#one day late but this is still the best thing ever <333< /div> Explore tagged Tumblr posts

[darlingbabyboo]

Could you please make a part 3 of tr x bimbo reader with Hanma, Souya and chifuyu, please?? Have a great day or night <333

Note: I love this request! I thought ppl wouldn't like bimbo reader and I'm so happy that ppl are receiving it well :) These are such good characters too. I added a few people since I got to this late (also Hanma's is a little nsfw). Part 1 (Draken, Takemichi, Mitsuya, Baji, Smiley, Mucho) Part 2 (Kazutora, Izana, Bonten! Mikey)

"You're my angelic slut!"

♡ Even more Tokyo Revengers and their bimbo gfs ♡

Hanma Shuji

Oh my god I thought Smiley would be bad but this man would be a menace with a bimbo!gf

He lies to you on a daily basis bcs he knows that you'll believe him

He will be saying shit like 'recent studies show 🤓☝️' completely out of his ass bcs he loves the look you give him

Your bright eyes look to him, captivated with all the lies that he's feeding you

He thinks that your stupidity is hot af and the stupider you get the harder he is

Do not trust this man to help you shop bcs he will be giving you some floss as a top and and lacey underwear bottoms okay

And for my ladies who are bimbos but still like to cover up don't worry he'll give you the flashiest shit ever that probably says property of Hanma on the back

He loves you okay but be wary around this boy

"Ow babe, you know that hurts."

You eyes widen in horror, ripping your hands away from tracing the ink on his hands, "really?" You whisper.

He nods, sagely with his fake wisdom, "yeah, every few months the pain from tattoo comes back, when you touch me it hurts like a bitch."

"Oh, I- baby I didn't know!" You tear up, hating the thought of hurting Shu in any way possible, "I swear I didn't mean to hurt you!"

He nods, pulling you into his chest to calm your sniffles, "it's okay babe, you didn't know." He pretends to think, "and there might be a way to help me..."

You look at him, wide eyes looking to him and nod eagerly.

"Well... kisses always work."

"And it won't cause you pain?"

"None at all pretty girl."

"Okay!" You smile, peppering kisses on his hands, before cupping his face and pressing your lips against. He deepens the kiss, moving you so you're straddling his lap and grinding against his growing bulge.

He sure got lucky with you, huh?

Chifuyu Matsuno

He's so flustered at the sight of you

He's pretty confident in himself but he never actually expected to get a gf

Since you're his first one he kinda has no idea what to do with you

He rly doesn't want to mess things up

He doesn't even register the fact that you're 'slutty' bcs all he knows is that you're the hottest person that he's ever met in his life and he has absolutely no idea how to function without you

He worries so much but he's such a 10/10 boyfriend

Gets most of his ideas from manga but they usually get messed up because you would not get a clue if it walked up to you and gave you its number

Chifuyu will say something like, 'my heart is forever yours' and you're about call an ambulance bcs you think he's having a heart attack

Pray for him he's doing his best ��🏾

Certified good boi so he does his best to make you smarter but my mans is not God

He knows that you're a lost cause but he's gonna keep trying fr bcs he loves you

But he has a tendency to get distracted...

"And if 4 plus 4 is 8 and 4 times 4 is 16 then 4 squared is..." He watches you bite your lip and turn your wide eyes to him, hoping that he'll fill in the blanks.

He sighs, "baby, you're not gonna learn anything if I keep helping you."

"But 'fuyu!" You protest, throwing yourself across his lap, and jutting your lip out, "I don't get it without you explaining it for me!"

"That's the problem..."

Your pout deepens and you suddenly sit up straight. He blushes when you place your hands on the side of his face.

"I don't get it 'fuyu, more kisses pls."

He should refuse because he loves you more than the world itself but he knows that you're jackshit at math. His eyes look down at your puckered lips and he folds, moving you gently and pinning you to the bed.

When the both of you lock lips he knows nothing is going to get done today.

Souya (Angry) Kawata

We got another flustered boy here

It's made even worse bcs he was not the one who confessed to you

Smiley told you bcs he got sick of his constant ranting about how beautiful and kind and pretty you were

Angry hates his brother and loves him for it bcs you embraced him in a hug that got him feeling high for days

He worships you completely

Your slutty outfits

Perfect queen 🥰🥰🥰

He making homemade food for you for breakfast lunch and dinner

Compliments you all the time bcs that's what you deserve

Can you tell I have a favourite

He is in love with you so much and will not tolerate any sort of slander towards you

You best hope that someone doesn't call you stupid bcs they will be jumped by the entire fourth division he is not fucking around when it comes to you

He doesn't even take that shit when it comes to his brother

No one will talk bad about you under his watch

"Damn, your girl dumb as hell."

He looks to you. As of now, you're jumping up into the trees, attempting to catch a cat that got stuck up there from yesterday's storm. It's a noble attempt, if not a bit ruined due to the fact that you're ignoring the ladder of branches at the side of the tree that would help you get to the cat.

That wouldn't even be so bad if you weren't also neglecting to ask one of the neighbor's for a ladder, especially the one who has a ladder leaning against their front door.

He turns back to Smiley, scowling at the insult, "don't talk about her like that." Hands curling into fists, no matter what you do he can't stand the thought of you being disrespected.

Smiley holds his hand up, not in the mood to get his faced bashed, "fine... but you should really go help her."

He looks back to you, seeing that you've now started to meow to the cat, trying to convince it to come down by itself.

He can't stop the smile creeping up.

He's so in love with you.

Ran Haitani

You would assume that he'd be a menace but he's surprisingly sweet

Most people assume that he's with you bcs he wanted some arm candy but he's really just in love with you

Rindou is the unfortunate witness to how obsessed Ran is about you

When Ran sees you're being a dumbass all he does is smile and do his best to answer the question

He loves when his girl starts asking him how he can tell if it's AM or PM

He thinks you're too adorable

His love is not an act okay

He lives sleeps and breathes you

Half the words out of his mouth have to do with you bcs he thinks you're just so amazing

Rindou stops himself from screaming when he sees Ran leaning against the kitchen counter. The last time he caught Ran awake in the middle of the night the other had almost skinned him alive.

A Ran that just woke up from a nap was not a good Ran.

He relaxes when he sees you move to Ran's side, offering him some hot chocolate. Ran would never expose you to his violent side. "Thank you angel," He says as he accepts the drink, taking a sip and placing his arm around your waist.

"Ran..." You start, and Rindou can't wait for whatever bullshit you're going to spew this time.

"Yeah angel?"

"Why does your tattoo keep changing?"

He raises an eyebrow and looks down at his arm. Experimentally, he flexes it.

"It happened again!" You exclaim as his muscles tense, art rippling with the muscle.

Rindou has no idea how he deals with you sometimes. You're sweet, you're just... something else.

Ran doesn't react to the strange question, only offering a half-hearted shrug. He runs a hand through his hair, "I think it's because my skin stretches as I flex or something... and the tattoo is on my skin so it's affected too." He watches you, wondering if the answer is satisfactory.

You beam at the response and curl into him, placing your head on his shoulder. He presses a soft kiss to the crown of your head.

Rindou slinks back upstairs and tries not to throw up. He hates being around you two.

Hakkai Shiba

It's a miracle how Hakkai even started to talk to you

It was a struggle for everyone involved

Everyday Yuzuha and Mitsuya were considering jumping off a window more and more bcs every interactions you had went like this

'How are you Hakkai!'

'...'

'That's nice to hear! My day went well too, are you going to the festival tomorrow?'

'...'

Bitch is like this on the outside 😐

On the inside he's 🥰😍😘���💓❤️

And Mitsuya and Yuzuha have to listen on like 🙃

Yeah Hakkai she is beautiful and her dress was rly nice today and she's the kindest girl in the world why don't you tell her that

His confession was so awkward but my man's had to do smth bcs he's not the only one who wants you

"H-hey," He calls your name, wincing when you direct your eyes to him. His stomach twists, he needs to do this he needs to do this.

You beam at him, "Hakkai! What's up? You don't usually talk to me like this."

Yeah, he doesn't. He's completely out of his comfort zone here. He really should have asked Taka-chan to be here to support him. He looks down to avoid making eye contact but is met with your plump thighs.

He swallows.

"A-are you going to the f-festival with Akihiko?"

You tilt your head, "no, why would you think that? Me and him are just friends!"

Akihiko has not been subtle about about talking about how attractive he's found you and how much he would love to have you as your girlfriend. This includes wrapping his arms around your waist and calling you 'wifey'.

"He flirts sometimes," You laugh, "but we're just friends."

Sure, and he just wants to kill him.

"Wouldyouliketogowithme?" He blurts out, flinching when everything is out. He watches your eyes open wide, mouth falling open. He's so embarrassed, of course this wouldn't work he should have kept his mouth shut-

"Of course I wanna go Hakkai!" He catches you as you jump up to wrap your arms around his neck. His face turns even redder when you smack a kiss on his cheek. "I'd love to!"

"C-cool." He says knowing that the this moment will be replaying in his head on the walk home.

Seishu (Inupi) Inui

Y'all are complete opposites bcs while he's off being brooding you're being your bright and sunny self giving a hug to anyone who asks

Koko wonders everyday how you two started dating but love is love

You two have the best fashion tips for each other, truly a couple that uplifts each other <333

My man treats you like you're not the dumbest bitch on Planet Earth

Inui is a feminist (when he threatened Yuzuha he did that for the women's rights movement okay)

So he knows that you have great value even if you're not smart in a conventional sense

He will pound anyone into the pavement if someone starts to act a fool okay

Inui brings knives to fist fights if you don't think he'll pull out a glock for the person he's completely obsessed with you're insane

"Inui, how do we know that we're on Earth?" You question, head tilting to the side, looking to him waiting for an answer.

He doesn't sigh, he knows you're genuine about this and he would hate to embarrass you. He raises an eyebrow for clarification.

"I mean- how do we know we're not on Mars?" You eyes bug out, "what if we've been on Venus all along and we don't even know it!"

He hums but stops when someone snickers beside them. He tenses, already reaching in his pocket. "You got something you want to say?" He snarls.

The guy, some dumb lackey, smirks, "your bitch know how stupid she is?" He looks over to you and checks you out not-so subtly, "good thing she's hot."

He pulls out the knife and presses it against the other's neck. "At first I was going to hurt you but now I'm going to fucking kill you." Who cares about the rules about in-fighting, no one's going to talk to you like that and get away with it.

"Inui..." You ask innocently, watching the two with concern.

"Look away darling, okay, I gotta deal with this piece of shit."

[cupcakeinat0r]

Your loser, Middle-aged Genetics professor with a dadbod <3

pt. 7

A/n: Hey y’all! Just a quick apology for such a long wait for an update, just came back from a relaxing vacay!! But as soon as I got off the plane back home, I started writing cuz the creative juices were juicinggg <3 Anyways, enjoy <333 Hopefully this serves as a good apology ;)

4 exams down, 3 more to go. The finish line of the semester was so close yet so far. Not gonna lie, your sanity was hanging on by a rope, your strongest and only support system being one person. He was the most sweetest, smartest, and respectful person you have ever had the blessing of meeting. It may not have been in the most conventional (or convenient) of ways, but still, it couldn’t have felt more like the storybook that you wanted and dreamed your life would be. Amidst your academic tribulations, he made you feel like royalty.

Even now, as you wait in the library and your phone goes off with a notification from Miguel, whom you had referred to as ‘Professor O’Hara’ only just a few months ago, you are still in dreamland with the fact that you were—

Well, at this point, you two haven’t quite fleshed out the label of y’all’s relationship just yet, but for now, you tell yourself that you two are talking. So yes, even now, you truly can’t believe that you are talking with your adorable professor.

You mentally take note that this will be a conversation that you two will have to have in the near future.

Your attention is now on your phone, reading a message under the contact name ‘Mig 🤓’.

“We ended earlier than planned. Headed over there now❤️”

You smile at the message, already typing a response up.

The night he told you about his late daughter was almost a week ago, and since then, y’all have set aside a day to go to the public library. You both agreed that it was nice, quality time, and wanted to do something like that again; just talking, being with each other, and forget about school for a while. Plus, exams have sort of kept yall apart for the past week, so it was very much needed.

Now you wait at the library where you and Miguel agreed to meet at after he finishes a recitation he had to substitute for.

‘ “Ended earlier than planned” ??? You’re not slick, DID YOU END CLASS EARLIER TO COME HERE???’

‘No, of course not, I would never do that.’

…

‘But maybe.’

‘Uhuh... See you soon <3’

‘See you soon, mamita ❤️😘.’

With a content hum, you put down your phone and turn your face toward the quiet buzz of people reading, chatting over coffee, and studying. Even though it's been months since knowing Miguel, you still feel jitters when about to see him. You can't help it. Everything about him makes you nervous in the best possible way. From how his smile lines crease, how that one little curl falls on his face, how he always speaks to you with a slight pout, the way his sweater vests hug around his full chest and soft tummy, all the way to how he looks at you like you’re his muse. You couldn't stop smiling just thinking about him. And to think, everyone in class just thought he was a total killjoy; backs straighten and all conversations cease when he enters the room. If only they knew the real him, but a part of you is glad you're the only one to see it.

Just a couple of blocks down, Miguel is gathering his things, excited to meet up with you. As he sharply nods to the last few students leaving the room, wishing them a good Summer break and luck on their finals, his expression becomes soft as he thinks of you. Quickly, once he has the room to himself, he takes a minute to put on one or two sprays of his best cologne, fix his hair, and remove his tie. He knew how much you liked it when he wore his button-ups like this; a few left unopened at the top. He felt ridiculous, but you always commented on it, and it would make Miguel feel good.

That was another thing; since seeing you, Miguel's confidence has so much improved. He did, however, take a glance over at his cardigan that hung on the back of his swivel chair and contemplated wearing it. It used to be his safety net; an effort to try and hide his soft figure, but that was old Miguel. New Miguel wanted to impress you and, even though he’d never admit it, would try to get the most compliments out of you. Despite feeling like he let himself go, you made him feel like he was a total knock-out, which never failed to make his cheeks grow darker, and he plans to return the favor for however long you’ll have him.

Miguel arrives, scanning the enormous room for you, a bright, colorful speck among the sea of dark-colored apparel. You wore an outfit he had bought you during the semester. He’s indifferent when looking for you, but when he spots you, his lips curled just slightly, the crows feet of his face creasing. He glides across the room, but any faster, he’d be running. He tries to act collected, but you both know he’s ecstatic to see you.

"Hey mama," He stands before you, holding out your hands as if to exhibit an art piece, "You look beautiful today, as always”. His eyes graze over every single inch of you, up and down. There’s something sexy about seeing you in something he bought you, even if it wasn’t all that exposing. You go in for a hug, acting as if you haven’t seen him in weeks (You both see each other in the hallways like every day, y'all just haven't been able to be with each other in a minute).

You smile against his broad chest, "Thanks, cutie, and you look handsome, as per usual.” You give his thick torso a soft run down with your hands. Miguel looks around bashfully, even though no one is paying attention. Physical touch came easy for him when you two were alone, but in public? That’s another story.

You look up to see his wandering eyes fall back on you. “I’ve missed you,” you shift all your weight onto him, holding onto his waist like a koala bear on a tree. You get on your tip toes to reach his cheek, pressing a kiss there, “mwah! so much.” The simple gesture was enough to turn Miguel into a mess. It takes everything in him not to completely smother you out in the open, but would rather save that for when there’s privacy.

Miguel holds you as if you were a porcelain doll. Something rose in his chest, call it pride; Proud to show off the gorgeous woman in his arms. "I missed you more." He says softly.

"So? How was the class?" you hold onto his hand while looking for a place to live in for the afternoon.

Miguel looks as well and spots a vacant, quiet little corner of the library, one that sits almost separate from the rest of the crowd. He gives your hand a small tug, motioning for it. "It was actually quite nice. The students were pretty engaged for it being an 8AM... I dunno, I might pick it up next semester." He sets his bag down before grabbing you a chair for you to sit on, as well as a cushion for you to lay your back on. He grabs a stool for himself once he sees you're comfortable and sat.

You give his forearm a caress, a small act of encouragement, "Well, I think you should. You're so good at what you do. Trust me, I should know." you give him a smirk, making him crack a smile.

"Which reminds me, you feel good for tomorrow? 'cuz if you're needing review for anything, we could go over it right now-" You place a hand on his arm, "Mig! I'm fine! I feel completely fine. Besides, I've tutored over a dozen people, I pretty much know the material like the back of my hand. Please, relax, you need it."

Miguel sits back now, "But if you change your mind, you'll let me know, right?" You nod, and Miguel relaxes at last. He sees the book you pull out and reads the spine of it. Wuthering Heights. It’s one of Miguel’s personal faves. He looks forward to seeing your small reactions once you get toward the end. It was endearing the way you reacted to what you read, let it be a faint widening of your eyes or a small gasp. He also loved watching your concentrated face. He thinks back to all those lectures he spent watching you take your color-coordinated notes in his class, your glossed lips pursed and your eyebrows faintly knitted. It never went unnoticed by him. Adorable.

You do a double-take at Miguel's choice of book, not believing what you read the first time. "Jane Austen?" "…Yes?" "You like Jane Austen?" "Yes. " Miguel says this so matter-of-factly, it leaves you kind of in shock. It was a cute surprise. Smiling, you let a puff of air out your nose, shaking your head as you open your book. “What’s so funny?” Miguel smiles, wanting know what you’re thinking now.

“Ugh, I-“, You almost let a certain 3-word phrase slip from your lips, but you stop yourself. “ I… just wasn’t expecting that, is all. Have you read ‘pride and prejudice’?”

“Yeah, loved it. It’s why I’m reading this one.” He looks down at the cover, which, in intricate letters, reads sense and sensibility. Your smile is even wider now that you know the man of your dreams is a fellow Jane Austen fan. “Me, too. Let me know what you think, then.” You softly say, starting on your book. “Of course. By the way, anyone ever taught you not to judge a book by its cover?” You roll your eyes and nudge him, making him chuckle in his throat. Although Miguel’s humor wasn’t exactly the most original, his sass takes the cake, and you love it. Feeling romantic, Miguel leans over and kisses your cheek once, twice, then gently brings your lips to his by your chin to plant a third kiss.

After finally quenching his need for your kisses, he settles in his spot and reaches for your hand, which you grab instinctively. Like always, his thumb caresses across your knuckles, and you both fall into a peaceful silence, transporting to your individual worlds within your books.

<3

The time in the library is nothing short of peaceful and fun. The first while of reading, Miguel would get up to use the restroom, but on his way back, he would’ve gotten you a cup of coffee for you and himself. A little later, you’d get up as well, but not for the restroom, but to grab him a treat, as well as for yourself. His eyes widen in pleasant surprise when he sees you walk back with them in your hands. He always did have a sweet tooth.

For the rest of the time, you’ll reach over occasionally to push his glasses back up his nose, or sometimes, without looking up from his book, he’ll simply pull your hand up to his lips, and press a butterfly kiss there, the faint smack of the peck making your heart skip a beat. And he doesn’t just do it once, he has to do this every so often because he just can’t resist; the man needs to feel you like as if you’ll disappear out of nowhere.

And you don’t notice, but every now and then, Miguel looks over at you, just admiring. He watches how your eyes inch deeper into the pages as you soak in the language. He can stay like this forever. Reading books with you while you hold hands. For a second, he feels the bottom of his stomach drop because he knows the day will have to end, and he’ll have to go back to class tomorrow, as do you. Sure, you’ll both be in the classroom, but you’ll have to pretend. Miguel was growing tired of the game. He then thinks about how near Summer is, and if he’ll see you then. Not as your professor, but as someone who deeply cares about you.

He’s already making plans on the possible trips you two could make. Maybe spend two weeks in Italy, or maybe just simple weekend roadtrips to nearby, quaint towns. He’s thinking about taking you to only the nicest, fanciest places in Nueva York.

Guiltily, his mind wanders into trips to the bedroom. How he’d love to take care of you and make sure you felt loved. Above all, your pleasure would be his. Oh, how he’d worship you like the goddess you were because dammit, you are one, and to this day, he’s still unsure how he scored you. How he, the intimidating, quiet giant, won an ethereal princess like you. He sort of smiled to himself as he realized:

Gabriella’s favorite bedtime story was becoming his life right before his eyes.

And like many times before, Miguel’s mind wanders even more. He’s thinking of the wedding, the honeymoon and the endless amount of rounds, the baby shower… having a kid with you. He’s fully aware of how crazy it is to think about it so soon, but at the same time, it feels so right. With you, it does.

Your caring, attentive nature, sweetness, cleverness, patience, and drive, they were all qualities of someone he wouldn’t mind spending the rest of his life with. Your desire to better yourself and hunger for knowledge is evident in your work for your masters. Your softness that had so remarkably torn down his walls. And of course, there was your unmistakable beauty, but that’s just a bonus!

As he continues to watch you read, your hand lovingly locked with his, he realizes his feelings are no longer casual, no. Miguel’s breath hitches when a realization dawns on him. Rather than a ton of bricks, it feels like a weight lifted off his stiffened shoulders.

He looks at you, and he feels what could only be described as true, total, and complete love.

“‘Scuse me, sir.” Miguel snaps toward the low voice, “Library’s closing in 10 minutes.”

These hushed words sweep your attention from the book in your hands, your face falling in small dismay. You both look at each other, Miguel giving you a shrug that conveys ‘it is what it is’.

“Aw man, I got so caught up in reading, I feel like we didn’t get to talk as much as I wanted to.” Miguel is gathering both of yalls things, leaving your hand for last. You grab his, and you both begin to head out, the swarm of people that was here before gone. “We can still talk if you’d like. We can go to my office?” You nod gingerly.

“Then c’mon, let’s go.” Without asking, he grabs your bag from you and slings his and yours onto his shoulder, and you both leave hand in hand.

<3

After braving the storm that seemed to come out of nowhere outside, Miguel lets you into his office first, closing the door behind you two. The campus was dimly lit, only housing a few students who were doing some late-night studying. Hopefully, no one saw you two shuffling toward his classroom.

You look around his office, and for the first time, if feels new. It’s somewhat dark, the storm outside supplying the only light in the room. You’ve been in here countless of times, helping Miguel out with class work or tutoring, so it shouldn’t feel any different, yet, it does. Maybe it’s because every time you’re in here, you’ve never got the chance to really look at it. You’re always in and out. And if y’all weren’t in here, you were sitting in the lecture hall just outside the office door. Now that the fluorescent lights are off, you realize just how clinical they made it feel in here.

Miguel observes how you look along his walls where a multitude of diplomas hang. He thinks about saying something, but doesn’t want to interrupt; instead, he allows you to examine his space, finding it charming. It’s like he’s letting you in on his life. He pretends to busy himself with something else, leaving you to explore. Which is fine, really. You two have fallen into many comfortable silences before.

Then you move onto his shelf, filled with nothing but books and maybe one picture frame, but you’re not sure. It’s laid flat on the shelf. You go away from it for a second, going back to the spines, reading them off in your head. Some DNA encyclopedias, anatomy studies, Genetic Theory… ah, here we go. Leroux, Fitzgerald, Verne… is that Shelley? Atwood? Woolf? Plath?! Then, of course, there’s Beauty and The Beast. You pause there for a second, remembering Miguel’s most cherished memories that are tied to this story. Some more Jane Austen… oh, and look, Wuthering Heights!

“You’re more than welcome to take any of those. What’s mine is yours.” He sits on the couch that sits along the wall of his office, laying back with his arm laid across the frame of it. You pull out Wuthering Heights and walk towards him, “What’d you think of this one?” You go to take a seat next to him, nuzzling against his side, your head at its assigned spot on his shoulder. “Nice try, sweetie, but don’t wanna spoil it. Though I will say, it’s really good.” his face brightens along with yours, “I think you’ll like it. Brace yourself for the ending, though.” His arm wraps around you now, his thumb making small circles on your shoulder like he usually does.

“How about Miss Austen?” You put the book on a small table beside the couch. Miguel thinks about it for a second. “She’s got this sort of sarcastic wit that I can really get behind. But in all seriousness, her social commentary is brilliant. Still applies to this day, in some ways. And her style, wow…” You can see Miguel get lost in his thoughts, his emotions having their rare time in the limelight as he proceeds to list off Jane Austen’s wonderful writing attributes. It felt so good to see him like this. To be able to get him talking like this was a big win in your book.

“…Just overall, I’m a total fan now.” He nods, looking over at your dazzling eyes. “No, no, keep going.” You urge him, overcome with adoration. Miguel smiles at the floor, shaking his head. “I can listen to you talk allll day, honestly.” He looks off into the office still smiling bashfully, away from your revering gaze. “D’aw, don’t be so shy, I love listening to your voice. It’s so soothing, Mig.”

“You’re… stealing my lines.” A chuckle rumbles in his chest while you taunt him with a giggle of your own. In an effort to quiet you and from flustering him further, he envelopes you with his arms, you reaching for his neck simultaneously, and you both meet in the middle with a kiss so sweet, it could develop diabetes. With your lips locked, he grabs your thigh and swings it over his hips, his soft stomach taut against yours. You both smile against each other’s lips, soft laughs in tune with the rain that hits against walls outside.

Sooner than later, Miguel’s small chuckles turn into soft groans, his breath becoming labored. His hands venture up under your top, fingers ghosting the skin above the waistband of your skirt. You taste of… cherry lip gloss. His favorite taste, and in the past couple of weeks, he’s grown addicted to it. As a matter of fact, he’s become so addicted that he tends to bite and pull at your bottom lip, a gesture that never failed to leave you weak in the knees.

The hungry tug of your lip evoked a small whine from your throat, unleashing something in Miguel. Carefully, he laid you on the couch, your bodies entangling in languid unison with your tongues. The feeling of all of Miguel’s weight on you set a flame off within you, his length pressing along your dampened heat each time he dug his hips. You wanted it, and bad. Needed it like your life depended on it, but your conscious was screaming at the back of your mind, and you couldn’t ignore it.

“M-mig, w-wait.” You manage to breathe out, the heart between your legs unable to agree with the brain in your head. You hated stopping where things were headed, but you had reason.

Miguel’s head shot up from your neck where it was planting hickies on. “Are you okay? You wanna stop?” He’s already sitting up, removing himself from your legs, “Mama, I’m so sorry, I should’ve asked, want me to take you home? If you want to, I can take you-“ Miguel was so worried, he’d rather die than you feel taken advantage of. “Miguel! It’s okay, I’m fine!” You reassure him softly, sitting up as well to keep him seated. “Trust me, I wanted this, too. It’s not you at all. I just…” you grab his hand, thinking of your next words. Your shoulders droop from what you’re about to say. Miguel looks at you with a soft expression, ready to be here for you in any way.

“Look, we both know we shouldn’t even be here, and not just in this office, I mean being together period. And what worries me the most is not even the fact that we could get caught, but the possibility that maybe you’ll…” Miguel motions for eye contact when he sees you retreating to the floor. “Mamita, tell me, please. Dime que quieres. Nothing you say can upset me or change the way I think of you. Nothing.”

“I just don’t want you to think that I’m only in this for the wrong reasons.” Miguel’s brows furrow in confusion. How could he possibly think you’re using him? “Sweetie, why would I…” And it clicked just as fast as he began speaking. Miguel seemed to be going deep into thought. You were scared that maybe you had said something wrong.

“Miguel, please understand that I care about you so so so much, and because I do, I don’t want us to be intimate with each other until the school year is completely over.” You’d thought things through since becoming romantic with Miguel, and the thought that If y’all had sex, there would’ve been the risks of people finding out, you losing your eligibility for a degree that you were three exams away from obtaining, or worse, Miguel losing his job as professor and probably being blacklisted for the rest of his life. A very small part of it was also that you didn’t want your score on his exam to be affected in any which way. If you happen to not do well on the exam, you wanted the grade you deserved. There was simply too many downsides.

He looks back up at you, not a trace of judgment nor anger on his face. “Mama, you don’t have to explain yourself. The ball is in your field. Whatever you want or need, I’m right there with you. Don’t ever feel bad for what you want, okay?” Your lips curl in relief, and you nod slowly. He brings his hand to your face, allowing you to lean into his touch. “And to be honest, I couldn’t agree more. But even after classes end, even then our speed is still up to you. I’m not ready to take things further until you are.”

How lucky am I to have someone like him? I’m not entirely sure who’s up there or who to thank exactly, but oh my goodness, thank you for giving me this perfect man sitting before me.

“You mean it? I mean, you’re not disappointed or anything?” Miguel shakes his head. “Not even for a second.” Filled with joy, and almost knocking him over, you embrace him.

“We could just stay in here and chat. Would you like that?” He speaks softly against your hair. “I would love that.”

<3

Miguel and you lay on the couch (which fits you just fine, but Miguel’s feet were borderline hanging off the end), Miguel the big spoon, and you the little one. Your head lays against the decorative pillow while he props his on his hand.

You nestled against his frame, feeling the steady rise and fall of his tummy against your back. His arm encircled your waist, holding you securely against him as you melted into each other's warmth. "Are you comfortable?" he asked softly, his voice filled with concern. "Mhm, more than comfortable," you replied with a contented sigh."You make a pretty good body heater," you teased. He chuckled, the sound rumbling deep in his chest. "Glad I could be of service, Princesa.” He plants a sustained kiss to your temple.

Your gaze falls softly on the wall across from you, your eyes traveling along the diplomas, “Did you always wanted to be a teacher?”

“Well, when I was little, I did. I loved science and there was this one teacher I had… she was the best. Wanted to be just like her. But…” Miguel breathes out. You can feel his stomach tense up against your back, prompting you to turn your head towards him. “Y’know… um… I didn’t always teach.”

Miguel would go on to tell you how the past five years has looked for him. He began with a rather heavy start; a freak accident in his work as a geneticist, a job much more lucrative than a professor. He’d then recount his days as a hero, proceeding to show you his long-retired claws. You listened intently, with an open mind, following along to his story of how he got involved with the multiverse, and what that term entails. He explained how the world was connected to other worlds; a prodigious tree of universes. It was how he lost his daughter. He revealed the tragic story to you finally, after withholding it that first night he told you about her in the school library. He recollected a few more memories that would eventually lead to his decision to hang up his hat as Spider-Man, finding refuge in becoming a science professor; an old dream he had abandoned so many years ago.

“And since then, I’ve been… okay. Better than before, for sure. I’m satisfied here, truly.” You sat there, processing everything he had shared with you. “I know that was a lot, you don’t have to say anything. I’m just glad that I could share this with you.” You nod, trying to think of what to say because silence just wouldn’t suffice, not for you. “I…” you began, your voice low and soft, “But are you happy?”

Miguel is taken aback by the question. Even after everything he’s said…the man just got done telling you he has fangs and red irises and that he traveled across dimensions for a living, and this is your first question? If he’s happy? He told you a story that could possibly have the fbi sent to his door with just one call, but you’re more interested in his wellbeing? He couldn’t believe it. He couldn’t believe you.

Miguel lets out a sharp breath; a chuckle, as his eyes narrow at you. “You’re unreal, you know that?” Your lips reflect his small smile, “What?! I wanna know, after everything… are you happy?” You repeat the question with utmost genuineness in your tone.

With the answer as obvious to him as the formulas he taught in his class, Miguel simply leans in, hand on the back of your head, and kisses you, then pulling back by just an inch, he speaks softly,

“Now that you’re here, I am.”

A/n: I hope y’all enjoyed it <3 Shoutout to @pomakori for sending this photo in, I absolutely loved it and had to include it in this chapter cuz it’s so them coded !!!

(Like ❓❓ this is so them‼️ n u can’t change my mind‼️)

Thank you so much for reading <3 I’m a lil worried about how long it might be, so sorry if I yapped too much on this one 🫶 I just love n care abt him sm, ur honor🥹

Want some more Dadbod!Miguel? Here’s my master list, bae!

Tags<3

@safixiovi @mukeovernetflix @mochikisses @miguels-cock-piercings @miranexx @bunnibitez @deepdiveintothedeephive @faretheeoscar @sillygardeneggperson @librababe99 @sariespi i @little-lovelace @monstersimp @oharasfilipinawife @obi-mom-kenobi @hyjionie @maomaimao @pinkhelados @mochimoqa @princesatracionera @queerponcho @walmaerts @froggygal @yaysposts @koko-1025 @kikaaauu @lauraolar14 @anotherprettyprincess @kaidxra @farrowroyale @pigeonmama @exactlyyoungchaos @fayeofthenightingale @s4dow @safixiovi

@hartsucks @amberbalcom14 @wait2nourh @tatooieve @helen-j-magnus @cl3stevu

@mintssanctuary @ghost-lantern @snails-doodles22 @tinythebunni

[maaarshieee]

Can you please Head cannon sleeping with genshin characters? ( Wanderer, Dottore, Childe, Diluc or Kaeya please??) <333

⎯⎯ ୨ Sleepy Eepy (HCs) ୧ ⎯⎯

ੈ♡˳ Childe, Diluc, Dottore, Kaeya & Wanderer x Gn!Reader *ೃ༄

ੈ♡˳ Masterlist *ೃ༄

author's note ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚

SLEEPY EEPY BABIES I LIKE,,, WROTE THIS AS SOON AS I GOT IT !! youre such,, brain!! i love your brain... hehehehehe,,, i wanna cuddol wit them when i go eepy... HAVE A GOOD DAY/NIGHGT!! <3 okay so i might write all guys as clingly so im... trying to give diversity LMAO

He tries so hard to be able to sleep on the same bed as you every night, but he gets too busy with his work as a Harbinger. But with enough effort, he manages to get in bed with you.

Sometimes he comes home awfully late, but there are times when he comes home early.

Sleeps shirtless because he loves, LOVES the feeling of your skin against his freckled body. He absolutely loves skinship, so feeling your hands trace over his scars right before falling asleep? Absolute heaven.

Want him to big spoon? Sure, baby! He loves to wrap his arms around you, it gives him a sense of calmness, knowing that even when he's asleep, he can have you in his arms to protect you from anything.

But if you want him to small spoon? Of course, whatever you want, babe! While he relishes the feeling of being able to protect you... His absolute guilty pleasure was to be held by you as if he's a fragile little thing... 

Your hands tenderly roam all over his abdomen, your chest pressing against his back while you pepper kisses all over his freckled shoulders always sending shivers up his spine. 

It's always so reassuring that, if there ever is a time when he'd be too vulnerable, you'd also be there to protect him, just as much as he'd protect you. 

Similar to Childe, he tries his best to get home on time so he could snuggle up with you and sleep soundly with you in his arms. He often comes home late, and he always feels bad to see you asleep on the couch, waiting for him. 

He's usually tired when he gets home so when he's finally in your embrace, he's immediately knocked out, no matter what position you're in. Diluc's body could be on top of yours and he'd be sleeping soundly.

You'd always have to take off the ponytail for him when he's about to sleep since he'd often forget, just too eager to just be with you in bed.

Not one to care if he's big or small spoon since he's already asleep before he could get himself in position. But he does enjoy being a big spoon, it makes his tense body relax further when his arms are wrapped around you. Your heat, closeness, and breathing are signs that you're still here, right next to him, not bound to disappear.

If you stay awake long enough, you'd hear him whispering your name while he was dreaming, with a small, soft smile tugging on his lips.

Rarely ever sleeps, so the chances of him sleeping with you are always sparse. He doesn't need sleep anymore. 

But if you should ever be lonely, you can just nab one of his segments and cuddle with them to be instead! Dottore encourages this since he can be very busy at times. 

And the segments never refuse, after all, you usually give all your affection towards Prime, so this is a good chance for them to be able to have you all for themselves, holding onto you tightly. 

If you're feeling extra frivolous, you can invite a bunch of segments into your private chambers and have them all sleep with you. It felt weird and suffocating at first, but now you've grown addicted to the feeling of multiple arms wrapping all over your body. They'd occasionally press kisses or nip on your exposed skin as well, anywhere and everywhere. 

Well, only if a segment was daring enough because Dottore is the only one to have access to your entire body. Poor segments :(

At the rare times when Dottore will decide to join you to bed, it usually happens at least 5 times in a row, night after night, before working all night once again. 

It was sporadic, so you never knew when he'd be joining you. Fortunately, you always took it as a pleasant surprise, grinning ear to ear with an incredulous look in your eyes as Dottore starts stripping to put on something more comfortable for the night. 

Dottore doesn't care what position you prefer, as long as it's comfortable and you're touching him. He does like big spooning though. 

His arms wrapped around you, trapping you as he pulls you impossibly close. Because you're his, and his only. Not anyone else's, and having you in his arms only feeds on his possessiveness. 

​Always there to be in bed with you as much as he can. While Kaeya can be busy in the morning, he makes time for you at night. In fact, the Cavalry Captain has become a bit more productive ever since he's gotten with you. 

Of course, he's not there all the time for you, or he's late, so he always makes it up to you by kissing you all over and mumbling sweet nothings in your ear, promising that he'll treat you so nice just to ask you for forgiveness. 

Before you get to bed though, if he's home early, he'd let you join into his nightly routines. It's just an excuse to pamper you even more and touch your cute little face. Plus, it helps you maintain your skincare!

He definitely got you into having nightly routines even if Kaeya comes home late or isn't able to sleep with you. Your skin has never been so healthier.

He adores wrapping his arms around your torso and burying his face in your chest. He thinks it's the most comfortable position to sleep in.

Would always tease you for a bit, tickling your sides or pressing his cold palms against the skin of your back, making you squeal and slap on Kaeya's arm to stop.

Big spoon or small spoon? He doesn't care! As long as he's in your arms, or you're in his arms. It still fills the void of longing in his heart to be so close to you, to have you as his lover.

He'd often wait for you to fall asleep first, only to shower kisses all over your face and whisper soft confessions that he aches to tell you, but was not just yet ready to do so.

And you'd be lying if you hadn't pretended to sleep often, just to hear him say those words over and over.

Always sleeps with you, no questions asked. Ever since he finally allowed himself to indulge in his desires, one of them is sleeping next to you, he never has given you a single night alone on your shared bed. 

In the beginning, his hugs were very tight, desperate, and never letting go, that if he ever did let go, you'd vanish in his arms, never to return. Gradually, it has changed. 

Now, it was gentle. Loose arms cradle you close to him as he buries his face into the crook of your neck, lips brushing against your skin before attacking you with a plethora of kisses, making you giggle. 

They're lighthearted now, loving and secure. He was relaxed and comfortable. While his hands gripping your clothes tells you that he's still desperately clutching onto you, in hopes you'd still be next to him once he opens his eyes, slowly, his hands would let go of your clothes. 

It gives you a sense of relief whenever he does, for you know he trusts you. Trusts that you'd never abandon him, to leave him so hastily without even a proper goodbye. Trusts that even if you decide to go, you'd return if you wanted to. 

He likes small spooning the most. Mostly because it greatly reassures him that he's wanted. That he's important to you. That you'll never let go of him if he ever told you to. That you treasure him, cherish him, adore him... That you still chose him despite his flaws. Despite being a puppet.

If you want to be tagged in future works, fill out this form to be added to my taglist! Remember that usernames are only lowercase and have no spaces!

Taglist: @anniejourn, @dilucssiliconedildo, @achlysyo, @sunoo-bby, @iyagato, @randomidk-123, @kujobug, @louise-rosita-leroux, @eliciana, @gattahaveit1, @vvyeislazzy, @ehe-te-nandayou, @raideneiari, @yourdailymemedelivery, @meisene, @manjirosluvr, @styxfly, @trannyctophiliac, @acepeanuts

- ̥۪͙۪˚┊❛❛ If you like this a lot, consider reblogging! I'll appreciate it very very much! Don't repost and/or translate my work anywhere. ❜❜ ┊˚ ̥۪͙۪◌

[supernovafics]

The I’ll be there for you series is ace! 🥵 I’d love a funny blurb about Steve walking in on reader and she’d just go out the shower! Steve would be so flustered. Kinda reminds me of when Chandler saw Rachel naked 😂

𝐋𝐄𝐓’𝐒 𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐆𝐄𝐓 𝐈𝐓

"i'll be there for you" universe masterlist

pairing: bestfriend!roommate!steve harrington x fem!reader

word count: 702 words

warnings: explicit language

summary: in which a very awkward moment occurs when you’re late for class 

author's note: thank you for the request!! i loved this idea lol

general note: everything in this universe/series can be read as standalone oneshots but to understand the full “lore” it would prob be best to read the other stuff too<333

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Fall 1985

You were already running late for your nine-thirty class, so you thought you might as well make your lateness worth it. 

You decided to actually put an effort into picking out an outfit for the day before taking a longer shower than usual because why not?

Twenty minutes later, you were pulling your towel from around you and starting to wipe the mirror to clear the steam from it, when the bathroom door abruptly opened.

Steve started walking in, gaze first meeting your immediate confused one. His eyes then glanced down for the briefest of moments before he quickly jumped back and slammed the door shut. “Oh. Fuck. Shit.”

“What the hell just happened?” Your bathroom door was now firmly closed, but you were still staring at it with wide eyes as you wrapped your towel back around you. 

“I’m sorry.” You heard Steve’s voice. “I thought you weren’t here because you’re usually gone and headed to your nine-thirty class by now. And I ran out of body wash, so I was coming in to steal yours. It’s nine-fifteen, why aren’t you at class right now?”

He was rambling and you didn’t have to actually see him to know that he looked so flustered right then. If you weren’t still completely thrown and in shock by the entire current situation, you might’ve laughed. 

“I woke up late and decided to just take my time instead of rushing,” You explained, making sure your voice was loud enough as you went back into the shower to grab something. “This professor is barely ever on time anyway.” 

“Oh, okay.” 

You opened the door and Steve immediately turned around. “Don’t worry, I have a towel on now.” He faced you again and you handed over your body wash. “I hope you enjoy smelling like lavender and vanilla for the day.”

“Thank you. I will,” He said, evading your eyes and keeping his gaze fixed on your bedroom floor. You could still see how red his cheeks were. “Once again, I’m sorry.” 

“It’s fine,” You told him. In that moment it didn’t necessarily feel fine— your best friend had just seen you fucking naked for goodness sake— but you knew that it would eventually feel fine, and you didn’t want to make things weirder than they were. So, you instead decided to make a joke. “I’ll just have to see your little Harrington one day to make things even.”

Somehow, Steve’s face turned an even brighter shade of red. 

“Steve, I’m kidding. Obviously,” You said as you readjusted your towel a bit, holding it firmly shut around you with just one hand so that you could use the other to poke your best friend standing in front of you. “Stop being weird and awkward about this. You saw me naked for a second, whatever, that’s okay.” You thought about your words for a second. “Okay, it’s not “okay,” but it will be. Let’s just forget this ever happened.”

He nodded after a second and you let out a happy sigh in relief, muttering out a quick, “Great.” You were about to turn around and go back into the bathroom but Steve started talking before you could. 

“Y’know, if seeing my… stuff is what it takes to restore balance between us, then we should do that,” He said and hearing the playful tilt in his voice made you smile. 

“I honestly think that if I saw your little Harrington right now it would just make things even more weird than they already are.”

“Okay, in that case, I’ll keep my pants on,” He told you and you laughed a bit. “It’s also not little, by the way.”

Now it was your turn for your cheeks to warm in awkwardness. You rolled your eyes as you finally turned away from him and started heading back into the bathroom. “Ew, oh God, please get out of my room. I didn’t need to know that, and you’re giving me way too many scarring visuals now.” 

When you closed the door behind you, you heard Steve say, “Oh, and we’re definitely taking this moment to the grave.”

You nodded even though he couldn’t see you. “Of course. I thought that was obvious.”

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

let me know ur thoughts<333

(requests are open for stuff you wanna see in the universe/series!🫶🏾)

[pinknightsinmymind]

【 the late shift - abby anderson | NSFW 】

wife!doctor!abby anderson x fem!wife!reader

NSFW CONTENT BELOW CUT MDNI

wc: 6.1k

summary: it's your precious wife's birthday. what better way to celebrate than dinner and birthday sex?

content: modern!au, wife!doctor!abby, wife!reader, descriptions of cooking (bc i love food❤️), domesticity with abby (she helps you cook), switch!abby, switch!reader, dom&sub!reader, dom&sub!abby, top&bottom!reader, top&bottom!abby, hickies, oral sex (r!receiving & abby!receiving), use of toys (abby!receiving), face sitting, fingering (abby!receiving), strap-on usage (r!receiving), abby refers to the strap as her dick/cock, doggy position, nipple play, praise, slight degradation (like once), slight spit kink, body worship, slight dumbification, breeding kink, abby lowkey having a housewife kink, slight spanking (abby just loves slapping your ass), slight dacryphillia, mentions of wine, reader and abby a lil tipsy, use of pet names (baby, babe, love, pretty girl, honey, etc.), mentions of nudes

a/n: this is the filthiest thing i've ever written. this is also the fic that won the poll i posted, so pls enjoy!! also, even though the morning sex option lost on the poll, i'm still gonna post that fic soon, and i can't wait for yall to read it!! pls tell me what you think about this fic bc i'd love to hear!! in this fic i introduce to you my abby happy trail agenda :)) again i just wanna thank you for all your support and love on my fics i appreciate every ounce of it i love yall so much <333

Abby was running late from work today—of all days—like she said she wouldn’t. Despite the fact it was her birthday, she couldn’t take the day off since one of her coworkers was on vacation at the moment. So, with no one else to cover the shift, she begrudgingly went to work on the one day she wanted off more than anything. The entire time she wished she were home and not at the hospital, but on her lunch break she sent you a photo of the small cake her coworker and friend, Nora, brought her. Since work would drain her by the time she got home, all she wanted was a simple at-home celebration that included dinner with you. She said she would be too tired for anything more than that, but you still had a few surprises lined up for her. You had her gifts waiting for her in your bedroom, a cake in the fridge, and you also had a brand new lingerie set you were wearing underneath your clothes. One that you may or may not have sent photos of your body in to tease her while she was at work. But that was neither here nor there.

However, despite both of your best efforts, today just wasn’t playing out how either of you wanted. She had promised she’d be home tonight by five to celebrate her birthday, but it was already past seven. You had gotten texts from her earlier explaining that an emergency had come up with one of her patients and that she’d be running late. You understood that her work was important and, of course, weren’t mad at her for something out of her control. You also knew she cared a lot about her patients and took her work seriously. You were just a little sad that you couldn’t celebrate her birthday sooner and that you had to wait a little longer. While sitting on the couch, you got a text from Abby saying she was finally on her way home. You decided now would be the best time to start getting dinner ready, and headed to the kitchen to prepare everything. You cleaned up your big, granite counter so you’d have space for all your ingredients, and pulled out a cutting board. You had barely finished chopping the mushrooms and tomatoes when you heard the front door opening and closing. You heard Abby’s keys jingling as her steady footsteps sounded from the foyer all the way into the den.

“[Y/N]?” she called.

“In the kitchen!” you responded, leaning against the counter as you waited for her to emerge. She was still in her scrubs and had her backpack on, but as soon as she saw you she slipped it off and let it drop to the floor.

“Baby, I’m so sorry,” she said immediately. She walked up to you and pulled you into a hug. “One of my patients had an emergency that I needed to take care of. I had barely finished packing my things up when it happened. I didn’t even get the chance to clock out.”

“Hey, it’s okay,” you assured her. “I know these things happen.” Abby pulled away from the hug, her hands slipping from your shoulders down to your waist. She placed a kiss on your forehead.

“You sure? I know you wanted today to be special.”

“I mean, I’m a little sad you came home later than usual, but at least you’re here now,” you explained.

“I’m sorry, honey,” she said again. She craned her face down to your neck and began to place kisses along your collarbones and the side of your neck. “I really wanted to come home early like you wanted.”

“It’s okay. You texted me right on time, so at least I hadn’t started making dinner. It would’ve gone cold.”

“Now that would’ve made me even sadder,” Abby said, pulling her face out from the crook of your neck. She rubbed lazy circles on your back before picking you up without warning. She sat you down on the kitchen counter and made sure to stand in between your legs. She placed more kisses on your neck and jaw, her hands rubbing up and down your thighs. “You’re such an angel. Let me make it up to you, hm?”

“Abs,” you said quietly.

“Let me make you feel good.”

“But you’re still in your scrubs,” you said to her.

“And?” She bit the skin around your neck, then sucked on it a little before licking it. A small whine left your lips at the feeling as you grasped onto her big arms. “I thought you said they look good on me?”

“You’re a huge germaphobe. You know this,” you scolded her. Abby stopped what she was doing and sighed.

“Fine, you’re right. I’ll shower, but when I get out, it’s over for you,” she warned.

“Sure it is, ma’am,” you joked with her.

“Wanna bet?” she asked. She turned to look at you, raising one of her eyebrows as she gave your body a once over.

“Go take a shower, Abigail,” you said jokingly. She laughed as she turned around to walk to your bedroom.

“Using my full government name now? Wow,” she said with fake hurt before disappearing down the hall. You chuckled a little and rolled your eyes at her dramatics.

First order of business: sauce. You prepped the pan and poured in the tomato sauce that Abby liked and added the chopped up tomatoes and mushrooms to the mix. While the sauce was heating up, you began to prepare the pot to boil the pasta. You made fun of Abby for having bowties as her favorite pasta—you told her it was so cute for someone as tough-looking as her—but it was her favorite so of course you’d make it. You salted the water as you turned up the temperature of the oven. Now all that was left was to make the chicken. The chicken had been defrosting in the sink for a while, and you still had to set up the bowls of batter and crumbs. You decided to coat the chicken in panko bread crumbs for a more crunchy texture, the sound of the sizzling oil filling the air as you dropped the chicken in. The sauce you had made was already simmering on the stove, and you knew it would be finished by the time the chicken was. While you set the chicken to fry, you finally added the pasta into the now boiling water.

You were checking on the chicken when you felt a pair of hands slide across your stomach from behind you. You stifle a chuckle at the feeling as you hadn’t heard Abby approach you and because it made you flustered. Her hands roamed from your stomach to ghost over your ribcage, down to your lower abdomen, repeat. She knew just how to fluster you.

“Well, hello to you, too,” you said to her. You grabbed the tongs nearby and flipped the pieces of chicken over.

“You look so cute like this,” Abby whispered.

“Oh, yeah?” you asked. “What about me is cute to you right now?”

“The fact that you’re making me dinner.” One of her hands slid down from your stomach and past your thighs before she started to grope your ass.

“Abby!” you yelled. “Stop being so horny.” Although you were technically scolding her, you were laughing a little bit as you did. You wanted to pretend you didn’t like Abby’s antics, but you couldn’t. She was just so endearing, and you did love her touch.

“Alright, alright. I’ll keep my hands above your ass. Is that better?” she teased.

“Much better.” You took out two pieces of chicken that were done frying and placed them on the pan you set out to collect them after they were cooked. After you finished with the chicken you were planning on covering them in mozzarella to sit in the oven for a few minutes. You felt Abby’s hand move from your ass and back to caressing your stomach and your hips. “You’re touchy today.”

“And are you complaining?” she asked in a low voice. She nuzzled her face into your neck as she began to place kisses all over your skin. She was gingerly ghosting over that one spot that drove you crazy, barely leaving a trace of her warmth behind as her skin grazed past yours. Her lips would practically hover over as if she was going to kiss you before moving. What a tease.

“No, but aren’t you afraid of the oil splattering us?”

“I don’t know. I think it could be kind of sexy. Like wax play or something.”

“You are unbelievable,” you laughed. “If you want to be helpful, can you get the mozzarella out of the fridge? The packaging’s brand new.”

She placed a few more kisses on the back of your neck. “Yes, ma’am.” She pulled away from your body, but not before smacking your ass.

“Abigail Anderson,” you warned.

“[Y/N] Anderson,” she said as she walked to the fridge. “I’ll do you one better. I’ll even shred it for you,” she announced.

“Wow. You’re so kind,” you said sarcastically. You took out the two final pieces of chicken and turned the burner beneath the pan off. In the meantime, you could hear Abby pulling out the cheese grater and a bowl to get to work. You grabbed a nearby spoon and stirred the pasta a little bit to see how close it was to being ready.

“Here you go, love.” Abby suddenly appeared at your side with the shredded mozzarella in a bowl for you. She gave you a kiss on the cheek, one you quickly returned as you grabbed the bowl from her hands.

“Thank you, babe.”

“No problem. Let me drain the pasta for you, okay?” Abby said. You nodded as you turned off the sauce and got to work on the chicken. You drizzled an equal amount of cheese on each piece of chicken before sliding it into the oven. While you were busy with that, you could hear Abby digging around to find the strainer. It didn’t take her long, and before you knew it you could hear the water going down the sink’s drain. After you closed the oven, you leaned against the counter and let out a sigh. Only a few more minutes and dinner would be ready. You watched Abby as she transferred the pasta back to its pot before leaving the strainer by the kitchen sink. When Abby turned around, she gave you a sheepish smile as she waltzed to the stove. She put the pot on one of the empty burners before sauntering over to you. She pulled you by your hips closer to her.

“Can’t wait to eat this food,” she said. “You worked so hard on it.”

“Well, it’s your birthday!” you said excitedly. “I wanted it to be special.”

“And you achieved just that.” Abby leaned in, her lips touching yours so gently and with such passion. Her arms wrapped around you tightly as she pulled you closer. Your hands found their way to her hair as you got enraptured in the kiss. Her hair was down at the moment, and it was always such a sight to see. You loved the way it framed her face, how it seemed to make her features light up. She felt so good against you, and you could smell the coconut shampoo she used and the pine soap that made her smell so fresh and clean. God, she was so addicting, and as much as you loved kissing her, your eyes widened when you remembered the chicken inside the stove.

“Abby,” you said.

“What is it, baby?” she whispered, clearly thinking you were about to ask her something else.

“The chicken!” you said, and pulled away from her immediately. You yanked the stove open and pulled the food out. The delicious scent immediately wafted to your nose, and you could feel your stomach come to life with hunger.

“God, that looks delicious,” Abby said. “Yeah, I’m fucking you good tonight.” You wanted to make a joke about how vulgar her words were, but you already knew what she would say in response: “But you like it, don’t you?” The answer would be “yes,” and that’s why you let the words stay in your mouth.

After the successful dinner, you brought Abby’s gifts out from your bedroom to let her open them up. You bought her the gold bracelet she had been eyeing for a while, a special edition copy of her favorite book, and concert tickets for her favorite band. To say she was pleased was an understatement. After Abby opened her presents, she ran to your pantry to pull out the brand new bottle of wine she had hidden for this occasion. It was a surprise from her to you for such a great day so far. One and a half glasses of wine later, you and Abby were cuddling on the couch together. At least that’s what it had begun as. The two of you nursing your glasses of wine, sitting together underneath a blanket, a random show playing on the TV, until the drinks started to make you both a little frisky. Your glasses had both been abandoned on the coffee table in front of you, Abby’s lips on yours as she pulled you into her lap. Her hands were roaming all over your body. From your ass to your hips, your waist to beneath your bra. While on the outside she continued her movements without hesitation, on the inside she felt herself getting flustered. She had seen the photos you sent her while she was at work—she spent a good few minutes gawking at them—but she didn’t think you were still wearing the lingerie set. The bra you were wearing was lacy and thin, and was that a bow in the center? You would be the death of her. She just wanted all of you in this moment, and no matter how much she pulled you into her body, it wasn’t close enough. Her lips wandered from your jaw down to your neck, leaving scarlet marks there in her wake.

“I’ve wanted you so bad all day, baby,” she whispered. Her hands began fiddling with your nipples through your bra. The fabric was so thin it was like you weren’t wearing anything at all. “So bad. Especially after you teased me while I was at work.” Your lips found hers again, and to your surprise, Abby’s hands moved to your hips as she made you grind onto her. A small whimper left your mouth at the sudden friction, the noises you made immediately swallowed by her kiss.

“Abby,” you moaned. She smiled at the mention of her name, but her lips stayed on yours.

“What is it?” she asked between kisses.

“I need you.” She moved your hips into hers again, the ache in between your legs becoming too much. You just needed her to make it go away. “Let’s go to our room.” You could feel Abby perk up at the request, and she didn’t hesitate to push the blanket off both your bodies. She adjusted your legs so they were wrapped around her waist, strengthening her grip around your ass. She got up from the couch and began walking down the hall to your bedroom. She stopped kissing you to keep an eye on where she was headed, but you started to kiss her all over her neck. She gave your ass a particularly harsh squeeze before she pushed the door open to your room. She continued her march to your bed, setting you down onto the soft mattress before her. When she plopped down next to you in bed, your hands didn’t hesitate to wander towards the hem of her shirt, pulling it off her body desperately. To your delight, she wasn’t wearing a bra. Your lips found their way to her breasts, kissing all over them and her nipples. Before Abby knew it, you had your lips wrapped around her nipples, sucking and kissing them gently.

“Fuck, baby,” she groaned. “Treat me so good.”

“Wanna taste you,” you mumbled against her skin. “Let me eat you out.” Abby wasn’t going to object, because she wanted you to do as you asked just as bad as you did. “Say it,” you commanded.

“I want you to eat me out,” she whined. You kissed down from her breasts to her stomach, fingers ghosting over her pale, blonde happy trail. You pulled her sweatpants down and—No panties. You took her in like the beautiful sight she was.

“You’re not wearing anything underneath at all, Abs?” you teased. “Is that how bad you’ve needed me?”

“Yes,” she answered.

“Lay down,” you ordered her. She did as you asked, laying on top of your well-made bed that would soon be messed up when you were done with her. You moved closer to her and grabbed ahold of her thighs, kissing them as you inched upwards towards her center. You could see how wet and needy she was for your touch. You didn’t hesitate to begin sucking at her clit, because you knew that was just the place she needed your attention from the most. You’d spare her some teasing. She moaned as soon as she felt the contact, squirming from the stimulation. You wrapped your arms around her thighs to hold her in place and pull her closer to you. You could feel her pubic hair scratching your face as you dug in, but it was never a sensation you hated. You enjoyed having all of her, every piece of her. You loved her taste on your tongue, the way she moaned and whimpered with every movement of it. You just loved making her feel good.

She kept squirming underneath you, every sound coming out of her either being a whine or a whimper. She always got desperate like this whenever she was receiving, and it was always such a sight. Abby liked to portray herself as this strong, dominant person, but that image of her always quickly dissipated as soon as your mouth was on her pussy. That version of Abby was nowhere to be found, not when you were taking care of her like this, giving her the space to let her guard down for once.

“Baby, you need to stop squirming,” you warned her. “You keep moving away from me. Feels that good, love?”

“So good,” she choked out. You stopped sucking on her clit, instead choosing to circle it with your thumb, only achingly slow. A pathetic whimper left her lips, and you knew she was feeling desperate. That was the point. You wanted to play with her, to make her beg. You kept moving your thumb slowly, no matter how much she whined. She’d have to ask you if she wanted more.

“What’s the matter?” you teased her. “You sound like you’re crying. What’s wrong? Tell me.”

“Need you,” she cried. “Please. I need more.”

“What do you need? Gotta tell me exactly what you want,” you explain.

“I need your mouth on me. Suck on my clit, please.” She was just so needy. How could you deny her? You returned your lips to her cunt, licking her through her folds, admiring how much wetter she had grown in the process. She tasted so sweet on your tongue as you lightly brushed it over her clit before taking it back into your mouth to suck on it again. You could feel her thighs tightening around you, and you let her do it. You knew this meant she was getting close, and you didn’t let up on your actions. You kept kissing and licking and sucking, wanting to do anything your wife may have needed. Her thighs were shaking by this point.

“Gonna cum,” she whimpered. Her hands were gripping onto the bed sheets, her head tilting as she let out rough moans. She was close, and a loud moan left her mouth suddenly. That’s how you knew she came, but you weren’t done. While she was still sensitive, you began to circle your thumb around her clit, little whimpers leaving her lips at the feeling. You reached into the bedside stand and pulled out the dildo you knew she kept there, licking it to get it wet.

“Can you take it, love?” you asked her. She nodded. “What did we talk about? Use your words, Abs,” you scolded her.

“I can take it. Please, put it inside me.” You did as she asked, slowly thrusting it inside her. You didn’t stop circling her clit as you did so, intent on making sure she felt good each step of the way. A groan left Abby’s lips as she felt the dildo slowly entering her inch by inch. The pleasure was overwhelming, and she couldn’t help any of the loud moans leaving her mouth when you were this good to her.

“Just like that, baby,” you encouraged her. “Just like that. Keep moaning for me.” You finally had the dildo to the hilt inside her, leaving it in for a moment to let her adjust. After you let her get comfortable, you pulled it out and let it sink back within her, solidifying a steady pace for her.

“It feels so good. God, it’s so good,” she moaned. You smiled at her reaction, making sure to continue giving her just what she needed. You continued at the pace you set, Abby growing increasingly desperate with each drag of the toy. “Harder. Please. Harder,” she begged. And who were you to deny what your love wanted? You did just as she asked, moving the dildo at the same speed, but with a greater intensity like she asked. There were tears brimming her eyes as she continued moaning. She felt so good, unable to fully put into words just how amazing you made her feel. All she knew is that she didn’t want this to end.

“Are you gonna cum for me, darling?” you asked her.

“Fuck,” she moaned. “Yes, yes, yes. I’m gonna cum.” You continued your actions as she asked, watching as she creamed all over the toy. Abby was catching her breath as you pulled the toy out of her and rushed to put it in the bathroom sink. When you came back, Abby was sitting up in bed with a new fire in your eyes. As soon as you got close enough to her, she grabbed your hand and pulled you back into the bed. She stood up from the bed and got down on her knees in front of you. She didn’t hesitate to pull your jeans down your legs, her eyes immediately landing on the pretty lingerie set underneath your pants. She pulled your legs apart, unable to stop herself from kissing your cunt through your panties, all pretty and lacy in your favorite color. She was so overwhelmed with love and lust, unsure what to do with herself and the rush of emotions filling her body. It didn’t help that you were both a little tipsy. She licked a stripe over the fabric, your hands automatically moving to grab her hair. After a few more teasing licks, she finally pulled your panties down, and she could see how wet you were. You were practically glistening, all pretty and ready just for her. She dug into you immediately, her tongue tasting and feeling every part of you.

“Taste so good, love,” she groaned. The moans leaving your lips were addictive. It was her favorite part of pleasuring you: hearing how good you felt. And when you’d finally cum on her face? That’s what made it all worth it. She continued sucking on your clit, moaning at the feeling of your growing wetness on her lips. Your grip kept tightening on her hair, and she loved it. She was on her knees before you, and she felt that was exactly where she belonged—worshiping you.

“You know what I want?” she suddenly spoke up. She trailed her lips away from your center and began kissing your thighs as she looked up at you. You could tell by the look in her eyes she had an idea. “Want you to sit on my face, love. Can you do that for me?” You couldn’t say no. Not when she was looking up at you like that.

“Yes,” you answered. The switch from your dominant personality from earlier to this submissive one was making Abby’s head spin.

“Good girl. Just what I wanted to hear.” Abby rose from her position on the ground and crawled onto the bed before laying down. “Come on, babe. I’m all ready for you.” You moved from where you were sitting on the edge of the bed towards her body. You straddled her hips and leaned down to kiss her, hoping to convey to her all the love and longing you were feeling. Abby’s hands moved from her sides to rub against your hips before promptly slapping your ass. You let out a yelp at the sensation, but it only made you wetter. “Come on. Stop teasing me. I need to taste you again. Need to show my sweet, little wife how much I love her.” You couldn’t help the moan that escaped your mouth when you felt her slap your ass again. “You made me a nice, home-cooked meal to celebrate my birthday, and I think that means I should be putting a baby in you by the end of the night. What do you think?”

“Please, Abs,” you whined. “I want you so bad.”

“Then sit on my face, pretty girl. You know that’s what I want.” You finally pulled your lips away from hers and removed yourself from her lap. You looked down at Abby one last time before sliding one of your legs to rest on the other side of her head until you were practically straddling her. You had yet to set yourself down on her face yet, but Abby waited, her hands already reaching up to start tracing the skin over your ass and hips. You slowly situated yourself against her mouth, something you’ve done countless times before, but the anticipation always consumed you.

The first thing you felt was the warmth of her lips, then the wetness of her tongue as she started to lick your folds. A whine left your lips at the feeling, so desperate for your wife like always. Abby’s grip on your ass was tight as she held you in place, ensuring that she’d be able to devour you just like she wanted. She rocked your hips as she licked your cunt and lapped up all your juices. The friction was making you see stars. She kept moving you, guiding your movements onto her tongue, never once stopping for a second. You felt her let out a small moan, the vibrations reverberating and amplifying your pleasure. Abby suddenly stilled the movements of your hips, but her grip tightened as you felt her start to suck your clit.

“Oh, Abby, just like that,” you moaned. You didn’t have to tell her twice, as her tongue was already swirling around your clit just how you liked it. You felt so good, the pleasure overwhelming your body from just how good Abby was treating you. She was definitely keeping her promise from earlier. You moaned at the feeling of her tongue working against you. You could feel the knot growing in your stomach, building faster and faster. The moans leaving your lips were desperate, but you couldn’t help it when this was how Abby made you feel. She made you feel alive, like your whole body was on fire.

“I’m close,” you moaned. “I’m so close.” Your hands gripped onto your thighs as Abby’s grip was too strong for you to move anywhere else. Instead, you steadily rocked your hips against her face, the tip of her nose knocking into your clit. The friction and combined with the way Abby was eating you out was intense, and within seconds you felt yourself cumming all over her face. Abby continued sucking on your clit to fuck you through your orgasm, but she wasn’t done with you yet. She tapped onto your thighs, a sign you recognized as her asking you to get off her. You did as she asked and removed yourself from her face to settle into the sheets. Abby sat up in bed, and she wasted no time in kissing you wildly. You could feel the wetness on her face and taste yourself on her tongue, completely lost in the feeling of her. You could do this with her for hours if she wanted. You felt her reach down to your t-shirt and raised it over your head as she immediately ogled at the pretty bra you had on. It matched your panties, and it looked so gorgeous on you. She kissed you hungrily, palming at your breasts. She reached behind you to unclip your bra and threw it somewhere randomly. She was back on you in an instant, clearly not satisfied.

“You want my cock in you, baby? Want me to fill you up?”

“God, yes, Abby,” you answered.

“I’ll go get it.” You watched as she retreated to your closet that held most of your toys, the main one being her strap. She returned to your bedside with both the flesh-colored dildo and harness in her hands. “Help me put it on, honey.” You did as she asked and moved towards the edge of the bed. Abby slipped her legs through the harness, but you helped her tighten the straps and adjust it on her hips. She stroked your cheeks and hair as you did so with a soft smile on her face.

“Okay, it’s ready, Abs,” you announced.

“Thank you, baby. Why don’t you turn around and get on your hands and knees for me, huh?” You didn’t hesitate to do as she asked, getting yourself comfortable in the position that was without a doubt Abby’s favorite. You felt Abby step closer to your body, the strap momentarily pressing against your skin. You heard Abby spitting, and before you knew it you felt something wet coating your cunt. She rubbed the strap through your folds, teasing your clit before bringing it back up to your hole. You were still so wet and ready for her; it made her feel lightheaded. Abby started teasing your entrance with her cock, and you let out a small whimper in response. She pushed it in a tiny bit, but just that small thrust had you whining. She pulled it out, then put it back in the same amount, then out again. She was teasing you, and she reveled in every moment of it. She did the same pattern again, this time pushing it in up to its head. She could hear the desperate whines leaving your mouth, but she was a bully when it came to teasing.

“Abby!” you whined. She let out a quiet chuckle.

“Is something wrong, baby?” she asked, pulling out yet again.

“Yes! You’re teas—” Before you could finish, she pushed it back into you again, nearly half-way now. It caught you off guard, a gasp leaving your lips at the sensation.

“What was that?” she asked.

“You’re teasing me,” you said. Abby pulled out of you again, and it left you feeling so empty. You just wanted her deep inside of you. “Please, Abby. I need you inside me. Please.”

“Fuck. I can’t tell you no, baby.” Without warning, you felt her shove the entire thing inside you this time. You moaned loudly at the sudden force. “Like that? Wanted me deep inside you like this?”

“Yes,” you answered. Abby grabbed onto your hips roughly, preparing herself as she slid her dick out of you a tiny bit before slamming it back in, then repeating. She was starting off slow and steady, but she was giving you what you needed. Your moans were already in full force, bouncing off the walls and filling her ears like sweet music. She got off on hearing you just as much as she did from seeing how you looked while she fucked you from behind. She started to pick up her pace a little bit, and she could see you reaching to grab at the bedsheets. She couldn’t help the smirk that appeared across her face.

“That’s it,” she encouraged. “Just like that. Got you going dumb on my cock already, huh?” She knew she wasn’t going to get an answer out of you since your face was buried in the mattress, but she was still going to ask. “Taking it so good, baby. Fuck, I love seeing you like this. All pretty and dumb on my cock. When I’m done with you, I’m gonna fill you all the way up. You’d like that?”

“Please. I need you to fill me up,” you cried out. Abby continued her pace, but when she heard your voice, she could tell that you were crying. It turned her on even more.

“Gonna let me cum inside and make you my pretty, little cumslut? Want me to get you fucking pregnant?” she asked.

“Yes!” you cried out. Abby was many things, but a composed woman at a time like this wasn’t one of them.

“Fuck,” she grunted. She loved the enthusiasm of your answer, speeding up the pace of her thrusts. She could feel the harness rubbing against her clit, and it was driving her wild. She kept fucking into you, pulling your hips into hers over and over again. Yeah, she was going to fuck you good, and she was going to make sure you were screaming the whole night. She could hear your skin slapping against hers as she continued her pace, and before she knew it her moans were joining in with yours. She just felt so amazing. Everything about this moment did.

“Abby! Fuck, Abby, you’re so deep. It’s so good.” You words were incoherent babbles, and that’s how Abby knew she was doing a good job for sure.

“I know, baby. I’m fucking you just right, huh? Just like you need.” She barely managed to get the words out, panting and grunting from her own pleasure. It just felt so good to take you in this position. You were having a hard time speaking yourself, your brain all fuzzy and fucked out. The feeling of Abby’s cock dragging inside your walls and that spot it was hitting were more than enough to fuck you dumb. It was all you ever needed. You could feel the tears that were drying on your cheeks as Abby continued to overstimulate you. You could feel yourself getting closer yet again, the feeling more than you could bear.

“Abby. Abby. I think I’m cumming,” you cried. “I’m gonna cum.” You were too out of it to speak, so caught up in the feeling of her inside you and her promises of breeding you. It all made you feel so good, the ideas of her cumming inside you upping your pleasure by a tenfold.

“Cum on my cock, baby. Know you can do it.” Abby didn’t let up her pace one bit, and you reached down to rub your clit as she fucked into you. Fuck. There was no one like Abby, and soon you found yourself cumming harder than ever. The moan that was ripped from your body sounded more like a scream as you continued to rub your clit while it washed over you. Abby was close, too, and hearing the sounds of your pleasure was enough to send her over the edge. Abby grunted loudly, feeling herself cum as the movement of her strap stilled inside you. You both stayed like that for a second to cool down, and after a moment Abby slowly pulled out of you. You moved out of the position you were in and collapsed on the bed. Abby pulled the harness and strap off her body, abandoning it on the bedside table. She’d leave cleaning it for later. She immediately dived into bed, fixing the covers for you both as she pulled you into her arms. She started kissing your forehead as she rubbed your back.

“You okay, love?”

“Yeah,” you answered. “Just tired.”

“Me, too. You did so good for me, baby.”

“Thanks, Abs. You were really good for me, too.”

“Yeah?” she asked.

“Yeah,” you said. “I love you. I’m so sleepy,” you whispered. Abby laughed at that.

“I love you, too. Now, let’s go to sleep, babe. I’m off tomorrow, remember?”

“Can we get coffee tomorrow?” you asked.

“Of course, baby. We’ll go shopping, too, if you want.”

“You’re so great, Abs. Love you.”

“Love you, too,” she replied, watching how your eyes fluttered shut. What a sleepy thing, she thought, but she’d have you no other way. That’s what she promised in her vows.

[gojos-version]

hii may i request a friends to lovers fic (gojo x reader) where reader fells first but gojo fells harder? thank you if you write this, of course you can ignore it<333 have a nice day!!

Pairings- Y/N x Best friend! Satoru Gojo

Summary- What the request says :) Reader's 19 and so is Satoru, jujutsu high and curses and stuff still exist I've just kept Suguru alive <3

Warnings- None!! all fluff <3

Word count- 2.2k

Proof read- ✅

A/N- Thank you so much for the request anon!! this was so much fun to write, i hope this is to your standards<3!!

⋆ ✩°｡⋆ 𖦹｡˚ ⋆ ✮ ༺ ⟡ ݁₊ ⊹ ა ✧ ໒ ⊹ ₊ ݁ ݁⟡ ༻ ✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩ ⊰⊱ ✩°｡⋆ 𖦹｡˚ ⋆

You and Satoru had known each other since high school, how you may ask? Well, you didn’t know quite when you became friends. You mostly kept quiet and kept to yourself while he was loud and outgoing, his best friend you found you could get along with more than him. He was a complex guy. Both he and his best friend were the popular kids while you just blended in the background. Not like you wanted the spotlight anyway.

Your teacher paired you up together for a mission, that's how you started talking. Those stupid blue eyes that made your heart race every time your eyes met them. You were grateful he had sunglasses covering his eyes because you'd have a heart attack at how pretty his eyes were. If you thought after the mission ended you'd never talk again with him, boy you'd be so wrong. 

Ever since then he wouldn't stop talking to you and dragging you everywhere with him, even his friends Shoko and Suguru welcomed you with open arms. Ever since then he was attached to you like you were superglued together, wherever he went you followed; wherever you went he followed you. That's just how it was. You tried to convince yourself that you would never fall for someone but your heart didn't listen, it raced everytime he was close to you, everytime he hugged you or leaned on you, everytime he got your favourite snack or whenever he'd fall asleep on you while you both watched a movie, or whenever you fell asleep on him you'd find yourself tucked into bed your face flushing at the thought of him carrying you to your bed.

All those little things made your body heat up and your heart throb. You admired every single little thing about him, you treasured all of your little moments together. You still remember the night you fell in love with him. It was a rainy night. You were cooped up on your couch snacking on the snack you made while watching your favourite show. You heard a knock on the door and you grumble because who the heck would knock on your door at 10pm?? When you opened the door there stood Satoru. Your Satoru. Your best friend. Well one of your best friends. But why was Satoru at your door so late?? He was drenched in water, his eyes tired as they bored into yours.

“Satoru? Why are you here, it's 10 at night?” Your brows furrowed and that night he didn't say anything. When he came into light you noticed he had dried up blood on his clothes. And he wasn't wearing something he’d usually wear. He said nothing as he hugged you tightly. That night was the night you knew your feelings for him were more than platonically. The fear that raced in your heart at the thought of him being hurt. But that night he turned out to be fine. You gave him a change of clothes and he fell asleep in your arms watching your show with you. It was a weird night but you realised how much he meant to you. 

That was when you realised how much you loved that stupid man. Years ago now. At the current moment you, Shoko, Suguru and Satoru were at Jujutsu High. Satoru and Suguru were playing basketball while you stretched out on the bleachers with Shoko talking about random things. Times like these you adored, no missions just hanging out with everyone. “Y/n! Shoko! Come play with usssssss!” Satoru whines before bickering with Suguru when he hits Satoru with the ball. “They wouldn’t wanna play with you cheater!” Satoru gasps in response and the two argue. You turn to Shoko, “Wanna get coffee? I’m craving it so badly right now”, “Yeah lets go abandon these losers”, she grins grabbing your hand and almost dragging you down the bleachers.

“Hey! Where are you guys going?” Satoru shouts at you and you can hear the pout in his voice. “We’re going to do something!!” Shoko yells back at him, “Coffee!!” You shout before you're out of his sight. Before you knew it you were sitting with Shoko, eating your cake and drinking coffee. “So,” She starts; “Anyone you like?” You feel yourself heat up, “I-uh no.” You look down at your coffee, avoiding her gaze. “Don’t lie to me, Y/n!! Come onnnnn!!! You know I won't tell anyonneeee!!” She whines, giving you pleading eyes.

You sigh softly, “I do. I really love him though. Its more than a crush.” You say it so quietly she almost doesn't hear you. “What!! Who. details. Now.” she puts her hands over her mouth trying not to squeal. “Don’t say anything okay? But it's one of our best friends. Please don't make me say it, I'm already dying of embarrassment.” You put your head in your hands and exhale. “It’s Satoru isn't it? I see how you look at him.” You nod your head without looking up; “Yeah..please keep it between us. I don't even know what I want to do, I'm too scared to confess because I'd definitely be rejected- ""Y/n. He wouldn't reject you. At all. If anything, I think he can't understand emotions himself. But I see the way he looks at you though. He talks about you a lot when you aren't around; it's like you're the only thing on his mind. But you know I won't say anything, we don't have to do anything yet but if you need my help with setting you both up I’d help!! Plus if Suguru knew he’d help too” 

Your cheeks heat up. “Thank you Shoko, I know he’d keep it a secret. I just.. I don't know if I want Satoru to know.. I don't know if we’d both be ready for a relationship- hell if he even feels the same way.” Before you could say more you heard the coffee shop door open and Satoru’s loud boisterous voice; “Y/N!! SHOOKOO!!”; “Speaking of the devil” She mutters and waves a hand over to Satoru and Suguru. “Sorry for interrupting girl time, he wouldn't stop whining about wanting to see Y/N- you guys.” Suguru tries to play his mess up coolly as Satoru shoots him a glare and sits down next to you.

Your mind starts wondering what did Suguru mean? Was he going to say Satoru wanted to see me? And Shoko thinks he likes me but he's not aware of it?? No, Y/N. don't get your hopes up. Not now. Dont. “Missed us already?” You try to play off teasingly, “It was lonely. Crazy bangs was too annoying” Satoru sighs dramatically and Suguru starts bickering with him, it makes you laugh. Thank god it cleared up your thoughts. The four of you were talking mindlessly and laughing, you failed to notice Satorus eyes lingering your direction when you did not notice. 

Satoru couldn't understand why he couldn't stop admiring you, hanging onto each word you say, your laugh being his favourite sound. Why? Why do I feel like this? What is this? He questioned himself but he didn't understand it. Maybe I'll ask Suguru about it. But really.. Why is my heart racing when she smiles at me? Why do I feel hot all over? Satoru was internally panicking with what was going on. He didn't notice any of this before. He thought it was normal but now it was bugging him because he truly didn't understand it.

Later that night you were walking to your dorm when for once.. Satoru wasn’t next to you? Or practically hugging you and dragging you to your dorm so the two of you can watch something together. Weird. You tried to shrug off the weird feeling you were getting and you just went to your room and went to sleep. You don't bother watching something then sleeping. Maybe for once an early night could be good. You felt yourself drift off into a peaceful slumber in the warmth of your bed trying to push down your weird gut feeling.

Knock knock knock.

Huh?

Knock knock knock knock knock knock knock slam!

What the fuck is going on?

“Y/N!!” Was that.. Satoru? Why was he here at.. 3 in the damn morning?!?!?!You rush to get up and go to the door, even forgetting to put on a damn robe or your slippers just in your PJ’s. When you open the door you see him. Oh even though he's in distress he looks so beautiful right now. No. Y/N. not now. “What's wrong? Satoru, it's 3 in the morning.” and he looks down at his feet. “‘M sorry. We didn't get to watch something together. Like we usually do.” he wanted to tell you he missed you. But he's scared of how he feels right now so he ignored you and ran to Suguru’s dorm for an answer to this.

“I-you had to apologise now?? Satoru, it's okay, it's not like we have to hang out every night or all day-""But I want to. I just. I don't understand myself and my feelings right now.” He blurts out, his hair looked so oddly dishevelled and you longed to run your hands through it. “Feelings?” You asked confused, what does he mean? “I-um. I meant with emotions and I ju- "" It's okay, Satoru. I get it.”  You cut him off, why for even a moment did you hope he'd say ‘how i feel about you’ you silly silly girl. Why would he ever like you? He'd never.. Right? Your body had a shockwave go through it, a shockwave of heat and you swallow the lump in your throat.

“I’m going back to sleep. You should too. We can talk more tomorrow.” You mumble, “Alright..” he sighs. The whole interaction was so weird. and out of the blue...Boy tomorrow was going to be a long day.

Time skip <3

You wake up to the sunlight flooding through your room, your eyes blurry trying to adjust to it. Just what time is it? You wonder as you twist your body to the side, and you slip your slippers on. Shit its 10 in the morning. You quickly get changed into your uniform and brush your teeth and hair before running out of your dorm room, towards the kitchen. “Y/N!! Morning!! How’d you rest?” Shoko greets you, wrapping an arm around your shoulders, “Satoru’s currently on a mission” Suguru’s voice rings out as he snacks on a sandwich. You let out a sigh of relief at that.

“Soo you want me and Shoko to set you both up?” The water you started sipping spat out everywhere. You turn to glare at Shoko and she raises her hands in defeat; “I didn't say anything!” She whispers shouts and Suguru just laughs. “Shoko didn't say anything, it’s obvious you love that bastard.” You try to seize your coughing fit and drown more water. C’mon it couldn't be that obvious. “Does Satoru-” “No. he's too blind. He doesn't suspect anything.” Suguru eases you and you sit down on the couch sighing loudly. 

The door slams open and you look up to see a very out of breath Satoru. “Hey-” “Y/n. Can we talk?” He ignores the other 2, his gaze burning holes into yours from across the room. Your pulse quickens and your mouth runs dry; “S-sure..” you shakily get up and play with your hands while you walk towards him. When you were next to him he seemed nervous to even touch you. That was nothing like him. “W-we’re going out.” Satoru stuttering?? His cheeks and ears were red from how close you both were to each other. Satoru blushing?? You wish you could take a picture so you could never forget how pretty he looked. 

He shakily took your hand and dragged you to a little secluded park, it was beautiful too with blossom trees blooming and some petals falling around. It was almost like a scene out of a movie. While you took the view in Satorus eyes never stopped admiring you. It's like he was remembering every single detail of your face. “Y/N.” He says your name softly, “Yeah? What’s wrong?” You turn to look at him to find his eyes already on yours, “I- um..” His cheeks burn up again and he looks like he's about to explode.

“I realise how I feel now. I mean I have for a while..but .. now I understand how I feel. I um.. I’m in love with you.” He blurts out, clenching his hands in his lap. Your face goes into shock as you try to read his body language. All you can read is he's nervous. “Y-you're not joking right-” “Why would i ever joke about that? I really mean it. I never understood why I felt like my heart was leaping out of my chest when I was around you. Or why I hung onto every single thing that you said. I-if you don't feel the same it's fine! You don't have to-” “I love you too you fool.” You cut him off sighing and your eyes wander over his face. “You silly, silly boy, how could you think I wouldn't love you back.” You cup his face and he gasps.

You may have fallen first but oh Satoru fell harder. 

⋆ ✩°｡⋆ 𖦹｡˚ ⋆ ✮ ༺ ⟡ ݁₊ ⊹ ა ✧ ໒ ⊹ ₊ ݁ ݁⟡ ༻ ✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩ ⊰⊱ ✩°｡⋆ 𖦹｡˚ ⋆

Masterlist<3

[jakeyt]

Covet: Chapter 9 (Part 2 of 2)

Pairing: Jake Kiszka x f!Reader

Covet Summary:

Life was good. No, life was great. 

Was. 

Until.

Jake Kiszka crashed into the picture.

You welcomed him into your life—your home. 

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

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

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

Warnings: MINORS DNI (18+); angst; fainting; regurgitating profusely; nausea; extreme feelings of stress and anxiety; extreme feelings of sadness; abandonment issues; allusions to a dark, forgotten childhood; therapy; mentions of EMDR therapy; prenatal visits; arguing/raising of voices; heart issues addressed (POTs); use of heart monitors; hemoglobin kits mentioned; emergency room visit and all that might entail (e.r. visit is a longer one, so strap in); revisited, vivid memories of sex; jealousy; body changes as a result of pregnancy; negative self-talk; looooots of baby talk; pregnancy hormones (and this is nothing compared to what's to come - that's all i'll say); reader still being sad while she checks Jake out; oh! and Joshua Michael Kiszka being the perfect angel he is <3 (as usual, PLEASE lmk if i missed anything that is triggering to you!)

Chapter Word Count: 32.6k+ (what the actual-?)

a/n: hi my lovely readers <333 i am deeply apologetic for the time you waited to receive this chapter, but i hope the length (holy fucking shit, btw) will make up for it. i really will try my damndest to not take almost a month next time.....

BUT, as you guys have learned, my chapters are very rarely "short" in length, so you can rest assured i'm quite literally busting ass trying to write the chapters in the near-month span of time between updates. lol <3 (while also doing real-time life w a job and family to tend to every single day)

this story is my baby that has been outlined for months in a google doc and i refuse to release chapters until they're completed with everything i deem necessary to include. i promise it's all for the good of the story and for the ultimate enjoyment of the readers (you!). <3 i'm never purposefully leaving you hangin', babes <3 ily all more than i'll ever be able to properly express. 🫶🏻

special shout out to my sis for being my go-to beta, ear, advice-giver, helper, AND EVERYTHING IN-BETWEEN when it comes to all of the silly little stories i write. @joshym. you are my favorite. you know that. and i love you. so fucking much. forever the daniel to my samuel :)

and another shoutout to my wonderful pal @welightthefire - GOD, i love you. y'all, this lady has been my main source for all things baby related and i'd be hurting without her help on alllll things baby and pregnancy. <3 babe, you are the bomb and you better KNOW IT.

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

Covet Masterlist

-🌼🌼🌼-

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

-Horace

-🌼🌼🌼-

Your stomach dipped all the way to the heels of your feet, your body feeling a rush of equal parts cold and hot. 

There were no words spoken for several moments, and almost as soon as you’d said it, Josh had turned to face the front. Jaw clenched tighter than you’d ever seen it, he put the car in drive as his hands wrapped tightly around the wheel – 10 and 2. His back was ramrod straight and his jaw didn’t stop flexing as you swiveled to sit to look out the windshield alongside him.

Your stomach was churning— for multiple reasons. On top of the anxiety in the moment, you also hadn’t been eating much as of late. Your appetite was almost nothing — save for pickles and Cosmic-fucking-Brownies. 

It had blossomed seemingly out of nowhere. 

After your night of Mac and Cheese with Jake, you had started borderline craving it afterwards—alongside the brownies and pickles. But, when you’d made some for yourself, you came to realize, with the first bite to your mouth. . . That Mac and Cheese was no longer your friend. 

Although, it had made very close friends with the toilet, as you’d bent over it hurling until every last bit of the yellow food deposited in front of your sweaty face.  

Surprisingly, you’d still been hungry after puking. . . but unfortunately, everything else you’d tried to eat either ended up in the toilet or in the trash from the smell alone. 

And, to your utter demise, Cosmic Brownies had been ruined that day, too. Their contents eventually met the toilet when you’d tried to snack on one that same evening to fill your empty stomach.

Suffice to say, the nausea had started to kick your ass and this particularly tense situation was doing you no favors.

All you could do was steal glances at him, awkwardly, for the thirty or so minutes it took to get to the women’s clinic. He wasn’t talking at all which was so unlike Josh. You’d never gone this long being in the same space as him where he wasn’t talking. The man loved to talk. And you loved to listen and engage.

But that was not the energy that was transpiring between you two.

You would have normally put on music to fill the hollow, painfully silent space. But, you couldn’t bring yourself to move, much less put on music that would just add to the discomfort that you’d created with your confession. And, honestly, it felt like you were already making too much noise every time you took a deep breath. 

Besides stealing the occasional peek at him, you watched the multiple semis that passed you, and the forests that lined the highway, full of leaves with changing colors. 

And Josh just drove. Just fucking drove. And, even worse, he drove normally. Better than normal, actually. Unlike ever before, he was following the highway’s speed limit, all while not getting emotional anytime someone pulled an asshole move on the road. 

He seemed to be putting every bit of his energy into three things: focusing on the road, keeping his jaw clenched tight, and not moving his hands from 10 and 2 unless he had to look over his shoulder to switch lanes.

Once you pulled up to parallel park on a busier street in SoHo, you’d made up your mind to tell Josh to just drive back and that you could hitch a ride with an Uber. 

You didn’t want to make him feel any more uncomfortable than he apparently already felt. 

For one, he didn’t need to be here if he didn’t want to be. And secondly, you couldn’t fucking handle any more right now. The whole point of him being with you was because you were already fucking stressed before you’d ever even told him. And at this point, it seemed you’d been correct in your assumption of him being angry. 

But right now, his reaction didn’t fucking matter. This appointment mattered. Your baby mattered. You needed to be in some sort of decent mind space before you stepped foot into the place. And whether or not that included him was relative to his response when you informed him of this.

You breathed in and out heavily, shutting your eyes as you did so. Once you opened them, you pressed the unlock button on your door, signaling to him that you were ready to get the show on the road. You didn’t have time to fucking sit here and let him sulk. 

Releasing a deep breath once more, you finally turned to look at him once you’d unbuckled. Then, once facing him, you mustered the firmest tone possible at that moment. “Josh,” you started, sharply. He blinked slowly and flexed the muscle in his jaw once more before he turned to make eye contact with you. 

Fuck. His eyes. . . Was he angry? Sad? Indifferent? You couldn’t fucking tell. You’d never seen him so guarded. God, you shouldn’t have invited him to this. You really had started to hope that he would react more like Elsie and Gia thought he would. 

But he hadn’t, and you were faced with whatever the fuck this attitude was that he had chosen to wear. 

Once it was obvious he was going to look at you as you spoke, you continued. “You don’t have to go in there with me,” you began, firm yet empathetic. “I won’t make you. I will go in on my own. I have to. For my own reasons, I have to keep this appointment today. But you don’t have to come in if you would rather not,” you stated, steady and sure. He was free to fucking leave if he wanted. “You can fucking leave. I will not make you go in if you’re angry or upset or uncomfortable. I’ll get a damn Uber and you can drive back to the complex to get your car.”

He seemed to come back to the present, blinking several times and shaking his head. He rubbed one hand down his face, just as Jake did when he would get stressed. 

The similar reaction made your tummy feel fuzzy and desperate for the security you needed at the moment. You needed someone right now. Even if you were willing to do this on your own (which you were), you could really use his support at the moment. 

You unlocked the doors once more, making sure they were ready to go before you reached for the handle. 

Resolutely, you looked over your shoulder before you addressed him once more. “I’m sorry that I made you angr—.”

“I’m not angry,” he finally said softly. After clearing his throat to talk properly again after not talking for so long, he continued. “I’m shocked and— I’m just feeling a lot of things,” he iterated, his eyes begging you to understand. And, you did. “But I am honored that you wanted me to come with you today,” he said, his face transforming to once again show you your Josh. He was back. Grabbing your hand, he finished his thought. “And I would love to go to this appointment with you.”

The tears that filled your eyes and trailed down your cheeks one by one couldn’t be helped. 

“I couldn’t have done this today without you,” you said, voice cracking with emotion. You popped the glovebox to get a napkin to wipe your face, not looking at him as you kept on. “I’ve been so scared for this, and the only person— besides Elsie— that I wanted here with me, was you.”

He reached over to hold your hand, and you tucked the napkin into your lap for backup when you caught his eye again. Before he spoke again, one tear escaped his eye. With one hand lightly squeezing yours, the other dashed up to wipe at the new wetness under his eye. 

Then, after shaking his head, he raised a curious eyebrow to address you. “Wait,” he said wetly before clearing his throat. “Is this your first appointment?”

“Yes,” you blinked, a blush skirting over your cheeks. “I’ve been in denial of it all until super recently.” You sniffed, feeling a couple more tears escape your eye at the topic of conversation and finally talking to Josh about it. It was, admittedly, a lot. “It took me a hot fucking second to come to terms with all of it, so I’m just now at the first appointment.”

He nodded, brows still furrowed as he looked down briefly before finding your eyes again. “How far along are you?”

“I think I’m technically like eleven-ish weeks,” you replied, doing quick math in your head. “I would need to look at my app to give you an exact number. Normally I have it right at the front of my brain, but my nerves are fucking wracked right now,” you bashfully swept your eyes over your hands, interlocked on the armrest. “For obvious reasons.”

You heard him hum and took that as your sign to look at him again. He was watching you carefully, quizzically. His eyes squinted as you, yet again, flushed under his stare. 

“What?!” You hastily spit out, nervous. 

“Does he. . .?”

Knowing exactly what he was asking, you quickly shut down his train of thought. “Jake doesn’t know,” you informed him, tucking your chin as you quietly repeated yourself. “He doesn’t know.”

“Alright,” he responded, not questioning you in the slightest. Your eyes flashed up to meet his: the color of cocoa and sparkling. “Does Elsie?”

Without any words, you gave him a look that answered his pondering thoughts. 

He chuckled, and you joined him by huffing a little laugh, just under your breath. You felt your cheeks loosen with an easy smile. Your shoulders were relaxing more and more by the second. The familiar, natural sense of joviality with him was settling your frazzled nerves.

You eyed the clock on the dashboard and suddenly realized that you were cutting it very close to your appointment time, with no more than a few minutes to spare before you would be running late. 

Sensing your sudden shift in mood, he took the keys out of the ignition just as you unlocked the doors once again, and opened yours. 

“Let’s go inside,” he encouraged, mimicking your action as he opened his own door behind your turned back. 

When you were out of the car, and waiting (sort of) patiently on the sidewalk for him, you physically shook out some of the anxiety that had made home in your bones for the last several months. 

He officially knew that you’d had sex with Jake. He knew that now. And he knew that it had resulted in a baby. He knew enough for now.

And it actually seemed like things were going to be okay. Maybe Elsie had been right all along (though you’d never tell her that).

Your thoughts were affirmed when he came up beside you, pulling you into a hug as soon as he was at your side. A full-on Josh hug: arms wrapped securely around your shoulders. You did your best to hold back tears, so as not to soil his stark white sweatshirt.

Pulling away before you could let any inevitable tears take over, you looked up at him to see his dimple, present in his cheek. You couldn’t help the single tear that trickled down your cheek at the overwhelming feeling of normality. He was warm. He was real. He was Josh. 

He wrapped an arm around your shoulder, bringing you to him once more before taking your hand in his and wrapping it up tightly. 

Peeking up at him through wet lashes, you saw his face was still turned up in his signature grin, his eyes, slightly playful as he gave you a knowing look he’d given you a thousand times before. 

“You’ve got this, mama,” he reassured with a wink, opening the door to the clinic for you.

-🌼🌼🌼-

The place was fucking amazing. The pictures you’d seen on its website hadn’t done it justice at all. The environment was trendy and relaxing and comfortable. Soft music, similar to that of a lullaby played in the open space, only illuminated by the natural light of the day. No overbearing fluorescent bulbs.

Thank God.

As you made your way to the front desk, you decided to let go of Josh’s hand. 

For some reason, it just felt right to do this on your own. Felt right to make this stride on your own. You could handle the front desk.

“You go sit down,” you offered, motioning to the couches that filtered the chic waiting room. “I think I can do this part.” 

“You sure?” He asked, brows dipping to show his genuine concern. “I’m with you every step of the way. I mean it.”

Your eyes drew wet at the words, but you sniffled and cleared the emotion from your throat when you went to grab his arm through the soft white material of his sweatshirt. “I love you so much for that. I can’t even tell you, Josh,” you told him, a tear escaping despite your efforts. “But I’ve gotta take this step on my own.”

He nodded, needing no further explanation. “I’m over here if you need me,” he threw a thumb at the couches behind him. 

You watched as he walked to the couch nearest to the front desk, sitting comfortably on the blush pink velvet that covered it. You tipped your head at him once, showing him and yourself that you were starting your trek to the counter. 

Once there, you were greeted by the kind smile of a woman most likely in her fifties or sixties, her thick black-framed glasses taking up more than half of her face. Her tanned complexion was flawless and her lips were full with red lipstick as she stretched them over perfectly white teeth. Her jet-black hair was half-up, half-down, haphazardly thrown up with a claw clip, but looking flawless nonetheless. 

She matched the modish aesthetic of the clinic to a T. 

“Hi, babe,” she cheerily greeted you with an out-of-place Southern accent in SoHo, her voice still low to keep the room quiet. “You have an appointment today?”

You froze. The reality of it all suddenly came barreling towards you.

Fuck. Shit. Yes. I do have an appointment today. I’m pregnant. I’m standing here, waiting for an appointment because I’m fucking pregnant.

Dammit. What the fuck? I’m. . .?

You standing here suddenly seemed completely astronomical and unreal– was this truly what life was for you now? While thinking about it nonstop, you’d also not been thinking about it to the extent that it would’ve taken for all of this change to click. This was real. Real life. 

You were carrying a human child. 

And you were at your first appointment for it.

Goddamn.

Blinking several times, you tried to keep your grounding firm as your eyes traced her features a thousand times– searching your suddenly static-filled brain for the most simple word in the English language. 

“Y-y-y–,” you shut your eyes tightly to reset. Come on, y/n. You’ve got this. It’s just one word. 

But you suddenly weren’t sure if you ‘had this’. Your hands began to shake uncontrollably at your sides; you wiped them repeatedly on your leggings. 

But before you could moisten the fabric covering your thighs completely, you went to place them on the counter, touching your current surroundings to center yourself. To hold on to what was real. 

Gia would be so proud.

But then your brain raced right back to the true reality of it all. The reason you were freaking out in the first place was because of the real you couldn’t escape–not that you wanted to, by any means. . .right?! You wanted this. You wanted this. 

You DO want this, y/n. Deep breaths.

The voice sounded so eerily similar to your therapist’s that it helped you to grasp onto a flicker of stabilization. 

This reality was not new. You’d known it was real. You had known there was (probably—hopefully) a kid in you for the past few weeks. And being in this place didn’t make that anymore different than before— minutes before when you’d stepped through the door of the clinic. 

Then you’d walked up to the counter and had one simple question asked of you.

You shook your head once more before blinking open your suddenly-wet eyes. 

But you couldn’t look up from the floor. From your high-top, white Chuck Taylors, now off-white and stained from years of wear. 

And swirling before your eyes in ways they shouldn’t be from the amount of nerves encapsulating your brain. . . Your stomach was rolling.

All of a sudden, you felt a familiar arm wrap around your trembling shoulders, strongly holding you to his chest to keep you stable. The cologne that came from the person, along with the overwhelming rush of relief that came with his presence was a dead giveaway for your new company.

Everything settled.

“Yes,” Josh stated, clearly, for you. “Yes, it’s her first appointment. Y/n? Y/l/n?”

A couple of beats and a few clicks from a mouse followed his words. Then you heard a clipboard clack lightly against the counter and a pen getting clicked open before she sat it on top of the board. 

“Whenever she’s ready,” her voice assuredly spoke, so soft and warm. “I’ll get y’all back there when the time feels right.”

You’d effectively curled tighter into Josh before you looked back up at the sweet lady, meeting her eyes with embarrassment laced through every feature on your face. The muscles in your jaw relaxed when you met her eyes, finally speaking. 

“Thank you,” you muttered. “I’m so sorry.”

She tilted her head at you, sending an understanding wink your way. “No need to apologize, sweet pea,” she calmly hushed, her voice sounding reminiscent of any old Southern woman you’d ever seen in a movie. “It’s a whole lot to deal with. We get it.”

Your lips quivered up into a small smile, eyes watery. “That means a lot,” you sputtered, fresh tears making their way to your jaw. 

Dear fucking God. The tears had to stop at some point. You’d always been a crier, but these motherfucking hormones were just bringing out the absolute most. Pulling out all of the stops. Your emotions, pre-pregnancy, were already shaky, at best. . . and they were apparently just getting progressively worse with the damned baby hormones.

The anxiety was understandable. But the crying? It was almost nonstop. And it was getting old already. 

Though, you knew–you knew–that it wasn’t even fucking close to being over. If everything today went accordingly and you officially found out there was a whole ass baby growing inside of you, you knew that this spike in emotions was only the beginning. 

Sharing one more smile with the lady behind the desk, you walked with Josh back to the waiting room couch he’d been occupying prior to your blessed meltdown. 

-🌼🌼🌼-

Unashamedly, you let Josh fill out all of the paperwork. You were still tense and uneasy, but the way you’d handled answering the questions, with him right by your side helped more than you’d intended it to. The process had just been an easy ebb and flow, answering basic questions about yourself. 

And questions about Jake—but Josh answered those with zero problems. Basic Father-Of-The-Child shit that Josh could ramble off in his sleep. You couldn’t help peering over his shoulder as he answered those. You couldn’t explain the intrigue— you just thought it funny seeing him answer questions about his twin. . . Like it was nothing. 

Then came questions about your menstrual cycle. Which were not your favorite to have Josh write the answers to— but you didn’t want to put pen to paper, so you continued to let him write even those, too.

The rest of the process went easily. He’d rattle off a question, and you’d answer it. That was how it’d gone for roughly thirty minutes. 

He’d clicked his tongue, drawing a line down the section about past pregnancies. And then he’d come to a question that made him give you a look. He had one eyebrow raised as soon as he’d read through the last question. 

The last question. The last question that had been slightly unwelcome and less than wonderful to have him fill in for you. 

You didn’t know why you hadn’t thought of it being on the sheet. Your mind had been too focused on other things for the past several days. Like hopelessly depressing scenarios involving your baby’s wellbeing and telling people and eating fucking pickles. . . you just hadn’t really given much weight to possible questions on this initial patient questionnaire. 

You pulled your body back slightly, your own face morphing to one that mirrored his. “What?”

“The last question— they want to know if you’re sexually—,” he cleared his throat, shaking his head once before before continuing. “If you’re sexually active.”

You blushed deep crimson—your cheeks, flaming hot. You knew exactly where his mind went because it was where yours went with the question. 

Are you still having sex with Jake?

You coughed briefly, clearing the awkward air before you responded. “No,” you divulged, your eyes flitting up to his: big, wondering and deep chocolate. “No. We’re not— fuck. I’m not. I’m not having sex. I don’t know if he is,” you rambled, bringing a hand up to slap your forehead. Your heart rate even accelerated the slightest bit, hurting your chest. What in the fuck? That's unnecessary. It’s one question, y/n. Quit being nervous—there’s no need. “But—I’m not having sex. Not sexually active, no.”

Josh brought your hand away from your head, which was suddenly breaking out in a cold sweat. You found his eyes: open and willing to listen and understand. Your heart rate slowed considerably at his expression. “It’s okay, y/n. Either way, I don’t care. It’s your life.”

You blinked away more tears—god, fuck. Not trusting yourself to speak, you simply nodded in response. The response was what you’d needed to hear from the beginning. Would things be different if you’d heard those words from him at the beginning of all of this? 

It was no use to imagine. You hadn’t heard his affirmation before now, and at this point, it was officially too late. You’d hurt Jake. Jake had moved on and proved to you that you really weren’t that important to him.

And, the sad truth: even if Josh was okay with it, you had plenty more reasons to keep your title with Jake strictly roommate—friend at most. 

Also, officially, the mother of his child.

Clasping your hands over your tummy, you watched as he checked the “no” box. Then, you watched his eyes scan the sheet quickly to check for any missed questions, clicking his tongue against his teeth all the while.

Thankfully, it seemed you’d successfully answered all of them when he got up to walk the sheet back to the counter for you, where a nurse now occupied the seat, you’d observed. Scrubs, making that apparent.

You had been too busy spacing out on the many questions Josh had asked of you, per the sheets. You hadn’t the mind to pay attention to where the receptionist had gone.

Josh came back over to you shortly to get your driver’s license from you, along with your insurance card. 

“They’ll need these on file,” he said, flashing both at you once you’d given them to him. He brought them back after they’d scanned them into the system, but went up to the counter to answer any questions they may've had as you waited on the couch. 

He was seriously the best. You, proving to be completely useless, didn’t hinder him from being the most incredible friend whilst you sat, doing nothing. 

Before too long, once (you assumed) the general information from the sheet had been entered in the system, you heard your name called from the door to the side of the desk, and you were steadily ushered to the back by a nurse. (With Josh in tow, of course. He wasn’t going anywhere.)

“Nice day outside?” The young nurse, blonde hair pulled into a sleek ponytail, asked politely, as you stepped off the scale she’d weighed you on. 

“Yeah,” you responded, glancing over your shoulder at Josh. “Nice fall day. But a little warmer than we like it, huh, Josh?”

He nodded enthusiastically. “Oh, yes,” he responded. “Definitely not enjoying my choice of clothing today. . . Not the day for a sweater, I’ll say.”

The nurse hummed, taking in the information as she grabbed a cup from the counter with your first initial and last name on it. “How long have you guys been together?” She addressed you once with a smile, looking between the two of you with a twinkle in her eye. 

You didn’t mean to squawk with a laugh. 

But thankfully you didn’t have to worry about it because Josh did, too. 

The laugh was, once again, exactly what you needed to calm you down. Your shoulders, still releasing their tension from earlier, became more and more relaxed with each giggle you released. Josh was holding his mouth and shaking his head, his smiling eyes closed while you answered the question. 

“We’re not together,” you explained, the laughter dying down as you caught the nurse’s wide eyes sympathetically. “He’s my best friend. Dating my sister, actually.”

“Oh,” she grinned shakily, eyes jumping back and forth between the two of you. “You both just–he’s here with you today—and you two just seem to fit so well together.”

You smirked, throwing a sideways glance at Josh who was watching the woman with the same sympathetic gaze as you. He must’ve sensed your staring, though, because he quickly threw a look your way. 

He winked at you before adding in his two cents. “I mean, you weren’t wrong. We do mesh incredibly well, but her sister’s had my heart for a helluva a long time. However, I am the uncle,” he informed her, pointing to himself before throwing the same pointer at your tummy. 

It made your heart flutter a thousand beats per minute at hearing him say, for the first time, that he’s the uncle. Josh being bound by blood to the little bean growing within you is another reason you feel assured in your decision to keep it. It’s part of Jake, and part of your closest confidant (aside from Elsie) for years. You’ve obviously thought about it plenty of times before now, but finally hearing Josh acknowledge it was something your heart desperately needed.

“My brother is the father. I’m just her best friend–don’t know what he is to her, though," he finished.

Your eyes widened as you were still getting used to hearing Jake being referred to as the father out loud. . .

Better get fucking used to it, though–nothing you could do about it. 

You also weren’t sure what to make of Josh’s last statement–was he still upset with you that he didn’t know anything about Jake’s role in your life? The inflection in his tone sounded a bit more sneering than you would have liked.

Whenever she spoke next, you were able to snap out of it, recovering quickly.

“Whoa,” she said, blowing out a breath. “That’s. . . wow.” Shaking her head, she looked at the cup in her hand, handing it over to you before she continued. She seemed to be done with the conversation, and ready to get back to the task at hand. “Every woman that comes in for her first appointment gets her blood drawn and urinates in a cup,” she motions to the plastic container she’d handed over to you, then taps at her arm as she watches you carefully for her next spiel. “We draw the blood so we can use it to identify your blood type and to look for other conditions we may have to monitor or treat during your pregnancy.”

Damn. That was a hell ton of information. What do I even make of all of that?

It was your turn to just stare blankly at her and offer a simple okay before she was pointing to the room with the open door, across the hallway, for Josh.

“You can wait in that room for her,” she stretched a little half smile over her delicate features. “She will be there shortly.”

He gave you two thumbs up and a reassuring grin before going in the direction she’d told him. Then she was leading you to the nearest bathroom so you could pee in your fucking cup. After giving you a few instructions, along with a sterile wipe, and informing you on how to get an uncontaminated urine sample, she was letting you in to the single-person restroom. 

It definitely matched the trendy environment of the rest of the clinic and was cleaner than probably any other public restroom you’d ever been inside. You did exactly as she’d instructed and made your business quick before handing off the sample to the same nurse from before. She sat it in a window where someone behind immediately grabbed it. 

“Going off to the lab,” she half-smiled, but quickly tipped her finger to signal you to follow her further down the hallway. “Now I’m going to draw some blood real fast, and then you’ll be free to go wait for the doctor in your room.”

Sitting in a chair in a room towards the back, a couple of other nurses went about their business as your nurse cleaned your arm, using a cotton ball with her now-gloved hands. 

“Does getting your blood drawn freak you out?” She apprehensively questioned before she went to insert the needle. “Or these?” She wiggled the needle in the air to emphasize.

You shook your head, pursing your lips. “For some reason, those are two things I’m totally fine with,” you spoke, your voice tilting up at the end. “I don’t know why they don’t freak me out—everything else fucking does.”

God, shut the fuck up, y/n. Let her do her job.

The blonde gave you an odd look, as if you’d spoken too much for her taste. 

And that pissed you off. You no longer felt bad for talking too much. 

You fucking asked me, bitch.

Thankfully, you were able to get rid of her in minutes-time. As soon as she’d bandaged your arm over a cotton ball, she pointed you to the room she’d sent Josh. 

“Thanks,” you mumbled with a small, semi-annoyed smile before making your way to the room where Josh waited. 

His eyes were huge when you made your way into the small exam room. 

“Holy shit,” he breathed. “You’ve got it cut the fuck out for you, huh?”

You gave him a look that said Seriously? and rolled your eyes. “Duh, Josh,” you replied, taking in the small room with pretty pictures of babies all over the walls. “I kind of already knew that. Since I am the one carrying the fuckin’ baby and all.”

God, that was harsh, y/n. He doesn’t deserve your anger like that.

Both of his hands went up to guard him as he crossed one leg over the other. “Jesus, y/n,” he sighed, eyes huge. “Give me a damn break. I didn’t even know until today that you were pregnant. Didn't fully know any of it. It’s a lot for a guy, I guess.”

“Damn, I’m so sorry that it’s so much for you as a man, Josh,” you scowled, your voice not hiding any of your irritation with him for his last comment. 

Seriously, y/n?

To be fair, as amazing as Josh truly was, he was still a man— and half of the time men didn’t know their heads from their assholes. Didn’t ever know the proper times to say stupid shit. (Or, to not say it at all.) 

You had to put it in perspective, though . . .because you kind of sucked at saying ridiculous shit, too. So you could only get so angry with him.

“That was a stupid thing to say,” he admitted. “Sorry.”

You tried to laugh it off. You didn’t want there to be unnecessary tension right now—it was the very last thing you needed. “It’s fine,” you encouraged. 

You propped yourself to sit the best you could on the edge of the beige-matted table. The thin paper that covered it crinkled underneath you– made you feel like you were making way too much noise for the tiny room.

“I’m sorry for being short. I need you. For multiple reasons. But right now. . .I just need you to be with me when I find out if this bean actually exists in my loins. . . If I’ve been imagining it the whole fucking time, or if I’ve lost it. . .,” you swallowed. You had to blink back the tears gathering in your eyes as you trailed off at the dreaded possibility. “I just need you to see with me if there’s anything sad to be seen,” you added, voice suddenly wet. 

“Hey,” Josh spoke, softly. “Look at me.”

You swiveled to do as he said. The attempt to not cry was useless. The tears were drenching your cheeks. The fear that had settled so deeply in your bones since the day you’d heard that podcast was coming to light, as you’d just uttered the worries aloud for the first time. 

Barely seeing Josh through the wetness that clouded your vision, you replied the best you could, albeit extremely pathetically. “Yeah?” 

“Why are you worried about those things?” He asked, so quietly, eyes gleaming to bring light. Grabbing your hands, his eyes became suspicious slits when he addressed his next question. “Y/n. . . Have you given yourself any time to feel excited about this appointment? Or have you just focused on the anxiety you’ve built up, surrounding today?”

You bowed your head out of embarrassment. “I’ve been excited, Josh. . .,” you muttered, completely aware of the lie. 

“Mmm,” he responded, rubbing his chin with one hand as the other still grasped both of yours, sure and comforting. “I suspect that’s untrue. . . I know you, my love.”

Gasping on a sob, you closed your eyes to stop crying, covering your face with your hands. “I’m sorry.”

“Hey, hey, hey,” he said, squeezing your hands, down and away from your face. He held them still with one of his own, the other helping to slide his chair closer to you. “Don’t you dare be sorry, mama— there’s no reason. This is just the beginning; you’ve got plenty more opportunities to be excited. . . I’m sure plenty of women get worried before this first appointment. There’s a lot up in the air before the first time you see the little thing on the screen.”

You opened your eyes to look at him. And though they were still wet, nothing else was coming from your ducts— thank god. “Yeah?” You asked, desperate to know he actually might understand, tone begging him to tell you you’re not crazy. “You think?”

He nodded with his lips pursed, his new mustache squiggly with the action; his brows, tied together, and eyes, serious. “Oh, yes. I know it. You are not alone, love,” he reassured you, helping your heart rate slow to normal for the millionth time that day. “But that’s why I hope every single one of those women has a person who is there for them on days like today.” He paused, setting his eyes firmly on you before continuing. “Because, today, we are going to discover and conquer whatever we find out from that screen—,” he tilted his forehead toward the monitor screen, “Together.”

Your eyes welled, lip sticking out with a pout. God, you loved him. You truly couldn’t have done today without him. “I really need a hug from you.” 

Without question, he was up and out of his seat, wrapping his arms snugly around you. You tucked your nose into his neck, breathing in his cologne— the familiar smell of his patchouli exactly what you needed to feel secure in the moment. 

You were busy focusing on his breathing, in and out, in and out, when the door received a knock and creaked open behind his back. He must’ve heard, too, and moved away from hugging you and back to his seat as you both watched for the doctor to walk through the door.

But the only person you saw was. . . the receptionist? What was she doing in—? 

“I’m Dr. Rose,” the beautiful lady—who was a doctor apparently, not a receptionist—greeted you with that same, thick Southern accent. “It’s nice to see you doin’ better since I last saw ya, babygirl.”

You blinked several times, feeling immediately at ease with the familiar face. “You’re a doctor? Not a receptionist?”

God, stupid, y/n. Duh. She just said that, you moron.

She chuckled. “Yes ma’am,” she replied, as she clicked on every button on the monitor needed to complete the appointment. Afterwards, as things whirred to life, she went to open the laptop she’d carried in with her, sitting atop the counter. “I’m your doctor, sweet cakes,” she twanged in her western tone. “I’ll be with y’all until the very end of this wonderful journey we call pregnancy.”

You grinned, appreciative of the fact that you were already familiar with her—even if it was from the tiniest interaction earlier. But you couldn’t hold onto that feeling for too long before you got nervous of the impression you’d made earlier with your anxiety attack (or whatever the hell that’d been). 

With concerned brows, you cleared your throat before offering up some words of your own. “I’m so sorry that the first time you met me I was acting like a basket case,” you apologized, extremely self conscious. Crossing your legs tighter, you tucked a lock of hair behind your ear. When that still hadn’t been enough to contain the nervous energy, you let your hands rest on your belly. 

Tapping away at the small bump, skin tight under your sweater, you waited for her response. 

She gave you a look that immediately eased you. Her brow, raised, and beautiful red lips quirked up in a small grin. “Now, little missy, I told you earlier that we get it and I meant it.” Dr. Rose sat on her rolling stool, wheeling over to the table. And once there, extended it to be higher so she could talk better with you closer to eye level. “You are not the first one to get all nervous at your first prenatal appointment—or any OB appointment at all— and you’re certainly not the last—far, far from it,” she smiled wide, close-lipped and completely empathetic. Her deep set, big, brown eyes— lashes so long and curled to perfection— showed you how much she cared, behind her big black frames. “Now, how about we get to the good stuff?”

There were obviously a couple tears dripping down your cheek, and you pushed them away as you nodded. Your tummy did all of the flips and tosses and turns—your skin was practically buzzing with nerves. 

You were so close to seeing the truth.

Facing this head on.

“Go ahead and lay back for me,” she instructed. You did as you were told, bending an arm behind your head, trying to get comfortable in skin that felt restrictive. As she stood up, clicking a few buttons to get the monitor screen situated, she asked some questions. “Now can you give me a small debrief on your health history? Anything you can think of? Don’t worry about digging too, too deep right now. We have your blood samples and urine sample that will also aid in indicating any abnormalities.”

The word abnormalities wasn’t your favorite thing to hear, but you didn’t let it sit tight in your brain as you pondered anything she might need to know. 

“Um,” you dipped into the more current issues you’d faced. “I guess. . . anxiety? Depression? Do those count?” 

Dr. Rose hummed in approval and gave a small grin as she went to get a few materials from the cabinet.

“I think the anxiety is worse than the depression, but they’re both persistently just. . . there,” you contemplated what else. . . nothing much was coming to your mind. “I also got my tonsils taken out when I was like 12 years old. . .?”

“You say that as a question,” she commented, a lilt in her voice and a smile on her face, showing that she found it funny. 

“I did have them taken out,” you huffed a laugh, rolling your eyes at yourself as you pushed back a few strands of hair that had fallen out from behind your ear. “I’m just kind of. . .blanking. I know there’s more, but I’m just–just fucking nervous.”

“That’s understandable, sweetie pie,” she assured, her thick Southern accent making your heart rate settle just a bit.

“I know I’m probably missing a few things. Like, there are parts of my childhood that are hazy at best, so there might be things buried back there that I can’t tell you today,” you informed carefully, hoping she understood. When she nodded, you took that as your sign to continue. “I’m seeing a therapist right now who is actually helping me dig up some of it, so I might have a few more answers for you next visit.”

There was a moment of silence as Dr. Rose continued to prepare the sonogram machine, the obnoxious clacking of keys and buttons covering the dull electrical hum that surrounded you. However, that singular moment of time seemed to carry on and on as the nerves in your body seemed to twist your gut to the point that your organs felt close to pushing out of your belly button.

It was as if simply mentioning your mental health – and whispering of your past – was enough to send you into a mini spiral. The muted lull of the clinic didn’t help anything. . . the almost soundless environment, wrapping you up in its emptiness and choking you.

Tap, tap . . .  Tap, tap . . .  Tap, tap . . .

You tried to focus on the thrum of your fingertips along the tender skin of your swollen abdomen, hoping and praying it would keep your thoughts at bay.  

She was taking a long fucking time–which you were sure was normal and warranted. 

But, God. The room just started feeling smaller and smaller as the thoughts got bigger and bigger. You were in the room that was about to tell you the truth of the matter and you still seemed so far away from finding out. . . You weren’t sure what to think. 

Were you even ready to see what the ultrasound was about to show you?

Josh must have noticed the nervous energy you were exuding as the stoppers on the legs of the chair made a sharp scraping noise against the sterile linoleum tile, making you cringe the tiniest bit. He moved his chair closer to the side of the table next to you, opposite of where Dr. Rose sat on the other side.  His dark eyes made contact with yours and his brow raised as if to say, ‘are you okay?’.

All you could manage to do was nod in response, brows knitted.

“Alrighty, I’m going to put some of this gel on your belly and then you’ll feel a bit of pressure once we start.”

You were half expecting a chill to make you jolt with the application of the thick gel, much like you'd seen in movies - you know, where it’s freezing cold and uncomfortable - but as it fell against your skin, you were surprised to be met with a warm temperature that relaxed you.  The clean scent of the gel overpowered your nostrils, but not in a bad way.  It gave you something else to focus on as a slight pressure from the head of the wand, came to push lightly against your belly, just above your pelvic bone.

The black and white image appeared on the screen and. . . showed you nothing. 

Nothing. 

Emptiness. Empty stomach.

Amidst the gray static on the screen, there was nothing but a big black spot that resembled a the shape of a bean.  You had to force yourself to look away, an all-too familiar stinging feeling in the corner of your eyes, showing up again.

All this time, the acceptance of your pregnancy and the effort and hard work you’d put in to create a better life for yourself (and this part of him inside you). . . had shown to be completely pointless.  The feeling of hope that you'd begun to welcome into your life was on the brink of shattering and it didn’t help that Dr. Rose wasn’t saying anything. . . wasn’t doing anything aside from sliding the wand against your empty stomach.

God fucking dammit. All of your worst fears were coming to fruition and every moment you stared at the bleak screen you felt the emptiness on the screen envelop your heart until—.

Thump thump.

You felt your breath catch in your throat as Josh gently grabbed onto your arm, reassuring, and pointed at the screen above you. On the screen, displayed clear as day right in front of you, was the outline of a baby’s delicate profile.

The soft curve of its forehead, the splotchy spikes of a tell-tale spine, a little belly, the slightest movement of four tiny limbs protruding from the sides and bottom. . . and the tiniest flicker in the center of it all.

You couldn’t tear your gaze away as Dr. Rose started to press more buttons and a bunch of small dotted yellow lines showed over the image of your baby, measuring from point A to point B. She was speaking, but you couldn’t be bothered to listen to the words she was saying. All you cared about was the miniscule movements on the screen as a leg kicked up or an arm pushed out.  

It was beautiful, striking, amazing, wonderful, unbelievable, and real. . . so very real.

What you had found yourself questioning for weeks wasn’t just a thought, but now cemented reality. The concerns you had and the voice in your head doubting you were silenced to nothing - because the life growing inside you, the product of you and Jake, was right in front of you.  

The product of the best night of your life was finally proven to be the best part of you and it was real.

Thump thump.

The steady sound of a little racing heartbeat drew you back to the present and to the words your doctor was saying to you.

“Profile looks darn good, placenta is anterior, there’s the umbilical cord. . .,” She spoke as she pointed with her finger to each shape of white that was mixed into the static. “Heartbeat is 160, there’s the bladder and the kidneys, oh!” Dr. Rose exclaimed with a chuckle as she seemed to record a movement. Upon playing it back in front of you, she explained the movement as a little hand with five fingers moved up towards a space by the baby’s nose. “The little angel is wavin' at you, mama,” she looked down at you with a knowing smile. 

Your heart swelled more than you’d ever felt in your entire life. This was . . . otherworldly. Absolutely earth-shattering. There were not any words you could string together that would do this moment justice.

“Wow,” you muttered, voice officially clogged with the tears that relentlessly poured down your cheeks. You sniffled. “It’s. . . moving?”

“Sure is,” she winked. “Has been for a while. You have an especially active little one – already. Prepare for some monster kicks here in a couple months, mama.”

“Wow,” you repeated.

“Gets it from their uncle,”Josh said, sniffling behind you.

You smiled over at him. You felt the joy he did. All around. More. This was your baby. Yours and Jake’s. God.

“Exciting, huh, babe?” She asked knowingly. 

All you could do was nod. You weren’t sure you could stop smiling. . . it was hurting your cheeks, but you welcomed it. This was. . . this was everything. Everything you could have ever wished for.

“I know it, honey bun,” she agreed, her red lips perked with joy for you. “Also, according to the size of the baby and the start date of your last menstrual cycle, I would say you are at right about 12 weeks, little missy.”

Once she’d confirmed the gestational age, you saw her scoot the cart back a bit and wipe the wand she’d used with a sterile wipe, putting it back in its slot. Then, she cleaned your belly of any leftover jelly. You just watched from where you were still leaned back, head resting on one arm behind it. She stripped her gloves and tossed them in the nearest waste bin.

“Twelve weeks. Yep,” you breathed, pulling your shirt down. Your cheeks lifted even more at officially knowing (relatively) how old your little bean was. “Based on my last period.”

“Yes. Because, oddly enough, that is technically when the pregnancy started,” she explained. “On the first date of your last menstrual cycle.”

Dr. Rose went to grab a packet, a pamphlet, and a few free-flying papers, all paper-clipped together, from the counter. You sat up as she clicked her way back to you on her stilettos. She kept talking as she handed them to you. “I don’t wanna clog up our time today with all of the technicalities – unless that’s what ya want?” She offered. 

You shook your head no. Today, all you’d come in wanting to know was that your baby was alive. And you knew that now. And fuck, it felt nice. Better than. 

Except . . .

“Is the baby healthy?” You asked worriedly, needing to hear her tell you.

“Positively. One hundred percent, mama,” she confirmed, her teeth sparkling behind her red lips. “From what I could see on the scan, you’ve got a perfectly healthy baby squirmin’ around in there.”

You internally and externally let out a sigh of relief that had needed released for a fat second. The baby was okay. Healthy. Moving. Alive. 

Everything was going to be alright.

You looked down at Josh, his face glowing, cheeks glistening with tears. “I’m so proud of you,” he choked. 

Another tear slipped down his cheek as you felt one well in your eye. You didn’t know why he was proud of you, but the words made your emotions spike. You were proud of the little life inside of you. . . already doing its best to live its best life.

“Back to what I was sayin’ before,” Dr. Rose went on. Your eyes found her, clicking off the machine. “In that paperwork you’ll find all of the technicalities and logistics about the pregnancy. Which vitamins you should take. Prenatals our clinic suggests. Recommended foods to eat. The baby’s size week by week. When I say everything, sweetie, I mean ev-er-ything,” she emphasized in her twang. “You can find the same information on our clinic’s website. There is a help tab on there for our mothers-to-be, but I always provide physical copies for my girls. I also recommend downloading at least one pregnancy tracker app to get notified with updates – it’s just convenient and fun.”

“I downloaded one recently, actually. It’s been amazing. Thank you for everything,” you weakly offered. You also had to know. . . “Will you be the one delivering the baby?”

“Sure thing,” she affirmed. “With ya till ya want rid of me. Speaking of that day, our partnering hospital is Cedars-Sinai, so that is where you’ll end up having the baby,” she paused, bringing her eyes to you. “Since you indicated on the form that you would prefer a planned hospital birth over a planned home birth.”

“Correct. Hospital birth for me,” you affirmed.

“Now, we are going to schedule your next appointment for four weeks from now,” she continued, opening her tablet and typing out the information for her calendar, presumably. “How does December 8th sound, honey bun?”

You didn’t check your calendar, because you would make that day okay. Anything you needed to do to make it happen. “Sounds perfect,” you replied, practically jittering with excitement for the next one. “When will I find out the gender?”

“I always have my girls wait until week 18,” she responded, turning buttons off on the machine before scooting it back where it had started. “So, when you come in for your next appointment, we will actually have ya schedule an extra lil appointment in there to see what our little buddy is in there.”

“Got it,” you told her. 

“Your sonogram pictures will be waitin’ at the front desk for ya,” she said, washing her hands. Then, after she dried them, she grabbed her laptop. “And finally, your due date is–at this point, according to what we know–May 23rd.”

The date was suddenly the most important you’d ever heard. 

It was the day you now felt you’d been waiting for your entire life.

Without ever knowing it. 

This baby was already changing your heart for the better and everyday, it seemed like all the little (alive and moving) bundle of hope did was bring you unadulterated joy. 

The most precious gift that you’d made with someone so precious to you.

-🌼🌼🌼-

Once you’d finished the appointment, Josh had asked if you had any plans. And when you’d said no, he ended up driving you both to a cute little cafe he'd heard about in SoHo. A place that, even from the outside, oozed with a charming aesthetic. 

The two of you sat there, pointing out every single detail of the sonogram pictures, ooh-ing and ahh-ing over the tiny feet, tiny hands, and the itty bitty, adorable body that belonged to your baby. . . You had never seen something so beautiful. You were sure of it.

And after that, you’d taken some time to catch up. You’d talked about him and Elsie, Elsie and her travels, and the fact that you’d started going to therapy. (Next to the baby, he was most excited about this.)

All you’d ordered was a Sprite since you weren’t feeling the most hungry as of late. Josh had followed in your lead and only ordered drinks as well. Honey tea and a glass of water. He’d made sure to tell the waitress to grab you a water, too. 

And after a quick trip to the bathroom to relieve your ever-aching bladder, you were back at the table. 

Back at a table where Josh was giving you a look. His eyes were narrowed, a mischievous grin turning his lips up to show a dimple in his cheek.

Just as you’d sat down, the waitress was bringing Josh a new, piping hot tea, since he'd (apparently) already finished the first. 

And then, as soon as she was gone, he was talking.

“I sort of had a weird inkling of something going on. . .,” Josh noted as he stirred, then took a long swig of his tea, steam still emitting from the top. “Goddammit!” He gasped, a pained expression painting his features, as he coughed over the warm temperature of the beverage. “Hot hot hot hot,” he repeated to himself, finding his ice water and taking an even longer swig.

You couldn’t help the burst of laughter that bloomed in your chest, flying past your lips as he continued to down the water. All you got in response was him flipping you off with one long digit, and a wrinkle, knitting his brow.

The sinking feeling in your stomach couldn’t be ignored, though. . . you’d heard what he initially said. How had he known? God. . . how long? Your mind was a frenzy as you forced yourself to stop laughing to focus on the serious subject matter at hand.

“How?”

“Well, y/n,” he replied smartly, motioning to the cup. “It just came from the pot, I’m sure. Don’t you see the damned thing is steaming? Why did I even take a–?”

“No,” you stopped his rambling to clarify your question. “How did you . . .? Did you seriously know?” As you were still air-quoting the last few words, he was already nodding his head to answer you. “How? Why? What did we do wrong? I-I mean- God. Do Sam and Danny know, too?”

“Now, I didn’t say I knew,” he corrected you, feeling at the sides of the mug to test the temperature. And, yet again, he was met with the scorching temperature, thus hissing and placing his hands around the plastic of the water cup. “In essence, I said I had an idea. And you didn’t do anything wrong. I just– he’s my fucking twin, y/n,” he set you with a stare that said ‘Remember?! Can’t fool me!’, before he continued. “And where you’re concerned. . . I know you very well. You’ve been my best friend for several years. . ." he reminded you. "Oh, and I’m also a fucking empath. Which you, my dear, were the first one to ever point out my empathic tendencies. . .,” he winked at you with a grin on his full lips. “You should’ve known you couldn’t keep that shit from me. Not without me getting suspicious as hell.”

“Are you mad?”

He stuck his lip out, looking down at the tea, running his finger tip along the rim of the mug before he wrapped his hands around it again. Apparently not at a burning temperature anymore, he decided to bring the cup up to his lips, pinky up as he gripped the handle. This time, he closed his eyes in relief at the taste of the honeyed tea on his tongue. When he placed it back down, he continued watching it, lips still pushed out in a pout as he shook his head, brow wrinkled.

“Nah,” was all he supplied, his eyes hyper focused on the white ceramic mug.

Of course, you were not convinced. “Josh. Look at me.”

When his eyes slowly slid up to find yours, you found at least one reason he hadn’t been looking at you. There were wet pools accumulating in the ducts of his deep brown eyes. He breathed in deeply, his chest expanding with the giant breath before he blew it out, a lone tear making its way down his cheek. 

“I–,” he started, shaking his head and messing with the front of his curly mop of hair. He dropped his hand to tap against the table. “It’s not that I’m mad. It’s really hard to make me mad. I’m more mad at Jake. He makes me mad very easily when he wants. Because I know he can do better. . . Like starting this with you and not having the balls to see it through and leaving you with a baby in your belly.” It was as if the steam had been transferred from his cup to his ears, his nostrils were flaring as he shook his head and squinted his eyes shut. 

Damn, he and Jake look very similar when they get angry, you suddenly discovered.

“And now, he’s just been fucking Maya while you’ve had to deal with–.”

The tears came instantly. Your vision was blurry before you were even able to process that the tears were there. 

“Oh my god, y/n. I’m so– fuck. I’m sorry,” Josh tried, his tone willing you to hear him out. 

You blinked furiously, covering your eyes with one hand. But, finding it useless to try to hide the tears, you just let them fall freely as you now took deep breaths, your eyes piercing through the window of the cafe. “Can we please not–?”

“Y-yeah, Goddammit,” he nervously fluffed the front of his hair. “Y/n, please look at me.”

Forcing your eyes away from the clear autumn sky, you found his eyes, earnestly begging for you to listen to him. “He wasn’t– he hasn’t– I don’t–,” he growled under his breath, reaching forward for your hand. Which you only stared at until he spoke next. “Please, just take my hand.”

So, you did as he asked and looked at him with desperately sad eyes. 

He watched you carefully for a few minutes, letting the tears leave as he reassured you and apologized a couple more times. 

He cleared his throat, blinking his eyes a few times before apparently deciding on a new conversation. “When did you guys begin. . .?”

You knew he was asking when you’d started fucking his brother. But he obviously wasn’t going to say it. 

Nice turn in conversation, Josh.

“It’s complicated,” you offered wetly, not in the mood to talk.

He hummed, before raising a brow with searching eyes. He was trying to get through to you. “Was it that night at Baby’s All Right?”

How the fuck did he know that–?

But, like you said, it was more complicated–because, no, it really didn’t start at Baby’s. 

“Technically," you sniffled, swiping a finger, then a thumb under both of your eyes. "It started before and after that night. It was a long, drawn out thing that shouldn’t have ever started.”

Instantly, you felt guilty. 

The words felt wrong to say. . .the first thing coming to your mind – the baby. 

If it hadn’t started, you wouldn’t have the baby. The sweet little bean in your belly with a beautiful, beating heart. You placed a steady hand against your tummy to make up for the harsh words. 

And the second thing. . . you couldn’t begin to imagine never getting to be that close to Jake. . . you were grateful it had started. . . But you also hated yourself for ever letting yourself get so tied up in Jake Kiszka.

Figuratively and literally. God. Stupid.

“Yes, it should have,” he affirmed, your eyes flickering to him. “For my niece or nephew alone.”

“You’re right,” you agreed, eyes filling with more tears at the conversation and the spiraling thoughts in your mind. “But, I guess, if we are getting technical. . .," you sniffed. "It started that night he left the venue so pissed and you were equally as pissed with him.”

He seemed to think on that for a second or two, trying to go back to the night to which you were referring. Once he finally found it, his eyes lit up with a twitch on his lips. 

“He was mad that night,” he remembered, his hand squeezing yours. You decided to pull yours away from his as you felt it beginning to perspire. Wiped them on your pants, waiting for him to continue. “And now I know why. You weren’t there.”

“Essentially, yes,” you confirmed with a tilt of your head. You couldn't help but snicker with the next part. “It started when I got home.”

Josh’s lips stretched to the point that his eyes bulged and his cheeks puffed out. He blew out a breath while his eyes stayed huge. “And that is all I need to know about that night.”

You couldn’t help but giggle at his expression and his words, to which he lightened with you, falling into a soft moment of laughter alongside you. 

When the humor died down, he took the initiative to speak. And you let him. You really weren’t feeling like talking. The smells of the cafe, for one, were starting to make your stomach turn. “I could’ve guessed that it started around that time,” he began. You quirked a brow, asking him to explain further. “He . . . he changed around that time.” You didn’t speak, which told him to continue. “You see, when he first got to New York, he was so fucking surly and rude. He wasn’t just like that with you, mama. He was short as hell with me, too. And the other guys got his bad side – especially Sammy. His heart was broken and he didn’t know how to handle his shit. He started coming back into himself around that time, though. . .Middle of summer. He sort of peaked around the middle of summer. And if I am doing the math right. . . that is when it was happening?”

You nodded an affirmation, impressed by the quick math. 

“Yeah, he was Jake again,” he expressed, eyes tearing up again. “He was joyful for the first time in years. I hadn’t seen him act so freely and fun since before he and Amelia started dating. There was always something stopping him when he was with her – she was stopping him. But you. . . you must’ve encouraged him to be himself. You didn’t turn down the challenge. You took a chance on my brother.”

After considering the words, the lightbulb appeared above your head. That conversation the day in the record shop. The same day you’d played over and over again to convince yourself out of being with Jake. You’d focused on the other words so much that you’d forgotten all about the positive things–the possibilities that had been discussed that day.

You remembered it now. You'd been talking about high school. And how Jake had sort of decided to fuck all when Josh hadn't. . . and it had turned into you bringing up your love of a challenge. 

Josh had nodded, lips turned down, his eyes still holding a little glint. “Yup. Get my point now?”

“Yeah, but like I just said, I’m not one to turn down a challenge. Just like you, Josh. And your brother. . .I’ve learned he is nothing if not a challenge.” 

He had nodded, knowing you were right. And he’d known you long enough to know that you did indeed enjoy overcoming any problem life may hand you.

God, what had happened to you? Where had the desire to accomplish challenges gone?

Why had you given up? Had you given him up? Or had you simply been done with that challenge? Had Jake just been ready to fly? Had you done what was best?

But, you sidelined those thoughts and decided there were more important matters at hand. Like Josh telling you more about how he was feeling.

“So. . . you’re not hurt?” You asked, your voice hoarse from not talking. You cleared it, and tried again. “You’re not hurt?”

“A little, I guess,” he nodded, eyes studying you.

“That’s fair,” you encouraged – glad he was sharing his heart. “I’m sorry for not telling you. But I just kept hearing your voice in my head–that same day we talked about challenges– that same day you’d told me something and it repeated itself over and over to the point that I tried to resist things happening with Jake. Mostly for you, Josh. I didn’t want to betray you. Didn't want him to betray his dreams. But then it just became something bigger that I couldn’t control. It was . . . different than anything else I’ve ever experienced. I couldn’t stop it from happening.”

“Did you want to stop it?”

“I tried to convince myself that I wanted to . . . but I never did. Not really. I wanted him the whole time, but I felt wrong for it. I was totally disregarding what you’d said to me. . . Going against your wishes for him.”

His eyes got big as he took another sip of his tea, that at this point, was probably lukewarm. But if it was, his face didn’t show it. He licked at his lips and peered at you pensively, curiously. “God, y/n. I’m sorry. What did I even say? I don’t remember,” he sighed, rubbing his forehead. “I hate that my words have been just fuckin’ tormenting you, mama. I’m so sorry.”

“No,” you said, pointing your finger at him, your eyes serious to communicate your point. “You don’t be sorry. I’m the one who was in the wrong. Not even Jake, necessarily,” you included the last part, just on Jake’s behalf. “I was the one who did it even after you’d confided in me that you were happy Jake was getting to live life for himself for the first time – without having to worry about being hung up on a girl. And, then I just let myself be that girl you didn’t want for him – I was the girl to get in his way while he should’ve been living for himself.”

“In the spirit of fairness, though, I told him that he needed to take a break from women. He didn’t listen to me either. Well, sort of. . . he actually did follow my advice, I guess,” he encouraged, his eyes searching yours. “Because I also told him that I wanted him to think of what he wanted first.” His tone lifted as he winked at you. 

Your brow wrinkled . . . what was he trying to say? 

He continued, “Which, I guess, my dear, after the dream . . . was you.”

Feeling suddenly lightheaded and loopy with Josh’s words, you let them settle for a minute or two before saying anything more. 

And, the waitress had perfect timing. She filled the open air by asking if you needed anything. First time she’d been back in a hot damn second. Josh asked for a new tea, and you asked for another glass of Sprite. 

All that you could think in that moment was that you really had been the opposite of the right thing for Jake. So, you decided to speak your mind.

“But. . . no,” you declined his words, shaking your head. “No, Josh. He didn’t put himself first – he had a woman – me – that he was focused on instead of learning himself.”

He took a bit to consider your words, his eyes squinted at you as he pursed his lips. The waitress came back to the table as the conversation lulled for his response. 

As soon as she left, though, the two of you were back to it.

“Y/n,” he began, his lips growing into a sure smile. His hands came to clasp in front of him, his hair bouncing with each disbelieving shake of his head. “He did. He moved here. He started pursuing the dream. He got a job he loved by teaching lessons.” Thus meeting Maya, you snarkily thought. “He did put himself first. Did all of that, and then he pursued you.”

. . . you hadn’t really thought of it that way. Not once had you considered that. 

God. What if you’d told Josh a long time ago? Chances were, he would’ve eased your fears and worries. . . but instead, you’d assumed he’d think the worst and let your thoughts derail. 

Would you even be in the predicament you were today? 

You knew the answer. The answer was most likely no. You wouldn’t have the baby because there would’ve never been a night - the night - to relieve your Jake-induced stress. Because you would have already taken the time to talk to Josh. . . He would have reassured you before you even had time to ever get to that depressive point.

Would he have convinced you to be with Jake? 

You didn’t know. . . but. . . it was too late now. 

You were where you were now and there was nothing you could do about it. 

And none of this ever worked in how Maya had already been in the picture – maybe she had been part of the reason he became happier in the middle of summer.

In the end, she could be the one to thank for this– it could most definitely not be you. The sad truth of the matter was, she had probably been filling his cup all along. . .while he was filling yours.

While you were letting yourself get tangled in him, he was feeling the same emotions. . . but for her. Because, in the end, she was easier than you.

You couldn't find it in good conscience to be with him anyway.

Because, well, you still wouldn’t have wanted to distract him from his dream with a relationship. His dream was too valuable to possibly table for you. You were too much of a mess that he could get distracted by, rather than taking the time to fulfill his dream.

She freed up his time with her carefree nature. And you only infiltrated his time with your darkness. She was sunshine, brightening up his paths.

You had to figure you out before you could ever make someone as happy as Maya made Jake. 

Before you had this baby.

However the tables turned, they had already turned. And it was too late to go back and change anything now. You weren’t even sure what you would change–or what you would think if you could turn back time. There was too much filling up your brain–your life– to make the wisest decision. 

It didn’t matter anyway.

So, you told Josh all you could think to say. The same words you’d thrown nastily in Jake’s face, you threw harshly in your own.

“Well, I guess I served my purpose.”

-🌼🌼🌼-

When Josh pulled your car into your space, Jake’s was nowhere to be found. As always, you couldn't help but wonder where he was. He hadn't worked today so he was probably with-.

“I really am most mad at my brother.”

“Try not to be,” you encouraged lamely. You really didn’t care too much about him being angry at anyone right now. . . all you really cared about was getting upstairs to your bed to take a nice, long nap. It had been a day. 

“I’m going to be for a whi–.”

Tap tap tap.

Both of your eyes turned to Josh’s window. Outside of the driver’s side was Jake. You could see all the way down his loose shirt. It was open and tempting his tanned skin and firm chest, while his necklaces hung loosely in front of him, as he was bent over to peek into the car.

But. . . you could see the heated glare from his eyes, even through the tint of his Ray-Bans. His nostrils were flared and his lips had curled into a faux smirk. 

When Josh rolled his window down, you heard Jake's breathy chuckles that had no indication of anything truly humorous behind them. They sounded more bitter than anything else. 

“What have you two been up to?” he questioned, the inflection on the word ‘you’ paired with his snide tone told you he was probably less than thrilled to see you and Josh together. Alone, at that. 

But why? Why the fuck would he care?

You were struck completely motionless and silent, feeling nauseous again, desperately trying to swallow down that all too familiar sensation. But this time, it wasn’t due to the hormones wreaking havoc in your tummy, it was Jake’s presence at this incredibly horrid time that had your belly flipping in slow motion somersaults. 

Josh huffed a laugh that nearly replicated Jake’s. Mimicking his twin to further his irritation, no doubt. You knew Josh was in no mood to put up with Jake’s piss-poor attitude, especially given everything he had discovered. You were tightly holding your breath at whatever the hell could possibly come from Josh's mouth, hoping that he would say as little as possible.

“Funny that you should ask, Jacob,” Josh retorted. He turned his head to the left to make eye contact with his twin, his fingers were still gripped to the steering wheel with a force that turned his knuckles stark white.

What was he about to say? Shit. He knew better. . . right?

“Because," Josh began. "I don’t exactly believe it’s any of your business what we're doing. In fact, I know it’s none of your business.”

Ironic. . . because it most definitely was his business. He just didn’t know it. Not yet.

He flashed Jake his classic Josh grin, extra wide with eyes squinted, an extra, added dramatic flair of his fluttering eyelashes to seal his condescending statement. 

You let out the breath you had been holding, thankful that Josh kept from saying too much. This was not how you wanted Jake to find out. Although, you still had no idea when or how you would approach that. 

All you knew for sure, was that this wasn’t the right time. 

Jake had stood firm the entire time, a brow raised with an obviously fake grin that held his lips in a tight line. His first response was a snicker through his nose and a patronizing simper, just shy of a full on scowl. 

“‘Kay, got it,” he sneered. Then, he was patting the side of the driver's door with his opened palm before swiftly turning on his heel to walk away. He forcibly shoved his hands in the front pockets of his black jeans as he sauntered off, and you couldn’t help but notice how it stretched the fabric even tighter against his perfectly, rounded ass. A sight you still fawned over, admittedly. 

How could you not?

But you broke your gaze quickly once Josh turned to face you once again. Even though he finally knew about the special addition that you shared with his brother, you’d still feel awkward (and a little guilty) as fuck if he watched you gawk over him so openly. Especially on a day so sensitive as today.

Josh had let out an exasperated sigh deep from his lungs, his jaw clenched and hard when he finally shut the humming engine off. “I have so much that I want to say to him,” he muttered, mostly to himself as his tone was hushed.

Yeah. Me fucking too, you thought to yourself. Don’t you think I get it?

Without the engine running, the car had become dead silent. The type of silence that allowed you to hear the rapid beating of your own heart clearly in your ears. (You even thought for a moment that you could hear Josh’s, too. That kind of quiet. Like earlier. Right after you'd told him.)

It gave you time to ponder. . . Despite his incredible response to all of this today, you still worried. Because, for the first time in the literal years of having Josh as your safe haven, you feared that things could have changed far too much for him to ever look at you the same again.

But then, your never ending train of overthinking was put to a halt when he placed a loving hand on your knee. When his warm eyes connected with yours, they reassured you that he wasn’t planning on going anywhere. At least not anytime soon.

“You ready to go inside, mama?” 

His sweet smile that you had loved for years lit up his once hard features. Seeing the signature grin lifted some weight off your heavy shoulders.

You nodded your head and unbuckled your seatbelt as he did the same. But as you lifted the latch on the passenger door, another thought began clouding your mind, a question that you felt you needed to ask someone. That you needed to ask Josh.

“Hey. . .,” you started as he already had one foot out the door.

He stalled his movements and promptly turned his head to face you. 

“Yeah?” he answered, the same smile still cocked in the corner of his mouth.

“When should I tell him?”

He situated himself back inside, resting his back against the dark leather. His eyes were cast on yours, soft and kind as you’d always known them to be, yet a seriousness found within them. 

“That’s up to you, mama. You have to decide when the time feels right.” His gentle hand reached to grab your shoulder in a reassuring gesture, effectively pulling you away from your burdening thoughts. 

Once you’d finally made your way out of the car, you heard him clear his throat and looked to see what else he had to say. He was squinting at you through the autumn day’s rays when he finished the line of thought he’d started in the car.

“But. . . knowing my twin, he’d want to know sooner rather than later. Don’t wait too long, love. He’s got a good heart, you know that. Give him the chance to step up like I know he will.”

-🌼🌼🌼-

Friday, November 11, 2022

You’d missed the show completely. As you knew you would. 

Josh had known you were going to show up later than usual since your school work was (quite actually) burying you. Specifically, it was thanks to a 20-page paper that was due tonight. 

Thankfully, you’d been able to finish it in time to at least meet the boys at the bar (smoke free, Josh had clarified on the phone) they’d decided to hang out at after the show. You hadn’t hung out with them after a show in forever. Hadn’t even been to a show in. . .well, you didn’t even know how long.

The reason could be mostly chalked up to your intense homework load this semester, but part of you knew you’d also been trying to avoid them due to the addition of Maya. 

It just didn’t feel the same anymore. And you knew you couldn’t force yourself to pretend. So, the extra school work turned out to be a pretty good excuse. At least you weren’t fabricating anything when you’d told them you couldn’t make it. (Although you would prefer if you didn’t have so much fucking homework.)

But you did miss watching Jake perform. You missed the faces he’d make while playing his guitar, the ones that so closely resembled the one’s he’d make with you. The way he’d thrust himself into his beloved instrument, or pull it close to his body with a force that left your head reeling and your body in dire need for him. 

As much as you missed all of that, something you missed even more was witnessing how his passion exuded through his entire body while he played. How his love for his art was so wonderfully evident as he put so much of himself into every song he played. 

And with the way your body kept betraying you – literally pulsing with desire for him anytime he was simply near you . . . to the point of needing to relieve yourself with your hands or a toy. . . You were weak as fuck. You figured it probably wasn’t the best idea to watch him perform like that with your hormones going ballistic.  

Too many factors worked together to make you feel rather uncomfortable about being near him in that capacity. But. . . here you were. Waiting at the bar for them to arrive. 

Putting yourself in a situation where he’d inevitably be near – sitting at the same booth as you, most likely. Admittedly, it wasn’t your most incredible idea. But Josh telling you the other guys had been missing you made you realize how badly you’d missed them. 

So. Here you were. Scrolling on pregnant influencers’ Instagram pages for helpful tips and testimonials (and occasionally Jake’s page, just to torture yourself) as you waited for them.

Just as you’d thought to send Josh a text letting him know you were at the bar and sitting at a booth near the back, you felt the urge to pee like no other. Your belly had sort of popped in the few days that had transpired since your first ultrasound. You were learning that twelve weeks on your body was the. . . rounder version of twelve weeks. . . Which was not working in your favor to hide your changing body. 

Thankfully, the rest of your body looked mostly the same as normal – save for your boobs which were still about as big as they were in your Shining twin costume (not growing too much more yet, but continuing to be sore as hell). They weren’t giant, per se, but they definitely looked noticeably bigger and felt fucking heavy.

So, you were officially having to wear looser-fitting clothing to avoid anyone looking at you differently. To be fair, to most eyes, it probably would've looked like some weight gain around your midsection if you wore normal clothing. But to you, it literally just looked like you were pregnant. 

You were definitely getting used to waking up every morning to a body that looked just a little different than the day before. Noticed every little change—but they didn’t feel little to you. . . Anything that changed felt massive to you.  

. . .Hence why you were being overly cautious with the giant sweaters. . . Because, to you, it looked so obviously different that you didn’t want to risk people thinking anything or asking any questions.

And, thanks to your newly expanding uterus and a spike in your progesterone (according to your Ovia app), you were beginning to actually wiggle in your seat from the urge to pee. It was all rather unkind on your poor bladder. . .  You had to fucking relieve yourself soon or you would be peeing your leggings. It would be embarrassing as hell to pee yourself and smell like it for the entire evening.

Though, you realized, as people started filtering in, that you couldn’t get up to pee. . . It was too much of a risk that you’d lose the one big booth to this hastily growing Friday night crowd.

Just as you’d started contemplating your lack of options, a particular laugh you’d gotten (unfortunately) used to, made its way through the crowded bar. Your eyes zoomed to the dark haired, caramel-skinned beauty who’d taken up residence in Jake’s life. 

Maya. 

Her laugh was just as beautiful as she was. . . Directing every eye in the front of the establishment to her as they joined in on whatever she was laughing about. She was a force to be reckoned with and it was obvious anytime you saw her. You were pretty sure you could see her chocolate eyes actually sparkling, all the way from across the bar.

Then, here you were in a giant ass Pratt hoodie with plain black, ratty leggings and your white Chucks. Feeling bloated and gross. . . And still needing to really fucking pee. So you had to put your insecurities to the side and get up from the spot you’d effectively heated up for the last twenty minutes because your one and only solution had just walked in. 

You didn’t want to walk away and lose your spot, so you did the only thing you could think to do. 

“Maya!” You called in her direction, tucking your phone into your hoodie pocket with one hand while the other waved at her. An incredibly forced smile was plastered to your face. 

Is this the first time I’ve ever spoken to her? You wondered briefly. 

Even though you knew the answer. 

Yes, definitely the first time I’ve ever talked to her. Weird. And funny fucking cause for it, too, you giggled to yourself, just behind your close-mouthed grin.

It was as if she’d already seen you, because she looked at you with a knowing look. She sent you a (stupid) wink and a (stupid, yet admittedly kind) wave, along with a wide smile—bright white teeth complimented by her full lips. 

Standing up had caused your bladder to go into emergency mode—a sensation similar to nearly bursting was the only way you could describe it. And, strangely, you suddenly felt sort of dizzy from the overwhelming pressure. 

That’s odd, you thought absently, brows wrinkling ever so slightly with the feeling. Ignoring it, you kept waving. And, the smile slipped from your face as you urgently motioned her over. Getting the hint, she said goodbye to the few patrons she’d been talking with and made her way to you. 

Long, wavy hair, inky as the night sky, flowed in waves around her shoulders as she sweetly pushed through people on the way to the booth. 

Every man she passed had to do a double take, watching her as she passed by them. . . You didn’t blame them. She was a fucking dream. (And you hated it.)

Body positively snatched and voluptuous in her all-black outfit. Her large breasts, exposed just right in her extremely low-cut black shirt. The shirt dipped all the way to the middle of her rib cage, exposing a lot of her perfect, perky breasts and tight abdomen. The tiny waist just below the dip was intimidating at best and had you feeling extremely self conscious of your nearly non-existent waist (thanks to the tiny friend living inside of you). You were glad you couldn’t see her ass, because you knew the exquisitely round part of her would have you heading for the door rather than the restroom. 

God, why did she have to look like a damn model? It was the worst possible thing for you. You were sure of it.

Once she was finally at the table, you didn’t want to stand there and stare at her. She had you feeling ready to jump out of your unfamiliar, changing body. Made you feel like nothing, just by standing there.

And, most importantly, you were nearing the risk of peeing with a singular movement at this point. You really weren’t sure how you’d make it to the restroom, but you had to try. 

You were already toeing around the table, out of the booth, when you spoke to her, averting your eyes and finding the restroom sign instead. “I’ve gotta pee really fucking bad,” you hastily said, taking the final step from the back of the booth. “Can you save this table for me so we have a place to sit?”

“We?” She questioned. “Y/n, I would definitely normally save it for you and your friends, but I have to work on finding my own place since I’m waiting here for Jake and the—.”

“Jake and the guys, I know.” You snapped, eyes flashing as you finished for her, not focusing on your facial expression. You were almost positive you rolled your eyes at her comment. 

Does she not know? Why? Did no one tell her?

Bouncing on the heels of your feet, back and forth, you quickly continued. Matter at hand. “I’m here to hang with you guys, too, but I’ve gotta—.”

“Pee!” She finished, a giggle that was probably supposed to be cute left her lips. “Go! I’ll save it. Go, go, go!” 

You were already walking away with her last sentence, hearing her from behind your back as you focused on not wetting your pants on the way to the ladies room. 

-🌼🌼🌼-

When you got back out, you were instantly met with the sight of all of the guys at the back booth you’d saved.

Your eyes, sadly, found Jake and Maya first – sitting practically on top of each other in the back corner of the booth. She was wrapped up in Jake, while engaging in a conversation with Sam. And, even though she seemed to only be halfway listening, Sammy kept on talking like she was interested in only him. 

But with the way Jake’s hand toyed with the hair over her shoulder and eventually traveled to squeeze (and hold) her waist. . . you knew why she wasn’t fully listening. Sammy would not be getting her full attention any time soon, and you knew that from personal experience. If it were you Jake was playing with like that, you would have tuned Sam completely out. 

Pushing any emotion down that threatened to boil up to the surface, you kept on walking to the booth. 

And when you got close enough, all of the attention was suddenly on you. The first one to notice you was Danny, who got up from his end seat on the booth to greet you with a giant hug. You sank into him, feeling all of the love that he was emitting sink into your sore body. 

Then, Sam was loudly exclaiming your presence, telling you that he was waiting for his own hug. 

You went around the three brothers who wanted to give you a squeeze. 

Sam hugged you especially hard, making your boobs ache like no other when he pressed hard against you. Gratefully, Josh had been paying attention when you caught his eye with a pained expression and had loudly determined that it was his turn.

After Josh had grasped you from Sam and given a loose hug, you stood awkwardly. Waiting. But for what?

But. . .you knew what. . .knew why.

It was Jake’s turn. 

Though, all you got was a little close-lipped smile and a half-wave with a head nod from his spot next to his supermodel girlfriend. 

You reciprocated with essentially the same response, your stomach falling to your feet as you did so. It was ludicrous to think he’d get up for a hug, too. Especially with Maya sitting next to him with her perfectly-fucking-manicured hand clutching the inside of his thigh. 

God, you needed to feel him close to you, though. You needed your hand on his inner thigh, dangerously close to a place on his body that’d been so accustomed to yours. You couldn’t help the way you yearned for him to be inside of you again. . . It was fucking embarrassing as hell.

And, then there was an incredibly intrusive thought. 

It told you that, for some (strange) reason, the idea of his pecs pressing into your sore breasts. . .sounded extremely appealing. (And the thought of his hands or his warm, wet mouth on them? Fuck.) 

But— you knew at this point, there was a fat chance of that ever happening.

He didn’t want you near him like that. And definitely not his hands or mouth on you. So you were sure he did not want a measly hug either.

And right now? In this bar? At this exact time? Obviously-fucking-not. Why would he move away from perfection? For you? In your frumpy-ass outfit? As you glanced down self-consciously, you even noticed one white sock peeking way higher than the other from your high-tops. 

Small details. Small details that showed how much of a fucking mess you were in comparison to her.

When you heard his laugh cut through the wave of emotion you were feeling, you looked back up at him. Only to see that he was engaged with Maya and Sam in some (apparently) hilarious conversation. 

He didn’t give two shits about you that way anymore. Why would he?

The terrible things you’d said to him in the kitchen were the first reason that came to your mind. Haunted you everyday, reminding you that you didn’t deserve his attention. 

You bet she, in her utter perfection and 'sunshiney' ways, would never tell him the things you had. He was probably relishing in the mental break she provided him. A break from the emotional thunderstorm that was you. 

But what the two lovebirds didn’t know was that you were carrying a part of him within you that she couldn’t do a thing about. No matter what she was to him, she didn’t have what you did. 

Though, the depressing truth of the matter was even if you were carrying his baby, Maya was still the one falling asleep next to him more nights than not. You had a piece of him, yes, but she had all of him. 

Fuck. That felt selfish. Without even thinking about it, you brought your hands up to your stomach as an effort to apologize to the little lemon-sized baby in your tummy. 

You are enough for me, you desperately thought, looking down, hoping to translate the words somehow to your unborn bundle of hope. You give me plenty of joy. 

“Y/n,” Josh spoke, breaking you from your reverie. 

“Mmm?” You hummed.

Then he was leaning over, whispering so quietly in your ear. “You’re about to give particular notice to your stomach.”

Shit. You instantly dropped your hand, looking around to make sure no one had noticed. 

Thankfully, no one had. 

You mouthed a ‘thank you’ to your best friend, and scooted into the space he and Daniel had left for you, between them, on their side. 

Sitting again helped to balance you, as the dizziness from earlier kept coming back in tiny spurts. You didn’t know what it was all about, but you knew it was probably something attributed to pregnancy. It was probably something normal that you didn’t need to be worried about. 

But, you figured having someone to lean on would help to keep you steady. So, you found Josh’s shoulder, pressing against him. It was more than necessary, so you let your shoulder lazily lay against his arm. The closeness to a safe person felt overwhelmingly comforting in the otherwise emotionally-wrought headspace you were experiencing. 

-🌼🌼🌼-

About an hour later, you found yourself humming along to the music that had gotten progressively louder over the time you’d been sitting with the guys. Getting lost in the melodies felt nice. And you’d noticed, walking in that night, that it was soul music night, according to the sign on the front door of the bar.

Your favorite.

After sitting with them for only a few minutes, making small talk with Sam and Danny to catch up, you’d essentially let yourself become an observer. You’d just listened to them talk about all of these new, sudden opportunities that were coming around for them.

So much was changing. 

They were essentially done with the smaller gigs. Their label’s management had put their foot down that they were done with those. They wanted them going to more popular, reputable places to get their name out there. The label had taken it upon themselves to work with their manager to put them in bigger venues. They’d even begun advertising the boys with promotional pictures and posters all over active streets in Brooklyn.

“We’ve had photoshoots, y/n,” Sam had boasted in wonder at one point, making sure to involve you in the conversation. “Photoshoots! Like, real rockstar things.”

“‘S fucking nuts,” Daniel agreed, nodding beside you, sending you a small smile. “People working on wardrobe for us and all that shit.”

“Well, you are rockstars,” you told Sammy genuinely, letting your eyes skate to each of the boys (save for one). But, when you finished your statement, you let your eyes find him. And his eyes literally melted into yours. Like he’d been waiting for you to acknowledge him. “You’ve been ready for this for a long time. I’m just glad you are finally getting to live it.”

But you tore your gaze away before it could become too much. Though, the snicker you heard from Maya made your eyes cut to her. You forced yourself to hold your tongue. Didn’t trust yourself with what might come out of your mouth. What had her feeling all bitter and shit? She didn’t get the fucking half of it.

That particular thought had your hands falling to clasp tightly against your tummy, thankfully hidden by the table. 

They’d also begun working on their first album (which you knew about), but its release date had officially been set in stone for May. It was daunting for you and felt huge to you, so you couldn’t imagine how it felt for them. 

It was all moving so fast. . . Which, if you were being honest, terrified you for what was to come in the near future. The little bean that was set to arrive around the time of the album’s release. Because of all of your recent . . .changes, it just felt like a terrible time for things to feel so unsure and abnormal. 

You knew it was selfish to feel that way. You did. It was just impossible to not feel worried and anxious. 

The stress inevitably started climbing up into your upper back, creating tension. And, Josh, being Josh, must’ve sensed a change in your demeanor. He’d wrapped his arm around your shoulders when you started feeling all bunched up and jittery. You’d leaned into it, needing the incredible amount of comfort in his embrace and presence. 

The music was setting your mind at ease from the tension you felt in your body. It also helped to alleviate the awkward air you felt with the proximity of Jake’s guest. Who sat there looking so beautiful all night. Jake’s arm hadn’t left her shoulders all night, twirling her long waves between his long fingers. You had to look away at several points. It didn’t take long for the sight to become too much. Your ever-present nausea only increased by watching them. 

So you didn’t watch. Didn’t allow yourself to look at him.

You breathed in the music. The music saved you. You just listened to the music. The world was a blur. 

But, when they all joined in on mutual excitement, all smiles and voices getting louder, you tuned back in just slightly.

And when you did, they were talking about one particular thing they were all looking forward to: a special event of sorts that was coming up. 

Apparently it was a huge thing for this event to take place. One final step before embracing the stardom. It would happen in a few months’ time — once the label execs heard a few songs, and released them as singles. Then, they would get to preview them to the public. 

It would be an intimate type of event, more like old times, but for a few semi-important people who worked for the tour management team and whoever else wanted to come. It would be a listening party where the boys would play their new music. And according to the boys, it was the label’s attempt to get an idea of touring being a possibility. 

A lot of it was pinned on if the turnout was good. On how the guys interacted with the crowd. How the performed. . . It would be a sort of audition for the tour management team. 

“I have faith that they’ll love us,” Sammy said, buzzing with excitement. “I’m speaking that shit into existence.” 

The rest of the guys agreed.

Your eyes inadvertently snapped to Jake when he spoke next. “And once we start touring. . .,” he said, grin huge and his eyes shining at the other guys. “That’s when it all becomes fucking real. And it’ll be here before we even know it.”

Your stomach fell.

Josh squeezed your knee after he’d said it, knowing exactly what you were thinking.

Your thoughts were fucking spiraling. Looking down, you closed your eyes to will the tears away— tried your best to be subtle with your bundled up emotions. 

You felt so excited for him. You wanted it for them—for him. All along, you’d wanted him to live his dream. The one he’d had for so long. But the idea of him going off and away. . . All of them being so far away, all of the time, right at the time your life would be inevitably changing for the rest of forever. . . It was a lot to wrap your mind around.

It had your stomach tied in fucking knots—the idea of Jake being a dad, but not getting to be one. Leaving you. Leaving the baby. It wouldn’t be a bad thing, per se, but it was going to hurt like hell. 

You swore, right then and there, that you would not let him give it up for anything. Not a baby, definitely not you (not that he’d want to abandon it for you) — it was the last thing you wanted. The last thing that would happen. 

He would live the dream. Even if you had to force him to do so.

No matter how badly you already knew you’d  want him around during that massively  transformative time. . . You were capable of doing it on your own. And Elsie would help. She would most definitely be around, you already knew. 

But. . . Jake. 

You shoved the thoughts down to the tresses of hell, literally planting your feet flat on the floor to center yourself to present time. Shifting a bit, you laid your head on Josh’s shoulder, letting your eyes drift closed after a while. Didn’t sleep, no, but you felt like you could have. Your body felt loose and weak from the night’s stress slowly leaving your body as you focused on Josh’s steady breathing and the music. 

As the night wore on, the volume had ended up getting so loud that everyone practically had to yell at one another to have a conversation, even within the close confines of the booth. 

So, you had to blink your eyes open at that point. It was too much. The over-stimulation was soon approaching. You could feel it. You felt. . . heavier than normal. Like, you were being pulled down to the earth with exhaustion. Which was new, but probably just over-stimulation.

Even with your eyes open, they were hooded. You were so tired, you felt as though you couldn’t open them much more. And the dizziness from earlier was back with force. 

So you focused on swaying your body a little to the rhythm of each song, tapping out the beat of each on the table. Josh had instinctively begun humming along with you while still managing to keep conversation with everyone else. He’d sneak the occasional smile to give a sign of him remaining loyal to your company as well as the others’.

The melodious harmonies of Stevie Wonder’s "Please Don't Go" had been a surprise, as it was a more unpopular hit of his. It was a welcome distraction to listen to a song you knew well over the speakers, for all ears to hear. Nothing beat hearing songs you loved, playing in public spaces. 

Oh, Stevie. His songs had historically been known to bring you peace. Always had. Always would. Stevie's music never failed to meet you where you were emotionally. This song, not being an exception, and hitting extremely close to home for the present time. . . But still, the tension you’d felt all night began to dissipate, sizzling out almost completely with the beautiful ending of the track.

Just as the heavy weight of your anxieties you’d carried all night had lifted, the next song started to ring throughout the building.

Only this time, the feeling it gave you was a far cry from the previous. 

You knew it instantly. You’d be able to hear this song even if it weren’t blaring throughout the building. 

As soon as the first note sounded, it sent a vibration straight to your heart and a swarm of butterflies (that actually felt more like bees) to your tummy. 

You hadn’t looked at him yet, but you felt Jake’s eyes piercing through you. 

You didn’t want to look at him. Not yet. 

Your hormones had been far too out of whack for that. You knew you’d cry instantly upon seeing his face while this song played at a volume that you now wish was much, much lower.

Aretha’s powerhouse voice repeated it over and over again. 

You’re all I need to get by, you’re all I need to get by, you’re all I need. . .

No, you weren’t looking at Jake. But he was still the only vision clouding your mind’s eye. 

You were back on your living room floor. . . his eyebrows bunched together with each heavy thrust into you, the sweat that accumulated between them, the perspiration and exertion that could only come from real intimacy. . .passion.

And it was plain to see that you were my destiny. . .

His coffee colored eyes that bore into you as his body connected with yours in the most intimate way that it could’ve. 

And when I lose my will, you’ll be there to push me up that hill. . .

How he filled you so completely, stretching you the only way you ever wanted. . . How, in that moment, it felt like he was made to fit you. Your body, your heart, your life.

I don’t know what’s in store, but together we can open any door. . . 

Without even meaning to, your eyes met his. 

And while Maya was going on about whatever she felt the need to talk about, he was watching you. His eyes were extremely thoughtful. . . So much being communicated behind them. 

If you were delusional, you’d even go so far as to say he was admiring you. . . The way his eyes flashed a bit as you watched him, too. 

But you weren’t delusional. 

Though, you just knew that he was thinking the same thing as you. . . He knew. He knew this song was special. 

And as much as you attempted to not wear your emotions, with your condition, it was impossible.

You felt your eyes prick with tears as the song came to an end, and you quickly put your head down for what you knew was coming. And when the small drop hit your cheek, as soon as it appeared, you wiped it away. 

You looked back up, sniffing once and shaking your head.

Why did I have to fucking look?

“God, I wish they’d play music from this century here for once. Or at least something halfway decent,” Maya snickered, her attention on Jake, pulling his gaze away from you with her ignorant remark. “This song could put me straight to sleep. Music like this is meant to be left in the past where it belongs.” 

What the hell? What was even the point? 

What she said had your blood boiling with red hot rage. Of course she had to pick this song to insert her disgusting opinion.

And how was Jake, of all people, in a relationship with someone who thought so little of older music? How did he put up with that shit? It would be really fucking hard to hear things like that all the time if you were in his shoes.

A look of pure disgust washed over Josh’s face, and you knew he wouldn’t take her shit laying down. Not when it came to good, classic soul music. Not to mention, Aretha was one of his biggest vocal inspirations. “How can you not appreciate the Queen of Soul? She paved the way for singers of every genre, her voice is timeless and immaculate. To criticize her is to criticize all music.” 

His defensive tone had everyone silent for an almost uncomfortable amount of time.

You wanted to chime in and let her know that you agreed with everything he said. But you felt it best to keep your mouth shut given the real reason you were so pissed. Didn’t trust your emotions to stay steady enough to get your point across. 

This was personal.

To your shock, it was Jake that ended up breaking the awkward silence at the table. “You know, babe, some of us have some pretty significant memories tied back to music like this,” he asserted, sharply, pulling away from her, dropping his arm from her shoulders to look at her better. “This song specifically. . . At least for me.”

Your heart leapt into your throat at what he was implying. Significant? He couldn’t mean. . .? But then he flashed his eyes to you. And you knew. 

Fuck, Jake. The butterflies let completely loose in your tummy at the implication. At the look. 

He continued, his voice growing softer, while staying assertive. “And it could very possibly be hurtful to others when you say surface level shit like that.”

Maya scoffed, rolling her eyes. This was the first time you’d ever witnessed the woman be something other than a dream. “So I can’t have opinions, hm?” 

“I never said—,” Jake tried, getting interrupted by her continuing. 

She was piercing him with a glare, tone biting. “Did you ever stop to think about how it hurt my feelings when you refused to see 21 Savage with me? And after I got us the tickets, no less?” 

You didn’t mean to snort a small laugh at her words. 

But. . . 21 Savage?!

Thankfully, you weren’t alone in finding amusement in the words as everyone else had a similar response. Sammy spit out the drink he’d just taken, some of it even coming out of his nose. Daniel had clapped a hand over his mouth and dragged it down his face, closing his eyes in the process. 

And Josh turned to you as soon as you turned your sights to him. He made eyes at you, raising his brows with a grin threatening to turn into a laugh. If he could’ve spoken, you assumed he’d say something along the lines of ‘oh, shit.’

Sam was the next to speak, barely able to catch a breath as he wiped the leftover drink from around his mouth with a napkin. “Maya, my dear,” he giggled, the words distorted a little by the wipe of the napkin. “You surely can’t have an emotional connection with his music?”

“Maybe I do,” she retorted, scooting away from Jake a little. Crossing her arms over her cleavage, she eyed Sammy, judgmentally. “Maybe it saw me through some really hard times.”

“Did it?” Danny tried, his face seeming earnest in pursuit to find sense in her music taste. 

“Well,” her eyes found Danny’s, but darted around a bit, still. “Not necessarily. . . But I do enjoy his music. . . Which is my prerogative.”

Josh’s brow was quirked. He stared her down, his face a mixture of amusement and annoyance. “Maya,” he cleared his throat. Her eyes found him, hard and defensive. But it was obvious she was losing some steam. “There is a difference between enjoying music and having it change the entire trajectory of your entire life.”

Before she could sputter out a response, the waiter was back at the head of the table with the two pizzas the guys had ordered. 

“One pepperoni pizza,” she said, placing one giant tray of pizza on the table. 

Your nose immediately picked up on the overwhelming scent of cheese and pepperoni. You had never smelt something so greasy. This was even worse than the greasy smell at Waffle House on the morning you’d gone with Elsie. And where there, you could find some sort of nostalgic comfort in the smell of it. . . there was nothing that could make this pizza’s smell appealing. Fuck.

“And. . .,” Sammy’s excited tone broke through your nauseous reverie. 

You didn’t look up, only watched in near agony as the second pizza, filled with every vegetable in the book, was sat right in front of you. Every fucking vegetable had it’s own special, rancid smell that you hadn’t ever noticed until now. 

Goddamn. And it just got worse as you let your eyes follow a slice that Sam took off the tray, cheese so disgustingly stringy, to his waiting mouth. The way his teeth sunk into the pizza and the oil slipped down his chin. . . You felt the bile rise in the back of your throat at the sight. The dizziness set in again. Then there was the cheese that came to the corner of his mouth as he chewed his first bite with an open mouth. 

Closing your eyes, you tried your best to will it away. 

But you couldn’t. It was too late. Behind your closed eyes, all you could see was the sight again, but this time, in slow motion. . . more and more repulsive with every flash of the image. 

You found Josh’s leg, hitting it repeatedly to indicate that you needed out of the booth. Your other hand, held tightly over your mouth, which felt as though it could explode with projectile vomit at any moment. 

That would be real cute. A really effective way to make Jake look at you. . . but not for the reasons you’d want. 

At. All.

Thankfully, Josh got the hint and quickly scooted out of the booth to allow you out. 

And as soon as your feet hit the concrete floor, you were speeding to the bathroom once more. This time, immediately landing on your knees over the toilet with a hand clutching your hair, as you retched the (very little) contents of your stomach into the toilet.

It was alarming, to say the least, as you saw only clear saliva goo floating around in the bowl. . . no food accompanying the sickness you’d just produced. 

I haven’t eaten today, you thought suddenly, wiping your brow of the sweat that had accumulated. Nothing to puke out because everything sounded vile.

And then the dizziness was setting in again as you rose from your place on the ground.

You really hadn’t been eating much at all. And pickles, being the only thing you could stand to eat, did not give you proper nutrients. You knew that. 

Have to figure something out, you decided as you washed your hands. Disturbingly, you saw four hands instead of two and it was daunting at best. Need to go home and do some research so I can figure out how to fucking eat something.

By the time you got back to the booth, you already had your keys out of your belt bag. 

Josh gave you a sympathetic grin. He mouthed an ‘I’m sorry’ and you just shook your head, reassuring him with a mimicked ‘It’s fine’ in response.

When you snapped your head up from Josh to say bye to the others, you realized that Jake was watching you closely. Pensively. Unsurely. 

You gulped, setting your eyes on him. If only you knew, Jake. . . But, suddenly, anger was flaring in the place of any butterflies. Lack of food and pregnancy could do that to a person. But you don’t know. So quit looking at me. 

“You feelin’ sick, Baby Dragon?” Sam said, breaking you out of your staring contest with Jake.

“Yeah, noticed you weren’t drinking tonight. . . you okay?” Danny interjected. 

“O–Oh, yeah. No, yeah,” you shook your head, which only caused your head to throb. Shit. “Just tired. Exhausted from school.” And from carrying a human life in my uterus. “I wanna get home and rest.”

“I forced her to come tonight,” Josh added. He looked at you before exchanging looks with the other guys, emphasizing his point to help you out. “She has had her nose to the fucking grindstone. I insisted she needed a night out.”

“Forced her?” Jake scoffed with a roll of his eyes. “God, y/n. If you don’t want to come, then don’t come.”

You fumed at his words. What the fuck? Just minutes ago he was jumping to defend your song. “He didn’t force me,” you growled back at him. Don’t test a pregnant woman carrying your goddamn baby, Jacob. “What he meant was that he encouraged me to come since I haven’t been around for a while.”

“And why’s that?” Jake pushed, continuing to jest at you. Is this a game to you, asshole? 

“Jake,” Josh snapped, tone sharp and heated. 

“School,” you asserted (with a partial lie), shutting your eyes when you started seeing two of him. When you opened them to stare back at him, you focused hard as you continued to see four brown eyes instead of two. “But that’s not really any of your business is it, Jake?”

He was silent, his jaw clenching. Then he looked back to Maya, starting a conversation with her, effectively shutting you out. 

You weren’t sure how long you could put up with the hot and cold act from him. You knew that he was hurt, but you preferred the moments in recent times where he’d shown the soft side of his heart. The Jake side of his heart. 

The one flashing through your mind at this moment was on the night of the Halloween party. When he’d picked up the dropped brownies for you and then offered to help you carry stuff to your room. . . albeit he had been drunk. It’d still been him. You knew it. It was something he’d do. . . you knew him. 

And you knew him well enough to know when he was acting like an ass, it meant he was hurt. You weren’t oblivious to the recent hurt you’d inflicted on him. . . but why was he suddenly reacting like this again? Why now?

When another wave of dizziness took you over, you had to once again shut your eyes to keep your balance, and you held tight to the strap of your bag. Your head was also, once again, pulsing.

You opened your eyes and tried to stay steady, as you didn’t want to worry the three who cared. Pulling your phone from the pocket of your oversized hoodie, you shook your keys at the guys who still watched with concerned eyes. 

“Be safe,” Danny offered sympathetically, reaching a hand out. You grasped it, rubbing your thumb over the back. 

As soon as he let go, Sam was up and pulling you into a hug. Once he’d succeeded in killing your boobs again, he held onto your shoulders. “We miss you,” he said, breath thick with alcohol that was making your stomach turn. You held your breath and tapped at his hand politely before scooting back from him. “Love you, y/n.”

You repeated the phrase back to him before Josh got up, presumably to walk you to the door. “I promise I’ll start coming around more often again,” you told them. “I miss you, too.”

And just before you stepped to head toward the exit, you found Jake’s eyes again. 

They were softer now, showing concern he couldn’t hide at your current state. But there was still that fire behind them that you’d learned was purely Jake. And it made your heart thump a little harder in your chest.

-🌼🌼🌼-

The tiredness was unreal. You honestly couldn’t remember the last time you were so fucking exhausted. Everything that had been happening recently–the therapy, telling Josh that you were pregnant with his twin’s baby, being pregnant with said baby (and worrying that you weren’t), taking sixteen-fucking-hours of classes. . . it had been a lot. That much was obvious as hell. 

And tonight had been emotionally taxing for sure. . . and knowing you, you knew it was more than extremely possible that the emotions alone had been what’d finally done you in. Drained you for all you were worth.

Well, that, and the lack of food in your system. And the persistent barfing.

You'd been poring over the resources that Dr. Rose had given you access to. And, one of the links on their site had informed you that it was extremely possible for the fatigue to peak around this point of the pregnancy–ten to twelve weeks.

And considering you were right about at 12 or so, it was on the mark.

But when you’d read that, you hadn’t been expecting the feeling to be similar to that of being weighed down to the Earth by heavy-ass lead. You were dying to fall into bed and sleep off the exhaustion–right after taking a measly Tylenol for the pounding headache that’d been burgeoning for the past several minutes. 

All you could do at this specific moment, though, was focus on driving–and pulling into the apartment complex with as much precision as possible. The pain in your head was beginning to make your vision blurry and the things around you waved in ways you knew they weren’t supposed to. Goddamn. 

You finally made it to your parking space–by the grace of some higher entity. But, as soon as you tried to move to get out, everything around you began to spin at an accelerated speed. Moaning, you brought two shaking hands up to your eyes as you closed them. You started to count to ten, trying your best to take deep breaths–but even that was getting hard to do. Fuck. 

Finding your motherfucking bearings was proving to be a task and a half. 

And your head was just fucking throbbing relentlessly. 

“Dammit,” you groaned again, the words slurring just a bit. 

Somehow, though, you were able to make the trek from your car to the complex’s staircase–so close, yet so far, from your place. But you could feel the way your heart was thrumming quickly in your chest—just pounding against your ribcage from the basic action of walking.

Everything began waving around you again. You felt like you were floating and your head was becoming lighter and lighter by the second; the only reminder that it housed a brain was the raging, convulsing feeling in your skull. 

Your vision was incredibly blurry at best, as you looked from the base of the stairs, all the way up to the top. The top of the stairs was hardly visible. 

Shit. How the fuck am I going to climb these steps like this?

But, you weren’t able to contemplate it for much longer before everything started fading more and more, until you felt yourself falling and all you saw was a black abyss.

-🌼🌼🌼-

The hand you felt holding yours was the only thing that weighed you down to the white room. The other things that you immediately noticed: the sound of steady beeping (which was incessant) and the smell of antiseptic and bleach wafting from the bedding. 

The bed itself felt reminiscent of high quality cardboard, but the sheets were warmer than you would’ve expected. 

Letting your body relax back into the warm, polycotton sheets, you began to drift back to wherever you’d been. But you felt something hold you to the present. It was the someone with the hand who was helping to keep you conscious. The thumb that swept purposefully across the back of your hand tied you to the real world before you could escape to the one behind your eyelids.

Then you felt the hand holding yours squeeze the slightest bit tighter. Your lids were heavy when you squinted them open–immediately hating the way the fluorescent lighting assaulted your irises. You didn’t know if it was possible, but you were damned sure you could feel your pupils adjusting to the overbearing beams from the bulbs. 

Moaning, you reached your free hand up to cover your eyes. And when you did, you noticed the influx of tubes, taped to and sticking out of your hand. Specifically, the needle connected directly to your vein. What the fuck was going on?

Amidst your confusion, you finally processed who the hand was connected to as you heard his voice.

“Yes, yes,” Josh said in response to something. You noticed that he was seeming to squeeze your hand in little pulsing intervals. When you squeezed back to indicate you were awake, his eyes were immediately on you, abandoning his conversation. “Y/n? Oh, fuck,” his voice was thick with emotion. His gaze became wet as he checked your face over. “I was so worried about you.”

You didn’t know what to say, since you weren’t really sure why you were here or what had happened to get you here. . . All you could remember was being tired and dizzy with a pounding in your head. 

You tried to speak, but it was in vain, as your throat was dry as fuck. All that came from your lips was a measly croak. But, thankfully, Josh was immediately coming to your rescue with one of the hospital’s giant plastic cups, filled to the brim with water. He held the straw to your lips and you sat up a little to have better leverage to take a drink. To your surprise, the pounding in your head was gone, and there was no dizziness accompanying your movements. 

And no nausea – best part of all.

As soon as the water slipped past your lips, you shut your eyes in utter relief. Water had never tasted so good. You weren’t sure if water even had a taste, but at that moment, you swore it did and that it tasted like liquid gold would. 

Once you’d had enough for the moment, almost draining the large cup, you backed away and leaned into the pillows that awaited behind you. 

Sighing in relief, you tried to say words again. And this time, it worked. “What’s going on?” You slowly spoke, your head still feeling slightly airy. You let your eyes trail to Josh’s, questioning him. “Why am I here?”

Then, you started panicking. You shot up from where you’d settled against the pillows, clutching your stomach. The IV’s connected to your hand pulled at your skin, stinging. You ignored the pain though, and felt your tummy. It was still round, but obviously that didn’t mean– oh no. Your deepest fears came to life in your head, piece by terrifying piece. The baby. 

“Oh, fuck, Josh,” you said, your eyes were wild and immediately drew wetness, which ran steadily down your cheeks. No no no no no. “The baby? Is the baby–? Oh–.”

“Yes, yes,” Josh shushed you, running his free hand over the top of your head. “The baby is fine. Already checked and looks the same as it did a few days ago,” his eyes shone with reassurance. “Nothing is wrong with the baby.”

“Heartbeat?”

“Steady as can be.”

You felt your lungs fill with air again. “Okay,” you breathed out, leaning back into the pillows once more. “Okay.”

“But you on the other hand,” he started, his brow raising and eyes burning into yours. “You need to be giving yourself proper attention, mama.”

“I—?” You shook your head. You knew you weren’t the most attentive to yourself, but you’d tried very hard to be more self-serving recently in some regards. Longer showers, Friends, Cosmic Brownies (RIP) and pickles, therapy (if that counted). . . “I’ve been trying. . .” 

But the vomiting is proving some of that to be impossible, Joshua, you thought silently, snidely.

“What your friend is trying to tell you,” the doctor began. Your eyes shifted to her, an older woman with delicate features whose gray hair was pushed back by a pair of readers. Then her brows wrinkled. “Well—friend? Father of the baby?”

You both spoke at the same time.

“Oh, no—.”

“Not me,” Josh corrected with a laugh, his smile bright and humored underneath his new mustache. “That’s my brother’s baby in there.”

Ridiculously, you began to blush at hearing Josh say it out loud. You were learning that any time it came from his lips, it made your breath catch in your chest just a little.

Jake’s baby. 

“Oh, my apologies,” she smiled, her crows feet wrinkling, voice wise with years of experience. “I just wanted to proceed using the correct title to address you. Speaking of which, I am Dr. Stevens. It’s nice to meet you, Miss y/n.”

“Same to you,” you answered with a tiny, unsure smile and nod. “Thank you.”

Dr. Stevens hummed, then came to sit on the end of the bed, same side as Josh. You eyed her curiously as her expression turned a touch more serious. “Miss y/n,” she said, sounding like you’d imagine a caring mother would. “You are here because your iron was frighteningly low,” she said, concerned and checking your chart. “If it had gone untreated one more night, you would have been incredibly ill and unable to function properly at all come morning.”

“What?” You asked, shocked. Anemia wasn’t a new thing to you, you’d always had it. How had it intensified so quickly? “I mean, sure, I’ve always had mild anemia. Just kind of a thing that’s been there . . .haven’t thought about it in years, actually,” (because of some damn triggering, buried memories attached to it). “But I’ve never had – it’s never been as. . . Intense as this,” you held up your hand that was covered in tape and inserted tubes.

“Well, honey, you’re carrying a baby now who also needs those vital nutrients to help it develop,” she counseled. “And proper hydration,” she reminded. You nodded, eyes zoned in on your hands, full with pieces of plastic and tape, and not her face. When Dr. Stevens spoke next, her voice was the most stern it’d been so far. “And prenatal vitamins– those are essential for you and the baby.”

Your eyes flicked up to hers. The way she pierced you with her stare made you lean back like a scolded puppy. Your tail would have been between your legs if you had one.

Why hadn’t you bought any damned prenatals yet? Fuck all.

“Yes ma’am. I don’t know why I haven’t been taking–,” you tried, huffing. You were ashamed of yourself. “God, I feel bad,” you placed two hands on your tummy and looked down at it through the hospital gown you’d been changed into. “How has all of it not harmed the baby?”

“Well, again, tomorrow would have been a completely different story had you not been rushed in tonight,” she reminded, talking you through it slowly. “But we’ve got fluids pumping through you to get you back to normal.” She motioned to Josh, you looked at him with a small smile that he reciprocated. “And your friend has promised to take you for a prenatal run tomorrow morning. To find the ones that you feel might suit you best.” Dr. Stevens smiled, looking over at your bedside table. Your eyes followed, seeing the small medicine bottle sitting there, waiting for you. “For now, I have a couple ready to send home with you,” she assured.

“I’ve never been the best at prioritizing my health,” you mumbled, messing with a loose thread on the hospital gown. Josh held the hand that was anxiously picking at the material, making you stop. You looked over to see his kind, encouraging eyes. “I have ingrained my brain with several unhealthy, learned habits,” you admitted, finally looking at Dr. Stevens again. “So I guess this was a reality check of sorts. That it’s not just me anymore. I can’t just ignore what I need to acknowledge.”

You didn’t know what was inspiring the constant flow of transparently deep emotions to all of these unknown people in your life, but you weren’t totally opposed to it anymore. 

Dr. Stevens’ face contorted to show that she had sympathy. You were relieved. But when she spoke next, her voice was firm. “You’re right. This baby is forcing you to take care of yourself so he or she can survive and come out healthy and happy. I believe this baby is teaching you some proper life skills. But you need to be eating well to help this child have a good, healthy time in the womb. . .help him or her thrive at this vital stage in its life.”

God. She was right. You had seen the words Failure to Thrive on multiple sources you’d checked out about pregnancy. . . .always just skimmed past them, as it didn’t seem to pertain to you. But, of course it did. The vomiting. Not taking prenatals (seriously, what the fuck, y/n?). The lack of eating anything (save for the baby pickles). . .

You’d been so in your head about the present state of your health that you hadn’t taken nearly enough time to consider the baby. 

“I’ve just never been bad about eating. This is new,” you confided. “And it’s just gotten worse this past week or so. . . I haven’t been able to eat. Everything has made me want to vomit.” Then you decided to add, “Well, everything besides pickles. They’ve been my only source of any nutrients – which I know is pathetic, by the way – I just–just can’t even be in the same room as most food, much less eat it.”

“You’re experiencing a severe case of hyperemesis gravidarum, which is just a fancy way of saying that you’re excessively vomiting during your pregnancy. It’s due to a drastic change in hormones. Your HCG levels are through the roof, where they’re usually not. Most women just have to suffer through it,” she said in response, handing you sheet with the fancy medical term at the top. “That is an information sheet. Keeps you informed on the ins and outs of why you might be experiencing it.” She sighed before going on. “It will pass, honey. Give it a few more weeks and you should be over the worst of it – if not before. But being anemic makes it that much worse,” she explained, flipping her readers over her eyes and looking through the papers on her fancy clipboard. “You’ve just gotta stay on top of those preexisting conditions.”

“And not taking the prenatals. . .,” she scolded, making you look up from scanning the sheet. She gave you a look. “Is what has you in this condition. You should also be taking an additional iron supplement. I’m. . . sure you didn’t tell your OB about your previous anemia?” She wondered aloud. 

“No,” you murmured. “I really haven’t seen it present itself since I was really young. And it wasn’t really severe. . . at least I don’t think,” you rubbed your forehead, suddenly experiencing several sad moments in time. From a long time ago. So, once again, you bared your heart and explained.  “There are things from my childhood that I’ve forgotten. And even though I do actually know I experienced bouts of it during that time, I haven’t ever really acknowledged it because I just kind of forced myself to forget about it.”

Really, for some godforsaken reason, thinking about your anemia only brought back very unwelcome flashes of your mother’s house. . . and other dirty places you didn’t want to think about. Hence why you’d blocked it out.

Josh squeezed your hand– tried to bring you back.

Thankfully, Dr. Stevens continued before the thoughts could take over. “I am sorry, honey,” she said, empathetic. But, she continued on professionally. “The hard truth is that some of the things that have always sort of laid dormant can come back with a raging force during pregnancy. . . simply considering that the pregnancy is essentially a revamp on your body,” she paused when you chuckled at the word ‘revamp’. Yeah, right. She smirked at it, too. “I know, funny word choice. Doesn’t always feel like you’re revamping,” she flipped to the next page in her chart. “What I mean is, things can come back up and be bigger–stronger–than before. One more thing that is changing and increasing in your body. Medical conditions from the past may come back and get more ‘intense’,” she winked at you, using your word from earlier. “But, it’s important: now that the anemia has shown itself again – so aggressively –  at a time that your body is already very vulnerable. . .” She sighed, flipping her readers back into her dark gray hair before unclipping a paper from the chart and handing it to you. “It’s time we get a handle on all of it before it possibly shows its ugly face again.”

The sheet she handed you included several foods that you could eat to remedy the morning sickness. Some of which had made you feel like puking – or actually puke. But, there were a few things you didn’t have at home. Boring, bland foods. Things you just never bought. A few fruits and vegetables. . .

And a shit ton of vitamins.

“A lot of plain Jane stuff on there, I know. And vitamins, vitamins, vitamins,” she acknowledged. “But those supplements and bland diet are what will see you through the dark ages of this morning sickness. We need to treat that first. And then, you should be able to ease yourself into other foods and get your iron levels healthy again for you and your baby. Please focus on following that guide of foods and vitamins and just call my extension – which I attached to the top of that sheet – if you have any issues.” 

She then passed one more sheet over to you and added one more piece of information. “This sheet will include the Hemoglobin Kit I’ve ordered for you and it will be sent to the address your friend provided for us within the next few days. Please be using it to check your hemoglobin levels. Hemoglobin is the main component of red blood cells–a protein– that we need to see at normal levels. I’ve included where your levels should be on that sheet. They should never be too low or too high. Please read the information on the sheet and in the kit to answer any additional questions you may have. This will help you to track of how your levels are doing and if your anemia is spiking again,” she said, her voice seeming to drone on and on in your ears. “And again, call if you have any questions or concerns.”

As you continued reading through the paper, she unclipped another and handed it over to you.

You really were thankful for the documents, really, but dear god there were a lot of them. Virtually and physically. From your OB visit and tonight. It was overwhelming . . . made your skin feel tight and overheated.

It was also a lot of information for you to over-fucking-think. 

I’ll have to take them to Gia. She’ll help me sort through them, you reassured yourself, taking a deep breath in and out to calm the nerves. 

“And the morning sickness should. . . pass sooner rather than later?” Josh’s question broke through your reverie. Your eyes shut to refocus on the present moment and not the papers.

“It should, yes. For most women, it does,” the graying doctor confirmed. “You’re. . .how far along? I’d estimate about eleven, maybe twelve weeks?”

“Yes,” you nodded. “Twelve weeks according to my OB.”

“Yep. You should only have a few weeks – or less – left. Just try the foods on that sheet. The vitamins. Stay hydrated. There are several recommended supplements the sheet provides. You can find most all of them on Amazon.” 

You handed the sheets over to Josh, needing them away from you for the time being. You needed to be in the now. Needed to focus on anything else the aging, wise doctor may need to say. 

To put it plainly, tonight’s event landing you in the hospital had you scared shitless. And learning as much as possible from her would hopefully wind up putting your mind at ease. . . though, at this moment, it just had your heart rate increasing rather quickly.

She eyed the monitor next to your bed, moving closer to it as she observed something. “There goes that heart rate again,” she squinted at the vitals once more before pushing her glasses into her hair. She looked down at her chart, her lips pursing and readers going back on as she checked it over. “That’s another thing I want to address,” she hummed, sitting next to your legs, facing you and Josh from her seat. “Have you been under a lot of stress lately? A major change? Besides the baby? Mentally, perhaps? Emotionally?” She questioned. “Because while your iron levels were scarily low, your heart rate was also dramatically high. Which, yes, is related to the iron levels. . . but, I thought I’d go ahead and check as more often than not, it can pertain to an extreme amount of stress your heart is under from other sources.”

You stuttered out a response that involved you beginning therapy for the first time in years. You tried to touch on how you were experiencing a lot of emotions around what you would eventually be talking about in therapy. . . how you’d already bared your heart to Gia and opened up every single gate possible to effectively begin therapy. 

“I wanted to do it. Still do," you explained, needing Dr. Stevens to know that. “I would do it all over again right now if I needed to. She’s already helped me so much – after only one session, just with me basically projectile vomiting my past and emotions all over the room.” You took a breath, before finishing. “It doesn’t make it any less difficult though. It hurts. Physically, it hurts to talk about it all. I know it will all come together in the end. I trust the process–I trust my therapist. But it was extremely taxing – on top of everything else I’m feeling right now.” You glanced over at Josh before adding, “The baby’s father is. . . he’s just. . .”

“A lot,” Josh finished with a half-chuckle. “He’s a very good guy. He’s just a lot.”

“I have a lot of feelings about everything happening in my life right now, I’ll just say that,” you ventured to tell her. “And I had somewhat of a handle on my anxiety and depression before I got pregnant, but it’s also been something to resurface in a brand new way with the pregnancy hormones. Without me even knowing it sometimes. And before I know it, my heart is actually hurting my chest from the amount of pressure I’m putting myself under.”

Josh scooted his chair over closer to you and wrapped one of your hands in two of his, holding on tightly.

“It hasn’t all really clicked until now. . . that all of it might be related to my. . . issues,” you confirmed aloud, peeking over at Josh just briefly before looking back to Dr. Stevens. You’d just spilled your entire heart and it was making you feel extremely uneasy. God, she hadn’t asked to hear all of that. “I’m so sorry about spilling all of whatever that was,” you waved your hands around before combing them through your hair, trying to breathe deep breaths. You found her eyes, which you now realized were green. “I really–god, fuck. I’m– that was a lot for you to hear and you didn’t ask for the whole–.”

“I needed to hear it all,” she consoled you, tapping a comforting hand on the top bed sheet, rather than your leg. “It helps me assess the situation. . . and from what I’ve heard, it sounds like the most probable cause of you fainting tonight was due to the iron deficiency and your heart.” She assessed the numbers on the blinking monitor yet again. “It just hasn’t slowed much since you’ve been here, sweetie. Even with the medications we’ve given you to temporarily alleviate it, it’s still been sitting at around 120 beats per minute. And since you’ve been awake, it’s spiked enough to cause some concern to this doctor.”

As she expressed her concern again for your thrumming heart, (which you had noticed an increase in it’s pounding as of late) it began beating a little harder once again, causing an unpleasant tightness within your sternum. You winced. 

Josh noted the change almost as quickly as you did. His hands that held onto yours began squeezing even tighter, the skin of his palms now wet and clammy. He brought your hand, wrapped in his, up to his chin. The hair on his chin was unfamiliar to the last time you’d touched his face (who even knew when you last did that), but it still felt familiar enough against your knuckles to calm some of your nerves.

You couldn’t help but look at him with wide, fearful eyes. His eyes were steady on you, his attention only breaking from you to look at Dr. Stevens with a nonverbal note of worry for you. 

She stood from the bed and came to stand beside you, inserting the buds to the stethoscope around her neck, and held the circular part to your back. “Cough for me, sweetie,” she told you, her calm demeanor forcing you to come back from your momentary freak out. “Make it a big one.”

You found it to be an odd request, but you weren’t in any place to question this doctor who had shown you nothing but kindness. And offered help when you, apparently, so desperately needed it.

You did as she said, and forced the best cough you could muster. It instantly relieved the tension in your chest, even lowered your heart rate a bit as you watched the blinking numbers begin to drop on the screen. 

“Wh-what was that? Am I having a heart attack?” You felt silly asking her that. . .but you didn’t know any better, it may as well have been your body plummeting straight into a cardiac arrest. 

This was all a lot, and now you were very hyper aware of every little change in your heart that you felt, saw, or heard from the screen.

She chuckled softly, taking the stethoscope away from her ears, hanging once again around her neck. She watched your vitals intently as the blood pressure cuff attached to your left arm (that you hadn’t noticed yet) began squeezing you rather uncomfortably. 

“You’re not having a heart attack, my dear. Not even close,” she reassured. Although, you still felt the worry present in the pit of your tummy that you were unknowingly clutching again. “I am no stranger to the intense effects of anxiety. I’ve seen it time and time again. I think that was a big part of the palpitation episode you experienced a few minutes ago and the persistent increase in your heart rate I've seen so far tonight. However, I would like to conduct a little further testing. Just want to be sure your heart is nice and strong – for you and for the baby.”

You felt the air from Josh’s lungs release against your knuckles as he let out the breath he must’ve been holding, squeezing your hand just as tight as before. As terrified as you were, his presence provided the safety net your spirit needed to not be thrown back in a massive panic attack. 

She sat down on the bed next to you once again, her kind eyes offering little comfort right now as you start to feel overwhelmed with the sudden discovery of so many things that were apparently wrong with your body.

“If you can remember, have you ever been rather sensitive to the heat? Maybe suffered from heat strokes during your youth?” 

Her question had your mind yet again returning to your past that had been kept securely behind a locked door with no key. A place you didn’t venture often. 

But it did bring forth some hazy recollections of your days as a child, playing outside in the thick,  dry summer heat. How you couldn’t stand to be out in it for very long without feeling. . . faint. And dizzy. So fucking dizzy. 

A long since forgotten trait of yours that you never thought to pay any mind to. 

“Um– yeah, actually. Now that I think about it, Summers were always a challenge. I couldn’t stand being outside for much longer than a few minutes some days without feeling like I could pass out or throw up,” you huffed a humorless laugh at the memories playing back in your head. Miserable times. “It was. . .fucking awful.” 

You’d suddenly started to remember all the times you felt faint as a child. But it wasn’t always from the rise in temperature. Sometimes, it was from the stresses your mom tossed your way, the fights, the troubles that brewed in your home. It became more and more clear that fainting was most definitely not new to you. You just couldn’t remember. 

“Okay,” Dr. Stevens continued, her hand now patting your shin as she seemed to pick up on the unease of remembering your past. “What about when you go to stand up after a period of being seated or lying down, does your vision become a bit obscured at times? Like you’re seeing stars? Tunneled vision, maybe?”

“I mean, y-yeah,” you stuttered. “Sometimes. But it doesn't last for very long. Doesn’t everybody experience that, though?”

You had no clue where she was going with all of these questions— questions that she seemingly already knew the answers to. Of what it all meant, you weren’t sure. But you knew you needed her to cut to the chase soon before you began plummeting even further down the anxious path you’d started paving. 

“What does it mean? Is this something I should be worried about?” You asked through newly developed tears you had no control over. 

Your mind was running rampant with only one singular thought: the baby. What does this mean for the baby? 

“You don’t need to worry, sweetie. This is actually a lot more common than you think.”

She stood up from the bed, unclipping one more piece of paper from the board she’d been holding prior to sitting down. She handed it over to you, the paper weighing your hand down with what you were to find on it. 

But before you could begin to worry about what was on it, she was explaining it to you.

“That sheet is going to inform you on the ins and outs of Postural orthostatic tachycardia syndrome, most commonly referred to as POTs,” she seriously informed, her eyebrows dipping to show concern for your worries that you knew were painted all over your face. 

“That’s a funny name,” Josh giggled, the breath from the laugh he’d let out fanned against your knuckles. “Like pots and pans. . . you know?”

You wanted to slap him because, shut the fuck up, Josh, now is not the time, but. . . try as you might, it actually calmed you down a bit. You couldn’t help the tiny ghost of a grin that floated over your lips.

Dr. Stevens glared at him, causing him to stop his little joke, before she continued on. “POTs,” she enunciated the name while flashing her eyes to Josh, “is nothing to be concerned with, but it is a valid heart condition that does require a bit more testing to confirm if it’s present or not. Just to be safe.” 

You peered down at the sheet in front of you and the bolded print that you tried so fucking hard to not be too overwhelmed by. It wasn’t the worst possible condition, but it was still a fucking heart condition that you could possibly have. And with everything else that’d happened tonight and your current life predicament. . . it was causing your head to spin.

Postural orthostatic tachycardia syndrome (POTS) is a condition that causes a number of symptoms when you transition from lying down to standing up, such as a fast heart rate, dizziness and fatigue. While there’s no cure, several treatments and lifestyle changes can help manage the symptoms of POTS.

As you read the small print across the page, she told you exactly what it was she suspected you had. “To put it plainly, your heart can’t pump blood quickly enough to your body, resulting in a higher heart rate and a lower blood pressure that can sometimes cause you to faint.” She came close to your bedside again, “If you don’t mind, I am going to need to listen to your heart again.” 

It took you a bit to come to, but when you did, you finally nodded in response. She placed the cold end of the stethoscope against your chest while securing the buds in her ears to listen to you.

“This, combined with your lack of eating that caused the extremely low iron levels could have developed from your pregnancy. Although, I’m willing to bet they’ve been present your entire life. Certain instances can trigger them. Stress, severe anxiety, or pregnancy. In your case, dear, I’d say it’s all of the above. A bit of a trifecta, you could say. The ingredients for the perfect, terrifying storm.” 

“Jesus, mama," Josh breathed, his lips faintly brushed over your knuckles as he continued to hold your hand close to his face. “You have got to start taking care of yourself. I can’t stand to see you like this.”

You knew that. God, you knew that. It had always been easier said than done. But it was no longer all about you anymore; the moment the life began growing within you, it gave you a newfound motivation to take care of yourself for the little life you were now responsible for.

“What other testing needs to be done?” You asked. You were hesitant of what her answer would be, but if it provided a step in the right direction towards becoming the healthiest version of yourself that you could possibly be, you were all ears.

“There’s a specific test, a tilt table test, that must be done to provide us with a little more insight to the specifics of your case. However, it’s not safe to perform it while you're pregnant,” she explained. “So for now, I’m just going to send in for a heart monitor that will be delivered to your house in the next week or so. You’ll wear it for four weeks and that'll give us plenty of information in the meantime. I’m also going to refer you to one of the best cardiologists we have on staff here.”

A heart monitor? That sounded utterly terrifying to you. 

“I am also going to insist that you keep track of your hemoglobin levels daily,” she continued. “You can also buy your own blood pressure cuff to partner with the hemoglobin kit we have set to deliver at your doorstep. You should be able to apply your insurance to the purchase of the blood pressure cuff, if you decide to include that step as well,” Stevens took a deep breath before going on. “Keep a daily journal to log your numbers. Just a notebook to track your blood pressure and hemoglobin levels. It’s vital that you do these things, y/n. Fainting like this can not be a normal occurrence. It’s not good for you or the baby.” When she spoke next, you felt your heart leap into your throat. “The lasting effects on you or the fetus could be life threatening if you’re not careful. . . could be terribly detrimental to the baby’s development—specifically his or her little body or brain development.”

Life threatening. Detrimental. Baby’s development. Little body or brain development.

You heard your heart rate go up on the monitor, but you weren’t about to freak yourself out any further by looking at the changing numbers. You literally felt your pulse quicken and your breath become shallow in your throat as you struggled to take full breaths.

Focus on the now. Focus on what is real. What is right now. Baby is not in trouble yet. 

You have time.

You brought a thumb and middle finger up to your temple, rubbing away furiously to relieve the oncoming headache that had been simmering at the surface for the past several minutes. Your other hand found its home on your swollen belly.

It was all so overwhelming–staggering, really, and you weren’t prepared for any of it in the slightest. 

But, then again, how would someone prepare? You felt as if you were living in a brand new body, much different from the one you’d lived your whole life in up to this point. There was so fucking much out of your control and unknown. It was all pushing down, heavily, on your already-tense shoulders.

“Relax, mama,” Josh sensed your tension, and knowing you as well as he did, he knew it was time to start helping you articulate the right questions. He brushed his thumb across the back of your hand as he calmly asked, “What do we need to do if her numbers aren’t. . . normal? What are some measures we can take to get them to where they need to be?” 

The fact that he was willing to stand alongside you during this whole thing, that he wanted to, it was such a comforting thing to know at this moment. Not that you had any doubt in your mind, but hearing him say something as simple as ‘we’. . . it just warmed your heart completely. 

“Lots of fluids,” she answered through a sincere smile. “And an increase in your salt intake to help your body maintain those fluids.” She handed you yet another sheet and sat back down next to you, looking you in the eye with a stern, motherly expression. “That should help you out with foods to eat and fluids to drink, in addition to the sheet from earlier. But, honey, you need to change your diet. It’s essential that you incorporate healthy eating habits at this point in your pregnancy. After you’ve gotten your body accustomed to the bland foods on the other list I’ve supplied you, you need to start adding lots of iron heavy foods to your meals. Meats, leafy greens, rice. . . things of that nature.” She searched your eyes, hers kind and knowledgeable from years in the field. “Alright?”

You nodded your head in confirmation, wondering how the hell you were going to make that happen with the way normal food left you utterly disgusted at the present time. 

“We’ll make sure of that, doc,” Josh responded in your place, throwing a wink at you as he knew damn well how horrible your food aversions had been. 

“M-my therapy,” you found your voice. “It’s going to be intense. It will cause my body stress.” Dr. Stevens looked at you quizzically before you went on, “It’s called EMDR therapy. Eye Movement Desensitization and Reprocessing; although, I’m sure you’ve heard of it in your profession. I don’t know all of the logistics yet, but I know it’s not a conventional form of therapy. What do I do if I wish to continue that? Should I continue it?”

“It should be safe, as long as you make sure to have a thorough discussion with your therapist after each session. That is dire in helping your body and your mind process it all in a healthy manner. In order to have a healthy body, you must also take care of your mind, especially in those circumstances. I do want you to consult with your therapist over how much stress you’ll be able to handle at any given time. Don’t let your mind go too far. If you have a good therapist, they’ll know the signs if you’ve had enough, though, don’t be afraid to tell them.” 

If there was one thing you did know about all this uncertainty, it was that you could trust Gia to not lead you astray, or towards anything that would be detrimental to your mental health. 

Dr. Stevens smiled, her clipboard once again tight in her grip before she stepped further to the curtained room you were shielded by. “Do you have any more questions?” 

Josh glanced at you, waiting for you to say anything or waiting for you to communicate something for him to say on your behalf. You were sure you had questions, but you were just fucking flooded with stress to the point that all you wanted to do was sleep. . . just ready to get home.

Also, seeing as it was an emergency room, the idea was to get patients in and out. Wasn’t supposed to be the length of a standard visit. 

You’d taken up too much of her time.

So, you shook your head at Josh and then looked to Dr. Stevens to tell her no thank you.

And when you did, you glanced down at the name on her coat and the name of the hospital stitched into the white fabric. You hadn’t even noticed. . . .  Cedars-Sinai.

Same hospital I’ll have the baby at, if all goes according to plan, you suddenly realized, the thought bringing you a weird sense of peace. And it will go according to plan.

-🌼🌼🌼-

Josh went about gathering up all of the documents that had been handed to you and the prenatal pills provided as a nurse came in to disconnect all of your tubes and shit. He'd waited outside the curtain. and asked the nurse a few more questions as you'd changed back into your clothes.

And on the ride home, he’d put on peaceful music over the speaker of the car. He was used to doing it when you rode in his car as you hated riding in it. But tonight? Tonight you found comfort in the hunk of creaking metal. 

Because it meant you were going home. 

When you got home, Josh helped you up to the apartment and went about opening the front door and setting up your bed for you. All while you brushed your teeth, pulled up your hair that smelled like hospital, and changed into your comfiest PJs. 

Just as he’d tucked you in and was about to leave, you pulled on his hand and begged for him to stay. You really didn’t want to be alone for the night, mumbling as much to him. 

So, like the perfect friend he was, he set up a pallet on the floor as you tossed him a pillow from your bed. 

And to your solace, sleep found you as soon as your head hit the satin of your pillowcase. 

-🌼🌼🌼-

November 14, 2022

Every Monday being your therapy day was honestly the perfect way to start your week. You’d decided that on the way to the counseling practice on the chilly November afternoon of your second appointment.

You already knew it would be like it had been before. Before, (on your first and only other visit before today’s) it had just felt like a breath of fresh air to talk to a licensed professional like Gia. She was just fucking amazing. And you knew every week would be like before: a fresh start with a confidant who could give you killer fucking advice. A little date of sorts with a licensed professional who was positively eager to help you get through your week (life, generally) the best you possibly could.

Well, at least your therapist was eager to do that. 

Even as you sat on her trendy, camel-colored leather couch for your second appointment, you felt completely comfortable and at ease with Gia. She had already become one of your favorite people. 

You’d spent the first thirty minutes or so filling her in on telling Josh, your first prenatal exam (also showed her the sonogram pictures, which she’d loved), and the emergency visit. No details had been spared and you made sure she had time to give you any advice or words of wisdom she deemed necessary. But she’d really just let you have the floor and talk. 

Once you wrapped up your scary details from the night of the E.R., handed over all of the documents you wanted to sort through with her, and talked through them until you felt more ease about all of the anemia and heart shit, she’d looked at you seriously. 

Pinned you with a stare, her eyes sparkling like emeralds as she thoughtfully assessed you. 

She sat down her tea, and then wheeled herself over to you. Her oversized sweater was a turtle neck that matched the color of her couch, and the too-long sleeves of it touched your hands as she grasped them loosely in her hands. “Y/n,” she began, peering at you openly through her circular, wire framed-lenses, “We do not have to do EMDR. I want to remind you, it is entirely up to you if you choose to go that route. If you are fearful of it causing too much stress, I understand wanting to venture down another therapeutic route.”

“No,” you shook your head, a small smile curled the corner of your lips to reassure her. “I want to do it. I believe it’s what will work best to get to the heart of things. Don’t you?”

“Yes,” she agreed, brow knitted. “I just don’t want you to feel any unnecessary stress during this vulnerable time in your life.”

“As long as you promise to help me wrap it all up with a good talk at the end of each appointment,” you suggested with hope evident in your tone. “To wrap it up as much as we can for me to make it through the week.”

She grinned. “I can do that,” she affirmed with one certain nod, her loose bun, full of her soft blonde hair bounced with the action. “Did the doctor recommend continuing it?”

“Yep. Said it shouldn’t be an issue if we manage to discuss it all at the end of each session,” you offered. “Doesn’t want me carrying around anything unresolved that could make my stress levels increase.”

“Well, that’s definitely doable,” she confirmed with a wide grin. Scooting back, she grabbed her tea from the repurposed desk in the corner of her office before propping her ankle on top of her bent knee. “So, if you do wish to continue with EMDR, I’ll go ahead and explain it a little better than I have yet.”

“I do,” you said as a final agreement. “What should I know before we start?”

So, Gia proposed EMDR and all of the benefits that could come from the specific form of therapy. You listened to every detail readily. Were you scared? Yes. Were you anxious to begin? Also yes. It was intriguing and a little exciting to be so close to finally diving deep into the curves and corners of your mind and memories. 

Once she’d finished with that, she was rolling her chair back over to you and placing her elbows on the ends of her thighs as she bent to talk intimately with you. When she spoke, the smell of spearmint on her breath was oddly calming. “There’s something I feel I should mention before we begin. A bit of a warning that you should heed. Some clients experience this, some don’t. But something to be aware of, nonetheless.” 

Your eyes widened at her use of the word ‘warning,’ and her sudden change in tone made you believe this was something a little more serious. You knew there were risks involved with this somewhat unconventional form of therapy, but you hadn’t let yourself delve into all of them just yet. You had tried your best to leave the ball in Gia’s court to explain it all to you. 

And you knew that anything deemed risky, Gia would let you know of them before you agreed. Any online research wouldn't be nearly as viable as it would be coming straight from Gia’s mouth. 

Still yet, your heart beat just a little faster in preparation for whatever she had to tell you.

Deep breaths, y/n.

“Tell me,” you asserted. In search of some extra comfort, you placed a hand on your belly, the pulse vibrating in your palm also immediately triggered the fear in you that your heart was possibly over exerting itself.

Deep. Breaths. Gia’s got this. She won’t let you do anything too risky to your health. She wouldn’t let you.

“Some people report experiencing rather intense flashbacks that can come unannounced. And when I say intense, I truly mean just that, y/n. If they come, they can be debilitating.” 

This was the first you had seen her eyes downturned, a picture of worry painted within her emerald green irises. “There have also been accounts of severe nightmares—well, more along the lines of night terrors. The kind that can wake you up in a panic. I just want you to be aware of these possibilities before we begin. I need you to promise me right now, that if these things do happen, you’ll call me. I don’t care if it’s in the middle of the night or the middle of the day, you have to call me, and I will answer.” 

Middle of the day? They could come then, too? Shit.

“Is it. . .  really that serious?” You took a moment to ponder your question, not entirely sure what to make of it all just yet. (And you couldn’t help but wonder if Jake found out about these little occurrences during his research before bringing the idea up to you.)

“It can be,” she noted with a stern tone that sent yet another wave of anxiety through your tense muscles. “That’s why I need you to make me that promise. That isn’t something you should ever experience alone. As I said, it can be debilitating.”

Your mind began turning furiously with the thought of having to experience flashbacks. Would they be flashbacks to things you already remembered? Or worse. . . things you didn’t? Both?

If you were being honest with yourself, you knew the answer and it was honestly terrifying to you.

For a split second, you started to doubt whether or not this was the right solution for you. But, you couldn’t deny any longer that you did need the help. You had to be better. For you and for the life that was growing inside of you. The baby needed a healed mother. 

And you knew Gia was the perfect person to guide you through it. You trusted her, and that was something that has never come easily for you. 

“I’ll admit,” you began, still holding tight to your belly, reminding yourself of the growing reason why you needed to do this. “I’m nervous. But I still want to do it. I promise I’ll call you when— if— that happens. . . but, what if you’re not available?”

“Don’t be nervous. You’ve got this.” She flashed you her sparkling white teeth in a smile that put your spirit right back at ease. “And I do my best to answer. It’s my job as your therapist to see you through this. Some don’t take it as seriously as I do, but I know that you’ll need me in your corner and I’m happy to be there. I signed up for this, just like you did,” she grinned, once again using her feet to scoot her back to her desk, in her plush, light pink chair. “But, on the off chance I’m not able to answer, I would immediately contact someone you trust to see you through it. Hold you. Talk to you. Just be there with you. Whatever you need. Someone who would be willing to do that.” She opened her laptop before turning to you, an idea seeming to spark in her mind. “As a matter of fact, before our next session, why don’t you make it your assignment to think of the person you’ll go to in situations like that? Just one person for now and if you think of more, then double whammy.”

She winked, and you just sent a barely-there grin back to her in response. As she went about clicking open tabs on her computer, you knew you didn’t need until next session to think of your person. 

Because as soon as she started talking about that person, you were back in the hallway of your grandparents’ home – right outside your bedroom. And the person next to you right then and there. . . he was the one you wanted with you if the terrors hit. 

Not Josh. Not even Elsie. 

But Jake. 

Would he be okay with that though? Would it be worth asking him?

Gia was once again speaking as she clicked through a few buttons on her laptop. “Y/n? You okay, love?” 

You looked up, finding her eyes waiting for yours. “Oh–oh, yeah,” you stretched your lips to make the best smile you could. “Just being an overachiever and already brainstorming my person to contact.”

She hummed, giving you a sneaky smirk. “Does it happen to be a certain roommate of yours?”

Eyes bugging, you were shocked that she’d guessed. But were you really? She sorta kinda (definitely) knew the depths of your heart. She'd probably known who you’d want to pick as soon as you'd known it. 

Nodding sheepishly, you decided to ask, “Is that a bad idea?”

“I don’t believe so,” she assured. “From what you’ve told me about him, he seems like a pretty good guy and I think he’d be more than willing to help you if you needed him.”

“Really?”

“Really. It’s also super convenient because he lives with you,” she insisted with a final wink before she said, “Anything I might’ve forgotten will be in the PowerPoint I’m about to send to your email. But, I’ve gotta say, I’ve done it enough times with enough clients, I think I’ve covered every base for today.” A few beats of silence passed before she triumphantly pressed a button. “Aaand, sent!” 

Then, wheeling back over to you, her pristinely white Nikes made the smallest squeak on the stained concrete floor of her office. “Okay, so today,” she began. “How are we feeling?”

“Really good,” you confidently responded, wiping your palms against your leggings before a true smile fit to your features. “When will we start?”

“I think next session we will find your safe place,” she said with a raise of her brow. “I will explain what I mean by ‘safe place’ next time, and directly after, we will send you there. Try not to worry about it until then, okay?” She requested, eyes searching yours for an answer. To which, you nodded. She continued with a grin. “For today, I want to call it quits with the EMDR talk. . . Let you rest. Unless. . . you have any questions, of course. . . .”

You wracked your brain, and when you couldn’t think of anything immediately, you told her you didn’t have any questions. 

“Come with some next time if you think of any. And, my email is always open in between visits if needed–even if it’s just a minor inquiry you have,” she reminded. “Oh! And I’m not sure if I mentioned this yet. . . but, if we need to ever schedule an emergency visit over Zoom or in the office. . . that is also always, always on the table. I know that these things get heavy, and I want to be here for you through all of it, y/n.”

“Got it.”

Although, something did come to your mind as you were both standing to leave the session. You hadn’t given the question much thought in your own mind (shockingly). It had entered your wave of thought the day of your first prenatal appointment. When you’d asked Josh. 

But since then, your mind had been too preoccupied with everything else that had recently happened that this thought had been put on the backburner. 

But, you were curious what her opinion was on the matter, now that it had resurfaced. 

Right before she opened the door, delicate hand on the handle, you grew sweaty. But you needed to ask the question, because if you didn’t do it now, it would be tormenting you until next Monday. 

So, you asked her the same question you’d asked Josh.

“When should I tell Jake about the baby?”

She turned her shoulder, her eyes stern when she responded. “Soon. . . sooner rather than later. Just focus on what is real.”

Sooner rather than later. . . same exact words Josh had said.

-🌼🌼🌼-

It had been a long day of classes and the short shift at the Black and Gold after your classes had completely wiped you out. 

When you got home, all you’d wanted to do was take a nap to sleep off the exhaustion from the short day. Before pregnancy, you wouldn’t be hitting a wall so early in the day, but now that you were, you could hardly function after going nonstop for more than a few hours. 

Your body was functioning in overdrive, trying to produce enough energy to sustain two lives. . . and you were still getting used to it. Honestly, you weren’t sure you would ever get used to it.

But before your nap. . . you wanted to take some time to release some of the soreness in your changing body with a warm shower. You were sure to grab a towel from the dryer because, even though you knew Jake wasn’t supposed to be home for a few hours, you still didn’t want to risk him seeing you. The idea of him seeing any slight changes on your body made you cringe. You weren’t sure if you felt comfortable in your body yet, so you definitely didn’t want him seeing it. 

There was also the enormous, glaring factor of him seeing the changes and realizing what was going on. You really still just looked bloated (albeit very, very bloated). . . but you had a feeling that he would catch on. He’d gotten very used to what your body looked like for the better part of the summer, so you could see him noticing your stomach protruding more than it ever did before. 

He’d know. . . you just had a feeling.

After a day of trying to wear regular jeans, you’d decided it was a bad idea to wear your normal sized jeans anymore. The tight waistband had cut into your abdomen all day and squeezed you like a motherfucker. Thankfully, there’d been a lull in customers before the end of your shift, and the oversized sweater you’d worn had provided enough coverage for you to unbutton the jeans when you were alone in the store. 

But when you finally got to take them off, you breathed a sigh of relief to be out of the confines of the stiff clothing. And the big, fluffy sweater had gotten to be too warm by the end of your shift, so taking that off had also been extremely relieving as well. 

After you’d tied your hair back and heated the shower a little cooler than your usually steaming hot showers, you had to get used to the temperature as you stood and lathered up your belly, giving yourself your daily time to just observe how it was growing. Ever since your visit to the E.R., you’d become more conscientious of how it was growing.

You were new to this pregnancy thing. You didn’t know if it meant your baby was okay or not if your belly wasn’t growing at a certain rate.

To your utter relief, over the past few days, you had finally been able to eat more–following the lists of food Dr. Stevens had given you. You occasionally got nauseous, but the puking had limited significantly with the suggested bland, healthier foods and constant Ginger Ale (which you’d actually found much more delicious and helpful to your twisty stomach than Sprite). 

Then there were the Preggie Pops and the heaven-sent PregEase: both of which had been fucking life savers. (Both stayed safely locked away in your room, on a shelf in your closet, right next to where you’d pinned the sonogram pictures.)

Once you’d let the quick shower relax your muscles exactly like you’d needed, you took your time drying off. And once you’d washed your face and changed into bike shorts and a giant t-shirt, you weren’t so tired as before. So, you’d settled into the couch with your phone, a book, a fluffy blanket, and a delicious bowl of sweet red peppers and pretzels.

It had become a go-to snack as of late. 

You were looking forward to finishing the steamy romance that had popped up on your BookTok a few weeks back, but you wanted to look into BookTok reviews for the second book in the series before you finished the first. Just to prepare yourself. 

Though, when you opened your TikTok app, you didn’t look into the book. No, instead, you found your fingers searching ‘13 weeks pregnant’. You wanted to see how other women looked at this point in the game. You couldn’t help wanting to compare your progression to other women. It wasn’t a healthy course of action – you knew that. You just had to see. . . get an idea.

You saw a lot of videos of them talking about entering their second trimester. Which, like your Ovia app had already informed you today, you knew you had officially passed the first trimester. . . which was a massive thing to you. Passing the first trimester meant several exciting things. A few being: the chances of your baby surviving the pregnancy increased tenfold; the morning sickness started screeching to a halt (thank god); and you’d be able to find out the gender of your baby in a few short weeks.

Though, the other glaring thing at the front of your brain was how you needed to tell Jake. Because of the fact that you were already in your second trimester.

The main thing you were concerned about was staying healthy, though. . . you were really hoping you were doing okay at keeping yourself healthy; you needed your baby to be healthy. All of your numbers seemed to be getting back on the right track as you’d been tracking your hemoglobin for the past few days. It was all very comforting–-you felt better.

Just as you clicked on a video about symptoms at week 13, the front door opened to show Jake coming through. You quickly shut the app off and locked your phone, pretended to be reading as sweat accumulated in your arm and knee pits. (Lovely.) 

Though, you couldn’t help but turn your body to peek at him in his peacoat, with a scarf wrapped around his neck, and a beanie covering his ears. Much like he’d looked on the night of the macaroni and cheese and therapy talk. 

He had a little chill in his bones, it seemed, as he shook them out when taking off his coat and scarf. His hat was next, leaving his long hair staticky in its wake. He smoothed it back with one more chill before he was off to the counter, dropping off the mail and his keys. But he didn’t immediately go to his room. He went about opening a drawer, finding a pair of scissors and heading to the mail on the counter. 

You did notice a package now that you looked closer. And he was hurriedly going about cutting through the yellow protective packaging.

Out of nowhere, you decided to speak. No idea where it came from. Curiosity killed the cat was all you could come up with.

“Whatcha got there?” Whatcha got there? Okay, first of all, what the fuck?

He peered over at you, raising a brow before lifting the now-open package to display it to you. “New guitar part I ordered.”

“Oh,” you blinked, not sure what else you’d been expecting from him. Of course he wasn’t about to make pleasant conversation. Not when something had apparently climbed up his ass where you were concerned for the past several days. 

Once again, you were right back at square one at the most inopportune time. It made you question your idea to make him your go-to person for your expected night terrors. . . but you didn’t want to let go of the possibility yet. Not yet. 

“Have fun with that,” you offered, turning back around to the book you most definitely didn’t want to read at the present time. Instead, you took a nervous bite of a pepper. 

“Um, y/n,” he said your name with a question in his tone. “What the fuck is this?”

Your heart tripped over itself in your chest. What had he found? Without looking at him, you decided to just go ahead and get your ass off the couch to survey the situation. 

He was holding the box containing your heart monitor in his hands.

Fuck. You really didn’t want him to be privy to that part of your life. For whatever ridiculous reason, you were embarrassed by it. 

Deciding honesty was the best policy, you decided to just flat out tell him. “I went to the Emergency Room the other night,” you started. “And the doctor just wanted –.”

“The Emergency Room?!” His voice raised a decibel, obviously alarmed at the new information. “Wait . . . is that why Josh had to leave the bar–? The same night you were gone all night.”

“Wait. . .how do you know I was gone all night?”

“I live with you, y/n,” he scoffed, talking to you like you were an idiot. 

You felt your blood pressure rise, your heart beating in your ears. “Yes, Jake, I know this,” you matched his tone, the hormones working in your favor this time–making you angry rather than sad. “But why the fuck were you awake?”

“I was waiting for–,” he stopped, clearing his throat before starting over. He looked down, a crinkle in his brow. “I couldn’t sleep.”

He was waiting for. . . who? Waiting for. . . what? Your curiosity peaked, but you ignored it for the time being. 

“Well, not that you need to know, but yes. I was at the E.R. that night,” you explained. “Something happened that landed me there and it resulted in them wanting to track my heart activity. Nothing huge.”

And for once, you didn’t feel bad for lying to him. Your nerves were lit on fire with irritation towards him. 

He doesn’t need to know.

“You got a heart monitor in the mail,” he stated, not dropping the possible severity of the situation. "And you're saying it's nothing huge?"

Without a second thought, you were yanking the package from his hands. 

“It’s. not. your. business, Jacob,” you squeezed the package until the plastic wrap squeaked from the tight grip of your fingertips. Then, something else clicked. “Why the fuck were you not looking at the name on the package? Remember, like you said, you live with me. You know that not all of the shit that comes in the mail is yours.”

“I just wasn’t thinking–.”

“Kind of fucking invasive, Jake,” you interrupted hotly. “Don’t you think?”

“Well, it helped me to know something was wrong with your heart. You wouldn’t have told me if I hadn’t opened the package,” he argued back. 

“You didn’t need to know!” You said, your voice raising at the same speed as your blood pressure. “Still don’t!”

“But Josh sure as hell does, right?” He demanded, swinging his finger towards the door, his jaw clenching. “He needed to be your knight in shining fucking armor, huh?”

“Why the hell do you care?!” You fumed, the question exploding from your chest with the same emotion that had tears gathering in your eyes at the question. Angry tears. Confused tears. 

“I don’t!” He snapped, his beautiful, brown eyes, hard. His jaw, set and tight. 

His words sat in the air for a few minutes. Your stares were intertwined; swimming with tangled emotions. The air felt hot and heavy as it surrounded you. It was taut with newly spoken (and still unspoken) surmounting feelings and disequilibrium. Nostrils were flaring. Both of your chests heaved, the sound of his breathing mixed with yours in a way that made you want to slap and kiss his pursed lips.

You didn’t let yourself stand there much longer – needed to get away from him. Without speaking to him, you tore your eyes from his, gathered up your stuff from the couch, and tried to walk with as much dignity as you could to your room. 

Somehow, you were able to get the door open with your hands inexplicably full, and after you’d entered and before you could shut it behind you, you shot a glare his way. He was still watching you.

“Fuck you, Jake.”

-🌼🌼🌼-

November 17, 2022

The next night saw your ass in the shower again. 

Except this time, you were sitting in the tub, legs drawn to your chest as close as possible with your rounder tummy, and chin on your knees as you let the warm water soak you through. 

You’d already shaved and washed everything. So, now, you were just letting yourself be.

Your thoughts had been spinning since last night. So, in an effort to help your heart, you’d invited Josh over for a movie when Jake left to give lessons for the day. And, of course, he’d said yes without question. 

You’d spent the day drowning yourself in popcorn and Canada Dry (Josh surprised you with a new 12-pack when he’d arrived) as you’d watched all three Bridget Jones movies. Back to back to back. They weren’t Josh’s favorites, but he humored you by trying to indulge in the trilogy – even managing to laugh at the funny parts. 

Between movies, he’d let you cry on his shoulder. Or, intermittently, during the movies. . . By the time he’d left, your tears had positively stained the white long sleeve tee he was wearing. 

He didn’t ever ask what it was about – who it was about. And you never told him. But you knew he wasn’t oblivious to who caused your emotional episode.

Now he was gone. Had been for about an hour. And Jake wasn’t home yet. Not that you fucking cared. 

You’d meant it when you told him what you did. Fuck him.

Though, the devastating matter was that you couldn’t decide if you were more mad at yourself or him. Everyday was a replay of the day in the kitchen. And you were sure he replayed it everyday, too. . . and he was definitely allowed to feel hurt after the horrendous shit you’d thrown at him.

But what was with the back and forth? Hot and cold? How he’d been okay the night with the mac and cheese? How he’d spent his time researching therapy for you to try? How he’d been quick to defend your song to his girlfriend? 

And, just as quickly, he was snapping at you. Getting upset out of nowhere. Instantly angry with you when you’d come out of the bathroom at the bar. Getting pissed for no reason at you and Josh for sitting in the car. Telling you last night that he didn’t care about you. 

Was that true? Did he not? It fucking killed you if it was true. But you couldn’t blame him if he didn’t care. Why would he?

You took the moment to stretch your legs out in the shower, watching as the water painted your skin with droplet after droplet. Then, you looked down at your tummy, extra round after a day of pigging out. 

Placing a pruned hand on it, you looked down at the part of your body that housed your human. Surprisingly (not), tears clouded your voice as you spoke to it, rubbing the skin reassuringly. “I’m so sorry that your mommy and daddy are so fucked up.”

After letting a few tears fall to meet the tight, rounded skin of your tummy, you forced your legs to stand up. The feat was proven a little difficult as they’d fallen asleep, but you still managed. Regretfully, you’d turned the water off. You didn’t want to leave the shower but you were officially prune-y as hell.

And, as you gathered a towel to wrap up in, you realized you were also very fucking tired.

You carefully attached the heart monitor’s adhesive to your chest like the instruction manual (and multiple videos you’d watched) told you to, and followed it with the monitor itself. You then checked to make sure the phone you’d been given with the kit was ready to track what it needed.

Finding your phone on the counter after you’d washed your face and brushed your teeth, you decided Josh deserved a thank you after putting up with you the last several days.

Especially after you’d just rocked his motherfucking world . . . and he’d been so cool about it.

God, you just loved him.

You, 10:17 p.m.: I’m so glad I have you. I mean it from the bottom of my heart that I wouldn’t make it through this pregnancy without you. And your love and amazing fucking support. I’d be lost without you.

And after you sent it, you began towel drying your hair, then brushed through any tangles the best you could. 

When you heard a ding! sound from the living room, you spent a few minutes thinking it was your imagination. But when you heard it a second time, you realized it was most likely not in your head, and that Jake was home. 

So, checking your appearance once more, you wrapped the towel as tight as you could around your body before shutting the light off and opening the door. 

You glanced up to see if he was in fact home, and the sight that met you had you stop in your tracks. 

Josh’s white phone case with the little triangle symbol he’d drawn on it one day at the B&G. 

In Jake’s hands. 

Jake’s face, looking at the screen of said phone, mouth open in shock.

And as soon as you closed the door to the bathroom, the smallest sound of it shutting, made his eyes slowly slide up from the phone to your face.

He held the phone up, showing you just what he’d seen. Fuck. 

“You’re pregnant?”

You took a careful step forward, the blood in your veins frazzled and vibrating. Deny deny deny. As long as you can, y/n. “What gives you the right to be in Josh’s phone? Your invasiveness really knows no fucking bounds these days,” you clipped, voice shaking in spite of yourself.

He blinked a couple of times, a smile forming on his mouth. A wide, sarcastic one, which turned into an astounded scoff. “Really? That’s what we’re going to focus on right no–?” He shook his head, clicking the phone shut before taking a few cautious steps towards you. “His face I.D.; it opens to me. I’m his fucking identical twin.”

“Prove it,” you challenged. 

“Was already planning on it,” he snipped. And right in your line of sight, he opened the phone, putting his face in front of it. Then, it was turned to show you. The same tantalizing screen as before. “Proven.”

“Well. . .,” you faltered, scrambling. “Why did you have it?”

“It was laying on the counter. I went to grab it and my keys,” he jingled the keys in his other hand. “I was going to take it to him,” he explained, sounding exasperated and patient all at once. An anomaly. “But when I picked it up, I looked down, and it opened.”

He took two steps back, once again, holding the phone up to show you the text screen. The gray bubble had never looked so horrifying as it did in that moment. The sweat accumulating on your forehead proved your entire skin care routine pointless. You were shaking. Your skin felt like it was going to fall off from the vibrations taking over underneath it.

“Now,” he started slowly. “Will you answer my question, please?” 

His voice broke on the last word and it triggered a single tear to trickle down your cheek. 

“Yes, I am.”

“Whose?”

“Really, Jake?” You questioned, the question making your heart break. How could he–? 

His eyes went soft momentarily, pleading with you. “I just need to hear you say it, y/n.”

“It’s yours, Jake. The baby is yours. Who the fuck else?”

-🌼🌼🌼-

a/n: this monstrous chapter was a fucking doozy and you already know i wanna talk about it!! come to my asks and we shall chat <333

oh, but i'm just wondering........ what do you think reader's safe place will be? ;) a place? a person? both? hmmm....

ty for being the best readers in the world and pleaseee never hesitate to send in your wonderful thoughts! love youuuu <3

& as usual, it wouldn’t let me tag some of y’all. :( so please check to see that you’re down there because if you’ve asked to be on the taglist, i tried to tag you. buuuut tumblr wouldn’t let me do it for everyone 🙃 ugh. and if i somehow forgot to tag someone, please also let me know that! (i'm a NOOB and i have terrible memory)

Taglist: @joshym, @gretavanfleetposts, @alyson814, @fretaganvleet, @lallisonl, @writingcold, @gvfpal, @twinszka, @jessicafg03, @reesetrippingthelight, @sacredjake, @laurenlovesgretavanfleet, @gretavangroove, @222headedcalf, @dreamssingold, @carbondancingthroughtime, @raviolilegs, @way-to-go-lad, @jakekiszkasmommy, @katgvf, @objectsinspvce, @jaketlover, @vanfleeter, @thetroublegetssoloud71, @seditabets, @jakekiszkapunchmeintheface, @jaketlove, @ohgodthefeeling-gvf, @starcatcher-jake, @anythingforjtk, @lucimoo, @indigostreakmorgan, @gretavanbear, @katelynn-gvf, @alwaysonthemend, @aintthatapity, @bowievanfleet, @fwzco, @takenbythemadness, @cherry-icecreamsmile, @laneygvf, @hi-hi-hello11, @sinarainbows, @jakesbarbarian, @mybussyinchrist, @becinabubblegvf, @heckingfrick, @danigvf, @pinkandsleepy1934, @derrangeddumpsterfire, @klarxtr, @josh-iamyour-mama, @abby-gvf, @cassyface, @gretavansabotage, @torniturntomyarrow, @joshsbonnet, @llrosee, @starshine-gvf, @itsafullmoon, @gvfmarge, @creadliz98

(and, due to t*mblr’s shitass guidelines, i will be adding the other tags in a reblog of the story!)

[sawyer-is-eepy]

goodbye campfire fest!!

this has been so so much fun- i'm so happy i got to be able to be a part of this wonderful event with so many talented artists and writers- it's been so beautiful seeing everyone's interpretations and writing and i've loved seeing everyone come together to create something unique. being so excited to open tumblr everyday and see what people's contributions are has been the highlight of my days this week, and it's so cool to me that i can be a part of this for the first event, and even though it was a teensy bit stressful, i'm so glad i've been able to hit all the prompts.

i can't wait to see what people might post during late submissions!! gonna keep checking every day to see. I've found many new talented artists and writers I had never seen before through this event, you all are seriously so nice and have been so sweet to me and to each other, this event has made me so happy.

I can't wait to see more from all of you. happy fest and much love!

@outerwilds-events

some more doodles(base game and eote spoilers) + random sappy rambling (positive vent?) below cut

some other random doodles from this weekend <3

yes I gave prisoner ears. I'm sorry I'm too much of a furry for this fandom aha

on a serious note, this fandom and this game have been my favorite thing about this year so far. Seriously, I was actually having a really tough couple months around the start of this year. I was dealing with a really really toxic friend in November and December and I was struggling to get over them. I was having a hard time letting go of my hurt and of the memory of them and our friendship- I was hurt and angry and I missed how great it was in the beginning. It was really tough for me, I didn't have any way to distract myself and I didn't have a way to let out my feelings. I felt stuck and trapped with a horrible memory and I didn't have the motivation to let it go. Then comes along this silly little game, that I remembered trying to play forever ago. I decided that I should probably try to play it again, and god it was the best decision I've ever made. This game, it has brought me so so much joy. I finally felt like I was able to let go and learn to move on and just enjoy the good memories while still remembering that they're in the past and while I can't change what happened, I can look forward to the future and hope. this game helped me cope with the grief, it helped me learn how to take care of myself and recover. It affected me so much in many ways, I will never ever forget it. This community has also brought me so much happiness, I've met so many wonderful and kind people, and I've became friends with some really cool people(one person in particular has been especially swaggers, you know who you are you weirdo /affectionate /plat). campfire fest has been great and I'm glad I got to be a part of it!! When I was thinking of what to draw for today, all I could think of was the immense amount of support I've received and given, and seen being passed around. So I figured it should be something to express that love!! Much love, and goodbye to campfire fest!! Can't wait to do this again next year <333

[familyvideostevie]

hi! would you write rooster giving his shy girl cuddles when she's on her period and feeling lonely? thank you <333

anon how did you know this is me rn? so, for you (but also me): you get your period for the first time since you've started seeing rooster and he is just like, the best ever | fluff, fem!reader, 1.4k

The dull ache in your abdomen wakes you earlier than you'd like for a Saturday. You blindly reach for your phone and check the time and then the date -- ugh. Yeah, it's about time for your period.

Mercifully you have not bled on your sheets so you sort yourself out and change from comfy pjs to comfy clothes and resign yourself to a lonely day on the couch. The first few days are always the hardest on you -- you feel sluggish and bloated and tend not to do anything if you can help it.

But lately, your life has taken on a kind of shine you're still getting used to. The biggest thing is the guy you've been seeing: Bradley. It's been just shy of a month and you see him every few days. You've met his aviator friends and he's stayed over at your place once, you at his a few times. He's funny and kind and so handsome and you hope that it changes from "seeing each other" to something more official soon.

That's what stops you from texting him. Maybe if he was officially your boyfriend you'd ask him to pick up some stuff and come over, but you feel shy about doing it for some reason. So you wrap yourself in the sweatshirt he left at your place and settle on the couch to watch something that'll probably make you cry.

Then your phone chirps.

rooster: are you busy today? do you want to walk the boardwalk? i'll buy ice cream : )

Something in your chest starts to ache. You'd mentioned wanting to take advantage of the weather and try the new ice cream shop that opened up by the water.

you: not feeling great today : ( rain check?

Your screen changes a second later, Bradley's contact photo taking over as he calls you. It's a selfie he took on your phone when you were in the bathroom. Oh, you think. Why is he calling you?

"Hi," you say. It sounds a little pathetic.

"Hey," he replies. You imagine him at his place, maybe fresh from his morning run, brows drawn based on the concern in his voice. "Are you okay?"

He's calling because you said you were sick? You don't really know what to do with that. "Yeah, just woke up feeling off. I'm sorry about not going to the boardwalk today."

He hums down the line. "Don't apologize, silly," he says. "Do you need anything? I can get anything you want from the store and bring it over. Do you have lemons? My mom swore by lemon tea when she wasn't feeling great --"

Bradley goes on about the things he could get you at the pharmacy and you feel like laughing and crying at the same time. He's known you for less than a month and he's calling to see if you're alright. God, you think. I could love him someday.

Maybe that's why you just blurt it out, embarrassment tingling in your cheeks. "Bradley," you say, and he stops talking. "I'm not like, sick sick. I just...have my period and feel blah."

Something rustles like he's shifting the phone from one ear to the other. "Oh, sweetheart," he says. He's never called you that before. Your name, yes, and shortened versions of it, yes, but a pet name? Not really. You love it. "I can still buy you stuff for that. You might have to send me pictures of the brands you use, though, because there are so damn many in the aisle."

You will not cry. That would be very cliche of you, and frankly, this is what every girl deserves. But damn if your heart doesn't feel like it's bursting.

"You don't need to buy me anything," you say, softly. You will your shyness away. "But uh, if you don't mind sitting on the couch with a kind of grumpy girl watching nature documentaries all day, you could come over?"

"I absolutely do not mind doing that," he says and you feel like you can hear his smile. "I'll be over in an hour?"

It feels big, somehow, him coming over because you're on your period and feel like shit. Thus far you've spent time together doing things -- going to the Hard Deck or out to eat and, a few times so far, learning each other in bed. You haven't really had a lazy day.

So when he knocks, you slide in your socks to the door maybe a little too fast for the ache you feel all over. You forget that you're in ratty shorts and his sweatshirt until you open the door and he looks you up and down.

"Hi," he says. "Cute." You tug on the sleeves and scrunch up your nose, moving aside to let him in. It's then that you notice he's carrying a bag from the pharmacy.

"Bradley, I said you didn't have to buy anything." He toes off his shoes and shoots you an incredulous look.

"Well, don't get too excited," he says. "I didn't know what flavor of stuff you like so I went kind of basic. I can go get more if you hate all of it."

He sets the bag on your counter and starts to unpack it. You watch him as he does -- damp hair like he showered before he came, workout shorts and a t-shirt that looks oh-so-soft. The scars on his face stand out with his recent tan and you find one you haven't noticed before on his neck. It's fun, the newness of what you have. You're still learning him.

The counter is now full of various ice creams and sweet snacks, as well as some pain medication and...a lemon. "What is your favorite flavor, anyway?" he says, packing the cartons into your freezer.

You tell him and he taps his temple like he's storing it. "I'll remember next time."

Next time.

"Bradley," you mutter. He hears you, turning his head and shutting the freezer. "Thank you for coming over and bringing this stuff."

His eyes go soft and smiles your favorite Bradley smile so far -- it's soft, tender, pleased. "Of course," he says, reaching for you. You take a step and meet him halfway. One big hand tangles with yours and the other cups your jaw, thumb moving slowly over the skin of your cheek. "Thanks for letting me," he adds. He knows that you get shy, that you're still getting to know the private parts of each other.

He kisses you softly and you sigh into his mouth until a wave of cramps hits and you wince. Bradley pulls away with concern on his face until he puts it together. "Sorry," you say. He hushes you.

"Let me make you some of that lemon tea and then we can sit on the couch? I seem to remember you mentioning nature documentaries?" He taps your chin with a knuckle when you nod.

"I like the sound of that," you say.

You try to stay upright as you wait, you really do. But the cramps are coming in waves and you're tired, so you end up horizontal on the couch by the time Bradley brings over the mug.

"Oh," he says, frowning. "Do you want some meds?"

You shake your head. You already took some before he arrived. He puts the mug on your table and cracks his knuckles. The movement gives you an idea.

"Bradley," you say. "I have an idea." He sits on the edge of the couch and puts his hand on your knee.

"Anything."

"Your hands..." you swallow. The shyness creeps up your throat but you persevere. "If you put them here --" you pat your abdomen -- "they'd be like a heating pad."

"Say no more," he says. "Scoot." Bradley actually does all the arranging, settling himself between you and the back of the couch. Your legs tangle and he hooks his chin over your shoulder. "Here?" he asks, putting his hand over the waistband of your shorts.

"Yeah, almost." You can already feel the heat radiating from him and you move his palm so it's on your bare skin under your top, a few fingers sneaking under the waistband of your shorts. It should be sexy, honestly, and while it is intimate, more than anything it's comfortable. "Perfect," you sigh. It really is. He really is.

Bradley relaxes behind you and presses a kiss to your shoulder. "Good," he says. "Now let's watch some badass shit about monkeys or something."

thank you for reading <3 reblog, send feedback, masterlist here!

[bysaber]

Missing your partner ft. Levi

Day 10 of 31 Days of Ficmas!

summary — with the holidays coming, you can’t help but miss your husband, who’s away on a mission.

word count — 333

content — just you missing levi, codependency hinted, fear of loss, angsty

notes — a few hours late but still!!! smaller one <3

The Christmas lights are on, but you can’t feel the comfort they usually bring you.

Sitting on your couch, a blanket wrapped around your body while drinking a cup of tea, you try to relax after a long day, to think about happy things.

But you find it hard to do so when your soul longs for the presence of your husband, who’s away on a mission.

The loneliness strikes hard on nights like these, when you have no company but all the things that make you think about him. Your house itself, the one you’ve built together; Levi Ackerman is in each part of it, and you see him wherever you look.

Truth is, you find it hard to live normally without him. His pouty face, witty remarks, and, above all, his love for you. Levi is so integrated into your life that every time he leaves, it’s like he is taking a part of yourself with him.

And with the Holidays coming, your loneliness feels worse than ever.

To think you will have to celebrate it without him, your heart shrinks. It is unfair, and you hate the world a little. You hate it for taking this little moment of happiness from you and, mostly, for taking it from him.

Levi deserves happiness more than anyone.

And yet, he’s out there being the Humanity’s Strongest. Trying to save lives, trying to give his best. You love him for it, God, you really do. But you also want to protect him a little, spare his feelings.

Spare his life.

You can’t even be sure if he will even come back home.

The tears roll down your cheeks like they usually do when Levi’s away, the fear of the unknown taking over as your heart aches.

Curling up on the couch, with only a blanket to warm your body and the tea long forgotten, you cry as the Christmas lights illuminate your face.

And you pray your lover will return safely to you.

[waterfallofspace]

A Matter Of Belief

A birthday gift for @ezynse! <333 Sooo, I'm a few days late 😭😭 but hopefully you still enjoy this~ (and maaaybe the fact it's a two part thing makes up for that..?~)

Summary: When N/anami attempts to lie about a cold, he succeeds. But when he isn't lying, well, considering what happened last time? They're not so quick to believe him. So, he finds himself having to prove his honesty.

Word Count: 4.3k (Part One: 1.9k - The Lies We Tell~ ) (Part Two: 2.4k - ~Come Back To Bite Us)

Characters: N/anami, G/ojo, M/egumi and I/tadori. (hints at N/anago, but can be read platonic or romantic, readers choice~)

(Warning, features vague notions of past contagion and light mess implications. Nothing outright stated, but be warned!)

The Lies We Tell~

A shrewd whistle pulls Nanami from his thoughts, head lifting from the safety of his cupped hands. Waiting to meet his eyes is a familiar, and deeply unwanted, sight. 

“Woah, you look rough,” Gojo hums, sucking air through his teeth with a sound not unlike a rusty gate pulling against its hinges. Hm; apparently metaphors are easier when you’re a little out of it. Or maybe it’s just Gojo that pulls that side of people out into the open. However against their will it may be. 

Clearing his throat, Nanami braces himself for the sounds that may escape in lieu of human speech. “Id’s-” A pause, cough, and tight inhale. “It’s not all that. I’m alright. Though, less so with you interrupting my work. I have a lot to complete before the day is up.” 

“Working? Is that what we’re calling ‘half-asleep in our hands’ nowadays?” Gojo retorts, a smirk creeping from his flashing teeth up to his blindfold. There’s no doubt his eyes are shining, taking in every pathetic inch of Nanami’s current state. Effortlessly infuriating, as always. 

Letting a sigh replace the urge to cough, Nanami turns his focus back to the laptop. A clear signal, leave me alone. Observant as Gojo is, there’s no doubt the signals were seen and understood.

“Whatcha workin’ on?” 

Then pointedly ignored. 

“Even if I explained it, you wouldn’t have any idea what it was.” 

Gojo lets out a huff, falling into the chair next to Nanami’s with a performative groan. Dramatic as ever, and certainly getting awfully comfortable. With a sigh, Nanami pinches the bridge of his nose, giving Gojo a light glare as he feels unease start to take root.

His growing headache protests this action, a flash of heat through his temples nearly bringing a wince. Each blink serves to bring a moment of relief, quickly dispelled as the fluorescent lighting brings another wave of pain. 

Yet, despite the agony, pain can be endured silently without much fuss. No, his rising unease belongs to an entirely different sort of sensation. One that won’t go so easily overlooked. 

“Nana-mi, how long are you gonna be working on this?” Gojo cuts in with a whine. “I’m so bored. Why don’t we play a game instead!” 

“I’m busy.”

“Oh come on, we both know you can multitask like a pro!” 

Nanami sighs, allowing a single finger to brush the source of his growing agitation. “Is it ‘name all the things you like about Gojo Satoru’? Again?” 

“We have a winner!” Gojo smirks, clapping his hands together above his head. The noise echoes through the quiet office. Thanks to a meeting, to which an invitation was respectfully declined, the office is graciously empty. Then again, if it wasn’t, maybe Gojo wouldn’t be here at all. 

“It seems to be the only game you’re aware of. Or at least the only one you have any interesting in particihhhpating in.” Nanami swallows hard as his breath catches on its own.

Each inhale from here on out is a gamble. One wrong move and the dam bursts. Best course of action is to keep the breathing shallow, wait for an opportunity, and hope to keep it quiet- 

“So you’re sick, huh?” 

“hH’EDngXTchh!”  

The question breaks Nanami’s concentration, fingers barely reaching his nose in time to catch the sneeze. In an effort to relieve the pressure in his throat, he lets out a slight cough before the next itch takes its turn to pile on. 

“hieHh- nXGtCHhh! Pardon me.” 

“That can’t feel good,” Gojo offers with a wince, gesturing to Nanami’s throat. Admittedly, it does not. Still, not ready to admit defeat, Nanami tightens his mouth into a grimace. One Gojo seems to pull out of him often. 

“I’m not unwell, it is simply an… hiH’gehDNTchh!” Hands fly up to catch this one, Nanami leaving one hovering just under his chin as he finishes. “-immune system overreaction. Pardon.” 

“You can’t just say it like a normal person?” 

“It’s an allergic reaction.” 

“S-ee? Was that so hard?” Comes the teasing reply, Gojo managing to wink with his voice alone. Letting his fingers brush against his nose, Nanami disguises the action by sliding his glasses up it. 

“I’m fully capable of so called ‘normal’ conversations. I just prefer to choose a more sophisticated approach. Something you’d- eh’deNGTchh! Pardon. Something you’d know nothing about.”  

Gojo’s reply sounds muffled, something about ‘words hurting’ starting to fade away as Nanami gasps.

Fingers pinch his nose, giving the freedom to release an itchy hiss from his teeth. Feeling the flare of his own nostrils under his grip, another gasp gets caught in his throat. If he didn’t know better, he’d say it was an allergy. This cold’s damn expressive. 

“Nanami?” 

Even if he wanted to reply, the option was entirely off the table. His entire face seems to buzz, nose practically quivering. Still, wishing to maintain decorum, or at least pride, Nanami takes another measured inhale. 

“hHIuh-!” 

This can be held back.

“hhieh… hih-!”

At least long enough for Gojo to lose interest and leave him alo-

“eHNgdtch– hiHh’eyIESHHh-iuh!” 

The first gets squished against his fingers, but the second breaks his hold, barely managing to be caught against his sleeve. The violent nature leaves his throat raw, sinuses starting to ache as a light drip threatens to bring forth another burst. 

“See,” Gojo interrupts, seemingly oblivious to the struggles as Nanami tries to clear his throat. “-that didn’t sound like an allergy sneeze.” 

There’s a silence as Nanami pinches his nose, feigning an all too real headache. Even a single word is out of the question, there’s no way his voice won’t hold the congestion. Silence for this long though… Gojo will piece together that there’s more than one kind of irritation working its way through Nanami. 

“Whad’s thad subosed… hehh–” Nanami replies at last, deciding to take the lack of consonants over the lack of words entirely. The intensity of the tickle as each word buzzes through his throat, however, was not accounted for. 

“Jeez!” Gojo laughs, chair nearly tipping over. “I can barely understand you!” 

“hIH’ESHHH-iuh!” Nanami answers with a groan, attempting to tack on some words at the end. “Pardod be. Thad’s dot by probleb.”

“Better blow your dose, Dadabi.” Comes the retort, Gojo pinching his nose with a dramatic flair, once more seeming to wink without the use of his eyes. 

Nanami scoffs, the action triggering a heavy cough. His arm raises on instinct, chair squeaking as he manages to aim away from the blindfolded annoyance to his right. Face still buried in the warm fabric, his hand reaching blindly for the handkerchief. It’s seen its fair share of use this week. 

Alright, so maybe it’s not exactly allergies, but the overreaction part wasn’t inaccurate. And should Gojo catch on that this is a cold, overreaction will be exactly what follows. He’ll be impossible to get rid of, and the word will spread like wildfire. 

Nanami grimaces against his arm, fingers finally reaching their target as his thoughts continue to wander. He has things to do, none of which include people fussing over him and interrupting his work. 

Not bothering to open his eyes, Nanami brings the cloth to his face and lets out a long blow, feeling the congestion shift enough to allow air through his sinuses once more. Once he’s satisfied with the action, he lets the handkerchief fall back to the desk.

Gojo’s remained uncharacteristically quiet through the whole ordeal, and stays that way as Nanami attempts a light sniffle to test the waters. He quickly realizes his mistake, breath wavering as he pulls the tissues to his nose. 

“hHEDtieZSHhh! eH’GhZshhoo! hh’eDGSHh’iuh-!” 

The sounds are heavy, congestion lining each breath as he attempts to stall the onslaught at three– “hH’EMPFFfshh-!” a light moan escaping as he’s unsuccessful. The tissues manage to catch most of the attack, only the last breaking its way into his arm. 

A heat suddenly floods his mind, all symptoms forgotten as Nanami feels a light panic enter his chest. The tissues… that he didn’t grab…? Is he feverish after all- the only fabric he’d acquired was the handkerchief, yet glancing down, what remains of tissues are clearly in his hands. 

Laughter brings him back to the room. He looks up to find Gojo laughing, nearly hysterically, as he gestures to the box on the desk next to him. A coworker had brought them in last week. Along with something else Nanami is not as grateful to have obtained. 

“You- you should have- seen your face!” Gojo manages through the near mocking levels of gasping, blindfold starting to darken in colour around his eyes. 

Nanami can’t help the humour that coats his annoyance. Crying from laughter…? A bit over the top, even for Gojo. 

With a final chuckle, Gojo settles back down, lowering his voice back to its average pitch. “You looked like you needed them.” 

“Ah. It seems I did. Pardon me again.” 

It’s all the admission Nanami’s willing to allow, but it seems more than enough for Gojo to run with. He pauses, lifting the corner of his blindfold to meet Nanami’s gaze directly. “You sure you’re alright?” 

“I’m certain. One of my coworkers simply got a new scent that… didn’t agree with me...” It’s a lie, something Nanami is none too fond of, especially at such detail. However… it’s not entirely untrue. There was such an incident– it just happened weeks ago. 

Gojo tilts his head, gesturing to continue. 

“A gift from her American boyfriend. Seems they use much stronger scents across the sea.” 

This elicits a solemn nod, Gojo pursing his lips. “I’ve experienced a few of those. Powerful stuff.” 

“Indeed.”

“Interesting that I’m not getting set off though–” Gojo adds, taking a deep sniff. The crisp sound seems almost like a taunt, Nanami feeling his own sinuses protest the action. He curses himself, then Gojo’s overly-sensitive nose, before settling on a light shrug. 

“Probably got cleared out of the air by now. We do have a filtration system in the office– heh’dEHTChh-ue! Pardon me.” Gojo passes another tissue as Nanami attempts to finish the thought. “Though it seems it’s still lingering in my sinuses.”

Pausing for another blow and letting a few coughs escape under the guise of allergic irritation, Nanami sighs. “Now, if there’s nothing else?” 

Standing from the chair, Gojo sighs performatively, letting out a vague chuckle. “You’re so boring, Nanami.” 

“And yet you wasted nearly twenty minutes of your precious time with me.”

“Megumi’s off on a mission with Okkotsu,” Gojo laments, before pausing. A hint of sincerity leaks into his tone as the next words come out barely audible above the hum of the office. “Was feelin’ kinda quiet at school.” 

Nanami sighs again, certain he’s gained more oxygen in the last twenty minutes than he’s gotten in weeks from sheer amount of sighs. Gesturing towards the chair, he feels his headache protesting the action. He’s gonna regret this. 

Dropping back into it with a grin, Gojo gives a light and airy “th-ank you!” which Nanami pointedly ignores. 

“Stay quiet, I have to finish these forms.”

“You’re the best Nanami!” 

“eH’TSSCHh– ESSChh’iuh! And not a word about that.” 

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Comes the airy reply, Gojo sliding the box of tissues closer. Fighting the urge to sigh again, a little overdone at this point, Nanami grabs a handful. 

It’s gonna be a long afternoon. 

~Come Back To Bite Us.

“nGxt– eNKxt! ah’kNXt! Oh, pardon me.” 

“Go home.”

“Megumi, that was rude!” Gojo chimes in, infinity still up as he angles his hips towards the source of his chastation, “We don’t speak like that to our elders,” before turning on his heel to face Nanami. “-but the kid’s right. Go home.” 

Releasing his nose, Nanami doesn’t miss the glare Megumi casts at him. Regardless, the itch wins out, and he sniffles lightly, clearing his throat before speaking. “I just got here. And besides, it was Itadori that called me in, not you two.” 

Nanami had been resting at home, mindlessly filling in some crosswords when he’d received what could only be described as a frantic text from Itadori. Something about ‘trouble, burning, and Nanamin’. Followed by, in all caps, ‘COME QUICK’, and a string of white boxes that Nanami elected to ignore. 

“Whatever.” Megumi’s voice cuts through Nanami’s thoughts, eyes drifting up to meet the icy glare being shot in his direction. “But I’m going back to my room. I sure as hell don’t want whatever you got.” 

Nanami blinks, pushing his glasses up with a sigh. “I’m not sick.” 

The irritated glare is almost comical, Megumi’s mouth tightening as he gestures to Gojo. “Last time you ‘weren’t sick’, this idiot showed up with a cold that he proceeded to share with all of us.” A light heat appears on the accused’s cheeks as Megumi continues, “We were all sick within a matter of days. I’m not taking any chances.” 

“Hey,” Gojo whines, crossing his arms with a huff. “That wasn’t my fault! I tried to call out, but someone had to keep an eye on you kids.” 

“Not a kid.”

Gojo grins, dropping his infinity to poke at Megumi’s cheek as he sings, “Not a child, still a kid!” before retreating with a yelp as Megumi knocks his hand away. 

“That’s no-” 

“Look,” Nanami cuts in, rolling his eyes as Gojo pokes a not-so-subtle tongue in Megumi’s direction. “Just tell me where Itadori’s room is, and I’ll find him myself.” 

“Not a chance. He’s almost as bad as Gojo when it comes to spreading illness.” 

Pouting at the accusation, Gojo rolls his head back to confront Megumi, some complaint or denial sprouting on his tongue–

“hnNGxt! agHKnt! eNGkt!”

–until Nanami cuts their bickering off once more, a ‘pardon’ getting lost behind the fist pressed against his nose. The increasing congestion leaves Nanami’s hand against his face, a sniffle loosening it more audibly than he’d desire. 

Standing from the couch, Gojo grabs a tissue with much too over-the-top of a flourish, yelping as Megumi slaps his hand again. Instead, Megumi places the box in Nanami’s reach, with another pointed glare and scoff. 

Unwarranted, seeing as, “I’b do-” A pause, deep sniffle, grimace forming as it does nothing to alleviate the ever growing tickle. Still, it allows enough clarity to continue with, “I’m not sick.” 

“Real convincing,” comes Megumi’s retort, Nanami ducking to the tissue box just in time to catch the next burst. 

“hHENCH-shha!” 

It escapes before he can suppress it, a heat starting to form at the tips of his ears. Normally stifling isn’t a problem, not unless he’s been at it for awhile, or it’s a particularly nasty itch. Neither of those should be the case in this situation. Much to Nanami’s chagrin, this was simply a failure on his part to contain it. 

“You sound entirely healthy.” 

“Megumi, what an attitude!” Gojo says, sarcastic displeasure dripping from each word as Megumi sucks in a breath. Turning on his heel, he spins around to face Gojo with a look that could kill. Guessing by who it’s aimed at, Megumi wishes it would. 

“You clung to my side like a parasite for nearly two weeks.” 

“I was dy-ing! You refused to comfort me in my time of need and suffering–” 

Letting their argument fade into the background, Nanami pauses to take stock of the situation. Despite previous denials being entirely for show, this time he’s really not sick. Everything has felt fine all day, no symptoms to speak of. Even now, there’s still no rawness of the throat, or heaviness in the lungs, it’s only his nose having a reaction. 

No– actually, the itch starts in his nose, but it’s spreading. Beginning to crawl up his throat, it’s burying itself in his ears, clinging to the backs of his eyes. This is most certainly an allergy, but to what..? 

It first began when he entered Jujutsu High, so it has to be something here. It’s the middle of autumn, so unlikely there’d be any specific flowers floating around, not that those tend to set him off anyways. And if it was a heavy perfume, Gojo would certainly be reacting too. 

Nanami gives the room a scan, eyes finally resting on a bottle of cleaning supplies sitting on the counter. The brand isn’t familiar, it’s not the one they use at the office, or one he’s picked up himself before. It has some sort of apple design on the label, though it doesn’t appear to be scented. Judging by the level of liquid, and the dampness of the cloth to its left, it’s been recently used. 

“--and then you made Okkotsu miss his assignment, which meant me and Toge had to take it, despite him still being unwell.” 

Tuning back in to catch Megumi’s closing argument, Nanami interjects before Gojo has a chance to form his defense. “Not sick, just an immune system overreaction. Likely to that cleaning spray. N-now… eh’kNCHhaa! Pardon me. Now, Itadori’s room? He claimed it was urgent.” 

Gojo crinkles his nose, glancing from Nanami to the spray and back, before chuckling. “What, is that American made too?” 

Judging by the strangled noise from Megumi, he understood the reference and found it unfortunately amusing. Apparently not many details of their encounters are kept private. Though, seeing as it’s Gojo Satoru in question, that was to be expected. 

Nanami sighs, tongue pressed to the roof of his mouth as the itch spreads deeper. Exchanging it for a pinch at the bridge of his nose so he can speak, he turns to face the most likely to allow him access.

“Gojo, I don’t have tihh… time for this. I need to find Itadori.” 

“Not a chance,” Megumi calls again, arms still crossed over his chest. 

“Staying in this room is j-just… just gonna… hHiuh-!” Nanami pauses, tongue pressed harder against his teeth as he fights back the overwhelming desire to give in to the tickle. Finally with a heavy sigh, he releases the pressure. “Just going to make the reaction worse.” 

Rolling his eyes, Megumi places a hand on the doorframe, firmly blocking the entrance. “Sorry, not buying it.” 

A sigh sounds from the couch where Gojo has found himself lounging again, eyes rolling as he makes a pointless gesture. “Just let the man through. He’s probably telling the truth anyways, what’s the point in keeping up the lie if we’re still denying him access?” 

“hH’ENchHsha! Pardon.” 

“Not planning on betting with three weeks of misery over probably telling the truth.” 

Gojo leans his head back to meet Megumi’s icy gaze, beginning yet another argument as Nanami feels his head begin to pound. Megumi’s an alright kid on his own, but put him in a conversation with Gojo, and it’s nearly infuriating. 

Exacerbated, Nanami lets a groan pass through his teeth, before walking over to the counter. Hearing footsteps, Megumi raises his head, ready to prevent an intrusion, before pausing. Quizzically, he casts a glance at Gojo, who merely shrugs. 

“What are you-”

“You don’t believe me? Fair enough, I guess I’ve earned that,” Nanami begins, internally cursing himself for this half-assed plan. “Still, I intend to see Itadori before I’m off the clock, so here’s your proof.” 

With that, he takes the bottle and sprays it against the cloth, before bringing it to his nose. The effect is immediate, Nanami feeling his hands grip the cloth tighter against his rapidly flaring nostrils on instinct. A rush of ticklish irritation spreads deep into his sinuses, his eyes watering as his skin takes on a rosy flush. 

“hH’ENCHha– YEASHH’ahh! hH’NkGt-sha! aH’GngKThah! hH’DESHHh’ue!”

Megumi and Gojo seem frozen, eyes glued to the scene playing out in front of them. Shock’s written plainly across their faces as Nanami ducks closer to the ground with each body-wrenching sneeze. All three of them locked in place. 

Gojo’s the first to break the spell, rising from the couch as Nanami– “hH’eNChsha!” continues to sneeze against the cloth. Each desperate inhale bringing another round of heavy, chemically tainted, scent.  

“enCHshHAa-! egZSHHshaa-! P-pardon– ek’eNCHSh-uew!” 

“Jeez Nanami,” Gojo offers, a wince scraping from his throat. Reaching over, he pulls the cloth away from Nanami’s twitching nose. “You’re gonna smother yourself.” 

“eHNChshah!” 

“Point proven, now try taking a clean breath instead, yeah?” 

The near whine Nanami releases as the rush of fresh air invades his sinuses is almost pitiful, eyes overflowing with allergic misery. Megumi finally takes this moment to react, grabbing the tissue box and bringing it over. 

Still barely able to pry his eyes open, Nanami only catches a second of the offering, but he’d wager the look Megumi’s wearing is a sheepish one. More than likely laced with some feigned annoyance to cover genuine concern. That kid was always a little too good at feeling sympathy for those around him. Seems Gojo managed to instill a few good traits along with all the bad. 

“Here,” Megumi huffs, actions confirming the suspicions as he presses a handful of tissues into Nanami’s frantically waving hands. 

“eh’mFFSSCHhh! ah’enCSHMFff! hiEHh– mMFFSHHhh!” 

There’s a vague murmur of concern from Gojo, his infinity breaking as his skin touches Nanami’s back, hand gently running across the violently shaking shoulders. “You gonna live?” 

“I- hHEZDCSHah! Pardon me. I told you I wasn’t… w-wasn’t… hH’ENCZSHhaa! Wasn’t sick. Now can- ah’yeISSHHh-uew! Pardod be-” 

“Breathe Kento,” Gojo mutters, casting Megumi a calculated look as he shifts awkwardly, offering another round of tissues. 

Accepting them with a heady sniffle, Nanami attempts to finish his sentence, “Dow cad I see Idadori?” grimacing at how heavy the words fall out. Pausing to blow, he accepts another round of tissues as the sensation prompts another round of heady sneezes, followed by a second blow. 

The congestion lining his sinuses seems to be more swelling than anything else, but the blows at least clears his voice enough to regain some consonants. “There’s still an hour left in the work day, and I’d like to see him before it ends.” 

Megumi winces, attempting to cover it with a shrug as he gestures towards the door he’d been previously blocking. “Last room on the left, end of the hall. He’d be there if he’s waiting for you. Otherwise you could check the kitchen, I think he was in there earlier.” 

Before Nanami can take a step, Gojo lets an arm rest on his shoulder, leaning over with a smug grin. “The kitchen was just cleaned-”  

“eH’NCZSHha! Excuse me.” 

“-How about you go get Itadori, and I’ll bring Nanami outside for some fresh air.” 

Megumi nods, walking off at a pace that, to anyone else, could almost be construed as hurried. Once he’s out of range, Gojo turns back to Nanami, concern etched across his sharp features. 

“You know, you could have just pushed past him,” he muses, grabbing another handful of tissues as Nanami’s nose twitches needily, his eyes fluttering shut. “Megumi’s all talk, he wouldn’t have actually stopped you.” 

“eNCHHff! ah’mMFFShhh-uew! Pardon me.” 

With another harsh blow, and a sigh, Nanami accepts Gojo’s waiting shoulder, beginning the nearly six feet journey to outside. With his eyes still watering and swollen, he’s relying almost solely on Gojo to get them safely to the door. 

“I know,” he begins, taking advantage of the illusion of privacy that the darkness brings. “But I couldn’t exactly blame him. I did lie before.” 

Gojo laughs, joyous and full-bodied, the action shaking them both as Nanami wrenches to the side with another– “hHENCHHshha!” that nearly topples them. 

When he can finally get a breath in, Gojo places his hand against the wall, studying the duo. Turning to Nanami, he offers a “Was it worth it?” 

“Provigg by poidt?”

 “I meant lying. Before.” 

Nanami takes a sharp breath. Once, twice, eyes blearily staring up at the sky, before a deep exhale trips out, a groan on it’s heels. 

“Lost it?” 

“Mm. I didn’t mean to, you know.” 

“To lose the sneeze?” Gojo chuckles, helping Nanami down the steps. “I didn’t figure you did-” 

Nanami cuts him off, tone softer than he’d ever admit to as he begins again. “To get you guys sick. I wasn’t planning on having you stick around, I just…” 

There’s a pause, the silence seeming to linger heavily in the air. It’s not cold enough to see your breath, but the chill still leaves Nanami rubbing his arms. No comment is spoken when Gojo leans in closer, nor when Nanami lets his head rest on his shoulder. 

Finally a sheepish laugh cuts through the atmosphere, Nanami glancing up to meet Gojo’s genuine smile. “Can’t turn away a person in need? Guess that one’s on me as much as it is you.” 

With a light cough, Nanami spins away from his position against Gojo’s shoulder, ducking towards the ground for another, “hh’RRSHHhaa! hk’EYIESHhhaa! Pardod be, agaid."

“See! Those sound like allergies.” 

Nanami turns back to Gojo, raising an eyebrow incredulously. “You’re sayigg by sdeezes soud differedt whed I’b sick?” 

A smirk meets the question, Gojo’s eyes glistening with mischief. “I’ll record them sometime. Show you what I mean.” 

“If you ever-” 

He’s interrupted by Itadori calling out, the words lost in the distance. Glancing up from behind his tissue barrier, Nanami catches sight of the frantic waving. Megumi’s leaning against the doorframe behind him, attempting to feign indifference. As their eyes catch, Nanami offers a slight nod, Megumi’s posture notably relaxing. 

“Nanamin!” Itadori calls, rushing over to them with a giant smile. One that feels deeply inappropriate for this level of exhaustion.

Still, Nanami attempts to react with one of his own as Itadori continues rambling on. “Oh wow, you look rough! I mean, Megumi warned me, but I didn’t know it would be this bad.” 

As the words continue flowing out in an almost endless stream, Gojo leans over, voice at a volume only they can hear. “Payback time.” 

He then leans back, calling out to Itadori, “Yeah, he’s real banged up, right? Oh, hey Itadori! You remember that thing Okkotsu taught you?” 

Nanami raises an eyebrow, sending Gojo a suspicious glance before a deep sigh breaks forth at Itadori’s enthusiastic response. 

“Oh right! Bless you! It’s an English custom for when someone sneezes, right Sensei?” 

“hhENCHH’shaa-!” 

“Bless you, Nanamin!” 

It’s gonna be a long hour.

[sexybabystevie]

Ok hear me out: Steve and the reader being childhood friends/crushes despite their different social circles in HS that they’re go into each other’s locker to borrow each other’s textbooks if they forgot their own and leave each other cute/silly notes to find

OBSESSED HELLO THIS IS SO CUTE??? idk i hold a special place in my heart for s1-s2 steve <333

okay so i imagine this as a little scenario where maybe you live in the same neighborhood, person-next-door type deal. knowing each other since you were kids, being best friends for years (ofc with silly little crushes on each other).

but unfortunately you aren't ever in the same social circles - steve's popular and has a much more wealthy family, etc, which immediately means you don't hang out with the same people - but you don't hold it against him because you still meet up and hang up on the weekends, you still study together by the poolside at his house as the school year comes to a close and everything is bright with the coming of summer. you have other friends too, but you always come back to each other.

and although you don't hang out at school that often, you can't really go all day without interacting with each other, so steve starts not-so-sneakily saying that he forgot his math book at home, and can he pretty please borrow yours? he says it will only be a one time thing, but it turns into days and days of him forgetting some kind of book at home, and you can't always be late to your next class by unlocking your locker for him, so you just give him your combination and give him free roam of whatever he needs, whenever he needs it.

it's when you go to use your own books that you notice little notes - sometimes on sticky notes or written lightly in pencil on the margins of the pages he knows you'll be reading that day since you both have most of the same classes. 'i miss you - study sesh at mine tonight?', 'your hair looks really pretty today,' 'don't fall asleep today, mr. jones's lecture is SO boring,' among various other little things, like absent doodles of mustaches on some of the people in the images of your history book.

at first you're a little worried about vandalizing school property, but you can't deny the fact that the little notes and drawings make you smile in moments of intense school boredom, so you begin answering back on the next day's lessons, making up your own little things to say as well. 'i think cleopatra looks better with the mustache you gave her,' 'pay attention! i don't wanna have to reteach this to you later, harrington,' along with writing the steps to some of the math problems you know he has a particularly hard time answering.

the two of you get so used to sharing books that you decide next year you'll let steve's parents buy a single copy to share - meaning that you'll not only be able to write notes in his books, but you'll also be able to leave little gifts and silly things in his locker next school year.

you can't wait.

[kaeyas-beloved]

Voicelines: Kaeya’s Birthday

Characters: Jean, Lisa, Klee, Diluc, (Y/N), Kaeya

Summary: Some people have some things to say in regards to today…

Genre: Fluff/Mild-Angst + Snippets

CW: romantic Kaeya x gn!reader & platonic for everyone else, not proofread

a/n: I uh wanted to try doing voicelines and what better opportunity than doing it for Kaeya’s birthday (yes I’m late but shhhhh)! Happy Birthday Kaeya <333

Jean

“Even though today is his birthday, Kaeya refuses to stop working. I’m not sure if it’s because he’s dedicated or simply forgot the date. Regardless, he should take the day off and enjoy himself.”

Lisa

“Kaeya doesn’t really celebrate his birthday. The most he’s ever done was drink himself silly and hardly anyone can consider that celebrating. Still, I’m sure there’s a reason behind it. Oh? You’re curious? Try asking (Y/N), cutie, they may know.”

Klee

“Today is Kaeya’s birthday! Klee heard that Amber is planning a surprise party for him later. Will you come too? There’ll be loads of yummy food and drinks. Oh and cake too! Klee hopes she made a good gift for Kaeya…”

Diluc

“It’s been a long time since either of us celebrated. Times were… simpler back then. Every year though Kaeya never fails to ask if he could get a drink on the house. Of course, I say no.

The staff at the winery miss him too and keep asking me to invite him over. Even if I wanted to, Kaeya always finds a way around it. So there’s no one to blame but him on that front. Must he make everything so difficult for me though?

*sigh* I digress. Traveller, one last thing. Could you deliver this bottle for me? I have no doubt you know who the receiver is.”

(Y/N)

"This year, I hope to make it the best for my lover. If you couldn’t tell, Kaeya gets… weird about his birthday. Yes, weirder than normal. Do I know why? I do, but it’s not my story to tell Traveller.

On top of the party, I have many presents for him for when we get home. Some material, others not so much. I’ve always had trouble picking out gifts, but it’s even worse when it comes to Kaeya. Still, it was fun. I’m smiling? I can’t help it, not when it comes to him and what he does to my heart.

...Do you think he’ll like this? It’s a feather earring. Did you know that Kaeya's vision isn't like the others? It's missing a set of feathers - the feathers required to fly.

...I want to give him his freedom. Even if it's only a little. Even if it's only for a day. He deserves that and so much more.

Kaeya

“When were you going to tell me about the party? Haha, I’m kidding. How did I know? Let’s just say I’m not a captain for nothing. Don’t worry, I'll act surprised when the time comes.

This is the first year (Y/N) will celebrate with me as my significant other. I’m truly blessed to have them in my life.

…Weird? Who told you that? (Y/N)? Oh, I see. I do tend to forget or celebrate in untraditional ways, there’s no denying that now that it’s out of the bag, but I wouldn’t go as far as weird to describe it. You think so too? I’m wounded.

(Paimon: “Uh! I don’t see why (Y/N) decided to get you anything. How do they deal with you!?”)

Wait. They got me something?

…

I can’t wait to see it. :)

Very important addition: Kaeya is teary eyed and smiling softly when he hears you got him a gift <3

Tag list: @spoopy-fish-writes // @that-enby-alien // @xenuuu // @x-zho // @mariposa666haruka // @quackquackmfs // @kaerui-kaisen // @genshin-impact-writings // @ventisweetheart // @lordbugs // @lemontum // @akiria12167 // @ari-the-wr1ter // @dontmindmebeing // @stage-lucida

…

Wanna be tagged in future works? Consider filling out this form! And if you want to be removed just DM or send an ask into my inbox!

[dummerjan]

a get to know you better meme

tagged by @zozobruh - Thank you! <333

do you make your bed? No. I do turn turn up the blanket so it can air out but that's it.

what's your favourite number? There's 3, and then 9, then 12, then 16 (but only because that's the day of the month I was born), then 21 (for non-SKAM reasons actually), then 27. 3 is the dominant theme. I like to do things in a set of three, but not compulsively. There's a bit of a system to and a whole story behind the numbers. I could go on a whole spiel. It also goes back to me playing around with words and syllables when I was around 8. I used to collect words with 9 letters.

what is your job? Don't have one.

If you could go back to school would you? What school? Elementary? No thanks. Also not secondary. Or night school. Regular school does not work for me, too autistic and the system too... well, a system. People are assholes, teachers included. Most of my schooling was done via distance learning and I definitely don't want to go back to that either. But also, I am attending school right now (vocational school) and I intend to further my education afterwards. I'd really like to learn how to properly draft and construct patterns and/or acquire the master craftsmen certificate in tailoring (or however you say meinen Meister machen).

can you parallel park? I don't have a license and I hope to make it through life without having to learn how to drive.

a job you had that would surprise people? None.

do you think aliens are real? Earth being the only inhabited place seems unlikely. Though I highly doubt they are how we have pictured alien life forms.

can you drive a manual car? If I did have a license, I'd be able to since that is the norm in Germany.

what's your guilty pleasure? I don't know... really bad smut? I have horrendous taste in that, I really do.

tattoos? I love them on other people, from a single or a few to lots of skin being covered, and all kinds of styles. But I don't have any myself and I don't think I ever will. I just couldn't be bothered. Way too indecisive and uncertain to decide on a design, and then the work put into researching which artists are the best, nevermind that I am scared of needles. And then afterwards it won't look exactly how I pictured it, especially after a few years or even decades. Oh, and the price! I do admire them on other people but I just don't think it's for me, too much hassle and not enough passion for it. (But if I would get tattos, I suspect I would get an Against Me! quote tattooed. Something from True Trans Soul Rebel. And an AJJ one.)

favourite colour? Dark blue.

favourite type of music? *panicked screaming* I listen to way too many artists (or sometimes just a single song) from all over the world and from all kinds of genres. And while there are genres I really like, I rarely will listen to more than a few representatives. But I can say that right now I really enjoy late Soviet/90s Siberian punk (Yanka Dyagileva and Egor Letov).

do you like puzzles? Yep. I don't know who but someone on tumblr got me into online puzzles last summer. (They did a Jeff puzzle.) I like those.

any phobias? No proper phobias.

favourite childhood sport? I didn't really do sports. In fact I hated sports, still do. Worst of all was school sports class, I had a stomach ache every the evening before. But my family was active and we regularly went swimming, rock climbing, hiking. I did horseback riding for several years but it was therapeutic.

do you talk to yourself? In my mind yes, but rarely out loud.

what movie(s) do you adore? I adore Latin American movies though I can't say I have seen too many. (Quemar las naves, María, llena eres de gracia and El cielo dividido are my favourites.) I enjoy Nordic comedies, not just with Mads Mikkelsen but I really do like those. (The last one I watched was Riders of Justice though I really wouldn't classify it as comedy. It has comedic elements.) I like movies with open, ambiguous endings, ones that leave you a bit unsatisfied, ruminating, on edge. When they linger. I don't like it when movies make it easy for me. And above all else I adore Astrid Lindgren movies. I feel like so many conversations I have lead to me mentioning how much I love them but it's true. I really, really do.

coffee or tea? I don't (can't?) drink coffie and when I drink tea, then not black (or any other proper tea) but herbal and spiced tea.

first thing you wanted to be growing up? I think a teacher? I adored and really looked up to my elementary school teacher. I loved German and correcting texts so I wanted to be like her.

tagging @lady-guts @thestrangeillusion @toppingjeffsatur @scattered-stardust @sitron-sunni @die-schwanenkoenigin

[acrazybayernfan]

Ok so, I'm here to humbly request some Mullendowski from your amazing writing (I miss them so much) Btw, bless your inability to keep it short <3

(Fun fact: I was nervous to ask and for some reason, I started typing in Spanish (?????? )

Hello my dear Nana <333

first of all thank you so much for your request 😘 and I'm so so so so horribly terribly sorry to be so late to answer it. I had my first session of exams for my theater school last week and the repetitions took all my time, and I was so unsatisfied of I had done for your little fanfic that I had to try to make better but i failed so... I just count on your understanding and your kindness.

As a compensation for being so late, I have decided to write you two little stories (that can be related if you want or not if you don't want). Also, somehow I'm unable to write anything that isn't sad this month (it must be the fall vibes) so...

Oh if you'd like, go for Spanish, i can't talk well but I understand, so if it's easier for you, I won't mind, at all : )

First story is inspired by the song El Perdedor by Enrique Iglesias so the tittle is... Los Perdedores

Qué más quieres de mí Si el pasado está a prueba de tu amor Y no tengo el valor De escapar para siempre del dolor Demasiado pedir Que sigamos en esta hipocresía Cuánto tiempo más podré vivir En la misma mentira

One morning Thomas had read on internet news saying that Robert Lewandowski was considering leaving Bayern and he had laugh at these ridiculous rumors. He had laugh like that every day for months until, even him, couldn’t laugh about it anymore and fear, a terrible, dreadful fear sized his heart, the fear to lose something that perhaps, in the end, he never had.

Why would Lewy want to leave? Weren’t things great the way they were? Yes, that elimination against Villareal was a shame but… but Robert was still the best striker in Europe, and Thomas made sure that it was the case, and wasn’t that enough? What else should he has done to prevent this? What a terrible question was that, a question no one should ever asked themselves. 

All those years, didn’t they carry any weight in Robert’s heart? Thomas had thought… How stupid was that? He had thought that with time the Polish player had got attached to Bayern… to him? But apparently all this didn’t stand a chance against… against what? More money? No, Robert wasn’t like that. Against the hope to finally win this stupid Ballon d’Or? Perhaps… probably… Against Lewy’s dream to still play at forty years old, something easier to do in a less intense league than the Bundesliga? Maybe that dreams weight much more than memories after all. 

No, no vayas presumiendo, no Que me has robado el corazón Y no me queda nada más Sí, prefiero ser el perdedor Que te lo ha dado todo Y no me queda nada más No me queda nada más

At Bayern, the last game of the season his supposed to be a time for joy and celebration, the pinnacle of a successful season but today in the stadium the atmosphere is gloomy. No one talks about it but everyone knows. Thomas didn’t leaved Manuel’s side because he needed the strength of the goalkeeper calming presence. Next to them Robert was walking towards the stands. His face was livid but his expression determined. He waved at the fans and his eyes teared up and he stayed there for longs minutes, crying, a hand placed both on his heart and on the Bayern crest.

“If you care about all this, then why are you leaving !!!” Thomas was screaming these words again and again in his head, pinching his lips together to prevent himself from crying and from saying this out loud and then the pain became unbearable and he had to leave. How ironic it was! Robert was the one staying with the team, staying in the stadium, staying with the fans and Thomas was the one running away. 

As soon as he was out of sight the Bavarian player started to run to hide himself in the darkest most recluse place of the stadium. There he let out a terrible, desperate, passionate scream - a scream closed to the one Achille let out when he heard the news of Patroclus death- and after this supreme effort all strength seemed to leave his body and Thomas collapsed on the floor, weeping. All the muscles in his body were tense, from his toes to his face which was deformed by the pain, making it hard for him to breathe. He was clenching his right hand on the air around his chest in a vain attempt to ease the pain of his heart. Memories, reproofs, pleas, imprecations, regrets or prayers… all these thoughts were whirling in his head. In that moment he was willing to offer everything, even his dear world cup trophy, to make Robert stay. 

Ya no puedo seguir Resistiendo esa extraña sensación Que me hiela la piel Como invierno fuera de estación Tú mirada y la mía Ignorándose en una lejanía Todo pierde sentido Y es mejor el vacío que el olvido

But Thomas was strong, and after this beak down he promised himself to have more control over his feelings. The next when Robert saluted the crowd from the balcony of the city hall, he remained stoic, as cool as the statues next to him. The rest of the time he laughed and danced and screamed and told jokes as loudly and expressively as always, even more probably, to hide the fact that his heart was so cold that no amount of May’s sun could warm it up. He even found the courage to trifle a little bit with Robert and, as a joke, he offered to his teammate to take a photo of him with the Bundesliga trophy. The Polish man accepted all smile and Thomas asked himself if all this was just acting, like it was for him, or if Lewy was really leaving with a light heart. The simple fact that this supposition could exist was so hurtful and enraging that Thomas chased this thought quickly in order to keep his composure. 

The Marienplatz ceremony ended both too soon and too late for the Bavarian’s taste, torn that he was between his desire to spend as much time as possible with Robert and the exhausting weight that the striker’s presence was for him. 

After two hours of partying to celebrate the league title during the banquet of the team, Thomas was quite drunk, using alcohol to empty his mind and to hide his pain. It had worked for some time but now that his mental barriers were weakened by the liquor thoughts and memories field his mind again. Lewy was dancing in the middle of the crowd, more handsome than ever. Things always appear the nicest to us when we’re about to lose them, no? After a long moment of contemplation, Thomas got up and with an unsteady walk he moved through the crowd, bumping in a few persons on his way, is eyes fixed on his goal. At that moment Robert looked at him, their eyes met and for an instant they stared at each other. ‘Such incredibly beautiful eyes’ thought Thomas ‘as beautiful as the sky in winter”. But, soon his teammate looked away, the German player tried to reach him but instead he tripped on his own legs and his arms grabbed nothing but air. Robert was walking away and Thomas would have fell on the floor if not for Serge catching him.

Yo prefiero dejarte partir Que ser tu prisionero Y no vayas por ahí Diciendo ser la dueña de mis sentimientos

“Leave! Leave!!! Who wants you to stay anyway?! You’re just a selfish prick! I hate you !!!” Thomas had screamed with all his strength but Robert was already too far and the music was too loud or else he knew that, if his Polish teammate had heard him, this would have been the beginning of a fight between them. Perhaps that he would have preferred that, perhaps that it would have been better that this feeling of being invisible.  

Thomas sized the first bottle of alcohol he could find, he took a large mouthful of it and then - addressing his speech to all the persons around him- he declared with a solemn tone and drunken voice: “You know what? I can play without him. I played without him for years, I won the greatest trophies of my careers without it. I can live without him, I lived the happiest years of my life without him. I don’t need him on the pitch or in my life! Plus, he is not that good, is he? Mario would have scored as much has him if the all team had played for him like we do. There is nothing special about him !!”

No, no vayas presumiendo, no Que me has robado el corazón Y no me queda nada más Sí, prefiero ser el perdedor Que te lo ha dado todo Y no me queda nada más

At that moment Thomas had believed in what he was saying but it didn’t last for long and the next morning he had to admit to himself that all this was a lie. 

During one month he lived with the fear that this disastrous night may turn out be the last time he would see Robert as his teammate. The news in the press were more and more pessimistic, the relationship between the Pole and the club more and more tense. 

"I want the one who has been my offensive partner for years to continue."

This was more than what Thomas has ever dared to say in the press when one of his teammates was leaving, even for Bastian, but it was also so far from what he really wanted to say. 

The night after this interview Thomas had written this message on his phone: ‘Would this change something if I tell you that I need you? That I love you. And that I could do everything for you.” The message was never sent.

A few weeks later, the news was official, Robert was leaving Bayern for Barcelona.

One last training session and everything was going to be over. They all behaved extremely well that day. Robert was all smile but not too much either, witty and charming like he knew how to be and everything went really well. Thomas didn’t even cry, he had passed that point, he was just looking at Lewy hugging each player of the Bayern’s squad one by one and, in his head, he was talking to his soon to be ex-teammate saying the things that he could never say out loud: “I gave you all I had to give, I gave you everything I could give to someone. I changed the way I play for you, I changed the way I use my qualities to help you more, to make you shine more. But all this wasn’t entirely altruism, I wanted you to depends on me Iike I depended on you, I wanted to become essential to you, I wanted to create a special bond with you. I gave you everything and I don’t regret it, even now, because this is what it is to love, it’s to give without expecting anything in return.”

 ¿Qué más quieres de mí? Si he pasado esa prueba de tu amor.

Lewy has fallen in love with Thomas the very first day they met and yet it took him years to realize it. Knowing very way that those feelings could never bring anything good to him he fought against them. In desperation, he tried to leave Bayern but the fear of not seeing Thomas every day turned out to be greater than his fear of suffering. Four years later, it was the opposite, his heart was burned, devoured by repressed and unrequired feelings and both his mind and his body were exhausted of this situation. Leaving Bayern was the hardest decision he had ever made and the hardest to execute but it was necessary.

And the second story tittle is: Delusion and Disappointment and it's inspired by what happened after the Bayern-Leipzig game in 2020.

I'm sorry at the time I didn't knew how to register screen and to use it to make gifs so I only have those blurry pictures to show you the situation.

It was a hard match, probably an interesting game for a neutral spectator but for Robert it had been half and an hour of nightmare. He hated matches like this, those matches that would remind him of how useless he could be. They haven’t even lost but this 3-3 draw felt like a defeat to him. He was exhausted, he had fought against Upamecano and Konaté for the all game, without success. He just had one single opportunity and of course he has missed it, but not only was he unable to score or even to create chances for himself, but he was also unable to bring anything to the team, on the long balls he had lost all his aerial duels against the two Leipzig’s defenders and when he had gone to the midfield, in order to finally have a chance to touch the ball, he had been unable to turn around and make a forward pass because of the opponent’s pressing. His all body was hurting because of all the blows he has taken. As a football player that was something normal, they all play with pain here and there, this is something you have to get used to, and at the end of each game new pains appear in your body and you have to deal with them for the rest of the week. But that day it was a bit different, the Leipzig’s players hadn’t been soft with him and the euphoria of the victory wasn’t there to ease the pang. 

Robert with his pride, was determine not to show to the opponent that they had succeed in hurting him (both physically and mentally), so he was walking slowly but firmly and steadily towards the referees to shake their hands, just like usual. Around him the other players were talking together or exchanging a few words with the Leipzig’s players and trainers. 

From the corner of his eyes he caught sight of Thomas encouraging and congratulating Jamal. His German teammate seemed as full of energy as always. For a second, Robert asked himself how it was possible. A traitorous voice in his head answered him: “He has scored a brace, him” but Robert disagreed, Thomas was not like him, he cared about the team first and his statistics secondly, him scoring wouldn’t be enough to make him forget the disappointment of a Bayern bad game. No, his teammate was either stronger than him mentally or he was hiding his feelings, not by pride like him, but because he probably considered that it was his duty to cheer up the rest of the team. 

Sometimes he wondered about who would be there to cheer up Thomas when the young man needs it, and sometimes he would also hope to be that person, which was ridiculous because he was so bad at comforting people. When his father died, several times, he had caught his mother crying alone in her kitchen, he had wanted to go to her and to speak to her but each time he had always been stopped by the same questions: What should I say? What should I do? What if I do something wrong and I make it worse? And instead of moving he had stayed where he was and watched her for long, long minutes.  

Robert extended his arm to shake the sideline referee’s hand, not feeling like saying anything and he was about to move on to the next person when he was suddenly stopped by someone grabbing him from behind and putting his arms around him, there was a strange mix of strength -almost of roughness- and softness in this gesture, just enough to annihilate all ambiguity and he knew immediately who it was: Thomas. 

He would never, for anything in the world, show it or worst admit it but he was glad and grateful. For the briefest instant, for less than a fraction of second, he let his body melt in the embrace and then it was over, he wouldn’t be guilty of any other moment of weakness. Thomas almost let his chin rest on Robert’s shoulder to talk to him, but for some reason he didn’t went all the way. “You’re so stupid, Robert! Your vision is so limited that you’re not even considering that we have scored two of our goals thanks to you, are you? Of course not. Think a little about that pass between Upamecano’s legs, think about the way you have created space for me on the header and stop feeling sorry for yourself!”

If anyone else in the team had talked to him like that, Lewy would have probably told them to leave him alone in a rather brutal way but Thomas had some privileges.

However, Robert was determined to remain impassive – at least externally-, while his teammate was talking, so he offered his hand to the central referee, exactly as if Thomas wasn’t here. But his teammate was the not the kind of person to be deter by so little. He circled Robert, his harm sliding around the Polish man’s torso and then resting on his stomach. Now they were standing face to face. Thomas’ stubbornness was Robert’s greatest delight and greatest torture. 

Lewy immediately looked away, concentrating all his attention on the central referee. Robert then had the impression to hear his teammate sighing briefly but he convinced himself that it was in his imagination. Thomas placed his right hand on the striker’s neck, a familiar gesture between them. From time to time, during all these years they have played together, the German player would do that to him, sometimes to tease him, sometimes to encourage him, sometimes with no reason. There was nothing intimate, nothing tender in this gesture and yet there was something frighteningly pleasing in the sensation of this large, strong, slightly calloused hand on the soft skin of his neck. Frightening because it would be so easy to let himself melt in it, to let himself be hold by someone else like that and lose control. 

It only lasted for a brief moment and then Thomas let go of him and started walking past him, saying: “Take care of yourself it’s not good to stay in pain.”. Robert refrained himself from smiling. “Of course, he knew, thought the polish player, of course… Thomas always knew when something was wrong with him”. Perhaps that he was too easily readable or perhaps that his teammate was too good at that. There was just one thing that Thomas would never see or understand about him because Robert himself had decided not to see or understand it.

[lip-rings-and-quiffs]

Hey there!! I see you write fics and I don’t know if you take requests?? If not don’t worry!! But if u do, could you write a luke x reader where the reader struggles with anxiety and ocd? Like checking things a lot (checking doors are locked, oven is off etc) and struggling with intrusive thoughts. But like it doesn’t need to be dark or anything, more like Luke helps to reassure her and it’s more like cute n sweet. If not comfortable writing about this tho I totally understand!! Thank u and love ur writing x

A/N : Ok first of all thank you so much!!! I’ve been feeling like I suck at writing for a while and all so this helped so much!! Ily<33 and I do take requests (for future reference lmao). Anyways I hope you liked this!!

Warnings : ocd, anxiety attacks and such. Well it’s not really graphic but it’s there. Also it’s smol🥺. Had no idea what to name this lol +masterlist | reblogs are highly appreciated<33

Better with You | lh

Ever since you were born, you had always been prone to worrying. As a child, you had been anxious about getting lost or separated from your parents. As you grew older, your fears shifted to other things: locking doors, turning off the stove, making the bed at least seven times a day, making sure you hadn't accidentally offended anyone, apologizing over and over again when you really didn’t have to.

It wasn't until you were in your late teens that you finally found a name for what you were experiencing: obsessive-compulsive disorder, or OCD. It was a huge relief to know that there was a reason behind your constant need to check things and your intrusive thoughts. And that there wasn’t something “wrong” with you. But even with the medication and therapy, you still struggled.

And that’s where Luke comes in. After you met at a coffee shop one day, he has been the absolute sweetheart, leading him to become your boyfriend and one of the most important people in your life. He had been with you through it all. He had held your hand during panic attacks, listened patiently as you talked about your fears, and never once judged you for your struggles. He was your rock, the best friend, the boyfriend that you could always count on.

One day, you were sitting on the couch, scrolling through various social media platforms, when you suddenly felt a jolt of panic travel through your spine. Had you turned off the oven before you came back to the living room? You couldn't remember. You gulped, closing your eyes for a moment, trying to push the horrific thought away, but it kept nagging at you, growing louder and more insistent with each passing moment.

"Hey," Luke said, his cerulean eyes filled with worry as he took in your distress. "Is everything okay?" You shook your head, unable to speak.

"What's going on?" he asked, taking your hand in his much larger one.

"I don't remember if I turned off the oven," you hiccuped, tears threatening to slip past your waterline. "What if the house burns down?"

Luke squeezed your hand. "It’s okay, why don’t we go check together? Hmm?”

You stood up, feeling slightly unsteady. Luke immediately wrapped his arms around you, securing you in his hold and led you to the kitchen and together, you opened the oven door. It was off.

"See?" Luke said, smiling down at you. "Everything's okay. The house isn't going to burn down."

You let out a shaky breath. "Thank you."

"Of course babe" he said, wrapping his arms around you once more and kissing the top of your head. "I'll always be here to help you through anything."

You leaned into him, cuddling into his loving embrace. After focusing on his heartbeat for a while, it was easy for you to finally calm down. With Luke by your side, you knew that everything would be alright.

A/N: Thank you for reading! Hope you’re having a great day. I love feedback, it helps so much.

+masterlist | reblogs are highly appreciated!<333