, resting one arm along the top of the two-seater as you peer at the back of Kevin, humor still in your tone.

Kevin gives you a flat look over his shoulder, “You know blackmailing an officer is a serious offense, don’t you?”

Breathing out a laugh as your response, you keep your head propped up against your hand.

Soon Kevin decides to lean back and you don’t hesitate to make room for him.

His head rests against your collarbone, your fingertips move around his head to run your fingers from the facial hair on his jaw up to his temple repeatedly.

He’s studying the view while you’re taking in the weight of him.

Then he shifts to rest his ear lower, against your chest.

He listens.

Kevin picks up on the rhythmic drumming and it’s sudden racing.

“You good?” He leans back, brown hues meeting yours.

Your hand finds his cheek, steering him back to your chest, shushing him and Kevin can’t help but to smirk.

“I still got it don’t I?”

A roll of your eyes can’t help but to be present.

“I felt that.” Kevin points out, not having to lift his head once more.

You laugh because of course he did.

Then he’s moving again, sitting up and cupping your cheek.

He’s tugging your mouth to his and you swear it’s new years again.

You meet his pace.

Slow yet passionate at first.

You’re gripping his bicep.

He’s leaning further into you that you’re nearly pressed back against the pillows along the arm of the chair.

Kevin tastes like what a husband should.

Devoted.

And then he does that little humming bit that has you breaking away to catch your breath, although you feel something else throb.

His forehead knocks against yours.

“Man…if I wasn’t so tired, I’d take you right here on this couch.”

You bite back a grin, nodding and having the same desire.

“I know…” you peck his lips but he doesn’t let you pull back, making sure his plump lips linger.

They always do.

“I love you.” You breathe Kevin in before reassuring, “I had fun today.”

Kevin chuckles, watching you continue to fight to keep your eyes open. “Even with my, imaginary berry laws?”

Words you threw at him when he put the vinegar soaking berries in the sink; then underneath some forensic blue lights that you were not aware he packed.

“Even then.”

He pulls back to press a kiss to your forehead, “Good. Glad to know you still luh me especially when I’m on your nerves.”

“Ain’t much of a secret, Mr. Atwater.”

“Clock this—as you say: I love you too, Mrs. Atwater.”

“I know.”

“I know you know.” Kevin answers, “I just want you to hear it for the rest of your life.”

A smile stretches across your face until you’re lying against each other.

Kevin knows you should both head inside before the night fully takes over, but he can’t help relishing the tiny fire still burning in your chest.

Even after all this time.

Your bodies seem to react to small bouts of intimacy.

Kevin Atwater wouldn’t dare complain.

𖤓 ｡𖦹°‧ ⋆☀︎. ˖°𓇼⋆ 𖤓 ｡𖦹°‧ ⋆☀︎. ˖°𓇼⋆ 𖤓 ｡𖦹°‧ ⋆☀︎.

Returning back to life in Ohio…

To routine.

To embracing quality time.

To supporting each other’s careers.

To parenting.

To checking in with oneself and coming back as one…

The days tend to blend together, sometimes in a blur, sometimes in dread, and often times of joy…

YOU LEARN TO FORGIVE SUMMER FOR BEING BRIEF, as you lovingly watch the man you chose, bond with the two little lives you created together as soon as he got home on the floor of your shared living room.

Kevin definitely feels the burn of your stare while he held a giggling Yaya up in the air, pretending to drop her towards him so he can repeatedly tackle her face with kisses.

When his arms get tired and Yaya busies herself playing with her little brother close by, Kevin lounges on the rug, teeth over his bottom lip in thought as he watches the two for a bit until he meets your stare from the open concept kitchen.

Summer was fading…

Yet Kevin’s doe eyes said the same thing as yours.

Life gave him you.

It had been just as generous to you.

So he’ll take every season for what it is.

He matches your smile from across the home.

No hesitation.

𖤓 ｡𖦹°‧ ⋆☀︎. ˖°𓇼⋆ 𖤓 ｡𖦹°‧ ⋆☀︎. ˖°𓇼⋆ 𖤓 ｡𖦹°‧ ⋆☀︎.

When he awakes from injuries that should’ve killed him, you wish you never met him. Jack Mercer had that killer smile with those stupid fucking eyes. He had a voice that could soothe you to sleep. He also had three brothers that would do anything for him. You were Jack’s nurse, having been assigned to him upon learning he was indeed going to make it. Upon walking into his room, you’re tempted to tell his brothers they have to leave but considering they’re all fucked to high heaven you decide against it.

“Jack…I’m your nurse…how do you feel?” You’re leaning over him, looking him in the eyes as you gauged how coherent he was. His grin is almost contagious. “Like I got shot the fuck up,” You purse your lips at his language, glancing over as one of his brothers' chuckle. “That’s my fucking boy,” Looking back at Jack, you’re tilting his head up a bit to see under the light. “You’re lucky to be alive,” You murmur, giving him a smile. He stares at you with this starstruck look in his eyes, a side effect of the medication he was being given. “I’m going to marry you,” He murmurs. The random thought makes you chuckle. “Okay Jack,” You take his arm, checking his IV. “So sweetheart, when is he getting out of here?” You glance over at his brother, eyeing his visitor tag. Bobby. “I’m not sure, you’ll have to get with his doctor. He needs at least two weeks here. He’s lucky they even missed major organs,” You say softly, looking back down at Jack’s tattooed arm. “Mom’s watching over him,” One of them murmur fondly, and you pat Jack’s hand. “Alright, I’ll probably be back later to check on you, which all visitors should be gone by 9pm,” You give them each a pointed look before turning away.

“Hey, hey, hey, wait,” You’re turning around as Bobby is coming up behind you, and stopping you from going too far. “I know you’re not the doc but give it to me. How lucky is he?” You glance back at Jack, waving back at him as he waved. “Very. Bullets missed major organs by sheer dumb luck if you ask me. He’ll be fine with some TLC,” There’s this look of relief on his face and you smile at him. “I’ll be back to check on him in the night. If there’s any problem, I’ll make sure the hospital calls right away,” He’s letting you brush past him.

Bad Boys

There were a few things you learned about Jack Mercer while having him under your care.

First, he was persistent.

It was an early morning when you came into his room, pushing open his blinds. “It’s time to get up Jack,” You’re turning towards his bed, giving him a smile as he squints against the light. “It’s too fucking early,” He groans, turning away from you. “It’s 8 am. It’s not that early. How are you feeling? Pain level? 1 to 10, 10 being your highest,” You grab his chart, walking up to the side of the bed, taking a quick but thorough note of his IV and heart monitor levels. He’s glancing up at you with those blue eyes of his. “4,” He responds, and you stare at him for a moment before jotting it down. “I’m tired and thirsty,” He murmurs afterward, and you step closer to him, looking down his arm. “Well, I’ve got you a nice cup of water and some jello,” His eyes roll, causing you to chuckle. “I know, not ideal,” You’re helping him sit up, for some reason becoming kind of nervous as you were very close to touching noses. “Good?” You ask, and he nods. Rolling over his tray, you set it up over his lap. “Alright, I think you’re all set. The doctor will be in later,” As you’re moving away, he’s grabbing your wrist. “When I uh get out of here, can I take you out?”

You didn’t know the Mercer’s personally, but they had a reputation of their own around town. Since taking down the asshole Victor Sweet, things have been a little safer, but the Mercer’s were troublemakers, and you knew a face like Jack’s…well…it wouldn’t end well for you. “You’re cute Mercer, but in your dreams,” You start to walk out of his room, chuckling lightly at his response, “Then I’ll go to sleep!” You’re shaking your head, passing Bobby on your way out. “He’s up for you,” You say in passing, and he’s nodding in thanks.

Bobby makes his way into the hospital room noticing Jack’s grin. “What’s got you all smiling Jackie?” He taps his brother’s foot in passing, plopping down in the seat next to his bed. He follows Jack’s line of sight as you walk past, talking to someone. “Ah the hot little nurse. She’s outta your league big boy. Didn’t peg you for a brown sugar guy,” Jack’s flicking a piece of jello at Bobby. “Fuck off man. She’s different. I just know it,” Bobby chuckles, letting his feet rest up on the bed. “Mhm, okay,”

Bad Boys

You went in to check on Jack numerous times in the following days, keeping an eye on his pain levels and monitoring his IV. Every time, he’d ask you some cheesy pickup line or do his best to convince you that you should give him a chance. It was flattering, cute, but you had your own issues with boys like him, and you learned the hard way that cute faces can get you fucked up.

Horribly.

You were no stranger to domestic violence, and last year it had gotten pretty rough, and if it weren’t for you taking the risk of filing a report, you’d be dead today. So, since then, you’ve tried staying clear of boys like Jack Mercer with a bad reputation. No matter how cute he was.

You simply smiled at him and shook your head.

Right now, you were undoing his dressings, taking a look at the way his wounds were healing. “Looking good there,” Your hand presses against his side, and your fingers absentmindedly run over the tattoo of the name Evelyn. Everybody knew of Evelyn Mercer. She was the sweetest woman you would ever come across. Always ready to help, and quick to tell you to get your shit together. You met her a few times in passing. She would donate old clothes to the hospital, especially for people who might’ve come in and had no home. Her death hit you hard like it did in her community, and you even ventured to the funeral. The Mercer’s got justice, and it was one of the most important moments in this city.

 Jack’s hand covering yours takes you from your thoughts, and you meet his gaze. “I know it’s your job and everything, but…thanks for taking care of me,” Your lips pull into a small smile. “Of course,” You continue with your examination, taking notes that they stopped bleeding and looked to be healing nicely. You assumed that he needed another week instead of two, but only the doctor could make that call. With making sure he changed these every few days, rubbed ointment on them, and didn’t do anything strenuous for a few weeks, he would be alright.  

“Pain level today?” You question him, wrapping the blood pressure monitor around his arm. “3 to 5, depending on how I sleep,” Looking at your watch and then the monitor, you run your eyes over him. “It’s best on your back. How are you sleeping?” He turns to the side to show you ho he likes to sleep, and your lips purse. “Yeah, until you’re out of here, sleep on your back. Blood pressure looks good. You’re doing good Mercer. Need anything before I go?” He sits up a bit and looks down at his covered hips. “I gotta take a piss,” Your brow raises. “You’re not screwing around?” He shakes his head with a smile, and you glance over at the door to see no one around for immediate assistance.

“Alright, let’s do this,” You pull the sheet back, adverting your eyes from the shorts he was in. “You’re supposed to be wearing the hospital shorts that were given to you,” You pull his legs over the bed, and grab his hand, pulling him up to a stand. “Make my balls feel stuffy,” The response was not what you were expecting, and you let out a soft laugh, covering your mouth immediately. “That shouldn’t be funny,” You mumble behind your hand, and he’s grinning at you. Wrapping an arm around his waist you help keep him steady as you guide him to the bathroom. His legs slightly wobble at first, but you’re tightening your grip on his side. You help him to the toilet, keeping a hand at his back as you stand beside him.

“Look at where you’re aiming Mercer,” You remind him in a soft tone, and he’s turning his head to look down. “You know you want to look,” He murmurs, and the sound of peeing isn’t something that bothers you, even now. “I do not,” You respond, feeling your face heating up as he looks down at you. “It’s big…” You can’t help but bite your cheek as you try to hide your smile. “I don’t care about your dick size. Now shorts up,” He’s smirking at you, taking in your brown skin and long hair which was drawn back in a ponytail. He pulls up his shorts, and you guide him to the sink so that he could wash his hands.

After he washes his hands and dries them, you start to maneuver yourself around him to help him back to bed. In a swift move that you weren’t prepared for, he’s taking one of his hands and tilting your head up by nudging your chin with two fingers. He’s bending down to place a quick peck on your lips. He pulls away, his thumb caressing the corner of your mouth before he’s taking his IV stand and walking out of the bathroom.

Fucking Mercer.

Bad Boys

You didn’t take his brief kiss as anything of importance, choosing to ignore it, though anytime you thought long enough, you could feel his skin on yours.

The second thing you learned about Jack Mercer was that he was very perceptive.

You were having one of those rough days and personally been on autopilot for most of the day. He could tell you looked tired when you walked in and he of course was being his ever-loving jokester self, but after noticing you didn’t give him the signature fuck off Mercer or in your dreams, he frowns. “You alright?” You’re quiet as you rub some ointment around one of his wounds. Pursing your lips, you nod, swallowing the lump in your throat. “Mhmm, does this hurt?” He shakes his head before answering. “No, not really. Are you…sure?” You swipe your arm across your face, as your vision blurred momentarily. “Yeah, yeah,” You sniffle, re-applying the bandage, stepping away from him and briefly looking him over. He’s grabbing your hand before you can leave. Looking you over, he turns over your arm, his intention unknown. “What happened there?” He’s tapping the old scar on your forearm, and you look down at it. You remembered this one. You had gotten into another argument with your boyfriend, and he ended up slashing you with a kitchen knife.

“Accident,” You’re pulling your arm away, grabbing his chart. “1,” He’s responding before you can ask, and you glance at him. “That’s good,” You murmur, scribbling the number by the date.  “I can leave out of here next week,” You give him a small smile. “I know you’re ready to be out of here,” He shrugs at you, his lips curling into a smile.

“You’re really pretty,”

Your eyes soften, and you’re letting out a mix between a laugh and a cry. “Thanks Jack,”

The remaining week went by quickly, your mood increasing each day, and you didn’t want to admit it was because a certain patient of yours. It finally came the day that Jack was being discharged, and you were waiting off to the side quietly as the doctor spoke to him about how to take care of the dressings and what medication he’d be on, as well as follow-up appointments. His brothers were around the bed, listening intently. After the doctor left, you walked up beside his bed. “It was certainly interesting having you around Mercer,” He smirks as you, running his hand through his blonde strands.

“You haven’t seen the last of me yet,” He replies, and you chuckle. “Let’s just hope it’s not back in a hospital bed,”

Bad Boys

2 Weeks Later

When you were notified that someone was waiting for you, you were surprised to see Jack who looked much better. Walking from around the nurse’s station, you smile at Jack. “Didn’t expect to see you back here so soon,” He was dressed in some band tee with a pair of jeans and a leather jacket. His hair was slicked back nicely, and you can’t help but raise a brow at him. “I wanted to know if you were busy tonight,” As you look at Jack, you frown regretfully.

“Jack, you’re a really nice guy and I think you’re really cute, but we can’t…get close. Not like that…I’m sorry,” You give him an apologetic glance, and step forward, standing on the tips of your toes to kiss his cheek. He leans into your touch, frowning slightly before grabbing your hand. “Then let me take you out as a friend. I don’t want anything, I don’t want to do anything…we can go out for drinks or go down to the bowling alley down on Jermaine,” He grabs the other hand, and it makes you smile as he swings your arms. “I’ll be the perfect gentleman,” He adds, and looking down at your adjoined hands, your lips purse. “Okay, we can go to the bowling alley and eat while talking about things that don’t matter,” He’s grinning at you, and he let’s go of your hands before stepping back.

“I get off at 9 tonight,” He backs his way out the way he came. “It’s a date!” He calls as he passes through the double automatic doors. “Outing Jack!” You call out, ignoring the various stares you got afterward.

It was nearing 8:30 as Jack rounded the corner into the kitchen, dressed in his usual attire. “Bobby, let me borrow the car,” Bobby was sitting on the couch with Angel and Sofi watching the game on TV. He glances up at Jack, swiping the keys off the table next to him. “Where you going?” Jack catches the keys from Bobby, pocketing them. “You know that nurse from the hospital? I’m taking her down to Mickey’s,” Angel chuckles, looking away from the TV. “Finally getting some pussy Jackiepoo?” Jack rolls his eyes and shakes his head. Sofi slaps Angel upside the head, cursing at him in Spanish. “No, I’m just taking her out,” Bobby hums before turning down the TV as the commercials came on. “Just don’t fuck up my shit and no sex in it,” Jack slips on his jacket as he passes by, heading for the door.

“Yeah I know the rules,”

Jack was picking you up the moment you stepped outside, pushing open the passenger door as he pulled up to a stop outside the hospital entrance. You’re rubbing your hands the moment you sit, and Jack cranks up the heat. “Hi,” You murmur, looking over at him. He’s tossing his cigarette out the window, smiling at you. “Hey,” He greets before pulling off and back onto the road. Mickeys wasn’t so far and Jack truly was a gentleman, opening the doors and pulling out your chair. He brought a few beers for the both of you and you two shared a basket of wings and fries.

You didn’t get too personal with Jack, though you talked to him about work and the subject of his mother came up not too long after. You could see the sadness cross his features for a moment before his expression was changing into a forced smile. You intention wasn’t to go so deep, but you thought he should know how wonderful Evelyn was. “She was a saint. She saved my life actually,” His brows raise in interest, and he’s leaning on his elbows as he sits across from you. “How so?” Taking back a few large gulps of beer, it lightly clinks against his as you set it down. Plopping a fry in your mouth, you meet his curious gaze. “A few years ago, I was getting my ass kicked every day by my asshole boyfriend. Shit went on for months, and one day, it just got….bad. By this point, I feared for my life, and I happened to walk by Evelyn’s house, and there she was on the porch, rocking and knitting. She stopped me, asked if I was alright and…nobody had ever asked if I was alright. She took me inside and helped clean up my face and told me that whatever it was, whoever it was, needed to stop. She even let me stay over. The next day, I went and got a restraining order, and I’m sure that if I didn’t…I’d be dead. Evelyn was a wonderful person and she loved everybody,” You smile fondly at the memory, looking away from Jack.

“She was always helping somebody,” He murmurs, his brows furrowing lightly as he took you in. “Is your ex still around?” He asks, and you shrug. “No idea. A restraining order usually caps at five years, and last I heard, he was in jail for assault I believe,” He’s nodding at you as he grabs a wing. “Good. A man who hits a woman is a pussy,” You raise your bottle, and he knocks his against yours. “A-fucking men to that,”

After eating, Jack decided to drag you over to the little arcade area here you decided to indulge in his pleading to play a few videos games. You weren’t a gamer person, but for the sake of having fun, you played around with him for about an hour until Jack was told to leave because he was being too rambunctious. You couldn’t help but laugh on the way out as he grumbled under his breath. “You truly suck at video games,” He says, nudging you with his shoulder. You push his arm slightly as the two of you walk back to the car. “I don’t really play games like that,” You explain, and your steps slightly falter as you can hear gunshots in the not too far distance. “Come on, it can get crazy after a certain time,” He’s taking your hand and helping you along the icy sidewalk and to the car. Opening the passenger door, he ushers you in before closing it and heading over to the driver’s side.

After cranking the car and giving him directions, he starts to drive. After a minute of silence, he’s turning on the radio, and you don’t know why you were surprised to hear something along the lines of screaming. You pause for a moment, listening to the words…or at least trying to recognize them. “How do you know what they’re saying?!” You ask over the music, glancing at him. He taps his ear with a smile, and you’re somewhat enamored as he starts to bang his head with the beat. You chuckle at him, holding onto the side of the door as he speeds up and down the empty street.

“Jack! It’s icy and wet!” You screech over the music, glancing over at him with wide eyes. He’s laughing, but somewhat eases up on the gas. You point in the direction he has to turn in next, holding onto the seatbelt for dear life as the tires squealed against the cement and the car wobbles lightly. After a while of unpredictable turns and music you didn’t quite understand, Jack was pulling to a stop outside of your home, turning the radio down. He gives you a smirk as you blink at him. “You…you are out of your fucking mind Jack Mercer,” You mumble, undoing your seatbelt.

“I know…” You roll your eyes, but grin as you open the door to step out. Closing the door, he’s rolling down the window. Leaning against it, you purse your lips. “But I had fun. Thanks for tonight,” You step away, expecting him to drive off, but he’s motioning with his hand for you to go inside. You wave at him as you turn around once you’re opening the front door. He drives off then, blasting his music on the way.

Bad Boys

The next morning, you were awoken by a knocking on your door. You had just shuffled into your kitchen and after undoing your two locks plus a deadbolt, you crack the door open, eyes squinting at the morning light, surprised to see Jack. He was dressed in a coat and some jogger type pants for the cold. “Morning sleeping beauty, you’re off today?” You nod slowly at his question, opening the door to allow him in. He steps inside, and as he comes in, you see his brothers in the car waiting for him. “Yeah, I don’t go back in till Tuesday. Mandatory day off…what’s….” You trail off, turning to look at him.

He stuffs in his hands in his pockets, looking you over briefly. You were dressed in pajamas that were more for the summertime than winter, nothing on but a thin tank and short shorts. Your hair was done in a messy fashion, and he can’t help but think about how adorable you looked. Jack was probably 6’2, a little less than a foot taller than you, and today you felt shorter than normal. You crane your head up to look at him as you wait for him to explain his reasoning for visiting. “Have you ever been ice skating?” You shake your head, crossing your arms over your chest as he glanced down at your feet. “What are you a 7? 7 ½?” “7,” You respond, and he’s grinning at you. “Wanna come? We usually go down to the park and either play a little hockey or skate and shit. Thought you might want to come,” Glancing out of the window, you look back at him. “Do they mind if I join?” He shrugs. “As long as you can be ready in 5,” Your eyes are widening, and you pull on his arms to shoo him out. “Should’ve said that the moment you walked in,”

You were ready in 7. A personal record if you had to keep count. You still got chewed out from Bobby who you just glared at. Bobby wasn’t someone you knew personally, but you were sure you met him once or twice in passing years ago when he might’ve come to visit Evelyn. You could tell though that he loved his siblings and bickered with each and every one of them until he was parking on the street by the park. He seemed like someone you could get along with. Kind of. His brothers truly had no problem with you tagging along, and if Jack’s pink cheeks attested to anything, you were sure they probably teased him about it. You knew what it was like having siblings, and teasing was something you grew to deal with. The park was empty, and Jack had an extra pair of skates for you, and he sat with you on the bench helping you tie them. He put his own on before grabbing your hand. “Wait, wait, wait….” He’s ignoring your warning as he steps onto the ice, gently pulling you along with him. You wobble, holding onto his jacket. Your legs are stiff in one place as he chuckles, letting you hold onto him while he slowly started to move around the park in a circle. “You gotta move your feet sweetheart!” Bobby yells out while he’s setting up what looks to be a hockey game. “No shit!” You retort, earning a laugh from the man. “Don’t let go,” You plead nervously as Jack starts to move further away from you but still kept a hold on your hand. “Watch me,”

You watch his feet, doing your best to mimic him.

Angel, Bobby, and Jeremiah watch the two of you for a moment. “He’s got it bad. Never seen him like this,” Angel murmurs, and Bobby chuckles. “Well you heard the little fucker back in the hospital. Said he was gonna marry her. He’s had it bad since day fucking one, but they look like they could work,”

While the three of them played hockey, Jack taught you how to skate.

You even joined in on their game as a ref, truly having had a fun time. They took you home, and Jack kissed your cheek before you got out the car. You give him a shy smile before looking at the rest of them.s “Bye guys. Thanks for today,” You walk around the car, and like Jack did the day before, Bobby didn’t pull off till you got inside. Jack popped around the the following days while you worked, waiting for you on your lunch breaks. He would smoke a cigarette outside while the two of you would talk. You were able to talk to him about anything, how work was going, how you felt at that given moment, etc. You learned that Jack liked to play the guitar, and you made him promise he’d let you listen one day. You were a few years older than Jack, being 24 while he was still 21. As young as you both were, he was very mature for his age, and you figured he had to be moving from foster home to foster home. He didn’t mention a lot of his time as a kid, but he did say that he used to steal a lot and Evelyn broke that out of him when he landed in her lap. You asked if he ever had the desire to do something in life, and he shook his head. You knew that he was comfortable in this life of his. You couldn’t blame him.

He had a lot of depth if you took the time to watch him. To talk to him. He even liked poetry, and it was probably the most adorable thing about him. He was a softie at heart, but had this rough and tough exterior. It gave him character. Another two weeks had passed and gone, and you’d say that you and Jack were friends. Friends that might’ve occasionally held hands and spent copious amounts of time together. You decided to be the one to go to his place early one morning. It was cold, and you were knocking on the door like your life depended on it.

It was opening a minute or two later, and you beam up at Bobby who look thoroughly annoyed. “You woke me up,” He moves to the side to let you in, and you shuffle inside, knocking the snow off your boots. “I came to see Jack. Is he in?” He nods and shows you which way is Jack’s room. “To the right and the last door on the left. He might be sleeping still,” Taking off your jacket, you set it down neatly before taking a quick glance around. “Nice robe Bobby,” You snicker, and he’s grumbling at you. You make your way upstairs and find his bedroom. It was something you expected. He had band posters over the walls and a few naked women plastered around much to your amusement. You could hear the shower going on the other side, and as seeing as his bed was empty, he was showering. His room was tidy with a few things strewn about, and his guitar sat prettily in the corner in pristine condition. Your fingers idly run over his CDs, and you can’t help but smile with confusion.

You sit down on his bed and decide to wait for him. You were tempted to wait downstairs as you guessed he had just got in when you knocked on the door. However, the water was stopping, and you pick up one of his magazines, slight embarrassment coursing through you as it was one of those porno magazines, and you thumb through it.

You look up as you hear the bathroom door close, and Jack’s walking in with a blue towel around his waist, oblivious to your presence. You take this brief moment to stare. Having seen his upper body before, it was different when he’d just come out of the shower, still wet, his hair flat on his head. Your eyes drop when his towel does, and your sudden intake of breath startles him, and he’s glancing over at you with wide eyes. “Oh shit,” You cover your face with his magazine, lightly laughing as he scrambled to grab the towel. “Sorry! I didn’t expect you to…come in naked…even though this is your room…” You mumble about between laughs.

Peeking over the magazine, he’s pulling on a pair of shorts. You lower it down fully as he picks up his towel and hangs it on the door. You go back to flipping through it, raising your brows as you chuckle at one of them. “Hey, hey…” He’s coming towards you, and you snatch it away from his grasp before he can get to it. “So now I see what kind of girl’s you like,” You chuckle teasingly, moving away again before his hands can grasp the magazine. “Too slow Jackie,” You laugh, a squeal of laughter leaving you as he decides to just hop on the bed, grasping the magazine and rolling over. You end up settling on top of him, looking down at him with a grin. He takes it from you, tossing it to the side. “They’re hot, but not the type of girl’s I like,” He murmurs breathlessly. As you shift, he winces, and you frown.

“You okay?” Looking down, you realize you’re touching his still healing wounds. “Shit Jack, what happened to wrapping up and putting the ointment on?” You touch the edge of one of them, his skin tinged with pink, showing slight irritation. “It was itchy, and the ointment is fucking expensive,” You touch at another with a frown, and he swats at your hands. “I’m trying to see if they’re infected,” You snap, swatting his hand from swatting yours. He’s suddenly rolling over, grasping both hands in one of his larger ones.

Huffing slightly, you meet his gaze. “If you needed ointment, all you had to do was ask. I could’ve gotten it for you,” You murmur quietly. His eyes drift from yours to your lips, and your heart jumps in your chest. “Okay, I need ointment,” You smile with a roll of your eyes. “That’s telling, not asking,” You can smell the soap on his skin, and his lashes are still wet from the shower as he stares down at you. He was pressed against you, the only space between the two of you were from your hands. “Let me kiss you,” He whispers then, his face slowly inching towards yours. “Are you asking or telling?” You whisper back, your lips brushing against his as you spoke. “Asking,” He responds softly, and your eyes close as he presses his lips against yours.

His lips are pillowy soft and smooth, and your lips part to deepen the kiss. He’s letting go of your wrists, and you raise your arms to wrap around his neck, fingers curling in his silky strands. One of his hands come down to your thigh, and he raises your leg to rest on his hip. Pulling away to breathe, you open your eyes, and your lips curl into a small smile. He pecks your lips once. Then twice. His hands come up to frame your face, and he chuckles quietly. “I’ve been wanting to do this for a while now,” You gently push on his shoulders, and he eases up off you. You sit up and take his hand. “I’m glad you waited,” You whisper, glancing up at him. “Why?” You shrug at him, your other hand pulling at a piece of thread on his shorts. “I know you’re not like the other guys,” You murmur, your head tilting back down for a moment.

His warm hand is tilting your chin up, and his thumb caresses your chin.

He’s giving you this soft smile, and you’re sure your heart just melted.

Bad Boys

The thing about the Mercer family was that when you became one of them, however that might’ve been, you were one of theirs. Once they noticed that you and Jack were much closer than before, the dynamic changed a little. They knew how Jack felt about you, and whether or not you spoke out loud to them in regard to him, they knew you felt the same. Jack was never serious about a girl. He might’ve brought one home and had sex, but she was gone before the morning and Jack would care less. You weren’t that girl.

Since you didn’t have a car, Bobby would sometimes take you to work, or Jeremiah would on his way over when he was on the way to work. Today, Bobby was dropping you off. “Thanks Bobby. Hey, tell Jack to drop by my place tonight. I’ve got that ointment he needs,” He nods at you and pulls off. Work was long today, and by the time you got off, you were exhausted. Bobby was the one to pick you up and told you Jack would be over later as he was busy with something. You don’t need him to sugarcoat as you knew Jack was out on the corner somewhere. While their lifestyle wasn’t ideal, you accepted it for what it was, and you were sure to hound on Jack and tell him to be careful whenever you could.

Bobby drops you off at home and pulls off once your door closes. As you flick on the lamp, a fist is blinding you in the face, almost knocking you off your feet. “Fucking restraining order’s up now bitch. See you’ve been fucking with that Mercer fucker,” You’re unable to really gain your bearings at this point, feeling dizzy. A knee is jamming into your side, and you’re toppling over the lamp and the small table by the door. Getting to the floor, you cover yourself the best way you can, hard boots kicking at your flesh repeatedly until you were crying. You let out a wheezing breath as he finally settles up off you. The door is slamming shut, and once you’re sure he’s gone, you roll over, staring up at the ceiling. Turning your head to the side, you spit out the blood in your mouth.

Everything fucking hurt. You could feel the cuts on your arms even through your jacket, and you were sure you probably had a bruised rib or two. Your abdomen hurt. Your chest hurt. Your head felt like it was on fire, and you could barely see out of one eye. Your shoulders shake as you try to hold in the sobs that wanted to be let free.

You couldn’t get yourself to get up in that very moment, and you laid on the floor, for a long while, wondering what the hell you could do. Going to the police was one thing, but half the department was crooked as it was. You knew that once Jack saw you, he’d lose his shit. You didn’t want him to see you like this. Not this bad.

You gotta get your own fucking car Jackie, shit

Your eyes widen at the sound of Bobby’s voice, his and Jack’s voice getting louder the closer they came.

I told you I’ll get one. She’s not gonna have any pills in here man.

There’s a knock at the door before the knob is twisting. Don’t know why you knock. She’s all up in our shit. Girl’s practically family now.

The first thing they see of course is the way the room was casted in a weird ambient light. “Shit,” Bobby whispers, and he’s pulling his gun out of his pants, Jack following behind him. You’re managing to pull yourself into a sitting position, taking in a deep breath at the pain that rattled through you. Bobby’s crouching down beside you, eyes roaming your face. Jack walks past, poking his head into various rooms before crouching down as well. He frowns as he tilts your face towards him. “I hope whoever did this looks a lot fucking worse,” You shake your head, and Jack’s guiding your arm to rest around his neck, and he’s lifting you with ease.

“Bobby, there’s a bag under the kitchen sink. It’s my emergency kit. Get it for me,” You take in another deep breath, your head leaning on his Jack’s shoulder. Bobby goes to retrieve it and is coming back moments later. Jack’s taking you to the car while Bobby follows along, looking around in the process. As Jack gets you situated in the back seat, he gets in the passenger, and Bobby hops up front, peeling from your house and down the street. “Am I taking you to a hospital or what?” He asks, turning around briefly to look at you. While you groan out a no, Jack is saying yes, and your glower at him. “No. Take me back to your place…fuck,” Your head leans against the window, and you feel at your right-hand side. “You’re going to a hospital,” Jack says, turning back to look at you. His face holds anger but concern as he stares at you. You shake your head, feeling blood on your fingers. “If I go to the hospital, they’ll send the police, and then they’ll be looking into who I’m with…and I’d prefer them not to be all up in your shit before you’re all sent to jail,”

Jack looks like he wants to argue, but Bobby is interrupting. “She’s right. Call Angel and make sure Sofi’s home,” Bobby’s tossing him his cell and Jack calls Angel.

Bad Boys

“Dios mío!” Jack sets you down on the couch and is handing you your bag. “What happened to you?” Sofi is brushing past Jack and winces at your bruised face. While Jack has his suspicions, he knew by the way you looked up at him instead of answering Sofi. “I’m going to fucking kill him,” He hisses, turning away and going upstairs. He’s coming back down moments later with a bat, and Bobby is looking between the both of you. “Now hold the fuck on. Who fucked you up and who the hell are you about to go after?” Sofi helps you sit up, and you grab your bag, zipping it open.

“My ex. He’s been in jail for a while and I had a restraining order on him for a few years now,” You grab your ice pack activator, and Angel takes it from you, shaking it. As she tends to your face, you look at Jack with a frown. “You cannot go after him. I don’t know who he hangs with now and he’s fucking crazy,” Jack shakes his head. “I don’t give a fuck. He’s not going to put his fucking hands on you,” Bobby is stopping Jack from leaving, trying to be rational. “I know you’re pissed, and we’ll beat his ass, but we gotta think first. Who is it?” You lift your shirt as Angel presses the now cold pack against your skin.

“You might need stitches honey,” Sofi murmurs, dabbing at your head. “Malik Bowers,” Bobby’s brows raise. “You were fucking with one of the Bowers?” You roll your eyes. “Didn’t know he was a fucking psychopath until after we started dating Bobby,” He takes the bat from Jack. “Then you’re definitely going to have to do a little recon on his ass. Fuck, Bowers?” Bobby asks again, still flabbergasted. Jack resigns to the fact that he’s going to have to stick around and lifts your legs before sitting down and placing them on top of his. He grabs your hand, lacing his fingers through yours. He frowns at you before speaking. “I’ll wait if I have to, but I’m going to kill him. He’s not walking away,” Jack had no problems with taking a life. Especially one that he felt was justified.

Neither Angel nor Bobby attempt to talk him out of it. Bobby had no problem when getting his hands dirty, and Angel knew that if it was Sofi, he’d want blood too.

You called in sick for the next two weeks the following morning. You slept with Jack in his bed in the night to which he woke you every few hours to alternate ice compressions. You guided Sofi on how to stitch you up on your side, and the gash on your forehead. Though you still looked pretty worse for wear, you looked less mangled than you did the night before. Upon waking, Jack wasn’t with you, and you knew that he was most likely off to find Malik.

Sofi was the only one around who helped you shower and stay settled and comfortable.

Bad Boys

Bobby pulls up across the street from one of Bower’s residences. “Is that Malik?” Jack questions as a guy is walking out of the house. “Nope. That’s his brother. Derek. Shrimp Dick is what we call him. He’d know where Malik is,” Bobby is stepping out then, Angel and Jack following his lead. “Shrimp dick! What’s up man?” Derek turns around with a frown but stops on the sidewalk. “What the fuck you want Bobby?” Bobby is stepping up to him, Angel stepping at his side while Jack is at his back. “Malik. Where can I find him?”

Derek scoffs, rolling his eyes. “Jail last time I heard. I wouldn’t know where the fuck he is. We haven’t spoken since he went in,” Bobby slowly pulls out his gun, pressing the barrel against his abdomen. “Let’s go for a ride. We just wanna talk,” They end up taking Derek out near the semi-frozen lake. “What’s this about?” He asks hesitantly, his feet shuffling in the snow. Jack is socking him in the gut before he’s even aware of what’s going on. “He touched my fucking girl, that’s what,” Derek bows over, letting out a pained breath. “I don’t know nothin’ bout that shit man. I don’t even know your girl. He used to be crazy bout some bitch…” Jack is kneeing him in the face, cutting him off. “That bitch is who we’re talking about,” Bobby murmurs, squatting down to his level. He grasps Derek’s face, smiling at him. “Jackie’s crazy about her, and you know, she’s cool as fuck, and I take family seriously. He’s fucking with mine and I don’t like that. I killed Victor Sweet, and I’ve got no problem killin’ your little brother. So…and I know you know where he is. I want to know who he hangs with. Who he fucks with now and who he fucked with before going to jail. I want to know where he goes, what he does on a daily basis, and you ain’t gonna tell him shit bitch,”

Derek narrows his eyes, spitting in the snow. “I’m not your fucking lackey,” Bobby pats his face before standing. “Alright,” Derek’s head snaps to the side as a boot is kicking him in the side of the head. A fist is knocking into his back, and he gets a kick to the gut. It only takes a few minutes of this before Derek is complying with their wishes.

They end up dropping him back off at home, before deciding to drive around to see if they could spot Malik themselves.

Bad Boys

“Why did I hear at work that Derek Bowers got his ass kicked today?” That was the first thing Jeremiah said when he walked into the door. “Because we kicked his ass, that’s why,” Bobby responds, setting down a plate in front of you and Jack. Jack presses a kiss against your temple as you give him a concerned glance. “Jack…” You murmur quietly. “We know what we’re doing sweetheart,” Bobby assures, walking past the both of you and into the living room. “Why would you do that?” Jeremiah asks, sounding slightly upset and worried. “‘Cause Malik beat our girl so we can’t just let that slide,” Jeremiah is making his way into the dining room and leaning over to take a look at you. He frowns. “You alright?” He asks, and you nod, plopping a piece of chicken in your mouth. “Yep. I hurt everywhere, but I’ll be alright,” He looks at Jack, whose attention is on you.

“Justified, but you know that’s gonna cause some shit right?” Bobby nods, cracking open a beer. “You in or what?”

Bad Boys

It took four additional weeks for you to fully heal up, having been on paid administrative leave until you were ready to come back to work. Since then, you stayed with Jack, he or Bobby stopping by your place to pick up clothes for you. Your face had finally healed up, and you were waiting for the dark bruise under your eye to fade. Physical activity had been severely limited with anything, and that included Jack until up to a week ago. Jack had been careful with you, treating you like a delicate flower and aiding you in whatever you needed. He was afraid to kiss you or even touch you at first with both your injuries and your mental state with your abuser walking around free.

You sat Jack down and explained to him that you knew he wasn’t anything like Malik and that you trusted him.

Being assured that you were okay physically and mentally, small chaste kisses turned into slow make out sessions. Jack knew what he was doing, his touches gentle but firm, his kisses soft and sweet. The way he looked at you wasn’t a look you’ve seen ever in your life. His touches always left you wanting more, but until you got better and this whole situation was behind you, you didn’t feel comfortable going all the way with him.

Over the last few weeks, the brothers had been surveilling Malik in order to know his every move. You knew that Jack was going to kill him. He said it every time he thought about it, and you knew that there was nothing you could do to stop him. Malik might’ve been a piece of shit, but you had mixed feelings on him being murdered. It was two days before Easter, the evening when Jack and the boys decided to make a move. Angel and Jack were already headed to the car, leaving Bobby last. Jeremiah to your knowledge had been watching him. You grab his arm on the way out, looking up at him with a frown. “I don’t want him to kill for me. To have that on his conscious,” An apologetic expression crosses his features. “He loves you. You nor I can stop him, but I can promise he’ll be back here in one piece,” The horn is honking outside, and you frown.

“Bobby?” You call out before he walks out. He turns to look at you, a brow raised. “I’m glad he has you,” He smiles before responding, “Nah, I’m glad he has you. We’ll be back. Don’t answer the door for any cops if they come around,” You nod, locking the door behind him.

Bad Boys

You were sure you were going to go crazy waiting for them to return, and after an hour, you thought something went wrong. Before you could run yourself into the ground, there was banging on the door. After taking a hesitant look outside, you saw it was Jack. Letting him inside, you see Bobby and Angel pulling off. “Where are they going? Are you okay?” You ask worriedly, trying your best to look him over as he made his way inside. You give him some space as he takes off his jacket, craning your head up and backing into the door frame as he’s cradling your face in both hands. “I have two hours with you alone, and I don’t want to spend it talking about how we killed someone,” He’s kissing you deeply then, taking your breath away in the process. He pulls away to let you breathe, and he takes your hand, gently pulling you along and up the stairs.

There was no need for foreplay or small kisses. You wanted him. Just as bad as he wanted you.

Making love to Jack was an experience you would never forget.

With your height differences, it was easier with both of you sitting up, but no matter what positions you might’ve found yourself in within those two hours, he was slow and sweet, unwilling to rush the moment. He held you and kissed you with such tenderness that sometimes you thought you might’ve imagined his touch.

Jack Mercer…despite his weird tastes in music or the shit he does that you most definitely can’t condone, he was the most amazing person you’ve ever met, and there wouldn’t be a thing you would do to turn back the time.

***

The next following day, Lt. Green and a Deputy had come by the house, asking if they knew anything about Malik Bowers. He had been found, apparently beat to death. “Who? Green, you always over here asking stupid questions,” Bobby murmurs. He looks at the five of you, Sofi, Angel, Bobby, and Jack. “They were here all night,” You murmur, leaning into Jack’s arm that was draped over your shoulder. Sofi nods in agreement. “We made Easter dinner last night,” Sofi says in agreement, and you smile.

You knew that Lt. Green knew you were lying your asses off. “Is it really such a bad thing? Heard he was beating on women and shit. Somebody obviously got tired of it,” Bobby notes, lighting a cigarette. Lt. Green jots some things down before tipping his head.

Bad Boys

One year later

Bobby watches you and Jack with amusement. “What do you mean you lost the money? Jack!” You’re this close to hitting him with your purse. “I don’t know! I sat it down and I don’t know where it went,” You glare at him, giving Bobby the finger as he snickers. “Shut the fuck up Bobby. I told you to hold onto it anyway,” You snap, and he raises his hands, letting out a laugh. You turn back to yell some more at Jack, but he’s crouching towards the floor, specifically on his knee with a black, velvet box in his hands.

Your breath catches as he opens the box, showing you probably the prettiest ring you’ve ever seen. “I know you wanted to use some of it as a down payment, but I couldn’t wait any longer. Will you ma-,” You’re cutting him off with a squeal of pure excitement, jumping into his arms the moment he stood up. Kissing your lips briefly, he’s pulling back and taking the ring out from its holder and placing it on your finger. Your legs wrap around his waist, arms squeezing his neck tightly.

As Jack lets you down, Bobby pats your shoulder. “Welcome to the family. There’s no getting off this shit show any time soon sweetheart,” You grin up at him, holding onto Jack’s hand as he wraps his arm around your shoulders.

November 3rd, 2024

“Should you be drinking that?”

“You want some?”

“You didn’t answer my question.”

“You didn’t answer mine, either.”

For the first time since you two boarded his private jet, Roman flits his gaze from the ceiling over to you. His eye contact has been everywhere and elsewhere for the past almost hour, but this time, he’s not looking at the obsidian bottle you're holding. Fingers spread and splayed over the cream wrapping. What it is, you haven’t a clue. You’d just asked for something “good,” and the nice flight attendant with a pointed nose and freckles spackled over her T-zone honored your request. 

The shit is very good.

Or maybe you’re just that bored.

You can fully understand why Roman asked you almost three times if you were sure you wanted to attend this PLE with him. International travel wasn't unfamiliar. You’d traveled overseas—Jamaica—the summer before your senior year of high school, and while it wasn’t a super long flight, it was the longest one you’d been on. Not the easiest, but not the worst, either. Stupidly, you’d put two completely different examples juxtaposed and were now paying the price. 

Not even an hour in, and you’re already over it.

Doesn’t help that it was such a short turnaround time, either. Granted, the initial plan was to stay an additional day or two. Do some exploring. Despite politics you find egregious, sexist, and misogynistic, Saudi Arabia, geographically speaking, is a beautiful ass country.

It’s also a country Roman was eager to get the fuck out of following the disaster that was Crown Jewel.

Hence the sour ass mood he’s been in since he walked into gorilla, his cousin, Jimmy, flanked on his side attempting to butter him up with toxic positivity that only earned him a glare and silence that extended all the way to their ride back to the hotel.

Even now. 

A part of you wishes that you knew what to say to help him feel better, but on top of still not being completely clear on the full backstory of how his family ended up so fractured and divided, you’re just….not good with that shit anyway.

Blind leading the blind. 

The almost squeaking sound from across drags your eyes from your lap to the man now leaning over and reaching for the bottle. You chuckle and oblige, handing it to him, studying the way he reclines, head tilted back, liquid swimming down his throat. The slight scowl from the aftertaste and brief shake of his head followed by him falling back into that funk.

It’s gotta be the therapy you’ve been surprisingly consistent with the past month paying off that gives you a ridiculous, sudden boost of confidence. A fleeting desire to at least try to lift his spirits. 

“There’s always next time.”

He waits until he’s downed his second swish, glare set on you, the same tone he’d used with his cousin. “Is that supposed to make me feel better?”

“I think we both know there’s nothing that could make you feel better right about now.” You roll your eyes, pulling your legs up to your chest. The sleeve of your shirt—his shirt—hanging off your shoulders, exposing your hot pink bra strap. “You lost that chance when you took that pin.”

Regret immediately fills you at your unfiltered, unintended shot at a man who was already down. Has, in many ways, been down since the night you both met and married him. Some of that down, no doubt, a result of your own actions. 

Though the same could be said for the other way around.

He snorts, placing the bottle down on the tray beside the cream, leather seat. “Surprised you got the terminology right.”

Him not snapping and slinging that mud right back at you is…surprising but appreciated. Maybe those therapy sessions as part of your overall treatment have been helpful for him, too. Or maybe not because if that were the case, his other cousin, Jey, wouldn’t still hold such a level of animosity towards him. So much so that it ultimately played a large role in the disaster that was this match.

But also….if anyone knows that some bridges are burned beyond the point of repair, it’s you.

You know it all too well.

It’s what shifts the tide. Makes something turn in your stomach as you mush your lips, doing your best to string words together in a way that’s helpful vs harmful. 

Lord knows you’d played your role of villain far too well over the past few months.

“You’ll figure all this out.” Roman once again looks over at you. That same guarded, irritated expression unchanging. “The fact that he agreed to even team with you and Jimmy has to mean something, right? He could have just told you to fuck off.”

Roman's reply is almost instantaneous. “He did.” 

Despite the indirect rejection of what’s probably a poor attempt at comforting, it doesn’t deter you. Confuses you initially, sure. But then you realize he’s referring to Jey’s conduct throughout the match. The lack of cooperation. “Maybe.” You shift in your seat, shrugging your shoulders. “But he still showed up. Still tried. In his own way….and so did you.” 

That’s when you see it. The subtle softening of his harsh, sharp features. The flick of his tongue to the corner of his mouth. It encourages you in a way that you can’t quite explain. “Trust me. If anyone knows about this whole fucking everything up and then trying to fix it shit, it’s me.”

Another quick reply, this one with a less austere tone. “Line starts behind me.” 

And for the first time in a while, you smile. Not forced for the camera, a post or video to upload, perpetuating and maintaining a fraud that felt like it’d become your norm. A genuine, fucking smile. 

“Well, make room for me next to you or something.”

And for the first time all night, he smiles. 

You bite down on your bottom lip, lowering your legs to the ground. Eye contact locked as you close the distance between the two of you, assisted by the way he reaches and tugs you onto his lap. Your arms wrap around his neck as his do around your waist, big hands dropping to palm your ass through your thick, gray sweats.

“It’ll all work out,” you repeat, voice softer. “It sucks right now, but….” The swipe of his tongue over that soft, thick bottom lip is all the encouragement that you need with the thought that crossed your mind the minute he pulled you close to him. “Then again….”

Th lines around his eyes make an appearance, deepening and creasing as you climb off his lap. Dragging your palms down his chest, you drop to your knees. A flash of something in his iris when your fingers toy with and snap the band of his own sweats before smoothing over his thighs, gentle force making them part just enough for you to shuffle between them. “Not everything that sucks is bad.” 

May, 2026

Your lips pressed together as you hum quietly to Mari's latest single clashes with the dark flooring as you make your way into the kitchen. But it's a sound that ceases when you’re met with the surprising sight of your husband’s broad back as he stands near the island. 

“Hey, babe.” You kiss him on the cheek, sauntering past and depositing your Gucci bag onto the counter. “I thought you’d still be at the gym.” Because Lord knows this man’s gym sessions are already long as hell, but ever since he won the WHC, they’ve been even more ridiculous. Twice, sometimes up to three times a day. His morning and evening ones are typically done at home, but the afternoon one he gets in at Paragon. The elite, private gym he’s a member of that has a ridiculous monthly membership fee and perks that seem like something out of a movie.

It still blows your mind sometimes just how wealthy he is. You weren’t exactly living in poverty before meeting him, having been one of the luckier ones who makes a decent amount of money off your various platforms. But your manic episodes often included reckless spending, so much so that it’d greatly depleted what was, at one time, a hefty savings account. You’ve built it back up, and then some, since being with Roman. But if not for him….

You shake your head, willing the thoughts away.

It’s best you not go there.

“Finished a lil’ early.” 

In the midst of opening up the refrigerator to pull out the cranberry juice, it’s his tone that immediately ceases your actions. 

Something…something is off.

Bumping the door closed with your hip, bottle in hand, you turn your attention back towards him only to instantly still, ajar mouth frozen in place.

He’s still standing near the island, black, sleeveless Nike fitted shirt clinging to his chest, and while your eyes start to travel the length of his sculpted arms, something else takes precedent.

The bag.

And not even the large TJ Maxx bag on the counter in as much as it is the contents that you immediately make out via the brief, exposed portion of a striped, pink and white onesie sleeve. 

Fuck

But if there’s one thing you’ve always been good at, it’s saving face.

Your hand tightens around the bottle, condensation dripping and melting between your fingers. “Oh.” You clear your throat, opening the closest cabinet to pull out a glass. “That.” You shake your head, back towards him while you fill the cup to the halfway mark. “Yeah, I was clearly in an episode. Hence why it was in the donation pile.”

“Y/N—”

“What? You going through my stuff now?” The teasing tone of your voice is intentional, a smirk on your face as you turn around and take a sip. Licking the rim with a wink. “Making sure I’m not getting rid of any of your memorabilia, old man?”

One look at his unchanged expression, however, tells you everything you need to know. You can’t charm your way out of this one.

A heavy sigh precedes the way you shake your head and place the cup back down on the counter. “Come on, Rome. It’s not a big deal.” Walking over, something tightens in your chest when you reach for the bag, hand hovering over the exposed item. It takes a second for you to push through it. Your eyes lift to his as you shove the onesie back with the rest of the pieces. “Seriously. It’s—”

“Y/N.” His deep voice cuts through your poor attempts at damage control once more. His eyes focused on you, peeling back every protective layer you’d attempted to frantically and desperately create. “This wasn’t just from one episode.” He gestures with a head nod, reaching to open what you wish nothing more to shove and throw away. God, something told you to load up your car before you left for your nail appointment. His hand messes around with the countless number of brand new, tag still on em’ baby clothes before he looks at you. “You’ve been buying this stuff, haven’t you?”

Lying has never done you any good, and you’ve worked so hard to be honest with him. But you also are in no mood to have this conversation. 

“It’s not—“

The hand not gripping a 3 to 6 month white shirt with a rainbow on the front grabs the back of the bar stool. He drags it across the floor and motions with his eyes. A part of you wants to protest, find a reason to leave, to deflect. But you also know your husband. Know that look.

It’s why you decide to not drag this out any longer than need be.

You sit down. 

Smoothing your hands over your exposed thighs, the desire to tuck and play with the hem of your skirt is a hell of a lot more interesting and desirable than focusing on the way he pulls out the chair opposite of you. Places it so that he’s sitting directly across from you. Your attention only subtly shifting to him when he leans over just enough so his elbows are on his knees, hands clasped together. As much as you really don’t want to have this conversation right now—or ever—something about the way he won’t look at you, stares at the ground, is unsettling.

Especially since you know he’s not upset. 

Roman’s anger is never quiet. It’s loud and always makes itself known. Any emotion similar or adjacent to that short, red creature is always visible and never hidden. Even in the early stages of development. 

This is none of that.

Truth be told, you don’t know what this is. 

You just know that you don’t like it.

Shifting in your seat, raking your nails over your thighs, you muster up the courage to break the silence. “Roman—”

“I want to have a child with you, Y/N.”

Acrylic tips wedged into your soft skin, toes curled against the bottoms of your YSL flip-flops, any non-verbal actions that you were in the midst of are immediately paused. Thinking, feeling, existing, and everything else in between also immediately halted to a sudden, abrupt pause in production.

Did he….

No…

He couldn’t have. 

But reality is suddenly turned upside down when he lifts his head, looks you dead in the eye, and doubles down on what you’d thought was imagined. “I want us to have a child together.” 

All you can do is blink. Once. Twice. Thrice. Stare and wait for the other shoe to drop. For him to cut the bullshit on this cruel joke. 

He doesn’t. 

Not even close.

He licks his lips, gaze collapsing once more. His jaw shifting before his words come out slower, quieter even. “You were right when you said I go back and forth. I do.” He shakes his head, rolling his neck. “But it’s not because I don’t know what I want. I do.”

“Roman…”

“I just….” He swallows. “I can handle when you’re manic. It’s not easy. Hell no, but….I’ve learned now what to do. What you need.” 

And you don’t disagree in the slightest. Like many other individuals living with Bipolar 1, when you’re in the midst of a manic episode, one of your symptoms includes a heightened sex drive. And for a man who possesses just that without a mental health diagnosis in his medical chart, that worked just fine for him. Everything else—the lack of sleep, impulsive spending, risky behavior—he’d created parameters to protect you. Ensuring to essentially stay with you at all times, taking and hiding your wallet and car keys. Even your phone during earlier, more extreme episodes. 

Essentially holding you hostage from the dangers that are you when you’re not in the right frame of mind. At the beginning, at the time, you hated it. Hated him. Told—screamed—at him just that.

Now….now, you’ve never been more grateful. 

“What I can’t handle….” Your eyes hone in on the way his voice falters and something indecipherable flashes in his eyes. “—is the other one.” He looks at you once more, displaying it all without any reservation. “When you’re depressed.” 

Your lips press together, hands shifting to the side of the stool. Cool metal under your palm, closing and tightening.

Despite only knowing him for a few years, you’ve probably talked to and with Roman more than anyone else in your life. And not once has he ever expressed anything like this. Despite there being a what and what with your manic and depressive episodes, because the consequences of the former have always been more….drastic, the latter hasn’t really been a thing touched on. 

Not like this.

“You completely shut down,” he continues, licking his lips, voice even but strained. “Shut out everything and everyone, including me, and I don’t know how to get through to you when you get like that.” It’s not until then you realize that the reason the sight of him before you is suddenly blurred is because of the tears forming and brewing in your eyes. Even with the distorted image, there’s no mistaking the frown on his face. “I don’t know how to help you, and it freaks the fuck out of me.” 

For whatever reason, it’s not until then that it hits you. Perhaps for the first time since he started speaking, you see it. Hear it, even. The uncertainty. The anxiety, almost. It’s….disarming, in some ways. Roman has always been the definition of confidence. Arrogance, really. Even the night you met when he looked like he’d just been kicked while already down, and he had in many ways. But he still held this….regality about him. It was always so attractive. Admirable. Seeing someone who was always so…..so sure of himself. 

Thus, him sitting in front of you and openly speaking in such a vulnerable way….it’s the last fucking thing you expected him to say.

But he’s not wrong.

As chaotic and erratic your manic episodes are/were, you’d always said that you’d take those over your depressive episodes any day. While manic, you feel any and all the things. While depressed, you feel nothing. Absolutely fucking nothing.

Anhedonia, as you’d learned through therapy. The inability to feel pleasure or joy. Or anything.

You’d lay in bed, sometimes days at a time. Unable to move. Unable to speak. Completely and totally quiet. If you weren’t crying, you were sleeping. And if you weren’t doing that, you were offering nothing more than a soft shake of the head and small shrug to any and all of Roman’s questions.

And there were always plenty. 

He bent over backwards, offered anything and everything he could, but nothing pierced the dense veil of depression.

The worst of which resulted in a 5150. 

“The fact that you can get so low, and I can’t pull you from it scares the fuck out of me.” The bombs continue to drop, as does the feeling in her stomach. He pauses again, swallowing deeply. “How am I supposed to help you if you have an episode while pregnant? And if I can’t help you, how am I supposed to help our kid if he or she needs it?”

The corner of your lips twitch, tears briefly piling before spilling past your jaw. “Roman, I—”

“And you know me. You know that I don’t like talking about this shit. Admitting shit like this.” It’s true. He doesn’t, and now knowing what you know, you can understand why his mood would always fluctuate so quickly around the subject. Like most things, it was easier for him to lash out, say mean shit, than it was to be honest.

You can sort of relate. 

Can understand. 

“But seeing the baby clothes today,” he continues, standing up and moving towards you. It’s only then that you sniffle, quickly wiping at your eyes that are soon fixed on him when he cups your face. His frown has deepened, his voice whispered. “The fact that you’ve been buying them…” He thumb swipes away another roll of fresh tears. “That you were trying to get rid of them—”

You shake your head, refusing to allow him to take on anymore guilt that he already holds. “I didn’t—I shouldn’t have purchased them in the first place.”

It was such an unintentional thing. Started out so small. Out at the store, casually walking through the aisles. You’d always felt something stir within whenever you had to walk past the kids section. Especially when passing racks of adorable baby clothes. Would sometimes allow yourself to look, to peruse, but the goal was never to purchase.

You weren’t being completely dishonest with him. Some of the many, various items of baby clothing were, in fact, being purchased in the midst of a manic episode. Where you truly believed that it was a necessary purchase given it being only a matter of time before you conceived. Had already envisioned and imagined how adorable your baby boy or girl would look in the three piece outfit. 

But other times…..perhaps most of the time, you weren’t manic, and you certainly weren’t depressed. You were in that sweet, safe spot in between. And somehow, that seemed to hurt the most. Holding the items, sometimes with tears in your eyes because while they ended up being scanned and bagged as part of your overall purpose, each quiet drive home was driven with a single thought.

It’s never going to happen.

By the time you’d get home, you’d have changed your mind. Reflected and thought on comments and conversations where Roman referenced your future children. It’s what led you to keep them. To keep buying them. On the hopes of a what if. But gathering clothes to donate to local shelters in conjunction with the most recent, hardest conversation regarding children had finally carried you to the realization and acceptance that seemed like the most likely to occur.

And it wasn’t a pregnancy.

Thus, you ignoring your tears and the throbbing in your chest as you bagged up all of the items you’d purchased and ordered, forcing yourself to stop believing and waiting on a dream that was never intended to be anything more than that in the first place.

A dream.

“But you did,” he counters, softly. “And that means something, Y/N.”

Again, all you can do is look at him, stare and continue to be stunned and floored by words you never could have anticipated hearing today. If ever.

But if your husband, one of the most emotionally stunted men you’ve ever met, is capable of pushing past discomforts and knocking down walls, then you can, at the very least, do and offer the same. 

You look down, covering your hands over his, gently dragging them down so you’re holding them in your lap. Brushing your own thumbs over his coarse knuckles. One of your fleeting thoughts being that he must have hit the bag today only for you to realize that of course he did.

It’s always been one of his favorite stress relievers. 

“Do you….do you remember the big fight we had?” For the first time since you entered the home, humor briefly entangles with intensity. Specificity for a thing that was the norm for far too long is most definitely a requirement. “The first one regarding pregnancy.” Where you said no. “You—you said something to me that night. Something that….” Your tongue darts over your dry lips, voice hoarse, his eyes focused intently on you. “At the time, I hated you for.”

One could argue this sentiment has been felt several times over in the span of two years, mostly in the early, turbulent stages. But none more than that night.

“Fine, if you don’t wanna fucking say it, then I will,” he’d snapped. Anger and frustration painting his face and the tips of his ears red. The room around you two in disarray. Shattered glass littered across and meshed within the Persian rug. Both from the lamp you’d thrown and the one he’d shattered with a single swipe of his arm. A chair flipped over in the corner, and the TV still running in the background. The only sense of normalcy in that moment. “You know why you wanna have a kid so fucking bad?” He’d stepped closer, your fingers tightening around the neck of the half drunk bottle of wine in hand. Seconds away from joining the other broken, irreparable things. Much how you felt about your marriage in that moment. “It’s not cause you actually want to be a mother.” In that moment, you knew. Just knew what he was about to say. And even that level of preparation in the face of his stoic expression and sneer didn’t spare you the cascade of emotions. “It’s cause you just wanna prove to yourself that you’re not her. That you’re not your own mother.”

Your eyes shut, the memory reigniting another set of emotions, an evident revisiting given the way he attempts to pull his hands from you. To comfort you, you’re sure.

“I shouldn’t have—”

“You were right,” you whisper, allowing yourself to voice for the first time a realization you’d had in therapy a few months prior. “I hated you because….because you were right.” His subtle movements and efforts to comfort you are temporarily halted in the midst of a truth you know he didn’t expect to hear.

“Y/N….”

“My biggest—” Shutting your eyes once more, you’re taken back to a different time and place. The soft cushion behind your head and under your body. Hands clasped over your stomach, eyes still shut, the soft, soothing voice of your therapist walking you through a mindfulness exercise grounding you in a moment you’ve never needed it more. Keeping you on two steady, metaphorical, and literal feet. “My biggest fear in life was—is—ending up like her.” 

“That’s why....” Another thick swallow, emotion stirring for another heavier round. The swipe of your tongue over your bottom lip met with a salty taste on the tip of your tongue. Tears. “That’s why I pushed back on getting help for so long. I felt like—like that made it real. That it made me her.”

If someone told you a couple years ago you’d ever be confessing this aloud to your husband who’s 16 years your senior and someone you met and married in under twenty four hours, well, you’d perhaps not not believe them. But it’d 100% be the actions that were contained within a manic episode. However, you’ve never been more sane and regulated than in this moment. A weight unloaded in the most unexpected of ways. 

“But I know now that just because we shared the same diagnosis doesn’t mean we’re the same person. She made her decision. She chose not to live anymore.” A beat. “And I chose to finally start living.” 

He takes a small breath as you manage a small smile that’s dimmed seconds later by the reminder of additional truth that you’d prefer to keep to yourself. It’s not an option though. It’s not an option because it serves no purpose other than to self-sabotage. There has never been a better moment than now to acknowledge even the most uncomfortable, heartbreaking of truths.

“I, uhh, I went to the doctor before we left for Italy. Just…” Once more, the burden of truth causes you to stammer, but you manage to power through. Slightly aided by the way you intermittently allow your gaze to focus on your still conjoined hands. A metaphorical representation of union and togetherness that’s saved you in so many ways. “Just wanted to know where I stand, fertility wise, if we were….”

 Breathe

Roman says something, or starts to, and while you hate to interrupt him once more, you know yourself well enough to recognize that if you don’t get this out now, there’s a good chance you’ll find a way to keep it to yourself.

As you’ve done since you found out. 

“My….ovarian reserve is significantly lower than it should be for someone my age. Like….a lot.” A forced, inauthentic chuckle accompanied by another wave of tears that stream down your reddened cheeks. “Like….’the chances of me conceiving naturally and without medical assistance is slim to none’ a lot.” 

And while your doctor, the sweetest woman with a gentle disposition, warm and maternal, approached the conversation with a cherished delicacy, it wasn’t difficult for you to read between the lines. To decipher what she didn’t want to say for fear of crushing what she knows to be your dreams of motherhood.

That IVF is your best bet if you ever wish to have and carry a child.

And even that’s not guaranteed.

Revisiting the conversation takes a heavier toll on you than expected. It’s when you lift your hand to wipe away at the tears that seem to be coming with increased frequency and flow is when Roman takes advantage. Moves his hands to your waist, attempting to pull you into him. Sympathy, empathy, and everything else floating between the two of you.

“Y/N—”

“I think it’s just a sign, ya know.” Shaking your head, eyes naturally closing, it’s hard to tell who you’re trying to convince. Him or yourself. God knows it’s nothing you haven’t repeated a dozen times over. Sometimes it feels as though it’s working. Other times, it feels like nothing more than pouring waning hope into a bottomless cup with a hole so far deep that you don’t even realize your efforts are nothing more than a waste of time and energy. 

“Y/N—”

“Motherhood clearly isn’t in the cards—”

“Y/N.” 

Roman already has a commanding voice. Deep and smooth. It’s almost impossible to not be lulled in. But the way he says your name, needing and demanding your attention, easily snaps your eyes open onto his. Your lips part softly when he lifts one hand to the back of your neck. Leans in closer to where his cologne mingles with your perfume. Just another form of connection. 

“Do you want this?”

For a moment, you’re taken back. Same place. Same people. Different environment. Destruction, broken, ruined items surrounding the shattered mess that was the both of you. Defeat never so prominent. He’d asked you the very same thing, just with a completely different meaning, exhaustion painted over his handsome face. The faint bruise under his eye similar to the one he had when you met, but that one was received via valiant efforts to retain. This one….this one was the one you’ll never be able to truly forgive yourself for. 

“Roman—“

“Do you want this, Y/N?” He repeats himself, the hand on your waist squeezing and pulling just enough to where you stand up. Your hands naturally rest on his stomach, hardened and sturdy under your shaking, sweating palms. 

There’s an initial attempt to protest that dies out in the face of acknowledgment.

Do you want this?

It’s the same question you asked yourself on the drive home from the appointment. Especially as you laid in bed that evening, scrolling and researching for hours on end about what options might exist. The top of most lists being IVF, and with that, as many horror stories as there were successes.

Countless attempts before successful implantation. 

Countless attempts that never bore any results.

Women who’d tried every treatment option known to medical science only to have nothing to show for it except empty pockets and a broken heart.

You know that first one would never be the case. Not with the tax bracket Roman is in. But that second one….

It’s dangerous. In a variety of ways. What would it do to you mentally? To try, get your hopes up, only for nothing to come of all your efforts? Just imagining the scenario is heartbreaking enough. But for it to be your reality…

And then there’s the other side of it. The one where, at the end of it all, you have a beautiful, healthy baby boy or girl. It makes your chest fill and bloom with warmth and joy.

All things you’d expressed and discussed in your most recent therapy session, an extra that you’d, wisely, requested after finding out the news. 

News that, now you think of it, also largely contributed to your ultimately deciding to discard of the baby clothes.

It was….too painful of a reminder.

However, the situation feels almost entirely reversed as you stand before your husband who’s finally and truthfully expressed his stance on this. Confirmed what you’d deep down wanted so badly to believe was the truth but also couldn’t verify in the face of countless objections and otherwise expressed sentiments. 

A what if morphed into an actual possibility. 

The process of trying to conceive is a journey and experience for most women, and many, as you’d learned through research, do require at least some form of assistance to actually achieve that conception. In that, you weren’t unique. The added layer of navigating that and your mental health struggles just put you in a slightly different category. A riskier one.

But a statement and unanswered question posed by your therapist returns to the forefront of your mind.

“This isn’t a matter of what’s the best option, sweetie.” You’d kept your focus on your lap, picking at your nails as she probed into your mental in a way that was both unnerving and appreciated. Necessary, especially. “It’s a matter of what decision, long-term, do you foresee negatively impacting you the most.” You can still feel the way you chest tightened moments before she laid it all out in no unclear terms. “Never trying and having to live with that ‘what if’ or trying and having to accept the possibility of it not working out the way you wanted it to. 

Unknown vs Disappointment.

You didn’t have an answer to give then.

You have one now.

“Yes.”

And maybe it’s your own subconscious desires playing a cruel, mean trick on you, but you could almost swear there’s a brief flash of relief in his expression. 

Like….like he’s happy.

“Then we’ll do it,” he announces, that thumb caressing the nape of your neck a soothing, gentle gesture. “We find out whatever specialist you need to see, whatever treatment you need, see what it specifically entails, if you’re mentally and physically up for it, and take it from there….alright?”

There’s something immensely comforting about the way he emphasizes and includes the tentative nature of it all. Highlights that consenting to trying does not equate consenting to doing. Learning the specifics, the risks, and everything else is truly where the hardest decision will need to be made. And as much as he has a say in it, too, at the end of the day, it’s your call to make. Your body that will have to undergo and sustain all the prickling and prodding. 

Your mental that might be tested in ways you’ve never experienced before.

It’s frightening, for sure. Daunting and terrifying. Yet all of that fright and fear is readily eased by the reminder that you don’t have to face it alone. 

Not even a little. 

It’s what makes you lean up, arms secured around his neck as he hikes you up onto his waist. You smile and laugh into his neck, sniffling and whispering, “I love you.” 

His quiet chuckle and the kiss to your temple accompanying a light squeeze of your ass and quiet but equally heartfelt, “I love you, too.” 

a/n: if you've read some of my other content, you know i'm a whore for fleshing things out. in reality, and as reflected by the dates in this one and the first part, this "conclusion" would take time. even longer than what's reflected in these two pieces. but for the sake of answering the biggest question most of ya'll have, i gave you this.

was very very tempted to reveal at the end that it was all a dream. reader was just dreaming roman's confession, and it ended with them essentially realizing there's no way they can make this work. her wanting kids and him not. implied separation/divorce being the outcome. but i didn't want ya'll to cuss me out lmao

Jack Abbot is lonely. 

There’s no other words or synonyms that he cares to use to explain his situation. Each day after his shift, he does the exact same routine. Call it familiarity or call it the years of army training, but Jack can’t find it in himself to break this pattern. 

It’s lonely without having the distinct laughter of his wife permeating through the walls of the house. It’s lonely not being able to slot his body against hers and smell the body cream that she’d been using for ages.

It’s lonely to not feel the intimacy of human touch, or the sweet pleasure that comes with connecting with another fellow human being. 

Which leads Jack to another revelation. 

He’s so incredibly horny. 

His body is craving that oh so sweet relief that courses through your veins when you climax. He misses the full body shudders that racked through him when he would cum. 

He’s already done the obvious. Jack’s jerked off more in this current timeline than he did when he was married. Contrary to popular belief, Jack Abbot is very tech savvy. He’s just a traditional man and prefers to do things the old way, such as still using a fax machine.

He’d considered getting one of those fleshlights, but the ideas of pumping his dick inside a rubber toy and wasting his cum just sounded like so obscure. The fleshlight wouldn’t moan or tell him how he good that he was making it feel. And the fleshlight surely wouldn’t be warm or tighten around him as it climaxed. So yeah…toys were out of the question.

He knows that there’s apps now that he could utilize to get a quick hookup, but Jack doesn’t want that. He doesn’t just want a quick fuck—he wants intimacy. 

He wants to feel the other person’s body undulating beneath his as he licks the sweat from their body. He wants to hear the loud, wet squelching that comes from good pussy. 

He wants a woman. 

He does what any normal man does, he pulls up the good ole’ porn sites. He spits crudely in his hands and wraps it around his dick. He breathes a deep sigh of relief at the first tug. Jack navigates to the videos of women pleasuring themselves. He’d always been a sucker for watching a woman know her body and bring herself to a climax.

Normally, he’d be able to jerk himself off, cum, and go to sleep. But tonight’s different. Every single video that Jack clicks on just feels wrong. There’s no excitement or heat building in his stomach. In one video, it’s clear to him that the woman is faking it by her high-pitched and over exaggerated moans. 

It turns him off even more when she starts to make her voice more child-like. 

Those type of vibes had never been for Jack when it came to picking out his porn. He likes when he can tell that the person is actually in pleasure. He wants and craves realness. Not something that’s been overproduced and oversaturated to please boys who don’t know the first thing about making a woman cum.

Jack sighs before tucking himself back in his boxers. He continues to search endlessly for the perfect site and video, and it all proves to be futile. 

Until…

An ad pops up one of the sites that he’s on. 

Are you lonely and looking for companionship? Maybe you just a want a release after a long day. Our girls are ready to make all of your fantasies come true. Click the link and journey into your sensual experience of a lifetime.

Curiosity gets the best of Jack, and he clicks on the link. The first thing about the website that catches Jack’s eye is how the website looks. It’s pink, elegant, and hyperfeminine. He can tell that the website design has a distinct women’s touch to it.

Sensual Desires is the name that flashes across the top of the screen in a neat cursive font. Jack’s impressed by what he’s seeing so far. He’s used to vulgar simplicity of most other porn sites, but this is different. 

His eyes flicker over to the tab that says live camshows. He never actually considered the fact that he could watch the women live, instead of some prerecorded video. 

Before Jack can journey into the live cam sessions, the website prompts him to make an account. He’s also surprised to see a list of rules outlined as he’s making the account. 

Rule #1: Always respect the women. That means any rude, disgusting, and perverted customers will be blocked from the shows and website permanently. No derogatory comments allowed!

Rule #2: Do not request underage play, or anything related to minors or children. You will be blocked and reported.

Rule #3: No sharing any of the women’s private information. 

Rule #4: Tip the women well. They work hard to put on a show for you all. Compensate them well. 

He clicks the box to acknowledge that he understands the rules. Jack signs up with the username silverfox. He’d heard a few nurses jokingly referring to him as a Silver Fox, and he figures that the name is appropriate for his username. 

The screen loads and show Jack a bunch of different live shows that are happening now. He clicks the button that has ‘preview,’ which gives him a sneak peak into the shows. He swallows at the sight of the woman bouncing up and down on a hot pink dildo shaped like a tentacle. 

It’s hot for sure, but it’s not quite what Jack is hoping for tonight. He continues to stroll through various pages until he stops suddenly. 

He looks at the username: cherrydarling17 is now live….

Jack looks at the preview where you sit with your legs beneath you. He can only see the bottom half of your face and your pretty lips, but nothing to be able to make out your whole appearance. 

Jack runs his eyes across your frame, which is adorned with a pink floral set. The cups are mesh, and he peeps the sight of your dark nipples beneath the cups. 

You run your hands up and down your body slowly. Just as you’re reaching for the strap of your bra, the preview ends. Jack hurriedly clicks to join the stream. He doesn’t want to miss a second of the show. 

The screen loads and finally Jack can see you again. You pull down the other strap teasingly as you flash subtle peeks of your nipples. 

You move your head down slightly and chuckle, “Seems like we have a few eager boys tonight. You know the rules, you pay to see what’s next.”

The chat blows up more as the viewers pay to get more of a glimpse at your gorgeous body. Seemingly satisfied with the flow of the money, you finally appease your viewers by dropping the bra. 

Jack feels himself hardening in his briefs as he finally catches sight of your body. He can’t help but drool a bit at the sight of your breasts and nipples. You move your hands up to palm at your breasts, tweaking the nipples between your fingers.

Jack finds his eyes wandering down to your still covered center. He can see the way that you’re moving your hips for some form of friction. 

He wants more. No. He needs to see more of you. Before he knows it, he’s taking out his debit card and putting the information in. 

He types in the chat as you read.

silverfox: $200 to see you take off your underwear. $400 to see between your legs.

Your glossed lips quirk up, “Looks like you all may have some competition. For you silverfox, I’ll honor your request.”

You sit up and toy with the edges of your underwear. Jack sticks his hand in his briefs and pulls his dick out again. You start to shimmy the underwear down your legs. Your mound is bear and Jack figures that you make more money this way.

If he had it his way, you’d never have to shave yourself again. He’d worship and bury his face so deep inside you to show you how much he liked your hair. 

You hold the panties up to the screen to show Jack and all of the other viewers the wet spot that covers the seat of the underwear. 

“I guess you all got me wet already, and we haven’t even gotten to the best part of playing.” You sit back with your legs still closed before you slowly start to open them. 

Jack leans over and allows the glob of spit to trail from his mouth and onto his dick. He twists his hand upwards just as you fully open your legs.

Jack lets out a loud, desperate moan at the sight of your glistening folds in the light. The chat blows up with comments and tips as all of the other viewers enjoy the sight of you. 

“Is that good enough for you, silver fox?” You ask, using your fingers to spreads yourself open more. Jack cant help but try to memorize every detail of you in his mind. 

He looks at the slick that flows from your hole, which clenches around nothing. His mouth waters at the sight of your pearl that looks like it’s begging to be touched.

silverfox: you’re perfect sweetheart. I’d be willing to pay a lot more to see you play with yourself. 

“Fingers or toy?” You ask him, and for a moment, Jack feels as though you’re talking to him. 

silverfox: fingers first. I want you to warm yourself up and then if you’re good, I’ll let you use a toy. 

By the way that your breath hitches, Jack can tell that you like being told what do. You trail your fingers down to your center and run them through your soaked folds. Your hips jerk as the tips of your fingers touch your clit. You trace small circle around the throbbing pearl as you moan softly.

You have Jack’s full attention. He’s not even jerking off at this point. He’s just watching. When he stuff two fingers into your hole, Jack’s heart beats faster. He looks at the way that hole stretches to accommodate your fingers, and he can’t help but yearn to taste you. 

You get into a rhythm of thrusting your fingers inside of yourself while your other fingers circle your clit. You moan and hump your fingers faster and faster. 

A loud moan leaves your pretty lips as Jack and all of the other viewers watch you cum. This is what Jack craves. This is that raw pleasure that he seeks to be apart of. 

You drag your fingers from your core and present them to the camera. Jack can make out the slick that clings to your fingers. You bring your fingers to your mouth and suck your release from them. This causes the chat to go crazy as many of the men comment on how they wish they could be the one tasting you. 

Jack wishes that he could too. 

“Now, I get to play with my toys. Question is, are we feeling the blue one or the clear one?” You hold both of the dildos up to the screen for the viewers to decide. 

Jack thinks hard about the choice. 

silverfox: $600 for the clear

“My, my silver Fox, you really know how to spoil a girl. Clear it is,” You said, placing the blue off to the side. 

You open a bottle of lube and rub it across the dildo before positioning it at your entrance. “I hope you’re touching yourself, silver fox because I’m imagining that it’s you.” 

You notch the bulbous tip at your entrance before beginning to slot it in. Jack grips the base of his dick as more precum begins to pool out from his tip. He moves his hand up softly as he watches your walls stretch to accommodate the toy. 

“Mmmm…it’s so big,” you moan, and Jack can tell that you aren’t faking it. He imagines that you’d say the same thing to him as he’s sliding inside you. 

Due to the opacity of the toy, he and the other viewers are treated with slight peek of your pink walls. 

For the next fifteen minutes, Jack watches you thrust the toy in and out of yourself as more of your slick pools beneath you. At the same time, he jerks off to the rhythm of your thrusts. 

“Right there baby, keep that same pace, I’m almost there,” Jack moans, twisting his hand faster. 

“I’m so close,” you whine through the screen. 

Yours and Jack’s releases hit at the same time. Your thighs shake as the orgasm consumes you, and Jack watches you clench around the toy. 

At the same time, long ropes of cum shoot from his tip and cover his shirt. Jack’s surprised by the sheer amount of cum that comes from his body, and by the time that it’s over, he feels drained. He hasn’t cum like that in a long time. 

You slide the toy from your center with a soft pop and present it to your audience. You hold it up to your lips as your tongue flicks out to taste your release. You don’t stop until the toy is completely clean. 

You smile, “That felt so good. Thank you all for tuning in and for making tonight special. I’ll see you guys soon for the next session.” 

You give a little wave before the show ends. 

Jack is left sitting there with the cum staining his shirt, but he does come to one scalding realization. 

He needs to see more of you.

A week later when Jack comes in on the day shift, he’s noticeably in a better mood. He’s never been one to take his emotions out on others, but he is known to be a bit grumpy at times. 

Robby frowns when he sees Jack smiling brightly, “Are you possessed or something?”

“No, I’m just in a good mood,” Jack answers. 

“Right. You mind helping out in Room Five?” Robby asks, to which Jack nods. Robby calls your name and you perk up before walking over to him and Jack.

“Would you mind helping Dr. Abbot out in room five?” Robby asks, eyes flickering between you and Jack.

“Yeah sure,” you said, turning to Jack and waiting for him to start walking. 

While Jack has a major online crush on Cherry Darling, he also has a huge real life crush on you. You’d been working at the hospital for about a year, and you’d made quite the impression on the entire department. 

Jack had heard all the chatter about the new nurse on day shift, who was stealing everyone’s heart. He also didn’t miss the whispers of everyone about how pretty they thought you were. 

Jack figured that it was just the classic case of “new kid on the block” until he finally had the chance to meet you for himself. You had filled in for one of the night shift nurses who had caught the flu. 

When Lena first introduced you to Jack, he felt like his brain was short circuiting. You smiled all pretty at him before getting to work. Not only were you pretty, but you’d proven to be a brilliant woman. 

There were certain things that you were catching before the residents themselves. 

Jack finally had a chance to speak to you in debt when you turned to face him, “Hey, I’m going to get a coffee. You want one?”

“Yeah that’d be great. Thank you,” Jack said. He spent the next minutes watching you walk down the hallway and admiring the way that you made the scrubs look good. 

After a while, you came back and slid the cup over to Jack. He was honestly expecting to get a taste of the horrible cafeteria coffee, but was pleasantly surprised at the taste.

You chuckled, “From the look on your face, I assume that you were expecting something gross.”

“S’not you, I promise. The coffee here isn’t known to be the best,” Jack responds, taking another sip of the coffee. 

“Trust me, I learned that on my first day here, so I’ve been bringing my own ingredients from my supply, including the instant coffee.”

For a moment, something warms in Jack. You actually had offered him coffee from your personal supply and took the time out to make it for him. Sure, there’s a brief moment where he guesses that you’ve probably done this for other people in the Pitt, but he pushes that thought aside because he likes the idea that he’s special to you. 

It unlocks something darker in Jack. Something he’s not ready to come to terms with yet. 

“Well, I appreciate it a lot, kid. Thanks.” He states. You give him a nod before returning back to charting.

Now in the present as he walks alongside you down the hallway, he reflects on how deep his crush is on you. 

“Shouldn’t you be resting before you actually have to come in, Dr. Abbot,” You tease, throwing him one of your signature smiles.

“I should in theory, but I heard about the accident and figured I’d come help. ‘Sides there’s still time for me to go home and nap,” Jack explains. However, he knows that he won’t be napping. He’ll be too busy strolling through his Cherry Darling’s videos and cumming to them before going to sleep. 

“You need a hobby, and not your little SWAT rendezvous either. Something that’s not this place, you know? Something fun,” You said.

“What do you suggest? I hope you don’t say golf because I haven’t gotten to that point yet.”

“Huh, I thought all old white men liked golf,” you said, smirking at him.

Jack laughs loudly, “Hey, sweetheart, I’m not that old. If anything, Robby’s the dinosaur here.”

“Sure, Dr. Abbot, whatever helps you sleep at night.” You tease before bumping his arm with yours. Jack finds himself smiling at the playful gesture before he returns it. 

Soon, you’re both in room five working on the patient. Jack likes how you can just anticipate what he needs before he has to speak it. Working on shifts with you is much easier and peaceful. 

He allows himself to think about how life would look with you outside of the Pitt. What were you like at home? How was your house decorated? Did you like to watch crappy reality shows and curl up with takeout? Did you walk around the house in a pair of your skimpiest panties and an oversized tee?

You consume Jack’s thoughts for the remainder of his time helping out. Even when he’s heading out the door to go sleep, you tease him. 

He walks out of the Pitt with a smile on his face. Maybe you actually reciprocate his crush. 

Back at his house, Jack plops on the couch before pulling out his computer. He logs back into Sensual Desires before navigating to Cherry Darling’s page. 

He observes the amount of followers that she has and knows that she deserves it. Just from the show that he saw, he can tell that she takes her content serious. 

He navigates through all of her videos and clicks on the most recent prerecorded one. In the video, Cherry Darling sits in her room with a soft pink lingerie set covering her brown skin. 

Jack likes the fact that she builds up the foreplay for herself and the viewer. Before long, he watching as she bounces up and down on a flesh colored dildo. Her juices run down the toy as she moans in pleasure. 

She’s turned away from the camera so that the viewers can watch her cheeks as they ripple beneath her own thrusts. 

Jack’s cumming in perfect sync with his Cherry Darling as she shakes from the pleasure. At the end of each video, she’s always polite enough to say thank you. 

Each video only serves at making Jack’s yearning for you grow deeper. He wants to spend every second of his time watching you. 

Two months later

Notification from cherrydarling17: Hi everyone, I’ll be doing private sessions and custom videos over the weekend if you want  to sign up. There are only 10 spots available, so I hope to see you there.

xoxo,

Cherry 🍒 

Jack’s pretty sure that he didn’t even sign up for the army as fast as he signs up for the chance to have a private session with his Cherry Darling.

The excitement of it all builds up throughout the week. Then comes the overthinking. What if she felt creeped out by him? What if she thought that he was some old and disgusting pervert?

What if she didn’t like him?

For a moment, Jack considers cancelling his session with you and just going back to watching his videos until he sees a notification from the sensual desire website.

*New message from cherrydarling17*

Cherrydarling17: Hi! I saw that you signed up for a private session with me, and I’m excited to meet you. I just wanted to check and see if you had any special requests..like is there a specific color that you want to see me in on Saturday, or is there something that you want to see in particular?

Jack swallows down the nerves. She was really trying to make sure that he had a good experience. 

Silverfox: Hi, thanks for the message. I’ve actually been really nervous about our session. But if it’s possible, could you wear something blue? In terms of other things, I’m fine with watching and going from there. I just really want to see you feel good.

Cherrydarling17: I have the perfect set in mind, don’t worry!😉Also, it’s normal to feel nervous. If it helps, you don’t have to show your face. I just want us to have the best possible time together and for you to get your money’s worth. Thanks for subscribing!♥️🍒

Her words put Jack at ease, and he feels more prepared than ever to spend some one-on-one time with his Cherry.

On Saturday night, you change into the navy blue set that you have prepared for your last session with silverfox. You slide the sheer stockings up to the knees before moving to your spare bedroom, which acted as your studio. 

You had got into camming over two years ago when you decided to try to make some extra cash. You had found Sensual Desires through a mutual friend and signed up. You liked how the website was women-owned and how the founders cared about the safety and wellbeing of their creators. 

It wasn’t long before you had become one of the top creators. 

It was a bit hard at first with making videos, but then you reminded yourself that even though the viewers were paying, it was still all about your pleasure. 

As a nurse, you made a pretty decent salary, but you still wanted to have extra money to buy yourself the things that you desired. 

No one at the Pitt knew about your little side hustle. To them, you were just the sweet, extroverted nurse that everybody got along with. There were too many big mouths at the Pitt, so you didn’t want to risk sharing that part of your life with anyone.

Plus, you weren’t ready to have all of the scrutiny and stares that came with people finding out. 

You were thoroughly intrigued with the man behind the username, silverfox. Since he first joined your live show, he’d been consistent with supporting you. Each one of your videos were liked and commented on by him. He also tipped you well on regular videos and live shows. 

You liked him more than your other viewers because he was actually sweet and considerate of the time and effort it took to put on your shows. Unlike some of the other viewers who wanted you to tire yourself out, silverfox was consistent to reminding you to take breaks or take a second to drink water.

He’d tip you $100 if you drank water and took time to recuperate after having an orgasm.

So when you saw that he had signed up for a private session with you, you couldn’t help but feel excited. 

Most of the other slots were men who wanted you to use various toys or degrade them in some fashion. One man wanted you to boss him around and call him your bad puppy, while he barked and whimpered. 

It was interesting experience for sure, but you got a nice $2,500 out of it so you wouldn’t complain.

As you set up your computer, you can’t help but think about Jack Abbot. Truly, there wasn’t a moment where you didn’t think about Jack. Sure you had a little crush on the man, but who didn’t? 

Through your moments of interacting with Jack, you cherished each and every one. Though, you weren’t sure how the man felt about you. 

There were moments where you both would share jokes and dry quips or a coffee, but nothing further. You’d caught him staring at you across the room a few times, but he did that with everyone. 

Plus, you really didn’t want to fall into the line of gossip for starting an affair with one of the attendings. There was enough chit chat about Robby and all of the other nurses to go around. 

So you decided to just be content with the cards that you’re dealt with. 

Turning on the camera, you make sure that your body is perfectly positioned and only part of your lips visible. 

Right at 9:00 PM, the site lets you know that silverfox has joined. You take a deep breath to ease the nerves before admitting him to the session. 

Your breath hitches at the sight of the man sitting with only the bottom half of his face showing along with his toned body in the black t-shirt. There’s something distinctly familiar about him that you can’t put your finger on. 

You smile, “Wow, are you usually this on-time for everything, or were you excited to see me?”

He chuckles, “Yes to both. I’m always on-time and I was really excited to see you. You look gorgeous by the way.”

You glance down at your set before moving closer so that he can see you more, “Thank you, after you picked the color, I knew the perfect set that I wanted to wear tonight.”

There’s a beat of silence. You can tell that there’s still some nerves on his end. 

“Why don’t you tell me where you’d like us to start? We can keep talking and ease our way into things,” You suggest. 

“Yeah, I’d like that. Umm..what’s your favorite color?” 

You giggle, “I actually have two. I like blue and green. What’s yours?” 

“Blue. What’s your favorite fruit?”

“Cherries, hence the username,” you respond.

For the next twenty minutes, you and silverfox use the time to talk to each other and learn surface facts. He learns that you’re obsessed with Moschino cherries and that you have cherry stickers on literally everything. You learn that his favorite movie is Roman Holiday, and the movie he always cries to is Steel Magnolias.

Truthfully, you almost forget the other portion of the session or the fact that you’re sitting in a lingerie set while you talk to him.

You don’t feel like you have to feign interest in him. You just are. 

The conversation shifts to something more erotic when you feel bold enough to ask him his favorite position. 

“I’m more of a missionary guy. I like to see my partner’s face while I’m making them feel good,” He states, shifting in the seat.

“You seem like the type who thoroughly worships a woman. Like her pleasure is yours,” you point out.

“It is. I like watching the person I’m with give into that pleasure. It’s sexy getting to watch the way that their body freezes for just that tiny second before they cum.”

You squeeze your thighs together at his tone. On the other side of the screen, Jack can see his words are affecting you. 

If only, you both knew who was on the other end of the call. 

“Why don’t you take your bra off for me, sweetheart? Let me see you.”

You sit up and reach behind you to unclip the bra as it falls down your chest. Jack’s throat bobs at the sight of your breasts. He imagines what it’d be like to touch you.

“You’re perfect, baby. Everything that I ever imagined.”

A smile graces your lips, “Thank you. What do you want me to do next?”

“I wanna see you make yourself feel good, sweetheart. You know that dildo that you have, the one that’s similar to my complexion? Grab that one for me.”

You nod before moving off to the side to grab the toy. You carefully sit down, ensuring that your face is still hidden. 

“Good girl. Now…take off your underwear and spread your legs for me,” Jack orders softly. You swallow roughly at the praise before obliging to his orders.

Jack trails his greedy eyes down your perfect body to your perfect wet center. He’s never seen anything more beautiful than you. 

“Look at you, so wet and so needy. You should get that toy all wet. Show me how you would suck me off if I was there,” He demands. 

You hold the toy up to your lips as your tongue comes out to trace at the faux veins. You slide the tip into your mouth as you move in and out of your mouth. Jack palms himself through his sweats at seeing your lewd actions. He imagines how he’d look in your throat. 

“Push it deeper baby.”

You do. A soft gag leaves your mouth until you adjust. As you pull toy out, a thin line of saliva follows. 

“You’re so good baby. Now let me see you fuck it.”

An hour and thirty minutes later, you nearly collapse as the last orgasm racks through your body. On the other side of the screen, Jack tries to catch his breath as his cum stains his hand and chest. He can still see your thighs shaking and the puddle that had formed under you. 

“You were so good for me tonight. Now, I want you to go get a glass of water and drink it. M’gonna sit right here with you for a while until I know that you’re okay,” Jack said. 

You nod and shakily stand on your legs. You procure a glass of water before sitting down to drink it in front of him. Even over the screen, Jack wants to ensure that he gives you proper aftercare. 

“Are you all good now?”

“Yes, thank you for that. No one’s ever been that considerate.”

Jack nods and flicks his tongue to lick his lips, “You’re welcome. As long as I’m around, I’ll always make sure you’re taken care of.”

Little did you know, he’s planning to be around for a very long time.

Jack continues his private sessions with his Cherry darling. He finds that he becomes more and more enamored with the girl behind the screen. It isn’t just lust. Jack actually cares about her wellbeing. 

During the day, he still finds himself drawn to you. There are some instances of overlapping shifts where he talks with you, and you both still share the same familiar joke. 

Neither of you suspects the obvious connection that you share. 

Well not at first. 

There’s something that makes Jack pause when he comes to help out on day shift. You place your Stanley cup on the desk beside Jack after you take a sip of water. He takes sight of the cherry stickers that litter across the bottle. He swears that he’s seen the exact same bottle in Cherry’s videos, but he quickly dispels the thoughts.

Those were pretty common stickers. There was no way that the pretty nurse who he had a crush on was also the same woman who he’d been cumming to. 

The second coincidence comes in the break room when Jack spots you casually stabbing your fork into a mini to-go container, which has surprise, surprise Moschino cherries in it. 

Jack swallows nervously, “What ya got there, kid?”

“Oh, just a few Moschino cherries. They’re my favorite.”

“Nice, make sure you don’t give yourself a sugar rush. Can’t have you jittery on a case,” Jack jokes, trying to brush off the nerves. 

You chuckle, “Dr. Abbot, I’m already sweet and jittery. It’s a little too late for the warning.” 

He laughs, despite the pit in his stomach trying to convince him that you’re his Cherry. Maybe he’s finally lost it. Maybe he’s been spending so much time with Cherry and crushing on you simultaneously that he’s managed to combine you and the woman into one person. 

Unfortunately for Jack, the universe only proves to get more and more crueler to him. You had managed to accidentally nick your arm on a door in a rush to help out with one of the cases. You don’t notice the small stream of blood as it trails down your arm, but Jack does. 

He calls your name gently, “Come here for a second. You have a cut.”

You follow Jack to the hallway, where there aren’t many people, and he gently grabs your arm in his hands as he dabs at it with alcohol pads.

“What’s the prognosis, doc? Can we save my arm?” You ask teasingly.

Jack chuckles as he grabs a nearby bandaid, which happens to have cherries on it. “I don’t know, kid. We may need to send you up to general surgery.”

“Yeah, and who’s going to foot that hospital bill?”

Jack looks up at you, “I’d pay for it.”

There’s a brief pause of silence as the older man stares into your eyes and still holds your arm in his firm grasp. You can feel the beginnings of the butterflies creeping up in your chest. 

“Good to know that I can depend on you, Dr. Abbot. Thanks by the way.”

You gently remove your arm and walk down the hallway. Jack keeps his eyes on you the entire time. 

Later in the week when he has another session with his Cherry Darling, he feels his heart drop down upon seeing the Cherry bandage on her arm. The exact same Cherry bandage that he’d placed on you earlier in the week. 

“What happened to your arm, sweetheart?”

He waits patiently and eagerly for your response. 

“Oh, I got hurt at work. It’s nothing major, I actually forgot that it was there.”

It’s only during the session that Jack takes extra special care to compare and contrast the details between you and his Cherry. 

He finds that there are no differences and he won’t find any. 

Because you and his Cherry Darling are the exact same person.

Quite frankly after the revelation, Jack doesn’t know what to think. You were Cherry Darling. You’re his Cherry Darling. 

The realization stirs something dark and possessive inside of Jack. He’s appearing on more day shifts just so that he can be close to you. He’s openly flirting with you a lot more, much to Robby’s surprise. 

Being around you also unlocks the jealously. 

You’re a beautiful woman. Everyone in the hospital can attest for that fact. Which means that you naturally bring a lot of attention to yourself—namely male attention. 

Jack spots Langdon flirting with you and glares openly at the younger man as he makes you laugh. You reach out and touch Langdon’s shoulder as you laugh at his joke. Jack’s sure that it’s definitely not that funny. 

He moves over to you and Langdon, “If you two want to continue laughing like children, I suggest a playground. My ER’s not the place to do especially with how many patients we have,” Jack states, all hints of malice in his voice. 

You and Langdon flinch at his words before Langdon moves to go check on a patient. 

You nervously bite at your lip, “Sorry, Dr. Abbot. It won’t happen again.” Jack hates the way that you’re looking at him now. Like you’re afraid.

He never wants you to be afraid of him. 

Not you. Not his Cherry Darling. 

So he decides to make it better. He starts by looking up custom necklaces on a website. By the time that he’s done designing it, he’s satisfied that it’ll make up for his snapping at you. Even though, you won’t even know why. 

He also purchases another gift for your play sessions together. 

He opens up the text thread that he has with you. He’s deciphered by now that this isn’t your real number and only a spare that you’re using.

Silverfox: Hi, I was thinking about you and I wanted to get you something special. Is there a P.O. Box that I could send it to? 

Jack watches from across the room as you take your phone out. A small smile crosses your face.

Cherrydarling17: awww you’re spoiling me now. You can send it to P.O. Box 99BA Pittsburgh, PA. Thank you♥️

Silverfox: Anything for you, sweet girl🍒

On Saturday, Jack’s sitting outside of the mailbox that you had mentioned. You’re smart enough to choose a mailbox that’s an hour away from your house. But you truly underestimate just how much he’s interested in you. 

He slumps down in his truck as he peers at you through the window. You walk into the mailbox looking radiant as ever. It’s different for Jack to be see you wearing normal clothes. 

He’d seen you in scrubs and lingerie, but never a simple pair of jeans and a halter top. He admires the two puffs that you have your hair in. 

You walk out of the mailbox holding the box that contains his little gifts for you. He even took the liberty of wrapping it in cherry wrapping paper along with a big red bow. 

He can’t wait to see you wearing and using it all.

When you make it home, you set the box eagerly on the table. This wasn’t your first time receiving gifts from your subscribers. There’d been plenty of lingerie gifts, money, and tech that had been sent to you. But with silverfox, you feel like it’ll be a little more different. With how he takes care of you during the sessions, you’re sure that his gift will be a little more thought.

As you open the box, you gasp at the sight of the lingerie in the box. You peer at the tag which has Agent Provocateur attached. However, from the intricacy of the design, you can tell that he had it custom made for you. 

You set the lingerie aside carefully as you pick up the smaller velvet box. You can contain barely the squeal of excitement that leaves your mouth upon seeing the necklace that has ‘Cherry’ written on it in cursive font, along with a small cherry charm to the side. 

You can’t help but eagerly take the necklace from the box and clasp it around your neck. You open your phone camera to get a look at yourself. 

Moving it lower, you snap a picture of the lower half of your face along with your neck containing the necklace. 

cherrydarling17: I love it sooo much, thank you! Also thank you for the set🥹💕

Your phone buzzes not even a minute later.

silverfox: you’re welcome, sweetheart. Anything for my special girl. Did you see the last gift?

You move the rest of the tissue paper, revealing a pink box. Open it, you see a pink dildo rests in the box. It has a card on the side.

Dear Cherry, 

I wanted to get you a little something to show my appreciation. But I also wanted to give you something to heighten our time together. I know you’re probably thinking that this is a standard dildo, but it’s a little more special. There’s a camera attached to the tip. I enjoy watching you play, but I figured that it would be even sexier to see what you look like inside when you’re clenching and cumming around those toys.

I was hoping we could use it at our next call, but if you’re uncomfortable with it, I completely understand. It’s controlled by an app that you can install on your phone. Instructions are in the box. 

 xoxo, 

Silver Fox

Cherrydarling17: I’ve never used one like this before, but I’d love to explore with you. 

Silverfox: I’m happy to hear that. We’ll do things at your pace, sweetheart

Cherrydarling17: ♥️

Jack’s obsession with you only grows. He wants to be with you at all times. On his days off, he follows behind you, and you truly don’t suspect a thing. 

Not even the fact that he’s logged into the city’s street cameras to watch and make sure that you’ve gotta home safely. Not the fact that a tracker is sitting under your car that’s directly attached to your phone. 

Not even the fact that he’s using all of his resources to be on cases with you. You seem pretty oblivious to it all. 

It’s cute, really. 

Trinity leans over to you and lowers her voice, “Is there something going on with you and Dr. Abbot?”

You frown, “What? No, why would you ask that?”

“Oh, come on. You can’t be that clueless. He’s been pulling you to assist on all of the cases that come through here. Mohan was definitely free, and he sidelined her for you,” Trinity explains, lifting her eyebrows. 

“I don’t know what you want me to say, Trin. It’s strictly platonic. Maybe he just likes how we work together.”

As much as you would love to believe that Dr. Abbot likes you, you quickly push the delusions aside. 

“Fine, suit yourself. But you owe me $30 if it’s true,” Trinity states, holding her pinky out. 

You chuckle before twisting your finger with hers. 

Unbeknownst to you, you miss the way that Jack stares at you from across the room. Of course, you don’t even notice that he’s taken one of your scrunchies from your locker, and he has it stuck in his pocket. 

Later that week, you set up all of your equipment as you prepare for your call with Silverfox. You’ve already downloaded the app onto your phone and tested out the quality of the camera. It’s about as clear as any professional camera, which leads you to the conclusion that the man spent a lot of money on the toy. You had even gone the extra mile of connecting the app to your computer so that he would be able to see when the session began. 

You get ready in the lingerie set that he bought and make sure to moisturize your body. At 8:00 PM, you officially start the call, checking to make sure that your face is concealed. 

Little did you know that your efforts are pointless at this point. Jack already knows who you are, but he doesn’t have any intention of letting you know that. 

You smile brightly when you see him. By now, Jack’s able to deduce that it’s a genuine smile. You aren’t just pretending because he’s paying you. 

“Hi,” You said. 

“Hi, sweetheart. How’s your week been?” Jack asks.

“It’s been good, kind of stressful. But I’ll survive,” You respond, laughing a little. 

Jack smiles, “I’m sorry to hear that it’s been stressful. A pretty girl like you shouldn’t have to worry about anything. If you were mine, I’d have you sitting down and enjoying yourself.”

“Yeah? You’d take care of me?”

“Mhmm, I’d give you whatever you wanted, no matter how much it cost,” Jack said. 

“Maybe I’ll take you up on that offer someday. But enough about me, how was your week?”

You and Jack engage in a conversation about his week. He’s intentionally left out the fact that he’s a doctor. Unfortunately, Pittsburgh is one of those places that you could quickly deduce between medical professionals, so Jack doesn’t want to take that risk. 

It isn’t long before the tone shifts. You eagerly slide the toy over before presenting it to Jack. 

“I need you to get yourself all warmed up first, sweetheart. Let me see you play with yourself,” Jack orders.

“Okay, daddy.”

Jack feels the puff of pride in his chest at the name you’ve bestowed upon him. It wasn’t intentional on your part. It just kind of happened. There was one session that you had with Jack where you were using the dildo that he said closely resembled his dick with a vibrator pressed to your clit. The combination of you stimulating yourself and Jack talking you through it is what caused the name to slip out as you came around the toy. Jack remembers that day well–it’s actually one of his favorite memories. He can remember the way that your body shook and the small squirt that ejected from your pussy.

But his favorite part was seeing those tears run down your face. Even though he couldn’t see your full face, it was enough to see only half of it. In response, he came harder than he had before. 

You trail your fingers down to your covered center and start to rub your fingers up and down. You move closer so that he can see the dampening material. 

“Don’t be shy, baby. Pull them to the side,” Jack said. 

You obey, your manicured fingers pulling the material to the side to show Jack his favorite girl. He groans loudly before sliding his hand beneath his pants. 

“She’s so pretty, baby. But your clit looks a little lonely, why don’t you give it some love?”

You collect some of your slick and guide it upwards to your clit, where you start rubbing and circling your fingers. Soft moans fall freely from your lips as you stimulate the bundle of nerves. Jack watches the way that your body undulates to meet your movements. You slide two fingers down into yourself before curling them to hit that spot inside of you.

“Feels so good, daddy. I like to imagine that it’s your fingers,” You said.

“Yeah? You want my fingers inside you, sweetheart? If I were there with you, I’d spend all my time making you feel good.”

“I want you so bad. Can I see your dick now?”

Jack obliges and pulls his weeping dick from his sweats. Your eyes zero in on the precum that leaks from the tip. You wish that you could get your mouth on him. 

“How about we test out our new toy, Cherry?”

You nod before sliding your fingers out and sliding them along your tongue. You slide your soiled panties off and toss them to the side. Sprading your legs for his view, you carefully slide the toy inside of yourself. Clicking the button activates the camera feature. You tap on the computer, and Jack is breathless at the sight of your pink, wet walls as they enter his sight.

“Fuck…”

You giggle, “D’you like what you’re seeing?”

Jack’s mouth feels dry. He has to grip the base of his dick to stop himself from cumming early. He swallows roughly, “Yeah, sweetheart, you’re perfect.”

And you are. Obviously, Jack’s been to medical school. He’s done a few rotations in gynecology and studied female anatomy more than he’d like to admit. But this. This is something else. Seeing the inside of your pussy is something that transcends Earth for him. 

“Slide it a little deeper, sweetheart.” 

You slide the toy back farther just as Jack starts to slide his hand up and down his length. The sight of the entrance of your cervix fills the frame of the camera. In all of Jack’s years, he’s never seen anything or anyone more perfect. 

For a moment, he wonders if you’d ever consider letting him do a vaginal exam? Would you let him spread you open so that he could see the contours of your pussy up close and personal? He supposes that he’ll have to ask you one day.

You hold the toy in place. “Is that what you wanted to see, Daddy?”

“Yeah, sweetheart, you’re perfect. Every single part of you is perfect.”

As Jack continues to watch your walls contract around the toy, he comes to a startling realization. He can’t live without you now. 

You’re clueless about the storm that’s brewing.

Unlike everyone else who works at the PTMC, you actually favor a steady work-life balance. When you first came, you saw how stressed and drained everyone looked after a shift. Sure, you knew that Emergency Medicine was hard work, but you weren’t about to allow yourself to get lost in it. You were a team player through and through, which meant you sometimes stayed when things got backed up. 

But you were also very clear on your boundaries. You weren’t afraid to tell Robby no when it came to coming in. Your days off were strictly for you. 

Which is why you find yourself on your second date with a guy named Alex that you met through mutual friends. You and Alex had naturally clicked through your first date and decided to keep things moving. He’s smart and funny, and quite frankly, he doesn’t work in healthcare, which is a huge relief. 

You like how detached Alex is from the medical world. 

Jack Abbot has always been a very watchful and observant man. He likes to pay attention to the small details that others would miss, which includes knowing that his Cherry Darling is deviating from her usual routine. 

Right about now on your day off, you should be going to your yoga class. Not sitting across from some prick and smiling lovingly in his face. 

“I really like you. You’re smart, beautiful, funny. I mean I could go on and on, but I just really like spending time with you,” Alex said. 

Jack can make out the smile that crosses your face at the younger man’s words. How could you be entertaining someone else when he was willing to give you everything you wanted?

For you, this feels good. 

It feels good to be desired and wanted out of being a doctor and even outside of being Cherry Darling. Sure, silverfox seemed to care for you, but you’d never actually meet the man in real life. Besides, for all you knew he could be married with kids. 

But Alex is real. As he sits across from you and grabs your hand, you feel the sparks of excitement rush through your body. For the first time, you feel giddy and nervous. 

This feels real. 

You lock your fingers with Alex’s glancing down at how good they look together. 

“I like you too, Alex. I’d really like to see where this goes.”

You can’t possibly hear the sound of Jack’s heart shattering as he sits across from you. 

He feels something that he hasn’t quite felt in a long time. Grief. It’s all consuming and creeps between the space of his ribs. He compares the distinct ache to the same pain that he felt when his wife has passed away. 

Only this time, he can actively change the outcome of this event. He can’t possibly lose you now. Not when he’s fallen so deep for you. 

On Monday, a notification pings with an announcement from your page. 

Cherrydarling17: Hi everyone. Just a quick announcement, I will be taking a haitus on creating content at the moment. It’s nothing to do with you all. I love creating for you all, but I think that this is best for me at this time. I’ll upload my remaining pre-recorded videos. Any paid commissions will still be honored and sent out. Thanks for understanding.

xoxo, 

🍒 

Jack has to excuse himself to go outside and take a deep breath. He knows that you’re only doing this because of him. Even just thinking about the other man’s name brings a bitter toiling through his stomach. 

He knows that this is serious between you and the younger man because he overheard you gushing to Samira about how much you liked him. 

It hurts. He feels so replaceable. 

Two weeks later, you’re filling in on the night shift for one of the other residents. A nasty case of food poisoning that Jack may or may not have had a hand in. 

The Pitt is calm. A little too calm, but everyone’s too suspicious to comment on it. You all stand by the front desk, charting and waiting on the next case. 

Lena gets a call and looks up at you all, “Incoming. Latino Male. Late 20’s. Motorcycle accident.” 

Everyone perks up at the desk before looking at each other to see who’ll be assisting. “I’ll help out,” you state, moving alongside Jack to meet the EMTs. 

Like clockwork, they push the gurney in just as you and Jack step forward. You freeze at the sight of the man lying on the gurney. 

“Alex…”

Your concerned eyes flicker over the man’s bloodied and swollen face. You don’t even hear Jack calling your name. 

Jack’s eyes flicker over to Ellis. “Ellis, scrub in for me. John, take her to the break room.”

You don’t even register Shen pulling you along with him to the break room. Your thoughts race to Alex lying on the gurney. You had joked with him about the motorcycle being a death trap, but he assured you that he was always careful. 

How could this have happened?

Inside the operating room, Jack calmly directs Ellis and the nurses on what tools to hand him to stop the bleeding. With the severity of Alex’s injury, Jack determines that it still not enough. He knows that he could save Alex’s life. 

Every emergency room doctor knows that every second counts when it comes to saving a life. Jack knows this, it’s been something that’s kept him going for years. 

Which is why he waits seconds and accidentally misses a step when it comes to saving Alex’s life. 

He thinks of all the seconds that Alex took away from you both spending together.

Why should he give Alex more time to steal you away? Jack knows that every second counts, which is why he doesn’t try nearly as hard to save Alex’s life as he flatlines. 

“Call it,” Jack announces.

“Hispanic male. Late 20’s. Time of death 3:30 AM,” Ellis recants softly. She sighs, shaking her head and snapping off the gloves. 

There’s a moment of silence for the deceased young man lying on the bed. Perhaps, he had a bright future ahead of himself. It doesn’t really matter now. 

Jack will gladly appease his grieving family with a tale of doing the best that he could. Which in his mind is true. He did do the best that he could.

He did the best that he could to keep you. 

You look up, concern painting the edges of your irises. Jack hates how much you care about the other man. 

“Is he okay?” You ask timidly, almost like you know the answer already. 

Jack sighs, running a hand down his face. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. He didn’t make it. We tried everything we could, but the internal damage was more severe than we thought.”

The tears leave your eyes quicker than you realize. You openly sob with your head bowed into your hands. 

“Oh sweetheart. Hey come here…”

Jack pulls you into his arms, gently shushing you and rubbing your back. He can’t fight the warmest that spreads through his body at the feel of you pressed against him. You cling to him tightly as your tears soak through his scrubs. 

“How about I take you home? You’re in no condition to be here like this.”

You’re about to protest until Jack holds a hand up. “No, buts, sweetheart. I can’t have you or our patients at risk. Let me drive you home.”

If you were in a better state of mind, your mind would register that you’ve heard that exact same soft domineering tone before. 

Fortunately for Jack, you aren’t. 

“Okay, thank you Dr. Abbot.” 

“You’re welcome. Go get your things from your locker.” You wipe your eyes before exiting the break room. Jack finds himself staring up at the fluorescent lights filled with dead bugs. He supposes that some of the bugs have been in the ceiling way before his time. 

It’s unnerving how calm he is about the whole situation. However, it doesn’t phase Jack because it was all for you. 

He wouldn’t apologize for that. 

Soon, you’re sitting next to him in his truck. You lie your head against the window as you watch the city pass by. 

Jack’s eyes flicker over to you, “You doing okay over there?”

“Yeah, it’s just surprising. I was just with him the other day,” you said. 

“I’m sorry. Life’s fleeting, sweetheart. One minute we’re here and the next we’re not. I’m sure he knew how much you cared about him.”

Jack wants to pat himself on the back for how reassuring he sounds. He knows that he has to play his part of  being supportive even though he could care less about your boy toy being dead. 

He glances down and spots that you’re wearing the necklace that he got you. “That’s a really nice necklace,” Jack said. 

You reach down to grab the necklace between your fingers. A soft smile crosses your lips, “Thanks, someone really special got it for me.”

It takes every morsel of strength for Jack to not reach over and kiss you. He was special to you. 

A few minutes later, he pulls in front of your apartment. You’re so out of it that you don’t even question how he knows your address. 

“Thank you for driving me home, Dr. Abbot,” You said, smiling softly at him.

“S’no problem kid. Take care and don’t be afraid to reach out to me if you need anything.”

Two Months Later

You pick yourself back up after Alex’s death. The police had ruled it as an accident following reviewing the damages to Alex’s motorcycle. No one would ever suspect that Jack had been the one to sabotage the bike. 

You grow closer to Jack. You’re back to sharing the same jokes with him, but this time, you both lean a lot closer to each other. 

You resume making videos, but this time, you only make them for him. You still have your private sessions together, and he pays you well. Almost more than you make with your current paycheck. 

He still stalks you in his free time. Jack reckons that he’ll tell you that you need to be more watchful of your surroundings once you both get together. 

It’s a random Thursday. You’ve volunteered to cover Ellis’s shift while she’s out of town. It’s one of those rainy days that you dread going out in. The type of the day where you want to curl up under a nice blanket and sleep all day. 

At the end of your shift as you get to your car and try to turn it on, nothing happens. You turn the key into the ignition a few more times. Nothing. 

Pulling out your umbrella, you go to the front of the car and pop the hood. You don’t know why you do this. You’re the farthest thing from a mechanic. Besides, even as you look down at the car, it all looks like a combination of Tetris pieces.

Before you can pull out your phone to call for an Uber, Jack rolls up in his truck. He rolls the window down, “Hey, sweetheart, is everything okay?”

“No, my car won’t start. I’m not sure what’s wrong, but I’m gonna just call an uber.” 

“Don’t do that. I’ll take you home. Free of charge,” Jack suggest.

You shake your head, “No, it’s okay, Dr. Abbot, you don’t have to do that. I wouldn’t want to inconvenience you.”

Jack chuckles. If only you knew. “It’s not an inconvenience. Look, I’d hate for you to get into a random stranger’s car and have something happen to you.” 

You think it over before nodding. You grab your things from your car and lock the door before making your way to Jack’s truck. Always the gentleman, he’s already gotten out of his truck to open the door for you. You slide into the seat before buckling your seatbelt. 

Jack slides into the truck before driving off. He turns up the heat when he notices that you’re shivering. 

“Thank you, Dr. Abbot.”

“Just Jack, sweetheart.”

“Okay, thank you, Jack,” you said, laughing a little at the end.

The side of Jack’s lips quirk up, “What’s funny?”

“I don’t know, it just feels weird to call you Jack, especially outside of work.”

“I get that, but I don’t want you to feel like you can’t. We’re both adults, so please, no Dr. Abbot,” Jack said. 

A few seconds of comfortable silence passes as Jack navigates through the streets. You glance at him, “You know that there’s rumors going on about us?”

Of course he did. Jack was privy to all of the gossip going on in the hospital. “What are they?”

“Well, the first one is that you and I are secretly seeing each other and sleeping together on the low. The second one is rather interesting, people seem to think that we may be married. But there’s also a rumor going about you and Mohan. But people also seem to think that I have something going on with Mateo,” you explain. 

While Samira had been the object of Jack’s desire at one point, you had sharply replaced her. The thought of you and Mateo together makes his stomach hurt. 

“Quite the rumor mill. How’s that make you feel? Them putting you together with an old man like me?” 

You frown and turn to face him more, “You’re not old. I mean you are older, but you look good. A lot of the nurses dig the silver hair.”

He smirks, “What about you, kid? You like the silver hair?” 

It’s your turn to smile shyly as you laugh nervously. You clear your throat, “Yeah, I think it suits you nicely.”

“Good. I like your hair too, you know. The braids are always pretty, but you look gorgeous when you wear your natural hair out,” Jack said, glancing at two puffs that adorn your head.

“Thank you. I didn’t think you paid that much attention to me.”

Jack fully stops in front of your apartment before putting the truck in park. He turns his attention fully to you. “Sweetheart, you always capture my attention. You make the shifts much better.”

Your expression softens. Jack reaches out to start caressing your face. He leans forward and you naturally mimic his movements. 

The first press of Jack’s lips against yours sends a shock through your system. You can’t help but sink further in his hold to press your lips harder to his. A soft moan escapes your lips when Jack slides his tongue between your lips. 

He groans at the feeling of finally being able to taste you. Jack’s tongue caresses yours. He lightly nibbles at your bottom lip before pulling it back and letting it pop into place. 

He’s about to go in to kiss you again when you pull back. 

You lick your lips nervously, “Maybe, we shouldn’t be doing this. I mean you’re one of my attendings, and I wouldn’t want it to come off like I slept my way to the top, you know? Everyone already notices how you pick me for most of the cases.”

Jack frowns, “Hey, I pick you because you’re talented and intelligent. Not because of my crush on you. I like you sweetheart, but I understand if you want to stop this.”

He really doesn’t understand, but he’ll play the part for now. 

“It’s not that I don’t like you, Jack. I do. I just want to be safe about everything.”

“Of course. We’ll take this at whatever pace you want to.” 

“Thanks Jack. I’ll see you later,” You said, pressing a light peck against his lips. 

“You’re welcome. Take care, kid,” He states, watching you exit the car. His fingers lightly trace his lips where he can still taste your lip gloss staining them. 

Jack reaches down under the cup holder to take out the lip gloss that he stole from your locker. There’s still some residue from your brown lip liner coating the tip of the lip gloss. Jack brings the lip gloss up to his lips and applies some. 

It’s almost like you’re still here with him.

Jack flips the burger on the grill as Robby stands next to him. He had to find some other alternative way to spend more time with you out of work, so he bit the bullet and decided to host a bar-b-que for everyone. 

You’re across the yard, holding a cup and laughing at something that Frank says. Jack frowns at the sight. 

Even with the man being married, he was still sniffing after you. Jack surmises that he’ll just plant some drugs on him later to teach him a lesson. 

Right now, though, he takes the time to admire you. The sundress that you’re wearing stops at your thighs. You’re glowing and the faint smell of your perfume wafts in Jack’s direction. 

“You’re staring again,” Robby comments, taking the spatula from Jack’s hands.

“S’nor my fault that she’s so gorgeous,” Jack said, turning back to the grill. 

Robby leans in and lowers his voice, “Is there something going on between you and her that I should know about?” 

How exactly does Jack say that you’re a cam girl and Jack’s been watching you for months and cumming with your name on his lips? Or even the fact that he’s done some pretty unhinged things to keep you to himself? 

“Nope, nothing’s going on,” Jack said. 

After the food is done, you all sit together at the long table in Jack’s backyard. He purposefully sits next to you, despite the fact that he notices that Whitaker is about to sit next to you. One sharp look makes the younger man tuck his tail between his legs and go to sit beside Robby. 

You take a bite of your burger and moan, “This is really good. I didn’t know you were such a good cook.”

Jack smiles, “There’s a lot that you don’t know about me, honey.”

If there was an imaginary camera, this would be the moment that Jack would look into it and wink. Conversations flows steadily throughout the table. Jack tries to pay attention, but his gaze keeps falling to you. 

He moves his hand closer to you and touches your thigh where your dress has moved up. It’s easy to brush it off as just an accident, but you and Jack both know that it’s not. 

You don’t make any move to move his hand, so Jack lightly skims his fingers up you thigh. You tense and press your thighs together. 

You look at him from the corner of your eye as he gives you a small sly smile. 

As the dinner continues, Jack continues to caress your thighs much to the oblivious nature of your coworkers. 

After dinner, everyone helps to clean up and now there’s just casual conversation and drinks. The night continues to wind down and everybody starts to bid their goodbyes to Jack, along with words of gratitude. 

You’re about to leave when you feel a gentle tug on your arm. You turn to face Jack. “Could you maybe stay a little bit? There’s some things that I’d like for us to discuss.”

“Sure,” you said, going to sit back on the couch. Robby eyes you, but doesn’t press the issue as he passes Jack to go out of the door. 

“Good luck,” Robby said, clapping Jack on the shoulder. 

Jack closes the door, ignoring the giddy feeling that he has at having you here in his home. 

He sits next to you on the couch, leaving some distance. You smile, “So what did you want to talk about?”

“I wanted to talk about us, or at least the potential of us. I like you a lot. You’re intelligent, beautiful, and I just would really like to have the opportunity to get to know you more, even outside of work.”

Which is partially a lie. Jack knows everything about you. From the way that you like to order your coffee to the brand of tampons that you like to use during your period. He even knows your social security number if you want to get technical.

“Really? You don’t care that everyone would start to talk?” You ask. 

“No. But I want you to know that I care about your reputation. You’re a brilliant doctor, so I’d never want to do anything that would jeopardize your career, so if you wanted to keep this under wraps, I’m fine with that. I just want to be with you,” Jack said, turning and grabbing your hands in his. 

“Okay, let’s do it. Honestly, I’ve been crushing on you for a while, but I just never felt that you saw me that way. I’d love to explore this more, Jack.”

You and Jack stare at each other. He takes the opportunity to lean forward to connect his lips to yours. Somewhere through kissing him, you end up straddling his lap. 

You weren’t planning for things to go this way, but quite frankly, you’re horny. You’re craving the feeling of having a man actually touch you. For so long since you’d become Cherry Darling, you had been making yourself cum for other’s pleasure. 

You want to feel wanted. You want to have a man who actually values your pleasure and needs. The only man who’s actively done that was silverfox, but you weren’t gonna be meeting the man in real life anytime soon. 

Jack’s arms come around your backside where he slides his hands beneath your cheeks to feel your skin. You moan as he drags your core across his jeans. By now, the panties that you’re wearing are soaked through. Jack can feel your wetness seeping through his jeans. 

“You’re so pretty, sweetheart. I wanna see every part of you,” Jack states, kissing the sides of your neck. 

You stand from his lap and kick your shoes off first. Your hands travel beneath the dress to slide your wet panties down your thighs. You smile mischievously before flinging the soiled material in Jack’s direction. 

His eyes darken and your jaw drops when he brings the wet material up to his nose and inhales deeply. You just don’t know how long Jack has been waiting to smell you. 

He stuffs the panties into his jeans, “Lift your dress and let me see her.”

Your clit throbs at his words. You grab the hem of the dress before exposing yourself to Jack. He swallows at seeing your mound. It’s one thing to see you on camera, but this is much better. He can see your curly pubic hair and all he wants to do is bury his face there. 

You let the hem of the dress fall before grabbing the straps and sliding the dress down your body. Jack’s eyes slowly track across your body, taking in all of the familiar parts that he’s only seen over the camera. 

“You’re perfect, baby.”

He sits and up and pulls you to sit on his lap.  Your back is to his chest and Jack pulls your legs apart to set over his thighs. Your core is fully exposed to the cold air. 

Jack presses his lips to the side of you neck, sucking light marks on the skin there. He brings his hands up to cup at your breasts. He rolls your fingers through his fingers, “You don’t realize how long I’ve waited to see you, honey. Every day, just watching you walk around in those scrubs with that pretty smile on your face. There’s no one like you.”

“Jack,” you whimper as one of his hands come down to trail through your wet folds.

He spreads his fingers and runs them across your throbbing pearl. You buck your hips in his grip. “Shhh baby, Daddy’s got you. M’gonna make you feel so good.”

Jack slides two fingers inside of your wet heat. He moans simultaneously as you at the feel of your warm walls gripping his fingers. He’s dreamed about feeling you wrapped around his fingers like this. 

Curling his fingers up inside you, Jack presses against you spot that makes you whine and grind down on his fingers. 

“S’that the spot, sweetheart?” 

“Yes Daddy. You’re making me feel so good,” You whimper out. Jack smirks, there’s his Cherry Darling. The audio of the computer didn’t do your moans justice. 

Jack’s other hand moves to close our your throat. He tightens his grip around your pleasure points, “You’re all mine now, baby. I’m never letting you go. You understand?”

You nod dumbly. You can only focus on how good he’s making you feel. Your fingers claw at Jack’s arms as he continues pumping his fingers in and out of you. The loud, squelching of your pussy is music to his ears. 

“M’coming, Daddy,” You said, your wide eyes meeting Jack’s.

“It’s okay, baby. Let go for me,” he mutters. You walls clench tightly around his fingers as your release consumes your body. Your body writhes in Jack’s holds, but he continues to stroke his fingers across your throbbing pearl. 

Jack slides his fingers from you and places them on your tongue. You clean his fingers obediently. He angles your head up and presses his mouth to yours. The kiss is downright filthy as Jack greedily slurps the taste of your from your tongue. 

“You taste just as good as I expected,” He states. 

You let out of a gasp of surprise when Jack picks you up and walks over to the kitchen counter. He lays your body upon the cool marble counter. You shiver at the feeling. 

Jack slides his shirt over his head. Your eyes trace down his frame and how good he looks for his age. 

You frown upon seeing the white gauze upon his chest that’s taped down. Your fingers lightly trace over it. “What happened?”

“Just a little accident. Nothing you need to worry about, sweetheart,” Jack said. 

Before you can think further on the gauze, Jack connects his lips to yours again. You both pass kisses back and forth as your fingers fumble with his belt. 

Jack doesn’t even get his pants down fully before he’s notching the tip at your entrance. Your walls part to accommodate his wide length. Your mouth forms an ‘O’ at the fullness of Jack as he sinks deeper into you. 

He cradles your body to his before pulling back out and thrusting into you again. Jack grabs the back of your head and angles it down. 

“Look at how good we look together, baby. You see how well you take me? You were made for me.” He punctuates each word with a thrust. Your breasts bounce against the brutal nature of Jack’s thrusts, but it all feels so good. 

“Please, Jack, I want more,” you beg, tears creeping onto your waterline. 

Jack lays your body back upon the counter before pushing your legs towards you ears. He looks at the white slick that forms at the base of his dick. 

“Don’t worry, sweetheart. I’ll give you whatever you want,” Jack said, glancing at the cherry necklace sitting upon your neck. 

He leans down to slide the chain between his teeth. 

You can only tighten around him and scream out in pleasure at the sounds of your skin slapping against Jack’s. 

The feeling of Jack’s deep thrusts combined with the stimulation of his pelvic bone hitting your clit has you whining. 

“Jack, I’m close again.”

“It’s okay, baby. Cum for me,” Jack orders softly. He grabs your hands and pins them above your head. He stares deeply into your eyes as your orgasm hits. Tears stream down the sides of the face. 

It only turns him on more. Jack presses deeper inside of you when he feels his release creeping up the edges of his brain. He groans loudly before slamming himself as deep as he can and cumming inside of you. The ropes of cum spurt against your womb. 

“You’re so perfect, honey.”

The following morning, you wake up to the feeling of Jack cuddling you to his chest. There’s a pleasurable ache between your legs. After your rendezvous in the kitchen, Jack had taken the liberty of making love to you all over his house. 

You lost track after orgasm five. Jack had been kind enough to give you a shirt and pair of boxers. 

Gently, you pry his arm off of you before walking to the bathroom. Inside, you conduct your business before moving to wash your hands.  You look at the numerous love bites that litter your skin and smile. 

You had never felt more worshipped than you had last night. Jack Abbot had taken you to the stars and beyond. 

Walking back into the bedroom, you make your way downstairs to grab your phone. You pull up to the CVS app and navigate towards the wellness section. Your add a Plan B to your cart before walking back upstairs. 

You feel at your throat gently and frown at the absence of your necklace. You turn on the lowest setting for your flashlight as you search for the necklace. 

You kneel onto the before aiming the flashlight under the bed. You spot the discarded necklace before dragging it to yourself. 

However, you pause as the familiar item catches your sight. Your scrunchie is beneath Jack’s bed. It makes you pause because you didn’t wear a scrunchie to Jack’s house. You grab it and catch sight of a small box. 

You peep at Jack, who is still sleeping. You grab the box and quietly pull it in your direction. Your heart beats faster at the name written on top of the box.

Cherry Darling

Lifting the lid, your heart drops into your stomach. There’s numerous pictures of you inside the box. There’s some of you at work, some of you out and about. It’s the ones of you taken in your apartment that make you queasy. 

A small plastic baggie lays flatly in the box. You hold it between your fingers and quickly drop it at seeing the bloodied tampon inside. There’s writing on the front: 06/17/2026 cherry’s tampon. 

You fight down the bile that creeps up your stomach. Much to your horror do you spot the alternator from your car. 

It’s the last object that truly makes you sick. A watch. Not just any watch. Alex’s watch. 

“You weren’t supposed to see any of that.”

You jump at the sound of Jack’s voice before scrambling backwards. Your gaze settles on the man as he stands on the opposite side of the bed. You hadn’t even heard him get up. Casually, Jack walks to the lamp in the room and turns it on. 

You don’t know what’s worse. How calm he looks or the soft expression on his face. 

He walks to your side of the bed and you quickly move back. His eyes soften more, “You don’t have to be scared of me, Cherry. I did all of this for you. I just wanted to have you.”

He walks closer and kneels in front of you, “This doesn’t have to be a scary thing. I care about you, I really do. See, you’ve been on my mind day and night. I didn’t even know that you and my Cherry Darling were the same person. Not until I saw that band aid that I put on you that day. From that point, I knew that I needed to be with you. I mean, what would’ve been the coincidence of you being the same person. It’s clear that we’re meant to be together.”

Tears fill your eyes, “You hurt Alex. You lied to me, Jack.”

“I know. I’m sorry. I just didn’t want to deal with the possibility of losing you. You’re everything to me. Now, we don’t have to just interact over a screen. We can just be us,” Jack states, smiling gently. 

He looks down at the white gauze on his chest. He smiles, “I even got a surprise to make this more special for us.” 

He gently peels at the tape revealing a tattoo. In black cursive font is ‘Cherry Darling’ with cherries sitting next to the writing. The room feels like it’s spinning, even as you sit on the floor. 

Your eyes flicker over to the door. 

“I wouldn’t do that. I’d catch you. I’d always catch you, baby.” 

Jack walks over to pull you to your feet, “Say something. Say anything.”

“You’re crazy. You can’t expect me to be with you after all of this, Jack,” You said, the fear course through your body. 

“I do expect us to be together after all of this. After all I’ve done to prove my love to you. You may not believe it, but I do love you, Cherry. I think you feel just as strongly as I do, or at least you will. You’re not leaving me,” Jack mutters darkly. 

“I’ll run.”

He chuckles, “There’s not a corner of this Earth that I would leave untouched if it meant that I had to get to you, sweetheart. Besides, no matter how far you go, I’ll be there. What? You think you’ll ask Robby or Gloria for a transfer to another hospital? Baby, I’ll make sure that no other hospital will take you.” 

He walks around you to go to his laptop. He opens up a folder and shows you all of the photos and videos from your live streams. “If you think about leaving, I’ll ruin you. You’ll lose your license. All that you’ve worked for.”

The hot tears feel like lava as they travel down your face. You now openly sob in front of Jack, who closes the computer and walks over to you. He cups your face in his hands. 

His concerned eyes meet yours, “Cherry, I don’t want you to be scared of me. I’d never do anything to jeopardize your career. I meant it when I said that you’re a brilliant doctor. I just wanted to show you how far I’d go to keep you. I love you, Cherry.”

He takes the opportunity to press his lips against yours. Initially, you’re stiff to his affections, but you can’t fight the way that your body gives into his.

Jack pulls back to stare at you, “I’m gonna make you so happy. Just like you make me happy.”

He pulls you into a hug, pressing a kiss to your temple. 

“Hand me your phone,” he orders. 

Wordlessly you pass the device over to him. He effortlessly types in the passcode to your phone before navigating to the CVS app. You watch as he deletes the Plan B from your cart. 

Jack looks up at you and smiles, “You won’t be needing that.”

“Don’t worry, Cherry. I’ll always be here to take care of you.”

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