#[ event: covet ]

[jakeyt]

Covet: Chapter 10 (Part 1 of 2)

Pairing: Jake Kiszka x f!Reader

Covet Summary:

Life was good. No, life was great. 

Was. 

Until.

Jake Kiszka crashed into the picture.

You welcomed him into your life—your home. 

Yes, he was your best friend’s twin. But, he was also the one who would end up disrupting your whole world with his attitude, his troubles, and the annoyingly natural way he lured you in. 

Jake Kiszka came with so much you really didn’t want.

At least that’s what you tried to convince yourself.

Warnings: MINORS DNI (18+); angst; extreme feelings of stress and anxiety; feelings of sadness; abandonment issues; allusions to a dark, forgotten childhood; therapy; EMDR therapy; arguing/raising of voices; heart issues (POTs); use of heart monitors; hemoglobin kits mentioned; jealousy; body changes as a result of pregnancy; negative self-talk; baby talk galore; pregnancy hormones (. . .but just wait for part 2 lol); reader continues being sad while she checks Jake out... but now we see jake being sad while he checks reader out lol; mild description of oral sex (m! receiving) (as usual, PLEASE lmk if i missed anything that is triggering to you!)

Chapter Word Count: 27.4k+

a/n: hi, loves :) i am sorry for the wait! won't go into detail, but life is a mf beast rn, and i'm rolling w it the best i can. this is a hobby. and while it does take up the majority of my free time, it is also not my main job! so, please be patient as life isn’t easy!

without further ado, here is chapter 10, pt 1... you will get pt 2 tomorrow - it is all set and ready to upload, but i must let the anticipation rise after pt 1. ;)

part 1 includes a hell-ton of stuff that i've been waiting to write - and been waiting for you to read! eek! this chapter is the beginning of a ~new chapter~ in everyone's lives... so, strap in <3 things are about to get real interesting......

as usual, thank you to my lovely sister @joshym for being my encourager and for aiding in expanding on ideas when i feel stuck as hell lol i love you more than words can properly articulate <3

Please enjoy the playlist as you read 🖤 (i listen to it nonstop while i write this story.... all of the songs are pertinent to the plot and assist in telling it - either already or eventually.)

Covet Masterlist

-🌼🌼🌼-

"Conscience and covetousness are never to be reconciled; like fire and water they always destroy each other, according to the predominancy of the element."

-Jeremy Collier

-🌼🌼🌼-

November 17, 2022

After several moments of standing there, you started to feel very naked under Jake’s stare. 

The realization that you were still butt-fucking-naked under your towel had you wanting to escape the entire situation. It added one more reason why you wanted to hide in your room for all of eternity.

You didn’t know how to process what had just happened. . . All you knew was that any idea of a nice talk where you revealed the truth to him. . . Was gone. 

He knew now. And you were freaking the fuck out. 

-🌼🌼🌼-

Jake’s POV

There was no doubting her. Not for a single second. The baby was mine and I’d known it in my heart before I asked. 

I really just wanted to hear her say it. 

During our time together, just like she’d been it for me, I knew in my heart that I’d been it for her. I’d known her, backwards and forwards. And, within that time that I knew her so well, we’d become close. So close that, without meaning to make it—us— more, we’d made it more. 

I gave her a better look, not able to put into words what the fuck I was feeling. Let my eyes trail down her body, covered only by a towel. 

She adjusted her towel, tighter around her body. Was she self conscious? She shouldn’t have been. She was always beautiful. And I was afraid pregnancy was only going to enhance her beauty. . . I noticed as she tightened her towel, the action made her full breasts spill even more from the top of the towel. I averted my eyes, willing my dick to not react. Instead, I trained my eyes below, on her belly. 

And now that I knew, I could see. Even through the fluffiness of the towel, I could see a certain roundness to her belly that had never been there before. A full-blown bump. Still small by some standards, but big enough that I should have fucking noticed. 

Not able to help it, my eyes scanned her heaving chest, the tops of her tits fully exposed above the towel. It made so much sense why I’d noticed them looking bigger. . . Because they were bigger. Growing. Every day. To nourish our baby. 

Our baby.

I looked away from her. . . I couldn’t look at her right now. Not when she— when I. . . God.

How had I been so oblivious?! I lived with her for Christ’s sake. Was it my fault that I hadn’t allowed myself to be more present in her life? Was it because I was seeing Maya now? God. No. It wasn’t on me to watch for things like that anymore. Not since she’d told me that I’d served my purpose. That I was just convenient. . . And all of the other hateful shit she’d spit in my face that day in the kitchen. 

The day my heart fucking broke after pounding in my chest. . . Pleading with her to help me understand all of it. But she hadn't fucking stopped . . . Just kept going. Breaking me. Saying things I never, in a million years, ever wanted to hear from her. 

I’d let her become more in my life. I thought it was meant to last. Thought that she had become my someone. More than relationship. More than friends. She had just . . . Been there. She’d nestled into a place made just for her in my heart. Like she was supposed to have been there all along. 

I’d never wanted her to leave. But she’d wanted to. She’d put her foot down, not leaving any goddamn room for argument. 

And my heart. . . Fucking broken after beating the hardest it ever had in my chest. . . Shattered into an infinite number of tiny shards at my feet. I’d spent days picking up the shreds, my hands getting cut every time I tried to fix in me what she’d torn apart. There was a part of me that knew exactly why she’d done it. I fucking knew. Knew that she didn’t think she deserved happiness or some shit. But there was no use in entertaining what I knew when she refused to acknowledge the truth. 

The night we’d smoked and I’d told her that I— and then she’d told me that she— Jesus. The moment had been so real, so solid. . . The words had fallen from my lips without any hint of question. Even being under the influence, I felt the connection we’d made in that moment. I thought about the words everyday for weeks after I’d left the kitchen on that hellish day. 

Then there was the transcendental sex we’d had when we made it into her room that night. She’d been so wet, waiting for me. . . Fuck it all. Wait— not— no. The night we’d smoked. . . We hadn’t used protection. Was that when—?

The inside of my brain was just going fucking insane and I couldn’t— goddammit!

I ran a hand through my hair a couple of times, the other one still holding my keys. I  needed to do something with both of my hands. Besides balling them into fists and creating divets in one palm with my fingertips and the other with my keys.

I was tired of just standing there, in front of this woman I’d fallen for at a time when I thought I’d never wanted to love again. . . The same woman who’d shattered me. And, now, the very same woman who was carrying my child. . . 

There was no use in trying to organize any thoughts. Pacing seemed to be the only option. So, back and forth, back and forth, I walked in about a foot of space. Just waded in these uncharted fucking waters. All I knew at this moment was she was pregnant. And she’d lied to me about it. 

How long had she—? How far along was—?

And why in the hell had Josh known before me?! Of all fucking people . . . Fuck! 

“Jake,” her voice tore through the catastrophic mess of shit in my head. 

I didn’t look at her. How could I? When she’d left me in the dark. Once again, prioritized Josh over me. Even when it came to my child. Absolutely fucking incredible.

“Jake, please,” she muttered, voice cracking on the word please. My heart couldn’t handle the sound. “I can’t— I’m not in the right state of mind to just stand here and—.” I stopped pacing and peered up at her finally, my hair surely a mess around my hot face when I let my eyes pierce hers. 

But as soon as I made eye contact with her, I softened. I hated to see her cry. Hated it. And the sobs suddenly wracking her were unexpected. It hurt my heart to stand there and watch her like that. 

But— she’d brought this on herself. Right?! Fuck. 

As much as I wanted to walk to her and hug her, I didn’t. I stayed where I was, offering a half-assed look of pity. It wasn’t her turn to hurt over this. I was the one just finding out. Not her.

“Y/n,” I tried, weakly. But god it sucked to say her name right now. “Just— god. There are so many—.”

“Questions, I know,” she finished, walking a couple hesitant steps toward me. But I took two back, away from her. 

The way her body slacked at my action made me want to take it back. There were a lot of things I wanted to do. Some understandable, some not so much. I wanted to cry. Kiss her. Hug her. Feel her. Help her. Scream at her. 

But, she was right. I did have so many fucking questions. 

“How long?” I asked, breath shallow, never letting my eyes leave hers. 

She kept up, not looking away from me. “How long have I known? Or how long have I been—?”

“Both.”

“I—,” she stuttered, closing her eyes tight, her beautiful face contorted in what I could only assume was emotional turmoil. 

I watched as she balled her fists, clenching them a few times. Then, as she released them, she seemed to plant her feet firmly on the floor— her body, rigid and straight. 

When she opened her eyes and found mine again, I could clearly see the tears that had accumulated on her lashes. And her eyes, that would forever take my breath away, were daring to shed more of them.

“Don’t cry,” I couldn’t help but calmly reassure her, my voice soft as I went to stand closer to her again. Not close. Just— closer. “Just. . . keep going. Talk me through it. Talk us through it.” 

She breathed deeply, in and out, once. I strained to not let my eyes fall to her chest— to admire the way her fuller breasts would rise and fall. . . I resisted, focusing on her eyes. Her face, rivaling all gods of beauty. . . 

After taking one more calming breath, she began. “I’m three months along,” she paused momentarily, as if thinking of something. “Three months today, actually.”

Three months.

“And how long have you known?”

“I’ve known for about a month,” she responded, bringing her shoulders higher and sniffling once. She blinked once, tightening her fists once more. “That’s not to say I told anyone right away. I kept it to myself. I was scared. I didn’t know what the fuck to do.”

I let her words sit in the air for a few minutes, thought them through at least five times before I couldn’t keep the next question to myself any longer. 

“When did Josh find out?” 

Her jaw flexed as her fists bunched up; eyebrows, drawn together as she glanced down briefly, her eyes snapping back to mine. “Why the fuck is that important right now?”

Oh, she wanted to get angry? Okay.

“Seriously?” I said, my tone sharp as I pointed a finger at her. “You telling my brother about my baby before me is pretty fucking disheartening. Especially when I — fuck. You know why it’s important.”

“I’m sorry. . . I’m stuck on something you said. . . When you called it your baby,” she leveled, stepping toward me once. I didn’t move, only stood taller and sighed deeply, nostrils flared. “Please, tell me more. About how you’re the one who had to find out all by herself. And if you’re the one who had to find out all by herself, you’re probably also the one who’s going to have to stretch her body out to carry this baby for the next six months,” her voice rose with every word she spoke. She sighed, a smile shaking on her lips, yet lacking any positive emotion. “I must’ve fucking forgotten.”

All I could do was stare at her; because, in spite of all of that truth, I was still angry with her. She’d twisted my words. She knew what I fucking meant. 

She just wanted an opportunity to pin something on me in her moment of insecurity. 

It was definitely something she would do in a state of upset. Hell, it was something I would do. Without a thought. I was known for it. Could I be upset with her for doing the same thing? Dammit. I just felt conflicted as hell — didn’t know how to feel about it all. 

I was happy. Really. Truly. Completely over the moon ecstatic at getting to be a father. I just— I couldn’t wrap my mind around the idea of it. All of the information, the reality of my life. . . It wasn’t sinking in worth shit. Though, at the same time, it felt so incredibly real. 

On the same hand, I also felt completely betrayed to not know a damned thing until this moment. It was fine that she waited to tell me. No question about that. But telling Josh before me still pissed me the fuck off. . . And it would until she understood why it made me so angry. 

She’d confided in him about the baby I helped her make. When she hadn’t even told me. Probably hadn’t even been planning on telling me anytime fucking soon. Because of her determination to keep me out of the loop when it came to our child, I’d had to find out on my own. By accident. 

All because I was a motherfucking identical twin. What were the chances of that shit?

I didn’t get to have a moment of joy at the thought of being a father because I was too busy reading how grateful she was for Josh amidst this pregnancy. All I could think about was how she hadn’t been grateful for me. Hadn’t been grateful enough to keep me in her life. 

She’d pushed me out. But not Josh. Definitely not Josh. She would never say to Josh what she said to me in the kitchen.

I couldn’t take it.

Unable to control my actions, I started acting before thinking. . . Not even looking at her, I focused only on the keys in my hand, still waiting for me to go somewhere. I had to go somewhere. Had to get the fuck out of the apartment that had brought me both my greatest days and my most heartbreaking. 

And this day was officially both.

Pulling the door open without even thinking about it, seeing through blurred tunnel vision, I heard her say my name, once again choking on sobs behind me. Even after I closed the door, she continued to wail my name. 

My heart was longing to stay back with her. Begging me to stay where I knew I needed to. The guilt was heavy. Baby or not, my heart yearned for the woman. Even when I shouldn’t want her, I did. And I really shouldn’t after what she’d said in the kitchen.

I knew it was a dick move to leave. I knew it. But I had to. Couldn’t explain it. So, with blurred vision and hearing her repeat my name and begging me not to leave, I continued down the cemented, outdoor hallway and to the stairs. 

End of Jake’s POV

-🌼🌼🌼-

Gone. Found out about it and then he was just. . . gone. 

You stood there long enough to let him walk back through the door. Until he might’ve come back, ready to make things right.

You waited too long. But when you started getting a chill from standing there in your towel, you were suddenly ready to put some clothes on. Ready to hide. Maybe Jake had the right idea to run away.

In the case he didn’t come back tonight, you didn’t want to be waiting for him all night, getting your hopes up. . . only to have them crushed.

Your heart was already burning in your chest, all the way down to the pit of your stomach, at the worry of him not returning.

-🌼🌼🌼-

You firmly decided on leaving for a bit. Follow his lead. You went about your business to get your ass out of your home before it swallowed you whole in your fears and worries of Jake.

But. . . driving sounded stupid as hell. You wouldn’t have been able to see past the clouds of tears in your eyes to safely arrive at your destination. And, as sad as you were, you weren’t sad enough to want to wreck your car. The baby’s life was the first you considered. But–then. . . you realized you had a burning desire to keep going for you, too. . . despite Jake leaving, you wanted to keep going. The sadness hadn’t completely overtaken you.

So, you’d wisely decided to schedule an Uber. And while you waited, you hastily pulled your cute gray sweatsuit (thank you, TikTok shop) onto your body as quickly as you could, making sure to put on a sports bra underneath to hold your boobs in place. They continued to hurt like hell. You really needed to get a maternity bra.

And then, after you’d fed Stevie, you waited for the Uber and prayed that it would show up before Jake got back home. 

Well. . .if he came back home tonight. It was very bold of you to just assume he would. Why would he want to return? Your own mother left you because you weren’t worth anything. And tonight, Jake had made it perfectly clear he felt the same way your mom had.

The Uber showed up in no time. . .sooner than you’d scheduled for it to arrive. 

As the black Toyota Solara finally came into view, you wiped your tears for the millionth time since Jake had left. The sobs that wracked your chest hadn’t stopped painting your cheeks since he’d walked out the door. Because, well, he had left you. The one person you wanted with you for this had left when you needed him most.

-🌼🌼🌼-

Applebee’s. The sign to the restaurant had you feeling the urge to do happy dance, even amidst your raging emotions. But you concealed it for the sake of your Uber driver.

For the past few days, you’d been craving their alfredo specifically. The fear of ruining it like you’d ruined so many other foods, had kept you from DoorDashing it. 

But tonight? Tonight you’d decided to treat yourself, and instead of being scared that you’d throw it all up, you took the chance. Thus, scheduling the Uber to drive you to fucking Applebee’s. Of all places.

You’d been sitting for probably five minutes at a booth (comfortably, but definitely lonely), when the rain started pouring down outside your booth’s window. 

And at approximately the same time, you noticed the large group of men around your age at the bar, backwards baseball caps and muscles presumably only huge from steroids. They were screaming at the top of their lungs as a football game droned on on the TV in front of them.

The rain, the jocks. . . made you long for your bed immediately. . . Made you wish you would have just stayed home to wallow for the sole opportunity of letting the thunder lull you to a (much needed) restful sleep. Though, based on the night’s events, you weren’t sure how peaceful that slumber would actually be. Or how quickly it would come.

Thankfully, the prospect of going home came as soon as you started longing for it. The young waitress came by to ask for your drink order, but you went ahead and ordered the alfredo you’d been craving – along with the soft pretzels and cheese which automatically stood out to you when you’d opened the menu. 

Now all you were hoping was that you wouldn’t end up vomiting your guts up over your toilet later. Or worse, all over an Uber driver. You were taking a chance. This was the first time you’d eaten out since starting your new journey of eating and nausea meds. 

Speaking of, you promptly popped a PregEase in your mouth, directly from the stash in your belt bag slung across your chest.

You were thankful for the meds, but at the moment, you were actually totally fine with risking it. The one reason being: food was working as a pretty fantastic distraction from your problems for the time being. So. . . you were letting it do its job.

When the waitress brought your water out to you, your phone started buzzing and ringing in your belt bag, succeeding in interrupting you thanking her. The reverberations felt so good against your boobs (don’t fucking judge); at this point, you were convinced your chest was bound to feel like two heavy bags of tiny nails, for the rest of your life. Nothing brought them relief, and the phone felt surprisingly nice.

She kindly smiled, bringing your attention back to her from your boobs, saying she'd be back soon with your appetizer. You responded with a similar smile to hers and went about balancing all of the shit in your belt bag to get your phone out. 

You figured it was probably Elsie. She was the one most likely to be calling you at this time of night. She was known for using the late hour to openly vent to you about her day. Though, since Josh, the calls had become fewer and fewer. 

Finally getting the phone out and peeking at the screen, you were suddenly wishing it was Elsie. Because, the name staring back at you was making your tummy feel like swirling electricity. 

The process of getting your phone out had taken long enough, though, that you’d missed the call completely. You weren’t sure if it was a bullet dodged or a missed opportunity you were instantaneously longing to happen again.

You didn’t have to contemplate it for too long before his name was lighting up your screen again. And it was admittedly weird seeing his name with your current lockscreen wallpaper. . . A couple days ago, you’d impulsively taken a picture of the sonogram picture from your first appointment and made it your wallpaper. 

What if you’d accidentally left your phone where he could find it? Damn. Were you wanting him to find out on his own? Was that going to be your pussy ass way of telling him? Or were you just being impulsive and dumb?

Once again, the call went to voicemail. Except, there wasn’t time for him to leave one with how quickly he was calling you back.

Goddamn, y/n. Answer, your inner encourager forced you impatiently.

Swallowing thickly, you went to slide your finger over to answer. Your body was swimming with an increasing amount of anxiety. But, you answered it.

“Hello?” You spoke faintly, your belly flip flopping. 

He’s probably calling to say he’s packing his shit and moving out.

“Where are you?!” He asked, his voice ragged and worried. Uneven with what could only be fear. “I got home and you weren’t here and I’m freaking the fuck out. Are you okay? Are you safe? Are you with someone?”

Wait. What? Why was he scared?

For some reason, you wanted to be obtuse and not answer his questions. Apparently you were just feeling like an asshole tonight. You didn’t know. You were just tired as hell and didn’t know how to approach him. You wanted to tell him. But, you didn’t.

“I’m fine. I’m just not home.”

“Y/n. Fucking duh. I just told you I’m here,” he replied, impatient but still concerned. “Where are you?”

“What if I don’t want to tell you?” Lie.

He sighed. You could imagine him running a hand across his forehead. His eyes were most likely closed, out of patience. Damn. You’d gotten real used to stressing him out if you could guess the motions.

“Then don’t, I guess,” he relented, voice tense and irritated. “Can you just let me know you’re safe?”

As if on cue, the guys at the bar went ballistic. It made you tense up and roll your eyes at the disruption they were causing to the entire restaurant. But, specifically how they were shouting in the middle of you talking to Jake.  

“Are you at a party?” He gaped, sounding utterly shocked.

Yet again, the men started screaming at the top of their lungs, proceeding to yell a variation of the words Yes! and go-go-go-go!, plus a bunch of other shit you couldn’t understand.

You couldn’t help the growl that came from your mouth, your eyes slowly closing in annoyance. “No, Jacob. Do you really think I’d be at a party?”

“Jesus, sorry,” he apologized. He let out a deep sigh, causing the speaker to rattle a little into your ear. “I just wanted to make sure you were okay. I’m worried about you.”

Worried about–? What?

Lay off of him, y/n. You were crying buckets before you left home because you wanted him so badly. Come on. You know he is not the cause of the football fuckers going ham. Don’t take it out on him.

You let out a giant sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose. Tried to tune out the men to your left. Because Jake. Jake was on the phone. And it didn’t take rocket science to know that you really wanted to see him. Quite frankly, you felt the need to see him. 

But. . .did he want to see you? Or was he just being kind? Only worried about you because he was a decent human being? With no underlying, deeper meaning other than you being pregnant and alone? Did it make you weak if you told him where you were? 

Who cares? Just tell him.

“I’m at Applebee’s,” you sighed, rubbing your forehead before placing the same hand over your round belly to trace shapes against it. 

“Are you with someone?” He asked, tone smooth with a slight edge behind it.

“No, Jake,” you grumbled. Why did he care?

“Do you want me there?” He questioned apprehensively, sounding like it was what he wanted.

But why? He’d left you.

“Do you want to be here?”

“Yes–well,” he paused. “Only if you want me there.”

“Do you think I want you here?”

Why the game of 20 Questions, y/n? His night has already been hard enough.

You knew why. You were avoiding the impending confrontation of seeing him again. Just as much as you did want to see him, you were putting it off because you were nervous. There was no telling what would be said. Would he leave again? Would he say he didn’t want to be in the child’s life? Did it even matter?

“Yes,” he softly responded, waiting for you to confirm or deny.

He was right. And he’d unintentionally answered both of your questions. Yes, it mattered and yes, you wanted him here.

So, after telling him which Applebee’s you were at, he told you he’d be there soon and to stay put before he hung up. The sloppy jocks suddenly started cheering again, clapping each other’s backs. Though, in spite of them, you couldn’t help the quiet smile that swept over your lips.

He was coming for you.

-🌼🌼🌼-

There were about ten minutes between your apartment and Applebee’s, so you waited. 

Just ten minutes. But time crawled.

You were equal parts excited and terrified to see him. The only plausible solution to ease you while you waited, was to watch the door. Your brain was tripping over questions and curiosities all based around him, but just like you’d tried to do all night, you ignored them. Just watched. the. door. 

In reality, you really didn’t have much time to think about a whole lot before Jake was walking through the doors.  Not wearing a rain jacket (or a jacket of any sort) to cover him from the rain. . . which meant he was soaking. wet.

And oh no no no no. . . seeing him like that was not good for your baby hormones. Fuck. Why hadn’t he grabbed one before he left the apartment?!

He was going to catch a cold.

To be totally truthful, you were quite happy he hadn’t put one on. . . Reason being, you could see every single droplet that dripped from his hair. . .that touched his skin. You watched each one fall from the long strands of his wavy locks. Some dripped one-by-one, down the thick column of his neck. And others, directly to the tanned skin of his chest. . . Some even trailing to a hidden place underneath his shirt. . .

He was wearing a light blue button down, the material completely stained from the heavy, unrelenting downpour. You wanted to just peel it off of him–take care of him. You wanted to remove each piece of clothing, carefully dry every part of his body. . .

Not even meaning to, you caught yourself biting your lower lip before soothing it with a lick of your lips. . . 

Okay, y/n. Biting and licking your lips? Seriously?! Stop.

You turned around, pinching your eyes shut. Honestly, ogling over him in this very public space was not ideal. Shouldn’t have been ogling him at all. He wasn’t yours. But dammit your body couldn’t help but heat in his presence. 

Though, the atmosphere of the restaurant did not match your mood at all. In addition to the hoard of men with their beer, the place had become busier – bustling with groups of women and men alike. 

The football guys were still the worst part. You were getting sick of them–on your last nerve.

The continuous hooting and hollering that emitted from the men was obnoxious at best. Stereotypical men. In their natural habitat. They hadn’t stopped acting like heathens during the game and whooped loudly at every Republican ad that played during the commercial breaks. . . Beer bottles repeatedly clanged against each other. You were coming to realize there was zero chance of them quieting down. 

And suddenly it dawned on you that the idea of having to talk to Jake in an Applebee’s, during a (presumably important) football game, sounded dreadful. Having white college men as background noise was the last thing you wanted.

You looked back over towards the door, anxious to set eyes on a real man. Only to find he was finally making his way to you. His shoulders, broad, but shaking and shivering. He kept his arms tightly at his sides, hands in pockets and arms flexing with the shivers, beneath the thin material of his button down. 

You didn’t look too long, though. . . Turned back around — didn’t want to stare long enough for him to catch you. You shook your thoughts away. And for the first time since you’d sat down, the young, drunken men were slightly welcomed as they helped to keep you nailed down to the present with their ludicrous screams. 

Before you knew it, his body came into your view, walking down the small aisle to your table. God, he was handsome. Even with flushed cheeks and wet hair sticking to his face, he was beautiful. 

When Jake finally slid into the booth, he was still shaking off his chill. He cupped his hands around his mouth and breathed harshly into them before clapping and rubbing them together under the table. You knew you were in a daze watching him and you’d stay that way if you didn’t try to speak soon.

“Are you trying to catch a fucking cold?” You hastily questioned him, raising your eyebrow for emphasis. 

He stilled momentarily, setting a steady glare your way. “I rushed here. I didn’t think about grabbing one before just focusing on getting here.”

“Why the rush? You knew I was safe.”

“I was anxious to see you.”

Your heart leapt into your throat. So anxious to not grab a cover for this rainstorm? Why? 

“But you’re the one who left me,” you responded hesitantly after taking a minute to consider his words.

Suddenly, he stopped shaking. He cast his eyes down, sweeping over the table as he chewed at the inside of his cheek. 

“I didn’t know what else to do,” he muttered before glancing up at you with eyes that read regret. “It was not the right decision. I know that and I’m so sorry. But I was just feeling a shit ton of emotions and I— I didn’t know what else—.”

“To do. I know,” you finished for him, nodding along to remind him he’d already mentioned that. “That’s not a valid excuse.”

He looked about ready to agree, but then his brows wrinkled and he tilted his head. He looked unsure. “I’m not sure if it’s valid or not, but it’s definitely not an excuse. I quite honestly didn’t know how the fuck to react, so that’s how I chose to feel it. Just needed to leave and refresh by—.”

“By fucking Maya?” You bit back.

What–?

Shit. Where the hell did those words come from? You hadn’t even. . . fuckfuckfuck. Nothing like fully exposing feelings you harbored.

“Excuse me?” He clipped back, voice alternating to a deeper tone. Aggravated. 

You stuttered out a reply the best you could. “I–I was– I didn’t mean to–,” you bowed your head, ashamed of yourself. “I don’t know where that came from. I’m sorry.”

Really, you were very sorry. It was uncalled for. 

His response was unexpected. “Don’t be sorry,” he softly said, sighing. Your eyes drew up, waiting to hear what else he had to say. You were not expecting him to reassure you. If you were in his shoes, you’d be appalled. He was rubbing his forehead when he tiredly responded, “Emotions are high right now.”

“Yeah, I guess. Except. . . I don’t really have a reason to be a bitch because I’ve already dealt with this,” you explained, motioning to your belly at the word this. “I’ve accepted it and I need to just. . . calm down.”

He snorted a laugh, brushing the tip of his nose with his pointer finger. The black hair-tie wrapped around his middle finger flashed into view. “Y/n, honey,” he started. But–you were slightly incoherent. Honey? What the fu–? “You’ve always been emotional. In all situations. No matter what,” he blew out a breath, a shiver running up his spine. He was drying off, slowly but surely. “I, of all people, would know.”

That last bit distracted you momentarily from him calling you a pet name. A sweet one at that. But. . . you weren’t focused on that. Rather, you were reeling at the fact that he’d just essentially made mention of the fact that he was the victim of you exposing your raw emotional state.

All you could think about— as you saw a glimpse of hurt flash over his brown eyes, him no doubt thinking of the same thing—was the kitchen. That blessed day in the kitchen where you’d gone full blast on him.

Avert avert avert.

You coughed, trying your best to clear the air. “I know it was probably necessary for you to go—leave. . . To think somewhere else, but . . . it did just suck for you to leave,” you admitted shyly. “It wasn’t an ideal time to be alone. Although. . .,” you sighed, watching his face as he concentrated on you. “I guess I brought it on myself. I should have told you sooner.”

“I am curious. . . Why didn’t you?”

“Because I was afraid of that happening,” you truly stated, waving your hand towards him. “I was afraid of you . . . leaving or something that would hurt like hell. . .”

He nodded, pursing his lips as he considered it. “I understand that,” he caught your eyes, his own, soft. Then, suddenly vulnerable. “But. . . wouldn’t it have been easier to tell me first? And wasn’t it maybe more daunting to tell Josh? I mean you had to tell him about–,” he motioned between you two. You couldn’t help the blush that painted your cheeks. Then, he looked curious, brow quirked. “Wait. . . does he even know that it’s mine?”

“Yes, he does,” you confirmed with a barely-there grin. 

He looked like he wanted to ask you something else, but ended up shaking his head and looking down at his lap, his hands moving to twiddle beneath the table before he did. 

“You’re partially right. It would have made more sense to tell you first,” you agreed partially with his earlier statement, watching him. “But I’m not sure it would have been easier. . . there are factors in the way–between us. . . people that don’t deserve to have their lives changed.”

When he looked up from where he’d been watching his hands move, his eyes met yours. You shared a look, and you knew he understood why it would have been difficult. He knew the people–the person–you were referring to. 

“I see your point. But. . .,” he cleared his throat. “It’s just me. No matter what’s changed between us. . . I’m still me. And this particular situation only concerns you, me, and the baby. No one else,” he clarified. “So, just because she’s in the picture now. . . it doesn’t mean you need to keep things from me.”

She's in the picture now. . . Stupidly, those words broke your heart.

The waitress was suddenly at the table with your food. All of it. Pretzel sticks, cheese, and your main course. She set your order on the table, but you knew you didn’t want to be here much longer. Not when you heard the hollering begin again towards the bar. You were also growing increasingly more tired by the second. 

“Can I get the alfredo to go?” You asked hopefully. 

“Sure! You want me to bring boxes for the rest, too?” Her large gray eyes were wide and bright with her seemingly innocent youth. “Just in case.”

“Yeah,” you grinned, leaning your arms on the table. “Sounds good. Thanks.”

She had nodded and was beginning to walk off when she noticed Jake sitting with you. When she saw him, her eyes bugged out and she stopped in her tracks before continuing any further.

“Wait–,” she started, her brow lifting. “Are you. . . in a band?”

His eyes darted to yours and then back to hers before he answered with a wide grin. “Yeah, actually,” he replied. “I am. It’s called–.”

“I know what it’s called!” She shrieked, her face lighting up instantaneously. “My friends and I love you guys. We’ve been to a few of your shows. We even saw you at the festival and got your demo CD! We went just for you guys,” she gushed, not pausing for more than a second. “I was so excited when I started to see your posters all over,” she rushed out, squealing a little. “We’re so excited for your shows coming up!”

His grin loosened, his cheeks flushing along with hers. “Well, thanks for coming to see us when we play,” he softly responded. “We have some other music being released soon. With a label,” he winked, glancing your way. You blushed, too, for whatever reason. What was happening in front of you? “Be on the lookout.”

The waitress’s smile took up her entire face. “Oh, we will!” She nodded enthusiastically, watching him closely for a few seconds longer than necessary. “I have to tell you. . . you’re so much hotter up close. I mean, from far away, hell yes. But right here? Oh my god.”

You decided you were definitely ready to leave. 

The guys at the bar began exploding at the football game just then, the rain was still pattering against the window, tempting you. . . and then there was the apparent fangirl who did not want to leave. . . your eyes flickered to Jake’s. He’d been watching you, waiting for a sign.

“Do you mind grabbing those boxes?” He asked politely, his smile a bit more forced now. 

And he didn’t even have to ask twice before she was nodding excitedly and racing off to get him what he wanted. 

-🌼🌼🌼-

Thanks to Jake intervening and then quickly getting your food in the boxes for you, you were in his car within fifteen minutes. He’d effectively taken over the bill and paid for you, and had run to grab his car while he made you wait at the door. 

“You don’t need to be getting sick,” he’d explained, right before he covered the front of his face, beeping his car unlocked, and running to pull it up.

Your heart fluttered in your chest at the way he was tending to you. 

But before you could feel too giddy about it, you felt weird about it. You didn’t want him to suddenly like you again just because you were carrying his baby. He didn’t need to go above and beyond—you didn’t want him to feel obligated to do anything. So, as soon as he’d pulled his Jeep up (and helped you up and inside of it, effectively getting himself soaked again), you got in and waited for him to get in.

As you sat, it encouraged you even more because he’d even gone the extra mile and turned on the seat heaters. He was doing too much when he didn’t need to.

He’d started driving as soon you got in, and you tried damn hard not to watch him drive. Because, you’d just learned, that for some asinine reason, your fucking baby hormones went into overdrive when you’d tried watching a soaking wet Jake behind the wheel of his car. The way he leaned back, relaxed, one arm resting on the console between you two. . .

So, in order to distract yourself, you brought up your winding trail of thought. 

“Please don’t start caring about me again just because I’m carrying your baby.”

You heard him scoff under his breath, the sound alone making your heartbeat quicken as you waited for his response. 

“Start caring about you again? What does that even—?” 

Crossing your arms under your (always sore) boobs, you sat up straighter in your seat to keep some sort of dignity as you further explained. “Jake, you’ve been distancing yourself from me for months now—and for good reason, mind you—I just don’t want you to start doing nice things just because of this situation,” you sighed, deciding to instead lace your hands across your stomach. Training your eyes on your thumbs that tapped your sweatshirt, you continued. “I don’t need you overextending yourself on my behalf.”

He didn’t say anything for a while, and next time you looked up, you were already at the second to last light to the complex. Biting your lip, you contemplated what to say to break the heavy air in the car. . . you always hated when you felt like you’d said something wrong. And you knew you were very good at saying the wrong thing. 

So, you decided on an apology. “I’m sorry if something I said was wrong,” you offered, pitifully. It had been a long night. There was no way you wanted to end it with him mad at you. “Really. I just—.”

“You’re overthinking, y/n,” he promptly cut you off, making a turn to the last light. “I never stopped— I didn’t stop caring about you when we stopped—,” he blew out a breath, stopping at the red light. 

“I’m sorry I said tha—.”

“No. Don’t be sorry. You’re right; I have been distant. And, again, you were right when you said it's for good reason. It’s been for damn good fucking reason,” he clipped, letting the words sit in the air for a minute. “But just because I’m not talking to you or falling asleep next to you—.” He coughed. You could imagine he was shaking his head. “It doesn’t mean I don’t still want what’s best for you. Hence why I’m the one who initiated the therapy conversation. I kept my end of the deal and researched for you because I care.”

Your insides had officially turned to mush and you weren’t sure how to process that he still cared so deeply. But, he was right. . . Him bringing up the therapy showed his heart. . . You knew his heart. Knew how deeply he felt things. . . What you would continue to wonder was why you were something he hadn’t stopped caring about. When you’d been such a massive bitch. You weren’t worth it.

Heart beating quickly in your chest, you cleared your throat as he once again passed through a green light. The last one. You were almost home. 

Gotta wrap it up quickly.

“I’m sorry again,” you muttered. “For not telling you sooner.”

“Don’t be. It was your call to tell who you wanted first,” he sighed, turning on his right blinker to turn into the complex. “I just need to get out of my head about it—need to not let it piss me off.”

You looked out the windshield, the rain had let up. It was only sprinkling now. Taking a deep breath, you admitted to him what you knew to be true. “I really should have told you before Josh. I know that.”

Glimpsing for a millisecond from the corner of your eye, you saw his lip quirk before he looked your way at the perfect moment. Your eyes met briefly before you turned back to observe the parking lot through your window.

“Really?” He questioned warily. “Do you mean that or are you just saying it to make me feel better? Because you don’t have to do that just because I’m being a pussy abou–.”

The snort-laugh that came from you was unintentional, but you couldn’t contain it. “Jake. You aren’t being a pussy.” You turned your head to get a better look at his face now that he’d parked. His eyes waited for yours, highlighted by the fluorescent light he’d parked underneath. Right next to your Jetta. Smiling, you surely stated, “And, yes, I mean it. Truly. I know it would’ve been the right thing for me to tell you first.” 

Considering the car was still running and in park. . .it seemed he wasn’t anxious to get inside. He was content like this. . . at least that’s what you gathered from the way he’d swiveled his body to face you better from his seat. So, you continued on with honesty, while you felt brave. “I was just really scared. Scared to tell you and learn how you’d react. . . I didn’t want to disappoint you with something you really do not need to be responsible for . . .”

Then, the unthinkable happened and he was reaching over to hold your hand over the console. It was a feeling unlike any other–the feeling of his skin against yours. The comfort of his hand, the warmth, the callouses that scratched your flesh the slightest bit as he rubbed the top of your hand with his thumb. How long had it been since he’d touched you?

His voice and the squeeze he gave your hand brought you out of your daze. “Y/n. . . look at me.” You did as he said, following his soft, gravelly tone, finding his eyes with your own. “I am the furthest thing from disappointed.”

“But–,” you shook your head, your brow wrinkled as you searched his eyes. “But the way you left. How angry you were because I hadn’t told you yet–or–or before Josh. . .”

“There’s a difference between feeling plain old upsetedness and full on disappointment,” he clarified, his eyes swimming in yours. His strong hand lightly held yours, squeezing once more. “I assure you, I was never once disappointed tonight that you are having my baby.”

. . .having my baby. The words bounced around in your head. . . hearing him say those words just. . . did something to your heart.

“I’m excited about all of it. Honestly.” He smiled, his eyes crinkling in the corners with how his eyes lit up at the sentiment. “I mean, it was a lot to wrap my mind around and I still haven’t totally grasped the reality yet, but. . . I’m happy. Very happy,” he squeezed once more, still not moving his hand from wrapping the top of yours. “And I really hope you let me take responsibility as the father of the baby, because I really want to know this child. . . already matters so much to me.”

Your heart clenched at his words. . . He meant them and you knew it. Jake’s heart was arguably the most genuine, honest, exquisite you’d ever come across. So, it really didn’t take a second thought to utter your next words. “You can absolutely have the responsibilities of a father. . . if that’s what you want,” you raised your eyebrow with the word if. And at that, he’d nodded with an I do spoken quietly against the lull of the A/C. 

Though, there was one thing that he needed to know. The protective mama in you — that part of you needed to say this for your baby’s sake. He or she would not hurt like you had your whole life. 

“However,” your tone got serious, unwavering. “You can’t pull the shit with leaving like you did tonight with the baby. If you want the responsibility, you’ve gotta be sure.”

“I am,” he said, not missing a beat. “I won’t do that again.”

“I mean, you can do it to me. I can handle it. I’ve learned that that happens. . . but the baby. . . I just–.”

“I’m not leaving either of you alone in this,” he assured, leaning closer to you. Your heart skipped a beat. Due to still drying from the rain, he smelled like the Earth– fresh, sweet, real. Solid. True. “I know you won’t be alone because you have Josh and Elsie and so many other people, but. . . I want to be in this with you and the baby.”

“What about Maya?” You lightly asked, slightly confused. 

“She’s not going anywhere anytime soon,” he responded quickly. Too quickly. It made your chest tight and a giant rock hit the pit of your stomach. “But she will understand that I have to be there for you.”

Not trusting yourself to talk with the tears gathering in your throat, you just nodded before bowing your head to look at your little tummy. Reassurance in the sweetest, most innocent form. 

He took a deep breath, the rush of his breath, fresh from a mint he’d sucked on on the way back. “I really shouldn’t have left you tonight,” he firmly stated.

You looked up from your belly, blinking a few times to register that he was speaking so closely to you, close enough for his breath, now brushed your cheek. Not super close, but close enough. Much closer than he’d been for a while. 

He continued, “And you shouldn’t have to feel guilty for telling me on your own time. You are the one who was in charge of all of those decisions. It’s your body. Your body that’s growing the baby. . . So, it’s your right to decide things like that,” he enunciated, his intent to reassure, clear in his tone. “It just sucks a little bit for me that it was Josh, but that’s on me. . . not you. But even with all of that, I really should not have left. That gave you the opposite idea of what I wanted to give you. . . It was just a-fuckin’-lot to process all at once.”

“Yes, and you are completely entitled to believing that it was a lot–that it is a lot,” you reassured him, regretting a few of your words from earlier. “Even if you’re not the one carrying the baby, it’s going to be intense for you as the father. Maybe even more so–.”

He made a little noise of disagreement, but you just gave a quiet grin, holding up a hand.

“. . .in some senses. Especially since you can only experience it from the outside. I’m the one who is experiencing all of the changes, all of the time. I’m reminded every time I look down or touch my belly, but you don’t have that luxury every moment of the day.”

“Yeah, but it’s still more for you,” he argued.

“It’s okay, Jake,” you smiled. “I still agree. Trust me. I just wanted you to know that I understand how it might end up feeling for you. I was just afraid I made you feel like you weren’t validated in feeling overwhelmed. Leaving made sense. It’s just the worst feeling for a girl with abandonment issues,” you chanced a look down at your tummy, feeling awkward approaching so many personal feelings. It felt weird that it still felt so natural. He just brought it out in you. You quickly covered, not wanting to seem overbearing. “W-which, I can handle it–it is not on you to–”

“No, it is on me,” he seriously professed, eyes earnestly holding onto yours. “I knew about your past and I still left you. I am seriously so sorr–.”

“Jake,” you sighed his name, looking up at him again. His jaw was flexing, eyebrows turned in. “Stop apologizing,” your lips lifted in a soft smile, bringing a hand to sit on top of his. “We all do things we regret and it wouldn’t be fair for us to hold those things against each other. . . when we’ve all done thoughtless things in the heat of the moment.” At the last bit, your eyes left his to flash at your tummy.  Your hand left the top of his to delicately hold your small bump. “Example A of a ‘Heat of the Moment’ moment.”

A quiet beat passed, his face thoughtful as his eyes studied your own before he spoke. 

“I don’t regret that one though,” he said, eyes so big and so beautifully deep with emotion. 

Wetness was suddenly gathering in the corners of your eyes when you traced them over him—over his chest, tanned and exhaling so handsomely with every breath he took. You looked away from his perfect pecs, and back up to his eyes. 

“I don’t either.”

There were a few slow, nearly silent moments where all you could hear was the sound of your combined breaths with the A/C blasting against you both. Your hands still held each other, gripped each other. His hair was dry. His face was dry. And in the secret dimness of the night and the bright light of the tall lamp outside, you could see all of the delicate markings and freckles on his face. The light birthmark on the tan skin of his cheek.

Before you could think to do another ‘Heat of the Moment’ thing (weird term, but it definitely applied to you), and do something like rub the skin of his birthmark with your thumb, he was breaking eye contact, skin contact, and shutting the car off. 

“Better go inside,” he said, pausing as he’d just taken the keys out of the ignition. “It’s getting late.”

“It also might start pouring again,” you added, opening your door, trying to make conversation. 

He didn’t open your door that time, like he had at the restaurant. He just sent a quiet smile your way before getting out of his side. He did, however, wait for you to meet him at the rear bumper of the car before heading back to the apartment. You matched one another’s steps in silence. It was a bit awkward now, unlike the calm, still moment in the car. Your breaths, having combined in the shared space. . .

When you’d made it inside, he told you to go get ready for bed and that he’d feed Stevie and take care of the rest of the apartment.

“You just go to bed,” he waved you off, his expression kind. “It’s been a long night and you need rest.”

He obviously wanted to help, so you let him. Albeit, you let him do so while your heart fell a bit in your chest at your evening with him coming to an end. You hoped that there would be more times like this in the future with the baby you now both knew you shared. 

Absently, you tucked a lock of hair behind your ear, then nodded and gave a faint goodnight. Once you were getting into bed in a giant t-shirt to cover the bit of ass exposed at the edges of your comfortable granny panties, you heard a little knock against your cracked door. 

You waited for him to come in since the door was still cracked, but he didn’t.

“Yeah?” You called, brows drawn in.

He opened the white paneled door just enough to show him at the threshold of your room. His hand was on the knob while he leaned with the opposite forearm against the doorframe. You did very well at not blatantly checking him out. That was something to be proud of. 

Though, you couldn’t be too proud, because you knew it was just because your tiredness had hit you like a ton of bricks. It had been impossible to ignore as soon as you’d felt the cool, soft cotton of the gray oversized t-shirt touch your skin. 

Your blinking was becoming slower and slower by the second. But your eyes perked up a little when he cleared his throat, suddenly interested in anything he had to say. Even if it was something as simple as Stevie not being hungry. Just wanted to hear his voice once more before going to bed.

And you got exactly that as his eyes swept over your face briefly, deep in thought. “I really, genuinely do want to help however I can with the baby stuff—however you want me or need me. I want to help you because it means I’m helping the baby. Our baby.”

Okay, the next time he referred to the baby being his, you were sure your heart was going to beat completely out of your chest. It did things to you.

“Alright,” you responded tiredly, a slight blush warmed your cheeks. “That sounds good.”

When you loudly yawned, he nodded with a quiet grin fitting his handsome features. He began to shut the door, but just before he could, he opened it once more.

“I–,” he cleared his throat. Your stomach felt airy and light at the possibility of what he might say. You didn’t know what to expect, but him talking to you was just. . . exactly what you needed. “I took a drive and listened to music, by the way.” 

You blinked, brow furrowed with confusion. “. . .What?” 

“When I left tonight. I just drove around and listened to music,” he said, his amber-brown eyes, so earnest. “Cleared my head with music.”

“Why are you telling–?” You sleepily wondered aloud.

“I. . . didn’t go see anyone,” he elaborated. “Just wanted you to know that. Also, I promise I won’t tell anyone–including Maya– until you’re ready.” 

“Okay,” you squeaked, unsure of what else to say.

After observing each other for just a few moments after he’d spoken, he suddenly dipped out with a quick ‘Goodnight.’

The thunderstorm picked up again right after he’d left you, Stevie racing in, all frazzled, with her tail fluffed out at the sounds of the storm. The sleep that threatened to cloud your vision was a most welcome friend as you let yourself become cozy under your soft, high thread count sheets and fluffy, featherlight duvet. Your head was nestled against the pillow, Stevie snuggled against your ankles, purring. And your brain was just wandering off to slumberland when you understood why he’d said what he did about not being with anyone. . . it finally clicked. 

He’d wanted you to know he hadn’t been with Maya like you’d assumed. Like you’d brashly accused him of at Applebee’s.

. . .But why did he care to tell you? 

-🌼🌼🌼-

The next morning, you sat at the counter with a book about pregnancy, taking notes. It was the end of your new morning routine. 

You didn’t have class or work for the day, so you were enjoying some much needed down time. The idea that you’d be able to take countless naps literally made goosebumps rise on your skin. 

“Hey.”

And now you had even more goosebumps erupting at the sound of his raspy voice. 

“Morning,” you replied, highlighting a line in your book about staying ‘physically active’ during pregnancy. 

“Morning. You feeling okay?”

“Mhm. . .” you replied, halfway present and barely looking up from the page and the sticky you were jotting a note onto.

“Taking notes?”

“So many,” you giggled, your eyes finally looking up to find him dressed and ready for the day at the Keurig, preparing a cup of coffee. “All the time, I’m doing research.”

“I believe it,” he replied, clicking his K-cup in the holder. The hot drink was trickling into his mug when he looked at you in question. “Based on your research, can you have caffeine? Could I make you a coffee or something?”

“Um, not the safest in high amounts,” you pondered, flipping to the page where you’d just read about that a few days ago and quoted the book for him. “‘Drinking caffeine during pregnancy has some major health risks. The caffeine gets digested much slower and goes through the placenta into your baby’s bloodstream,’” you droned, feeling obnoxious with the long response. 

“Interesting. Anything else it says about it?”

You raised a brow and gave him an ‘mhm’ before looking at the page again. “‘This means that the caffeine side effects of a racing heart rate, high blood pressure, and a stimulated nervous system affect you and your baby. The result is a higher chance of miscarriage. Even small amounts have been known to cause a 13% increase in low birth weight for your newborn,’” you glanced up, he was rubbing his chin, listening to every word. So, you finished out the paragraph. “‘Try switching to a naturally decaffeinated herbal tea, but do consult your doctor or midwife as certain herbs can cause premature labor.’”

“Have you tried any herbal tea?”

You made a gagging motion. Herbal tea honestly did not strike your fancy at this stage in your life. “The baby says herbal tea sounds disgusting,” you joked. He huffed a laugh with you as you finished your thought. “I’m looking into smoothies to start the day. I’m actually going to try making a few today since I’m home all day.”

“Cool. Just thought I’d offer,” he finished. 

Or so you thought.

After getting his coffee off the Keurig, he made his way around the counter to sit in the barstool next to you. Heat washed over your face at his closeness.

“Speaking of doctor or midwife. . . which are you going with?”

“Doctor,” you answered. “Her name is Dr. Rose. Sweet, middle aged, Southern lady.”

“Oh, you’ve had your first appointment?” He asked, sounding curious and a little apprehensive. 

“Yeah. . . First one last week.”

“Oh,” he replied, sounding just a little discouraged. But he tried to cover it. “Cool. How did it go? Did you have to go alone?”

“Mhm,” you said, suddenly digging into a page and very seriously taking notes on a sticky note about random ass shit you could care less about. “Josh went. It went well.”

He hummed, not responding right away. And you knew why. 

You really did feel guilty now that you’d taken Josh to your first appointment and not Jake. He was the baby’s father, after all. And thinking about how he’d have reacted to seeing the baby with you, both of you, for the first time. . . You were suddenly very downcast as you thought of the missed opportunity. 

“But you can come to the rest of them with me,” you rushed out, suddenly looking up at him as you said so. His eyes were huge as he watched you be neurotic. God, you were annoying. “If–if you want. I don’t want to pressure you.”

“O–of course. Yes,” he stuttered. “You tell me when and I’ll be there. Every single one.”

You realized he sounded eager and thrilled, not frightened like you feared. 

“Okay,” you acknowledged, slightly breathless. 

Once again, you were in the same situation as you had been last night. He was, once more, so close. Right there. Your shared breathing, the only sound comprehensible to your ears in the calm, quiet of the morning. His breath, smelling of coffee, should have turned you off. . . but it didn’t not at all. And the way he went to lick his lips, just once– his eyes, not leaving yours. . . 

Then, he was jolted back to reality, blinking furiously. 

“I’ve, um, gotta go run some errands and then I have a meeting with the label,” he suddenly said, rising up. He grabbed his cup, rushing around, dumping it in the sink before grabbing a cinnamon bagel from the pantry. He bent to get a Zip-loc bag from a lower cabinet, and your eyes moved on their own to his ass in his light denim jeans. 

What. A. Sight. Now you were darting your tongue out to sweep over your lips.

He zipped up the bagel and left it on the counter to hurry to his room. When he reappeared, he was holding his phone, sending a text based on the sound, before he tucked it into his front pocket. He also held a beat up guitar case. 

“Still carrying around that same old case?” You grinned, a brow perked at the sight of the duct tape holding it together. A few stickers here and there, littering the case. “Not a new one to match your new rockstar life?”

“The case adds character,” he winked, your blushing face, the victim. Then, he was on his way to the door, keys jingling out of the bowl on the counter and into his hand. “Let me know if you need anything today.”

You were responding with an agreeing noise and word as he shut the door behind him. But when your eyes scanned the counter again, you saw the bagel. Even though it was just a bagel with cinnamon swirl, it was still his breakfast. He needed to eat. That’s what had you rushing out the door after him, your page getting a quick sticky pressed into it.

And, as soon as you saw the twinkle in his eye at you remembering to grab the bagel for him, you realized that you just wanted that. If you were being completely honest, you’d just needed that one last smile to start your day. The perfect start to a morning, you’d say. 

-🌼🌼🌼-

You decided to order some chicken fajitas from a local restaurant. DoorDash was your new best friend with the pregnancy cravings. 

Chicken fajitas were a new favorite for the baby. A weekish ago when you’d first tried them as a pregnant woman, you’d learned they tasted more delicious than they ever had before. They didn’t make your tummy roll.

As you waited for the food to arrive, you decided to do some tidying around the apartment. You washed a couple of dishes you’d left in the sink from the morning, and picked up notebooks, textbooks, and toys of Stevie’s from around the living room. Then, after further inspection of the living room, you realized it could handle a sweep or two with a vacuum. And after that, you decided to Swiffer the kitchen. Didn’t feel like full-on mopping, but you had to round out the floor cleaning. 

Before you could head to your bedroom or restroom to clean those spaces, a boundary was drawn for you when you heard a knock at the front door. DoorDash. Food. Fajitas.

Suddenly, unashamedly, your mouth was watering. Food took total priority over cleaning and you left the vacuum and Swiffer precisely where they were. You never left them out after cleaning, but you were hungry, okay? 

But just as you’d made it to the door, you didn’t have to open it. Instead, you heard polite conversation from the other side, thank you’s and have a good night’s. 

Before he opened the door, you went ahead and did it for him. And so, when you did, there was Jake, holding your food. The fajitas didn’t matter much anymore. 

Well. . . That was until he walked in and you got a good whiff of the steaming, seasoned vegetables and grilled chicken. Priorities were back to normal real quick with an embarrassing rumble from your stomach. 

-🌼🌼🌼-

Once you’d eaten all of your food in basically one bite, you sat on your sofa with a damn good book you were quickly becoming entranced by. But about twenty minutes into you sitting there, Jake appeared from where he’d disappeared to shower after he’d sat your food on the counter.

“You know, I keep thinking about something,” Jake started, coming to sit on the opposite end of the couch from you.

He was freshly showered— looking and smelling fucking delicious–hints of citrus came from his drying hair. Then, you smelled the warm and slightly sweet scent of sandalwood as he moved, propping his pajama clad legs on the coffee table in front of you two, unsticking his ripped t-shirt from his probably still-wet chest. You tried very hard not to watch him situate himself, too. The way he adjusted the inner seam of his pants, dangerously close to his. . . 

Yeah, you looked away. Focused hard on the book you were trying your damnedest to read. His body was a massive distraction. 

Trying to not be totally inappropriate, you replied to his earlier statement, still training your eyes on the page in front of you. “What were you thinking about?”

“I brought up the therapy thing the other night,” he started. You gave an absentminded ‘mhm’ in response, finally finding slight interest in the characters in front of you again. “And I’ve been wondering. Did you ever give that a second thought? Starting therapy?”

You blinked your eyes a few times, trying to catch up with the more serious topic of conversation. Looking up from your book, you closed it and put it to the side. When you placed the novel on the coffee table, he followed your hand back to you. His eyes found yours and your eyes fluttered again. You shook your head. “Yeah,” you trained your features, letting a smile float to your lips at his attention to you. “I actually–um–I started going.”

His features showed unkempt elation at your words. His eyes, bright and a wide smile on his lips. He sat up, facing you better than before, a foot balanced on the floor as the other bent with his body leaning towards you. “Seriously?!”

“Yeah,” you blushed. Why did he care so much? Surely it was mostly for the wellbeing of the baby. Right? 

You know he cared before he knew about the baby, a calm voice hushed in the corners of your mind. Just let him in. Don’t be afraid.

Clearing your throat, you kept up with your thoughts and tried to open up in spite of your ever-swirling unsureness. “Thank you for doing the research. Really. I’m super grateful. You gave me the push I needed and I’ll never be able to thank you enough. The baby, too,” you added. “I wanted to get better for the baby. You two made quite the team in helping me want to be better.”

His cheeks reddened, complimenting his skin tone and the few freckles and scars that dotted his cheeks. He shook his head, “Don’t thank me. I just wanted to help–that’s it. You made the brave move to start,” his lips twitched with a quiet, close-lipped grin. “How’s it going? Well–no–you don’t have to answer–that’s not my–.”

You ignored him, suddenly feeling this urge to fill him in. “I love my therapist. Like, she is already one of my favorite people on this fucking earth,” you beamed, thinking of Gia’s wonderful aura and personality. “And we actually start EMDR in a couple of weeks.”

“Oh,” he started, surprised. His eyes widened as he leaned back into the arm of the couch nearest him. “You decided on EMDR, too?”

“Yeah,” you nodded, glancing down briefly before letting your eyes dance with his again. “That seemed to be the only logical route since there’s so much shit to dig through that I don’t even–can’t even remember. It seemed like the most intensive form of therapy and I needed that.”

“Are you afraid of what you might find?”

“Yes,” you replied without question. “But, that’s the only way you can properly heal. Sometimes things that feel right–like EMDR, because it just feels like the right path already– those things, they’re going to probably also feel a little uncomfortable and feared at first. But, it all leads to the ultimate destination of being healed. And that’s what matters most.”

There was a quietness, a cozy silence that settled between the two of you. A few moments where you shared breaths and your gazes intertwined. . . It felt heavenly to share space with him like this when things felt normal and all right between the two of you. There wasn’t another word for it. 

His eyes were sincere with his tone when he broke the silence. “Y/n,” he breathed your name, making your tummy flutter with the most illustrious butterflies. “I am so fucking proud of you.”

Suddenly feeling like you were getting too much praise for something you were doing for the baby rather than yourself, you shook your head and brushed him off with a wave of your hand. “Don’t be,” you encouraged with a little scoff, shaking your head. “It’s not a big deal. Really.”

“I will be proud and it is a big deal,” he concluded. “All I’ve wanted is for you to feel closer to being whole–you deserve it.”

“The baby deserves it most,” you argued–didn’t want to be self-centered on the subject. “It’s for the baby.”

“Well,” he cleared his throat, crossing his arms across the chest of his white t-shirt. “I want you to focus on helping yourself, too, y/n. Please,” he asked, tone softening. Your eyes flickered across his. “I brought it up in the first place because I wanted you to feel better.”

You took it as food for thought, nodding at his words. Truly, you did consider what he’d said. . . his opinion mattered a helluva lot to you–probably too much. But you didn’t want to waver from who you were doing it mostly for. Your hand found your tummy as you reached the coffee table for your book and Stanley. 

Taking a big sip from your trusty tumbler, you eyed him once more before opening your book. You didn’t want him to feel obligated to stay in here with you when you were sure he had better things to do. “I will remember that,” you offered with a small grin, flipping your book open to where you dog-eared it. 

You waited for him to get up from his spot on the couch, but. . . he didn’t. He stayed put, situating his body to face the TV. 

In your peripheral vision, you saw how his legs spread across the cushion and once again tried to ignore ignore ignore. But you couldn’t help the thought that there was just something so fucking enticing about Jake Kiszka manspreading. It was gross when every other man did it. But Jake? All it made you want to do was straddle his sturdy hips.

Fuck. Focus on the book. Come on, y/n.

“Also. . .you realize, if you are craving something,” he began, pulling you from your book yet again. “You don’t have to DoorDash it. I’m always willing to go get you the food you are wanting.”

To put it simply, you were surprised by the turn in conversation. It was sort of random, but also not random all at the same time. 

For no reason whatsoever, you decided to combat the sweet offer. “What if you’re with Maya when I’m craving something?”

Why the fuck were you like this? Honestly, it felt mostly like a form of protection from getting your hopes up too high. . . it was a coping mechanism. But you hated it. It was stupid.

He hummed, thinking. Then, he piped up with an answer in no time. “I’ll just try to make sure we hang out here more than her house. Simple.”

Oh, joy.

“You’d rather be here than her massive mansion of a home?” You questioned, trying to not think about seeing her stupidly stunning face more than you wanted to. 

“Well, yeah,” he confusedly responded. “This is my home and I like being here.”

His home. He liked being here. The words pulled at you–in every direction. Broke you and made you wish things were different.

“How does she afford that, by the way?” You unapologetically nosed, not wanting to sit in any downhearted thoughts. It was rude to pry, you knew. But you didn’t really care at the moment.

He chuckled raspily, reaching to the coffee table for the Roku remote. When your eyes immediately looked over your book to peer at his waist, you didn’t think twice about it. It was whatever. “She’s the financial manager for this big corporation on Fifth Avenue.”

Your stomach fell. Jesus. Besides having trash music taste, apparently she was incredibly intelligent, too? What didn’t she have? You couldn’t even figure out what the fuck you wanted to do with your life and she was financially managing a giant ass company?Depressing as hell. Showed you your worth once again, in comparison to her. She was someone and you were literally nobody. 

“Can I watch something?” He asked you, patiently waiting. You gave a half-ass ‘yeah, of course’ in reply, not fully present. 

And when he eventually turned on some documentary about pirates that sort of piqued your interest, too, you decided to close your book for a final time. And you didn't put any more substance to your gloomy self-consciousness. It was your own fault you were feeling this way now–being nosy when you shouldn’t have been. Prying into someone’s life who’d never done anything wrong to you. 

Yeah, she’d slept with Jake. . . but did she even know that you’d also–? Shit. Did she know that the woman her boyfriend lived with used to fuck him, too? How in the hell would she react to the news if she didn’t already know that–? Your stomach twisted into knots at the thought of her finding out about. . . all of it.

The courage sprouted up as a historian started speaking on an infamous female pirate. “Does–does Maya know that we used to. . .?”

His brows dipped, thoughtful, turning down the television to acknowledge you’d spoken. But, he kept watching the documentary, his eyes honed in on the black-boxed subtitles. “No, actually. No she doesn’t. Didn’t really feel the need to tell her.”

Of course he didn’t feel the need. It kind of really hurt, but it wasn’t on Jake. Not at all. You knew very well that the sex probably wasn't as important to him as he’d once expressed. You’d been so angry and hateful to him, enough to drive away any sort of deep, lingering feelings that might have lied there. 

He knew that it wasn’t special enough that she needed to know. It was something of the past. All that mattered now was her. Only now. . . There was one inevitable reason it would have to come to light. You didn’t give voice to the obvious. The fact that, now, he would have to tell her. And you both knew it. 

As he turned the volume up a couple notches, you couldn’t help but wonder how the fuck would she react. 

-🌼🌼🌼-

November 21, 2022

You couldn’t have made it to your car any faster if you tried. Looking at your parking decision in hindsight, you realized you should have parked closer to the campus advisory office. But you hadn’t. You’d left your car parked where it had been for class. So now you had to walk a much longer distance that you could have avoided. . . If you’d just thought ahead.  

And in depressing moments like these, you wished you would have. The tears that flew down your cheeks in steady tracks made you beyond grateful that you hadn’t worn mascara. You’d had to meet with your advisor today to touch base and talk career plans. . . It was something that Pratt had decided to add to all program studies, for senior students. The idea of the meeting was to help students feel supported. 

But you didn’t feel fucking supported. Not at all. The way your advisor had blatantly judged you for even daring to bring up the idea of being a lyricist. . . She had instantly struck your idea down with a curt shake of her head and furrowed brows. Her eyes had lit up with laughter. But thankfully, she hadn’t been so terrible as to actually laugh in your face. 

Her words hadn’t been much better than that alternative, though. She’d unabashedly, condescendingly criticized your idea of becoming a lyricist. She made you feel stupid for ever even thinking of it as a possibility. 

“I’m not saying it’s impossible, but there’s a very slim chance that a label will take a fresh graduate. That’s a career you have to prove yourself in. Takes a long time to do that, a lot of experience that you don’t have.” 

The snarky tone in her voice pissed you off. Her words stuck with you enough that they dared to crush every dream you had about your future, which is something an advisor should not do. They should encourage, not discourage, to the point of making their advisee’s feel like utter shit after an appointment. 

So, as you finally made it to your car, you tried to contain the sobs that threatened to escape. . . but to no avail. Because, over and over again, you thought of how your advisor–someone who should be helping you to pursue your dreams–basically told you that you weren’t good enough for the one thing you wanted to do. She’d told you as much in her “officially official doctorate-level” advisor lingo. If her goal had been to completely crush you, she’d done just that. 

You were glad your next stop was therapy because you desperately needed to hear Gia’s two cents.

-🌼🌼🌼-

November 21, 2022

You spent roughly 30 minutes filling Gia in on the past week of your life. She heard all about you telling Jake, talking to your campus advisor, and any other thing that came to mind to tell her. 

When you started the session, Gia had let you know that you only had the first thirty minutes because you needed to find your mental and emotional safe place by the end of the session. It was today’s goal to establish that place. Finding your footing in the safe place was a vital precursor before you began EMDR. She’d had great advice for your life update, once you’d effectively word-vomited all over her. 

To your utter relief, the career thing didn’t bother her at all. Her expression barely changed as she’d shrugged. The first thing she’d done was assure you that everything would be fine and it would work out and that you have time to figure it out, despite what societal norms would tell you. So, even though that had been the biggest, most terrifying thing on your mind when you’d shown up to counseling today, you decided to not worry about it since Gia didn’t seem disturbed by the news at all. 

“Anything is possible,” she’d reassured you once your tears had momentarily stopped after telling her everything your advisor had said. “Don’t let a few words–opinions– from one woman make you disbelieving of that fact.”

Her opinions on Jake were positive, too, which made your heart swell in your chest. Though, it simultaneously broke for the fact that you couldn’t kiss him and hug him and be with him to tell him what she thought of him. Would he think it was weird if you told him what she thought of him? Would it freak him out that you’ve talked about him enough to Gia that she has a solid preconceived opinion of him?

“And Jake. . .,” she’d remarked at the end of the thirty minute mark, rolling back in her chair to her desk to get a big swig of her herbal tea. Your baby thought it was gross, your stomach rolling, but good for her and her nasty tea. “He is an outstanding example of a man. I’m impressed with his actions, his words. . . all of it. He seems like a stand up guy, and I hope I get to meet him one of these days,” her grin was sly, but you didn’t know why. 

So, yes, while your heart beat erratically and longingly at her words about him, it simultaneously broke your heart for the fact that you couldn’t kiss him and hug him and be with him to tell him what she thought of him. Would he think it was weird if you told him what she thought of him? Would it freak him out that you’ve talked about him enough to Gia that she has a solid preconceived opinion of him?

It made you think, as you watched her type notes on her laptop . . . Would you have told him if you were still seeing each other? Surely so. . . But maybe not. . . you weren’t really the best at complimenting him. And you sort of (desperately) hated that.

Don’t fucking think about it, y/n, a thoughtful, protective voice said to you. Just think about you right now. 

So, you did the best you could to shove any thought of being a bitch to him from your mind. And instead focused on Gia’s comfortable couch. Soft camel-colored leather. The way the cushion sank under you felt like sitting on a dense cloud. She was making light conversation before getting to the nitty gritty. You focused on her the best you could. 

Today would be your first venture into the realm of EMDR. . . . And you were anxious to begin this long-awaited journey of replenishing your soul with the incredible gift of reprocessing. 

“The safe place we are finding today will be where you go when things become too much during our EMDR sessions.” Gia wheeled closer to you in her light pink office chair, the smell of eucalyptus and mint following her, as she must use it as a sort of body oil or spray. She carried the calming smell with her everywhere. And the office, so wonderfully consoling with the scent of lavender. The little machine that spurted the essential oil every 10 minutes. All of these things combined, keeping the room drenched in calm. 

“There are places your mind is going to take you, some darker than others. These are scenes from your life that you will need to experience again in order for us to process through them so you can heal through them. Considering, you know, EMDR is simply a reprocessing technique,” she explained, adjusting her wire lens frames on her nose. “In order to not feel trapped, claustrophobic, or overwhelmed in these memories, you will need to have a safe place to turn to–a place to run to–a scene to easily unlock. It might be unknown to you until you actually plant your feet in that scene, but this place is already the natural wave your brain takes to feel safe.” She added one more thing to this train of thought. “This will just be the first time your brain is able to fully experience it. . . because you’re actually giving yourself the permission to do so.”

She held her hands out, palms up, and you took the hint and placed your hands in hers. As you would have guessed, her hands were soft as silk, matching the rest of her fairy-like aura. She squeezed once, lightly before continuing, “Now, I will be there the whole time, watching you, to monitor if you are doing alright. Sometimes you can sense it and get out, and other times it’s a little bit trickier. I will watch your eyes and the way your muscles tense, to gauge how I believe you’re feeling. Your body language will speak the words you may not be able to. This is an incredibly intricate form of therapy that we will wade through together. You will never be alone.”

She grinned, and you did the same. The way she explained these things to you was so assuaging. Were you scared? Hell yes. Of course you were scared. You were about to experience events that had become so dark and secreted in your mind, that they’d left you deep, lasting trauma. . . for a second time.

The re-experiencing aspect was daunting. But. . . you weren’t intimidated. You felt strong to withstand what was to come from your mind. There was the sense that you could overcome the darkness that was buried–some forgotten, some not–in your mind. . . especially if Gia was there to help you through it.

She let go of your hands after giving one more reassuring press. Then she was wheeling back to her desk.

“How are you feeling? Are you comfortable?” Gia asked, grabbing a round, average size cloth, zipped bag off of her desk and placing it in her lap. 

“I’m honestly feeling very much at ease right now. And, yes,” you replied honestly. You pressed your hands into the cool leather of the couch you were sitting on, your hands sinking into the ideally aged material. “I love your couch.”

“That’s good,” she smiled, full lips stretching over her white teeth. “Now, I want you to do a few calming exercises with me. We will start with deep breaths, then we will practice a few eye movement exercises. You just let me know when you’re ready.”

Not wanting to wait any longer, you responded readily. “I would love to begin whenever.”

“You’re sure?” 

“Yes,” you replied, brows fixed and eyes serious. “The sooner I can heal from this, myself, the sooner I’ll be healed for my baby. I’m ready.”

She raised a perfectly trimmed, coffee-colored brow. “You’re incredible, y/n.”

You rolled your eyes, but thanked her nonetheless. You weren’t incredible. Your baby was, and he or she was why you were doing this. The baby was your push, without even being born yet–the baby was the powerful one. 

Gia had you complete a variation of calming breathing exercises to center yourself. And after those, you completed eye movement exercises for the first time in your entire life. It was . . . odd, yet equally nice.

“Your body is loosening. You’re letting yourself transcend–easing your mind,” she said, voice airy and light. Your form felt just as light as her tone. “Now, open your eyes. We’ll do a shortened version of those techniques right before we begin. 

Your eyes slowly opened back to reality to see her unzipping the round black case she’d been holding in her lap. When she opened it, the contents of it were brand new to you. You’d never really seen a thing like the devices she was moving to hold in her hands. She pulled out two little black devices that were attached to a chord plugged into a slightly larger black box. This one, though, had knobs and buttons decorating the front of it. Your curiosity was growing by the second.

She wheeled her chair over to you once more, holding the black gadgets in each hand.

“These are tactical paddles,” she said, motioning for you to take them. When you did, she turned a knob on the black box she was still holding, sending a full vibration to the ones in your hands. “They’re buzzers that will help activate both sides of your brain during the session.”

They were buzzing one by one as you held them in the middle of your palms. You couldn’t tell if it was just your imagination, but you swore you felt each side of your brain moving right along with them. She scooted back a bit, giving you space to experience the feeling. She adjusted the knob just slightly once she’d moved away and you felt their vibrations speed up a little. 

“Do they feel okay?” She asked, situating the frames of her glasses higher on the bridge of her nose. “How are you feeling?”

“It’s strange,” you said without thinking. “It’s very comfortable to hold them. . . but that is part of why it’s strange.”

Gia loosely giggled at that and reassured you that that reaction was more than typical and that she always considered that particular combination of feelings a good place to begin.  

After completing the body relaxation practices once more, you were being guided by Gia. “Relax your body. Lean back. Lay back. Whatever feels best for you.” With the last word, she adjusted the paddles down to a more neutral setting. Your hands felt tingly in a weird, yet contented way.

“Bring to mind the intention that you are practicing feeling safe when you actually are safe,” she softly said, soothing. “One of the best ways to evoke this feeling of safety is to imagine being in a place that you might really enjoy being–wherever you may feel naturally safe, peaceful, and/or calm.” She paused briefly, the paddles changed speed as your head started to become light. “It can be a real place or a place that you’ve come to imagine in your mind on instinct. This is the place you travel at the idea of feeling serene.”

You breathed an ‘okay’ in response, but focused more on the way the instruments in your hands were aiding in sending you somewhere. You felt the atmosphere of your mind slowly changing–equally present and not.

The word Gia had earlier used. . .’transcend.’ It was the perfect word because you currently were completely, wholly transcendent.

“I’m right here,” Gia quietly, gently reminded you, as the blackness behind your eyes took hold, becoming the only thing your five senses could grasp, aside from the sound of Gia’s gentle guidance. “You are doing great.”

You felt the instantaneous feeling of a light breeze brush your face. It pushed you back, but you also felt the feeling of your body keeping still. There were two places. Reality: Gia’s office. And somewhere completely unknown. . . You were somewhere new. 

This wasn’t a place you’d ever been before. The barely-there sounds of birds chirping in trees within a forest that guarded you, on all sides, reverberated off the walls of your mind. The sounds, the breeze– they helped you find your footing. And suddenly, your feet were bare against the partially warm, partially cool feeling of damp dirt. Rain had recently come to this place. You could smell the rain. But every crevice of your mind knew it wasn’t raining anymore. No, you knew that the moment you opened your eyes, you’d find a light, clear blue sky, maybe a couple wisps of clouds painting against the beautifully blank canvas of azure. But you weren’t opening your eyes yet. You focused on everything else taking shape around you. 

The paddles continued to transfer varying speeds between your palms, but it was the last thing on your mind. They were the guide that you knew to follow, but didn’t have to concentrate on. 

Your nose tuned in to the smell of flowers around you. . . All kinds, but there was a particular plant infiltrating your mind the most. . . Though, you knew you wouldn’t be able to place it until you opened your eyes. It was strange because you knew the smell, but your lack of sight was keeping the name of the flower hidden. 

Other things were hidden with your eyes still closed, but you kind of enjoyed the blank space. 

This season. . . the most wonderful tiny person was bound to grace the world in this season. Spring. It was springtime. You knew that much. Once your mind realized the season you were placed in, your eyes opened a little more to the scene around you. 

Lavender. An entire field of the wonderfully fragrant plant, surrounding you with its calming notes. And it was beautiful. Never in your whole life had you been in such a beautiful space, yet your mind had no problem creating it for you. 

“Tell me what you see, but keep your eyes closed for me,” you heard Gia’s voice, although it sounded a hundred miles away. It was hushed, distant, like you were hearing her through a tunnel–only an echo in your mind. It was strange. Your physical form was still seated on the comfy couch, but you were standing amongst the most lovely sea of lavender. 

“I’m. . .I’m not really sure where I am,” you whispered, feeling like raising your voice would disturb the serenity of this place you’d stumbled upon. “I’ve never been here before. It’s–it’s incredible.”

Much like Gia’s, your own voice felt muted in your head. But, unlike her, you were standing in the middle of a narrow tunnel, whereas she was at the end. You were traveling somewhere. Obviously.

“That’s okay,” she tells you. You suddenly felt the paddles quicken ever so gently in their pace, but they felt good. Comforting. Real. “Just tell me everything you’re seeing right now.”

“Lavender. . .A field of lavender. A forest surrounding me. Blue sky. . .,” You couldn’t feel much of saying the word lavender. “So much of it. I could just lay in it, let it surround me.” 

“So you’re outside– good. What else do you see? Is there any wildlife?” The echo of her voice became even more distant as you began walking around, searching for whatever else was there with you. 

Deer. A whole family across the field, taking nourishment from the flowers and emerald green grass. They weren’t like normal deer, though. They didn’t run from you as you approached them. They weren’t scared, they just existed peacefully within this place. Then, you heard the birds begin chirping again, as if on queue. 

“Birds are singing. . . There are deer,” you felt yourself telling her, still in amazement with your next words. “They’re really beautiful. And they’re not afraid of me. . .? I can almost touch them.” 

This was entirely unreal, yet all too real all at once. Never in your wildest dreams did you ever believe your mind was capable of this. Yet, there you were, witnessing the most alluring scene that you were sure didn’t physically exist anywhere on earth. Only in your mind. Safely in your mind. No one could destroy it, no one could infiltrate it. It was all yours.

“That sounds wonderful, y/n. Let's focus on a few other senses. Tell me what you smell,” Gia’s sweet voice sounded as if it was coming from the sky, from the wind. It was all around you, yet so far away. 

You felt your present body take a deep breath through your nose, trying to get the best whiff you could of everything surrounding your psyche. 

“I smell the lavender. It’s overwhelming, but in the best way. God it. . .It smells so good. So. . . Fresh. It’s newly bloomed. And I can smell rain. It’s not raining now but it was.”

“Good,” Gia softy said. “What can you touch? Tell me what it feels like.” 

You reached down to run your fingers over a spray of the dark violet flowers, their scent became even more powerful as you lightly ruffled them. 

“I’m touching the lavender,” you told her. “The buds are so soft, so light to touch. They feel delicate, but I know they won’t break. They’re sturdy. But they aren’t stiff.” 

Aside from the way they felt against your hands, they also emitted a feeling of pure peace. Of tranquility. A good, clean energy unlike anything you’d ever felt. 

“I can almost feel them too, y/n.” You heard her giggle quietly across the field. “What are you  doing? Are you standing, sitting?”

You then felt the urge to lie down. So, you did. Your body felt weightless in your mind as you let yourself fall backward, landing softly amidst the blooms. It felt like the most comfortable bed you’d ever laid in. But before you answered her, you felt your hands within your mind reach down to your tummy. You had to know if your sweet baby was there with you. 

And as you laid your palm gently over your tiny bump, you felt it. Your baby was with you, safely tucked away in the most calm place you’d ever known. It only made sense that your physical form of comfort found its way to your mental one, too. Feeling your bump here made you feel. . .complete. Although, there was still something missing. You didn’t know what, but you felt it. But at that moment, your baby was all you needed. 

Or so you thought. 

Because when you let yourself sit up from where you’d laid in the magnificent, flourishing field of flowers, you finally felt complete because the last person you needed had arrived. 

He was standing across from you, on the opposite side of the field. His long, wavy chestnut locks, flowing just the slightest bit in the breeze of the dreamy spring day. He wore a blue suit. A dark blue, three-piece suit with a dark blue shirt underneath it all to match. 

He was so handsome. Beyond stunning. The most immaculately created person. . .

He didn’t stay there for long before he was making his way toward you, striding as he naturally did. His walk, so smooth and sexy–always. 

As he came closer, you were learning that, in this realm, time moved just a tad bit different than normal. He seemed to make it over to you in less than a minute, even from the other end of the expansive field of light purple. 

Then, he was right beside you, lying down next to where you still sat next to him. He’d placed his left arm behind his head, to balance and lift himself a little. And, his left arm, spread out, ready for you to lay beside him. Lay with him. 

He didn’t say anything, but you knew that was what he wanted. You’d laid this way with him a million times before.

So, you moved to lay with him in a way that felt like coming home. You laid back, so comfortably relaxing your tired muscles as you placed a hand on his chest, and one side of your face against it. Curling your body into his, you laid one leg over his, your body facing toward him. Your bump was pressed snugly and safely against the side of his abdomen. Safe. 

Everything was safe here. Truly was the safest place your mind could conjure. You felt his steady breaths against the top of your head as you looked out past him, to the side of the field. Where the birds still chirped in the trees and the deer still meandered. 

“I’ve got you,” he whispered, his voice equal with the breeze–quiet, calm. His breaths hit your head with each word, he was so near. . . but his words also echoed amongst the trees, all around you. 

Then, it was Gia’s voice you heard whisper through the trees. 

“You’ve found it, haven’t you? Your safe place,” she questioned knowingly, her tone lilted with excitement for you. 

Had you? 

Before you could consider it any longer, his hand came up to rest against your head, brushing so delicately through your loose strands of hair. Your body hummed, feeling one with the wind as he held you. Protected you. Stayed with you. Your body was telling you your answer in your curated fantasy, communicating it to your concrete form as you uttered it aloud.

“Yes,” you sighed, your body on the couch and still in Jake’s arms. You were vividly existing in your imagination and in reality all at once. This feeling would take some getting used to. While you were in shock, you were also not shocked at all. “Y-yes, I’ve found it.”

Jake . . . was he–? 

The lavender was glorious and the field you laid in, the soft ground, was better than any bed you’d ever graced. . . The deer were exquisite and lovely. The song of the birds, sounding like mystical, heavenly hymns. . . The sound of the trees brushing together in the warm breeze of the cool spring day, making their own music, and better than any white noise you’d ever experienced.

But Jake. . . None of those things even came close to the way you felt in his arms. The way you felt light as air and at ease the moment he’d graced your presence. You’d felt your peace and the baby’s when he’d graced the scene. Still did, as you melted into him, his breaths, his heartbeat, helping you feel free and firmly planted, one with all living things–all at once. There was no question that it was him. 

Jake was your safe place.

-🌼🌼🌼-

“Now, I want you to make sure you’re finding quiet time to locate your safe place,” Gia advised, getting up from her rolling chair as soon as you’d risen from the couch. “It’s essential to practice before the sessions. You want it to be an easy place to locate during the really hard resurgence of memories,” she coached you, pushing her chair to her desk. 

“Got it,” you agreed, head still swimming a little as you steadily came back to reality. The prospect of traveling to that place in your spare time was a little intimidating. . . But also very exciting. 

Seeing Jake so vividly in such a serene atmosphere on a regular basis sounded like paradise. You could definitely find time to practice that. 

“If you’re not opposed, I would maybe find someone to drive you to your sessions,” Gia suggested, going to clean the paddles with a spray and microfiber towel. You tuned back in, alertness settling in. “These sessions,” she made eye contact with you after bending over to grab her tube of Clorox wipes. “They are bound to be–no, they will be incredibly intense,” she used a towel she’d retrieved from the container to wipe it down. “Just someone you can trust to be there for you afterwards. . . so you’re not alone when you’re coming down from these memories that will present themselves again.”

Still smelling hints of lavender and feeling the warmth of a chest beneath you in some other heavenly reality, you knew who you’d pick. Was it a crazy idea? What did Gia think? Would she tell you her opinion or would you be forced to figure this out on your own? You didn’t want to seem crazy . . . . or weird.

You had just found your voice to respond when she started speaking again.

“Who do you think would be the best–?”

“I actually have an idea of who–.”

The way your chest bubbled with laughter alongside her was wonderful. It felt like the most genuine giggle you’d ever exuded. You truly felt like you were in a sphere of incomparable serenity. The way your body felt. . . you felt complete. You felt self-assured. Still smiling, you raised a brow and motioned one hand to emphasize that she should continue with her train of thought. Your other hand safely held your belly, right where your baby was resting in its safe cocoon. 

“You might not like it,” she grinned. 

Instantly, you knew who she was talking about. 

Gia sighed, settling the paddles securely back in their zipped black bag. Her eyes found yours, testing the waters. Then she offered her opinion in a firm tone, “Jake would be ideal. He would be my option,” she winked, encouraging.

Your chest exhaled in relief. You weren’t crazy. 

-🌼🌼🌼-

Gia had sensed your unsureness as she walked you to the front desk. She was taller than you with a sort of swagger in her trendy set of corduroy overalls. 

Nerves were wracking you, sweat already pricking in your armpits. You’d voiced your concerns to her in her office to which she’d told you to follow her.So, you had.

And when you made it to the front ‘desk’ (a tall counter with a window in front of it), you linked your hands under your belly with a sigh. Gia stopped at the counter and leaned on the heavy, light gray granite–opposite of where you stood on your way to the door. She leveled you with a stare, her fingers tapping against the expensive granite. 

“I’m just going to tell you this,” she sighed, a tiny little grin on her full lips. “Be confident. Have confidence. You can do it. Just try it out. Seriously. All you have to do is give it a try. I see it in you, y/n,” she firmly stated. Then, she got even more serious with a furrow in her dark brown brow. “Let. Him. Care, y/n. Don’t you dare work to control him just because you feel like you don’t deserve it.”

-🌼🌼🌼-

So, when you got home, you somehow found it in you to take Gia’s advice . . . and you immediately went to talk to Jake. The more you contemplated it on the drive home, you realized you weren’t really too nervous to ask him anymore. . .

The nerves had dissipated little by little as you’d rehashed your time in your safe place. How seamless things had been there. . . it felt like before. Like normal. . . and even though it wasn’t your normal anymore, you were clinging to it. It was giving you courage. And the fact that Jake was literally your safe place was giving you courage. 

Yeah, he made you nervous because he was Jake, but he also eased you so effortlessly because he was Jake. He was safe. 

He wasn’t perfect, no. But, he was someone who was permanently, preciously ingrained in your heart. Today had officially proved that. And you were carrying the sweetest little piece of him. . . that helped the nerves for sure. There was a piece of him that was always with you. And now that he knew about said precious baby, things genuinely seemed to be normal between the two of you again. . . as normal as could be at the current time.

It had you knocking on his bedroom door. 

It dawned on you as you delivered the knock that you hadn’t even thought of checking his parking space to see if he was home.  You’d been too anxious to see him and ask him what you had been encouraged to ask. . . .Before you lost the magic courage. Because, yes, let’s be real, he still made you nervous as hell. He was Jake.

It was all confusing and weird. As you stood there, waiting for longer than you’d planned, you realized he might not even be home. You could be standing here waiting for nothing. Or worse, Maya was in there with him or some shit and you were going to open the door to–.

Jake.

The door had opened to show a very sleepy, very effortlessly handsome Jake. His hair was all tousled like he’d been in a deep slumber. And when you looked past him, his bed was a mess from a nap. . .but no curvy, beautiful woman occupied it. 

The only thing you saw laying in the bed was a book, right next to the fluffed pillow where his head had been resting. It was open, laying face down with several sticky notes peeking out of the pages. And all that you could make out was a picture of a pregnant woman on the cover and the word ‘Expecting’ on the cover before your attention was brought back to him talking.

“Y/n?. . . You okay?” He was talking, voice patient and calm, but sounding as though he’d said the words a time or two before you’d come back to. 

You were quick to cover your ass to hide that you had been spying in his room. 

“Sorry,” you shook your head, looking down and clasping your hands under your tummy subconsciously. His eyes followed your hands, a little smile forming on his lips. You continued, “I just wanted to ask you something.”

His eyes opened, as if waiting for what you wanted to ask. He crossed his arms and leaned against the doorframe. “What’s that?”

You cleared your throat, suddenly a little nervous, but suddenly worked to picture him in the field of lavender. And then you were okay again. He was Jake. He was safe. “I–,” you glanced down, then back up to his kind, tired eyes. Just say it, y/n. “Would you mind going to a few of my therapy appointments with me?”

“Yes,” he replied, without any hesitation whatsoever. “Of course. Special ones or. . .?”

“All of them,” you blurted, needing to clear it up. Honesty. Just be honest. Don’t fear his reaction. He’s Jake. 

Eyebrows wrinkled, his lip quirked. “All of them. . .? Like, all of the special ones or–?”

“All of the appointments. Any of the appointments I have that you can make it to. I just need someone safe to go with me,” you rushed out. 

He blinked a few times, a gentle shake of his head before his eyes got sincere and a smile spread over his pretty lips. “And you chose me?”

“Yes,” you simply answered, not trusting yourself to say anything more. There was a definite part of you still reeling from today’s session and seeing him when you imagined somewhere safe. 

Standing there for a few seconds, you could tell he had a million questions floating through his mind. And, knowing him, you knew he was probably wondering why you hadn’t chosen Josh. And, to be totally truthful, you hadn’t once thought of Josh at the prospect of someone safe being there with you to see you through after the sessions. 

Jake seemed to be the only valid option. The only person you wanted to go with you. Even if Elsie were still living here, totally accessible and available, you knew Jake still would’ve been your first choice. The therapy had been his idea. He had asked you how it was going. He was someone you trusted to talk to, and he was someone invested in this with you. And he was him.

“I’d love that,” he responded softly. “When are the appointments?”

He’d love it? Your heart was thumping in your chest at the words. Absently, you thought of your poor heart monitor, and how it was going to be picking up some crazy data due to this man. 

“Every Monday,” you quietly responded. Then, you thought, before getting your hopes up, you’d better tell him what he was really in for. . . because he might end up eating his words once he found out his job in it all. “You’ll just have to wait for me. You could run an errand or two or whatever while I’m in my hour-long sessions. . . and sometimes they might go over.” He nodded, seeming fine with that. You were shocked. Didn’t know why you were shocked because he was naturally so thoughtful. You knew this. “And then, you’ll have to be there afterwards. And I might be emotional. This form of therapy is intense,” you explained. Then, you thought . . . “Well, you probably already know that because you. . .”

“Found it,” he finished, eyes twinkling. “I’d still love to go. You’re not going to scare me away from it. I know you’re afraid of that.”

Why the fuck did he even care to read you like a damned book? Surely your thought processes didn’t matter that much to him. But, you remembered his voice, reassuring you after Applebee’s. Cleaning up some toxic thoughts you’d let form.

“. . .I didn’t stop caring about you . . .” 

“. . .Just because I’m not talking to you or falling asleep next to you . . . It doesn’t mean I don’t still want what’s best for you. Hence why I’m the one who initiated the therapy conversation. I kept my end of the deal and researched for you because I care.”

Then, it was Gia’s voice. What she’d told you that day. . .just before you’d left.

“Let him care, y/n. Don’t work to control him just because you feel like you don’t deserve it.”

Let him care. 

You decided to just continue on with the only reasonable response, eyes, filling with tears, trained on your fidgeting feet. “Thank you,” the words came out as a whisper. But you shook your head. Confidence. Looking up, you tried again, smiling with your eyes. “Thank you.”

His eyes held yours for a moment. He just let his eyes sink into yours. . .like he’d done so many times before. Just as he had in times past, he was letting himself read you. You could tell. 

Not able to help it, your cheeks filled with heat at his stare. Your heart picked up speed. You had to speak again. Break the quietness. The calmness in his observant, knowing irises was too much.  

“Will Maya be okay with it?” 

Why you chose to break the ice with her, you didn’t know. Probably to get his mind off of you and back on her. Where you knew he wanted it to be. He might have still cared for you, but she was the woman he loved. To him, you were sure that she mattered in this just as much as you did.

He shut his eyes once briefly, and with a shake of his head, he was back. His eyebrows dipped, pursed his lips with a curt nod. “Oh, yeah. I’m sure,” he assured. He tightened his fingers against his biceps. You couldn’t help but watch his strong hand flex. “I’ll–um, I’ll just tell her when the appointments are so she knows I’m not available on those days.”

Shit. You didn’t want to take him away from her. You hadn’t even thought of that. That would definitely be selfish. And not available on those days? Like, not available at all? Was he planning on spending entire Mondays with you?

Hurriedly, you offered a response to make sure to clear the air. “Oh my god. I didn’t even think of you having to–,” you groaned. “I’m sorry. Please, don’t go with me if it’s going to interrupt your plans with her.”

His brows wrinkled. “I never said that.”

“It was implied,” you defended your thought process. 

“No, it wasn’t.”

You were suddenly irritated that he wasn’t understanding why you felt bad. “I just don’t want to be selfish, Jake. That’s all I’m saying. God.”

He rolled his eyes, hands getting stuffed in the pockets of the sweatpants he was wearing. You just realized how low they hung on his hips. You could see the very bottom of his stomach with the way he’d cut his t-shirt, just above the hip bones. You flicked your eyes back to his face when he spoke again. And, again, your face was hot. 

“I was literally saying I want to be there for you and I need to tell her that’s what I’m doing on those days,” he explained, tone sharp and patient all at once. He was putting his foot down.

You conceded. But. . . it made you think of something. Maybe it was the tan stomach of his skin and how badly you wanted to run your fingers across it. Or perhaps it was the fact that the woman in question might not be privy to one important detail. 

So, you asked. “Does she know I’m pregnant with your baby yet?”

His baby. 

You ignored the thought, instead training your mind on the serious matter at hand: would she be okay with it if she knew you were pregnant with his baby?

“No,” he curtly replied. Then, his tone was entirely calm when he stated, “She won’t know until you give me the okay to tell her. I told you that already.”

Flushing, you found his eyes. You tried your best to match the sincerity in his irises with your own. “Thank you for being considerate of that.”

“Of course,” his lips twitched to a small grin, then fell back to a purse. He chewed the inside of his cheek.

Fuck. You needed to wrap this up. You were wasting his time. But–you had to know. . . 

You cleared your throat, replacing your hands from below your tummy to cross under your boobs. The way his eyes flickered down with the action couldn’t be ignored and it gave you the push to ask. “. . .what does she know about us?”

“She knows you’re my friend and that we’re close because we live together,” he offered.

For some reason, the fact that he’d called you his friend made your heart leap into the bottom of your throat. It made you sort of sad, yet happy at the same time. Sad that you couldn’t be more, but glad that he was willing to call you such a wonderful thing. Did he seriously trust you to be his friend?

“We’re friends?” You shyly pondered. 

Aaand hormones were officially in control of your dialogue. It was time to wrap it up. Quick. You eyed the ground, embarrassed at your lack of control over questions.

But, his response was measured, so sweetly assuring you with his next words. His voice was soft and raspy, “I never wanted to not be your friend.” Then, suddenly, he was touching you. His hand was placed on your cheek, lifting your face gently to look into his eyes. There was no saving the response on the heart monitor data. And the swarm of buzzing butterflies in your tummy. You lost yourself in his gaze. “No matter what happens, you are my friend. I always want to be your friend, honey.” 

Honey. 

Your pulse increased tenfold and you couldn’t help the flutter of your lashes, your eyes watery yet again. 

His hand was still on your cheek, and a warm blush had settled in them when you mumbled, ashamed. “I hate you ditching your girlfriend for me. I don’t want to be selfish.”

A finger smoothed gently on your cheek, just beneath your lashes. “You’re not being selfish. And I’m not ditching her,” he removed his hand, and your heart sputtered a few times, trying to balance all of the emotions transpiring within you. He reached behind him, grabbing the handle of the door and shutting it behind him. When he moved forward with the motion, you stepped back. Didn’t want to risk getting too close. His eyes found yours as he consoled you. “Please quit thinking of it like that. I promised to be there–to help you–you a long time ago, and I intend to keep that promise. Let me.”

You were back in the hallway at your grandparents’ home. He was coming to sit next to you, against their beige, textured walls. The house, smelling like the pie that was baking. Familiar and safe. But the home had been the last thing making you feel safe in that moment. It was the man sitting next to you, telling you to let him help you.

“I want to help you. Let me.”

The same night he’d made the promise to find a therapist for you. Then, you were in his bed that night. . .Your cheek, on his damp chest.

 Tears were falling on his chest, your chest was tight as they kept coming, his skin prickling in their wake. “I–I’m sor–sorry.”

“Why, baby?” His voice settled your nerves. Warm. Soft. Him. 

“I hate that you have to see me cry,” you sniffled, wiping at the tears on his chest. But instead of letting you continue, he’d held your hand there, so you could feel the stable beat of his heart. 

“If crying is what it takes to heal, I’m here to listen to you as you wade through it.”

And, then, again. . . those same words filtered through your memory through a warm haze. 

Laying on top of him, in his bed, as you’d stared deeply into the darkness of his eyes, he’d earnestly spoken to you. “I want to help you. Let me.”

“Okay,” you sighed in the present time, your eyes not containing the pools accumulating in them, a singular tear falling down your cheek. 

Thankfully, it happened when he had decided to go back into his room to get something. And as soon as you’d brushed it away, he was back in front of you and had his phone in his hand. It was open, his fingers above the keyboard to show he was about to start typing. 

“What do you want me to tell her you need me for?” He looked up at you, hands steady around the phone as his eyes waited for you. His eyes, open and willing to help. Willing to understand. “I don’t have to tell her that it’s for therapy.”

“You can tell her it’s for therapy,” you responded. His brow raised, as if to ask ‘you sure?’, to which you responded, “I’m sure,” you grinned. Then, you continued on with what would be a valid excuse to give her for why you wanted him to go. “Just tell her you have to drive me to the appointments I have on those days because it’s a long drive that I don’t want to take by myself.”

His lips lifted easily, eyes tired, still, but wholly there with you to help. “Okay.”

As he typed, you stood there–so grateful for him. God, he was amazing. You could not believe there was ever a time you’d thought any different. Jake Kiszka. . . he was the man of fucking dreams. You knew he was. And you’d. . . let him go.

But, as you still believed, it was for good reason that you’d cut things off.

It kept lines drawn and clear and simple. Kept him focused on the dream. It just helped. Right?

Once he’d shoved the phone in his pocket and you’d heard the sending noise and the click of the phone going off, you decided to go ahead and let him be. You began walking to your room, and he started walking in the direction of the front of the apartment. Just as you’d opened your door, suddenly very sleepy and sore from your body growing a human, you spoke again. “Thank you, Jake.”

He turned as soon as you’d spoken, his gaze calm and falling on yours gently. His eyes felt like the breeze on a warm, spring day. The same sort of day you’d imagined in your safe place. 

“Don’t thank me,” he started. His phone chimed in his pocket, but he didn’t even reach for it. Instead, he crossed to you once more, your chest heating at him coming close again. And, once more, his hand reached up to delicately hold your face. The callouses that grazed your cheek brought so much comfort. They were familiar and felt like peace. “This is something I want to do. You don’t have to thank me.” 

Your mouth opened to dispute and as soon as you did, he saw it. 

At this, his lips lifted and he held your cheek fully in his palm, eyes boring into yours as he spoke. “Don’t argue with me. I mean every word. And you know it.”

-🌼🌼🌼-

Life was finally feeling peaceful again with Jake back in it, and in the know about the baby. Having him as a friend in your life was filling your cup – just the mere knowledge of him being there made you rest easier. Every morning was the same. A comfortable, reassuring sort of same. 

You’d wake up, and lay in your bed for a few minutes, rubbing your belly. Checking the Ovia app to read something new about the baby to start the day, you’d also check the size of the baby on that given week for the 100th time on that given week. After clicking your phone off, you would lay there and ponder your day and everything that you had to do. 

And once your feet touched the ground, you were walking to grab underwear, a maternity bra (because, yes, you’d purchased one with the speed your boobs had grown). Then came the outfit you’d set out the night before. (Even though sometimes, there would be a last minute change in wardrobe due to day-to-day changes in your body – the insecurities were slowly becoming very real, the more your body changed. And even the teeniest, tiniest changes were strikingly obvious to you.) 

The bathroom was your next stop. You’d take off the heart monitor before your shower, brush your teeth, and in the shower, you would glance down at your belly, water washing over it, to reflect on the person inside of it and how he or she was growing. And these days, you spent a lot of time wondering if the baby was a he or she. . . Just as you’d lean towards one guess, you’d lean towards the other. On certain days, you would wash your hair and if it hadn’t been very long, you’d skip that step. 

Once finished with the shower, you’d observe yourself to see if any stretch marks had grown, and at this point, a few had shown up, so a special cream was one the way that would be added to your morning and nightly routine to help prevent those from sticking around. Now, all you did was brush your hair and usually put it in a claw clip to avoid sweating profusely by keeping it against your neck. Then, you’d replace the adhesive of your heart monitor and adjust it to track your heart rate. 

You were so ready to be done with the stupid fucking device. It was a pain for many reasons. . . and you just hated the way it looked on your chest. It was a huge blemish on your changing body. A body that you were already feeling insecure enough about, even without the monitor.

When you’d trail back to your bedroom after your shower, you finished out the routine by taking your prenatals, checking your hemoglobin (which was doing consistently well, relieving you every time you saw the numbers stay positive), and you would pop a PregEase into your mouth to chew. The chewable had helped drastically with your nausea, and you weren’t planning on stopping it any time soon.

Finally, you’d go to the kitchen counter after making a smoothie in your BlendJet, and sit there to sip it as you read through The Panic-Free Pregnancy, taking notes in a notebook you’d purchased solely for baby notes.

And, now, since Jake had found out, he’d greet you in the kitchen or on your way to the bathroom to shower and he’d check on the baby. Check on how you were feeling. It always made you blush with the fact that he cared to check in. It was just really fucking sweet of him. Showed his heart. Of course, it wasn’t for you, it was for the baby. But still. . . it made your heart skip a beat. 

The day before Thanksgiving was no different. Except, this morning, Jake stopped you just as you’d grabbed your backpack and opened the door to leave for school. 

“Hey,” he called out to you. Your phone buzzed in your black LuluLemon, slung across your chest. When you turned, he flashed his phone screen towards you briefly. “Josh just texted in the group chat and asked if it was okay for us to have Friendsgiving here like you usually do. Day after Thanksgiving. Want me to tell him it’s fine?”

“Of course,” you grinned, getting your phone out to see the text for yourself. But, as you did, you also saw you were cutting it close to make it to class on time. Grabbing your keys out of your bag, you quickly responded, opening the door wider, one foot out. “Just tell him yes.”

He began typing as you went to walk out, the Jetta gave its signature beep across the parking lot as you unlocked it. But just as you stepped out, you stopped. Fuck. You’d have to clean the place. 

Normally, it would be no big deal, but you were still working long hours and keeping up with several classes while also being pregnant. . . 

So, you stepped back into the apartment, hand still holding the door open. You glanced up at him, accepting your fate. “I'll probably be cleaning the apartment tonight. I don’t want to have to fight any real baby tiredness on top of any food baby tiredness tomorrow night. I already get sleepy at the end of Thanksgiving Day, and I’m sure it’ll just be worse this year with,” you pointed to your belly. 

His eyes twinkled, but he didn’t say anything. . .probably because you were rambling and he was annoyed by it.

You twisted the knob, needing to leave, but wanting to let him know, “You can find something to do tonight so you don’t have to be around me and my obsessive compulsive cleaning habits.” 

He raised a brow, placing his phone on the counter. “Would it be okay if I helped you clean?”

“Um,” you faltered, nervous of him seeing that cringeworthy side of you. “I get really intense when I clean for special events.”

“I’m sure,” he grinned, winking. Your tummy swarmed with butterflies at the gesture. He continued, “But I still want to help you. Will you let me?”

Let him.

“I get kind of scary.”

“I don’t care.”

You measured him with your eyes, contemplating. It wasn’t that you wouldn’t love his help. . . It would be fantastic to have someone help you. You just didn’t want to scare him away. 

You’re having his baby, y/n. Did you scare him away when he found out about that? Or did he want to help you then, too? And what about when he–?

“Sure,” you said, promptly cutting off the voice in your head. “You can help. I’m just warning you. My control issues are bound to go haywire when I deep clean.”

“For good reason,” he defended. “In that circumstance.”

Your lips raising into a soft smile couldn’t be stopped. “Thanks, Jake.”

The soft smile didn’t leave your face as you made the trek to your car. 

Then it all came crashing down when you passed Maya in all of her graceful, voluptuous beauty, right before you got to your car. Your outfit of a giant sweater and loose AE jeans suddenly paled in comparison to her sexy black pencil skirt and tight white button-up shirt. Her perfume, sweet and expensive, wafting off of her in waves as she passed by you with a smile and a quick wave. Then there was you: wearing your Bath and Body Works body spray that you got on sale for $5.95.

Her heels clicked past you as your old white Nikes caught a rock and almost made you trip, eliciting a weird noise from your mouth. Hand on the belly, you caught yourself – not so gracefully. When you looked behind you to see if she’d witnessed it, she was already knocking on the door of the apartment. . .and being greeted with a kiss from Jake. The smile was absolutely wiped off your face at the sight of that.

Of course, your mind traveled to a not-so-fun place as you buckled into your car and went to turn on your soul music playlist. You just sat there, contemplating once more how much it sucked that you couldn’t be with him. It was even more sad with your predicament – it made your heart jump into your throat that you couldn’t complete the natural circle of two parents with a baby.

The song that started off the playlist was perfect for bringing you out of your slump, though. The Commodores singing about being ”High On Sunshine” reminded you of how serene and peaceful you’d felt when you’d woken up. Life was going well. . .Truly, completely well. You didn’t need a relationship with Jake to complete a circle of sorts. . . Really. Especially at this point in your life.

You could be friends – it really wouldn’t be so bad. Just friends. You’d take what you could get. Things would be fine.

-🌼🌼🌼-

“I don’t mind you telling her now,” you mentioned that night, packing up a nice dinner he’d made after you’d cleaned the entire apartment. 

He’d made chicken fajitas. 

Considering the meal was a crowd favorite (the crowd being you and the baby), it had been wonderful when you’d found out tonight how damn good he was at making them. Although, saying that you were packing it up into leftover containers with him. . .was a lie. 

You were leaning against the ledge of the counter top, watching him put it in Tupperware. He’d told you to sit and rest your feet and that he would worry about putting it away. Only agreeing halfway, you sure rested but didn’t rest your feet like he’d asked. After quietly accepting the offer with a quiet okay, you nodded your head. Then, you went to stand against the counter. 

“Please. Sit.” He’d encouraged, his voice slightly impatient, already weary with you. By the look in his eyes, you knew that he knew it was no use and that you weren’t going to agree. “You had to go to school and workwork today. You should rest your feet.”

Even though your feet did hurt like hell, you still weren’t about to let him boss you around. 

“Nah, I think I’m good,” you replied, shrugging. You took turns balancing and bouncing between each foot, totally giving you away. “I sit around too much.”

“Y/n.”

“Jake.”

He’d given you a look. And you had stared right back until he gave up and rolled his eyes before going about his business. 

In the present time, he was once again peering at you. But this time, his eye brow was raised in curiosity. “What?” He asked, unsure.

“You can tell Maya if you want,” you repeated, your eyes encouraging. “Tell her that you’re having a baby,” you laughed under your breath at that. A piece of hair fell from its place behind your ear. “Or, I guess, if we’re being technical. . . That I’m having your baby.”

He didn’t laugh along with the funny wording, just continued looking at you like you’d grown three heads. 

“Why?”

You didn’t know. All you knew was that Maya wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon. So, in order to save Jake some extra stress, he’d better tell her sooner rather than later. That was it. 

“Just want it to be out in the open,” you stated plainly, shrugging once more. “Josh is going to tell Sam and Daniel for me soon. . . Explain all of the nitty gritty details of us so I don’t have to again.”

His face sank momentarily. Though, it didn’t last long enough for you to be sure if it wasn’t something you’d imagined.

“On top of that, I’m telling my grandparents tomorrow, so you just go ahead and tell her,” you explained further, trying to convince him it was okay.

He blinked a few times, probably processing it all. And then he responded.

“Okay,” he finally said, lips making a lopsided grin, eyes still containing a sense of curiosity.

“Okay,” you echoed, suddenly feeling the reality of him telling her. . . the reality of Josh telling Sammy and Danny. . .

It was about to be out in the open. Everyone was about to know. Not counting the doctors or Gia, a tiny total of four people in your life knew. Only four. You, Elsie, Josh, and Jake. And now, that number was about to increase. And with your permission, no less. 

-🌼🌼🌼-

November 24, 2022

You were on your way to your grandparents’ house, Elsie being your chauffeur when you filled her in on all of the therapy appointments (though, not the person secured in your safe place), your heart monitor in all of its ridiculous, agonizing glory.

Then, the boys’ careers came up in conversation. The music. The albums. The photoshoots. You even told her about the fan who called Jake hot. And as she was laughing about the fan interaction, and how uncomfy she was sure it made you, you thought to text Jake something that needed to be said. Something you’d believed in with your whole heart since the beginning. His career. 

It was even more important to you now that you were going to have his baby. It had trailed through your mind enough times that you knew you needed to share it with him. 

You, 12:02 p.m.: Please don’t put your career on hold for me or the baby.

It took a few moments, when Elsie was in the middle of telling you that she wasn’t sure how she felt about other girls calling Josh hot. You were absently agreeing on not being sure about it when you got the notification of his response.

Jake, 12:05 p.m.: I won’t. I’ll figure it out. 

And while you were in the middle of having one hard conversation, you decided on another. Something that broke your heart to say, but you believed in it just like you did the other topic. It was going to be awkward to talk about in person, so you were going to be a coward and hide behind the phone to say it.

You, 12:06 p.m.: We also don’t need to be in a relationship.

After sending it, you instantly realized the perspiration that had gathered on your palms. Instead of talking to Elsie, you just stared at your phone. After finding out, he’d turned his read receipts on, so you were able to see the moment he’d seen the message. 

While cleaning the night before, you’d asked him about it and his response was that he had done it so there weren’t any holes in your communication about baby-related things.

Jake, 12:08 p.m.: Never said we did. I don’t need that.

I don’t need that.

Translated, you knew it was a way of saying it would cause unnecessary stress. And you’d be remiss to ignore that the stress would most definitely result from you and your stupid emotional instability. And that thought just reminded you that the baby was the most important person to work on being emotionally stable for–not its father. 

Nonetheless, his response hurt way more than it should have. It cut fucking deep. For no reason whatsoever, because you knew he had a point. You believed the same as he did. Your previous text said as much. You just had to think logically. 

Jake, 12:09 p.m.: 1, I’m already in a relationship

Jake, 12:09 p.m.: and 2, it’ll be easier for us because we won’t have to worry about a relationship. It���s good that we’re just friends.

He was right. He made sense. You knew it. It was good to be just friends.

You, 12:10 p.m.: You are very right. I’m glad we’re on the same page.

Jake, 12:10 p.m.: and as far as touring and the band goes, we can figure out how to handle a baby in all of it. We’ll just work in a few more breaks or something

Jake, 12:11 p.m.: don’t worry about that. We’ll be fine. 

Jake, 12:11 p.m.: and by “we” I mean you, me and the baby

Right as you’d pulled up to your grandparents’ home, you sent him a final text about it. If you were being totally honest, the conversation made you feel sick to your stomach and you just wanted to focus on the fact that it was Thanksgiving. 

There was also the fact that you were more than just a little nervous about rocking your grandparents’ entire world. 

You, 12:22 p.m.: Thank you for talking to me about this. We can talk about it more at some other point. Have a good Thanksgiving!

Instantly, he read it. But it took him a bit to respond. You knew he was busy with family and Maya. And again, your stomach was knotted at another thought. Her. Them. Dream couple.

Jake, 12:25 p.m.: for sure. We’ll find time :) 

Jake, 12:25 p.m.: happy thanksgiving, y/n. I’m thankful for you. I really hope you know that.

With that last text, your heart sped up, your monitor phone beeping repeatedly in your belt bag to notify you of it. As if you couldn’t already feel the way your heart was about to literally beat out of your chest at his words. You grumpily unzipped your bag to get it out, locking your phone on your lap.

“Holy shit, dude,” Elsie exclaimed as she shut off the car. “Are you okay?! What’s happening?!”

You reassured her that it was just your monitor telling you your heart rate had gone up. But you made an excuse for why. Didn’t want her on your ass.

“I’m just really nervous to tell Grandma and Grandpa,” you lied.

You didn’t have to wait long for it to stop beeping. Thank God. It was annoying as hell, calling you out when you did not want to be called out. Finally, it turned off, though.

Elsie’s eyes became sympathetic, her delicate hand coming out to squeeze your sweater-clad arm. “It’ll be okay. I’ll be there the whole time. Deep breaths,” she calmly assured, taking a few with you. “And they’ll honestly just be really excited. Grandma, immediately. . . but Grandpa. . .”

“. . .Might take him a while,” you finished.

Your Grandma wasn’t necessarily your greatest worry, but she had been known to judge a time or two. . . Your Grandpa on the other hand. . . he was in a constant state of disappointment. All in all, you really had no fucking clue what to expect. Within seconds, the two of you were busting up at the thought. He was a pain in the ass. The definition of a crotchety old man. Laughing with Elsie was therapeutic. And this laughter in particular was incredibly necessary.

She waited for you to feel calm enough to go inside, and once you did, you got out to follow Elsie to the door. You never responded to the text. Didn’t even react to it with an exclamation, thumb, or heart. You didn’t want to mess anything up. 

So, you just let it be your last positive push before going inside your grandparents’. Because, while it hadn’t been the reason to make your monitor go batshit crazy, it was still incredibly nerve wracking to tell the people that raised you. The idea of telling them that you were pregnant by a man you weren’t in a relationship with. . . yeah.

You closed your eyes momentarily to locate your Safe Place. You’d gotten quite good at finding it. All you had to do was close your eyes and call it. But as Elsie unlocked the door to let the two of you in, the present time was unkindly welcoming you back in with anxious arms. 

Deep. Fucking. Breaths.

-🌼🌼🌼-

Thanksgiving was one of your favorite holidays. Christmas was your absolute favorite, but Thanksgiving was right up there, just behind it. 

For one, it meant your whole family got to be together for a holiday, and you loved getting to spend time with your family. It felt more special than just about anything else. . . and Thanksgiving was so great because it was just a day where you sat around, eating food, being with each other, talking and laughing. It was a holiday meant to force you to ruminate on why you were thankful for each other– a holiday that was designed to bring out the best in a person.

The hope that your grandparents would only have love in their hearts when they heard your news was the only thing that had pulled you and your nerves through the doorway. The same doorway you’d entered through a million and one times before. Except this time, someone else was entering with you. Your hand touched subconsciously to your rounded belly. There was nothing you could do about your predicament now, so you could only hope for the best responses they could muster.

As you walked in, the smell of your Grandma’s ever-famous smoked turkey flooded your senses, momentarily calming you. It reminded you of the main reason Thanksgiving and Christmas were your favorite holidays. They’d been that way for years–as long as you could remember. Her turkey was an absolute favorite of yours dating all the way back to your childhood. Cooking was her love language, and you first learned that before you ever went to live with your grandparents. You could remember loving it and finding solace in the taste of her full, home cooked meal on the rare occasion that your mom decided to celebrate the holidays with her parents. 

The taste and aroma of your Grandmother’s food represented peace for you–especially her holiday food. Holidays were special because they were the only time you were ever able to escape your mother and the now-hazy situations she’d put you in for the first ten years of your life. And then, when you’d gone to live with them, you’d finally found safety and security. . . The taste of her food had just continued its pattern of bringing you the feeling of comfort.

The times your mom would tote you and Elsie over state lines to see them were always very special. They were bittersweet memories for you. It was the only way you’d been able to see your grandparents then, as she never made them privy to your changing living locations. The three of you were always on the move. Never in one place for too long. But every home was dirtier than the last, a new man who would occupy it, as if anxiously anticipating your arrival.

You shook your head at those times–didn’t want to think about it for too long. Those thoughts led down dangerous, terrifying, dark paths that you didn’t want to experience on a day like today. Those times were the ones you’d explore in EMDR with a licensed professional at the ready to help guide you. 

You’d decided years ago that you weren’t going to venture down those paths alone. Didn’t want to bother Elsie, so instead, you’d instead pushed the memories away to near nonexistence. And. . . today was not the day you planned to change that. You wanted Gia with you for that, thank you very much. 

As you walked closer to the kitchen, you heard the sounds of your grandparents’ laughter, sounding so much like you were used to. . . You could only hope and pray to everything that it would continue on as normal—as normal as it could be—after they found out your big news. 

The warm hugs and expressions of joy that greeted you as the two of you rounded the corner were both a reassurance and an added stressor to your shaky nerves. You really didn’t want to shake their world too much. . . Didn’t want this to change. This was your first true home. They were your first people.

The people who took you and your sister in when you had no one else, the ones who raised you, showed you love when it felt your entire world lacked it. You couldn’t quite rid the apprehension to tell them. You would not be able to until the news officially left your mouth. 

-🌼🌼🌼-

“I’m pregnant.”

The sound of forks clinking against plates and the deafening sound of silence surrounded the entire dining room. You weren’t sure where the fuck it had come from–why you’d chosen to say it when you did. . . but there was no doubt it was out now. No questions were asked. Not yet. All eyes in the room, trained on you. Everyone sat still, totally unmoving and in total shock. 

Thankfully, only a few moments of it had to pass before your sister broke the silence. She was trying to buy some peace for you. Just as much as you, she was not a fan of awkward silence or tension.

“I, for one, am so, so excited,” Elsie beamed, looking back and forth between your grandparents, whose mouths were still clamped shut. “It’s going to be wonderful–the sweetest addition to this family!”

After only a few seconds of Elsie’s attempt to ease the air, your Grandma started blinking and you soon realized that she was blinking back tears. Oh no. . . was she upset? Disappointed? The woman who raised you so well – loved you better than anyone ever had before, who took you in when no one else wanted you. . . She didn’t need to sit there feeling any negative emotions only because of your careless decision. Just like she’d done for you, you needed to comfort her in this moment of unclarity. 

You went to rise from your seat, beginning an explanation you weren’t quite sure of yet once you were standing. “Grandma, I–.”

“Babygirl!” Your Grandmother exclaimed, bursting into tears. And before you could make it from where you stood beside your floral padded chair, she was walking to you – as fast as her frail legs could carry her. Even though you watched her every move, the feeling of her arms wrapping around you came before you expected it to. “We couldn’t be happier. I don’t even have to look at your Grandfather to know he’s as ecstatic as me. I know he loves you just like I do,” she sighed, squeezing you gently. Her shaky, familiar voice spoke softly in your ear, “A baby is the greatest gift – especially if it’s one of my babies’ babies.”

You blinked back all of the emotion that nestled comfortably into your bones. The distinct, wistfully familiar notes of Chanel No. 5 wrapped around you as tight as her arms. And, suddenly, the scent had you back in a mirage of memories where she was holding you just the same. 

The first time a boy had broken your heart at thirteen years old. When you fell off your bike the month after you moved in with them, crying more over your mother than the bike wreck. Anytime you and Elsie got into some asinine bickering match that only your Grandmother could settle. . . So many times she’d held you just like this. Except this time, you felt it differently, gripped closer to her, not ready to let go. . . you’d needed this so badly. Hadn’t even realized just how badly you needed to feel her hold you after finding this out. 

You sniffed, finally letting yourself part from her. She wasn’t going to be the first to let go, so you made the move. “Grandma,” you looked directly into her eyes, getting lost in the aging, watery icy blue irises. “Your approval – and Grandpa’s,” you glanced at him briefly, a small smile on his face as he watched you. Your heart leapt. “It meant more to me than anyone else’s.” 

Elsie huffed and made a noise. Your Grandma giggled at Elsie’s indignance. You rolled your eyes, turning to your sister for a split second to give her a look, then faced the aging woman once more. “Almost anyone else’s. I was just scared to let you down, although I. . .,” you paused momentarily, blinking back tears as her perfume infiltrated your senses once more as she pushed some hair delicately behind your ear. “I should have known better than that.”

“My precious babygirl, there is nothing you could ever do that would make us think less of you,” she insisted, bringing her hand down to your arm, softly soothing circles into your flesh through your sweater. “Not only have we told you that your entire life, but I could only hope we have been able to show it to you. Just how much you mean and how we are always on your side – no matter what.”

-🌼🌼🌼-

The rest of the dinner and dessert went on about the same, with your Grandpa actually receiving the news very well–only grumbling slightly at the idea of the father not being around.

To which Elsie had quickly defended with a correction, pointed straight at your Grandfather, her eyes glued to him. “Don’t be so quick to make assumptions, Grandpa.”

You’d joined in, too, not wanting her to have to approach that on her own. It wasn’t her responsibility to have to make any reassurances for your mindless decision. 

“He is in the picture, Grandpa,” you assured, swallowing your bite of pumpkin pie. Your eyes linked with his, begging him to understand. “I never said he wasn’t. I only said that I didn’t want to tell you who he is yet.”

After that, he’d simmered down on the father subject enough for dessert to finish up. And, as Elsie and your Grandma went to put away leftovers, you led the way to the living room to set up A Christmas Story. It was a Thanksgiving tradition to watch it after stuffing your faces to the point of exhaustion. 

Just as you’d gotten the movie queued up, you heard his telling sigh behind you. His years-old maroon, fabric recliner, moaning with the sudden weight of a person. You gave him the slightest smile, still unsure of how to act around him as he’d been supportive, just quiet about it. 

His reaction could definitely be expected, but you didn’t want it. You just wanted him to not act crotchety, just this once. Problem was, you were kind of stuck on what to say. So, instead of saying anything to initiate conversation, you sat on your phone, checking Instagram stories. 

So many fucking coupley photos with the most generic captions. But, to your complete relief, nothing had yet been posted by Jake or Maya (yes, you followed her now–for no other reason but to torture yourself). Just as you were about to check your Ovia app for the second time that day, you heard your Grandpa clear his throat. 

You just acted oblivious, though, not wanting to look up unless he actually wanted to talk. Didn’t want to push him or anything. . . poke the bear. 

“Sugarplum,” he started, using the nickname he’d penned for you years ago. 

Your heart lightened at the nickname. Anytime he used it, you knew he was about to say something sweet and slightly outside of his comfort zone. And by that, it meant he was going to say something particularly tender and sweet. Two things he was not used to being. . . Save for the heart he’d had when he started using the nickname. It had come at a sensitive time. 

The nickname came from a precious tradition. After you’d come to live with them, he’d started the tradition. The man had been determined to make you and your sister feel better, and he’d always been better with actions than words. So, the year your sister and you had come to live with them, he’d started taking you to the Nutcracker. It was a whole thing. 

Every Christmas season, your family of four would get all dolled up (you and Elsie, having had matching Christmas dresses and ringlet curls–hair-sprayed to the point of crunchy– the first couple of years). Then, you’d go eat at Carmine’s before attending a performance of the Nutcracker ballet – always at David H. Koch Theater. 

You weren’t sure what he was about to say, but the nickname always meant it was going to be rather softhearted.

“Sweetie,” he sighed. You looked at him, seeing every wrinkle and age spot on his worn features. His face held every ounce of compassion you were sure he could muster. Your eyes already teary at the cold, snowy memories you’d just re-lived, and seeing him in such a vulnerable state had you gasp just slightly. “I love this baby. I love you. And I am so happy for you–overjoyed,” he said, singing it in the tone of the Stevie Wonder tune. You gasped on another breath, a tear springing from your eye to cheek. “Very, very much so, honey.”

“Really?” You couldn’t help but mutter.

“With all my heart I mean it,” he confirmed, eyes crinkling at the edges with a smile in them. “I only get short-tempered about the father because I don’t want to witness the child being abandoned or betrayed by men the way you and Elsie–,” he shook his head, draining a thought he was in the middle of. He grunted, eyes glassy when he looked at you again. “I don’t need this baby’s father being absent like yours was, is all. I get infinitely resentful on the subject of the people who did you and your sister wrong. . . and I just can’t have that for my great-grandchild either.”

There was no response you could possibly give save for the intermittent sniffles that accompanied the tears that wetted your cheeks. So, all you did was nod, a shaky smile on your lips. The man deeply loved you. You knew that. But, it made your heart hurt in a strange way when he’d say things that truly proved it. . . since he so rarely did. The baby must have meant a lot to him already, for him to feel so inclined to bare his heart like this. 

“I love that child and I will protect it in my role as long as I can,” he said, his own voice wobbling on the words. “I promise you, Sugarplum. Just like I did for you and your sister.”

After a couple of moments, you found something to say, out of the mess of emotions hugging your heart. 

“This baby’s father will be nothing like ours,” you said, without a doubt. You barely remembered the man who’d helped make the two of you. He hadn’t ever really been around–a sperm donor at best. “He’s an incredible man. The baby is very lucky to have him.”

The words pinched your chest, your stomach twisting tight on what you’d said. . . Jake was so wonderful. Even if he didn’t want you, he wanted the baby. You knew that. You knew it. You had seen it in his eyes the moment you’d said the baby was his. Jake Kiszka was special and you were glad your baby would be part of him–was already part of him. You were glad the baby had him.

You just weren’t ready to tell your grandparents it was him. . . you didn’t want either of them to unrightfully judge Jake if they were to know. Especially your Grandfather. . . they’d had such an honest, genuine connection. It had been magical to witness. Jake, having been the person to bring the old man out of his shell for the first time in your entire life. 

You knew you had to tell them soon, but it just didn’t feel like the right time quite yet. . . There was so much going on already. The two of them finding out the identity of the baby’s father could wait just a little longer. 

-🌼🌼🌼-

You got home around eleven o’clock that night, after taking Elsie to Josh’s. The night had been exactly what your soul needed. Time with your Grandma and Grandpa, as well as a car jam session with Elsie on the way to her boyfriend’s apartment. 

The reason you’d finished so late was because your grandparents hadn’t really wanted the night to end. After sitting through every end credit of A Christmas Story, you’d rented the brand new A Christmas Story Christmas on the Roku TV you’d Christmas-gifted the two elderly people a year ago. 

Although, you hadn’t ended up paying much attention to the movie since your grandparents had been determined to hear all about Elsie’s travels and your current. . . predicament. They had also questioned you about school.

Thankfully, you’d given a few barely-there answers and the conversation had basically concluded on that subject. There hadn’t even been an onslaught of career-based questions. All of the baby-related inquiries had been a good distraction from that. 

They’d even stayed up past their bedtime of nine o’clock, aiming to hear every last detail of your life and Elsie’s. But, there’d come a point that your Grandpa had fallen asleep as he’d tuned out, signaling the end of the evening. 

So, at 11:00, you were finally pulling in to the apartment complex, safe and sound into your designated parking spot. Jake’s car was where he usually parked it, you noticed. But, you already knew he was home. He’d texted about an hour back asking when you’d be home, to which you’d responded with an I don’t know, a little flutter in your tummy as you typed. 

Even though he hadn’t responded, it didn’t crush you. Truly. You were becoming accustomed to your present relationship with him. . . well. . . .at least you were really trying to become accustomed.

On the way up to the apartment, you barely made the last step with how utterly exhausted you were. The act of carrying a child was not easy work and honestly, your grandparents hadn’t been the only ones staying up past their bedtime. You’d kept the heavy-lidded blinking at bay at your childhood home, but as you unlocked the door, you let out a long yawn which felt like it’d been waiting for hours to be released. Because it had been. You hadn’t wanted to be rude while engaging in conversation. Felt so relaxing and the action in and of itself had totally drained you. Your comfy, cozy bed was calling you.

When you entered the apartment, you were assaulted by the wondrous smells of something sweet and sugary–the scent was closely comparable to cake or cupcakes. You almost let your nose drag you to the source, but when you looked into the kitchen on your trek to your bedroom, you hastily decided against that idea. And you suddenly felt like you were going to profusely vomit. 

Jake, with his back facing you as he leaned against the kitchen island, his fingers grasping at nothing, only gripping what he could of the counter his ass was pressing against. His beautiful locks of hair were all stringy and messy–the telling sign of hands having been run through it. His moans were enough to make you grow chills from both distaste and lust. The sound of him reaching his release was unlike any other. . . 

But the infuriating fact that it was coming from the tanned, curvaceous woman on her knees in front of him. Who, unfortunately, you could see from the side of the island. And to make matters worse, she was barely fucking clothed. A tiny sheer dress of black lingerie, the only thing you could see from your vantage point. She had her free hand bunched into the material at the back of his gray t-shirt, holding onto him for dear fucking life as she went to town.

When the bile rose to your throat, you knew you had to get away before you threw up. You did not want to puke up any Thanksgiving food, thank you very much. Couldn’t ruin the sentimental dishes only because of Jake and his frustratingly beautiful girlfriend. 

To your relief, once you made it to your room, quiet as a mouse, you found your Stanley as cold as you’d left it (praises-fucking-be for Stanley insulation). And you didn’t have to force sleep after you’d taken a quick makeup wipe to your face and put on an oversized Pratt t-shirt. 

The moans and groans and whiny-fucking-sighs from the kitchen faded out in no time as sleep almost instantly found you. 

Thank fucking God for the tiredness that came with making a human. 

-🌼🌼🌼-

a/n: see you tomorrow w part 2... Friendsgiving will kick off pt 2... there is so much to come ;)

ty for being the best readers in the world and pleaseee never hesitate to send in your wonderful thoughts! love youuuu <3

& as usual, it wouldn’t let me tag some of y’all. :( so please check to see that you’re down there because if you’ve asked to be on the taglist, i tried to tag you. buuuut tumblr wouldn’t let me do it for everyone 🙃 ugh. and if i somehow forgot to tag someone, please also let me know that! (i'm a NOOB and i have terrible memory)

Taglist: @joshym, @gretavanfleetposts, @alyson814, @fretaganvleet, @lallisonl, @writingcold, @gvfpal, @twinszka, @jessicafg03, @reesetrippingthelight, @sacredjake, @laurenlovesgretavanfleet, @gretavangroove, @222headedcalf, @dreamssingold, @carbondancingthroughtime, @raviolilegs, @way-to-go-lad, @jakekiszkasmommy, @katgvf, @objectsinspvce, @jaketlover, @vanfleeter, @thetroublegetssoloud71, @seditabets, @jakekiszkapunchmeintheface, @jaketlove, @ohgodthefeeling-gvf, @starcatcher-jake, @anythingforjtk, @lucimoo, @indigostreakmorgan, @gretavanbear, @katelynn-gvf, @alwaysonthemend, @aintthatapity, @bowievanfleet, @fwzco, @takenbythemadness, @cherry-icecreamsmile, @laneygvf, @hi-hi-hello11, @sinarainbows, @jakesbarbarian, @mybussyinchrist, @becinabubblegvf, @heckingfrick, @danigvf, @pinkandsleepy1934, @derrangeddumpsterfire, @klarxtr, @josh-iamyour-mama, @abby-gvf, @cassyface, @gretavansabotage, @torniturntomyarrow, @joshsbonnet, @llrosee, @starshine-gvf, @itsafullmoon, @gvfmarge, @creadliz98

(and, due to t*mblr’s shitass guidelines, i will be adding the other tags in a reblog of the story!)

[cufeilidh]

I'm just in the process of learning to do digital art on an ancient tiny tablet, so I literally printed this out to color with markers and pencil crayons as a fun coffee time activity

The lineart isn't mine!! It's @finngualart 's!!

They posted it for a coloring contest and I happily took them up on it! (Thank you!!)

[sexysilverstrider]

i do not want to see another pokemon game next year. or even 2 years from now. the next game is the bw remake and itll come out 4 years aka during pokemons 30th anniversary where developers can make the game with a reasonable deadline. i want nintendo and the pokemon company higher ups to see the complaints of scarvio. i want the gamefreak developers to take a strike or union. i want the capitalistic monsters to crash financially to see scarvio selling Badly. i want the bw generation--the most coveted and famous generation esp in japan--to exist as an amazing remaster with full voice acting of the main characters and jrpg cutscenes that match the emotional plot that haunts every player when they first played bw and bw2. i want to see N in glorious HD with the same dating simulator format from the original game. i want to hear midorikawa hikarus or daman mills' voices as N as N talks about your dream and i get to cry for god knows how many times again when it comes to him.

[kay-kay-is-kray-kray]

Are there gameplay experts here on Tumblr who could help me out on which of these three twisted wonderland event SSR card is the highest priority to uncap?

Wish Deuce

Halloween Jade

Jasmine Silk/Firelit Sky Jamil

[fushitoru]

chapter 2: the aftermath a bridgerton!au

pairing ⸺ duke!satoru gojo x fem!reader

summary ⸺ dearest gentle reader, a new season is upon us as the ton gets ready for a season filled with drama, heartbreak, and passion. after being crowned diamond of the season, heir to a dukedom mr. satoru gojo⸺only looking to marry just to secure his inheritance⸺has his sights set on you, the easiest (and most obvious) option. later, when you catch his saying unsavory things about you on a terrace when he least suspected it, you swear to never marry gojo. as london's fashionable set goes through yet another wedding season, will there be hope for scandalous gossip, hate, and thinly veiled insults, or will we witness blooming love and passion?

warnings ⸺ nsfw, enemies to lovers, bridgerton au, angst, fluff, eventual smut, jealousy, misogyny, regency era au, gojo being infuriating, reader also being infuriating, both of them are clueless honestly

chapter summary ⸺ after an eventful first ball after your debut, you continue the season with thinly veiled vexation towards gojo. but fate is not on your side; you and gojo keep encountering each other, matching fire with fire (7.8k)

a/n some parts of this chapter broke my brain to write but i kind of had fun! as always thank you to @/sinn-claire for beta reading :p i was going to say i'll try to have weekly updates but i don't want to jinx it lol

prev. the debutante | next. the manor

general masterlist | series masterlist

Dearest gentle reader, 

It appears that Her Majesty has bestowed the coveted title of this season’s Diamond upon none other than Miss Itadori, who has indeed lived up to her newfound acclaim as the incomparable of the year. At the latest ball, our shining Diamond was quite occupied, with suitors lining up in such numbers that one might have thought them to be queuing for the royal throne itself. Furthermore, blooms were budding between many of the debutantes and gentlemen, including…..

...Yet, one particular couple captivated the attention of all: none other than Mister Satoru Gojo and our season’s Diamond. After having kept his words sparse and his attentions limited to none, Mister Gojo appeared utterly taken with Miss Itadori, conversing with her intimately on the dance floor. It seems your humble Author was indeed correct⸺Mister Gojo has entered the marriage market. However, the exclusivity he has adopted may not deter the determined maidens he seeks to avoid, for the Ambitious Mamas will no doubt perceive his selectiveness as a challenge to be overcome. 

One cannot help but wonder if an announcement of particular interest will be made at the upcoming Gojo country house party. Although your Author has not yet laid eyes upon the guest list for the Duchess Gojo’s anticipated gathering, reliable sources suggest that nearly every eligible young lady of marriageable age will be journeying to Kent next week. The country house party is known to be a perilous affair. Married individuals often find themselves enjoying the company of someone other than their spouse, while the unwed frequently return to town betrothed with surprising haste.

Indeed, the most unexpected engagements often follow closely on the heels of such rustic diversions.

⸻ LADY WHISTLEDOWN’S SOCIETY PAPERS

Satoru had no intention of squandering his time this season⸺or at any time, for that matter.

The notion of love matches held little appeal to him, despite witnessing such a union firsthand in his own parents. Make no mistake, the Duke and Duchess Gojo enjoyed a happy marriage, and Satoru held both his father and mother in the highest regard. Yet, he was perfectly content on his own.

Being one of the strongest bachelors⸺both intellectually and physically⸺has been Satoru’s destiny. Ever since his ancestors had been blessed by the royal family with the dukedom, the Gojo family had made its goal to be the most powerful nobility and the closest to the royal family. (Which is still maintained in the status quo, because the Queen dotes on Satoru, inviting him for tea every fortnight. The Queen lavished him with overly sweet biscuits, and in return, Satoru provided her with the latest gossip from court). 

But this responsibility doesn’t get fulfilled without independence; one had to accept the solitary truth that to be truly great was to remain unswayed by the fleeting pleasures of the world⸺love included.

Satoru had little time or interest for the other vices that tempted men of his station, such as lust. Contrary to the whispers circulating among the ton, Satoru had never indulged in the life of a rake or frequented brothels as many of his acquaintances did. Really, the allegations were, in truth, merely just a byproduct of his appearance and demeanor; with a young man with the stature, face, and eligibility of Satoru, the public would immediately like to slap on the label of “rake” due to his arrogant personality. Moreover, any encounters he had witnessed between men and women⸺whether dropping his friends off at brothels in his carriage after an evening at the gentleman’s club or overhearing flirtations at parties⸺struck him as shallow and an utter waste of time, especially when he was already a week behind on the ledgers and other official matters his father had entrusted to him. (He did have one indulgence, however: a weakness for gluttony, with an array of sweet confections as his loyal companions during long, sleepless nights.)

Marriage was an even greater burden. The thought of being accountable for a wife, and eventually children, seemed like a daunting task to Satoru. With sleepless nights spent on covering just a fraction of the business his father must do as a duke, Satoru was tired. He was exhausted⸺exhausted from the weight of responsibility, from striving to meet his father’s expectations, from seeking the Queen’s approval, from worrying over what Whistledown might print about him, and from the gossip of the businessmen with whom the Gojo family dealt. 

And yet, despite this weariness, Satoru was gripped by an insatiable obsession with perfection, an obsession that only deepened his fatigue. He craved approval, power, and the flawless execution of his duties⸺desires that gnawed at him even as they threatened to consume him.

Which is exactly why he needed a perfect wife. A wife that was capable, could handle bothersome people⸺which he was steadily losing the patience to deal with⸺and a reliable companion. Someone that would reduce his stress, not add to it. 

Satoru had spent all day lurking in the shadows as best as he could; being the most eligible bachelor did mean that brothers and sisters were coming up to him, singing praises of their debutante in an effort to capture his interest. But Satoru knew all too well that the loudest families often had the most to compensate for.

As ladies in white paraded before the crowd, many buckling under the weight of judgment and attention, Satoru prowled like a jungle cat, staying hidden in the throng, biding his time, and waiting for the right moment to strike.

What he noticed first about you was your way of carrying yourself. Even Auntie⸺the Queen⸺who, after seeing countless of girls today, had been incredibly bored, dragged her eyes over you in slightly more interest than she did for others. The moment you stepped through those grand doors into the court, it was evident to everyone that your stride was that of someone who understood her role and position in life⸺a confidence that set you apart from the other debutantes. Satoru’s eyes raked over you, observing you as your chest rose slightly as you took a breath in. 

And then you smiled.

Satoru's eyes widened, just imperceptibly, as he watched your expression as you made your way to the Queen. He made sure to shake his expression off to a more nonchalant one as he watched your form walk. Lesser men than Satoru would die for your smile. Men, out of all traits a woman could possess, cherished a pretty visage the most. Yet, what your smile conveyed went beyond mere beauty; it embodied innocence and the qualities most esteemed in a demure bride (which Satoru knew was just all a show, but it was indeed indicative of your skill to put up appearances, hence deeming you a reliable companion).

The corner of the young man's mouth rose.  When the Queen declared you the diamond of the season, Satoru knew he had found his quarry.

When the ball came, Satoru acted similarly: observing from behind, staying in conversation with his friends and other noble men that did business with the Gojo family as he prowled the ballroom, waiting for the right moment to ask you for your hand. And then Naoya came in when you were finally alone, away from all the incompetent men that dared to think they had a chance to court you, and Satoru almost laughed snarkily at how easy it all was. 

Approaching you, saving you from Naoya⸺it was all a perfect construction of his. Dancing, he noticed your steps were carried out with a practiced perfection and grace, and your responses to his questions displayed a respectable level of intellect. He could tell your responses were practiced and simple, your constitution and demeanor a result of much effort into presenting yourself as best as you could. But what does it matter, when you do it so perfectly?

Maybe it was a bit naive of him, but you seemed to glow when conversing with him. It amused him, as he kept watching your pretty eyes as you kept smiling while he kept throwing difficult questions at you. It was all expected, however. Satoru knew he was blessed with the brilliant blue Gojo eyes and eccentric fair, white hair; he was the most eligible bachelor for not only wealth and power but reproductive capabilities and opportunities as well. Which lady wouldn’t want to be mother to his cute and beautiful blue-eyed babies?

After witnessing such mediocre men who paled in comparison to Satoru, surely you must be smitten. Gojo could see right through you: you, the diamond, have been looking for a man as meritorious as you, and you had found it in Satoru. 

So why were you acting this way?

When you wake up in the morning and get ready for suitors, it is as you expected; there are multiple carriages outside your doorstep, and there is a line from the drawing room, extending all the way down the stairs. When Choso stumbles into the drawing room, where you and your mother are enjoying tea, he is clearly unhappy at the selection of men waiting to be let in to call upon you. 

“This is absurd!” Choso’s hands raked over his hair in an effort to process the scene he had just witnessed. “Why do I see Naoya waiting outside?”

Your nose crinkled in distaste. “Well, dear brother, I certainly cannot control which suitors call upon me. He must’ve enjoyed our conversation yesterday. The enjoyment, however, is one sided.”

Choso’s eyes widened comically. “You had a conversation with him yesterday?” He then turned to your mother accusingly, who was reading a Whistledown while sipping on her tea innocuously. “This would not have happened if I was there, Mother. This is your fault.”

Your mother continued drinking her tea nonchalantly, waiting for a few beats to grace him with a response. “I prefer this, my son, to no visitors out there because our dear Lord Itadori scared all the bachelors away with his pickiness.” Then, her eyes flashed. “And don’t give me that tone.”

You snickered behind your palm as Choso visibly deflated.

 “Kuna! Get back here!”

Pitter patters of small paws started to get closer and closer, as heavy footsteps followed it. Yuji and the family corgi, Sukuna Jr., burst into the room. Eyeing the biscuit in your hand, Kuna made his way directly to you, panting at your feet. A pet given affectionately by your-not-so-affectionate older brother, Sukuna, when he left for his year long trip around Europe, Kuna was the cutest little puppy. You and Yuji loved to spoil him, clearly shown as Yuji patted him while breathing heavily. You cooed as Kuna licked your fingers while inhaling the biscuit you had presented him. 

“Well,” your mother stood up, having finished her tea, and began ushering in the maids to clear the table. “It seems our morning will be quite busy. You’d best be prepared for a long day, my dear.”

Choso was still grumbling as he took a seat across from you, his eyes narrowing at the sight of the long line of suitors outside. “I’m keeping an eye on that Naoya fellow. If he so much as looks at you the wrong way…”

You raised an eyebrow at your brother’s protectiveness, feeling both amused and touched. “Choso, I appreciate your concern, but I can handle myself. Besides, with Kuna here, I doubt any of these gentlemen will get too close without proper approval.”

As if understanding the conversation, Sukuna Jr. barked enthusiastically, his tail wagging as he looked up at you with bright, expectant eyes. You smiled and scratched behind his ears, watching as his tiny body wriggled with joy.

Yuji, still catching his breath from the chase, flopped onto the chair beside you, shooting a grin at Choso. “Come on, big brother, give her a break. It’s not every day our sister gets declared the diamond of the season. Let her enjoy it.”

Choso crossed his arms, still unconvinced. “I’m just saying, if any of these men don’t meet my standards⸺”

“Your standards?” you interrupted with a teasing lilt. “Choso, I’d never find a husband if I had to meet your impossible standards. Besides, you should be more concerned about finding someone yourself.”

Choso’s cheeks tinted with a slight blush, but make no mistake; he was hot with anger, ready to make a snarky retort. Your mother, who had been overseeing the maids, turned her attention back to the conversation with a soft smile.

“Your sister is right, Choso. It’s her time to shine, and as her family, we should support her, not make things more difficult.” She gave him a pointed look before turning to you with a gentler expression, and he backed down as he always does for your mother. “Now, my dear, are you ready to begin receiving your guests?”

You took a deep breath, nodding as you steeled yourself for the hours of polite conversation and careful navigation of the social battlefield ahead. “As ready as I’ll ever be.”

“Good,” your mother said, her voice laced with both pride and encouragement. “Remember, you are the diamond of the season. There isn’t a man out there who wouldn’t be lucky to have you.”

You offered a weak smile. “Let’s get this over with.”

As you walked toward the sofa where you would be talking with suitors, Kuna trotted alongside you, his presence a comforting reminder.With Yuji and Choso trailing behind, and your mother leading the way to open the door, you braced yourself for the onslaught of admirers waiting beyond the door.

But as you straighten your posture, in anticipation to greet the first suitor, you couldn't help but glance down at Kuna, who stared up at you with wide, curious eyes. You chuckled softly.

“Well, Kuna,” you whispered, “let’s see who passes your test today.”

Gojo’s gaze wandered down to Sukuna Jr. in your lap as you stroked his fur, and he gave you a saccharine⸺yet strained⸺smile. “Must this dog bear witness to our conversation? 

As if sensing Gojo’s unfriendliness, Kuna started growling, and you could feel the rumble deep in his stomach. You met Gojo’s sweet smile with one of your own. “Yes.”

Gojo blinked, and the smile on his face faltered. You noticed that this was one of the first time Gojo’s ever expressed an emotion outside of smugness, and you count this as your personal win.

“Well,” he hesitated, and then a smile was on his face as if that stumble didn’t happen. “You look wonderful this morning, Miss Itadori.”

Your eyes flashed at his audacity to talk behind your back and try to fool you with flattery. “On the contrary, I think I look rather simple.”

Gojo, none the wiser as to what you were referring to, waved his hands. “Nonsense.”

Before you could respond, Kuna let out a low, rumbling growl, his sharp eyes fixed on Gojo. The sound was subtle, but in the quiet of the morning, it was unmistakable. Gojo’s gaze flickered down to the small dog, and his smile tightened ever so slightly.

You gently scratched behind Kuna’s ears, calming him, though his gaze never left Gojo. “I apologize on behalf of my dear Kuna,” you said, your voice light but nonetheless pointed. “He tends to be wary of many, particularly those he believes to be with ulterior motives.”

Gojo nodded, unfazed, and looked down at the dog in question. Upon eye contact, all your efforts to calm Kuna went to naught as the dog stood up, tense and teeth almost bared fully, to stare back at Gojo defiantly. Gojo, to his credit, was starting to be a little wary and was giving the pup an impassive stare. 

“You know, I have an affinity for dogs. There are many pups that I have spent my entire childhood with.” He offered a chuckle and moved his hand to pet Kuna. “Dogs do have a way of sensing things, don’t they?” That was clearly the wrong decision because the dog’s growl grew louder, and suddenly, he snapped at Gojo’s hand. Before Kuna could sink his teeth into Gojo’s hand, however, Gojo smoothly withdrew it out of his reach. 

“Protective, isn’t he?” Gojo laughed, but his stare towards Kuna was veering more and more into a glare. He tried to disguise his irritation by suavely adding, “Admirable. I’m glad he has protected my lady so well.” Gojo then grabbed your hand to give you a small kiss on the back of it while keeping eye contact. You had to divert your eyes elsewhere to avoid coloring your cheeks; while you knew this was just another one of Gojo’s pretenses to charm you, you were still fazed by it. 

You cleared your throat and tried to uphold the conversation. After all, it would be outright rude to keep throwing thinly veiled insults his way when there were others in your company; he also had the potential to spread further malicious rumors about you if you showed attitude. You mustered up a fake smile, and offered, “He was a gift to me and Yuji offered by my older brother, Sukuna, when he went traveling,” you offered. 

“Is that the brother you hoped to follow to Europe?”

You blinked and faltered. You didn’t expect him to remember that tidbit from your conversation at the ball last night. While most of the preferences you had asserted were artificial⸺supplemented to you by your tutor, who had drilled what fake preferences of yours would woo men⸺you truly did gain enthusiasm for the languages because you hoped to prove your helpfulness to Sukuna in an effort to run away from your inevitable debut. At the time, you were rebelling against anything your mama said, avoiding anything  associated with being paraded around like an animal, put on display for men. “Yes,” you said slowly, “Yes, it is.” 

Gojo smiled, this time a little more genuine at the fact it was his first time receiving an authentic response from you this morning, rather than something covered with a fake smile. Just as he leaned in slightly, probably preparing to make another smooth remark, Kuna, who had been shifting in your lap, suddenly stilled, his face buried in your lap and tail facing Gojo. For a moment, you thought he might be settling down.

And then it happened.

The largest fart ripped through the room out of Kuna’s arse, which was pointed directly in Gojo’s face. While you were not a scholar studying physics, you were aware that the air dynamics did not do Gojo any favors in preventing the smell from hitting him direct-on. Gojo’s eyes widened in surprise, and his suave expression faltered entirely as the smell quickly followed, filling the air around you both.

You could feel the heat rushing to your face in your effort not to laugh out loud. Trying to keep your composure, you gently patted Kuna’s belly, who was now face up, tongue lolling out in bliss. “Oh, dear,” you muttered, your voice strained with the effort to suppress a laugh.

Gojo, for once, was at a loss for words. His eyes were tearing up, probably at the smell; whenever you and Yuji spoiled Kuna with those biscuits, he dropped nasty-smelling dungs, and you knew Gojo wasn’t spared at all. The arrogant bachelor, who always seemed to have a witty response ready, was now at a loss of words as he weakly gazed upon the weak little poot! poot!s that escaped Kuna as you continued patting his stomach in an effort to relieve your pup’s digestive system.

At Gojo’s expression, you had to take quiet, deep breaths in an effort to rein in the cackles that were threatening to overcome you. You resorted to covering your mouth as you strained, “As you can see, my Kuna is quite expressive, and he seemed quite eager to show you that.”

He offered you a strained smile. “He does indeed generate quite a bit of wind.” At that, you could no longer hold back. Genuine laughter wracked through your figure, hurting your ribs as you tried to quell it with a hand to the mouth, but no avail. Your muffled laughter was still loud, and when the giggles subsided, you wiped your tears and threw an apologetic look at Gojo, preparing to express your regret. 

But you stopped at the sheer wonder he contained in his face as his gaze fixated on your lips, which were drawn back in the ghost of the smile you had while laughing riotously. Without allowing you much time to dwell on it, he stood up and dipped his head in a little bow. “Well, I have been taking quite a bit of your time, Miss Itadori. I better let other suitors have their chance.” He kissed the back of your hand. “I hope to see you at the horse race tomorrow.”

“Likewise.” You couldn’t help but spy some red coloring Gojo’s alabaster cheeks as he made his way to the exit. As you greeted the next suitor, the imprint of a certain man’s lips continued to tingle on your hands. 

“I told you he was a rake,” Nobara muttered as she scrubbed your arm with an intensity that matched her outrage. After hearing what Gojo had said about you, she was livid. Unfortunately, your skin was bearing the brunt of her frustration.

“Well,” you mused, trying to distract her, “what rumors have you heard that make you think that?”

“Momo told me a few months ago⸺” Nobara paused, her hands hovering over the various bottles on the counter. “Which scent would you prefer for your hair?”

“Sandalwood,” you replied.

Nobara nodded and poured some of the rich liquid into her hands before massaging it into your scalp. You closed your eyes, feeling the tension from the day's exhausting and dull conversations slowly melt away under her skillful fingers. “Momo mentioned that he’s often out late at night, which seems suspicious. But now that I think about it, Momo isn’t the most reliable source,” Nobara added, her tone shifting to one of skepticism.

You quirked an eyebrow. “Why do you say that?”

“There’s talk that she attempted to lure another maid’s husband into an affair,” Nobara replied, her hands now working the shampoo through your hair with a practiced ease. “She even tried to gain access to his quarters.”

You gasped. “How scandalous!”

“I know,” Nobara said, her hands now massaging the back of your neck with a gentler touch. “So, who knows how much truth there is to her gossip. But still, Gojo’s behavior is less than honorable, don’t you think?”

You sighed, gazing up at the ceiling with a mix of frustration and resignation. “He was gossiping about me with other men, calling me all sorts of horrible things⸺‘simple,’ of all things. And yet, he has the audacity to want to call upon me?”

“You know,” Nobara mused as she continued her task, “He sounds the exact opposite of what some of your books would imply.”

You hummed in agreement, recalling the radical works you kept hidden beneath your bed. Your mother would be appalled if she ever discovered them, but you often sought solace in political writings that challenged the rigid expectations of society. “I know. And that is precisely why I have no intention of encouraging his attention this season—at least, not before I ensure his complete and utter humiliation.”

“But do take care. His connections to the Queen are quite strong.”

You drew back from Nobara's hands, much to her chagrin. She gave you a glare while you exclaimed, "What?"

“Surely you’re aware that the Gojo dukedom is among the closest to the royal family?”

You fervently hoped your mother hadn’t caught wind of Gojo's status. Yet, the way she had been observing you⸺subtly scrutinizing you in the drawing room while feigning interest in a suitor awaiting his turn⸺suggested otherwise. She had certainly noticed Gojo's growing interest, and the thought of her getting involved, fixating on a match with him, filled you with dread. Drawing your hands over your face, you moaned, the very notion of her scheming to pair you with Gojo weighing heavily on your mind.

“But that should hardly be a concern if you’ve begun to distance yourself from him, correct? You have been creating some distance, haven’t you?”

Your silence spoke volumes, and Nobara, ever quick to discern your hesitation, gasped in exasperation. “You cannot seriously be considering giving this gentleman any encouragement, can you?”

"No, no, it’s not that,” you replied, massaging your temples in frustration. “It’s just that my mother is probably ecstatic at the prospect of securing a match between me and Gojo.”

“But surely, if she knew the things he’s been saying behind your back, she would understand.”

You tried to open your mouth to respond, but it felt as if your throat had closed up. Would she really? A match with Gojo would mean elevated status for the Itadori family⸺a duchess for a daughter. What worth is there in being the diamond of the season if not to secure the most advantageous match? The very thought made your chest tighten with the suffocating realization that your mother might very well advocate for the union, despite Gojo’s duplicity.

“I⸺” you swallowed. “I’m not sure.” Before Nobara could interrupt, you stood up and reached for your robe. 

Nobara's brow furrowed as she watched you stand up. "Where do you think you're going? You’re not done with your bath, and your hair is still full of suds!" She reached out to stop you, her hands hovering as though unsure whether to pull you back into the tub or grab the robe you were now clutching.

You forced a small, tired smile, grateful for the distraction. “I need just a moment. The water's gone cold, anyway.”

“Oh, nonsense! You’ll catch a chill if you get out now. Sit back down,” Nobara insisted, her protest tinged with genuine concern. She placed a firm hand on your shoulder, guiding you back toward the warm water.

With a reluctant sigh, you allowed yourself to be coaxed back into the tub. The momentary reprieve from the conversation was a relief, and you welcomed Nobara’s determined focus on completing your bath. She picked up a sponge, her earlier frustration melting into concentration as she scrubbed your back.

“Well, we can discuss that scheming rake later,” she muttered, more to herself than to you. “For now, let’s get you properly cleaned up before your mother comes looking for you. She’d never forgive me if I let you appear anything less than perfect.”

You nodded with a lump in your throat, grateful for the change in topic, even if only temporary. The soothing rhythm of Nobara's hands working through your hair, the warmth of the bathwater, and the familiar, comforting routine helped ease the tightness in your chest. For now, the troubling thoughts of Gojo and your mother's ambitions could be set aside.

“Now, hold still,” Nobara said, her tone softening as she rinsed the last of the soap from your hair. “We’ll have you looking radiant again in no time.”

The conversation was left unfinished, hanging in the air like a question that neither of you was quite ready to answer. But for now, the silence was a welcome refuge.

"Do you have any notion of how impossible it is to charm a lady when there is a pup expelling such foul air right beneath your nose?" Satoru lamented, leaning back in his chair and raking a hand through his tousled hair. The trio gathered at the table presented a rather unusual sight: Satoru, visibly discomposed; Nanami, calmly sipping his drink as ever; and Suguru, nearly doubled over in laughter at his friend’s misfortune.

“Would you please⸺SMACK⸺cease your laughing?!” Satoru glared at Suguru, who seemed to be of no hope, now with tears in his eyes as he clutched his stomach and the back of his head, which Satoru had just hit. 

“Truly, your vanity⸺haaah⸺your vanity was in need of humbling,” Suguru managed between breaths, still snickering behind his palms. 

Satoru glowered, crossing his arms and staring daggers into his drink, as if his gaze alone could break the fine glass. “My pride had already suffered enough. She was positively frigid.”

Nanami hummed. “Perhaps she’s merely discerned your true nature.”

“It defies comprehension,” Gojo groaned, ignoring Kento’s statement. “What kind of lady disparages her own beauty as ‘simple’? I cannot fathom what has caused her such vexation. Only the night before, she was utterly taken with me!”

Suguru⸺who had now calmed down⸺was in the midst of wiping his tears when he suddenly stopped. “You don’t suppose it had anything to do with your careless words, do you?”

Kento eyed the pair in front of him with an accusatory side eye. “And what precisely did you say?”

 “Satoru, in his usual fashion, could not contain his tongue. Out on the terrace, with the garden as witness, he spoke rather unkindly, referring to the diamond as ‘simple and dull.’”

“Nonsense,” Satoru waved his hands, dismissing the idea. “The lady would never wander the gardens at such an hour in the night unchaperoned.”

“I suggest you reconsider.” Kento gave him a stern look and continued, “I happened upon her last night, emerging from the gardens, and she appeared rather disheveled.” 

This revelation gave Satoru pause, but if there was one thing certain about Satoru Gojo, it was this: his arrogance was such that he could scarcely fathom anyone, least of all a lady, finding his charm anything but irresistible⸺even if that very lady had overheard him uttering defamatory remarks about her. And this lady was one he could not let go of, unless he wanted to wave good-bye to his future.

“I am confident all will be well,” Gojo exhaled, his lips curving into a Cheshire smile. “Even if she did overhear, surely a few well-chosen sweet words will surely set matters right.”

(He was most grievously mistaken.)

“How many of those biscuits do you suppose we could finish?” Yuji was eyeing the biscuits from his seat next to you in the pavilion where you and your family were sitting. Out promenading with the other families of the ton, it was a scenic and beautiful day for you to mingle with even more suitors. The joy!

“Certainly less than me,” you remarked, sipping on your tea smugly. By the irritated pout on his face, you knew you were successful at getting a rise out of your younger brother. Knowing your mother wasn’t in sight, you quickly darted for the jam-filled biscuits, and your brother quickly followed in tow; soon, you were both stuffing your faces silly with the sugary treats.

“You two are incorrigible,” Choso scrunched his nose from where he sat across from you, arms crossed. “There’s no need to inhale those biscuits. What if someone sees?”

Yuji stuck out his tongue⸺now adorned with biscuit crumbs⸺and continued gorging, while you snickered at your younger brother’s pettiness.

“Miss Itadori.”

You began coughing wildly, caught off guard, and hastily straightened your posture to greet your guest. You turned to see Lord Ino, who offered you a slight nod before acknowledging your brothers. “Lord Itadori. Mister Itadori.”

“Lord Ino, nice to meet you on such a fine day.” You try to put a smile on your face as best as you can, even though you were caught off guard. “How do you find today’s weather?” 

Takuma grabs the back of your hand to kiss it. “I find it wonderful for the prospect of promenading. Do you care to do so with me?”

“Of course,” You stand up and link your elbows with Takuma’s.

“We’ll be thirty paces behind you, sister.” You both turned to look at Choso, who was giving Lord Ino his inevitable protective glare. Given Ino’s acceptable station, Choso hadn’t immediately protested, unlike the many suitors he had chased out of your manor the day before. He grabbed Yuji by the elbow, who, with cheeks comically inflated like a chipmunk hoarding acorns, was promptly dragged away. “Yuji, get up.” The last you saw of your brothers was Yuji’s futile protests, his mouth too full to be coherent⸺inevitably sending some crumbs flying onto Choso⸺and Choso swatting him for it.

As you began your walk with Lord Ino, the conversation naturally turned to the upcoming horse race. “Are you looking forward to the race this afternoon?” you asked, trying to keep the conversation light.

“I am,” the lord replied. “And you?”

“Very much so,” you said, a hint of excitement in your voice. “I have a feeling that the less popular horse⸺Blaze, was it?⸺might surprise everyone. The conditions seem just right for an underdog victory; the track is soft and warm, which would favor Blaze’s build.”

Lord Ino glanced at you with a polite but unconvinced smile. “But Thunder has higher odds and more bets. It’s as simple as that.”

You couldn’t help but bristle at the word “simple,” a word that had recently come to grate on your nerves. You pressed on, though, determined to keep the conversation pleasant. “I suppose there’s some truth to that, but sometimes there’s more to a race than just the odds and popularity.”

Ino chuckled softly. “Well, a good mentor and friend of mine⸺Duke Nanami⸺agrees with the odds, and His Grace is someone I deeply respect. I tend to follow his lead⸺the duke has a way of teaching lessons without hindering one’s growth.”

Before you could respond, the sound of a trumpet blared in the distance, signaling the start of the race. You looked at him, giving him a courteous nod, gesturing in the general direction Choso and Yuji were supposed to be in. “It seems the race is about to begin. I must rejoin my family.”

You curtsied as he bowed, and you watched as he walked away, leaving you momentarily alone. You took a deep breath, trying to dispel the lingering irritation from the conversation. Just as you began looking for your family, you felt a presence approaching.

You turned to find Lady Mei Mei and her entourage closing in. Their expressions were a study in artful contempt, laced with curiosity and barely concealed amusement. The atmosphere between you was thick with unspoken competition, each woman silently gauging the other’s position on the social ladder. 

“Miss Itadori, what a nice surprise!” Lady Mei Mei remarked, her tone dripping with false sweetness. “It appears you are alone and unchaperoned in a garden yet again! At least, according to what the rumors say. Was it part of yet another one of your charming ploys to get what you want?"

You met her gaze with cool composure, not giving her the satisfaction of a visible reaction. "I have no clue what you're talking about."

Lady Mei Mei tilted her head slightly, her eyes narrowing as if appraising a particularly interesting specimen. "Really?" she mused, drawing out the word as though savoring it. "It’s just that Lord Gojo hasn’t spoken with you all day. Even if Whistledown commended you in the last issue, I wouldn’t expect his interest to linger." The two ladies flanking her⸺unremarkable save for their sycophantic attachment to Mei Mei⸺giggled behind their fans, as though she had delivered a crushing blow.

You allowed yourself a small, almost imperceptible smile, one that didn’t reach your eyes. "So I’m assuming he called upon you?" you questioned sweetly, your voice laced with feigned politeness.

For a fleeting moment, Lady Mei Mei’s carefully curated composure slipped, the faintest flicker of irritation crossing her face before she regained control. She leaned in slightly, her voice lowering to a conspiratorial whisper meant for you alone. “None of the suitors will be interested in you any longer. The Queen may have mistakenly proclaimed you the diamond, but a pretty face, empty smiles, and hollow words can only last so long.”

“Whatever would be most convenient for you to believe.” Her words were empty and her threats dull, but you couldn’t help but let it compound on the irritation you had experienced today. But you knew better than to let your tongue loose; you were quite impulsive when you had started, and you didn’t want to start any scandal anytime soon. Instead, you held your ground, trying to maintain your composure (outwardly, at least) as Lady Mei Mei and her entourage turned to leave, their laughter echoing in your ears. 

You tried to implement a few things your tutor had ingrained in you: taking deep breaths and setting your posture correctly. However, as you stood there, collecting yourself, the last thing you needed seemed to manifest before you: Satoru Gojo.

His tall figure approached you with that familiar, self-assured stride, his eyes glinting with mischief. "Ah, Miss Itadori," he greeted, a sly smile playing on his lips. You were already irritated, and it took all your will-power to stifle a groan. 

"I couldn’t help but notice you were conversing with Lord Ino," he remarked casually.

Give him a smile. "Indeed, we were enjoying a promenade. It is, after all, what young ladies and their suitors are expected to do."

“Quite the choice in company!”

KEEP up the smile.  "He is a nobleman, and I am of noble descent. I fail to see your point, Mr. Gojo." 

Gojo’s smile was quick and cutting. “Oh, I’ve no particular quarrel with Lord Ino. It’s simply that he’s hardly the sort I’d expect to see on your arm. After all, he’s practically Nanami’s lapdog.”

You felt the familiar irritation rising within you⸺and you were fighting for your life trying to keep a smile on your face⸺but you kept your tone measured. "And what, pray tell, are you implying by that, Mr. Gojo?"

"It’s quite simple, really⸺" 

But your patience, already worn thin, snapped at that word.

"My good sir, do you not think it rather dishonorable to speak ill of others behind their backs?" Gojo began to respond, but you cut him off. "It’s curious how quickly opinions can change, is it not? Just the other evening, you seemed to hold me in rather low regard. Tell me, do you often dismiss people as ‘simple’ when they fail to meet any of the lofty expectations you have set? Or do you perhaps truly believe yourself to be at a station higher than others?"

Gojo stiffened, the smile slipping from his face as your words hit their mark. Before he could respond, Choso appeared at your side, his protective presence a welcome relief.

“Is there any problem, sister?” Choso asked, his tone polite yet firm as he glanced at Satoru, his eyes narrowing slightly.

Gojo’s gaze flicked to Choso, his irritation clear as he opened his mouth to make a cutting remark, and you couldn’t thank the gods enough for Choso’s mother hen tendencies. But the words faltered when he recognized who had interrupted. For a brief moment, surprise flashed in his eyes before he masked it with a tight-lipped smile.

You seized the moment, turning to Satoru with a sweet smile. “I think our time is up, Mister Gojo,” you said, your voice laced with venom.

Satoru hesitated for just a fraction of a second before nodding curtly, his expression unreadable. “Of course. Until next time, Miss Itadori.”

With that, he stepped back, allowing you and Choso to walk away toward where people were gathering for the race. As you moved through the crowd, you could feel Satoru’s gaze lingering on you, but you didn’t look back.

“That horse appears rather stout, does it not?” Yuji squinted against the blazing sun as he observed the horses from his seat beside you in the grandstand. “Why has it garnered so many bets?”

Choso, seated protectively on your other side, kept a steady arm linked with yours. His presence was reassuring, though your irritation was directed at the figure seated just below you. Satoru Gojo, to your endless chagrin, was sitting with Lady Mei Mei, who had all but forced her way into the seat beside him. Though he tried to appear indifferent, his signature flirty remarks flowing with ease, you noticed the subtle signs of irritation crossing his face. Whether it stemmed from Lady Mei Mei's advances or from your earlier exchange, you couldn't be sure. You refused to meet his gaze, though you could feel his eyes on you intermittently as the crowd waited for the race to begin.

“Men can be quite foolish at times,” you remarked hotly, your voice carrying just enough to be overheard. “Some people value the superficial and materialistic over true substance, much like they do with horses. Blaze, for instance, has the qualities that truly matter.”

You could almost feel Gojo’s gaze intensify, and despite yourself, you glanced in his direction. Lady Mei Mei, ever the actress, feigned a stumble, exclaiming with a coy smile, “These crowds are rather rough on a lady!”

You scoffed inwardly at her transparent attempt to press her bosom against Gojo’s arm.

“Oh my,” Gojo drawled, his voice oozing concern. “We can’t have that, can we?” Ever the gallant gentleman, he interlaced his arm with hers. “Here, for extra protection. I wouldn’t want a pretty lady shedding tears beside me.”

Mei Mei’s smirk was as satisfied as a serpent after a meal, and she batted her eyelashes coquettishly. “If I were to cry, would you console me?”

“Of course,” Gojo replied smoothly. “Though I might find myself crying should my horse lose. The bets I’ve placed are rather substantial.”

A flirtatious giggle escaped Mei Mei’s lips. “Then I shall cheer with all my might, so you needn’t suffer any losses, my lord.”

You were perilously close to tearing your hair out.

“I appreciate your enthusiasm, my lady,” Gojo said, taking her hand and kissing the back of it with exaggerated flourish. “But rest assured, I am quite confident of a victory today. Thunder is swift and cunning, far superior to that... other horse. It’s simple, really—Thunder will win.”

Your composure cracked. “Yuji,” you called, your voice sharp. Your brother, who had been lost in thought, snapped to attention. “Despite the other horse’s popularity, Blaze possesses the one quality universal to all champions: speed and diligence. The track conditions are in its favor.”

Yuji, caught off guard, blinked in confusion. “Yes, of course, sister,” he mumbled, clearly unsure of why you were addressing him.

“And anyone who thinks otherwise,” you continued, raising your voice slightly, “is bound to lose their money. Sorely and simply.”

Gojo matched your tone, his voice ringing out. “But of course, it’s all in good fun. There’s no need for hostility over a sport, is there? Both horses are fine contenders, though I remain convinced Thunder shall emerge victorious.”

Mei Mei tittered, parroting his sentiments, but you could hardly see straight for the anger coursing through you. Unable to hold back, you retorted, “However, it is, after all, still a race. And Blaze will win.”

By now, your exchange had drawn the attention of those around you, including your brothers. Choso and Yuji exchanged puzzled glances before Yuji asked weakly, “Are you still talking to us, sister?” Meanwhile, Choso’s protective instincts flared, his gaze darting suspiciously between you and Gojo.

Before you could reply, the horses lined up at the starting gate, and the crowd collectively rose to their feet, including Gojo. “Steady now, Thunder!” he called out, his voice brimming with confidence.

Not to be outdone, you shouted, “Come on, Blaze!”

The bell rang, and the horses surged forward, the crowd erupting in cheers. Blaze and Thunder quickly pulled ahead, the two horses locked in a fierce battle for the lead. Thunder was currently ahead, its sleek form cutting through the track with precision.

“Steady, Thunder! Keep the lead!” Gojo’s voice was full of excitement, urging his horse onward.

Your heart raced with frustration as Blaze lagged slightly behind. “You can do this, Blaze!” you urged, your voice rising above the din. Without thinking, you began whistling sharply, drawing alarmed looks from your brothers. The stares from the crowd meant nothing to you as you focused solely on the race.

Blaze, as if responding to your encouragement, began to accelerate, its powerful strides eating up the ground between it and Thunder. You noticed Thunder’s pace faltering, fatigue setting in, while Blaze surged ahead, pulling into the lead with a quarter of the race remaining.

Now it was Gojo’s turn to whistle, his voice tinged with desperation. “Straight to the finish line, Thunder! Don’t let up!”

But Blaze only widened the gap, its momentum carrying it farther ahead. You couldn’t contain your laughter, a joyous sound that bubbled up from within as Blaze crossed the finish line first, with Thunder trailing behind.

“Goddamn it,” Gojo cursed under his breath, his frustration palpable. You clapped your hands in delight, your laughter ringing out.

With deliberate grace, you placed your hands on your hips and turned to Gojo, flashing him a triumphant smile. “I’m so glad the ‘simple’ horse won,” you said, your voice dripping with satisfaction. “It seems I’ve finally bested a duke.”

Gojo’s blue eyes bore into you, their intensity searing, but you met his glare with a boisterous laugh, savoring the victory as the crowd’s cheers and claps echoed around you. Until it was only the two of you, staring each other down.

Gojo ⸺ 0, you ⸺ 1.

Now, Duchess Gojo had always had a penchant for gossip, no one escaping her eye and observation. Of course, it was now the Whistledown era, for the unknown author could observe far more than the high-profile duchess, who was the receiver of much praise and attention due to her son’s eligibility. But this eligibility had only been achieved because of her ability to direct the tide based on her reconnaissance, and in all her years, no could match her sass and direction. Except one. 

"You know, Lady Itadori," the Duchess remarked, her tone laced with feigned pensiveness, "the Gojo manor in the countryside has been dreadfully quiet, and, if I may say, it has been quite some time since we last enjoyed a proper tête-à-tête.”

The two ladies stood together near the stands, choosing a more secluded spot from which to observe the horse race. Lady Itadori, her closest confidante, met the Duchess’s gaze with a gleam in her eye. "Indeed, I must agree."

For a moment, the two women stood in silence, their eyes surveying the scene before them. From the ladies flirting shamelessly to the gentlemen scrambling for the favor of the season’s debutantes, they were like spectators at a grand circus. Yet, their attention was drawn to a particular act.

Raising her fan to her lips, Lady Itadori whispered conspiratorially to the Duchess, "I might add, my diamond has been spending a considerable amount of time in your son’s company."

The Duchess met her friend’s eyes and laughed lightly. "How many days do you wager it will take in the manor?"

Lady Itadori, now fully smirking, gave a delicate shrug. "It took you and the Duke but four days."

prev. the debutante | next. the manor

general masterlist | series masterlist

a/n: reader is hearing boss music rn

forced proximity whatttt

gojo when kuna ripped one in his face

comment, reblog, and send in an ask to let me know ur thots :3 memes are also appreciated <3

TAGLIST:

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@byhuenii @geniejunn @a-girl-with-thoughts @dazedin2d @chuuqxs

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@soobssedwithyourex @manyno @samkysnks @stefnarda @bbqsauceonmytitties2

[formulawolff]

"just one dance" - t.w.

pairing: horner's daughter!reader x toto wolff

word count: 1.9k

warnings: toto lusting after a woman thirty years younger than him (what's new on this blog lmfao), sexual references, maybe some cursing (idrk), mentions of drug use, alcohol use, flirting, banter, yadayadayada

a/n: i played "here" by alessia cara like 20x on repeat while writing this fic. so we could say that this fic is veryyyyy loosely inspired by that song. also! this was a request by an anon! i hope y'all enjoy! <3

"come on," the words as slurred as he rolls his eyes, "come dance with us!"

bringing your hand to your mouth, you stifle a giggle, "max, for the last time, i am not joining the horny middle school grind circle you guys have going on over there."

"it's not a grind circle," he puts his hands on his hips, "i would say it's more like a mosh pit."

which, given the occasion, was not quite appropriate either.

at the moment, you were perched at one of the many elegant banquet tables, the rigid surfaced draped with a thick, cream-colored tablecloth. adorning the table were numerous vases, filled to the brim with floral arrangements, their fragrance oh so sickeningly sweet.

the plates, utensils, and other various dining ware were now cleared, only leaving numerous wine glasses, their crystalline stems glimmering in the dim light, swathed by the golden hue of the chandeliers as they sparkle above.

this was the annual fia prize gala, one of the most coveted events of the season. it was the showcasing and peacocking of sheer and utter wealth, as the drivers got to pull up to in their luxury vehicles, their keys handed off to the valets. every individual was dressed head to toe in designer clothing from nearly every brand possible, from christian dior to saint laurent.

you lost track of the amount of rolex watches, cartier jewelry, and hermès bags you noticed throughout the course of the evening.

the main event wrapped up hours ago, leaving the rest of the night for the drivers, crew members, mechanics, engineers, executives, and team principals to mingle and dance. and well, consume copious amounts of alcohol.

and well, perhaps do a few lines in the restroom. or light a joint outside. maybe even pop a few pills.

with the exuberant amounts of cash involved with events like this, there were surely some illicit affairs. ones that the fia ignored, simply turning their heads.

if they didn't see it, it didn't happen.

after all, you were in monaco. it was like las vegas in a way.

what happened in monaco, stayed in monaco.

and here max verstappen was, three-time world champion, standing before you, so drunk he could barely walk, begging for you to come join him on the dance floor.

too bad your phone was almost dead.

this would have been a prime opportunity to record what was unfolding before you. it would have fed the max girlies all over instagram and tik tok for months.

glancing over max's shoulder, you pick out lando, oscar, charles, and carlos. they were apart of the large formation, jumping up and down, barreling into one another. alexandra, rebecca, and lily linger around the group, their gowns swishing as they laugh, their cheeks dusted with a bubblegum pink glow.

a drunken mosh pit with a bunch of sweaty men? no thank you.

but gossiping with the girls? that was more your speed.

"my dad would have a stroke if he caught me with you guys," you simply shrug, sipping on your wine, "and what if something happened to my dress? we have to return this, you know."

"ugh," the dutch driver groans, "you're no fun."

"hallo, max," a new voice cuts in, thick with an accent you can't quite place your finger on, "congratulations on your accomplishment this year!"

shifting in your chair is none other than torger christian wolff, better known as toto wolff, team prinicipal of mercedes.

your heart skips a beat as your eyes drink in the sight of him, the way his crisp tuxedo fit him effortlessly. his dark brunette hair was messy, more than likely from the events of the evening. his bowtie was untied, hanging loosely around his neck. the first few buttons of the snowy white dress shirt were undone, exposing his skin.

fuck, was he a gorgeous man.

with sharp cheekbones, a chiseled jawline, and wide, beautiful coffee brown eyes, he knew that he was attractive, his aura brimmed with nothing but sexiness and dominance.

his hands land on the chair beside you, pulling it out as max rambles, the words drowning out in your ears.

you were more focused on his stature as he sits to your right, his thighs spread in the chair, a hand running through his hair.

"is there a reason why i haven't seen you on the dance floor?"

due to the excessive volume of the music, his mouth hovers by your ear. a shiver runs down your spine as his eyes lock with yours, lips forming a radiant smile, flashing his perfect pearlescent teeth.

"cat got your tongue? or are you just as intoxicated as maxie boy over there?"

"neither," you counter, straightening in your chair, "just not really interested, that's all."

"did daddy not give his precious diamond any dance lessons growing up?"

your father was none other than christian horner, team principal of red bull racing, sworn enemy of toto wolff.

quickly, your eyes scan your surroundings, in an attempt to pick out your father among the throng of people. to your dismay, you cannot find him.

which, in this case, could be a good thing.

if he saw toto speaking to you? oh fuck. it would be game over. you'd probably be grounded at your big age of twenty-four years old. could parents even do that when you were an adult?

you didn't really want to find out.

yet, you couldn't turn down a few moments with the team principal.

after all, this was a once in a lifetime opportunity.

why not seize it?

for most of your life, you obeyed every single one of your father's wishes. you maintained your distance from the red bull drivers, careful not to get too close. you stayed out of the spotlight, ensuring that no negative publicity ever came his way. as much as you yearned to get to know members of the mercedes team or crew, you shied away, maintaining the promise that you would never befriend a rival.

so, for this one night, you could be a little selfish.

just this once.

even if it involved your father's biggest foe. the bane of his existence. the man he spoked about so bitterly for years on end.

"i was offered dance lessons, actually," your voice is melodic, like an angel's from the heavens above, "i turned them down. opted for horseback riding instead."

"so you know how to ride?" the team principal runs a tongue along his lower lip, his brow slightly raised, "well, i have an offer for you. one dance with me, and then later you can show me how well you can ride."

"and what am i going to be riding?" you inquire, folding your arms across your chest.

the corners of his lips curl into a devious smirk, an emotion glinting within the mocha depths as he leans in, "my cock."

heat flourishes into your cheeks, seeping all throughout your body. as your mind scrambles, struggling to formulate some sort of witty response, the team principal nods, "not expecting that, were you? i like seeing you like this, all flustered. it's cute."

"y-you're ridiculous," you manage to sputter out, hands instinctively shielding your face.

"not as ridiculous as any of those fools," his head motions towards the group of rambunctious drivers, "tell me, why aren't you with any of them? i'm sure maxie boy would love to take you on a date. lando too."

"just not interested," you shrug, regaining your confidence a tad, "don't get me wrong, they've asked. but i've always just turned them down."

toto cocks his head, his voice laced with a tease, "why? scared daddy is going to ground you for dating a driver?"

"i just rather wouldn't be involved with anyone of them romantically," you wave a hand, "it'd be too awkward if things didn't end up working out. could you imagine having to spend so much time at the paddock with someone who your dad could fire at any given moment? it'd be like walking on eggshells. i'd feel bad for any poor soul who wants to court me. they'd constantly be seeking my father's approval, on and off the track."

"well it's a good thing that i already know where i stand," toto shoots you a wink, your heart thudding against your rib-cage as he offers you his hand, "come on, just one dance. that's all i ask of you, gorgeous girl. one dance and then you can come right back over here, spending the rest of your night sulking in the corner."

"i haven't been sulking," you snort, accepting the gesture, "i've just been bored."

"how about you accept the other half of my offer then?" his accent is prominent, lingering in every word, "i've just been flirting, you don't really have to ride me. unless you know, you want to-"

"are you forgetting that we're in a very public space?" you hiss, elbow interlocked with his as you make your way to the dance floor, "people can probably hear you."

"good thing we're all drunk," he responds, the casual delivery sending you spiraling, "here, place your hand on my shoulder. i'll take this hand. the other will go on your waist."

as you follow his lead, you can't help but feel the pairs of eyes fixate on the two of you, murmurs rising above the music. yet, toto's focus is honed in on you, and only you.

"don't worry about them," he takes a step forward, your feet following in suit, "they're probably just envious that i'm with the most coveted woman in all of formula one."

"you don't mean that."

"oh schatzi," a chuckle rumbles in his chest, flowing from his lips, "do you not hear the things they say about you among the paddocks?"

"enlighten me then," your heart swells as his thumb tenderly kneads into your waist, fingers interlocking with yours.

his mouth is merely centimeters away from yours now, dimples apparent as his eyes glitter like the chandeliers above, "there's whispers that you are the most breathtaking woman in the world. the drivers talk about you all of the time, debating who would look the best by your side. you're a hot commodity. a prize to be won."

"people say those things about me?"

"would i ever lie to you?" toto arched a brow, "i have no reason to."

"that is true."

there's a twinge of resentment that bubbles up in your stomach as the song ends. oh how this moment ended too soon.

way too soon.

"still no sign of your father," toto's voice is hushed, barely audible over the music, "you think i could have you for just one more song? after that, i promise i'll leave you be."

"i think so," you feel a smile form the moment he pulls you in closer, the space between you crumbling away, "careful, mr. wolff. you need to maintain some sort of distance between us, remember?"

he shakes his head, fingers squeezing your waist, "right now, i could give any fucks what your father would think. he's lucky that i have some sort of self-control."

"and why is that?" you press, blood roaring in your ears as his head lowers, situated by your ear.

"because it is taking everything within me to keep myself from getting on my knees right this instant and lifting up that gown of yours."

[verstappensrealwife]

"Because he likes you!" - Lando Norris x Reader

angst, smut, fluff.

approx. 2800 words

warnings: slow burn?, sex, tiny hint of carlos sainz jr x reader, ofc sex. Reader “rewarding” Lando for winning!

lando norris masterlist - here. f1 masterlist - here.

From the earliest memories of childhood, Lando Norris was a constant presence—a thorn in your side, a tormentor, a source of frustration. He revelled in teasing, in taunting, in making your life just a little bit harder. Your parents' dismissive explanation, "It's because he likes you," grated against your nerves, a feeble attempt to rationalize the torment. You did not like Lando Norris. Not at all. Not even the littlest bit. Not at all.

But hate was a strong word.

In your teenage years, Lando's torment took on a different form. The physical assaults of hair pulling and tripping you onto your face may have ceased, but the verbal jabs and the mocking laughter persisted, carving deeper wounds into your already fragile heart. It was as if he revelled in your discomfort, delighting in every opportunity to belittle and humiliate you, all under the guise of adolescent affection—a twisted notion that your parents foolishly labelled as "liking you."

Your family received the coveted invitation to his Formula One debut in Australia—an event that filled you with a conflicting mix of emotions. The pits pulsed with an electric energy, a cacophony of roaring engines and frenetic activity, cameras capturing every moment of the spectacle.

AUSTRALIA, 2019 With the guest pass draped around your neck, you navigated the bustling pits, your younger brother trailing behind you, wide-eyed with excitement. His adoration for Lando bordered on obsession, his youthful enthusiasm a stark contrast to the simmering resentment that burned within you.

Blehh!

You finally located the Orange garage, the vibrant hue catching your eye amidst the bustling chaos of the pits. With determination in your step, you made your way over, anticipation building with each stride. But as you reached out to tap the shoulder of the figure clad in orange- he was not the man you thought he was.

"Lando— Oh, hi, not Lando,"

The man before you exuded an undeniable charm, his smile lighting up his features and drawing you in despite yourself. There was an aura of confidence about him, a magnetic presence that commanded attention and left you momentarily breathless.

"Hello," he replied, his voice smooth and warm, a hint of mischief dancing in his eyes. "I could be Lando for you," he flirted, his words tinged with playful intent.

"Would rather you not, he's not my type," you quipped.

But before you could dwell on the awkwardness of the moment, your younger brother, who had been tugging on your hand impatiently, finally spoke up, his excitement palpable. "HI CARLOS!"

Carlos.

"Hi, little man." He looked down- not even noticing the young boy when you approached. "Is he...?"

"Not mine! Brother." You cleared up.

He smiled softly before turning his attention back to entertaining the 5-year-old, leaving you to absorb Lando's sudden presence with a mixture of surprise and nonchalance.

"Didn't think my biggest hater would come," Lando remarked, his hand landing on your shoulder with a familiarity that made you bristle.

"I'm not here for you," you replied with a smile, gesturing towards Carlos who stood nearby, engrossed in conversation with your brother.

"Him? Why?" Lando's skepticism was palpable.

"Well, just look at him—those eyes, that accent, not to mention those muscles," you teased, unable to resist the opportunity to indulge in some light-hearted banter.

"Okay, okay, I'll stop you right there," Lando interjected, rolling his eyes in mock exasperation. "He's not that hot," he insisted, though his tone betrayed a hint of uncertainty.

You chuckled in response. "Oh, believe me, he is," you insisted, your gaze lingering on Carlos as he interacted with your brother. "I would," you added casually, shrugging off Lando's incredulity.

"You would?" Lando's brow furrowed with genuine curiosity. "What would you do?"

Ignoring his question, you watched as your brother returned, proudly displaying Carlos' autograph adorning his shirt. "Bye, Carlos," you called out, offering a warm smile and a nearly imperceptible lip bite, to which Carlos responded in kind. Then, without sparing Lando another glance, you turned and walked away, leaving his unanswered question hanging in the air.

"WHAT WOULD YOU DO?!" his voice echoed after you, but you were already lost in the crowd, your thoughts drifting back to the captivating Spaniard you had just left behind.

After the race, as Lando jogged over to his and your families, the tension from the race began to dissipate, replaced by a mix of relief and begrudging acknowledgment. You couldn't deny his skill on the track, but that didn't mean you had to like him.

When he approached, surrounded by congratulations and well-wishes, you offered a lukewarm response, the bare minimum required to acknowledge his achievement. "Well, I mean I'm glad you didn't die?" you quipped, injecting just enough sarcasm to deflect any further attention.

Lando nodded in your direction, his own smile tempered by your evident lack of enthusiasm. You responded with a tight-lipped smile of your own, a silent reminder that while you might share the same space, any camaraderie between you remained strictly superficial.

SILVERSTONE, 2019

As Lando finished the race at Silverstone, notching an 11th place, you couldn't resist a playful jab at his performance. "Maybe one day you can get points!" you teased, your tone dripping with faux enthusiasm.

Lando's comeback was quick, his words laced with sarcasm, "Maybe one day you can stop being such a virgin." You burst into laughter, thoroughly amused by his attempt at banter, though he seemed puzzled by your reaction. His confusion only deepened when he followed your gaze to Carlos, who was nearby.

"Oh my god! Him?" Lando exclaimed, catching on to your playful insinuation.

Lando's playful challenge caught you off guard, his smirk daring you to match his boldness. "So if I DNF, you'll sleep with me?!" he quipped, his tone teasing but tinged with a hint of curiosity.

You couldn't help but roll your eyes, suppressing a laugh at his audacity. "Pfft! You do that plenty! Win first maybe?" you retorted, firing back with equal parts sass and amusement. The banter between you continued, each remark a playful exchange that danced on the line between rivalry and camaraderie, reminding you both that despite any differences, there was still room for light-hearted teasing and mutual respect.

But you still didn't like him.

MIAMI, 2024

What a mistake! Because here you were, in the Miami heat, watching Lando beat Max by 5 seconds.

Honestly, you had forgotten that deal long ago.

Lando had not. He had thought about it at every close call of winning, every podium, every late night...

You were scared for him, you didn't like him- you just didn't want to see him fail... You don't like him...

When he passed the finish line he was shouting into his radio, thanking alot of people before you heard your own name.

"...and Y/N, I hope you remember Silverstone 2019!"

People looked at you for answers but you had none.

Until he got out the car, sweaty, tired, hot– warm! Because of the heat...You didn't think he was hot.

That was when you had the answer.

Gosh... Long day ahead.

As he practically flew out of the car, his eagerness palpable, he landed amidst a bustling crowd, his body unexpectedly colliding with yours. The force of the impact nearly sent you stumbling, but before you could fully register what had happened, his arms encircled you in a tight embrace. In that moment, amidst the chaos of the surroundings, there was a brief interlude of serenity as you found solace in his warmth.

But the tranquillity was short-lived. His whispered words shattered the fragile bubble of peace, leaving you reeling in disbelief. "Gonna fuck you so good tonight," he murmured, the unexpectedness of his crude remark contrasting sharply with the tender embrace moments before.

A mixture of emotions surged within you, a turbulent storm of confusion, disgust, and an unsettling flicker of attraction. It was a disorienting mixture, leaving you struggling to make sense of the conflicting feelings swirling within.

When he finally released you, his touch lingered, his hands reluctant to part from your waist. His gaze held yours for a fleeting moment, a silent exchange of unspoken words passing between you, before he abruptly moved on to greet the next person in the crowd. Left standing there, you couldn't shake the lingering sense of unease that had settled over you like a heavy fog.

Hours later, as you walked briskly towards the hotel, he trailed behind you, his presence an unsettling reminder of the encounter earlier. Unsure whether to match your pace or maintain a discreet distance, he hovered awkwardly, his uncertainty palpable in the air between you.

"This feels creepy, Lando," you remarked, casting a sidelong glance at him. "Just catch up with me; you look like a stalker."

"It's not creepy!" he protested, his cheeks flushing crimson with embarrassment. "We're heading to the same room... for the same... things."

You raised an eyebrow, amusement flickering in your eyes. "Things," you echoed with a wry chuckle. "You can say sex, Lando."

His blush deepened, a sheepish grin tugging at the corners of his lips. "Sex... with you. Wow."

"I... I thought the crush I had on you since I was, like, born, was pretty obvious," he confessed, his hand gently resting on the small of your back, a tentative gesture of intimacy.

The admission hung heavy in the air, an unspoken confession of long-held desires and hidden emotions. Caught off guard, you stumbled over your words, struggling to process the revelation.

You halted in your tracks, the weight of his words sinking in. "Huh."

"Yeah..." he murmured, his gaze softening as he met your eyes. "Well, Repunzel was right—mothers do know best."

A bittersweet smile tugged at your lips as you resumed walking, his hand still lingering at your back. "It wasn't Repunzel; it was Mother Gothel," you corrected, a playful glint in your eyes. "And yeah—I'm a Repunzel fan, so what?"

His laughter echoed in the night air, a shared moment of levity amidst the weight of the conversation. "Shut up," he teased, gently nudging you as you walked side by side.

"Make me," you shot back, a playful challenge laced with a hint of something deeper—an unspoken invitation to explore the tangled emotions that lingered between you.

His laughter danced in the night air, a melody that seemed to weave around the unspoken tension between you. As his gaze met yours, there was a flicker of something more profound, a silent invitation lingering in the air.

A playful grin tugged at his lips as he leaned in closer, the warmth of his breath sending a shiver down your spine. "Challenge accepted," he murmured, his voice low and husky with anticipation.

In that moment, the world seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of you suspended in a timeless embrace. His fingers traced a delicate path along your jawline, igniting a trail of sparks that seemed to dance beneath your skin.

With a gentle tug, he drew you closer, his lips brushing against yours in a tender caress. It was a delicate dance of longing and desire, a silent symphony of unspoken emotions finally finding their voice in the touch of his lips against yours.

As the kiss deepened, the world around you melted away, leaving only the sensation of his arms wrapped around you, pulling you closer with each passing moment. In that fleeting instant, there was no room for doubt or hesitation, only the overwhelming rush of love and longing that seemed to bind your souls together as one.

And as you finally pulled away, breathless and exhilarated, there was a silent understanding that lingered between you— upstairs. Now.

The kiss continued unabated, an unrelenting torrent of passion that seemed to consume every ounce of your being. With each step towards his room, his touch ignited a fire within you, sending waves of desire coursing through your veins.

In the confined space of the elevator, his hands roamed freely, exploring every curve and contour of your body with an insatiable hunger. The air crackled with electricity as his touch lingered on the curve of your ass, his fingers tracing patterns of longing and desire against your skin.

The journey to his room was a blur of messy kisses and frantic touches, the urgency of his desire palpable in every brush of his lips against yours. His cock strained against the confines of his jeans, a silent plea for release that echoed the longing pulsing through your veins.

As he fumbled with the keycard, his impatience was palpable, his focus solely on the tantalizing promise of what awaited behind closed doors. The moment the door swung open, you were both consumed by a primal need that eclipsed all rational thought.

With a forceful push, you tumbled onto the bed, the weight of his body pressing against yours as the door slammed shut behind you. In that moment, there was no room for hesitation or restraint, only the raw intensity of two souls drawn together in a frenzied embrace.

–

"Was that Lando?" George asked, with popcorn and a bottle of water in his hands, looking over at Alex who held the same.

"What the fuck-"

–

His movements were urgent, desperate, as he sought to satisfy the burning desire that raged within him. He had barely been able to put the condom on with how shaky his hands were.

With each thrust of his hips, there was a raw intensity that bordered on reckless abandon, the rhythm erratic and frenzied. The sound of skin against skin filled the air, punctuated by the rhythm of your ragged breaths and the soft, breathy moans that escaped his lips.

His forehead was damp with sweat, pressed against yours with an almost possessive fervor. The heat of his breath mingled with yours, creating a heady cocktail of desire that hung thick in the air between you.

Every touch was electric, sending shockwaves of pleasure coursing through your veins. His hands roamed your body with a fevered urgency, leaving a trail of fire in their wake as he traced every curve and contour with a hunger that bordered on obsession.

In that moment, there was no room for restraint or inhibition, only the primal need to be one with you, to lose himself entirely in the depths of your passion. And as he surrendered to the intoxicating frenzy of desire, he found himself consumed by a blissful oblivion, lost in the heady rush of ecstasy that washed over him like a tidal wave.

You were a mess, a writhing wreck, unable to keep still as he pushed his entire cock into you. In and out, hitting the perfect spot every time. Each thrust earning another lewd moan from you. He was so proud he could make you feel so so good. But he couldn't keep going any longer after you came on his cock, the feeling making him so overwhelmed he couldn't keep it together as he came.

Not able to keep himself up anymore, he fell ontop of you.

"Ouch!" You giggle as he rolled off, beside you. You lay there, breathless and trembling, your body still pulsating with the aftershocks of pleasure as he collapsed beside you. His weight pressed against your side, a comforting presence amidst the disarray of tangled sheets and scattered clothing.

"So, how was that..." he ventured, his voice barely above a whisper, laced with a hint of uncertainty.

You turned to him, a playful smirk dancing on your lips as you met his gaze. "Surprisingly good," you admitted, a playful glint in your eyes.

"Surprising?!" he exclaimed, his brows furrowing in mock offense. "What, do I not seem like I'd be good?"

You couldn't help but laugh at his incredulous expression, reaching out to playfully tousle his hair. "Oh, you were good," you assured him, your voice laced with affection. "More than good, actually."

His lips curved into a satisfied smile, a sense of pride flickering in his eyes. "Well, I aim to please," he quipped, his tone light and playful. "Does this mean you'll go on a real date with me?"

"Maybe win again and we'll see!" You joked, making him playfully smack your leg. "Joking.. I suppose I can," You shrug.

"You won't regret it, I promise," he vowed, his tone earnest and sincere.

<>

He led you to a charming café nestled in the heart of Miami a few days later, the bustling streets alive with the vibrant energy of the city. As you settled into a cozy corner booth, the aroma of freshly brewed coffee mingled with the tantalizing scent of pastries, creating a welcoming ambiance that enveloped you in its warmth.

"So, you and Carlos..." he began, a playful smirk dancing on his lips as he leaned in closer.

Your brow furrowed in confusion at the sudden topic of conversation. "What about him?" you questioned, the curiosity evident in your voice. "If it's about 2019, we didn't actually do anything," you clarified with a casual shrug. "Did go on a few dates though, but he met another girl he liked," you added, your tone nonchalant and unaffected.

The playful smirk on his lips faltered slightly, replaced by a look of genuine surprise. "You didn't even— You didn't even sleep with him," he whispered, his voice carrying a hint of disbelief that drew the attention of a few nearby patrons.

Your smile remained unwavering as you shook your head. "Nope," you confirmed.

"I guess its because 'I liked you' or whatever..."

Okay so maybe you did like Lando Norris... Just a little- maybe a lot.

[withahappyrefrain]

Somebody to Love

Summary: Attending a cookout hosted by Penny seemed like the perfect way to kickstart summer. Meeting and falling in love there wasn't on yours or Bradley's bingo list.

Warnings: Language, Bradley being a loverboy, female reader

For @roosterforme's Rocktober event! I'm so sorry it took so long and hope you enjoy it!

The first time you saw Bradley was at the Hard Deck.  

He completely missed you, as much as it pains him to admit. 

In his defense, his eyes were on the ivory keys of the piano, only looking up briefly to revel in the cheers from guests of the Hard Deck as he played. 

You, in his defense, were just trying to get in and out. Considering it was barely seven, you thought you were coming in before things got rowdy.

You were mistaken. 

The show he was putting on was nice to watch while you waited for Penny to be free. But that's all it was, a show. And after a while, you couldn't help but scoff. Was being in the Navy not enough attention? 

The smile on Penny's face when her eyes met yours was worth the wait. You pulled out the coveted book from your bag, raising it in the air as if it were the golden ticket. 

"Amelia is going to be so excited," Penny beamed as she took the book from you, "She's been talking about it for weeks!"

The mention of your former student brought a smile to your face. 

Amelia was a student during your first year of teaching. You felt a kinship to the young girl, whose parents were going through a divorce at the time. You also saw that her love of reading was untapped, blocked by years of past teachers failing to help her learn how to read. 

So you worked with her the whole year, and the summer after that, helping the girl catch up. One summer, Penny offered a bartender job when she heard you were looking for extra money. Over time, the Benjamin women had become more like family than your own. 

It's why you stayed in touch. Why you took on extra shifts occasionally during the school year, when Penny truly needed help at the last minute. Why you made the trip out to the Hard Deck simply to give a book. 

"Stay for a drink? It's on the house," Penny held up an empty glass, hoping the way it gleamed in the light could entice you into staying. 

But you looked around, taking in how many people were there, how loud it was. How the man wearing aviators and a Hawaiian shirt was feeding the crowd with the piano rendition of a song that sounded familiar. 

And simply shook your head. 

"Should get going, it is a school night." The truth was, you'd rather be at home, in your bed reading than staying out late with a bunch of pilots. 

Before you could say goodbye, Penny placed a hand on yours.

"Before you go Birdie, I wanted to let you know that we're celebrating Amelia's middle school graduation two weeks from Saturday. We'd love to have you there." 

You smiled, sincerely flattered that they would want you present for such an event, "I'd love to. Will your man of the hour be there?" 

A giggle escaped from you when you saw Penny's cheeks begin to turn pink. 

Bradley swears if he had looked over at that moment, he wouldn't have let you leave the Hard Deck that night. 

—------------------------

Bradley Bradshaw was not anti-romance, despite what his friends claimed, despite the numerous times he's turned down someone wanting to set him up. 

The idea of romance did appeal to him. The idea of spending the rest of his life with one person, who loved him and wanted to grow a family with him, was very appealing in theory. 

He wasn't against it at all. Just cautious. 

Cautious as he witnessed first hand how dangerous his job was, how it tore families apart. Hesitant because he grew up with the aftermath- the support groups, the sympathetic looks, the empty dining chair that served as a loud, always present reminder of what he and his mother had lost. 

He had been on dates, had been in relationships. They never went anywhere and Bradley was fine with that. The possibility that he may not come back from his deployments lingered in his mind, as did the image of someone receiving a flag and maybe his dog tags. 

Why put someone through that? 

“It's hard, but I wouldn't change a thing about it. You'll understand when it happens to you.” 

His mother’s words rang in his ears. He knew she meant well. Bradley knew those words were true for her. 

But he couldn't see them being true for himself. 

So he came to Amelia’s graduation party with a vegetable tray and no date, despite Penny’s insistence that he could bring someone. 

It's why Bradley walked straight past the kitchen, ignoring the unfamiliar voices. It's why he kept to the people he knew, rather than mingle with strangers. 

And that was fine, enjoyable even. Things were going the way they always went, the way Bradley wanted it. 

Consistent. 

Bradley Bradshaw lived for consistency. Each morning, he'd get up and go to work. Work hard until his bones ache. Spend time with friends and the makeshift family he had found. Go to bed alone. Rinse and repeat. 

Consistent. 

Everything was just fine, until Bradley felt a hand grip his shoulder. When he turned around, he found Jake and his fiancé, Danica (or Venus, as everyone called her), looking at him. 

“Your future wife is in the kitchen. Get in there.” 

—-------------------------------

Bob saw her first. 

It was hard to miss the sound of classic rock blaring from her red Subaru. 

The sounds of eighties rock was a nice change from the Jerry Lewis and Sinatra music Bradley insisted on playing. 

Even nicer was her voice. Sweet, smooth, light. 

She was clearly in her own world, unaware she had an audience. 

Nor would she. Bob knew better than anyone the pains of people walking in on him. So he quietly got out of his car, leaving her to finish the song by herself. 

Reuben was the first one to speak to her. 

Or rather, his daughter was. 

Ava, always determined to explore, ran into the kitchen as soon as he set her on the ground. 

It was easy to find her. Despite being only two, Ava had quite the voice on her. 

Given her shouts about cookies, Reuben wasn’t surprised when he found his daughter in the kitchen, pointing excitedly to a plate of sugar cookies. 

He was a little surprised to see that the person kneeling down to talk to her wasn’t Penny, but rather a woman he had never seen before. 

“Is it okay if I give her a cookie?” She asked, motioning to the sugar cookie she was holding in her hand. 

“As long as you're able to cut her off after two,” Reuben chuckled, “I'm warning you now, she can be hard to convince.” 

You smiled, the corners of your eyes crinkling, the bridge of your nose scrunching up as you looked at Ava, “It'll be tough, but I think I can manage.” 

Javy was the first one to try to include her in the picnic festivities. 

“Hey, don't tell them this is what we’re calling them, but we’re playing beer pong against the old timers in the basement. You in?” He asked. 

“Oh I'm good, but don't worry, your secret is safe with me,” She said with a gentle smile and a wink. 

It was the fact that she sounded assured, content to stay in the kitchen and continue making small talk with some of the wives, away from the hubbub of the picnic, that made him not push. 

Natasha was the first one to have an actual conversation with her. 

In a sea full of testosterone, it was  hard not to notice another woman. Especially one who looked around her age. 

“So how do you know Penny?” You looked rather surprised by Nat’s question, surprised that another person had noticed you in the kitchen and decided to converse.

“Oh, I'm, well, I was Amelia’s third grade teacher. I tutored her for a couple of summers and have helped Penny bartend when she needs extra help,” you explained. 

Natasha recalls Penny mentioning you a few times, now able to put a face to the name. 

“So you're the teacher! Penny said we might see you at the Hard Deck this summer,” Nat grinned, hoping it would help her feel more at ease. 

“I am! I'm still figuring out how exactly I want to spend my summer. First time I won't be doing summer school or tutoring,” you explained, continuing to wash the dishes that had begun to pile up on the counter. 

“Any travel plans? Or family you plan to visit?” Nat asked. 

You shook your head, eyes appearing dismal for a brief moment, “I don't have much family to visit. But I have been meaning to explore the area more, so I might do that.” 

Natasha knew not to press. You didn't owe her any further explanation. 

But out of all people, Jake Seresin was the one to make the connection. 

“I’m sorry, but what did Penny just call you?” He asked, jamming a finger up his ear to clean it out, convinced he heard it wrong. 

“Oh, Birdie!” you explained, flustered, “It’s um….it’s always been a nickname that friends and family have called me, ever since I was a kid. When I told Penny, she started calling me that too.”

Jake recalls the other details he's learned; a love of classic rock, vintage clothes and children, how your face lit up when someone spoke to you, as though you had  been waiting an awfully long time to be noticed, to be acknowledged. 

Your nickname. 

It hits Jake like a fucking freight train. 

“Excuse me, I have to go uh, um, find my wife,” he said abruptly, practically running out of the kitchen. 

Jake quickly found his Venus, tapping her on the shoulder as he ignored the death glare Phoenix was giving him for interrupting. 

“What is-” 

“Birdie. Her nickname is Birdie.” 

Danica’s amber-glazed eyes widened as she shot Natasha a knowing look. 

“Where is she?” 

Which is how Bradley Bradshaw found himself being dragged away from the grill and into Penny's house. 

After all, Bradley didn't have too much common sense. He would insist he was alright, despite losing his beat as he watched his close friends fall in love and get married. 

So they were just helping, helping him find somebody to love. 

“Y'all are being ridiculous, just because she likes the same music-” 

“It's more than that. You just need to see for yourself,” Jake explained, pushing him towards the kitchen. Inside, a sweet voice was talking.

“Peekaboo! I see you!” He could hear a big smile through your voice, “Now it's Ava’s turn!” 

Bradley turned the corner to find you sitting cross legged on the kitchen floor, enabling you to be somewhat closer to eye level with Ava. You and the little toddler were both full of giggles as you continued your game. 

Ava’s small hands flew up to her face, covering her eyes. It was an adorable sight, how she was trying to say the words. A bright smile adorned your face, eyes shining as you played with her. 

“Where did Ava go?” You asked, pretending to look, “There she is!”

A warmth flooded Bradley’s heart as he watched this mysterious woman interact with Ava. It felt familiar,childhood memories of his mom flooding back. But this time, instead of feeling sorrow, a pleasantness surrounded him. 

Strange. 

Ava babbled, causing you to giggle once more. 

“My name is Birdie. Can you say Birdie?”

Oh. 

So that was why everyone thought this was his future wife. 

It was a cute coincidence, nothing more. Yes, it was beyond endearing to watch you interact with Ava, you were obviously great with kids. 

“Roo!” Ava’s coos of her special nickname for Bradley broke him out of his thoughts. 

“What's a Roo?” You asked, your eyebrows knitted together in confusion. The puzzled look on your face was adorable. 

“That would be me. Hey Ava girl,” Bradley kneeled down, his arms open wide, allowing Ava to run over and hug him. 

You instantly recognized him thanks to the memorable mustache. But his smile and eyes were much softer now. His whole demeanor is less cocky and more approachable in Penny’s kitchen. 

Bradley scooped the young toddler into his arms, grinning as Ava giggled. 

“You being good? Trying to persuade people to give you more cookies by being adorable?” Bradley asked the toddler. 

“I'm holding out strong. Don't want her dad to hate me for giving her a sugar rush,” You explained, a soft smile on your face as you watched him interact with Ava. 

“See, the key is to make sure the sugar rush happens when he takes her home,” Bradley grinned, “That way he can't do anything about it.” 

“I'm sure he can ask around regarding who gave her all that sugar though,” you retorted, facing the sink again to continue the dishes. 

“See, that's where you have the advantage; you're not in the group chat,” Bradley balanced Ava on a hip, walking over to the sink to join you. 

You were fun to talk to; able to hold your own with a soft, yet slightly mischievous smile adorning your face. 

“I'm Bradley,” he explained, the spirit of his mother probably screaming that it took him this long to introduce himself. 

“I take that's your actual name, considering that's way too normal to be your callsign,” normally you wouldn't tease a complete stranger like this. But he was easy to talk to and it helped that he was holding an adorable baby like a complete natural. 

“It is. My callsign is Rooster.” The information caused your hands to still. 

“Rooster?” It was too wild to be a coincidence. 

“Yeah, when I was part of my first squadron, I was always the first one to be up. But I also had a tendency to be well, louder than what they would have preferred, which is how I got my callsign Rooster.” Bradley smiled as he recalled the loud complaints of his squadron, which always seemed to die down once they learned he was making breakfast. 

“I, love that. Sorry, I, it's funny your callsign is that. Because it's like a nickname right? My nickname is Birdie,” your speech quickened as you realized you were rambling, “I know that nicknames aren't the same as callsigns. Well, in a way they are, they're both given to you for a reason, right? It's just funny how our nicknames are both-” 

“Excuse me?” You looked up to see your savior came in the form of a bespectacled man who was standing by the door. 

“I was threat-I mean, told by Danica and Phoenix that I needed to get Ava,” The man said, walking over to Bradley. 

“Bo!” Ava exclaimed, reaching for the man. 

“Sure thing Bob,” Bradley said, hanging over the toddler to his friend, unable to stop himself from rolling his eyes at his friends’ schemes. 

“C'mon Ava, let's leave the two soon to be lovebirds alone,” Bob whispered, out of the room before Bradley could say anything.

“Did he just… “

Bradley sighed, “Gotta watch out for that one. He's quiet but can be cheeky when he wants to be.” 

“As opposed to the others, who are just outright cheeky?” You asked. 

Bradley chuckled, “You're catching on. Here, I can dry while you wash?” 

He could be spending time with his squadron. Could be spending time joking with Mav’s old squad, making jokes and talking about the past that he was too young to remember. Could be anywhere but here in the kitchen, helping you do dishes. 

And yet, he didn't mind it at all. Bradley was finding himself enjoying his conversation with you, despite knowing it would earn him several eye rolls and shoulder shoves from Danica and Jake. 

You were surprised he was still here, that he hadn't found an excuse to leave. 

It was a nice change. 

“So you're the teacher Penny talks about?” 

You laughed, “Is that who I'm known as? You're like the third person to ask me that.” 

“Just shows how big of an impact you had.” Your cheeks warmed at the praise. 

“You know, you just try your best. Make sure to listen. Helps that I'm also a child of divorce, you know? Had a lot of pointers,”  you shrugged, but it was clear you were downplaying your efforts. 

“Have you always wanted to be a teacher?” Bradley asked, wanting to keep the conversation going, despite the dishes being done. 

You took your hands out of your pockets, fidgeting with the hem of your dress. Your shoulders shrug as a small smile spreads across your lips. 

“Yeah. I love helping folks, especially kids. I was a camp counselor all throughout high school and I just….felt at home when I was helping other people,” you explained. 

You leaned forward, the scent of jasmine flooding Bradley’s nostrils. 

“It makes sense that I became a teacher. But if you asked me as a kid what I wanted to do as a grown up, I wouldn't have said teaching.” 

Bradley leaned forward. With the sunlight hitting him, you could now see the lighter shades of brown that adorned his curls. 

“A mom. I’ve always wanted to be a mom.” 

“You'll understand when it happens to you.” 

Oh. Okay. 

That's when Bradley Bradley finally gets it. Because he's imagining life with you; moving in together, getting married, having kids. The risk is still there. But he'd rather live with that risk and you than not at all. 

“I know that's silly, but it's true. I mean, it's not even an occupation-” 

“I said I wanted to be a dad when I grew up.” 

Your eyes light up at his admission, feeling at ease and less like a rambling burden. 

“You must have had a really great Dad then.” There was a flash of sorrow in his eyes at the mention of his father. 

“From what I remember. I was only four when he died, but….from what I remember, he was great,” his voice was softer now, his eyes showing he was in another place. 

You inched closer to him, “I'm really sorry, I'm sure that was hard for you and your mom.” 

“It wasn't easy. But she always said she wouldn't change anything. Never really understood that until recently.” His shoulder is touching yours, his long fingers inches away from your thighs. You were hyper aware of the closeness, unsure if moving away would be proper or offensive. 

“Something helped you have that revelation?” 

“Moreso someone.” 

It's impossible to not notice the way his stare lingers on you, how his smile is warm and those whisky eyes are shining bright as he sends a wink your way. It makes your heart flutter; no one has ever looked at you that way before. 

Nerves begin to overtake your brain, causing you to look away from his intense gaze. 

“Should we um, get back to the picnic?” You all but mumbled. There's no desire to leave him, but you don't want to get your hopes up. 

“Can I at least get your number before we do that?” Bradley asks, eagerly getting out his phone. 

Bradley Bradshaw hates accidents, except for the one that led him to this kitchen, to you. 

His forwardness is uncharted territory. There's no wondering or second guessing; Bradley wants to stay in touch, wants to keep talking to you. 

It's nice. It's unfamiliar. It's exciting. It's sending your doubts and anxiety into a tailspin. 

Your fingers fumble for your phone, opening up a new contact for him to fill out. His fingers brush against yours when he hands you his phone, little sparks flying up your spine. 

Bradley simply smiles when your eyes look at the screen of his phone. Your brows knit together in confusion, the bridge of your nose scrunching up as you read over the words again and again, eyes surely playing tricks on you. 

“Um, I think you made a mistake Bradley?” you hold up his phone, “The name for this  contact is Mrs. Bradshaw?” It also has a heart emoji next to it, but that wasn't worth mentioning. 

“Oh, it's no mistake,” Bradley grins. 

The only sound you can let out is a confused huh. 

“You just gotta put your number right there, and then you're all set.” Bradley points to it, an assured smile remaining on his face. 

“Are you….are you going to change the name?” You asked, dumbfounded. 

Bradley shrugs, “Nah. I'll know it's you. But I can put the word ‘future’ in parentheses if you want it to be more accurate.” 

Your fingers have a mind of their own, typing in those desired ten numbers. Bradley takes his phone from your hands but not before placing a gentle kiss on your burning cheek. 

His lips feel soft, the hairs of his mustache gently tickling your skin. When you turn your head, your lips are now inches away from yours. 

You try to ground yourself, try to look away from his lips, try to ignore the warm, fuzzy feeling that's overtaking your body. 

“Sorry Birdie, but I'm old fashioned. First kiss shouldn't be until the first date,” He winks. 

What floors you more, his confidence or his bold desire for you? 

Raising an eyebrow, you ask, “And when will that be?” 

Bradley chuckles, “Whenever you want Birdie.” 

He can't be serious. But what would he gain from leading you on, other than Penny’s wrath? 

You straighten your shoulders, trying to hold your own against his large frame.

“Tomorrow at six,” You muster up all the confidence you can, preparing yourself for him to drop the act. 

“Done. Do you prefer Italian or French?” 

“Neither as I'm lactose intolerant.” This was it. Was he going to stop the act, once he knew it would require more effort. 

“How do you feel about Thai? I know a great spot. Never been but it's been praised by Jake and Danica and let me tell you, that woman does not give out praise easily.” 

You giggled, “I could tell. By the way, is there a reason he calls her Venus?” 

“Short version; he's obsessed with her. Been that way since they met in the parking lot of a coffee shop. You should ask them how they met; they give different answers and it's hilarious,” Bradley explains, a gleam in his eyes as he thinks about one of his favorite couples. 

“I'd like that. But if you go with me,” you asked, “Kinda random to just walk up to a couple you don't know and ask how they met.” 

Again, you expect Bradley to falter. He's clearly more outgoing than you, so why would he want someone whose first instinct wasn't to strike up a conversation with strangers? 

“I will, but only if you confirm we’re on for Thai tomorrow at six.” 

Surely, he couldn't be serious. But that sweet smile and shining brown eyes said otherwise. 

“You really gonna take me out?” you crossed your arms over your chest. 

“Of course! I mean, I'm more than happy to take you out tonight, but you said tomorrow, so I'm sticking to it. Plus, it gives me time to get you flowers. Speaking of which, what are your favorite? You seem like a sunflower gal,” his eyes reminded you of an eager puppy, absolutely endearingly adorable. 

“What makes you think that?” He was absolutely right, but you wouldn't let him know that yet. 

Bradley shrugged, “When you smile, it reminds me of sunshine. Also, if it want to get technical, birds also like sunflower seeds.” 

You couldn't help but throw your head back and laugh. Your laugh was sweet, bursting with joy. It calmed down Bradley’s racing heartbeat. 

 “And what should I get you, Rooster? Corn meal?”

His corniness almost made you forget that he literally compared you to the sun. 

Almost. 

His laugh was deep, bellowing deep from his stomach, making you feel warm all over. 

“You kill me Mrs. Bradshaw, now let's go get you that story,” He gently takes your hand into his, entwining his fingers with yours. 

The nickname makes you less confused and more certain Bradley would be sticking around.

[amirasainz]

omgg!! could you write baby!sainz going to the met gala and the grid watching the livestream of her walking the carpet 🤍

Omg, I love this story. I'm a huge fan of the Met Gala and Vogue. I hope you enjoy reading and don't forget to send some requests. -XoXo

The Met Gala

Amira’s excitement was palpable. The Met Gala—an event she had always dreamed of attending—was finally within her grasp. As a child, she would secretly stay up late with her Abuela to watch the glamorous affair, hidden from her parents’ knowledge.

When the coveted invitation arrived, Amira couldn’t contain herself. She let out a joyous scream, prompting Carlos Sr. and Jr. to rush upstairs in alarm. “Mijha, what happened?” her father asked frantically. “Papá, Papá! Look! I got invited to the Met Gala!” she exclaimed, her happiness overflowing.

Carlos Sr. breathed a sigh of relief before pulling her into a tight hug. After celebrating with her father and her brother Carlos, Amira wasted no time in sharing the news with her mother and sister. The house echoed with even more screams of excitement, and the two Sainz men exchanged knowing glances. It was a moment Amira would cherish forever—a dream come true at last.

____________________________________________________________

Amira’s long-awaited day had finally arrived. Unfortunately, her family couldn’t be there with her; they were in Spain. Her brother and friends were all in Miami. However, Carlos had promised that they would watch her, which eased her mind.

At 5 p.m., she prepared with her team. Ryan, her makeup stylist, was one of the best in the business. Shanaya, her hair stylist and close friend, was always her go-to for events. As expected, they did an amazing job.

Her dress, a stunning blend of white and blue, was a creation by Dior. It reminded her of the waves in Spain on a windy day—comfortable yet elegant, making her look like a Spanish princess.

“Nervous?” she asked her two friends as she examined herself in the mirror. “Amira, you look—” Ryan began, but Shanaya playfully interrupted, “Perfekt!” Ryan added, “Now, vamos! You want to be fashionably late, not annoyingly late.” Their banter made Amira laugh.

Stepping out of the car, the flashbulbs went wild. Amira tried to maintain her poker face, but when Kim Kardashian and Lana Del Rey greeted her so sweetly, she couldn’t help but grin. They all sat at the same table, and that day marked the beginning of new friendships.

Photographers clamored for her attention, capturing her ethereal presence. With a lovely smile, she waved at one of the broadcast cameras, ready to embrace the magic of the Met Gala.

__________________________________________________________

“There she is! Oh, look at her!” exclaimed an excited George. The drivers gathered in Max’s room, surrounded by snacks. They had banned their girlfriends from entering—knowing that chaos would ensue. For the past hour, they’d been scrutinizing every look, but none of them quite matched Amira’s.

“My God,” whispered a starstruck Oscar. Lando sat silently next to Carlos, unable to put his feelings into words. Carlos himself felt tears welling up, his little sister looked stunning. He couldn’t have been prouder.

Charles and Pierre exchanged excited whispers in French. “Regarde ça, calamar,” Pierre said. “Je sais. Elle est vraiment la plus belle fille du monde,” Charles replied. Pierre teased, “Ne laisse pas Alex entendre ça.” Charles chuckled, “Alex serait d’accord avec moi.” Then he added playfully, “Comme si Kika et toi ne pensiez pas la même chose.” The best friends burst into laughter.

Max was on the phone with Kelly, passionately maxplaining Amira’s perfect look. Daniel busily snapped pictures of her. Even Yuki stopped eating, captivated by her presence. The camera stayed focused on Amira throughout. When it was time to film another celebrity, chaos erupted in the room—they all wanted to see their Amira.

The next day, it came as no surprise that all the Formula 1 drivers bought fashion magazines featuring Amira Sainz. She had left an indelible mark on the Met Gala, and her star continued to rise.

___________________________________________________________

Bonus (+) Amira sat at the table, flanked by her newfound friends Kim and Lana. The Met Gala buzzed around them, a whirlwind of glamour and excitement. Suddenly, someone’s hands covered her eyes, and she instinctively turned around. There stood Lewis, a smile playing on his lips.

“Lew-Lew!” she exclaimed, her joy evident. She wrapped her arms around him in a tight hug. “Hi, pretty girl,” he whispered into her ear. “I didn’t know you were here.” Lewis’s possessive arm encircled her waist as he settled into the seat next to her.

The star-studded night continued, and Amira found herself surrounded by both old and new friends. And Lewis? He didn't leave her side the whole night.

[jakeyt]

Today is Covet day!

And, unfortunately, I have to split the chapter due to its length. 😭

Buuut both parts are pasted from my docs, and ready to go in my drafts — just doing some final edits. So, I’ll be posting Chapter 10, Pt 1 today and Chapter 10, Pt 2 tomorrow! Be on the lookout! 🫶🏻🤍

[robsheridan]

“Apocalypse in Pink” part 2 (see part 1 here), from the August 1983 issue of SPECTAGORIA Magazine. Sera Clairmont’s celebrated underground fashion magazine was always scratching at the bleeding edge of culture, deftly navigating the trends of the Reagan ‘80s by simultaneously coopting and corrupting its materialistic obsessions. Never was that theme on visceral display than in this controversial issue. Apocalypse in Pink found Clairmont’s “Barbie dolls” trying to keep their glamour and their plastic smiles in the flames of a Capitalist Cold War simultaneously obsessed with materialism and annihilation; an America that, Clairmont wrote, “relentlessly asks women if we’re beautiful enough, if our clothes are fancy enough, if our pursuits are ambitious enough, and at the end of every night, if we know where our children are.”

In true Spectagoria fashion, what begins as stylish playful “nuclear Barbie” iconography gradually descends into horrific flames and melting pink plastic bodies, with only the womens’ smiles in tact on their smoldering skeletons at the end of the issue.

Reportedly, this issue was sent to Spectagoria subscribers in a package that included a pink lighter and a note that read, “when you’re finished reading, finish the job.” When burned, the magazine was said to ignite in a dazzling show of hot pink flames that sparkled and crackled, a performance art to complete the issue’s vision. As a result, Apocalypse in Pink is one of the most rare and coveted issues of the magazine, with no complete copies known to exist.

Most who have studied Spectagoria lore conclude that the exterior of the magazine was likely coated in a chemical powder that created the fantastical pink flames. But such a magic show has been meaty fodder for those who believe the rumors of occult powers and dark witchcraft surrounding the publication…

---------

NOTE: Spectagoria is an ongoing work of fiction created by me. This alternate reality horror story is part of my NightmAIres narrative art series (visit that link for a lot more). NightmAIres are windows into other worlds and interconnected alternate histories, conceived/written by me and visualized with synthography and Photoshop.

If you enjoy my work, consider supporting me on Patreon for frequent exclusive hi-res wallpaper packs, behind-the-scenes features, downloads, events, contests, and an awesome fan community. Direct fan support is what keeps me going as an independent creator, and it means the world to me.

[anthonysperkins]

Clarence "Clancy" Ross, 1st place 🏆, 2nd overall 🥈

Hearst Metrotone News, Jun. 17, 1955: NAMING "MR. UNIVERSE" – The search for the perfect male! In London, husky candidates from 20 countries vie for the coveted title of 'Mr. Universe.' The muscle men of the world, both pros and amateur, are here flexing their biceps like crazy! Even far India is represented; bodybuilding has become an international sport. Some admiring ladies take measurements of Clancy Ross, one of four U.S. entrants. Looks like his has what it takes! But the judges award the professional title to Canada's 35-year-old, Leo Robert, 'Mr' Hercules' for 1955! By the way, here is Mickey Hargitay who takes the amateur title for the U.S.!" Muscle Builder, September 1955, page 22: Weider Men Sweep Mr. Universe Contest – "[...] Here are the highlights of the event. In the professional division, Tall Man's Class, Weider Booster Clancy Ross won the top spot, hands down. In the Medium Height Class, Leo Robert, Weider Pupil and Booster won in a walk-away. The judges who had the inevitable job of deciding between these two perfect men for the title of Professional 'Mr. Universe', finally awarded Leo Robert the title. It was close, and while we are delighted that our pupil Leo won, in fairness to Ross we must mention that the long trip from California to London took a lot out of him. He fell victim to the flu two days before the big event and competed against doctor's orders, weighing only 187 pounds instead of his regular 202 pounds bodyweight knowing that he wasn't in top shape. Only conjecture is possible when considering the outcome if Ross hadn't been ill."

[iridescentmirrorsgenshin]

before i get my thoughts down about haikaveh's progression in cyno's story quest, here is a list of things of note about the quest in general!

the boys (and collei...??) having sentimental group dinners where the traveller and paimon are mentioned fondly

cyrus canonical smoker

urraca reverse hag reveal?

kaveh buying wine and coffee beans for him and alhaitham to share, as in them trying coffee beans together isn't solely for kaveh's bday

FAMILY CAMPING TRIP??

tighnari giving cyno A Look and cyno saying he would rather not get told off okay domesticity...

tighnari + cyno canonical tent sharing, i know what you are

alhaitham and kaveh being the 'sleepwalking fungi', okay devolving into a fungus <333

kaveh and alhaitham bullying the traveller's two star blade

a flashback cutscene for no other reason to establish haikaveh's domesticity

kaveh perching on the table to gossip with alhaitham

alhaitham's fond smiles

alhaitham putting his book down to gossip with kaveh

alhaitham looking up to watch kaveh draw the emblem,,, and the cutscene making it a point to show us this

kaveh sitting on the table AGAIN to talk with alhaitham, but 0 feet apart

kaveh's fond smiles???

kaveh's admiration of a symbol prompting alhaitham to identify architectural signets...

kaveh reading alhaitham's mind and agreeing to help him search even though alhaitham didn't ask him to...

alhaitham complaining about the lack of coffee, and kaveh wishing they had brought some from home...

kaveh asking alhaitham to teach him something, alhaitham complying AND teasing kaveh at the same time

ALHAITHAM MENTIONING WANTING COFFEE AND THINKING ABOUT IT, KAVEH THEN THINKING ABOUT GETTING MEHRAK TO BRING COFFEE TO THEM

alhaitham and kaveh finishing each other's sentences

tighnari and cyno commenting how imperative it is that alhaitham and kaveh worked together to uncover the temple of silence's involvement

tighnari and cyno completing each other's sentences

tighnari and cyno not having to properly communicate to know exactly what the other is thinking, causing cyno to switch tactics

tighnari providing cyno clarity during an emotional shakedown

another comment from cyno + tighnari about how essential it is that kaveh and alhaitham are working together as their advice gives them the upper hand

sethos??? identity crisis teen angst gone wrong :((

cyno establishing that he is his own person outside of the power so highly coveted, which tighnari affirms, happy that cyno has awareness of this???

the temple of silence being able to be accessed by people who cyno and nahida deem worthy?

tighnari a descendant of the people that hermanubis was selected from to be a familiar to deshret..?? linking him not only directly to the temple of silence but also cyno,, and cyno saying that he likes this story??

collei cyno tighnari family, they use codes, it was originally cyno and tighnari's but now its extended to collei, it's their love language im-

cyno questioning alhaitham and kaveh studying together, highlighting that this is not a common occurrence and is NOTEWORTHY (also, the delivery?? im gonna get you)

kaveh stressing about reorganising the books and alhaitham reassuring him, so gently, that there's 'no rush'

cyno and tighnari saying AGAIN how imperative it is that kaveh and alhaitham worked together for a swift and beneficial outcome

kaveh expressing an interest in the temple of silence, with cyno saying that the akademiya and the temple of silence will maintain good relations because the temple of silence is IMPORTANT?? (future sumeru events...)

kaveh canonically having caffeine overload jitters whilst alhaitham has the tolerance of a tank

After the two leave the house of daena there are two pairs of two coffee cups and coffee brewers on the table?? They are bringing the domesticity EVERYWHERE

alhaitham and kaveh leaving the tavern together, they are inseparable this quest we get it

KAVEH REFERRING TO THE HOUSE AS 'HOME'. DIRECTLY TO ALHAITHAM. HELLO??

alhaitham then agreeing with kaveh about going to the house of daena before going 'home', with a 'my thoughts exactly', guys,,, they are so in sync here im eating mortar

cyno taking the traveller and paimon to his best friend tree??? also where he and tighnari spent a lot of time together

cyno establishing his self worth respective of his power!!

sethos potentially a part of the family... my heart is in my mouth <333

tighnari understanding cyno without words - "CYNO: ...It's Professor Cyrus. You guys carry on without me. I'll be right back." "Tighnari : Okay."

soft cyno and cyrus interaction, there are things that cannot be said, but the emotion is so palpable

overall i had a really great experience with this quest!! it was so great to see everyone in sumeru again and to develop the lore + character relationships. this really expanded upon cyno as a character, a person, rather than the figure of authority/power he is seen as, and established how important his family ties are to him

as for haikaveh, i have THOUGHTS which i will expand upon at another time... but overall, the progression for them is very much present here and very promising! <3

Update: my analysis of haikaveh's progression is here!

[shibaraki]

THE VANISHING MOON ┊ TSUKISHIMA KEI

tags: GN reader, post timeskip, exes to lovers, fluff, emotional hurt + comfort, reader is a writer, alcohol consumption, mutual pining, getting back together, kisses, weddings, previous ‘mutual’ breakup, happy ending

wc: 4.2K

For as long as you can remember, you’ve loved love stories.

The first time you picked up a pen with the intention to write you’d been looking for a specific someone. To pour love into and be loved by. Conjured from the recesses of your mind, a soft smile from the boy you liked, one prepared to whisk you away from the converging angst that came with your adolescence.

In later years you looked inward, searching for yourself. To satiate your loneliness through self introspection. Ink blotted fingers working arduously at the knots that make up the soul. Knots that were once straight rope, simple and without weak points. And when you failed to love yourself you turned outward, exploring the web that made up the world.

You saw that other people loved stories, too. That there would always be at least one which speaks to them in some way and stays with them. You coveted that reality; to be something another person could love, and look back on with fondness. For your words to strike such a chord that they’d become part of another’s tapestry. To live on. Never again be forgotten, even if it means being an echo of something.

That yearning accompanies you up the cobbled footpath. The crisp air pinching the tips of your ears. Soft, muted chirps rippled throughout the treeline. “Wow,” you murmur, breathless. Arms sticky with perspiration, leg muscles tingling in exertion after walking the steep hill.

The reception venue sits on the end of a private road, concealed by threadbare canopy. Under an open sky there lay every shade and stroke of colour. Dappled sunlight casts shadows across the grass and your eyes are drawn to them.

“Wow is right. They’ve done an incredible job,” Sugawara airs his appreciation as he walks at your side. His voice is awed, and his cheeks are red. “I can’t believe they managed it. Karumai Gardens are notoriously stingy for booking events”.

The wedding invitation shouldn’t have come as a surprise. Remaining some of your closest friends, Kiyoko and Tanaka had already confirmed your attendance long before the formal invites were sent out. You even found yourself on the end of multiple phone calls over the months assisting a panicked Tanaka with writing and rewriting his vows.

Despite that, your stomach roiled at the invitation on your kitchen counter, and your heart crawled up into your throat. Because suddenly it was too real.

Everybody would be there.

Tsukishima would be there.

You’ve been a high strung for most of the day, hyper vigilant to the point of fraying. The ceremony was beautiful. Kiyoko looked ethereal draped in her white lace gown, a delicate veil cascading down her back and rippling down the aisle as she walked. Tanaka was striking in his dark blue suit and embroidered waistcoat. Sitting at the forefront, you remained steadfast in your ignorance of Tsukishima’s scrunity and dabbed at your face as you cried.

You missed having his attention. Missed the subtle stroke of his sharp gold eyes across every part of you as though it were Tsukishima’s hands themselves. A scant, cowardly part of you considered not attending the reception, grateful that he hadn’t approached you yet. If he would at all. Kei could be unbearably prideful about these things. But what do you know?

Nothing. After all this time you probably know nothing at all.

“I think he wants to talk to you,” Sugawara says, drawing your focus to the present. “It’s obvious he’s missed you”.

You edge past the increasingly dense foliage with intent, your fingertips outstretched to brush the near-blooming plants. “Who?” you ask. Sugawara’s grin turns wry and he threads his arm through yours.

“So petty,” he murmurs, patting your bicep. “You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to. But he’s single, and has been staring at you all day. I thought I should mention it”.

“Well you’ve mentioned it,” you return without true malice, squeezing him back. Sugawara’s lips parted in a sigh, and for a brief second, you saw a wistful expression beneath the lighthearted veneer. It stirs unease in your chest and you add, “I just don’t want to make a scene”.

“You really think that’s what it’ll come to?”

Memories unearthed from the deep recesses of your mind. Packed away into tight spaces and left to collect dust where they can’t hurt you. They awaken easily, triggered by a simple question, and with such clarity that you wonder if you ever forgot them at all.

Soft, deliberate touches. Long, warm embraces, swallowed up by his large frame. Graceless laughter—the ugly kind that makes your stomach hurt. Languorous kisses, biting kisses, chaste kisses, clumsy kisses. Good morning and good night kisses. Bickering over breakfast. Bickering over dinner. Wandering, calloused hands. Pressure behind two fingers, splitting you like soft fruit. A sharp tongue and sharper words. Holding hands in bed, anchoring yourself to him like you were afraid he might float away in the night.

Life became busier than either of you expected. Kei landed an opportunity to play for a division two team in the V league alongside his work at the Sendai city museum. Your publisher's demands increased. Kei’s priorities shifted. Resentment crept in. He started to forget things. Small promises and favours, like getting the grocery’s or making it home for date night. They felt so significant at the time—things you deemed indicative of his commitment to you, without communicating as such.

Fractures formed in your relationship. You ignored them in favour of keeping the peace, hoping to address them when the timing was better. Only with hindsight can you say that was the wrong choice. The fractures contracted, expanded until it grew into a yawning cavity with one of you standing either side of it. A slow decay.

“No. No, it wouldn’t,” you tell Sugawara. Tsukishima has never been a shining paragon of virtue but he wouldn't do anything to disrupt Tanaka’s wedding. “I’m just nervous. I haven’t seen him since…”

Sugawara hums his acknowledgment. You’re adrift as he guides you into the venue holding the wedding reception, welcomed into a kaleidoscope of colour. Carefully crafted floral arrangements line the hall. Half of the building is a greenhouse conversion, and natural light filters in through the high, arching ceilings, illuminating the dance floor. You take in the surroundings as your senses are enveloped by the pleasant din.

“Look, there’s Yachi and Nishinoya,” Sugawara tugs on your arm and calls out, “Yachi! Noya!”

Nishinoya crowed, leaping forward to gather you and Sugawara into a blistering hug. Barely two extra inches on him yet larger than you remember, skin kissed by the sun and his hair handsomely coiffed. His waistcoat creases awkwardly with the stretch of his body while you sink into his warmth and feel your cheeks ache.

“Man, I feel like I could scale a mountain! It’s so good to see you guys again,” Nishinoya reclines to get a look at you both and firmly takes you by the shoulders. “You have a lot to answer for,” he says with mock seriousness.

“I do?” you laugh, skull knocking side to side as he shakes you.

“I read your book on the plane”.

Your laughter putters out. You grimace and clear your throat, “Oh—really?”

“Most of us have. We wanted to support you properly,” Yachi admits as she steps forward to hug you. She’s smiling when she pulls away, faint laughter lines deepening.

Sugawara nods and pokes at your waist, “Don’t look so embarrassed. It was amazing”.

“It made me cry!” Nishinoya effuses. He sniffs, and to your mortification he looks like he might burst into tears again. “There was this one line—gah, no! I can’t talk about it. Get over here, I need to hug you again”.

“Thank you, Noya-san,” you wheeze at the arms constricting around your midsection, eyes clenched shut to repress the impending sting. You turn your head, nose knocking against his temple as you peer at the others. “Thank you all. I mean it”.

Yachi squirms, her smile quivering. “I’m really happy you made it today,” she says once you’ve been released. The unyielding pressure of Nishinoya’s embrace lingers like two phantom limbs. “You too, Nishinoya-san”.

“It’s amazing you’re upright. I thought for sure the jet lag would get to you,” Sugawara laughs. He utters a quick apology to the server passing with a tray of drinks. “Didn’t you fly in from Barcelona?”

“Yeah. Should’a been heading to Andorra but I wouldn’t miss my bro’s wedding for the world,” Nishinoya’s voice drifts as his eyes follow the alcohol. He plucks a glass in one swift motion and holds it high, “Salut I força al canut!”

Yachi watches him throw back the drink with poorly veiled anxiety. “Ah, speaking of, we should find our seats. It looks like the cake cutting is starting soon”.

“Good call. We’re getting in the way of the preparations. And I think you’ve left Asahi alone for too long,” Sugawara claps Nishinoya on the shoulder. “Looks like he’s been accosted by Saeko-san”.

Nishinoya pivots on his heel, whip-like and buzzing. You’re not sure which name he reacted to more. Asahi or Saeko. “Where?” his gaze locks in on the pair across the room. “I’ll talk to you guys in a bit!”

Gone in a blink. “He never slows down,” Sugawara sighs, shaking his head fondly. “Guess that’s my cue,” he says before parting ways. Yachi waves after them.

An idea strikes you then. “Say, Yacchan. You’re next to me, right?” you glance toward the long tables set up around the dance floor and meet her gaze with a suggestive smile. “Would you want to sit next to Yamaguchi instead? I don’t mind swapping”.

Their relationship had blossomed over the past few months. A long, slow burn finally come to fruition, new enough that mention of it usually makes her turn pink. But the light in her eyes dims at your suggestion, and rather than flustered, Yachi looks uncertain.

Her fingers form a loose clasp around your forearm. “Tadashi is seated next to Tsukishima,” she explains gingerly. You feel yourself freeze and the kind motion of her thumb strokes circles along the inside of your wrist.

You let out a shaky exhale. “That’s okay. I don’t mind,” you tell her before the consequences of what you’re offering can really be cemented. Yachi’s eyes widen, her grip tighter on your hand as you squeeze back in an attempt at reassurance, knowing your smile looks brittle. “It’s probably for the best. We haven’t… talked yet”.

“Are you sure?”

“I’m sure”.

“Are you sure you’re sure?”

“Hitoka,” you laugh, bumping your shoulders together. “I promise I’ll survive”.

You regret it not two minutes later.

Anticipation fizzes under your skin as you spot him. On approach you give him a cursory look over, the harsh beat of your heart ricocheting in your chest. Tsukishima looks good—he always does, but today, dressed in his dark, double breasted suit, with the golden hour light carding fingers through his neatly styled hair, you think he’s never looked better.

It is disconcerting to see him again and realise that your feelings haven’t changed much in the slightest.

You sit in the chair beside him. You see his spine draw taut in the corner of your eye and feel an oscillating loneliness; so alike those final few weeks together that cold dread seeps between the spaces in your ribs and steals your breath.

“Tsukishima,” you incline your head, impersonal and cautious, hating how foreign his surname is on your tongue.

A beat passes before he repeats your name in greeting, soft as a psalm despite the dour expression on his face. You’re overcome with the urge to poke the uncomfortable crease in his brow. To smooth it out and kiss the skin there, the way you used to do.

You shift in your seat. The arms curve around your midsection and knock against your elbows as you fiddle with the table cloth, “I told Yacchan that Yamaguchi could have my seat so they can sit together. I hope that’s alright”.

“Why wouldn’t it be?” and you know the clipped answer is reflexive by the way his jaw locks in frustration at himself. Bracing for what you’ll say next.

Only, your mouth curls up a little, and you exhale a short laugh through your nose. You haven’t seen him this skittish since your first year of highschool. You consider that maybe you aren’t the only one who’s scared. That things are the same and they are not the same. The thought is bittersweet, but it’s nice, the way his trepidation gives way to muted awe, how he sends you sidelong glances when he thinks you’re not looking.

The music picks up in a grand crescendo as the newlyweds enter the hall and the reception begins with a raucous applause. A rich aroma unfurls as the food is served, the depth of the flavour layering over the already present notes of wildflower and honey. Drinks are handed to the guests. Generously. You swirl the liquid gold around the rim of your glass, luxuriating in the syrupy inebriation of a gently oaked chardonnay.

“So, uh. How’ve you been?”

Tsukishima, to his credit, does not startle at the question. “Fine,” he says, and you think he might leave it at that when he adds, “The museum received another new Crinoid collection last month, so I’ve been preoccupied”.

You grasp at the conversational thread, not wanting him to stop, “Crinoids?”

“Marine animals. They still exist today, though not as common. You might’ve heard of sea lilies and feather stars,” he shrugs halfheartedly, not daring to look away from his deep fried tofu, though it’s clear he can’t help talking about his work with pride. “Ours are from the Triassic period”.

“Just like the, uh—” you click your fingers to conjure the name from thin air “—Gojirasaurus! Your favourite, right?”

Tsukishima pauses. It’s a fleeting thing, but you notice. The corner of his lips curves into a barely-there smile. He seems pleased that you remembered. You busy your hands with repositioning the cutlery a fourth time so maybe, hopefully, you can distract yourself enough not to say something stupid like: “If I visit, will you show it to me?” or “Do you miss me, like I miss you?”

You clear your throat. “I hear the Sendai Frogs have been doing well, too. Congratulations on moving up to division one”.

Those aureate eyes are sliding to you again, bright and searching. Tsukishima arches his brow in a delicate mocking gesture that was unbearable when he was sixteen and even more so now. “Keeping tabs on me, are you?”

There’s mirth trickling into his voice, giving it a familiar smarmy lilt. A wave of emotion washes over you. Embarrassment and heart-twisting-happiness. You shove some rice into your mouth and chew it down to fine paste, vying for time to formulate a coherent sentence. “No. I read about it in the latest Volleyworld issue,” you reply unconvincingly.

“You don’t read Volleyworld”.

“How would you know that?”

Tsukishima takes a shallow breath and nods. The warm gloam of late afternoon mellows his taut features. “I’ve been reading too,” he says after another sip of wine. “I saw you finally published your book”.

Dread seized the inner workings of your mind and the apology on the tip of your tongue curdles. Time ticks by, one sickening second after another. Your eyes dip low to avoid his gaze—which for some reason, he refused to direct anywhere else.

Your recollection of the break up itself was hazy at best. There had been no raised voices, no desperate movie-esque kiss, no slammed doors. Only grief filling your body like lead, and jumbled, half-hysterical thoughts of ‘Is this it? Are we giving everything up, just like that?’

You remember everything that followed, though. The inability to accept reality. It is said if a writer falls in love, that love can never die. And so you kept writing, and writing, and writing; perceiving love through different lenses, creating different endings; relying on metaphors of natural forces and disasters, of cannibalism and gluttony, of journeys and patience to make sense of it all. Six months after everything fell apart you completed the final draft of ‘The Vanishing Moon’, dedicating a final testimony to him in small print on the first page.

Given the choice, I would’ve rather had you at my side than any one of these words.

Has he seen it? Is that what he’s getting at? Did he read through all eighteen chapters and meticulously pick out the remnants of him you pressed between the pages?

“Noya said it made him cry,” you eventually reply.

Tsukishima signals for another drink. He takes two flutes from the server, handing one to you. You accept it with a soft ‘thanks’, hoping he didn’t notice the tremor in your fingers. “Nishinoya-san cried when he found out swans can be gay,” he points out.

“You cried at The Land Before Time”.

“What kind of cold hearted bastard doesn’t cry at The Land Before Time?”

Laughter bubbles up in your chest as the initial dread ebbs away and the tension seeps from your shoulders. Tsukishima dips his chin, a small smile as he mutters, “That’s better”.

In the centre of the hall Tanaka cradles Kiyoko in his arms, now surrounded by clusters of their loved ones whirling with their own partners, a hurricane of colour and laughter and love. Tsukishima observes them with a solemn gleam in his eye. That could’ve been us, his heart says in chorus with your own.

“Do you remember that time we danced together in third year, at the summer festival? I tried to kiss you and gave you a nosebleed”.

“I remember”.

Your gaze drops to the bottom of your glass. At the time you had been mortified. Now it’s a story you would share at your own wedding table. The thought cleaves your heart in half.

“Do you remember the song that was playing?”

“Why are you bringing this up?” Tsukishima snaps. “Yes, I remember everything. I couldn’t forget even if I wanted to. Happy?”

There’s a surge of something devastating in your chest, like love and heartbreak all at once, strong enough that you feel as if your ribs might splinter just to make room for it. But they don’t—and you don’t, because you’ve felt this before, and your body remembers.

You remember.

Suddenly the room is too hot, and the music is too loud. “Sorry. I’ll be back in a minute,” you murmur, pushing your chair back and getting to your feet.

“Wait,” in one short breath there are long, calloused fingers circling your wrist. You do wait. Tsukishima hesitates, the pressure elevates, and as you lean away your palm slips into his, skin kissing skin. Then he’s standing, towering over you. “I’ll come with you. I know a place that’s quiet”.

Tsukishima does not let go of your hand, and you don’t let go of his. He walks a few steps ahead guiding you through the throngs of people. Some familiar heads turn, their attention drawn immediately to the place where your bodies meet, and shooting you various looks of encouragement or confusion. Yamaguchi sees you pass and his mouth splits into a grin so wide that his eyes crinkle.

You’re not sure where it is he’s taking you, only that his promise of finding quiet is true. The cacophony simmers and soon enough the festivities are muffled entirely. Just when you think you’ve wound up at the end of a corridor it curves, leading to a pair of french doors. “Come on,” Tsukishima ushers you out onto a balcony.

What you’re greeted by makes your breath catch. The world as it is around you comes to a standstill, the fabric of reality peeling away. An orange yolk dips below the horizon and the sunset hour drapes across the ostensibly endless meadow hidden behind the Karumai Gardens. Rolls of grass sway in the wind, peppered with wildflowers of every shade.

You move to stand at the balcony’s edge. Tsukishima drops his hand, and your fingers curl into your palm. The shadows grow longer, the air cooler. The evening insects begin to sing. You’re warmed still by the wine thrumming in your bloodstream.

“Hey, Tsukki?”

He comes to stand beside you, folding his arms atop the wall. “Don’t call me that”.

“Oh,” you swallow against the swell in your throat. “Sorry, Tsukishima”.

Tsukishima’s expression twists into a scowl. There’s a blush creeping toward his ears. “I didn’t mean that,” he says. You blink and wait for him to elaborate, which only flusters him further. He stares stubbornly at the border. “Just—call me as you normally would. Anything else sounds wrong in your mouth”.

The name leaves you in an instant. Hushed—not whispered, “…Kei”.

He makes an inquisitive noise, strangled as it is.

“You didn’t say what you thought of it,” you continued. “My book”.

You feel a rush of adrenaline when Kei doesn't answer immediately, unable to read his expression. “Good,” he says, veiled indifference belied by the restless twisting of a cufflink between his forefinger and thumb. “It was good”.

“Well, that’s practically a Pulitzer recommendation coming from you”.

“Shut up,” he huffed, gaze flitting across your face and dropping to your tentative, uncertain beginning of a smile. He wets his lips and glances away. Heartened, both by the alcohol and his reciprocation, you press closer in small increments, and Kei flowers under your gentle persuasion, like he always used to.

“This okay?”

In lieu of a reply you are ensconced by a warm, firm chest and two strong arms around your back that show no sign of withdrawing. The low timbre of his voice vibrates under your cheek, “Who was it for?”

“Hm?”

“The book. You dedicated it to someone”.

You exhale, squeezing your eyes shut. You’re glad, in part, that he can’t see the emotion written plainly on your face. “Nobody,” you answer lightly, angling to position your ear right over his beating heart. “Just an ex. You don’t know him”.

“Right,” Kei says, drawing out the ‘l’ the way he does when conceding a point he knows he’s correct about. It sounds so fond that you want to curl up where you’re resting, like some benevolent cat. “Guy must’ve been a dick”.

“I was too. We made a lot of mistakes, I think,” you say. If nothing came of this you would at least be able to revisit it; to pick at the scab and stop the wound from closing over too soon. There’s comfort in that. You crane your head and meet his gaze, nervous but unwavering. “But even if he was kind of a dick, I miss him a lot”.

“Yeah?” his eyes soften, half lidded and dark. “He misses you too”.

“He told you that, did he?” your mouth trembles. Kei dips to bring your foreheads together, and the hard frame of his glasses bumps your eyebrow. You share a shaky exhale of laughter.

“I’m sorry,” he mutters, brow pinched with regret. Again, “I’m sorry. I know I fucked up”.

You feel your jaw quiver. The familiar burn behind your eyes. Tears so close you can taste them. “We both did. Don’t shoulder the blame on your own”.

“But I made you feel lonely,” he says.

You tuck your chin and whisper, “Yes”.

His fingers splayed across your cheek, pinky tucked beneath your jaw as he cradled your face in his hand, tilting until you’re staring back at the reflection in his pupils. Puffy and damp, eyelashes clumped with tears. What a sight.

Kei strokes his thumb in an arc beneath your eye. A tear beads on his nail, slipping into the crook of his hand. The inexpressible tenderness is overwhelming yet you are underwhelmed by the inaction. You can’t find it in yourself to be embarrassed by the whine in your voice as you ask, “Are you going to kiss me?”

“Demanding as ever. What happened to ‘please’?” he murmurs. And then he kisses you.

It is slow at first, hesitant, leaving room for you to pull away. But with every languid movement of Kei’s lips came a sweet affirmation, that which you took and took until you no longer felt unworthy of receiving it. His hand flutters at your waist. You take a shuddered breath, pressing closer into his embrace and deepening the kiss. In his distraction you take him by the wrist, encouraging him to touch. There’s an immediate, reverent grip at your hip, kneading over your clothes.

This is what you’d been longing for. The feeling you couldn’t transpose; that which people have long tried to capture. The esoteric, giddy anticipation and joy that bubbled between two people on the precipice of something bigger than themselves. Even with an affinity for stringing words together you are scarcely able to describe it. Immense and overwhelming, light and dark, tender and everything in between.

Kei pulls away for breath with a low, vibrating hum, wearing a smile that you thought you’d never see outside of your memories. Almost boyish when he looks at you. The distance is an inch too many but it is just that—an inch. “Eager,” he teases, only to kiss you again, twice as eager.

For as long as you can remember, you’ve loved love stories.

But love doesn’t only exist in stories.

You remember that, now.

[gffa]

STAR WARS PREQUELS - A TIMELINE

So, what's this about, huh? After recently sitting down with Star Wars Timelines, I was genuinely surprised at just how much they were willing to nail down to a specific year and sequence of events, which admittedly is a reference book and those are pretty low on the canon totem pole so be prepared for future retcons down the road, but it's shockingly useful information to have! Because the more I paged through it, the more I realized just how useful it would be for fic writers, especially for anything that might be referenced by a prequels character. Do you want to know how old the Jedi Order basically is? What the eras were called, if a prequels character wanted to reference them? What year did Dooku leave the Jedi? When did Naboo join the Republic? When was the Republic founded? When was the Jedi Temple built? When was Yaddle born? When did the Togruta ally with the Republic? Was Anakin born on Tatooine? When did Plo discover Ahsoka? When did Anakin get his first kyber crystal? When did Obi-Wan join the Jedi Council? WHEN DOES THE MANDALORIAN CIVIL WAR TAKE PLACE?? Some of this is SO INTERESTING to have nailed down into place--like just how old Huyang is or that the Jedi Temple was constructed on Coruscant BEFORE the Republic existed! Useful for me to know, but also my prequels-era characters to know! This book is willing to tell us A LOT and I collated everything I thought would be useful for a prequels character to know! ERAS:

c.5,000 BBY– 1,032 BBY: Ancient conflicts "The Jedi and Sith wage a series of wars throughout their history so ruinous that at points each is brought to the brink of destruction."

c.500 BBY–330 BBY: "The Age of Exploration" "After centuries of governing in regions near the galactic Core, the Republic sets out to explore the Outer Rim. This era of exploration on the frontier presents many adventures and opportunities for the Republic and the Jedi Order alike, but growth also leads them to uncover new mysteries and dangers. Soon the Jedi Order’s very connection to the Force is put to the test."

c.500 BBY–100 BBY: "The High Republic" The four hundred years that are collectively referred to as the High Republic era.

TIMELINE:

c.25,025 BBY: BIRTH OF THE JEDI

"The Jedi Order is founded. Among the earliest locations, and likely the first, is a temple constructed on the planet of Ahch-To. Later, the temple retains the most treasured Jedi texts and earliest writings on the Order’s faith. For eons, these noble protectors stand united by their ability to harness the power of the Force itself for good."

c.25,020 BBY: Professor Huyang powered up "The architect droid Professor Huyang begins training Jedi younglings in the delicate art of lightsaber construction."

c.20,000 BBY: Dawn of the Republic

"The foundation of the Republic is formed through an alliance including Coruscant, Corellia, and Alderaan, prompted by the dawn of hyperspace travel."

c.5,000 BBY: Creeping darkness

"A dark-side sect splinters from the Jedi, causing the formation of the Sith. This fracture is the genesis of a millennia-long rivalry."

c.5,000 BBY–1,032 BBY: "The Sith battle the Jedi in numerous conflicts for thousands of years before their struggle comes to an end, resulting in the destruction of the Sith Empire."

c.5,000 BBY–1,032 BBY: "The Sith build shrines on planets, including Malachor and Moraband. They covet these locations for their connection to the dark side of the Force."

c.1,050 BBY: A Mandalorian Jedi

"Tarre Vizsla becomes the first of the Mandalorian warriors to be inducted as a member of the Jedi Order. The unique lightsaber he constructs comes to be known as the Darksaber, later stolen to be used as a symbol to unite his planet."

c.1,032 BBY: Coruscant Temple erected

"The main Jedi Temple on Coruscant is constructed at the same location where there was once a Sith shrine."

c.1,032 BBY: "Darth Bane, the last surviving Sith, recognizes that infighting and back-stabbing ultimately led to the downfall of the Sith Empire. He declares the Rule of Two, whereby there can only be a sole master and single apprentice of the Sith. The practice safeguards the inherently selfish Order from self-destruction, thus ensuring the survival of the Sith for centuries to come."

1,000 BBY: Reformation of the Republic

"The first incarnation of the democratic alliance of planets, the Galactic Republic, is reformed."

c.972 BBY: Rules of war

"The Galactic Accord of Systems establishes a set of rules of engagement, in the event another war should break out."

896 BBY: Yoda is born

"The future Jedi Master Yoda is born."

832 BBY: Construction of Theed

"Naboo’s capital city, Theed, is built. The floating city on the banks of the river Solleu becomes the jewel of the metropolis."

867 BBY: Naboo joins the Republic

"The planet of Naboo officially joins the Galactic Republic. The event will be commemorated annually with The Festival of Light."

796 BBY: Students of Yoda

"Master Yoda begins training Jedi. He will maintain this regular practice, teaching the newest members of the Order, for about 800 years."

600 BBY:

Jabba Desilijic Tiure is born.

509 BBY:

Yaddle is born.

c.392 BBY: PATHFINDERS

"The Republic and the Jedi establish Pathfinder teams to explore new hyperspace lanes in the farthest reaches of the galaxy. A team of Pathfinders typically includes two Jedi, a master and their apprentice, who work together with their Republic allies to discover new ways through dangerous and unexplored places. They work with communications teams who lay the groundwork for the infrastructure needed for Republic growth. In return for their efforts, the Jedi Order hopes to gain new understanding of the galaxy, new cultures, and the Force."

c.383 BBY: THE HYPERSPACE RUSH

"Independent explorers also race to discover new paths through hyperspace. These prospectors risk their lives in perilous, uncharted corners of the Outer Rim, hoping to find safer, shorter routes. Families like the Grafs and San Tekkas earn great fame and fortune by selling their knowledge of these new hyperlanes."

382 BB The First High Republic book of Phase II

The High Republic: Path of Deceit kicks off the second phase of books, set 150 years before the previous phase.

382 BBY: Battle of Jedha

"The Path of the Open Hand instigates a battle on the sacred moon of Jedha."

232 BBY The First High Republic book of Phase I:

The High Republic: Light of the Jedi, which kicks off the original era of the High Republic (out of universe, not in universe), starting with the Great Hyperspace Disaster where a ship explodes in hyperspace over the planet Hetzal Prime. This ignites an intergalactic conflict with the Nihil that draws the Jedi and the Republic into a massive connected, long-running series of battles against them.

232 BBY:

"Dignitaries and Jedi gather at the Starlight Beacon for its official dedication ceremony."

The Great Hyperspace Disaster (the Legacy Run explodes in hyperspace) happens and the Jedi rush to help mitigate the disaster and evacuate as many people as they can.

"The brave deeds of the Jedi Order [in the Great Hyperspace Disaster] are cast across the galaxy via holotransmissions, making Kriss and her fellow Jedi heroes."

The Emergences: "Though Hetzal has been saved by the heroics of the Jedi, fragments of the Legacy Run continue to threaten the frontier. Fear grips the Outer Rim as blazing wreckage of the ship appears with little warning from hyperspace. As the Republic seeks answers to these Emergences, a group of Jedi stranded in a forgotten corner of space unknowingly cause a far older and more sinister threat to emerge: the Drengir."

"Wreckage from the Legacy Run scatters through hyperspace, endangering the Outer Rim. The first of the Emergences after the Great Hyperspace disaster occurs at Ab Dalis, killing 20 million beings."

"The Nihil strike on Elphrona, intending to ransom well-connected homesteaders and capture a Jedi for Marchion Ro’s evil machinations."

"The Jedi Council votes to join the Republic against the Nihil."

232 BBY: A BEACON OF HOPE

"With the Great Disaster behind them, the Republic and Jedi refocus on the opening of the Starlight Beacon. This towering space station located in the Outer Rim is one of Chancellor Lina Soh’s Great Works, meant to provide a symbol of hope in a dark corner of the galaxy. This shining example of Republic unity and progress serves as a vital base for the ongoing struggles with the Nihil and Drengir."

"One of Chancellor Lina Soh’s Great Works, the Starlight Beacon, begins operation after a dedication ceremony attended by Republic dignitaries and prominent members of the Jedi Order. The station is to be just one of many beacons, serving to connect, inspire, and serve the Republic’s growth in the Galactic Frontier. The Jedi maintain a permanent presence on the station under the leadership of Marshal Kriss and the watchful eye of the exacting Jedi Master Estala Maru."

"Hunting the Nihil - Though it lacks a formal military, the Republic forms a special task force to hunt the Nihil, with Joss and Pikka Adren among the first volunteers."

"The Jedi broker the Ayelina-Ludmere trade agreement."

232 BBY: GROWTH OF THE DRENGIR

"The carnivorous Drengir take root across wide swaths of the frontier. Their lust for living flesh, which they consider “meats,” leads them to attack hundreds of worlds. Defenseless settlers and the Jedi alike struggle to repel these horrifying plantlike creatures."

231 BBY: THE REPUBLIC FAIR

"Chancellor Lina Soh’s next Great Work is a magnificent fair on Valo. Meant to celebrate the Republic and its many achievements, the event turns into a tragedy. The Nihil mount a merciless raid on the fairgoers, destroy the event, and nearly kill the chancellor. The Jedi defenders mount a valiant defense but are outnumbered."

231 BBY: FIGHT FOR THE FRONTIER

"The Jedi march across the frontier as they seek justice for the attack on the Valo fair. With the Drengir threat seemingly settled, they turn their attention to the scattered Nihil forces. The Jedi believe that they are gaining the upper hand, but are unaware of who leads the raiders and their ultimate goal. The Nihil Tempest Runners bear the brunt of the assault while the Eye of the Nihil, Marchion Ro, prepares a new weapon to fight the Jedi."

"The Republic-Togruta Alliance is formed."

230 BBY: FALL OF STARLIGHT

"The Nameless wreak havoc among the Jedi, who fight valiantly in Starlight’s final moments. Master Estala Maru sacrifices his own life to delay the top half of the station from burning up in Eiram’s atmosphere. Below, Master Stellan Gios stays behind to ensure the lower portion will not strike a populated city on the planet’s surface."

"The Jedi recall their members to safety on Coruscant."

"The Republic readies a Defense Coalition fleet to strike at Nihil space. The Jedi, concerned that they cannot yet combat the Nameless, remain on Coruscant."

c.200 BBY:

"Births: Chewbacca— Wookiee hero and copilot born on Kashyyyk."

102 BBY:

"Serenno foundling Dooku’s family abandons him as an infant after discovering his Force abilities. The Jedi bring him to Coruscant to join the Order." (Dooku is born this year.)

Sifo-Dyas was also born in 102 BBY.

86 BBY:

Dooku becomes Yoda’s Padawan.

Sifo-Dyas becomes Lene Kostana’s Padawan.

84 BBY:

Sheev Palpatine is born on Naboo.

c.80 BBY:

Rael Averross becomes Dooku’s Padawan

72 BBY:

Mace Windu is born. (Take with a grain of salt, it's from a De Agostini booklet and never appeared anywhere else that I can find.)

c.70 BBY:

"Averross is knighted and encourages Dooku to take another Padawan."

68 BBY:

Qui-Gon Jinn becomes Dooku’s Padawan.

c.58 BBY:

"After attaining the rank of Jedi Master, Dooku is offered a seat on the Jedi Council."

Qui-Gon becomes a Jedi Knight.

57 BBY:

Obi-Wan Kenobi is born on Stewjon.

54 BBY:

"Obi-Wan Kenobi begins his Jedi training." (Presumably this means he was 3 years old when he was adopted by the Jedi and began his training then.)

52 BBY:

Palpatine is elected Senator of Naboo.

50 BBY:

"The Nightsisters sell Asajj Ventress to Hal’Sted."

46 BBY:

Padme Naberrie is born on Naboo.

44 BBY:

Obi-Wan Kenobi becomes Qui-Gon Jinn's Padawan.

"Stranded on remote Rattatak, the Jedi Knight Ky Narec discovers Asajj Ventress and trains her as his Padawan."

c.44 BBY - "Amid concerns about the corrosive effects of dynasties, the Naboo Reformations limit monarchs to a maximum of two two-year terms."

42 BBY:

Rael Averross introduces Dooku to Palpatine.

Dooku leave the Jedi Order and returns to Serenno to reclaim his title.

c.42 BBY: "Civil war engulfs Mandalore, a planet with a proud honor code and a war-torn history. Its clans form factions, with the conflict evolving to pit tradition-minded clan fighters against New Mandalorians who see the warrior past as a dead end."

c.42 BBY: "Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan protect Duchess Satine Kryze during the Mandalorian Civil War. Obi-Wan and Satine fall in love and he offers to leave the Jedi Order to be with her. They decide that their duties won’t allow them to follow their hearts."

c.42 BBY: "The Mandalorian Civil War ends with Satine’s New Mandalorians ascendant, though traditionalists—including Satine’s sister Bo-Katan—organize to resist her rule."

41 BBY:

Anakin Skywalker is born.

"Distant secret Ancient Jedi lore leads Obi-Wan to the Force-imbued planet Lenahra, where he forges a deeper connection with the living Force." (These are the events of the Padawan novel.)

c.41 BBY: "Holiday interrupted While visiting Kashyyyk, Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan foil a Trandoshan raid aimed at taking Wookiee prisoners during Life Day celebrations." (These are the events of Star Wars Adventures 2020, issues 3-4. Unclear if this is before or after the novel Padawan.)

40 BBY:

c.40 BBY - Maul becomes Sidious’ apprentice.

Qui-Gon is offered a seat on the Jedi Council. He does not accept by the end of Master and Apprentice.

"Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan visit strategically located Pijal to oversee the signing of a treaty between its monarchy and the Czerka Corporation." (These are the events of the Master and Apprentice novel.)

39 BBY:

c.39 BBY: Sifo-Dyas joins the Jedi High Council.

38 BBY:

c.38 BBY - "Shmi and Anakin Skywalker are brought to Tatooine. Their enslaver, Gardulla the Hutt, soon loses them to Watto in a bet."

37 BBY:

Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan mediate a conflict on Bri’n. (Age of Republic - Qui-Gon Jinn #1)

36 BBY:

Orson Krennic and Galen Erso meet.

Ahsoka Tano is born.

34 BBY:

"Mace Windu helps overthrow the warlord Guattako." (These are the events of Age of Republic - Special #1)

"A skilled mechanic, Anakin begins gathering spare parts to build a protocol droid, C-3PO, to help Shmi with household chores."

"Sidious tests Maul on Malachor."

33 BBY:

"Plo Koon discovers a Force-sensitive Togruta toddler named Ahsoka Tano. He brings 'Little ‘Soka' to Coruscant for training."

"Sifo-Dyas orders a secret clone army to be created on Kamino."

"Eager to test his abilities against the Jedi Order, Darth Maul kills the Twi’lek Padawan Eldra Kaitis on Drazkel’s moon." (These are the events of Darth Maul 2017)

Caleb Dume/Kanan Jarrus is born.

32 BBY: THE PHANTOM MENACE

"The former Padmé Naberrie is just 14 when elected and has barely taken office when the Trade Federation blockades and then invades Naboo."

The events of The Phantom Menace take place, the Trade Federation invades Naboo, Valorum sends Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon to help Naboo, Anakin Skywalker is adopted into the Jedi Order, Qui-Gon Jinn dies.

"Count Dooku pledges himself to the ways of the Sith, replacing Maul as Sidious’ apprentice and taking the name Darth Tyranus."

"Palpatine is elected supreme chancellor."

"Obi-Wan takes Anakin as his Padawan."

"The Sith take over Sifo-Dyas’ project to create a clone army, ordering inhibitor chips implanted in the clones to ensure their obedience."

"With Sifo-Dyas dead, Dooku takes over the clone project, altering it to serve the Sith’s purpose. In his guise as Tyranus, Dooku recruits the bounty hunter Jango Fett as the genetic template for the Kaminoans’ clone army. He then instructs the Kaminoans to secretly implant inhibitor chips in the clones’ brains to ensure their obedience. The clones will fight for the Republic, but the Sith will be their true masters."

Han Solo is born.

Boba Fett is born.

Yaddle is killed by Dooku.

31 BBY:

"Kuat Drive Yards receives an order from a secret buyer to create massive numbers of warships and weapons."

30 BBY:

"Sidious’ minions begin constructing a massive Observatory on Jakku, the first of several built as part of the Sith Lord’s decades-spanning Contingency project. As Palpatine, Sidious orders the secret establishment of bases, shipyards, and colonies in the galaxy’s Unknown Regions."

29 BBY:

c.29 BBY: "Anakin seeks out his first kyber crystal on Ilum and creates a lightsaber, an important step in his Padawan training."

"Anakin goes on a mission in Coruscant’s underlevels with a disguised Chancellor Palpatine, whom he comes to see as a mentor."

"Influenced by Palpatine, Anakin tells Obi-Wan he wishes to suspend his Jedi training and surrenders his lightsaber. With Anakin’s path undecided, Yoda sends him and Obi-Wan to Carnelion IV to investigate a distress signal. [Eventually] Anakin decides to remain Obi-Wan’s Padawan." (These are the events of Obi-Wan & Anakin 2016)

Hera Syndulla is born.

28 BBY:

Queen Amidala's final year as Queen of Naboo, where her successor, Queen Réillata, asks her to be Senator for Naboo and Padme agrees, taking office that year.

"Remembering her experience after fleeing Naboo, Padmé sends Sabé on a mission to investigate how to end slavery on Tatooine." (This ultimately doesn't really go anywhere/accomplish much, unfortunately.)

"Padmé becomes friends with two young fellow senators: Rush Clovis of Scipio and Mina Bonteri of Raxus." (These are the events of Queen's Shadow.)

c.28 BBY: "Obi-Wan and Anakin are sent to retrieve a Holocron from Dallenor, leading to a confrontation with the Krypder Riders." (These are the events of Age of Republic - Obi-Wan Kenobi #1.)

27 BBY:

c.27 BBY: "Cliegg Lars buys Shmi Skywalker’s freedom from Watto. They marry and live on Cliegg’s moisture farm."

26 BBY:

"While on a mission to Sullust, Dooku kills the Jedi Knight Jak’zin and forces the Kaldana Syndicate to serve Sidious’ interests." (These are the events of Age of the Republic - Count Dooku #1.)

"Obi-Wan and Anakin rescue Yoda from raiders on Glee Anselm, but discover the incident was actually a test engineered by the Jedi Council [to help them get along better]." (These are the events of Choose Your Destiny: An Obi-Wan & Anakin Adventure.)

24 BBY:

c.24 BBY - "Dooku founds the Confederacy of Independent Systems, attracting planets that wish to secede from the Republic and beginning the Separatist Movement."

"The Senate passes the Emergency Powers Act, allowing Palpatine to remain in office for the duration of the Separatist Crisis."

"Palpatine forms the Loyalist Committee to advise him during the Separatist Crisis. Senators belonging to the committee include Bail Organa of Alderaan, Padmé Amidala of Naboo, Ask Aak of Malastare, and Orn Free Taa of Ryloth."

"The Senate begins debating the Military Creation Act, which would allow the Republic to create military forces for its defense."

"Adrift after the death of Ky Narec, a grief-stricken Asajj Ventress embraces the dark side and becomes a warlord on Rattatak."

"Osika Kirske imprisons Ventress on Rattatak, forcing her to fight as a gladiator. Dooku frees her and offers to make her his apprentice in hopes of one day supplanting Sidious. Ventress agrees to serve as the count’s agent and assassin." (These are part of the events of Dooku: Jedi Lost.)

22 BBY–19 BBY: The Clone Wars

"A political crisis propels the Jedi Order into a galaxy-wide war against the Separatists, secretly led by the Sith."

22 BBY: ATTACK OF THE CLONES:

"Obi-Wan and Anakin help defuse a crisis on Ansion." (Mentioned in Attack of the Clones: "He's just returned from a border dispute on Ansion," Mace says of Obi-Wan.)

The events of Attack of the Clones take place, Padme is attacked for her stance against the Military Creation Act in the Senate, Jar Jar introduces a motion to give Palpatine emergency powers as Chancellor, including the discovery of the clone army, Shmi Skywalker dies, Obi-Wan and Anakin and Padme are held captive by the Separatists and rescued by the Jedi, many who die in the arena, as well as Jango Fett dies, and the start of the Clone Wars.

Anakin and Padme are secretly married on Naboo.

Poggle the Lesser gives the Death Star plans to Dooku.

The Clone Wars begin on Geonosis.

22 BBY: THE CLONE WARS:

"Mace Windu leads a Jedi mission to Hissrich. As a member of Windu’s team, Jedi Prosset Dibs accuses the Order of wanting Hissrich for the Republic. He duels Windu and is defeated. Dibs is found guilty of treason and confined to the Jedi Archives in hopes that he’ll find his way back to the light." (These are the events of Jedi of the Republic - Mace Windu.)

"Padmé and Captain Typho help Sticks’ squad of clone troopers free Separatist hostages on the embattled planet Hebekrr Minor." (These are the events of Queen's Hope.)

"Anakin becomes a Jedi Knight."

"Obi-Wan becomes a Jedi Master and is elevated to the Jedi Council."

"Obi-Wan investigates a bombing on Cato Neimoidia and discovers the attack bears the hallmarks of both a Republic and Separatist operation. He brings this disquieting hint that someone is manipulating both sides of the war back to Coruscant. Anakin duels Ventress on Cato Neimoidia." (These are the events of Brotherhood.)

"Captain Rex, formally designated CT-7567, is assigned to Anakin Skywalker, who saves his life during the Battle of Arantara. A mutual respect soon blossoms between the brash, bold young Jedi general and the sturdy, by-the-book clone officer."

"Anakin’s troops run afoul of hostile wildlife while searching for Separatist forces on Benglor." (These are the events of Star Wars Adventures: The Clone Wars – Battle Tales #1.)

"The Techno Union’s Wat Tambor destroys the Nexus trading post on Quarmendy to keep Plo Koon’s troops from reclaiming it." (These are the events of Star Wars Adventures: The Clone Wars – Battle Tales #2.)

"Yoda assigns Ahsoka Tano to Anakin as his Padawan, hoping to teach Skywalker how to let go of his emotional attachments."

"The Separatist battlecruiser Malevolence terrorizes the galaxy’s inner systems before it is tracked and destroyed at the Dead Moon of Antar."

21 BBY: THE CLONE WARS:

"The Republic invades Geonosis for a second time to destroy a dangerous new droid foundry constructed by Poggle the Lesser."

"Padmé and Jar Jar discover a bioweapons lab in Naboo’s swamps and must stop Nuvo Vindi from releasing the Blue Shadow Virus."

"General Grievous and Asajj Ventress lead a Separatist invasion on Kamino, with the Republic’s clones fiercely defending their birthworld."

"Sabine Wren is born on Mandalore but raised on neighboring Krownest."

20 BBY: THE CLONE WARS:

"Anakin experiences a disturbing vision of his future in the Force realm known as Mortis and must make a wrenching decision."

"The Republic defends Mon Cala during a Separatist-engineered civil war between the Mon Calamari and the Quarren."

"Republic forces suffer heavy casualties while storming Umbara, a strategically located world with advanced technology that has become a Separatist stronghold."

"Maul returns from exile, bent on obtaining revenge against the long list of those he believes have wronged him."

19 BBY: THE CLONE WARS:

"Maul forms the Shadow Collective, forging several of the galaxy’s crime syndicates into a single underworld organization under his leadership."

"Mandalore’s Duchess Satine Kryze is overthrown by Death Watch’s Pre Vizsla, whose own rule is quickly ended by Maul. Maul has manipulated events to bring Obi-Wan to Mandalore, and now has the hated Jedi at his mercy. He strikes Satine down in the throne room."

"Responding to a disturbance in the Force, Darth Sidious arrives on Mandalore. Maul swears fealty to his old master, but Sidious rejects him. He kills Savage, blasts Maul with lightning, and takes his former apprentice prisoner."

"Anakin and Ahsoka return from Cato Neimoidia to investigate a bombing at the Jedi Temple amid rumors that a Jedi was involved."

"Ahsoka is expelled from the Jedi Order, which believes her guilty of the Temple bombing. She is then arrested by the Republic and prosecuted by Admiral Tarkin before a military tribunal, with Palpatine presiding and Padmé representing the defense. [She] leaves the Jedi Order."

"During the Battle of Ringo Vinda, the clone trooper Tup turns his blaster on Jedi General Tiplar, forcing a Republic retreat. Fives and AZI-3 discover a tumor in Tup’s brain. He dies after its extraction. Palpatine and Nala Se insist the tumor be sent to a Republic medical facility, but Shaak Ti decides it must go to the Jedi Temple first. Kix helps Fives arrange a meeting with Anakin and Rex. Fives tells them about the inhibitor chips and the plot against the Jedi, but his story sounds like a paranoid conspiracy and he becomes agitated. Commander Fox and clone troopers arrive, sent by Palpatine, and try to arrest Fives. When Fives resists, Fox shoots him dead. Tup’s action is blamed on a parasitic infection, and the inhibitor chips are delivered to Dooku."

"Padmé travels to Scipio to expedite a Banking Clan loan for the Republic and discovers Rush Clovis is serving as their representative. The Banking Clan is dissolved and Palpatine takes over its holdings."

"Plo Koon discovers the crash site of Sifo-Dyas’ ship, prompting the Council to investigate the Jedi’s long-ago disappearance."

"On Oba Diah, spice kingpin Lom Pyke tells Anakin and Obi-Wan that the Pykes were paid by Tyranus to kill Sifo-Dyas. Dooku arrives and is identified as Tyranus. He kills the Pyke leader and duels with Anakin, but escapes."

"The Jedi are disturbed to learn Dooku was responsible for the creation of the clone army, but decide to keep this revelation secret."

"Yoda obeys Qui-Gon’s voice and travels to Dagobah, where Qui-Gon’s spirit tells him to learn how to retain his identity after death."

"Anakin teams up with a mysterious Chiss military officer, Thrawn, to locate Padmé and destroy a cortosis mine." [Thrawn: Alliances]

"Yoda helps Kashyyyk’s Wookiees defend their planet against Separatist raiders, earning the honor 'Defender of the Home Tree.'"

"Mandalorian commandos free Maul from Stygeon Prime. Sidious and Dooku allow him to escape in hopes of drawing out Mother Talzin. Maul lures Grievous and Dooku into a confrontation on Ord Mantell and takes them both prisoner—a dangerous gambit of Talzin’s aimed at luring her old enemy Sidious into the fight. Grievous and Sidious come to Dooku’s aid on Dathomir. Grievous kills Mother Talzin and the Mandalorians drag Maul away to safety."

- "Ventress asks the Jedi to help abduct Vos from Dooku’s service in hopes of saving him. Vos returns to the Jedi, claiming his turn to the dark side was a ruse. But his true loyalties are unclear. Vos defeats Dooku on Christophsis, but agrees to join him to defeat Sidious. His secret hope is to kill both Sith Lords. Ventress confronts Vos and Dooku, saving Quinlan before Dooku attacks her with a devastating blast of lightning. The count escapes. Vos and Obi-Wan return Ventress to the waters of Dathomir. [Ventress dies.]"

"Having left the Jedi Order, Ahsoka befriends Trace Martez, a mechanic in the Coruscant underlevels, and her sister Rafa. Ahsoka discovers the Pykes are working for Maul, who is on Mandalore. She uses the Force to escape with the Martez sisters, and the Pykes conclude they were targeted by the Jedi. Ahsoka returns to Coruscant, where Bo-Katan Kryze recruits her to fight Maul."

"Separatists commanded by Admiral Trench invade the Republic stronghold of Anaxes and repeatedly defeat clone counterattacks. Rex is disturbed that the Separatists seem to be adapting rapidly to his strategies and suspects Trench is using some new combat algorithm. He proposes raiding the Separatists’ cyber center to discover their secret. The mission succeeds with assistance from an unorthodox unit of genetically altered clones known as the Bad Batch."

"Anakin joins Rex’s clones and the Bad Batch to raid the Techno Union’s facility on Skako Minor, fighting their way through Wat Tambor’s droid legions. They discover Echo confined in a stasis chamber and hooked up to Separatist computers. Anakin confronts Trench to obtain the rest of the sequence to disarm the bomb, saving Anaxes. He then kills the admiral. Echo joins the Bad Batch."

"Grievous launches a Separatist counteroffensive. The Republic sends Aayla Secura to Felucia and Plo Koon to Cato Neimoidia to hold the line."

"Obi-Wan and Anakin rout Separatist forces on Yerbana. ["Old Friends Not Forgotten"] Ahsoka and Bo-Katan approach the Jedi to propose a joint mission to capture Maul and free Mandalore from his crime syndicate. The Jedi agree and split the 501st in two, with Rex leading troops under Ahsoka’s command."

"A Separatist armada launches a sneak attack on Coruscant, hammering the Republic warships of the Coruscant Home Defense Fleet. Grievous ambushes Palpatine in the Federal District, killing Roron Corobb and knocking Shaak Ti unconscious, then kidnapping the chancellor. The Open Circle Fleet arrives from Yerbana."

19 BBY: REVENGE OF THE SITH:

"Anakin and Obi-Wan fly through the titanic space battle, dodging salvos of laser fire exchanged by Republic and Separatist capital ships in an effort to reach the Invisible Hand, where Palpatine is being held. With the Separatists cut off from their jump point, the battle degenerates into a brutal slugging match, with ships burning up in orbit and debris raining down upon the Coruscant cityscape below. Anakin and Obi-Wan rescue Palpatine above Coruscant. Anakin kills Dooku and Sidious plots to make the Jedi his new apprentice."

"Grievous retreats to Utapau, where the Separatist Council is in hiding. Sidious orders him to relocate the Separatist leaders to Mustafar."

"On Mandalore, Republic forces take the docks of the capital, Sundari. Prime Minister Almec orders Gar Saxon to retreat into the undercity. Bo-Katan’s commandos capture Almec. Ahsoka confronts Maul in the undercity. He is disappointed to see her, having hoped to lure Obi-Wan into his trap."

"Anakin dreams of Padmé’s death in childbirth. Palpatine appoints Anakin to the Jedi Council as his personal representative, to the alarm of Yoda and Mace Windu."

"Bail Organa meets secretly with Padmé, Mon Mothma, and other senators determined to resist Palpatine if he doesn’t surrender his wartime powers."

"Yoda heads to Kashyyyk to bolster its defense."

"On Maul’s command, Saxon shoots Almec before Ahsoka can finish questioning him, then makes his getaway."

"At Coruscant’s Galaxies Opera House, Palpatine plays on Anakin’s anger and doubt about the Jedi’s integrity, guessing that they asked him to be their spy. He tells Anakin the story of Darth Plagueis, a Sith Lord who could save people from dying. Anakin, fearful his nightmares are a premonition of Padmé’s fate, is intrigued—particularly when Palpatine tells him it is not a power that can be learned from the Jedi."

"Obi-Wan travels to Utapau to hunt for Grievous."

"Clone troopers, Bo-Katan’s commandos, and Saxon’s warriors battle in the streets of Sundari, with the Republic’s forces winning the day."

"Ahsoka confronts Maul again, who tells her Sidious is behind everything and Anakin is the key to destroying the Sith. Maul reveals that he had hoped to lure Obi-Wan and Anakin to Mandalore in order to kill Anakin, so Sidious could not take the Jedi as his new apprentice. Ahsoka and Maul duel. Maul is captured by Rex’s clones, with Saxon apprehended as well."

"On Utapau, Obi-Wan confronts Grievous. He duels the Separatist warlord and then chases him through the city’s winding tunnels and warrens."

"Palpatine reveals his true identity to Anakin and begs him to use his knowledge to save Padmé. Anakin vows to turn him over to the Jedi."

"Obi-Wan corners Grievous in a hangar on Utapau and kills the mechanical monster with a shot from a blaster."

"Imprisoned in a device that prevents him from using the Force, Maul is brought aboard a Jedi Cruiser destined for Coruscant, escorted by Ahsoka."

"Told of Palpatine’s identity, Windu orders Anakin to wait at the Jedi Temple while he arrests Sidious with Kit Fisto, Agen Kolar, and Saesee Tiin. Sidious kills Tiin, Fisto, and Kolar and duels Windu. He attacks Mace using lightning, which the Jedi Master deflects back at Sidious. Anakin arrives and pleads that Sidious be allowed to stand trial, but Windu says he’s too dangerous to be spared. Anakin makes a fateful decision, stopping Windu’s attack by severing his hand. Sidious blasts Windu with lightning, sending him through the broken window. Anakin pledges allegiance to Sidious, who grants him the name Darth Vader. He tells Anakin to go to the Jedi Temple and kill everyone there—that will make him strong enough with the dark side to save Padmé."

"Ahsoka and Maul sense a strong disturbance in the Force."

19 BBY: ORDER 66

"Sidious issues Order 66. Clone troopers across the galaxy obey their inhibitor chips and attack the Jedi, decimating the Order."

"Commander Cody targets Obi-Wan Kenobi on Utapau. The Jedi survives the attack, escapes offworld, and is rescued by Senator Organa. Aboard the Jedi Cruiser Tribunal, Rex manages to tell Ahsoka to “find Fives” before trying to kill her. She evades Rex’s fire and flees from his troopers. Commander Grey and his clone battalion execute Depa Billaba on Kaller. oda avoids death by killing Commander Gree and Captain Jek, and then escapes Kashyyyk with help from Chewbacca and Tarfful. On a Jedi Cruiser above Bracca, Jaro Tapal is cut down by clones from the 13th battalion, sabotaging the warship before he dies. Captain Jag downs Plo Koon’s starfighter during a patrol flight on contested Cato Neimoidia. Ki-Adi-Mundi is cut down by Commander Bacara’s Galactic Marines during infantry maneuvers on Mygeeto. Luminara Unduli is captured on Kashyyyk. After her execution, the Inquisitors spread rumors of her survival to ensnare other fugitive Jedi. Stass Allie is blasted by Commander Neyo while flying BARC speeders in a mop-up operation on Saleucami. Commander Bly gives the order to shoot Aayla Secura amid Felucia’s colorful fungi."

"Ahsoka prevents other clones from killing the imprisoned Maul. She releases him to create a diversion. While Maul wreaks havoc aboard the Tribunal, Ahsoka activates a trio of astromechs to help her evade Rex’s troops. Ahsoka locates Fives’ records, learning what happened to him and that Rex suspected the clones’ inhibitor chips have some ulterior purpose. Ahsoka subdues Rex and removes his inhibitor chip. Maul destroys the Tribunal’s hyperdrive, sending the doomed Jedi Cruiser careening toward the surface of a remote moon."

"Bail Organa arrives at the Jedi Temple to investigate the uprising and is confronted by clone troopers. He retreats under fire."

"Anakin, now known as Darth Vader and backed by the 501st Legion, marches on the Jedi Temple and slaughters its defenders. He shows no mercy, believing that the dark side is the only pathway to the unnatural powers he must command to save Padmé. As his rage and lust for power swell, not even younglings hiding in the Jedi Council chambers are safe from his lightsaber. Elsewhere, young Grogu survives a clone trooper attack but is haunted by his memories of the event."

"Anakin obeys Sidious’ command and kills the Separatist leaders on Mustafar, shutting down their droid armies and ending the Clone Wars."

"The Senate holds a special session, during which Palpatine—now scarred after his battle with Mace—details the Jedi plot to kill him and take control of the Senate. He proclaims the Republic is to be reorganized into the first Galactic Empire."

"Obi-Wan and Yoda fight their way into the Jedi Temple and recalibrate a signal to warn any surviving Jedi away."

"Padmé arrives on Mustafar, unknowingly bringing along Obi-Wan as a stowaway. Anakin uses the Force to choke her. As C-3PO and R2-D2 tend to Padmé, Anakin and Obi-Wan fight a running duel through the lava flows of Mustafar’s mining complex."

"On Coruscant, Yoda confronts Sidious and the two duel in the Senate Chamber, with Sidious hurling Senate pods at his Jedi enemy. Ascendant with dark-side power, Sidious proves too tough a foe for Yoda, who flees their duel, evading clone troopers sent to hunt him, and is whisked away by Bail Organa in an airspeeder. Sidious senses his new apprentice is in danger and hurries to Mustafar."

"Anakin is left maimed and burned after dueling Obi-Wan on Mustafar. Obi-Wan takes Anakin’s lightsaber and leaves him to die. Anakin survives and is encased in life-preserving black armor. As Darth Vader, he becomes the subject of rumors as the Emperor’s servant and enforcer"

Padme gives birth to Luke and Leia, then she dies. Bail Organa takes Leia to Alderaan and Obi-Wan takes Luke to the Lars' farm on Tatooine, going into exile there, while Yoda is on Dagobah.

"Ahsoka and Rex bury the clones at the Tribunal’s crash site. She leaves her lightsaber behind to find a new path."

19 BBY: GALAXY IN DARKNESS

"Tarkin tells Lama Su that the Kaminoans’ contracts are void and the need for future clones is being questioned."

"Padmé, appearing to still be pregnant, is laid to rest after a solemn funeral procession on Naboo."

"Mas Amedda presides at an Imperial rally held before Coruscant’s Jedi Temple to celebrate the defeat of the Order."

"Sidious abandons Vader on the desert planet Gattering with orders to seize a Jedi’s lightsaber and make it his own. Vader travels to a dark-side locus on Mustafar and bends Infil’a’s kyber crystal to his will, making it bleed red. By compelling the Force to serve his purposes, Vader takes an essential step in his journey as a Sith."

"Sidious puts Vader in charge of the Inquisitors, Force users who once served the light but were seduced or brutalized into following the dark side and are now responsible for hunting down and killing the galaxy’s fugitive Jedi. Vader proves a ruthless taskmaster, brutalizing his new underlings in combat training sessions and eliminating those who fail to live up to the standards demanded by him and the Emperor."

"Sidious orders Vader to lure the Jedi Order’s fugitive archivist Jocasta Nu to Coruscant’s Jedi Temple and capture her. An enraged Vader kills Commander Fox after clone troopers under his command fire on the Sith Lord at the Jedi Temple. Nu explains to Vader what he’s failed to realize: Sidious wants the memory crystal and its list so he can find a potential replacement for his apprentice. Vader kills Nu, tells Sidious she died trying to escape, and crushes the crystal."

"The Empire builds up its forces and begins enlisting and training conscript stormtroopers to replace the Republic’s clone soldiers."

"The Empire bombards Kamino’s cities, destroying all traces of the cloning program that played a critical role in the Clone Wars."

SOURCES & NOTES:

Star Wars Timelines by Kristin Baver, Jason Fry, Cole Horton, Amy Richau, and Clayton Sandell is the primary source for much of this, anything in quotation marks is sourced from here unless otherwise noted. This timeline is only quoting a small minority of what's available in the book, so it's recommended that you check it out for yourselves!

I have done my best to put everything in order even within the specific years, noting where I'm not 100% sure of the sequence of events.

If a "c.[YEAR]" is included, the spot is estimated, not hard fact, but in general it's a pretty trustworthy placement! Except for birthdays--they're not placed directly on the timeline, so I just kind of threw them in at the end most times.

Observation: Holy crap, the Clone Wars was NUTS.

[rubysunnday]

as white as snow

summary: Y/N runs into Anthony Bridgerton, someone she's known of for years, but never gotten close to, at the winter solistice ball. Through a dramatic turn of events, the two are forced to acknowledge one another and their feelings.

The winter season had always been a dark, cold and occasionally lonely one. Many families of the ton left London for their country estates, choosing to spend the winter time in sprawling fields.

But there was one event that many families travelled to the outskirts of London for. the Countess of Derby's solstice ball.

It was the biggest event of the winter period. Invites were a coveted prize. Which was why Miss Y/N Hughes was currently staring, open mouthed, at the green envelope in her hand, her name elegantly scrawled on the front in gold.

'Y/N, close your mouth, we are not a codfish," her mother, Lady Hughes, snapped, setting her teacup down on the saucer with a clink.

Y/N hurried over to her mother and held the envelope out in front of her. Her mother cast an uninterested gaze over to her hand. There was a second before the envelope registered in her mind and, when it did, her mother let out an undignified shriek, snatching it from Y/N's hands.

"Robert! ROBERT!" Her mother yelled, barging past Y/N and hurrying into the morning room where her father sat, reading the newspaper.

Y/N stood to the side, trying not to show her amusement at her mother's reaction to the invite.

"We must go to the modiste right away," Lady Hughes said, rushing back into the room, their housekeeper trailing behind. "We need new dresses suitable for this event. Y/N, come along, we need to get you a new dress, dear."

"Is this," Y/N inhaled sharply, "corset meant to be this tight?"

"Of course, miss," the modiste said, pulling the laces even tighter. "It's meant to accentuate the waist and boobs."

"I think it's meant to be comfortable," Y/N muttered, wincing as the boning began to poke into the side of her boob. "And allow me to breathe."

Her mother had insisted the modiste was to dress them the night of the ball - making sure their new dresses looked the best. No expense had been spared, as was always the way, and Y/N's new gown was covered in gems and beads.

It hung on a hanger, on the edge of her door, sparkling and glittering in the candlelight. The modiste trotted over to the door, lifting the hook of the hanger off the wood.

Y/N put her hands on her waist, wincing as she tried to take a full breath in, the tight corset restricting the action.

"Would it be possible to loosen this corset a bit?" Y/N asked, looking over at the modiste.

"No, we would ruin the silhouette of the dress otherwise," the modiste said, shaking her head. She turned to the dress. "Now, let's put this on."

Their carriage rolled to an abrupt stop. Y/N tried not to lurch forward, gripping the carriage door tightly to stop herself from falling into her mother's lap.

"Remember, best behaviour," Lady Hughes warned, poking a few pins further into her hair. "We want to make an impression. And you, dearest," she looked at Y/N, "are running out of time to make a match."

"Oh, mama -"

"No, I won't hear it. You've been out in society for almost two years. Unless I see something happen tonight, your father and I will be arranging a match for you."

Y/N's eyes widened. "What? Mama!"

"Silence, Y/N." Her mother leant forward, pushing in to her space. "We will discuss this more later."

The carriage door opened and her father jumped out, extending his hand out to her mother, guiding her down the stairs. Y/N took a moment, pulling back the blanket that covered her legs, and then slid across the seats to the door. She lifted her dress up and put a slippered foot onto the first step, placing her hand in the footman's.

The Countess of Derby's mansion was a magnificently beautiful building. There were fifty-five acres of immaculately maintained gardens and the house itself was set in over two thousand acres of land.

It was a beautiful example of architecture. Each brick had been placed with care, flowers curling around the columns and windows.

Y/N pulled her velvet cloak tighter around her shoulders as she began to walk up the steps. A freezing gust of wind whipped at her skin, raising the hairs on her arms. Braziers and torches lined the stone steps leading up to the front door. Footmen stood at intervals, ready to assist if anyone needed it.

"Miss Hughes!"

Y/N turned, looking back down the path. Another coach had pulled up and its inhabitants were clambering out in a gaggle of laughs and complaints.

"Lord Bridgerton!' Y/N exclaimed, a smile overtaking her face. She walked back down the steps, holding her dress hem up off the floor. "This is a surprise!"

Anthony Bridgerton took the steps two at a time, meeting Y/N half way. He took her gloved hand and pressed a kiss to the back of it, all whilst looking directly at her.

Y/N suddenly found it hard to breathe. His gaze was intense and his hand warm against her cold skin.

She'd known Anthony for a few years now. It'd been a chance meeting at the opening of a new art exhibition that he'd brought them together. Both of them had been drawn to the same painting for the same reasons and, suddenly, Y/N had a new friendship.

A friendship she yearned to evolve into something more.

"Brother? You're blocking the path."

Anthony stood up, rolling his eyes as he did so. He stepped to the side and his younger brother, Colin, stepped up.

"Hello, Miss Hughes," Colin said, winking at her. "You look lovely."

"As do you, Mr Bridgerton," Y/N said, smiling back at him.

Benedict followed behind Colin. "Miss Hughes," he said, nodding at her, a smile on his face. As he passed, he squeezed her arm in greeting.

"Mr Bridgerton," Y/N replied.

Daphne and Eloise followed behind their brothers, the former practically dragging the latter with her.

"Duchess," Y/N said, curtseying. "Miss Bridgerton." Y/N leant in to Anthony. "Good lord, there are a lot of you."

Anthony sighed heavily. "Imagine the carriage ride."

Y/N greeted Lady Bridgerton as she walked past, smiling warmly at her. "Shall we head inside, Lord Bridgerton?"

Anthony held out his arm and Y/N placed her gloved hand in the crook of his elbow. "We shall, Miss Hughes."

As soon as they stepped inside the foyer, Y/N's breath was taken away. Fir trees covered in candles and decorations sat in each corner, lining the expansive space. Each one guided them towards the main ballroom where even more fir trees were stood. Dancers waltzed around the room, reds, greens, golds and whites blending together.

"Is this your first solstice ball?" Anthony asked, his voice quiet.

His breath danced across her skin and Y/N felt her arms tingle with goosebumps.

"Yes," she whispered, her eyes trying to take in every detail in front of her. "It's... magical."

"Here, let me take your cloak," Anthony said, releasing her arm and coming around to stand in front of her. His fingers effortlessly undid the bow at her chest. His knuckles brushed across her skin, his signet ring cold to her warmth.

Y/N breathed in deeply and then regretted it as her corset almost tightened around her torso. She hid her stuttered breath until Anthony turned away, handing her cloak and his cape to the attendant by the door.

"Would you like to -"

"Miss Hughes?"

Y/N mentally swore. She turned her head and forced herself to smile at the older man standing in front of her, looking expectantly at her.

"Captain Sanders. I'm an old friend of your father's," he explained. "Your mother said I could ask you for a dance."

Y/N felt her lungs constrict. "Oh. Yes, of course, Captain."

She reluctantly held out her hand to the man. As he led her way, her other hand brushed against Anthony's her fingers locking with his for a split second as she tried to cling on.

Anthony watched her disappear into the crowd. His hand clenched into a tight fist and he then flexed it, trying to ignore the jealously and pain going through him.

It'd taken him far too long to realise Y/N was who he wanted to spend the rest of his life with. He'd know she was running out of time and now, when he was about to begin trying to court her, she was being pulled from his grasp.

"Please tell me you did not just let Captain Sanders whisk Y/N away," Benedict said, coming to stand next to his older brother.

"He didn't give me much choice," Anthony grumbled. "Apparently her mother sent him over."

"Ah, Lady Hughes - she's on par with Lady Featherington."

"What do I do?"

"Are you actually asking me for advice?" Benedict asked, gaping at his brother.

Anthony shoved his shoulder. "Yes." Anthony sighed. "You know why."

Benedict did. He'd seen how his brother looked at Y/N, how he spoke to her, acted around her. She made him a better person by simply existing in his life. Anthony had never smiled as much as he did when Y/N was around.

"Ask her to dance," Benedict said with a shrug. "Then, take her for a stroll round the room and tell her. Her mother is clearly plotting. You know your time is limited."

"I know," Anthony whispered, his gaze fixed on Y/N as she danced around the room. Her gaze fixed on his for a moment and he felt his heart ache.

Y/N, too, felt her heart ache. Felt the pain of being so close to the man she wanted. Yet so far away.

Captain Sanders walked her back to her mother after their dance ended. Y/N could feel her dress clinging to her skin, the corset restricting her every movement and every breath. She knew it was far too tight - it should not be this painful to simply breathe.

"Captain Sanders, I do hope you'll call on us tomorrow," Lady Hughes said, smiling at the man. "I'm sure Y/N will be delighted to see you again."

Y/N just nodded.

"Now," her mother said, as soon as they were alone," your father and I have decided that come spring, you and Captain Sanders shall be wed."

Her heart stopped. A high pitched whine took over her hearing, drowning the ballroom noise out. Y/N put a hand on her stomach, trying to maintain her composure.

"Mama -"

"No discussion, Y/N," her mother said, the warning clear in her tone. "You've had two years. Time is up."

Her mother flounced away, leaving Y/N behind. She stood there, stunned. Her breathing had quickened, her chest frantically rising and falling.

A cloak fell around her shoulders and Y/N jumped slightly, her head shooting up to see who had appeared behind her.

Anthony, his dark eyes full of concern, looked at her. "Shall we go outside?"

Y/N nodded, numb to everything around her. She didn't even realise when Anthony took her hand in hers, gently tugging her out onto the veranda.

The cold, winters air hit her instantly. It did nothing to calm her racing heart, to ease the tightness of her lungs as they stuggled to keep up with her panic. Her corset was impossibly tight, her vision was begin to spin.

"I am to be wed," Y/N whispered, walking aimlessly down the steps of the veranda and out into the hedged gardens.

Anthony followed at her side, his hand still holding hers. "I overheard."

"Captain Sanders is the same age as my father," she said softly.

"I know."

Y/N stopped abruptly, the reality of her situation hitting her. It stole what little breath she had left and the gardens began to spin in her vision. Everything became harder to focus on - as if she was being spun around and around and around.

"Y/N?" Anthony said, his tone urgent. He squeezed her hand, trying to get her attention. "Y/N, what's wrong?"

Y/N's breath was laboured, her chest rising and falling far faster than it should've been. She gripped Anthony's hand tightly, her nails digging into his skin.

"Corset," she gasped out, arching over, trying to breathe. "I can't breathe."

Her knees buckled, she could feel herself falling, she gripped onto Anthony's arms as he fell down with her. Her head hit the gravel path and the blackness overwhelmed her.

Anthony knelt beside her, his hand holding hers. His heart was pounding. "Y/N?" He gently shook her. Her head lolled to the side. Her chest wasn't moving and when he hovered his hand under her nose, no breath hit his hand.

He was trying to stay calm, to focus. But his heart was controlling him. Anthony shook her again and then, abruptly, harshly, remembered what she'd whispered.

Anthony pulled her limp body up and rested it against his chest. His fingers ran down her back, struggling to undo the buttons of her dress. One snapped off as he tried to undo and, in a moment of frustration, he ripped the buttons open.

He could see the red lines where her corset had pressed against her skin, even through the chemise underneath it. It didn't take him long to realise the corset was far too tight.

He'd seen countless corsets over the years and knew how they were meant to be done up and tied. This one was too tight, to constricting. No wonder she'd collapsed.

Anthony deftly undid the laces, pulling on them until the material of the corset came loose from Y/N's body. He laid her back down on the ground, making sure the ribbons of her cloak weren't tight around her throat.

He waited for a moment but she still wasn't breathing. Anthony shook himself and snapped back into action. He tilted Y/N's head back and gently opened her mouth. He leant over her and pressed his lips to hers, breathing into her mouth until he had no air left.

Anthony took a deep breath in and then pressed his mouth to hers again, blowing all the air he head into her.

"Come on, Y/N, please," he whispered, resting his forehead against hers.

There was a horrible moment where Anthony thought nothing had happened. That it hadn't worked. That, all the tales his tenants told him of men coming back to life after someone breathe for them, were false.

But then, Y/N started to cough, her hands flying up and gripping his arms tightly.

"It's okay, I've got you," Anthony whispered, pulling her up and into him, letting her lean against his chest. "I've got you, Y/N. I've got you."

Y/N slumped against him, closing her eyes as she tried to catch her breath. She let her hand trail down his arm until it reached his hand. Y/N threaded her fingers through his and squeezed tightly.

"You saved my life," Y/N whispered.

"You scared the hell out of me," Anthony whispered back. He leant his chin on the top of her head. "Why was your corset so tight?"

"Modiste insisted on it,"" Y/N replied, her words coming out a little clearer as her breath came back. "She kept pulling tighter and tighter."

"Ssh," Anthony whispered, sensing her panic brewing. "It's okay."

"It's not though," Y/N said softly. "Nothing's okay, Anthony. I'm to marry a man I barely know. I have no control over anything anymore."

They sat there, on the cold gravel path, clutching on to one another. Anthony pressed a kiss to the top of Y/N's head and she closed her eyes tightly, resting her head on his arm.

Snow began to fall around them. It danced gently down, light enough that it wasn't going to settle, but enough to tell that it was snowing.

Anthony helped Y/N to her feet. He turned her around and carefully did her corset back up, making sure the laces were comfortably tight. He then did the back of her dress back up the best he could, swearing every time he fumbled with a button.

Every time he did, Y/N laughed softly, her shoulders shaking.

Anthony turned Y/N back around to face her. He pulled the hood of her cloak up, letting his fingers trace the line of her jaw as he pulled away.

"You still have control," Anthony said quietly. "You can still chose."

"How?" Y/N asked, her voice almost lost to the dark night. "How can I chose?"

Anthony raised his hand, brushing his knuckles along her cheek. He held her chin in his hand. "Chose me."

He saw the surprise in her eyes. No matter how hard she tried to hide it, he could see it.

"Anthony, you..."

"Have changed," Anthony said, cutting her off. "I apologise for making you wait so long, Y/N, darling. But I know, now, that it is you I want to spend the rest of my life with. No matter how long or short it is, I know the time we spend together will be worth the grief and pain that may come later."

Y/N looked at him. "Do you truly mean it?"

"Every word. With all my heart."

The snow began to fall faster, the flake getting bigger. Y/N smiled at him, her eyes lighting up for the first time all evening.

"You can kiss me again, Lord Bridgerton," Y/N whispered. "I'll be conscious this time, I promise. I'll remember this time."

Anthony chuckled. "You'd better, Miss Hughes."

Anthony leant forward and pressed his lips to hers. There was a moment of quiet bliss before the urgency, the desperation, the desire took them over.

They walked backwards, disappearing behind the hedges and into a smaller, secluded garden. Anthony pushed Y/N until the back of her legs hit a stone bench. He guided her backwards until she was lying down on the bench.

Y/N pulled away, pushing Anthony back slightly. She smiled up at him, her skin hot.

"Lord Bridgerton, are you so desperate to make me yours?" She asked, dragging her hand down his hair and then onto his neck. Anthony groaned softly, leaning his head back into touch. His hand brushed down her thigh, the sensation reaching her even through her dress. He reached under her dress and Y/N arched up into him as his fingers danced up her leg, to her inner thigh, pulling the chemise up and up and -

"I don't think I could wait a moment more," Anthony whispered, pausing. "As long as you -"

"Yes," Y/N replied, pulling him down onto her and pressing her lips to his again. "Just.. yes," she whispered against his lips.

Anthony's hand resumed it's dance, delving higher and then disappearing inside her. Y/N felt a noise she'd never made before escape her lips and she arched up into him, her hand gripping the back of his neck tightly.

"Our absence will be noticed soon," Y/N said, her words disappearing into a moan. Her nails dug into his neck as he pushed her dress up higher, his fingers dancing around before going deeper inside her.

Anthony smiled, his breath hot against her skin as he whispered, "Don't worry. I'll be quick."