#i was always afraid that if i listened to it i’d get the whole

[that-sarcastic-writer]

Hi can u please write about domestic life with Bills Eric Draven? Can there be fluffy and smutty moments? Tyyyy

Boy can I??? I’d be DELIGHTED. His domesticity is all I think about. He’s the sweetest, kindest and most loving bf and you can’t change my mind. I got a little carried away! Hopefully this is what you were wanting! Enjoy doll!

Bf!Eric x gf!reader. Explicit sexual content under the cut, minors dni, oral (f receiving), p in v. brief mentions of drug use, mostly fluffy relationship stuff

It wasn’t entirely easy. You and Eric. The circumstances under which you met and the nature of the both of you was quite dysfunctional. You were chaos, and he was a mess. But it worked. The two of you. You worked perfectly. You weren’t sure what it was, you had never been able to maintain a healthy relationship with anyone. But it was almost like you were meant to be together. If you didn’t believe in the whole soulmates thing, you started to believe it when you met Eric.

He was so unreal, so out of this world. He was always by your side, fingers laced with yours, arm thrown over your shoulder. He always had to be touching you, whether it was something as little as holding your hand, or going as far as putting you in a matting press when he fucked you, because he hated the idea of not being as close to you as possible. He never meant to, he didn’t even know what it was. He just did it one day. Your knees damn near next to your head, your body nearly folded in half as he draped his body over yours. You didn’t even know your body could bend this way. But god this you like it. How deep he could be this way. And you had him so close you could hear his little sounds, his hard breathing and his soft grunts.

He always felt a little bad, manhandling you around like you were nothing. If he wasn’t bending your body in ways you didn’t think were human, he was putting you in a headlock as he took you from behind, one arm draped around your neck from shoulder to shoulder. He just wanted you close, afraid you’d run away. But he sometimes forgot to take it easy on you. You always assured him you were more than happy with him, that he wouldn’t hurt you. Deep down it made you all kinds of earn to know you could arise such passions from him. For someone so morbidly quiet and nonchalant, Eric was very intense and passionate lover.

“It’s okay, baby. I got you. You’re doing so good.” He would tell you, his voice soft and quiet in your ear, grounding you as his cock fucked you into nothing. “I just want to make you feel good, hm? Just want to make you feel good. That’s what you deserve.”

“I don’t deserve this. You’re too good for me.” He would say, his lips on your cheek as quiet moans spilled from your lips. “You’re just so… I can’t believe you’re all mine.” His name falling from your lips would be the end of him. So soft and desperate for him. He didn’t have much experience before you, but now he just can’t get enough of you. He wanted to be all over you at all times it actually upset him when you had to leave or when he did.9

But he was also oh so kind, so gentle and patient with you. He always followed you around like an oversized puppy, quietly listening to whatever tangent you would go on about. You could be cursing up a storm (albeit not directed at him) and he would take it with a straight face and big eyes. And it was often that nothing more but his presence would calm you down, center you.

“How do you do it?” You asked him one day, hot tears staining your face after a day of one stressor after another. Eric had managed to get you on the couch where he silently sat you down on his lap. You almost immediately curled up into his lap, legs tucked under you and your head on his chest. You felt an almost instant sense of relief and peace fill you, and you were sighing deeply, feeling your heart slow its fast beating.

“Do what?” He asked you softly, his fingers massaging your head calmly. You rested your hand on his chest, eyes closed.

“This. You calm me down. I was crying two minutes ago and now I feel… okay.” You felt him shrug under you and when you looked up he had a smile on his face. That smile could make you forget any grief or sadness you might have, because none of it really mattered.

But it wasn’t just him who could bring you peace, you were his, too. His lows weren’t as intense or visible as yours, but when he was at his low, he was at an all time low. He wouldn’t speak, he wouldn’t eat, he would just go about his day like a corpse, eyes dead and empty and his mind elsewhere. You understood he had his issues too, so you tried to be there for him without pushing him. You were more subtle. You’d make him dinner, you’d invite him to watch a movie with you. And you’d tangle up with him on the couch as you all but forced him to eat, and you’d talk to him about your day. But something so small always meant so much to him. He couldn’t help the way he felt, he couldn’t help his negative thoughts that drove him to do drugs in the first place, but having you around to remind him someone in this world loved and cared for him, it made it all a little bit easier.

Eric started to bring you flowers one day. Every week once a week, he could come home with your favorite flowers. He alternated colors. With a sheepish smile he’d stand in the doorway with his hands behind his back. And the way he would look at you when gushed about how pretty they were was like he was looking at the most beautiful thing in the world, the only one that mattered. And to him you were. Seeing that smile on your face was the only thing he ever wanted to do.

“You like them?” He would ask as if it wasn’t obvious, but he’d do it just to hear you giggle and watch you all but skip to put them in water. “Yeah? I saw them and thought about you.”

He always thought about you. There wasn’t a single waking second where he didn’t. You were good for him. And he knew that. He didn’t need anything else to fill the emptiness in his chest because he had you. You had filled that hole and he made sure you knew that everyday.

Eric had many ways to show his love and devotion for you. He wrote you poems, he drew for you, you had so many sketches you have started to run out of places to hang them, but this one was by far his favorite. He could spend literal hours between your legs. He absolutely loved it. He was absolutely obsessed with it.

“E-Eric.. Please.” You were shaking, sweating, incoherent as his tongue circled on your clit, his long fingers fucking you through your, fourth, fifth? You stopped keeping count. He had been down there for an eternity. He just kept asking for one more, just one more and he’d leave you alone. But it wasn’t enough. He was quite obsessive with the things he wanted.

But he figured he’d have to give you a break eventually. He was also painfully hard.

“I’m sorry baby.” He muttered softly as he crawled up your body, using the back of his hand to wipe the mess you had made, but his plush lips were still bright red and glistening. “You know I get carried away sometimes… You’re just so..”

He would kiss your face, brush your hair, soothe you back into a functioning human being. It wasn’t often that Eric vocalized his thoughts, but in moments like this when he felt safe and comfortable enough to be vulnerable, he would tell you all about how pretty you were, how talented you were, how much he loved you.

Eric was always full of surprises. He was quiet and nonchalant, but he was impulsive. You learned that very quickly.

“Baby?” You heard Eric call out to you as he came into the loft. You sat on the computer as you listened to one of his recordings. He had asked you to help him out since he really wanted to start pursuing his music and art now that he actually had someone that supported him.

With a smile, you took your headphones off and went to greet him, but you immediately frowned when you saw him hold something wrapped up in his hoodie.

“Hey, whatcha got there?” You stood up, approaching him with narrowed eyes as he broke out a smile.

“I’m sorry. I just found it, I just.. I felt bad.” He pulled down his hoodie to reveal a precious little kitten. A black ball of fur coating its little face. Your heart immediately sank and you wanted to cry.

“Oh my god, Eric.” You took the kitten into your hands and your eyes started watering as you hugged it. Eric wasn’t sure what to make of your reaction. Did you hate it? Were you upset?

“No, baby, I’m sorry. I found it outside, it’s kinda cold and it was drinking from a puddle. I didn’t want a car to hit it. We don’t have to keep it if you don’t want to, we can take it to a shelter or something.” He started to mumble, a hand coming to rub the back of his head and his lips fell open when he saw a tear fall down your cheek. He approached you, reaching to grab your face. “Please don’t cry.”

“No… No Eric I’m not..” You sniffled, laughing softly through your tears as you leaned into Eric’s chest while still hugging the now purring black ball of fur. “I’m not upset at all. It’s just… I’ve never had my own pet before. And it’s so cute, can we keep it, please? It’d be our little child.”

The way you looked at him with big pleading eyes made him feel so warm, he never thought he’d feel something like this. He smiled, nodding as he pressed a kiss to your forehead.

“Of course we can keep it. He’s kinda cute, right?” Eric chuckled as he scratched the little one’s head.

“Or she.”

Your little ball of fur wasn’t the only thing you and Eric shared. You got so many matching tattoos it was concerning. Your friends and family had even told you it was odd to get tattoos with a guy you had been dating for only a few months. But it didn’t matter to you. You didn’t know why, but deep down you knew your connection with Eric was out of this world. So what were a couple tattoos? You loved that you had a physical reminder of your connection with him. The feelings deep within your souls were forever marked on your skin, and you wouldn’t have it any other way.

Truth was, Eric loved tracing each and every one of your tattoos. He traced his fingers over the fine lines, traced the words, he traced his lips over them too. He particularly loved the ones on your back and on your stomach, the ones no one but him could see. They were his little secret.

You matched each other perfectly, in every way.

[j-esbian]

ok real talk, i have avoided certain music types/bands because of their fans. and it’s tragic that 1) that’s put me off of it for so long because 2) some of it Does slap tho

[gor3sigil]

Before starting T, when I socially transitionned, I was surrounded by radical feminists who saw masculinity as gross and inherently evil, something to avoid, something to make fun of, something to destroy. The other transmascs in my friend group, sometimes, told me that they didn’t knew if they really were non-binary or if they just were scared shitless of saying “I am a man”. Because they saw this as a betrayal to their younger self who had been SAd and abused.

I saw many of my masc friends and trans men around me hate themselves, not outing themselves as men because it would imply so so much, it was like opening the Pandora Box. Even when we were just together, talking about our masculinity was always coated with bits like “I know we’re the privileged ones but…”, “I don’t want to sound like I have it bad but…”, “Women obviously have it worse, but last time…” and we were talking about terrible traumas we experienced while taking all the precautions in the world in the case the walls were a crowd of people in disguise waiting to get us if we didn’t downplay the violence we faced, or like crying and being upset and being traumatized and afraid and scared and to say it out loud would make us throw up the needles we were forced to swallow every second of every day living in our skin.

Most of us weren’t on T yet, some of us were catcalled every day and harassed in the streets or in abusive relationships nobody seemed to care to help them get out of because they were “strong enough” to do it by themselves.

I was using the gender swap face app and cried for ours when I saw my father looking back at me through the screen. The idea of transforming, of shedding into a body that would deprive me of love, tenderness, and safety, was absolutely terrifying. I knew I couldn’t stay in this body any longer because it wasn’t mine, but I also knew that if I was going to look like my dad, my brother, my abusers, it would be so much worse.

5 years later and I’m almost 2 years on T, and almost 2 months post top surgery.

I ditched my previous group of friends. I was bullied out of my local trans community. But let me tell you how free I am.

I was scared that T would break my singing voice: it made it sound more alive than ever.

I was scared that T would make me less attractive: it made me find myself hot for the first time in my life.

I was scared that T would make me gain weight: it did. But the weight I put on is not the weight I used to put on by binging and eating my body until I forgot that it even existed. It’s the weight of my body belonging to me, little by little. The wolf hunger for life.

I won’t tell you the same story I see everywhere, the one that goes “I started going to the gym 8 times a week, I put on some muscles, I started a diet and now I look like an action film actor”, in fact if you took pictures of me from 5 years ago vs now I’d just have more acne, I’d have longer hair and still look like I don’t know what to do with myself when I take selfies.

But the sparkle in my eyes, my smile, tell the whole story way better than this long ass stream of words could ever.

I want to say some things that I wish someone told me before starting medically transitionning.

It’s okay to take your time. It’s your body, it’s your journey, if you don’t feel comfortable taking full doses and want to go slow, the only voice you need to listen to is your own. Do what feels right.

If you feel overwhelmed, it’s okay to take a break, it’s okay to ask for support.

Trans people are holy. Everyone is. You didn’t lose your angel wings when you came out because you want to be masculine. You are not excluded from the joy of existence, from being proud of yourself, from being sad, from being scared, from being angry. The emotions and feelings you allowed yourself to feel while processing what you experienced when you grew up as a girl and was seen as a woman are still as valid as before. Nobody can take that from you. If someone tries to, don’t let them.

It’s perfectly normal to grieve some things you were and had before you started to transition, like your high soprano voice or even your chest. Hatching is painful. You can find comfort in things that don’t feel right, so making the decision to change can be incredibly scary and weird and you deserve to be heard and supported through this. Wanting top surgery doesn’t make the surgery less intense, less terrifying, less painful to recover from. When it becomes too much you have the right to take a break and take some deep breaths before going on.

You don’t have to have a radical, 180° change for your transition to be acceptable or valid or worthy of praise. Look at how far you’ve come already. It doesn’t have to show, you’re not made to be a spectacle, you’re human and it is your journey.

Oh, and last thing, you know when some people say “Oh this trans person has to grow out of the cringy phase where you think that you can write essays about being trans or transitionning or just their experience because it’s weird” ? If you ever hear this or see this online, remember all the people whose writing you read and, even if they were not professional writers, helped you more than any theorists did ? If you want to write, do it. It won’t be a waste. It can help people. Or it won’t, and even then, if it helped you, that’s enough.

Love every of my trans siblings, take care of yourselves. You deserve the world.

[saetoru]

✩ ‧₊˚ ✩。yours, always yours

synopsis. satoru has always been yours—and he needs you to know you’ll also always be his

— word count. 2.4k (read the breakup fic first for better understanding, but can be read as a stand-alone)

— contents. fem! reader, college! au, rich boy! gojo, post-getting back together angst that gets a little heated <3, minors do not interact, fingering, unprotected sex, edging, satoru cumming too quick <3, creampie, tbh the smut is short and a lil rushed my b, it ends in fluff tho !! trust !! there is fluff !!

— notes. tbh this will probably get flagged rly fast but oh well u win some u lose some. anywayyyyy here is the make up sex bc yall nasties deserve it <3 jk love u guys

satoru falls first. and he falls hard. everyone knows it, it’s never been a secret.

“you want me to wash your hair?” you ask gently, kissing his shoulder as the water falls over his head. he hums, nodding absentmindedly as he stares blankly at the tiles of your shower wall.

“sure,” he mumbles, “don’t tug.”

“i never tug,” you roll your eyes, snorting. he huffs a small chuckle, but it’s not the usual laugh satoru gives you. it’s mechanic, almost—just there to fill the space. “baby?” you ask softly.

“yeah?” he asks, “oh, should i bend a little? sorry, i—”

“what’re you thinking about?” your hands cup his cheeks, gentle and warm from the hot water as it soaks his skin.

he shakes his head, trying to smile as he clears throat. “just how nice it is to be pampered. maybe i’ll let you break my heart every once in a while so i get my back scrubbed and hair washed like this.”

“satoru,” you insist. you know—and he knows it too. “tell me?”

“why’d you do it?” he mumbles, “why’d you listen to him?”

“toru, you know why,” you sigh, “you know i didn’t think there were any other options.”

“you could’ve talked to me,” he furrows his brows, “just because my stupid old man threatens you with my stupid inheritance doesn’t mean we have to break up.”

“i was afraid you’d choose me.” it comes out as a whisper, like a confession you can’t bear to admit.

“i would have chosen you,” he agrees, “why’s that bad? how’s that wrong—”

“you’re not thinking about the bigger picture,” you shake your head, “that company is yours. you’ve spent your whole life—”

“so what? was i supposed to give up the rest of my life for it too?” he asks tiredly—satoru’s defeated. he’s never been defeated, it’s the most magnetizing thing about him.

even before you date him. he asks and asks and asks no matter how many times you say no. because there’s always a chance you’ll say yes, and he’ll never stop as long as there’s a chance.

“i’m sorry,” you sniffle, lips wobbling, “i could have….i should have said something. i didn’t want you to make a choice young and then….and then regret it.”

“you think i’d regret you?” he’s wounded—absolutely wounded at the words.

satoru has always been careful, diligent and so, so meticulous to love you right, to love you how you need to be loved. hadn’t that proven enough? that he was in it for the long run—for forever? he’d been so sure you’d be his future, that the break up feels like waking up from a peaceful dream to a house fire—devastating, with smoke in his nose and lungs that he can’t breathe right, and everything gone within a moment before he can even register it.

he stares at the ashes in despair. nothing prepared him for the hollowness of not being yours—because satoru has never cared to make you his. all he’s ever wanted was to be yours.

you’re quick to remove him from everything, deleting pictures from your socials, untagging him from posts, removing him from your private stories and close friends list. he doesn’t understand how you could change your mind so quickly—and then he realizes you probably don’t. because he knows you—better than anyone ever has, satoru knows you.

so he’s comes to you, drenched from the rain, from standing outside your door even as the water pelts against his skin because he’s determined. he’s going to get an answer out of you, going to make you explain why you pulled him in so close, let him reside in your heart and fall asleep to the comforting rhythm of its beating—and then push him out like he’s nothing. what made you push him out?

and finally, when he does, when you let him be yours again and admit it’s never what you wanted, that it’s because it’s what his father wanted—well, satoru can’t keep his composure. don’t you know? hadn’t he always told you? hadn’t he poured his heart out and let you know every moment he’s always been stuck dangling from his father’s fingers? stuck somewhere between the sky and ground, too high to feel the floor under his feet but never high enough to feel the wind in his face.

you’ve always known, always listened—and fuck, you held him some nights too, let your fingers dip into his hair and soothe his sorrows of always being stuck.

satoru’s always been stuck, always had every choice made for him and every instruction carefully laid out on the table. and then you decided to make his choice for him too, walking away and choosing his future for him like he’s never had a say.

he’s always been stuck, but never with you—but now, he wonders if that’s changed.

“no,” you squeeze his cheeks, “no i don’t think you’d regret me….but satoru losing what you have is a big thing,” you mumble, “people work their whole lives not having a fraction of what you do. that’s a lot to let you lose.”

“i’ve never seen my dad kiss my mom,” he stares at you, hard and unwavering, his eyes stare into yours, “he’s never held her hand or made her laugh. and you know what she told me? that she would sell her share of everything to have what we do. why do you always look at me for what i have first?” he asks angrily, the water pouring over his shoulders as they shake, “why can’t you just look at me first for once?”

“i do look at you,” you insist, “toru, all i ever see is you—”

“then stop caring what he says,” he says louder, his voice echoing through the small bathroom of your small apartment.

everything about your home is small—smaller than satoru’s especially. but he loves it, thinks he’d rather be here than anywhere else.

because it’s yours. and as long as you’re here, the world fits into this tiny apartment, the galaxy too.

“okay,” you say shakily. and then you nod, looking him in the eye, “you’ll handle it?”

he nods, kissing between your brows, “yeah, i’ll handle it. who else is gonna take over that company anyway?”

“but what if he finds someone else? and then he—”

“he won’t. my grandpa will shred him.”

“but he’s old, and he stepped down, so what really can he do if your dad decides—”

“god, baby,” he groans, pushing your body against the wall gently, “i love your voice, but you talk so much. i’m wanna listen to something else.”

his lips find your neck, sucking gently at the skin, hand trailing to your tits before his thumb circles your nipple. it’s slow, deliberate, teasing as it rolls over the bud.

you whimper, clutching onto him as a breathy, “t-toru,” leaves your lips.

“yeah,” he nods, “that’s what i wanna listen to instead.” his lips are in a grin against your neck, kissing and biting until he reaches your collarbone. “anyone dm you after you took me out of your socials?” he asks bitterly.

“j-just one,” you admit through a stutter, “b-but i didn’t even open it! i wasn’t really—oh, toru,” you gasp as his finger finds your clit, spreading your legs as he lets out a soft growl at your words.

“what? just cause my face isn’t on your instagram suddenly you’re not mine?” he asks, thumb rubbing harsh circles against the sensitive bundle of nerves—you close your eyes, moaning as your arms wrap tightly around his neck. “you’re always mine,” he murmurs against your ear, low and careful so you hear him well, “yeah? got that?”

“got it,” you nod furiously.

“got what?”

“‘m al-always—oh, fuck,” you mewl as one finger prods at your entrance, gathering your slick before slowly sliding through your walls.

“c’mon, sweetheart,” he says firmly, “finish your sentences.”

“always yours, toru! always yours—please, please j-just…”

“just what?” he raises a brow.

“more,” you sob—it’s a broken plea as your hips thrust against his finger.

he’s quick to slide in a second, thrusting his digits mercilessly into your soaked cunt, his palm gliding over your clit as the slick sound of his fingers fucking you is almost drowned by the water in the back.

your water bill will be high this month. you decide it’s a sacrifice satoru deserves.

“you think someone could ever learn this body better than me? make you cum like i can? you think anyone will ever love you enough to learn you like i do?”

“n-no,” you pant, his fingers hitting that spot inside of you so perfectly, you feel that dull ache build up quickly. it’s good—everything with satoru is good. his other hand finds your chest to pinch a nipple, twisting and squeezing until your nails leave indents on his shoulders as you moan loudly. “no one—no one but you.”

“exactly,” he growls, “how could you leave me? how could you leave us?”

“‘m sorry,” you sniffle, whimpering when the tips of his fingers slam against that spongey spot of your walls, fluttering around him and squeezing him in. you’re close—so close that you almost don’t know what he’s saying anymore, too focused on the way your impending orgasm is approaching. fast. “i’m sorry, i’ll never—ever leave again.”

“say you love me,” he demands.

it sounds like he’s pleading, though, if you listen closely. there’s a small crack in his voice, a slight shakiness that makes you force your eyes open and stare at him and whisper, “i love you, satoru. i love you.”

and then he rips his fingers out—right before you’re about to cum. you gasp, pleading nonsense as you cling to him and buck your hips and search for something, anything to take you over the edge.

and then you hear a sniffle. is he crying? is that wet droplet on your shoulder a tear or the water? you’re too busy calming down from your orgasm dying before it ever came to focus.

satoru’s hard against your thigh, throbbing and painful to sink into you. he strokes himself a few times, whimpers as his thumb gathers the pre cum from the sensitive tip, smearing it along his length as he shakily lets out a quiet moan.

“f-fuck, i gotta feel you. please, can i? please—”

“yes,” you pull him closer, grinding your heat over his hard-on, “yes please, toru. more, need more.”

he’s sliding along your folds, dragging the tip of his cock along your entrance and smearing a mix of your arousal with his. and then slowly, ever so gently, he’s pushing into your after that, pushing past your walls and bullying into your soaked cunt, curving into you perfectly.

it’s only been a week—you feel like you haven’t felt him in years. but it’s familiar. you remember every part of him, including every vein that drags along your walls and makes your head spin. he remembers every part of you, including where that spot is that he needs to angle his hips to find.

he slams into you, hard and rough and fast—doesn’t even let you adjust your position to hold onto him tighter before he’s thrusting his hips and fucking into you desperately. you can feel him, every inch of his skin against you, every part of him that’s touching you. and you can feel the way his cock nudges past your folds, the friction burning pleasure through ever nerve.

satoru knows how to fuck you, just like he knows how to love you, he knows your body—every dip and ever curve, every place to touch and every part that has you gushing around him. it’s just the way he is, too good at giving you what you want, what you need.

when he moans, it’s breathy and he’s panting as he lets out those soft whimpers that make your head spin. “feel that? feel me?” he asks, grunting as you squeeze around his length.

“yeah,” you breathe, “‘m so full.”

“i need you. please, please,” he murmurs, “can’t lose you, baby. never you,” he chants, the quiver in his voice tearing you apart.

“i’m right here,” you gasp, lacing your fingers with his and squeezing his hand. he squeezes back, just to let you know he’s there too, “right here, baby. you got me.”

and then he cums, just as soon as you whisper that—he spills right into you with a broken cry, his hips rolling, needy and desperate and so, so lost on the pleasure. he’s too busy working himself through his high, trembling over your body to care he’s cum too quick—and you don’t have it in you to tease him. you can feel the hot ropes of cum filling you, painting your walls white, fucking deep into you as the blunt head of his cock slams into you without a second of hesitation.

but he doesn’t stop, doesn’t falter that brutal pace as his hips slam into you, perfectly kissing your sweet spot every time. and before long, you break—your head pushes back against the wall behind you, mouth parted as you wail his name and cum—hard. you’re quivering and spasming around his swollen cock, enough that he whimpers at the way you’re so tight.

it’s good, it’s always good. satoru makes you feel good. he’s the best you’ve ever had—the best you’ll ever find.

and then you hear it again, the sniffle into your neck as he clutches you tightly. you know for sure that wet droplet is a tear this time, and your fingers tangle into his hair as you stroke the wet strands.

“i love you, toru,” you murmur, “my sweet boy. i’m sorry, okay? i’m so sorry.”

“don’t do that again,” he huffs in between tears, “that was so mean. so mean.”

“i said i won’t,” you chuckle, fighting back your own tears, “how long are you gonna hold this against me?”

“how long do you plan on being mine?”

“well,” you pull him from your neck, cupping his cheeks as you wipe away tears and peck his lips softly, “i think….forever.”

“well, get ready, then,” he glares softly, “i’m gonna hold this against you forever too.”

“okay,” you nod, “that’s fair.”

“and i love you too,” he adds, “but block whoever dm’d you. it better not be that zenin boy.”

“block those girls who’s pictures you liked,” you shoot back, glaring at him with a pout of your own.

“don’t yell at me,” he mumbles, leaning into your touch as your thumb strokes his cheek, “i’ve had a rough week. you have to be nice.”

dabitee anon. are u seeing this. did u see the satoru who cums too fast. did u see it. report back if u saw this. i repeat, dabitee anon report back if you see this

[dearsnow]

SAY IT LIKE YOU MEAN IT (WITH YOUR FISTS FOR ONCE)

- you and bradley had always been attached at the hip until life pulled him away. when you’re finally living in the same place again, your unspoken feelings come to the surface during a san diego bonfire. (bradley “rooster” bradshaw x gn!reader, reader is characterized as someone who doesn’t like much attention, jealousyyyyyyyyy, pining & arguments but fluff at the end, ⚠️ mentions of alcohol / weed)

word count: 2,500

a/n - it’s so entertaining to come up with synonyms for kissing 😭 anyways, enjoy this, and listen to american teenager by ethel cain. oh and i was also so tempted to make the girl mickey in a wig, but i held back.

Bradley Bradshaw likes you. He’d go as far as to say he loves you, if he was being honest. He’s never said it, though, not in that way.

When you first met, he was pulled to you like a magnet. It was preschool, and he never left your side. He made macaroni portraits of you and you crafted tiny little friendship bracelets for him. Neither of you could speak well, or write well, but you stuck together anyways.

Your first written words were each other’s names.

Everything snowballed from there, but he couldn’t say he was mad at it.

You were so entirely different, but that’s what made it good, in his opinion. He always needed eyes on him, not for any pretentious ego-boosting reasons, but because it made him thrive. You tended to hide in the shadows. When you gave your eyes to him, and him to you, it was like the most natural thing in the world.

He was the classic class clown type all throughout middle and high school, with a football jersey and everything. When you came to his games, he swore he played a million times better, and you were happy to indulge in his superstition.

You like him, too. You’d go as far as to say you love him, if you’re being honest. You might’ve said it if he hadn’t been so clearly your platonic life partner. You would follow him, as toddlers, with his shirt edge balled in your small fist. You tried to draw him more times than you could count, but it always looked wrong, like you couldn’t really capture the life that he held so deeply in his eyes. You even considered joining the cheerleading squad for him, but you would’ve cringed under the gaze of the crowd.

When he left for the navy, and for college, and for anything after that, you wished you could bounce across the United States with him. Instead, you wrote him letters; copious amounts of them.

One thing that you both never dared to cross was the bounds of friendship. He would hold your hand, his thumb smoothing over the side of your fist, and there was nothing romantic about it. God, you wished it was, though.

Now that you’ve moved to San Diego, following him one last time, you beg whatever makes the rules to break them just once.

You walk up behind a broad-shouldered man you barely recognize and tap him on the shoulder. “I’m sorry, but I seem to be lost. Could you direct me to a man named Bradley? I believe his call sign is something silly, like ‘duck’.”

He whips around, sunglasses and mustache entirely new to you. He speaks your name in a breathy whisper, like he’s afraid his words will break if he says them too loud. “You’re here? Like actually?”

You’ve barely replied before you’re wrapped in a hug, feet lifted off the ground and body spun around so many times you think you might be sick. “Geez, Brad, put me down!”

He sets you down gently, holding out an arm for stability as you collect your bearings. “Sorry, sorry. I just can’t believe I’m seeing your face after all this time.” You’re even more breathtaking than he remembers.

San Diego has done him well, you reckon. His gold-tinted skin holds a deeper sense of warmth, now, even though he has always run hot. “You better get used to it. I have a fancy new apartment now, so I’m here to stay.”

His face holds a beaming grin, and the whole world falls away. “Thank god, I was beginning to think I’d be stuck here with just my coworkers.” He doesn’t even notice how you look at him with lovesick eyes.

After two months of San Diego, you say the one thing you thought you would never say: “I’m so sick of the sun.”

It’s midday, and you’re prepping for a Fourth of July bonfire party on the beach. The sun is beating down on your back, forcing you to scamper into the ocean every once in a while. Bradley is right beside you, wheeling yet another cooler onto the sand. “If I wasn’t worried about our shit being stolen, I’d suggest we abandon it and let Jake do all the work.”

You laugh. Jake was the one who suggested the whole bonfire, but, of course, he was “too busy” to help set up. You don’t mind doing the work. If it was an opportunity for you to be beside Bradley, you’d do anything. You’d even brave the burning ball of gas in the sky.

As you work, the sun disappears quickly.

By this point, after over two decades of friendship, you’ve lost a bit of that hope that pushed you to follow Brad in the first place. You know he’s attractive, and every woman in the world seems to know it too. What you didn’t know is that you’re pretty damn attractive too. As you’ve told yourself, you prefer to keep the attention off of you.

So, as the sun’s last dying rays scatter over the cooling sand, you pretend not to notice the women ogling your best friend.

The bonfire is great. Amazing, even. The flames reach high into the sky and the smell of smoke permeates the air; everything is cast in this sort of hazy glow, highlighting tanned skin and bright swimsuits. There’s also a woman chatting up Bradley, touching his arm flirtatiously, but you push that to the back of your mind. Instead, you’re focused on the guy in front of you, even when her giggle sends a ball of spikes into your heart.

He’s tall, a little on the skinny side, with tousled black hair and a puka shell necklace. Sand clings to his sandaled feet. He hands you a beer, which you tell yourself you won’t drink much of. You’ve already had a bit too much.

“So, know anyone here?” He asks. He’s eyeing you with a certain ferocity that you don’t notice, his gaze raking up and down your body.

You pop the can open and take a small sip. “Yeah. I know Bradshaw, and the rest by association.” You gesture to Jake and Natasha, who are arguing over a beach volleyball. You almost smile at the way she jabs him in the ribs, making him double over just enough for her to steal what’s so carefully held in his hands. The guy nods.

“I don’t. I’m here for the vibes, y’know?” He takes a step closer, and you notice he smells like smoke and something deeper, like perfumed weed. “And the pretty people.”

You shift in your place. “Have you found what you’re looking for?” You’re almost teasing now, completely missing the hunger in the way he licks his lips. Maybe you’re a little drunk, or maybe you’re just enjoying how someone seems to be giving you the longing looks you so sorely crave. It’s one night, you figure. You won’t ever see him again. What’s wrong with a little good-natured flirting?

“Absolutely.” He murmurs, reaching forward. His hand connects with the back of your neck, his breath cascading over your face, and your eyes flutter shut— before you’re yanked backwards by an arm around your waist.

You stumble. “What the hell?” You curse, colliding with a hard, warm chest. You drop your beer in the sand as you fall back. It’s Bradley, and he looks furious. “Brad, are you kidding me?”

“Come here.” His voice is lethally quiet and sharp as a knife. Your mind is reeling as you follow him a few paces closer to the fire, but a hot pool of anger sits in your stomach.

“Are you being serious right now? What in the world were you thinking?” You hiss. You look up at his tight-lipped face, utterly stoic in the light behind him.

“I’m not letting you kiss that piece of shit.”

“Who are you to decide who I kiss?” You’re so, so mad. So mad you could punch someone, but that would probably hurt you more than the person your fist connects with. Bradley just intervened in the one thing you thought he would never intervene in. You’ve let him swap spit with girls you’ve never seen before, and now he’s over here acting like you kissing one guy is the epitome of nastiness?

He scoffs. “You didn’t even notice, did you? That he was eyeing you like a piece of meat? God, he reeks of weed and swamp ass, too. What were you thinking?”

“I was thinking that I could have the once in a lifetime opportunity to make out with a perfectly attractive guy without someone interrupting.” Your arms are crossed, but you feel a lump forming in your throat. In your mind, that really was a once in a lifetime opportunity. It’s not like you go out of your way to meet people, and the people you’ve met have never even slyly complimented you. You’re not the type that gets dates or drinks sent your way or anything more than platonic. Currently, platonic is staring you in the face with the rage of a thousand suns behind his eyes.

“Make out with Bob or Nat, I don’t care. At least they won’t undress you with their fuckboy blue eyes. Even Bagman is a better choice.”

“You don’t get to decide those things— friends don’t get to decide those things. I mean, I didn’t throw a hissy fit when you were openly flirting with that girl.” In the back of your mind, you know he’s right. You know that your stomach dropped when the guy leaned closer to you, and that your kicked-down self esteem made him out to be a whole lot more attractive than he probably (definitely) was.

Bradley runs a hand through his already slightly messy hair, sighing like he’s regretting ever hitting you with a sand pail in preschool. “I at least get to decide when to save you from creeps and when to leave your love life alone. Trust me, you were in more danger than I ever was.”

“I reiterate, friends don’t get to decide those things.” He can see the insecurity swimming in your beautiful eyes. Yeah, you’re definitely at least somewhat drunk. You’d never argue with him like this if you weren’t. You’re also more than a little mad, and disgusted with yourself, and disappointed with your lack of charisma, and so jealous of the girl he probably tangled tongues with.

“What do I have to be, then, to get it through your thick skull? You know I love you. I’m just looking out for you.” His voice is softer, now, and sweeter, dripping from his mustache like honey.

He reaches out, and you cringe away. Love. It’s a word unspoken, one that’s been lingering on your mind since the day in seventh grade when he suddenly became attractive to you. Like most things, you assume it’s friendly. “Do you really love me if this is what you’re pulling? Say it like you mean it, Bradshaw.”

“I love you.” He states, taking your hands in his. This time, as you try to pull yourself from his grip, he holds on. “I love you.” He says again. It holds a certain weight that gets your heart pounding like a drum in your chest. He’s firm but gentle, and he can feel the years of unspoken feelings bubbling on the tip of his tongue.

That’s when the guy from before decides to approach, sliding a hand uncomfortably down your waist. “I think you interrupted us, dude.”

Bradley drops your hands, and before the man can grab you even lower, he’s getting decked in the face.

He collapses to the ground, clutching his bleeding nose and cursing like a bitch. “Fuck you, what the fuck! Fuckin’ Navy piece of fucking shit.” You raise your hand to your mouth as he scrambles to get away. His blood leaves a scarlet trail of droplets in the sand.

“Bradley…”

“I just want you to be safe.” He mutters, like he didn’t just punch someone in the face for you. “I don’t care if you don’t feel the same way, romantically, but I can’t stand seeing you with guys that aren’t as smart or good-looking as one fraction of your pinky toe.”

You reach up to his jaw, carefully, gingerly, before pressing your lips to his.

Like a scene from a movie, Fourth of July fireworks explode behind you, not unlike the fireworks going off in your mind. He has one hand on your waist and one hand on the back of your head, and neither make you even the slightest bit uncomfortable. It’s Bradley, and he makes you feel like the safest person in the world.

Your lips are soft, so soft. Bradley can practically hear his heart pounding in his ears as his body finally takes in the moment he’s been dreaming about his entire life. When you pull away, he misses the feeling, like the lost puzzle piece of his heart was stolen as soon as it was put back.

“You think my pinky toe is smart and good-looking?” You place a hand on his bare chest, teasing. He gives you the grin you’ve come to adore.

“Every part of you is. That’s why I love you.”

“I love you too. For more than your pinky toe, of course.”

“Oh,” he says, suddenly conscious of the self-satisfied look you shoot her, “y’know that girl I was talking to?” You raise your eyebrows questioningly as he nods his head at her. She sends a little wave, in which you notice a sparkling ring on her finger. “That, my love, is Reuben’s wife.”

You feel your heart sink to your feet as the embarrassment sets in, your cheeks growing warmer than the fire. You mouth a quiet “sorry” at her and she laughs, shooing your apology away with a gentle sweep of her hand.

“Is that why you went after Mr. Broken nose?” Bradley whispers in your ear. “That’s one hell of a way to make me jealous.”

You crinkle your nose as your face flushes impossibly warmer. “Not everything has an ulterior motive, Bradshaw.”

He looks perfect in this lighting, and to him, so do you. You can hardly believe that decades of friendship and tension and wishing led to this slightly improbable moment. You’re honestly glad you almost kissed a stranger.

“Yeah, but you’d best believe I do.”

He takes your hand in his and drops to one knee. Everyone turns to look at him, but for once, the only eyes that matter are yours. “Will you do me the honor of letting me be your lawfully appointed boyfriend?” You smile so wide you think your cheeks might split. You join him in the sand, holding his face in your hands and kissing his cheek.

“You really did mean it, huh, Brad?”

“Is that a yes or a no?”

“Yes. It’s a definite, no-questions-asked, yes.”

[transmascissues]

it's silly but the biggest reason why im not into t yet is bc im so afraid of losing my hair. do you have any solutions/tips for it?

first of all, i don’t think it’s silly — it’s natural to be worried when hair loss is talked about by so many people as like…one of the worst results of aging for men. listening to my dad talk about how much he hates balding definitely did not make me feel particularly good about the knowledge that i may very well be joining him someday. i’m not saying the fear is right, because i don’t think hair loss is something awful that we should avoid at all costs, but it’s an understandable fear given the beauty standards we’re working with, and it’s one that a lot of us (myself included) feel.

one thing that’s helped me is just…paying more attention to the guys that i interact with on a daily basis. i’ve learned two things from it: 1) hair loss is super fucking common. i’d say it’s much harder to find an adult man who isn’t balding at all than it is to find one who’s completely bald. and 2) if you forget everything you’ve been told about how bad hair loss is, you’ll realize that quite frankly, every single one of those guys looks totally fucking fine. it doesn’t ruin their appearance and make them ugly, it looks totally natural and isn’t really even something you’d notice if you weren’t looking for it. we put so much weight on it but it’s really just not that big of a deal. i’ll hear my parents talk shit about men in my family who are losing their hair when i didn’t even notice a difference last time i saw them. it’s one of those things (like so many other appearance-related things) that you really only notice at all because you’ve been taught that you’re supposed to care about it.

this isn’t something i’ve done personally, but if you really want to desensitize yourself to the idea of it, embrace the time-honored queer tradition of just shaving your whole damn head! find out what you’d look like without hair, find out how you feel about it and what you can do that makes you feel good about your appearance without hair, test the waters while it’s still a temporary change and not something permanent. that way, it won’t feel like this big scary unknown, and you’ll actually have a frame of reference for your feelings about how you look without hair rather than accepting the societal assumption that you’ll inevitably hate it. if you don’t want to actually shave your head, you could also just fuck around with bald filters or photoshop and see what happens.

oh, and if you’re attracted to men, keep an eye out for guys who are bald or balding and also hot as fuck. in my experience, there’s no insecurity or potential future insecurity that being gay for other men hasn’t helped me with. just off the top of my head, i can think of a couple actors who i think are absolutely fucking gorgeous who have helped me get over my fears about losing my hair. despite what our anti-aging-obsessed world might want you to think, there is no such thing as a physical feature that automatically makes someone less attractive, and while making attractiveness less of a priority in your life is good, it can’t hurt to also give yourself some proof that actually, you might lose your hair and look hot as hell doing it.

basically, entertain the possibility that it won’t be a bad thing at all! whether that’s just because it turns out to be a neutral thing for you or because you end up actually liking it, it’s not an inherently bad thing. i’ve ended up liking a lot of things that were “supposed to” be bad effects of t — i love the weight i’ve gained and the new shape it gives my body, i get a lot of gender euphoria from the fact that my acne is now on parts of my face that i saw a lot of guys in high school get it and i’m not complaining about the scars i get from it either because i’ve always liked the added texture that acne scars give my skin, and so on. i think there’s a lot of joy to be had in the changes we’re taught to fear, once we look past that conditioning and actually explore how we feel about it.

but if it’s something you really don’t want and you just want to improve your chances of not having to deal with it, it’s not like there’s nothing you can do! products like finasteride (oral) and minoxidil (usually topical but i think there might also be oral versions) are pretty commonly used among trans guys, for the purpose of avoiding hair loss and for other reasons, and there are plenty of other anti-hair loss products out there (though i don’t know how effective any one of them might be). if it’s a big enough deal for you, you can just decide that you’ll go off of t if/when you start noticing signs of it, since no longer having higher t levels would stop the process in its tracks. and if you don’t find prevention options that work for you so it ends up happening, you can always explore different hair styles (judging by the pattern of hair loss i see in my family, i suspect that keeping my hair long would make it less obvious if i started losing mine), find your preferred method of covering it when you don’t feel good about it (personally i love a good beanie generally and would probably wear them a lot more if i didn’t have hair to worry about because my main complaint is the way they press my hair onto my neck), or just shave it all off if you don’t like the look of the partial balding but don’t mind a shaved head. the point being — you have options!

at the end of the day, whether you go on t or not, you’re going to see your body change as you age in ways that aren’t always going to be attractive to others or aesthetically pleasing to you. that’s just the reality of having a body. even if you never went on t, you’d get older and you might see your hair thin out even if you don’t bald, you’ll see your skin start to wrinkle and sag in places that used to be smooth, your metabolism might slow or your body fat might start to gather in new places; hell, you might lose your hair for a totally different reason and end up in the same place but without the benefits of having been on t that whole time. life is full of bodily changes like that. transphobes will fearmonger about the permanent changes of testosterone all day long but the truth is, there is no escaping permanent bodily changes. whether or not you go on t, your body now isn’t the same as it will be in 1 or 5 or 10 or 20 or 50 years, just like it isn’t the same as it was at any point in your life before now. our bodies are never supposed to stop growing and aging and changing throughout our lives. there’s no guaranteeing that we’ll love every single change our bodies go through, but that’s okay! there are so many things in life that are more important than the way our bodies look. even if you go on t and lose your hair and don’t like how it looks, your life won’t be ruined; plenty of other things will bring you joy and more than make up for the insecurities.

just think about the gender euphoria and relief from dysphoria that t could give you. would losing your hair be bad enough to outweigh all of that? or is it just the pressure of a society that decided balding is bad that’s making you fear one single change despite how much joy you could have if you let that fear go? only you can decide if going on t is worth the potential downsides for you, but i suspect that for most of us, the benefits of going on t far outweigh the possibility of side effects like hair loss happening down the line.

[cyzi4]

𝐉𝐉𝐊 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐱 𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐜! 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

How jjk characters would be with an autistic partner

Warnings: none. Just fluff.

Parings: Yuji Itadori, Megumi Fushiguro, Toge Inumaki, Maki Zenin, Satoru Gojo, Choso Kamo, Suguru Geto.

~ 𝐘𝐮𝐣𝐢 𝐈𝐭𝐚𝐝𝐨𝐫𝐢, Hyperfixates with you

Yuji is always happy to hear about your newest hyper fixation and listen to you tell him every little detail. He loves listening to your rants and will probably try and get into whatever your new interest is.

“Yuji! This game is so good. The plot is so simple but its also really well crafted and the characters are amazing and theres one that I’d really think you’d like. You have to play it with me!” You beamed about your new obsession. Yuji listened to every little detail attentively. Your extensive knowledge on your favorite topics reminds him of how he obsesses over the human earthworm series. “That sounds so fun! We can play after training!”

He likes listening to all the random facts about your interests and he even gets into some of them himself so that you two can be even closer. He makes sure to do his own research on your interests so that you two can talk about them together.

~ 𝐌𝐞𝐠𝐮𝐦𝐢 𝐅𝐮𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐠𝐮𝐫𝐨, both lack social skills

You and Megumi both lack social skills, although for very different reasons. You tend to not understand social cues while Megumi understands them, he just doesn’t care about them. However he’ll try to help you understand.

“Wait so I can’t say gn?” Megumi nods. “Some people think it means you don’t care enough to spell out the whole word” “but its more convenient?” “I know, but some people care about stuff like that” “oh..”

Megumi also makes sure to clarify what other people mean if you’re not getting it so you aren’t confused.

~ 𝐓𝐨𝐠𝐞 𝐈𝐧𝐮𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐢, mute buddies

If you’re non-verbal, you two kinda have an understanding of each other. You two talk all the time through sign language and you always understand what he’s saying when he’s speaking in onigri ingredients.

“Tuna?” ‘I know. How is gojo even a teacher? Is he even certified?’ “Bonito flakes.” The others stared at you two. “I think they’re talking about gojo. I know a little sign language and they signed “gojo” “ Nobara stated matter of factly. “They’re saying Gojo’s an idiot.” Maki stated with a bland expression.

Sometimes, you do speak, however you speak just like inumkai with rice ball ingredients. He even tries to teach you how to speak onigiri.

“Bonito flakes?” ‘No, no’ “mustard leaf” ‘ohhhh. Tuna mayo.’ ‘Exactly.’

~ 𝐌𝐚𝐤𝐢 𝐙𝐞𝐧𝐢𝐧, always stands up for you

Another one for if you’re non verbal. She is not afraid to get confrontational for you when someone’s bothering you. If someone even breathes in a slightly disrespectful manner Maki is staring them down with the most piercing gaze.

If it seems like someone’s invading your space, Maki will come over and physically push them out of your space. “You’re making them uncomfortable. Move.”

Someone messed up your order? Maki’s making sure they understood what you asked for. “They asked for no pickles.”

Someone speaking to you with an even slightly aggressive tone? “Speak to them like that again, asshole, and Ill make sure you never speak again.”

Maki will go to great lengths just to insure that you’re comfortable and happy.

~ 𝐒𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐮 𝐆𝐨𝐣𝐨, comforts you during meltdowns + feeds your hyperfixations

Gojo always treated you with extra care, even before learning you had autism. He’s always been comforting towards you and does his best to help with your meltdowns.

“Shh shh. It’s okay my love. Come on, wheres that smile?”

Anytime you mention even the slightest thing about any of your hyoerfixations, Gojo will have a new gift centered around it in a heartbeat. You might end up running out of places to put these gifts so gojo keeps some as little reminders of you

~ 𝐂𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐨 𝐊𝐚𝐦𝐨, steals your stims

As a cursed spirit, he doesn’t even really know what autism is. He just knows that your cute little movements mean you’re excited with something, and he thinks its a good way to show when he’s excited with something.

You squealed in excitement when you saw that your favorite tv show was on and flailed your hands in excitement. Choso saw and copied your movements when he saw the tv. “Baby look, our shows on!” “I know!!”

You once asked him about it. “well when you’re happy, you do them, and seeing you happy makes me happy, so I do them too.”

~ 𝐒𝐮𝐠𝐮𝐫𝐮 𝐆𝐞𝐭𝐨, appreciates your bluntness

Geto often doesn’t trust others initial inputs. He values your unfiltered nature and likes your blunt and truly honest opinion.

While you, Geto, and Gojo were making your way to the school, you started to take notice of Gojo’s posture. Geto noticed as well but didn’t think it was something to be brought up. However you did. “Gojo, you really need to fix your posture.” Geto slightly chuckled to himself as he watched Gojo straighten up his posture begrudgingly, slightly offended by your remark.

Another time, you and Geto were about to go on a mission when you started to take note of Geto’s appearance.“Geto your hair is getting extremely greasy. You should really wash your hair more frequently.” Geto was a bit taken aback but he was also quick to wash his hair.

…Geto also thinks that sometimes you can be overly blunt. But he loves you all the same.

[a-dauntless-daffodil]

Vaggie: “Charlie? Can I have a pick-me-up?”

Charlie: “!! YES!!! OF COURSE ALWAYS!!!”

Charlie: “Uh- where to start, um- Oh oh oh! You have the most AMAZING laugh whenever you to relax enough for it and your voice is INCREDIBLE really easy to get lost listening to- You take skirt wearing to whole other level, you snore SO cutely in your sleep, and even if it’s a little concerning how fast you are with that spear, it’s also really kinda h-”

Vaggie: “I meant literally, babe. Like, thanks for making me blush, but…”

Charlie: “Ohhhh you want UPPIES?”

Vaggie: “Girlfriend-based personal vertical augmentation- yeah. I’d, I’d like uppies. Please.”

Charlie: “One vertical upgrade via your girlfriend coming right UP!” (giggles) (picks up) “Heheh, how’s this?”

Vaggie: (is up picked) “Perfect, sweetie. Now carry me over to Alastor?”

Alastor: “?”

Charlie: “Okay?” (starts walking) “…why…?”

Vaggie: “I wanna punch him in his stupid smiling extremely punchable face.”

Alator: “Oh I AM flattered!”

Vaggie: “Great he’s given implied consent to a beating, let’s go.”

Charlie: “Okay.” (turning around) “We’re not doing that.”

Vaggie: “We don’t have to. I’ll do the punching, all you have to do is go over there and hold me at eye level.”  

Charlie: "Vaggie-"

Alastor: “Get on a level with ME? Rather impossible for you, I’m afraid. You simply lack my, dare I say DEPTH of vision, ha ha! DO take care you don’t suffer from altitude sickness in the attempt through, hmm?”

Vaggie: “Two seconds of being held up to his face, Charlie, that’s all I’m asking.”

Charlie: “Vaggie, that’s still assault on my part. That’s assault with a deadly weapon, even!”

Vaggie: “I’m not armed?”

Charlie: “Are you breathing?”

Vaggie: “Uhh, yeah..?”

Charlie: “If you’re breathing then you’re a threat.”

Vaggie: (grinning) “Aww, Charlie.”

Charlie: “ESPECIALLY to guys like Alastor. No offence, Alastor.”

Alastor: “Compliment accepted!”

Vaggie: (beaming) (didn’t hear him) “You’re just saying that.”

Alastor: (annoyed dial tune) “Ahem. Well, I just said-”

Charlie: “I’m saying it because it’s true, and my ex still instinctively flinches at any HINT of a red hair bow at around chest height.” (switches to cuddling vaggie) “So let’s go be a threat over here instead, okay? Out of Alastor punching range.”

Vaggie: “Still within spear throw.”

Alastor: “Ahh yes, your darling divine toothpick. How quaint!”

Charlie: “Would you really wanna get his blood all over your spear?”

Vaggie: (HEAVY SIGH) “Nnnnno… I guess not.”

Alastor: (honestly insulted) “Rude.”

Charlie: “Didn’t thinks so!” (muttering) “The way you fawn over the stupid thing when it get’s so much as a stupid little smudge from me poking it in it’s stupid perfectly polished face…”

Vaggie: “What?”

Alastor: (evil static) “SHE said-”

Charlie: “Nothing! Petty revenge always ends up biting you in the ass! Anyway.” (grins brightly) “We’ve got better things to do than punch people in the face!”

Vaggie: “Good point.” (touches charlie’s jaw thoughtfully) “...this angle is pretty useful for more than just punching.”

Alastor: “AhaHA! And there is my cue to get off the air!”

Charlie: “Yeah…?”

Vaggie: “Yeah..”

Alastor: “Indeed!”

Charlie: “Like for tongue wrestling~?”

Vaggie: “….”

Alastor: “….”

Alastor: “Oh dear~!

Vaggie: “….”

Vaggie: “What.”

Charlie: “Well if it’s combat you’re after- we COULD have a battle for dominance. Y’know. With our mouths.”

Charlie: (wink)

Vaggie: “….never mind. You can put me down now.”

Alastor: “Oooh~”

Charlie: “!! NO NO WAIT I TAKE IT BACK-”

Vaggie: “Charlie. It’s seared into my brain.”

Alastor: (grinning) “Dreadful! Truly dreadful!”

Charlie: “NOOOO NO NO UN-SEAR IT! UN-SEAR IT FROM THE BRAIN!!!!”

Vaggie: “I don’t feel up for punching anyone either anymore, so don’t worry.”

Charlie: “Would, would punching put you back in the mood!? Vaggie please wait hold on just one sec-”

Charlie: “ALASTOR! CAN YOU COME OVER- NOOO DON’T WALK AWAY, I NEED-”

Charlie: VAGGIE!!! Wait!! I’m sorry! Please wait up! Please I’m sorry I just got SO in the mood and kinda COMPLETELY lost my mind with your talking all low right next to me like that, like when we-”

Alastor: (distantly) “Dear ones~ I am not yet out of hearing range~”

Vaggie: “Good. Suffer.”

Charlie: “I’m suffering IM SUFFERNG! PLEASE!!!” (trailing after girlfriend) “Vaggiiiiieeeee..! S-smooches????”

Vaggie: “Sweetie, I can’t even look at you right now.”

Charlie: “We could do the smooches without looking!!!”

Vaggie: “Even worse. Every time I close my eye I see your tongue suited up in armor, waving around a sword.”

Charlie: (horrified) “No! NO!!! IT’S SUPPOSED TO BE A METAPHOR!”

Vaggie: “Metaphorically speaking, I’ve been scarred.”

Charlie: “Th- then let me kiss it better!”

Vaggie: “Not how it works, babe.”

Charlie: “ARGH!”

Angel Dust: “Hey’a tootes! Guess who’s back from LONG and HARD day of… the fuck is wrong with her?”

Vaggie: “She’s fine.”

Charlie: (clutching vaggie’s arm) (wailing) “FANFIC RUIN LIVES!!!!!”

Angel Dust: “Ain’t that the truth. Porn tip- NEVER try adapting a smut fic for the screen. Choreography’s a nightmare…”

Vaggie: “Wow thanks for the amazing advice that we definitely needed.”

Angel Dust: “Ya welcome.”

Charlie: “We might still need it! Right Vaggie!? We might still be doing stuff like that in future-”

Vaggie: “What we could really use right now is a few drinks. Angel, I’ll spot yours if you can convince Husk to open early.”

Charlie: (slumping over bar) “I hate my life.”

Angel Dust: “That’s cute, Charlie-horse.” (lean down to whisper at vaggie) “Ya sure she hasn’t already had any...?”

Vaggie: “I’m sure-”

Charlie: “-the whole PROBLEM is me NOT GETTING ANY!”

Vaggie: “Annnd now everyone knows it, perfect.”

Angel Dust: “Oh now this is JUICY!”

Charlie: “What everyone? I only told Angel…?”

Vaggie: “Angel can’t keep anything to himself, including himself.”

Angel Dust: “Spittin’ nothin’ but truths tonight, huh Maximum Vaggige? Cherri will love this- I’m gonna need ALL deets! Wait right here and I’ll get Husker fluff to loosen those gossipy tongues right up!!”

Vaggie: “Great. More tongue stuff.”

Charlie: “UGH.”

Vaggie: “….”

Charlie: “…”

Vaggie: “Charlie.”

Charlie: “Meh?”

Vaggie: “I swear, if I could kiss you right now without physically cringing, I would.”

Charlie: “...Vaggie.”

Vaggie: “Yeah?”

Charlie: “What if we’re never able to kiss again?”

Vaggie: “…”

Charlie: “…Vaggie this is the part where you say don’t be silly and reassure me.”

Vaggie: “I know.”

Charlie: “Tell me I’m being silly, Vaggie.”

Vaggie: “Charlie, I… I will always love you, no matter what.”

Charlie: “That’s-”(sitting bolt upright) “THAT’S NOT REASSURING!”

Vaggie: (slumping next to her at the bar) “Where the FUCK is Husk and those drinks.”

[mentally-gone002]

summer swims

summary: the whole gang is at steve pool to evade the heat. 

warnings: a teeny tiny bit of an innuendo

a/n: y’all… i’m on my steve harrington obsession time again (he’s my pookie🤭) so don’t be afraid to send me requests for him!!!! also i mean to not capitalize everything!

———————————————————————

“good afternoon hawkins! i’m your weatherman john kingston, and today is the hottest day of the year, with a high of 101 and a low of 95 degrees. apply that sunscreen and stay safe out there…” 

the weatherman spoke over the radio in cheerful sentences while i laid outside in the sun. my sunglasses were sliding down my nose due to the light sheen of sweat covering my body. 

the kids were down in the pool, laughing, sometimes screaming, and jumping into the pool. i smiled at them. 

“hey gorgeous !” my attention was dragged away from the page when i heard robin address me from the back door. 

i jumped out of my chair when i saw her. “hey beautiful!” i hugged her quickly. “was he nice to you?” i wondered, looking behind her at steve as he put his car keys on the kitchen counter and then ran up the stairs out of my sight. 

“he’s a dingus, as always.” she tells me while rolling her eyes. “how long have they been here?” she nodded at the kids. i looked back at them as lukas and dustin jumped into the pool at the same time, making max and el scream as water splashed them in the face. mike as will sat on the edge of the pool away from the group, chatting together quietly.

“maybe two hours? they just showed up and came out here.” i shrugged with a small chuckle. “i had to literally fight, and i mean fight, all the boys to put on sunscreen.” 

robin laughed. “it’s easier to work with girls isn’t it?” she winked and i playfully hit her with a laugh. 

“are you hitting on my girl?” steve asked robin as he wrapped an arm around my waist. he’d changed into his swimsuit.

robin shook her head with crinkled brows. “that’s classified information, harrington.” she winked at me again and walked into the house. “i’m gonna get into my swimsuit.” she told us over her shoulder. 

steve turned to stand in front of me with his hands on my waist. “hi.” he smiled, leaning down to kiss me. “sorry we were late, the other employees forgot they had to come into their shift.” 

i shook my head. “it’s alright. it’s been fun to watch the kids for once.” my arms went up to rest on his shoulders. “just listen to me when i tell you to wear sunscreen because i’ve already wrestled four of the six little shits. i’m tired.”

steve looked me over, eyeing how my bikini shaped me. “i wouldn’t mind wrestling you.” he grinned cheekily and i smacked his bare chest with a shocked laugh. “what? it’s the truth!” he grinned, leaning in to whisper in my ear, “you look sexy.” 

i moved my head slightly to look at the kids who haven’t even noticed that id moved or that steve and robin are here. “keep talking like that and you won’t get any sleep tonight.” 

steve chuckled lowly. “i’d like that.” he told me. 

“move it, dingus.” robin walked past us onto the patio with the bottle of sunscreen i’d put on the counter in her hand. 

steve glared at her from behind. “give me a second.” he kissed my cheek quickly before jogging up behind robin to pick her up and toss her into the pool. she let out a loud shriek before hitting the water. 

all the kids laughed as they looked over at steve.

i put my palm over my mouth to stifle my laughter as robin broke the surface with a gasp. her hair covered her face. “you okay rob?” i asked, walking to the edge of the pool to help her out. 

she pushed her hair from her face. “i’ll be okay after i get my revenge.” she glared at steve who had his arms crossed over his chest with a proud smile. 

i shook my head. “you shouldn’t have done that.” i warned. 

he opened his mouth in disbelief. “she called me dingus!” he said in an attempt to justify his actions. 

i scoffed. “have fun then. she’s scary.” i whispered the last part as i walked past him, patting his shoulder. “don’t forget sunscreen.” 

“yes ma’am.” he grinned. 

i went back to my chair and watched from afar as robin tried to drag steve to the edge of the pool. she groaned in disappointment. “y/n, tell your boyfriend to just except his fate and get in the pool.” 

i smiled as steve looked at me. “just let her push you in the pool.” i told him. 

“but my hair.” he pointed to his head of perfectly styled hair. 

“just jump in!” i yelled at him. 

all the kids were sat on the edge of the pool watching in anticipation for steve to be pushed in. 

he dropped his head back and sighed, stepping onto the edge so that the fronts of his feet hung off over the water. 

robin grinned and ran with her arms in front of her so that she got all the leverage. 

i laughed when his exclaim of surprise was cut off by the water. white bubbles surrounded his spot of submersion until he came back up again, spitting the water from his mouth. 

all the kids cheered, chapping their hands and robin bowed. the kids all got up and jogged carefully to jump in all together around steve. 

“woah! guys-“ steve tried to stop them but got a wave of water in his face instead. 

i laughed.

“in what way was that funny?” steve asked, hoisting himself out of the pool so that he could walk over to me with a sly look on his face. 

i dropped my smile. “hey, no! don’t you dare!” 

he hooked his arms under my legs and back, picking me up. “you’re the only one who’s dry here.” 

i looked at him in annoyance. “steve harrington, don’t you dare throw me in!” i told him sternly. “i’ll kill you.” 

“no you won’t.” he laughed before tossing me into the pool. 

i yelped before being enveloped by the cool water, making the heat of summer feel more bearable. i got my head above water and blinked, feeling the water burn my eyes. 

steve was squatting on the edge as i swam up. he offered me his hand and i took it before planting my feet on the pools wall to pull him back in. 

“fuck you.” steve sputtered while pushing his hair out of his face. i laughed along with the kids as they swam around like they were minutes ago. “that was low.” 

i shrugged and swam to the ladder. “you’ll get over it.” 

[deadliestgalaxy]

SPOILERS FOR GOTG VOL. 3 - DON'T READ IF YOU HAVEN’T WATCHED IT YET!

I have a feeling that everyone (who calls themselves fans) that didn't get the meaning of the ending in GOTG Vol. 3 has never read a single comic of them or is only a fan of some characters/relationships. Many complaints I've seen are about the end and Gamora and Peter’s romance, which sounds kind of childish. You don't need to agree with me, but I’d like to elaborate on that.

James Gunn's writing is always about the detail of things and he is not afraid to do something “bad” if it is the best for the STORYTELLING. This is what most of these people don't get: the most important part of these movies is the story they are telling. The characters help the movie tell the story, it's their story after all — but there's no protagonist or greater good that puts them above the narrative.

(This is different from Gamora’s death in IW btw. It was not the only way they had to make the story flow; they just wanted to “humanize” Thanos and by that, they chose to kill her character. It was an action ADDED not CRUCIAL to the story.)

Vol. 3 is about found-family and growing up; finishing cycles. They will always be family, as we will always be part of their story (that’s why we understand Groot now). However, life chapters end just like in real books, and these Guardians as a TEAM “chapter” has ended for them and for us.

This is very common in the comics. Most times they are all separated, doing solo missions, until something goes wrong and they reunite again. They never stop being friends, why would it be different in the movie universe?

But the end suggests they are not family anymore.

Did we see the same film? No, it doesn't. We can see that in James’ subtle writing: the way they all still respect each other, their understanding of one another, and how they all would die for themselves if needed. That won't change just because they are not physically together — just like when you finish school you won't ignore your best friends, even if you create new relationships (which you will).

But Gamora is not part of the family anymore.

Well, if you see it this way, I can't change your mind. What I can say is that the story IMPLIES that she still is, in fact. And the number one clue is that she (in 2 days) understands Groot. Remember, we also understand him because the fans are now part of the Guardians family — so understanding him and being family are correlated.

Anyhow, I know this is not enough for most people, so hear me out: Gamora’s arc is about respect and healing. She starts the movie skeptical about working with the guardians — she just wants the money— when in reality, she acts like this because she is AFRAID and feels PRESSURED to be around her “old” family.

Imagine: you died but then another version of you comes back without knowing anything of your present life. People will expect you to act in a certain way that maybe you started to act after you met them; they will expect you to like certain things you don't know of; people will EXPECT you to attend to their needs. It is a lot to swallow at once. You are afraid because you don't know them, you don't think you deserve all this love and commitment out of nowhere. So you run away. You run away to find things on your own, to grow out of this pressure you feel and discover the whole universe of possibilities you have ahead.

That's what Gamora did. But then, the mission went south and now she is stuck with her “old” team. The film shows us her character exploring the ship, listening to music... trying to understand them. At one point she even says to Rocket “You must be a very loyal pet for them to do all this for you” (or something similar). This is her way of putting into words how she visualizes the current scenario she was put in. Slowly she recognizes that they are a family, and by the way they act she finally gets how and why she also must have loved them in the past.

She goes from “I don't give a fuck”, not open to them, afraid and pressured to “I bet we were fun”, understanding and respecting them, even fighting for their family to survive.

(If she still didn't give a fuck she wouldn't have fought for them and with them when she could have just run away again.)

But she has already created new relations, so she goes back to those for now. It is what she is familiar with in this timeline. Does that mean she will never contact the guardians ever again? NO. Remember: James’s writing is about DETAILS, nuance. She is open to them again, and the final part of the movie shows this to us, especially her last interaction with Groot, Peter, and Nebula being friendly.

Oh, but Peter and Gamora will never be a couple again, their romance ended when she went back to the Ravengers.

… Again, if you see it this way I can’t change your mind. What I can confirm is that she doesn’t close herself to the team — especially to Peter — in the end.

When she says “I bet we were fun” it's the first time she acknowledges their former relationship without distancing herself from it. She could've said “I bet you were fun” or “I bet she was fun”, but instead she prefers to include herself with “we”. She pauses before letting go of Nowhere, stopping before entering her ship — what moves her forward is Nebula, who can see her sister’s changed attitude but still encourages her to take a step forward and go explore the galaxy, because she knows Gamora is not mature and ready yet for those feelings; just like she wasn't ready to be openly sentimental when Gamora joined the Guardians back in 2014.

And Peter is also not ready. Just like Gamora needs to find herself again and discover who she is, Peter needs too. He is lost without her after IW, we can see it during Holiday Special and in the beginning of Vol. 3 when he passes out because of alcohol abuse. Both don't know who they are in this new reality — and they will only find out with time. Time heals and reveals.

In the end, Peter doesn't have the same thought as in the begging: he doesn't want her to be who he once knew, he wants her as she is, this new version whom he still loves so much and wants to know more of. Although he wishes she could stay, he knows that she has her own time and while she learns about herself he will go do the same.

So yes, they’re not explicitly together as a couple in the final scene — neither they kiss nor make out, whatever you believe a relationship is made of — but they’ve changed and are open to one another. The last scene does not appear to me as an “I’ll never see you again”, but as a “Goodbye, see you soon”.

(Aside from all the small bits we had through the movie of a developing relationship between them; my favorite one being when Peter activates the auto-destruction code and Gamora smiles at him.)

Besides, you can't force anyone to fall in love in 48 hours!!

Yes, I also have some minor complaints about the story, but I can recognize that — with all the turbulence the characters and the production faced in the last few years — it was a satisfying end with a limited amount of time to a badass trilogy. The end is definitive but also open to future possibilities for all our favorite characters in their universe — some we might never see and it will only be to our imagination.

Again, you don't need to agree with me, but I had to do this, or else I would implode with thoughts. Thank you if read up here! My ask box is open if you want to talk more <3

[angxlofvenus]

hihi could i request something with the obey me characters with a mc that has a cat/their reactions to meeting their cat or just their pets in general?

Hi, Thank you so much for the request! As an owner to two cats myself, This was so much fun for me to write, I hope you have a great rest of your day/night :) Genre: Fluff ! Ship: The brothers/Side characters x reader (platonic Luke!) TW: cussing, Mentions of catnip, Eating catfood (Beel's section),

When You Own A Cat

Lucifer

Well, this won’t do.

He has a very strict pet policy in the HoL but for you…He may twist his words a little

Will act cordial with your cat just because he doesn’t want to upset you but like

Luci is a dog person through and through so this may be a bit of an inner struggle

Here's the thing though, I don’t think he has ever really been around a cat before

So when he starts to warm up to your furry friend…He kind of relates to the cat 😭

Listen, I think Lucifer acts a lot like a cat, Hard to get close to, Will act better than you, etc, etc

Once he and your cat get close though? They are two peas in a pod- He’ll let the cat snuggle up to him when he isn’t busy. 

Mammon

Ehhh, He isn’t too crazy either way about it, You got a cat, so what?

If y’all are dating, He’s gonna be a little clingy because he thinks the cat takes up too much of your attention in his opinion! 

Will definitely play with you’re cat though, no matter if he likes the animal or not, He finds your pet running after a laser/string hilarious!

May blame the cat for breaking things so that Lucifer doesn’t hang him from the ceiling…

Once he’s warmed up to your kitty though, They are thick as thieves

He will buy them any toy he thinks they’ll like, Will definitely buy some catnip (If you’re okay with it!) just for shits and giggles

Levi

A little skeptical at first,,, Of course you have such a normie pet!

In the beginning, He’s gonna be jealous (shocker, I know)

Can almost feel the envy coming off of him when your cat settles down in your lap

But when your cat starts to do the same things with him? Total 180°

He’s in Love! Will start watching cat-related animes and playing cat-related games

Will try to introduce them to Henry, Just don’t let them get too close…

Satan

un-HOLLLYYY SHHHIITTTT, Y’all, the moment you have been waiting for-

Minds running a mile a minute, Looks just excited on the outside, but on the inside? Oh, He.is.SCREAMING

Will ask every question there is to ask, Name, Age, birthday, breed, personality

He may just kind of…Pick the cat up and leave with them after their first interaction

Your cat will become the most spoiled being in the Devildom, Your cat shall never want anything ever again, Satan will get them everything they want, no matter how hard it is to obtain

Your kitty will kind of get roped into a bond with Satan whether they want to or not, But let’s be honest, Your cat’s gonna love him seeing as he would kill for them

Asmo

Awwwww, How cute!

As long as your cat doesn’t get into his stuff, They’ll also be instant besties

His camera roll really consists of 4 categories

Himself

You

Your cat

All three of y’all together

Will probably try to put your cat into some dumbass costume

Will buy your cat so many accessories, What do you mean they don’t need a bedazzled collar?! >:0

Snuggle buddies when you aren’t around, Yes, This does look as adorable as it sounds- 

Overall, He will love and pamper your cat all the time

Beel

Oh? You have a cat? That’s cool :) 

Loves to see how much joy they bring you, He loves seeing you happy no matter what

He has tried cat food before, both wet and dry and ain’t afraid to try it again…You should probably lock up the cat food just in case.

Will also play with your cat with like just some string, He thinks it’s cute :) 

Is honestly fascinated by your pet lowkey, He never knew how sleek most were! Is bamboozled by the whole, Landing-on-their-feet thing

They become friends pretty quickly I’d say, He makes sure to always be super gentle with them because he knows how much bigger he is than them (I am so mentally ill about him istg)

If your cat becomes interested in something he’s eating, He’ll give them a lil nibble (If it’s safe for that cat to consume ofc)

Buys a lil cat bed for his and Belphie's room, It stays at the foot of his bed 

Belphie

A cat? Ew, That sounds like responsibility

Indifferent at first, As long as he doesn’t have to really mess with it, He’s chill

But one day, He awakens abruptly (Unheard of) To your cat making biscuits on his cheek

Kiss your cat goodbye, It’s his now

Cuddle buddies, every day, all-day

Will put on those bird videos to play with your cat

The second brother I’m gonna say acts like a cat, He will literally catch himself mimicking the cat sometimes

They would so judge people together, Lucifer just entered the room their in? Side eye…

Diavolo

How sweet! He has zero qualms about your little friend

Another one that will buy pretty much everything for your cat, Y’all don’t even have to be close for him to do this, He just thinks of your cat as an extension of the exchange program, Therefor he buys them anything he thinks they need

Best of buddies when they get close to each other

Will some just walk around RAD with your kitty, Just showing them things, Will also ask for your cat's thoughts on laws in a kind of joking way, But he 100% will listen seriously if they decide to answer him with a meow

Barbatos

Doesn’t have a very strong opinion of your cat at first, He isn’t exactly a pet type of person seeing as he rarely has time for such things but in my humble opinion, I think most animals flock to this man like Snow White

Listen, This man is the definition altruistic person so I think Smaller creatures would find comfort in his presence, This is also why the Little D’s love him so much

Your cat will always look their best, Barb will trim their nails, take them to the vet, brush their fur and other things without you even having to ask

Once they become more acquainted, I can see him making some cat-safe baked treats for the kitty

Simeon

He thinks your cat is precious! Though at first will be worried about the small thing being in a place like the Devildom 

Him being an angel does change a few things, I think animals naturally flock to him as well just because of his angelic background so he and your cat are kind of just automatically BFF's 

He will always be up for loving on your cat, No matter how busy he is- He won’t ever turn down your kitty

Probably the first person you should ask to catsit, a close second being Barbatos

Solomon

They will be partners in crime even if your cat doesn’t want that

Don’t be surprised if he starts to refer to your cat as his ‘Furry apprentice’ instead of their actual name

Takes photos of your cat, but only when he finds them in a stupid position

Another contender to buy them some catnip and just watch them go crazy

Once they have warmed up to eachother, He is gonna torment this cat 24/7 almost

Luke

A cat and a chihuahua, Natural enemies!

Jkjk but not really…

He doesn’t like how stuck up a lot of cats are but he thinks your’s is pretty cute

Will ask Simeon how to pet them correctly and treat them well because he cares!

After the first few weeks he actually really warms up to your kitty

Will always ask how their doing like they are a person, no matter what.

Doesn’t admit it but he really adores your cat :(

[hyperfixationstati0n]

When you know, you know

An: so… I got very carried away and didn’t realize I was taking so long to get to the romance stuff that I barely had any time for romance stuff!! so the promise is if you like this pretty please tell me and I’ll make a part two (also I wrote this in first person by accident and it was too late to change it and I kinda like it more) 

Pairing: Spencer x bookstore owner!reader

Content warnings: I tried to make it gender neutral but it could come across as more fem if you squint, lowkey slow burn, both Spencer and reader are socially awkward (but reader is more than Spencer), there is A swear

Word count: 1,106

Summary: When Spencer Reid walks into your bookstore, you’re stunned and speechless, yet also too afraid to talk to him. But fate brings people together in odd ways.

When I made the biggest decision of my life to drop most of my savings on a rundown shop at the edge of town, the regret was almost instant. The anxiety seeped down from my brain to deep in my body, settling in my bones before reaching my heart. As progress was made and it started to look like the bookshop of my dreams, the anxiety lessened, but not by much.

For the first few months, it was just me. There weren’t many customers, which I was fine with. Since I was the only one there, that meant I had to work the register. Every time someone walked in and I heard the little chime of the bell I had on the door, my knees started feeling like jelly. I got nervous talking to people.

So when I was finally able to hire some help, it was like the weight of the world had been lifted off my chest. I had two employees, one older woman who lived in the apartment building next door. Her name was Rose and she smelled like vanilla she always brought in baked goods. She helped me keep the store organized. Then there was Lennon, a 21-year-old college student who was looking to make some extra money before graduation. Lennon's whole existence was working the register. It worked. Our little trio soon caused the bookstore to grow. not by much, but at least now I was making more than I was spending.

About a year and a half into this endeavor was the first time he came in. I was restocking the fantasy section. The chime of the bell made my head turn-that’s when I was met with this feeling I could only describe as fate. He had these hazel eyes, golden curly hair, and such an awkward demeanor that it almost rivaled my own. I felt a tinge of pink cross my cheeks and I immediately turned my attention back to the copy of “The Lord of the Rings” lying in my hand. I put it back on the clean wooden shelf as I heard Lennon greet the man who had just walked in. As much as I tried to keep to myself and focus on my task, I was listening out for where he went in the store. Unfortunately, or maybe fortunately, he didn’t go down the fantasy aisle. I see his tall figure through the space in the books as he checks out and leaves. It felt like I had just had the wind knocked out of me just by him standing there, my heart rate a little elevated and a clear amount of blood rushing to my cheeks.

Lennon never let me live it down.

It only got worse over the next coming weeks, when this mystery man I was swooning over kept coming in. And I avoided him every time. I learned through Lennon (my little stalker) that his name was Spencer Reid. Spencer was always very kind to Rose whenever he was there, oftentimes humoring the old woman’s ramblings with some of his own. I mean, it was like he wanted me to fall for him. His presence made the once dusty and desolate bookstore more warm and lively than it had ever been.

But he never spoke to me.

Or I didn’t speak to him, rather. I was too scared I’d stumble over my own words and lose him before I even had him.

But like clockwork, with the chime of the bell, Spencer was in my store again. Only there was an issue. It was close to closing time, and I had let Lennon go home early that day as he had a nasty cold and I was too much of a germaphobe to approve of him being in the store. And not just that, Rose had gone home too because her daughter was visiting for the weekend. So there I was, standing at my least favorite place in the world, the cash register, making brief eye contact with the man I had been gushing over (but never actually talked to) for almost 3 months, completely alone. I was fucked.

He flashed me an awkward smile and a wave before going down the small science and math section we had. As soon as he was out of sight, I was frantically texting Lennon who told me to: 

“Grow some balls”

Good advice, actually. I waited, tapping my nails on the register as I debated going to see if he needed help with anything. But before I could even finish that thought, there he was, with a stack of maybe 4 or 5 books in his hand. How my mystery man went through books so fast, I didn’t know. But I wanted to know.

I smiled at him and started scanning one of the books-“Cosmos” by Carl Sagan. Then, I went for it. Months of pining and crushing had led up to this moment. 

“Did you find everything alright today?”

Well…at least I said something.

His eyes, one of the many things about him that entranced me, met mine. He nodded and smiled softly. I swear I could’ve died happy right then and there.

“Yeah…you guys have a great store here.” 

I smile and scan another book.

“Thank you! It’s-well, I’m the owner.” 

“Really? Wow-I didn’t know. I never usually see you when i come in.”

I smile more awkwardly as I scan another book from his stack.

“Yeah, yeah. Usually, I keep to the back. The register is not my thing.”

“Well, you’re doing great. With everything. Seriously, this is the best bookstore in town. I’m surprised you don’t get more customers.”

I blush more obviously than I would’ve liked. I scan the last book and start ringing him up. He pays in cash. 

“You’re very kind. I-we, love seeing you in here.”

Nice save. 

He takes his bag, full to the brim with books, and looks at me for a moment. Just looks. Suddenly I was very aware of how I looked, My jeans were a little too worn, my sweater had a small paint stain on it, and my hair slicked back into a bun as I hadn’t washed it yet. But his eyes were kind, not judging. My heart was beating and all of a sudden, I knew something. Something I couldn’t quite place my finger in. 

He gives a small wave, and I give one back, offering a quiet goodbye. 

But just as he’s about to leave, I hear a sentence that would haunt me forever.

“You should work the register more often instead of hiding behind the bookshelves.”

[nothoughts-onlywomen]

Pink Floyd’s The Wall

This BTS photo has really piqued my interest. Not just because it’s clearly a hint at something for season 5, but also because it happens to be one of my favorite albums ever. So, I thought I’d do a deep dive into how it might factor into the next season.

Full disclaimer: All these ideas I’m about to verbal vomit will make more sense if you watch the film here and/or listen to the album here. I truly recommend you seek it out. Far and away, it’s one of my favorite films/albums, and it’s stood the test of time. In fact, there are certain sequences that may be a little triggering in our current US political climate (I’m thinking of the “In The Flesh/Run Like Hell/Waiting for the Worms” sequence).

War. The Wall is about war; namely, the bitter uselessness of it. The film has a lot of anti-war imagery. Young soldiers wounded and vulnerable, doves exploding into crows, a bloody cross, etc. The film ends with a culturally diverse group of children picking up rubble from the war. There’s a beautiful image where a child pours out a Molotov cocktail. The meaning there is that children are taught to hate and kill, and once they are, the joy of youth is smothered by it. Now I can think of a few scenarios where this is relevant to our crew. This could have something to do with the war against Vecna, in that our kiddos are so young to be fighting this war, and that it will inevitably chip away parts of them. For some, it may take limbs, or even lives. There may also be an assertion that Henry Creel was taught to hate, rather than it being an inevitable part of him. El suggested this at the end of season 4, when she asserts to Vecna that Papa made him a monster. The nuance within the anti-war message of The Wall is that the main character, Pink, lost his father in World War II. Henry Creel’s father went to war (the exact same war, in fact) which is an interesting similarity, but I think greater parallels should be drawn between Pink and Henry Creel in terms of how their relationship with their father (or lack thereof) led to their emotional erosion. And when I’m referring to Henry’s father, I’m not necessarily talking about Victor, though their relationship may have been complex. I’m referring to Dr. Brenner as well. Now the major difference between Pink and Henry - at least, so far - is that Pink is shown to have a soft, gentle side to him. This gets smothered as his emotional wall grows taller. I don’t know if Vecna ever had anything of the sort, but we know that Will is nothing if not gentle. And if they’re going to draw parallels between Will and Henry next season, I have to think there’s some meaning in there somewhere.

Conformity. It should be noted that the film takes place during World War II, so the conformity themes were especially prevalent in those days - the days of Hitler and the Nazi regime. Pink attends a school where the children all wear masks and stand on an assembly line, eventually to be thrown into a meat grinder. All very heavy-handed symbolism, I know. But the idea is that society attempts to suppress individuality and corner the youth into becoming part of the mindless whole. Blessedly, toward the end of the school sequence, the kids all rip off their masks and rebel. Now, in reference to our friends in Hawkins, this could be a nod to how the group has never been afraid to be the “freaks,” and that conformity is meaningless to them. Stranger Things has always reveled in the beauty of being yourself in the face of societal labels. The Wall also utilizes hammers in much of its imagery, which is supposed to symbolize the hammer pounding a nail into submission. With the individual being the nail, and the oppressive whole being the hammer. To me, this hearkens back to the “hive mind” idea. The Mind Flayer operates from this hive mind, and so any deviation from this would be quickly and mightily suppressed. I also addressed the idea of the “hive mind” in my theory about the Wrinkle in Time Easter egg, and how the planet Camazotz adopts this same concept (read here if you feel so inclined). Will Vecna be this deviation? If not, who will? One of the kids? Will Dart break away from an army of demogorgons to save Dustin? I can’t see the Mind Flayer being thrilled about it regardless of how it manifests.

Emotional isolation. Pink undergoes a descent into emotional isolation. The wall itself is symbolic of the emotional wall he builds around his heart, insofar each negative event in his life is “another brick in the wall.” Once his emotional isolation is complete, he becomes callous and disconnected with others. He fantasizes about committing atrocities, even becoming a Hitler-like figure in his imaginings. Such emotional isolation is likely present within Vecna as well, as only someone with a real disconnection from their emotions could kill people in the ways that Vecna has. That scary face on the poster, in fact, is emotion, trying to break free of the wall. A scream of agony from within. Perhaps the Duffers will explore this within Vecna. Perhaps Vecna has some small shred of humanity left that the group will try to capitalize upon. At the climax of The Wall, Pink puts himself on trial in his mind with a judge that is a literal asshole (yes, it’s as batshit as it sounds), and the wall is torn down within him. The album ends with a spoken message that loops into the beginning track, suggesting that the conundrum of emotional wall-building will never end. Perhaps the group will attempt to tear down Vecna’s emotional walls. The Duffers are good enough writers to make us feel at least some empathy for Vecna, if we hadn’t already, and this might just be a continuation of this. There is also the possibility that one of our other kiddos starts to emotionally isolate. It could be any of them: Mike, Will, Lucas, Dustin, El, or Max. I’m less inclined to believe it would be one of the older kids, though they’ve all certainly got their own demons. None of them will become as twisted as Vecna, of course, but I could see them struggling against their own emotional walls. We’ve seen Max do a bit of this already. It would be a real shot to the heart if the Duffers utilized a deeply sad track like “Nobody’s Home” or a wistful, melancholic tune like “Comfortably Numb” to describe Max’s consciousness literally being absent from her at the moment. I think Will is also an ideal candidate for this concept, especially if (as I suggested earlier), we are going to draw similarities between him and Henry Creel. The ending song on the album, “Outside the Wall,” postulates that those who truly love you will walk up and down outside your emotional wall, banging on it, trying to tear it down and thus forge deeper connection. We’ve seen this happen with Max a bit, and I could certainly see it happening with Will, too.

Mental illness. Pink is suggested to have a mental illness. He’s not particularly easy to slap a diagnosis on (though based on the information we do have, I might have put him in the schizoid/schizotypal/schizoaffective territory. Depression with psychotic features at the very least). Mental illness isn’t a topic that heavily explored in Stranger Things, though season 4 definitely had some poignant things to say about depression. But I’m wondering - if they do decide to touch on this somewhat - if this will hint at a deeper dive into Vecna’s psyche. Killing small animals is generally a precursor to actual murder, and this was certainly the case when it came to Henry Creel, but we have yet to really unpack all of this. We’ve gotten hints. Vecna noting that he “never forgets a kill” and “they are always with me” is a very interesting concept I will be curious to learn more about.

I would love to hear any additional thoughts on this.

[shayasay]

2024 tbhk x reader writers gang UP !!!! I'd like to request for Teru, Akane, and Lemon x reader who's very...open? Like they have a out of pocket humour, says the most inappropriate jokes in the wrong time (the sc president/teacher almost caught them 😔) and isn't afraid to be chaotic. Being with them somehow never becomes boring because theres always some shit going on (like almost falling off a building or getting involved with the cops) BOY are they special. Just Akane is fine if you dont feel like writing for 3 people but either way thank you v much🙏

(Extra scenes:

Akane: how to get red dye?

Reader: idk period blood

Akane: *jaw drops to the floor*

--------

Reader: *telling the wildest inappropriate gossip ever*

Teru who heard and is standing right behind them:

-------

Lemon and reader: *had a 1 hour deep talk with lemon sitting on a bench*

Reader, about to leave: oh and btw, that bench was newly painted *walks away*

HIII YES OF COURSEEEEE I HOPE THIS IS OKAY I really tried my best on it! And I wrote this at 2 am I hope this satisfies 😭🩷

————————————————————————

With a reader who makes out of pocket jokes

Featuring: Akane, Lemon and Teru!

Akane

- Blushes when you say something inappropriate towards him no questions asked

- This one time he was teaching how to make origami and you said something inappropriate

- He paused for a good minute and scared at you, gawking with wide eyes and blushing

- “Okay so you’re gonna wanna fold this part here” “Shit I wish I was that piece of paper so you could fold me” “…I’m sorry?”

- There be times where you would just ask him questions, questions such as for example what part of the day was his favourite

- “Akane question?” “Shoot” “what time of day is your favourite?” “night time!” “Great so me, you, tonight, in my bed.” “…”

- he blushed and tried to say something but literally failed, he stuttered so much he just honestly gave up.

- Like sometimes you whisper things in his ear n he’d just stare and gawk at you in disbelief

- You toyed with him once while he was speaking to Teru and he tried so hard to not blush or make it look like he was flustered

- News flash, he failed.

- Teru was laughing at his ass afterwards

- or times where you were whispering the most jaw dropping shit into his ear and Teru heard it all and saw he’s reaction as well

- Teru never let him live it DOWN

Teru

- Will stare at you in disbelief and will quite literally say “I beg your pardon?”

- He once was painting something for the school with a bucket of white paint and to make things worse it fell on him

- He called you and asked you for help

- and what did you say? “Teru is that cu-“ “Get out.” “WAIT IM SORRY”

- There’s been so many times where you whispered the most jaw dropping shit into his ear and his giving you the biggest “I’m sorry?” ass look

- You actually told him some good ass drama and he listened to the whole thing while even gawked here n there because of the OUTRAGEOUS things he’s been hearing

- He’s lowkey willing to give Akane his work load just to here the things you tell him

- “Psst… Teru.” “Hm?” “Are you a trampoline? Because I’d really like to bounce on you.”

- *Queue you sprinting out the room as he’s at his desk so lost at weither he should be shocked or appreciate what you said and take it like a compliment

- “I…. what?…” “Y/n-“ “…..”

- Akane having heard that just giving you and him the most judgemental look ever

Lemon

- You tell him the most jaw dropping drama n he handles it like nothing

- You jokes just make him pause for a good second and then resume back to what he was doing

- you once whispered into his ear “you tryna bounce that ass for me?”

- he just stopped scrolling on TikTok and did a slow turn to look at you with the most judgmental look

- “No… I’m not…”

- You two literally hear drama and gossip with each other and if you guys hear the drama together, you two are looking at each other n gawking bc what did I just hear?

- He’s on his phone a lot so when you say something out of pocket he just pauses what he was doing n stares at you for like a few seconds or a minute

- Sometimes he even says out of pocket things to you as well n sometimes you do blush, same with him

- you two literally gossip to each other the most craziest things ever

- if you try to embarrass him n whispering UNHINGED shit in his ear, he’ll do the same to you but worse

- I can confirm you one had a battle about it

- of course he won because the shit he says is way worse then the shit you say

- “Hey babe where did the red die go?” “Idk check your pad.”

- You were so dumbfounded that you paused n blinked at him

- “shit… he beat me too it”

———————————

- All n all awesome bfs 👍

DONT FORGET THE CHARACTERS ARE AGED UP TO 18+ NO WORRIES 🩷

[jakeyt]

Covet: Chapter 10 (Part 1 of 2)

Pairing: Jake Kiszka x f!Reader

Covet Summary:

Life was good. No, life was great. 

Was. 

Until.

Jake Kiszka crashed into the picture.

You welcomed him into your life—your home. 

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

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

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

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

Chapter Word Count: 27.4k+

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

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

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

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

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

Covet Masterlist

-🌼🌼🌼-

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

-Jeremy Collier

-🌼🌼🌼-

November 17, 2022

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

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

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

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

-🌼🌼🌼-

Jake’s POV

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

I really just wanted to hear her say it. 

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

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

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

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

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

Our baby.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Both.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

Three months.

“And how long have you known?”

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

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

“When did Josh find out?” 

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

Oh, she wanted to get angry? Okay.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I couldn’t take it.

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

And this day was officially both.

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

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

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

End of Jake’s POV

-🌼🌼🌼-

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

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

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

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

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

-🌼🌼🌼-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-🌼🌼🌼-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Wait. What? Why was he scared?

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

“I’m fine. I’m just not home.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Worried about–? What?

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

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

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

Who cares? Just tell him.

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

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

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

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

But why? He’d left you.

“Do you want to be here?”

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

“Do you think I want you here?”

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

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

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

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

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

He was coming for you.

-🌼🌼🌼-

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

Just ten minutes. But time crawled.

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

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

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

He was going to catch a cold.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Why the rush? You knew I was safe.”

“I was anxious to see you.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“By fucking Maya?” You bit back.

What–?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Avert avert avert.

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

“I am curious. . . Why didn’t you?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You decided you were definitely ready to leave. 

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

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

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

-🌼🌼🌼-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m sorry I said tha—.”

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

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

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

Gotta wrap it up quickly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I don’t either.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah?” You called, brows drawn in.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-🌼🌼🌼-

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

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

“Hey.”

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

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

“Morning. You feeling okay?”

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

“Taking notes?”

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

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

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

“Interesting. Anything else it says about it?”

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

“Have you tried any herbal tea?”

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

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

Or so you thought.

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

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

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

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

“Yeah. . . First one last week.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Okay,” you acknowledged, slightly breathless. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-🌼🌼🌼-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-🌼🌼🌼-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Are you afraid of what you might find?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Oh, joy.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-🌼🌼🌼-

November 21, 2022

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-🌼🌼🌼-

November 21, 2022

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re sure?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Or so you thought. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Had you? 

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

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

Jake . . . was he–? 

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

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

Jake was your safe place.

-🌼🌼🌼-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I actually have an idea of who–.”

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

“You might not like it,” she grinned. 

Instantly, you knew who she was talking about. 

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

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

-🌼🌼🌼-

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

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

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

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

-🌼🌼🌼-

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

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

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

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

It had you knocking on his bedroom door. 

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

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

Jake.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Let him care. 

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

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

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

“Will Maya be okay with it?” 

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

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

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

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

His brows wrinkled. “I never said that.”

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

“No, it wasn’t.”

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

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

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

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

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

His baby. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“We’re friends?” You shyly pondered. 

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

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

Honey. 

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

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

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

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

“I want to help you. Let me.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-🌼🌼🌼-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Let him.

“I get kind of scary.”

“I don’t care.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-🌼🌼🌼-

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

He’d made chicken fajitas. 

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

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

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

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

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

“Y/n.”

“Jake.”

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

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

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

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

“Why?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-🌼🌼🌼-

November 24, 2022

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I don’t need that.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Deep. Fucking. Breaths.

-🌼🌼🌼-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-🌼🌼🌼-

“I’m pregnant.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-🌼🌼🌼-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-🌼🌼🌼-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-🌼🌼🌼-

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

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

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

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

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

[chaosduckies]

Their First Date

Surprise! Here’s a little gift from me to you for getting me to 50 followers! I hope you guys like it :D

Word Count: 4.5k

CW: None!

———Nathan———

Things were great. Amazing even. A month out of school and nothing bad has happened. Yet. I was still afraid that something horrible might happen since my luck is just like that. When I have something good, it just gets stripped away from me. Hopefully not now though. I mean, I couldn’t ask for anything better really. Ryker asked if I wanted to live here now that we were… dating. He said he also didn’t want me to be lonely all of the time so how could I say no to that generous offer? 

My only problem was that I couldn’t help out much. Like at all. I mean I could cook for Lucky and Angela and all of that, but I couldn’t do anything to help Ryker, which was one of my main reasons for coming on top of helping take care of his siblings. So there goes that plan down the drain. It never stopped me from at least trying to though. When he was cooking I’d try to push some of this things he needed closer. Of course I could barely even do that and he just picks it up effortlessly whenever he did need it. I try to walk around on my own, but since there aren’t any human accommodations at the moment, I can’t even get around anywhere without him carrying me around. 

I felt bad, but I had no idea what to do. It just kind of feels like I was there just to be there. That makes sense, right? 

Today wasn’t any different. I made some breakfast for Lucky and Angela like usual, walked out into the living room to see that everyone else was already eating their own breakfast, and just waited for Ryker. Again, I couldn’t just climb up the couch, nor did I really want to ask anyone to just let me on. 

Ryker walked into the room, yawning before holding out his hand for me. I climbed on, being placed on the armrest as usual. I still didn’t really understand how this whole… “relationship” thing works. I mean I did sort of, but not really. Right now it just feels like we’re still acting like friends. Like, what else were we supposed to do? We’ve only ever kissed twice, the night after we had graduated, and I don’t know if that was only a one time thing. I don’t know! I should probably ask him or tell him that I don’t know how any of this works but I had no idea how he’d react. Lately we’ve just been around each other, he’s kept me a lot closer and I absolutely love it (Curse being touch starved beyond repair-), he lets me sleep with him if I want to and he’s just…agh. He knew more about this than I did that was for sure. 

“Did you eat?” Ryker whispered so quiet that only I had heard him. I turned to face him, nodding my head. Last night we stayed up pretty late. We weren’t even doing anything either. I was just listening to him like we used to do. I never realized how much I loved listening to his voice. Was that the reason I loved him? He had mentioned something about maybe applying to a college, but he didn’t really know if he could handle it.  I wanted to say, “Of course you can!” Or really anything, but I didn’t. And I should have. 

“Did you?” I mumbled. He gave a slow nod, closing his eyes while listening to whatever conversation was happening in front of us. I slightly frowned, worried. Was he more tired because of me? He never used to be like this, even while we were still in school. Maybe it was because he has been thinking hard about enrolling into a college? Then again I’ve noticed that he tries his hardest to make as much time for me as possible. I had no idea why, and I always feel bad that I’m keeping him up. So was it really me? 

  I winced at the thought, but didn’t dwell on it for so long. I can just ask him, right? Yeah. Just ask him and then you’ll get your answer. It’ll all be fine… 

After everyone had left, Jasmine grabbing a blanket and tossing it over Ryker, who looked about ready to just pass out from the lack of sleep. Should’t I be the one to do that? I played with my hands, heart beating faster. Jasmine came back from the kitchen with a mug filled with tea and ordered Ryker to go to sleep. He just smiled softly and thanked her as she headed off to Isabelle and Angela’s room. I can’t do any of that for him… 

I sighed, turning my body to grab the human-sized pillow and blanket to wrap myself up. I didn’t have anything to do today. Usually everyone goes off and does their own thing. If they had left they’d tell either Ryker or me and then go. I mean I’m glad that they don’t think I’m messing up everything around here, but still. Was I the only one here who thought that I was just being a nuisance? 

“Nathan, you okay?” Ryker had asked, sitting up with the same worried look in his eyes as always. I nodded, “I should be asking you the same question.” I stared down at the fabric I was sitting on. I felt so bad. I wish I could do so much more. I wish I could be the one to take care of him when he’s sick or tell him to rest when I knew he needed it. Instead I was just stuck and forced to watch others do my job. That is what I’m supposed to do, right? Take care of your partner? 

“Hm? I’m fine. Just a little tired.” He smiled, his hand opening palm-up to face me. I hesitantly climbed on, wondering if this was the right choice. Did he want me to take a nap with him? My face flushed a deep red at the realization. In front of everyone? If they come to the living room they’ll see us. I guess there wasn’t really a reason to feel so embarrassed aside form the constant teasing from Dylan and Lucky later. 

“Would you mind going out with me later? Just the two of us.” He had asked, still sitting up. I jumped, a little shocked at the question. Go out? Like-Like on a date? 

“W-with m-me?”I squeaked out, earning a little laugh from Ryker. 

“Who else would I go on a date with? Plus, I know we both don’t like crowded places, so it’s a small place I know.” He waited for my answer. How could I say no? I’ve never been on a date either. But wouldn’t that just make him more tired?He wouldn’t be embarrassed by me? It’s not entirely unheard of a human to be with a giant but isn’t it… weird for him? He’s also said he’s never kissed a human before, so this was new for Ryker too? 

“Sure!” I smiled, trying to cover up my worry. Won’t people look at us weird for being together? Being friends with a giant and dating one are two different things. I think at least. If other people catch on that we’re dating wouldn’t they say something about it? No one has yet, but still. I was always afraid of that. That maybe it’ll eventually get to Ryker and then he’d really leave me. 

Ryker slightly cupped his hand a bit more, a soft smile on his face, “Did you want to go somewhere else? I’ll just take a short nap.” He had offered before resting his head on the pillow lying next to him. I shook my head, climbing off his hand as soon as he was comfortable. 

“Get some rest.” I mumbled, my mind debating on getting closer or staying where I was at. Ryker didn’t reply, but closed his eyes and shoved the hand that was holding under the pillow. I stayed as quiet as I could be before deciding to lay down and close my own eyes. So it was decided. We were officially going on our first date. 

——————

When I woke up, there was no looming presence near me like when I had fallen asleep. I pushed myself up, rubbing my eyes and looking around while my vision came back to me. Ryker wasn’t lying next me anymore. I jumped, looking around the living room and finding Dylan sitting on the other side of the couch with Lucky on his shoulder while playing a game on the tv. 

I tried to stay quiet, hoping they wouldn’t notice me being awake while they were hyper focused on whatever game they were playing with no volume. Did they not want to wake me up? Dylan quietly groaned while glaring back to Lucky on his shoulder, who I was guessing was sticking his tongue out like some child. That actually fits him extremely well. 

Dylan turned his gaze to me, taking a second to realize that I was awake. 

“Oh! Sorry we didn’t wake you up, right?” Dylan asked, letting Lucky down next to me, who was wearing a huge smirk on his face. Here comes the teasing of course… It was actually pretty funny though. 

“N-no.” I shook my head. 

“You were sleeping with himmm.” Lucky laughed. My cheeks flushed red from embarrassment as I didn’t really know how to reply to that. What was I supposed to say? “Sorry for sleeping with your brother.”? Yeah, that was not happening. Imagine if he found out that we basically sleep with each other every night. He already tries to get me to kiss him, but I’m always hesitant about that. It’s not that I don’t want to. It’s more like if Ryker even wanted to in the first place. Plus, I doubt he can even feel it unless he really focused. Why was I thinking about this right now? 

“He’s just taking a shower right now. He told me to help you down if you woke up.” Dylan shrugged. That makes more sense. But shouldn’t Ryker still be sleeping? Why didn’t he just wake me up? Was it a bad idea to stay with him? Wait, just calm down. I took a short deep breath before standing up and trying my hardest to regain balance on the cushiony surface. 

“Th-thank you.” I spoke a little louder than a whisper so Dylan could hear. He let me climb onto his hand and slide me off onto the floor. I’ve been getting closer with everyone lately. Mostly because I’ve been staying here for the past month, but still, I always try to avoid asking for favors and to let them help me because I didn’t know if they’d eventually get annoyed. Stupid, right? It’s still a possibility. 

I walked over to the human-sized rooms, checking the time on the digital clock by the fridge reading that it was almost one in the afternoon. I had no idea if Angela was hungry or not, but Lucky didn’t mention anything. I guess I’ll wait until Angela comes and finds me. In the meantime… I should probably figure out what I want to wear later tonight. I didn’t want to look indecent, plus I had no idea where he was even taking me. He said somewhere not crowded so I guess it would be fine. 

In the end, I just chose a simple t-shirt with my blue jacket and some jeans. It’s not really that fancy but I doubt either of us were going to wear anything like we were going to a five star restaurant. It seemed fine to me. I laid them out on the couch and went back to the living room where Dylan and Lucky were still playing their game. I didn’t want to bother them, so I just walked around the place, enjoying the little peace I had. As much as I loved staying here, I had no idea how Ryker handles everything all at once. At least I’m helping. Even if it really wasn’t much. 

There was only one more month before everyone but Ryker and I had to go to school, but even then I’m pretty sure Ryker is going to apply for college if I can convince him to. I mean he does deserve it, but I also don’t want him to be overloaded with things. He can do online courses and take in person twice a week. That doesn’t sound too hard and I can try my hardest to take care of things over here. I doubt I could, but still. 

——————

It was around seven at night, I was dressed up in the clothes I had laid out, waiting for Ryker to finish changing. I couldn’t help but feel the teasing stares as Dylan and Lucky were both whispering about something I couldn’t exactly hear. Isabelle and Angela were busy playing in their room and Jasmine’s attention was glued to the tv, but I could tell how much she just wanted to slightly tease me too. I sucked in a shaky breath and just kept waiting. 

“Hey Nathan, going on a date?” Dylan had asked, switching seats to right next to me. My face flushed a deep red from embarrassment. He can probably make a really good guess from that. I let go of the breath I was holding, hesitantly nodding my head. Don’t get me wrong, I do really want to go with Ryker, but what if I do something wrong? Would that make things awkward? Would he kick me out? I technically do have a place to go but I don’t think I could really handle that. Mentally wise. 

“Just leave him alone, Dylan, you’re gonna make him self-conscious.” Jasmine chuckled as Dylan muttered an apology. 

“Hey I’m just trying to say good for him.” He shrugged, turning his own attention to the tv. My heart started beating faster the second I heard Ryker’s door open. My breath nearly caught in my throat seeing that he was wearing a sweater than looked a little baggy on him, but I think that was the look he was going for. People would look at him because he’s wearing a sweater in the middle of summer, but then again I’m wearing a jacket so I can’t say anything. Instead of his usual pants with the chains on the side he was wearing gray cargo pants. This was nothing like how he usually dresses up. Did he dress up for me? Now that makes me think I should’ve worn something better. 

“Ah, um, I-I know it’s not a suit or anything, but I don’t really feel comfortable wearing anything like that-“ 

“Ryker wearing something other than a hoodie? Nathan, he has it bad for you.” Dylan whispered that last sentence to me, my brain nearly frying. Wh-wha? Why did I think it was such a big deal that he was wearing a sweater instead of a hoodie? It didn’t mean anything. Why was everyone shocked as soon as he stepped into the living room? Why was my face turning into a very noticeable red? Oh wait I should probably hide that- 

Ryker was blushing nearly as much as I was. 

“So where are you two going?” Jasmine laughed as Ryker somehow managed to calm himself down before walking closer to me. 

“Somewhere. We’ll be back before midnight.” He answered as I quickly climbed onto his hand, trying to hide my blush from his eyes, though I’m sure he’s already seen it. This is so embarrassing… 

Ryker closed the door behind us, taking moment to look down at me. I’m guessing he just wanted to get out of there as fast as possible. I couldn’t thank him enough for that. I’m pretty sure if Dylan had said one more thing I would have passed out. But here I was, completely conscious and about to hopefully have the best night of my life. 

“S-sorry. Dylan can be a bit much,” He chuckled, taking a good look at me before smiling, “You look good.” 

I couldn’t get my voice to work for me, but I eventually forced it to. 

“You too.”

Was this what it felt like to be on a date? I had no idea. All I know is that I had butterflies in my stomach and I was absolutely not feeling good. Was that because I was nervous? Yup. Probably. 

“You ready to go?” He had asked softly as I nodded my head in response. No, no I wasn’t. It felt like everything that I had eaten today was about to come right back up. Not really, but that’s what it felt like. Hopefully I can get through this. 

—————-

The place Ryker was taking me was some sort of small little restaurant where only a few people were. Of course some of the people we passed by were staring, but I couldn’t tell if it was because we were both wearing some kind of jacket, or it was because we were here. Together. On a date. Should I be worried about those people? 

The waiter had taken us to our seats, gave Ryker a menu and told us that he would be back in just a few minutes. The place was quiet except for the music playing in the background. I looked around the place, seeing that almost everyone here was either on a date or just hanging out with friends. There was a human side to the place, but there were only four people there. Otherwise I was the only human on this side as far as I knew. It just made me a little bit more nervous. A lot, actually. 

Ryker was also looking around, almost immediately looking back when a group of people had looked at him, snickering. What was that all about? I couldn’t really hear, but I could take a really good guess. It was because of me. Like I had said before, after school, not many humans and giants stay friends. Another reason why I was so worried about Ryker leaving me before. They only stay friends throughout school just to have some sort of superiority over others. Now, no one really cares about that. 

There were of course human-sized tables which I had sat down on, but I wasn’t exactly given a menu. I wasn’t really all that hungry either. At least I think. 

“I’ll order for you if you want. I know you don’t feel comfortable talking with new people.” Ryker had smiled despite the whispered behind him. The group looked like they were all at least in their late twenties or early thirties. On a double date maybe? Again, I had no idea what I was even doing. 

“Oh! Thank you.” I mumbled, grateful that he had offered before I could have a panic attack in front of the waiter. I was so used to just hanging out at the cafe Ryker works at. Sometimes I’d make the long walk just to come visit him or just to hang out with some of his co workers. Like Nylah. It’s usually quiet there, and even when it’s not it’s because the workers were all busy talking with the regulars that go there. At the moment it seemed like it was crowded even though there wasn’t that many people. Maybe that was just my self-conscious speaking. 

“Water is fine.” I mumbled again, keeping my voice down in case somehow the table near us could hear me. Yup. It was my self-conscious. I couldn’t help but notice the way Ryker hand twitched slightly. Just like at the cafe after graduation. I took a few deep breaths before the waiter came back with notepad in hand. 

“What can I get you two to drink for today?” He smiled, more directed towards me, which made me feel just the slightest bit better. Maybe it was just the people that came to eat here that made this place feel uncomfortable. 

“Two waters please.” Ryker answered for the both of us. The waiter walked off, then came back a few minutes later with someone in his hand and the other with a glass of water. A woman came and gave me my glass, giggling and whispering something to the other waiter. I was so confused by this place, but I guess that didn’t matter. Ryker wouldn’t take me to a place unless he thought it was good. Everything else he picks out is good too. The only places I know are in the human part of the city and I doubt he could go there. 

I sighed, taking a sip of the cold water. Soon enough, the group sitting behind us sat up and leave. Words could not describe how grateful I was. They seemed rude and I haven’t even met them yet. Not that I wanted to, but still. 

“You want something to eat? It’s okay if you’re not hungry.” Ryker’s voice had a slight sad tone to it. Almost like he thought I wasn’t enjoying this. That was dumb. Of course I’m loving this. I just didn’t exactly know how to express that to him. I don’t know how dates are supposed to go, I don’t know what to do while on one, heck, I didn’t even know if I was doing this entire thing right! 

“Um, maybe something light? Like a salad? I-I don’t know.” I stuttered, nervously laughing a bit. Ryker placed down the menu for a second and laid his head on his arms, his eyes worriedly looking over me. The butterflies in my stomach only grew worse. Was I doing something wrong? 

“You didn’t have to say yes if you didn’t want to come y’know. I would’ve understood.” Ryker explained, his voice soft as usual. Oh. He thought I didn’t want to be here in general. 

“What? I did want to come. I just don’t really know how this whole… D-date thing works,” I tried explaining, “I love being with you. How could I say no? I just don’t know what I’m supposed to do or say.” I fidgeted with my hands, hoping that he would get it. 

“So you’ve never been on a date before?” Ryker slightly picked his head up. I shook my head as a reply. I have no idea how this was news to him, but it just was. 

“Well, I’m glad that I could be your first then.” Ryker laughed. The blush that I had worked so hard to make disappear came back. I was kind of happy that he was my first date too if I’m being honest. I don’t even think I would have been here if I hadn’t met him. 

The waiter came back to take our orders, he came back with two salads and told us to call him if we needed anything. I couldn’t help but see the little giggly smirk on his face. I didn’t exactly care though. Nothing could go wrong at this point. 

——————

Ryker and I had talked for a while. Mostly joking around with each other and talking about this new show that we had started together about this family who was rich but had all of their money taken away by their accountant or something like that. We both like it though. 

A song came on from the little jukebox in the corner of the room, but there was no one in here but us and one other person. Weird. We didn’t really pay attention all that much. We both had finished eating but neither of us wanted to go just yet. 

“I’m still surprised you wore a sweater.” I laughed, knowing that he doesn’t really wear anything other than hoodies and the occasional zip-up. 

“Ah well, I know you like them.” His face flushed a light shade of pink. I found it nice to know that he notices these things. I think it’s kind of sweet if I were being honest. 

It was quiet for a while, only the soft, deep voice of the music playing in the background was sitting between us. The anxiety rising up in my chest didn’t help at all whatsoever. What do we do now? Were we ready to go? It was only just about to turn nine. Maybe we should actually start heading back. If Ryker stays up any later I would feel bad. He’s already exhausted enough. 

As if on cue, he had yawned, covering up his mouth with on of his hands, blinking a couple times before drowsily groaning. I worriedly stood up, walking a bit closer, “We-we can go home if you’re tired. I don’t mind.” I smiled, earning one back. 

“If you’re ready sure.” 

I felt sorry. I wish I could be the one taking him back home. Not the other way around. That’s how it should be really. There has to be someway I could help. 

——————

We were home in about thirty minutes or so. You could faintly hear the sound of Dylan’s tv through the wall to the living room, Jasmine was passed out on the couch, and I’m guessing she put Isabelle and Angela to sleep. Ryker yawned, placing a blanket over Jasmine before sliding me off in front of the human-sized rooms. 

“I’ll be back in about five minutes. Just going to change.” He pointed a finger to the restroom down the hall. I nodded, guessing that he wanted me to change into something more comfortable too. Gladly. I quickly changed to a loose t-shirt and some sweatpants and waited outside for Ryker, who eventually did come out wearing almost the exact same thing as I was. 

His room was as cold as always, the lamp on that dimly lit up the place. His desk was an unusual mess of papers spewed all across the surface. Probably for college. He laid down on his bed, Pulling the sheets over him and almost immediately his eyes were already closing. I chuckled, walking closer to him from where he had left me. 

“Tired?” 

“Mhm,” He wore a sad expression, “Sorry tonight wasn’t what you expected.” 

“No it was great! I loved it!” I quietly cheered. Ryker smiled, “That’s good.” 

The silence stretched out between us again. Then I did something stupid. Again. Like I always did. I walked a closer to his face, and kissed him. Yup. I’m the one who went first this time. What’s more surprising was the fact that his face turned red when I had quickly stepped back. I had thought I stepped over a line, or maybe he wouldn’t have even felt it, but no. He did. And I couldn’t help but laugh at how red his face was. 

He was frozen in shock for a while before fixing his position and hugging me against his cheek. Now we were both laughing quietly together. 

“Love you.” He whispered, letting me back down. My heart started beating faster. I wasn’t expecting that- It would only be right to say it back. 

“Love you too.” 

I could at least do this for him. 

——————

Ahhh I love when the first date is awkward at first. Cringe isn’t real it cant hurt me hehehe-

I’ll definitely be making more little one shots like this with these two later on. I do want to continue the story until I do officially end it, but otherwise, this will be how it is for now. Thank you guys again!

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