#by the same shit that makes me want to claw my body open and rip this thing out bare handed

[unforth]

Real talk, like, is there any system for pairing unwanted uteruses (uteri???) with trans girls in need?

Cause I would kindly like to yeet this fucker to the moon. It could be like:

Free Uterus Available!

Age: 40 Condition: Used (two pregnancies) Description: This kind and caring uterus has seen it's current owner through many times, good and bad, and the owner is no longer prepared to put in the work to maintain this uterus like it deserves! Now, it's looking for a new forever home! ~u.w.u~

Like seriously. I will pay you to take this fucker away.

[dawnwriterimagines]

Sunny Days

SIMON 'GHOST' RILEY x FEM!READER TASK FORCE 141 x PLATONIC!FEM!READER The END of the BEGINNING

Traitors Among Us Masterlist

Summary: While leaving Task Force 141, you finally encounter Price, you encounter your team, and share a final goodbye.

If you liked this would you Buy me a Coffee?

---

Was it fair?

That they'd get away with it...

Was it fair?

Every step felt like splinters...

That your body would never be the same...

Was it fair?

They'd only receive an extended period of service, a delayed deployment for their crimes against you...

Was it fair?

Nothing would be done...

You'd receive no real justice...

Was it fair...

That you were losing your fucking mind...

Moments ago, you'd been a tangled mess in your dormitory, alone in this overwhelming storm of emotion.

Clawing your skin raw in the corner of your room, unable to touch another piece of your life in this place, it burned and screamed with their memories, moments you'd be forced to hold onto.

Every bitter thought was loud, gnawing at the tender mass of your brain, sending painful bursts through your skin. Shaking, sweating through your shirt, every sob that rips through your throat is guttural, muscles locked with tension.

Nails biting through to your flesh, you dig in uncontrollably, trying to get rid of the ache with nothing in your life now to brace against or hold onto.

Maybe that's how you found yourself here...

.

.

.

Price had to be seeing things.

At first, he had felt it, the sudden weight of someone's presence looming over him, like a storm about to break apart and take hold of him. His eyes spring open fast, but not faster than his hand that extends to the underbelly of his desk, reaching for the gun that should've been strapped to the bottom.

He finds the holster empty.

As his eyes adjust to the dark, he sees the white of your eyes first, in the darkness of his room. Eyes that pierce into his own, suddenly he can't move, can't look away. Like an animal lurking in the dark, your eyes illuminate as you've found your prey.

How you stand unmoving at the foot of the bed, you give him nothing...not a blink, not a breath, not a move, until he opens his mouth.

But, he can't speak. He's frozen.

Though, he wanted to speak, to apologize, to explain, to confess the sins that have brought such a moment upon them. But, the words catch in his throat, he's lost it, every possible admission of his guilty conscious dies on his tongue.

What could he possibly say to make any of it right?

"I trusted you..." he stiffened, as you spoke in a whisper. Your voice a startling contrast to the previous silence of the room. "More than anyone I'd ever known up till Simon. I trusted...you."

Your foot comes up, bringing yourself up and over the end of the bed and onto his mattress, he can hear the light screech of your metal brace as you stand tall over him. In your hand, the pistol that had been missing from his bedside holster.

"You taught me what family was. What it could be..." you said, speaking plainly. "You taught me how to survive out there, find my place on the team..." you spoke quietly, allowing him the melancholy calm of your storm. "I would've never made it this far without you to push me, really."

Price says nothing, he can't, he's frozen, laying still as you right yourself along his mattress, your boots digging down and into the springs.

"You were the only semblance of a father in my life that I thought really loved me. The one that when everything went wrong...would still be there when I got low. Or when it all became too much," you admitted, slowly. "I told you so much shit. I told you about my life, my family, god, I even told you the things that haunt me still," And finally, he could see your eyes drop and blink, the glint in your eyes disappear for only a second before opening again, this time it's brighter, narrowed and angry. "And you'd act like you understood. Like you wanted to help, that you'd be there....and yet you..."

Your breath is sharp, your eyes filled with so much pain and anger, it’s overwhelming as you surge down and onto him. Finally, unleashing the violent wave of the betrayal you've felt, the rage that has brought you to him. "You!"

You push him down, hand grabbing at his jaw and nails biting into his skin, "I realized that wasn't who you really were..." you suck in a shivering breath, digging into his skin with every word. "I should've never...I should've just kept you far. Kept you at who you were to me. Captain. John. Price..."

His face swings to the side, his cheekbone burns red hot suddenly, he can already taste blood in his mouth as you raise the heel of the pistol you had just brought down on his face.

"You're a liar, you're sad and pathetic and scared of everything under the fucking sun because of course--" you seethed, "I had to be the traitor, right! It had to be me. ME. The one that came to you about everything, risked my life to protect you, dragged you out of the fucking depths!" You sneered. "The one that NEVER would've let anyone convict you without making them regret even thinking about it first!"

"I wanted to believe..." A maddening, howling laugh, tortured as you threw your head back with tears in your eyes left your throat. "I wanted to believe that you were pushed to do it, that you were fighting for me out there while you ripped me apart."

"But, the lie was so simple for you to just take all my trust in you and let it fall away," you brought him in as you cried, fists shaking in your anger, burning so hot you could barely breathe. "you didn't even hesitate to throw me away like it all meant nothing! Stripped me down, took the air from my lungs and left me in the dark for days, for weeks! You wanted to fucking KILL MEEE!"

You balled up his shirt in your fists as you screamed, enraged, eyes shot red and tears that poured down to his face so fast he could taste them. Price's eyes were bulged wide, his horror and the overwhelm of his mistakes and his current situation told by the pour of his own tears that shed like a river.

The two of you were a mirror for only a moment, staring at the other, expressions polar opposites but eyes a blistering hue of red as you both cried for the destruction of your love for one another, the daughter he'd taken under his wing and abandoned under the same.

Who was he to deny you this...

And then you bring the gun down on his head, using it like a pair of gloves as you strike him again and again hoping to god that he could feel every single hit to its fullest. The clink and shift of the pistol in your hand with every shuttering strike, you feel the blood that coats your fingers, flowing out of his nose, out of his mouth.

Still, Price says nothing, allowing his hands to stay glued down to the mattress, holding down the instinct to stop before it goes too far, but they've both passed that point. He's done worse to you, you deserve this much at least, this he can give to you, this he can allow.

He doesn't even know when he can't find the energy to bring his hands up to stop you.

And soon, finally, you stop.

Huffing wildly, face stained red, the underside of your nails filled with the torn skin of his flesh.

Looking up to the ceiling, you stare at the chipping paint for a while as Price coughs with a choke, taking another breath that strains wetly, he shifts uncomfortably and gurgles beneath you. His head going to the side to let the blood that had begun to pool in his mouth dribble out and soak into the sheets of his mattress.

"I was so afraid..." you breathe in. "...to see you. All this time, I was so afraid of you, John..." you sigh, your eyes sting, you realize, but it's different from tears, it feels like blood, as it crusts around your eye lids. "But, I realize now, I was just afraid of what I'd do to you if I saw you again..."

Price couldn't speak, instead he moaned from the pain blossoming across his face, a terrible migraine that had emerged from a broken nose and a shattered cheekbone, a tooth that had lodged into his wind pipe after swallowing it during your onslaught.

He couldn't see. Not just due to the dark but also the swelling in his face that squeezed his eyes shut and let not even a crack of light in for his pleasure.

His breathing having turned heavy and his hands pulled up and onto your forearm, unwittingly going for the only person around to anchor him away from the pain.

"I loved you, John," you confessed, quietly, to the deflated man. "Did you love me?"

He huffs out a heavy breath, opening his red stained mouth as you pull out of his grip. "...Always--th..." he spits out a bloody glob, sucking in a breath. "That hasn't...changed..."

"Captain!"

"John, you alright in there?"

"Price!"

Maybe you had ignored the knocking, the pounding, that had begun in the middle of you beating down on your former captain, the voices you could recognize as your former team.

The noise finally having pulled them all out of their slumber and toward the other side of the dormitory.

Shifting your weight to the side, laying next to your captain for a moment, lifting yourself off of him and to the side. As you listened to him wheeze and your team shift the door handle before starting to force their entire weight into the doorway.

You sit up, facing away from Price, "I--love you, kid..."

"If you do," you sighed as you sat on the edge of the bed, waiting for the remaining members of your delegated Task Force to break through the door to get to you both. "If you really do. Then, god, your love is shit."

You laughed just a little, the first in a while.

Staring down at the pistol you held in your grip still, the light from under the doorway illuminates it enough for you to see the drop of blood that falls from the metal before the door swings open.

Light coming in as fiercely as the sun, the light that pulls Price's attention to the doorway, and illuminates both bloody figures settled on the mattress in the corner of the room.

"CAPTAIN!"

As they race in, pushing open the door, determined to stop the noise and put an end to anyone that's made their way here to snuff out their captain. They lock eyes with you, putting them to a stop.

They stand there, eyes wide, frozen in place as they take in the scene you've strung out for them to see.

The chaos.

The anger.

The blood staining the curtains, the trinkets, the face of their disfigured captain.

The broken trust made all too real.

Their feet don’t move. Their bodies, once in motion, are now rigid, locked in place. They’ve seen enough. They don’t need to look any further.

They just stand there, like shadows in the doorway, helpless but not innocent. Their guilt hangs in the air, palpable, and it's goddamn suffocating.

For the first time, you can look at them all, each and every one of them.

Kyle.

Johnny.

Your Simon.

And finally, your fears are gone, maybe it's the blood on your hands, maybe its the predicament they've all found themselves in, maybe it's the journey and the madness that's drove you this far already.

Whatever it was...took it all.

All but one thing.

You wished to feel nothing.

But, the rage still stays.

That...isn't going anywhere.

"Look at us, what a team," you managed a smile, letting loose a breathless laugh. "Together again, huh."

Price's blood even stains your teeth.

---

You leave freely in the morning.

Price presses no charges. He practically says nothing, this time accounting only of your innocence, ironic.

The one time you did do something...

Johnny offers to help with your bags, you hand him only one thing: the knife that should've pierced his heart the day he had confronted you.

Kyle meets you at the entrance of the dormitory, offering you a simple thing, a jacket, it's fresh, new. It's not his this time. "It's cold on the ride out, I just wanted to make sure..." he spoke, quietly. His movements slow, careful, as if not to startle you.

You just stare at him, eyes shifting from the gift back to him, hands kept close at your sides still. "Keep it. I think you'll be seeing colder days than I ever will again..." you declined.

His lips pressing together as you reject it, walking past him and into the vehicle, lifting your bag onto your shoulder before halting.

"And Simon?" You wondered aloud, out of curiosity.

Kyle swallows, briefly. "Somewhere around here," he reveals. "He wasn't sure if..." you wanted to see him.

He was right. You didn't.

You stand still though, waiting, Kyle thinks. But, then you take the passenger handle and pull yourself into the vehicle.

"I'm sorry, (y/n)," Kyle says, quickly. Face burning hot with the turmoil going through him, as he sadly watches as you depart from him, from the family all of you had built together. "I really am. More than anything."

You only adjust your bag across your thighs as the driver starts the engine, it roars to life before slowly pulling off. You give him nothing, not a word.

"(Y/n), please..."

As the car pulls from view, Kyle wipes his face, turning away from the vehicle, shoving his hands into his pockets before walking back into the dormitory. Shoving his way past Simon, "Give it up, Ghost, she's gone," Kyle grits out, bitterly, sniffling shortly at his lieutenant stares silently as his ex-fiancé leaves her life behind, leaves him behind.

Simon takes short, numb steps out into the sun, watching as the car exits the roundabout, pulling away as he can see you face once again. Your eyes meet for a final time, his mask is gone, he's just Simon Riley once more, he continues to walk as the car drives, hoping to catch the final remains of your presence here.

He watches and watches as the car drives into the distance, and he doesn't look away even as vehicle disappears at the horizon, driving down into the sunny day.

And as you breathe evenly for the first time in weeks, in months, a tear falling from your eye but wiped away to look to the sky. The clouds pulling away to reveal the beating sun, the rays giving a warmth you haven't felt for months. Reaching out, you let the gentle breeze run through your fingers and carry you away from this place.

Simon falls to his knees, hands clutching at the ache in his body, at the pain in his chest, at the mistakes he's made, at the ring he'd found at his door this morning. The one you had left behind. The one he had ripped off your finger the moment he'd doubted you.

He bawled, a guttural sound, in the middle of the street.

What a mistake he had made.

He wanted to scream, he wanted to shout, he wanted to take it all back.

But, most of all, he wanted to tell you over and over again:

"I"M SORRY!" he wanted to beg.

"PLEASE!" he wanted to hold you.

"DON'T LEAVE ME, GOD, (Y/N)!"

But, he could only claw at the gravel that stabbed through his uniform, that punished him for mourning so late, for letting her go, for not believing in her sooner, for not doubting the evidence that told such a blatant lie.

He could do nothing now.

It was too late.

Simon kneeled in the street, in the sun, he cried.

If you liked this would you Buy me a Coffee?

Just reminding everyone, the journey isn't over! We've still got a few endings to go.

[dragonmonstermilk]

I'm soon normal for Aventurine and Childes boss forms, I swear🙂

Mean Aventurine and Childe Boss forms fucking an unfortunate secretary/+ assassin as a reward for doing so well!

(Threesome, like I said, so normal for both of them, I swear😃)

Anon, you're so right. I've been obsessed with Foul Legacy Childe since i've been playing genshin ! He's just so big that it makes my size difference kink CRAZY! And Aventurine boss form? Lord have some mercy on me because I love how cunty it is + size difference here too. Tbh??? A dream to be sandwiched between them!

Bosses reward

Thanks to anon to they request! This was my first time writing a 3some so sorry if some things aren't quite clear! I really hope you enjoy it though !

tw: threesome, dubcon, bossform!Aventurine × Foul Legacy!Childe x hiddenidentity!Reader (formal IPC secretary but works as an assasin), gn!reader, slight choking, lots of cum, cumming inside, mention of public sex

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧*ੈ✩‧₊˚༘⋆࿐ ࿔*:･ﾟ

Your mission was finished. The target that your bosses needeed you to eliminate now was gone. You sighed of relief, using your hand to swat way some sweat mixed with blood. You didn't really want to kill him but he was talking some nonsense shit and wasn't being rational, at all. You would have, gladly, saved his life but he preferred death.

As your footsteps echoed through the empty and long hallway you soon arrived to your bosses door. Taking a big breath you pushed the door open and saw them in their monster form: Foul Legacy Childe and Aventurine of Stratagems. The two of them seemed too busy to show off each other's strength, so you thought it was better if you came later. As you were to go away, Childe grabbed your hand and with a swift move took you in between his arms, both of you levitating in the air.

"That's how you wanna play, Childe?" asked Aventurine, a tone lower than his usual voice. Childe huffed, and keeping his eyes on Aventurine, he circled your nipple with the tip of his pointy finger while the other hand was on your neck, applying a slight pressure. You gasped, your eyes searching Aventurine's ones. Childe continued to circle your nipple, whispering sweet nothing into your ear. Aventurine got closer, your body shaking from the fear.

"Ow, poor little one. Why are you shacking?" mocked you Aventurine, twirling a strand of your hair, making you feel embarrassed. Childe still tortured your nipple, now teasing the other one as the hand on your neck was now in between your legs. Aventurine opened yours legs, him too levitating in the air.

"N-no, wait, please..." you begged, your voice cracking and eyes teary. You didn't want this! Why they were doing this to you? If they had some business between them, well, it's their problem!

Aventurine gripped you chin "Be a good pet and let us use you, mh?" His tone intimidating. You nodded in fear, afraid of what they could have done to you.

Childe licked your ear, his forked tongue making you shiver. Childe chuckled as he ripped of your pants. You instantly tried to close your legs but Aventurine was holding your ankles. You couldn't move, no matter what you did.

You were scared but at the same time it was all so exciting. Both Aventurine and Childe laughed as they felt your wetness. "You're so ready for us, little one" said Childe, talking as if you weren't right there, trapped in between these enormous monsters.

Still levitating from the ground, you could see the shape of Aventurine's cock, feeling Childe's one. You swear they were so big that worried how could they fit inside you or in any of your body parts. While you were in trance Aventurine was touching your sensitive area, circling your neediest point, even using the tip of his clawed fingers. Your moans bought you back to reality. None of them really spoke, too busy to make you feel good. Childe was leaving a trail of wet kisses and hickeys on you neck. Aventurine made sure your legs were spread enough to him.

Childe looked down, seeing your pretty hole clenching around nothing. "My, my, you sure are excited about this, aren't you?" teased Childe, his cock throbbing. Aventurine stroked his cock, leaking precum and you felt yourself clenching a few times, salivating at his size. Withouth warning Aventurine pushed himself inside you. You arched you back, gasping at the feeling of the stretch, pain and pleasure mixing it together, again.

A few tears came down your cheeks as Childe pumped his cock, taking then your hand. "Jerk me off" he said, his tone even lower than Aventurine's ones. You nodded, hand pumping down his shaft, squeezing his tip as his precum fell down his cock and on your hand, "Good pet, that's it. So nhgg good". Your moans and Aventurine's and Childe's groans filled the room. You cried out when you felt both Aventurine's and Childe's claws sinking into your skin, both of them going faster and faster with their thrusts.

"C-cumming!" You screamed, Aventurine pounding hard into you, touching your deepest spot. You were seeying the stars and didn't care about anything. The door was still open and you didn't care if everyone who passed could hear all of your moans and cries. You squeezed Aventurine's cock, cumming all around it.

"F-fuck, yes, that's it baby, squeeze me like that. I'm going to fill you up so good" moaned Aventurine, his thrusts becoming sloppy as he came inside you. You bited your lips, feeling all of his warm seed inside you. Childe thrusts came to an end too, his cum spurting all over your hand and on your sides.

You were all spent up, so much that they became humans again. The tree of you now laying naked on the ground, taking deep breaths. You closed your eyes, too tired to start a conversation with them. Childe and Aventurine looked at each other and then looked down at you, caressing your sleepy face. Then, the two guys kissed your cheeks.

"Have a good sleep" whispered them in unison before closing their eyes and falling asleep on your chest.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧*ੈ✩‧₊˚༘⋆࿐ ࿔*:･ﾟ

[scifigirlsblog]

Yautja Wolf x Reader (Part One)

Summary- Wolf found you in an xemomorph nest about to be used as an incubator and saw you fighting to survive. Wolf fights the xemomorph to get his trophy but he took you as his main prize but only to find you are his life mate 😩❤️

Two Part story??

Warnings- Dub-con! Shaken Reader! Gore, Blood!Etc!!!

Reader POV-

Five days I've been locked in this dark, cold, smelly and wet place after being taken by a black creature and I hear screaming of other people who it's taken and then I hear nothing only the creatures screeching, hissing and it's clawed footsteps as it walks by.

I'm counting my days as I fear no one is coming to save me. I got no family waiting for me and I'm not going to be missed by anyone so a rescue is going to seem unlikely and I am just gonna end up dead at the hands of this monster that's stolen me from I guess from an empty existence.

Suddenly it seems to be my turn and it comes for me but I decide to fight back as I'm not dying screaming. I slowly stand up and grab a hard metal pole and hold it in my hands as the door opens up and it steps inside and hisses at me and tries to grab me.

I swung my weapon smacking it on the side of the head distorting it and I ran holding the metal bar the whole place was covered in the same thing that place I was just in and there were dead bodies everywhere of women and some men. I gagged at the sight of them and kept running sorry but I can't help the dead no offence!

I got down to a corridor when I heard hissing." Shit shit shit," I muttered running off when I felt a spiky black spear like tail grab me whipping me back into the nest area and pins me within its vines.

The xemomorph-

I tried to get out of the vines which I did with my arms but my legs and feet were trapped in the gunk and tight vines. I tried to lift my feet up but no prevailing when I saw the creature coming towards me and placed an egg in front of me which opened up and a spider creature come out.

It came flying at me and I grabbed it stopping it from entering my mouth." Get off!!" I shouted as the other creature softly touched my clit trying to cause me to relax and moan.

I was trying to resist and push him away when the spider like creature whips it's tail around my neck making me gasp and it forced its way down my throat and I grabbed it to push it off my face when it's grip got tighter on my neck and face.

The other creature pulls me out of the gunk and puts me on the floor and I feel it in between my legs and I felt something going towards my vagina and I kicked out making it screech at me and I used all my energy to get the spider like creature off me before it could do what it wanted to.

I stabbed it with a sharp object I found causing it to let go and off my face and I stomped out it till it died. The other creature stood there looking at me and ran at me and I'm trying to fight him off when I see a shadow of another creature different to this one.

I grabbed my metal bar again hitting it across the head and I got thrown across the room. That's when this other creature made its presence known and fought with the black creature and won by ripping its head off its body. The creature showed itself and roared as if it was celebrating a win before making its way over to me.

It pressed its device on its arms as he looked at me." I am Wolf elite warrior of the Yautja race. I have won the battle for you and I am taking you with me to my home planet," The device spoke to me and I looked at him." What? No way am I going to another Alien's planet so you can do what this one tried to do with me!" I said firmly.

"I won and I'm claiming my prize which is you," The device spoke again and I looked at him." Show me your face now!" I demanded and he takes his mask off and stands up.

I could see he was at a greater height to me and had four arthropod-like mandibles and long, hair-like appendages on his heads that are set into his skull." You are to come with me, you are my life time mate and I've just proved I'm a good mate for you I'm strong," Wolf spoke to me again.

I was thinking about going as I didn't have anything left on earth," if I come with you will that happen to me the moment I set foot on your planet?" I questioned." No we don't do that, the black creature was an xemomorph a parasitic race and the spider creature is a facehugger," Wolf explains

"So you don't force people to carry your young and let them die?" I asked again and he shook his head." No we have them the traditional way but with my kind it's a fight for sex prove you are strong and if you are the female will want to have your pups," Wolf spoke and I scoff lightly." I hope you don't think you're fighting me, you'd skin me alive mate with all the weapons and the knives," I states.

"if you have a mate then it's not a fight as it's a natural choice to mate with one another. We must go as human soldiers are coming," Wolf says walking off and I followed after him when I got grabbed by older men.

"Seems the little pet didn't get this one as he's dead but we can have her instead," a wicked German soldier appears and he kisses me." Get off me you Nazi bastard!" I yelled spitting in his face and I punched him which backfires on me as he orders his men to pin me to the ground.

I felt a man on my legs as the other men sat on my arms." Get off me!!!"I screamed and I see a familiar figure going back invisible but I can see him putting his finger to his lips as he strikes killing the three pathetic soldiers with ease as the leader comes back.

"Ah the Yautja Warrior I was wondering when you'd come back for her. We saw you and now you're mine," he says grabbing me putting his gun to my head and Wolf steps forward." Ah! If you want her win her from me," The Nazi leader spoke and Wolf nods showing himself.

The leader chained me to the slimy walls." You win you can have her. If you lose you accept your fate and become my weapon and she becomes mine," The Nazi leader smirks and Wolf snarls at that but accepts the challenge anyways.

I couldn't help but watch as Wolf was an impressive warrior and was strong as the fight lasted three seconds as the Nazi leader was no match for Wolf who easily killed the snug bastard and ripped his head off his body spine attached. Wolf made his way over to me unchained me and hands me the now just a skull and spine of the Nazi leader.

"You want my approval to court me?" I wondered softly and Wolf nodded in response." Yes with that I can court you make you mine as my clan is waiting for my return," He spoke with honor and I looked at what he did for my approval." You have my approval and my thanks," I spoke softly nodding at him.

Wolf picks me up and takes me to his ship which isn't far from where I was." How old are you by the way?" I questioned." I'm over a 100 years old but I will give you my blood to keep you young and alive and you will never be here alone," Wolf tells me.

"My clan is waiting for my mate to come home and they will not care if you're human. You've proven strong enough to be their leader, not many walk out of that alive and get their first trophies," He says.

"I'm not a warrior, I just did what I could to survive and I'm 26 years old plus are we biologically capable of being together?" I questioned him and he got a scanner out which tells him all he needs to know.

"Yes you will fit and carry," he simply states."But I must begin giving you my blood so you can start the process of staying with me all my life and your own life," He says before picking me up like a child and places me on a bed and begins the transfusion which took about two hours to complete.

Once it was done, he picked me up like a child and placed me in a bedroom." Go to sleep we have a long journey ahead for us little ooman," Wolf spoke up and I fell asleep in the warm soft bed.

I opened my eyes to see Wolf sleep in a chair next to the bed." Wolf?" I said softly and he looked at me,"Come lay with me? Instead of sleeping in a chair," I offered him as I moved so he could lay with me.

The bed dipped and I felt Wolf pulling me into his arms and holding me close and his mandibles were in my hair as he purred and clicked in his sleep holding me close.

He was huge, about seven and a half inches taller than me I'm five foot and a half inches taller. But we strangely fit together and he doesn't have a rough exterior like he seems to have its actual smoother than you'd think.

I softly touched his hand and he holds my hand in his sleep and he doesn't let go of me that night as we travelled through the stars to his home planet where the clan was waiting for our arrival and they were already accepting of me not that I knew that.

All I knew was Wolf was my life now and he was gonna protect me from anyone and anything and Yautja prime was now my home and my life.

Part two

[brokenheartwithheartbreak]

Okay I don’t even go here and I’ve never done this before but I’m 10k deep into a post-finale probably AU platonic Thiam fic based on Theo trying to figure out his shit and function as a human being and DOUBTING my writing very hard rn so. What’s the consensus from anyone whose been in this fandom for longer than two months (see: anyone but me)

Excerpt:

Melissa bustles away before he can unstick his tongue from the roof of his mouth, Liam watching her go with an oddly forlorn look, still draped over the desk, before those wide puppy-innocent eyes snap to Theo, still hopelessly open and unguarded even as he sighs, a heavy laborious thing, and shakes his head.

“She’s still mad at you.” He says by way of greeting. Theo frowns, has lost Melissa in the throng of people toing and froing in the hallways already, eyes cutting to Liam instead and attempting to dissect why he seems to think this matters.

“I killed her son.” He says flatly, when it becomes apparent Liam expects an answer, “He’s still pissed. Why wouldn’t she be?"

Liam’s gaze turns thoughtful, studying Theo as he stands there in his threadbare t-shirt and the same jeans he’d been wearing when Gabe’s blood was splattering on the tiles, four floors up, three weeks ago. They've been cleaned since - he managed to scrape together enough change for a trip to the laundromat last week - but being back here he can distinctly remember the specific scent of blood and fear and death, a little different for every dead body left in Monroe's wake, tinged with a slightly different mix of the same three things her teenage soldiers feel in their last moments.

Liam's still looking at him with those deceptively sharp eyes, blue like the sky, like a bottomless ocean. He has a skill for looking at people - at Theo - and giving off the impression that he's looking deeper, peeling back the guarded layers and taking a look at the exposed damage underneath, poking at that damage and seeing how much it takes to make him jump, not in a malicious way, though, in a 'testing boundaries' sort of way, in a 'how far can I push you before you snap back' kind of way that Theo respects more than he resents, because he's the same, in a way. He gets the feeling Liam is still waiting for the other shoe to drop, for Theo to slip and the carefully crafted master plan to crack and splinter and shatter down around him all over again, gets the feeling this pushing and prodding is a reflexive, knee jerk reaction to how easily he'd slipped into their ranks and earned their trust last time around. While the rest of the pack seem to have decided the best policy is just to keep him at arm's length until they need to pull him in for a human shield, Liam seems to have gone for the opposite; tugging Theo closer so he can peer into the cracks and crevices Tara clawed into his armour and decide whether the things he does and the words he says are genuine or just another misdirection.

Theo really doesn't have the energy for misdirection anymore - what's the point? All these people have already seen the worst of him, have seen him rip them apart to take what he wanted, seen him rip apart his own pack to take their power, there is nothing he could say or do now to wipe that slate clean and make them forget, that much has been made quite obviously clear. And, somewhere along the line of those four months that felt like four years, four decades, too much time and not enough and how do you reconcile losing that much of your life when it felt like repeating the same five minutes over and over and over again, somewhere along the line the parts of him that were so well trained, so carefully schooled he could control his heartbeat and his chemosignals and his every minuscule emotion like his own body was his puppet, those parts died, ripped out of him a thousand times over alongside Tara's heart and left to rot on that cold hospital floor.

He thinks, privately, in some dark corner of his mind, that Liam might be the only one of them that's actually maybe worthy of being an Alpha. He's explosive and angry, yes, but when the anger drains out he's quiet and clever, stubborn and selfless and so quick to forgive. He's rushing headfirst into danger to give his friends a fighting chance, he's pounding fists against stone until his knuckles break to stop himself hurting a kid who honestly deserved it, he's a heart skipping traitorously over 'I'm not dying for you either.' He's the only one Theo might delude himself into believing has possibly come close to forgiving him, despite it all, despite Theo manipulating him into attacking his own Alpha, despite Theo taunting him and goading him at every opportunity because once, Before Skinwalker Prison Theo thought it was kind of funny to see how many buttons he could press before Scott's favourite blew a fuse.

All that, and he's still the top contact in Theo's pitifully empty phone, he's still the one who came looking that night after the hospital, after Gabe, limping on his own bullet wound, to find Theo sprawled in the back of his truck, rolling the crumpled slug he pulled from his sluggishly bleeding shoulder across the scratched plastic of the tray and trying to erase the feeling of death creeping through his veins as Gabe's heart gave out, pain free. He doesn't know where he stands with a lot of the pack these days, other than understanding the general air of discontent and distrust whenever he happens to be in the same room, but with Liam, at least, their relationship is relatively clear, cut and dried. They're not friends, probably never will be, but they went through something together, survived something together, and that simple act has tied some sort of invisible string between them that has Theo gravitating towards Liam like he's a sharp metal blade and Liam a magnet.

Maybe he's lonely, left behind by everything he's known, cracked open by Tara's hand in his chest, left exposed in the aftermath in such a way he doesn't know how to put the mask back on and pretend anymore. Maybe Liam doesn't look at him like a monster, just a puzzle, not ugly-messy-killer boy but beaten-tired-trying boy. It's not much but it's enough for him to think maybe one person in this fucked up town doesn't completely hate his guts, and that breadcrumb of hope is enough to stir the dead thing in his chest into some sort of continued existence every morning.

None of that stops him from feeling a little like a bug under a microscope, now, trapped in this moment that seems to last hours and seconds at the same time, caught in the arcing swing of the pendulum on a grandfather clock, caught under Liam's gaze that sees too much and not enough at the same time. He fights the urge to let his hands curl into fists, tries instead to remember what it felt like to break Liam’s nose - four weeks ago, five, it doesn’t matter - last time so he doesn’t give in to the urge to do it again, bloody and broken, right here in front of all these hospital staff, these Normal people who might not be so Normal after all. Half of them were here, were working when Monroe’s hunters took over the hospital, when they threw guns into the hands of children and told them to go to war against their classmates, told them that murdering a teenager for being Something Else would net them a win in some sort of moral war as well as the actual, bloody, violent one.

He wonders if any of them recognise him and Liam, two teenagers lingering in a hospital hallway, two Others making themselves easy targets.

“What?” He snaps, surprises himself a little with the sharp tone, but Liam hasn’t moved, hasn’t stopped pinning him with that piercing look, and that’s supposed to be Theo’s job, reading him like an open book, putting together all the little invisible tells and figuring out exactly which buttons to press to get the reaction he wants, the fallout he wants, writing the script and having Liam-Scott-Stiles, all, follow along without ever even realising it. He’s not so good at that anymore, lost that skill somewhere around the three hundredth time Tara ripped her heart out of his chest.

Liam has the grace to look bashful, peeling himself off the desk in a way that looks vaguely like tearing apart Velcro, wobbling to his feet in a way that speaks of long days and longer nights, exhaustion drifting off him like cologne. “Sorry, you just…seem different.”

The apology rolls of his tongue so easily, so simply, like Theo can’t count on just his fingers how many times someone has offered him any sort of apology, and it’s about nothing, about accidentally staring in a fatigued sort of way, but it’s about so much more than that in his head and Liam’s simple-easy camaraderie makes something in his chest ache even fiercer.

‘You seem different’ Liam says, and Theo thinks about his belt being two holes tighter, shirts hanging a little looser, hard ridges of bone hidden beneath. He thinks about long, uncomfortable nights, broken up into sections of haunted sleep and a constant, thick exhaustion he wears like a second skin. He thinks about the sandwich he wolfed down at the last pack meeting to discuss the Hunters, two days ago, that barely made a dent in the gnawing, empty feeling of his insides. It’s fine, he’s managing, he’s still alive; call it another test, perhaps. How long can The Subject sustain itself with no resources?

He wonders how much of that Liam can see, wonders if ‘different’ means ‘thin’ or ‘tired’ or ‘a facsimile of who you were before’.

Theo chooses to ignore the comment entirely, stuffs his hands a little deeper in his pockets, shakes around the boxes of himself in his mind to find some semblance of his usual cold, calculating snark. His lips curl into an expression that is all fangs without ever baring his teeth, one eyebrow lifted in challenge. “You call me here just to stare, Dunbar?”

[dia-draws]

I’m thinking abt my own versions of the creepypastas. So hear me out. What if EJ’s transformation happened slowly over the course of a few years instead of all at once?

Possible tw: body horror?, cannibalism (it’s Jack be fr rn), demonic shit, gore, slight self harm, slight religious themes?

After the “accident” he loses his eyes and gains the hunger for human flesh. Trying to survive w his morals intact. He isn’t able to see for a good while, relying on his other senses to lead him to food while in the woods. And while using these other senses they get stronger and stronger until they’re honed to be more sensitive than a dogs.

Year 1

He gains echolocation because his hearing gets so sensitive and during this time his ears grow pointed. The cartilage slowly growing and stretching over time, his ears bleeding as the tips poke through his skin and his healing gets quicker with every wound he gets during this time period. One of Jack’s few reprieves during this time is laying in the sun, even if he can no longer see the sunlight, he loves the feeling of the warm sun on his body. Somehow the changes to his body allow him to gain a sort of thermal vision. Jack tries to not think about the logistics of it as he’s just happy he runs into less inanimate objects with his thermal vision.

His normal human teeth falling/being pulled out while eating and a sharp shark like tooth would take its place instead. When they first started coming in, Jack was in fits of despair at losing what few links to his humanity he had left, he would begin to pull these sharp teeth out only for a new tooth to replace it a few hours later.

He finds an old abandoned cottage in the woods to hole up in sometime during this year.

Year 2

While hunting his nails grow long and hard similar to a large felines claws. The pain in his head would become unbearable as he continued to eat human flesh, the craving and pain getting worse the longer he went without eating. If he went too long without eating he would lose time and be forced into a feral sort of state going only by base instinct and the need to feed. This has happened three times as of the time he was taken in by the Slenderman, the first time it happened he woke up in the middle of a campground with multiple dead humans surrounding him in various stages of harm. Some with their stomachs open and the innards on display, faces mutilated with eyes plucked from their sockets, Jack’s hands covered in blood and the sweet taste of it coating his lips.

After a while he would begin to grow a tail from the small of his back this part made more sense to Jack as humans used to have tails but got rid of them through their evolution. But just because he understood it didn’t make it any less painful. At first the skin around the small of his back would grow soft and ache as bone started pushing its ways out of his body. The pain at this stage similar to a wisdom tooth poking through the gum. But when it finally ripped through his flesh Jack couldn’t move from the cave he made his home during these years. Curled up in a mess of mismatched cloth in a fetal position, the tar coming from his eyes flowing more freely as he cries in pain. It takes about a week of pain for his tail to fully form outside his body. What’s left is a sticky mess of black tar like blood and raw skin around the base. The next few days brown hair began to grow at the end of it, the same color as was atop his head.

Year 3

Judge Angel manages to track him down and begins ranting and raving about how evil and vile his mere existence is and how it is up to her “the chosen one” to rid this world of him. Jack tries to talk to her and explain he didn’t want this he just wanted to graduate Uni but she doesn’t listen to him. She attacks and he tries to defend himself, he doesn’t want to hurt this girl, she reminds him of his younger sister. He ends up getting harmed, his chest slashed by her sword and as he lays there in pain bleeding black blood he thinks to himself ‘maybe I should just let her kill me she’s not completely wrong, I’ve hurt too many people’. Before she can finish him off Slender intervenes and stops her.

He ends up being brought by the Slenderman and taken in into the UnderDark. He becomes the others doctor and had more freedom than the Proxies. He’s able to freely move between the UnderDark and Overworld for hunting. At first he’s very worried about being around humans especially when having to patch them up due to his hunger but gets used to it eventually.

[jakeyt]

Covet: Chapter 9 (Part 1 of 2)

Pairing: Jake Kiszka x f!Reader

Covet Summary:

Life was good. No, life was great. 

Was. 

Until.

Jake Kiszka crashed into the picture.

You welcomed him into your life—your home. 

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

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

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

Warnings: MINORS DNI (18+); angst; jealousy; negative self-talk; talks of miscarriage and hysterical pregnancy; allusions to childhood abuse; talks of pregnancy; extreme feelings of stress and anxiety; feelings of sadness; abandonment issues; therapy; talks of grieving a baby; pregnancy hormones (just the beginning lol); reader checking Jake out and being sad while she does it (lmao) (as usual, PLEASE lmk if i missed anything that is triggering to you!)

Chapter Word Count: 22.1k+

a/n: sorry it took a month, besties... hopefully this angsty fucking chapter makes up for it lmao <3

and don't worry, i won't be gone long ;)

Please enjoy the playlist as you read 🖤

-🌼🌼🌼-

“The covetous person is full of fear; and he or she will who lives in fear will ever be a slave.”

-Horace

-🌼🌼🌼-

October 30, 2022

Birds were chirping. The melodies of an acoustic guitar playing lullabies made your heart warm in your chest. A baby’s cries were being mellowed by the sound of the guitar. A smile, reaching the baby’s face that matched the one on the man playing the strings.

But you couldn’t look at him. Only the bundle of pure, unadulterated, untouched love in your arms; her eyes, looking the same as his, caught yours, the color of caramel coffee. . . twinkling just like his. . .

All pink and white and golden rays of sunshine.

Then, it was gone. 

No. Not again.

There was no more peace. No more lullabies. No more love from parent to child. . .

All dark and dirty and ear-piercing screams. 

A sister, trying to cover your eyes from what was happening, just inches in front of you.

Then there were hands. Hands gripping at your arms, the sister screeching, yelling and clawing for you as she got ripped away. As you got picked up so harshly your head hit something hard, making you dizzy. . . 

When you closed your eyes from the dizziness, you opened them afterwards to see that your sister was back. But she was older this time. 

Elsie. She was stunningly beautiful, as you knew she would grow up to be. Put together in an outfit that resembled that of Rachel Green. Her hair, flowing in strawberry blonde, soft waves around her delicate features and her blue eyes were wide open and wondering. Searching your eyes for something hidden in them. . .

What was she wanting? You couldn’t tell . . . Just as you were about to speak to ask her, she was in front of you, nudging you, not nearly as abrasively as the hands from before. 

You studied her quizzically – why was she–?

“Wake up!”

And the next time you blinked, your eyes were opened wide. 

To reality. To Elsie, shaking your arm in the present. You were an adult, she was an adult. Things were okay.

Life was safe again.

Shit. I’m so tired of that fucking dream, you thought angrily, sitting up and letting the covers fall away from your sweaty, tensed body. 

Blinking furiously, you let yourself cling to the softness— the safety of your bed. The bed hugged you, cocooned you in the fluffy down comforter. You were in your clean, quiet apartment. . . the rays peeking through your bedroom windows the same as they’d been at the beginning of your dream. 

“Sis,” Elsie said your name, out of all of her patience. “Come the fuck on. I’m hungry and I need coffee so bad. You know me. You know I’m about to lose all ability in my limbs if I don’t have caffeine stat–I need it. To survive,” she clutched her chest dramatically. “Please. Get your lazy ass up.”

You rolled your eyes with a giant huff, throwing your covers off of you to try and hit her with them. When you heard her gasp and slap at the covers, you figured you succeeded. 

“Y/n!” She said, backing up from the bed. When you saw her next, her hair was sticking up on all sides from static. Success. But she was laughing, finding it funny nonetheless. “You’re such a bitch.”

“Takes one to know one,” you said, sitting up to stretch a little. You had to fight the urge to put a hand to your tummy. Not in front of Elsie. “Now leave, I have to change.”

“I’ve seen you naked a million times before,” she argued. “Nothing I haven’t seen already.”

There sure as hell is something you haven’t seen on me already. . . Albeit a little small, but rounder nonetheless. 

“Well I don’t want you to look at my naked body this morning, so get the fuck out.”

You were getting irritated. Just wanted to change in peace. Wanted to hold your belly to start the day. It was routine at this point.

She growled, opening your door. “You have five minutes, or I’m leaving your ass.”

-🌼🌼🌼-

As you pulled up to Waffle House, scream-singing Ariana Grande lyrics with Elsie at the top of your lungs, you were sincerely hoping that your stomach wouldn’t roll at the smell of the greasy breakfast food. 

The nostalgia of the morning was something you wanted to wrap up tight and not let flutter away in the crisp and cool October breeze.

Please, sweet baby, you pleaded. Love Waffle House with me. Don’t make me give this up.

You wanted this with Els. This particular establishment had been cathartic to you and your sister for several years. Talks that far surpassed therapy sessions occurred here, in the back booth, almost completely surrounded by windows. . . The thought of sitting in that back booth was enough to make you cry right on the spot. 

And the All Star Special sounded so fucking delicious. Good sign that it at least still sounded good, right? 

You just wanted scrambled eggs, ham, hash browns with ketchup, and a gigantic waffle with the restaurant name pressed in the middle. It was all you wanted at that moment. Truly. Nothing more, nothing less. . . Your mouth was watering.

Cheesy and strange as it was, you were quite literally crossing your fingers that the food wouldn’t make you projectile vomit as Elsie opened the door for you two. 

Please don’t make me sick, please don’t make me sick. . .

To your extreme relief, your tummy didn’t knot and squeeze. No bile came to the base of your throat. . . In fact, the vanilla waffle mixture, the sizzling, salty smell of the bacon and ham. . . it was better than before. Your heightened senses welcomed the scrumptious, sentimental scents that came with the establishment. 

And the back booth was open! 

Tears literally pricked your eyes at the sight. And you must’ve sniffled because Elsie spun around, where you waited to be seated, and checked on you with worried eyes.

“You okay?” She pondered, her tone light with a joke, but eyes still serious. 

Not able to fully collect yourself thanks to the fantastic hormonal effects of your pregnancy, you felt a tear hit your cheek when you sniffled once more. 

“Yeah,” goddamn, even your voice sounded fucking wet with emotion. “Just happy to be here with you.”

Tell her, y/n. Let her help you. . .Tell her.

Fuck that came out of nowhere. 

The soft, reassuring voice being the one to guide you would take a lot of getting used to if it was going to continue as the one to help you, rather than the harsh, critical one that’d taunted you since you were a child.

Honestly, when the calm voice came to you, your mind settled in the waves of reassurance. This was the voice you longed to hear anytime the dark one wanted to boss you around. . .wanted to push you down when you were up. 

It always spoke soft truths to you. This voice didn’t make you feel like utter shit; this was the one that sounded more like Elsie than you’d like to admit.

As you started walking to your beloved booth, you were trying to find a solid reason to not tell Elsie right now. . . You had to tell someone. Right? And it was killing you to be around her and keep her in the dark. She was safe. And, at that moment, the only person you really wanted to tell was your big sister. No matter how bossy she may get, it was worth it to have her know. She was your one and only safety net for years for good reason. 

And she was going to be leaving again tonight until Thanksgiving. There was no way you could wait to tell her until then. 

She’d also never forgive you if you kept it from her for too long. You couldn’t blame her. If roles were reversed, you’d kill her if she waited to tell you until she had a noticeably round belly. . .

You sat down at your booth. You, at the seat with your back to the big windows, her smile wide as she made small talk with the worn-out waitress. Elsie’s smile, though, was big enough it brought a smile to the tired woman’s face. Elsie got along with everybody, and the waitress was no different. 

God, she was sunshine for you. 

As the woman placed your menus down in front of you two, you immediately flipped it to the side with the All Star Special. You watched her kind face, aged from years of hard work, and found comfort in the thickness of her voice from even more years of smoke, as she asked for your drink orders. 

Elsie ordered her blessed coffee and you sat there, contemplating. . . stuck. Normally, you’d order a Mr. Pibb. . .but was that healthy for the baby?

Your sister stared at you, her brows wrinkled as she gave you a questioning smile. 

“Just get her a Mr. Pi–,” Elsie started.

“I’ll take an orange juice,” you finished. 

The sweet waitress left to get your orders ready, and when you looked up from your menu to Elsie’s face again, she was looking at you like you’d grown three heads.

 “Orange juice?!” She asked, as if you’d just insulted her on a great scale. “Who are you and what have you done with my sister?”

You felt nervous under her stare and questions. You were going to tell her anyway. . . why were you feeling your skin prick with nerves? 

“Just felt like getting an orange juice. . .,” you said, shrugging your shoulders to play it off. “No biggie.”

“I cannot remember one time we’ve come here– in the years we’ve come here– where you’ve gotten anything besides a Mr. Pibb.” She leaned across the table to put the back of her hand to your forehead. She then jokingly asked, “Are you well?”

You watched her laugh at her own joke, her eyes, smiling. The same ones you’d looked into when, for years, you’d told her your deepest secrets. . . A couple of things came to your mind. When you lost your virginity and felt like shit about it (for God knows what reason); she’d raised your spirits by telling you she’d felt the same at first, but it got better with time. Then there’d been when you’d smoked weed for the first time and you felt so horribly about it (again, why?); she told you it was not a bad thing to do and that you deserved to feel so free as the drug would make you feel. 

Very rarely had she been extremely judgemental. 

Right now, she was giving you yet another look of concern, though. . .So, you decided. It was time. Now or never.

“Sis, what’s–?”

“I’m pregnant.”

There it was. First time you’d said it out loud. Damn. In that moment, it felt even more real to you, too. 

You were with child. There was a baby in you. There was life growing inside of your uterus. 

Then the opposite train of thought rushed through you. . .were you pregnant? Was the baby still in there? You hadn’t really had time to obsessive-compulsively research any of that yet. Could your tummy still grow if you had a miscarriage? Was that possible? Was there a baby inside of you?

You had to shake your head from your sudden wave of unwelcome, anxious thoughts. There was no reason to believe you’d lost the baby. . . right? Surely. . . You wouldn’t let your anxiety get the best of you. Blinking a few times, you chanced a look at your sister again.

She gaped at you, staying that way until the waitress came back with your drinks, not saying a word. Didn’t even look away from you when the waitress spoke, asking for your orders. You had to tell the woman it would be a minute, while Elsie still zoned out on you. 

Her eyes just bored into yours until you started feeling uncomfortable and irritable. 

Talk, Elsie. Fuck.

You clasped your hands together under the table, over your tummy. . .had to do something with them. And after continuing to wait a couple more minutes, you decided if she wasn’t going to say anything, you would. “Can you say some–?”

“What the fuck?” She asked, voice much louder than it should be for a quiet Sunday morning at Waffle House. 

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw the heads of patrons turn towards you. Inquiring eyes were not what you needed at the moment.

Your cheeks heated as you grit your teeth. “What the fuck is that supposed to mean, Elsie?” You fumed, automatically defensive for the life inside of you. “I had sex. I got pregnant. Simple as that.”

You’d never felt this sense of protection for anyone in your life. Not even your sister. No, at that moment, you were ready to go to bat for your baby against the woman who’d been your first line of defense your entire life. 

Thankfully the next time she talked, she sounded more subdued and understanding.

“I– I didn’t mean for it to come off that way, babe,” she said, shaking her head, laying a hand against her forehead. Her eyes searched for yours to believe her. “I’m sorry. That wasn’t the right response.”

“It’s oka–.”

“This is a sensitive time for you–for any woman–my god,” she continued, not letting you make any excuse. “I was just in shock–still am, obviously–but I’m not upset,” she said, pausing. Then she narrowed her eyes, testing you. “How far along are you though?”

You giggled, remembering your earlier thoughts. The two of you were so alike. More like twins than anything, honestly. “I’m only like ten weeks, I think,” you smoothly said. “I found out two weeks ago, but I wasn’t sure if I was going to keep it or not, and I didn’t want to tell anyone until I decided. It was my decision and I didn’t want anything or anyone to sway me.”

“That is all valid and correct,” she agreed, nodding her head. Then, she continued asking questions as she poured too much half and half in her coffee. “How do you feel about it? Good? Bad? Sad? Happy? Overjoyed? Utterly depressed?”

Your eyes bugged, and you waved your hands at her once she was drinking from her mug, watching you and waiting for a response. “Damn, slow down,” you began, entwining your hands again, on top of the table this time. “First of all, per usual, I don’t always know how I’m feeling. . . But–it’s strange,” you started, squinting out the window just next to her. “It’s like, this time, instead of bouncing back and forth between sad and mad and confused. . .I’m more bouncing between a variety of happy emotions for this life,” you untangled your hands to once again place them on your tummy, below the table. “The confusion is still there, but for this baby. . .the emotions are mostly positive ones full of hope and love,” you looked back at her. “It’s weird.”

She was squinting at you, nodding her head as she took everything in. 

Then the waitress was back, taking your orders. And just as soon, she was gone.

Elsie spoke before you could. “What changed?”

Snorting, you gave her a look. “Really, Els?”

Yet again, she narrowed her eyes, but this time it was out of annoyance. “You know what I mean.”

You did. She wanted to get to the heart of it. Not the situation. But what had changed inside of you to instigate your new, surprising view of things? You really weren’t sure . . . To be completely honest, this new feeling had just started yesterday. Less than 24 hours ago, you’d made the decision that would change your life forever.

But, you answered the best you could in spite of it all. 

“I don’t know,” you glanced down at your hands, holding your sweater-clad tummy. You hadn’t had to delve into oversized sweaters the past couple of weeks. Not quite yet. Your tummy wasn’t that round. “I just kind of started thinking on behalf of this life I made, and not really myself. I put him, her–whatever the fuck it is– first and doing that just gave me this new outlook. Like I didn’t have all of the time in the world to criticize myself anymore. Because I have someone else to look out for. Someone special–someone whose life I have to be careful with– a life I hold in my hands.”

She giggled. “Literally,” she motioned in the direction of your hand placement. You joined in on her little moment of humor, enjoying the feeling of normalcy with her. She knew, and things were still the same as always. You didn’t feel any weirdness emanating off of her. This moment was easing you and brought you a sense of undefinable calm. Something you’d needed so badly. She kept on, having more to say. “I’m so fucking glad you’re starting to feel lighter,” she stated, reaching a hand out towards you, palm up on the table. “You’ve always carried so much on your shoulders. Always. And it has sucked to watch helplessly. You have hurt for too damn long and you deserve more than anyone to feel this new happiness.” 

The tear that suddenly gathered at the corner of your eye and trickled down your cheek was unstoppable.  

You moved a hand to place in hers and you squeezed each other. “Thanks Els,” you wetly responded. And nothing more– just needed her to know you were thankful.

After a minute of just communicating with your eyes, your food was being brought in small increments. Her biscuits and gravy were placed at the same time as your plate of eggs, hash browns, and ham. 

“Your waffle will be out shortly, honey,” the waitress smokily said, tone sweet as could be. “You two enjoy.”

After you’d both responded with a nod and she was gone, there was no stopping you two from digging in. 

After swallowing her first bite of food with a moan, she looked at you, still chewing your hash browns, which now tasted more like the sugary, tomatoey ketchup you’d smothered them with. 

“God, I was starving,” she said, taking a little sip of her half and half with a dash of coffee. She squeaked a little as she set her coffee down, a smirk on her glossed lips. “Josh would not quit last night.” 

You made a gagging motion at the implication, your brow furrowed with disgust at her words. 

Then, you took your first sip of orange juice. 

Goddamn.

Fuck! Ew. Baby does not like orange juice.

Coughing a little, your throat felt ready to reject the liquid right as it hit your uvula. Gross as it was, you put as much as you could back into the glass, not caring for Elsie’s reaction. 

“That’s not nasty at all,” she sarcastically noted, still chewing her food. 

You kept coughing into your hand, swallowing as much as you could, focusing on getting it down, not wanting to projectile vomit all over your breakfast. 

I’ll show you nasty, Elsie. Don’t test me.

You rolled your eyes at her remark, finally getting the remains of the drink down. You held your napkin to your face, coughing a bit. “Says the woman who’s talking and chewing,” you said, your voice weak to avoid any bile rising in your throat and at the sour, putrid taste still sitting on your tongue. “And you’re one to talk–telling me way more than I need to know about Josh.”

She snickered. “I’ll tell you more. Just say the word.”

Laughing once outright, you rolled your eyes. “Yeah, that won’t ever be happening,” you tried taking a bite of hash browns to get the taste of orange juice off your tongue. But it only made it worse. Your throat was not ready to accept any more at the moment. Spitting the mushy remains in your napkin, folding it up so as not to offend other customers. Your throat was tight as you responded. “I need water.”

“Here we go, babydoll! Waffles just for you,” the waitress returned, placing the food right in front of you. The waffle did not look appetizing in the slightest. You didn’t bother looking up to say anything, instead squeezing your eyes shut and willing the nausea away. “You okay, sweetie? D’ya need anything?”

“Can we get a water and a Sprite?” Elsie intervened, calmly requesting. “And like, ASAP, if that’s doable. . .”

“Sure thing! Back in a flash!” 

You kept your eyes closed, the twirling in your stomach not going away, but not intensifying either. You were scared to talk–afraid of what might come from your mouth if you did. 

“Here,” the sweet, older lady’s voice rang through, as you heard the plastic cups hit the table. She was rushing, her voice moving fast. “Gotta go to another table, but wave me down if ya need me, sugar.”

“I think we’re good for now,” Elsie reassured. You could hear the smile in her tone. “Thank you so much.” A few seconds passed, then your sister was tapping your hand that was still laid on the table. “Sis, please take a drink from one of them.”

Keeping one hand pressed to your mouth, you tapped the wrapper off of the straw. You chose the carbonated Sprite, banking on the carbonation and natural aid of Sprite for a sensitive stomach.

As soon as the ice cold, fizzing drink hit your tongue, you felt relief. The feeling hadn’t gone away in your tummy, but you also didn’t feel like you were going to hurl at any moment anymore either. You took a few short, yet healthy, sips, eyes closing again to center yourself. 

Your eyes trailed back to hers after you sat the cup down.

“You okay?” Elsie questioned, following you with her blue eyes, which swam with concern. You nodded, then she talked again. “Do you get sick a lot?”

Reaching for the water, you took one little drink of that, finally feeling able to talk. Your stomach was simmering slowly. You pushed the plates away, needing the food away from you for the time being.

“Not hungry?” 

You shook your head, your brows furrowed. “Not now. Fuckin’ orange juice,” you flipped off the offensively orange drink. Elsie snorted at you, and you grinned at her. “And to answer you, yes. I puke all of the time. Thought it was stress at first. Just throwing up because of all of my stress.”

She rolled her eyes, pushing her own food away. “You’re an idiot.” You scoffed at that, offended. “I’m just saying. You’ve never been a puker. Fevers and shit, yes. But never thrown up a whole lot. And you’ve had some terrible fucking stress in your life. . . never vomiting from any of it; just to remind you.”

“I guess I just wanted to stay ignorant,” you admitted. “And I didn’t think it was possible at all that I was pregnant.”

She hummed in understanding, then she leveled you with a stare as she took a drink of her coffee. 

“What now?” You groaned. “You fuckin’ weas–.”

“Does Jake know?”

Your stomach fell all the way to the bottom your feet. Fuck. What? How did she know?

Stupidly, you tried to reject it. Why would you try to hide it from her? You didn’t know. There was no point in trying to hide it. 

“Why would he need to know? This doesn’t concern him. He’s not the fath—.”

She practically honked with a huge laugh, blossoming from the back of her throat. You blushed, sinking back into your seat. Why would you even try to play dumb? You knew better than to do that with her. 

After wiping a little tear from below her eye, she sipped at her water. Sitting her glass down, she coughed a couple times and snorted with another giggle before continuing. “Please do not insult my intelligence like that.”

Weakly, you tried to defend yourself. “You believed me at the festival that we weren’t fucking anymore, so I just assumed–.”

“You think I believed that shit?!” She gawked at you– in disbelief that you’d thought that of her. “I just wasn’t going to push it out of you while you were so obviously in the depths of sorrow over that girl that was with him.”

Face flushing yet again, you chewed on the inside of your cheek. “‘Depths of sorrow’ is dramatic.” And true, you silently agreed with her. So incredibly, stupidly true.

“And you’re pregnant with Jake’s kid,” she pushed, wanting to hear you say it yourself.

You looked up at her through your lashes, not ready to say it out loud. But definitely needing to. . . and who better than your sister to say it out loud to for the very first time?

“Jake is the baby’s father, yes,” you said plainly, looking directly in her eyes as you said it. Then, immediately peering out the window, directly to your right. “Half him, half me,” you murmured, under your breath.

You pressed your shoulder, clad in your fluffy sweater, against the chilled glass. You still felt the coldness from the brisk autumn day through the thick windows. It calmed your heart which beat frantically against your breastbone. Talking out loud about Jake being the father of your child made reality slap you in the face. You were carrying Jake’s baby. Inside your womb was half of Jake and half of you. Together. Something you’d made. . . together. 

The thought of a part of him just floating around in your uterus was honestly jarring. . . but not unwelcome. Not unwelcome at all. No, in fact because the baby was half of him, you’d decided you had to keep it. Jake was the reason that the baby was a necessity to this world. A piece of the first man you’d ever. . . 

You shook your head amidst the raging thoughts, deciding to cut them off right. there. That was a path you did not want to venture down. 

Dangerous territory.

Knowing the baby was his and that fact being was the sole reason you had to keep it. . .that was big enough for you to acknowledge. Huge, actually. . . You couldn’t believe you’d let yourself face that so surely and honestly. But. . . that was something you refused to tell your sister. That was one thing for you and only you to know. It felt too personal to share–belonged in your heart alone.

The mother and child you were observing just outside Waffle House were about to get you lost in thought again . . . You could spend hours appreciating a true, authentic love between a mother and her child. You’d never had it, and it was just so unique in and of itself. A relationship that held its own definition of love. A love so lovely, precious, safe. . . wholesome.

You were desperate to create that for a child. Something you hadn’t had the privilege of experiencing. And the baby in your womb deserved to feel it. . . But could you do it? Or were you too much like your mom?

Before you could fall down that depressing rabbit hole, you slowly swiveled your head back in the direction of your sister. 

Then, without much contemplation, you unloaded. Told her everything. Informed her of the situation between you and Jake, how you started feeling iffy about all of it towards the end, and then how you’d decided to cut it off due to your desire to protect him. It rushed out of your mouth, with almost no thought and you honestly didn’t have time to consider anything before it slipped from your lips and into the air between the two of you. 

Elsie was watching you, eyes attentively following your every word and movement. She looked ready to help. As always. Her eyes, the color of the ocean and just as deep and sure as the waves that enveloped it. The overwhelming calm you felt after telling her, also similar to the ocean in its ability to offer peace. . . 

What she said first was not what you were expecting. No counsel. Just humility. 

“I’m sorry for what I said about you watching that girl with Jake at the festival,” she started, tucking her hands in her lap, expression sincere. “That was callous. Not the time.”

Wrinkling your brow, you argued back, unnecessarily defensive and overwrought with emotion after spilling all of that and for the life in your belly (lovely hormones). “I’m still me, Elsie,” you huffed, rolling your eyes. “Jesus Christ.”

She raised a brow, combatting you. “Fine. If you’re still you, then I can say this: get the fuck over yourself and just be with him,” taking a drink of her coffee, she made a face. “Room temperature coffee is absolute balls,” she looked over her shoulder, trying to connect eyes with the waitress. 

You saw the woman head your way, and immediately got the hint when Elsie held the cup out with puppy dog eyes. “You’ve got it, sweet baby.”

“Thank you,” Elsie said, her voice that of a grateful servant to the woman. 

“You, with your food and drinks that must be so hot they burn your mout–.”

“We’re not done with you. So, shut up.”

“Jesus, Elsie! I–.”

Holding a perfectly manicured hand up, black nails flashing in front of you briefly, she cut you off. “No! I don’t want to hear any more of the bullshit. You’re literally having his baby. Get over this. . . thing in your head, and just be with him. You obviously want it. And I think he does, too.”

You sighed, the breath coming fully from your lungs. It wasn’t like you didn’t want it, too. . . it was just complicated. “It’s not that easy, Elsie,” you lamented. “There are several pieces to the puzzle.”

“Liiiiike . . .?” 

“Well, for one,” you held up a finger to start the count. “He has a girlfriend now.”

“No he doesn’t,” she scrunched her face, completely disagreeing. “He’s not with any–.”

“They showed up to the party together, Elsie. The girl from the festival. And they have a past. He was groping her all night last night and she never left his side,” you repeated the events aloud, your stomach rolling at the heinous thoughts. 

“Oh, shit,” her eyes got big, blowing out a slow breath. “I didn’t even realize. Josh and I–.”

“Were roaming the room for half of the night and preoccupied for the rest of it,” you said, shivering at the deplorable thought of your friend and sister. 

“I was with you for a good chunk of it, too, bitch,” she corrected, pointing at you. 

You stuck out your lip, nodding to agree. “You’re right. . .but you were also way too distracted by Josh to notice.”

She made the same face, mirroring you. “You are not wrong,” she grinned smartly, winking suggestively. “No regrets.”

“I’m going to puke on you.”

“Oh my god, please don’t,” she gagged. And then started singing a thank you as the waitress came back with your tickets and a fresh coffee. After dumping one million half and half cups into her mug, she took a hearty sip. When she sat it down, she practically vibrated in delight. “Oh hell yeah.”

“You know Josh hates coffee,” you noted. “Prefers tea.”

She rolled her eyes. “Oh, I know. We’ve had many long debates over the ridiculous fact,” she growled. “He’s a miscreant when he wants to be.”

You laughed outright. “Yes he is. Little fuckin’ gremlin.” 

The sound that roared out of her was more reminiscent of a yell than a laugh, but it became a string of snorting and giggles that you joined in on. After a few minutes of enjoying the sound of the other’s laughter, you shook your head and scratched your brow before seeing your phone light up with a notification. 

Stupidly, your tummy fluttered at the possibility of it being Jake texting you. But then you remembered that he would absolutely not be texting you in his right mind. . . that was not where you were with him right now. You weren’t sure you’d ever be there with him again. And that thought made your tummy sink as soon as it’d fluttered. 

Though, the notification on your screen was enough to bring a little grin to your face, your eyes watering with the overwhelming excitement and joy that ignited in your heart at the update from your Ovia Pregnancy app. 

Week 10: Congratulations, y/n! You’re heading into the tail end of your first trimester. Your baby is now the size of a kumquat and almost 1 ¼ inches long!

Not being able to help it, you turned your phone to Elsie so she could see the notification as well. 

She read through it, her mouth moving as she took in the words. A wide, toothy smile made its way to her face–her entire demeanor lighting up with you. Clutching both hands to her chest, her eyes were wet next time you saw them. Your own eyes filled with more tears at her reaction to it. 

“I’m so proud to be an aunt to your little kumquat baby!” She said, her voice actually quivering with emotion. 

“I’m glad you’re proud,” you responded with a sniffle, drying your undereyes with a Waffle House napkin. “I’m proud, too.”

Her smile turned close-mouthed, yet no less sincere and delighted. “You should be,” she paused, then her crying eyes dried a bit as her tone turned serious. “And Jake will be, too. I know it, babe,” she stopped, pondering a thought. “You are going to tell him, right?”

You didn’t have to think about your answer. He had to know. You wanted him too, really. “Yes.” Then, your tummy flipped. “ But I don’t know if he’ll be super excited when I do,” you shook your head. “This was not in the cards for him this year. . . I wouldn’t blame him if he rejected the idea of me being pregnant with his baby.”

“Well, he wouldn’t reject it. I can say that for certain–I’m dating his twin and I know Josh would never reject a baby,” she said, wiping at her face with her own napkin. “And, I’m going to argue the other part, too. . . it obviously was in the cards for him,” she reached a hand out towards you and you took it. “This happened for a reason, sis. A good one. And Jake will view it as such.”

“I just don’t want it to slow him down,” you squeezed her hand, looking down to where they entwined on the gray table. “I need him to keep going and chase his dream.”

She raised a brow, shook her head from side to side, once again disbelieving. “He will, y/n. He’ll keep going. Josh is– and he and I are dating?. . . What’s the difference?”

“Where do I start? Most importantly, I’m messed up in the head and I need to work on myself before I expose him to myself,” you insisted, bringing your hand back to place on your tummy. “And he and Josh are different. . .Josh has a drive that Jake doesn’t. Jake gave up his dream before and he’ll do it again if he’s allowed. And a baby is already damn near the most drastically life changing thing that could happen to a person. Could completely screw up his plans,” you sighed resolutely. It was clear to her that you were firm on this, so she sat back with open and considerate eyes to let you finish. “Best to keep things separate between us so he has one less thing that is tempting him to put himself last. A baby is enough.”

She hummed, taking it all in. After taking a moment, she gave a response. “I just have one question.”

“Yes?” You prepared yourself, raising a brow.

“What’s the difference between you and the girl?-- What’s her name anyway?”

“Maya,” ugh. Hate that name. “Her name is Maya. And she is normal where I am not.”

“O-kaaaay,” she replied, still unsure of the validity in your response. You didn’t know why she seemed so unsure. She knew you better than you knew yourself. She knew you were jacked up. She let out a massive sigh, then continued. “Well, I don’t personally think you know her well enough to make that assumption. She could be more detrimental to him than you–.”

“Not possib–.”

“And you could be exactly what he needs,” she said, almost in finality, though it was obvious she wasn’t done when she leaned forward, her tone hard and steadfast. “You’re also not as “jacked up” as you seem to believe you are. Have you got things to heal? Yes. But are you still one of the most incredible people that has ever walked this planet–if not the most incredible? Even more so, yes,” her eyes watered again, but she sniffed the tears away to say her last piece. “I think you could very well be exactly what Jake Kiszka needs to be complete. And even though I wasn’t around for all of the intricacies of you two, I should’ve caught on. Because I do know the way that man fucking looks at you. . . and dammit if I’ve ever seen another man look at a woman the way he looks at you. . . not even Josh with me or Grandpa with Grandma.”

Your heart swelled and your cheeks grew instantly red. Your blood buzzed in your veins. . . did he really look at you like that? 

Then, selfishly, you wondered if anyone else had noticed like Elsie had. . . like Josh. Fuck. Did he see how Jake looked at you? Had he already presumed things about you and Jake based on how his twin apparently, blatantly, ogled you? And then you realized, yet again, how you would have to obviously tell Josh of the baby. . . oh god; how would he react?

“I wish he wouldn’t,” you muttered. “I don’t need anyone to–.”

“To know?” She squeaked a giggle. “I’m sorry, babe. . . but I think your cover’s about to be totally blown within the next nine months.”

You groaned, placing your forehead in your hand as you blew your hair away from your face. “How will Josh react?” You moaned, halfway to yourself and halfway to her. 

“What?” 

You snapped up. “How in the hell is Josh going to react?!” You anxiously quizzed her, eyes wild. “He is already going to be hurt that I kept it from him. And then there’s the reason I kept it from him in the first place. . .,” you felt tears well in your throat right before you nearly slammed your head on your crossed arms, which laid against the table, dramatically. 

Okay, these hormones can fuck right off. 

“Why’s that, sissy?” She carefully inquired, tone soft, not judging your reaction the way you internally were. “Remind me again.”

You moaned, raising your head and willing the tears away. “He made it so incredibly clear to me how Jake didn’t need another woman infiltrating his life and distracting him. And how Jake needed this time to discover himself for the first time in his life. . . and I’ve completely ignored that desire of his,” a lone tear slipped from your ducts. “I’ve betrayed him. Selfishly.”

Letting the words sit in the air between you, she waited a couple of beats before inserting her two cents. “When does Jake finally get what he wants?”

You wrinkled a brow, tears completely dissipating out of curiosity for her next words.

“I mean. . .” she started, making a thoughtful smacking sound with her mouth. “Josh thinks he can call the shots. You think you can just decide to not let yourself ruin his life? Like, what the hell, first of all? And second of all. . . what if he doesn’t care about any of that shit and just wants you? Did you ever take a second to consider that?”

“Yes, Elsie,” you growled, defensive once again. “And that’s why I’m keeping the ball in my court. I’m protecting him. And that was Josh’s intent, too.”

“I don’t know where you two get off acting like Jake isn’t a grown ass man who can make his own decisions. . .,” she trailed off, flashing an irritated look out the window. 

You did not want to get into this right now. The conversation was trailing much further than you fucking wanted. Your nerves were practically electrifying you and your head felt heavy.

“I don’t want to talk about this anymore, Elsie,” you shortly bit out at her. She snapped her head back at you, her eyes still on fire. You stayed firm. “I’m done talking about all of that shit,” your hands laid safely on your lower, swelling tummy. “I have bigger things to consider now,” after glancing down at your stomach, you hit her with another stern glare. “So drop it.”

Her chest was heaving. 

You were not sure what was happening; why was she suddenly so “Team Jake”? When had that happened? And again, why? 

“Fine,” she conceded, sniffing resolutely once and then went to sip her coffee. Which, by the look on her face, was cold again. “Yuck. Can we bust this joint and go to Starbs? I need the sweet stuff.”

You sighed with relief at the change in subject. “Yes,” you smiled. “Let’s.”

-🌼🌼🌼-

It was just you and your sister in the open apartment, which was now completely cleaned from last night’s festivities due to your obsessive-compulsive cleaning. Though, you couldn’t help but notice when you’d come back from breakfast, Jake had been gone and the apartment looked much better than when you’d left with Elsie. It felt nice that he cared for the apartment, too–enough to try to keep it clean. 

You trained your thoughts on Elsie, as she waited at the door to leave, bags completely packed, awaiting her Uber to the airport (you were, unfortunately, so suddenly fucking tired that you had decided you weren’t fit to drive her). 

You didn’t want to let her go. She was your one person who knew now, and no matter how much she challenged your stance on Jake, she was still your sister and your person and you needed her with you during this time. . .

“Can you not just stay for a couple more days?” You tried once more, knowing better than to ask, as she’d repeated the words more than once now. “Let them know your sister is having an existential crisis and needs you?”

She huffed with a grin, rolling her eyes. “You are literally fine,” she reassured, reaching a hand out to hold your arm. But instead of letting it stop there, you fell into it and let yourself fall into her–let yourself wrap both of your arms around her shoulders, hugging yourself tightly to her. 

“Please don’t leave,” you moaned, your voice so meek it was straight up depressing. “I need you.”

She hugged you back, dropped her duffel off her shoulder in the process of embracing you. “I always need you, sissy,” she agreed. “But I’m just a FaceTime or text away,” she assured you, combing her hands through your wet hair, having taken a shower while she’d been gone saying her goodbyes to Josh. “I’m here. And you have people here. You just need to let. them. in.”

“I know. . .,” you sighed hotly into her natural curls. “I’m just so scared to tell Jo–.”

“I’m tired of hearing that, babe,” she asserted firmly. “Because the last person you need to be scared to tell is Joshua,” she stated, leaving no room for argument, right in your ear. “And if you think about it, you know him well enough to fucking know that. So get out of your maze of thoughts and know the truth.”

She was right. . . Truly, you knew she was. You knew his heart. But. . . “How will I even. . .?” 

Pulling away from you, she kept her hands wrapped around your forearms, keeping a caring hold on you. Keeping you near. “I’ve actually been thinking about this, like, all day. . . but the first thing that came to my mind is what I keep going back to.”

You waited for more, but she didn’t continue her thought. Impatient, you asked. “Which is. . .?”

“Invite him to a doctor’s appointment. Maybe your. . .first?” she offered, questioning the last part. But sounded completely sure of her idea. “It’s the perfect way to break it to him. And. . .if I’m correct, I’m assuming you haven’t had one yet since you just decided to keep it?”

“Yeah. . . no appointment yet. So, I could. . .ugh,” you answered. “But– why? How–? Will he–?”

“It’s the ideal situation because he will feel like he’s being helpful and loving. He’ll be able to be there for you. He’ll feel needed and involved and that is literally all Josh wants in general in life, so. . .”

“It’s perfect,” you weakly agreed. It really was. You couldn’t deny it.

“Yes, it is,” she flipped her hair over her shoulder and lifted her duffel bag back over her shoulder. “I came up with it.”

You scoffed. “Okay, now. Don’t get a big fuckin’ head, loser.”

“Bitch,” she bit back, shoving your shoulder. 

Rubbing your shoulder in faux pain, you gave her a pitiful expression. “Elsie. I am with child, you need to be careful with me now.”

Bursting with a chuckle, straight from her chest, she shoved your other shoulder. “I’m not touching the damn stomach, so I’m good.” 

You shoved her back, dropping the act and giggling with her. “You right, you right,” you said. Then, your thoughts came back to the task at hand. The baby that was squirming around in you. “I’m still scared.”

“That’s another perfect aspect of telling him in that scenario though,” she added, assuring you with her opinion. “You can’t back out. You’ll have to tell him if he meets you at the doctor’s office or takes you there or whatever the hell he does. . . you’ll have no choice but to tell him before you go in. And he’ll just have to take it,” she said, her plan sounding, admittedly, concrete. “He will survive,” she dropped her hands from your arms and looped her belt bag around her chest before placing a hand delicately to your cheek. “I promise he’ll survive.”

Just then, her phone dinged, indicating her Uber had arrived. So, with many “I love you’s” and a few curse words, you were following her down the stairs, then hugging her tightly once more outside of her awaiting Uber. 

And as you watched her leave the parking lot, the tears started to flow. So. many. tears. Steady, hard, relentless weeping. . . 

The emotions were obviously true, yes, but the hormones–and your current, lonely headspace– were amplifying the already-existing emotions of her leaving to an incredibly irritating degree.

But before you could lose yourself in them any more, you heard a door to a car shut to your left, along with a laugh you knew all too well. Jake was home. 

And if you didn’t move, he was going to see you as a hysterical mess and you did not want his fucking pity right now. Last thing you needed. And worse, you also didn’t want to see his expression, for the chance it might be hard and uncaring. You also didn’t want to possibly see a certain woman arrive with him. 

You were sure she was with him. The feminine giggle you heard accompanying his endearing chuckles could be no one else.

So, instead of looking in his direction, you turned quickly on your heel and speed-walked up the stairs, a hand on your tummy to avoid any hurt to the kumquat baby. 

As soon as your back hit the closed door, you breathed a sigh, which turned into a long yawn. The kind that made you shiver with a sudden, urgent desire to sleep. You didn’t have to work today, you’d canceled study plans. . . So suddenly, you felt abundantly free and a nap sounded like the perfect remedy to the overwhelming emotions of your day.

-🌼🌼🌼- 

Monday came and went before you even knew it was happening. As did Tuesday. As did Wednesday. And when Thursday came around, you had your Modern Poetry elective. The one class you had with someone you knew relatively well. 

You hadn’t made it a priority to make tons of friends while in school to get your degree–you’d had Josh and Elsie, and eventually Sammy and Danny. . .and that had been enough. 

But, when Theo had popped back up into your life, anytime you saw him in a class, it really did feel nice to be around someone familiar at school. Even though he was on the more annoying side, he was still a good confidant.

And especially with the massive course load this semester, having someone you knew around was helpful. Good for feeling less alone. He was somebody who was going through school with you; he got the overwhelming amount of pressure from school, too. He felt the senioritis, too. . . but, his case was slightly different. 

He was ready to be done with school so he could pursue this career he longed to have in writing, while you were just ready to be done. 

Initially, when you had started the semester, you were just ready to be out of Pratt because you felt like you were wasting your time on a degree you’d lost passion for (save for your minor in media studies which gave you the occasional music-related course).

Now you weren’t sure why you were ready to be done. What made you feel more anxious to put Pratt in the past now? Was it the burning desire to be done with a passionless major? Or did the life in your tummy have something to do with it? The thought of the baby you held inside honestly got your blood pumping more excitedly in your veins than a college degree ever could. 

You really only cared about ascertaining a healthy baby– no longer caring much for a piece of paper saying you had studied writing, uselessly, for four long years. 

But you had to make it through school. If not for you, for your baby. You didn’t have much longer left, and you owed it to that child to see this through. You had to find some drive though. So, in came Theo to help with that. He was great at encouraging others, and that was exactly what you needed while trudging through the sixteen hours of classes you’d enrolled in this semester. 

When you were getting up to leave for class that afternoon, you had your mind set on a big jar of baby pickles (stereotypical pregnant woman, much?). You were ready to get off campus and to the nearest grocery store for the deliciously tangy food. 

Before you could leave your two-person table, though, a hand came out to grab your arm as a way of stopping you. If you had acted on impulse, you would have whined and stomped your foot in protest at being kept from satisfying your pickle craving. 

But you didn’t act like a petulant child. Instead, you turned around, eyes opened and ready for whatever was needed from you. 

And when you looked behind your shoulder, Theo was there, a head or so above you, smiling and waiting for a response. 

“Yes?” You asked, semi-irritatedly, semi-sweetly. “What’s up?”

He just stared a little while longer, blinking rapidly before shaking his head. His blonde hair had grown out a bit and shook with the movement, eyes twinkling just enough, making your heart thump a little harder in your chest. 

Why in the hell? 

“I meant to ask you Tuesday, but you were gone before I could,” he started, adjusting his messenger bag over his shoulder. He shifted on his feet a little before peering curiously into your eyes. “Are you okay? I missed seeing you for our usual Sunday study time. . .”

You swallowed, slightly grumpy that he felt the need to pry. 

He’s just showing he cares, y/n, the angelic voice said, which now stopped by more occasionally than the negative one. 

Not wanting to tell him anything too personal (God, no), you went with the bare minimum. “A friend hosted a Halloween party at my place on Saturday, and my sister was actually in town for it,” you divulged, wrapping your fists tighter around the straps of your backpack. Please let me leave after this. “So I hung out with her yesterday while she was still in town.”

Not the whole truth, but not so much dishonesty to  me feel bad.

“Oh!” He said, a light hearted laugh accompanying his tone. “Cool. I remember from high school how close you two were.”

I remember how much she didn’t like you, you thought, feeling uneasy at past-Elsie’s opinion of the guy.

Was he really that bad though? He’d been great for you during high school. Even though it had only been a year of time with him, he had still been a decent person to have around during those formative years of your life. He had been considerate, kind, helpful. . . the only negative things you could remember were the few times he’d try to get you to calm down on unnecessary occasions. He could be occasionally judgmental, but wasn’t everyone to an extent?

And maybe you and Elsie had only been your average, overly sensitive high school girls and had thought he was worse than he actually was.

Because at this moment, all you could see were the green flecks in his blue eyes and how they caught the sun that shone in from the window behind you, and onto his pale face. The way he waited earnestly to hear your response made you feel special and valuable to him at this moment and what woman didn’t like that?

“Yeah,” you said, tucking some hair behind your ear before folding your hands over your chest. Aaand, wincing, you quickly moved them away. Your boobs were especially tender with the extra pressure against them. Every day they seemed to get more sensitive to the touch, feeling heavier–fuller. “We’re still that close. Probably closer now, actually. After living together, and then her job forcing her to be far away often. . .,” you trailed off, sad at the thought of her being so far away all the damn time. “We’re forced to communicate way more than we ever have before.”

He nodded, winking at you. And although he was cute, you didn’t feel anything at the wink, really. It didn’t swirl your tummy with nerves like it would with someone. . .else. You chalked it up to the craving that was still distracting you, making your tummy growl. 

He cleared his throat before he tucked one hand in a jeans pocket and one tighter around the strap of his bag. “Intentional is the word,” he added with another wink, seeming to understand to a degree. But you caught the aggravating ‘know-it-all’ attitude. Tipping his head, he looked at you with smiling eyes. “You okay?” He motioned with his hand at your neck-chest region.

Your brow furrowed, confused. Defenses were instantly raised and you took a step back, tucking your hands into your back pockets. “Yes?” You retorted, tilting your head to challenge him. “Why?”

“Just saw you flinch and all,” he said, in wonder at your tone. When he spoke next, he no longer seemed understanding, only misunderstanding. “Nothing big. Don’t worry,” he held his hands out, as if calming a tiger. 

You felt stupid for overreacting, so you covered your tracks with a forced giggle, masking the situation the best you could with a straight-up (ironic) lie. “Just a certain time of the month,” you explained extremely falsely. “Overly reactive to everything right now.” That was true. 

“Oh,” he pointed a finger at you, pretending to get it. “Makes sense.”

Okay, you thought, squinting at him as he looked to the side with a sort of confidence. Maybe Elsie had been onto something. . . 

But then he peered down at you again with his sparkly eyes and shaggy, naturally blonde hair.  It made you feel a little weak for the guy, even with him irritating you.

But why was he irritating you, exactly? Maybe your emotions were controlling you a little too much– getting too easily offended thanks to the hormones. . . Perhaps he was just acting like a normal human, while you were the one who wasn't reacting like a normal human.

Your stomach was fucking growling though. . .Theo didn’t matter worth fuck at that moment. What did matter was how badly your body was craving eating for two. If you didn’t eat soon, you were afraid you would faint from lack of sustenance (you definitely wouldn’t, but there were the over-reactive feelings again). 

You started backing up, and made it just next to the table when you were saying your next words. “I’m going to go ahead and get out of her–.”

“Wait!”

Having just turned on your heel, your face was hidden from view, and you were able to roll your eyes when you heard him. You weren’t going to stop though. He could follow you to the parking lot. You were hungry and grouchy and ready to eat an entire jar of pickles before crashing hard against your sheets. Before you had to show up at the B&G for the evening shift.

“Follow me,” you said, short, only looking over your shoulder at him briefly before continuing your trek. But please don’t talk for long. 

You were just outside North Hall when you decided to stop, so you wouldn’t have to fear him stalling you at your car.

“What’s up?” You asked, playing cool despite your desire to grumble. 

“I actually– I just thought–,” he laughed, seemingly at himself. He scratched behind his ear. Then he stood up straight, determined after tucking both hands into his front pockets and clearing his throat for the second time that day. You noticed his jeans, dark wash, skinny, and complimenting his firm thighs. “I wanted to ask you to hang out with me sometime– outside of here.”

Seriously? He was stopping your pickle eating for this?

You couldn’t help the snicker that escaped you, confused. “We do hang out,” you grasped tightly to the straps of your backpack again, anxious to get food. Already tired of him. “Every Sunday.”

“Well, yeah,” he agreed, pausing. Then he grinned in a way you assumed he thought was cute. But all it really did was make your eyes hurt from the inability to roll, out of courtesy for him. He continued, taking a step closer. Your hands did start perspiring and your heart sped up positively at his proximity. “But I thought maybe we could do something not related to school?”

You opened your mouth to reject it–you were not interested. For many reasons. The biggest being the baby in your belly. . .

Although, the more you pondered the baby, you realized more than that, you were hesitant because of his or her father.

Not the child, but Jake. The man that was ever-present in your mind– with his beautiful, brunette hair, eyes the color of understanding, easing you in the most complex situations. . . and the heart that’d made the world suddenly make sense. . . (Which still scared the hell out of you, by the way.)

But. . .as the thoughts spiraled, it all started to have the opposite effect. Made you want to agree.

So, you did.

You said yes to hanging out with Theo. Because, as soon as that thought process had started derailing, you knew it was best to agree. The idea of hanging out with him seemed like a great distraction from Jake. A much needed one.

What you had with Jake was nothing and it was in the past. For a reason. 

After you watched him smile wide and say he’d text you, he went to join a heap of Pratt’s fraternity boys. You could only hope that maybe getting out there and hanging out with someone else would get your mind off of Jake. 

You did not want it going further than a few dates with Theo. Just a little time with Theo would surely be all it took to get your headspace cleared and make it easier to navigate life. 

The repercussions to its ending were literally nothing. You’d switch seats in class and force yourself through school with the occasional encouragement from Elsie. Theo was not a necessary addition to your life long-term, but you figured he could help you short-term, while also creating long lasting benefits.

Surely you could divert your thoughts from Jake. Think of the child first, and put its father on the backburner as you weaved through this next chapter in your life. . . No matter how badly you wanted him with you through all of it, experiencing it all first hand with you, it was the wiser decision to keep things separate. 

And, as an additional help, Theo would make it obvious to Jake that you were willing to keep your life separate. 

So, when you did eventually tell Jake (dear fucking God), there would be an additional party that emphasized you’d moved on and all that mattered now was the baby. 

Not the two of you. That ship needed to sail. 

Even though the thought made your stomach hurt like hell and tears well in your eyes as you pulled into the nearest Trader Joe’s for pickles. . . you knew it was the truth.

-🌼🌼🌼-

That evening, you took a longer route to work, choosing to listen to a podcast you’d found. 

Having listened to the first episode on the way to school that morning, you decided to fill your cup with another episode on the way to work. 

It was a magnificent podcast that was all about the ‘ins and outs’ of pregnancy, being a new mother, and how to grow mentally and emotionally during such a unique time.

The second episode was going just as well as the first until you heard one of the moderators’ voices get low and forlorn. 

“You know ladies. . . the first time I got pregnant is planted firmer in my memory than any of my other pregnancies,” she said, sighing heavily. 

“Oh, yeah, Jen,” another moderator said, voice growing dim with Jen’s, apparently (you were still getting accustomed to their names). “I bet, babe. . . The ones that are lost are the ones that stick so close it fuckin’ hurts and heals at the same time. . .”

“Agreed, Tally,” the third—and last—speaker on the podcast chimed in. “I’ll touch on my story after Jen.” 

“Thanks, Molly,” Jen’s voice rang through your speakers again. “Yeah, it’s just a different feeling when they’re there and then suddenly they’re not. . . When you imagine holding them in your arms for God knows how long and then it suddenly becomes impossible to do so,” Jen sniffed, and just as she did, you felt a tear hit your own cheek. God, you were hurting with her. “Every woman is different, but I just hang onto my loss like nothing else. And not necessarily in a bad way— just in an attempt to sort of keep the baby here with me— Give her the life she never got to fully live.”

Dammit, the tears wouldn’t let up. They were trailing down your cheeks steadily. When you got to the next stop light, you had to grab a napkin from your glovebox to blot at your cheeks, already marked with black streaks of mascara. Thankfully you could still wipe them up easily, not dried to your skin quite yet. But you knew the crying wouldn’t be letting up soon. Your emotions had been triggered and you would be seeing this sadness through. (Hello, pregnancy hormones.) 

You took turns holding the napkin under each eye, making sure to catch the tears as they continued. 

“I’m right there with you, Jenny,” a voice you now recognized as Molly’s said. “Even though my stories are a little different.”

Stories? 

God. You kept your eyes on the road as you popped open the glovebox once more, grabbing a fistful of left-over restaurant napkins. 

Sitting them on top of your legging-clad thighs, right where you could reach them, you took a right turn towards the B&G. 

“I’m sure we have listeners who will relate to all of these stories,” Tally interjected, sniffing. “Both of you girls.”

“I hope we’re able to help someone,” Jen responded, voice still thick, but not so bad as before. 

You heard a sigh before Molly started speaking again. “The first time I carried was very similar to Jenny’s. Lost the baby. Early on. The worst loss I’ve ever experienced—I will never understand why we lose them,” her voice shook with sadness. But, it soon transitioned to a hot flash of irate frustration when she spoke next. “I will also never understand the people who invalidate our experiences just because they were lost in the womb or lost as little tiny babies. . . Just because they weren’t full grown people, outside of the womb, when it happened. . . doesn’t make it hurt any less. You have just as much to mourn for the life they completely lost.” And just as soon as she was firm, her voice was soft again. “The life we lost before it was time.”

The other two agreed, voices low out of respect for the moment. 

“Then there was my second. . .,” she blew out a breath, as if preparing. She gave a half-laugh. “Strange occurrence. . .”

“But it happens!” One of the other two chimed in. 

“Sure as hell does,” Molly said. “The second time I carried, I had a hysterical pregnancy– a case that only 6 women in 22,000 experience. . .”

“I can’t imagine. . .,” Tally breathed a sigh out. “Your body, tricking you like that.”

“Yeah, and it felt completely real– like everything you’d expect,” she replied, thoughtful. “Like everything I experienced with the one I’d lost before. . . And, God, it was so incredibly hard to get through once I found out what my body had done to me. . . I just wanted a healthy baby–especially after the loss. I was still hurting badly from losing the first when it happened. Almost like my body was playing tricks on me just to see how far I could stretch mentally and emotionally,” she laughed under her breath, in spite of it all. 

“So fucking cruel, babe. . .”

But you weren’t focusing hard enough to know who was talking anymore. You’d caught on to the stories they’d told and now you were over analyzing your situation. . . Questioning everything. . . Was this real? Was there a baby there? Were you having a hysterical pregnancy? Was your body playing tricks on you? 

Or, had you been pregnant, and had now lost the baby like those women had? Were you still carrying the life you’d started planning around? The little life you were becoming more and more attached to by the day?

Had you ever been carrying it? 

As you pulled into work, you put one shaking hand on your rounded lower belly.

- 🌼🌼🌼-

Suffice to say, your entire evening shift was spent in over-contemplation and searching miscarriages, hysterical pregnancies, and semi-local OBGYN’s during the lull of customers. 

As you’d searched online for a clinic, you were not looking for places too close, as you didn’t want God and everybody seeing you enter the clinic on a regular basis (if you, in fact, were to find out you were carrying a tiny little bean-baby). You sure as hell didn’t need anyone to start questioning you before you were ready to offer up answers. 

Once you finally left your longest shift ever, you drove home in deep thought and drowning silence. 

Your research over miscarriages and hysterical pregnancies had done you very little good. They’d actually done you no good at all, if you were being honest. Everything you’d read made you question a lot.

Because, everything that could possibly reassure you was also possible in a hysterical pregnancy or a miscarriage.

One: your growing tummy (which could continue growing in both of the sad, unwanted instances). Two: your hurting breasts (which could still hurt in both sad, unwanted instances). And three: your nausea (which could still occur in both sad, unwanted instances).

Once at home, you took a hot second getting ready for bed— lost in thought, you decided to try to tiring yourself with a bath, complete with lavender scented bath salts and bubbles. Once you were finally in bed, cozy in your softest pajama pants and an oversized t-shirt, you tried so hard to force yourself to sleep. You didn’t want to have to wait any longer to call the nice little clinic you’d found. 

And you sure as hell weren’t hungry. Didn’t want to eat with your stomach spinning with so many nerves.

And, the sooner you fell asleep, the sooner you could call the clinic and schedule an appointment. 

- 🌼🌼🌼-

But, after laying there for what felt like hours– the sounds of calming ocean waves playing through your phone and everything– you were still awake. 

You were drowning in all of the thoughts. Drown-ing. 

One that was flashing brightly at the front of your mind was why you even cared so much. And, the more you thought about it, tossing and turning, you realized you’d found the most unique, fulfilling form of reassurance in carrying the child. You wanted this baby. It had happened without you even meaning it to. . . but you wanted this baby so. fucking. badly. You’d tried damn hard not to want the little thing, but now that you’d spent so much time pondering it and holding your tummy? There was no question about any of it. You just wanted your baby and you couldn’t figure out how to explain it.

After rolling around far too much in bed, you realized you still hadn’t heard the telling sounds of Jake coming home. So, you decided to venture out into the living room to let a TV show distract you. Hopefully distract you enough to go to sleep. Pillow, Stanley, and phone in hand, you grabbed the fluffiest blanket from your blanket basket and nestled into your couch. 

Just as you’d turned the TV to Friends–wanting to feel closer to Elsie, but not feeling brave enough to talk to her whilst already being so emotional–, you heard the sound of a key jingling in the locked doorknob. And then the door was opening and you were looking behind you at the sound— for God knows what reason.

Then he was all you saw.

Jake.

Clad in the most handsome black, felt peacoat, the top of his head hidden by a black beanie. . . the chilly evening’s attire suited him so well that it brought a ridiculous tear to your eye. 

So devastatingly handsome and not at all mine, your thoughts became enveloped with storm clouds.

Thankfully he didn’t see you staring, as he seemed to be trying to avoid eye contact as he went about setting his keys in the bowl and taking his coat off to hang it on the rack by the door. And, as his actions cemented your thoughts, your eyes became wetter, a tear falling down your cheek for this stupid ass, cruel reality that you’d created. Even if you had done it for a good reason—and you had—it still sucked big ass. 

But, just as soon as your eyes were growing teary, your heart was beating erratically in your chest. The sight of the soft, tanned skin between the opened lapels of his shirt— exposed after taking off the coat. And the silver necklaces that clanged against his bare chest were the same he’d worn for Halloween. . . Your mouth watered as you observed the way they fell between his pecs which rose and fell with balanced breaths. . . 

Seriously, fuck these hormones.

Before you could get lost in the roundness of his ass through his jeans, he turned to the counter once more. You flipped back to your original spot on the couch. You decided to 

feign any knowledge of him being home, curling into a little ball on the couch and closing your eyes to fake sleep. 

When you heard him make a stop at his bedroom and then heard the bathroom door click shut, you stayed wrapped in your cocoon on the couch. And before too long, you felt yourself fading to black, one final tear slipping past your closed lids as Rachel and Ross argued over being on a break.

-🌼🌼🌼-

Initially, you weren’t sure what it was that brought you back from such a deep slumber. But, once you heard him, you knew. The deep, raspy laugh that was slightly muffled through you gaining consciousness. 

Why was he in the living room? Was he? Was this your imagination? A taunting dream?

You cracked an eye open the slightest bit to allow some adjustment to the light you’d shut your eyes to. But. . . There was no overhead light. It was off. The room would’ve been pitch black, save for your standing lamp’s yellow glow and the blue light from your TV. 

More importantly, the warning feeling of a crick in your neck was suddenly catching your attention. So, without worrying about your company, you quickly sat up to attempt getting more comfortable. You didn’t want to feel awkward around him, but you also didn’t want to deal with a hitch in your neck or a migraine in the morning. 

The loud yawn that escaped you once you’d sat up couldn’t be helped. You were slightly embarrassed at the obnoxiously loud noise that emitted from your mouth as you stretched. Blushing, you glanced over at your fellow living room occupant to see if he’d even noticed. 

And, of course, he had. 

He was staring at you—but. . . not judgmentally. Not at all. In fact, his eyes held the natural, reassuring lightness that occupied your sweetest recent memories. And the small grin on his face. . . was shocking, to say the least. 

Why was he acting so okay with you? He’d been so distant recently. . .

You knit your eyebrows together, hyper aware of his presence and needing answers as to why he had decided to sit next to you. 

“What are you doing here?” You clipped, tone sharp. You brought your blanket all the way up to your chin and around your shoulders, as a way to protect yourself from the (obviously) harmless man. 

Although, you instantly regretted it as his expression became apprehensive rather than open like seconds before. 

Why do you have to go and ruin everything, y/n? 

He leaned back, his eyebrows furrowed as he balanced a bowl of (. . . macaroni and cheese? Fuck, that looked good.) on his knee, holding onto it with one hand. “I live here, y/n.”

And yet another memory was flashing back to you from the night you got high. . . his breath, hot on your neck, your skin erupting in goosebumps as he said similar words then– your skin flaming now, too. Just the sound of his voice could elicit the most from you. Fuck your pregnant feelings.

Or were they just feelings? The fear came rushing back the moment you thought yourself pregnant. . . was there a baby in there? God, fuck. . . you really didn’t want to sit in this train of thought again. 

You figured you might as well use your company to distract you. . . .You missed talking to him anyways–missed it so damn bad. 

But your tummy interrupted you. The growl that emitted from it was fucking humiliating, honestly, but it had happened. And after eyeing you curiously for a minute, Jake’s lips turned up with a one breathy laugh, his beautiful pearly whites on full display. God, he was handsome.

“You hungry?” He questioned, lifting his mac and cheese. “I made more of this. It’s just the shit Kraft, but it still hits the spot.”

Nodding, you went to hesitantly get up to get some. You really didn’t want to move from under the security of your warm, cozy blanket. 

“No, just wait here,” he insisted, standing. His pajama pants were your favorites (the ones he didn’t normally wear underwear with). But you did not watch his crotch for movement. Your eyes were just staring at the wrong place at the wrong time. Really. “I have to wash my bowl anyway. I’ll put the rest in a bowl for you while I’m up.” 

Again, why was he being so fucking nice? But you weren’t about to disagree. You were comfy and hungry and he was offering. It felt like old times and you felt like being momentarily delusional.

“Okay,” you quietly agreed, your eyes shifted, unsure to his face. But he was moving before you could look at him. Back to the kitchen. After a few moments, he was back, handing you a little white bowl with a spoon. The scrumptious, cheesy noodles made your eyes light up. “Thank you.”

“Yeah,” he nodded, responding as though elsewhere. This was weird and you hated how it all felt. But he kept talking, filling the air as he sat a beer on the end table beside him, before sitting back down in the chair. “I had to get a beer anyway. Long day with the guys and May–,” he cleared his throat, his eyes shutting briefly as he shook his head.

Fuck. Thanks, Jake, you thought, your eyes on the verge of welling with tears. The moments of silence, hanging in the air, closing in around you. Not fucking now, hormones.

All you wanted to do was ask why it had been a long day. Get more information that might hurt you. Why did you do that to yourself? 

Though, before you could say anything, he continued. Awkwardly, his eyes flashing momentarily to the TV to reset as he spoke. “Long day. I should’ve asked if you wanted one.”

Your cheeks heated. . . little did he know. “I’m good,” you mumbled, looking down at your bowl. Stomach sinking with your thoughts from earlier, you decided to eat before you lost your appetite again. Not the time to be sad. “Thanks though.”

The next few minutes went by in a silence you wanted to stab with a fucking knife. It was seriously unpleasant and sucked ass. After you both laughed at a certain thing Joey said, you figured you might as well try to keep some sort of conversation going. Because, god, you missed him. 

“I meant in here, by the way,” you motioned with your head to the space around you, mouth full. (Ladylike.) 

His brow raised as he looked from the screen to you, setting his gaze on you. “What are you–?”

“My question. Why you were here,” you embarrassingly restated, hearing how it must’ve sounded. “In the living room. With me. Why you were in here, in the living room, with me, of all places.”

He sat further back, but this time going to sit in the armchair comfortably. His feet propped up on the ottoman across from him. “Well,” he covered his mouth, coughing briefly into his fist. “To be fair– you were sleeping when I came to sit down in here.” 

Rather than being unnecessarily hurt over him only wanting to be in the same room as a sleeping version of you, you let yourself give in to the temptation and take advantage of him being distracted by his next task. You missed everything about him. . . even such a simple thing as watching him move.

Pathetic. And, because your mind hated you, it felt like you were watching him move in slow motion.

You watched in a daze as he leaned over to the tall lamp’s attached table, his self-cut gray t-shirt rising up at his hips to show his firm abdomen flex with the stretch. It shouldn’t be so fucking hot to watch someone reach for a fucking beer bottle. But, the sight that greeted you next was worse than seeing his side peeking from his shirt. What you saw next were his full, pink lips, wrapping just right around the glass top of his beer bottle as he took a generous sip of his Miller Lite. You admired, mouth open as his adam’s apple bobbed in his throat with each gulp of the beer. 

But when he went to repeat his action of leaning over the chair to set the bottle back, you decided to look away so as to save yourself from the torture (or, from the possibility of being caught). You took a bite of the mac and cheese, growing cold in your bowl.

Your heart was already hammering much too erratically from glimpsing these ridiculously mundane motions. . . fuck it all. The heat from being so near to him and watching him settled from your head all the way to the pit of your tummy. You swallowed down your bite thickly.

Your tummy.

“Yeah,” you muttered, awkwardly – you just wanted to have a conversation to get your mind off things. Problem was, you didn’t know where to necessarily start with him these days. . . Work? The band? Maya? God, no. . . gag.

Lucky for you, he took the initiative before you had much longer to overthink it. “I’m glad you woke up, though.” He pulled at his plaid pajama bottoms as he scooted up again, going back to get comfortable on the ottoman. Sitting with his legs spread (dammit), he balanced his elbows on his knees as he reached for his phone in his pocket. “I actually wanted to run something past you.”

God, please don’t say you found a place and you’re moving out. . . you thought, suddenly downcast and dreading what he was about to say. Or that you’re moving out to live with her.

You swallowed the thickness in your throat, trying to alleviate the unwarranted nerves before responding. Dispelling them with food, you took one more bite before swallowing it to talk. “And what’s that?” 

So what if he wanted to move out? He damn well could. He surely had the money and you two weren’t involved. 

He scrolled for a few more moments, your heart thump-thump-thumping without relenting. . . And finally, he found what he was looking for and before you had time to prepare, his eyes were sinking into yours earnestly. 

God. . . what is he about to sa–?

“I found a place for you to get therapy,” he stated, tone soft and careful. 

Therapy? Safe to say you were not expecting those words. 

And rather than being nervous, your emotions shifted to defensiveness. Where did he get off looking into that for you? Why was he . . .? Was he talking about the promise he’d made in his bed? That same night you’d panicked at your grandparents’? He’d remembered to do that? Why did he even care, still? You didn’t deserve for him to care– didn’t want him to care. It felt uncomfortable. 

“Why?” You sharply asked, holding your bowl in stiff hands on your lap. 

He leveled you with a look that said ‘cut it out.’ Did he really know where your thoughts were trailing? Was he still that in tune with you? Surely not. He was probably just irritated with your tone of voice. “I told you I would look for you, so I’ve been keeping up my end of the deal. I’ve actually asked a few clients if they knew of any nearby therapists worth their salt,” he peeked back at his phone, scrolling on it when he spoke next. “And there are actually quite a few good ones in the area.”

Your heart still beat harshly in your chest as you felt your skin heat with rage. You set your bowl down on the coffee table. And, the blanket, suddenly suffocating you, was flung off without a thought. “So, what is this? Is this you saying I’m a fucking loony, Jake? I’m sure you’ve been desperate as fucking hell to get me help because you think I’m such a nutcase,” you spit. You sounded dramatic (and, admittedly, like a deranged woman). You knew that. If you were thinking sensibly, you’d know he didn’t believe those things. . . but you were embarrassed that he’d been thinking so hard about this. It hurt your feelings that he thought you needed help that badly. “I’m just so broken and damaged and insane that you’ve decided you need to get a damn shrink to fix me.” Your lap was a sudden magnet for your eyes, your hands entangled on your pajama bottoms. Now, the hot teardrop that hit your interlocked hands was not expected and you swiftly swiped at your cheek. “Thanks for thinking so long and hard and asking God and everybody to find the most qualified person to psychoanalyze the shit out of me,” you sniffled, a couple more tears falling before you willed them away and looked in his eyes. “Thank you so much, Jake.”

But he wasn’t flustered. . . no, he actually sat there and took it. The brow that had raised on his face as you spoke was the only indicator that he’d heard you. 

The emotions you were experiencing were big and uncalled for. . . but, you were stressed. Over a lot of things. Doubting a lot of things. Your life seemed like one humongous question mark and you were sleepy as fuck and it was all just catching the fuck up with you. 

He cleared his throat, glancing once more at his phone before setting it on the arm of the chair. A tiny smirk ghosted briefly over his lips before they were set in a flat line again as he spoke next. His eyes stayed trained on his own hands, now clasped as well. “Y/n. . . Please. You know I don’t fuckin’ think those things,” he tried quietly, slightly testy, but not harsh. Then his irises found yours once more, making your heart rate speed up. You did know that. . . You knew better. He was right. “You agreed to this. I wouldn’t have made a point to look into this if you hadn’t okayed it,” he stretched his hands out and then combed them through his long, chestnut locks. 

His jaw flexed and he eyed you once more, digging into the heart of this before going any deeper. “I don’t want to force it on you. I won’t go any further in this conversation if you don’t want it. This is your decision. You know I looked into therapists. That’s it. You choose where you want this to go and then I’ll either leave you alone or tell you what I found out.”

You felt bit by bit of your current guard break down as you slowly relented. Because, well, you did want to know what he’d found out. Absentmindedly, you glanced down at where you’d subconsciously placed your hands over your stomach. It was habit at this point. That one reason underneath your fingertips was pushing you to know what he’d come to know. If you were, in fact, with child, you were desperate to start therapy. Yeah, sure, you wanted to get help for your sake. . . but more-so the child’s sake. Because, honestly, if you were not with child, you weren’t really sure if you’d want to push yourself to do that– go through all of those intense measures and changes and emotions that you knew only therapy could bring.

There was a ginormous sneaking, sinking suspicion in your gut. The one that was telling you there was a helluva lot more simmering, boiling beneath the surface than you knew. There had to be. For all the blaming you’d put on Jake just now, you knew you were a basket case. And there were some good fucking reasons behind it that you had to get to the bottom of. 

You had to do it for your child. And, on the off chance that your worst fears would come to light and you weren’t actually pregnant, it wouldn’t hurt to at least hear Jake out. Listen to what he’d found. 

You mumbled your next words. “Do you think I need fixing?” Dear God–where had that vulnerability come from? Did you want to know his answer?

Jake brought a thumb and forefinger up to his chin as he scratched it in contemplation, still measuring you with a long look. “I think it’s more complex than that, y/n,” he breathed a sigh out, as if not sure how to say what he was actually thinking. 

And dammit– it hurt for him to not just respond with a simple “no, I don’t think you need fixing.” More complex? What the hell did that even mean? 

“Do you think I’m brok–?”

“No,” he sighed. Then, he had your heart leaping into your throat when, in one swift motion, he was standing and walking the ottoman closer to where you sat on the couch. When he plopped down, he didn’t touch you. . . but the closer proximity was enough. The way your eyes naturally flitted momentarily to where his chest steadily rose and fell. You breathed with him. He spoke his next words with a low rasp, eyes serious as they pored into yours. “You are not broken.”

Your heart fluttered, making its way back to its home in your chest. “Okay,” you muttered. You needed to hear him say that– more than you’d ever be comfortable admitting. Finally, you responded to his prior offer. You knew what you wanted. “Tell me what you found out.”

Jake watched you for a few more seconds before leaning back a little, reaching back to grab his phone from the arm of the chair he’d been sitting in. You averted your sight to your hands this time, not watching his movements. Your hands, which were still nestled nonchalantly on your tummy. 

“So,” he started. Your gaze flickered up to him, a lazy smile fitting to your face. You watched his lips move as he spoke. Honestly, you hated how safe he felt. It wrapped you up cozier than the blanket that’d been around you moments ago. And the sad reality: you couldn’t wrap yourself up in him. You’d have to take what you could get. “I found this place. About 30 minutes from us. It’s a bit of a lengthy drive, but I figured it was worth it. It’s a clinic that’s very well known by many people around here, I’ve found out.”

“Expensive?” 

“Eh. Yeah. Pricier than others,” he clicked his tongue, raised his brow. “But– I asked Josh offhandedly the other day what the insurance was like at the B&G to figure out if it was covered by your–.”

“What do you mean offhandedly?” You nudged, hoping he hadn’t divulged that it was about you. “You didn’t tell him–?”

“No. I just asked him as if I was comparing it to mine at the agency that I teach lessons through,” he reassured. You breathed in relief. He snickered. “I wouldn’t tell him anything about. . .,” he cleared his throat, his eyes shifting from your face to the wall behind your head and then to his phone again. “Anyways. . . they’re covered by your insurance.”

At the end of the day, it didn’t really matter if Josh found out. . . he was about to have a massive bomb dropped on him (by you, of course). But. . . you still didn’t really want him finding anything out from Jake. Didn’t want him hearing anything before you were ready. 

“Cool,” you grinned, trying to ease the tension. He opened his mouth to continue, but you stopped him before he could. “Thank you, by the way. For looking into this.”

He looked surprised and you hated that he seemed that way. You should have been more appreciative to begin with. . . this was such a selfless thing for him to do and you’d reacted by getting defensive and snapping. When that was the last thing he deserved. God, you were awful sometimes. 

He smiled, wide and close-lipped. “Of course. I told you I would.”

You nodded, looking back to your hands, which you’d let move to your lap. Didn’t want him catching on to you holding your stomach. “What’s the next step?”

“Well,” he began, hesitantly. “I called them for a quote and asked about a specific therapist.”

“Why specific?” You questioned, scrunching your brows. 

“That leads into the next part, actually. . .,” he slowly continued, “She’s the only one at their practice that specializes in this unique form of therapy. A type I’ve read and researched on a fuck ton. . . I wanted to find the perfect method for your specific traumatic effects. So, I thought of the dreams. . . how you like control. . . I think it’s the type of therapy you could benefit most from.”

Damn. Way to call you out on your need for control. If anyone knew how much you desired control, though, you figured he did. But. . .now you were even more curious. . . because. . . you were venturing into different types? Wouldn’t just be sitting down with a shrink? What did he have in mind?

“And this type is. . .?”

His eyes light up, excitedly, as if he’s been dying to get to this part. “It’s called EMDR,” he voiced with a tinge of apprehension and elated anticipation. As you mouthed the letters under your breath, he clarified further. “Eye, E. Movement, M. Desensitization, D. And Reprocessing, R.”

You blinked a few times and shook your head. “Okay,” you stated slowly, placing your hands in front of you to indicate he needed to slow down. “What the fuck does all of that mean though?”

“Before I continue, I need you to know: I’ve done a shit ton of research and out of all of it, I’ve become really invested and interested in this type of therapy specifically. . . and for good reason. I’m really hopeful that it will help you,” he emphasized, eyes sincere. 

Your tummy did somersaults at how invested he’d become in all of this . . . but your mind stuttered momentarily at the flutter. You couldn’t help but get lost in the thought of a little bean in there and how you hoped to feel little kicks someday (obviously not yet, Jesus Christ), not just Jake-induced butterflies. God, you hoped there was a little thing in there. . . 

Jake’s steady, soft voice brought you back to the present and to his face that peered down at his phone, reading carefully. “To put it simply: it’s like a form of hypnosis. A way to force you to remember certain things so you can finally move on and heal from them.”

You blanched at that. “I’m going to be hypnotized?” To say you were second guessing this was a massive understatement. This EMDR shit could take a back seat. You were already apprehensive about getting help–even with the traditional approach. “I’m not down for hyp-fucking-nosis. Hell no. And all for the sake of remembering things I don’t really care to remember in the first place? I don’t think so, Jake,” you shook your head, toying with a loose thread at the bottom of your t-shirt. “I’m already taking a hugeass leap by being willing to go to therapy itself. I don’t need the voodoo shit . . . I’ll settle for the traditional approach,” you paused, not wanting to get too far ahead before showing your thanks. “But. . . thank you for–.”

“No, no. Listen,” he said, laying one hand on your knee for a blip of a second, your mind short-circuited at the touch. He damn sure had your attention now. “It’s different. Yes, you’ll remember things. But . . . well. . . Shit, I don’t know how to explain it in my own words. 

“Well, just send me a link and I’ll give it a read and we’ll settle–.”

“Quit,” he sternly said. “Quit saying that you’re going to settle. I don’t want you to settle. I want you to get to the root of this. . . so you can heal. Please. Hear me out,” he pleaded, the hand going back to rest on your knee for a few moments longer than last time before he removed it again. “It's–it’s more than remembering. It’s like— like your mind takes you back to the memory. You’re there all over again, living it a second time.”

“Yeah,” you went to stand up, but he moved with you, showing you he would follow you. So, you stayed put. Dear God, Jacob. “I don’t want to live the shit for a second time. Why the hell would I want to do that?“

“Do you want to fucking heal?” He snapped, his eyes searching yours for any sort of bullshit.

You blinked, “Damn,” you began, a sarcastic, irritated smirk on your face when you shook your head. Could he give you a break, maybe? Shit. But, still, you answered him. And his impatient, waiting eyes. Your answer was a no-brainer for you at this point. “Yes, Jake. I want to fucking heal.”

His jaw flexed as he let out a deep breath, through his nose, pinching the bridge of it. “So, please, y/n. . . just listen to me. Hear me out. You don’t have to do it. I just want you to let me explain it first,” he begged, eyes trained on yours, following every flicker of them. The unsureness you communicated through your gaze was balanced by the overwhelming sureness in his. You nodded for him to continue. He reciprocated the action, continuing with a deep breath in and and a deep breath out. “EMDR allows you to heal by letting you be in charge of your healing. You have the power to leave the situation this time. You’re in control of it now. It’s the past. But you have to face it. . . That’s part of it. . . The cool thing is, though. . . you can control whether you stay or leave a memory; you control how you move on from it.”

Well, goddammit. . . Of course he’d know just what to say to get you to finally listen to him. 

Control. That single word finally flicked the lightbulb on in your stubborn, jaded head. 

You paused heavily in your opposition, taking note of his far too sincere features. Perhaps he truly was just trying to help you, a sentiment that had always felt utterly foreign to you throughout your life. You’d held all of your guards up so high for so indescribably long. It took a lot for you to dare let anyone in aside from your sister (who, if you had to be honest, simply didn’t have a choice being your own flesh and blood. . .And given the fact that she lived it, too). 

But the harsh reality of the matter was, you had let Jake in. Too much. If it weren’t for the seriousness of the moment, you could’ve smirked at the irony of just how much– the possible little life in your tummy, a constant reminder in recent times. And, well, you’d definitely let him in enough that he knew you came with some serious trauma.

You watched him carefully, suddenly beginning to realize that the only reason you’d felt so reluctant to heed his guidance with this bizarre form of therapy. The reason you always doubted him– you couldn’t fathom the fact that he truly wanted to help you. 

But, time and again he seemed to prove you wrong. Even after you’d bitched him out to kingdom come in the kitchen months ago. There was no reason for him to want to help you. But here he was. With his research, his beautiful and honest eyes, the phone that he gripped with purpose with explanation after explanation, as if a lifeline. . .

He cared. Whether you could accept it or not. . .it didn’t change the fact that he actually cared. 

“I’ll go talk to the therapist,” you finally offered, relenting as much as you could at that moment. “I’ll feel it all out after I talk to her about it. . .,” you leveled, feeling fair in that decision. 

And he didn’t question, just shook his head with a lip stuck out. “Yeah, yeah. Totally.”

“How do I schedule the appointment?”

-🌼🌼🌼-

The next day was spent making strides towards your future. You scheduled the OBGYN appointment as soon as the clinic opened— being as that was the first, major priority. Setting that up had been simple. A date and time. The insurance you’d be using. Then, you’d hung up.

But, as soon as you’d set that up (and felt utter relief at having that panned out), you called the counseling practice Jake had told you about. And, you set up a therapy session with the woman Jake had given you the name of for the day before your first OB appointment. . . 

The counseling appointment was set up for the upcoming Monday. . . For some reason, when you’d been on the phone, scheduling for the nearest date available had seemed like the only logical option. But, it hadn’t been as cut and dry as your scheduling for the doctor’s appointment. There’d been a form. They’d informed you that they would email it for you to fill out with some general information (and a picture) before your first appointment. It was slightly daunting, but not totally unexpected, the more you’d thought about it. It was an understandably reasonable precursor to your first session. Just a few minor things to assist in your therapist knowing the most basic things about you before beginning. 

Doing it before the OB appointment had also seemed like a good idea. Talking to someone about the newfound worries to help you wade through the days to seeing the obstetrician. . . It seemed like a good plan of action. Made you feel more peace for the whole situation, honestly. 

So, that Friday, as you settled into your seat for a stupid ass writing course, you didn’t even care as you felt like other things were on the move. Honestly, at this point, you wanted to say fuck school and your distaste for the major you’d chosen. . . As they didn’t really matter in the grand scheme of it all. Bigger things were about to start happening. 

And you could only hope that what awaited you would be positive. . . Positive bigger things ahead. 

Bigger things that looked like real healing and a baby with Jake’s eyes.

-🌼🌼🌼-

The couch was leather and a little cold, even through your leggings. . . and the small office-room smelled like essential oils. It was reminiscent of a spa without the ambience music. 

The place didn’t need the music, though. . . the oils and general atmosphere were the perfect, calming mixture. . . Well thought out combination of smells and colors to ease the mind. 

But no therapist. Not yet. You’d been led by the secretary into a room where you now sat by yourself. She’d offered tea, coffee, and water, with a large, welcoming smile on her freckled face. You couldn’t refuse the offer, so you’d accepted the option of water. 

It had been in a bottle, and you clutched it tightly, opened only for the tiniest sip as you let your body relax as much as it could, leaning the slightest bit back into the couch. 

And you continued to wait. 

You watched the closed wooden door, your eyes wandering every now and then to the artwork that depicted gardens and fresh flowers. . . Some were beautiful paintings, while others were simple little drawings, or even real flowers, pressed in a glass frame. 

The walls were tinged with a light sage—the color, oddly easing to the mind. 

Then the knob was twisting open, matching the feeling of your nervous tummy. The muscles at the pit of your stomach flexed and flinched at the prospect of the therapist. What was she going to be like? Would she match the cool, relaxing environment of her office? You could only fucking hope. . .

Looking down at your hands to avoid any awkward eye contact, you took note of how badly you needed a manicure. . . damn. 

“Y/n?” A reposeful, gentle voice interrupted your nail critique. You looked up to acknowledge your long-awaited company. . . and man, was she completely different from your last therapist. The first thing you noticed was that she was. . . young. Mid-thirties at the very oldest. She was much younger than your aging counselor from the past. How long had she been doing this? “I’m Gianna. But all of my clients and closest friends call me Gia.”

“Gia,” you tried it out, letting a small smile fit to your face. It was a genuine smile– you were relieved. Without even really knowing her, you already felt so at ease with her. She was one of those people–like Elsie or Josh–who just carried a naturally empathetic, calming air. Made you feel like you were standing in the breeze on a warm spring day. “Nice to meet you.”

Her hair, naturally dark, but dyed beautifully to be a blonde-gray, was up in a styled messy bun. Lips, painted in the most beautiful naturally red tint. . . and the round, wire-framed glasses that sat on the bridge of her nose complimented her soft features so incredibly well. The freckles on her pale face, visible through the circular frames. Her cheeks were tinged with a perfectly rosy blush, and they swelled with your greeting. 

She adjusted her loose, beige overalls over her off-white, long-sleeved mock neck. The overalls were the fabric ones that’d gone viral (which helped you to note how incredibly trendy she was, if you hadn’t already been able to guess that). She inhaled and exhaled easily, her lips quirking even more than before. “It’s nice to meet you, y/n,” she repeated back to you. “I’m sorry it took me a bit to make my entrance. I like to give my people some time to adjust to the space before they’re bombarded with all of the therapy stuff. It’s an important thing to me.” Then her leg was being bent to balance her white, platform converse on the seat of her pale pink rolling chair. “Before we begin. . . I also need you to know that my office has a completely open door policy. If, at any moment, you start feeling uncomfortable, please let me know and you may leave to take a break, or simply leave the practice to adjust your thoughts before the next session. Won’t charge you for the whole time or anything. . .,” she added the last part, surely as another financially conscientious adult. “I just know that sometimes this shit gets tough–baring all of it and having to get through it. . . it’s rarely easy, and I want to be able to foster a healthy, resting environment for you as you wade through all of it.”

“Wow,” you blinked, your heart warm in your chest as you let yourself sink a little further into the couch, shoulders loosening just a bit. “That’s amazing. Thank you.”

Winking, she brought the mug up to her lips that she’d carried in with her. After taking a sip, she sat it on her desk and then wrapped both arms around her bent leg. “Is there anything you’d like to know about me and my profession before we begin?”

You pondered that, always having questions swirling in your head. “Just general things,” you snorted, playing it off. “Stupid, basic shit that I don’t need answered.”

“Nothing is stupid in here, sweets,” she said firmly, her eyes communicating more than the words she’d said. “Sometimes misguided and confused, yes, but never stupid.” She used the foot on the ground to swing the chair from side to side, ever-so-slightly. “Sooo, shoot. Ask anything you’d like–basic or not.”

Blinking at her again, you let your grip on your water bottle ease up. “Oh, um,” you quietly began. You scrambled for the right words. “Well, I guess I was wondering how long you’ve been doing this?”

She giggled. “Oh, sure. . . I’ve been practicing for about five years. Administered EMDR for the past two or so. . .” Her cheeks were still rosy with a gentle smile when she spoke next. “I will ask, though. . . did you not check out the website prior to this?”

Fuck. You hadn’t thought to do that. That was strange. . . usually you’d jump at the chance of looking into anything and everything before diving head first into something. Especially something as serious as a life-changing thing like therapy and the person you’d be inevitably baring your soul to. What in the fuck? Why hadn’t you thought to do that?

“I– um,” you searched her eyes, as if they held your answer. “I didn’t. Which is strange for me.”

“It’s not a big deal, really,” she said, grabbing her mug from her desk again. But before taking a sip, she continued. “I just noted on your form that you like having control over the things that transpire in your life. And checking the website to do some solid research seems like just the way to do that.” She took a sip, humming as she took it away from her full lips. “But there’s my thoughts going to crazy places based primarily on black and white principles. And we’re definitely not here to do that,” she shook her body as if shaking it off, putting her leg down and nestling her mug between her hands. “I don’t look at shit in black and white. That’s something that, as your therapist, I need you to know. There’s a lot of healing properties found in the gray.”

You couldn’t explain it, but the last sentence left you feeling this overwhelming sense of hope and understanding. Without even knowing you, she seemed to get the fact that you came with a lot of fuckin’ gray. All kinds of shades of the color. Had you been that transparent on your form? Not able to remember it, you just pushed it to the side as you figured it didn’t really matter. Because even if you had been open on the form, you were about to get much more transparent.

“Thank you,” was all you said, the water bottle held in loose hands as you comfortably crossed your legs. “My life has left me pretty fucking gray, so that’s a relief.”

“There’s beauty in the gray, love,” she noted, leaning forward as if engaging even further in the conversation (as if she wasn’t already remarkably with-it). She held her tea steady in her hands, and you couldn’t help but look down at the mug to see what it looked like. And, of course, it was covered in pale flowers, just like her office. “I’m down for any more questions you may have.”

“Family?”

“Just a fiancé, but other than her, I’m pretty estranged from much more family. Boundaries are a specialty of mine, and I’ve had to set a few in my life,” she said, assured and confident. “No kids yet. We aren’t quite sure if we want them or not.”

You nodded. But, you were not able to hold back the wetness that gathered in your eyes. The tears settled at your ducts and if you blinked, you knew they’d fall. The way you were feeling at the moment was unexplainable. So many things at once. But, most importantly, you were thankful. Thankful for people like Gia. The woman exuded peace and you weren’t sure why you’d ever questioned trying therapy again when there were women like her in this profession. 

“Thank you,” you said again, as if you were a manufactured robot. Then you shook your head, embarrassed at your currently tiny vocabulary. “I’m sorry I keep saying that. I’m just grateful there’s people like you in this world.”

Wow. Okay. So we’re getting real honest and sentimental now, huh? A good-humored voice asked you. Here for it.

“That’s very sweet of you,” she said quietly, respecting the new emotions in the room. “Are you ready to tell me a bit about you?”

Letting the tears fall with a blink, you wiped at them with a breathy laugh. She grabbed the nearest tissue box and handed it to you. You wiped under your eyes and dabbed at your cheeks. “Chose to not wear makeup for a reason,” you chuckled, internally thanking past-you. She laughed with you, placing the Kleenex on the couch next to you for proper access, then sat back, balancing her elbows on her thighs as she held her face up with open palms. 

“Whenever you’re ready,” she said once you’d settled. “We’ve got the next hour and a half.”

“How much do you wanna know?” You huffed, rolling your eyes as you placed your locked hands over your tummy. “I’m a basket case.”

Her eyes sparkled. “As much as you’re willing to tell me,” she affirmed with a wink behind her glasses. “I’m all ears.”

-🌼🌼🌼-

So, as you left that day, you were absolutely confident in saying Gia knew about as much of your life as Elsie did. And that was saying something.

She’d just been so receptive, and had kept encouraging you– as you cried and laughed and sighed and growled. She kept reminding you that she wanted to ‘hear as much as you’d give her’. That she was ‘in your corner’ and that she was ‘there for you.’ And her words and kind eyes were enough to spur you on. Continue to the point of her knowing nearly everything there was to know about your life. 

From your childhood to now, Gia was now totally knowledgeable in the realm of Y/n. 

Thankfully, there’d been no EMDR, as she informed you that next session you’d begin talking about the intricacies of the practice and whether or not you wanted to begin with it the session after your next. She wanted to take time to adjust and ‘simply be’ before introducing the innovative method of therapy.

She’d given a couple of tidbits about it, just for you to think about before the next session, but not too much, since the next session was dedicated to her actually breaking it down for you. 

“Now, before you leave, I want you to know that we can locate your safe place next time. The place in your mind where you’ll return when you need a breath of fresh air amidst the memories,” she’d offered, hands in her pockets, tea cup abandoned as you stood up alongside her to follow her out of the office. But before you two left the office space, she took the time to assure you once more. “But only if that is what you decide you want. This is your life, sweets, and I’m just here to help you through it.”

And, for the eighty-millionth time that day, you’d told her ‘thank you.’ You were going to take a bit of time to consider it. 

She’d also given you a few nuggets of wisdom. 

They’d specifically followed the end of your session, when you’d broken down about the unsureness of your pregnancy (but easily applied to the rest of your messy ass life). 

One thing she said to do: “Slow down your thoughts. Do not let them take control. Slow them down and figure them out with what you know. Piece by piece, break them down before they get too astronomically crazy.”

Another being: “Let yourself feel peace. Just every once in a while, let yourself feel it and don’t let guilt eat you alive for it.” (When you’d laughed sarcastically, she’d nodded, agreeing that it was “most definitely easier said than done.”)

She had been wonderful at assuring you that it was most definitely a product of your trauma to react so preposterously. How you thought certain decisions and thoughts might give you peace, yet always resulted in the opposite. But, she’d also told you that you’d “figure it out bit by bit” as you move along and to “give yourself grace” as you navigate it all on your own, in your day-to-day life.

But, there was one singular, specific piece of advice she’d offered that was sticking out more than much else. 

Of course, you’d filled her in all the way up to your appointment tomorrow and Elsie’s idea for Josh to attend with you. You wanted her opinion on it, asking for as much, and she’d been firm in her opinion. Her words rang in your head as you navigated the late afternoon New York traffic on your way back home.

“Your sister is a genius,” she’d said astonishingly, blowing out a breath from between her naturally full lips. “Everything she said is exactly what I’d tell you, too, sweets. And if it helps to hear this, even as an outside party, Josh sounds like the type of person to receive it in a non-traumatizing manner. He will, most definitely, be sensitive to your feelings. And, having him there will help you feel less alone and calm in your worries. . . and it will help him feel needed–like Elsie said. So, truly, it’s a win-win. If I had my way, I’d make sure Josh is there tomorrow. But, again, it’s your life and it’s up to you.”

“How do I even ask, though?” You asked pathetically, pulling your sleeves down over your hands as you began to get nervous at the prospect. 

“Take a deep breath,” she calmly recited (as she’d done a time or two during your life lament). After doing it with you, she settled you with an understanding gaze. “Just text him. Tell him you have an important appointment tomorrow and that you need him there with you.”

“And if he asks what it’s for?”

“I’d say you tell him that you’ll tell him when you see him or when you get there,” she advised. “But, I don’t think he’s the type of person to question when you’re being vulnerable like that. I’d bet you he just agrees to it, no questions asked– if he’s free, that is,” she winked. 

So, with her sitting there, you’d texted him and asked exactly what she’d told you to. The thing about having an “important appointment.”

And even though he hadn’t responded, you tried to not overthink it as you calmed down from telling your entire life story to your therapist.

When you’d pulled into the apartment complex, your stomach sank at the sight that greeted you. Your space was awaiting you, but Jake’s, next to yours, was empty. Per usual these days, his new purchase of a used car was not at home at the same time as you. Really, you’d gotten used to his lack of presence. But it always made you sadder than you wanted to admit. Because, well, you knew if he wasn’t at the studio or some rehearsal, he was most likely with Maya (you were awfully glad he didn’t bring her around the apartment too much, but still. . .your mind went crazy at the other prospects of what they were doing). 

But today, it was worse. You were sad for more than your assumptions about his whereabouts. Today, you desperately wanted to tell him thank you– wanted to fill him in on how it had gone so great. But he wasn’t there. Because you’d pushed him away (something that Gia told you you’d ‘navigate the reasoning for’).

So, as you trudged up the steps, instead of walking in to tell Jake, you just took time to relax as much as you could. And you figured a good way to do that was to give yourself a long ‘everything shower,’ with your most favorite R&B playlist playing as background noise. 

And when you’d gotten out, the screen that you opened your phone to was something that brought a swarm of anxiously joyous butterflies. Under his name, there was a ‘Yes, of course!’ from Josh. And below his text, was a notification for your next appointment with Gia. One week from today. 

Everything would be okay. It would. You recited this as you responded to him, deciding to try your best not to think of telling him until you absolutely had to tomorrow, after hitting send with a simple ‘thank you :)’.

You kept reciting that everything would ‘be okay’ as you put a hand to the firm little bump, growing steadily at the bottom of your tummy. And you contemplated as much as you were willing to, without reducing yourself to any more tears (you’d cried enough already for one day). Because now all you were going to be plagued with for the next several hours until your OB appointment was whether there was actually a baby in your growing belly. 

You then ate a giant salad (everything else you wanted to eat had made you feel nauseous as hell), as you’d watched Friends. Your thoughts were subdued, but still spiraled a tad. . .though, you took Gia’s advice and tried to slow them down to navigate each one with what you genuinely knew. There was nothing telling you that you weren’t with child besides your own convoluted mess of negative thought. More signs were pointing to that you still were. One piece of truth keeping you going was your growing belly. And even though bellies could still grow after miscarriage or in the case of hysterical pregnancy, the probability of that being your situation was very, very slim. Right?

You knew that. 

Before too long, you were standing in front of your vanity, braiding your wet hair and laying down to find rest much easier than many nights in recent times. . . the only thing that kept you up for a bit longer than you wanted was wondering why Jake hadn’t come home yet.

But, again, you knew it was none of your fucking business.

-🌼🌼🌼-

The next afternoon had you waiting outside of your apartment as soon as Josh said he was about five minutes away. Your apartment had started to feel absolutely insufferable, closing in around you as your mind went crazy with scenarios.

The autumn day was lovely, sun shining, but warmer today than it’d been yet this season. With no breeze. And, the lack of breeze was not aiding in your already-sweaty palms, wet with nerves. Or your upset stomach—your current nausea induced by your anxiety more than the (hopeful) baby in your tummy.

Your stomach was fucking rolling as you waited for Josh to pull up to the complex. 

Dramatic as it may have sounded, you felt as if you were on the verge of a heatstroke when he eventually showed up in his little car, which was literally squeaking and creaking as it sat still. The exhaust emitted from the back of the car was enough to make you feel like you were actually going to blow chunks, and you instantly decided you could not ride thirty minutes to the clinic in his little hunk of metal.

Sending a quick text, you made up an excuse to take your car. To emphasize the text, you went ahead and started walking to your Jetta, parked in its usual spot.

You, 11:49 p.m.: I need to get gas… Can we take my car? 

Josh, 11:50 p.m.: Of course.

Josh, 11:50 p.m.: Are you ready?

You smiled, looking over to where he was still parked in his visitor space. His eyebrows crinkled in concentration to the device in his hand as he watched the screen, waiting for you to respond.

You, 11:51 p.m.: Yes, Joshua. I’m at my car and staring right at you.

As soon as he got the text, you waited for what you knew was coming. He looked up from his phone, through his windshield, and at you with a giant grin painted across his features. It didn’t take him long to get out of his car, lightly jogging as he came over to you. 

“You creep,” he smiled, slightly out of breath. “Peeking through my windows.”

You rolled your eyes, but your stomach started aching, yet again, at the prospect of what you were about to tell him. Honestly, at this point, you were just ready to get it over. The longer you kept it to yourself, the more you were worrying about it and his possible reaction. And the sooner you could just tell him, you’d see his honest, real reaction. . . and then you could deal with the rest from there. 

It also helped that his girlfriend and your certified therapist thought that it would go okay. They were the practical thinkers in this situation, whereas you were an overthinker to the highest degree. And, if you could just get it out–just fucking tell him–you could (hopefully) validate their predictions of how the situation would play out. 

“Am I driving or are you?” He asked, bringing your thoughts back to the present. 

To current Josh. Josh who didn’t know anything yet. Completely ignorant Josh. . . fuck. The last moments of keeping him in the dark.

“You,” was all you said before you unlocked the car and made your way to the passenger side. Once you were both inside, you handed him the keys as he started the engine.

Your stomach fucking dropped as he backed out of the space. . . what was about to come out would literally change you and Josh forever.

Would it be for good? Would it be for bad? If he was going to be mad at you, how long would he stay that way?

You couldn’t be upset with him if he got angry. For everything. Like distracting Jake when Josh had specifically told you he didn’t want that for his twin. Or for simply keeping this giant ass secret from him about it all. The more you thought about it, you thought that perhaps the reason you were so scared was because of how completely validated he would be if he did end up being pissed as hell with you. . .

But. . . you just couldn’t stand losing him. Especially at such a time as this. . . you needed him. 

And that’s why you just needed to fucking tell him. It was inevitable for him to find out, and the sooner it was out, the sooner you weren’t lying to him anymore. Because that’s exactly what you’d been doing. You’d been fucking lying. For months. To your best friend.

“So,” he began, excited–the complete opposite of how you were feeling. “Where are we going?” 

Plugging your phone into the CarPlay, you turned off Siri’s voice before you did anything since you didn’t want her blurting out your destination before you were ready to tell him. Once she was silenced, you pulled up the directions to the clinic you’d carefully chosen. 

You sat back slowly after entering it, your stomach spinning as your thoughts went insane and your nerves continued to set on white-hot fire.

You spared a glance over at him through your lashes to see him looking out the corner of his eye at you, coming up to a stoplight. The look he was giving you made you sure that your face was morphed to show utter terror and worry. “What’s wrong, mama?”

Fuck. You turned to face the front again and squeezed your eyes shut at the nickname, bringing two clenched, sweaty fists up to your eyes as your skin began to feel like it was quite actually peeling off of you in nervous jitters. Your eyes couldn’t stand being squeezed shut any longer as you felt the tears forming behind your lids.

He continued driving, but with the occasional nervous glance in your direction. 

Then, he laid a comforting palm on your shoulder, his thumb soothing circles over your arm. 

And, once he’d done that, it was no longer in your control to keep the tears at bay. You tried to fight them back, but it was to no avail. 

So, there you were, face becoming drenched in tears as you couldn’t stop sputtering little sobs. 

In your peripheral, you saw Josh looking at you as he came to one last light before the highway, face surely painted with distress. “Y/n?” He checked, careful and concerned. “I’m sorry if I said some–.”

And what came out of your mouth next was not at all expected. But, it blurted through your lips with zero fucking warning. You did not know which part of your brain had decided to communicate with your mouth to say it.

“I’m pregnant,” you sobbed.

The car lurched to a stop, cars honking furiously behind you at Josh’s abrupt action. Your stomach, already thick with nerves, couldn’t handle it. You quickly slapped an open palm over your mouth to conceal any projectile vomiting. Thankfully none came, but you had to clench your eyes shut once again as Josh made a wide, sloppy U-turn off of the street that was leading to the highway. 

And when he’d finally come to a stop again, you opened your eyes to see he’d pulled the car over into the nearest McDonald’s.

Focusing too hard on trying not to vomit helped you to stop the outrageous weeping for a few minutes. You finally peeled the hand from your mouth as you took several deep breaths, in and out, to calm yourself and your stomach. 

Before you even knew what was happening, Josh was getting out, running to the door of the establishment. You watched in the mirror to your right as he simultaneously got his wallet out of his back pocket. 

Choosing not to worry about it, you shut your eyes once more to ease your tummy. But it did not help and you felt the puke coming in just enough time to unlock your door, open it, and puke all over a piece of the yellow line that boxed the car into its space.

You groaned as you leaned back up into the car and into your seat, letting your hair fall from the impromptu ponytail that you were holding at the back of your neck. Popping open the glovebox, you grabbed a few napkins to wipe your face (these days, between the incessant crying and vomiting, you were fucking constantly thanking God for the years-accumulated collection).

And then the driver’s side door was opening once more, this time Josh’s khakis making the first appearance as he climbed back in. He had two cups, one balanced between his bicep, clad in a white, long-sleeved tee and his chest and one in his hand. He quickly placed both in the center cup holders and popped a straw in each. 

Your brows lifted, wondering. “What did you–?” 

“Sprite,” he pointed to the one at the front. “And water,” the one in the second holder. 

“How did you–?”

“There’s a part of my brain permanently cemented with what it was like to watch my mom be pregnant with Sammy,” he explained, eyes soft with a smile gracing his handsome features. “I was too young to remember watching her pregnancy with Ron, but Sammy. . . he’s always been tough–even in the fuckin’ womb.”

You gave a small giggle, stomach spinning when your hand went to grab the Sprite. The carbonation sounded perfect, and Sprite had been a go-to in a few cases of your recent nausea. 

The cool drink had been just what you’d needed, sighing as soon as you brought the straw away from your lips with the first sip. You kept it clutched in your hands as a lifeline when you looked at Josh next, eyes wet. “Thank you, Joshy,” you croaked, tone exuding gratefulness. 

“Yeah, always,” he affirmed, his eyebrows dipped in. The next few minutes were spent in silence, your thoughts finally quieted a little with the initial confession to him. You took a few quiet sips of your drink, the sound of you swallowing the loudest sound in the small car.

Knowing he most likely wasn’t wanting to pressure you to talk, you took the initiative. “I–I’m sorry for not– I’m–,” you choked, shaking your head. The tears were beginning to gather once fucking more. Yet, even with eyes wet and throat tight, you persevered. You had to get the rest of it said before you continued to the appointment–you were going to be late if you didn’t get going soon. And you weren’t about to tell him the rest afterwards. “I have to tell you the rest.”

His jaw clenched in preparation for it as he nodded, his body turning to better face you for what was left. “Lay it on me.”

You gulped, mimicking his movement so you could see him better. Your throat was so tight it nearly suffocated you with nerves. “The–the father,” you started, looking into the eyes that looked so eerily similar to his brother’s. Very much like the ones you hoped your baby would wind up having–yet, not entirely the same. “Do you want to know?”

Of course you’ll want to, you thought at your ridiculous question. And I’m going to tell you anyway, but I’m stalling like a pussy.

His lips quirked, but only the slightest, tiniest bit. “Only if you want to tell me.”

I have to.

“I–I do,” you said, your eyes darting down to your hands which wrung at your waist, itching to touch your tummy. So, you did, settling them on the small bump. And instantly, you felt better. You were beginning to find it slightly crazy what one simple touch could do. 

Choosing to watch your hands lace at your tummy instead of him, you took the last jump with two words. “It’s Jake.”

-🌼🌼🌼-

a/n: i promise you won't be waiting a month for Josh's reaction ;) see you very, very soon <3

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

Fill this form out if you'd like to join my taglist! <3 (i am slowly but surely adding these users to the taglist! :) life is busy as hell and i haven't been updating my doc w the tags like i should :/)

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[gojou-violin]

pull me in

| pairing: yandere!takizawa x yandere!fem!reader

| warnings: 18+ MDNI. yandere themes and characters. rough smut. hair pulling. choking. quickie. forced breeding. biting. blood. scratching. marking. switch reader and takizawa, depending on the mood. ghoul marriage (marking each other). unprotected vaginal sex. no plot. no prep. just some good ol' fashion jumpin each other's bones and raw doggin that shit.

| summary: takizawa's always been so fascinating to you since the day the doctor brought him to the lab... you've just been dying to get your hands on him.

| wc: 1.7k

| taglist: @ilovealexisness , @bakugosgorl , @aylitgirl , @justanotherpasserby , @lyteatus , @diorsbrando , @thisbicc , @yutaokkotsu-baby , @yakakuoiran , @belenosblack

| a/n: basically just my oc and takizawa, but fuck it, we ball. also, here's some music inspo: [1] [2]

You heard the door break behind you after Takizawa had smashed it open with a kick on the back of his heel before he stumbled backwards into your room. Your hands were all over him. His were all over yours. The two of you grabbed on tight as he hit the edge of your bed, sending him down with a gentle thud that caught him off guard long enough for you to stop kissing him so that you could quickly push his black jacket off of his shoulders before carelessly ripping his shirt open. Takizawa hissed at the feeling. His chest was exposed to you, so much so that it was impossible to ignore the pleading voice in the back of your head begging you to rake marks down his pale skin all night 'til he and the rest of the world knew exactly whom he belonged to. But he beat you to it. Takizawa's reactions were faster than yours, his hands darting up to fist the fabric of your shirt before yanking so hard you jolted on his hips, feeling his erection pressing up against you through your pants.

He laughed at how easily you blushed in reaction. Your silence was his chance to continue his work of clawing the rest of your clothes of by starting with your bra which he ruined within seconds-- You promised that you'd make him pay for that later. Despite the fact that you were regaining your strength against his silly seductive tactics, he still managed to have the upper hand while under you. A tear of your skirt revealed your panties to him, and those went just as swiftly.

Finally, you pinned Takizawa's hands down above his head. He struggled under you. He made so many desperate attempts to free himself, but he still had lots to learn about being a ghoul and harnessing the strength that you were capable of. It was just too easy for you to hold him down while you pushed his pants down since it was too difficult to rip them open given his position and the fact that you only had one hand. You were strong, but not that fucking strong.

Takizawa snapped up, his teeth nipping at your wrist to get you to release him. It worked. Within a second, as you retreated, he sat up and kissed you desperately, his fingers tangling in your hair to force you to stay close while you grinded down against his erection that was pressed against his lower abdomen.

"Stop teasing--" he begged through gritted teeth.

You bit onto his bottom lip. In protest to your denial, he reached between your bodies to grab onto his length, lining it up with your entrance.

"Sit on it."

But you refused. You pulled your hips back to escape him so that you could finally drag your nails down his chest like you'd so badly wanted to. Immediately, the red lines appeared in your wake, turning more bold with irritation as you continued to track the same paths again and again until you saw a bit of blood rising to the surface.

"Fuck--" He bit onto your shoulder as hard as he could.

With a yelp, your knees weakened and you finally fell down, making it so easy for Takizawa to press his tip into you, and you took him the rest of the way with a moan that fell off your lips. Your blood dripped down his chin. He was trying his best to slurp up as much as he could as if you were the fucking elixir of life or some shit, yet the more it dripped, the more eager you got to ride him.

"Taki..." you mumbled into his white hair.

"Faster."

You grabbed onto his hair and jerked him backwards so that his neck was craned back, his hair out of his face, blood and drool dripping out the corners of his purple lips, his red eyes glossed over with lust for you. The sight was so perfect. He looked so dumbed out for someone who could talk so much shit.

Takizawa had been the type of guy to ignore you, to shrug you off whenever you hovered during his check up with the Doctor, to tell you off whenever you were annoying him. It took weeks before he started tolerating your presence; and it took months before you had him at your doorstep practically begging to have you fuck him. How the mighty could fall. He was all talk and no bite-- Though your shoulder hurt like a bitch thanks to him. But now you were on top of him, controlling the pace and how far you want him to go into you, which wasn't very far since you had to punish him for ruining your bra and underwear. You wondered if it would take long before his tongue would start lolling out. Maybe you could even get him to beg and whimper for you if you asked.

"So pathetic," you cooed in his ear.

His hands made their way to your waist, pressing his nails in until you had no choice but to sink further down on him as it was his silent demand. Fine. If that was what he wanted. You'd give it to him. You'd make him regret it, of course, no question about it.

"Feel good?" you teased.

He bared his ghoul canines at you. You chuckled and began riding him as fast as you could, hoping that you could chase your orgasm before he could get too close. It was hard to keep your eyes open and your moans to yourself... It wasn't like he was the most well-hung guy out there, but it sure was doing the job, and it felt so fucking good. In an attempt to hide just how much you were falling apart, you hid your face in the crook of his neck, biting down where you'd knew you'd get the most out of him while he'd still be able to heal fast enough thanks to how much he'd fed off of you; meanwhile your hands were teasing the marks on his chest again, forcing his abdomen to clench up, giving him more definition than you could have ever imagined he was hiding underneath all of those black clothes of his.

"F-Fuck y-you," he muttered breathlessly.

You bit down harder, tearing a bit at the flesh just where his neck and shoulder met.

Suddenly, with a loud, deep grunt, Takizawa flipped the two of you over while his hands were on your hips and you were so caught up in eating him that you couldn't stop him before it was too late. You were under him. He was digging his nails into your hips some more. He was grinning down at you. And then he started fucking you as fast and hard as he could. He forced you to take every inch he had to give. With his full weight on you-- Though he was stick skinny-- you had hardly wiggle room beyond biting at his neck like you had been previously. He let you do what you wanted. He let you take in as much as you wanted because it got him even closer, and you could feel it every time he twitched inside of you whenever you'd land a new bite.

"More, Taki. Harder. Do anything you want."

That was his sign to not hold back anymore. Despite the fact that you'd littered him with marks, you could tell that he had still been holding back up until that point. So eagerly, he took the sharp point of his index finger nail that he slowly slid along the crevice between your breasts. He halted his thrusts briefly so that he could lean down to slurp up the blood, to which you responded by running your hands through his hair again, bucking your hips up into him due to how hot his tongue was against your cold skin.

"Feels good, huh?" he teased back.

You rolled your eyes. To that, he grinned and bucked into you again, his posture straight again so that his hair was hanging down into your face.

"Harder."

"I like when you beg for it..." He panted. "F-Fuck--" His eyes squeezed shut tight. "Fuck..."

He was so close. The way that he couldn't hold his composure together the same way you couldn't, the way his head was hanging down weakly, the way his eyes couldn't open to look at you, and the way his thrusts were getting sloppier like he was getting ready to pull out of you at a moment's notice. No, no, no. He wasn't getting out of it that easily. Months of making you yearn for him had finally caught up to Takizawa. You were going to be his worst nightmare.

He whimpered as you two rolled again, forcing him onto his back and you sitting all the way down onto his lap. You pinned him down by wrapping a hand around his slender, bloodied neck; and much to your chagrin, Takizawa didn't fight back this time. He was broken beneath you. His orgasm was just over the horizon, preventing him from thinking about what was right and what was wrong. That was your moment. With the right pace and swift movements of your swirling hips, Takizawa grabbed onto your wrist to brace himself on something.

"Fuck-- I'm cumming-- Fuck-- Pull me out-- Fuck--"

You shook your head. You planted yourself all the way down, rubbing your clit to send you over the edge, watching as his eyes shot wide when he started to spill inside of you. He whined just as pathetically as you dreamed he was. With you squeezing around him as your own orgasm hit, you forced every drop out of him; His red and bruising chest shook as his entire body worked through an orgasm so strong his tongue finally lolled out.

Victorious, you kissed him passionately. He panted into your kiss, the rest of his body stilling, his hands releasing your wrist so that you could let go of his neck, too.

"Feel better?" you questioned as you sat up.

Takizawa nodded silently. Poor thing couldn't think straight. Good.

[theplaceicommitmysins]

18+ He’s The Next One: 8 - F!Reader X L Lawliet

No gendered language is used (Probably).

Wordcount: 2.7k

Contains: Second person POV, violence, penetrative sex, the reader is a serial killer.

“Sweet mother of fuck!” You pick up the lamp from your (L’s) bedside table and hurl it at the monster hovering a foot away from you, eyes going wide with horror as it passes straight through and smashes against the wall.

“So I’ve stopped straddling the line between sane and crazy and have fully picked a side to land on. Great.” You think, as you stare at the creature before you. Bony and white and tall and weirdly hot, nope not going there, it lifts an inhumanly long arm up to point at you, the motion as fluid as the creation of Adam if Adam scared the absolute fuck out of god.

Then when it she? opens her mouth to speak, the first thing she says is your full name.

Shit.

There’s a long pause as she waits for you to acknowledge her with something other than abject terror before you manage to croak out, “Yup.”

Then you let out a shriek and scramble backwards, trying to escape her sudden approach, landing on your and L’s bed with a bounce and scooting as far away from her as you can without falling off the other side, snatching up a pillow as a shield like that will somehow protect you.

“I have seen something strange.” She says, voice inhuman in how it somehow doesn’t seem to fit the space you’re in, like the air she expels and sound waves she produces aren’t actually hitting the walls, or the windows or the carpet. Like the sound exists only for you to hear.

It rips a shudder from you.

“Same.” You think.

“All humans die. Their lifespan is set, hovering above their heads for gods of death to see,” Shinigami. Noted. “Unchanging. But yours changed.”

“Can… Can they do that?”

“No.”

“Oh.”

“Yet your lifespan keeps shifting before my very eyes.” The clawed hand reaches out again, fingers lackadaisically drifting through the air above your head like she’s testing the temperature of water and satisfied with what she finds. 

“Every time I decide to kill L.” You inhale sharply, shocked by the speed with which the cold overtakes your body, the swiftness with which you are prepared to kill, “Your lifespan shrinks to nearly nothing.” The shinigami pauses for a moment and her freaky yellow monster eyes flash in the dark, “Whenever I change my mind…” She pokes the air above you, “You live a long, long life… For a human.”

“… Cool?”

The look she gives you is flat but it also makes you want to cry from fear, “Do you know what this tells me?”

“That when L dies Kira kills me?”

“It tells me that L lets you live.”

“That was a given,” you think, then pause, because no it wasn’t. Was it?

“You have taken human lives and faced no consequence, as Kira does, yet even with evidence L does not turn on you. Should he survive, you will escape this situation hale and whole.”

“Or with a life sentence in prison.” You snark under your breath to yourself.

Her presence begins to feel more oppressive, like the air in the room has started to crush you and the pillow you held as a shield you now hold like a child clutching a stuffed toy for safety.

Now you’re hyperventilating to the point where you know you could lose consciousness if you don’t calm down.

“You have the power to shift L away from his principles.”

But that’s not what matters to her, you realize. Not truly.

“There’s someone you don’t want to die.” You whisper it, afraid that you might offend this literal deity into smiting you, or whatever it is she does.

Her chest expands like she’s inhaling sharply, though you note that at no point prior to now has she seemed to breathe, like the motion is more habitual body language than out of necessity.

The next pause is longer.

You think you might be sick.

“You have protected Misa Amane to the best of your ability, and her lifespan has remained… Static.”

“Short.” You think she means.

“If my lifespan can change, hers could too. You want me to get L to pardon Misa.”

Hesitation and then a nod of confirmation.

“… How- How am I seeing you? How does Light kill? Why-”

She’s suddenly looming and you get the impression questioning a literal god isn’t the smartest move.

Once again that feeling of life ending terror seizes you and you quickly blurt out some justifications., “L isn’t going to spare Misa for just a pretty please, but if I can give him Kira,” She looks furious and you flinch, “Yagami! If I can give him Yagami, he’ll be far more likely to listen to me!”

You hold your breath, clutching the pillow like a lifeline and wait to see how short your life truly is.

“You touched my death note.” She gestures towards the nightstand where an innocuous black journal lay face down.

“… Death note?”

She just sort of hovers and stares at you so you slowly move towards the nightstand, crawling across the sheets till you can reach it with the very tips of your fingers and pull it to you, wanting to maintain a safe laughable distance. Your eyes dart between the book and her, but when she remains unmoving you relax an iota, flipping the journal open to the first page.

A list of instructions greets you.

And suddenly, so much of how Light’s been getting away with this makes sense.

“Motherfucker… He was cheating the whole god damn time!”

You look up, having more questions than answers now, and… She’s gone. The shinigami, whoever she was, disappeared into thin air, just as she appeared.

Hands clutching the book you read the rules again, then flip to a blank page.

You could kill him. Kill Kira with his own powers. It would be almost poetic.

The paper crinkles beneath your shaking fingers, as you clutch the death note nearly tight enough to tear it in half.

—

With a soft thump you bop L on the top of the head with the Death Note.

Turning around, spoon full of pudding hovering in that weird grip he has in front of his face, L looks at you with undisguised confusion. The dark circles under his eyes more prominent than you’ve ever seen them before, and they’ve been getting worse every day he hasn’t been cuffed to Kira.

Dangling the book before his eyes in a two fingered grip, mimicking his physical mannerisms, you say, “A shinigami showed up in our room and gave me the murder weapon.”

He blinks once. Twice. Then snatches the book from your hand.

—

L has Watari lock you in your original room on your original floor and you take it as a meditative opportunity to smash all of the furniture in the place.

—

You’re sitting on the floor five days later, using a broken table leg to punch holes in the drywall. So far you’ve drawn a sun wearing sunglasses, a cat, and a dick. And now you’re working on a dog to add to your gallery.

You can hear the door open but you don’t look up, continuing to punch a row of holes into the wall, wondering what type of tail to give the dog.

The footsteps behind you are cautious, picking through the carnage of splinters and glass on the floor to protect bare feet. There’s no way he wasn’t watching through the cameras so he should’ve worn shoes. His fault. Not yours.

“Property damage doesn’t fit your M.O.”

L sounds tired.

You ignore him.

After a moment he gently bops you on the top of your head.

Your next stab at the wall nearly puts your fist through it as well.

When you go to pull back spidery fingers, long and thin and creepy and perverted and cold snatch at your wrist, twisting you around to face him, leaning against the ruin of a wall behind you and you glare, fist going tighter around your makeshift wooden stake.

The frogs eyes are as flat and dead and blank as ever as he just looks at you, before placing the death note to the side. “You didn’t write in it.”

You quirk a brow at that statement of obviousness, and he continues, “None of the handwriting in the book matched yours. None of the ink was newer than Miss Amane’s capture. And when I reviewed the footage of our room,” The casualness with which he says our hurts your heart. “You brought it straight to me.”

He sounds awed and he’s looking at you that way he does again.

Gives you that weirdly cute little close lipped smile.

You shoot a foot out and kick him in the stomach, shoving him backwards away from you with a scowl.

The air punches out of him in a whoosh and you stand up, hands trembling and you don’t feel cold this time.

You’re burning.

Pivoting before you can do something permanent you twist and launch the chair leg like a spear, making a hole in the far wall from the both of you as you struggle to catch your breath in what feels like a damn near blinding rage.

And your vision is blurry you realize. The room seeming to wobble and melt around you and it must be the rage that’s making your eyes sting. The wetness escaping down your cheeks has to be anger, that has to be why the burning in your chest hurts so much.

Despite the fact that L’s the one who got kicked, you both need a moment to catch your breath before you turn and look at him, lying back on the floor, propped on his elbows and staring up at you with what you’re sure must be an unreadable expression because you still can’t see it through the tears rage.

“You put me in solitary confinement for five days.” You tread towards him, heedless of the debris and stomp on his shoulder, flattening his back to the ground with a thump. “Five fucking days, because you didn’t trust me.”

Your chest feels tight and your voice sounds wrong to your own ears, watery and choked from anger.

Anger. Anger. Anger. It’s anger, it has to be-

Your shoulders shake when a sob is torn from your throat.

“You’ll sleep next to me- Fuck L, you’ll sleep inside of me but you won’t trust me?!”

Some of the blurriness fades and you can see wetness on his face. You’re crying on him. Literally onto him.

Pathetic.

You ball up your hands into fists and press them into your eyes, shuddering through the pain you’re feeling.

It’s anger. Not pain. Anger.

Get angry. Get angry. Get Ang-

Long delicate fingers wrap around your ankle, the cold soothing against the burning you feel as they trace up your leg, pinching at the hem of your skirt and tugging gently, until you concede and kneel above him.

Your own crying sounds pathetic to you, noisy like a child and rocking your whole body with it as L draws you down onto his chest and wraps his arms around you.

He nuzzles his nose against your wet cheeks, gently nudging your hands away from your eyes and kisses at the tears as they fall, the cool press of him soothing even as you burn burn burn burn burn-

He says your name, your real name, whispered against the shell of your ear like a prayer to keep you safe and you wrap your arms behind his neck and pull him into a kiss.

You’re mean about it, teeth clashing, biting his lip till he hisses and pulling his hair like you want to rip it out.

Angry.

He doesn’t respond the same though, every time you relent for even a moment he’s gentle. L presses soft slow kisses to your mouth like you’re something precious.

You see tears on his face clearly now that you’re up close and you know they’re yours.

L traces the very tips of his fingers across your cheekbones, catching your hurt as it falls and brushing it away.

Sad.

God damn it.

“Tell me what you need.”

You sniffle, going damn near limp in his hold as you murmur, “Misa needs a full pardon or the Shinigami’s gonna kill you.”

His hand stills for a long tense moment before drifting to the back of your neck and pulling you close so he can press a chaste kiss to the crown of your head. “Okay.”

You tip your head to look up at him with big watery eyes, “Really?”

The sigh he releases feels like resignation against you, but nevertheless he breathes out, “Really.”

He pulls you back into a kiss. Soft, slow and gentle, and you can’t help but press your own little pecks and kitten licks against the bruises you’d left on his lips. Apology and gratitude melding together.

“Tell me what else you need.” He speaks the words into your mouth.

“You.”

His hands smooth down your back as he presses more worship into the skin of your neck, ghosting lower and lower until her can dip his fingers between your thighs and trace his fingers against the fabric of your panties. Barely there touches that leave you rocking your hips back against his hand, whispers of “Please.” Falling from your lips without prompting.

And he obliges, always so obliging when it comes to you, presses the palm of his hand against your core and rubs a slow steady pressure against your heat.

You can feel the way your desire dampens your panties, the moment you soak through to cling to his hand highlighted by the shuddering exhale you feel against the skin of your cheek before L is pressing more open mouthed kisses to you, quicker now, needier.

L hooks a finger under your panties and twists his wrist to press the tip inside but you shake your head, murmur, “No.” And he immediately halts, pulling his hand back to rest on your lower back, thumb brushing little circles as he steadies his breathing.

It takes him a moment to gather his composure, voice thick as he asks, “Do you want to stop?”

But you shake your head, and smile, reaching between you to flick open the button of his jeans and pull the zipper down. “No. Just need you.”

L’s eyelids flutter shut and he rolls his head back, letting out a long, shaky breath. His lips part, slightly swollen from your bruising attention, and you reach up to brush your fingers against them, smiling when he kisses the tips without hesitation.

“Can I?”

“Yes.” He says it before you can even finish the question, and with that you pull him from his boxers, shift your panties to the side, and sink down onto him in one languid stroke.

He feels perfect like this, just the right amount of stretch, filling you to the base and making you feel full without it being too much. A perfect fit.

You roll your hips in a steady motion, the wetness of your arousal easing the movement as your grind yourself against him, never really lifting off of him, not wanting to lose the feeling of being completely together in the way and you just…

Look.

Look at the lovely shade of pink that dusts L’s cheeks, ears, and collarbones. The way the muscle in his jaw and the tendons in his neck flex and strain with each of your movements, as if his body were an extension of your own, a natural chain reaction. You drift your hands to the bottom of his shirt tugging at it until you can push it up far enough to watch the muscles in his scrawny abdomen flex and shift as you rock your bodies together.

“Mine.”

L nods, lips parted around soft moans, so very pretty coming from him and he cups your cheek, pulls you down so your foreheads are touching, breathes his answer into your mouth.

“Yours.”

—

Later you pout at L from your seat next to him in the HQ’s main monitoring room, tossing the death note back and forth between your hands, “How come Watari didn’t lecture you?”

L pops a cherry into his mouth with a hum, “I didn’t put holes in the walls.”

“I didn’t put holes in the walls.” You parrot back, tone mocking.

[starlightsuffered]

Bambi (p7)

Info - attempted assault, mention of prostitution, murder, Canibalism, heart break, mention of sex, calling reader whore and birch

I pulled up my pants groggily. Lee wasn't man handling and giving me some wonderful morning sex. No, something much worse was happening.

It was Mortimer. My old boss. He was the whole reason I was on the run.

"Little y/n," he chuckled, his teeth were even more rotten than the last time I'd seen him. My eyes flickered to the truck bed. Lee was no where to be found.

"You left, do you know how many customer's I lost you whore?" His putrid breath washed over my face. He slapped me hard. I felt anger well inside me. I was happy, finally happy with Lee, I wasn't going to let this asshole drag me back to being miserable,

I tried desperately to push him off me. I wanted to move my knee upward to hit him in the balls. I was stuck, pinned to the ground.

"Leave me alone. I don't want to go back," I snarled. My hand was freed for a second. My fist came up and landed in his eye. His head whipped back and I felt hope for a moment.

"You wicked little bitch. I'll have to fuck you back into submission," he spat.

"N-no!" I pleaded.

"You'll be so sore you'll pray you get clients so you don't have to go through it again. You are quite a pretty thing. I'm sure I can get hard enough to destroy you," he said and pressed his hand against my throat. I clawed at it.

"Lee," I whimpered. As if I'd summoned him, someone whipped a blade across the throat of my old pimp.

Blood splattered out and onto me. I gasped as he was pulled off of me.

"Thank you," I breathed. However, Lee wasn't paying me any mind. I couldn't believe what I was seeing.

Lee's face was buried in Mortimer's neck. He was...he was eating him. The wet sounds should have been sickening, but it was Lee. It was my Lee, he couldn't be bad.

"Lee," I said softly. He was still feasting. He was so focused on it that I was quite surprised. Had this been what he'd done when he'd come back bloody. He had distracted me every time I brought it up, always fucking me to make me forget.

"Lee," I said again, but louder now.

"You're leaving, get your shit and go," he said roughly.

"Wait what!" I demanded.

"I killed the guy chasing you. You're good to go now," he said gruffly.

"B-but Lee I don't want to leave," I said and I sniffed, finding I was actually emotional.

"I told you I don't want you to be disappointed in me. This was going to end at some point anyway," he said and kicked the body who was ripped open.

"I didn't say I was disappointed in you. I didn't think this was going to end so soon! Lee I'm in love with you," I said desperately. Thunder cracked, and rain began to pour down on us.

"You're in love with me?" He asked over the rain.

"Yes," I said, taking a shaky step forward.

"Why would you say that?"

"Because it's true," I admitted.

"We're just, just, fucking around," Lee said, rubbing the back of his neck.

"Fucking around? You protect me, we fuck, we cock warm, we, we-"

"It's all for fun," he snapped

"You don't kiss someone like that for fun!" I snarled.

"You're ridiculous," he rolled his eyes.

"I knew you were going to leave," I called after him in a moment of pure sorrow. He actually paused as if he'd like to prove me wrong. "Every one does."

"Find better than me Bambi," he called behind him. I couldn't decide if he felt the same and couldn't let himself, or if he thought I wasn't good enough for him.

"There isn't," I mumbled and burst into tears as the truck I loved so dearly pulled away. Lee and his truck faded into the distance. I sat next to the bloody body and cried my eyes out, unable to move.

@windmillsaregiants

[joyful-patatas]

They're Just A Kid

Chapter 2 || CLEAVER CHiLED

“My name is stupid.” Well, he did not expect that. He asked, “Do you despise it?” “Despise is…a strong word.” “Would you be willing to tell me your name?”

Word Count: 3,873

CW: Beheading, murder. ao3 link

‘Well…this is embarrassing.’

The orc in the cell huffed as he leaned on the bars with chains gently rattling from the subtle movement. He did expect to encounter danger along the road, but he was not expecting to cross paths with Imperial soldiers and having to pay a toll with gold he did not have. Even his own kin who wore the red fabric of the Imperial army did not let him go.

‘City orcs.’ He quickly snarled at the thought.

City orcs. Orcs that stray away from Malacath’s teachings and reject orcish traditions with no honor in battle or in life. He was only more convinced when that same orc would come and try to convince him to join them, only to reject him every single time. He knew that the orc in red was the reason he was still alive since his companions wanted to just kill him and not waste their rations and other resources on a prisoner; but even so, he was absolutely not going to accept participating in whatever ridiculous cause they had.

The door opened once again and the orc growled in response. Thinking it was the same orc from before, he said, “My answer is the same. If you were a true orc you would stop wasting either of our time and fight me in a fair battle.”

“Shut up! Not everything is about you, pig-face!” He heard a scream and lifted his gaze to see a dark elf soldier dragging what seemed to be a child by the hair who was desperately clawed at his arm. It seemed that the child managed to cause at least a little bit of pain, since he let out a little pained hiss.

"S'wit!" He yanked the child’s hair, making them let out another scream of pain. "Damn Shumkh and his stupid plan."

He tossed them in the cage near the imprisoned orc before slamming the bar door close. The ringing of slamming metal echoed in the cave as he walked away, closing the door behind him. The orc turned to look at the cell where the child was put in and heard some faint sniffling as their body trembled.

He could not see much from the room only being lit by a few torches, but he did notice the ripped up red dress and clumsily wrapped bandages around their thigh and feet. He got a closer loo where there seemed to be dried blood. The child also had dark, most likely black hair that seemed like it was once in a nice updo, but is now just a tangled mess with branches and dirt stuck to it.

Just when he thought that those soldiers couldn't be any worse, he just saw them drag a severely injured child into a cage like a dog. He snarled, which caused the child to flinch in response and immediately went quiet. He found it surprising how quickly they went still and peered to watch for any form of life.

'Are they still breathing?'

"Are you alive?" He did not get a response for his question. "I would much rather know I am not in the same room with a child’s corpse."

It took a while, but at some point, the child slowly pushed themself up and turned to look at the orc. He was shocked to see such dark, tired eyes that seemed out of focus, even when looking directly at him.

He did not know whether to pity the child or be wary.

'No. This is a child. One in a terrible state too.'

He noticed them wince as they slowly got into a sitting position and pressed their hands on the wound of their thigh that seemed to have reopened. That is, assuming the soldiers did treat the wound.

"...fuck," they hissed. He noticed how their voice was faint and dry as they pressed their head on the metal bars for support while letting out shallow breaths.

"You look to be in pain." The orc saw the child glance at him while letting out a pitiful laugh before wincing.

"No shit,” they breathed out.

'Do human nobles swear so much?'

"Hey." He turned to the child who averted their eyes before looking back at him. "Are they...going to kill us?"

"I do not know." He answered quickly and honestly. "But I believe they will, after some time. When they no longer see any use in keeping us alive."

It was quiet once again. The orc gave a few glances to the child who just seemed to be looking around before their eyes caught something. He followed their gaze and saw a table with writing materials and a sack.

"Do...do you know what's in the bag?" Their voice was shaky and hesitant while asking.

It was obvious the child was afraid. 

"No. I do not. Though, I have seen one of the soldiers pull out a lockpick at some point." They turned to him with a frown.

"Soldiers?"

"Imperial soldiers. The ones who threw you in here."

"They were bandits disguised as Imperial soldiers."

"What?" He furrowed his brows as the kid explained.

"There's a civil war in Skyrim, no? Why would the Imperials bother imprisoning travelers when resources are scarce? That's beyond stupid." They made it sound like questions, but he could tell that the child knew what they were talking about. "You’re a traveler, right?"

"I suppose I somewhat am."

"Okay, cool."

'Cool? What is that supposed to mean?'

It went quiet once again. The orc found it quite unnerving with an injured child who’s eyes just looked blank. Then again, he could not deny how they seemed to be the clever sort. And if the bandits are keeping the child alive, it’s because they see value in the young looking noble.

“What is your name, child?” the orc asked with genuine curiosity.

He saw them furrow their brows before bringing their hand up to stroke their tangled hair. “Why do you want to know?”

“Names are important. Especially if you wish to get to know the person.” The orc answered as he noticed the child grip their hair.

“My name is stupid.”

Well, he did not expect that. He asked, “Do you despise it?”

“Despise is…a strong word.”

“Would you be willing to tell me your name?”

After what felt like several minutes, they answered, “…ₚᵢₚₑᵣ.”

“I like to think my ears are sharp, but not that sharp.” He let out a deep chuckle as they took in a deep breath before releasing a shaky one.

“Piper.” They repeated, louder for him to be able to hear. ”A stupid ass name for me because it means ‘flute player’ and I don’t even play the fucking flute.”

He could not help but let out a snort from their comment nor could he stop the corner of his lip from going up. The child's lips made a peculiar downcast motion that he does not often see on humans. Maybe it is something unique to human children? Either way, the child just proceeded to rest their temple on the cell bar.

“You laugh, but having that name isn’t fun around a bunch of teenagers.”

Ah, so their name is a sensitive subject.

“I apologize if I have upset you. Your name is quite adorable.”

This comment seems to have surprised them with their dark eyes widening before they turned their head away. The orc was concerned at that reaction since he could not tell if it was good or bad.

“Fifer.” Upon uttering their name, he quickly caught himself having a hard time pronouncing the ‘p’ sound.

The child looked up with a raised brow before saying, “Piper.” 

“Phi–Phipher.”

“Piper.”

“Phipher.”

“Pi. Per.”

“Phai. Pher.”

It was a back and forth between Piper saying their name and the orc having a hard time pronouncing it correctly. It came to the point he became frustrated and stopped trying entirely. He was not one to give up easily, but this seemed like an impossible task.

“You can call me something else,” Piper proposed. “I’ve been called ‘Pip’, ‘Peppy’, ‘Pippa’, ‘bagtit’, ‘noodles’ and…honestly, I realized a lot of them aren’t really good if they aren’t friends or relatives.”

‘I understand the first three, but what on Nirn is ‘bag tit’? Bag of tits? Strange…and what are ‘noodles’?’

“Kid works,” Piper stated as the orc looked confused.

“Kid?”

“Yeah, more informal word for ‘child’ as you called me, but I would rather be called ‘kid’ or ‘kiddo’ than ‘child’.”

He pondered the words before attempting the word, “Kid.” They nodded, seeming in approval when he pronounced the word without a problem.

"What about you?" He gave her a questioning hum. "What is your name?"

"You want to know an orc's name?"

"I mean, better than always saying 'hey, dude!' Or 'yo, orc!' when referring to you, don'tcha think? Also, kinda rude to ask someone’s name and not say your own." Piper replied as the orc let out a deep breath through his nose.

'A peculiar child. Entertaining, but peculiar.'

"I am Krogarz gro-Narzulbur."

"Huh, neat. So...Krogarsz? Am I saying that right?"

"Krogarz." He corrected.

"Krogairz. Crowga...Kroga-"

'An entertaining and peculiar child who cannot pronounce my name. Though…I suppose both of us have a hard time pronouncing each other’s names.'

"Hold on, I'll get it! Krogar-Kor...Krog. Fuck, wait. Shit. I'm usually so good at imitating pronunciations." It was another back and forth between the two with Krogarz correcting Piper’s mispronunciation.

After some time, Krogarz sighed before saying, "Do not worry too much about saying my name. Just saying ‘orc’ will let me know you are talking to me."

She did not look too happy about that and pondered in thought. "Can I just call you Krog? Seems to be the only part of your name I can pronounce at the moment and I don’t really wanna just call you ‘orc’. Sounds demeaning. Like if someone just called me ‘human’ I’ll just be like ‘urg. Shut up’, y’know? And you said names were important, so I can at least call you by a nickname.”

Well, he did not expect them to dislike referring to him as merely his race. He wondered if many other humans are like this or is it just noble children. If it is the latter, it would be a delightful surprise.

‘Krog…does not sound too bad.’

“You have my permission to call me Krog.” There seems to be a hint of a smile on the child as he said that.

“Really?” He gave a curt nod. “Aight, cool. So, uhhh. What brings you here?”

“Bandits disguised as Imperial soldiers.”

“Same, Krog. Same,” they nodded.

The silence was no longer as bad as the first night he spent here. Honestly, he does not quite know how long it has been, but it must have been quite some time if he longed to speak to someone this badly.

He looked at his chains attached to his wrist and up to the lock of the cage and let out a deep groan. “The lock seems weak and could easily break. If I can only get rid of the chains, we could easily escape.”

"We?" Piper sounded shocked as he frowned of her

"Yes. We. Do you expect me to leave a child behind?"

“I mean—,” she looked at her injured leg, “—I can’t really walk well, much less run. I’ll slow you down.”

Concerned about his escape rather than their own. The child gets weirder and weirder. “I can carry you. You do not look heavy. Underweight even.”

They looked hesitant on attempting to escape and he could not blame them. Neither were in a position to go against their captors with both of them locked up where one was chained up and one was injured.

“You said you saw one of them pull out lockpicks from the sack?” He nodded as Piper slowly stood up and approached the bars of their prison.

Piper looked at the door, seeming to try and hear if anyone was approaching before limping to the side of the cage. Piper turned to the side and extended their arm and uninjured leg out between the bars before slowly pushing themself out. It started with their shoulder and their hip not long after as Piper turned their head to the side to get in between the bars. He watched in bewilderment as Piper managed to slip out of their cell and quietly limped their way to the sack.

“Wha-?” He went quiet when Piper turned and placed a finger over their lips before rummaging through the bag and pulled out a couple of lockpicks.

Piper seemed to have heard someone approaching since they quickly closed the sack before hastily limping to the cage to slip back through the bars, the lockpicks shoved in their dress. The door opened just a little after the child stumbled back into their own cell, falling directly on their stomach with a groan at the process. The orc bandit that he knew the name to be Shumkh entered, his eyes landing on Piper, twitching every now and then with almost inaudible sobs.

“Noble children are so frail.” Shumkh stated before turning to Krog who merely glared at him in response. “Don’t you think?”

“Even so, the fact that you harmed a child is pathetic.” He snarled back. “Malacath would be disappointed at how low you have come.”

Shumkh harshly hit the metal bars, the ringing sound of bent metal echoing in the cave as he glared at the orc with bared tusk.

“There’s only so much I can do for you, kin. You either join, or I will have no choice but to sever your head.”

“Will you do so while I am chained down like a dog or will you face me like a true orc where we both wield weapons?”

“I’m not foolish enough to waste my time fighting a measly battle.”

“Do not fear me, kin. I promise to give you a good death worthy of a place in the Ash Pits if you fight me.”

Shumkh let out a low growl before turning away, glancing at the child for a moment and scoffed. He left while slamming the door behind him. Krogarz heard Piper stand up and slipped through the bars once again, this time limping towards the orc’s cell. Piper pulled out the lock picks and gestured for the orc to pass over the chain surrounding his wrist.

“I knew you looked thin, but not that thin.”

“I’m a skinny legend.” He let out a snort at that.

Piper was quick to insert them into the keyhole, taking more time than he would like and from how much they were struggling, he supposed he put a bit too much hope on them.

“Do you know what you are doing?” He asked as another pick broke.

“I have no idea what the fuck I’m doing.” They replied in a quiet and shaky breath while pulling out another pick. “Come on. Just unlock it you stupid bitch-!”

There was a click as the chain fell to the floor, surprising them both.

“Holy shit, that actually worked,” Piper gasped as they hastily asked for his other arm. 

He did so and noticed how they seemed to know what to do after their first success since they managed to unlock the chain faster than the first time. And of course, he started hearing footsteps approaching.

“Hell yeah. Now you just need to break the lock and—”

“Hide.” He quickly gestured them away, which he was glad they quickly picked up on it and hastily limped to the nearest rock to hide behind.

The door opened and the same Dunmer bandit who dragged Piper in the room entered with that same permanent frown before looking at the empty cell. The elf turned to Krogarz with a sword pulled out with a threatening glare.

“Alright, pig-face. Where’s the girl?”

'Lie.'

"What girl?" Krogarz watched as the elf's glare intensified.

"Don't play dumb. Where is she?"

“I do not know. I was not paying attention.”

“Liar!” He approached the cage, somehow not noticing Krog was unchained. “I’ll ask one more time. You either tell me or I’ll make you even uglier than you already are.”

Krogarz saw a stone being tossed from where Piper was hiding and the noise caused the bandit to turn to the sound, giving Krog the opportunity to reach his arms between the bars and grab onto the elf. The bandit lost his grip on his sword and instead brought his hand up to try and pry Krog's hand away from his face that muffled his screams and curses.

Krogarz started smothering the elf, making him claw at Krogarz’s hand more frantically as he struggled to breath, but gradually went limp as time went by. Once he was sure the dark elf was unconscious, he let the body fall to the floor about the same time the sound of metal squeaking reached his ears. Turning to the sound, he saw Piper tugging the door of his cell open with struggle and let out a loud huff once it looked wide enough for him to pass through.

“You seem to have the tenacity of a mountain goat.” He states as he walked out and picked up the sword of the bandit.

“Is that a…compliment?” They watched as he bent down to the elf and pulled out a dagger that he extended to her.

“What else would it be? You are more resourceful than I first thought.” He gave Piper a small smile as they blinked before accepting the dagger and gazing away. “Are you still able to walk?”

“It hurts, but I think I can manage for a bit.”

He hummed and looked down at the slightly trembling and twitchy leg. From what he has observed so far, the child would not be able to run, much less fight. If they went together, the child would just be dragged into a dangerous situation when they were extremely vulnerable.

“Listen very closely. We should-”

The orc was cut off by the slamming of the door opening, the two other bandits storming in with weapons drawn. The human bandit pulled the string of her bow back, alarming the two as Shmukh ran towards Krogarz with his great sword.

Krogarz was quick to usher Piper away. “Go. Now!”

They did not need to be told twice as they immediately went for cover as Krogarz dodged the arrow aimed at him. With quick steps, he avoided the greatsword that swung down on him and collided his fist against Shmukh’s face with great force. The orc bandit staggered a little, growling menacingly at Krog who returned a glare with tusks bared. Shmukh brandished his greatsword once again, going for another swing that Krog dodged and plunged the sword into his shoulder.

Shmukh let out a pained roar as Krogarz retracted his sword and stepped back. He held his sword in a defensive stance ready for any incoming attacks. Shmukh had trouble holding his weapon up with an injured shoulder. His swings were slower and more sloppy as time went on from Krog dodging and intercepting his swings to tire him out. Krog’s opponent was breathing heavily but his tired expression quickly turned into dread at seeing Krogarz towering over him with his sword prepared to swing.

“I told you I would give you a good death.” At that, he swung the blade through the orc’s neck, the slicing of skin, flesh, and bones echoing in the cave.

Shmukh’s head rolled on the rocky floor, making Krogarz let out a huff before looking for the other bandit.

‘Strange how she did not assist—’

“Don’t take another step!” Krogarz whipped his head to the bandit, widening his eyes when he witnessed her holding Piper with a dagger at their neck. “One wrong move and I slice her throat!”

~|~|~|~

It happened once again.

Another of Chief Mauhulakh wives had a tragic ending. This time, it seemed like she wandered too far away from the stronghold and got too near a giants camp. And was expecting a child on top of that.

“Are the gods angry with me, brother?” Mauhulakh asked as he turned to Krogarz.

“What would make you think the gods were angry with you?”

“It’s the only way to explain my curse. Why all my wives die horribly.”

“I am…not the best person to ask. You should speak to Bolar about it. She is the tribe’s shaman.”

“She said it might be a sign that the gods love me because they do not want me to be with unworthy mates and that I should be patient.”

“If that is what she said, then you should heed her words.”

“But I need more children, brother!” He exclaimed. “I’m the chief and yet I can’t even father enough children to ensure our tribe's survival!”

Krogarz did not like it. He did not like how his brother behaved like his only job as chief was to father children. He did not like how his brother was too busy running around looking for wives instead of completing his other duties as chief.  He did not like how duties such as providing for the tribe all fell upon his mother, his niece, and his own shoulders because he is too busy mourning his dead wives instead of providing for his living family. He too grieved the deaths of his sisters-in-law and his unborn nieces and nephews, but Krogarz knew he could not afford to just wallow in self-pity like his brother.

Thankfully, Malacath heard Krogarz prayers in ensuring a good hunt for the years that went by, but their patron can only help for so long, especially with the Evening Star arriving soon. Winters are always harsh and merciless, especially up north.

“I will find you a new wife.” Krogarz stated as his brother looked at him, astonished. “I will leave at the end of Midyear to search for your new wife, but until then, swear by Malacath that you will do your job as chief as a provider. Do not only have your aunts and your children do all the work to ensure the survival of the tribe.”

Mauhulakh sprang up, the chair he sat on knocked back while glaring at Krogarz with a furious look as the latter just stared. “When have I not provided for the tribe?! You may be my brother, but I am still your chief! Do not disrespect me!”

Krogarz narrowed his eyes to match his brother’s glare before taking in a deep breath and exhaling loudly through his nose to calm himself, not wanting to get into a fistfight with his brother. “If providing is not a problem for you, then having me search for a potential wife for you should save you some time to do so, would it not?”

Mauhulakh opened his mouth to speak, but stayed quiet. After a few moments, Krogarz stood up and said, “I suppose asking you to bind your promise with the orc-father is too much to ask. At least try. I ask not as a member of the tribe, but as your brother.”

After that, he left.

[deadxlv]

Far Away Soul, White Cold Star 💫

Chapter: 17 p.4 “Dark Hearts..and Lustful Anger..”

If that small critter was here I'm sure you would've lost your shit if something were to happen to him

I hope you recognize I am the one giving you this speed

Do you know she can read any movement you aren't actually getting lucky

Subtract my strength and you have nothing

What if that animal thing died in your arms how would you react?

Let me in

Just let me in

Please

Oh cmon I know you love me

You crave me

You..Need..Me

Like...I-I..said..I..

I Fucking..Hate YOU!!!!!!!

Crossing the border you finally make it back, the forest is charred to a crisp now, smoke bellowing out all around you it almost makes you snap out of your anger. Taking it in along with the reek scent of burnt animal corpses and smoke you grow disappointed, not in this strange woman but in yourself, you could have done so much more to avert from this all happening. Taking further steps getting away from the ash as best you could you make it back into the remaining woods, deep inside you the slithering of that thing makes your skin crawl, why does it always have to be pain..why do we all have to suffer..

Taking a sharp turn, a scent, a strange perfume lingering in the wind, joyful cackling and your senses are back to their tips as if ready for the feeling of being torn apart from the inside out again. Coming from the smoke you see a figure approaching, instinct and the voices in your head telling you not to, but in a fit of arrogance you thrust yourself at them. Claws and Razor like teeth bared you attack like a wild animal without a conscience..

"That's what she wanted..and you fell right into her trap~"

From the darkness of the smoldering hot ground in front of you a gigantic fist made of sediment and rotting plant vegetation breaks through the dust clouds, moving so fast it almost immediately makes contact with your small body, towering over you many more come from thy earth and begin to strike at you aimlessly. Hijìn face scrunched up as hundreds of tons of stone slammed right into him head on, clenching his jaw so hard it began to bleed, head throbbing immensely, and blood from vines within stabbing at his flesh was a world of pain. The large fist pummeled him into the ground shooting rubble everywhere as all you could hear is the man yelling out muffled by the fist driving him deeper and deeper in, Hijìn barely able to move his arms was able to pushback against the stone fist alleviating some of the pressure. Instantly he was snatched and yanked out of the ground by the same hand and just as he caught a breath of fresh air to his right he sensed something coming, glancing another hand came right at him going straight in to smack him with hands wide open. Digging his feet into the ground he blocked with both arms but it was all meaningless, the hand came and ripped the whole ground beneath him off causing him to topple through the air. A few more hands forming here and there as he was bounced around viciously by the attacks, each one wearing him down and causing his drive to wane. Exhausted he was sent limply flying about through the forest floor, rolling on the ground, slamming against random tree branches, bouncing off rock formations, before getting smacked one by a stray rock hand pounding him into the ground last time rendering him unconscious. Eyes fluttering one last time you doze off, but just before you fall under you can barely make out someone coming in from the darkness towards you, in weakness you mutter out, "K..Kk-ÿr..u?."

Out from the forest stepping on the burnt bodies of small plants and critters trying their best to survive came V or so the clone, she seemed like she was in a hurry, quickly looking about as if seeing if the actual V was anywhere nearby. Quickly wrapping some wire around their dirtied hands they tightened it causing them to cut at their hands, the clone hissed in pain silently to themselves as black blood seeped down the wire onto the unconscious man beneath her. The clone grabbed the man by the shoulder and made him lay on his back, his resting face making the strange entity giggle to themselves almost as if flustered, eyes peering through the dismay watching the scene unfold. Unbuttoning their shirt slightly until their cleavage was revealed, The Clone would sit on Hijìn's pelvis looking down at him, "Poor Poor little Creature..she wants you so bad..but all she is...is a fool~", her body slid down slowly resting her chest onto his, skin softly passing over one another until she fully layed down on top of him. "Sadly our time together won't be long..but out of all of those I've killed- you would've been my favorite~", the clone said giggling in a high pitch voice until the sound of slicing pierced the wind. The clone held their hand out to gore out Hijìn's neck with her long nails with a shocked look on her face, a long gold and white blade ripped through her chest and sliced her neck in half from its insertion. Coughing out large amounts of black blood the Clone collapsed on top of Hijìn promptly turning into ash and leaf litter, such a real life looking person can truly be nothing but a farce, a lie, a mirror of yourself pictured onto other peoples minds. That's what V thought as she plunged her blade through the clone and to Hijìn below, a emotionless stare down at what she did just made the emptiness within her grow, for a moment her mind wavered off her actions to think of what she just witnessed. It was if Fate strew her off her designated path and made her into some whore.., but amidst her own thoughts she felt her blade quiver in her grip, snapping out of it she looked down and saw Hijìn's hand extended out grabbing the blade so harshly it smashed the sharpened edge. One black void-like eye wide open, black bulging veins across the revealed skin, and infamous ear to ear grin was plastered on the man's body, with a loud cackle the man would stand up back to his feet in an instant staring down the woman saying, "You've been hunting for me ay..? Pfft..cute...I'm gonna love this and so will you~".

Forgone and without any sense of love or desire within her own soul V stared back at the infected man taken form, the parasite taking full advantage of the situation and grabbed control the instant it was available. Blind eyes met with a single void eye of the man, flames encircling them as they stood up to one another, she looked up at him emotionlessly not even caring at this change only knowing her goal is to harvest as soon as possible, and the parasite took this all in..control..Again~!. His face seemed to glitch in place as he looked at V from head to toe, his skin tingled from the sensation of that black tar like substance the parasite was made of coursing through his veins, licking his lips which turned back into the same constant frozen grin he would say, "You gonna hit me in my perfect face or are you gonna pussy out and let me run away again~?!." A sigh softly escaping her tainted black lips and V took a step back, Hijìn stared at her with his only one open eye keeping the same smiling face on looking confused with one eyebrow raised. She stretched her shoulder out in the open for no reason, taking her time she would bend over to touch her toes, lean to the side and stretch her back, to grab her head and snap it both ways making two loud popping noises before she cracked it back to normal. Opening her blind eyes, which reflected the glow of the white flames around them, would soon disappear as she took a step forward vanishing into thin air, just as she moved she reappeared the instant later having her right arm extended out holding another blade glaring deeply into the eyes of Hijìn whom looked confused still. Just as he glanced at her blade his body immediately reacted, arms darting in all directions and eye throbbing from intense movements, the sound of blade slashes came at blinding speeds so fast normal Hijìn wouldn't have been able to see them. "Your what I've been looking for..now let yourself die- I hunt..I'm the predator..you'll be nothing more than prey for all those ahead of you..if you ever make it past me of course..", V said to the blocking infected man in a monotone tone of voice, the slashes going on and on it seemed they never stop cutting at his skin here and there even slicing some small tentacle pieces of the parasite off his body back onto the ground.

Through all the slashes the infected man kept the same happy demeanor the whole time, slashes soon coming to an end it even got redundant as now the slashes didn't even seem to cut his skin, and just as it stopped the two vanished from the area leaving but a trace of their existence. Popping back in out of nowhere in a distant section of the forest the fight would begin anew, ripping through the trees was the sounds of blade clashing and tearing of hard leather, Hijìn and V would get into a multitude of clashes of fist and steel echoing across the woods. Hijìn thrusting his fists out at break neck speeds while V skid on one boot in the ground darting across tree to tree avoiding each attack, he vanished again to appear ramming V into a pile of rock rubble, she scoffed at the pain as she faced up to see the man pinning her down with claws bared ready to strike her. Hijìn tactically struck at her face and chest only to no avail as she even in this pinned position was able to not only block but dodge each attack before screaming out in a loud shriek knocking the man back. Feet planted into the ground Hijìn slid back a few meters away with arms fully extended, she came out of nowhere from behind holding her blade, eyes glowing a bright neon green as she sliced at him, Hijìn did a back flip and looked at her upside down laughing out like a immature child just as he punched her face straight into the ground knocking her off balance. A whole tree came and smacked him from behind after flying out from the woods making him stagger, jerking back and she ran at him holding two large boulders in her hands, V used those suv sized boulders like gauntlets with her fists embedded deep within them to strike at him. Even though they were large she moved swiftly with them almost as if she didn't even have them on, Hijìn swerved left and right hopping over other branches and trees coming at him making this seem like a game, a branch slapping his face making him jerk back and two immensely powerful punches which crushed the boulders into dust knocked him back.

Rolling of her shoulder and hopping on one leg left and right signified she was just getting started, Hijìn hopped back landing on one hand as if not effected by gravity, gracefully standing back up without even having to move his arm from its standard position, she simply walked up to him casually like they weren't just fighting and punched him square in the face. "Just because we come from the same place doesn't mean we're family..your just a power amplifier..nothing more so actually do something..I'm getting bored", V mumbled out in the same monotone tone of voice to the infected man who faltered back from the punch, even though she was around two feet and a half shorter than him she seemed to posses more physical strength than he had and she took advantage of that always. Head served right from the same punch, Hijìn would stop moving back and pause for a second only to mutter, "Issue is..I'm not Her slave..", jerking back and a barrage of tentacle slices, punches, and claw attacks erupted from the man point blank at V's face. The attacks being so swift and powerful it shredded everything around them leaving nothing but the wood scrap of trees and dust from rock, smile plastered across his face Hijìn looked ahead after it all cleared before turning right and seeing V, she stared at him with a blank look on her face almost as if disappointed, "I swear..I feel like that day is a fleeting memory for how this fight has been going on for..your..just..so..weak..", she muttered in a monotone lifeless expression. Growling out Hijìn lashed out and in that same instant she disappeared, he swiped left, right, up, down, anywhere near hm, but nothing worked; Out from behind she would walk over and calmly tap his back, glaring back at her Hijìn snarled under his very breath as saliva dripped from his mouth like a mad rodent, "Hmn- every single action..every single attempt..I've given it to you..there is no umph..no power..just speed I guess, I'll still harvest you from this creatures brain, but I honestly expected more..again your forgetting one obvious fact..", V said getting closer to the man who watched in dismay. "I..see..your Fate..I know how this ends..and you'll never change the outcome..I know every attack before you even throw them, that's what being a actual threat is..a danger to one's being- I let you touch me so I can gauge your strength..guess you really are a empty husk of a anomaly..shame you let his surrogate father die to the life sucking power of the Cauldron..Tch better known as the Well of Forgone Souls..or the Fáqûire (Fa-Que-ire), uneducated dogmatic filth..", V's voice so calm yet filled with such hatred let the message ring so deep it made even the parasite stagger in his pursuits, grin wearing off his face and sole open eye losing its blood lust the man took a few steps back and paused, like if accepting the reality of it all...it really did turn into a losing battle.

  Those in the stars are the only ones who can achieve perfection, glistening darts of light which travel forever more until there is no sun to light the way, reminded of your place in the world as a simple pest organism by someone higher only deepens the faults within yourself. With your love gone and lust waned you can only feel the soul ripping feeling plunge it's way into your chest, tearing every fiber in your being until the very thing you call upon cries back at you for to save them, your eyes, sober from all the tears, open one last time to hear said cries. A piece of you slowly getting ripped from your chest with claws of night plunging ever so deeper into your being causing you to finally give in, holding that piece of pain in your arms one last time you let said force take hold once more..what's always been within you...speak it- B-blood...say it again..B..Blood..one last time..

Blood..

  A gaping hole in Hijìn's chest as V plunged her black claws into the man's chest who stood there in abject weakness, eyes dripping in clear tears fell down her bloodied arm, she passed her thumb over the dropped tears and brushed them onto her white button up shirt. The parasite in its entirety was in the palm of her hands, it seemed grotesque and very large for a parasite, it had been feeding off him slowly his whole life until now where it seemed to stagnate, she clenched it plunging her nails into it as she opened her mouth almost as if wanting to take a bite out of it. Internal screaming from the parasite as if writhed in pain, it's fleshy black tar like body flailing around as her teeth grew nearer and nearer by the second, all to close to the end before her hand gripping the parasite gets crunched under immense force. She whined in abject pain before her whole forearm was ripped from her elbow revealing a fleshy inside, faltering back she held her arm as small tentacle came from within her open wound to try and reconnect her arm, whining out in torture she would glance up to see both eyes of Hijìn clear but absolutely fallen deep in eternal abhorrence to her very existence. Her torn forearm pried off his parasite before it was plunged back into his chest and instantly sealed, her forearm thrown at her face and immediately reconnected she looked at him fearful, just this once she finally felt the horrid pain she had felt that one time occur one final time and it cemented those memories back in to haunt her. At that very moment she could barely make out the infuriated face of the man who jerked his arm all the way back with a clenched fist so tight it made his hands bleed from his nails digging into his very flesh, pictures of her future flashing in her head she grew even more mortified as reality drew nearer with each passing second. Time feeling like it had slowed down for her, all she could witness as her sight fixed itself after her arm had been torn off was the slow moving fist that silently approached her face, unable to move the bloodied fist slowly crushed her face caving it into itself. Pieces of her face getting pulverized into chunks of black blood and green meat as she was launched far back, Hijin faltering forward as he held the right side of his face growling like a feral animal, he was subconsciously trying to contain it, but with the sensation of force on his knuckles and blood all over his arm he just let go.

  Body flopped over on the ground V would lay there with a mutilated face, white hair all over the place her body jerked itself back up, her face instantly getting reformed as she clenched her teeth and grew agitated at such an action. Her very ignorance just like the last time taking hold, Hijìn jerking his hand back trying to hit her again like the dumb animal he was roared out a ear drum tearing bellow from within to this demonic woman, seeing this she did the very same but just as she jerked her arm back her whole arm appeared to mutate itself and grow many times its size. Just as Hijìn lunged in for a punch so did V with her large thorn covered muscle fiber monster-like arm which was many times her size, fists colliding the two created a shockwave that flattened trees for miles around even knocking many clouds in the area into nothing but vapor in the wind, yelling at one another incredibly loudly as their fists pushed at one another like two crashing waves it shattered the very ground  beneath them. Falling back Hijìn would ride upon the large rubble coming from the implosion, hopping from piece to piece trying to find that damnable woman, just as he turned a corner the hairs on his neck rose up and V came crashing down upon him with her giant mutant arm plowing through all the debris. Skidding on solid ground again as debris flew all around them Hijìn would face up to V appearing right above him just before she threw a massive blow straight at him causing another implosion of the ground beneath their feet, disappearing in the rubble Hijìn came out the dust plume holding V by the collar punching her square in the face over and over again, then again Hijìn slamming headfirst into the hard limestone ground bouncing for a brief moment as V planted her foot into the ground and back handed Hijìn with her fist sending him flying off. Chain wrapped around his arm he finally pulled one of his blades out and with a swing he latched himself to a tree launching himself back at her, she blocked with her other arm which seemed to wane from the strength of his kick to wrap her own tentacles from her body around his face neck grinding him along the ground, him growling and grunting as crap got in his eyes and mouth.

  Slice of a green slithering mess and a pull back of one's attack Hijìn sprung back up only to be met with a flurry of punches from V using her massive arm, he seemingly dodged them with some infected assistance aiding him in this fight to then launching a full force kick straight at V's face, the kick being so powerful it caused a vacuum from the air getting turned into plasma, the heat of said plasma burning at his shin and making his attack seem like its born of flame. She already seen this way ahead and sent a bulge like pulse from her right arm which turned back to normal that flowed to her left arm instantly making it mutated and gigantic before sending it to block the kick, Hijìn yelling out as he blew right past the arm smacking her prime in the side off into the distance. Like a feral animal he got on all fours and chased after her not letting a moment of this pass, V now driving her nails into the grassy root filled ground making it seem like a large monster set those claw marks would kick off and charge back at the man forming a large jade crystalline crossbow on the forearm of the mutant hand blasting the same green explosive attack at Hijìn point blank. He was around ten meters away when she thrusted her arm forward to do said attack and just at the last second she would shoot it his instincts kicked in, grabbing both of his chains and lunging them straight at the incoming projectile he was flung back into the air a few couple feet, using his body weight and immense strength from his people he began to swing in the air rapidly, controlling the explosive within the grips of his blades. V saw the outcome and would instead arm a second one and immediately launch it to kill Hijìn for sure with a double explosion, the second attack incoming Hijìn would roar out as he flung the initial attack back at V at even a stronger speed while dodging right from the second attack, which grinded past his cheek burning him slightly before flying off into the air and detonating. The outcome being the same V was hit head on with the attack, dragged down the ground leaving a deep tunnel from the passage as a good distance away a massive explosion would occur sending plant life and debris everywhere, the reminiscent green glow illuminating the Man who stood there panting heavily completely bloody and covered in scars and bruises. Snorting out still pissed and coated in a deep red pulsing energy Hijìn would jump over a ledge and after the woman who seemed to have been near vaporized from her own attack, sniffling along the deep tunnel he would pick up on a familiar scent..he wasn't supposed to be here not now!?

  Scurrying between knocked over trees and avoiding the forest fires Kÿr would come into view out in the open, he had a worried look on his face as he turned all about trying to find his friend, locking eyes with one another the two would pause before the small Sirlàn would dart at full speed to the man. Hijìn mumbled out to try and stop the creature but it was too late and Kÿr tackle hugged his thigh nearly making him fall over, exclaiming out in a worried tone of voice Kÿr said, "Y-ya never came back?! What the hell?! L-like we all got scared..don't worry they're safe now! I-I am sure of it..", Kÿr looking around would grow fearful from all the destruction after crossing miles upon miles of forests all day trying to find his friend once again. "Wh..what Happened..what happened to you man..? Wh..", Kÿr said shocked at all the destruction, letting go of his friends leg for a moment as he scanned the area, Hijìn was on edge as her scent grew so strong it became pungent almost like a stench. From the rubble not so far away emerged V, arms back to normal sizes, clothes torn up, body covered in equal amounts of cuts and bruises she would hear the ever so faint voice of Kÿr. She began to softly chuckle to herself, unbelieving of such a foolish move and a change of fate, now projected upon her and even greater victory than the one before with a oh so sweeter finale to break alls resolve. Hijìn and Kÿr moved ever so carefully together until they laid eyes upon the mad woman one final time, Kÿr extended his arms creating large barrel explosive rifles connecting to his arms and Hijìn clenching his fists getting infuriated even more by her presence as they wanted to make their move, however, amidst their attempts to move in on the weakened woman they would immediately stop and freeze.

Clenching of her fists and sinister laughing echoing out of her fanged mouth V would stand on top of a large pile of rubble and plant matter, sunlight gracing her with an audience all around the world she would soon stop and smile. Not even looking at the two boys before she stomped her foot on the ground and with a minute pause she began to scream out in abject agony, her body would glow a blinding light as it began to rapidly change. Kÿr watching in horror saw something he couldn't even imagine..Hijìn stepped back as it grew larger and larger and the woman became unrecognizable as the ground trembled violently and her screams emanating so raw it let the world know who the true goddess was..

Purge Your souls there is nothing else, you've left me no FUCKING CHOICE!! TASTE THE FULL MIGHT OF THE DAUGHTER OF FATE!! May the All Father Send his Regards in Eternal Suffering!

The Goddess is ME!!

[clareguilty]

Arthur Morgan/reader, desperate sex

Here is my second fic for kinktober! The next should be up on Wdnesday <3

Arthur Morgan/fem!reader | desperate sex, dominant Arthur Mentions of death and injury, mild angst. I made the cowboy cry. Rating: Explicit Word Count: ~2000

“Who goes there?” a gruff voice demanded as you rode up the trail to camp.

“It’s just me, Bill,” you called back, tipping your tattered hat.

“What the hell?!” He blinked and rubbed his eyes like he couldn’t believe you were right in front of him. “You’re alive?”

You grinned, opening your arms wide. “You can’t get rid of me that easy.”

He watched dumbfounded as you rode the rest of the way up to Horseshoe Overlook. You had been gone more than a few days, and your worst fear was that the gang would have packed up and left. The job had gone terribly -- so terribly you had been stranded and lost with no way back -- which was a good reason for the gang to move on to somewhere where the law didn’t know their faces.

But everything was exactly the same. People milled about, scrubbing or packing or chopping. Dutch’s gramophone played on, louder than a dynamite blast and seemingly never ending.

“What in god’s name?” Hosea took one look at you, bruised and battered and covered in every inch of wilderness you had hiked through trying to get back to camp.

“Glad to see y’all are still here.” You groaned in pain as you slid out of the saddle, smacking your ‘borrowed’ horse on the rump and pointing her back to the road. “Go on, girl. Find your way back home.”

The horse slowly headed back the way it came. Hosea was staring at you.

“I know,” you frowned. “I look terrible.”

“No,” Hosea waved his hand, shaking his head. “It’s not that -- though you do look like shit. We thought you were dead. We mourned you.”

It was your turn to look taken aback. “Dead? You gave up on me that quick?”

“Sweetheart.” He gripped your arm as if he was still trying to convince himself you were real. “You fell off a bridge. Those rapids… the rocks…” he trailed off.

You grimaced. “It certainly wasn’t my best performance.”

“There wasn’t any time to go back and look for you, but we weren’t even sure we would have found a body.” He looked ashamed. “We failed you.”

“No,” you took his hands in yours, squeezing. “You did what you had to do. I couldn’t bear it if you had lost someone trying to come back for me.”

Sean was walking by, bottle in hand. He did a double take when he saw you standing there, glanced at his bottle, and then back at you. “You mean Dutch gave that long fancy speech for nothing? You had better not die again.”

You laughed and shot him a wink. “I don’t plan on it.”

Sean seemed satisfied with that response. “Your man’s been a right mess since we lost you. Hopefully he quits moping around all the time now.”

“Arthur?” you glanced around. “Is he alright? Where is he?”

Sean shrugged. “Probably the same place he’s been for a week now.”

You turned to Hosea, desperate. “Where?”

“He’s been at his wagon mostly. I didn’t want him going out in the state he’s been in.”

His words only made you more worried. You had finally made it back to camp. All you had been able to think about -- the only thing on your mind as you clawed your way out that ravine and stumbled through the woods -- was that you had to get back to him. You couldn’t leave him. “Is he hurt? Did something happen?”

Hosea didn’t get the chance to answer. Whispers of your arrival back at camp must have spread fast, because Mary-Beth was dragging Arthur by the arm to where you and Hosea were standing.

“Arthur.” You were running -- as fast as you could move with all your injuries and exhaustion. He finally saw you, freezing in place and staring in disbelief.

You slammed into his chest, flinging your arms around him.

He hesitated before returning your embrace, leaning in to bury his face in the crook of your neck. The two of you stood there for a long while as you sniffled into his chest. Arthur held you tightly, as if you would disappear if he let go.

“Isn’t this sweet,” a familiar booming voice rang out. “Glad to see you alive and well, dear.” You didn’t even turn to look at Dutch. Not when Arthur was clinging to you.

The ground disappeared beneath your feet and you found yourself hoisted over Arthur’s shoulder. The crowd that had gathered around the two of you dispersed as he stalked across camp. The world flipped right side up again as Arthur sat you on his horse, swinging into the saddle behind you and taking off at a full gallop.

You made it to Valentine in record time. The ride was harsh and agitated your injuries, but you didn’t mind with Arthur at your back. He helped you down to the ground and practically carried you inside the hotel, slamming the door open. “A room for me and my wife, please,” he demanded.

The hotel clerk handed over the key. You clung to Arthur the whole way up the stairs, nuzzling against him and just glad to be near him again.

The lock clicked behind you and Arthur… changed. His embrace became more insistent. His eyes darkened. The edge of the bed hit the backs of your knees and Arthur laid you down. It was gentle, but he pressed you into the bed, climbing over you. “Where are you hurt?” he asked.

“It’s not too bad-” you tried to play it off.

He cut you off. “Where. Are. You. Hurt.”

It was terrifying, but thrilling. You shivered under his intense gaze. “My hip,” you grabbed one of his hands and gently lay his palm over your hip. “Makes walking and riding hard.”

He nodded. Clearly waiting for you to continue. “My back is pretty messed up, and my shoulder.”

He noticed the rips and tears in your shirt. All the places you had scraped or torn. His hands went to the buttons, lifting you carefully so he could get you out of the sleeves.

Your trousers were next, slowly pulled down over your hips. When you winced in pain, Arthur stopped to kiss you, cradling your face in his hands.

He stripped you down. His expression was pained as he took in the full extent of your injuries. You had fallen off of the rail bridge and gotten swept into the freezing rapids. The current slammed you into the rocks and swept you down the ravine before you washed up on the bank of the river. From there, it had been a grueling process of making your way out of the ravine and through the woods.

“It’s not as bad as it looks,” you reassured him. Glancing down, you got a good look at just what he saw. “It does look pretty bad, though,” you frowned.

Arthur’s expression was hard to read. You wondered if he was disgusted by you. It would take a long time to heal, and you knew he might not want to look at you while you were so beat up and battered.

He nearly collapsed on top of you. Luckily, he knew to brace his weight. He buried his face into the crook of your neck, breaths ragged.

“I thought I’d lost you,” he gasped. “I didn’t know what I was going to do.”

You reached up to run your fingers through his hair. “I’m still here,” you promised. “Busted and bruised to hell, but I’m not gone yet, honey.”

He kissed his way along his jaw until he found your lips. It was perfect. You had missed him so much, so worried you would never make it back to him. But now you were here in his arms and kissing him. 

“I love you,” you said as soon as you caught your breath.

“I love you so much, darling.” He hovered his hands just above your skin, too scared to touch you.

You placed your hands over his and guided it to where you weren’t scraped or bruised. “Touch  me,” you begged.

He sighed as soon as he felt your skin against his palms, as if he just needed to know you were really there.

“I need you,” you tried to pull him against you, attempting to slot your hips together. “Please, Arthur.”

He hesitated. You could see the desire in his eyes, how badly he needed you, needed to feel you. But he didn’t want to hurt me. You would have to convince him.

“Arthur,” you grabbed the waistband of his pants. “I fell off a bridge and climbed out of a ravine and walked across half the damn state. I want you to fuck me, and I don’t care if it hurts.”

He seemed dazed, but lust clearly won out as you tried to slide your hand under his shirt. He was undressed in seconds, kissing his way over your neck and unable to keep his hands off you.

The pain was bearable, and you were too distracted with the warmth of Arthur’s skin under your hands. You couldn’t get enough of him, so glad to be near to him after all of those cold nights in the wild. 

He was impatient, desperate. He wanted all of you at once, and he didn’t know where to start. Now that you had given permission, he wasn’t afraid to take what he needed. And take he did. He sucked a mark into your collarbone before kissing down to your chest. You gasped as his lips found your breasts, teeth scraping along the skin.

“Please,” you rocked your hips.

He got the message, gently pressing your thighs apart so he could stroke your clit. It felt so good. The stretch when he slipped two fingers inside made you cry out. You sighed and pulled him closer, winding your fingers in his hair as he pulled moans and gasps from your lips.

“That’s it,” he said. “Good girl. I wanna hear you.” He doubled his efforts, determined to make you come around his fingers.

You pulled him up for a searing kiss, biting his lip as you came. “Fuck me,” you breathed.

He was just as needy, cock hard and aching against your hips. He grabbed your less injured leg and hooked it around his hip, dragging his cock against your slit. The teasing was going to drive you mad, but luckily he was just as impatient. He sank into you with one slow motion.

He hissed a curse against your skin, lost in the feeling of you around his cock. “God, darling. Need you so bad.”

He didn’t even try to start slow, setting a quick, frantic pace as soon as he began to move. His fingers dug into the bruises on your skin, but you didn’t mind the pain. It only reminded you that Arthur was there, that you had made it home to him.

You were so close, clinging to each other so desperately. You couldn’t imagine what Arthur had been through the past several days. He had truly believed you were gone, he had been in mourning. While you were focused on not getting eaten by wildlife, he was grieving your death.

It made sense why he couldn’t keep his hands off of you, why he sighed so deeply every time his hips met yours. The way he drank the taste of your lips as if he could never get his fill. You gave him everything you could.

The two of you went three rounds that night, fighting through your exhaustion in a desire to be close to one another. You fell asleep wrapped in each other's arms, curled together on the rickety hotel bed.

“I can’t stop seeing it,” he whispered, unable to take his eyes off you. “The sight of you falling off that bridge, the way you just disappeared. It’s kept me awake every night.”

You can see it. The dark circles under his eyes, how haggard and underfed he looks. You can only imagine how broken up he must have been.

“Not tonight,” you leaned in to kiss his cheek. “You have me here, safe and sound.”

[moonlit-jeno]

friends (m.)

pairing: lee jeno x fem reader

genre: explicit sexual content | omegaverse | heat sex | unprotected sex | some name calling

words: 3.6k

don’t like don’t read :)

“Your heat’s coming up.” Jeno says, point blank in between bites of his apple. You just nod, taking a break from your notes to side eye him. It’s not odd for him to know intimate details of your life- you do make sure to keep him updated on your cycle just so that he can send you the notes for the days you miss - but it’s not exactly a common subject for the two of you. “Who are you spending it with?”

There are still 13 powerpoint slides for you to grind through, but you figure a small break won’t hurt. Might as well use the conversation topic for something good, aka a reason to slam your laptop shut. You turn to Jeno, giving your best friend your full attention, and take the iced coffee right out of his hand. He doesn’t protest. “No idea. Would call Jaemin but he’s ‘found the one’ or something, so I’ll probably just spend it by myself.”

“By yourself?” Jeno’s eyebrows shoot up to his hairline as if you’ve just admitted to committing a sin. It’s not like the concept isn’t unheard of, there’s a market full of toys to help you through it. “Isn’t that dangerous?” You shrug and take a sip of the coffee, offering him your smoothie in exchange. He takes a sip and then bites down on your straw. His entire face scrunches and he yanks his face away from the beverage. He pulls the straw up, inspecting the now soggy and dented object with disgust. “Fuck, what is this made out of?”

“Paper.” You huff a laugh out through your nose, taking your smoothie back. “And I mean, it’s not any more dangerous than spending your heat with the wrong person. Plus, my heats get kind of… intense.” If Jaemin sleeping for three days straight and limping after is anything to go by, both parties take the short end of the stick. You’d felt so bad after and apologized to him profusely, but he had just thrown you his signature dazzling grin and told you that drowning in pussy was exactly the way he envisioned himself dying. He definitely didn’t complain about the brownies you’d baked him as a ‘thank you’, though.

“Spend your heat with me.” The bold request has your brain malfunctioning, at a loss for where to even start reacting to his statement. You just stare at him, mouth opening and closing repeatedly while he returns the gaze earnestly. “Look, it makes sense, right? I know you better than anyone, and you already trust me. Plus if they’re as intense as I’ve heard they are, you need someone there.”

You frown, opening your laptop up and staring blankly at the screen just to avoid having to look at Jeno. It does make sense to have him there with you, and it’s not like he’s the worst person to have sex with. Plenty of people around campus have delighted in talking about their nights with Jeno, dreamily telling you how lucky you are to have him and falling deaf to your insistence that the two of you aren’t like that. Plus, you’re not blind and even if you’re not the cute couple everyone thinks you are, you can admit that he’s hot.

“Wait, hang on. What do you mean ‘heard’ about? What shit is Na Jaemin saying?” Jeno’s shoulders shake with his laughter at your sudden concern. “I mean, he didn’t say anything, but that was kind of the problem. He didn’t show up to practice for like a week and when he finally did, he looked like he’d been mauled. Coach had to bench him.”

Your heart drops slightly at hearing that Jaemin’s soccer had been affected. He hadn’t told you that. “Oh.” The guilt must show on your face because Jeno is quickly soothing you, making sure to tell you that they all found Jaemin’s state funny. “Okay, wait. Wouldn’t you have the same problem if you help me?”

“It’s off-season. So, what do you say?” Jeno waits for your response expectantly, eyes soft, curious. “You can say no, y/n. I don’t want to pressure you at all, I’m just letting you know that it’s an option.” “I’ll think about it.” And you do. A concerning amount.

You spend that night tossing and turning, trying and failing to shut your brain off. Worries about ruining your friendship and about hurting Jeno bounce around your brain no matter how much you try to stop thinking about it. What if something bad happens during it? What if you never talk again? And worst of all is your brain telling you that he doesn’t actually want you specifically, he just wants to be with an omega in heat. You’re just convenient. 

That thought actually makes you cry and you wrap your blankets even tighter around yourself, sobbing weakly into your pillows. In an effort to distract your wandering mind you grab for your phone, opening instagram to find an influx of dm’s from Jeno. It calms you a bit, the messages ranging from cute dogs to absolutely cursed memes, and you smile softly at the reminder that he’s your best friend, and that he definitely cares about you. Biting your lip, you hesitate for only a few moments before typing out a “you can help”, hitting send before you can second guess it. You lock your phone and set it face down on the dresser, thankfully finding sleep as soon as your head hits the pillow.

It’s hot when you wake up, clothes clinging to your skin uncomfortably. Peeling your shirt off only gives you relief for a moment but then the sticky heat is back full force. You whimper in misery, trying to snuggle back into your bed for at least some comfort, but you find that the corner of your fitted sheet has come up, the rest of your blankets on the floor. There’s only one pillow near you and it’s soaked in sweat. You panic slightly, frantically yanking your sheets back onto the bed and trying to fluff them up as much as possible, only calming down once the bedding has been fixed to your liking. Only once you’ve settled down in the plushness of your blankets do you have a moment of clarity.

“Oh shit.” You shoot up and search for your phone, dropping it once before finally managing to open the correct app. There’s a few messages from Jeno that you don’t bother looking at, going straight for the ‘call’ button. He picks up on the third ring.

“Hello?” He sounds groggy, like he’s just woken up, and a flash of heat runs through you at the low tone. “Why are you calling me at 5 a.m?”

You manage to stop fantasizing about your best friend long enough to choke out the word “Heat.” It comes out pathetic and whiny and you pause to clear your throat, trying to keep a clear head as well. “I’m sorry, my heat came early and I wanted to call you but you can go back to bed, I didn’t realize-”

“Fuck, okay, I’ll be over in 10.” Jeno cuts off your rambling with a swear, some rustling in the background accompanying his words. 

“Thank you.” You whisper, setting the phone down and curling up in bed, trying not to focus on how agonizingly slow the time is passing.

Jeno’s looking down at his shoes when you open the door, kicking idly at the door mat and fidgeting with the bag in his hands, though his head snaps up when he notices you. The smile on his face falters when he inhales, turns a little strained as he gets a taste of your heat, and you honestly give him props for the amount of restraint he has. It’s definitely more than you have, at least, because you’re on him the second he’s inside. He ends up sandwiched between you and the door, bag dangling precariously in one hand while he envelopes you in his strong arms. You don’t (can’t) do anything besides bury your face in his chest and whimper, knowing exactly what you want but being too needy and fuzzy to remedy it.  

“Jeno, it hurts.” You whimper and lift your face to nose along the skin just above the collar of his shirt, finding that while the skin to skin contact helps, it doesn’t fully relieve the heat scorching through you, the dull ache screaming for Jeno to take you already. “Please…” He holds you closer to his chest, encasing you fully in his scent, and picks you up bridal style. “I’ve got you baby, don’t worry.”

Being around Jeno does help to ease your stress, but it also serves to make you needier. The warm scent that you’ve grown to associate with the man is stronger than you’ve ever smelled it and it’s making you lose your mind more and more by the second. You’re worried that you’re drooling by the time he sets you down on your bed. He pauses to drop the bag he’s holding on the floor, and then he’s on top of you, strong arms caging you in.

The first kiss is soft, chaste. It would be cute if you weren’t so fucking needy, but you are and it’s just not enough. Unsatisfied, you thread your fingers through his hair and tug, nipping at his bottom lip and tilting your head to the side to get a deeper angle. A groan rumbles in his chest and he returns the kiss with more intensity, trying to take control again. You don’t let him, even if every instinct in your body is screaming at you to just submit.

Jeno shifts on top of you, scooting so that he can fully lay down between your legs. You wrap your limbs around him on instinct, pulling him as close as you possibly can and- oh. The close proximity means that you feel everything when he grinds down, and the feeling of having him so close to where you need him has any semblance of control that you had draining out of your body. You gasp pitifully, annoyance clawing at you from the amount of fabric blocking you from what you want.

“Please,” You almost sob, tugging at his shirt while trying to grind your lower half against his, the pressure of his cock against your center making your eyes roll. Jeno pulls back to yank his shirt off and then he’s back, hands sliding down your body to your panties, tugging the fabric down as far as he can before he growls in frustration and just rips the fabric in half. 

“Shit, you’re so wet.” Jeno moans in awe, breaking the kiss yet again to marvel at your pussy. “Bet I could just slip right in.” He drags his fingers through the slick on your upper thighs, eyes glued between your legs. You’re just about to complain when he finally presses his fingers into you. The initial relief has you moaning sweetly, though it quickly turns to impatient pleas for his cock. You clench around his fingers, reaching a hand down to palm over where he strains against his sweats.

“I need you to fuck me.” You beg, looking at him with what you hope is a convincing expression. “Please Jen, I need you.” “You have me.” He promises you, flicking his wrist faster, curling his fingers just right. “I’m right here baby.” It’s sweet, and under normal circumstances it would be enough, but right now it’s not what you need and the frustration has you on the brink of tears.

You buck your hips and try to arch up as if it’ll magically make him slip in, but Jeno remains as patient and controlled as ever. It’s too hot and every part of your body is screaming for him to fuck you, for him to claim you, and his refusal is killing you. “Alpha please, I need you.”

He absolutely snarls, pinning down your wriggling body with one hand around your throat. The other hand stays between your legs where it continues to strike pleasure into every single nerve ending you have, adding to the fire already coursing through your veins. “What you need is to take what your Alpha’s giving you. You’re not in charge here, okay?” With his face pressed so close to yours you have no choice but to make direct eye contact, staring straight into the most intense gaze you’ve ever seen. His pupils are blown out so wide that his eyes are almost black. Unable to tear your eyes away and as if in a trance, you find yourself nodding. The corner of his mouth quirks up. “Good girl. Now listen to your Alpha and cum.”

It happens almost instantaneously, as if his words were directly connected to a trigger, your body exploding just as soon as the words leave his mouth. Your entire body locks up, mind going blank as the immense pleasure takes hold of you, leaving you clawing at his back and screaming silently into the air. 

The orgasm only serves to thicken the haze in your mind, clouding any thoughts that aren’t related to the Alpha above you and his cock. It takes a moment for your eyes to finally come back into focus enough to make out your surroundings, and you’re greeted by the sight of Jeno with his fingers in his mouth, sucking your essence off of his digits. You’re burning so hot, so much hotter than you think you’ve been before, and it’s hard for you to function. All you can think about is his cock.

“Please,” You beg, swatting at him weakly. “Alpha please, I need you so bad.”

There’s no way that Jeno isn’t being affected by the pheromones clouding the air, but he manages to appear unbothered, his actions rough but nowhere near as desperate as yours. He just laughs lightly at your begging. “Aww, baby needs me?” The rhetorical question is punctuated by a slap, his hand coming down on your pussy hard enough to draw a yelp from you, thighs closing on his hand in a conflicting attempt to relieve the pressure from the hit and keep his hand on your cunt. He laughs meanly and pulls his hand away, drawing back slightly to spit onto your already soaking pussy, rubbing the spit into your skin while he talks. “This pussy belongs to me, yeah? You’re mine now.” Jeno leans down, mouth at your neck so that he can bite at the skin. “That means that I can do whatever I want with you.” You can’t speak, can’t even begin to think about what you should say in this situation. He presses a kiss to your jaw before pulling back and uses his free hand to turn your head so that you make eye contact with him. “Tell Alpha what you need.” “Need Alpha in me.” You beg, plead, flipping yourself over onto your hands and knees and arching your back, presenting yourself to him. “Need your knot, need you to fill me up, breed me, Alpha please-” Your sentence is cut off by his cock slamming into you, the filthy sound being drowned out by his groan. You gasp in relief, breathy thank you’s leaving you with each powerful thrust he delivers. His cock stretches you out so well, makes you go dizzy with the relief of finally having him in you. Your elbows give out nearly instantly, your chest hitting the mattress, and Jeno takes instant advantage of the new position to pull your hips even higher into the air.

It’s so good- almost too good- and it leaves you drooling and clawing at the sheets. All you can focus on is how well he’s fucking you, how he’s going to fill you up so well, breed you like he was meant to. 

You scream when he pulls out, alarm bells going off as your body instantly protests. It only lasts a second though, Jeno’s hands never leaving your body as he flips you onto your back. 

“Couldn’t see you,” Jeno pants out, dropping a kiss to the corner of your mouth and pushing back in, returning back to the brutal rhythm he had before. It has your eyes rolling in your head at how fucking good he feels. “My pretty baby, taking everything I give her.” 

He’s got you so fucked out that you don’t even realize your tongue is hanging out of your mouth until he pinches it between his thumb and index finger, pulling it out even more. “You love my cock, hmm? You love everything I give you.” The pad of his thumb rubs over your tongue, the sensation making your toes curl and tears slide down your cheeks. “Such a fucking needy omega, isn’t that right?” He tugs on your tongue, your head following his actions as he leads you into nodding.

Jeno laughs and lets go of your tongue, dropping his face down to kiss at your neck. He sucks mark after mark into your skin, licking over each one to soothe it after, until he finally gets to your most sensitive, vulnerable spot. Even just the feeling of him close to your mating mark has your entire body aching for it, your neck craning to the side and pushing into his touch. The leverage you get from your legs wrapped around his waist has him pushing even deeper into you and you can feel his knot at your entrance, not quite fully swollen but definitely getting there. It has you absolutely keening, the thought of being so totally owned making you desperate.The sweet drag of his cock along your walls paired with the absolute filth he’s spewing has your body locking up with no warning, your orgasm ripping through you. You arch off the bed, the action only pushing you further onto his cock.

“God y/n, fuck!” Jeno curses, slamming his hips into you with even more force, his knot popping into your entrance and forcing the neediest sound you’ve ever made to leave your lips. You desperately wrap your limbs around him, trying to get him even closer, digging your heels into his ass to push him further inside. He grinds his hips against you one, two, three more times before he shudders, teeth clamping down right on your sweet spot as he comes. Jeno seems to come forever, filling you up with delicious warmth, making your body purr in satisfaction. He finally comes down, having the clarity of mind to tip the two of you onto your sides so that he doesn’t crush you when he collapses. He still tugs you close, arm thrown around your body possessively, his chin resting atop of your head.

“Told you it was intense.” You laugh out, trying to break the silence in the room. The heat’s subsided for now, but you’re still barely in your mind, and you have no idea how long the break will last. 

He huffs out a laugh, chest shaking against you. “I understand Jaemin now.” His hand pets over your back, sliding up to the back of your neck and scratching lightly at the skin there. “You alright?” “Mhmm, yeah. Perfect.” His fingertips press lightly against the mating mark, sending sparks shooting down your spine, and it has your head spinning. You try to adjust yourself against him in an effort to keep your cool, but moving has his cock shifting inside of you and you sleepily grind against him, not thinking. Jeno hisses and tightens his grip on you to keep you still, but the way he grabs your leg has him shifting inside of you and pressing against all the right places. Heat floods through you and your grinding turns more urgent. 

“Ohgod,” You moan, finding enough strength to push Jeno flat on his back. Your body has a mind of its own and you find yourself bouncing desperately on his cock. His knot has you locked into place and you’re barely able to move, but you can still swirl and grind your hips against him, feel the delicious friction of his knot against your entrance. “Alpha, it feels so good.”

“Fuck, look at you. So fucking knotdrunk, hmm? Can’t get enough.” Jeno shakes his head, laughs in a way that’s meant to mock you but it comes out strained. His hands are heavy on your ass, squeezing and slapping to feel the way it jiggles, to feel the way you clench around him with every hit. You throw your head back and let him do as he pleases, losing yourself entirely in how full you feel, in how good his knot feels in you. He buries his face into your chest, moving one hand from your ass to play with your tits, his mouth wasting no time in marking the delicate skin up. 

“Shit baby, gonna make me cum again.” His lips seal over your mating mark again in a sloppy kiss and that’s exactly the final push that you need, your eyes rolling back and your tongue lolling out as your cunt spasms around him, orgasm ripping through you almost painfully. Jeno groans as well, hand flying to your back to pull you as close as possible, and his knot pulses inside of you as you swear you feel more cum shoot out.

He shudders against you, tight grip finally relaxing, though he still keeps you anchored to his chest. You follow suit, collapsing against him. A tired moan leaves you and you let yourself relax, lips absentmindedly mouthing at his skin. His hand pets your back soothingly, touch heavy and sluggish, and the last thing you feel before you fall asleep is his lips on your forehead.

[iluminated-goat]

AAAAAA ANGEL I'M TRULY SO SORRY DOR MY LATE REPLY THIS IS SO BEAUTIFUL!!! I'm not gonna lie when I saw this I got so excited I felt the overwhelming need to claw at the walls like a rabid animal, Mama Stan lore is simply incredible and it absolutely tore me apart omg

First of all, holy shit, you did not hold back in the slightest (as you should!!! Traumatize our boy!! Holy shit, being sacrificed alive?? Imagine feeling every second of someone opening you up and going through your organs until they finally rip out your heart, jesus christ. AND MAMA!!! Absolute queen as always I get so excited seeing her, completely understandable reaction, imagine being a somewhat pacific god and someone just does that in your name??

Also, the fact that she revived Stan and stuck around him is actually interest to notice, did she felt like she "owned him one" after what happened? Or maybe it was also because she had a soft spot for the Stans? And the way she even let's Stan have some sort of control on the start of their partnership is so cool if you take his canon backstory and the way he was going on automatic and had to rely on really shitty ways to survive, I can't imagine how wild and different his homeless years had been with her by his side. And Stan carrying her like a doll is a really funny image, her helping him with the shack omg (⁠*⁠´⁠ω⁠｀⁠*⁠) )

And OH MY GOD THE CIRCLE SCENE, IT GOT WORSE IT GOT WORSE. Aaaah Ford why must you be controlled by your ego, conflicting emotions since teenagehood and your (reasonable) paranoia and trauma!! "Why did I even bother falling in love with you" what if I cried in front of you, what if this was my (and Stan's) last straw. Situation was already shit and you managed to turn it worse, would've clapped if I wasn't baffled at it.

The insinuation that Mama was there on their "reunion"?? Damn, woman must've been seething the moment they arrived in Gravity Falls. Does she knows the story of their fallout??? If so Ford really never stood a chance holy shit.

"Stanford Pines, I shall no longer love you", Angel did you just stab me and twist the knife. And her killing them the same way Stan was killed in the beginning??? Absolute cinema - and absolutely terrifying, imagine being eaten alive, not just as a human but think about cipher, someone who thought himself invincible and strong, just to be destroyed by something stronger and incomprehensible even to you. Mama the woman you are ✨✨

STAN'S DESIGN!!! MY SHAYLA!!! Him having a young and healthy body bc of his drifter years and how long he dedicated his entire life to his brother, I can't handle this (⁠╯⁠︵⁠╰⁠,⁠) something like his body being so important, something that was constantly taken advantage and not appreciated, him turning into something that HE wants it to be, that HE can control, with things that he deserved and should've had access since the beginning, I'm gonna be sick. Him still having his surgery scars omg, it's like a grim reminder of what he went through, was Mama not able to erase it or did he ask not to?? Being some king of reminder of everything he endured and how he met his life long friend??

Omg him still giving some kind of closure to his family bc it wasn't their fault at what happened, he didn't want them to feel the burden of carrying guilt for the rest of their lives Stan Pines the man that you are...

Genuinely curious to how he works for Mama, does he do the same thing that Aster does? What are his powers exactly?? AND OMG HIM NOT WANTING TO MEET ASTER, the thought of a child having to suffer with him too!!! The possibility of having a good life and it not being directed to you, I would've killed myself on the spot I get him omg

And Mama's poem is absolutely beautiful and unsettling at the same thing. Which makes sense because even if she is a benevolent being, she is still something straight out of a Lovecraftian book, an angel. She's almost possessive I would say to her people, and she does understands feelings and emotions (which makes her more terrifying holy shit), but considered she's a higher being I feel like she feels them on a more extreme sense. What exactly is her philosophy/objective with this?? She does care of course, but she always punishes those who wronged you, so how exactly can they reach repent?? On the spiritual realm?? Unless she does it exactly for that reason (which would be scary holy shit. AAAAA so sorry for my rambling I'm genuinely so curious about this, this is so well made!!)

I TRANSLATED HER NAME!! By any chance, is it Beamor?? I tried searching the meaning but the only thing it says is "those who plays the trumpet", which makes sense considering she is an angel. And in religious books they always serve as a warning, a call, so it makes sense for her character too! Can't wait to see her full name if you plan to show it :)

AAAAAA once again Angel, INCREDIBLE WORK!! Absolute take your time on your craft because you always deliver the best!! So good to see you again my friend 🩵🩵

Some additional Mama Evangeline lore to share for my friends @iluminated-goat @muchmallows while they're busy with their things, hopefully this post is a motivational support for them too! :)

From the last post, I did share a tidbit of a variant Stan making a deal with Mama. So here is the lore behind it:

For this timeline, during Stan's drifting years, he was drugged and got his own heart cut out and sacrificed by a cultist that wanted to make contract with Mama for selfish gains like riches and fame.

This did not sit well with her, so Mama killed off the cultist instead and revives Stan under a possession blood contract; she has the ability to physically exist in his realm, but the full authority lies upon Stan unless he willfully submits to her.

She takes the form of a broken porcelain ball-jointed doll to help Stan with his money-making schemes in his haunted dolls display collection in the Mystery Shack. She is doll-sized, so he carries her around like a child by the crook of his arm.

For the next 30 years, Stan fixed the portal with Mama's help and canon story goes on as usual; both brothers are constantly angry with each other with no chance of reconciliation, until Weirdmageddon.

Ford and Stan were arguing in front of everyone at the ritual circle, it got to the point where Ford curses having a twin brother like Stan and wondering why did he even bother falling in love with him.

(In truth, we all know that Ford did not really mean it. He outspoken what he really shouldn't have said if he wants to salvage whatever love that they still had; but you know what they say, he done fucked up!)

Stan, finally seeing the side of the man that Ford truly is, the one that Mama constantly complains and disapproves of, breaks. There, with his heart broken beyond repair and mind going mad in despair, he musters all of his rage as he speaks these words and finally succumbs fully to Mama:

"I renounced you... Stanford Pines, I shall love you no more... You are now dead to me!"

Mama, who already hated Ford since their first meeting 30 years ago due to all of the hurt that he has inflicted upon Stan, was more eager to enact her vengeance upon the bastard twin-lover that is Stanford Pines and the annoying parakeet triangle that is Bill Cipher.

In this timeline, Bill Cipher, the Henchmaniacs and Ford Pines are not thrown into the Black Forest. Instead, they're entirely devoured by Mama as offerings.

To reclaim his autonomy, Stan requested to turn back to his prime beautiful youth with a healthier body because he's still angry that all of his time, love and life has been wasted for a useless bastard. His claim mark is directly upon his chest, glowing red on top of his surgery scars.

But curse his bleeding heart that loves both his grand niece and nephew, he also asks Mama to alter everyone's memories, saying that Weirdmageddon never happened and that their Grunkle Stan has given Soos and Abuela custody of the twins before he 'died' at the end of the summer, with his tombstone carved with the words below:

"Here lies Stan Pines, a loving son, brother grandfather and uncle. He died with a betrayed heart from a love that did not deserve him."

He serves Mama unconditionally, but refuses to meet Aster because he doesn't want to ponder the what-ifs for a possibile life that stemmed from a past that did nothing but hurt him and the sight of an innocent bystander's life being ruined by Ford's callous choices.

I also wanna try make an Axolotl poem about Mama, but I can only write this much. You can say this is a hint to a grim truth to all that makes a contract with Mama:

Why is poetry so hard to write?

Oh, I almost forgot! I finally made Mama's true first name. But you have to decipher this code:

I hope both of you are able to conquer whatever is troubling both of you! Don't worry, I'll be taking my time creating more lore content for Mama and Aster here! Love you both!

[paracosm-draw]

Loving this drabble emoji game (and sending plenty of patience regarding ao3's waiting list)! 💪🏽 and/or 🩸 ? :)

Oh I love this one 👀

💪🏼 + 🩸 : Bridal carry + patching up a wound

______________________

- M'gnus... Put me down...

Alec grumbles and wiggles weakly in the warlock's strong arms. He's alternating between states of unconsciousness and lucidity and Magnus has to pull a little bit more of his magic to keep him on the surface, while lowering his pain and trying to open a portal to carry him to a safer place.

That's a bit much all at the same time, even for him, especially when he has to stay calm and not freak out at the sight of Alec's clothes soaked in blood.

- Please stay awake for me, love. He whispers urgently, arms getting tired of carrying 90kg of muscles for so long.

His magic is running low at an alarming rate and he can feel the exhaustion starting to seep under his skin, shortening his breath and wetting his temples with sweat.

That was not supposed to happen.

They're on their honeymoon, two days after leaving New-York. Only two days of calm and rest before they're caught up again in the reality of their world.

Magnus was the one supposed to be dying right now, but Alec being the self-sacrificial little shit he was, he was the one who took the hit for him. Sharp Indonesian demon's claws ripping his abdomen apart.

- Baby...

Magnus is pulled out of his thoughts when Alec's bloody fingers brush his face, leaving red wet traces on his skin. His hand his so pale and cold, the warlock does his best not to freak out.

They're on the beach now, only a few meters away from the first sets of houses. Those demons hate water, at least they should be safe here.

- You're gonna be okay, Alexander. I'm going to take care of you. He says, his voice as steady as he can.

If he's being honest, it doesn't look good. But Alec doesn't have to know that.

When he's almost certain that they've put enough distance between the demon and them, he stops and kneels to lay Alec on the ground.

The sand is warmer than his husband's skin and Magnus eyes fill with tears at the realization.

- You're gonna be okay. He repeats, more for himself than anything else, while ripping off Alec's white shirt with trembling fingers.

It takes all he has to keep a straight face when he sees the wounds.

- That's... Bad. Alec mutters, his eyes trying so hard to focus on Magnus' beloved face but he can't. Everything's blurry, he's so tired and his body's so heavy.

- No. No no no, I'm going to heal you, darling. Magnus breathes around the lump in his throat. I got this.

He can't loose him only two days after their wedding. He can't loose him at all.

- Magnus...

The warlock tries to ignore him to focus on the little magic left in him, ready to be invocated. He knows he will probably pass out after this but if he manages to stay conscious until Alec is out of danger, it's worth the effort.

He starts to lift his hands to summon the magical energy into his palms when Alec grips his wrist.

- Magnus, listen to me...

Magnus clearly doesn't have the time to listen to him, but something in his husband's tone makes him take it anyway.

- Yes, love ?

- If I die...

- You're not gonna die ! Magnus retorts, but the single tear rolling down his cheek feels like despair.

- If I die, Alec repeats anyway, clearing his bloody throat as much as possible, I want you to know that none of this... None of this is your fault.

- Alec... Magnus' vision is blurry now and he hardly holds back a sob.

- I'm the happiest man, Magnus. Alec smiles weakly, there's blood on his lips but his eyes are bright with love. I just... I wanted to have kids with you. I'm sorry.

Magnus heart clenches painfully, and he grabs Alec's hands in his, crying silently.

- We're gonna have children, my love. I promise you. Now I need you to stay with me a little bit longer, okay ? Just a little bit more...

Alec hums almost happily and closes his eyes, his pale skin glowing under the moonlight. There's a pool of blood under his body, infiltrating the sand.

And Magnus draws on every last drop of his reserves to save the man he loves, keeping Alec's last words in mind to have something to hold on to.

Then, everything is black.