#YOU SAY TOO LATE TO START WITH YOUR HEART IN A HEADLOCK | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

hunnysnoops · 18 days ago

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˗ˋ𝕎𝕙𝕚𝕥𝕖 𝕋𝕖𝕖𝕥𝕙 𝕋𝕖𝕖𝕟𝕤ˊ˗

Chapter Fourteen: Headlock

Kyle Broflovski x fem reader

You say too late to start, with your heart in a headlock. You know you're better than this.

Also available on ao3 and Wattpad!

Premise: You and Kyle face a very necessary obstacle.

Warnings: Crude language and humour / not spell checked

MASTERLIST

.˙꩜°˖:*࿔ ☼ ࿔*:˖°꩜˙.

The second you arrive at the haunted house, you can see the unease creeping up on Kyle. His eyes flick nervously to the fog-drenched entrance, then back to you, his jaw tightening in that way it always does when he's stressed. You grab his arm and squeeze. It wasn't his idea to spend Halloween at a haunted house but still, you weren't fond of the idea of spending the same time at a party.

"Are you scared?" You ask bluntly. You don't wait for his answer—already dragging him forward, your excitement bubbling over as you push through the dark, creaking door.

"Why would I be scared?" He looks down at you, trying to maintain his cool.

You shrug "Because the last time we went, you had nightmares for weeks."

"I was ten," Kyle says, his voice flat and his face unimpressed.

"It's okay, buddy," You give him a pat on his bicep. Inside, it's even worse. The dim lights cast shadows across the walls, twisted and grotesque. You hear Kyle mutter a curse under his breath, his grip on your hand getting firmer.

In all honesty, you hadn't expected Kyle to be so on edge during the haunted house. The last time you spent a Halloween with him was when you were kids. He didn't seem off put on the ride there, it was when the ticket salesmen scared the both of you that his demeanour shifted.

"Just chill out," you snicker, glancing back at his pale face.

His eyes dart around, scanning the room like a deer caught in headlights, but you're having way too much fun with this. When a ghoul leaps out of the darkness, screeching right in his face, you can't help the laughter that bursts out of you. He yelps, stumbling back and nearly taking you down with him.

You tug him deeper into the dark halls, your footsteps echoing off the cracked, uneven floor. Kyle stumbles beside you, his breaths coming short and sharp. You can hear them, and feel the tension in every step he takes as he scans the walls for the next jump scare. It's almost comical, really. He's clinging to your arm like you're his lifeline, his eyes wide with barely contained panic.

Meanwhile, you're calm, barely blinking as another grotesque figure swings out of the shadows, inches from your face. A bloody, grinning mask stares you down, lips curled in a snarl. You tilt your head, almost bored, and brush past it like you're walking through a harmless fog.

"Seriously?" you whisper over your shoulder, glancing back at Kyle.

Kyle is frozen mid-step, eyes locked on the masked figure as if he's expecting it to come alive and lunge at him. You roll your eyes, yanking his arm to get him moving again. He jumps at your touch, then forces out a shaky laugh.

"Kyle, you're fine," You deadpan, a little less enthused the longer his fear persisted. He hardly even flinched watching horror movies, now he was almost in shambles.

Holding his hand, you lead him further down the dark corridor. Your fingers trace the walls as you walk, trailing over the cold, damp stone. It's cold in here, the kind of chill that seeps into your bones. You're pretty sure they're using it to set the mood, but it does nothing to faze you. Kyle, on the other hand, shivers beside you, huddling close like he's trying to soak up some of your warmth.

Another sharp turn, another scare—a mangled figure with distorted limbs and a hollow scream that reverberates down the hall. Kyle flinches violently, nearly jumping out of his skin. You can't help the laugh that slips out, your eyes gleaming with amusement as you look at him.

"Oh my god, Kyle, relax," Your face drops "You're actually pissing me off."

A bloodied corpse swings from the ceiling, suspended by a rope, its mouth hanging open in a silent scream. The sudden motion makes Kyle jolt for just a moment before he regains his composure.

You tilt your head to inspect the 'corpse' with a hint of curiosity. "Looks pretty realistic, though, right?"

Kyle lets out a strangled sound somewhere between a laugh and a groan. "Yeah, real realistic," he mutters, not daring to look at it for more than a second. He sidesteps around the swinging figure, eyes darting to the shadows.

When you notice Kyle's looking in the opposite direction, peaking at one of the decorations, you take the opportunity. Clamping your hands down on both of his shoulders from behind, you yell "Boo!" As expected, he flinches like he's just had knuckles cracked over his cheek and turns around to glare at you "You're scared? I've seen you yell at crackheads, that's scarier than this."

"You're not funny," He tells you, this time he's the one who takes your hand and leads you down.

You barely make it three more steps before another jumpscare hits—this time, the sound of chains clattering echoes through the hallway, followed by the sharp creak of a rusty door. Something big and hulking bursts out of the wall, a monstrous figure draped in tattered rags, its face twisted into a grotesque snarl. It's so close that you can almost smell the fake blood.

Kyle lets out a startled yell, flinging his arms out in pure panic.

It happens so fast- one second you're laughing at him, about to throw another snide comment his way, and the next, his forearm slams into your throat. Hard. The impact knocks the air out of your lungs, sending you stumbling back, clutching your neck as you gasp for breath.

Kyle's eyes widen in horror when he realizes what he's done. "Oh god! I—"

He doesn't even finish the sentence before you're doubled over, coughing, still trying to catch your breath. Your throat feels like it's been hit by a brick, and for a moment, you can't do anything but glare at him, your hand pressed against your neck.

"Seriously?" you manage to choke out, your voice strained and raspy. "What the fuck, Kyle?"

Kyle's face is a picture of wide-eyed panic, his hands fluttering awkwardly in the air as if he's not sure whether to try and help or just back away slowly. "I'm so sorry," He glances at the scare actor, still standing there in the corner, staring blankly at both of you like they're unsure whether or not to break character.

"Damn," The scare actor says after a long pause full of nothing but you choking and sputtering on the ground. They're wearing a grotesque mask, the hollow eyes staring through you, offering no sympathy. It's almost more unsettling than the jump scare itself.

Before Kyle can sputter out another apology, another actor dressed as a vampire sweeps out from behind a nearby curtain, his face painted messily white with little dribbles of fake blood around his mouth. He wore what you could see to be a cheap wig, pinned haphazardly onto his head . He doesn't make a sound, just glides over silently, his dark cloak billowing behind them. With dramatic flair, he twirls to show the flowing nature of his cape and he kneels down beside you, giving Kyle a side-eye so sharp it could cut through steel.

"Everything okay, madam?" the vampire asks, voice thick with a caricature of Dracula's accent. He offers you a hand, his fingers cool to the touch as they help you to your feet, while Kyle stands there helpless, still trying to process what just happened.

You give a weak nod, trying to shake off the stinging pain in your throat. "Yeah," you rasp, "just... he might be single after tonight." You shoot Kyle a look that's partially amused, mostly pissed off.

The vampire actor gives him a cold, disdainful once-over before turning back to you, his voice deepening with mock seriousness. "Vat happened to ze young lady?"

"She's okay," Kyle cuts in but the vampire swishes his hands in Kyle's direction as if he cast a spell of silence over him.

"I asked ze lady, not ze ogre," He says by, turning his attention toward you "Shall I dispose of him for you?" You thought his urge to stay in character equally parts odd and corny, though a small part of you thought it comical.

"I'll take care of him," You wave it off.

"Good luck on your venture, brave souls," The vampire swishes his cape, attempting to disappear back behind the curtain. You can almost hear the dramatic organ music that should be playing in the background. But then, something catches- his cape snags on a jagged piece of exposed brick sticking out from the wall.

His feet stumble beneath him, arms flailing as he tries to regain his balance. With a spectacularly un-vampiric grunt, he goes crashing to the floor, face-first into the dimly lit hallway.

You're the first to break the silence, a startled laugh bubbling out of you before you can stop it. "Are you okay?" you manage to call out between snickers, your hand flying to your mouth to hide your grin.

"Miles, dude," The scare actor in the rubber mask draws out, he sounds almost embarrassed for his coworker.

The vampire groans, sitting up slowly, his dignity shattered as he untangles his cape from the brick. He looks far less like a creature of the night and more like a regular guy who just tripped on the sidewalk.

The vampire shoots you both a look "I'm fine," he replies, his spooky accent gone and voice normal, he sounds like the average guy in Colorado. Trying to muster up some of that spooky charm again as he stands, dusting himself off. But the illusion is completely shattered now, and you can't stop laughing.

"Is your blood boiling?" You joke, it sounded funnier in your head but rings out as ill-mannered in the eery hallway.

The vampire just shakes his head, eyes narrowing slightly. "No. Just... beware the next hallway," he says, trying to reclaim a shred of his dark mystique as he slips back into character. But as he hobbles away, he's clearly done with the whole ordeal.

Kyle nudges you "You're mean."

"I know."

Your boyfriend watches where the vampire has retreated. It's clear he was set in line to scare you and he's not sure he can stomach another encounter with him. "Do you wanna keep-

"No, we're leaving."

.˙꩜°˖:*࿔ ☼ ࿔*:˖°꩜˙.

You sit cross-legged on the carpet, a textbook balanced precariously on your knee as Kyle flips through his notes, his brow furrowed in concentration. You're sprawled on the couch beside him, one arm draped lazily over the backrest. The late afternoon light filters through the blinds, catching the flecks of gold in his eyes when as he scans the pages.

"Are you done?" You ask, just a glimmer of something hopeful in your voice. Your boyfriend had spent the week pouring over academics and revising old notes like he was getting paid to do so. While all of your friends busied themselves with plans and left you in the dust, you let yourself sink. Let yourself decompose and go mush in the head. Like a zombie.

"No," Kyle didn't even look up, he scribbled something on his notepad and his lips fell to a close once again.

"Ugh," You groan out, leaning back and running your hands down your face.

His brows knit together, and his lips move slightly as he mumbles the same formula under his breath for the fifth time. You've been sitting here for over an hour, and he hasn't so much as glanced at you. It's maddening.

You didn't understand how he could go over something so many times without turning himself over to insanity.

The December air had cast every couple to flaunt their relationships online and here you are, fighting to capture your boyfriend's attention.

"So," you say casually, pulling yourself up until you are near him "What are you doing tonight?"

Kyle doesn't look up. "I dunno, probably taking a sleeping pill and going to bed."

"You should take like seventeen," You mutter under your breath though it doesn't fall on deaf ears.

"What?" He finally looks at you.

"Nothing," You smile. "You've been so busy. I just missed you this week."

"No, you didn't."

Your face drops "Do you want me to lie twice?"

He doesn't have a retort to your words but his face says more than enough "Dude, I just need to get this done and then we can do something."

"Wow, talking about our future like I'm not about to break up with you," You let out a long sigh and shook your head.

He was used to you saying egregious things along those lines, he had known you too long to be any different. At first, when you started dating, he would flip out while you just sat there with a cool smile across your face. Now he had grown accustomed to it or you had trained him as you would say.

"Yeah? Good luck doing better than me," His comebacks were never as good as yours.

"You can't be cocky and a ginger," You say, giving him a side-eye.

"Why not?"

"Ethan Slater," You cough into your fist like you are trying to cover up the comment.

"WHAT?"

You furrow your eyebrows "What?"

"Ethan Slater?" His eyes are fully on you now.

"Yeah, people have been saying that you remind them of him," You shrug.

It was like you were watching the colour drain from his face in real time, leaving his wild hazel eyes to stare at you in disbelief. "No, they didn't," His nose wrinkles "Who said that?"

"Like Wendy, Tolkien, Red, Mariah, Evan..." This was not true in the slightest.

"Why?" There is serious offence in his tone.

"Y'know, hair, eyes, stature, appearance in general. Some might say that you're the Ethan Slater of the relationship because I'm stunning, talented, and you're just kinda there."

His face falls deadpan "Are people actually comparing me to Ethan Slater?"

"No."

Kyle disengages like he's turned a switch off. This was beyond irritating, like a fork in a blender. You didn't want to let him know how much it grated you so you set your sights on broader horizons.

You've tried doodling in the margins of your binder, scrolling through your phone, and even practicing balancing your pen on your finger. Nothing holds your attention for long.

Then you glance at Kyle, his jaw set in that determined way he gets when he's in the zone and inspiration strikes like a body hung.

You grab a piece of loose-leaf paper from your stack, grinning to yourself as you begin sketching. You keep glancing at Kyle, stifling giggles as your pencil scratches across the page. You draw his sharp cheekbones and messy hair, exaggerating the way it falls over his freckled forehead. Then you add his broad shoulders—only to dramatically taper them into a massive, cartoonish belly.

A pregnant Kyle.

You look from the drawing to Kyle, quickly erasing his outfit and replacing it with a tank top and frilly shorts. You took extra attention to draw the sparkle of his eyes. "What if I drew you but pregnant?"

"Uh- don't?" He furrows his brows.

"Why though?"

"That feels like a violation."

With a smug smile, you turn the paper and slowly push it towards him.

"That's me?"

"Yeah," you reply, straight-faced. "You're glowing."

"Glowing?" he repeats, his voice rising an octave. He gestures wildly at the paper, at a loss for words, his face rapidly turning red. "Why am I—why am I pregnant?!"

"Well, what makes you think I would be the one in this relationship to get pregnant?"

He stares at you blankly and the silence stretches over mountains and valleys. It felt like the whole world went silent for a moment. "Oh god," He mutters but he isn't able to pull his eyes from the beautifully strange drawing.

The oddness of it all was captivating despite the grotesque sight.

Kyle is still holding the drawing like it's the single most appalling thing he's ever seen. His face is a riot of disbelief and indignation, his free hand running into his curls as he rambles.

"Why? This is just so demeaning. I don't even—what is this? Some kind of—"

"Kyle."

"—inside joke, you didn't let me in on? Because I swear—"

"Kyle."

"—if this ends up online, I'll—"

"Kyle!"

He finally looks at you, his mouth still halfway open to continue his tirade. You're biting back a laugh, your eyes sparkling with amusement sparked by the simmer of animosity.

"What?" he snaps, though there's no real heat in his voice.

You don't answer. Instead, you lean forward, grabbing the front of his shirt to tug him closer and kiss him.

The rant dies instantly, his words replaced by a sharp inhale as his lips press against yours. It's soft at first, like he's still stunned, but then his hand finds your waist, and he tilts his head, deepening the kiss. The paper—the ridiculous drawing—is forgotten, fluttering to the floor between you.

"WHAT?"

The both of you snap your heads up to find the source of the sound. There stands Weston and Ike looking horrified as ever in the doorway. Their faces contorted into snarls, eyes wide and bewildered.

"I was joking about them having sex, I wasn't serious!" Ike's hands are gripping the hair on his head, he looks ready to pull it out.

"Oh, great, you manifestered this!" Weston slaps the back of his friend's head ever so lightly. His word choice was a tad off but the message still got through.

"No- no one's having sex," Kyle stands from the couch immediately.

"Why did you kiss my sister?!" Weston's voice rises.

"I'm not your sister," You say abruptly, scrambling to cover your face with a pillow "It's Peter Parker."

Weston's hands clench at his side, teeth gritted before he sticks a finger pointedly at the pair of you "I'm not falling for that again!" It wasn't often that you had really truly seen your brother angry, it startled you. "I asked you—both of you—a million times if there was something going on, and you were all like, 'Oh, no, Weston, you're crazy!' But you've been sneaking around behind my back! And now you're—kissing! On my couch!"

"This is not your couch," you mumble, wincing when Weston shoots you a glare that could melt steel.

"With Grandpa watching?!" He gestures angrily to the photo of your deceased grandfather that resided on the mantle.

"Why are you mad?" You look at him from the couch where he seethes by the coat rack, his friend shying away behind him.

"Wha-why-WHY AM I MAD?"

"Weston, you're scaring me," Ike's brows draw together in concern, he slinks away, shutting the door and awkwardly taking off his shoes.

"I DON'T CARE!" He flings his arms up "THIS IS NOT OKAY AND I'M TELLING MOM!"

"No-no-no, wait." You put your hands up "Don't tell her or dad, I'll pay you."

"Fifty dollars," He says, firm.

"Aw, never mind, you can tell her. I'm not giving you fifty bones."

Weston rummages in his pocket, pulling out his phone he taps around and you watch him with confusion until you hear the dial tone and it hits you. You hurdle yourself over the couch, socks sliding against the hardwood, almost tripping you up.

"Weston!" you shout, grabbing at his arm. He twists away, clutching the phone to his chest like it's the answer to world peace.

"This is justice!" he declares, trying to wriggle out of your grip.

"Justice?!" you scoff, reaching for the phone. "Give it to me!"

"No!" Weston twists again, but you manage to grab hold of his wrist. The two of you spin around in such a way that it frightens the brothers watching you. While the two of them fought like brothers, the age gap stopped them from getting too into it. Your morals were however not set above hitting a pre-teen.

"Let go, Weston!" you demand, tugging at his arm with all your strength.

"Never!" he shouts, his voice going high-pitched. In a desperate attempt to escape, he leans forward and bites your arm.

"OW! You fucking rat!" you yelp, recoiling for a moment before narrowing your eyes. You bop him on the top of his head

You throw yourself at him with all the grace of a linebacker, tackling him onto the floor. The phone slips from his hand, skidding across the floorboards, but before you can grab it, Weston wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you back.

"Not so fast!" he yells, his legs kicking wildly as the two of you wrestle.

You put your entire hand over his face, keeping him away from you. You can hear his muffled threats beneath your palm as you use your other hand to reach for the phone. The moment you make contact with it, a wet slobbery sensation spreads across your palm.

"EW!" You revoke your hand away from Weston, balling it up and cracking him in the nose.

"MY NOSE!" He shouts, hands dropping from you and moving to cradle his nose as he stumbles to his feet.

"How do you like it?!" You reach for the phone, collecting it into your hand only to drop it as Weston kicks you in the stomach at full force.

"Stop and let's talk about this!" Kyle made the mistake of trying to interrupt you two.

"SHUT THE FUCK UP, KYLE!" The two of you screech in sync.

Weston bends down, grabbing to phone and redialing your mother. You grab. his leg and pull him back down, he lands harshly, his face smacking against the floor. You waste no time in clamouring on top of him. Weston tries to wriggle out from under you, but you hook your arm around his neck and haul him into a headlock.

"Get off me, hippo!" He shouts, short-breathed.

"HIPPO?" You tighten the headlock until he's flailing helplessly.

"Get used to this, you'll be part of the family soon," He says to Kyle but the words murmur out with the croak of his throat.

The door suddenly opens with a sharp creak, and you freeze. Weston uses your hesitation to slip free, collapsing onto the floor and scrambling to his feet.

"Oh my God," your mom's voice cuts through the chaos like a knife. Ike and Kyle look nervously at one another and then your parents, anticipating a long talking to from their mother.

Your parents stand in the doorway, shopping bags in hand, their expressions a mixture of confusion and concern.

"MOM!" Weston shouts "Kyle and-

Your hands thought faster than your head and you swiftly chop him in the throat before he can finish his sentence. Like a fish thrown out of the water, Weston gulps at the air like he's trying to drink it in. Heat gathers in his face, eyes wide as he clutches at his throat, coughing on nothing.

He chokes and sputters, spinning himself in a circle for no other reason aside from dramatics. Your mom drops the groceries to the ground, arms out like she's ready to catch Weston if he hobbles in her direction.

Weston spits out a string of words that fall incoherent to everyone's ears "What?" Your dad raises a brow.

"Kyle!" He manages between gulps of air.

"What about Kyle?" Your dad asks.

"Kissed... Kyle..."

"YOU KISSED KYLE?" Your mom asks, her eyes widening in horror at her son.

Everyone looks equal parts horrified at the misconstrued claim. Your hand slaps over your mouth as you look at Kyle who is petrified like stone, frozen in place by terror. Without much thought, you finally say "No, I kissed Kyle."

.˙꩜°˖:*࿔ ☼ ࿔*:˖°꩜˙.

The air in the living room is thick with tension as you and Kyle sit side by side on the couch, your knees barely brushing. Your parents sit opposite you, their expressions a mixture of stern and concerned. Weston is nowhere in sight—likely upstairs revelling in the chaos he unleashed.

You don't anticipate a quick conversation so you brace yourself for what could be the worst of the worst.

Your mom clears her throat, breaking the silence. "Alright, let's start with this: How long has this been going on?"

You exchange a nervous glance with Kyle before you answer. "A few months," you admit, your voice barely above a whisper.

"A few months?" your dad repeats, his eyebrows shooting up. "And you didn't think to tell us?"

"We weren't trying to hide it...exactly," Kyle interjects, his voice steady but cautious. "We just wanted to make sure we were serious before involving everyone else."

Your mom crosses her arms, her gaze sharp. "And now? Are you serious?"

Kyle looks at you, his eyes softening. "Yes. I care about her a lot."

The three of them look at you expectantly and you pause. "Uh- yeah."

Your dad leans back in his chair, exhaling a heavy sigh. "You should have brought it up earlier. Kyle, you know I love you like a son—we're not saying you can't date. But lying, or avoiding the truth, isn't the foundation of anything healthy."

You realized then, looking at your boyfriend, that his rigid posture and unwavering eye contact seemed to be the ideal boyfriend. And you knew with your lying, sneaking around and everything else that you were not the ideal girlfriend.

Your mom's expression softens, though her voice remains firm. "This isn't just about honesty with us. Relationships take work, and they take communication—both with each other and with the people in your lives. Do you two understand that?"

"Yes, ma'am," Kyle says, his tone earnest.

"And Kyle, I know you don't take this stuff lightly but you," Your dad shifts his eyes to you "Are you serious about this?"

"What?" The question caught you off guard.

"No, your father's right. This isn't some random boy, this is Kyle. There is more at stake here than just your relationship." Your mother crosses her arms, cooly.

"I-what- that's pretty loaded," You try to laugh but it comes out forced and awkward.

"Maybe you should've thought about that before sneaking around with a family friend," Your dad adds. He rests his hands on his knees, lips pressed in a thin line.

Your mom sighed, leaning back in her chair. "Sweetheart, you've always been impulsive. You don't think things through, and you're...well, not exactly known for taking anything seriously."

"That's not true." You furrow your eyebrows, sitting up straighter.

"Really?" your dad countered. "Because I seem to remember how you treated your last relationship and the one before that."

"That's different! Those guys weren't—"

"Weren't Kyle?" your mom finished for you, her tone skeptical. "We know that. But the pattern here isn't them, it's you."

You opened your mouth to argue but snapped it shut, frustration bubbling under your skin. They had backed you into a corner. Kyle scratches the back of his neck sheepishly, unsure whether to speak or shrink into himself.

"If this goes south because you can't take it seriously-

"I take this seriously!' You cut her off "I'm not like that anymore or I'm trying not to at the very least, is that okay?"

The living room had grown uncomfortably quiet after your parents' last comments. The room had fallen still with silence until Weston and Ike's chatter flittered its way down the halls and filled the backdrop.

"Noted." Your mom cleared her throat, her expression a careful mixture of seriousness and sympathy. "Now that we know you're not just friends, there are going to be some changes."

"What?" You already felt defensive.

Your dad nodded. "What was appropriate before isn't anymore. You two aren't kids playing around in the backyard—this is a relationship. There are boundaries that need to be respected."

Kyle stiffened slightly beside you, but his voice remained steady. "We understand, sir. We'll respect whatever rules you set."

Your mom gave him a small nod of approval. "Good. For starters, no more hanging out in bedrooms, doors closed or otherwise. If you're here, you stay in common areas where we can see you. The same goes for our house and your parents' house."

"What?" you exclaimed, leaning forward. "You're kidding. We're not—"

"Stop," your dad interrupted, holding up a hand. "We're not saying you're doing anything inappropriate. But these rules are about avoiding any situation where trust could be compromised. It's not up for debate."

Never had you seen both of your parents so serious. You remembered back in middle school how you had gotten suspended for spraying perfume in someone's mouth, even speaking to the principal they seemed part uninterested and part on the edge of their seats to lead. Now they spoke with so much gravity you thought you might suffocate.

Your mom hesitated, glancing at your dad before continuing, her tone softer but no less serious. "And there's another thing we need to talk about."

You already didn't like where this was going.

"Relationships like this come with responsibilities," she said carefully.

"Like Spider-Man," Your dad chimes in.

Her eyes flick between you and Kyle. "If things...progress between you two, we need to know that you're being safe. Using protection."

"Mom!" you blurted, your face heating up like a furnace. "Holy shit! Please stop."

Your mom held up her hand, her expression calm but firm. "This is serious, and it's something you need to hear."

Kyle's ears were practically glowing red, and he looked like he wanted to sink into the couch and disappear. "We're not—we haven't—"

"And we'd like to keep it that way for now," your mom interjected, her voice pointed. "But if things change, you need to be prepared. We're not stupid, and we're not going to pretend it's not a possibility."

You held up both hands as if physically stopping the conversation could make it go away. "Okay! Enough! We get it. Can we just please not, I beg of you." You clasp your hands together like you're praying for your life.

"Okay, just please tell me if something were to happen and you need contraception or if-

"OKAY." You burrow your face into your hands "Yes, okay, sure, fine, I'll keep you posted."

"One last thing," Your dad adds, catching your attention. "We need to have a talk with Gerald and Sheila."

"Oh my god," You mutter.