#I’m not even updating this story right now lol

[katnissdoesnotfollowback]

How many redheads does Peeta bang in “When the Stars Crumble”?

We really gonna do this again? Cut my boy some slack. He got thrown in prison alone, shipped off to a strange planet alone, found out his wife divorced him before he even left earth, and then spent several years dealing with *waves hands* all that.

[mysaintkitten]

more free use/dumbification for tommy and robert please i beg!! ur so talented!

thank you so much !! and although this request asked for free use or dumbification, it’s mostly the latter. will definitely be writing more free use fics though !!

Nocturnal | Tommy Shelby x fem!reader

prompt: a late night run in with Tommy (lol)

WARNINGS: SMUT (18+ MDNI), sort of mean tommy, unprotected sex, dumbification

Ada Shelby had been your closest friend for as long as you could remember. Everything you’d been through, good and bad, was made manageable with her by your side. The only thing you couldn’t stand was her brother, Tommy. Just the thought of him alone made you want to roll your eyes.

He was arrogant, stubborn, dominant, and worst of all: devilishly attractive. It drove you mad. How could such a gorgeous face be attached to such a vile man?

You’d even bicker occasionally over the smallest things before Ada would come between you and act as a mediator, because of course neither of you could push your pride down long enough to just end the conversation.

But, due to life simply being unpredictable, you had to distance yourself from Ada for about a year. You still stayed in touch, weekly letters updating each other about your lives and new experiences, but life had just become too hectic to make genuine plans.

Luckily though, things began to mellow out and eventually you and Ada were able to make plans to have a sleepover- just like old times.

The two of you spent the late night and early a.m’s chatting and giggling like school girls, until you noticed Ada’s faint snoring as you told a long elaborate story about a horrific professor you had to deal with. With that, you realized the night had come to a close.

Before you followed her in drifting to sleep, you decided to get a drink of water before bed. Tiredly, you left her bedroom and trudged towards the dimly lit room. As you stepped into the kitchen and reached for a glass from the cupboard, you quickly realized you weren’t alone.

“(Y/N)?” You hear a familiar male voice mutter from behind you, causing you to jump and nearly drop the glass out of your hand from being startled. You swiftly turn around on your feet, only to see Tommy sitting there. Of course he’s around the moment Ada’s asleep.

As he sees your face he chuckles and brings a cigarette up to his lips, “didn’t mean to scare you, love.”

“A bit late for that …” you mumble back while trying to relax your racing heart, “why are you up so late?”

Tommy raises his eyebrows and smirks before answering, “I could ask you the same question.”

“Me and Ada were talking, I wanted some water before bed,” you answer as you fill your glass up, “and you?”

“What were you two girls gabbing about? Makeup? Boys?” Tommy replies while ignoring the question you’d asked him, you shake your head and sigh. Tommy knows where your aspirations lie, he’s just trying to push your buttons.

“I don’t exactly have time for a boys right now, my focus is on university,” you clarify before taking a sip of water.

Tommy chuckles condescendingly as he hears you mention ‘university’, earning a confused glare from you as you take a step closer towards Tommy’s seat at the kitchen table.

“What’s funny?”

“Oh, nothing,” Tommy assured unconvincingly between inhales, “I just don’t think university is the best way for a young woman to spend her time.”

Your face contorts into visual disdain, it’s times like this where you wonder if he’s being obnoxious just to piss you off or if he’s truly just this annoying, “and where exactly do you think a young woman should be spending her time?”

“Women are happiest when they’re kept in their place,” Tommy explained flatly as he takes a drag of his cigarette, “doing housework in the day, and in bed taking her husband’s cock at night.”

You couldn’t help but scoff at his ignorant and blatantly misogynistic remarks, what kind of women has Tommy been around for him to genuinely believe this?

“I’m not sure what kind of ladies you’ve been seeing, Tommy, but most women I know have dreams, ambitions, goals,” you retort as you take another step closer towards Tommy with a foreign sense of confidence, “and they desire much more in life than being just some man’s personal come dump.”

He chuckles while putting out his cigarette, proceeding to stand to his feet and slowly make his way over to you,

“Thats what you all think,” Tommy states lowly as he walks closer and closer, “that you’re special and different, but really, you’re all the same. Once you get fucked so good you’re seeing stars, all those little dreams go out the window.”

You step backwards ploddingly as your cheeks burn, not knowing how to respond to Tommy’s crude comment. Suddenly, his face is mere inches away from yours.

“And judging by your little proclamation,” Tommy’s gaze drifts to your soft lips before locking eyes with you again, “you haven’t experienced that, love.”

You couldn’t define what you were feeling, frustration? Exhaustion? Arousal? Your body buzzed with inscrutable energy, and the rational part of your brain attempted to take over and de escalate the situation.

“I-I should just go to bed, Tommy …” you whine weakly as your eyes nervously dart around, suddenly finding Tommy’s stare and demeanour incredibly overwhelming. His dominance mixed with the masculine scent of whisky and tobacco made your heart flutter.

“Why don’t you just see what it’s like, hm?” Tommy purrs as he places his hands on your hips, you suck in a quick surprised breath- but you don’t push him away, “to get fucked so good you forget your own name …”

You didn’t know what came over you; maybe it was the fact that it had been so long since you’d been properly touched, or because part of you had some sort of attraction toward Tommy, but you found yourself wanting more.

Tommy notices your hesitance and tries to warm you up the best way he knows how by placing gentle kisses on your neck, causing your mouth to drop open with a small gasp. He smirks when you react exactly how he was expecting you to. As he continues to kiss, his left hand snakes down your back and grips your ass.

“What if Ada hears …” you whine back, feeling pitiful at how easily you gave into his advances. Tommy hums against your neck before pulling his head out and easing his hand up to the small of your back.

“She’s a heavy sleeper, we’ll be fine,” Tommy breathed as he feels his straining cock twitch in his pants. With his hands on your hips, he turns you around so your back is flush against the front of his body.

“Hold on to the counter,” Tommy coos into your ear as he grabs your wrist with his strong hands and placed them onto the counter in front of you, “and keep your mouth shut.”

You anxiously grip the counter, involuntarily noticing your equally high levels of lust and consternation. You tuck your bottom lip between your teeth when you feel Tommy’s hands begin to bunch up the back of your dress, appreciating the view of your ass with a low grunt. With his free hand, he hooks his finger into your panties and tugs them to the side, uncovering your holes for him.

Using the same hand, he runs his middle and ring finger between your folds while you already start to struggle staying quiet, he chuckles breathily as he feels your arousal spill onto his fingers.

“Do you always get this wet when men force themselves onto you?” Tommy groans as his fingers slide up towards your clit, rubbing small circles onto the sensitive nub from behind. Instead of answering, you can only moan for him while your core burns hotter with desire.

“Poor girl, so eager for cock she can’t even talk,”

With his hips pressed against your ass, he hastily yanks his pants down to free his member, it’s heat laying tantalizingly against your cheek. He grasps the base of his length and aligns it with your opening, forcing himself inside with one abrupt thrust.

You yelp unexpectedly at the fullness before biting your lip again, mumbling a few apologies as Tommy keeps his cock deep inside you before pulling out and slamming back into you.

With each thrust, the ability to stay quiet is growing more difficult. You continue to bite your lip so hard it may draw blood, but breathy whimpers still get punched out despite your best efforts.

“O-oh, fuck-“ you moan as you feel Tommy’s balls brush against your clit with every pump, taunting you with potential friction against your most intimate area.

Tommy changes his angle and slams into your spot head on with seasoned accuracy- clearly his various encounters with women have paid off.

“A-ah!” You sob loudly while your legs shake beneath you, nearly giving out if you weren’t currently white knuckling the countertop. Tommy groans against your neck, his hot breath sending chills down your spine.

“Quiet down, love,” Tommy growls into your ear as he clasps his hand over your mouth, his thrusts becoming deeper and more precise, “we wouldn’t want Ada hearing you.”

With a heavy hand silencing you, Tommy makes his thrusts harsher, almost painfully smashing into your cervix. He mumbles a few praises about how wet you are and how good you feel, your body buzzing from the approbation.

In the midst of ruining you, his hand slips away from your mouth and your needy whimpers can be heard along with Tommy’s heavy breaths. Not loud enough to disrupt Ada, but loud enough to be heard by anyone who could pass by the kitchen. The adrenaline and eroticism causes that intoxicating pressure to begin to build up inside you.

“What would she think, huh?” Tommy teases with a low groan, “seeing her astute friend become a filthy little dumb whore all for her big brother …”

“F-fuck-“ you cry out breathlessly as your sopping cunt flutters around his length, “‘s huge-“

Tommy laughs thinly while slamming into you, “too big for you, sweetheart? Can you feel it stretching out your cunt?”

“Y-yes, fuck-k!”

“(Y/N)?” Ada calls out tiredly from her room, “are you okay?”

Tommy halts his movements inside you, his tip pressing firmly against your spot. You let out a shaky pant before turning around slightly to peak at Tommy. He stares back at you with a cocked brow, silently commanding you to respond to her.

“I’m f-fine, sorry, just bumped my h-hip …” you stammer weakly, barely being able to think of an explanation let alone form a proper sentence while Tommy’s cock is still splitting you open.

Ada’s too tired to pry further, so she just takes you word for it. Once he knows the coast is clear, he slowly builds his thrusts up to that same deep, harsh pace.

“Only thing I told you to do was stay quiet, and you couldn’t even fuckin’ do that, have I fucked you stupid already?” Tommy scolds angrily as he locks a hand into your hair and yanks your head back towards him, the sting of the pull only pushing you closer to your orgasm.

“Uh-huh,” you mewl, the humiliation makes your cunt clench and weep around him greedily, your toes curling as your back arches against him.

“Maybe we should spend more time together, hm?” Tommy decides as he nips your earlobe from behind, licking the shell of your ear soon after, “you get to bitch and moan about how ambitious women are, and then I get to watch you go brainless on my cock. How’s that sound?”

You nod and whimper even though you’re ironically barely processing what he’s saying. Tommy can tell how wrecked you’ve become, and he doesn’t hesitate to relish in it.

“You were much too pretty for a career, anyway,” Tommy insisted as he felt his own orgasm begin to coil up inside him while his grasp on your scalp tightens, “the way your cunts gripping me right now … I think you were crafted for this, love …”

Your senses are overloaded with pleasure and you’re convinced you’ve never been fucked this good before. Sadly, just as Tommy expected.

“C-close,” you stutter as you feel yourself begin to tip over the edge while squeezing your eyes shut tightly. Tommy chuckles and continues the same pace, sneaking one of his hands to the front of your body and placing the pads of his fingers directly onto your clit. Not rubbing, just leaving his digits there with firm warm pressure.

“That’s it, don’t think. Just drench my cock, baby,” Tommy growls as he feels your channel flutter around him. And with a few more pumps, you’re coming around his length. You nearly shout out before Tommy covered your mouth again, not wanting to give Ada a reason to get up and check what was going on herself.

After seeing and feeling your orgasm take over you, Tommy feels the pressure within him begin to burst. And just at the last second, Tommy slides his length out and shoots ropes onto you ass, making sure to not get any on your dress. He can be a gentleman, sometimes.

Once you’ve both ridden out your highs, only then does Tommy release his grip on your hair, both of your bodies achy and sweaty with exertion. He backs himself up and tucks his softening cock back into his pants.

Shakily, you turn around to face him, earning a genuine smile from him as he sees your post-orgasm fucked out expression. Cheeks flushed and eyes still glossy, he could get used to seeing this.

“How about we have another talk in the morning?” Tommy asks in a tone that you can’t exactly read, but judging by his expression and body language- you believe he’s being authentic. And you couldn’t lie, the thought of another ‘talk’ with Tommy is dangerously tempting.

—

I hope I did this justice <\3 as much as I love dumbification I feel like I can’t write it properly :( I’m going to keep trying !! because if I’m anything it’s persistent lmao

[evansbby]

an update from me :)

hey everyone, i know i haven’t been very active on here lately. and the reason is because a lot of things in my life have changed. i’ve been debating even sharing this but i feel like i’m in a good enough position to be okay with sharing it.

so these past two years, i had been super active on here (late 2022- early 24) and that was because, well, I didn’t really have anything else. that’s because I had graduated in 2022 and then i just couldn’t find a job in my field. like so many other recent graduates, it was just so hard and tough and it really made me lose all faith in myself.

i found myself to be in the worst mental state i had ever been. I cut myself off from my friends, felt like a burden towards my family, was having meltdowns and panic attacks almost daily, even started eating unhealthily and was just overall in a very bad place.

HOWEVER, i always felt like I could come on tumblr and that’s why i was so active and writing all these stories because honestly, they were almost like a crutch to me. like the ONE thing i had to look forward to in life during those times was the feedback I’d get when i posted a fic, and honestly it’s what kept me going. like i swear to god, on some days this blog and community was the only thing that i had to look forward to and keep me going, and writing felt like such a huge escape.

because i felt so USELESS. like i was wasting my life and not making any money or being able to kickstart my career after uni, and that it would be like this forever, so when I was writing it actually felt like I was doing something with a purpose. honestly on some days I would literally wake up early and go sit in Starbucks all day just writing my fics like i was cosplaying working or something just so I’d have a purpose. (I don’t go to Starbucks anymore lol boycott)

anyways, i never shared this on tumblr these past few years bc you guys don’t understand what a failure i felt like. i would sometimes get asks on here asking what i did for a job and I’d feel so embarrassed of my current state of being unable to find a job when it felt like everyone else who had graduated with me had one and obtained one so easily. like i felt ASHAMED.

i remember once i got an ask asking what my job was and I just said “fashion marketing” bc that was one of the things i wanted to do and id done an internship in that field so i just put that but it was a LIE i was unemployed and the most depressed ive been in my whole life but I thought maybe i could manifest it.

ANYWAYS, and you’ve probably already guessed it, but the reason I’m not so active anymore is because I did eventually find a job. a really good one that I’m enjoying so much and I’m so happy at. Finally, I’m feeling like myself again, like I’m living that life in London as a twenty something that I’d see everyone on tiktok living!! Like I’m finally just having fun, going out with friends, being active, having money to spend on fun things etc.

and it feels so surreal and crazy because when i was depressed and jobless, it made me doubt myself so much. Like the constant rejections and failed interviews made me doubt myself and lowered my self esteem so much and I thought I’d NEVER achieve this life that i have now! And I don’t want to jinx it but I literally thank God every day for finally granting me this because I really feel like I would’ve gotten worse and worse and IDEK.

But back to the main point, and so because of my new job I just don’t have that much time for tumblr anymore. But this isn’t a goodbye post… not at all! I find that when I’m super busy in life is also when I get the most motivated to write! Like for example in summer 2022 I was on here so much and that was the summer I had the most fun, was the most busy. I think when I’m busy in life, I get motivated to write.

Which I believe is the case right now, because I’m SO motivated to complete all my stories, I keep thinking about them and writing them slowly, so please don’t think anything is abandoned! I just wanted to make this post to be more transparent about what’s been going on in my life and what had been going on these past two years. That maybe someone else going through something similar can see that eventually, everything does work out.

Anddd I don’t really know how to end this. I just want to say, yall don’t understand just how thankful I am for having this blog, this platform, to write my stories. For having you guys. Because who knows how much worse my mental state would’ve been these past two years when I didn’t have ANYTHING else going for me, if I hadn’t had this blog it would’ve been so much worse.

Thank you so much for believing in me and enjoying my stories and always always letting me know how much you enjoy them. And I’ll say the truth; I know everyone says that engagement on tumblr has been bad lately but I can say that bc of you guys I have literally never EVER had this issue. And that’s not me being big headed, that’s just the truth and it makes me so happy and grateful. Yall always came through for me and still do now! Every time I think my fic is going to flop, you guys come through for me. I appreciate it so much. You guys have no idea how much you helped me when I was at my lowest. And continue to.

Many thanks

Me 🩷🩷🫶🏼🫶🏼

[whimsiwitchy]

Controversially Young Girlfriend (part seven)

Hugh Jackman x popstar!reader 

series masterlist & main masterlist

summary: y/n is a globally beloved pop star. She is known for her talent and dedication towards her craft. Recently, she has also been known for her preference for older men. After a breakup with her former older boyfriend, she had a run in with the hottest dilf right now, Hugh Jackman. Y/n tried to warn him, but what can she say, she has an effect on hot, older men. 

warnings: age gap (23/55), cursing, y/n used, implied shorter reader, afab reader, she/her pronouns, sexual themes, pedro (srry he's a big part of this chapter)

warnings will change as the story progresses! all descriptions of real people in this story are FAKE. I do not know these people and this is purely fiction. Please let me know if I missed anything!! <3

authors note: hi everyone! I literally just posted saying idk when I would update again but I decided to look through what I had written for this part and give it to y'all. she's a short one but it's cute. somewhat proof read lol. enjoy <3

part seven: closing chapters

You’ve been back in Los Angeles for less than a day and you already missed the simplicity of being with Hugh. Los Angeles was reality and it was an ugly one. All of the responsibilities came tumbling down on you and you felt like you were stuck in an inescapable maze. As much as you wanted to stay hidden, tucked under Hugh’s protective arm forever, you had to be an adult about this. You needed to stop ignoring Ashley and talk things out with her. You also needed to talk to Pedro and close that chapter that had been left wide open. Your personal life couldn’t have picked a worse time to get interesting. Tour started in two weeks, leaving very little time to tie all loose ends before traveling the world.

When you landed this morning, you ate a quick breakfast from a small cafe and went straight to rehearsals. They ran longer today to make up for the few days you were gone but you didn’t mind. Being on stage and performing the music you worked so hard on always upped your mood, even if you were unbelievably tired at the end of the day. At the moment, you were laying in bed, trying your best to stay awake while you waited for Hugh to call. He texted you a few hours earlier saying he spent the day with his kids and talked to them about the relationship you two had built over the questionable short period of time. He didn’t go into any further detail but promised to call as soon as he got home and settled. It was a little past 10pm, making it 1am in New York. Just as you were beginning to lose hope in Hugh’s late night call, your phone lit up with Hugh’s contact. 

“Hi Hugh.” You say sweetly into the speaker, sleepiness evident in your voice. “Hi, baby. Were you sleeping?” The deep accent you adored so much rumbled through the phone. “No, I was just laying down. How are you? How was your day?” As you speak, you move to sit up, your back resting against the headboard. “My day was good. It was nice to spend some time with the kids and catch up. We did a puzzle and talked, it was a nice day. How was your day, baby?” 

“It was good, busy. Basically hopped off the plan straight into rehearsals.” You let out an airy laugh. “I’m sorry sweet girl, I should let you get some sleep.” His voice trails off at the end and you know he genuinely feels bad for calling so late. “No, no…it’s fine. I want to talk to you. I don’t start as early tomorrow so I have some time to sleep in.” You assure him. “Are you sure baby? We can always talk tomorrow.” “I’m sure.” You let out a small yawn and Hugh chuckles.  “Hm, if you say so.” 

“Whatever..” You say playfully. The line goes quiet for a moment, neither of you speaking. “So uh…you told your kids about us?” 

You wanted to ease into asking but you were dying to know. Thay had been the number one reason you’d been so hesitant to take on a relationship with Hugh and you know their opinion means something to him too. If they didn’t approve or had any distaste towards your pairing, you weren’t sure if you could be with Hugh without having a heavy layer of guilt strapped to your heart. 

“Oh yea, I told them.” 

His response makes your heart skip a beat. Hugh was never one to beat around the bush but he was dragging this out and it scared you. 

“And what did they say?” 

Hugh takes a sharp breath in and your heart falls into your stomach. They don’t approve, you can sense the words about to tumble out of his mouth. 

“They’re fine with it.” 

His short answers are beginning to irritate you a little bit. You needed to know every detail of their conversation, you wouldn’t be able to sleep without it. 

“Hugh, can you please just tell me everything? Your lack of words is driving me insane.” You draw out the end of the last word, showing him just how frustrated you are. 

“I’m sorry baby, there's not much to tell. My daughter is a fan and begged me to introduce you two and um…well my son…he uh..this is so fucking awkward…” He huffs. “What did he say? I’m sure it can’t be that bad if they’re fine with everything right? Just spit it out, I can take it.” He sighs. “My son has a crush on you.” 

“Oh!” You can feel your body heat up underneath your duvet. “That uh…that is kinda awkward. What did he say about us being together then?” 

“He said something about how he doesn't understand how I was able to ‘bag a baddie’ like you, whatever that means.” You laugh at that. “He’s not mad, just jealous I guess. I’m really gonna have to keep an eye out for him when you meet them. I trust him, he’s my son, but I’m not gonna stand for his eyes wandering on my girl.”

You laugh again, partially because of his words and partially because of how wild this entire conversation is. 

“Well I’d love to meet your daughter and she’s free to come to any show she wants, I'll get her in. Same goes for your son as well, if that’s okay with you. I don’t want you to get too jealous and cause a fight between you two.” You giggle through the last few words. 

“Yea yea, we’ll see.” 

The line goes quiet again, a comfortable silence. 

“Hugh, I have a question.” “Shoot baby.” You can hear the sleepiness starting to appear in his voice. “I was wondering if you’d be okay with me going to talk to Pedro soon?” You hear rustling on his end before he speaks again. “Why do you want to do that?” There’s a slight hint of anger in his tone but you know it’s not towards you but towards how Pedro treated you. “I really need to talk things out with him. As much as I'm over him, there’s still a little part of me that needs closure, that needs to ask questions. I want this part of my life to be done but I need to have it properly sealed off.” “Could you wait until I’m back in town? I trust you but I don’t trust him one bit.” You smile at his protectiveness. “I really want to fix everything before the tour starts. I need to talk to Ashley too and the sooner I can get over this, the sooner I can put all my focus on the tour and you. So unless you’re planning on being back in town in a week, I need to do this alone. Is that okay?” He sighs and takes a moment. “Of course that’s fine baby. Just keep me updated on everything that happens.” “I will.” The two of you talk for 20 more minutes before you both call it a night, ending the call with “I love you”. 

The next morning, you immediately texted Hugh before rolling out of bed and starting your day. You showered, brushed your teeth, got dressed, and made your way to the kitchen. You opted for a lazy breakfast, too tired to do anything else. You popped a bagel into the toaster and fried an egg, laying a slice of cheese on top to melt. You made your little bagel breakfast sandwich and washed a few berries to go with it. 

While you ate, you scrolled through your phone. Hugh hasn't texted you back yet but it didn't surprise you. He was up late and with his age, he needed his sleep. You smiled to yourself as you thought about how peaceful he looks while he’s deep in sleep. While scrolling through instagram, you get an ad for Gladiator II. Your ex’s stupid hot face was plastered on your phone. You sighed and pulled up his contact. You were grateful you deleted the text thread you once had, you weren’t sure if you could handle seeing all of the previous sweet words he used to send you. 

You: hey p, it’s y/n. I was wondering if we could meet up soon and talk? no pressure :) 

Once you hit send, you locked your phone and slid it across your kitchen table. Your phone buzzed a few seconds later and your heart started beating faster…there’s no way he could have already responded. You reached for your phone, having to lift out of your chair slightly. When your phone unlocks, your heart slows down, it’s just Hugh. 

You texted back and forth with Hugh all morning until you pulled up to the Kia Forum. Tour was officially a week away from starting which meant you got to rehearse in the venue that would be starting the tour off. You’d been in the Forum a few times for various concerts but being here for your own performance was a different animal. Knowing that this place was sold out for you was wild. You caught up with all of your dancers, them sharing the same excitement. The energy in the building was electric. The crew was excited to get their creations in full and everyone was just happy to finally be starting. 

With being in a new space, the start of rehearsal was a bit slow. Lights, sounds, and various other things had to be adjusted now that everything was in full. You didn’t mind though. It gives you a chance to slow down and appreciate how far you’ve come. It was lunchtime and you decided to hide away in your dressing room to eat. A few people offered you to come with them but you really needed a moment to yourself. You were overwhelmed but in a good way. You grabbed some food from the catering someone had ordered, you made a note to yourself to find out who it was and thank them. 

Once you got to your dressing room, you pulled your phone out of your purse and scrolled through your notification log. Hugh’s messages were the first thing you saw. You were responding to everything he had sent when another message popped up at the top of your phone. 

pedro: hey y/n. I’m free today if you wanna swing by sometime? 

You pulled up to the familiar gates and typed in the code that was still etched in your brain. Once you parked your car in the semi circle driveway, you texted Pedro that you were here before taking a deep breath and stepping out of your car. It always looked out of place next to the large home, even more now that you didn’t belong here the way you once had. One of the brown French style doors open just as you're walking up the three concrete steps that lead to the entrance. You look up from your shoes. Locking eyes with Pedro, you feel your heart tense up. The pain of losing the man you had felt so deeply for re-entered your body involuntarily. He was wearing his typical casual attire: a pair of black cotton shorts, his beloved yellow lakers tee, and a pair of long black socks. The slight gray in his hair had begun to spread, the sides of his beard almost losing all color. He looked as handsome as ever. He held the door open with one arm, leaning slightly. A small smile rested on his face and his brown puppy dog eyes gave you the same feeling they had when you had first met him. 

“Hi y/n.” His voice sounded almost hesitant. “Hi P…Thanks for having me.” He backs up to let you inside. You slip your shoes off, like you had many times before. “No problem. I’m kinda surprised you wanted to talk to me, thought you would’ve been done with me after…well you know.” You don’t answer, instead you walk towards his living room and plop yourself down in the spot you had claimed many months ago, Pedro taking his own claimed spot not too far from yours. “It’s weird seeing you there again…missed seeing you here.” You sigh. “Pedro…don’t say that.” “Why not?” “You don’t get to miss me when you’re the one that left me. You hurt me P. Not the other way around.” He scoffs. “Sure didn’t seem too hurt to me. You moved on just fine.” “Can you stop being an asshole for two fucking seconds?” 

You wanted to come into this with patience and maturity but Pedro was making that impossible. He was being completely insufferable and had been since the moment he broke up with you, like it was somehow your fault. You missed the kind Pedro, the one you had fallen for. 

“Well it’s true, isn’t it? It took a month before you fell into someone else's arms, no let me clarify, my friend’s arms.” You could tell he was trying to get under your skin and you didn’t know where he gained this hatred for you. His voice was sour, a scowl present on his face. 

“God Pedro…” You sigh in anger. “Yes I invited him to the album party but he was there for me when you sat there and yelled- no embarrassed me at my own event. You don’t get to play victim in this situation. We weren’t together and hadn’t been together for weeks by the time I met him.” You could tell you were beginning to lose control over your emotions. The anger and pain both battled reaching for your throat begging to take control over your next words. 

His eyes go soft as he starts to speak again. “Y/n…I’m sorry about that, I was drunk and I-” 

You couldn’t help but laugh. 

“You know what? Fuck you Pedro. Truly. You are the most selfish person I’ve ever met. You broke up with me because the pressure was too hard on you. You come to my event and try to grab me, then you yell at me because Hugh came to check on me. Now you’re mad that I found someone that actually gives two shits about me, that isn’t afraid to deal with whatever comes with dating a younger girl? I’m over it.” You laugh again. “And now you want to apologize for that night when you’ve been nothing but rude since I sat on this couch? I came here for closure, nothing more. I liked you Pedro. I really really like you and you crushed my heart that night and every time I’ve seen you after. I don’t understand what I did to deserve this hatred that you’ve been throwing at me but it’s not fair.” 

Your anger had won the battle but your sadness would win the war. Your voice broke on your last words, hot tears pouring down your cheeks. 

“It’s not fucking fair P…” 

You tuck your face into your sweatshirt, allowing yourself to cry in peace. Pedro doesn’t speak and the silence lasts for what feels like forever. You could feel a slight movement on the couch, then two warm arms wrap around your shoulder, a chin resting atop your head. The two of you stay like that for a while. You let your tears flood your cheeks until there aren’t any left. 

“I’m so sorry babygirl. I didn’t mean to hurt you like this.” 

You slowly pull your face out of the sweater. One of Pedro’s arms drops to rest on his leg, the other lay across your shoulders still. His water line was filled with his own tears, eyes red. 

“Then why did you?” He takes a moment to think and pulls you into his chest. Your head resting right above his heart, the beat a little faster than the one you had memorized. 

“Shit y/n…I know no matter how I say this, it’s gonna sound fucked up.” He squeezes his arms gently. “I was so scared, baby. When everyone started to form their opinions on us and kept pinning me to be some weirdo, I freaked out. I’m at the height of my career and I couldn’t imagine losing that…and you were right, I'm selfish. When I let you go, I immediately regretted it. I showed up to your party wanting to apologize. I had a few drinks, some liquid courage if you will, but damn baby, those fruity little drinks were a lot stronger than I thought they’d be.” You chuckle at the comment. “I was waisted by the time I saw you and when…Hu-...when he came to defend you, I lost my shit. I was so pissed off. Even in the state I was in, the look in his eyes was loud. He looked at you with so much adoration and I knew I’d already lost you.” 

He pauses. 

“I’m not trying to make excuses for myself, I just..I just want you to- no, I need you to know what happened. I’m sorry for being an ass today too. I guess I’m not over you and it hurts that you’re over me.” 

You look up at him. 

“I’m not trying to be mean when I say this P but it’s your fault. I could’ve loved you….I was falling in love with you. My time with you was special, so different than anything I’d ever felt before. I think we would’ve been good together. If you would have talked to me, maybe things would be different. You should have talked to me.” 

“We could’ve been the greatest?” He gives a lazy smile down to you and you look down in shame, wincing slightly. “You watched it?” You ask quietly. “Yea I did.” He pauses. “You sounded beautiful up there, you’re so talented y/n…even if it was so clearly targeted towards me.” The arm that's wrapped around your shoulder moves, his hand resting on your head now, moving in slow circles. 

“Would you ever give us another chance?” He asks, looking down at you. The hope in his eyes pains you. 

“I love him P…” You see the small glimmer of happiness drain from his face. You were feeling just as hurt, knowing that if Hugh hadn’t entered your life when he did or if you had talked to Pedro sooner, you’d give him another chance without a second thought. 

“Does he treat you good?” You almost scoff at the question, given who’s asking, but you don’t have the heart to be mean to him anymore. “Yea he does…” You smile at the thought of just how well Hugh does treat you. “Well, then I’m happy for you.” 

“Are you really or are you just trying to be nice?” You joke and he shrugs. “The latter but truthfully if you were going to be with anyone other than myself, I’m glad it’s him. He’s good.” He smiles down at you and it almost reaches his eyes. “Speaking of Hugh…you kinda owe him an apology, mister.” You poke at the side of his chest that you’re not leaning on. “For what? Stealing my girl?” His words make your tummy stir. “I wasn’t your girl anymore. You called him old and yelled at him. He’s your friend, so apologize.” 

“He is old.” You punch his arm and give him a look. “Ow..fuck. Fine, I’ll apologize but I’m not sure how buddy buddy I can be with him anymore.” “I don’t really care about that, as long as you’re nice to him.” 

He doesn’t respond. You spend a few minutes feeling the warmth of his embrace, it was something you were going to miss. As much as you loved Hugh, Pedro had been someone special to you and it hurt to let him go, even with what he put you through. 

“How much longer do my pictures have on your instagram before I’m replaced by Hugh?” He jokes and your eyes go wide. “Oh fuck me…” You had completely forgotten about the pictures that littered your page. “I will.” He smirks. “Shut the fuck up. I’m deleting them in front of your face just for saying that.” You whip out your phone. There are a few texts from Hugh on the homescreen asking how it’s going. “I’m surprised your guard dog let you come alone.” “Oh believe me, he didn’t want me to but he’s in New York and couldn’t stop me.” You open instagram. “And for that comment, I'm making you press delete on these. You can feel the finalization of us being over. Consider it punishment for being such a dick.”  He laughed and pressed delete on the first one. 

In the third picture, you started to regret this ‘punishment’. “We were a cute couple. You remember that one? That’s when you came over and we fucked like rabbits all week-” “Okay your done. Give me my phone.” You shove him away after and he lets out a deep belly laugh. The sound made you pause for a moment. This was the Pedro you had enjoyed being around. It was always so easy to joke around with him and be yourself. You would miss him. 

series taglist: @chronicallybubbly @spideybv28 @pear-1206 @robertthehoover @reidsworld @bloody-bunni666 @quillycrow @kythefangirl25 @bluetimeombre @cskidjgsjaoaknayan52782 @thewiselionessss @annagraceevanss @peterparkernotfound @rogueinmymind @samsamsantos @wolviesgirl @white-wolf-buckaroo @weskerussy @marvelgirlie-4 @honey-ros3ss @nonamevenus @nizem8 @chaimshelii @rockerchick05 @starryeddie @saylak @haytchee @godlypresley @mega-kittyglitter-1 @acescutejeans-1247 @bethexo07

*taglist closed*

[celestie0]

hi friends, i won’t be posting or updating any of my works for an indefinite period n will be on hiatus from this blog as well.

i’ve unlisted kickoff & ihm on ao3 (haven’t deleted, they’ve just been made private) and i’ve unpinned my masterlist here on tumblr (again nothing’s been deleted so you could probably find the chapters if you searched my tags)

but the reason i did that is because i don’t want any new readers finding my works during my hiatus because i don’t want to potentially upset more people in the event that, during this hiatus, i decide that i would no longer like to write my fics

that would be an insanely sad decision to make. i put so much thought into my stories not because i am trying to make them entertaining, but it’s because they genuinely mean so much to me and are cathartic in ways i can’t describe. i have spent a great majority of my life self negating for the sake of others, and so writing was just a form of expression where i could talk about all the things i’ve suppressed over the years - anxiety, career stress, financial stress, avoidance, depression, loss, coming of age, navigating love, etc

but lately, and i do think it’s been a build up of just some careless words from a handful of people over the months, i find myself steering towards a practice of writing that is no longer asking the question “how can i put as much of myself in this piece as possible?” but rather “how can i make sure people won’t criticize this…i feel awful that it doesn’t have what they want it to have…other creators are doing xyz, should i be doing that too?…i’m just scared to share this”

not exactly sure when that shift in headspace began, but as of right now, it’s as strong as ever. and i understand that those questions may seem irrational, and i just have to try to not focus on the feeling, n i wish i was someone that could compartmentalize those thoughts better, but here’s the thing — the whole reason i started expressing myself through writing in the first place was because i’ve spent my whole life compartmentalizing. it would feel so ironic & untrue to the lessons i’ve learned in this journey if i just chose to “suck this up” and continue pushing forward until i reach a point of burnout simply because i don’t want to upset anyone

i’m really sorry i couldn’t focus on the positive. especially with all the insane n incredible amount of love n support i’ve received for my works. i’ve said this time n time again but when i started posting kickoff to ao3 back in january of this year, i had NO idea it would be this loved by so many people…i was like ok can’t wait to interact w these four readers for the rest of the year…and then BAM, i find myself fully sobbing after each chapter update because i was so touched by all the sweet n kind words. i don’t want this decision to come off in a way that makes it seems like i don’t love u guys sm or that i’m ungrateful — i’ve always taken pride in respecting my audience. even for a simple hobby, i try to put effort into my works. i proofread, i plan out, i edit in length, all because i am, well, for one, i’m a bit of a perfectionist LOL but also i think there’s a great deal of honor in respecting an audience that gives you their time n attention

but i already am struggling in my life to focus on the positive. medicine has been such an incredibly daunting career to pursue, i’m honestly only doing slightly better now because i’m just filled with relief that i got into med school to begin with lol it’s still surreal to me, so the stress has been kinda manageable so far on that sense of optimism, but dear god the shit i went through to get here…and the shit i know i still face ahead of me. i spend all of my serotonin on trying to stay positive in the face of my responsibilities. so all of this time i’ve spent trying to stay positive for the sake of my stories too has just left me with so much exhaustion — i just don’t see why posting my works should be anything less than fun and endlessly exciting when it’s a hobby that’s supposed to help me thru the actual brunt of life.

anyways, i’m getting a little carried away here. all this to say, i just need to take time away from posting my works so i can see writing as something for myself n not for others again. i don’t want the thoughts swimming in my head to be thoughts of anxiety over people potentially criticizing me n my creative decisions. i want the thoughts in my head to once again be positive, excited, and nurturing towards my stories. i don’t see how i can accomplish that at this point unless i start writing for myself once more, and not for others

i still have a great deal of passion to write, which is why i haven’t formally taken down my works. i anticipate that i may be able to come back in the future to share my writing again. but as of right now, i just want to heal the relationship that i have with this hobby, and i feel like that’s gotta happen in private (lmfao it sounds like im tryna freak my writing)

i’m sorry that i turned off my asks n my replies, i know so many of u care about me n want to support me n i just am beyond thankful. i don’t anticipate this is a forever goodbye, but i do just need some time rn away from all of this.

hope u all have a happy time!! and take care of yourselves :) much love

- ellie

[rebelcracker-s]

yapping about the welcome home 10/18 update because i am so incredibly normal

Hello neighbors! Not exactly my usual content, but since when was I consistent :P I have a lot of thoughts about the new Welcome Home update, so I thought I’d make a post discussing my thoughts n findings, and try to analyze them to make sense of Welcome Home. 

SPOILERS BELOW THE CUT! YOU'VE BEEN WARNED!

First of all, right off the bat, on the first page of the storybook, you can see this:

All of these dots in white diamonds are meant to represent eyes, like the Looky-Loo branding alludes to. While they’re all mostly looking in different directions, we have these two who are looking right at the reader. I think these are meant to represent Wally’s eyes. Since we know from the hidden audios from the June ‘23 update that Wally can see through every drawing of his eyes, it looks like Wally is watching us or at least W through the storybook. It’s a tiny detail but so creepy nonetheless!

I want to focus on the end of W’s version of the storybook rather than the contents of the storybook, but I loved seeing a story centered around Sally and some depictions of Sally & Poppy’s dynamic! (Also Eddie calling Sally rude—THE GIRLS ARE FIGHTING. Based eddie tho LOL) I also loved seeing the neighbors all being so eager to help Poppy, but oh my goodness, the way that they did it… YIKES. Poor Poppy…

It’s so interesting that we’re seeing the characters one by one realize that something is wrong with their neighborhood—first Sally in last year’s Halloween update, then Eddie in the Homewarming update, now Poppy. 

It’s also interesting how Eddie and Poppy’s episodes(?) parallel each other. First of all, they very clearly focus on isolation from the rest of the neighborhood. Eddie loses all perception of the other neighbors, and the “single pea on a plate” represents his isolation from everyone else. Poppy is literally bricked off from the other neighbors, and she can’t hear them and vice versa until she screams and the door is opened.

The second interesting thing is that both of these episodes have Home involved. Eddie gets uncomfortable and immediately finds himself staring down Home even though he’s inside them. Poppy hears knocks, doors opening, and doorknobs turning—all of which are methods Home uses to communicate. I don’t know if Home is meant to be a metaphor for isolation or a genuine antagonistic force trying to corner the characters when they’re alone and at their weakest. Maybe both? 

Still, I was considering that the character who scares Poppy at the end of the storybook audio could also be one and the same with the “monster” (in quotations because it’s unclear whether this is an actual monster) Sally talked about in last year’s Halloween update. That would create a common thread between the two Halloween updates. Still, I’m not sure what that monster is meant to represent and if it is supposed to mean Home or something related to them, like the weird portal underneath it…

Third, it’s very interesting how the two episodes end. Both Eddie and Poppy are brought out of the episodes by the intervention of the other neighbors. But it’s not just any neighbors—both times, it’s Sally and Frank. Sally is the neighbor who notices something is up with Eddie first; she brings him to the Homewarming party, then pulls Frank over to Eddie at the end of Eddie’s episode. When Poppy’s episode ends, we hear two neighbors asking about her. It’s not explicitly stated whose voices they are in the transcript, but it’s clearly Sally and Frank.

Sally and Frank are a really interesting pair; their canon interactions include them getting into a physical fight over song lyrics. But somehow, we’ve seen them twice breaking up these episodes. They don’t appear to be as close as Frank is with Eddie or as Sally is with Poppy, but it would be a very weird coincidence if this was an accident both times. 

I strongly believe that Sally and Frank are both aware of what’s happening and trying to work together to either gain a bigger understanding of it, protect the other neighbors, etc. (I also have a theory that Howdy is in on it too, but I won’t focus on that right now.) This is why we see them coming to both Eddie and Poppy’s aid after their episodes. 

Another thing!! Connections to other literature seem to be really important in the lore of Welcome Home, so it’s not a throwaway that the play Sally puts on is Tell-Tale Heart. I don’t know a lot about Tell-Tale Heart, but it appears to be about a character who kills a man and buries his still-beating heart under the floorboards, only to be driven mad by the sound. I’m pretty sure we’ve heard Home’s heartbeat before, so I wonder if Tell-Tale Heart is supposed to connect to them… I’ve seen people connect it to Cask of Amontillado, but I’ve never even heard of that so I’ll let other theorists tackle that for now.

On a final note, Wally saying that “everything is as it should be” as the last line of the storybook…completely creeps me out!!!

That’s all for now. I should probably update my other theory soon lol 

[antiquarianfics]

Accidental pt. 5

What happens when you accidentally kidnap the exact man you were looking for?

pairing: mob!bucky x reader

warnings: canon level violence, kidnapping, profanity

a/n: lol i updated this. it’s a little bit of a date and a—oh, what’s this—new conflict? hehe. (is this enemies to lovers? it’s a little enemies to lovers.)

note: I do not own the character Bucky Barnes or any other Marvel affiliated characters.

You do not have permission to copy, translate, or repost my work; however, feel free to like, comment, and reblog.

part 4

»»———-———-———-———-———-———-———-««

You take a few steps past Bucky, turn around, and walk back to the table. You stop right beside Bucky and hold out your hand. Bucky looks at your hand outstretched to him and trails his eyes up to you, and you watch as he carefully searches your face.

“Hi,” you say, smiling. “I’m Y/N. Mind if I join you for dinner?”

Bucky’s face breaks out into a grin as he takes your hand, grasping it firmly as he shakes it. “Bucky,” he greets, playing along. “I wouldn’t mind at all.”

—

“So, yeah. Maybe it was mean, but she deserved it,” you say, finishing a story about Ellie stealing your toys and you locking her in your closet for an hour as children. You take a sip of your wine as Bucky lets out a mirthful laugh.

“That’s brutal, Doll,” he teases you with a grin. You shrug.

“You’re one to talk, Mr. Mob Boss,” you tease him back. A thoughtful look crosses your face. “By the way, how did you become this kingpin of Brooklyn anyhow?”

Bucky scrunches his nose. “Firstly, let’s avoid the term “kingpin.” Wilson Fisk has taken to the name, and I have no intention of taking that from him. His title and Hell’s Kitchen is his.”

You raise your eyebrows in surprise, but you nod slowly in understanding. There is, you realize, more politics to the mafia than you’d previously considered.

“But, to answer your question, I was born into it. My father was head of our family and in this business for years, his father years before that. It was always their intention for me to take over when I was old enough, and they, ah, groomed me for the job.”

You frown. “That’s terribly sad.”

Bucky shrugs.

“Did you ever want to be anything different? Like, when you were a kid?”

“No, I never really thought about it.”

“Really?” You challenge. “You never wanted to be an astronaut, or a firefighter, or president? Oh! Or a police officer? That would’ve been ironic!”

Bucky offers you a sad smile but shakes his head. “No, I always wanted to take over for my father. It’s what he wanted, so it’s what I wanted.”

You frown. “You don’t see how sad that is?”

“I do.”

“If you had a child, would you bring them up the same way?” You purse your lips and feel your heart rate quicken. His potential answer scares you (like you might see a future with him? Wait! Stop it!).

“No. Of course not. All of this,” he gestures vaguely, “would be unfair to push onto a child. If I have children, I will make sure they have every opportunity to be whatever they want.”

“Even if it’s a police officer hellbent on taking down the mafia?”

“Even a police officer hellbent on taking down the mafia,” he agrees with a smirk. You giggle.

“What about you?” He asks. “What did you want to be when you were little?”

You feel your cheeks heat up as a blush takes over your face.

“Um,” you stutter. “Promise not to laugh?”

Bucky pulls a face. “Why? Is it embarrassing? Did you want to be a nun? Or did you want to be a super spy who kidnapped the head of the Brooklyn mob?”

“Oh, shut up.”

“Okay, fine,” he raises his hands in surrender. “Fine. I promise.”

“I wanted to be…” you trail off, mumbling the end. Bucky leans forward, holding his hand up to his ear.

“What was that? I missed the end there.”

“I wanted to be a princessastronautpresident,” you say quickly this time, letting your words blend together.

“What?” Bucky asks again, but he’s smirking now and you suspect he heard you.

“I wanted to be a princess astronaut president, okay? Happy now?” You ask, reaching for your wine only to find you’d already drank it all. You frown. Bucky laughs.

“That career covers two different forms of government… in space?” He half states, half questions. You simply nod.

“And what about it? At least it’s legal,” you challenge. Again, Bucky’s hands go up next to his head in surrender.

“Well?” He asks.

“‘Well’ what?”

“Did you become a princess astronaut president?”

“No,” you say, dead serious. “I lost the election on Mars. I’m going to try Jupiter next time, though.”

Bucky laughs once more: you note he’s been laughing a lot throughout your date.

“So what do you do?”

“You don’t know?”

“I don’t know everything about you.”

“I thought you would have looked me up.”

“Maybe you intrigue me enough I want to learn about you naturally.”

“I’m an investigative journalist.”

Bucky’s eyebrows shoot up. He looks genuinely surprised.

“Really? That’s all?”

You quirk your head. “Yes?”

“Sorry. I just thought with your… erm—skill set—you were a Green Beret, or something.”

“You flatter me, Barnes, but all I did was hit you really hard in the head with a gun I bought scarily easily at a department store I buy my groceries and drag you to a building that’s been on the market for years. Nothing about that was exactly special ops.”

He hums and finishes his own wine.

“Doesn’t explain your interrogation skills.”

“I’m a journalist. I interview people for a living—particularly people who don’t necessarily want to be interviewed.”

“How’d you know where to find me?”

“I didn’t. You were an accident, remember?”

“You wound me,” he says. You shrug.

“Even so,” he continues, “you knew about my bar. You knew it was connected to the mafia—your sister’s disappearance. How?”

“Is this a date or an interrogation, James?”

“Professional curiosity.”

Irritated, you respond. “Still, I am a journalist. I knew about the connection because I had a good hunch. I’d been working on a piece that led me to the bar; I smelt a connection. Or, I hoped there was one.”

Bucky leans back in his seat, his blue eyes piercing your person. You shift uncomfortably. He seems to accept your response, though, but the subject is far from dropped.

“What’s your piece about?”

“Nothing.”

“Clearly it’s something.”

“You can read all about it when it’s published.”

“Why so defensive? Is it about me?”

“You flatter yourself, Barnes.”

He shrugs. You sigh.

“I received an anonymous tip not too long ago that the mafia was picking up promising prodigy students. 4 or 5 have gone missing in the last 6 months, and my tip told me they may be hanging around your bar.”

Bucky’s face is stoic, and you feel yourself become suspicious of the well dressed, charming criminal in front of you.

“I connected the dots between the situation and the location: the mafia. When Ellie went missing, too? Well, she didn’t quite meet the M.O., sure, but it was all I had to go off of.” You shrug.

“You think I’m kidnapping university students?”

“No, but I wouldn’t be surprised if you… uh. Made them an offer they couldn’t refuse?”

“The Godfather? Really? A little on the nose, no?”

“Look, James. I was doing my job.”

“Where did the tip come from?”

“I don’t know. It was anonymous. Are you done interrogating me now?” Your tone becomes irritable, and you cringe slightly at the bite behind your words.

Bucky sighs, “Yes. Sorry. This evening has been lovely; I’m sorry for ruining it. I’ll take you home?”

You purse your lips and nod.

The two of you stand and gather your belongings before walking back through security where your weapons are returned to you. Bucky then escorts you to the car and drives you home.

After he walks you to the door, Bucky stops and looks at you, hands gently falling to your shoulders.

“Y/N, look. I’m sorry for the first degree; I really did have a good time tonight. I hope you’ll consider doing this again.” Bucky’s voice leaks sincerity, his eyes promise it.

You smile somewhat sadly and it doesn’t reach your eyes. “We’ll see, James.”

He nods. “I understand.” He pulls out a business card with nothing but a phone number on it and hands it to you. “My personal cell,” he explains. “If you reach out, we’ll do this again. If not, I’ll take the hint.”

You nod slightly as he leans forward and pecks your cheek. It’s soft, barely a whisper of a kiss. Then, he turns and returns to his car, driving off. You watch until you can’t see his car anymore. Finally, you turn to your door and fumble around with the key.

You turn the lock and hear your deadbolt unlock right as you hear a whoosh next to your ear, your eyes drift to the side where, stuck in the wood of your doorframe, is an arrow with a note tied to it. Carefully, anxiously, you pull the arrow out and unroll the note. You nearly choke on air when you read it:

I left the tip because Barnes messed with what was mine. Best not get cozy with the beast, sweetheart. I’d hate to think I mistrusted you—underestimated your usefulness.

»»———-———-———-———-———-———-———-««

@cjand10 @vicmc624 @mostlymarvelgirl @livingoutsidethetardis @onceithough @thedonswife13 @kaithesimps-blog @buckitostan @julvrs @unaxv @searchn0tfound @10ava01 @ordelixx @pinkpantheris @hi-im-fan-trash @bubblegumbeautyqueen

[tojiscrack]

wherever you are right now, good morning/evening/night… that was a mouthful, but i’m not sure how else to start this.

it sounds serious, i know, it’s not, don’t worry, but i like being dramatic, haha, you know me ;) i have a small announcement to make — i say ‘small’ ‘cause it really can be done in one or two short sentences, but i’d like to give you some context and reasoning because i care about every single one of you reading this, all 470 of you, and i’d hate to leave you without an explanation.

i’m mainly addressing my LL (liar, liar) readers, ‘cause i seem to have a big following and a large number of people who interact with me because of that piece of work, but this also goes out to the very few people (and i’m not being dramatic when i say very few people, lol) who are loyal readers of SOANO (start of a new obsession).

i am going on hiatus.

yeah, i know, boo, tomatoes, the story was just getting started 😠 , etc, etc.

and i apologise.

genuinely, from the bottom of my heart, i’m truly, deeply sorry.

you’ve been forced to tolerate my extremely sporadic updates that were only just starting to get better (some updates would come weekly, whereas others would take two more weeks, but never an entire month like before). i really am sorry. i know what it feels like to enjoy a story and then be left on a cliffhanger (of sorts?) when the author goes on a hiatus — mini or not.

i think this long message will answer most of the questions you have in mind, the first being ‘how long will you be on hiatus for?’. and i do have a straight answer for that:

five months.

i know, it’s a lot. again, i apologise. i can’t apologise enough, but let’s keep the questions going.

the one i know you’re all wondering — why am i going on hiatus in the first place?

just to be clear (for those of you who have genuinely become close friends with me through interactions) i’m alive, healthy, and well! i’m not falling out of love with writing, i’ve not fallen out of love with LL or SOANO (no matter how slow the updates for the latter seems to be) and i’m not feeling pressured by writing either of these stories for you all!

the reason is quite simple�� school :/ exams. MAJOR ones.

when i started writing SOANO, i was around 15 years old (give or take a few?) and i had no major exams at all to focus on. halfway through writing SOANO, i was met with my first set of important exams at 16. for those of you who are not british and/or not aware of the uk education system, GCSE’s are the exams that dictate which sixth-form college you go to. college, as in, not university-college, but the last two years of high school (junior + senior year) that are the only two years of sixthform/college.

when i started writing LL, i was in my first year of college at 17 (this time last year), and so the only ‘major’ exams i had were mock exams that would prep me for my university predicted-grades. i am now in my second (and final) year of college, and the exams during may and june will dictate the rest of my life. that includes which uni i go to, whether i’ll even go to uni at all, what course i’ll take at uni if i do end up going, etc.

you get the idea. these are important exams. the most important ones that i’ll ever have to sit this year, and starting tomorrow, i have 130 days to turn my very-average-grades around to three A’s (or perhaps two A’s and a B) to get into my desired uni.

unfortunately, i can’t do that if i spend most of my time writing up very lengthy chapters for you.

why can’t i split my time accordingly, even if it means going back to the once-a-month updates? because i am so incredibly, stupidly behind on content for the courses i’m taking right now that i can’t even afford to waste 30 minutes on doing anything other than praying and studying. that’s just the sad truth of it.

again, i’d like to apologise for the inconvenience. i’ve received so many lovely dm’s from so many of you (and i answer every single one, you know that) and in the conversations that many of us have had together, a lot of you use the story (LL) as a safe haven, an escape from your own messy school lives, almost in the same way that i use it to escape my messy school life. some of you have mentioned that you pull all-nighters simply to reread it all as if you’re reading it for the first time. a few of you have mentioned how this story was an escape from the tragic events of canon, which was exactly what i intended for it to be like during the planning process, and i’m still so overwhelmed and flattered by the growing love i’ve received from both old and new LL readers.

will the story be temporarily taken down?

absolutely not.

i considered it for a time, but after acknowledging those comments i mentioned above, i decided that what’s left of LL right now (170k+ words divided in 10 chapters) can still be a safe haven for you whenever you need it. i also knew that i wanted everything to look the same for when i’d return in late-june of this year. leaving it up would also mean that newer readers (future readers) would join the family too, and we love a full house ;)

will i still be active on tumblr during the hiatus?

yes! maybe not as frequently as before (like answering messages in my inbox every day) but i’ll definitely be active enough to get through any messages, comments, asks, etc, within the span of a week for sure. you can still tell me about your shitty day in my inbox, you can still vent to me about an encounter with a guy you hate in my dm’s, and you can definitely still send in silly things about LL or SOANO. i’ll still be active, it’ll be like i never left, only, without the fortnite-ly (not a word, i’m well aware) updates.

LL’s one year anniversary is coming up in a couple of days, and i wanted to release a new chapter in time for it, but looking at my exams and how much cramming i’m already going to have to do for it without writing on top of that… i reluctantly acknowledged that it just won’t be possible.

i think i’ve addressed everything… this is a little awkward now, lol.

once again, i apologise for any hurt or inconveniences i might’ve caused, but i myself don’t enjoy the idea of not writing for 5 months any better than you probably do. 0-0 i enjoy writing, it never felt like a chore to me, and i’m going to miss it during the next 5 months that i’ll be spending alone, grinding overtime like hermione granger…

please wait for me, my little liars <3

love, mother hen sumaya

[shynetyme06]

Epic and cool Papered Jam reference be upon ye (og PJ by @7goodangel)

YA so this is that PJ variant I’ve posted a couple times and made that dtiys for, and yes the mc just stands for main character. I’ve called them mc pj as a placeholder for the longest time cuz I’m slow with names, and so it just ended up sticking for me even after the story was later dubbed PJ’s resolve ;3

Under the cut is an alt ref sheet with updated versions of my other PJ outfits from this post, plus some rambling about the designs lol

Like og PJ, the only non-ink garment she wears is the scarf gifted to her by Ink. But for mc pj, that wasn’t always the case. The outfit you see on the little PJ was also created by him, and they’re hydrophobic clothes meant to help maintain PJ’s form and keep the strings from being exposed. And for the rain boots, I really liked a headcanon I came across that little kid PJ could wear them to keep ink from tracking everywhere (they just gotta be emptied from time to time lol)

Years later, PJ would start to create clothes for herself that look and feel pretty close to what Ink could do, but that’s only as long as she’s in contact with them, because like with pretty much all of her creations, they’ll melt back into ink if left alone for too long. (And for the shedding, rather than tracking ink everywhere she goes she usually just throws away the shoes she wears after a while and then remakes them with newer ink)

The blotch change on the right side of his face is because of error’s tear tracks, I kinda wanted this PJ to take a little bit more after him forrr reasons (would’ve been more obvious if it stayed fully cyan but I colored it before remembering there’s already so much cyan in top half of the design… so now there’s a yellow outline like the pink splotch)

And lastly PJ is about ink’s height at 3’9 :D

[dianawinchester03]

Season 2, Episode 18 - Hollywood Babylon

Series Masterlist

Authors Note: The long awaited new episode is finally here! Once again, I’m so sorry for taking so long with this update (I’m still trying to kick dengue in the ass LOL) and thank you for your patience and understanding <3. Okayyyy, on with the story!

____________________________________________

Third Person POV

Los Angeles, California

The trio were currently on a tour guide bus, taking a tour around a Hollywood set. “First opened in 1927, the lot has been in continuous operation for eight decades” A tour guide said over a megaphone, rather enthusiastically as they drove around the set. Dean looked intrigued and excited as took in the surroundings.

Sitting next to Y/N, his arm draped over the back of her seat. “Hey, you know this is where they filmed Creepshow?” Dean leaned in to whisper in her ear. Y/N chuckled at Dean's enthusiasm, nodding frantically. Equally excited because she had a love for horror movies herself.

“And Scream. God, I love me some Billy Loomis” She swooned, licking on her vanilla ice cream cone. The set was bustling with activity. Actors and crew members were everywhere, rehearsing lines, setting up props, and adjusting lighting.

Sam sat in-front of Y/N and Dean in the tour bus, wearing a bored expression. He rolled his eyes at Dean's excitement and Y/N’s fangirling. “You guys are embarrassing.” He muttered under his breath, just loud enough for them to hear.

Dean chuckled at Sam's comment, nudging his brother's shoulder. "Oh, come on, Sammy. Live a little." He teased, his other arm around Y/N's shoulders, pulling her closer. Y/N stifled a laugh, knowing Sam wasn't as fond of all the movie chatter.

“Now, to the right here is Stars Hollow. It’s the setting for the television series Gilmore Girls” The tour guide stated over the megaphone. Sam visibly tensed up at the mention of Gilmore Girls, his eyes widening as Dean and Y/N looked over curiously. “Gilmore Girls?” Y/N muttered confused, Dean shrugged in return, having no clue about the show either.

Sam, however, seemed to know about the show, the sheer panic evident on his face. “And if we’re lucky? We might even catch one of the show's stars” The tour guide said over the megaphone. Sam turned to Dean and Y/N, Dean offering his brother an enthusiastic thumbs up. “Come on” Sam grunted, quickly rushing out of the bus.

Dean and Y/N’s faces dropped, “What?!” Y/N exclaimed through a mouth plastered with ice cream. “Let’s finish the tour!” Dean huffed. But Sam seemed serious on leaving the tour, the two rolled their eyes as the guide said, “And then to the right, here we have New York Avenue, and that’s where they shot Lois and Clark”

Y/N groaned as they exited the tour bus, catching up to Sam who was walking briskly to the car. She couldn’t believe he was making them leave mid-tour. “Seriously?” She grumbled, licking at her ice cream cone again.

Dean was clearly annoyed, huffing as he shoved his hands into his jeans pockets. “I mean, come on, Sammy. It was getting interesting.” He looked back at the tour bus with longing.

Dean’s eyes flickered to Y/N, who’s mouth was still messed up with the melted ice cream. He snickered at the way she looked like a toddler, defiantly licking away at the cone, annoyed with Sam for wanting to leave the tour. The trio now strolling around the Hollywood lot.

Y/N continued to lick at her ice cream cone, trying to salvage it. She shot a glare at Sam’s back, annoyed that he had cut the tour short because of some TV show. Dean chuckled beside her as he reached into his jacket pocket, taking out a handkerchief to wipe a bit of ice cream from her chin.

“You’re a mess, sweetheart,” Dean said affectionately, gently wiping the ice cream off her chin with the handkerchief. He shot a sly glance at Sam, who was walking ahead of them, still rattled by the mention of Gilmore Girls.

Y/N let out a soft huff, still annoyed at Sam for cutting the tour short. She looked up at Dean and couldn’t help but pout a little. “Stupid Sam and his stupid Gilmore Girls phobia...” she mumbled, as Dean wiped away the ice-cream from her mouth.

Dean chuckled at Y/N’s pouty expression and her comment about Sam’s aversion to Gilmore Girls while Y/N was trying to ignore the excessive pace her heart was beating. He tucked the handkerchief back into his jacket pocket as they continued to walk around the set.

Leaving the tour bus didn’t spoil their excitement however, Dean and Y/N were still scanning the set with wide smiles as Sam looked bored, his hands stuffed in his pockets.

“Hey, fellas. Check it out. It’s Matt Damon” Y/N pointed to a man who looked like Matt Damon. Dean’s mouth fell open as they continued walking. Sam snorted in amusement, “I’m pretty sure that’s not Matt Damon” Sam snickered. “No, it is” Dean insisted. “Well, Matt Damon just picked up a broom and started sweeping” Sam sassed, Y/N rolled her eyes.

“Yeah, he was probably researching a role or something” She shrugged. “Uhh…I don’t think so” Sam shook his head. “Hey, this way. Uh, I think Stage 9’s over here” Sam gestured to the entrance of stage 9. Y/N felt a familiar chill raise at the back of her neck, clearing her throat abruptly at the feeling.

“Come on, man. Let’s keep going this way” Dean groaned, pointing in the opposite direction. “Dude. No, come on, we gotta work” Y/N’s tone instantly went serious, grabbing Dean’s hand to pull him over to Stage 9. Dean groaned childishly. “Dude, you guys wanted to come to L.A.” Sam retorted. “Yeah, for vacation! I mean, swimming pools and movie stars. Not to work!” Dean exclaimed.

Y/N rolled her eyes at the brother’s bickering. She knew how stubborn the two could be, especially when it came to hunting.

“Does this feel like swimming pool weather to you, Dean?!” Sam shot back as they bent the corner. “I mean, it’s practically Canadian” He snorted. “Yeah, I know. I just figured after everything that happened with…Madison. We could use a little R&R. That’s all. You know?” Dean defended.

Sam sighed heavily, rolling his eyes again as the twinge of pain in his chest rose again. “Did you hear from Jo?” Y/N asked Sam curiously. Y/N’s question broke the tension for a brief moment, and Sam’s face lit up at the mention of the blonde-haired huntress.

“Actually, yeah” He answered a little reluctantly, shoving his hands into his pockets. Y/N’s eyes widened, waiting for his answer. “And?” She urged, wanting the information.

“She’s a couple towns over tracking something” Sam answered, clearing his throat. He refused to make eye contact with both Y/N and Dean, keeping his gaze focused on the crowd of people walking by them. “She say if she’s gonna meet up with us soon?” Y/N asked, missing her friend.

“She didn’t say” Sam answered, his voice coming out slightly harsh. He was worried about Jo, she was a good friend. A good hunter. But he knew how dangerous hunting could be. Sam didn’t want her to get hurt.

After everything that happened with Madison, the thought of his girl out there hunting on her own tugged at his heart. He hated himself for getting closer to her, for getting attached. God knows he wished he wasn’t so knee deep into his attachment to her. He was trying to force himself to pull away, selfishly not wanting to get hurt but also, praying that Jo wouldn’t hunt.

But he knew her well enough to know, she wouldn’t listen to him, not that she had to. He was torn between wanting to keep her safe, and knowing that she was her own person, she had her own life. And he had no control over what she did. He could only hope she’s safe, but deep down he couldn’t shake the feeling that she might be in over her head.

Dean and Y/N picked up immediately on Sam’s dreadful tone, sharing a look as the younger Winchester seemed lost in thought. “Look, I just wanna work. It keeps my mind off things.” Sam finally said after a few moments of silence. “Okay, okay, alright” Dean sighed, gently placing his arm around Y/N’s wrist to move her from the end of the sidewalk to the inner part as they continued walking through the set.

“So this crew guy, what did he—?” Y/N asked crunching on the last of her cone, changing the subject as she tossed her napkin into a bin. “He died on set?” She asked, wiping her mouth with her sleeve. “Yeah, rumors are spreading like wildfire online. They’re saying the sets are haunted.” Sam stated.

A smirk raised on Dean’s face as his eyes flickered over to Y/N, “Yes, I got that ‘ESP’ feeling, Dean” Y/N scoffed, rolling her eyes before he could ask, already knowing he was gonna mock her. Dean’s smirk widened as Y/N rolled her eyes.

“I wasn’t gonna say that!” He grinned, feigning offense as he dramatically put his hand to his chest. Sam snorted at the interaction before turning to Y/N, a concerned look on his face. “So you really sense something?” Y/N nodded in return. “What, like Poltergeist?” Dean asked.

“Could be a poltergeist” Y/N responded, with a shrug. “No, no, no. The movie ‘Poltergeist’ ” Dean shook his head, Y/N’s mouth formed an ‘o’, now understanding what he was referencing, “Yeah, I guess” She snorted, shaking her head, while Sam looked confused, his brows furrowed. “Huh?” Sam mumbled.

Dean and Y/N shot the younger Winchester a nasty side eye. “You know nothing of your cultural heritage, do you?” Y/N said In disappointment when Sam just shrugged. “It was rumored that the set of Poltergeist was cursed. That they used real human bones as, uh, props” Dean explained the lore as they continued to walk through the set.

“Like, at least three of the actors died in it” Y/N added, Sam tilted his head as he listened. “Yeah, it might be something like that” Sam nodded as Dean's eyes wandered, taking in the surroundings of the set, until they landed on a cute perky blonde-haired woman, strutting by.

His gaze lingered on her for a bit, a subtle grin forming on his face. He wasn’t one to miss an opportunity when he saw an attractive woman, especially a blonde. “Hey, check out the talent” Dean smirked, nudging Sam and nodding in the direction of the blonde woman. Sam rolled his eyes, clearly not impressed. Y/N shot Dean a look, silently warning him not to flirt.

She felt that burning feeling in her chest again. Before reaching up to swat him at the back of his head, “Focus!” She reprimanded him, pointing a firm finger at the elder Winchester. “Ow!” Dean exclaimed, rubbing his head where Y/N had swatted him. He grumbled slightly under his breath, but he chuckled a bit.

He looked back over at the blonde, who seemed to have noticed his attention and smiled at him. He smiled back, and was about to approach her when Y/N yanked on his sleeve.

“Dean! We’re working!” Y/N hissed, giving his sleeve a tug. She shook her head at his behavior, annoyed with his inability to focus on the task at hand. Dean rolled his eyes playfully at Y/N’s scolding. “Hey, I’m just looking!” He defended, his eyes still shamelessly wandering over the blonde.

Sam watched the interaction between the two with an amused smirk. “Keep it in your pants, man” He teased, causing Y/N to laugh softly. “Anyways!” Y/N exclaimed, tugging Dean along, who was still trying to get out of her grasps. “So, this crew guy, what’s his name?” Y/N asked Sam. “Frank Jaffy” He responded.

“You got a death certificate or a coroner's report or anything” Dean asked after finally giving up on running away. “Well, no, but, uh, it’s L.A, you know? Might not even be his real name” Sam sighed as Y/N let go of Dean’s wrist, he winced slightly at the loss of contact but swallowed it down. “Fuck, you’ve got a point” Y/N cursed.

“But the girl who found him said she saw something. A vanishing figure” Sam informed them, placing up a finger before shoving his hands back into his pockets. “What’s the girl's name?” Dean asked. “Uh…Tara Benchley” Sam answered. Y/N’s jaw dropped as both her and Dean paused in their tracks. “Woah, woah, woah! Tara Benchley?!” Dean exclaimed.

Sam looked confused again, his brows furrowed, “From Fear.com and Ghost Ship Tara Benchley?!” Y/N exclaimed. Sam's confusion morphed into realization when Y/N and Dean said Tara Benchley's name with such excitement. He didn't know much about pop cultural references, but he assumed Tara Benchley was well-known for horror movies.

“I guess so” He shrugged, still not fully comprehending their excitement. “Dude, why didn’t you say so?” Dean chuckled, a grin widening on his face. “What? So now you’re suddenly on board?” Sam snorted, shaking his head. Dean rolled his eyes, “I just- I mean, I’m a fan of her work. It’s very good” He cleared his throat, trying to hide his obvious starstruck expression.

Y/N didn’t bother to hide hers, smacking Sam on his arm. “She’s smoking, dude” She swooned, fanning herself. Dean tried to play it cool, but his excitement was evident in his voice. "Her horror movies are great. She’s an amazing actress” He added, shoving his hands into his pockets.

Y/N nodded in agreement, still fanning herself. “And smoking hot” She confirmed, her grin widening. Sam could only roll his eyes at their behavior, amused by their fangirling over the famous actress. They ended up wandering onto the set of the movie as one of the snooty producers, Brad, was rambling on with the directors, McG and Jay.

Brad’s eyes scanned the set, they landed on Y/N, assuming she was a Production Assistant (PA) “Uh, excuse, uh, leather jacket girl!” Brad called out, waving Y/N over. Y/N’s eyebrows rose in surprise at being addressed, but she exchanged a confused glance with the brothers pointing to herself in confusion.

“Yeah, you gorgeous. Come here” He ushered her over with a crooked finger, while munching on nuts. “Yes?” She asked as she approached him, trying to sound composed. “Could you get me uh, a smoothie from Craft?” He asked her, “You want a what from who?” She asked confused as Dean approached besides her.

“You two are PAs. This is what you do” Brad scoffed arrogantly as Sam quickly ran up to them, placing his hands on their shoulders. “Yeah, yeah. They, uh..one smoothie coming right up” Sam chuckled awkwardly, giving Brad a thumbs up before ushering them away. “What’s a PA?” Dean and Y/N asked Sam in unison.

“I think they’re kinda like slaves” Sam mused as they walked away. Sam turned and gave Brad another thumbs up while the producer checked Y/N out shamelessly. “They’ll let anyone into this business, huh?” Brad snorted.

Sam’s sarcastic remark about PAs being like slaves echoed in Y/N and Dean’s ears as they followed him away from the set. They were both baffled by the whole interaction and the producer’s entitled attitude.

As they sneaked away, Y/N glanced back at Brad, who was ogling her shamelessly. She felt a wave of disgust wash over her as she stuck her middle finger up at him discreetly.

____________________________________________

A little later, Dean and Y/N adjusted into their covers as PA’s, now each carrying around trays of smoothies. “I hate this” Y/N grumbled. “Agreed. This is so humiliating” Dean agreed with a nod, his voice laced with annoyance as he grimaced at the smoothies in his hands. Some actors and staff took some of the smoothies off the trays without a ‘thank you’ as the actors and staff chattered indistinctively within themselves.

Dean’s eyes went up to the catwalk, judging Y/N lightly: “That’s where he was found” He whispered. She nodded lightly before they both rested their trays on one of the snack tables. They quietly snuck up the stairs as the lights went off, indicating they were gonna start shooting. Dean kept his EMF meter handy, just in case as they creeped up the dark staircase.

The set fell into a soft darkness as the lights went out, signaling the start of the shooting. Dean and Y/N silently creeped up the dark staircase, the elder Winchester holding the EMF meter in his hand, just in case.

They reached the top, trying to be as quiet as possible to not draw any attention. Y/N glanced at the spot where the body was supposedly found, her stomach twisting into knots.

Y/N gently placed her hand on the spot where the body was found. Her fingertips gently brushed against the cold, hard surface as she closed her eyes and focused on any kind of energy, hoping to get a reading or some kind of vision.

Dean hovered closely behind Y/N, his breath tickling the back of her neck, as he quietly whispered, "Got anything? Anything at all?" He studied her expression as she continued to concentrate, hoping for any sign of a reaction.

“Yeah, the fact that you had too many cheesesteaks” Y/N grumbled, trying to ignore the quickening of her heartbeat in her chest as the cheesesteaks they had from his breath wafted from her ear to her nose. “Hey, don’t blame the cheesesteaks” Dean retorted defensively, rolling his eyes at her comment.

His hot breath fanned across her ear and caused her heart to quicken, not that he knew. He was used to standing close to her like this so he thought nothing of the effect it had on her.

Y/N forced herself to focus on the task at hand, pushing her crude thoughts about Dean’s close proximity to the back of her mind. She got up and began to press her hands all over the catwalk, trying to detect any lingering energy but nothing came. Shaking her head, “Nothing” She sighed, her shoulders slumping in defeat.

Dean watched as Y/N searched, hoping she would find some clue. But when she came up empty, he let out a frustrated sigh. "Fuck" He muttered under his breath, running a hand through his hair in irritation. "Try the EMF, maybe I missed something” Y/N suggested.

"Good idea" Dean nodded, pulling out the EMF meter. He scanned it over the catwalk in case there was something they missed. The EMF was silent no matter where he pointed it, making his frown deepen in annoyance. "Nothing" He muttered, shoving the meter back in his pocket.

____________________________________________

The bell rang, indicating shooting was over. Dean and Y/N we’re back on ground level, eating cheesesteaks once again. “So??” Sam asked hopefully, approaching the snack table where Dean and Y/N were hounding currently, snout deep in the miniature sandwiches. “No EMF anywhere” Dean told him, “No feelings either” Y/N added through a mouth full of food.

“Great, so what do you think?” Sam grumbled disappointed, Dean shrugged, “Well, I think being a PA sucks. But..the food these people get. Are you kidding me? Look at these things” Dean whispered, picking up two more cheesesteaks, handing one to Y/N. The female hunter nodded in agreement.

Dean's eyes lit up, “They’re like miniature Philly cheese steak sandwiches. They’re delicious” Y/N moaned as she bit into the sandwich along with Dean. Y/N then picked up one, handing it to Sam but he shook his head, rolling his eyes at the duo. “Maybe later” He grimaced.

Dean and Y/N shared a look before shrugging. She handed it to Dean, who immediately shoved it into his mouth, munching on it after finishing his other sandwich. “What did you find out about the dead crew guy?” Dean asked Sam through a mouth full of food, a piece of the steaks hanging out the side of his mouth.

Sam raised his brows at the way they were savagely demolishing the stack of sandwiches before clearing his throat, “Uh, Frank Jaffy was just filling in for the day. Nobody here knew him or where he lived, or anything” Sam explained. “Oh, great. So you found out as much as we did” Y/N scoffed, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand.

“Not quite, I-” Sam went to say but Walter, one of the crew guys, reached between them to grab a cheesesteak. “Hey, guys” Walter greeted them. “Hey” The Winchesters greeted back in unison. “They’re wonderful!” Y/N smiled at Walter as he walked off. He gave her a thumbs up in return. “Listen, I did dig up some stuff about Stage 9’s history.” Sam began.

“Yeah?” Dean and Y/N mumbled in unison. “Yeah. Four people died messy here over the past 80 years ago. Two suicides and two fatal accidents” Sam said. “Any one of those could be a vengeful spirit” Dean mumbled. “Yeah. Just gotta narrow it down more” Sam sighed. “God I hate vengeful spirits” Y/N groaned, annoyed.

Rightfully so, since every encounter they’ve had with vengeful spirits drained her energy completely, due to their aggressive nature and aura.

Dean’s expression softened, “You know, if you want, you can sit this one out. Me and Sam can handle it” Dean said gently but Y/N shook her head. “Nah, it’s fine. I’m a big girl” She joked, nodding as she chewed on the cheesesteak.

Whilst mid chew, y/n’s eyes flickered over to Tara Benchley, a small sly smile appearing on her face. “I’ll get right on narrowing it down” Y/N muttered, wiping her mouth before stuffing her half finished sandwich into Dean’s hand. “Son of a-” Dean groaned as Y/N made her way over to Tara, snatching a script from one of the other PA’s hands.

Dean watched Y/N walk away, grumbling under his breath when she stuffed her half-finished sandwich into his hands. Sam snorted in amusement as Dean tossed the sandwich into the bin, dusting his hands off as his eyes narrowed in Y/N’s direction. “Are you supposed to get one of these?” Y/N timidly asked Tara, handing her the script with a starstruck smile on her face.

Dean clenched his jaw as Tara’s eyes roamed Y/N, a coy smile appearing on the actress’ face. That familiar burning feel returned as his nostrils flared. He schooled the act but his little brother caught onto his expressions quickly. “Oh lord, here we go” Sam muttered to himself as his brother quickly took up a smoothie from the table, stalking over to them.

“Sorry about that, it’s her first day” Dean smiled widely at Tara, handing her the smoothie. His charm radiated as he smirked at the actress. “Thanks” Tara giggled, accepting the smoothie from Dean. Y/N clenched her jaw, shooting subtle daggers at him before clearing her throat.

“You know, I know it’s really uncool to say this, but we’re big fans” Y/N said sweetly, Dean nodded enthusiastically, “Oh, God. What a terrible script” Tara snorted, “Uh, but thank you” She added, winking at Y/N. This made the hunter blush and Dean internally roll his eyes. “Yeah…” Dean chuckled.

“You found him right…the dead guy?” Dean asked awkwardly, Y/N’s eyes slightly widened as Tara’s smile dropped. She shot him a look that said, ‘Way to be subtle, hotshot’. with a gentle elbow to his ribs.

Sam rolled his eyes from afar as he watched the exchange, shaking his head at Dean's less than subtle approach to questioning Tara. Sam shot him a disapproving glare, knowing that they needed to be more tactful in their questioning. Dean winced at the nudge to his ribs, shooting Y/N a subtle glare in return.

“He’s sorry hun, you probably don’t even want to talk about this” She quickly apologized on Dean’s behalf, “No, actually it’s-…it’s okay, but nobody around here really brings it up very much” Tara assured him before whispering. “I think they’re all scared that I’m gonna have some sort of breakdown” The hunters nodded in understanding.

“That must’ve been awful” Y/N said sympathetically, Tara gave her a grateful smile. “What happened?” Dean asked gently. “It was horrible” Tara sighed, biting her lip as she reminisced on the terrible experience. “There- there was all this blood coming from his eyes…and from his mouth, and, uh…I saw this…um..” Tara’s voice was low as she explained, an unconvincing smile on her face.

“What?” Y/N asked curiously, “I saw this shape” She whispered back, Dean and Y/N’s brows cocked up. “To tell you guys the truth, I don’t know, actually what I saw, I just know I saw it” She explained as Walter approached them with a juice. “Here you go, Tara,” He said sweetly, handing Tara the juice and a bag of chips.

Y/N glanced at Dean, her eyes wide with interest and confusion as Tara spoke of the "shape" she saw. It piqued her curiosity as to what it could have been, and it clearly piqued Dean's as well, judging by the raising of his eyebrows. Walter approaching them interrupted their thoughts as he handed Tara a juice and a bag of chips.

“Thanks, Walter,” Tara said gratefully, accepting it before the PA left. “Uh, so this crew guy, Frank. I mean, did you know him?” Dean asked curiously. “Uh, no. Not that well.” Tara shook her head, opening the bag of chips. “It’s funny. It’s like no one around here knew the guy” Y/N said, shaking her head. “I’ve got his picture,” Tara told them.

The starstruck smiles reappeared on the hunters faces as Tara turned to fetch her folder from her bag. “You do?” Dean grinned. “Yeah, I take Polaroids of all the crew. It’s just one of those things you do to kill time on set” Tara blushed shyly, flipping through her folder as the two hunters smiled, eyes shining with excitement. “Um…right here”

Dean and Y/N moved to either side of her chair to get a better look. As Y/N scanned the picture, a sudden realization slapped her in the face. That familiar face looking back at her. Her jaw dropped, mirroring Dean's expression. They shared a look before muttering expletives in unison.

"Son of a fucking bitch"

"Jesus fucking Christ"

____________________________________________

The trio were now knocking on the door to the apartment of the man who was thought to be Frank Jaffy, “Gerard St. James?” Y/N questioned as Gerard opened the door. “Yes?” He raised an inquisitive brow at the three as Sam and Dean narrowed their eyes at him. “You’re still alive” Sam scoffed, “And you’re not Frank Jaffy” Dean added.

“Uh..no..” Gerard shook his head. “You were Desert Soldier #4 in Metalstorm: Destruction of Jared-Syn?” Y/N asked in a knowing tone, trying to keep her fangirl side at bay. “I was,” Gerard nodded. “I knew we recognized you” Dean chuckled, “We are huge fans. I mean your turn as a tractor-crash victim in Critters 3”

“Critters 3!” Gerard chuckled along with Dean as Y/N nodded enthusiastically. “Wow” She fanned herself again as Sam looked between the three, "And in Critters 4," Y/N added, her smirk growing wider as Gerard chuckled along. She was practically swooning as she fanned herself, her excitement palpable. Sam rolled his eyes at the trio, shaking his head at their fangirl behavior.

“Alright, well please. Come in” Gerard ushered them into his apartment. “Oh, cool” Dean muttered, gesturing for Y/N to go in first. As Y/N eagerly entered the room, Dean gestured for her to go first, his eyes quickly darting to her ass before he followed after her. Sam entered last, shutting the door behind them.

-

The walls were lined with pictures of Gerard in various roles, the trio now questioning him. “Yeah, it was the producers. I mean, they brought me in to play Frank for the day” Gerard explained, handing Sam and Y/N two coffee mugs. “Just to fake your death?” Dean asked, accepting a mug of coffee from Frank as he settled on the couch next to Y/N.

“Well, rumors of a haunted film set. Free publicity. Especially when you’re making a horror movie” Gerard explained as Sam sat across from Dean and y/n and Gerard settled next to Sam. “I mean, uh, it’s already all over the internet” He added, “Yeah, we know” Sam muttered, smiling tightly. “Well, these days, it’s all about new media. Building buzz” Gerard chuckled.

“They say that I’m the new Lonelygirl” The actor smiled proudly as Sam awkwardly sipped his coffee. “Who?” Dean and Y/N asked simultaneously, both confused. “And the ghost Tara saw?” Sam asked, “Projected on a screen of diffusion” Gerard explained, a lump grew in Y/N’s throat as he said this.

“Isn’t that kind of cruel? Messing with their heads like that?” She gaped, shaking her head in disgust at the fact that they would do that to one of her favorite actresses. “Hey, I just play the part, dollface. I don’t write the script” Gerard defended, y/n clenched her jaw as Frank continued to talk.

Y/N clenched her jaw at Gerard's words, growing increasingly frustrated with the fact that they were messing with the heads of innocent people just for publicity. She felt a protective anger towards the actress, Tara.

Dean, sensing her discomfort, placed a comforting hand on her thigh, giving it a slight squeeze. He shared her disapproval of their tactics, but knew they had a job to do, regardless.

“Speaking of, I’m playing Willy in a dinner-theater production of Salesman at Costa Mesa all next month” Gerard stated excitedly, taking up a couple coupons he had on the coffee table after resting down his own mug. “You get a free pepper steak with the coupon.” He said as he handed Dean the coupon.

The Hunter placed his mug on the table, using his free hand to take the coupon whilst the other was still rubbing gentle circles on Y/N’s thigh. A subtle shiver ran through Y/N’s body, a response to his unexpected and surprisingly comforting touch. She glanced down at his hand, then back up at him.

For a brief moment, she considered gently removing his hand, but a part of her went against it. Relishing in the comfort his touch brought to her, something she wasn’t used to much.

“Huh. Well now, wait a second. If you’re seen in public, won’t that ruin the hoax?” Y/N asked gruffly, clearing her throat, attempting to pretend like she wasn’t trying not to jump Dean right at this very moment. “Ha. Please” Gerard chuckled, shaking his head. “Frank and Willy, totally different characters” He assured them, turning to Sam.

Y/N forced a grunt, trying to keep her mind off of the warmth and comfort of Dean's hand, and refocusing on the conversation at hand. She shifted slightly, feeling more flustered as the actor explained the difference between 'Frank and Willy'.

Sam and Dean shared a look, both silently agreeing that this man before them was a complete jackass. “You know what?” Sam spoke up, playing his mug on the table, forcing a tight smile. “Thanks very much, Mr. St. James. it was just nagging at us, you know? But we’re very glad that, you know, you’re alive and well” Sam stated politely, pushing himself up from the couch.

Dean finally took his hand of y/n’s thigh, the female hunter placing her mug on the table also, letting out a breath she didn’t know she was holding in. “Yeah” Gerard smiled widely, shaking each of their hands. “Absolutely” Y/N forced a smile. A thought crossed Dean’s mind, “Hey, uh, I wanted to ask you, what was it like working with Richard Molt” He asked.

Sam furrowed his brows in disapproval and confusion as Y/N’s face brightened, intrigued. “Metalstorm. He was Hurok, king of the Cyclops people” Y/N explained, slightly excited as Sam rolled his eyes at the duo for the umpteenth time. The two turned to Gerard expectantly.

“Gentleman’s gentleman. And a bit of a womanizer” Gerard chuckled, “Yeah?” Y/N smiled widely as both she and Dean chuckled. Y/N's eyes widened with joy as the topic changed to one of her favorites. She felt a little star-struck as Gerard spoke of the actor, Richard Molt.

As he began speaking of his experience with the actor, both her and Dean chuckled and smiled. Sam just shook his head at her, unable to believe that she could still be gushing over this man after all these years.

____________________________________________

It was now the next day, Dean and Y/N both had headsets attached to their ears as they both stayed undercover in the roles as PAs, both liking it a bit too much. The previous day, Brad, the studio guy. “Hung himself” in the middle of shooting, the trio wasn’t convinced so they all stuck around to get a gist of everything.

Everyone on set was currently arguing in the middle of shooting, about whether ghosts would be “afraid of salt or shotguns”. Dean and Y/N snickered to themselves at the irony as Walter, a PA brushed past them, “These people are idiots” He grumbled annoyed, tossing his script to the ground. Dean and Y/N shared a look, both munching on taquitos as Sam approached them.

“Walter’s a little testy for a PA, huh?” Dean commented, Y/N nodded her head, taking another bite of her taquito. She looked over at Walter, who still had a sour look on his face, pacing back and forth through the commotion.

"I would be too,” She agreed. “But the food” She groaned slightly, throwing her head back as she took another bite of the taquito. Sam let out a chuckle, "How’s it going here?” He asked the duo in a low tone. “It’s going really good man. Tara’s really stepped up her performance” Dean said with admiration, Y/N had to hold herself back from rolling her eyes but schooled the act.

She nodded in agreement, “I think it’s probably all the sense memory she’s drawing on” Y/N added. “Sense memory?” Sam questioned, raising his brows at the two as they nodded. “Yeah,” Dean replied, crunching on the food. “Dean, Y/N/N, when I asked how it's going here, I’m talking about the case, right? We don’t really work here” Sam snorted, making their faces drop.

They swallowed harshly as he spoke, “You know, I thought you guys hated being PAs” Sam shook his head as they looked down at their attire. Both hunters were dressed as typical production assistants, their outfits blending in with the rest of the crew members.

Dean donned a black t-shirt, which was partially hidden by a green button down shirt. He wore faded blue jeans that were slightly stressed and his attire was topped off by brown work boots.

Y/N was dressed in dark gray jeans, light brown combat boots, and a black tank top hiding underneath a dark green button-down shirt, contrasting Dean’s outfit perfectly.

Dean and Y/N both looked down at their outfits in defeat. They looked back up at Sam, they both shrugged as Dean cleared his throat, "Well, uh, it’s just we..." He stopped, knowing he was digging themselves a hole. “I don’t know. It’s not so bad, feeling kind of like part of the team, you know?” Y/N added as De/‘ nodded in agreement.

“It’s good.” He agreed, “Oh, taquito? They’re wonderful” Y/N offered Sam a taquito as Dean crunched on his own. The younger Winchester grimaced, shaking his head, “No, um, listen, I conned my way into the morgue.” Sam began. “And?” Dean mumbled through a mouth full of food.

“News reports are right. Brad's doornail, no question” Sam informed them, but they two didn’t hear a word he said as someone was speaking to them through the headsets. “Copy that” Dean responded, “Coming right up sir” Y/N replied before covering the mic along with Dean.

“Sorry, what?” Dean asked Sam, “Copy that?” Sam muttered confused. “What did you say?” Y/N asked. Sam’s face dropped as he looked between the duo, rolling his eyes. He leaned forward, speaking low for only them to hear, "I said, the news reports are right. Brad’s a doornail."

"They’re aware!” Dean said loudly into the mic, still not hearing a word Sam said. “Who’s aware?” Sam asked, furrowing his brows. The two undercover PAs shared a confused look before looking at Sam. Y/N furrowed her brows slightly, “What are you talking about?”

“Sorry, what were you saying?” Dean asked, wiping his mouth. Sam pinched the bridge of his nose, letting out a frustrated exhale. “The newspaper’s right. Brad's a doornail, no question about it.” He stated slowly, hoping they’d hear what he was saying finally. “I guess it’s a good thing we didn’t skip town” Dean said, nodding.

“Oh, come here. I want you to hear something” Y/N told the brothers, “Copy that. On my way!” She said into the mic again, Sam and Dean looked at her confused, following behind her as she made her way to Dave, one of videographers who seemed to have a liking to her. “Hey, Dave, can you play that thing you were playing for me earlier?” She said sweetly.

Dave smiled widely at Y/N, “You liked that, huh?” He teased, his face slightly flush. Y/N smiled back at him, giving him a gentle nudge as both brothers stood behind her, watching the interaction. “I sure did, I’m intrigued, play it for my friends here, would ya?” She asked, her voice slightly low and sultry in an attempt to flatter Dave.

Dean clenched his jaw tightly, his freehand balling into tight fists by his side. He swallowed his food gruffly as he watched Y/N flirt with Dave, his eyes flickering between the two as he kept a disinterested expression on his face.

His stomach twisted with irritation. Tearing his eyes away from them as Dave handed him a pair of headphones and then handed Sam one. “Thanks” Sam muttered as they both accepted the headphones, placing it on their heads.

“Doesn’t matter, we’re not leaving till we—” Mitch, one of the actors, voice came over the headphones before the audio began crackling and a static noise came through. The boys and y/n shared a knowing look.

-

“EVP” Sam stated as they walked through the set. “After Brad’s stage dive. And all of a sudden, my head's spinning like crazy and I’m sensing the spirits” Y/N said, “Yeah, I’m getting electromagnetic readings up the wazoo” Dean agreed, “For some reason it’s a legit haunting now” He added.

“Who’s the ghost, guys? What’s it want?” Sam sighed. The boys simultaneously looked at y/n, “Don't look at me, I just feel the damn things. I don’t see em unless we do a seance, and to do a seance, we have to know who the hell the ghosts are” Y/N put her hands up in surrender. “I’m sorry, ghosts? As in plural” Dean furrowed his brows.

“Mhm. There’s more than one” Y/N nodded, “Great” Sam muttered sarcastically, “I think we should take a look at Brad's death scene” Dean suggested.

-

The trio were now outside, making sure no one noticed Sam picking the lock to Tara’s trailer. Dean knelt in front of the DVD, putting out his hand for y/n to hand him the CD. “Hey. Where’d you get this DVD?” Sam asked them as they sat back, rewinding the tape. “They’re called dailies” Dean corrected.

“I got it from Cindy, she’s kinda got this on and off thing going with Drew. He dubbed me an extra copy” Y/N explained, Sam tilted his head, somewhat impressed. “Here’s where the guy fell through the roof.” Dean paused the tape. “Right,” Sam said. “Here we go” Y/N muttered as he unpaused the tape.

“They must have super hearing” Mitch said through the TV, then an ear piercing scream came from Cindy as Brad’s body came falling from the ceiling, his neck around a noose, hanging mid air.

“Hey, wait, go back, go back” Sam suddenly said, Dean quickly rewinded the tape. “Right after. Right. Yeah, right” Both Sam and Y/N’s eyes widened as the figure of a woman appeared on the screen, “There” He gasped as Dean's brows furrowed. “It’s like Three Men and a Baby all over again” Dean muttered. Sam turned to them confused.

“Selleck, Dandon and Guttenberg. And I don’t know who played the baby” Dean tilted his head. “What’s your point?” Sam asked. “There’s a scene in the movie where people say that the camera caught a ghost on film. Apparently in the background of one of the scenes, there was this boy that nobody remembers from set. Spirit photography” Y/N explained.

Sam narrowed his eyes at the image of the woman, “I’ve seen her before” He said in a low tone.

____________________________________________

Later, they were all sitting in the cafeteria. Sam was doing research on his computer while Dean and Y/N fiddled with this equipment. “Here, check this out,” Sam told them, turning the laptop towards them. “Got your ears on? Over.” A man on their headsets asked. “Yeah, go for Ozzy” Dean responded. “Joan, here” Y/N responded back. “You guys got eyes on Tara” The man asked as Sam furrowed his brows at them.

“No. I don’t have a 20 on Tara” Dean said. “I think she’s 10-100” Y/N added with a small smile along with Dean as Sam rolled his eyes. “Copy that. Send her my way” The man said. “Okay, copy that” Dean and Y/N stated in unison, before the line went dead. “Sorry, what were you saying?” Y/N asked Sam. He just shook his head and pointed to the screen.

“Elise Drummond. Starlet back in the 30s. Had an affair with a studio exec” Sam explained in a low tone to ensure no one else heard them. Elise was the same woman they saw in the footage, “He uses her up, fires her, leaves her destitute. So Elise hangs herself from Stage 9s rafters right into a scene they’re shooting”

“Just like our man Brad” Dean muttered as he and Y/N stared at the picture. “So, what? She’s got it in for the studio brass?” Y/N questioned. “Possibly. I mean, it’s a motive, and Brad's death matches hers exactly.” Sam shrugged. “We’re digging tonight, aren’t we?” Dean groaned.

-

It was now nightfall, the trio found themselves in the cemetery where Elise was buried. “Which way?” Y/N asked as they shone their lights through the dark foggy grave garden. “Uh, over here” Dean answered, leading the way, using a map he bought. “Hey.” Dean called out to them. “Yeah” Sam and Y/N said in unison. “Ha, this map is totally worth the five bucks,” Dean chuckled.

Earning eyerolls from both younger hunters, “Hey, we gotta go check out Johnny Ramones grave when we’re done here” Dean suggested enthusiastically. “You wanna dig him up too” Y/N teased, nudging him with a small smile. “Bite your tongue, heathen!” He playfully shot back, causing Y/N to cackle.

“Guys, what I don’t get is, why now? I mean, after 75 years, Elise Drummond suddenly goes homicidal, you know. Why this movie? And how is she the only spirit that shows but Y/N felt multiple entities?” Sam questioned. “Well, maybe she’s mad they’re making a scary ghost flick” Dean suggested. “True. We could always deal with the other ghost after” Y/N agreed as they approached the grave.

“Here we go” She muttered, dropping the duffel bag, “Yep.” Sam sighed as they all got to work on digging.

-

After digging for a while, Dean finally hit her coffin. Y/N then handed him her butterfly knife to pry open the coffin. The old wood creaked open, revealing the skeletal remains of Elise. Sam immediately went to work on salting the bones as Dean climbed out. The elder Winchester took the initiative to douse the corpse with light fluid as Y/N got a box of matches out.

She struck the match against the side of the box, the flame igniting before tossing it into the coffin. Elise’s corpse was now in flames, the three watching as the corpse burnt.

____________________________________________

The next morning, cops were swarming the set. Apparently another one of the producers died horribly. “Run in with a giant fan.” Sam scoffed. “Same thing happened to an electrician back in ‘66. Guy named Billy Beard” Sam sighed as they took in the scene, blood was splattered almost everywhere. “What the hell, fellas?” Y/N groaned.

“I don’t know. At least we know it isn’t Elise this time. Doesn’t seem like her M.O.” Sam responded. “So she’s not the only homicidal ghost, great” Y/N groaned. “Yeah, but these things don’t usually tag team” Dean pointed out as they all walked outside to hear the director, McG, giving a speech.

“In light of Jay’s accident last night and in cooperation with the authorities. We’re shutting down production for a few days” McG announced, a few staff began to mutter disappointed. “I know, I know. Look, I’m not gonna lie to you, we’ve had a few setbacks this week. But we all know Jay and Brad wanted more anything….and that was to see Hell Hazers 2: The Reckoning, on screens all across America!”

Staff nodded in agreement as he continued, “Now, we owe it to them to go on and to pull together and to make this damn movie, huh?!” McG began clapping another with the rest of the crew. Dean and Y/N chuckled as they clapped while Sam snorted. “But- not- not today. Go home, someone will call you” He stated, cutting the speech.

____________________________________________

Later, Sam and Y/N were sitting in the trailer, watching the uncut version of the movie to see if there were any more spirits caught on film as Dean entered. Both were bored out of their minds as Y/N lazily munched on popcorn. “Hey” Dean greeted them, shutting the door. “Hey” Sam and Y/N muttered in unison. “So you find out where the electrician’s buried?” Sam asked, stuffing his mouth with popcorn.

“He wasn’t. Billy Beard was cremated” Dean responded, opening the fridge to get a beer. “Great. Now what?” Y/N scoffed, resting the bowl of popcorn on Sam’s lap. “No idea” Dean sighed, settling on the couch next to Y/N. “Anymore ghost cameos in the dailies?” He asked. “Not in the first six hours” Sam scoffed.

“Oh, man” Dean muttered, shifting closer to Y/N, slightly propping his arm against the backrest of the couch. “This fucking sucks” Y/N groaned, her shoulders slumping. “Tell me about it” Sam sighed, his eyes glancing between the two before going back to the screen, shoveling another fistful of popcorn in his mouth.

“You know, maybe the spirits are trying to shut down the movie because they think it sucks? Because I mean, it kinda does” Sam voiced his thoughts out loud, earning chuckles from Dean and Y/N. “Oh come on, the dialogue is, you know, I mean…” Y/N trailed off, trying to think of something good about the movie.

“Y/N don’t try” Sam stated, the two shared a knowing look. “Alright, I can’t even argue with that,” She muttered. “Yeah, it’s terrible.” Dean agreed. They all continued to watch as Tara’s character, Wendy started to chant in Latin. Sam and Y/N’s ears perked up at the familiar chant she was speaking.

Y/N quickly snatched the remote from the table as she and Sam pushed themselves up from their relaxed positions. Dean shot them a confused look, “Listen to the invocation” Sam pointed out. “Fellas….that’s the real deal” Y/N gasped, both her and Sam sharing a terrified look. “That’s a necromantic summoning ritual,” Sam added.

“What the fuck is that doing in a Hollywood movie?” He scoffed.

-

Immediately, they headed over to Marty, the writer’s, office. He was currently in the middle of a phone call, placing up a finger for them to give him a second as they timidly walked in. “Guys, we’re all shut down. What are you still doing here?” Marty asked the trio after hanging up his call. “Yeah, um, it’s just- sorry man. We- we- we just couldn’t help ourselves” Sam stuttered, chuckling awkwardly.

“We just had to tell you that we read the script” Sam told him. “And?” He asked expectantly. Sam couldn’t bring himself to compliment the horrible script so Y/N stepped in, “It was awesome, sir” Y/N gushed as Dean nodded enthusiastically. “Awesome” Dean added as the writer’s smile widened.

“Really awesome” Sam fake gushed. “I know, it’s pretty rocking, right? I’m glad you guys liked it” Marty nodded, “Yeah, I really liked all the attention to detail” Sam said vaguely. “Dude, right on. That’s my thing, I mean, color me guilty, but that is me. I mean, I’m a total detail buff” Marty bragged, leaning back on his desk, his eyes scanning Y/N’s frame.

Dean took notice of this and internally rolled his eyes, slightly clenching his jaw. “No, I can tell. The way you worked in all those Enochian summoning rituals, in all the authentic language, and-” Y/N said but Marty cut her off. “Wait, you mean that Latin crap?” His smile dropped before shaking his head. “No, man. That’s Walter. Walter Dixon, the original writer” He told them, it was their turn for their faces to drop.

“You like that garbage?” Marty scoffed as he made his way over to his chair. “Wait. Walter the PA, Walter?” Dean asked for clarification. “No, he’s not a PA. He’s got a clause in his contract that allows him to come on set” Marty informed them, taking a seat on his chair. “But he wrote the invocations?” Dean questioned.

“He wrote a whack-job screenplay. There’s no pace, there’s no love interest. It’s all wackadoo exposition” Marty rambled on with disgust. “I had to cut like 90 percent of it to make it readable. Another 10 percent to make it good” He continued, picking up a script from his desk. The trio chuckled dryly as the man continued to talk.

____________________________________________

“Should've kept Walter's original script. It’s actually pretty good” Dean commented as they all held copies of the original script, reading it in their trailer. “Yeah” Sam scoffed, folding it up and tossing it aside before resting his hands behind his head. “And it reads like a how-to manual of conjugation. Like a textbook on how to summon ghosts and get them to do whatever you want” Sam said.

“Yeah, like kill people” Y/N muttered, flipping through the script. “Yep” Sam sighed. “So let’s say somewhere down the line Walter learned some pretty Black Magic” Y/N began, tossing her script on Dean’s lap. “Yeah, and let’s say he’s pissed at these people for wrecking his movie,” Dean added. “Motive and means” Sam deadpanned as they put two and two together.

“It’s worth checking out” Dean shrugged as they all shared a look. “Just once. Once, can someone haunt a strip club” Y/N groaned, sinking into the couch next to Dean. “Or a beach house, or a Playboy mansion” Dean agreed, tilting his arm back as he rested his arm behind her on the backrest of the couch.

“Or a candy factory. I’d like to be killed by gumdrops” Y/N added, imagining such a scenario. “Or-or a theme park. Death by log flume” Dean stated. “A puppy farm” Y/N giggled, imagining herself chased by a stampede of puppies as she leaned into his arm.

Sam shot them an amused look of disbelief. “You two are unbelievable” He stated. “Yeah, yeah,” They both scoffed, waving off his judgment, neither denying nor confirming.

____________________________________________

The trio made their way to the set, wielding their rocksalt guns. Their ears perked up when they heard Marty screaming for mercy and the fan that Jay was killed in was turnt on. “Oh, God!! Walter!!” Marty screamed with terror as Dean and Y/N bent the corner. “Now you’re gonna find out what being a ghost is really like!” Walter shot back.

“Walter please, Walter help me!!!” Marty begged. Y/N immediately aimed for the ghost of Billy Beard, dragging Marty towards the fan. A round of rocksalt went through his chest, causing him to disapparate. Dean and Y/N stood over a grateful Marty as Sam turnt the large fan off. “You are one hell of PAs” Marty said breathlessly. “Yeah, we know” Dean deadpanned a bit smugly as Y/N helped Marty up.

Y/N narrowed her eyes at Walter along with Sam, she and the young Winchester started stalking towards him, jaws clenched and infuriated. “W-what are you doing??” Walter stammered quickly, making a break for the stairs. “We could ask you the same thing Walter. Raising these spirits from the dead?! Making them murder for you?! That’s playing with fire, Walter!” Sam shouted at him.

“You don’t understand,” Walter sobbed, running further up the catwalk. “You know what, you’re right. We don’t understand!” Y/N shouted, aiming her gun at him. “Wait, wait, look.” Walter pleaded. “You put your heart and soul into something. Years of hard work. Years. And then they take it!! And they crap all over it!!” Walter raged as Marty scoffed and shook his head arrogantly.

“And then- and then they want you to smile and say thank you” Walter growled. “Walter, listen, it’s just a movie. That’s it” Sam tried to reason, trying to snatch y/n’s gun away from her but she didn’t let up. Walter took a deep breath, trying to regulate his breathing. “Look, I got nothing against you, guys. You’re not part of this. Just please, please, just leave” Walter begged them.

“But Martins gonna stay” He ordered, pointing to Marty. “Sorry, can't do that” Dean chimed in. “I mean, it’s not that we like him or anything, it’s just a matter of principle!” Dean shouted, warning a slightly offended look from Marty. “Then I’m sorry too” Walter said ominously before raising the pendant in his hand that binder the spirits. “Walter, please- no!” Sam pleaded as Walter began chanting in Latin.

The room began to shake as the spirits began emerging. Y/N’s body grew weaker, her breathing becoming more intense. “Y/N?!” Dean called to her worriedly, seeing her struggling to stand upright. “I’m…I’m ok” She lied, still trying to raise her gun, shaking uncontrollably. The spirits began inching towards them. “Sam!” Dean screamed, indicating for Sam to stay behind them.

“Come on, come on!” Y/N growled, the heaviness overweighting her and then suddenly, they disapparated. Leaving them confused. Only for Sam to be tossed to one side of the room. “Sam!!” Dean called out again, rushing over to his brother.

Y/N attempted to go shoot them but was quickly slammed against the wall, her gun falling from her hands as she cried out. “Y/N!” Dean called out to her, watching as she was repeatedly slammed against the wall, pinned against it by the flickering spirit. Dean then shot the spirit, causing it to disapparate, quickly helping y/n up.

“You good?” Dean asked her, worry staining his face as she nodded, scrambling for her gun. “Yes. I’m ok..” She lied again, leaning against him as he helped her limp into the fake house on the set, with Sam shutting the door behind them, all breathing heavily. “Come to the coast, we’ll get together, have a few laughs” Y/N mocked Dean’s words from a couple days ago in a high pitched tone.

This earned her a glare from him as they loaded up their guns with rocksalt. “Ah, fuck!” Dean groaned, cocking his gun alone with y/n. “I can’t believe this. Ghosts are real” Marty panicked. “What makes you say that?” Dean sassed sarcastically, not having any of it. The place was eerily quiet as they scanned the area. “I don’t understand. How is Walter controlling them?” Marty asked.

“Probably with that talisman” Y/N answered. “Can you see them?” Dean asked, so y/n flashed her eyes white, scanning the room. “How is she doing that?!” Marty exclaimed. “You ask a lot of questions Marty!” Dean snapped. A thought crossed Sam’s mind, the younger Winchester quickly pulling out his phone. “What are you doing?!” He asked Sam. “I mean, if film cameras pick these suckers up, then…maybe…uh…” Sam answered, using his phone camera to scan the room.

His eyes widened when the deformed spirit of Billy Beard came into view, Y/N spotted him at the same time Sam yelled. “Dean, Y/N. Right there!” The two instantly shot him, the rock salt hitting the wall behind them. “Got him!” Sam gasped, all breathing heavily. Sam and Y/N continued scanning with his phone and her eyes.

Y/N felt a chill behind her, swiftly turning around to shoot besides Dean where another spirit was going to attack him. Y/N noticed Walter above them on the catwalk, trying to get away. She and Sam shared a look, nodding in agreement. “Here, you get the idea?!” Sam instructed Marty, handing him his cellphone. Marty nodded obediently, taking the phone from Sam.

“Alright, you hold ‘em off, charming. We’re going after Walter!” Y/N told Dean, stuffing her gun into Marty’s hands. “Hey!” Dean called out to her, making her stop in her tracks as Sam ran out towards Walter, “Be safe” He pleaded as she turned to him.

“Ditto” Y/N replied with a smile, flashing him a quick wink with promise. She then hurried to the stairs, her and Sam running up the steps, they made it to the roof just in the Nick of time. Walter came rushing through the door to see Sam and Y/N, he stopped in his tracks. “It’s over Walter. Now give it to me” Sam ordered him, putting his hand out for Walter to hand him the talisman.

Their jaws dropped when Walter tossed it into the ground, breaking it. “There, okay, now no one can have it!” Walter shouted. Y/N might be a sympathetic person but she had to stop herself from laughing at the utter stupidity Walter just displayed by breaking the talisman. Pressing a hand over her mouth, “I wouldn’t have done that if i were you” Y/N muttered fearfully and Sam put up his hands in surrender.

He quickly pulled Y/N back by her wrist, backing away from Walter. “Oh yeah?” Walter scoffed. “Yeah” Sam shot back. “And why not?” Walter rolled his eyes arrogantly. “Because you just freed them!” Sam shouted as Dean and Marty came rushing through the door. “And we can’t stop them now” He added and both him and Y/N continued to back away.

“Walter, you brought them back, forced them to murder. They’re not gonna be very happy with you” Y/N pointed out as she and Sam inched towards Dean and Marty. “Yeah? So why not?” Walter scoffed when suddenly the spirits began growling, grabbing a hold of Walter. He began screaming for mercy as the spirits began clawing at him, his light blue shirt now staining in his own blood.

“And there’s your answer,” Y/N stated coldly, wincing when Walter’s cries of terror and agony filled the night air. Sam put a hand around her shoulder, gently guiding her away from the gory scene but she saw everything. Marty held the camera up, getting a clear view of all the spirits attacking and mauling Marty, unfortunately, y/n didn’t need the camera to see and it made her feel sick to her stomach.

____________________________________________

A couple days later, shooting is back in session. Two of the actors were in the middle of a scene. “Oh, God…oh god” Sandra gasped, holding up a phone camera before screaming, “There!” The other actor shot in the direction she pointed at, and all the staff were loving it. “I don’t understand. How can the spirits appear in the camera phone? And how can you see them but we can’t?” Sandra asked, pointing to a new character, Kelly.

Kelly shrugged, “I’m psychic. And the video picks up their frequencies in ways your eyes can’t” She said sheepishly, Sam and Y/N were standing besides Marty, the judgmental looks clear on their faces. Y/N cringed when Kelly’s actress said that, rolling her eyes in annoyance as she crossed her arms over her chest.

“Cut!!” McG ended the scene. “Oh, print that one. That’s in the movie!” He cheered excitedly as the bell on set rang. “Oh! Loved it kids, loved it!” He exclaimed as Sam and Y/N scoffed, shaking their heads. “You find out there’s an afterlife and psychics and this is what you do with it?” Sam said in a low tone to Marty who was wearing a huge grin.

“I needed a little jazz on the page,” Marty shrugged, his eyes flickering over to Y/N. Y/N caught his glance, returning it with a glare of her own, crossing her arms over her chest. Marty just smirked in return, “Don’t look so glum, gorgeous. Tilly is playing a great you as Kelly” Marty grinned.

Y/N huffed, not amused by Marty’s comment. She looked away, watching as some of the crew members were setting up a scene in front of her.

____________________________________________

“Where the hell is he?” Sam grumbled in annoyance to Y/N as they walked around the lot looking for Dean. They stopped in their tracks when Tara’s trailer door swung open suddenly, almost hitting them both in the process. Our walked a very disheveled Dean, fixing his jacket and Tara leaning against the door, a sultry look on her face. “You’re one hell of a PA” She breathed out.

Dean’s eyes landed on Y/N, filled with guilt but the female hunter kept a stoic expression as Sam’s jaw dropped. Y/N felt as though someone just ripped her heart out, chewed it up and stomped on it with steel tipped boots. She could’ve vomited on the spot, just thinking about Dean with someone else.

No more Tara Benchley movies for her, that’s for sure.

“Thank you” Dean said sheepishly to Tara, who gave him a sultry smile. “Don’t mention it” Tara replied, the lustful look never leaving her face. Y/N’s heart was aching as she watched the interaction, a sickening nauseous feeling flooding her body. Dean’s eyes quickly flickered to her, seeing the neutral look on her face.

“You were a real gentleman” She added, still keeping her eyes on Dean as he nervously scratched the back of his head. He stole glances at his friend, the stoic look in her eye made his heart sink.

Sam was looking between his brother and best friend, seeing the hurt wash over her face and a look of guilt spreading through his brother's face. He shot Y/N a sympathetic look but she kept her face neutral.

“I guess I’ll see you around” He said quietly, Tara who just smirked at him. “I sure hope so,” She told him, eyeing him up and down. “Let’s go” Y/N ordered, trying to keep her voice firm. She turned on her heel, Sam following her as he gave Dean a stern scowl. Dean gulped, running after them with a smug look on his face.

Dean had yet to notice the clear range of emotions y/n was going through, though she was masking it well. Sam wasn’t stupid, he saw right through his best friend. Y/N fished her pack of cigarettes from her jacket, instantly lightly one up while Dean grabbed a burrito from the cart one of the caterers were lugging around. “God I love this town” Dean pranced happily between Sam and Y/N.

Y/N didn’t speak, instead keeping her gaze straight ahead as she took another huff of the cigarette, a cloud of smoke escaping her mouth. Sam sent a nervous glance at his friend, noticing the dark look in her eyes and the rigid stiffness in her shoulders.

She’d be a hypocrite to say that she wasn’t trying to get into Tara’s pants too. She totally was, but that didn’t make it hurt any less. She spent the next couple of minutes plotting to get laid at their next stop.

____________________________________________

Author's Note: And there we have itttt, I just wanna say once again, thank you for the patience and supporting me endlessly❤️❤️❤️

I hope everyone enjoyed it and I’m so excited for the next two episodes! I’ve already started on it lol

Taglist: @hjgdhghoe @rach5ive @tiggytaylor @star-yawnznn @quarterhorse19

@deangirl96 @bitchykittenconnoisseur @globetrotter28 @hobby27 @mrsjjkwinchester

@juwu-theliciosa @magiccliopleurodon @nesnejwritings @karrah89 @whattheduckisupkyle

@iloveyou2mia @thelittlelightinthedarkness @lmhf1 @littletomboy2 @zigzoggy

@hey-its-zoe @modiddys-blog @thvxr

Xoxo

[emmyrosee]

okay so, this evening has not been fun for me, so ofc I’m gonna try coping via escapism 🤩

and as always you are absolutely NOT obligated to write it. I’m so serious, if you don’t want to there’s absolutely zero pressure emmy, I’d completely understand one hundred percent.

very long story short, I got my grades back for this semester and despite doing soooo much better overall this year than my first year and not failing a single class this time around, unless I get a miracle it’s looking like I’m going to have to be asked to withdraw from my university for a whole year ☹️

and as someone who got straight As from elementary til my last year of high school/made school my whole life, this is just an enormous blow to any self confidence I had finally built back up. I was doing better mentally and finally feeling a bit like myself again and I’ve just felt so sick with anxiety all evening because I don’t even know what to do anymore. If they decide to ask me to leave, it’ll make my chances of medical school even slimmer than they already were and I can’t help but feel like a bit of a failure and like I’ve just ruined my future despite knowing it’s not all true and I still have options :(

it’s so hyper specific and I’m so so so sorry abt that, but would it be possible for some comfort + tons of fluff with kuroo possibly? I just want to be babied a bit by this fictional man LOL. I feel like he’d know exactly what to do and how to get my mind off of it until I inevitably get that email :(

anon <3

My love, I am so sorry you’re having to go through this, and I am here, to PERSONALLY, tell you that you are far from a failure, and you should still be proud of yourself for getting so far. It’s okay to have bumps like this that halt your dreams, and it doesn’t make you any less deserving of continuing to chase those dreams. And hey! Use me as an example! I went from being a mechanic for four years and being fired for being so terrible (yes that is an actual thing that happened) then I went to college for writing; and now I’m a licensed esthetician with a focus in makeup artistry! There is no such thing as a dead end, no such thing as a closed room, just keep treating yourself gently and reminding yourself that this is far from over, your dream is still more than obtainable with some time and it is more than okay.

Ahem. Let me get off my soapbox PFFFF-

——-

Last night, you refreshed your emails who knows how many times, staring at your computer screen on the verge of hyperventilating for what felt like hours- and it might have been; your brain can’t process how long it was right now.

Your bottom lip was tight between your teeth, the hand on the mouse pad trembling, waiting in anticipation, tight with nerves. Your other rested a fist on your lap, waiting for the results and occasionally wiping a rogue tear that falls.

There’s a soft rapping on the door, but you don’t turn to face it. You merely keep refreshing.

“Hey,” tetsuro whispers, and you hear his feet padding into the room, and when he gets next to you, he crouches down. Once again, you can’t spare him a glance. “Any updates?”

You stay silent. He winces, “I’ll take that at a no…” he lays a warm hand on your back and gently rubs it in circles, “it’s okay baby. We’ll figure it out, we always do.”

“Tetsuro, please,” you whimper, not quite in the mood for a pep talk. “I’m going to puke right now, my life is in flames and crumbling around me, I’m so nervous, please. Save the pep talk, I can’t handle it right now.”

“I'm sorry,” he soothes. He doesn’t say anything further, just rubbing your back in slow, firm circles with his palm, blinking his golden eyes up at you warmly, lovingly.

You feel your body cramp from being under his loving touch, suddenly dawning on you just how long you've been sitting in the chair, inert and unwilling to peel your eyes from the email inbox. You suddenly become hyperaware of how your legs feel numb, your fingers are cramped and your eyes are burning. It's the first time in hours you've taken a break from your refreshing to scrub at your eyes, breeding a wetness to try and soothe the sting.

You hear Tetsuro sigh, "why... don't we go to bed, angel?"

"No."

"But-"

"I can't," you whimper. "Not now. Not yet-" your breathing picks up as you look at him in despair, chest fluttering and heart pounding as you try to breathe. He furrows his brows and shushes you softly, big hands moving to cradle your cheeks and force you to look at him.

"Baby," he says softly, but firm enough to ground you. "It's late. They're not going to send it this late at night. And if they do, we'll deal with it when we wake up tomorrow. But I'm almost certain they're not going to send it to you this late. I promise, okay?"

You let out a shaky sigh and look at the time: 22:43. It's far too late to be thinking, to be worrying, and you'd much rather breakdown in the comfort of your own bed, than alone in this wooden chair.

But you do know that, no matter what, Tetsuro is going to be right next to you, rubbing your back and cradling you close.

When you say nothing, Tetsuro slowly stands up and scoops you in his big, strong arms, "come on, angel face. Let's get some rest." You thunk your head against his chest and fist your fingers into the collar of his shirt, letting him carry you to the bathroom where he plops you down on the countertop.

He grabs your toothbrush and some toothpaste, and gently tells you to open, which you sleepily do. He's extra careful, making sure to get every tooth he can, scrubbing softly as to not make you uncomfortable. Silence, save for the bristles on the toothbrush, fills the room, the corner of Tetsuro's tongue sticking out in focus.

"Okay. Spit," he says, moving so you can comfortably turn your head and spit the froth out. Skincare comes next, and his touch is even softer as he massages in every product you use.

"Good girl," he whispers, picking you back up to carry you to bed. "My good girl. Good, brave girl..."

You drift off in his arms at his praise, not even feeling the way he gets you into pajamas or gets you under the covers, the exhaustion of the constant high of anxiety weighing you down.

Waking up this morning, your bones feel like bricks under the wall of your muscles, barely able to move under the force of it all. Your skin feels like paper, so hyper aware of it now that you’ve had the time to come down from your anxious state. You blink up at your ceiling, eyelids tight as you do, and you continue to stare and let your body wake up molecule by molecule, inch by inch. You feel it coming to life, and you slowly bring your hands up to press the heels of your palms into your eyesockets to force the rest of the sleep out of your eyes.

When your hand then drops next to you, you feel yourself grow saddened at the lack of warmth. Tetsuro’s been out of bed long enough to let his side cool down, and it makes you want to cry at the idea of being alone right now.

You never should’ve shut him down last night. All he wanted to do was help, and you shut him up and made him feel bad, now he’s not even in bed with you anymore, and you feel tears sting at your eyes again, this time out of anxiety of making him upset, and-

“Ah, you’re up.”

Your guilty, howling mind shuts up as soon as tetsuro’s body makes its way into the doorway, smiling and stirring his tea with a spoon. “Good morning, babygirl.” He takes a step into the bedroom and before you know it, he’s at your side, sitting on the bed next to you. He uses his free arm to wrap around you, but not pull you to his chest. “Did you sleep okay?”

“No,” you whimper, voice croaky. He nods and lets his thumb rub up and down the curve of your shoulder. “I’m sorry I yelled at you last night.”

His brow cocks in confusion, “huh?”

Now, finally, you turn to face him, “I snapped at you… I told you to-“

“You told me you didn’t want a pep talk,” he chuckles, shaking his head. “That’s okay. You’re allowed to tell me that my words might not be the most helpful. I’m not going to get mad at you for that. It’s not like you told me to shut my ugly ass up- you’d never do that, I’m too pretty.”

This, for the first time in what feels like days, has you crack a smile. You let out a small laugh, breathy and barely there, but he smiles proudly all the same, pulling you in for a hug now. “You’re a goof,” you murmur.

“And you, need to eat something,” he whispers against your head, and you deflate in his arms again. “Don’t you protest me, you know you have to eat something.”

“‘M not hungry,” you say.

“I know, but you didn’t eat last night, and I let you sleep in-“ at his words, your eyes flick to the clock on your nightstand, red numbers flicked onto 10:24. “You have to have something.”

“But-“

“I know,” he says. “Do you want something sweet, or savory?”

20 questions. It’s something he does after a fit of your anxiety to try and make your life just a hair easier, decisions quicker, and your day just a bit brighter because you’re getting exactly what you want. He claims he used to do it with kenma, hence why he’s so good at it.

“Uhm…” you shrug, “why not both?”

“Both?” He echos. “Okay. Do you want fruit?” You nod. He nods with you. “Okay. How about a bagel?” You nod again. “Okay. With some cream cheese?” You shake your head and he clicks his tongue, “butter?” You shake your head again, “okay. Uhmmmm-“

“I want to do it,” you mumble, and he presses a kiss to your head.

“You sure? Because I can whip something up-“

“I have to do it. I have to put the toppings on my bagel.”

He nods a final time and squeezes you close, “okay. If you need any help deciding, I’m right here, okay? I’ll be cutting your fruit.”

You hum and slowly swing your legs out of the bed, stretching and mewling from the force. When your hand instinctively darts for your phone, he clicks his tongue, "leave it. You don't need it right now."

"But-"

"I told your family to text me if they need you. Your phone is on do not disturb. Leave it there, babe." He swings his own long legs over and extends a hand out to you, wiggling his fingers enticingly for you to hold. When you grab three of them, he smiles and slowly leads you into the kitchen.

The news is playing on tv at a low volume, there’s a discarded blanket on the couch, and you quirk a brow in intrigue, “tetsu, how did you know I was awake?”

He shrugs, “my life shifts when you wake up for the day. I feel it in my soul.”

“Ew.”

“Shaddup.”

You laugh again, smiling a weak smile as you plop down at the table. He makes his way to begin cooking your bagel, popping it in the toaster before making his way to cut up your fruit. You sigh and play with your fingers, wondering if you should make conversation, or let silence rule, and you sigh shakily before opening your mouth to speak. “What’re you going to have?”

“I, my love, already ate some toast with some apple jelly and butter.”

“Oh.”

“But I’m going to pick at some fruit with you, because I don’t want you eating alone.”

“You don’t have to do that-“

“I know,” he hums. Then, he turns to face you with a smile. “I want to.”

Your heart flutters as you smile at him, looking down at your fingers to distract yourself. Usually, you’d be scrolling through your social media, checking apps and emails, but since he forbade it, you’re left to listen to him sing softly and the newscaster drone on and on. After a few short minutes, your bagel pops, and he plates it with some sliced fruit and places it in front of you, before kissing your head and grabbing various toppings for it.

Breakfast drags, but in a comforting way, where it drips by so slow like honey, syrupy sweet as Tetsuro talks. He talks about everything and anything, about the game Kenma's going to stream for charity, and the funny meme he sent the streamer- or funny to Tetsuro at least, as allegedly Kenma left him on read. You find yourself eating at his company, and before you know it, your bagel, juice, and fruit is gone. You look down at your plate in surprise, and he wiggles his brows at you, "feel better, angel?"

"Uhm... yeah," you say, almost confused. "I didn't think I was that hungry."

"I don't care how you thought, I'm glad you ate." He stands out of his chair with a stretch, "you still hungry? I can make you another-"

"No," you sigh. "I... I really should check my email-"

"Not until I give you a bath and a massage."

You quirk your brow, "you're going to give me a bath and a massage?"

"Of course," he chuckles, "If you're too anxious to give yourself some self care, that's plenty fine, but that means I'm going to give you self care." He shrugs, "those are just the rules."

"Do you even know how to give a massage?"

"Bokuto and I used to massage each other after practice all the time." Your brow quirks higher, and he holds his hand up, "don't ask. Just trust me."

"Can Bokuto give me a massage?" You tease, giggling at the way he gives you a fake smile and a high pitched "no," to tease you.

He presses a kiss to your head, "I'm going to go run the bath, why don't you get changed and meet me in there?"

"Okay," you hum. He nudges your nose with a finger before stalking down the hall to the bathroom. When your hear the tub running, you make a dash towards the small office room for your laptop, nervous to check your email, and-

"I took it out!" He calls, followed by a cackle.

"You're an ass!"

"It's your favorite ass, though!"

You grumble and make your way to the bedroom to get undressed per his request, stealing one of his oversized shirt to conceal yourself until the tub is filled. You stalk into the bathroom and blush under the way his eyes glaze up and down you, "fuck, I love you in my clothes."

"Back off, I'm about to bathe," you snort.

"Yeah, but I can still find you hot." As the tub fills, he adds a scoop of epsom salt, and a splash of bathing bubbles, large bubbles brewing on the surface of the water. You smile and watch them shape and form, the sweet smell filling the air around you. You feel excitement brewing inside of you as you watch him turn off the water and push himself up and off the floor with the edge of the tub, "should do it, baby. I'm gonna let you soak, I'll set up for a little massage after, make you nice and comfortable.

"Okay," you mewl. He presses a kiss to your lips and makes his way to the door. "Hey, Tetsu?" You say, reaching for his hand, which he takes happily. "Thank you."

"Anything for you, babygirl," he whispers. "You know that." He pinches your cheek and leaves the bathroom for you to relax.

The bath water is warm as you soak in the epsom salt, feeling your muscles loosen and relish in the combination. You bury your face in the bubbles and close your sleepy eyes, letting the smells lull you into a state of relaxation. Your head is still heavy with anxiety, but your heart is full of love and warmth for your boyfriend.

You're not sure how long you were floating in silence, lost in the bubbles and oils, but he gently knocks on the door, "you okay? Haven't heard you for a bit."

"Yes," you mewl, stretching. The water is now chilly and the bubbles are mostly gone and you rub your hands over the surface of the water. "Is the massage stuff ready?" You tease, looking at your hands and wincing at how pruny they are.

"It's been ready, I didn't want to bother you," he snickers. “Come out when you’re ready, just wanted to make sure you were alive.”

“I’m alive, I’m coming,” you call, getting out of the tub to dry yourself. You take your time drying off, trying to enjoy the last little bit of warmth clinging to your skin. You leave the bathroom to get dressed into some clean pajamas, smiling as tetsuro busies himself with the whole massage set up. “Candles? You spoil me.”

“There’s a lot of smells going on,” he says with a face.

“I know I can tell,” you hum. Getting dressed, you slip on a pair of his boxers and a shirt, and you make your way to the bed to wait for him.

“Alright-“ he pats the bed for you to crawl on top of. “C’mere, let me pamper you.”

You giggle, “you have been pampering me!” Regardless, you swing your legs onto the bed and lay on your stomach, squeaking as he straddles you and cracks his knuckles.

He lays a massive paw on each of your shoulders, using his thumb to splay and press the muscle under his force, and your eyes cross in the middle and flutter in relaxation. They work in circles to press into the muscles, before laying flat on your back to dig his heel into before his fingers press and roll back up to your shoulders.

Thick fingers roll over the knot in your right shoulder, no doubt from the refreshing of the page for hours on end last night. You whine and bury your face in the bed, and he hums, "I know beautiful, I almost got it."

"Feels good," you murmur.

"Told you it would," he says softly. “You need to trust me.”

“I think I trust you too much,” you snicker. Tetsuro says nothing, merely offering you a laugh through his nose as he continues with the massage.

Your body twitches as the tips of his fingers dig into your side as part of the massage, but your snicker doesn’t go unnoticed by your boyfriend. “Something wrong?” He hums, doing it again.

"Tetsu!" You giggle, reaching behind you to try and stop his wrists, "that tickles!"

"That's crazy, I'm not tickling you," he snickers, and it's hard to tell if he's lying or not. "I mean, I can tickle you, if you want-"

"No!" You squeal, and your laughter turns choppy as he uses the sides of his hands to playfully chop up and down your back, making your body instinctively let out bumpy noises from your mouth.

“Quite an attitude on ya today,” he taunts, before hooking his fingers up under your arms, making you shriek, “okay, now I’m tickling you.”

Your mind spins from the sensory change, the signals in your brain cross, but one thing is for certain:

The email is far from the front of your mind.

And it feels good to laugh.

[jakeyt]

Covet: Chapter 11 (Part 2 of 3)

Pairing: Jake Kiszka x f!Reader

Covet Summary:

Life was good. No, life was great. 

Was. 

Until.

Jake Kiszka crashed into the picture.

You welcomed him into your life—your home. 

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

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

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

Warnings: MINORS DNI (18+); angst; EMDR (VIVID intro to revisiting traumatic situations); crying + feelings of sadness; heart issues (POTs); use of heart monitors; dangerously high heart rate; implied abusive situations; derogatory verbiage from past abuser; implied drug use; very unsanitary living conditions; visits to safe place; usage of containment strategy * * * revisited, vivid memories of sexual encounters; body changes as a result of pregnancy; talks of baby + pregnancy; pregnancy hormones (+ continuing to act on them ;)); reader and jake continue to be STUBBORN; cheating; heavy petting; forgetfulness (as usual, PLEASE lmk if i missed anything that is triggering to you!)

Chapter 11 (Part 2) Word Count: 23.9k+

a/n: i broke my promise, i know. :( i feel absolutely fucking terrible that i made you all wait, but life happens. :'( i wish this story was my main priority/job, but alas...that dream is not a reality. i need you all to know: when i say i'm going to do something, i fully intend on it, but...life (and crippling adhd + anxiety).

i am so incredibly sorry, my lovely readers. :(

also, life update to blame (only if you care to read). BUT, on top of trying to get my house completely cleaned/shit thrown away, i officially had to empty out my classroom (see also: due to toxic work enviro, i had to leave the career i've wanted to live out since i was six y/o). so, i'm currently in the process of completely shifting careers (going from one emotionally taxing career to another, but that is apparently the type of job my heart desires lol).

as always, big thank you to @joshym for being the best sister there ever was and supporting me in my writings + pursuits <3 i love you to the ends of the earth, lis. you're my person. <3

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

Covet Masterlist

-🌼🌼🌼-

"I covet truth; beauty is unripe childhood's cheat; I leave it behind with the games of youth."

-Ralph Waldo Emerson

-🌼🌼🌼-

Monday

December 12, 2022

“So, any news on the baby since I last saw you?” Gia started, a sure smile on her face that helped ease you. “You had your second appointment on Thursday, right?”

“No,” you shook your head. “Dr. Rose wanted to just wait until closer to Week 18 so we could find out the gender at one session rather than having to wait between week 16 and week 18. Knock everything out at once,” you explained, clearing your throat. Looking around the office, you admired the pieces of floral art littering the walls, as you always did. “We’re going this Friday now.”

“And you’re okay with that?” Gia asked, raising a brow. She was rolling to her desk, getting the (seemingly) last thing she needed for your session today and placing it in her lap. “Not stressed about putting it off?”

“No, actually. I’m not stressed at all,” you acknowledged, sticking your lip out in thought. You hadn’t even thought to be stressed yet. Progress? Sure seemed like it. “It’s strange; the longer time passes, the bigger I get. . . The worries just aren’t as prevalent. It’s like I can feel that the baby is okay.”

“Not strange at all, babe,” Gia reassured with a shake of her head. Her platinum blonde hair was wavy today, framing her angular face perfectly. “Completely normal for new mothers to sort of get used to the pregnancy enough to feel at peace, per se. And I am so proud of you for getting to that point.”

“Well thanks,” you grinned crookedly, trying your best to settle into the worn, camel-colored leather of her sofa. “Can’t say the same for today’s session though. . . I am nervous about it.”

Gia waved it away, showing you a look of ease on her stark features. “No need. You’re the one in control, girly,” she winked, placing both white-sneakered feet on the ground. 

She reached in her desk drawer for the little pouch, the familiar one that you knew held the device you’d be using today. A sudden wave of nerves began to crash over you as she unzipped it, revealing it and the paddles that would be the catalyst in placing your brain. . .elsewhere— somewhere. 

Somewhere bad? Good? In-between?

“Here’s the plan,” she started, wheeling her chair closer to the couch, where you were trying your damnedest to sit comfortably. “We’ll start with your safe place to give you some sense of peace and stability — gotta make sure it’s still fresh and open in your mind.” 

You watched as she turned the knob of the device, the little green light beginning to blink to notate that it’s on. “Then,” she continued, situating the device to look it over before her green eyes settled back on you. “Once you feel comfortable, I’ll tell you to begin walking away. Whatever direction you’d like to go, it’s completely up to you.” 

Gia held the paddles out in front of you, and with clammy, shaky palms, you tentatively took hold of them. One in each hand, just like last time.

You couldn’t stop worrying about where you’d end up, where you’d walk away to. Walking away from your beautiful field, from Jake. . . What if you couldn’t do it? 

“Will I. . .,” you cleared your throat, nervous. “If where I go is too hard, do I just—,” you panicked, unable to properly finish your sentence due to an onslaught of nerves. “What will I do?”

You were fumbling with your words and clarity, before she interjected, knowing just where your mind was going. “I’ll simply tell you to walk back to your safe place. I’ll be talking you through it, I’ll be right here the whole time — just gotta keep your ears open for me,” she winked, clicking open her iPad and testing her Apple pencil on the screen, readying to take notes. 

“And, if at any point I see your body language change to indicate any distress, I’ll guide you back to your safe place, okay?” She soothingly told you the words, her full pink lips widening to a sweet smile, clicking her pencil into its spot at the top of her iPad case. “Remember, my specialized area is EMDR. I’ve done it multiple times before this – successfully. I plan to complete this successfully with you, too, y/n.”

When you gave her a small, timid smile, she took that as an indicator to continue on with her little speech. The tiny faux grin on your otherwise concerned face was the most emotion you could muster in that moment. 

“It will hurt from time to time. I can’t take that away. It will be harder than most other things you’ve ever had to do.” She paused, her own brows curving to show care for your rigid state. Gia reached forward to unwrap your hands from the paddles gently. Once she had a hold on your hands, she rubbed the backs of them reassuringly, her thumbs so soft with their intricate patterns. You looked down to study the patterns, working to focus on something else and rid yourself of the nerves. 

“Y/n.” She stated your name, making you look up at her. Her seafoam-colored eyes grabbed yours. “Before we begin. . . I want to make sure – once more – that you are sure about this . . . that you want to continue. We’ve talked about it a lot, but I want you to be sure. There are other routes of therapy. . .”

“No,” you replied, completely sure of your decision. “No. I want to do this. I promise I haven’t changed my mind. I don’t want to change my mind,” you rushed out, desperate for her to understand you. “I’m just–just scared. Is that not okay?”

You didn’t mean to sound defensive, but your biting tone contradicted that. The nerves were wracking you, from the inside out. 

Luckily, Gia seemed unphased, keeping with her featherlight touch to the backs of your hands. “It absolutely is okay to be scared,” she confirmed, tone firm and soft all at once. “But, I need you to keep in mind: you are in charge this time. You have the power. We will approach these places in the now – you are in the driver’s seat of conquering these past battles. We’re in this together, love – and we will make it out stronger and better than before we started.”

Her voice assured you, of course. But the fear was still ever-present. 

Sure, you did have control. But what if you couldn’t control where you went? 

Where would you go? That was what scared you most. Your mind was bound to let loose. It was one telling part of this sort of therapy. You didn’t really know what had been hiding deep in the drawers of the credenza in your mind. . .  

Hence you being here.

You just knew, whatever it was lying beneath the surface — you knew it was. . . a lot. 

Then, as if she could hear the additional fearful thoughts swimming in your brain, she grasped your hands tighter in hers, moving to rub her thumbs over the tops of your knuckles. “You’ll be just fine. We’ve got a solid plan, babe. I just need you to trust me, and I need you to trust yourself. If you need to walk away, tell me and we’ll do it. That is in our power – your power.” Her pristinely white, pearly teeth were on display as she looked deep into your worried eyes. “We can do this, okay?”

We. I’m not alone. 

You’d never had a single doubt about Gia. Of course you trusted her. But. . .maybe the true problem was trusting yourself. . . Over the past several months, you were finding that to be a bit more difficult. 

But, Gia was right. You had to put some trust in yourself to know when you needed to step away. You could do it. You had to.

And knowing that she had a plan and had done it so many times before. . . Those were relieving thoughts, to say the very least. She knew what she was doing, and she knew what was best for you. 

I can do this, you recited to yourself. I can. . .

You sighed, out of both relief and persistent worry. “I trust you,” you told her, another somewhat forced smile following your words. “And I’ll learn to trust myself. . . I’ll try my best,” you grinned sheepishly. “We’ve got this.”

“Good deal,” she responded with a far more sincere smile than you could offer. “There’s just one more thing we need to do before we get started.” 

She clicked her iPad closed, wheeling back toward her desk, reaching down in the same drawer she pulled the device from. Only this time, she pulled out a large legal style, white notepad, and a large box of Crayola markers. Lastly, she grabbed a flawlessly sharpened pencil from the ceramic baby blue jar, covered in white roses, next to her keyboard. 

What could she be up to? You wondered, eyebrows drawn together. 

“I need you to describe something for me, something visual to lock any horrible memory away in.” She took a sip of her tea, which sat atop her desk, before she stood up from her chair. She came to sit directly next to you on her couch. The smell of eucalyptus that swirled off of her, from her perfume, was soothing. “You need to give it lots of detail, make it unique. I’ll even draw it for you,” she held up the notepad, pointing to it with a gentle smile. “Seeing it visually will help you when it’s time to lock the memories away mentally. Some people want a box, a filing cabinet, a treasure chest,” she laughed, and you giggled at that one, too. Jake would love that one. Buried treasure, like his pirate documentaries. . . “Whatever you want. You just tell me exactly what you want it to look like.” 

Something about this felt a little silly, but you understood the purpose for it. Just having a place to put the memories after you visited them, it felt like closure. A special sort of closure at the end of every session, just like your safe place felt like closure. . .

And then, you knew what you wanted it to look like. Saw the image, clear as day, in your mind. It felt significant to you, it felt right. There was no question. 

But, you had a thought.

“Would–would it be okay if I drew it?” You questioned carefully. 

She eagerly handed you the notepad, markers and pen with a huge smile. “Absolutely. That’s called trusting yourself big time, girly. This box is a special one!” Her voice was wet as she sniffled. “I’m not supposed to get so emotional with my clients, but I’m proud of you. You’re making great strides and we’ve barely started.”

“Thanks,” you replied, feeling a bit encouraged, your own throat tight as you reviewed her once more with a glance. 

Then, sticking the tip of your tongue out from the corner of your mouth, you looked down at the paper, and began. 

A small, wooden box was all you could see in your mind. So, you drew it out, as best you could, given your lack of artistic abilities.

One side, then the other, the bottom, the top. . .

Before you knew it, you had a perfect, rectangular box on the stripped notebook paper. Then, it was time for the important part: the details. 

There was only one element that felt right — felt safe — to decorate the box with. 

Scouring through the markers, you found two perfect shades of purple at the bottom — two very different shades, to add depth. You weren’t an artist, really, but you could pretend for the box’s sake. 

Then, you searched for the greenest green you could find. One more marker in a shade of dark brown, and you were ready to draw the box exactly as you saw it in your mind. 

You began drawing tiny individual stalks of lavender on top of the box. You filled in their blooms with the purples, drawing their stems underneath with the green. Their placement may have seemed scattered across the top, but you kept going. To you, it made sense. And that was all that mattered. 

One bloom in the top left corner, one diagonal from it in the bottom right corner. Then, there was one on the bottom left going straight up and down, with a slight curve to the stem. . . And one more, laying on its side directly in the middle. . .

It was perfect. Just as you’d imagined.

You filled in the blank spaces with the brown marker, immulating the antiqued, stained mahogany wood you were envisioning. 

And once you filled it all in, your vision had come to life right before your own eyes. It was the ideal picture of what you saw, and despite the fact that you were no artist, it was beautiful. You loved it. Looking at it forced emotions you weren’t expecting, so many big emotions that begged to be surfaced. 

And for whatever reason, looking at it made you think of the baby. This beautiful, hand drawn box held a strange connection to the life you and Jake had created, though you couldn’t explain how. . . 

But, you felt it. You felt it so strongly. 

“Lavender means a lot to you, doesn’t it?” Gia asked you, smiling and wiping away a stray tear that sat on top of her highlighted cheekbone. “It’s very lovely, y/n. And I’m so glad that you drew it.”

You contemplated her question about lavender. You’d never considered just how prevalent it was in all of your happy places. . . But, it was. It meant so much. . . 

Who knew that such a simple plant could bring you so much comfort? So much peace? 

A tear came to your eye at the thought of how special the plant had become to you. . . It was really no secret why it’d become special. 

Gia leaned over, giving you a small side hug, but didn’t linger before making her way back to her chair. She sat at the edge of it, elbows placed on both knees as she clasped her hands at the front. 

“How are we feeling?” She asked, sniffling once more as she looked you directly in the eyes. “A little better now that we have our box?”

“Yes,” you nodded, wiping under your eye to rid yourself of any tears. “The box idea is genius.”

“The technical term is containment. Again, it’s simply where the client creates a space to store the distressing memories. I want to emphasize that the memories aren’t coming back to control you, rather you’re the one controlling them. And, the box’s containment of the unpleasant memories gives you a little extra control over these memories and the emotions attached to them. They’re yours to deal with,” she explained softly. “You done with the notebook and pens?”

“Yeah, yeah,” you nodded eagerly, handing the materials back to her. You went over her words in your head, extra control. . . the idea of that sounded wonderful to you. Those words aided in lifting a decent amount of weight from your nervous body. 

She took the materials from you, and as she did so, you decided to take the paddles in your hands once more, feeling much more confident. 

She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, rolling back in her tufted chair to put the markers and pencils back on the desk. “I definitely can’t take credit for the idea of containing those horrendous memories in a certain area. . . but it has proven wonderfully effective for every client I’ve practiced this form of therapy with,” she explained further, coming back to sit in front of you, wheeling smoothly back towards you. When she was about two feet away from you, she stopped and observed the picture of your box, the notepad still in her lap. “Do you have a clear idea of the box in your mind?”

“The clearest,” you affirmed, no question in your mind of the precise placement of each piece of lavender. The exact color of mahogany that you’d depicted for the wood, sealed in your brain. 

“Wonderful. Well, I’m going to hold it so I can get a good idea of it; just in case you need help finding it at any point,” she said, eyes scanning the page as she spoke. “I’d love to see this in real life – it’s gorgeous.”

“I think so, too,” you grinned, eyes twinkling. And, suddenly, your body felt light in a way that could only indicate one thing. . . you knew there was no time like the present. “I’m ready.” 

Gia looked up at your words, her own eyes donning a spark as she tucked the notepad onto her lap. “If you’re ready, I’m ready,” she smiled kindly, her eyes trustworthy and open for opportunity. “First things first. Make yourself as comfortable as you need to. Sit, lay down. . . it’s up to you.”

You kept yourself upright on the couch, allowing yourself to sink back into its cushions a bit more. And for some reason, the thought of crossing your legs, criss-cross applesauce came to mind. So, you did just that, bringing your legs up to the couch and criss-crossing one over the other. You looked at your belly as you did. A timid grin crept along your lips at the thought of knowing you didn't have much longer until you’d no longer be able to do this. 

Thank you, sweet baby.

With one deep breath in, you felt your stiff limbs loosen with the comfort of the new position you found yourself in. And with the exhale, you looked down at the paddles in your hands, holding them probably a bit too tight as you felt your nails digging into your clammy palms. Still yet, you kept your grip, somehow feeling a bit more secure that way. 

“Nice and comfy?” Gia asked, her warm, knowing smile aiding in relaxing your body even more. 

You looked down at your hands, smoothing your thumbs over the cool plastic of the paddles. You knew this was it, that this could begin to change a lot; it could change everything. The thought of change was a frightening one, but with this change would come a healing journey like you’d never known. For you, for the baby, for  Jake, even. . .

“As I’ll ever be,” you confidently answered. You were ready to embark on this expedition of mending. 

“Perfect,” she said, her voice soft, reassuring. “Close your eyes, take a few deep breaths. Let yourself relax.”

You did as she said, and with one breath in through your nose and blowing it slowly out of your mouth, you closed your eyes. 

You felt your chest rise and fall with each breath. You began to breathe deeper and easier the longer your eyes were closed. 

“Good job.” You heard her sweet voice, feeling comforted by the simple fact that you knew she was still with you. Though you could no longer see her, you felt her. And that was more than enough. “I’ll start the paddles off slowly, just like last time. Turning them on in 3, 2. . .” 

Your body instinctively jolted at the light humming sensation you felt against your palms, your eyes closing a little tighter. But, you quickly remembered the feeling from last time and it didn’t take you very long to get used to it. You even found a little relief in the alternating vibrations. Their consistent rhythm worked to ease your mind. Your eyes, though still closed, instinctively followed in the back and forth motion of the pulsations in your palms. 

“Does this speed feel okay?” You heard her ask, her voice suddenly becoming more distant as you let yourself focus on the steady thrumming of the paddles. 

“Yes,” you whispered, the sound of your voice echoing as though you were in a long, narrow tunnel. “Feels good.” 

“We’ll start with establishing your safe place, y/n. Go ahead and start walking to it. Lead the way.” 

My safe place. 

Suddenly, as though the mere mention of it had  some sort of ability to transcend you there, you began feeling the familiar cool breeze against your face. Faint sounds of the birds singing in the forest of trees filled your ears, becoming a bit louder as you found your footing against the lightly dampened grass beneath your feet. “The birds,” you felt yourself say. “They’re singing, their chirps are becoming clearer now.” 

“Wonderful.” Her voice was heard all around you, echoing against the wind. “Tell me what you see.” 

Your eyes, still physically shut, began to open in your mind. They squinted at the bright, warm rays from the sun. And as you turned your face upwards toward the sky, you could feel the radiance of the rays against your skin. 

And, as you peered a few feet ahead of you, you witnessed a beautiful family of deer were perusing the lush meadow. 

“The sun. . . It’s so beautiful and bright, but it doesn’t hurt to look at it,” you shared with her, squinting towards it with no negative effect, shocked by the fact. “And the deer. So innocent and pure. They’re so near to me, but not scared of me at all.”

“You’re doing amazing, y/n. Keep going, tell me what you can touch, what you can smell.” Her voice carried throughout the trees like the wind, meshing beautifully with the songs of the birds. 

Bending down, you ran your fingers through the dewy blades of grass. They felt cool, soft. Like a blanket of emerald velvet. “The grass. It’s soft, a little wet.”

And then, the smells. The fragrance of freshly rain coated grass, as though an evening shower had just finished nourishing the ground before you’d arrived. The rainfall, sustaining the life of the pasture, the jude green grasses, the illustrious amethyst plant surrounding you. . . 

The divine aroma from your favored flower overwhelmed your senses in the most alluring way. The bloomed field, surrounding you, holding you carefully in its gentle grasp. 

“The lavender,” you felt yourself say, eagerly. “I can smell it, so fresh and clean; the sense of calm it brings me. . .” 

You then felt the paddles pick up in their speed, ever so slightly, but enough that you could tell.

“Oh yes, your lavender,” Gia hushed as she positively tracked with you. 

My lavender. 

Gently, you sat your body down in the midst of the flowers. And once you did, you felt the urge to place your hands against your tummy, to feel the baby, just like last time. 

There you are, right where you belong, you thought when you felt the smooth bump beneath your hands. 

You felt nearly complete, nearly, but you knew something was still missing—someone. 

And just when you started to look beyond the stems of lavender to find him, there he was. 

Clad in the very same navy blue, three piece suit you’d seen him in the first time. The rays from the sun bounced off of his chestnut locks, his tanned skin radiant and glowing. 

With a soft, lopsided smile, he slowly walked toward you. The vision of him, walking amongst the stalks of lavender as they gently swayed from the light breeze against his calves. . . You felt yourself sigh with relief. 

This was safe. This was home. 

Once he approached you in what felt like no time at all, he laid down right beside you, extending one arm out for you to join him. And as you did, letting yourself at last melt into his warm embrace, you were finally there. 

Your safest place.

“I’m here now,” you muttered, feeling yourself smile warmly as you did. “And I’m safe.” 

“Enjoy it for a moment, let it sink in, put yourself at ease.” You heard Gia’s voice, but the more you focused on Jake, the more distant she became. 

You found yourself gazing into his eyes, sparkling like golden gems, as he cradled you in the crook of his arm. 

In his amber-brown eyes, you saw your haven, your sanctuary of serenity. 

A gentle smile graced his lips as he reached up, tenderly brushing a few strands of hair behind your ear. “It’s time to step away now, y/n,” he told you. Though, you knew it was truthfully Gia telling you, you heard Jake’s voice. You watched his lips move as he spoke, “You can do this. I’m right here.” 

Again, you knew the words were coming from Gia. But, hearing them in his voice, as much as you didn’t want to leave him, it was the final push you needed. 

It was time. 

With only a bit of resistance, you sat up, slowly standing to your feet and urged yourself forward towards the unknown. When you looked back, you saw Jake standing gracefully amongst the fragrant blooms of your lavender. 

Home, you thought. He looks like home. 

With one final sigh, and with the most strength you were sure you’d ever mustered, you walked away from him. 

Your hands found your belly for some extra courage as you stepped away, everything turning black for a moment once you got far enough. But, the further you went, a tiny, dim light caught your attention. It initially seemed like miles away, but with every step you took, it became worlds closer. 

A lamp. You could finally see it. It was old, dusty. It was sitting atop a table, from what you could tell. . . 

With one more step, the full picture started to come to you. You’d guessed right — it sat on top of a round, wooden table that only had one leg in the center, making it lean a little to the left. The white, canvas lampshade was stained so badly. . . 

The stains were reminiscent of those that come from years of smoking cigarettes near it. 

In fact, you were shocked that you could tell it had ever been white. 

As the image became more clear, you saw a black ash tray next to the lamp, full of cigarette butts, all but confirming your cigarette theory. You could smell the smoke, too, as though someone had just finished one off. The stench was putrid, the chemically treated tobacco mixed disgustingly with the other trash laying on the table. 

To the right, you saw a sofa. The blue cloth over the cushions, stained just like the lamp, was tattered and worn. It was full of holes. Tiny, black holes. Cigarette burns?

God, the smell was nearly becoming too much. It was so strong, potent. Cigarettes and filth. Utter filth. Filth that you suddenly began to remember being suffocated by as a child.  

No wonder you liked things so pristinely clean. . .

The shag carpet beneath your feet felt like it had never been vacuumed after years of wear. It was littered with half empty beer cans, more cigarette butts, rat droppings. . .

God — the fucking smell. A triggering smell—one that had your stomach turning to the point that vomit rose in your throat. 

The paddles sped up a bit more, much more noticeably this time as they forced your brain to grasp what you were experiencing. 

“Tell me what you see, y/n. Tell me where you are.” It was no longer Jake’s voice that you were hearing, it was once again Gia’s. And though you missed the sound of his, you were so happy to hear her, reminding you that she was still there. 

This was the past. Gia was the present. You were with Gia.

You stepped to the side, glancing around the room you were standing in, trying with all of your might to not allow the stench to make you sick. 

“It’s—I’m in a living room, I think. . .?” You noticed a television set, one from the late nineties with a built-in VCR, sitting on top of a makeshift table made of three small slabs of particle board. 

The more you looked around, you noticed there was only one average-sized window in the whole room, next to the white front door. The door was scuffed to hell and looked ready to give at any second. The blinds attached to the window were ripped to shreds, hardly hanging onto the frame. 

“Y-yeah, it’s a living room. It’s. . .It was our living room. One of them, at least. I’m fully beginning to. . . To recognize it. . .”

You’d lived in so many homes as a child, seen many living rooms. But this one, this home and the walls surrounding you. . .this one was different. While most homes from your childhood didn’t leave you with happy memories, this one felt—evil. This had been a personal hell.

Anxiety, heavy sadness. . . this room was wrought with it.

And as you heard a certain laugh, deep and throaty, from the next room over, your stomach churned and your mind went fuzzy. That sound. It was vile and thick with too many years of smoking. That particular laugh was associated with ugliness and gut-wrenching fear. 

The man that the laugh was attached to. . . This was his house. You remembered that now. There was no safety here. This place was only associated with feeling powerless, forgotten, and lonely. 

The paddles wiggled in your hands, the vibrations reaching your worn nerves.

Elsie was here, though. Somewhere. You knew that. 

And Elsie had helped in making it less lonely — just knowing she was in this past-tense moment filled you with ease. Your sister was here. 

Though, you knew for past Elsie, she was still trapped. Even though she comforted this adult version of you that was invading. . . there was still no escape for little girl Elsie. 

This place had been desolate, with no chance for escape. You’d been tied here by invisible rope.

Fuck. Where was your sister? You could feel her near, but she wasn’t in the living room with you. Your skin prickled at what she could be experiencing. . . You couldn’t fully wrap your brain around it. 

But this was the past. Right now, you just needed to focus on your surroundings.

Living room. The living room. 

Your mind was quickly skirting back to your present placement. And, rather than standing, you suddenly realized you were sitting on the ground. Strangely, your hands in the memory were free of the paddles, tucked safely in your lap, shaking. . . And not daring to touch the dirty, shaggy carpet. 

For a split second, you wondered. . . Why were you not sitting on the couch or a chair? And why were you sitting in a place you felt you couldn’t move from? Was this how you’d been placed originally? In the past? 

You observed the wobbly dinner table in front of you and realized it had zero chairs. And on a second glance around the room, you noticed something you hadn’t before. . . a sleeping form on the couch. 

So, it seemed, with the occupied couch being the only other piece of furniture in the living room besides the table. . . the floor had been your only option. 

You used the unconscious state of the room’s other occupant to your advantage and turned a bit to observe the person. The person’s face wasn’t visible and their body was covered in a blanket filled with holes and torn more than it wasn’t. But. . . You could see hair. 

Blonde. Yellow-blonde. Box-dyed with the cheapest dye. 

Long hair, ratty and knotted to the point of almost no fixing it. The way the strands shone a little bit under the dim lighting from the old, dusty lamp showed you it was very oily as well. . . It wasn’t a healthy shine. 

The person on the couch, from what you could see, was far from healthy in any capacity. The body looked malnourished through the blanket’s holes. At closer inspection, you noticed an arm dangling off the sofa, peeking from the blanket. 

The arm was littered in tiny holes and scars. . . from heroin injections, multiple cigarette burns. . . Then there was the red, irritated acne that littered the pale skin, between the various marks. 

Poor thing. What a dreaded way to live life. . . Your heart broke in your chest and tears sprung to your tired eyes as your hand clutched at your tummy. 

You could do that in the memory. You were you in the present, yet placed like you’d been in the past. . . so weird.

All you knew was you had a sense to protect the untouched life in your womb. The feeling of being a protector to your child was unparalleled to anything in this moment. . . You would never let the little life inside of you bear witness to anything like you had as a child. . .

Like your current situation. 

Or, past situation, rather. . . This was not real. Not in the present. This was controlled — controllable.

The paddles jolted in your real hands, helping you to center you.

“Y/n,” Gia’s voice broke through your psyche, touching your brain delicately. You let out a sigh of relief at the sound of her soft spoken tone. “Can you hear me, girly?”

You nodded, but weren’t sure if she could see it or if the action was only visible in your dreamlike stupor. This was so weird. . . 

So, you decided to respond the best you could with words. “Y—yeah,” you stuttered out, blinking rapidly as you tried (and failed) to keep tears at bay. “This is. . . So familiar, yet so forgotten. . .,” your voice faded out. 

Your eyes in the memory were now pinched shut, trying to keep the laughter you could still hear from the kitchen (because, yes, you somehow knew exactly where it was coming from) far away. 

But it just seemed to be getting closer. . .

“Tell me where you are, y/n,” Gia requested, soothing, yet strong. “Take me with you. You are going to be okay.”

“I—I can’t—,” gasping, you shook your head. 

Willing the menacing, thick chuckle to fade, you squinted your eyes open slowly, tried to refocus on the living room to tell Gia what you could. Your hands still held your belly, but your thighs came closer to your chest. You wanted to scrunch up and stay in your bubble. 

“Y/n.”

Your blood ran cold and your skin prickled harshly with goosebumps. Fear. Terror. Dread.

The voice wasn’t Gia’s. It wasn’t Jake’s. No. It was coming from behind you. The person on the couch. The worn down, baby blue fabric couch. The navy blue patterns of it, a distant memory, washing back quickly like a flood. . . 

This was definitely a memory. A real thing that had happened in the past. This had happened before. It was deeply repressed. 

A dark memory. Bad. So, so bad.

You felt dirty for more reasons than one now. . . 

Looking down, you noticed your outfit had changed. Though you still looked as you currently did in 2022, you were wearing an outfit you had as a child. The attire made your skin crawl. 

This pajama set, you were made to wear it more often than not.

A tiny, satin set. Too small for you to properly fit into. How old were you? Nine? Ten? Was this right before you went to live with. . .?

“Pig.”

No. Not that nickname. No no no.

You hadn’t heard that since your mother had called you–.

The person on the couch.

“Piggy.”

Did you have it in yourself to face her? Could you? What would happen if you didn’t? No. No.

You had to. The baby, safe in your belly. . . that baby needed a mom who could face her demons and not fall to them. 

. . .Fall to them like the shell of a woman, on the couch behind you, had fallen to hers. 

You felt crippled with fear, but brave beyond comparison all at once. . .

The steady tremors from the paddles in your hands were the best help you could’ve had in the moment, reminding you of your power. . .

And, once you’d given yourself the strength to swivel your body to meet her eyes. . . there she was. 

A woman whose face had become a shadow since she’d left you. The moment she’d left you. . .a mess of snot and tears, head throbbing as it laid on Elsie’s shoulder, desperate to understand a mother that had never seemed to love you. 

Your eyes were her eyes. Thankfully, that was about where the similarities in your features stopped. 

She was paler than you. Her lips, thin and cracked from lack of hydration where yours were full. Her cheekbones were sharp and protruded more than they should. . . Your cheekbones, defined, yet concealed under soft skin you took very good care of . . . 

And her face. . . It also lacked freckles. You had the tiniest spatter of light freckles that sat at the tops of your cheeks. Your freckles, mimicking angel kisses, which stayed mostly hidden save for the summertime when they’d make an appearance after exposure from the sun. Her skin was washed out, lacking color. It was as if she hadn’t even been exposed to the sun for a long, long time. . .

Perhaps you might’ve looked more like her than you could tell at this moment. But, right now, all you saw was a sunken face, holding more wrinkles and lines than a woman her age should hone. And, her eyes,  even if they looked like yours initially, were glassy and hollow from too many drugs. . . 

Right now, they held uncertainty and a rage that was becoming more and more apparent the longer you looked into her eyes. . .

She looked lost. . . Confused, yet furious. 

The fury, pointed towards you. 

“Get. Up,” your mother ordered, voice cracking a bit, spit flying past her chapped lips. The tone of her voice. . . it made your heart jump into your throat. “Do your job, Pig.”

Before you could respond, you felt heavy footsteps make their way into the living room, shaking the weak structure of the small home that seemed to be falling apart around you. 

“Move, you lazy drug slut,” a booming voice growled. You knew it was aimed towards your mother. “Give little Piggy some space to sit next to Mr. Morgan, hm?”

Mr. Morgan.

The paddles buzzed in your hands, re-centering you. 

You didn’t dare look at the man who’d entered the room behind you, knowing it was the same man attached to the laughter from the kitchen. 

So, it was only out of your peripheral vision when you noticed him round to the other side of you, getting close to your mom. The next thing you saw, faded from the corner of your eye, were fat, sausage-like fingers reaching to yank the thin blanket off your mother. The unmasked view of her figure broke your heart further, her body shaking, bones on full display through her papery skin, begging for a fix. . . 

It didn’t take long for those same fingers to forcefully clutch her shoulder and yank her up. You could’ve sworn you heard the bones in her shoulder crack, but she barely let out a yelp. It was more of a tired groan, eyes closed and eyebrows drawn in with irritation towards being disturbed. 

But, she shook more. . . Her bones, most likely rattling under her skin. And this time, you knew it was more from nerves and terror, than lack of drugs. She was just trying to play tough.

Mr. Morgan (the name, making bile rise in your throat) came to sit at the end of the couch, but your eyes once again drew shut and your body became rigid. Even if you were facing the couch, you still only kept your body towards your mother’s. She wasn’t safe, by any means. But she wasn’t Mr. Morgan. 

You couldn’t look at him. The vile smell of him alone, sweat and grime from lack of showering. . . You were going to hurl on the spot. The way the nausea quickly began to rise in the hollow of your throat, you knew there was no time to get out now. . . Your heartbeat was thrumming so vigorously in your chest, you felt like you were going to choke on its strength.

Then the ugly, bitter laughter was back again. . . Right in front of you this time, your mother moaning next to him. . .

A distant beeping in the background. . . what? Where was that coming–?

The intensity of the paddles increased, the vibrations working to balance you amidst the fear.

“Open your eyes, Pig,” Mr. Morgan grunted, reprimanding you. His voice was stark and loud against the decaying walls of the living room. You winced with what you imagined to come, your heart accelerating and your blood running colder than cold. “Open. Your. Fucking. Eyes, my little whor–.”

The paddles were working so hard to bring you back, but you couldn’t–.

“Y/n.” Gia’s voice rang out through the disgusting home, flowing into your ears, reassuring you. “It’s time to leave, y/n. Find your safe place.”

You didn’t have to be told twice, not with the tears streaming down your face and the way your breath was stuck in your lungs. Your chest stung from the way your heart rate wouldn’t let up. . . the way your heart raced, unrelenting and beating harder every time. . . . The pain was excruciating, making you want to keel over from the intensity. 

There wasn’t a memory of leaving the room, you just knew you had left as you ran. 

You ran as fast as your legs could carry you, eyes still shut to avoid being used by him–Mr. Morgan. God. You hated that man. You hated your mother. 

But, you weren’t with them anymore. The rotting smell of the home and the body odor that reeked from the two people in your vision – it was all gone. You were out. So, you decided to open your eyes. You had to open them to find the place you’d created for a time just like this. . . 

Your place. Your home. The field of lavender. Jake. Peaceful serenity, awaiting you amongst the birds chirping and the light blue skies. . .

So, with eyes open and tears streaming down your cheeks, you decided you needed to be there now. Now now now now. . .

And before you could request it any further, your feet were touching the lush grass and the skies were clear and powdery blue above you. . .

“Are you safe, y/n?” Gia asked, her voice much clearer when you were in the field, surrounded by nature. Your sanctuary. 

“Yes,” you breathed, voice cracking just a little on the word. You hadn’t spoken for a while. . . Too scared to do so. Clearing your throat, you tried once more. “Yes. Yes, I’m safe. I’m in my safe place. The lavender. The beautiful, tall trees filled with green leaves. The breeze is perfectly warm against my face. . .”

“Wonderful,” Gia said, sounding relieved and stoic all at once. “You are okay, girly. You are okay. It’s not your current reality. It’s not right now. This is right now. You are safe.”

Yes. I’m safe. 

Your breathing was coming much easier and your heart wasn’t pounding in your ears any longer. 

Your hands found your belly, the sweetest little round bump.  But where was. . .?

Then, you felt him. Jake. 

Solid and sure behind you, his chest meeting your back. His arms, coming to wrap around you, cradling you and the belly that held his baby. Your head, falling of its own accord to lay back on his shoulder. . . 

You were finally able to relax. Let go. The tears poured from your eyes, wetting your cheeks with steady tracks.

“Shhh,” Jake shushed you, the minty smell of his toothpaste lingering on his breath as it washed over your features. The sandalwood-vanilla of his cologne was reminiscent of heaven, you were sure of it. “It’s okay, baby.”

He swayed you a little, your eyes falling closed in peaceful surrender to him and this moment. . .

“Y/n, I want you to think of your box,” you heard the words, knowing it was Gia. But, you felt Jake saying it. Even if she was the one saying the words, you wanted him to help guide you, too. Your mind was a funny place. 

His voice kept soothing you, “Think of the box and open it. Open it and place the memory you stepped into today inside of it. Secure that memory inside of the box.”

So, with one fleeting glance at the disgusting past you’d had to re-experience today, you mentally opened the lid to the box. And, as the lid opened, you let the people and the stingy place flow quickly into the sturdy wooden structure of the box. 

You could have spit on the people and the place and the smells. . . Fuck it all. 

The sureness of the box truly calmed you as the last little bit of the memory faded into the box. 

“Tuck it away in your box. Just keep it there until you’re ready to revisit it again. . .,” Gia counseled, her words yet again came through as if Jake were saying them. His breath was warm against the column of your throat, lips near to your ear. “You have control of it, y/n.”

Once you knew it was all inside, you let the lid click shut. The little pieces of lavender you imagined to be skillfully painted atop the box assured you that it would all be over soon. 

Beep beep beep beep. The beeping again. Familiar. You’d heard it momentarily at the disgusting, decrepit house. What was it?

“Y/n,” you heard Gia again, her words no longer masked by Jake’s voice. “Are you ready to come back to the office?”

As much as you wanted to never leave the man who still held you, you knew that the sooner you left the safe place, the sooner you could actually see him. He was waiting for you. In the lobby. In the present. 

“Yeah,” you sighed with a sniffle, most of your tears dry after the safety you’d felt in the field of lavender. “Yeah. I’m ready.”

“I’m right here with you,” Gia assured you, her voice the closest it had been since initially closing your eyes. 

You closed your eyes once more, your body feeling lighter. Letting yourself sink into real time, you felt the soft, camel leather of the couch under you, around you. Then came the smell of Gia’s essential oils, filtering in through your senses. Things were okay. 

When your eyes cracked open, so tentative and slow, Gia was ready and waiting with open eyes. 

But the beeping. . . It was still happening — it was incessant. And it was fully apparent now that the sound was coming from your belt bag, hanging on Gia’s office door handle. 

Your heart monitor. 

Shit.

“How long has that been going off?” You blanched, eyes bugged as you got off the couch to grab your bag from the handle. Though, your legs were weaker than you expected, body worn down. It forced you to sit back down to gain your wherewithal.

Noticing this, Gia stuck a hand out to get you to pause from trying again. “I will grab the bag,” she soothed. “You stay there. Give yourself time to adjust to the present time. You’ve been through it, babe.”

All you could do was nod and swallow thickly, your heart no longer beating hard enough to make the phone go off. But apparently it had accelerated at some point. . . 

And then you remembered. 

Mr. Morgan. He’d made your heart rate go ballistic. 

When he’d approached, commanded you to open your eyes, and almost called you that horrible name. . . it had gone insane. 

Your chest had been in so much pain, and you could remember hearing the incessant beeping, now. . .

“Fuck, Gia,” you combed a hand through your hair. “My heart . . . I remember. . . my chest was hurting like a bitch.”

Gia inhaled deeply. “Yeah. . . You know, how about I hold the phone that tracks it from here on out? To keep an eye on your heart rate?” She suggested, raising a brow as she walked back to you with the belt bag. Raising a brow, she eyed you as she got close enough to hand your belongings over to you. “We need to be aware of your health and the baby’s first and foremost, before anything else.”

You swallowed with a slight nod, not wanting to see where your heart had skyrocketed to. But you knew you had to see it. So, you unzipped your bag and shakily got your monitor phone out.

When you slid the screen open to check, your breath caught in your throat. Tears welled in your eyes at the very large number, flashing at you in red. 

Shit. 185. What the fuck?

That could have gotten really bad, really fast if Gia hadn’t stopped you when she did.

“So. . . What had it gotten to?” Gia questioned carefully, wide eyes serious and ready to help. 

You observed her for a second, not wanting to divulge just how high it had gotten for one reason in specific. . . The fear that Gia would make you stop EMDR if she knew just how high it had gotten — that possibility kept your lips sealed.

“Girly, I really feel it’s incredibly important that we keep track of that. I didn’t want to be invasive while you were under, but I heard it and I knew what it was. . .,” Gia tried to counsel you, taking your skeptical gaze as you finding her invasive. “I really didn’t like not knowing what your heart rate was. It’s best we stay aware of that. We have to be so careful of that, girly.”

You wanted to tell her. Duh. Why wouldn’t you want to? You told her everything else. . . The possibility of not being able to—.

“We will still continue our EMDR, y/n,” Gia grinned warmly with a wink. “I know that’s what you’re worried about. . .”

Your mouth puckered, as you took in a deep breath, gawking at the tall blonde across from you. 

You couldn’t help the bubble of a laugh that spurted from your lips, in spite of your worried thoughts. You were in awe of your therapist’s intuition. “How did you know?” You questioned, already mostly knowing the answer.

The answer was: people in this profession were really very incredible. . . And Gia — she, in particular, was so empathetic and so aware of everything that mattered to you. . .

“It’s my job to tune in to that shit,” she grinned, sitting back in her rolling chair, one leg crossed over the other. 

After sharing a smirk with her, you decided you might as well tell her. You were nearing the end of your time, and you assumed she still wanted to be filled in on what had happened during your time under. 

“My BPM was. . . in the 180s,” you divulged, wary of her reaction. “That’s um—that’s really high,” you tagged on to the end, blowing out a breath, still shocked at the number yourself.

“Ho-ly fuck,” Gia stated, eyes wide and mouth in a straight line as she shook her head. “No shit that’s high.”

“We’ll figure it out?” you stated the question, hoping it would be ammunition for Gia to agree. 

“Of course,” she nodded adamantly. Sitting up in her chair, she leaned forward. Her elbows, on the ends of her thighs, near her knee caps. “When do you turn it in? How long do we have with it?”

“I turn it in next week,” you answered, curious where she was going. “Hopefully I’ll get some results and sure answers. . .” Trailing off, you decided to shut up so she could get to her point. 

“Well. . .,” she started, rubbing her palms together, eyes glancing down and back to you, “Would you be opposed to me attaching another monitor to you during our sessions? After that one is turned in?”

“That’s a great plan,” you answered, nodding with pursed lips. “Sounds safe.” Though, you paused. One more question. “And you’ll keep watch of it next time?”

“If that’s what you want from me, I’d love to be able to help you in that way,” she answered with a reassuring sureness in her tone. 

“I do want that,” you replied with a sheepish grin. “I’d appreciate it.”

“Of course, girly,” Gia smiled, lopsided and full of ease. “We’ll make sure to get you through this therapy the safest we possibly can. Gotta protect you and that baby.”

-🌼🌼🌼-

After filling her in on everything from your EMDR vision, she’d given you a few more pieces of therapeutic wisdom and advice. Little things to follow if the memories came back with a vengeance. 

But, you’d gone more than five minutes over your session’s time at that point, pushing her other appointment back. 

So, you didn’t get long before the two of you had to bustle out. You’d been about eight minutes past session end time when you officially exited the small room, the session having just ended. 

A long fucking session.

Your body was extremely weighed down by fatigue and exhaustion. So, when you finally connected with Jake, you sunk happily into his warm, safe embrace. 

It seemed walking directly into Jake’s arms was exactly what your body longed for after leaving Gia’s office. You’d had little to no choice in where your body had guided you.

He had already been standing, waiting for you. His amber-brown eyes, wide open and full of readiness to help you. He’d seemed anxious to see you. You could tell as much by the tapping of his foot, the way he’d been worrying his bottom lip with his teeth, the wrinkle of his brows. . .

So, of course, as soon as you approached, his arms had widened to welcome you in. 

Surprisingly, you hadn’t cried when you met his arms. . . Honestly, it was probably because you’d exhausted your tear ducts during your session. And all that you felt now was pure numbness. You didn’t know how to feel – just knew that you were tired and needed someone to be close to.

And Jake was the person you wanted most. 

Once safe in his embrace, you didn’t have the mental energy to even think about how it would look to Gia – but you knew she’d understand. 

You felt Gia come up behind you, even halfway heard her introducing herself to Jake. 

And even though you were out of it, you still heard Jake respond kindly, hearing the smile in his voice. When he moved his hand to shake hers, you didn’t turn around, just kept your face tucked into his shoulder, one of his arms still tightly hugging you to him. The pressure was really nice – it really calmed you down to feel so secure with him. 

It felt like the field of lavender, but this was really real – and that made it inexplicably better. 

Thankfully since you’d quickly scheduled the next session in Gia’s office, you didn’t have to wait much longer to head home. You didn’t want to leave his embrace, but you ended up turning out of Jake’s arms to tell Gia goodbye. 

When you reached forward to give her a hug, she whispered calmly in your ear. “You’re safe. Everything is okay in the here and now. I’m proud of you, y/n. You are already making great strides.”

After telling her a quiet ‘thank you’, you turned to Jake. 

“I’m ready when you are,” he assured you, lips turned up in an easy grin. His eyes were soft in a way that showed you he really was ready to be whatever you needed him to be. 

You didn’t need to be told again. You were ready for food and sleep. So, after the two of you waved to Gia over your shoulders,  Jake let you lead him out, opening the door for you from behind. 

-🌼🌼🌼-

When you snapped out of your daze and found a bit of energy, you decided to divulge to Jake just how high your heart rate had gotten during the session.

You had expected him to be a little worried on your behalf, but he’d gotten. . . really, really worried. You’d go so far as to call it a minor anxiety attack. 

His eyes had bugged, face had paled, and his breathing had gotten choppy. . . All signs of some serious anxiety on his end. 

His care for the situation was apparent, that much was for certain. He’d babbled in a rush of words – voiced a lot of concern on your behalf and the baby’s. . . Well, that was what you could catch in his raspy, frenzied tone. You’d missed a few things as he’d rushed the words out.

It was really sweet how much he cared. You had to work to keep the tiny grin off your face in response to his obviously sincere regard for your health (and the baby’s). You’d kept your quiet smile at bay the best you could and calmly reassured him that you were wearing a heart monitor for a reason – so the doctors could track those weird things and get down to the root of why your heart sucked ass at times. 

You’d explained that medical professionals had started dealing with it the night at the emergency room and would continue once your monitor got sent in within the next couple of weeks.

“I know today’s already been a lot, but do you have it in you to explain more about that night?” Jake asked, his breathing evening out as he rounded the curb, out of the office parking lot. “The night you went to the emergency room?”

“Yeah, totally,” you readily agreed, jumping at the opportunity to not think about the muddled images still flashing in your mind from your session. “Where do you want me to start?” You wondered aloud, peeking at him as you picked with a loose string on the seam of your leggings.

He cleared his throat in the way that indicated he was a little nervous. “What triggered it, exactly? Had you been okay at the bar that night? Was it because of something that had happened there?”

“It wasn’t really because of anything that happened at the bar, no,” you shook your head, looking down at the string you were pulling at, giving it a good yank to do away with it. “And I was kind of okay that night. . . Same as I’d been every other day around the time,” you laughed humorlessly, not missing those days at all. 

But, you couldn’t help reflecting on the events at the bar. . . since he'd brought it up. That night, just thinking of it still gave you butterflies. . . The way he’d feasted his eyes on you as your song played. . .

Stay focused, y/n.

“Um— during those earlier days, I’d had several days where I’d been really fuckin’ dizzy. . . could hardly eat most days, always nauseous and puking. . .,” you crinkled your nose at the thought, shivering at the memories. 

After getting over the thought of the constant vomiting, you stopped your train of thought to consider the fainting. All of the factors. You were not sure what to blame in particular. Though, you remembered Dr. Stevens’ opinion. 

“Honestly, more than one factor triggered it. . . but. . .,” you drew in a breath, pinching your eyes shut at the worst part of the night. “I actually blacked out and fucking fainted,” you cracked one eye open to look over at him to gauge his reaction.

“You blacked— you what?!” His voice rose a little bit at the idea, the car swerving the slightest bit when he glanced at you.

“Focus on the road!” You shook your head, eyes now opened wide at his swerve. However, you did find his reaction a bit funny. “I’m fine now, Jake,” you reassured, reaching over to give his arm one squeeze. 

But quickly, you placed your hand back in your lap to avoid any sort of awkwardness. 

You offered him a smile as your hand moved, looking up at him from your twitching thumbs, just as he glanced down at you. 

His eyebrows were still knit with worry when he faced the road again. “You’re sure?”

“Mostly,” you answered, thinking of the heart monitor’s job, peering down briefly to where it stayed on your chest. “They’re tracking my heart rate to make totally sure. And I’ve even kept an eye on my hemoglobin — which is doing much better, too. Not that you care about that part—.”

“I care about it all,” Jake interrupted, his tone insistent enough to make you pause and look over at him. 

Let him care, y/n. He wants to. . . Don’t tell him what he cares about and what he doesn’t. . .

From under your lashes, you studied him. You were glad he was now stopped at a light, giving you a little time to share a look with him. His eyes were full of warmth. . . The deep brown of his irises, capturing you. His eyes held yours so tenderly, desperate for you to understand he meant what he said.

And you did understand. You understood that he truly cared for you. . . and that his patience for you was incredible. You just felt completely undeserving of the amount of chances he’d given you after you’d hurt him so badly. 

The look in his eyes had you trapped, completely enamored by all of him. . . Your heart beat was pulsing in your ears, helping you to feel light as a feather under his stare. 

But, when a car honked to let you both know the light had turned green, it jolted you both, effectively tearing your focus from the other. He was driving again and you were back to looking through the windshield to continue your story. 

You cleared your throat to break up the air.

“We um— we checked all the boxes, you could say. The doctor was sure to put measures in place to keep an eye on all of the things that could have been a major issue to trigger that,” you spoke confidently, to give him affirmation that things were okay. “So, yes, I’m sure I’m fine now and I’m going to be fine in the future.”

Out of selfish desire, you let your line of sight float back to him. Yet again. It was just so easy to sit and admire his natural beauty. . .

Jake sucked in a breath, so deep from his chest. You could tell he was considering your words, one brow still arched in contemplation. 

“Okay,” he sighed his response, relief evident in his looser posture. He eased up his grip on the wheel, leaning back in the seat. You tried not to watch the way his jeans stretched over his lap. “So,” he started, “is there anything else you found out that night? A big, prevailing reason you quite literally blacked out?”

“The doctor I spoke to thinks it’s because of this underlying condition I most likely have — called POTS.”

“POTS?” He asked, his tone curious. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard of that.”

“It’s just a blood circulation disorder. I think I’ve had it nearly all my life. But it can be brought on by stress and cause things like fainting. . .,” you trailed off, glancing down at your belly. “Which I was obviously feeling a lot of with the baby. I mean, talk about massive life change,” you smirked, rubbing the bump that was more and more noticeable every day. 

“And I was the only one who knew this giant thing for a bit. . . then only Elsie knew. And, yeah, when Josh found out, I was feeling a little better. Felt lighter. . .,” you paused, your next words, being important to you. “But I still wanted to tell you most,” your lips lifted in spite of yourself. “But, we weren’t really talking because of all the shit that happened between u–.”

You stopped yourself at that, though. Shit. Today didn’t really seem like the time to get into all of that. It had already been such a long day. 

The car stayed silent for a few beats. 

Once Jake started speaking again, your eyes found his handsome profile.

“Yeah. . .,” Jake offered in response to that, his jaw clenching. His eyes were dead-set on the road. The expression on his face, hard. Yet. . .it wasn’t angry. Not angry at all, just thoughtful. 

He seemed to be contemplating it all.

He proved you right with his next words, bringing you back. “I need you to know—I’m really fucking sorry for not being so present—for not noticing more. I wish I would’ve been more aware and been there for you. . . Shit, I should have noticed you weren’t eating normally and were constantly sick,” he rubbed his forehead once, jaw tight again as he spoke on the subject. “I was still just stuck in my own head over stuff — really hurt. I still am, I think. But, I also, more importantly, had no way of knowing that you were carrying my kid, so. . .,” he trailed off, clearing his throat. “So I didn’t watch too hard for things out of the ordinary — my mind was in other places.” 

Other places, your mind repeated, mocking you. Like Maya. . . 

Your stomach was still churning at the depressing thought of him having ignored you and still being hurt (albeit, you’d deserved it), when his voice echoed back through your train of thought. 

“I did notice you weren’t home that night, though. . . After dropping Maya off at her place, I got home and you weren’t there. I. . .,” he sniffed, running a nervous hand through his hair as he looked both ways to make a turn. “I panicked, noticed your chapstick and house key were on the ground outside — it made no fuckin’ sense. I called Josh to ask him where you were — assumed he’d know. And, he did. But he told me the bare fucking minimum. I didn’t even know you were at the emergency room. He just told me not to worry and cut me off with an ‘I love you’ before hanging up on me,” Jake rolled his eyes at the memory, fists gripping the steering wheel a bit tighter. “Now I know it’s because you obviously really needed him. . . But at that point, I was so pissed. Obviously, you were in some sort of bind and there was nothing I could do to help since we were. . .,” he let his train of thought fade into nothing. Your mind was a frenzy of everything he was telling you, but you tuned back in when he began speaking again. “And then your heart monitor came in the mail. . . I didn’t even think about how they could be connected. I just knew the very little Josh had told me from that night and then I saw a damn heart monitor show up. . . I was just super fucking confused and terrified for you. . . I was trying my best to connect all of the dots.”

“Well. . .,” you started, not sure if you should say what you were thinking. But still, you did. “It wasn’t really any of your business at that point. I didn’t want to make you— it was just a lot to process for me and we. . .,” you trailed off, at a loss. Still so tired from the session. “I don’t know. . . I had reasons.”

“I know, y/n,” he responded, voice tight with masked emotion. 

You didn’t know what to say after that. Your eyes were trained on what was outside the passenger side window.

The air in the car was dense, slightly awkward on your end. 

It was strange how weird things could feel after a damn conversation when, just a week ago in this very car, you’d had him in your mouth. 

It was slightly embarrassing that a hard conversation topic was what it took to make both of you freeze up. But, somehow, you could still find the wherewithal to have your mouth on his. . . Mhm.

That was what you got for making sex such a giant thing before. . . now you’d made that easy and everything else fucking taboo. 

But the sex had just been too good to not make it something you did all the damn time. . . 

God, you missed sex with him. . . Him, inside of you, his hips going at a perfect pace. . .

Thanks to your motherfucking hormones, you were back in the living room floor with him. . . So often, you went back to that one rainy morning with Aretha Franklin on the turntable. . .

The look on his face when you fucked him, one of your favorite sights. That morning, just like always, he’d watched you so closely. . . Your face, your breasts, your ass, or your pussy that was wrapped around him, so tight. 

As he fucked you so slow and purposeful, a hand raising your leg to get a better angle, he hit a secret spot inside of you. Your toes had curled as you whined his name.

And just as his name fell from your lips, he’d scrunched his brows, and let his mouth fall open with certain movements of his hips. His jaw, clenched, when you’d flex around him or biting his lip when you’d let out a shaky breath. . . 

“Y/n?”

“Yes?” You shook your head of the fucking delicious scene in your memories. 

Now was not the time. 

To show respect, you did your best to wipe the picture and put your full attention on him. You glanced at him. He looked so beautiful under the natural light of the early evening and the streetlights. And his hair looked so healthy and long. . .

“I’m not upset or anything that you kept any of it from me,” he ventured to explain, your mind coming back to the topic at hand. “I need you to know that.”

“You’ve kind of already told me all of this before,” you started with a smile, eyeing the radio for a bit. 

Music. You needed music. 

You began to mess with the buttons, turned down the volume, and hooked your phone up to the aux. “I know you, Jake,” you continued with a sigh, scrolling your playlists, finding a song you were suddenly craving to hear. “I know you well enough to know you aren’t upset with me for keeping it all from you for a bit. You have a good heart.”

“You give me too much credit,” he humorously laughed. “I’m not always so sure about how good I am these days — kind of always doubted that about myself and right now is no different.”

At his words and sound of disbelief, you looked over at him with a wrinkle in your brow. His own eyebrows were set with an odd, unreadable emotion. You hadn’t clicked the song to play yet. This was too important to not address.

“Jacob,” you said sternly. His eyes stayed glued to the busier street. “I don’t give you ‘too much credit’.  I just see you and know you well – anyone who truly matters sees you for who you truly are. I, like all of them, love y— appreciate everything you are.” 

Shit. What was that that almost slipped from your lips?! Nothing. It was nothing. Ignore, ignore, ignore. . . 

You were just hormonal and emotional. 

You continued with intent to make your point known, doing your best to forget the slip-up. “I’ve made my fair share of mistakes – we all have. Don’t be so hard on yourself. I’m not about to hold anything against you right now.”

Cracking a smile, you decided you wanted to throw in a bit of a joke. “I mean, I would have to hold it against you if you killed someone or some shit,” you giggled, his own raspy laugh joining you. 

But fuck, you couldn’t ignore that one emotion you were feeling. . .

It wasn’t love. It couldn’t be. You didn’t know why the fuck you’d said that word of all words.

But this feeling. . . It was intense like love could be. It had your heart in your throat and your tummy tied in nervous knots. . . 

You’d felt a need to say the words. A need for him to know how much you. . . how much you. . . How much you what, exactly?!

This was going to drive you fucking nuts. 

So, to break the nonstop, crazy wave of thought, you played the song you felt like playing at the moment. 

The song was “In the Moment” by Snoh Aalegra, one of your favorite R&B goddesses. 

And, of course, the lyrics matched your heart. Perfectly. Oddly. Precisely. Music was your favorite language.

Do you mind if I try to come apologize to you?

'Cause I said some things that I realized wasn't true

You couldn’t stop your movements when your head slowly turned to look in his direction. His sunglasses were off due to the darker sky, so you could see every blink of his pretty eyes, long lashes touching the dark circles under his eyes with each blink. He watched the road carefully, maneuvered around cars with an ease that had you hoping he’d be around to drive you to the hospital on a certain day in May. . . 

Your heart swelled in your chest at his attention to the road. This particularly protective nature of his, as the driver, was new. . .

And I'm sorry for it 

I'm emotional 

This is your fault 

Please listen when I say 

I care about you

You tried to look away from him. Really, you did. It just couldn’t be helped. The way these lyrics kept pulling something from deep within your soul as you watched him drive. . .

But you still couldn’t figure out what was getting pulled in you, exactly. It felt weird, but only in a fulfilling way. . . Your heart ached, your head clouded with all things surrounding him. 

And then, just as he stopped at a red light, his eyes met yours. 

You had been caught red handed in your stare, but it didn’t seem to matter. Not to you, not to him. He smiled at you, the same, warm smile you knew all too well to be uniquely his. (And hopefully your baby’s.) 

The lyrics and melody of the song were adding to your already emotionally-tangled state. You just wanted to be with him always—hold him tight so he couldn’t leave. Never wanted him to leave.

Out of pure instinct, your hands found rest on your tummy, tucking underneath the bump. His smile only grew, stretching wide on his lips as his eyes followed the movement. Your heart did a little flip in your chest. 

This moment. . .

His foot let off the brake when the light turned green, pulling his eyes away from yours. The music coasting through the speakers said all the things you so desperately wanted to say. Though, Snoh sang them far more beautifully than you could ever say them yourself.

I was in the moment

I ain't really mean what I said to you

So put away your pride, baby

We can work it out if you want this, too

You hoped on every star in the winter sky that Jake was listening to the words, somehow feeling them as deeply as you were.

But if I could stay, I’d stay with you. . .

Your phone ringing snapped you out of your reverie and when you looked down to see who it was, you were not expecting the contact you saw. 

The OB office. 

Your heart started speeding up in your chest again, breath catching and nerves wracking your system at the most inopportune time. As you turned down the song to talk to the person on the other end, you contemplated why they were calling. . .

The appointment had already been rescheduled. . . So what else could be needed? Was something wrong?

You felt Jake’s palm splay across your thigh, fingers giving light, pulsing grips to the muscle through the fabric of your leggings. Skin heating at his touch, you looked up and over at him. 

“Who?” He whispered, quietly as he could. 

“OBGYN,” you mouthed back, clicking the green button to answer at the same time that he raised a brow in confusion.

“Hello?” You spoke into the phone, trying to keep your voice even-toned for whoever called you.

“Miss y/n?” Dr. Rose responded. Her Southern accent, friendly, on the other end, sounding happy as a lark. 

Hearing her sound okay helped your nerves ease up – weren’t quite as frayed as they had been to begin with. Jake’s hand was still on your leg, offering reassurance. But while his touch did comfort you, it also made your heart rate speed up and head swim for another reason entirely. 

Thankfully, considering the baby, your heart was slowing down. . . If Dr. Rose sounded fine, then surely things were fine, right? 

“Hi, Dr. Rose,” you said, voice perking up just the slightest bit. Looking out the windshield, you focused on the pretty colors in the sky. All light pinks, oranges, and the prettiest periwinkle thanks to the winter evening’s premature setting sun. “Is everything alright?”

“Oh, more than, Sweet Cakes! Just checkin’ in to see that Friday still works for ya,” she explained, her drawl not quite as thick the more she spoke. But it was still there and it made you feel warm inside for some reason. 

Admittedly, you knew it was partially due to the fact that she seemed to only be calling to confirm your appointment. According to Dr. Rose, everything was ‘more than’ alright. . . you released a breath you didn’t realize you were holding. 

“Yeah. It works for me,” you sighed, running a nervous hand through your hair, knee still bouncing with the unexpectedness of the phone call. “Let me check with Jake real quick. I’m with him right now,” you held your hand over the speaker, looking over to your handsome driver. He’d just made it onto a highway, but momentarily glanced down at you. You hushed your next question, not wanting to disturb Dr. Rose. “Does Friday still work for you? For the week 17 appointment?”

Jake’s face opened up at the question, his eyes brightening with a smile that lifted the corner of his mouth. “Of course,” he quietly responded. “I have the whole day blocked off just for that.”

Your stomach did somersaults at him being so excited for the appointment, but you still dipped your eyebrows in at him. “You didn’t have to do that,” you whispered back. “Take the whole day for it.”

Jake shook his head, and with a dimple in his cheek, he just looked back at the road. Didn’t even acknowledge what you said any further. 

You closed your eyes, a small smile on your lips at his desire to be fully available – it gave you butterflies. Back to the phone call at hand, you faced the windshield again to continue the call with your OB. “Dr. Rose?” 

“Yes ma’am,” she excitedly greeted back.

“It still works for us,” you said, the smile not fading from your lips. Us. You really, really loved the sound of that word coming off your tongue. “Are you sure you’re still okay doing the appointment before week 18? I know how you feel about all of that. . .”

You didn’t know why you were asking – shouldn’t have even said anything. The idea of putting it off any longer was not what you wanted, and you didn’t want to make Dr. Rose think you’d be okay with that. But, it was too late now. You’d already asked. 

“Oh, yes, babygirl. I’m the one that made ya wait past week 16! I felt bad, but I didn’t want ya to have any lull period,” she boomed on the other end, sounding so genuinely kind-hearted. It made your heart feel so full. “Completely fine with me – why I offered it to ya! I gotta admit, I’m a little excited to be findin’ out the gender a week earlier than normal. Ya know I never do that for my girls, but you’ve just seemed very special to me since the day you walked in. You’re a good seed in a bag ‘a bad ones, sweetie pie. So, I just had to make an exception.”

“Thank you so much, Dr. Rose,” you gushed, a tear coming to the corner of your eye at her sentiment.

“I knew it would drive ya nuts havin’ to wait.”

“It would have,” you giggled, agreeing with a sniff to attempt to rid yourself of the tear. 

She laughed heartily on the other end. “You have a beautifully passionate heart, little miss y/n,” she remarked. “You’re goin’ to be a wonderful mama for it.” 

Aaand, there was no stopping the tear as it turned into a couple more, drifting down your cheek. 

Jake must have looked over at the perfect time, because as soon as the tears fell, he was squeezing your thigh once more. His hand had never left your body. 

But, you really needed him to stop holding you and caring because you were going to pounce on him. No questions asked. . .especially with the fluffy headspace you were in. 

Emotional over a phone call or not, your body reacted to him in ways you couldn’t stop.

“How’s your heart?” Dr. Rose was in your ear again, bringing you back. She was in no rush whatsoever. You were shocked that she seemed to want to keep the conversation going. Even after the first question, she continued with another. “I know ya filled me in on it a little bit last week on the phone, but any more updates?”

“Doing alright, I think,” you responded, sniffling at her eagerness to stay updated on your wellbeing. Was she just being a good doctor? Probably. But, still. It meant a lot to you. “I will send my monitor in on the 17th. I’m so ready to be done with it,” you replied with a huff of a laugh, looking down to mess with a loose string on your oversized jacket. “And I think everything else has gotten much better since that ER visit, too. Just keeping an eye on things,” you finished, happy to explain everything to her. 

This phone call was officially a highlight to your day now that you knew there was no reason to stress over it. Dr. Rose just made you feel good. You really enjoyed talking to the older Southern woman. Her heart shone through her personality. And, whether she made these efforts for all patients or not (you were sure she did), it just meant the world to you that she seemed to be so thoughtful. 

She seemed to take very seriously that it was a vulnerable time in any woman’s life. Dr. Rose just seemed to do very well at her job. You were grateful for her.

“When Mount Sinai sent over that information all those weeks ago, I gotta be honest, it stressed me for ya for a bit,” she said, voice suddenly thick with a sort of concerned emotion. Not worried anymore, you could tell that much. But, it was obvious she had been troubled by it when it initially happened, from the way she sounded now. 

“Although, when I read all of their tests on my end, I knew you’d be okay. Just a bump in the road, sweetie – it happens. You will be just fine!” She reassured you in her twang, the words made your head clear in a way you’d needed since the night at the hospital. “And, that sweet baby was doing so great still, in spite of it all. You’ve got a strong one, mama.”

Yeah, there was no stopping the onslaught of tears at those words. Your baby was strong. You were so proud. 

“Yeah?” You sniffed. “You think so?”

“I know so. That little one was movin’ and groovin’ already that first day. . . that sure doesn’t happen with every baby! He or she is very special – just like their mama,” she emphasized, sniffling on her own end of the phone. “Well. . . . as long as this Friday still works for you, I think I can let ya go, honey bun.”

“Yes, it does,” you confirmed once more, pulling the sleeve of your jacket over your hand and patting your cheeks with it. “Thank you again.”

“No need to thank me, Sweet Cakes.” You could hear her smile through the phone, imagined her lips covered in the prettiest bright red matte lipstick. “You have a good nigh– oh! Before ya go. . . .”

“Yes?” you questioned curiously, eyebrow raising with a little grin on your lips. 

“You mentioned a Jake earlier. Does this Jake happen to be the baby’s daddy?”

You blushed, looking over at him. He glanced over at you at the same time, an eyebrow raising when you caught his eye. Your cheeks heated even more when you looked into his eyes. Your baby’s daddy. 

“He is the baby’s daddy, yeah,” you explained, continuing to watch him as you said the words. He had to keep his eye on the road, but you saw how his lips stretched, the smile showing his pride at the title.

“And he will be comin’?”

“He will be there,” you affirmed, your heart racing in your chest at the idea of him being there with you. It had you equal parts jittery and utterly overjoyed to have him be present at the appointments.

“Wonderful. Sounds like a good daddy already,” she gushed from her end of the phone. 

And when he came to the next light, much nearer to the complex, you watched him and waited until he looked over at you. When his eyes found yours, glowing amber-brown in the nearly-set sun, your heart squeezed inexplicably in your chest. 

“He is a really good daddy,” you answered, tears threatening to clog your throat. 

After you said the words, you watched his eyes become wet with an unnamed emotion. A wide, slightly shaky grin on his pretty lips. With the addition of a pink blush in his cheeks, you wanted to be able to read the exact way he was feeling. 

But. . . at the current moment he suddenly seemed impossible to read. There was something behind his eyes that seemed so familiar and so hazy all at once. . .

Or maybe you were just really, really tired.

-🌼🌼🌼-

“I don’t have to go to this tonight,” Jake offered, pulling into the complex. 

You raised a brow, looking at him. As much as you wanted him to stay with you after today’s session, you knew that sleep was the first priority. He’d end up sitting around most of the night anyway.

If things were different, you would ask him to lay down with you. You’d keep him close. But. . . That wasn’t how things were for the two of you. 

You needed a nap and he needed to be with his girlfriend. As much as it sucked, she took priority over you. He wasn’t yours.

You already felt selfish enough for taking his entire early evening away from him. You didn’t want to steal any more of his night. 

“No, Jake,” you giggled, trying your best to play off the want to have him near. “I’m good. You’ve done everything you can for me tonight. Don’t need you for anything else — you’re free.”

It was silent for a little bit as Jake found his parking space. You were too tired to keep any sort of conversation going, preparing to doze against the window as he went to back into his space. 

Though, when he placed his hand on the headrest behind you to back in, you couldn’t help but turn to glance up at him. 

The way he held his bottom lip between his teeth as he focused on situating the Jeep into the parking space, just right. . . You felt guarded and protected by the placement of his arm above you. It made your tummy flip. 

And the mustache that kept making a reappearance on his pretty face, accentuating his plush lips perfectly. . . 

You licked your lips as you watched him, your eyes lazy as you let your stare wander down his body . . . 

But before you could get too far, Jake’s deep, raspy tone broke through to you.

“Hey.” 

Fuck. Your tiredness was quickly becoming enemy number one, exposing you.

Quickly, you flicked your eyes up to him, swallowing thickly, awaiting him with vulnerability clear on your features. 

For some reason, you expected to see him grinning at you being caught. But his features were unwaveringly straight, studying your face with his eyebrows drawn in concentration.

“Are you sure?” He asked, his eyes soon finding yours to pierce through. Damn, you felt naked under his stare. No two ways about it. 

Your eyes sunk into his, wishing you were naked—.

“You’ve had a long day and I want to be available—.”

“I’m sure,” you cut him off, needing to get out of the car before you made a stupid move. You just needed rest; your tiredness was making you weak. 

“Please. Go have fun,” you encouraged further, looking down to observe your nails, desperate to be repainted. Shaking your head, you continued to solidify your point. “You’ve done enough for me. You have a girlfriend who’s expecting you to be with her tonight.”

And if you stay here tonight, there’s no telling what I’ll try to do with you. . . 

“‘Kay,” he responded. At his short tone, your eyes floated up to check on him. You watched as he quickly grabbed his keys out of the ignition, refusing to look at you until the last second. “I’ve gotta get going pretty soon then.”

“Yeah,” you breathed with a shake of your head, unsure of what else to say. And before he could get your door for you, you were doing it yourself — didn’t want to get in his way. 

Whatever this conversation had become, it was far too much for your brain to wrap around at this moment. 

You needed fucking sleep.

-🌼🌼🌼-

After you’d filled your Stanley and sat it on your bedside table, your next mission was to change into looser, cozier clothes. You stripped your pants and bra, and found a giant t-shirt. And your softest fuzzy socks had been a last minute must have before finding your bed. 

Finally.

Almost as soon as you landed on your bed, your eyes were fluttering closed. The softness of your sheets and duvet, the cleanliness and the comfort of your bed was too incredible for you to resist sleep for long. 

At the same time, Jake was getting ready for his time with Maya, and had apparently decided to shower. When the steady stream of water sounded through the wall, you relaxed even further. You focused on the soothing sound of the shower running and imagined how near he was to you. 

He hadn’t left you yet.

Admittedly, putting your mind on Jake going about his business made you feel quite at home. 

And that thought had been the seemingly final step to finding rest, sleep finding you quite easily with easy thoughts of your handsome roommate. 

-🌼🌼🌼-

But, to your disdain, the nap didn’t last as long as you’d hoped. 

After only a couple of hours, you’d woken up and couldn’t go back to sleep to get any more rest. You tried to fall asleep again. It was all you’d wanted after your emotionally exhausting day. 

The longer you laid in your bed and tried to find more sleep, you realized it was just not going to happen. The small apartment felt too big and empty and your mind raced with the scene you’d witnessed during EMDR. 

To your demise, the little wooden box had somehow cracked open a little while you slept. You figured it was because you’d dreamt of what you’d seen in therapy. Your subconscious was working without your complete consent. 

That man with the thick fingers and clenched fists. . . He’d come floating out of the box first as you laid underneath your fluffy, white, clean bed covers. . . 

Mr. Morgan. . . Who was he? You could not place his role in it all yet. . . While you were able to remember him and his living room now, that was about where it stopped. 

The smell of him had stuck with you most since the memory. The potentness of his body odor in your subconscious had been a severe trigger – a trigger to things you weren’t capable of remembering yet. 

But, you knew that whenever those things did get conjured up again, you wouldn’t be ready. You just knew. The feeling alone that came associated with him and seeing him again. . . made you feel grimy – made your skin crawl like bugs were living underneath your flesh. 

Then there was your mother. You hadn’t been able to recall the distinct features of her face for years. Your grandparents didn’t have pictures of her up in their home – only ones of you and Elsie through the years. It was like she hadn’t ever existed. 

But today? Today she was back. Full force. You felt her. You smelled her. You saw every. single. feature. 

The stringiness of your mom’s hair when she’d been with the man in the recollected vision. . . 

You couldn’t help but compare the hair in the vision to the fullness of it in small memories you cherished. . . There was a certain Christmas memory you kept close, her sweater had been brand new. Her hair, naturally brown and billowing out beautifully behind her. You had a few of those moments in time. A few decent memories you’d never let go completely away. No matter how much time passed or how foggy they became, you held onto them.

What struck you as disheartening was the way the woman transitioned from one version of herself to another in the fragments of time you could grasp. You remembered, it was rare to consistently witness the same mom growing up. You’d been forced at a young age to confront the fact that you never truly knew the woman that gave birth to you.

She’d been very dirty more times than not, you could remember that much now. From what you were beginning to recall, she rarely smelled good. Showers hadn’t seemed to be her forte from the grease that had been constantly caked in her hair if she wasn’t with your grandparents. Her skin had even been oily from her lack of showers, just as greasy as her hair. 

The houses she had you living in, too. . . you could vaguely picture a few of those (besides Mr. Morgan’s). The one you were in within your recollected memory today had been so filthy. The grossness of the environment was coming to you in small bits. There’d been times you’d seen families of cockroaches climb into the pantry. . . Or when an occasional rat would scurry across the stained carpet, right past your feet. . . 

You shivered in your bed at the thought, toes wiggling against your soft socks and covers. The loose sheet and duvet came closer to your chin as you tried to completely envelop yourself in your current reality. Things were safe.

It was just a-fucking-lot to process alone. And the last thing you wanted to do was burden anyone else with it. So, even if Jake had stayed with you rather than Maya after therapy, you knew you’d still be swirling in circles in your mind. 

You were just glad you only had to wait a week for therapy to continue digging through this with the help of your therapist. 

The images of the man and your mother kept flip-flopping in your mind, not leaving you alone — each taking turns in mocking your peace. It was enough that you felt your breath become choppy and your heart begin to race in your chest. Your clammy hands were clenching and unclenching over and over again, trying to find some sort of relief and distraction from the thoughts. The smells were coming back to you, vivid as they’d been during your therapy today. . . 

And the moment you began to hear that distant, haunting chuckle from your past, embedded in the new flashes of memory, you shut your eyes. You squeezed your lids together so tightly. Your fists came to cover your eyes, pushing down on them just a little to see stars alongside the black. 

Yet, the sound continued to get closer and closer to you. Desperately, you thought back on Gia’s advice should this happen. 

One of the small pieces of advice she’d given you, when the session’s time was five-minutes passed.  

“Now, if these things come back or more memories come to you and you would rather not think of them in the moment they do: take a break,” Gia had advised, going to hold your hands in hers between the two of you. “Take a break, wherever you are, and go to your safe place.”

She’d given you a couple of other things to try, but she’d stayed insistent that you try the safe place first. Every time. Get used to the place, make it a habit to run to it in these times. 

So, you tried your damnedest to shut the thoughts out like you would on her soft, camel leather couch. Your eyes closed as you tried, working to focus on the idea of traveling to a field of lavender and Jake. 

Though before you could get any further, your eyes snapped open, knowing you had one more step before you went there. 

You tried to even your breathing, unclenching your fists. Once you’d relaxed enough to loosen your hands, you searched for some meditation music on Spotify. 

And once you’d found a dreamy playlist, you laid back to feel it. Your goal: feel it enough to let go. 

This time when you closed your eyes, you did it with less force and breathed in and out, in and out. Once again, everything was black. . . but just for the first minute or so. 

It didn’t take long for you to hear the birds chirping and to feel the solid chest breathing beneath you. He breathed deeply – in and out, in and out, just as you did.

Almost as soon as you felt your body settle into him and the soft ground of the earth, you heard him speak, too. It was like you were hearing him through a rush of warm wind, a breeze drifting across your face. “You’re doing great, baby,” he soothed you in his velvety tone, running a sure hand through your hair, fingers tracing your scalp. You shivered, enjoying the wonderful feeling it gave you, all the way to the tips of your toes. “You’re okay. You’re okay.”

Further, you pushed into him, wanting to be as close to him as you could be. You wrapped your arms around him the best you could while laying down, needing to feel his body tightly against your own. When you did this, he wrapped his arms around your waist, bringing you into him. Your round belly, pressed between the two of you, made your heart settle into a soothing thrum in your chest. 

No other words were said as you laid there, the sky blue when you finally opened your eyes to the new place. The field of lavender, so lucious and smelling heavenly around you. The purple flower surrounding you smelled clean, peaceful, and a lot like. . . love. It was a strange idea that a flower would smell like love, but you’d come to associate it with someone who–.

Knock, knock, knock, knock. 

Your eyes opened at a moment’s notice when you heard a knock on the front door. Somehow, the sound against the door managed to break you from your hypnotic-like reverie. The knocks weren’t small or soft thuds by any means, but it was odd that you’d heard them all the way through to your sacred place. All the way through your bedroom door. . . 

Though, thankfully, after having a bit of time to visit the safest place your mind could conjure up, you were on the path to feeling fine again. So after laying in bed for a few more seconds, you got up and padded to the door in your fluffy socks.

Before you opened the door, you peeked through the peephole. 

When you did, your eyebrows wrinkled in confusion. Your breathing evened out significantly for the first time since waking from your nap. And without any hesitancy, you unlatched the chain and unlocked the knob and deadbolt. 

As soon as you opened the door, you were greeted by Jake, a very apologetic smile on his face. One of his hands covered his eyes in feigned embarrassment, making a slit in his fingers to look at you through them. His other hand was tucked in the front pocket of his black slacks. 

He’d changed clothes after dropping you off. 

Duh, he’d showered, y/n. He wouldn’t be wearing the same dirty clothes afterwards . . . 

He was now dressed very nicely, his hair looking so healthy and full. A few strands were still damp here and there, from the shower you’d heard him start as you’d fallen asleep for your nap.

And goddamn. He smelled so fucking delicious – you could’ve melted into him. 

Rather than focusing on the way the hints of sandalwood and vanilla in his cologne made you feel airy, you asked the question you couldn’t help but wonder. “Where is your key?” 

A hint of a laugh was present in your tone as you crossed your arms over your boobs – which you noticed were slightly less sore than normal. 

Pleasant surprise. 

Oh, fuck. Your boobs. No bra. Only wearing a giant t-shirt and fuzzy socks. The thong you were wearing was a poor excuse at covering your ass. 

Glancing down briefly, you were reassured by the length. It was long enough to fully cover your backside, went down your thighs a bit. . . but you still felt very bare. 

When you looked up, you found that Jake had noticed your lack of clothing at the same time as you. His stare burned through your t-shirt, all the way down to your blushing skin. Your chest was heaving of its own accord, nipples hardening at the attention from him. . . 

His gaze soon dropped down to your lips, his own parting as his tongue went to wet his mouth.

No. You had to be the responsible one here. You could do it. 

So, you forced a subtle short cough, toes wiggling in your fuzzy socks. And, thankfully, it brought him back to the current situation. 

His wide, brown eyes snapped to yours, staying there momentarily. It made your cheeks pink — the way he was unashamedly sharing this moment with you. He didn’t seem embarrassed at all as he bit his lip with a grin stretched over his lips. 

Fuck.

“Your key?” You tried again with a squeak. Rolling your eyes, your short cough was real this time as you had to clear your throat. Ridiculous.

Not saying anything, he responded like nothing had occurred before. He motioned with his head towards the kitchen bar behind you. Your head turned to follow his eyes. And, you found his keys, still laying on the counter, not having been touched since before he left. 

“Did Maya pick you up?” You asked him, arching a brow at the keys. 

“Yes.”

“How’d you get back?” Okay, y/n, now’s not the time for twenty questions. 

“Uber,” he simply answered, a little hiccup following the word.

“Well. . . did you come back for them to drive yourself?” You asked, turning back around to face him, hoping he wouldn’t say ‘yes’. You selfishly wanted him to stay. 

For the first time since you’d woken up, your body felt light. . . . And, you’d noticed it had happened the exact moment you saw him outside your door. 

Shaking his head, he finally looked at you head-on, and you could see his eyes were the slightest bit unfocused. 

Oh. . . A smirk rested on your lips as you crossed your arms once more.

He had a goofy, carefree smile on his lips. And then you smelled it — the slightest tinge of alcohol on him as he swayed a bit towards you. 

Raising a brow, your lips continued to match his grin. Giggling, you pondered aloud, “Did you have a drink or two, babe?” 

You didn’t say that last word. Nope. 

“Maaaaybe,” he said, shrugging with both hands in his pockets now, the silly smile still plastered to his lips. “It was a party, after all,” he tagged on to the end, a bit of a British lilt falling over his words. 

A party. Hm. For some reason, you hadn’t even thought of that as a possibility. Why did the fact that it’d been a party make your stomach turn a little bit? 

“A party?” You inquired, tucking your arms a little closer against your chest. And there was the tenderness again. 

“Maya’s baby sister— eight years younger than Maya,” he over-explained, tripping over himself a little as he made his way through the door without any warning. “Turned twenty one today.”

Oh, that explains the excessive drinking, you gathered mentally. 

But, as you stood there connecting the dots, you didn’t focus enough on the fact that he was falling into you through the door frame. Thankfully, you put your arms out in time to stop him from bumping into you to the point of knocking you over. But when you put your arms out to stop his fall, he got the wrong idea and put his arms out as well, crashing into you a bit as he wrapped them around you in a secure embrace. 

It took a bit for you to register what was happening as you stood in shock at the gentle gesture amidst his drunkenness. And while you were registering it all, he must’ve gotten the idea that you didn’t want him so close to you. So, very slowly, he pulled away. 

Rather awkwardly, you just stood there, arms still held out in shock from the sudden hug. 

Why were you surprised at all? He’d been like this recently – just today at counseling, he’d been extremely attentive, holding you when you’d needed him. . . 

Was this time different? Was it because now he was doing it for virtually no reason at all? You weren’t in need of his help or his comfort (that he knew of) at the moment. And, he still wanted to hug you – that was what caught you completely off guard. 

He’s drunk, y/n, a voice reminded you. Don’t overthink it. It’s just because he’s inebriated. 

And while you stood in the doorway, he continued to traipse past you, body lopsided and shaky. He was being very careful to not bump into you again, turning his body in odd ways. 

When you turned to observe him, as he made it past you, you noticed that in the process of trying to steer clear of you, he was losing his balance – quite quickly. 

So, you did the only thing you could think to do and followed behind him to help however you could. 

He wouldn’t remember it anyway.

When he started putting too much weight on one foot and started tilting a bit too far to the side, you acted on instinct. 

You wrapped your arms around his midsection. 

It proved to be a bit of a feat to keep him upright and on his feet, but you tried your hardest. The man was wonderfully built. . . but solid as a rock.

Has he been working out? You couldn’t help but wonder this as your arms pressed a bit more into his strong abdomen.

You realized that thought process could become a distraction to the task at hand in no time, so you put it to the back of your mind. Instead, you just put all of your concentration into helping him stay on the track he desired. . . . Which happened to be his bedroom. 

While trying to keep him stable, you felt your belly press further into his back. The baby felt safer there, between the two of you. It felt right to be so close. . .

But, again, you focused on the important goal of getting Jake in bed. You just kept him pressed to you the best you could with a baby in the way. Matching his footing from behind, you walked in even step with him. 

Once you were officially at his door, you reached around him to open his door for him. When your hand met the knob and twisted it, he reached forward, placing his hand over yours to open it with you. The gentle action made your skin flame. 

Though, it didn’t last long. You didn’t pause, instead continuing into the room. And the moment you walked into the room, he tapped your arm, presumably to let you know he was okay on his own. So, you tentatively let go. 

Your arms suddenly felt empty, but you didn’t want to overstay your welcome. 

He seemed to be a little better now, sitting down on his bed. He did it with more effort than normally necessary, but he still seemed more capable than he’d been a few minutes ago. 

So, without a word, you went to head out of his room. Right before you could walk out the door, though, you heard him from behind you. 

“Where you going?” He asked sadly, sounding more like a neglected child than a grown man. 

Turning around with a brow raised, you asked the question with your eyes before saying it aloud. “Why? You’re good now, right?”

His eyes zoned out momentarily on your face. You just blamed it on the alcohol, feeling woozy. When he came back to Earth, his eyes met yours. His eyes suddenly seemed much clearer than before. All of the air in your lungs evaporated at the look he was giving you. Desperation was the most fitting word for it. 

“I’m not good without you,” he offered, his eyes darting to his feet almost directly after saying the words. He leaned down to sloppily take off his boots, but still neatly placed them next to his bed after taking them off. 

It was honestly pretty funny to watch. You would’ve been more amused if your mind wasn’t still reeling a bit from his words. You zoned out on his guitar, placed neatly on its stand.

He. is. drunk, y/n, your internal heckler reminded you. Stop overthinking.

But. . . drunk words are honest –.

“Can you help?” Jake asked, sounding desperate while trying to achieve a task.

You looked over at him, finding him standing now and struggling to take off a necklace. Without argument, you left where you’d been standing, dejected and confused, by the doorway, to help him. 

When you made it over to him, you tapped his hands where they struggled with the latch at the nape of his neck. 

“Let me,” you insisted, replacing his hands with yours when he moved them. 

Once the necklace was taken off, you made your way around him to place the jewelry on his bedside table, whose lamp bathed the room in golden light. 

You glanced down at the necklace, running a finger down the face of the medallion. Medusa. That was who was etched into the gold metal. 

“You into Greek mythology right now?” You questioned, peeking over your shoulder at him.

When you did, the sight that beheld you took you by total surprise. Shirtless. Shirt gone. No shirt. Jake, halfway naked. 

“Oh,” you uttered the word in a moan more than anything else. You even felt your jaw drop the slightest bit. You didn’t really think anything of it. You didn’t really care to control your reactions. He wouldn’t remember any of this. You just kept telling yourself that.

And with the way the heat flooded from your head all the way to your chest, blossoming to the pit of your tummy – you didn’t think you could control your reactions. Then, when he absentmindedly adjusted himself in his pants. . . Yep. 

You bit your lip, tucking hair behind your ear. Suddenly, you felt completely out of control of your body. . . Your hormones were calling the shots – they (and Jake) were making you feel unsteady in the best possible way. 

The only downside was: there wasn’t anything you could do about it. Morals stood in the way of your bodies colliding and fucking it out. 

You understood that the Jeep incident had happened. Of-fucking-course — there was no forgetting that shit. But a big part of you also thought it would be best to leave the other night in the Jeep in the past.

It wasn’t fair to anyone involved. Right? 

So. . . You just focused on the present moment. No sex. Just Jake in front of you. Tried to ignore the surge of want for him at seeing half of him bare. 

But goddamn — what a beautifully welcome sight. . . 

His body had changed in the handsomest of ways. His thighs, as you’d noticed recently, were thicker than before. And he was. . . just broader than before. It started at the width of his shoulders, and worked down his abdomen to fill out with toned, tight muscle — his new addition of muscle was thick beneath the surface. There was just more of him altogether. The perfect amount of body for you to touch, kiss, lick. . . . . goddammit.

He still wasn’t looking at you, instead making his way to the laundry hamper across the room. You observed the way the muscle in his back flexed as he walked. The expanse of skin under his shoulder blades — his back was thick with new strength. . .What in the sweet hell? 

When he carefully swiveled on his heel to make his way back to you, after tossing the shirt in the basket, you still didn’t take your eyes from him. Just admired the sight and the fact that watching him could be your own little secret. . . 

A secret not even for Jake to know.

Though, as if on cue, his line of sight connected with yours. And when it did – damn. Your heart hammered hard in your chest. Your breath was trapped in your throat, all of it stolen from you. 

His chocolate eyes, although hazy from alcohol, were so fucking dark. Dark in the same way they’d been in his Jeep last week. 

He looked the same as he had right before you’d bent over his lap. The same way he’d eyed you as you’d been on top of him – licking him, sucking him, touching him. . . 

So, instead of holding his eyes, you decided you had to look away before you made matters any worse than they were at the present moment. 

Awkwardly, you started your next sentence without taking time to think about it. “You good now, Ja–?”

“What was your question?” 

When he interrupted you, you wanted to look back at him. But you didn’t. Not with the way his voice was suddenly much fuller – deeper, raspier. . . 

Coughing to mask any sort of embarrassing action, you tried your best to think back to what you’d asked. You couldn’t even remember. . . oh. Medusa. Pointless question. Didn’t matter.

“It was noth–.”

“I don’t care. Still wanna know.”

“Jake, it seriously doesn’t matt–.”

“Look at me, y/n,” he demanded, daring to be argued with. “Quit acting like we’re strangers.”

God. Your teeth found your lip, biting harder with a deep inhale. You let the plumpness of your bottom lip fall from your teeth with a tight exhale. Your tongue pressed into your cheek, eyebrows knit with frustration, when you peered up at him. 

Fuck it all. This was why you hadn’t let yourself look at him. 

His hungry eyes scanned your body when he got his way. He stood there admiring all of you, but his eyes were zeroed in on your ass, not leaving it.

You looked down to get an idea of what he was looking at. 

And, to your horror, you noticed that the t-shirt had ridden up, completely exposing the bottom curve of your ass cheeks. 

But, you didn’t move to change it. Instead, you decided to just stand there. Let him look. You wanted him to. This wouldn’t even count in the morning when he forgot it all.

You definitely weren’t offended by his staring. Not in the slightest. Just sort of made you nervous where things would lead if he didn’t stop observing the exposed skin.

Diversion. 

“Jake,” you purposefully spoke his name, vying for his attention up top, rather than having his eyes on your ass. 

You got your wish. Sort of. His eyes dragged from your ass to your thighs. . . Only to stop at your tits. Your skin was flushed and your skin was tingling. Your breasts, heavy under his stare and nipples tightly peaked against your oversized shirt. 

Fuck. Your body really was your worst enemy — constantly gave you away. Pregnancy hormones were a pain in the ass. 

So, you did the only thing you could think to do: you watched him watch you. The idea of his eyes burning into you without the ability to control it. . . It was almost too much for you to handle. 

Then, he wet his lips, afterwards biting into his plump bottom lip. You might as well have been naked under his stare, completely at his mercy. 

His gaze stayed consistent on your chest, residing long enough to have you feeling so desperately needy for him. . . but, eventually, his eyes moved up to your face. 

You missed his stare on your body as soon as it was gone.

“You’re so fucking—goddamn,” he breathed, his expression still dazed. But, now it was from more than alcohol. Maybe not from alcohol at all. “Do you know how good you look carrying my baby?”

Your head became a flurried mess at his words, the feeling carrying all the way down to your toes. 

“Jake,” you tried, not sure what else to say besides his name. 

But he didn’t respond with words. No, all he did was walk closer to you, still half-dressed. Seeing so much of his body made you feel so utterly pathetic for him. 

In a split second, before you could even wrap your mind around it, his hands found your waist. A soft, yet firm hold of your body. His eyes were locked on your parted lips, his face slowly leaning in and coming dangerously close to your own. 

And just as he was with you, your eyes found his lips, plush and wet from his tongue gliding over them. So kissable. All you wanted, all you needed, was to feel them collide with yours. To taste him again, to savor the sweetness that you knew to be Jake. 

He was so close that you could smell the bitter remnants of alcohol on his breath. His breath, that felt so warm against your flushed skin. You couldn’t help it as you slowly let yourself lean into him. All too well, you knew how wrong it was. . . Yet, you were having the worst time finding it within yourself to care any longer. 

Amber-brown eyes flicked up to yours, golden flecks glowing from the dim yellow lamp lighting. Your own eyes were wide under your fluttering lashes. 

The drunkenness wasn’t as prevalent in his stare as it had been before. This felt so eerily intimate — like it had happened before. You couldn’t fucking shake the feeling this moment was giving you. The dim lighting. Him so close to you—tempting you. . . 

For some reason, your eyes fluttered down between the two of you to your small, rounded tummy. 

Jake’s lips brushed your forehead with the action, his hand coming to tuck hair behind your ear. 

Your belly—it was nestled so well in the middle of your bodies, brushing up against his firm stomach. Protected.

And then a memory, clear now, came rushing back to you. It was coming out of the shadows, having been foggy and faded, but not anymore. 

The only place to go was your room, your door ajar just enough that it opened easily on its own. Jake had reached a hand behind him to close it gently– not wanting to wake anyone. 

Your lamp, still left on, just as it had been earlier in the evening, shed the perfect amount of golden glow. 

You’d grabbed his face, pulling him away from you momentarily to appreciate his features. Finally out of the dark you could look at him. 

And, God, you loved his face. Everything about it, having been so intricately and delicately created — making the most beautiful man you’d ever laid eyes on.

A quiet smirk had graced Jake’s perfect lips, his eyes tightly locked with yours. 

“What’s the matter?” He’d asked, his hushed, now-sultry voice making your need for him that much more heightened. 

You thought a moment before you answered. 

With all of your feelings for him finally becoming realized in your own mind, there was just so much you felt you needed to say. So much you needed him to know. 

As you’d stared in his sparkling eyes, pupils pure black from the weed and his need for you, the only word your mind could conjure up was love. Over and over again. Not just the word, but the feeling; the new desire for him that went far beyond the purely physical one that you’d tried so hard to convince yourself of. 

But it wasn’t new; it had been clear all along. You’d just shoved it down to the deepest trenches of your mind, only to be discovered by the most skilled explorer. 

There was so much you had wanted to say, but you just couldn’t conjure the proper words. 

You decided your body could do all the talking. It could say more than your voice ever could.

“Nothing,” you’d whispered against his lips as you pulled him in for the deepest kiss you were certain the two of you had ever shared with one another.

You gasped as you looked up at him. The night you’d conceived—.

“Y/n, sweet girl,” Jake’s smoky voice brought your attention back to the situation. You let your body melt into his even more, needing him near. 

The reality of it all suddenly began to set in when his hands, slow and steady in their pace, moved up your waist. Strong hands now moving under your shirt, set in their direction of ascension. They came to a steady stop just beneath the curve of your tender breasts. 

“You know,” he breathed, breath washing over your lips. You blinked up at him, at his mercy. “I wanna do so much more than just hold your pretty tits,” he whispered, his lips brushing ever so lightly against yours. “How do they feel?”

“H-heavy,” you stuttered, shivering against his touch while his thumbs met at your sternum, tracing delicate patterns. 

His palms suddenly dropped from beneath your shirt. You sucked in a breath, whining as your breasts pushed out for more. Your skin begged for his touch, on fire for him. 

Before long, though, his hands came back to their spot over the fabric of the t-shirt this time. 

And, over your shirt, he cupped as much of your chest as he could, keeping you in his hold as he gently massaged. 

Stars. You saw so many stars. 

“But, not—not as sore tonight,” you sighed, settling into his grasp. There were no worries evident to you right now. 

All that mattered was Jake and his searing hot touch.

You felt him smile as close as he was, his lips almost connecting with yours as you fought back every desire to kiss him. “Yeah?”  He whispered again, raspier, while his thumbs lightly grazed your hardened nipples through your shirt, your breath catching in your throat. “What do you need right now, baby?”

The moan that escaped your lips should have been embarrassing. But it wasn’t. Not at all. It fit quite well with the way his fingers continued in their path over your nipples, circling them. He was stealing every bit of air left in your lungs, making your eyes roll back in your head.

“Tell me, baby,” he growled, lips touching yours with each word. 

Closing your eyes and biting your bottom lip, you answered silently. You, Jake. I fucking need you. 

He returned to his grip underneath your breasts, over the shirt still, cradling them so well. . . Your body just fit with his. The touch of his hands cured even the most uncomfortable changes in your body. 

You whined, not able to help the effect he was having on you and your aching body. “Jake, I need–.” Fuck. 

No. This was wrong. He was drunk. Odds were, he wouldn’t remember this. You were the one letting it happen, letting it get much further than it should have. 

“Tell me, y/n,” he repeated, brushing his thumbs once again over your taut nipples with more intent this time as your body began to tremble. “Tell me what I can do for you–.”

“I’m hungry,” you muttered out of nowhere, shaking your head as you effectively interrupted him. You pulled away, getting yourself out of another situation that could turn sticky real fast. (Yes, pun intended.) 

And you really were very hungry. Hadn’t eaten for hours. So, it was the perfect mood killer. 

“O-oh, yeah,” he breathily spoke, eyebrows dipping in just a bit as he dropped his stare. His long hair waved out around his shoulders when he shook his head. The sound of inebriated haziness was evident in his tone still, but you could tell he was quickly coming back to himself. 

And that also terrified you. The moment just now. . . Had that brought him back? You’d seen his eyes brighten when you’d leaned into him. 

He went to move past you, his body nearly meeting yours. You put out a hand, millimeters away from his heaving chest. But you couldn’t touch him yet. Not yet. Had to clear your mind. 

“Want me to make something for you?” He wondered, sounding ready to help even amidst his tipsy state. 

“I can do it,” you assured him with a small sigh and grin. “I’m capable.”

“You sure?”

“More than.” 

Your eyes held one another’s for a heavy minute. He was trying to make sure you were being honest, you could tell. 

You just encouraged him to believe your statement with a little pat to his warm, bare chest. Shit. 

You had to go. Get out of the room. Make some damn food. 

But he was right there. . . 

No. 

You quickly took your hand away before he could do something like hold it there. He didn’t get the chance, thanks to your reflexes. 

Your hands interlocked under your belly as you peeked up at him through your lashes. “I promise. I do things for myself all the time. Please let me.”

“You don’t have to ask for–,” hiccup, the sobriety still not fully present. He held a fist over his mouth, trying to be polite. Your smile met your eyes, so gone for him. . . “For my permission, y/n. Seriously. I just want to help you however I–,” hiccup, his eyes bugged a little. The giggle that came from you couldn’t be stopped. “ I can. Jesus.”

“Go to sleep,” you tried, wracking your brain for the best possible plan for him to feel better. “I’ll be okay.”

“Nah. Not yet. Wanna take a shower first,” he iterated, eyebrows drawn together with the sureness of his plan. “It’ll help.”

“Okay,” you smiled, inhaling a breath before shaking your head and moving to open his door. 

Rather than letting you get it, he raised his arm above your head, holding the door to do the job himself. You watched as he opened it wider, seeing his bicep flex with the action above your head. He’d opened it just enough for you to exit. 

You connected eyes with his, looking at him over your shoulder. 

The grin that lifted your features occurred on its own. Everything he did was making you swoon. The fucker.  

He snickered a bit at you, his teeth coming to show past his pretty lips. Dimples fully present with his knowing smile. “Go eat,” he motioned with his other hand before stepping towards you, planning to exit behind you. “My baby momma needs sustenance.”

-🌼🌼🌼-

About forty-five minutes passed. 

You’d eaten an entire box of macaroni and cheese. The noodles and yellow-y, plastic cheese weren’t making you want to gag anymore. Thank god, because it really was quite delicious. 

Now, to wash your dishes and go to bed.

You’d just heard the shower shut off about ten minutes prior to the moment you heard footsteps approach in the doorway to the kitchen.

Jake. 

“Will you come sleep with me?”

You spun to give him a questioning look from over your shoulder that held a million questions.

“Wh-what?” You stilled your task of washing the bowl you’d had your quick meal of macaroni and cheese in.

But, now, you weren’t thinking of mac and cheese. No, now you were thinking of what he just said.

When you’d looked over your shoulder at him, your eyes stuck naturally on the man standing at the doorway of the kitchen. The gesture that was meant to be quick, definitely turning into a whole-ass Jake Appreciation Fest.  

Just like earlier that evening, there he was. Shocking every nerve in your system. 

Pajama pants, slung low on his hips. . . his handsomely tanned and toned chest, still bare. His wet hair, laying on his pecs, dripping water onto each muscle. The drops of water made their way down his hard nipples, probably chilly from his shower, down his sculpted obliques and solid abdomen. . .

. . . And down, past the waistband of his plaid pajama pants. Your favorite ones. 

The pursuit you took with your line of sight was unstoppable. You had to know if he was wearing them. . . And, to your complete gladness, you saw just enough of an outline of him as he leaned his weight on one foot. . . That was all it took to know. . .

“No, I’m not wearing underwear,” he smugly remarked. 

His tone and words made your heart flutter and your cheeks become the deepest shade of crimson. Fuck. He’d caught you.

Deciding to ignore his little remark, you went back to washing the dish, still being held over the sink. In a much looser grip thanks to his comment. Gripping the dish tighter, you put all of your spinning nerves into washing it properly. You fumbled a little, but hoped he didn’t notice. 

“What did you mean before? About sleeping together?” You tried, working to maintain enough attention on the dish that you wouldn’t drop it against the sink and break the thin Corelle. 

“Just sleep,” he emphasized with a chuckle, sounding more and more like himself the longer he stood there. “Nothing more. Cross my heart.”

“Oh,” you offered lamely, heart thumping a hundred miles an hour in your chest, boobs suddenly aching for. . . Fuck. 

Why was he asking you to simply sleep with him? What the hell? 

God. . .

Should you? Was it a good idea? Well, no. You could answer that. It wasn’t a good idea. At all. 

But. . . should you go lay with him? Maybe fall asleep in his arms. . . Would it help you sleep easier after your short, uneasy rest from earlier in the evening?

Shit.

You knew the answer. Knew the answer very well. Even before EMDR, when the bad dreams would occur, they were always better – tamed, happy, or gone completely – when you slept in the same bed as Jake. 

“Yeah,” you said, not taking any more time to contemplate. “I will.”

“Alright,” he replied, sounding relieved behind you. Why did he sound so happy? Surely it wasn’t that big of a deal to him. He still had alcohol in his system. That explained it. 

 You rinsed the rest of the bubbles from the bowl when you heard him speak up again. 

“Want me to wash it?”

“N-no,” you stuttered nervously and shook your head, focusing on the sudsy dish. “I’ve got it.”

“Okay. You full? Get enough to eat?”

“Yes.”

“Good,” he answered, the smile evident in his tone. “Don’t take too long.”

“I won’t,” you reassured, willing your pulse to return to normal. 

And, seconds later, you were hearing his footfalls against the carpet as he made his way back to his room. 

Well. 

Finishing the job of the bowl, – taking much longer than needed – you contemplated. 

You guessed his tone was still a little wavy, but you knew better than to think he was still drunk. 

He definitely wasn’t.

Had the shower helped that much? Had it been the moment in his room? Both combined? 

After the equally clean saucepan was put away in the drawer below the oven, you dragged your feet a bit more as you went to check on Stevie and put some more food in her dish. When her tail swished across your calves, you felt a bit of calmness return to you. 

Your heart was still thrumming in your chest. But you were able to slow your thoughts down enough to feel more at peace as you took notice of yourself in your full-body mirror.

Damn. . .oooo-kay, y/n. . . 

Why did you suddenly feel completely confident in your body? You turned, getting every angle. 

It just felt so great to not doubt your appearance. It was just like last Monday. You could get used to this feeling. 

Your boobs looked fantastic and big under your gray t-shirt, nipples peaked as they most-often were these days. Your ass looked perfectly rounded out from the way it peeked out of your soft shirt. . . And, lifting your t-shirt, you looked at the little bump of your tummy. 

The best addition to the entire look. Your grin was natural as you admired your baby. . .

Your tummy was growing steadily as you still sat on the bigger side of pregnant bellies. Your bump wasn’t a little subtle thing. No, it was an obviously pregnant belly. 

Small, but definitely still noticeable. And it was just cute as hell. 

After rubbing a gentle hand over the expanse of skin on your belly, you pulled your shirt back down over it. 

And with a final fluff of your hair, you grabbed your Stanley from the nightstand before making your way to where you’d find sleep tonight. 

You were just going to get good rest for your baby. It was for the baby. 

That was what you worked to convince yourself of as you walked with quiet purpose to his bedroom. 

-🌼🌼🌼-

“Why did you come home?”

You were laying in his bed. Just like old times. 

Except, in the past, where you would’ve most likely been naked, you were not tonight. 

Everything else though? Same as always.

Your legs were tied into his, looped around his just right, playing footsie with him beneath the covers. Your head rested on his bare chest, your hand underneath your cheek as it laid so perfectly well on his exquisitely strapped pecs.

Oh, also. . . One more thing different than before: the bump. The baby, tucked snugly against his side where you were turned into him. 

It was heaven. That was what it was. 

A yawn emitted from deep in his chest. You knew sleep was finding him faster than you would’ve liked. Naturally, a little yawn found you as well.

Sighing heavily to follow the yawn, you felt his hand that laid above you come to comb through the strands of your hair.  “I don’t like being away from you.”

Your heartbeat was heavy in your ears – did your best to ignore it.

“Was Maya mad?”

“Yeah.”

“Jake,” you scolded, for no reason. You didn’t give two shits about how she felt. But. . . you did care about his happiness – didn’t want to ruin his relationship when it made him feel happy and whole.

“She’ll get over it,” he reassured with another yawn that lifted your cheek with his rising chest. “She was drunker than I was.”

“Are you still drunk?” You pondered aloud with a yawn and a giggle, naturally emitting in his presence. 

But. . . you knew better. Didn’t even have to ask. It just made all of this more understandable if he were to still be drunk. It made this easier to submit to. 

You didn’t know why the prospect of simply laying beside him was harder to come to terms with than having his dick in your mouth. Just like it’d been a week ago. 

Your cheeks heated at the thought. Of its own volition, your thigh came to momentarily graze past his crotch.

“Not really,” he answered, sounding a touch offended that you’d even asked. “Pretty sober now, honestly.”

The more coherent he sounded, the more intimidated you became. . . 

Best to let him find sleep. You’d answer to this in the morning. . . For now, your eyelids were getting heavier and heavier by the moment. 

“I believe you,” you settled with a contented yawn of your own, nestling into his chest. Couldn’t help it. Had to be closer.

You blinked, slower and slower. So sleepy — just felt so right in his arms. His hand came to hold the base of your skull as a thumb traced your head so lightly. 

Goosebumps rose on your skin from his precious gesture. . . It felt so damn incredible. 

“You should,” he iterated, his lips coming to meet the crown of your head, giving you a feather-light kiss. 

And, within a minute, he was lightly snoring. 

It took almost no time at all for you to follow him to slumber. 

-🌼🌼🌼-

Just like you would’ve guessed, the bad dreams didn’t come that night. 

. . .Because Jake made everything better. That was just it. 

-🌼🌼🌼-

December 16, 2022 

As you sat in the waiting room, you surveyed him and noticed he wasn’t wearing the Medusa medallion. The newer one you’d noticed on Monday. 

“No Medusa?” You questioned, at a decent enough volume to not disturb the few other mothers and fathers in the waiting room. He flicked his amber-brown gaze over to you, caught in a trance by the beautiful, light decor of the clinic. 

Once he looked at you, his eyebrows only dipped at your words, not understanding. You motioned to his neck with a slight flick of your wrist. “Your Medusa medallion. I noticed it the other night.”

He snorted, lips quirking in a small grin with a shake of his head. “That was a stupid gift I got from Maya’s little sister,” he explained, scratching the back of his head. 

“Jake,” you disciplined his words, but you couldn’t help the tiny giggle that slipped past your lips. It was kind of funny that he found it stupid. 

“What?!” He turned to you, a full smile on his face. You raised a faux disappointed brow at him and he contended that with his next remark, “Okay, yes, I know I shouldn’t call it stupid. Maya said it’s because of her sister’s little crush on me. . . But it was kind of funny that she showed up with it at her birthday party, for one,” he explained, crossing his legs at the knee. “And for two, Medusa? A Greek goddess? Since when is that my primary interest?”

You shrugged at that, a small smile stuck to your features. He was adorable.

He continued on, “For some reason, Maya struggles to differentiate between pirates and mythology. . . and no matter how many times I explain they’re different, she doesn’t catch on to it.” 

He shook his head, tousling a hand through his long, wavy hair as he placed the other hand on his knee. His rings weren’t present today, so you got to truly appreciate the curvatures of his tanned, masculine hands. 

“You should still acknowledge that Maya’s sister’s–what’s her name?”

“Kaia. K-a-i-a. . . Different from Maya’s by two letters. Sound the same, though,” he snickered.

Kaia and Maya. . . so they’re a rhyming name family. For some reason, the thought made you snort a laugh, a grin claiming your lips. 

“I know,” Jake said, a little humorous in his own tone. “Kaia and Maya. Can we agree to not name our kids rhyming names?”

Our kids? As in, more than the one in your belly?

You took note of him and his reaction to his mistake, watched the way his eyes continued scanning the walls of the white and blush waiting room. 

He seemed to not notice his mess up, still going about his business as usual. His foot tapped against the bamboo flooring to the beat of the classic rock radio station playing. 

You decided to ignore his words. It had been a slip up. Just like your own slip up in the car the other day. 

You, speaking of love. 

Jake, mentioning multiple kids. 

You both were just in a state of stress with the life change. . . it wasn’t anything. Just a couple mis-worded moments.

You continued on, looking down at your belly briefly, smoothing your hands down your sweater to flatten any weird lines. “. . .Kaia’s sentiment was kind. Her little crush is sweet,” you iterated, sounding more like a mom everyday. “I hope you told her thank you.”

He chuckled, raspy and light, at you. Switching your line of sight up to him, you saw his eyes read a sense of fondness as he cast his gaze on you. 

“I did,” he smirked, winking at you. Your tummy fluttered with butterflies. “You are going to be a fantastic mom, y/n. I’ve known it for a long time and I know it more and more with your little coaching moments.”

Your heart went crazy at the thought of him imagining you as a fantastic mother. And he’d known it for a long time? How long? What did that mean? 

“Thanks, Jake,” you blushed a light pink, matching the colors of the crepe walls. There was one more thing you wanted to say though. 

“However,” you cleared your throat, glancing at him momentarily from the corner of your eye. He was heeding you, brow arched as he waited for your next words. 

“I can’t say anything to excuse Maya’s non-acknowledgment at the obvious contrasts of pirates and mythology. They are two completely different beasts,” you emphasized, turning your full attention to him. He was still watching you. The flush was back in your cheeks. “I’ve seen enough of your documentaries about pirates and I’m an English major, for God’s sake. . . so I know these things.”

The way his features brightened was precious – like he was being seen. 

And he was seen. He would always be seen if you had anything to say about it. 

Also, you did know the difference, you weren’t lying. None of what you said was a lie. You’d said what you did because you needed him to know that you understood. His interests mattered to you and they should to Maya as well. They should matter to her more-so. 

The moment was cut off quite quickly, though, as you were hearing your name being called to the back for your appointment. 

You were about to see your baby again. With Jake. And you’d know by the end of the hour if it was a boy or girl. . . 

The blood was pumping in your ears as Jake fell in step beside you on the way to the back. You smiled up at him, where you were met with his sparkling eyes. Both of you were obviously giddy with eagerness and excitement. 

Your thoughts were filled with everything that was to come. All sunshine and pale colors – so much love.

Here we go. . .

-🌼🌼🌼-

a/n: ...i wonder if you can guess the name/gender after this chapter part... ;) see you soon (next part is almost finished, my loves) :) feel free to always come to my ask box or message box! i'm always down to talk when my adhd/anxiety doesn't attack me <3

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

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[toxic3mmy]

Star Struck

prompt: you get a message from alex on tumblr

hai lovely peeps <3

this is gonna be a short little book type thing with a few more chapters to come

i hope you guys enjoy!

ps- ill try my best to update this series at least once a week!!!

you mindlessly scrolled through tumblr. yes it wasn’t 2015 anymore but you still used the app religiously. you had a good number of followers, too.

you posted about all the emo and alternative music you were into and not to mention the youtubers who you loved.

your number one favorite youtuber was alexis quackity. you related to him in many different ways. he made you laugh on days you weren’t doing too well. he meant a lot to you, even if you didn’t know him personally and it was all most likely just an internet personality.

still, you found yourself talking about his latest let’s talk streams or even his random tweets. you loved having a community of online mutuals that felt the same way about quackity.

____

halfway across the country, alexis sat cross-legged on the floor of his cluttered apartment, surrounded by a sea of empty takeout boxes and energy drink cans. his eyes were glued to the computer screen, the glow from the monitor reflecting off his square-rimmed glasses. his mouse hand hovered over the keyboard, poised to respond to the endless stream of comments that flooded his youtube channel. his thumbs danced across his phone, scrolling through the notifications that seemed to never end.

it had been a wild ride for alexis since he started streaming games and posting videos under the moniker 'Quackity'. the fame had come quickly, and with it, the adoration of millions of fans around the globe.

sometimes alex would take the time and look through his community of devoted fans. he would use throwaway accounts to simply be unknown for once and just see what there was out there.

his fans were so unbelievably talented. many of them were amazing artists making portraits of him or even writing songs for him. some were even exceptional writers and the fanfiction stories he’d come across were actually pretty good.

amidst the digital chaos, one fan seemed to stand out from the rest. y/n, with her username 'Y/NIsNotHere', had caught his attention with her thoughtful comments and unyielding support. He clicked on her tumblr profile, and there it was: a fan account dedicated solely to him.

her profile was a shrine to his digital persona, filled with meticulously edited gifs, screenshots from his streams, and heartfelt notes about how his content had changed her life. Alexis felt a strange mix of flattery and curiosity. he hovered over the 'send message' button, his heart racing with excitement.

what did she look like? what was her voice like? would she be as amazing as she seemed? with a deep breath, he typed out a simple hello.

granted, he was using a secret throwaway tumblr account so he didn’t expect for an immediate response. and yet, the response still came rather quickly.

Y/Nisnothere: hi! whats up?

emoboy666_: nothing much, just surfin da web. so you’re a fan of quackity?

Y/Nisnothere: yeah im definitely a huge fan. there’s just something about him you know? he’s different, he makes me feel okay

alexis’ cheeks heated up after reading the compliment. he smiled softly as he continued to message you

emoboy666_: i totally get you! it’s nice to be distracted from things

Y/Nisnothere: for sure! so tell me about yourself

emoboy666_: well, im in my early 20s.. im mexican, i love video games and art….. oh and you can just call me A

Y/Nisnothere: well im 21, im also mexican, im also really into all things artsy and nerdy and well, emo lol, and you can just call me y/n :3

emoboy666_: i’m glad we have some things in common! your blog is really cool btw, it’s like a hidden gem amongst the cyber world

Y/Nisnothere: aw thanks! that’s really sweet of you to say <3

emoboy666_: no prob (: so, what are you doing right now?

Y/Nisnothere: oh not much, trying to do homework but getting distracted by tumblr and twitter lol. and u?

emoboy666_: oh same here, what do you study?

Y/Nisnothere: i’m studying art

emoboy666_: that’s awesome! maybe you should show me some of your work sometime

Y/Nisnothere: yeah! id love to (:

emoboy666: me too (:

Y/Nisnothere: (: <3

the two of you continued to message each other practically all night. you were happy to have made a new online friend and alexis was happy to get to know one of his fans.

neither of you truly knew who was on the other end of the phone but you still really enjoyed talking to one another. it was refreshing for the two of you.

you fell asleep with thoughts of your new friend, A

[codgod]

y’know generally i try to limit colour palettes to as few colours as possible to make things more cohesive but despite my best efforts only jay ended up being able to stick to that </3

ANYWAYS here’s the as-of-right-now fully updated designs for these dickheads. these will no doubt undergo even more tweaking as i draw them more but this is a start i guess. also pls open the pictures to look at them properly i worked so hard LOL

some random notes under the cut yaaaay

chip —

he jingles when he walks. somehow he’s still stealthy. i do not know how

kept the platinum ring that bonded him to gillion in the block! because hey he doesn’t really have a reason to take it off (and it’s a nice reminder of how much gill cares about him, and how far their friendship has come since that ice arena)

his tattoos shift and flicker like actual flames, and sometimes (harmless, purely aesthetic) sparks fly off them when he’s excited

i just think smoke coming out of his mouth when he’s angry would be cool :]

chipped teeth from biting rocks and coins all the time :/

he has scars from the red lightning, they’re just mostly contained to his back and shoulders. they’re a similar red to his coat even once they’ve healed

gillion —

the tail sleeve thing is so he can rest it on the ground without damaging his scales, he doesn’t usually wear it when he’s just on the ship because the wood is soft enough that it’s usually fine + it can hinder swimming a bit. it’s mostly meant for places where there’s cobblestone or gravel streets and such. i think his armour would probably have a version that looks similar but covers the whole tail minus the fins, maybe with some armour plating of its own. i didn’t draw it because there wasn’t any room lol

his scars from the lightning are pink mostly because red stood out too much tbh. they softly glow in the dark the same as his coral and the pink parts of his fins

also kept his ring! his hands aren’t really made for jewellery, though, because the webbing means it won’t sit very secure on his finger. so he keeps it on the same chain as the necklace he got from aslana to keep it safe

tried to make him look a bit bulkier and more his age than in my original design? i feel like i was leaning too much into the naivety and. shortness. originally lol. he also has thicker eyebrows now and i’m still trying to decide how i feel about them but i think? i like it? i don’t tend to give many character thin eyebrows so it could’ve been a unique thing for him but alas

i think i made the sword too small but like ignore that

also forgor to include pretzel </3 that’s okay though she can get her own design sheet later. she’s special like that

jay —

i believe in tall jay supremacy

blue magic! i was considering gold but that’d look a bit more like a canary than i wanted for her wings so. blue jay :]

her hair is supposed to look kinda like fire to mimic her dad ! kinda showing that even if she runs from her family and the navy they’ll always be a part of her. and also i just like drawing messy hair

i gave her sturdier gloves just because i feel like it fits her better. also changed up the shirt to more of a button up solely because i don’t like tank tops very much LOL

i did WANT to make her outfit a bit flashier to match the boys better but i couldn’t quite figure out where to Put the flash. maybe that’ll come later, the way the story’s going i might get to design some cool prosthetics for her or something

overall —

because there’s just so many fucking colours i triiied to add at least one or two colours from each of them into the others designs. jay has her necklace with each of their main colours on it, her wings are the same blue as gillions eyes, her jacket and right eye are the same dark blue as destiny’s blade, her hair is the same orange as the lighter part of chips tattoos. chip has a dark green sash under all the belts, the same as the hilt of destiny’s blade. they all use the same shades of black, gold, and brown

the only real exception is gillion doesn’t have anything from the other two because he has Such a specific colour palette and he already had so much going on as-is orz jay was obviously the easiest to do this with because she has both warm and cool colours in her palette by default lol (and i did her design last, so that helps)

[muiitoloko]

I don't wanna be annoying but can we please have another sequel to the unscripted love? You can keep it in the back burner for now so you can do other people's requests first tho! I like the idea of the reader and Alan reading fanfiction lol and maybe maybeeeeee while reader reads, Alan suddenly gets the idea of recreating it 😩. Like he'll stop whenever reader stops reading too haha. Just a thought but you totally don't have to do it! I just love your stories so much! Any update from you I try to read immediately ♡♡♡

Title: Cloaked in Love

Summary: Alan’s playful impersonation of Severus Snape leads to laughter and a deepened connection during a well-deserved break from your hectic lives.

Pairing: Alan Rickman × Fem! Reader

Warnings: none.

Author's Notes: You’re not annoying at all—trust me, I love hearing your ideas! 😄 The thought of Alan getting inspired by some fanfiction and deciding to recreate it? *chef’s kiss* I’m definitely intrigued! I’m so glad you’re enjoying the stories! Thanks for the love and support—now I just need to make sure Alan doesn’t get too carried away with those fanfics! 😉

First, Second and Third part here.

Also read on Ao3

Weeks passed before you and Alan could finally meet in person, the whirlwind of your respective projects keeping you both on the move. You traveled from country to country, promoting your film, attending premieres, and juggling endless interviews. Alan, in the meantime, was busy filming A Little Chaos, and while you kept in touch through calls and messages, it wasn’t the same as being with him. The distance began to wear on you, the days stretching longer as you counted down to the moment you could finally be together again.

So, when your schedule finally allowed for a day off, instead of resting in London as you’d planned, you decided to surprise Alan on set. The thought of seeing him, of being close to him again, filled you with a bubbling excitement that made the exhaustion of travel seem insignificant. You missed him more than you’d realized, and the idea of waiting another day just to see him was unbearable.

Upon arriving at the set, you were greeted with a mix of excitement and surprise. Fans who had gathered around the area recognized you immediately, and you spent a few minutes signing autographs and posing for pictures, all the while trying to keep your nerves in check. The thrill of seeing Alan again was tempered by the knowledge that your relationship was still a secret, something you both had agreed to keep under wraps until the time was right.

Finally, one of Alan’s assistants appeared and offered to take you to where he was. You followed eagerly, your heart pounding with anticipation as you walked through the bustling set. The grandeur of the production was evident in every detail—the elaborate costumes, the intricate sets, the palpable energy that came with creating a period piece. It was all very impressive, but your focus was solely on Alan.

As you approached the area where he was taking his lunch break, you spotted him immediately. He was sitting at one of the tables, fully dressed as King Louis XIV, albeit without the wig, his regal attire a striking contrast to the casual conversations he was having with the crew around him. His hazel eyes were alight with that familiar warmth, and his deep, baritone voice carried across the set, drawing you in like a magnet.

For a moment, you stood there, simply watching him. The way he carried himself, even in costume, was unmistakably Alan—graceful, commanding, yet somehow effortlessly charming. He was in his element, and the sight of him made your heart swell with affection. You had missed him more than you’d realized, and now that you were so close, the longing you’d kept at bay for weeks surged to the surface.

Finally, you began to approach, your footsteps light and quick as you made your way to the table. Alan noticed you almost immediately, his eyes widening in pleasant surprise as he recognized you. He had clearly not expected you to be there, and the delighted smile that spread across his face made all the effort of getting there worth it.

“Well, well, what a surprise,” Alan said, his voice warm and rich with genuine pleasure. He stood up from the table, his tall, thick figure cutting an impressive figure even without the royal wig. “I thought you weren’t returning to London until tomorrow.”

You grinned, unable to contain your excitement as you closed the distance between you. “I couldn’t wait,” you admitted, your voice filled with affection as you looked up at him. “I missed you, Alan. I just had to see you.”

Alan’s smile softened, his hazel eyes searching yours with a mixture of fondness and something deeper, something more tender. He reached out, his hand brushing lightly against your arm as if to reassure himself that you were really there. “And here I was, thinking I’d have to wait another day to see you,” he murmured, his voice low and intimate. “This is a very welcome surprise.”

You could feel the heat of his hand through the fabric of your sleeve, the simple touch sending a shiver of warmth through you. There was something electric in the air between you, a connection that neither time nor distance could diminish. The urge to close the gap between you, to wrap your arms around him and pull him into a kiss, was almost overwhelming, but you resisted, knowing that the crew was watching.

Instead, you let your hand rest on his, your fingers brushing against his as you shared a private moment in the midst of the bustling set. “I couldn’t stay away any longer,” you confessed softly, your eyes locked on his. “I’ve been thinking about you constantly, Alan. Every interview, every premiere… all I wanted was to be with you.”

Alan’s expression softened even further, his eyes shining with something that made your heart skip a beat. “And I’ve been thinking about you,” he replied, his voice just as soft. “You’ve been the best part of my day, even when we’re miles apart.”

The sincerity in his words, the quiet intensity in his gaze, made it clear that he felt the same way you did—that the weeks apart had been just as hard on him as they had been on you. It was a comfort, a reassurance that your feelings were mutual, that the bond you shared was strong enough to withstand the challenges of your careers.

For a moment, the world around you seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of you standing there, connected by something deeper than words. It was as if the distance between you had never existed, as if the weeks apart had only made your connection stronger. And in that moment, you knew that whatever the future held, as long as you had each other, you could face it together.

Alan seemed to sense the same thing, his hand tightening slightly on yours as if to anchor you both in the moment. “Come,” he said softly, his voice a low rumble that sent a shiver down your spine. “Let’s find somewhere a bit more private. I’d like to catch up properly.”

You nodded, your heart racing with anticipation as he led you away from the busy set, away from prying eyes and the chaos of the production. As you walked side by side, your fingers still intertwined, you couldn’t help but steal a glance at him, at the man who had become so much more than just a friend, so much more than just a lover. He was your partner, your confidant, the person you trusted above all others.

And as you found a quiet corner of the set, away from the noise and the cameras, you knew that this was where you belonged—by his side, in the moments both big and small, in the spaces where you could simply be together, without the world watching.

Alan turned to you, his expression soft and filled with a warmth that made your heart swell. “I’m so glad you’re here,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. “I’ve missed you more than I can say.”

You smiled, reaching up to cup his cheek, your thumb brushing lightly over the stubble that lined his jaw. “I’ve missed you too, Alan,” you whispered, your voice filled with all the love you felt for him. “More than you know.”

You let out a small, frustrated sigh and muttered under your breath, "Damn, I wish I could kiss you right now."

Alan’s eyes sparkled with amusement as he caught your words, and a mischievous smile tugged at the corners of his lips. He leaned in slightly, his voice a low, teasing murmur. “And why don’t you, then?” he questioned, raising an eyebrow in that way only he could—both challenging and playful at the same time.

Your heart skipped a beat at the suggestion, the temptation to close the gap between you almost overwhelming. But you quickly glanced around the set, taking in the bustling crew and the open space. With a small, regretful shake of your head, you started to look for a place to sit down. “We can’t do that here, Alan,” you whispered back, your tone filled with both longing and practicality. “Not in such a public place.”

Alan didn’t respond immediately. Instead, he leaned back against the wall behind him, crossing his arms over his chest in that relaxed, confident way he had, as if he was entirely at ease with the world. His hazel eyes remained fixed on you, a knowing smile playing on his lips as he watched you find a spot to sit.

You sighed tiredly as you finally settled into a chair, the weight of your travels and the emotional rollercoaster of the past few weeks catching up with you. “Why didn’t you tell me you were arriving early?” Alan asked, his voice filled with a mix of curiosity and affection as he gently changed the subject.

You shrugged slightly, leaning back in your chair as you looked up at him. “Honestly? I wasn’t even sure I’d make it here today,” you admitted, your tone light despite the exhaustion in your eyes. “I took the first flight I could find from New York to London, thinking I’d just go straight to bed and sleep the whole day before meeting you tomorrow. But as soon as I lay down, I just couldn’t shake the urge to see you… even if only for a moment.”

Alan’s expression softened at your words, his eyes filled with a warmth that made your heart flutter. He pushed off the wall and walked over to you, his tall frame casting a shadow over you as he leaned down slightly, his face close to yours. “So you came all the way here just to take a peek at me?” he murmured, his voice rich with affection and a hint of that mischievous charm you loved so much.

You smiled up at him, feeling the tension in your body slowly melt away in his presence. “Yes,” you whispered back, your voice filled with sincerity. “I couldn’t stay away, Alan. I just… I needed to see you, even if it was just for a few minutes.”

Alan’s smile widened, and he reached out to gently brush a strand of hair away from your face, his touch soft and comforting. “You have no idea how much that means to me,” he said quietly, his voice low and intimate. “And now that you’re here, I’m not letting you go so easily.”

You chuckled softly, the sound light and relieved as you gazed up at him. “I wouldn’t want it any other way,” you replied, your eyes locked on his. “But I’m afraid I’m not much fun right now… I’m completely exhausted.”

Alan's expression softened into one of sympathy, his eyes filled with understanding as he gazed down at you. “You look like you could use a good rest,” he began, his voice gentle. But before he could say anything more, a voice interrupted the private moment.

“Well, well, what do we have here? Two lovebirds trying to sneak a moment alone?”

You both turned to see Helen McCrory approaching, a playful grin on her face. She looked stunning, as always, her presence commanding attention even in the simple, understated costume she wore for her role in A Little Chaos. Alan straightened up immediately, his posture shifting from relaxed to slightly more formal as he greeted her.

“Helen,” Alan said warmly, his baritone voice carrying a note of affection. “Always a pleasure to see you.”

Helen's grin widened as she came to stand beside you, her gaze flicking between the two of you with a knowing glint. “I should have known I’d find you two together,” she teased, her tone light. “Trying to keep your little romance a secret on set, are we?”

You couldn’t help but laugh at her words, the sound light and carefree as you looked up at her. “You caught us,” you admitted with a playful shrug. “But in our defense, we haven’t seen each other in weeks, so we’re allowed a bit of sneaky time.”

Helen’s eyes sparkled with amusement as she reached out to gently squeeze your shoulder. “Of course you are,” she agreed, her tone warm. “But don’t think you can hide from me—I always know when something’s up.”

You grinned, leaning back in your chair as you let out a mock sigh. “Well, I suppose we should be careful then. Can’t let Narcissa Malfoy catch us in the act. Or worse, let her participate in this little get-together.”

Helen raised an eyebrow, her smile turning into a smirk as she caught onto the joke. “Ah, yes, because that would be quite the scandal, wouldn’t it? Severus Snape and Narcissa Malfoy having a little rendezvous on set.”

Alan chuckled softly, his gaze flicking between you and Helen as he played along. “Indeed. I’m sure Lucius would have something to say about that,” he remarked, his tone dry but laced with humor. “But I doubt even he could stop Narcissa if she had her mind set on something.”

Helen laughed, the sound rich and melodious. “Oh, you’re absolutely right, Alan. Narcissa always gets what she wants.” She then turned her attention back to you, her expression softening as she added, “Though I must say, it’s lovely to see you here. We’ve all missed having you around.”

You smiled, touched by her words. “I’ve missed you all too,” you admitted. “And I couldn’t resist the chance to see Alan again. But honestly, I’m not sure how you two manage to keep going with such hectic schedules. I feel like I could sleep for a week.”

Helen’s eyes twinkled with a mix of sympathy and teasing as she leaned in slightly, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “Well, if you had accepted that role in Harry Potter, you’d be used to this kind of chaos by now. We could have been three wizards on set instead of just two.

You let out a soft laugh, shaking your head in mock disbelief. “Don’t remind me, Helen. I still think about what might have been. But then again, who could ever live up to Narcissa Malfoy? You were perfect for that role.”

Helen grinned, clearly enjoying the banter. “Flattery will get you everywhere, darling. But you would have made a brilliant addition to the cast, and you know it.”

Alan, who had been quietly enjoying the exchange, chimed in with a wry smile. “I must say, I would have enjoyed seeing you wield a wand on screen. Perhaps we could have had a duel—Severus Snape versus… whoever you might have played.”

You laughed, the thought of being in a magical duel with Alan Rickman and Helen McCrory bringing a sparkle to your eyes. “Oh, I would have given you both a run for your money,” you teased, pretending to twirl an imaginary wand in your hand. “But I suppose we’ll never know.”

Helen playfully pouted, crossing her arms over her chest as she gave you an exaggerated look of disappointment. “Such a missed opportunity,” she said, her tone dripping with mock seriousness. “We could have been the most formidable trio in the wizarding world.”

You couldn’t help but grin, loving the playful camaraderie between the three of you. “Well, maybe we can still make it happen someday. I’m sure there’s room for a new character in the Harry Potter universe.”

Alan chuckled, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he considered the idea. “Now that would be something to see. But in the meantime, I suppose we’ll have to settle for being mere mortals.”

Helen rolled her eyes playfully at his words, her grin widening as she reached out to give him a light nudge. “Oh, don’t be so modest, Alan. You may be playing a king right now, but we all know you’re still the dark and brooding wizard at heart.”

Alan shared a warm smile with Helen, the camaraderie between them evident in the easy way they exchanged glances. The conversation had lightened the mood, and for a brief moment, the weight of his earlier insecurities seemed to lift. But as the laughter faded, he caught sight of you glancing at your wristwatch, a small frown creasing your brow as you noted the time.

"I should probably get going," you said, your voice tinged with reluctance. "I still need that well-deserved rest before we meet up tomorrow, Alan."

The regret in your tone was clear, and Alan felt a pang of disappointment that the moment had to end so soon. But he nodded in understanding, knowing that you needed to recharge after your whirlwind travels.

Helen looked between the two of you, her sharp eyes catching the subtle exchange of emotions that passed between you. She watched as you stepped forward to share a hug with her, your embrace warm and affectionate, a testament to the friendship you had built over the years. "Take care, love," Helen said softly, giving you a gentle squeeze before pulling back. "We’ll see you soon."

You smiled, your eyes flicking over to Alan, who stood nearby, his tall frame still as he watched the interaction. With a playful smile, you reached out to pat his arm in a friendly way, your touch lingering just a moment longer than necessary. "Get some rest yourself, Alan," you teased lightly. "I’ll see you tomorrow."

Alan returned your smile, though his eyes held a warmth that went beyond simple friendship. "I’ll try," he replied, his voice carrying that familiar baritone rumble that always sent a shiver down your spine. "But only if you promise to do the same."

You chuckled softly, nodding as you turned to leave, your footsteps echoing slightly in the quiet of the set. Alan’s gaze followed you as you walked away, his eyes lingering on your retreating figure with a mix of affection and something deeper—something that Helen didn’t miss.

As soon as you were out of sight, Helen turned her attention back to Alan, a knowing smile playing on her lips. "You’re not fooling anyone, you know," she remarked casually, her tone light but laced with meaning.

Alan, ever the actor, raised an eyebrow in mock confusion, his expression carefully neutral. "Whatever do you mean, Helen?" he asked, his voice smooth and composed as he feigned ignorance. "I’m simply seeing off a friend."

Helen’s smile widened, her eyes sparkling with amusement as she crossed her arms over her chest. "Oh, come now, Alan. You and I both know there’s more to it than that. You’ve been practically attached at the hip with her since the day you met. Don’t tell me you’re still going to pretend there’s nothing going on between you two."

Alan let out a soft chuckle, shaking his head slightly as if to dismiss the notion. "We’re good friends, Helen," he insisted, his tone light and casual. "Colleagues, even. Nothing more."

Helen didn’t buy it for a second. She had been around long enough to recognize the signs of a budding romance, and the way you and Alan interacted was a dead giveaway. The subtle touches, the lingering glances, the way he looked at you when he thought no one was watching—it all pointed to something more than just friendship.

"Is that so?" she asked, her voice filled with playful skepticism. "Because from where I’m standing, it looks an awful lot like the two of you are hiding something. And I’m not just talking about a close friendship."

Alan met her gaze, his hazel eyes steady and composed, but there was a flicker of something in them—something that betrayed the truth he was trying so hard to keep hidden. "Believe what you like, Helen," he said with a small, enigmatic smile. "But I assure you, there’s nothing to hide."

Helen tilted her head slightly, studying him with a mix of curiosity and amusement. "You’re a terrible liar, Alan," she teased gently, though there was no malice in her words. "But I suppose I’ll let you keep your secrets—for now."

Alan chuckled again, his laughter rich and deep, though there was a hint of tension beneath it. "I appreciate that," he replied smoothly, his tone still light. "It’s good to know you’re on my side."

Helen’s smile softened, and she reached out to give him a friendly pat on the shoulder. "Always, darling," she said warmly. "Just remember, you don’t have to hide everything. Some secrets are meant to be shared."

Alan nodded, though he made no further comment, his thoughts already drifting back to you and the connection you shared. Helen might have been convinced that there was more to your relationship than met the eye, but for now, he was content to let the world believe whatever they liked.

As Helen turned to leave, Alan watched her go, a small smile playing on his lips. He knew that she wasn’t fooled by his denial, but he also knew that she would keep his secret for as long as he needed her to. After all, some things were worth protecting, even if it meant keeping them hidden for a little while longer.

And as he stood there in the quiet of the set, Alan allowed himself a moment to savor the thought of you—the woman who had become so much more than just a friend, so much more than just a colleague. The woman who had captured his heart in ways he hadn’t thought possible.

For now, he was content to keep that truth close, to cherish the private moments you shared, knowing that one day, when the time was right, the world would know just how much you meant to him.

But until then, he would continue to play the part of the enigmatic, charming actor, keeping his secrets close and his feelings even closer, all the while knowing that you were the one person who truly understood the man behind the mask.

The next day, you and Alan finally managed to carve out some time together, albeit later in the afternoon than you’d originally planned. Both of you had agreed that after the whirlwind of your respective schedules, a lazy day at your house was exactly what you needed. No interviews, no scripts—just the two of you, unwinding in the comfort of your shared space.

The moment Alan arrived at your door, you couldn’t help but greet him with a warm, lingering kiss, your hands gently cupping his face as you reveled in the familiarity of his touch. He responded in kind, his arms wrapping around your waist and pulling you close, the tension of the past few weeks melting away as you both simply enjoyed the moment.

“It’s good to finally have you all to myself,” Alan murmured against your lips, his deep baritone voice sending a shiver down your spine. He pulled back slightly, just enough to look into your eyes, his hazel gaze filled with a mix of affection and something deeper. “I’ve missed this. Missed you.”

You smiled up at him, your heart swelling with love for the man who had become such an integral part of your life. “I’ve missed you too,” you whispered back, your voice soft and sincere. “And now that we finally have some time together, I intend to make the most of it.”

Alan’s lips quirked into a playful smile, and he leaned in to steal another quick kiss before pulling you into a warm embrace. “I like the sound of that,” he replied, his tone light and teasing. “So, what’s on the agenda for today, love? A bit of reading, perhaps? Or maybe we could finally indulge in those fanfics you mentioned.”

You chuckled softly, your fingers idly tracing the curve of his spine as you rested your head against his chest. “You’ve been thinking about those, haven’t you?” you teased, your voice filled with amusement. “I never pegged you as the fanfiction type, Alan.”

He let out a low, rumbling laugh, the sound vibrating through his chest and making you smile. “Well, you did pique my curiosity,” he admitted, his tone both playful and genuine. “And I must say, the idea of seeing how I—well, Snape—am portrayed in these stories is rather intriguing. Plus, I’m curious to see how… detailed they get.”

You raised an eyebrow at his words, a mischievous smile tugging at the corners of your lips. “Detailed, huh? You sure you’re ready for that? Some of those fanfics don’t hold back, you know. They might give you ideas.”

Alan’s smile widened, his eyes sparkling with mischief as he leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a low, seductive murmur. “Oh, I’m counting on it, my dear,” he replied, his tone sending a thrill of anticipation through you. “After all, what’s the point of reading them if we don’t have a bit of fun recreating the scenes?”

You laughed, the sound filled with both amusement and excitement at the prospect. “Well then,” you said, stepping back slightly and taking his hand in yours. “Let’s get comfortable first, and then we can see just how well you can bring those fanfics to life.”

Alan’s grip on your hand tightened slightly, a playful glint in his eyes as he followed you to the living room. Once there, you both settled onto the couch, the atmosphere relaxed and intimate as you curled up against him, your head resting on his shoulder.

You reached for your phone, pulling up the fanfiction website and scrolling through the list of stories until you found one that seemed particularly promising. “Alright,” you began, your voice light as you looked up at him with a teasing smile. “Shall we start with a classic Snape romance, or would you prefer something a bit… steamier?”

Alan raised an eyebrow, his lips curving into a slow, deliberate smile. “Why not start with the romance?” he suggested, his tone filled with a subtle, teasing challenge. “I’m curious to see how they capture the… softer side of Severus Snape.”

You chuckled, nodding in agreement as you clicked on a story that had high ratings and plenty of comments praising the author’s portrayal of Snape. As you began to read, the room filled with your voice, each word weaving a tale of unrequited love, intense emotions, and the eventual confession between Snape and the story’s protagonist—a young witch who had somehow managed to break through his formidable exterior.

As you read aloud from the fanfic, you both became more and more engrossed in the story, the detailed descriptions of Snape's inner turmoil and the humorous moments woven into the narrative drawing you in. The author had managed to capture Snape’s dry wit perfectly, and you found yourself laughing at some of the quips that sounded like something Alan himself might say.

Then, you reached a particularly funny scene. In it, Snape, ever the sarcastic and somewhat grumpy Potions Master, was trying to teach a rather inept student the finer points of potion-making. The student, who was clearly out of their depth, had somehow managed to turn their cauldron into a bubbling mess of what the fanfic described as "a rainbow-colored disaster."

Snape, unimpressed and thoroughly exasperated, was written to have dramatically thrown his black robes over his shoulder like a cape, stalking around the student and lecturing them in a tone that was described as both condescending and theatrical. The author had even added a line about how Snape’s hooked nose twitched with irritation as he delivered one of his signature biting remarks: "If incompetence were a potion, you would have brewed a perfect batch."

You couldn’t help but laugh as you read the scene aloud, the image of a melodramatic Snape stalking around the hapless student almost too much to handle. "Oh, Alan," you said, still giggling, "I can just imagine you doing something like this! It’s so over-the-top and theatrical."

Alan chuckled along with you, but as the laughter subsided, you noticed a glint of mischief in his hazel eyes. Without saying a word, he suddenly stood up from the couch, a sly smile playing on his lips. You watched, intrigued and amused, as he reached for the soft sheet you had grabbed earlier to cover his legs, draping it over his shoulders like a makeshift cape.

You raised an eyebrow, a smile tugging at your lips as you watched his impromptu costume change. "And what exactly are you doing, Mr. Rickman?" you asked, your voice filled with playful curiosity.

Alan gave you a mock-serious look, his lips curving into a smirk as he held the sheet dramatically with one hand, letting it flow behind him like Snape’s billowing robes. "I am now Severus Snape," he declared in a perfect imitation of the character’s deep, measured voice. "And you, my dear, are the incompetent student who has dared to ruin a perfectly good potion."

You burst out laughing, the sight of Alan in his makeshift Snape costume, coupled with his spot-on impression, making it impossible to keep a straight face. "Oh, really?" you said, playing along with a grin. "And what exactly do you intend to do about it, Professor Snape?"

Alan’s eyes sparkled with amusement as he took a step back, lifting the sheet-cape with a flourish and adopting a more stern, imposing posture. "I shall do what any good Potions Master would do," he intoned, his voice dripping with mock seriousness. "I shall recreate the scene, and you, my dear, shall read the lines while I bring this catastrophe to life."

You couldn’t help but grin at the absurdity of the situation, the playful banter between the two of you filling the room with lighthearted energy. "Alright, Professor Snape," you replied, your tone teasing as you picked up the phone again, scrolling back to the start of the scene. "But I warn you, this student is particularly inept. You’ll have your work cut out for you."

Alan gave you a mock look of exasperation, his eyes narrowing as he slipped fully into character. "Do you take me for a fool?" he retorted in that smooth, commanding baritone. "No student is beyond the reach of my… expertise."

With that, you began to read the scene aloud, doing your best to maintain a serious tone even as the ridiculousness of the situation threatened to make you burst out laughing again. Alan, for his part, played the role of Snape with a level of dedication that was both impressive and hilarious. He stalked around the room, his makeshift cape flowing behind him as he delivered the lines with a mixture of stern authority and theatrical flair.

When you reached the line about the rainbow-colored potion disaster, Alan paused mid-stride, turning on his heel to face you with a dramatic flourish of the sheet-cape. "A rainbow-colored disaster!" he repeated, his voice filled with incredulous disdain. "If incompetence were a potion, you, Miss [Your Last Name], would have brewed a perfect batch!"

You couldn’t hold back your laughter any longer, the sight of Alan fully embracing the role of Snape—complete with exaggerated gestures and that iconic, sardonic tone—was just too much. "Oh, come on, Professor!" you protested, trying to keep a straight face. "It’s not that bad!"

Alan, staying in character, arched an eyebrow in that perfect Snape-like way, his eyes narrowing as he took a step closer, looming over you with the full force of his theatrical presence. "Not that bad?" he echoed, his voice low and menacing in the most exaggerated way possible. "Miss [Your Last Name], I have seen first-years brew better potions in their sleep! This—" he gestured dramatically at the imaginary cauldron, "—is an abomination, an affront to the very art of potion-making!"

You were practically in tears from laughing, the combination of Alan’s over-the-top performance and the sheer silliness of the scene making it impossible to maintain any semblance of composure. "Alright, alright, you win!" you gasped, holding up your hands in surrender. "I admit it! I’m a terrible student!"

Alan’s stern expression softened into a triumphant grin, the playful glint in his eyes returning as he dropped the sheet-cape and stepped back, his arms crossing over his chest in that familiar, confident stance. "Indeed you are," he said, his voice slipping back into its natural cadence. "But perhaps with the right… guidance, you might improve."

You grinned, wiping away the tears of laughter from your eyes as you looked up at him. "Guidance, huh? And what kind of guidance would you suggest, Professor?"

Alan leaned down slightly, his face close to yours as he dropped his voice to a low, teasing whisper. "Oh, I can think of a few ways to improve your… performance," he murmured, the playful tone in his voice making your heart race. "But I’ll let you decide when you’re ready for the next lesson."

You couldn’t help but laugh again, the playful banter between you both filling the room with warmth and affection. "I’ll keep that in mind, Professor," you replied with a wink, your voice filled with both amusement and genuine affection. "But for now, I think I’d like to stick to the fun kind of lessons—like this."

Alan smiled, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he looked down at you with a mix of affection and something deeper. "As you wish, Miss [Your Last Name]," he said, his voice warm and sincere. "But remember, the offer stands. Anytime you need a little… guidance, I’ll be here."

And with that, the two of you settled back onto the couch, the lighthearted moment bringing you even closer together. The rest of the afternoon was spent in a comfortable, playful companionship, the laughter and joy of the day a reminder of just how much you cherished these moments with Alan—the man who had become so much more than just a friend, so much more than just a lover.

He was your partner, your confidant, your source of endless amusement and affection. And as the day drew to a close, you couldn’t help but feel incredibly grateful for the bond you shared—a bond that, despite the challenges and the distance, only seemed to grow stronger with each passing day.

[stemclann]

Hi! i’m going around asking different clangens for different clangen reccs bc I’ve been interested in reading more! Do you have any reccs?

Oh I DO !!!

A lot of the blogs I follow feature heavily stylised characters and colorful pages, wich I love. For some of them I'm not even quite caught-up but I just love seing their art coming across my dash because I love making my tumblr feed an inspiring place (don't we all) Also, I'm fairly new to the Clangen side of the WC community tbh, so some blogs featured here might be already pretty well known in the community.. But who doesn't love a nice shoutout <3 🥰 For some of these blogs I don't know wich pronouns their user might want to be used, so I'll refer to them as they/them.

☁️ First off, the blog that litteraly inspired me to start my own : https://www.tumblr.com/vaporclan @vaporclan // I just LOVE their character designs and expressions. plus the intrigue is REALLY GOOD. They also have a side-blog wich is very promising : 🐅 https://www.tumblr.com/tigeroftheskies

💧 Second one that I came across : https://www.tumblr.com/moons-of-dewclan @moons-of-dewclan // BEAUTIFUL artstyle. The composition of each page is gorgeous and the ambiance is always on point. Can't wait to read more about their traumatized cats.

🪴 @gray-thistleclan // I realize from the amount of notes that their art is already pretty well received in the community, but I LOVE the character designs featured on this blog, plus the intrigue is really unique and fairly new in the WC community (depending on if you were here when we all thought Bramblestar was gonna get rabies lol) But yeah, gorgeous art with very intense moments of drama!! Can't wait to read more!!!

🪩 splinterclan.tumblr.com @splinterclan // Artstyle is *chef kiss*, immaculate, very modern, I love the way they portray their character interactions it's always very believable.

🍄 https://www.tumblr.com/sporeclan @sporeclan // First of all how great is this Clan name --- Second, I found this blog throught the official Clangen blog, and fell in love with the way the artist composes her pages, it's beautifully done. Her colour palettes are also very pretty, and tho I'm not perfectly caught up with the intrigue I admit that I followed her when I saw the family tree she composed for her allegiances. Very efficient, beautiful, and the expressions are very cute.

🪷 @lotusclans-luck // This blog is kinda on hold right now but their artstyle is just a joy to watch, very delicious, I would eat it for breakfast everyday. Very 2D animation style, I can't wait to see more of their art in the future if they update it !

🐌 @snailstep-and-her-clan // The story here is really interesting, I love the main character, Snailstep, and her developement. Also, the character designs (I feel like I'm saying it about every blog ahahah) and colour palettes of this blog are so cute, unique, and original. I love when artists have fun with their palettes,, ugh...

🌿 @juniper-clan // This artist has been posting about his clan for almost a year now, and I LOVE how it evolved. It's very refined, the setting is unique and their characters have a beautiful depth that's a joy to explore. I can't wait to read more about Heronstar, she might be one of the characters I like the most out of all these blog listed. (With Snailstep)

🔊 loudclan-clangen.tumblr.com @loudclan-clangen // Very unique and interesting artstyle, designs are handeled with a lot of care and efficiency, you just can feel that the artist knows her characters on the tip of their fingers. Alos, character interactions / jokes are GOLD omg the writting is so good. I wanna be able to write such good dialogue that naturally (but the neurodivergence is holding me BACK fljgdjgs).

𓀒 fallenclan.tumblr.com @fallenclan // The story is immaculate and I can't wait to read more even tho there's so much lore that I know I won't be able to keep up entirely 🥹 But the artstyle is very efficient here as well and the character designs are very memorable. Once again, character interactions are on point and very natural, it's a pleasure for the eyes.

🦋 @the-blight-of-mothclan // Who doesn't love a good lineless artstyle ?! It's so pretty, and the soft colour palettes pleases my eyes a lot. Beautiful backgrounds also ! It must take so much time to paint those, couldn't be me 😭

And finally :

🎍 @black-buttercup-clangen // HUGE inspiration when it comes to palettes. I don't know how they manage to make their art so textured with such effective and "simple" (NOT derogatory, quite the opposite) details. The artstyle is SO effective and the colour palettes are just beautiful. Go check them all out they all deserve support and love <3 I hope I helped you discover some gem that you will like :D 🤌🏼 🎨 Also, for more discoveries, you should DEFINITELY check out @officialclangen - They often reblog some very interesting and cool blogs, that's how I came across a lot of these.