#mom hormones suck I get so emotional
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Does anyone else who’s carried a pregnancy ,and eventually wants to again, get anxious that a second one might be the death of you?
I was so ill, I thought I was going to die once or twice. I thought my kid might die from the stress of it before she was born.
The hormones from the baby made me diabetic. They caused the hyperemesis gravidarum that sent me to the ER multiple times to be given fluids and anti nausea meds through IV’s.
I feel so fucked up with the baby fever rn and the thought of raising a family with my partner being this big golden glow of love is being dulled by the thought of leaving them behind. My partner was there for me during my pregnancy as a friend and I know he’d be loving and supportive throughout it all, but I’m terrified I’ll be as sick as last time or that it could be worse. I don’t want to put the person I love through that. And yet it all feels selfish to want to be a mom again and to see my daughter play with her future sibling(s) even at the expense of my health.
Don’t know why this ramble is getting out here but oh well here it goes
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lavenderspence · 7 months ago
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Missing the happy hormone | S.R.
Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader
Content warning: emotional reader, period mention, fluff
Word Count: 1.8K
Summary: Apparently Spencer Reid could make anything better - even the emotional disaster of being on your period
A/N: First, huge thank you to the cutie that sent in this request, you literally caught me while on my period so this was born. Also, here’s to my inability to write short fics, this is your only warning that i can make and will make anything long, lol. Also, my titles suck omg. And shoutout to my crazy bestie for making me a Mamma Mia girly, she rocks.
But also, happy one month to this blog! When I carved out this little space for myself a month ago I wasn’t really sure how I’d feel being back here and writing again, but so far it’s been a treat. A huge thank you for all of your support and love and thank you to my mutuals and everyone that interacted with my blog. 💕 Here’s to many more months to come!
Request: spencer x fem!reader on her period/ovulating and shes in tears all the time?? Im ovulating and have been crying for hours and keep calling my mom lmaoo he’d been so lovely and sweet I know it I can feel it in my bones
masterlist
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It was a slow day at the BAU. The most exciting thing in the 6 hours Spencer had spent at work was Rossi’s invitation to dinner the following weekend. 
Paperwork had piled high after their last 2 cases, so every team member was hunched over their desk, writing and revising reports. It was a never-ending cycle - finish a report, close the file, open a new one, and start all over again.
His eyes had started getting tired after four and a half hours, his hand had started cramping and he was down two pens so far, yet there was still a prominent pile on his desk.
He suspected Morgan and Emily might have pushed a file or two from theirs onto his load, seeing as he was getting done the fastest. Regardless, every few hours JJ was bringing even more to pile on top of everything that wasn’t finished, so buried in paperwork they stayed - no matter how fast he wrote or read, or how used to the load he was.
He was just thinking about getting up to prepare a fresh pot of coffee so he could function properly for a few more hours when his phone started ringing. He felt around the pockets of his suit jacket, where it sat draped on his chair, and then pulled it free. 
His display showed an incoming call, a picture of you as he hugged you, hands around your middle and face almost buried into your neck, a soft smile gracing both your faces. A scenery rich with reds, browns, and yellows stood behind you, the beauty of fall was nothing short of spectacular. 
The picture you’d taken last year when the team spent a weekend at Rossi’s cabin in the woods, surrounded by the beauty of landscapes and leaves, nature for miles. 
He accepted the call right away, a small smile on his face. 
“Hey sweetheart.” His voice was gentle, if a little raspy from misuse. He hadn’t talked much in the last few hours - just a distracted short answer here or a hum there. He was happy you were calling, though, welcoming the reprieve from the most recent report. 
It was silent for a few seconds, and he wondered absentmindedly if maybe you hadn’t called him on accident, and then there came a tiny little sniffle from your side. 
“Sweetheart?” He prompted, “Are you there? What’s going on?” Worry was starting to creep into the base of his spine, but he still remained calm and kept his voice gentle. 
“I’m here. Hi.” Another small sniffle, “All’s good. Just…I was just wondering how much longer you’d be gone.” Your voice was small,like you thought you might upset him by asking, and a little crackly, like you yourself were upset about something. 
His eyebrows furrowed, and he checked the time quickly - 3:57 pm. 
“Probably about two more hours, there’s a lot of paperwork we need to go through.” His eyes met Emily’s as she sent him a curious, questioning look. 
“Oh, okay.” The resignation was clear in your voice, “I’ll see you later then.” The call ended abruptly, and it took him a second to catch up.
He couldn’t help but feel like not everything was as good as you claimed it was. For one, you rarely called to ask when he’d be home - you knew his work could span into the late hours, or even stretch for days. You let him update you on any changes in his work schedule. 
In your interactions, your voice was usually upbeat and teasing - especially on the phone. Your kindness was always evident in your voice, as was your mood. You were a sunshine person, if he ever met one, that’s probably why you and Penelope formed such a close bond upon meeting. 
There was something that nagged him - a change in your mood he could pick up on just by your voice - too low, too small, and the cracks that he could now identify as he replayed your conversation in his head. You were keeping yourself from crying out, and yet there was nothing more apparent than the tears in your voice. And that made him worry. 
“Reid, are you okay?” Emily’s voice snapped him from the hard stare he’d been giving his phone in the last several minutes since the call ended. 
“I…I don’t know.” His eye twitched, and he cleared his throat before he tried and failed to articulate exactly what was happening - he himself had a hard time understanding. One thing he knew was that he needed to get home. “I..um, I need to go. Can you, please?” He asked, gusting at the remaining three files on his desk before he pulled his suit jacket on and grabbed his satchel. 
Morgan and Emily shared a mildly concerned look before they both nodded their heads, “Yeah, go. Text to let us know if everything is okay.” Morgan reminded him before he exited the bullpen with a fast step and tried to keep calm.
He was aware the situation wasn’t anything that he needed to be incredibly worried over - if something was really wrong, he knew you would have let him know. Yet, he couldn’t help the way his heart constricted by the sound of your voice, or the overwhelming desire to come home and gently hold you, see what could have caused this behavior. 
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You were curled up on the couch, watching as Donna helped Sophie get ready for her wedding, the gentle melody of “Slipping through my fingers” filling the empty apartment. Your eyes were watering, to the point that everything was starting to get blurry. A shaky exhale left your lips.
Today has simply been a rollercoaster. Kissing Spencer goodbye this morning was the highlight of the day. What followed was nothing short of an emotional disaster. 
You’d teared up during breakfast, images of picking berries with Spencer flying through your mind. The desire to make it a reality was strong. 
Following that had come the overwhelming urge to bawl your eyes out, for no apparent reason whatsoever. Just cry and cry until you had it all emptied out and you could take a deep breath and continue with your day. So, cry you did, and then you’d finished with your chores for the day. 
Apparently letting it all out and emptying your tear supply hadn’t happened. Seeing as around 3:30 you’d started missing your boyfriend so much, the need to hear his voice had won out, so you’d called him. You felt the need to have him home to hold you because this month’s visit from mother flow was making you feel like a crybaby.
But then there was disappointment at the notion that you needed to wait close to 3 hours before that could happen. So you quickly ended the call before he could pick up on the tone of your voice, and then you shed a few tears. 
Now here you were, rewatching Mamma Mia because you really needed a pick me up, and once again, eyes shining as the tears started falling. At this point, it was a losing battle, so you let them fall, humming to the song with a broken voice. 
That’s exactly how Spencer found you, not a minute later. His keys were in his hand, the satchel on his shoulder, and he was just a little bit out of breath. 
The moment his eyes met you, they softened as he dropped everything and sat down next to you. His hand reached up and he cradled the side of your face, wiping your tears away. 
“Hey, sweetheart. What’s wrong?” He asked in a whisper.
“Look at Donna painting Sophie’s nails, it’s...” You hiccuped, another wave of tears washing over you. “And you’re home, why are you home?” Your question was met with a furrow in his brow, as his thumbs continued wiping underneath your eyes. 
“You called.” He answered simply. 
“But you said-” He stopped you before you could finish your sentence.
“I did, yes. But you sounded off and sad, so. Want to tell me what’s going on?” He prompted you gently as he pushed your hair back and pulled you into his lap after, feeling like you needed the physical contact. 
You weren’t ashamed to admit it, per se, but you were ashamed that your hormones had caused him to leave work and race home to be with you. 
“It’s my period,” you mumbled, hands wrapping around his neck as you hid your face in his chest, too tired to prevent your eyes from watering again. “It’s been going on all day. Randomly, I’d just get so emotional, and the tears would start. I was missing you so much too, and then hearing the song, bam, tears again. I’m so done with this Spence.” You sounded barely coherent, with your face pushed as close to him as possible. 
It all made sense now, you’d been cranky a few days ago, and then you’d told him last night your cramps were unbearable, so he knew you were on your period, but right now he felt like an idiot for not figuring it out himself. 
“It’s okay, everything is fine. The drop in estrogen and progesterone, following your ovulation triggered this. This in turn reduced the production of serotonin, your happy hormone. So, we just need to boost it a bit.” He whispered into your ear as you played with the hairs at the nape of his neck. 
“How?” You sighed into his chest, almost being able to pick up on the sound of his heartbeat.
He got deep in thought for a few seconds as you breathed in his scent, and a sense of calmness slowly overtook you now that he was home and holding you. One of his hands was running soothing circles on your back as the other held your hand, fingers interlocked. 
“How about we take a trip to the store and get you some snacks? We’ll pick up dinner on the way home and then I'll hold you some more and you'll pick a movie for us to watch.” He suggested, kissing the crown of your head once, twice, and many more times until you gave him an answer. 
“Yeah, yeah, I think that would help, but just having you here has done wonders.” You finally laid your head against his chest, looking up to meet his eyes. He smiled, and so did you. Having him here really had helped immensely, and when had it not? He was your other half, your rock, and even when your emotions ran rampant or you were feeling down, just his presence, his touch, and his understanding were enough to make it all okay. 
Later in the evening, Penelope sent you a photo of Sergio sleep-hugging a little plushy you’d gotten him, and the waterworks started all over again. Luckily, Spencer was there, wiping your tears and kissing your head, saying a thousand things without actually speaking a word.
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Comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated!
Requests are open for both Spencer and Hotch if you want to send any!
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lnfours · 1 year ago
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half of me, half of you | l.n
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summary: welcome to the world, baby norris <3 and welcome back to part 3 of this little universe we have going on here! 🩷 requested by anonymous: ‘Omg part three for forevermore??? Like the wedding and then maybe kids🫣’
warnings: pregnancy, surprises, hormones, lando finding out he’s going to be a girl dad 🥹, a whole lot of fluff n stuff
masterlist | ask box
₊‧°𐐪♡𐑂°‧₊
“how much longer?” you asked, sitting on the closed lid of the toilet in the bathroom. the brunette girl swiped down on her phone, displaying the timer she had set almost 2 minutes ago.
“30 seconds..” she trailed off, eyes meeting your nervous figure as you bounced your leg up and down. you sent her a soft smile back, beating yourself up for not taking a test sooner.
the past week you had felt terrible. felt like someone had hit you with a bus, thrown it in reverse and then backed up over you. your emotions were all over the place, you couldn’t keep anything down, and suddenly you were craving things you didn’t even like.
your suspicions had brought you to lily, your best friend. alex’s girlfriend, the girl you could rely on for anything.
the alarm of the timer echoed throughout the hotel bathroom. you jumped, eyes quickly moving to the box where the lily had shoved in the little white stick.
you felt like you were going to throw up again because of how the nerves were shaking through your body, “can you…?”
“you don’t wanna read it?”
you shook your head fast, “no, i’m scared,”
she frowned softly, kneeling in front of you, “whatever happens, whatever you decide, i love you and i’m here for you.”
you nodded, letting her hand you the box, “what if he doesn’t feel the same? what if he’s not on the same page? i mean we haven’t even really talked about kids yet, i-“
lily was quick to calm your rambling, coaching you to just breathe for a second. you nodded at her, following her direction as you sucked in a shaky breath.
“for as long as i’ve known lando, he’s always talked about wanting kids,” she said, “and it’s no secret that he wants them with you. he wouldn’t have put that ring on your finger otherwise.”
you smiled softly down at the ring on your left hand, letting out a shaky, “you’re right,”
“usually am,” she smiled back at you as you both let out a laugh, “you ready?”
you nodded again, opening the box and fishing out the little white stick that was about to change your whole life. you flipped it over, turned it the right way around and read it over and over again.
it was positive. you were pregnant.
your silence was an answer in itself for lily as she smiled, cheering and hugging you as you let some of the tears fall down your cheeks and splash onto the marbled tile beneath you.
she had tears in her eyes as well, “you’re gonna be a mom!”
you smiled, letting out a soft laugh in disbelief, “i’m gonna be a mom,”
“the best one out there,” she smiled, pulling you up for a proper hug, “oh i’m so happy for you.”
you laughed again, thankful to have her in your life before you pulled away. you wiped the tears off your cheeks, “guess i should call my ob,” you said and she nodded quickly, “and figure out how i’m going to tell lando.”
lily hummed, “i’m sure you’ll think of something special.”
and you did. you were fiddling with the ring on your left finger, dressed in a black slip dress you had brought with you to the uk. silverstone was the best place on earth, his home race, where his friends were, his family.
and where you were about to tell him he was going to be a dad.
you had given lily the ‘ok’ to tell alex so that you had two people to make sure he would get to the surprise. they both didn’t waste any time, making it their top priority to get lando and bring him back to where you needed him as soon as possible.
you were seated on the blanket in the grass, looking up when you heard footsteps making their way to you. you looked up, the boy dressed in black with his signature white mclaren backwards cap catching your eye.
“hey,” he smiled, letting out a puff of air and looking around at the blanket you had set up, “alex and lily said you had something planned?”
you nodded, “come sit,”
he joined you on the blanket, careful not to knock over the gift box sitting in the middle. you smiled over at him, sensing his nerves.
“what’s up, love?”
you tilted your head towards the white box with a pretty bow on the top, “open it,”
he raised an eyebrow at you, “is something going to pop out at me?”
you laughed, “no! just open it,”
he sighed, complying as he kept it at a safe distance while he took the lid off. once the coast was clear, he reached his hand inside. he felt the plastic stick in his hand and what felt like a photo. he fished them out, eyes landing on the pregnancy test and the picture of the ultrasound you had to confirm that you were pregnant.
he gasped softly, immediately looking over at you before his eyes traveled down to your belly.
“baby,” he started, licking his lips as he sniffled softly, “are you being serious right now?”
you smiled, “deadly.”
he dropped the things back in the box, moving to carefully pull you in the tightest hug he could get you in, “i’m gonna be a dad.”
you nodded, pulling back and wiping under your eyes with the back of your hands, “yeah,”
“and you’re gonna be a mom,” he was really stating the obvious but it brought more tears to your eyes when he spoke, “you’re gonna be the best mom, baby.”
you kissed his cheek softly, “and you’re going to be the best dad.”
he smiled, pulling you closer as he pressed a soft kiss to your lips, “i love you.”
“i love you.”
₊‧°𐐪♡𐑂°‧₊
the months moved on and baby girl norris had finally entered the world, and lord did she have lando wrapped around her little finger already.
from the moment the two met, the nurses handing the little pink blanket over to him, it was game over. her big eyes, which resembled yours, looking straight up at him and her happy gurgles had his heart exploding as he looked down at his baby girl.
“hi, angel,” he cooed, fingers softly brushing against her skin over the tiny little moles and freckles that littered her skin, “oh, you’re perfect.”
you smiled over at your now husband, watching the two interact, “she is,”
he looked up at you, “and so are you, baby,”
you smiled at him, pressing a kiss to his shoulder as he sat next to you with the little girl in his arms. she was starting to struggle to stay awake, barely keeping her eyes open.
the two of you watched in contentment, his eyes a little watery before he looked back over at you, “we made that,”
you let out a soft chuckle, “we did a good job, yeah?”
he laughed with you, pressing a kiss to your temple, “we did,” he said, “i think you did all the heavy lifting, though. i was just here for the ride,”
you laughed, meeting his eyes, “mm, true,”
he smiled back with that same boyish grin to you, releasing a soft breath, “guess we should probably name her, huh?”
you hummed, “still like the one we had picked?”
he looked down now at the little girl in his arms who now had her eyes closed, sometime during your conversation she had fallen asleep. she was so peaceful and perfect and everything he loved about you wrapped up into one tiny little human. a tiny little human he got to create with you, the other half of his beating heart.
“i do, yeah,” he nodded, “welcome to the world wren norris.”
₊‧°𐐪♡𐑂°‧₊
you made your way up the stairs, a smile spreading on your face as you heard the little girls’ giggle coming from her bedroom. you leaned up against the door way, trying hard not to snicker at your husband who had found himself joining your daughter and her stuffed animals for a tea party.
you watched the two talk about tea and serve them to the dolls and stuffed animals sitting in their respective chairs for a couple minutes before you walked into the room.
“hey, baby,” lando said when you knelt down next to him, giving you the biggest smile, “joining us for some tea?”
“for a bit sure,” you smiled, “everyone will be here soon.”
“oh, mommy, look!” wren said excitedly, “daddy and i drew a picture for you.”
“oh, yeah?” you asked, watching the girl grab the piece of paper, “what is it?”
“we drew daddy’s race car!” she smiled brightly back at you.
you took the piece of paper, noticing the three other stick-figure men in the picture, another one in orange, one in blue and one in red.
“and you drew uncle carlos, oscar and danny?”
she nodded, “it was daddy’s idea.”
you laughed softly at your grinning husband, rolling your eyes playfully, “of course it was.”
you spent some time with you little family, letting them tell you all about their afternoon tea session with mr bear, kitty and mrs froggie, all the stuffed animals sitting in their respective seats.
you grabbed lando’s arm softly, pulling it towards you to read the time on his watch, “we gotta get you ready, wren. everyone’s gonna be here soon!”
she smiled, “can i still wear my princess dress?”
“of course, love,” you smiled. she happily jumped from her seat and ran off to her closet. you looked over at your husband, a smile still on both of your faces.
while you helped change wren into her princess dress, lando had started greeting those who had come to help celebrate your daughter’s third birthday.
it wasn’t long until the little girl left your side, immediately running over to her favorite uncle, “uncle max!”
you smiled when he bent down, picking her up and she squealed happily, “there’s the birthday girl!”
he tickled her sides playfully, her laughter booming as you joined your husband, his arm wrapping around your waist.
“did you get a pony this year?” he asked and you both snickered as wren shook her head.
“mommy said no,” she said, “but she said i could get a puppy!”
“a puppy?!”
you looked over at lando, “i said maybe,”
lando shrugged, “i know you’ll crack.”
“oh she has you wrapped around her finger, mate,” max laughed, looking back at the little girl he was holding, “don’t ya little one?”
“easy, fewtrell,” you laughed, “don’t give her ideas.”
he laughed softly, the little girl going back to her dad to say hi to her uncle alex and aunt lily, leaving you and max standing in the kitchen. he pulled you into his side, giving you a squeeze, “how’re you? i mean, other than enjoying being a mom.”
you laughed, “i’m good,” you let out of a soft breath, “where’s p?”
“she wasn’t feeling well, but she told me to say hi to everyone.”
you frowned, “damn, tell her i said hi and that i hope she feels better.”
he nodded, “i will,”
you both trailed off as you watched lando and alex playfully chase wren, trying to see who could pick her up first, “so, a puppy, huh?”
you rolled your eyes, “it was all him! not me,”
he laughed, “sounds about right, he’d do anything for that little girl.”
you smiled, watching your husband and daughter laugh as alex and lily talked with the birthday girl, asking her questions that made her giggle in response, “he would, and i wouldn’t want it any other way.”
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exquisiteserotonin · 1 year ago
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Word Count: 4.5K
Pairing: Joel Miller x Female Reader
Summary: After an altercation Ellie has at school, Joel visits you to have a talk
Warnings: Explicit, 18+ only (MDNI, PLEASE), angst, some violence, coarse language, brief talk of losing children and spouse (if this triggers you), Oral sex (Fem receiving), Squirting, PiV sex, Hurt-Comfort sex, Creampie, no use of y/n
A/N: Not-beta'd. I wrote this very, very quickly a few days ago when I was in some kind of incredibly weepy, hormonal mood or perhaps it was the full moon. Either way, that is why there is so much angst. I wasn't even sure if I wanted to share it today, but here we are. Real tears were shed during the writing of this fic. I'm a wife and a mom, hence why there is talk of reader once having a husband and children (Sorry, if that's not your thing or if you cannot relate). This generally follows canon except that Ellie and Joel are more fully integrated right away to the Jackson community.
Read on AO3
Take My Love, Take it Down
Screams, cries, and murmurs filled the freezing Wyoming air. A sharp pain took hold of your chest, creeping up your neck, and over your back as the sounds reached your ears. It sent you in a wave of memory and panic and was followed by the constant crunching of snow under a few shuffling feet. Clutching your chest, you took a few deep breaths as your charges came running towards you calling out your name. Well, your last name anyway. As their teacher, they didn’t get the privilege of knowing your first name. 
“She punched me!” One of your older students cried out as a few of his peers pushed him forward presenting him to you. 
You winced as you saw blood streaming down his nose, mixed with cold tears that were falling down his face. Other children watched with intrigue as you pulled a few tissues from your coat pocket, bringing them gingerly to his face, gesturing for him to hold pressure to his nose. 
“Who punched you, Carter?” You asked as holding gentle hands to his pale freckled face. 
He and several other students pointed in the same direction, fingers towards your new student, Ellie. You saw her standing a few yards away, her coat disheveled, the knees of her jeans scattered with dirt, and her face red from the cold, but also, mostly, from her anger. A sigh escaped you as you put your hands on your hips. Gently, you gestured for your other students to return to recess while asking your assisting teacher to bring Carter inside to clean up. 
“Ellie, could you come here please?” You requested, beckoning her over with what you hoped was a welcoming gesture.
“It wasn’t my fault, he started coming at me telling me what I should do and how I should be and I--,” her voice was fast and full of rage and pleading. 
“Ellie, stop,” you stated, a natural calm imbued in the tone of your voice, “let me see your hand.” 
The last words that fell from your lips must have been the perfect disarmament, since her response was to hold her hand out to you immediately. You pulled another tissue from your pocket and began to wipe away remnants of blood on her knuckles. Upon closer examination, any injuries she may have sustained were minor especially compared to what she had inflicted on Carter. 
“Carter can be a little much, can’t he?” you added, keeping your gaze on her. “I’m sure whatever he said or did, you've every right to feel the way you did.”
Her eyes lit up in relief at your words. It was a familiar look that you had seen before from your students. The look that lit up when they thought they were about to get away with something. You stilled yourself, holding back emotions that began to well up within you. It was a familiar look you had seen from your own children. 
“But just because someone wronged you doesn’t mean that your automatic reaction should be to hit them.”
“Are you fucking kidding me?” Ellie shouted at you. “This place sucks, with all your peace, love, and harmony shit.”
“Ok, you know what? You need to go inside, Ellie,” you stated, somehow retaining your calm. “In fact, everyone we all need to go inside; recess is over, time to get back to work.”
You waved for your students to line up, while pointing at a space directly in front of you with the expectation that Ellie would take the lead. Begrudgingly, she did, the remainder of the students falling in line behind her. 
As you trudged through the snow back to the school house, you turned to Ellie, “I think I’ll have to talk to Tommy or Maria about this.”
“Why?!” She snapped and then added, “Just because they got me in here doesn’t mean they’re family.”
“Well then, I guess I have to talk to Tommy’s brother,” you countered, “Joel, right?”
“Go ahead and do it then,” she retorted, “but he’s not my dad either.” 
You shrugged but nodded, listening carefully to her words. You never mentioned anything about him being her dad. You just knew that they’d shown up at the gate and were now the newest residents of your quiet community. 
Your one-room classroom buzzed with the chaotically happy energy so often found in a classroom. Thankfully, the rest of the day went without incident. Having students from a very young age to teenagers was not something you were used to. It brought a different kind of chaotic energy that was, at the very least, interesting to observe. The mix of pretend play from your youngest students and the giggling gossip from your oldest students represented life in a world that felt like nothing but death. That’s what everyone told you, anyway.
They didn’t even need to tell you, really. You saw it in their eyes; the way that children and their parents greeted you on the street with their eyes crinkled at the corners with joy and gratitude. It should have made you happy. It made you happy in your life before this. Sometimes you wondered to yourself why you were teaching again. No, most of the time you wondered why you were teaching. 
You replayed the memory of how it happened as you walked home. 
First Maria asked you. 
“No, I don’t think so.”  
Then Tommy asked you.
“No, I really don’t think I’m the right person for the job.”
Then Maria and Tommy asked you. 
The exhaustion that overcame you from their consistent requests eroded what little resistance you had. Their arguments and evidence were hard to defend against especially since you’d been a teacher and that the children in the community loved you. Out of some strange sense of obligation, you refrained from telling them that each day you were just going through the motions. You were like a robot completing an assigned task. Because doing, thinking, or feeling anything else was just too painful. 
You reached your home, a cozy little cottage that was more than enough for you. As you closed the door behind, you felt a tight pain in your chest similar to what you felt this morning. You strangely thought of Ellie, then thought of your boys, then your husband. It rose to your throat and it was suddenly hard to breathe. You rushed to the kitchen, filling a glass with much needed water. 
A loud knock on your door had you startled. Grabbing a pistol from a kitchen drawer you made your way to the door. The knock came again. 
Looking through the peephole allowed you some relief when you saw a familiar, rugged-faced man, with salt and pepper hair standing at your door. It was Joel Miller, Tommy’s older brother and Ellie’s apparent caretaker. You opened the door, pistol still in your hand. 
“Hello, I don’t think you’ll be needin’ that,” he gestured towards your gun, “though I won’t hold it against you if keep it nearby.”
“Oh, yeah, sorry” you nodded, “force of habit—please come in.”
You gestured for him to have a seat at a small round dining room table. You placed your gun away in a nearby drawer, observing Joel as he looked around your house. You winced as his eyes settled on a photo of you, your husband, and two children. Reluctantly, after his brief overview of your home, he moved towards your dining room table. 
“You’re probably wonderin’ why I’m here,” he said, taking a seat and spreading his legs in a way that you could only describe as hyper-masculine. 
You clenched your teeth beneath tightened lips as it spurred inexplicable feelings discomfort and disgust. They prodded at you simply because you had noticed. 
“Surprised, yes,” you said, trying to hide the trembling in your voice,“but I think I know why.”
“Ellie gave that boy a bloody nose.”
There was something in his voice, in that Texas drawl that sounded almost like…pride. 
“Yes, I know, I was there,” you acknowledged in exasperation, “I’m sure she had her reasons but I don’t think it warranted violence, Mr. Miller.”
“Joel,” he corrected, “I agree, but you have to understand where she’s comin’ from, ma’am.”
“Alright, Joel, can I get you some water?” you offered. “Please don’t call me ma’am, it makes me feel old.” 
You gave him your first name along with a glass of water. 
“Ellie’s been through a lot,” his voice was hushed and gravel-like as he gave his excuse, “you can’t hold it against her for tryin’ to stand up for herself.” 
“Joel,” you said calmly, tapping into the part of your brain where you held the voice you used when talking to parents at conferences, “we’ve all been through a lot here, doesn’t give us the right to start punching people in the face.” 
“You don’t know how good you’ve got it, though,” he continued, incredulously, “sittin’ pretty in your perfect little town, with your perfect little job, in your perfect little house---you don’t really know what’s out there right now.” 
“What?” 
Your hands began to tremble at the words, traveling up your arms, to your neck. It was as though someone lit a burner inside you and your blood was the fuel. Red and hot, like living lava from the volcano of you, it threatened to erupt. 
“You haven’t seen the things that I’ve seen,” he grumbled, standing up to pace around your home, his right hand trembling, “or done the things I’ve done.”
“What do you want a medal ‘cuz you’ve smuggled shit and killed some people in the process?” you scoffed and advanced on him. “You know, you roll up in here, saying you’re here for family and you come in to my house, Ellie’s teacher’s house, making excuses for her to bash another child’s face in and you expect me to give you sympathy because you’ve got people’s blood on your hands that you chose to spill?”
“I did what I had to survive,” his voice grew in volume as you stepped closer to him, “and I’m teaching Ellie to do the same.” 
“And I am doing exactly the same thing,” you growled at him. 
The way his left eye twitched and the way he moved his jaw told you that he wasn’t expecting that answer. Beyond your control, you felt tears start to sting the corner of your eyes. A sudden feeling of helplessness and shame overcame you as felt the sudden urge to explain yourself to a man you had only known in passing for a few days. 
“I’m not stupid, Joel; Maria and Tommy are my friends, my good friends,” you spoke, not moving from where you stood. “I know what you lost and I know you know…”
The hatred you felt for yourself amplified as the tears fell freely from your eyes. Your view of Joel was blurry from your tears as you tried to find your words again. 
“I know you’re not stupid, I saw you looking at my photos, so you know what I’ve lost,” your lips trembled and stumbled at every word. “I have nightmares all the time and I see them--and how I had to l-leave my, my boys.” 
A broken shell of you was all that was left. Maybe Joel was right, maybe you were just a broken shell in a perfect town, with a perfect job, in a perfect house. All of it perfect from the outside, but none of it real. You drew your hands to your face trying to stop the tears from falling from your eyes as Joel stared back at you. You spotted a flinch here and there as he tried to gather the knowledge to comfort you. 
“I’m sorry, I--,” he said as he reached a tentative hand towards you, but you shook your head and finally took a step away from him. 
“This is how I’m trying to survive, Joel, to try to make things better, but I’m just---just  fucking it all up,” you said through tears. “Everyday, I’m doing this job that your brother begged me to do and everyday I wake up and it’s never real. And these kids, they’re depending on me and asking me to help them with the simplest things and I can’t; my chest hurts and I can’t breathe, and I fuck up, and I fail, and I lose everything.”
The tears were falling so freely now that you can’t even see Joel. All you heard is how loud the silence is, louder than the tears and labored breaths that are escaping from you. You tried to mumble something unintelligibly to Joel. An apology. An explanation. But you’re certain it just comes out in even messier sobs. The next sound that floats to your ears is the creaking of your floor beneath Joel’s booted footsteps as he moves towards you and unexpectedly grabs you by the arm to wrap you in the tightest embrace that you’ve felt in the longest time. 
Tears stained his leather jacket and shirt as you cry into his chest. He spoke nothing. His comfort came in the rise and fall of his chest as he breaths, in the way that he somehow manages to understand to caress the back of your head and your hair, and in the way that his hands rub your shoulders as he squeezes you tighter as if doing so might somehow expel some of your pain. And somehow it did, if only just a little bit. It was enough to allow you to wrap your arms around his waist in return. Your hands explored his back, rubbing up and down to give him back some of the comfort he had given you. 
Everything is still dark behind your closed eyes that are still buried in his shirt. With one quivering exhale, you managed to look up to find him looking back at you. His eyes that were tight with stoicism and anger when he stepped through the threshold of your door had changed. Round, soft, deep brown, and glossy with the onset of tears. You knew them like an old friend because they were just like yours, because they’d seen the same horror and felt the same pain. You took your hands from his waist and cautiously brought them towards his face, learning more with your eyes before he gave you the slightest nod as a form of permission. With your fingers, you gently caressed the wrinkles on his forehead tracing down to his temples until you wiped away the tears that had managed to escape from the corners of his eyes. You held your hands at his cheeks, keeping hold of his gaze with your own. He brought his hands to grip yours, rubbing his thumbs on your wrists before his fingers met your forearms with a touch that was beginning to awaken something inside you. 
“I reckon we’re more alike than we are different,” his words were a cathartic confession. 
You nodded, uncertainty still circling around you as you caressed his face and began to lace your fingers in his dusty-colored hair. It seemed to be all the permission he needed to dive forward to kiss you as he held your face gently in his hands. But you needed more, as quickly as he had moved in to kiss you, you began to peel his jacket off his broad shoulders, throwing it on a chair at your dinner table. A determined, almost dangerous stare filled his eyes as he discarded the flannel shirt beneath his jacket. You pulled off your sweater and blouse in one skillful move, tossing it without a worry as to where it landed. You were left standing before him only in your jeans and bra.  
An obvious hunger had taken over you both, as he lunged at you grabbing you by the waist and pulling you in for a kiss less chaste than the last. Your lips held onto each other, tongues exploring and tasting each other through the remnants of salty tears. You hooked your hands into his belt loops, grabbing him by his ass to push his hips towards yours, feeling his cock beginning to twitch and harden with need. 
“Bedroom,” you commanded breathlessly. 
He nodded and then lifted you as you leveraged yourself against his chest and shoulders as you wrapped your legs around his waist while he kept his mouth on yours. He threw you on the bed, eliciting a quiet yelp as you bounced on the firm mattress. You shifted yourself further up the bed as he crawled towards you. Pushing yourself up to your knees you moved towards him pulling him to you by his shirt with desperation. 
“You’re wearing too many clothes,” you sighed, gently pulling it over his head. 
He smiled and let out a breathy chuckle. It was the first time you’d seen him smile since the moment he reunited with Tommy when he and Ellie first arrived in town. This was different, of course: a little playful and a little dirty and something you hoped, at least in the moment, was just for you. 
“Sorry, y’know it’s winter,” he chuckled again as his lips were back on you. 
His hand cupped your breast and then his mouth traveled to your shoulder. You lowered your back to the bed, allowing him to come down with you, his arms pushing himself up on either side of you to get a better view for him to admire your body with his eyes. With a gentle touch of your finger nails, you caressed his forearms and triceps. Your eyes studied the broadness of him and how his chest looked especially strong as he propped himself over you. 
“I’m gonna apologize, ya know, before we---,” he warned quietly, “it’s been a little while.” 
“I reckon we’re more alike than we are different,” you whispered, repeating the words he spoke moments before he kissed you. 
Faster than you could think, he was on you again, somehow expertly unclasping your bra as he rolled with you in your bed sheets. You helped him unbuckle, unzip, and pull off his jeans, laughing as he clumsily kicked them off with his boxers somewhere on your carpeted bedroom floor. With an involuntary bite of your lip, you admired his large, uncut cock as he moved towards you, this time helping you unbutton and unzip your jeans. You lifted your hips as he slid your jeans from them, taking your underwear with them tossing them on the floor to join his. 
You stared at each other for a few moments, drinking in the view of each other’s bodies, maybe even holding a picture of it in your head to keep as a memory to hold on to forever. 
“You sure ‘bout this?” He asked, giving you one more chance to make a smarter, level-headed decision. 
“Joel, please,” you implored, your fingers dancing in his hair, “I need this, need you.”
He brought his face close to yours, first pressing his lips to your forehead in a sweet kiss before giving you an equally gentle kiss on your lips. Everything else he did with his mouth however, was anything but sweet and gentle. He led with his tongue, first at your neck and then between the valley of your breasts until he tasted each one, swirling his tongue around the pebbled surface, lightly biting at them with his teeth. The anticipation of where his tongue was leading left you panting. The softness of his lips paired with the coarseness of his mustache and facial hair was the perfect contradiction. Your breath hitched as he kissed your mound, stopping there long enough for you to panic about what he would do next. 
“Joel, is everything ok? Is there…is there something wrong?” You propped yourself up on your elbows to look down at him. 
“Not at all, sweetheart,” he murmured his voice full of marvel like he’d seen a dream, “just admirin’ the view.”
You smiled and before you could say anything else, his mouth was on you. You closed your eyes and threw your head back, as he worked on you first with a broad lap of his tongue through your folds. He works through them at a torturous pace, pitiful moans echoing through your quiet bedroom. And then he moved faster as he savored you, finding your clit poking at it first with a pointed tip of his tongue until he took it between a tight purse of his lips, sucking on it  furiously until you cried out for him to give you more. He swiped a few more heavy stripes down your folds until his lips are on your clit again, sucking and humming, the vibrations making your already sensitive center weepingly wet. 
“Oh god, god, Joel,” you moaned, your hands grasping at his hair, “I haven’t felt this good in so long.”
You cried out incoherently as he chuckled and returned his attention to your clit, maneuvering two fingers in and out of you as his lips continue to suck and vibrate on the most sensitive part of you. He continued to move his fingers in and out of your folds at an agonizingly fast pace. You whimpered helplessly, crying out his name over and over as he worshipped your cunt like his own personal idol. The pressure from his mouth intensified on your clit as his fingers pulsed in and out, in and out until you cried out seeing stars. A hot gush of liquid came out of you covering his face and hand, dripping onto your ass and onto the sheets beneath you. 
“Shit…fuck, Joel, Joel!” You wail, clutching at the sheets from your orgasm. 
He let go of your clit with a gentle kiss that makes your body jolt from overstimulation. Your body was still writhing from your climax, your breaths were still fast as you tried to bring yourself down. Opening your eyes, you lay in a misty daze as Joel crawls towards you, wiping his face and facial hair with the tips of his fingers and the pad of his thumb, taking one last lick of your essence. You hadn’t seen anything so erotic in years and you pulled him close, your chests pressed together as you took him in a long and sensual kiss. 
“Oh sweetheart, we made a little mess,” he growled as he positioned himself over you. 
“I--I forgot I could do that,” you said, still coasting on the high of your last orgasm. 
Joel breathed out with a low and sexy, but at the same time sheepish. You looked at him, seeing his cheeks slightly pink with a mixture of pride and humility. 
“Glad I could help you remember,” he replied with a smirk,that quickly changed into a heavy groan as you pumped his girthy cock. “Fuck sweetheart.”
“Need to feel you inside me, Joel,” you pleaded, bucking your hips up to his. 
“Yes, baby,” he grunts as you wrap your leg around his thigh. 
With a sudden urge you sat up and held him close, kissing him fervently and rolling over him so that his back was on the bed. Your fingernails gently scratched his expansive chest as you straddle him. His eyes gleamed with anticipation that evolved into pure pleasure as you lowered yourself down onto his cock, unable to keep from moaning with the feeling of him stretching you. You bounced on his cock and grind on him with the tightest of circles. 
“Oh, fuck, Joel you feel so good,” you cried, your pussy fluttering with each bounce. 
“Come on, baby,” he groaned as he started to buck his hips up into you with the same rhythm of your bounce. “Keep ridin’ me, you feel so good.”
Moans and slaps of your skin are all that fills the air in your room. You grabbed at his thighs, feeling ecstasy with each bounce. To your surprise he sat up and grabbed you by the waist, thrusting into you and rolling you over so he’s back on top. For a brief moment, his cock left you and you felt suddenly empty. He settled over, pushing your bent legs up towards your chest. The pad of his thumb easily found your clit again and with a few slaps of his cock at your folds, he was pushing into you again. His hips rocked into you in a new found depth and pace as his thumb continued to circle your bundle of nerves. In this position he felt even wider than he had before and your heart and mind raced with each desperate thrust Joel made. That magic feeling began to will within you again as Joel’s pace became faster and faster. 
“Fuck, sweetheart, I don’t think I can hold on much longer,” he growled through thrusts, grabbing your hips tightly and angling them upward. 
“Oh god, Joel, please, baby,” you cried, knowing you were right there with him. “Take what you need, baby, please take what you need.”
Neither of you could speak anymore. You’d evolved into an orchestral union of bodies, reaching out for each other and crying out each other's names with each grind, push, and thrust. And like dying stars, you exploded together in your orgasms, crying out praise and gratitude for it all and each other. The way his cock pounded in and out of you so easily and how it mingled with your sticky sweetness took you away for a moment. You began to shake uncontrollably and pulled his face close to yours. 
“Oh fuck---I, sweetheart---” was the last thing he moaned before looking to you for a final answer to a question unspoken. 
“Come inside me, Joel, it’s OK,” you assured, shaking as he gave one, two, three more thrusts to fill you up with him before he whimpered into the crook of your neck. 
You collapsed together on your bed, a tangle of heavy breaths and intertwined limbs. For the longest time, you bathed together in your naked silence, pulling up your quilted comforter over your bodies that were starting to get a little cold from the tiniest bit of winter air that you could feel through the walls. 
Through closed eyes you listened to Joel’s heartbeat through his chest where you had rested your head. He had taken your hand and rested it there, gently caressing it with his. More little comforts came to you in the form of him nuzzling your hair with his cheek and kissing your forehead. You could fall asleep like this, but being awake was more fulfilling in every possible way. 
“Hey,” you heard his voice whisper as he caressed your hair and then your shoulder, “you asleep?”
“No,” you murmured, waiting and wondering about his next words. 
“I’m sorry about Ellie,” he apologized. 
“Mmm, it’s okay,” you replied and then added, “just give her time, she’ll find her way.” 
Heart beats and deep breaths and caresses between words. 
“I think so,” Joel’s voice was rough but more resolved than how he had spoken when he came to your door, “I think with your help, she will.” 
You smiled, feeling tears again slip from the corners of your eyes, a cleansing exhale leaving from your lungs. “Thank you for the vote of confidence.” 
He shifted, squeezed your shoulder, and brushed your hair out of your face until you were looking up at him. 
“Hey, baby,” he said softly and then kissed you, his fingers caressing your skin, “you take what you need.”
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meganwritesfanfics · 2 years ago
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What a Lovely Way of Saying How Much You Love Me
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Jamie Tartt x Reader
Jamie and the reader finally talk about being pregnant.
Check out Part 1, Part 2 Part 4 Part 5
Thank you all so much for the love you have shown for this. Jamie has easily become one of my favorite TV characters of all time and I think Phil is a phenomenal actor. I still have some more ideas for this before I wrap up this storyline, so stay tuned.
_________________________________________________________
Y/N had been laying in bed almost the whole day watching sappy rom coms, trying to make herself feel even just a bit better, but nothing was working. All she wanted was Jamie here to hold her and make her feel better, and she feared those days were long gone. She knew Jamie loved her but this was something bigger than both of them ever had anticipated. 
Suddenly her vision of the future changed, Jamie would stay with her, he would give up football, he would marry her, and he would be miserable. Thinking he had to do the honorable thing, he would sacrifice everything for her. 
“Oh no,” She said as she quickly sat up. “No, no, no.” 
Y/N knew she couldn’t let that happen, Jamie couldn’t change his whole life just for her, she wouldn’t let him. She knew that if Jamie wasn’t going to leave that she had to be the one to go, to let him off the hook and let him live his life. 
With that thought she sprung out of bed and began to pack. 
“Baby!” She heard a voice call. 
“Fuck,” She said under her breath as she began to close up her suitcase. 
“Y/N are you here!” Jamie called again.
In her panic she didn’t even hear the door to the bedroom open. 
“What are you doin’” Jamie asked his voice sounding broken. 
Y/N sucked in her breath trying to compose herself before she turned to look at Jamie. But when she saw him standing in the doorway a gigantic bouquet of rose lilies, her favorite flowers she shattered.
“Oh Jamie,” She broke down crying as she sat on the edge of the bed. 
“Hey, hey.” Jamie said quickly rushing to her side. He set down the flowers on the bedside table before he knelt down in front of her taking her face in his hands 
“Those are beautiful,” She groaned in between her sobs. 
“I know they are your favorite, and I needed to do some major groveling.” 
“You don’t have to do anything Jamie, I…” She tried to compose herself but whether it be the situation or the hormones that were causing havoc she couldn’t get her emotions under control. 
“Were you plannin’ on going somewhere?” He asked his worried eyes darting to the suitcase. 
“I can’t do this to you Jamie.” She hiccuped. 
“Do what baby?” 
“Ruin your life.” Y/N responded as she reached up and took his hands in hers. “You don’t want this baby, I get it. But I don’t think  I want to get rid of it. There is a part of me that has always wanted to be a mom but I… I don’t want to lose you. But I can’t be selfish with you, you have worked too hard and too long to just give everything up.” 
“Who said I would have to give it up? Look at Zava, he has kids and he is still one of the best players out there.” 
“Yeah but Jamie, he let his kids name themselves, I don’t really think being a parent is high on his priority list.” 
“Ya, you’re right.” 
“So I’m going to go, I’m going to let you off the hook. If you want down the line to be in this baby’s life wonderful, but I’m not expecting anything from you.” Y/N said and she started to let go of his hands. However Jamie just held on tighter. 
“Wait a minute, Y/N I want to be in your life, and I want…” He took a deep breath. “I want this baby. I know that how I handled the news was bad. And I am so sorry, I was just… I was terrified. I was so scared that I would be a fuck up just like my dad.” 
“Honey, you are nothing like him.” Y/N said as she reached up and ran her fingers through his hair. 
“I just didn’t think I could risk it. And I didn’t want to make your life miserable either, hell I know I’m not always the most easy to get along with, and I didn’t want a kid to make it worse.” He continued. “But I had a good talk with Ted and I want this. I want this life with you.” 
“But what about your career Jamie?” 
“I don’t think anything has to change. Ya things are going to be different around here and ya things are going to get a bit challenging, but what today showed me is that we have so many people in our lives that care about us. They are going to be there for us every step of the way.”
“Roy is weirdly good with kids.” Y/N smirked. 
“Exactly, so I think we are going to be just fine.” He smiled widely as he pulled her in for a long kiss. “Now if you would let me I would like to redo my initial reaction to you telling me you’re pregnant.” 
Y/N laughed as Jamie wiped her tears away. 
“Are you serious?” 
“Yes, now.” Suddenly he stood up and ran towards the bedroom door. “Pretend you just found out and I have just come home. Ok action.” He said as he walked out into the hallway and shut the door. 
Y/N couldn’t help but giggle. 
“Honey I’m home!” Jamie called as he flung open the door. 
“Jamie, darling light of my life, I have the most wonderful news.” 
“And what is that Y/N my peach.” He replied putting on his best posh accent. 
“We are going to have a baby.” 
Suddenly Jamie’s dynamic changed as he wrapped his arms around her. “I love you, and I love this baby.” He whispered. They stayed like that for a moment with Jamie’s face buried in Y/N’s hair as he held onto her tightly, before he picked her up in his arms and spun her around. 
“Is it too early to start thinking of baby names?” He asked. 
“If it’s a boy I’m think about naming him Roy.” Y/N teased. 
“Absolutely not, we are not naming my son after that grandpa.” Jamie laughed as he laid down on the bed positioning Y/N on top of him, his arms still wrapped tightly around her. “Speaking of Roy, you may need to call him and tell him everything is ok, I think he is planning my murder.” 
Y/N laughed as she looked up at Jamie, resting her chin on his chest. “I love you Jamie, so much.” She beamed. “You are going to make such a great dad.” 
Jamie’s eyes filled up with tears as he leaned down and kissed her again. When they broke apart Y/N snuggled back into Jamie’s embrace. Jamie placed a kiss on the top of her forehead. “Ya if Roy doesn’t murder me first.” He whispered and Y/N let out a loud laugh.
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bl00dst41ned · 1 year ago
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*.·:·.✦ another lifetime ✦.·:·.*
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pairing: jude bellingham x black female oc (named her Nevaeh)
summary: in which when a life ends, another one begins
author's note: ummm…….i’m sorry guys. inspired by nao's 'another lifetime' song
warnings: mention of car accident and death
word count: 1856
“It’s gonna be a bit cold”
The translucid gel dripped on Nevaeh’s belly as she laid down on the hospital bed. The obstetrician spread the gel around the round stomach using her little sound instrument. She clicked a button, turning on the screen.
Nevaeh watched it move around until appeared the perfectly-formed baby silhouette. Her eyes gazed at the black and white image in awe.
“There she is”
“Looks like she’s sucking her thumb” Nevaeh pointed before looking at her left.
At her left sat Jude, whose leg couldn’t stop shaking out of excitement. His eyes glistened as he watched his baby girl.
His longtime girlfriend Nevaeh and him were expecting a little girl. Today was their last ultrasound before their baby’s arrival, due in two weeks. And the same as the others, they were in wonder in front of their little creation.
“She’s getting in the right position to get out” The doctor pointed on the screen. “But the due date stays the same”
She told them a few more information on the baby’s vitals and on the upcoming birth before the visit ended. The couple checked out of the clinic before leaving out of the building. Jude's hand automatically reached for Nevaeh's, tangling them together as he rubbed his thumb on her hand.
They walked to Jude’s car swaying their hands together. Once they both got in, Jude booked a Uber for Nevaeh since she had to go home and him, to training. As they waited for her driver to arrive, they sat in a comfortable silence. 
Jude occasionally left soft kisses on his girlfriend’s cheek.
Nevaeh was the apple of Jude’s eye. She could always catch him lost staring. He admired her brown skin glowing in the sun that he loved so much. Her braids that she insisted on getting to be comfortable to give birth. Her naturally curved eyelashes moving as Nevaeh closed her eyes.
“You can’t sleep now, baby” Jude smiled seeing her tired expression. He knew how much Nevaeh hated to be woken up out of a nap, so he didn’t want to take the risk to make her mad, even more now that she was nine months pregnant.
“This driver need to come, I wanna sleep”
Deciding to stay awake, Nevaeh took her phone out, opening the Instagram app only to be met with her baby-filled feed. Her eyes shined from the overload cuteness, tears filling her eyes.
“Why are you crying, babe?” Jude asked, trying hard not to laugh. “It’s the babies again?”
“I just can’t wait, Nugs” Nevaeh called him by the affectionate nickname she gave him years prior. “Like, we’re going to be parents, and it feels like a dream come true” She ranted, full-blown crying. “Because I could not imagine another person to start a family with than with the person I love the most, and that’s you”
Her words had left Jude speechless. Nevaeh was shy when it comes to vocalise her feelings. She would write him letters to express her love, but the hormones had made her talk more and let her emotions out to him.
“I love you too” He responded with a grin. “And I can’t wait for her to arrive too. You’re my forever best friend and will be the greatest mom of all moms”
They exchanged a kiss and Jude went down to kiss her stomach, the baby kicking instantly. They observed her belly move as their daughter’s feet moved.
“Time for you to go” Jude realised the Uber had just came. He walked out the car going to open Nevaeh’s and help her out the vehicle. He accompanied her to the car, settling her in and not forgetting to drop a peck on her forehead.
“Bye Nugs I love you”
“I love you, babe”
………
Nevaeh's hand rested on her pregnant belly, feeling her daughter's light kicks against her palm. Her eyelids were now heavier and she started to doze off. Before she could, she heard the driver shout.
Nevaeh didn't get to look at what happened that her head was projected to the top of the car. Nevaeh crouched as much as she could, protecting her child as the car flipped over and over again. 
The scene looked straight out of a horror movie. The sound of windows shattering, the screams, the metal dropping on the concrete. 
Bypassers ran to the crashed Honda, ambulance already called over. A deadly atmosphere filled the space around. The violence of the accident left no hope to them for anybody to be alive as they still looked inside.
“There’s a pregnant woman!” One of them shouted seeing Nevaeh’s hands around her belly.
She opened her eyes once it stopped, only for them to be blinded by the smoke in the car. She could only mumble weakly "Nugs" before falling unconscious.
...........
"Jude"
At the call of his name, the man started running towards to get the ball from his teammates and shoot it in the goal. He went back to his place with his head down, breathing hard. As he looked up, he saw the club’s secretary, Louise, call him over.
He furrowed his eyes the closer he got to Louise, catching her worried face expression.
“What’s wrong?”
She stumbled on her words, struggling to form a sentence. She finally took a deep breath before breaking the news clearly.
“You need to get to the hospital quick, Nevaeh had got into a bad car accident-”
Louise could not even finish her sentence that he had took off running to his phone and car keys and rush to his pregnant girlfriend.
Each minute spent in the car felt like an hour. His sweaty hands gripped the steering wheel harder every time he had to stop at a red light. He silently prayed for his girlfriend and daughter to be alright and kept all negatives thoughts out of his mind.
At the hospital, he pratically ran to the front desk.
“Hello, I’m looking for my girlfriend” He managed to say in a calm voice. “She had gotten in a car accident earlier”
The nurse looked on her computer before answering to him.
“Third floor, the elevator’s on the far right” She pointed the direction.
Jude thanked her quickly before rushing to the third floor. He cut road of the first doctor that came his way.
“Excuse me, do you know where’s my girlfriend, she got in a car accident”
“Oh yeah, I’ll check, just wait there”
Jude did as told going to the waiting room. He tried to sit still but got up the next minute pacing back and forth in the room and sitting again. He repeated the cycle until a nurse came into the room, catching his attention.
“Are you here for a certain Nevaeh ?”
“Yes, can I see her ?” He immediately asked, frustrated to see her shake her head.
“Not yet. But there’s somebody else who wants to see you”
Jude was confused for a bit, not knowing who he had to see other than his partner. But one look at the nurse’s face made it clear in his mind. She was here.
He followed behind the nurse to a room, with another nurse inside. He approached them to see a newborn girl move around. His newborn girl.
“Look who’s there to see you” One of the nurse cooed. “You’d like to hold her”
“Obviously”
His face now held the biggest smile, showing his white teeth.
“Okay, take off your shirt and sit there”
Jude did as told as she set his daughter on his chest. The little baby gesticulated slowly before settling.
Jude stayed stiff, intimidated by this tiny little human, which the nurse had caught on.
“Relax” She said with a chuckle, earning one from Jude too. “We’re here if anything happens”
They reassured him the first few minutes before setting back, seeing that he felt more comfortable.
Finally alone with his child, Jude took a look to take in her features. Her fair skin from just being born. Her little head, her little hands, her little legs. She looked so tiny in his hands, fragile as porcelain. He watched her eyes opening and closing. Her dark brown eyes, just like her mom’s.
He snapped a quick picture as the nurses came to him.
“Seems like dad is handling it well”
Jude smiled while keeping his eyes on his little one.
“She has a lot of hair too” He rubbed the short black hair. “Nevaeh’s gonna be so happy to not have had heart burns for nothing”
The nurses face expression changed instantly. Their wide smiles were now replaced with concerning looks. It was silent for a few seconds before the one that took him to see his baby spoke.
“Unfortunately, Nevaeh didn’t survive the accident, I’m sorry”
Her voice resonated as if the room was entirely empty.
After the birth of their daughter, he didn’t even think of Nevaeh not being alright too.
“How c- what happened?”
“She…died shortly after the baby was born. I guess she used her last forces into giving birth”
Jude stared into space and his hand mechanically caressed his baby’s skin. A baby he never imagined raising without Nevaeh. Within hours, he had gone through the best and worst moments of his life, his mind split from happiness and sadness.
Jude walked out of the room minutes later, his head hanging low and feet dragging. He joined his family that he had called earlier. They quickly got up at his sight and Denise first started talking.
“How are they?”
“Little girl is here and healthy”
“And Nevaeh?”
His silence spoke louder than words could ever done. Since the news was broken to him, Jude had kept himself from crying, scared that his daughter could feel his sadness. But as soon as his mother wrapped her arms around him, all the tears bottled inside escaped his eyes. 
He cried, his head snuggled in Denise’s chest, feeling like a child again. A child who just fell and needed a hug. His heart got hurt and needed comfort. Denise’s hand gently rubbed the back of his neck while reassuring him. Just like Nevaeh does. 
Like she used to do.
judebellingham
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judebellingham I've never imagined having to write this. Nothing could have prepared me for it. Losing my best friend but also welcoming another one. And for that Nevaeh I thank you. For gathering the little rest of strength into bringing our love into this world, that you cherished so much. Best believe she'll be reminded of that every day. She looks just like you aswell. I wish you could see her. Sometimes it's hard to not have you by my side, but there's always someone to help me. So I should be alright. I hope you are granted Heaven. Because that is what you are. You were my Heaven on Earth. Heaven is your name. And that's where we'll meet again. I’ll see you in another lifetime. Until then, I’ll take good care of little Shaili, I promise. I love you both with all my heart 🐻‍❄️🤍 - Nugs
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like and repost for support (hope you enjoyed it)
i'm so sorry y'all but the song inspired me too much
masterlist for more
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readychilledwine · 1 year ago
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Non fanfiction writing ✨️Liz update✨️ so I can cry and get over it
Im hoping typing this out makes me feel better, please feel free to ignore it.
Warning - breastfeeding and babies, separation anxiety, alcohol use
I will start by saying I do not think my friend meant to hurt my feelings or make me cry.
She has 3 kids, I have my Sophia.
I made the choice to breastfeed and pump because I emotionally needed that closeness, I wanted our baby girl to have the benefits, and it is honestly so much cheaper for us in the long run. When baby daddy takes a shift each day, he feeds her what I've pumped. In short, our beautiful Sophi is exclusively on breastmilk. We both believe fed is best, always, and our friends know this. How you feed a baby is such a personal choice with a lot of factors, and we picked based on my needs and our budget.
Anyways! My parents and brothers, because she NEEDED four babysitters, let me tell yah she's a wild party girl, all volunteered to watch her tonight so baby daddy and I could do to a local band's concert at one of our favorite bars.
I obviously am not drinking, and that works out great because daddy is. He's had a long week at work, and if he wants a few drinks, he deserves them. My friend asked me if I wanted to do shots with her, I told her no, and explained why when she asks.
She looked at me and went, "This is why I didn't breastfeed. I'm not an animal and I don't want to be boring."
I mentally understand that she's actually saying, "I wanted to be able to live my life and enjoy things without feeling like I was someone else's food source."
But ya girl started crying.
It was my first night away from our daughter, so that already had me fairly emotional, and that kind of really... sucked I guess..
Baby daddy was immediately on it and defending me. We ended up leaving and going to a different bar with another one of our couple friends who was kind of appalled she said that. My older brother, a pediatric nurse, tried to make me feel better, but I'm crying again because of postpartum hormones.
Hopefully, crying it out helps, or expect a sad reader mom fic to help me process.
Also, low-key that tequila sounded fire, I just don't want to disrespect my body and it's hard work by having to pump and dump.
Thanks for letting me vent
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oneforthemunny · 2 years ago
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was just thinking if naming their girls was a hassle for nepo baby and eddie? Specially sephy bc you know that thing when you truly realize how many ppl you dislike when trying to name your baby lmao I feel baby nepo liked a name and eddie was like yeaaah no I had an "ex" named like that or nepo baby being all nope i knew a ___ in hs and I fucking hated her
persephone I think was the hardest, but only bc like they weren't sure what to name a kid lol. they only came up with the greece thing after nepo baby was like about to pop she was so pregnant and she still didn't have a name, and everything was either not personal or they didn't like, and she's hormonal and emotional.
"she's not gonna have a name!" you wailed.
"she'll have a name, honey, let's look at the book-"
"the book is fucking stupid! I don't like any of those names!" you throw the book in a fit of hormonal rage.
eddie is like omfg bc you're kinda scary like this lol, but also like he doesn't want you to turn on him. so he's kinda scrambling for ideas while you're shooting names back and forth, he probably says like "paris" or some destination name just bc it's a rising name at the time.
you're like emotional as fuck saying something like "she's never even been to paris, ed!" bc like???? k no shit baby hasn't been anywhere, but eddie gets the idea.
"what about after greece, princess? the doctor said the conception date was in greece."
and it's the only thing you love. so eddie (bc he was a greek mythology kid like let's get real) you guys start looking through all these mythology books. you almost go with athena bc it's pretty, but the persephone one sticks out to you. her mom sucked and she fell in love with hades, like it just kinda reminded you of your situation and how it lead to this baby, so you fall in love with it.
kensington, after you find out she was conceived in london, you decide like ok let's do the same thing lol. you almost name her london, just bc it was a popular-ish name at the time, but you just didn't want to. and you wanted her middle name to be klein (after your maiden name for your grandmother and aunt who you loved) and london klein just wasn't hitting.
so you're watching a show one day and they said kensington palace on the show and it just kinda clicked. kensington klein was perfect so you went with it.
the twins, same thing, in italy. it was a little bit more difficult, bc originally you were going to name then milan (boy or girl) then you found out it was twins and you just couldn't find a name that was like italian and equal to milan.
so eddie sephy and kensie started calling their practice dolls "sissy" just bc they were babies lol. and it kinda clicked in your head like "sicliy sounds like that" so you had that name in your mind.
and farrah actually was telling you about her trip to tuscany for a family wedding and mentioned she stayed in "siena" and it was just like a moment for you where you realized that was their names lol.
you spelled it "sienna" honestly bc eddie wrote it on the birth certificate and do two n's instead of one, which was a major issue (he got his ass reamed ofc when he finally came clean bc you saw it on their little bassinets and was like ??? they spelled her name wrong and he was like .... wdym??) but it stuck.
zahra was easy too. same situation, found out it was in egypt, and really her conception was greatly credited to the perfume that you got that eddie swears had like horny pheromones in lol.
the trip was given to you two by farrah and when you found out that the perfume had the name "zahra" for flower it just seemed perfect. followed what you guys were doing with the name pattern and kinda was an ode to farrah bc they sounded similar.
then with vega like she was a whoospie. so it took you a while to track it down but your obgyn told you and it was like ofc it was vegas lol. at first, you were going to name her presley (whether it was a boy or girl) after elvis bc it seemed fitting.
there just wasn't a lot of vegas inspired baby names besides caesar and names you weren't crazy about. eddie is to credit with this name bc he came home on day just wide eyed and like ecstatic to tell you that he'd found a name.
vega, which is the name of the brightest star. he had taken zahra to get a telescope (bc she was into constellations at the time) and she was rambling about all the constellations and stars she wanted to see, looking at her little stargazing book and said the name and eddie was like.... omfg that's perfect.
turns out it was on the sign too for las vegas, so vega it was.
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delta-lethonomia · 5 months ago
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Minor livejournal-style vent/depression rant under the cut, thoughts about trauma's effect on writing:
(No need for sympathy, just yelling into the void lol. Plenty of trigger warnings...)
Listening to: Sweet Dreams by Eurythmics
Man, I know it's just hormones + low-key depression, but my brain's in a real simmering "everything you work on sucks, you'll never have a career nor the respect of your peers, you'll probably get cancer too because why not, we all die, and you should start a fight with [husband] so he can go marry someone who actually financially contributes to the household instead of bringing a bucketload of family and personal trauma to the table" type vibe. Which-
-is such a braindead take??? What 🤌 The 🤌 Fuck 🤌 brain 🤌
I know it's the ~trauma response~ talking here with the desire to set my life on fire because clearly I've been too relaxed lately, but I'm not twenty anymore so stop👏 it 👏 ugh. I know better, but it's an endless fight until the last of that programming gets eradicated.
Anyway, the last time one of my parents died, I drank a bunch and then the pandemic hit 2 months later so that was nice, relaxing, and validating tbh. Unfortunately I also gained a bunch of weight I never managed to shake off afterwards so I'd rather not go that route again. Also someone I knew drank themselves to death at age 30? So uh. Unpleasant. 0/10, would not recommend. Don't do that.
Sigh. The solution, of course, is to take a fucking shower and then go for a walk & get some sunlight, but I really want to get this chapter finished... the chapter, of course, where my notes explicitly state "happy fun times! The calm before the storm! Show a version of what could be, if Tav and Astarion manage to stay together and not eat one another alive."
Hmm. Real shocker that I'm struggling with it. The draft is 4.5k and gets darker every time I poke at it. 🙄 Maybe that's the solution, throw narrative convention out the window and just write where my heart takes me, and if it leads to one of the worse endings then so be it. It's fun, too, because we haven't even hit the particular brand of bullshit that I have a lot of experience with that I know is gonna upset me lol (not cancer or death related, surprisingly enough. I contain ✨multitudes✨).
One of my favorite artists is going through hell with her own cancer, and the things she draws are incredibly fucked up and dark. I feel like there's definitely a link between personal trauma and turning that into art, so I guess it's not surprising per se that my mom's recent death is affecting the way I write FATWR, but it's just kind of sad that something I've invested so much time and effort into feels like it's become less a work of my conscious mind and more a reflection of the needs of my subconscious. That's the myth of the conscious mind for you, I guess.
Then again, art is meant to evoke emotion and help process it, so maybe going off the rails is the way forward regardless. What's the point of creating something that doesn't make me happy? So what if it ends up a few shades darker--it's already so fucking dark in the metanarrative of what's actually going on and where it's leading. Maybe some levity will organically arise elsewhere down the line...?
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confessions-official · 1 year ago
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I hate growing up I hate being a teenager so much
It's literally been like what, 6 months??? since I turned 13 and I already can't handle this. Every month I'll have like two weeks of PMSing and then my actual period that's just absolutely living hell, then another four days somewhere in the middle with the, whatever it's called the clear thing that gives you period cramps as well, and my emotions are just off the walls
And if that wasn't bad enough, the few weeks I have where things are SUPPOSED to be normal I have the stupid puberty hormones ALSO giving me all sorts of emotions and anxiety and I had a panic attack when my mom asked me what I wanted for dinner. I'm the oldest this generation in my immediate family and I'm kind of like the golden child, they'll always joke that I'm easing them into having teenagers before my sister and cousins get there because I'm really easy or something and I don't know how I'm supposed to respond to that when I'm literally biting my cheek to not yell at everybody because I KNOW it's not their fault it's me literally all that's happening is gentle teasing NOTHING is happening but my insides are on fire and if I don't scream I'm gonna die
But I can't complain about it, can I, because I'm just a stupid kid that doesn't know anything and can't even comprehend basic internet safety even though that shit's been drilled into us repeatedly since literal kindergarten and I'm better at it than quite a few adults I've seen on here. It's just hormones, it's just my period, and NO, I can't do anything to remove the torture device inside my body because what if one day when I have a husband that I don't want I try to have kids that I also don't want? There's nothing to be done about the agony you're in on a daily basis, don't make your parents pay for therapy you're just a teenager.
It's not that big a deal, yes I know you've been showing almost all of the signs of depression consistently since the start of 7th grade. Yes I'm aware that most of your memories from before COVID are a strain at best, straight up nonexistent at worst. Self diagnosing is bad, remember? Suck it up, it'll be over by the time you're an adult.
You can fight with your sister, you guys have said that it's enjoyable and a form of bonding so we'll just ignore it, but that means that when you actually want her to stop you have to scream or be physical in order to get through to her and then you get in trouble and feel horrible because she's only eight but she's not listening and if you don't get her to stop right now somebody's gonna die
I hate it I hate it I hate it I hate existing in my body. And every time you hear about people that actually have problems the worst years are always late teens and 20's
I don't know how I'm going to do this. All the stuff you see from actual people and not just the stupid unrealistic shows says that things start looking up late 20's maybe. I don't know if I have it in me to do another 5 years of this torture, let alone two decades
But what do I know? I'm just a dumb thirteen year old, suck it up and go help the people with real issues. But not too much, because then you seem overbearing and like you have no respect of personal space and boundaries and it reflects badly on your parents and the next wave of young people will have to deal with even more backlash because of your stupidity
I just wanna sink into the floor and die, and I hate myself even more for the thought
.
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okcat · 1 year ago
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this is cringe fail don't read srsly esp irls..
ignore me bc im on my period and emotional and hysterical but anyhoo. met my bf's family and they're so wonderful and kind and accepting that it made me emo now bc my family will never, ever be like that. overheard my mom talking to my aunt about how an as/sy/ria/n priest would never bless an interfaith marriage and like im not even gonna marry my bf or anything like that our relationship is still new so ik it's stupid to be upset over stuff that maybe probably doesn't matter but it's like. okay. I'm not even religious like that so idc what ppl think but I still wanna get married in an as/sy/r/ia/n church bc it's important to me Culturally at least. but it sucks that if my partner doesn't meet all these qualifications, then it's just not realistic to. also living with this guilt of being part of an extremely endangered ethnicity and not like. keeping within my own community or whatever. I'm sure other indigenous people understand the feeling of almost... betrayal even tho 1) it just isn't 2) I can do whatever I want and don't have an obligation to "keep my ethnicity alive" cuz I'm just a person who didn't choose to be born into this and I just wanna be happy like any other human being on this earth. but the fucked up part is no matter how strongly I believe that, I STILL feel guilt. I still think about how we're survivors of and fighters against genocide and feel guilty because I'll probably further contribute to the dwindling numbers of our people. but IT DOESNT MATTER BECAUSE I don't even want kids so it's fucked anyway also it doesn't matter how ~pure~ someone is?? That's like... dangerous ideology. What matters is keeping the CULTURE alive and u can do that without being closed-off to others and overproctective... I get it I understand the trauma from generations of genocide and continued erasure but idk I wish I could do something as simple as introduce a partner to my family and not have all hell break loose because that act has Implications. But like I said I'm not getting married or having kids but it's like man can I at least have the Option to do that with someone not from my ethnicity without my entire family and probably community disowning me and shunning me bc despite all the dumb shit I Love Who I Am and Where I Come From but. Idk I don't fit in and never will and it sucks and it's stressful to live with and and and
I just need to get help or something cuz simply just liking someone shouldn't send me into a fit of despair it's not that deep like... imma blame the hormones tho. lemme go take a tylenol *casts spell of forget you ever read this upon you*
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mistressofallthingsgeeky · 2 months ago
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So, I'm an overthinker.
I have crazy bad anxiety, and every relationship I've ever tried to be in, every time I've tried to date or see someone it has exploded and gone horribly. It leaves a mark.
And then I meet someone. And by some miracle he likes me, and my stupid puns, and by some other miracle, it isn't a fling. Next thing I know, it's five months in.
The birthday card I gave him sits in pride of place on his counter, the little ducks I gave him resting on top.
The one selfie I have with him is the background on my phone.
He spent two weeks in South America on vacation, saw a store called Spaceballs, took a picture and sent it to me because we both love that movie. He spent two weeks in South America and even though I told him I understood if he couldn't message me every day, he still sent me pictures every day.
I picked him up from the airport when he came home, and spent the whole day with him. Just snuggled together, spending time. Lemme tell you. The naps that day were divine. Don't even remember falling asleep.
Since we've met, other than a few times, when I see him, I'm waking up next to him in the morning. All tousled hair and sleepy eyed, his skin all golden in the first rays of sunshine. (Sue me, the man is gorgeous, I'm only human)
It's five months in. He told me that he wanted me to stay with him, but knew I couldn't because I didn't have what I needed for work the next day.
And then he pulled away. Got quiet.
Logically, I know it was because of work, and the holiday, but to my anxiety-ridden brain, his sudden silence after what had been a beautiful day, coupled with my own stress over the upcoming holiday on top of being on my period and hormonal, led me to overthink and send a slightly crazed, desperate message to him.
And then proceeded to break down because my godawful brain was telling me I'd ruined it, and I was a hot mess. Because I adore him. Even if he isn't great at communicating. Even if I do put my foot in my mouth. Even if what we are to each other is ambiguous. Because we aren't "dating" but we aren't seeing other people. It's complicated.
And he eventually answered. Said I was fine, said don't worry about it, said we're okay. But he's still quiet. Which sucks, but men are weird about emotions.
And as an overthinker, it is really easy to overanalyze and jump to conclusions. To expect the worst because that's what we've gotten before.
But it's not the first time I've said stupid shit when I get in my own head, and he hasn't given up and walked away yet.
He's just a little spooked. He went into this not looking for anything serious. Next thing you know he's making me eggs for breakfast on my birthday before I take him to the airport one month and telling me he wants me to stay a few months after that.
Is it annoying that he's emotionally constipated and can't admit to himself or me that he likes me?
Fuck yeah it is! I'm going squirrelly over here trying to tip toe carefully so I don't make him bolt like a skittish horse, trying to actually trust him not to break my heart (terrifying)!
Is it frustrating that he's not big on PDA? Yeah. But. I did make a discovery as to why that might be, so he gets a pass (apparently all I have to do is breathe in his vicinity, if I touch him, he's done for, which, honestly, I'm a little flattered and amused if it's true 🤭)
So long story short. If you have an overthinker in your life. Don't tell us we're crazy. We know we seem a little cuckoo. We're trying to be better. We just need someone to listen to our crazy, and then very gently slap some sense into us and remind us to focus on what's real, not what we think is happening.
Like my mom reminding me how he cared enough to be sending me pictures. Which led to me remembering he has something I gave him out in the open for everybody to see. Which sparks all the memories of the good. He plays his guitar for me because I like watching him play. He was on a work trip working like 12 hour days, and then spent literal HOURS on Facetime with me when he was done for the day. How he always brushes my hair out of my eyes and smiles at me. How he slides his arms around my waist and presses little kisses to my neck and shoulders.
The way he melts into my hugs when he comes home. The way he kisses me like I'm the only source of air he has and holds me like he can't get close enough.
And yeah I know I'm probably saying too much, but darn it, this is a form of therapy.
So tell me, denizens of the Tumblr Void, am I crazy, or is this man just so far in denial he should be in Egypt?
@the-tired-tenor
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roffmychest · 6 months ago
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one of the things I won't miss when I move out is my mom projecting on me. I blame her for my detachment from my emotions, because she was angry all the time when I was a kid, so I learned that my feelings are a problem and I need to focus on how to not get on people's nerves. later she was diagnosed with hormonal disbalance or something, and apparently it's the reason of her temper. she did get better after it got cured! but now she has another problem: now she thinks that she knows everything about anger, and by that I mean that she diagnoses everyone with hormonal issues whenever they show slightest signs of negative emotions. it sucks SO much to not feel anything most of the time, and when I actually get an emotion and try to connect with it and deal with it healthily, I get treated like a sicko. her new "kind" (or more like not raging, although she did come back to that state again, just not as bad as it was before) personality is just a trap, and I learned it after making a mistake of trusting her. all I wanted is to get some affirmation that, yes, this thing is annoying. but what I got instead is "you're not okay. if it bothers you, you need to see a doctor. I have some meds, do you want to try?". (I won't even begin with HER getting mad at the same things) no, fuck you. do you want to completely kill anything human in me? I can't even say if I feel this annoyance actually, but you already want to drug me? while also being against me getting treatment for anxiety, because those meds are bad for some reason. there aren't many things that hurt me, but if you get on my way of trying to feel human again, I won't tolerate that
.
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coughsyrups · 1 year ago
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there are so many thoughts stirring in my head and now that i’ve sat down to start spewing them out i’m overwhelmed by the magnitude and stuck, like i’m trying to squeeze chunks of my emotions through a hole big enough to fit one at a time, but easily blocked by many. i can’t say everything i want to say all at once. i backtrack, and repeat myself, and wander aimlessly around what i want to say like a fool.
i think i’m going crazy.
getting better is never linear. life imitates art imitates life imitates poetry; which is art, which, naturally, imitates life. don’t romanticize your suffering, because pain isn’t necessarily beautiful, and just because you can find beauty in your sorrow doesn’t mean you needed to suffer. just because you put your vase back together with golden glue doesn’t mean it never broke in the first place. being fragile and pretty and traumatized is not cool, actually, and i’m sick of the metaphors, and the narrative, and especially the foreshadowing.
i have always read writings written on walls. and i sit down and i write my little songs about it, and when i get hurt inevitably it’s marginally easier because i knew it was going to happen. and i already wrote some four chord ABAB bullshit that i can sing over and over again until i process it by desensitizing myself to the situation. because i have to make everything funny, i have to make everything palatable, i have to make everything art. and i haven’t been creating art lately. god, haven’t i suffered enough? this isn’t the kind of suffering i know how to write about. not having money to eat isn’t something you just slip into the second verse. i’ve tried and tried, and no one ever sees the part where i try except for him. they see me quitting jobs, they see me calling out sick, they see me spending forty bucks on chinese takeout when i have bills and rent and appointments. what about me holding two jobs with 60 hour work weeks, and STILL struggling to save a fucking a dollar? i overwork myself to the point of burnout, and when i get a pitiful fucking nothing paycheck there’s nothing i can really do to hold out any longer mentally. so i quit. so i chase a dollar’s worth of a promotion and jump from job to job, sitting at the lowest rung, looked over and taken advantage of and talked about and misgendered, misgendered, misgendered. i want to hide!! i don’t want to see myself in windows walking from job one to job two, i hate everything about my body, and i use it as an excuse to not correct people using the wrong pronouns for me, which just makes me hate it even fucking more. oh, i understand why people use she/her, my boobs are just so big teehee!! but i don’t get how nobody even fucking tries. i’m not saying i’m some magical perfect person but i make an effort, a conscious, serious effort, to remember people’s pronouns, to ask their pronouns, to properly gender them. the only people who use my pronouns consistently are max and my mom, who are both cisgender. it hurts so bad when my trans friends don’t use my pronouns. you should know more than anyone! how much it sucks! do i have to take hormones? do i have to “dress nonbinary”? i don’t want to change my voice, i don’t want to change my closet, i don’t want to change anything except my chest, and that’s more a health and comfort and weight thing than dysphoria!
if i don’t get this breast reduction, i genuinely feel like i might give up entirely. on everything. on living well. on waking up. because wouldn’t that just be fucking great? the chance to be comfortable in my body for the first time since i was… 14? 15? if this gets ripped away from me i might just run away, i don’t know! i don’t have a cent to my name but i could do it. go home, work a job for a few months. save up a couple hundred. then go no contact with everyone who’s ever known me. buy a plane ticket. move somewhere far, where the cost of living is low, and just restart. i could steal my documents. i could figure something out. craigslist exists, i’m sure someone needs a roommate. would my loved ones try to find me? i’d leave a note, of course. something to say that i’m gone, and that i might come back, but i don’t know when. would they be willing to wait? i don’t know what i’d want them to do. part of me would want to be found, like some princess in a castle, waiting to be rescued and returned to the kingdom. but if i chose to leave, i would want to stay gone. maybe after a few months, i would send a letter. no return address, of course. i don’t want them to think i got murdered.
i don’t want to make people sad. i don’t want people to hate me. i don’t want people to even dislike me. i want to be loved, and make people happy, and be everybody’s best friend who they can talk to about anything. but i’m lonely, and i’ve always been lonely, and i always will be lonely. in every lifetime, every timeline, every minute, i’ve always been a step removed, like the narrator is possessing my body and observing characters in a story. i can see them, and they can see me, and we can talk and have fun, but i’m here to see this story through. i’m here to tell this story. i’m here to check for plot holes and predict the twists nobody sees coming, and then when everything’s over i move on to the next chapter. moving along like everything is fine. that’s just how the story goes, nothing i can do. i am lonely, and this last year and a half has been nice, because i think max is lonely like i am. i think we deal with it in different ways. i think i’m fighting my loneliness, challenging it, trying to change how i’m written, but he handles it so well. he can be alone, not that he always wants to be, but even when he doesn’t want to be alone, i don’t think it drives him half as insane as it drives me.
i want to rip my hair out, or shave it off, or give myself bangs. i want to scream, but everybody wants to scream. i want to drive my car off a bridge. (i want to fly.) i want to float motionless at the bottom of a bathtub. (my hair makes a halo.) and see? there’s the metaphors. there’s the poetry, and the art, and the symbolism, oh the symbolism, because i can’t just process my feelings like normal people do. but this is good, because the alternative to writing this is laying awake thinking this. or, rather, thinking three sentences at once, because of all these voices in my head talking over each other. i’m at the breaking point. i don’t want anyone to help me right now, i don’t want someone on snapchat messaging me “ily! i hope u feel better soon” which is ironic considering how many of those messages i’ve sent to others.
i’m confused. i don’t think i’m scared. but i’m anxious. and i’m frustrated. i don’t know what to do, going forward? i’m not gonna run away to wyoming. i’m not gonna kill myself. i have to keep living. and keep going. i have to prove to myself that things will get better. it’s sunk cost fallacy, i didn’t kill myself at 19 so why should i now? i could’ve then. maybe i should’ve, the only people i would’ve hurt would have been my family. nobody else was close enough to me where they wouldn’t be able to get over it. it’s funny, getting dumped after a month was the end of the world to me back then. like a kid, falling off their bike and skinning their knee, screaming and wailing so hard at the sight of a few drops of blood and some scraped skin that the neighbors come outside to see what’s wrong. the world is ending! but it’s not. you put on a bandaid and move on.
i’ve had worse injuries since then. and even though they hurt just as bad, i learned to push through the pain, to conquer it mentally. i’ve put on a lot of bandaids. but i’m not trying to minimize how it felt in the moment, because it is the worst thing you have yet experienced. and each time you have a worse experience, you’re better equipped to deal with it. even better, when you experience something of equal or lesser trauma, it’s no big deal! you’ve had worse! wayyyy worse. what i’m saying is, how i felt that night in 2019 was valid, because i had never experienced heartbreak before. i didn’t know how to deal with it. i didn’t know i could hurt like that. now i’ve been hurt like that so many times that i can shut it off, deal with it mentally, think it through, push through the pain. and i hope i come to a day when i feel the same way about right now.
i’ve met the love of my life. i’m scheduled for a life changing surgery. i’m finally been living on my own. i have two sweet little kitties. and i’ve been trying hard not to let the negatives outweigh the positives, but that’s not the full picture. i’m not being negative when i say things are bad right now. i’m being honest. things aren’t perfect between max and i. i have this weird sense of jealousy where i think about how i’m the “first partner he’s actually, genuinely loved” and also, the first partner* he hasn’t actually, genuinely fucked. (*a few outlier relationships have been excused from this statement.) and that’s so stupid, right? it’s so shallow. isn’t this what i wanted, something beyond just a sexual agreement between two people who don’t seem to like each other all that much? yes, it is, and i am grateful, i am beyond grateful to love someone who loves me, and cares for me and about me, who i love to spend time with and talk to, who i fall asleep next to. i just get this hangup. why not me? i know the answer. the answer is i’m not pressuring him to do something he doesn’t want to do, and that will never change. i’m not going to guilt trip him into having sex with me, and the thought of ever doing that makes me sick. but i feel odd thinking that there’s other people who have loved him, just like me, that shared this experience with him, and i haven’t. and i don’t know when i will. if i will? i don’t know!
the surgery has me scared. not because it’s a surgery, i’m not scared about complications. but what about the money, how long will i be paying this off for? what if there’s an issue with healing? an infection? breasts become misshapen? bottom out? uneven? i gain more weight and they grow again? as soon as i’m able to i need to work out. i don’t want to have my stomach be larger than my breasts and that’s probably going to be the case after the surgery. i just hope i like the way i look. i know i’ll be more comfortable but i just… i didn’t think this would happen so soon. this happened incredibly fast and i have barely begun to process it. i’m just basically half dissociative every day at this point.
and august is our last month in the apartment, and then we’re moving home. i won’t live with max anymore. i won’t live with the girls anymore. no more late night hot tub, no more queen sized mattress, no one holding me every night. everything’s going to be over. everything that we built here, we’ll try to get a storage unit but what if we can’t, what if we have to get rid of everything? we don’t have a lot of space in our new living situations. it just doesn’t seem fair.
i wish the money from the tax return had been spent wiser. i wish max hadn’t been unemployed for so long. i wish i could work 60 hour weeks without getting burnt out. i wish i made $100 a minute for playing cookie run. wouldn’t that be nice?
and now… the lawsuit. where do i begin? it’s entirely unreal. i thought i felt insane, now i’m starting to think i actually am. this is some serious psychosis, lilia, you should be admitted asap. i want this to happen for him and his family, they deserve it more than anything, i don’t really know… what i’m supposed to say about it though? i don’t want to say anything. i just want to say, cool, you have money now, my shift starts in ten minutes though so i have to go, i’m already late. what does this change? does this change anything? why would it? it’s just money. but then i think about when i was working runrun and the saint, working til 3 in the morning, crying and panicking over being a hundred short for something or other. is that over now? forever? i don’t know how he’s planning on budgeting/using it, i don’t want to say a word of advice to him on it unless he asks me. he doesn’t need unsolicited advice from me. this has been happening his entire life, and i’ve known for like, two days? there’s nothing i can say or suggest that he hasn’t already thought of.
but it’s strange to think about how this has been here the whole time, in the background, beyond my knowledge. never mentioned. never explained. “well i bet you have it figured out by now” no actually! despite how badly i’ve been wanting to snoop or eavesdrop out of curiosity, i have fully respected your wishes to keep this private! all i thought it was was some sort of settling of affairs. how the fuck would i have ever been able to guess a fraction of this situation?
i guess it’s not the worst thing to be blindsided by. at least you don’t have like, a kid, idk. but i hate to say it… if you were hiding this for so long, what else is there? is there anything else you haven’t told me? you’ve never given me a single ghost of a reason not to whole heartedly trust you and believe you’re giving me the full story. until now! that’s what i feel weird about. that’s why i’m kind of upset. what else do i not know about you? i’m pretty sure you know everything about me.
i love you. that hasn’t changed. i’ll always love you. i just don’t know why you let yourself be unemployed for over a month. i don’t understand how you could keep something as crazy as this under the table for our entire relationship. today is actually a year and a half from our first date. a year and a half without a word, except for, “would you be mad if i pulled a crazy rich asians on you?” i guess i should’ve said, no, i would not be mad at all! if you had worked that month, we might not be moving out. or we might still be, i don’t know. i’ll never know, because that’s not what happened.
i’m tired. see, this is how my writing always goes. all deep and flowery and full of metaphorical rambling that doesn’t make sense and is way too self referential and meta. but then the moment i start talking about my relationships i get more direct. and, idk, sassy. and i start saying fuck.
hey. you say you wish i could’ve met your dad almost every time you talk about him. and i’ve never told you this, because i don’t want to sound crazy, but i probably am crazy, and knowing me i’ll show you this some day, or, knowing you, you’ll just find it, so basically, i don’t mind sounding crazy. you wish i could’ve met him, and i wish so as well, but in a way, i feel like i already have. i see him in you, in how you act, and how you talk about him, and the stories, and the rare pictures and videos. when you’re talking about him, i feel like he’s here, next to us. i think we would’ve been friends. i think he would’ve liked my tattoo. i think he would’ve liked my music. i think he would’ve liked my family. he’s your angel, and that sounds silly, and i don’t mean it super literally, nor do i mean it in a cheap psychic way. i think what we put into the world stays there, our love. you have his love. you carry that with you, and i think you also carry his pain, because no one else was there to pick it up for him after he was gone. i don’t know what else to say, just that i’ve always felt connected to him through you. your love for each other is so strong that i can see it today.
pain isn’t beautiful. neither is suffering. it’s a misconception, because what’s really beautiful is perseverance, and strength, and every little good thing in the world. the scar is beautiful, but that wound isn’t. just because the healing was because of the pain, that doesn’t mean the pain was what created the beauty. we shouldn’t need to hurt.
thanks to sunk cost fallacy, i’m going to get better, because i missed my chance to kill myself four years ago, and now i have no choice but to keep living, to keep loving, and to make new reasons to stay alive. the only way out is through, because you can only go forward, and i missed the suicide exit and now i’m stuck on the bridge of recovery.
at least i have a sunpass.
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direwolfrules · 2 years ago
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Hey, so, vent time. If you only follow me for Star Wars related nonsense then this is your warning to escape now. If you hate LGBTQIA+ individuals then please just fucking leave. Get out, block me, drown in a river, whatever. Just leave.
My dad’s an old school Bensonhurst type of guy. He drops slurs like the US government drops bombs, liberally and with great intensity. And some of his favorites happen to be the homophobic ones.
Now, I feel that I should mention that I’m only out to my mom. My dad has no idea that his daughter is anything less than 100% heterosexual. Part of that is because of the reasons in this post.
So, my dad loves to throw around a certain word that begins with D. I’m not censoring it because of any bullshit TikTok nonsense btw, but because I physically cannot type it out with wanting to cry.
Dad loves the D word. Him and my uncle, always throwing it around. Any woman who looks slightly butch? “She looks D***y”. Any time my mom mentions her multitude of sapphic coworkers? “Is that the D**e one?”
And in one particularly fun incident, when I was 13 my mom and I got into our eight millionth fight about my wearing a dress to a school function (I wanted to wear my really nice pantsuit and seriously how the fuck did my mom not know until I came out?!) and my dad decided to throw in his two cents. Can you guess what he said? I’ll give you a hint. It rhymes with “You look like a shmike”.
Great thing for little me who was first realizing that straight girls don’t think about kissing other girls to hear. Set me so far back in the closet I didn’t even see the door again till senior year of high school. Can you see why I’m not out to this man yet? Or possibly ever? I can just hide a part of myself away forever, right?
Now, this brings me to what happened not even a full fucking hour ago. Family dinner, everything was nice, until we started talking about how a guy we were once associated with got blacklisted from a local vet because he got into the face of a woman who also does animal rescue. My dad asks “Was it a woman who’d need protection or one of those really d**ey looking ones?”
I tell him not to say that word again, because I have friends in the community and I fucking hate slurs (again, not out and not coming out to him anytime soon). He gets pissy, tries to say it’s just a word, he’s always used it, he doesn’t get what the big deal is, it’s just a descriptor, etc.
My mom plays peacemaker between the two of us, corrects dad on his vocabulary and introduces him to the word butch, and my mom tries to tell me that I have to understand her and dad are from a different generation (you know, that old excuse, as if my great-grandfather who served in WWII didn’t wash out his children and grandchildren’s mouths with soap for saying slurs, because “Hateful language doesn’t need malice behind it to be hateful”).
I admit, I escalated it. I, with tears in my eyes because it fucking sucks hearing slurs that apply to you from the mouth of someone who’s supposed to love you unconditionally, brought up the incident from when I was 13. That he knew that word is an insult because he used it as one against me. He knows how to use that word in hate.
It was the first time I’ve brought up that incident since it happened. You see, we don’t talk about stuff in my family, we bottle up all our emotions until they explode in either rage or near suicidal depression. Healthy, I know.
Anyway, dad got pissy, things got tense and silent, until I asked him to pass the bread. He fucking flung the bread knife down on the table in front of me. Which. I’m a 19 year old with out of wack hormones, it’s expected that I be a little bitchy (literally what my doctor said, love her). What’s his excuse?
So like, yeah. Now I’m just doing that fucking shame spiral thing in my room where I hate myself and wishing I didn’t think girls were just like, fucking amazing. I think my life would have been a hell of a lot easier if I was only into guys. At least then I wouldn’t feel like someone took an ice pick to my heart every time my dad and uncle make another fucking gay joke.
My mom tries at least, but she’s got no fucking idea what to say to me. She was raised not to rock the boat. Unfortunately, it’s already been rocked and I’m off the side, drowning under the waves. I’m drowning, and instead of pulling me up my dad’s wacking me over the head with the oar, and he doesn’t even fucking realize it.
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jacksazrael09 · 2 years ago
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Thoughts
I hate it.
I hate it when other people have better idea that I have. I hate it when they are in the right. I hate it when other people like other people more than me. I hate it when I am wrong. If I could I would do everything that I’m right and the others wrong
I can’t stand it. When I’m not the person who tells where we need to go. When I’m not the one. I hate other humans so fricken much. I don’t even like my own pets at the moment. I rather would give them to my Bianca so he take him but I can’t. I rather would run away in the moment to i don’t know where than sitting here. I got this weird feeling all morning. I rather manipulate people in everything than hear theyr opinion. I don’t fucking care about that. I rather behave like my mom who is a sadistic manipulative and toxic than be that what I thought me. Don’t over think just anger and hate. Sometimes I want to scream and also sometimes I wounder what would it be if I’m not trans. If I’m not manually il. If I stayed the blond girl got attractive stayed straight and got a cis boyfriend. But I’m scared to talk about Caus this little voice in my head feels me that he maybe feel attacked or start overthinking and I try to not be a burden to him. But I can’t talk about shot like that. I feel like I’m drowning but I don’t know I’m what I’m drowning
I don’t even know if I’m trans anymore.
I got misgendered all the time.
People calling me by my dead name again.
I’m so used to get called by my dead name again and get misgendered that I honestly don’t care anymore how people talk to me Caus I haven’t had a gender euphoric moment the last half year. And I don’t think I will.
I know I’m a man but the world DOSNT. And no matter how hard I try to pass the world will never see me as a man unless I’m taking Hormons but I don’t got the time to take care of it at the moment to get my Hormons so I’m stuck.
I’m also not even suislide at the moment I just don’t want to fucking exis. Why can’t I die?
Why do I need to life like this?
I can’t appreciate anything realy at the moment. Everything sucks but at the same time not. It’s not even my bpd or depression. I’m just angry or don’t have emotions. I’m not even depressed at the moment.
I got a six month streak at the moment of being clean with sh.
I think imma gonna fuck this up so I know what I’m feeling Caus I hate everything or feel like nothing.
I don’t know where to go.
I don’t know what to feel.
I just wanna give up.
But I also don’t have the motivation to end it.
What is this?
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