#yelling screaming i love them i love you 🖤

[cultfic]

⎯ @nonpareil, paul atreides : “ it was a nightmare, that’s all. ”

a subtle nod of his head, hand moving from the boy's hair to his shoulder and gives a supportive squeeze as he sits himself on the edge of the bed, watching. ❝  a recurring nightmare? was it about arrakis?  ❞ leto isn't privy to paul's mental training and exercises because it simply doesn't concern him, because he has little interest in, because jessica encourages it enough and most of all because he still harbors the hope that his son will choose leadership over faith. as such, his question may come as a surprise to the younger man and so leto explains, ❝  your mother mentioned your dreams sometimes take shape and provide insight .. visions of the future. is this true?  ❞

[theemporium]

🥺👉👈

Best friend Eddie has had a *thing* for reader since middle school. But is worried to go for it (reader is sweet, smart, and funny. Probably would be popular if she didn't spend so much time with the "freaks".) So he'll take any little bit of affection he can get from her.

(I think we've all seen from the show and the interviews that JQ's love language is touch.)

Maybe Eddie starts hugging her and holding her a lot until one day at lunch he puts his hand on her knee and she moves it onto her thigh under her skirt (?).

You can take it from there 😂 that's the extent of my genius.

thank you for requesting!🖤

part two

.

Eddie Munson had always been an affectionate and touchy guy. 

You had been friends with him for many years and it was an undeniable fact the boy loved to show his affection through physical touch. Whether it was an arm thrown over the shoulders of the younger boys in the club as they make their way to the classroom to start the latest campaign, or whether it was knocking shoulders and excitedly hugging his bandmates when they make a breakthrough on a song they had been working on. 

Eddie was an affectionate guy and that treatment was extended to you too. 

It also just happened that he had a massive fucking crush on you and felt like his heart was going to burst through his chest every time he touched you.

It had been a normal Thursday. Classes had been long and torturous, but Eddie was practically bouncing in his seat to head towards the cafeteria for lunch. When he walked into the room, he saw you sitting in your usual seat—the one right next to him at the head of the table.

It was difficult to wipe the grin off his face as he made his way towards the table, slumping down into his seat and not even wasting a moment before he was gripping the back of your chair, dragging you close enough until your thighs were pressed together. He did this every day but something about you liked the way your heart skipped when he pulled you closer. 

It baffled Eddie why you always sat with them. You weren’t in Hellfire, not really. You never played but you enjoyed listening to them rant and ramble about it. You had other friends you could have sat with, ones that wouldn’t have made you seem as though you were a ‘freak’ along with the rest of them. But despite Eddie’s insistence that he wouldn’t be offended if you sat somewhere else, you still chose the seat right next to him—to make your own point. 

You were very happy and content where you were, settled under Eddie’s arm with your head resting against his shoulder as he continued to discuss the latest campaign with the other boys. You smiled softly, watching how excited and animated they got and the way Eddie’s face glistened in pride at how much they loved his campaign. 

But then your thoughts started to wander and you felt something warm just above your knee, your eyes darting down to see Eddie subconsciously place his hand on your thigh and gently stroke the skin exposed by your skirt. 

You pressed your lips together, not saying anything. You didn’t want him to move his hand, maybe because you weren’t sure Eddie saw you as anything but a best friend. And with this—with this, you could pretend it was something more. 

Then his hand moved up a little, the movement almost a little hesitant like he was waiting for you to push it back down. 

But you didn’t. 

You waited for him to shift higher but it stayed firmly where it was, a couple of inches below the hem of your skirt. Your eyes darted up, seeing the boys still screaming and yelling at each other across the table and lost in their own conversation. You stole a quick glance at Eddie, finding his eyes firmly stuck on the boys but the hint of a smirk on his lips gave you another idea. 

Your fingers slowly wrapped around his wrist, giving it a soft squeeze before you began to guide his hand higher up your thigh. It inched closer and closer until—

Eddie cleared his throat when you pushed his hand under your skirt, your thighs clenching together to trap his hand there. He pressed his lips together, forcing himself to keep his face neutral as though blood wasn’t roaring in his ears and going straight down to his cock. 

Your legs parted a little, just enough for him to move his fingers once again. You kept your gaze anywhere but your lap, the heat rushing to your cheeks warning enough that you would instantly blow your cover if you saw the sight of his hand between your legs. 

Eddie’s fingers slowly crawled further up your leg, his fingertips teasing your clothed cunt. You let out a small gasp, quickly covering it up with a cough as you felt his fingers press more firmly against your panties.

You nuzzled yourself against his side, the action not uncommon and, therefore, ignored by the rest of the group. Your face was practically pressed against the fabric of his jacket, muffling the small sounds that left your lips as his fingers grazed up and down your cunt—the touch too light but enough to make you squirm.

Nobody even questioned it when Eddie ducked his head down, his lips pressed against your ear and his warm breath fanned across your skin. 

“You’re so wet, baby,” he muttered, his voice low enough that only you could hear him. “And I’ve barely even touched you.” 

“Eddie,” you breathed out. 

“I didn’t know you liked this kinda stuff, sweetheart,” he murmured, his fingers pushing against your clothed clit as you fought the urge to squirm. “Letting me do this to you when anybody could see.” 

“Shit,” you hissed, the fabric of your panties soaked. 

“Who knew my best friend was such a slut,” he cooed softly. 

“Eds,” you whined slightly, your cheeks flushing when you felt his thumb press slow circles on your clit. 

“Or maybe you’re just a slut f’me,” he teased, grinning a little when you nodded your head. “A shame, baby.” 

Before you could even process his words or the way your stomach twisted in delight at his words, he was pulling his hand away and resting his hands on the table like nothing happened. 

You gaped at him, your panties now soaked and your body desperate to feel his touch again but the boy just shot you a look. 

“Later,” he said, eyes darkening a little when he noticed the way your thighs clenched together. “Keep ‘em on all day and you’ll get a reward later, in my van.” 

You bit your bottom lip. 

His lips grew into a smirk. “Gonna make sure that pretty little skirt of yours is fucking ruined, sweetheart, don’t worry.”

And then he returned to the conversation about his campaign like nothing was wrong.

.

[sugarlywhispers]

b.katsuki + lava Quirk!wife (both Pro Heroes)

☆—a.n; i woke up today feeling feisty lol not really xd just wanted some "i'm crazy as you are" type of love today lmao✌🏼🖤

Bakugou Katsuki is obsessed with you.

And he doesn't even try to hide it.

You're his sidekick. You had trained in his Agency since you were a mere brat doing your internship your first year at UA. Of course, there were literally counted the times you had encountered him in person. The other Heroes that joined his Agency were the ones in charge of the kids. They had told you how Dynamight hated when babysitting time came every year, he wouldn't even participate in those actually. So they would advice to not cross his path.

From time to time, Dynamight would watch their sparrings sessions, gave them a bit of advice–more like mean criticism yell at them. But he had better things to do, people to save, villains to get their asses destroyed by him. He was not going to waste his time with annoying brats like you.

He had heard of you, of course. The one brat that could control and handle freaking lava like it was fucking nothing. Of course when he saw you, he thought his sidekick had pulled a prank on him, joking to see if would be excited about the idea of having someone with that type of Quirk in his Agency. You couldn't be the one with the lava quirk. You looked... normal. Quirkless even–if this were other times and if he would judge people about it. He had changed, okay? Thank you very fucking much. But he did think it was impossible that you were that amazing brat the other heroes were talking about. They had even compared you to him, in witty and determination to become the number one Pro Hero on the ranks, in strength and no mercy against villains, or other heroes and classmates.

When he stood right in front of you one day, towering almost three heads over you and almost one more person's size to the side, Dynamight laughed. You looked like a little bunny caught red-handed, terrified by everyone around you–especially by the size of him–and skittish, almost like what Deku had been as a kid.

That should have been a first warning for Bakugou–never judge a book by its cover.

You have trained in his Agency the three years you had been in UA, and he has never once seen you nor your Quirk on display, nevertheless in real action. He had only heard how good you were in trainings from the other heroes. But he didn't care enough to actually sought-after. He was already fighting Deku for the number one spot on the rankings, he didn't have time for brats like you.

Until one day, a dangerous villain, that created enormous monsters of metal almost to the size of a ten flour building, was causing too much disaster appeared. It was more than chaos, it had been a destruction like no other.

Dynamight nor Deku could contain the motherfucker.

He was bruised, his hands beat with agony at the amount of times he had used his blasts and the push to keep going, his body muscles were screaming for him to stop. A quick glance to his side where Deku was, and the guy wasn't better than him, breathing like his lungs couldn’t no more. Every other hero in the scene was in the same shape.

They were fucking losing.

And then, like an angel sent from heaven–or better said, a demon sent from the deepest hell for the way you fucking looked, you appeared in all your majestic glory, lava making you slide in between them, surrounding you like it was nothing, like strings coming from inside your body, and began a new fight with that fucking villain's monsters.

Bakugou saw –an enamored expression on his face– how you your whole demeanor changed, your skin, your eyes, everything in you became so menacingly, so evil looking, so freaking scary, that if you weren't training to be a Hero, he thought you would be one the most terrifying villains of all times –even more than that piece of shit AFO.

The lava was visible in all your body, and you fought, a crazed smile and eyes opened wide, enjoying the damage you were doing to the metal monsters; your joy was shining bright for everyone to see, as you yelled, "DIE, YOU FUCKING PIECE OF SHIT!" as the monster melted under your hands and body.

He was captivated, fucking spellbound, by the sight in front of him. He fell to his knees, watching you melt every single one of the monster in one more movement of your hand, as lava flowed towards them, capturing and melting them as you stand straight, the expression on your face serious and deadly. You then walked towards the source, the main villain who was creating this chaos, and the guy literally fell to the floor in fear, trying to crawl away from you in tears. When you stood before him, you crouched to his level, and smiled devilishly.

The villain pissed his pants.

And Bakugou's cock twitched.

He then murmured, "I'm gonna marry the shit out that woman."

Deku chuckled, shaking his head and letting his body fall to ground in tiredness. Everything was okay now.

From then on, you were by Dynamight's side all the time. The second you graduated –Bakugou Katsuki of fucking course attended the graduation ceremony– he offered a job on his Agency for you. And you said yes, even though you had options like Deku's Agency, or Hawk's, and even Endeavor had offered you a big place on his, trying to win you by saying that most of his sidekicks were fire-like Quirks and that his mother had a Quirk similar to yours, he could ask her for advice for you. Bakugou's stomach turned thinking he might had won you over that. But before he could finish the sentence, "Would you like a spot on my Ag–", you exclaimed a big YES, smiling warmly and eyes shining in excitement.

He had to clear his throat and look away at your expression, making something tingle in his chest. Was that his heart?

You became his partner then, in missions, in interviews, in meetings with other Agencies when some big villain appeared and they had to join forces. You were always there, not behind him but next to him.

In interviews he would always let you speak about how everything went and thank every body who helped. But Katsuki would look at you. Look as the lava started to dissipate from your skin, slowly turning down the temperature and going back to your normal color. Your hair that became liquid lava slowly became the color of greyish-black rock and then smoothed its way to your normal texture and color. He always felt mesmerized watching the process, and he would look at it any opportunity he got.

It wasn't until one night out with his old friends that Pikachu said, "Dude, tone down your thirst a lil' bit," in between laughs with Raccoon Eyes and Shitty Hair.

"What the fuck are you talking about?"

Kirishima patted his back, shaking his head, "Your sidekick, man. The lava girl?"

"What?"

"What we are trying to say," Mina smirked, "is that everytime you look at her, its almost palpable the way you want to eat her."

Bakugou gulped. "Shut the fuck up. I don't look at her like that."

Mina winked at him, "If you say so..."

That night he searched on the internet in his phone for interviews, desperately. Fuck, his friends were right. He did look at you with a fascination and hunger he had never saw himself do. He remembered thinking about marrying you back in the days, but that had been the heat of the moment, right? This annoyed the shit out of him. But watching you again in those videos, as you smiled so kindly to the reporters or other Hero friends or to even civilians while looking so freaking scary when your Quirk was activated, made something stir inside his belly.

Fuck, you're gorgeous. You're everything he didn't know he wanted.

And that's when he decided he would not hide his feelings for you anymore.

So now, a few years after, when you are married to number two Pro Hero Dynamight, people always talk about how your husband always looks at you. How he always encourages you in your fights to "kill those fucking piece of shits, baby!!" as he is very close to you fighting his own set of shitty villains and you encourage him saying "show them who is the number two hero, love!" He looses it then, a blast that ends it all.

They talk about how he would always kiss you after a fight, even after all that adrenaline that makes him want to bury himself deep inside your warmth, he only holds your face gently, gloved thumbs caressing your cheeks lovingly, eyes locked onto each other like the world doesn't exist outside that moment, and he kisses you softly, a simple touch, a cute press of lips that lasts a millisecond so he doesn't burn the skin of his face and lips. And then he pulls one of your hands with his up in victory.

He didn't only win the battles, he won you each and every time he got to simply look at you, be next to you, kiss you.

He is obsessed with you, and he doesn't want to fucking hide it from the world.

[seungfl0wer]

*𝙍𝙞𝙙𝙞𝙘𝙪𝙡𝙤𝙪𝙨𝙡𝙮 𝘽𝙚𝙖𝙪𝙩𝙞𝙛𝙪𝙡*

Pairing: Seungmin x Reader (Fem)

Genre: Smut

Warnings: Public, Nipple play, fingering, multiple orgasms, lots of praise, overstimulation, Creampie, unprotected sex, I think that’s it? Sorry for any mistakes!

A/N sorry this is a bit shorter than I planned

This is a request from my prompts: 18 “Do you kiss your mother with that mouth?” 24 “I’m not blushing” 31 “Big talk coming from you”

-🖤

The atmosphere was hot as the two of you continued to argue. “You’re such an asshole you know that!” You yelled at seungmin. “Me? Big talk coming from you brat!” He hissed back. You two had started arguing about him checking out another girl. “You’re the one eyeing that lady up! Literally as I sat across from you!” You yelled back.

“I wasn’t eyeing her up I wasn’t even looking at her!” He rolled his eyes. Before you could get your next sentence out he was pulling you to him “you think I’d look at anyone else when I have the most stunning girl here?” He said his hands sliding up the back of your dress. Your face heated up at his words and his moments of course. “No one is more stunning, more attractive than you.” He cooed. He pushed your body against the car as he pushed himself against you. Body against the car ass against his crotch as he leaned down to talk once again. “If you weren’t such a little brat and maybe listen to me you’d see I was staring at the People behind. I was making face at their little baby” he said bringing his hand up to rub against your clothed folds.

The sensation made you groan hips moving back slightly. He chuckled a bit kissing your neck softly “you’re all I could ever want love, but I guess I should show you hmm?” He said his fingers hooking under your panties. He didn’t give any warning before he pushed his fingers into you “ah look at that baby you’re pretty cunt just takes me in so greedily.” He says his hot breath right against your ear. He pumped his fingers into you rutting his hips against you as he did in the same rhythm. He licked the back of your neck before biting down making your hips jolt.

“Min fuck- please just fuck me- please need you so fucking bad!” You begged just needing to feel him fill you to the brim. He chuckled a bit “You kiss your mother with that mouth?” He teased curling his fingers inside you. “Min!” You moaned out gripping at the car. “The pretty little cunts gonna cum ain’t it?” He said pushing a third finger inside of you. “Shit! Min yes! Fuck I’m-“ and with that stars shot in your eyes as you came hard around his fingers. “That’s my girl” he said softly before peeling his body away from you.

He quickly kneeled down burring his face into your soaked cunt licking over your neglected clit. “Shit Se-seungmin!” You moaned out. His tongue licking up all those juices as he pushed his fingers back into you. He pumped them in at great speed once more sucking and biting at your clit. “Fuck Seungmin! Please- I-“ you babbled out the overstimulation making your body twitch. He was going at you like he had a mission, a mission to make sure you knew he loved you.

“Come on baby give me another cum on my tongue” he said sucking harshly at your clit. His fingers curled once more inside you the same perfect spot. “I’m gonna- fuck-“ you almost screamed “that’s it baby, cum in my tongue fuck” he groaned out feeling the familiar clench around his fingers as you came hard. Your legs were shaking cumming for the second time with in a few minutes. He gave you no time to come down from your second high before he was pushing his pants down plunging into you with his spit covered cock.

He pushed deep into you hands gripping at your hips as his pace started off slow. “My beautiful baby, no one is this good. No one can- can make me cum as fast as you” he said pushing his hand coming under your body to pull you close to him. The new position making him go deeper. His hips were fucking up into you his hand coming down to fondle your breast. “This beautiful body is all mine” he said pulling the front of your dress down to exposes your breast. It’s a good thing your car was parked on the top of the parking garage. At least you hoped but honestly you didn’t really care at this point.

He played with your breast pulling at your nipples as he took the little buds between his fingers. His other hand came down to play with your clit, small circles came around the sensitive numb. Your body was shaking as he fucked so roughly into you. “Min please- to much! Fuck!” You moaned out feeling another orgasm ready to wash over you. “Yeah? Feels like you’re gonna cum again. I think it’s just the right amount” he said with a soft chuckle. He kissed your neck sucking a purple mark on it feeling your walls clench around him.

“That’s it baby, I got you cum around my cock. You can do it” he cood. You almost scream as you felt your orgasm hitting you cuming around his cock as your walls pulled him into you. “Fuck y/n my pretty girl, my beautiful girlfriend fuck-“ he groaned out as his thrusts became relentless as he chased his high. “T’much” is all you could get out as he lost himself in the pleasure. “Baby- my pretty- just- one more. You can do that right? Cum with me this last time please- fuck baby please” he begged as thrusts became sloppy. His hand on your clit was moving erratic his cock kissing your g-spot so perfectly.

“Seungmin! Fuck! I’m- fuck- cumming! Cuming!!” You screamed out his hand coming up to grip your neck turning your head to him to kiss you best he could as he painted your walls in his white. As you both came down seungmin was still rutting softly into you. “My beautiful girl, I love you. Only love you.” He said kissing you. “I love you to min.” You said breathy. As yall got cleaned up getting in the car, you started to pull out before your eyes got wide. “Seungmin! Someone was up here!” You said seeing a man waving at you as you drove out.

“Well glad we gave him a show” he said laughing. Your face heated back up feeling embarrassed. “My beautiful girl probably had him cumming in his pants” he teased making you slap him playfully. “I mean look you’re blushing at the thought” he said. Making you turn away “I’m not blush- I mean I am but- it’s only cause it’s embarrassing” you said with a pout. “Shouldn’t be baby, should be proud of how beautiful you sound coming undone on my cock” he said with a smug smirk.

“You’re ridiculous” you said rolling your eyes. “Yeah? And you’re ridiculously beautiful”

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

💙 If you’d like to read more of my stuff you can find it Here: Master List . Thank you for reading and if requests are open or you just wanna talk feel free to send me something🩵

Taglist: @satosugu4l @do-you-remember-summer-127 @xines16 @minh0scat @troublemaker02 @tr-mha-fan @lunearta @velvetmoonlght @minghaosimp

[missbunnybunny]

❣💌[ I'm stravin' , Darlin' ]💌❣

Tw: non-con, dubcon, yandere, stalking, Somnophilia, Drugging, breeding, cockwarming.

A/n: this is my first detailed smut. It was going well at the start until I took a wrong turn and fell off a cliff. Possessive music got influence. I don't know what I wrote, am going to hell, his more delusional; than me. smh. ENJOY!

Note: this is a y/n x pretty yandere, female-bodied reader. Based on the songs Eat Your Young by Hozier and An Unhealthy Obsession by Blake Robinson, helped write this song. pet names such as Darlin, Love, and good girl. If I forgot something plz tell me.

╔═.✧ 🖤 ✧.═══════════╗ ▶︎ 𝕾𝖍𝖊’𝖘 𝖘𝖔 𝖉𝖊𝖛𝖎𝖓𝖊 𝖙𝖍𝖆𝖙 𝖎 𝖘𝖙𝖆𝖗𝖛𝖊 𝖋𝖔𝖗 𝖒𝖔𝖗𝖊. ╚═══════════.✧ 🖤 ✧.═╝ Part 2 ↥

You were exhausted. Who could blame you for being tired? You enjoyed your job as the owner of a small coffee shop, but you were drained, and your staff adored you.

When they had an emergency, you were incredibly nice to them and understanding. You didn't inquire. You just told them not to worry because you trusted them and they trusted you.

You didn't hesitate to assist your staff when an aggressive customer screamed and yelled at them. You listened to all sides of the story and kept your eyes on the cameras.

When they realized they didn't have a foothold, you politely requested them to go. But if they weren't kind enough to go, you merely called the cops. You would never let them get away with it; you had patience, but not that much.

So, after the day was done, you secured your doors and walked upstairs to your house. You double-checked that all the doors and windows were secured and that the security system was turned on and operational.

Taking a soothing bubble bath, dressing, and preparing for some much-needed rest. Closing your eyes and basking in the warm embrace of sleep. Your eyes slowly opened, and you attempted to move your fingers, but they wouldn't budge.

You had been under a lot of stress recently due to overwork, and sleep paralysis was now typical for you.

You could hear your door opening and the floors squeaking. The ebony form of a guy appeared. He was tall, and the broadness of his shoulders suggested that he worked out.

As you felt the bed drop at your feet, he sat at the end of it. His hand began to go up and down your leg gently. Coming to a halt at your thigh. He hummed to himself while pinching your inner thigh.

You uttered a grunt. He came to a halt and gazed up at you. As he peered down at your face, his face slowly entered the frame. "Oh, how pretty," he said, lovingly cupping your face. "I don't think I could hold myself back." H

is breath lightly fanning your face, he murmured. He kissed you, and you let out a frightened moan and screwed your eyes shut. He took advantage of the situation by inserting his tongue inside your mouth.

While squeezing your inner thigh, he hummed to himself. His hand creeps up and beneath your shirt from your thigh. He pulled your nipple and squeezed your breast.

He linked his mouth to yours with a thin string of saliva. He licked his lower lip. "You taste amazing," he replied with a smile.

He kissed your lips once more, and you felt him get out of bed. You sprang awake and took a glance around. Your clothing was in good condition and not flung around.

You raced to your restroom and looked in the mirror; there were no handprints anywhere on you. You rushed to your front door, terrified, and examined your alarm system; nothing was amiss. You were befuddled, and your thinking was jumbled.

You summarized it up to well: an odd wet dream, stress, and being punted up may all lead to unusual nightmares, especially when combined with sleep paralysis.

You sipped your favorite comfort drink, rubbed your temples, and took a few deep breaths. Exhale a sigh of relief as you feel your tension wash away.

You put on your business attire and prepare to open your shop. The business opened at 8 a.m., so you were there by 6:30, and by 7 a.m., staff began to arrive.

Everyone was having a fantastic time in the shop, which was filled with laughter and music. When the clock struck eight, you laughed, "It's eight, you know what to do. Hit it!"

Everyone queued up got into place, and you opened the store. Customers arrived quickly after that.

When a well-dressed man entered and approached the counter, your staff was busy. As you finished serving one of your usual clients, you noticed him and called, "I'll be with you in a minute."

"Thank you, hun." The kind old lady stated. You smiled at her and walked over to the counter to assist the man. "I'm sorry, did I keep you waiting too long?" you said as you set up the ordering machine.

"No, not at all." He informed you in hushed tones, he was attractive, you had to admit it. His voice seemed strangely familiar to you, but you couldn't place it.

But you shrugged it off and smiled as you asked him what he needed.

"A coffee with a cake," he answered politely. "Ah, what cake would you like sir, we have many options." you beam up at him, giving him a tiny smile. "Oh, what would you recommend, my dear?" he asks, quietly tapping the counter.

"Would red velvet cake be acceptable?" "It's one of my favorites," you inquired. He nodded, and you concluded his order with a small 'mm'. " Would that be all, sir?" "If so, this is your total," you say, pointing to the sum on the side of the register. " Yes." He responded and paid.

As soon as the order appears on the screen, one of your staff takes it while you assist with the other tasks and clients. Since the front of the store was fully filled, the man was directed to the back.

He could see the counter and you from where he was seated. The manager patted you on the shoulder and smiled at you as they spoke to you. You chuckle and smile as you remove your apron.

"I'm taking a break, everyone," you say. 'Okay, ma'am,' they respond. You step away from the counter and take a seat on one of the unoccupied stools close to his table. While on the phone with someone, you smile and giggle.

He can't stop staring at you. It was fortunate that he instructed his assistant to investigate you. He even postponed a lunch date with the daughter of a well-known corporation.

He didn't mind because he could tell she was attempting to catch his attention. He couldn't care less about how much her clothing cost or how it 'accidentally' revealed her chest. He'd rather be here, staring at your face and grin.

It was a coincidence that he first spotted you; one of his clients requested to meet at this cafe since they genuinely enjoyed your coffee and sweets. He couldn't get your face out of his mind and thoughts after that.

Your phone call had finished, and you turned to meet his gaze. You froze as you studied his face. He saw the fact and grinned.

You realized he hadn't touched his cake and sighed in despair. "Do you not like the cake, Sir?" You questioned him quietly, your gaze fixed on the plate. "Oh, no, it's not like that. "I was saving the cake for last because it was so delicious." He let you know quietly.

"Oh, okay," you said as you stood up and turned around. "Would you like to join me?" he offered, and you graciously accepted his invitation.

You spoke till your break ended. He became a regular client after that and frequently asked about your favorite treats to try.

It had been months since then, yet you still felt tired whenever you saw him. He was the final customer in the shop on one such occasion.

You sent your employees early, not wanting to keep them waiting so they didn't miss their bus or train.

"It's closing time, Mister Blackwell; you should go home," you said. "I told you to call me James, Darling." He told you firmly. " However, I agree. Wouldn't want anything to happen to you." While drinking his drink, he informed you.

"Would you mind joining me before I leave?" He remarked this while pointing to the seat next to him. you exclaimed, "You are extremely persistent." You shook your head and set your favorite drink on the table.

Turning around and laying a little slice of cake next to your drink. You had no idea what he had placed into your drink by the time you sat next to him. He grinned as you took a sip of your drink, seeing your expression shift.

He watched as your eyes gradually closed and you collapsed on the table, spilling your cup on the floor. "What…did you do?" You questioned him carefully, feeling yourself nodding off. "Don't worry, my love, I'll take care of you."

As you eventually slid away, you heard him declare. You wake up with him twirling his tongue at your clit, then cat licking your entrance, going back and up to your clit, before his tongue went into your pussy, tasting every inch of it.

You eventually let out a whimper as the knot in your gut finally split and you filled his mouth with your cum. "You're awake, I hope you don't mind," he whipped his mouth with his palm. "I was dying to taste you." He stated.

His gaze moved up and down your body, forming an image of you in his mind. You attempted to speak, but all you got was a broken wail. Your eyes adjusted to the darkness, and you were entirely bare to him.

Your eyes began to water, and silent tears streamed down your cheeks. " Why are you crying, Darlin?" He stated this as he licked your tears away before giving you a ravenous kiss, His tongue quickly claiming your mouth.

He released your lips as he stated, "It will take a while until you can move again, but don't worry, I'll make you feel good." He gently graded your hand before bringing it to the bulge on his pants.

"This is what you did to me." He talked as he stroked your palm up and down his bulge, letting out a groan as he began to accelerate.

He stared down at you, hungry, and proceeded to remove his outfit. He was now entirely exposed for you to see. " Oh, very lovely. I'm curious how you'll look after I slit you in half on my dick." He murmured this as he sank his thick fingers into your pussy, causing your back to arch.

When he noticed your body jerked up and your jaw fell open, he smiled even more.

He discovered your sweet spot! He curled his fingers in the same place over and over. You felt that familiar tight knot in your gut emerges, prompting you to tighten your walls around his fingers.

"That's it, cum on my fingers like the good girl you are," he said. Your walls flutter subconsciously at his words, "Oh, you like being called a good girl?" he questioned, advancing faster.

Your moans and whimpers sounded like music to his ears. He was itching to sink his dick into you. You came undone under him with one more stroke, cumming on his fingers and hand.

He took his hand away and brought it up to his mouth, licking your juices. "You taste divine." He exhaled.

He positioned himself at your entrance, tapping his dick on your assaulted lips. He graded your legs and pushed them on your chest in a typical mating press position, and you could plainly see his pink tip and how enormous he was.

Once he got you the way he wanted you, you felt the swelling tip of his cock press against your tight entrance and buckle his hip. He bottoms out in one push, his pelvis colliding with your entrance.

He took your breath away since he was so large. And, as he claimed, he was splitting you in half with his dick. "Don't pass out on me, Darlin," he remarked, softly patting your cheek with his palm." The fun is just getting started," he remarked as he kissed you on the lips.

Allowing you to get used to his size before proceeding. You were so tight! And you are his and his alone.

His cock began to slide in and out of your tight pussy, as if you were nothing more than a fleshlight at his disposal. "Y/n I'm going to make you only mine," your desperate cries mixed with groans as you sought to stop him.

The sound of skin smacking against skin got louder as he thrust harder and harder. Your muscles were absolutely spasming, and your eyes could hardly fixate or focus on his sweat-splattered face above you.

So this was how it felt to be with a man like him, putting you precisely where you should have always been.

BELOW HIM, you were groaning, saliva flowing from the corners of your lips, and your eyes rolled up every time his cock brushed your cervix and his pelvic bone stroked against your swollen clit.

Your eyes met his and he kissed you passionately; the longer the two of you kissed, the more his hips appeared to press into yours. The headboard of the bed was crashing fiercely into the wall, adding yet another obscene sound to the symphony.

You could feel his dick pounding against your walls; it was clear he was nearing his climax, which was going to totally fill you up to the point of leaking, and then fuck a baby into your womb.

As he furiously pounded into you, his hands came to your waist and had a tight grasp on you. You felt James base expand and get even bigger only seconds before his hot sperm was spurting into your womb, and the veins surrounding his dick were pulsating against your walls, making you gasp for the nth time.

The sensation of being totally filled was so intense that you almost ended up cumming again.

He lay down next to you, panting and allowing you to collect your breath. As your body was extremely sore, he began spooning you from behind his cock, still inside you.

"Sleep, Love, you must be tired," he kissed your neck. I'll prepare something for you in the morning." You were exhausted, and your half-lined eyelids eventually closed as you slept off. James grabbed up his phone and called over your sleeping figure.

The phone rang till someone answered, "Ray?" "Did you do what I asked?" he inquired calmly. "Yes, I made sure to delete the footage of you breaking into the home months ago, as well as the alarm system," Ray stated gently. "Perfect," James smiled, hanging up the call as he fell asleep next to you.

After so long of only admiring you from afar and secretly stroking you as you slept, he was overjoyed to finally hold you in his arms.

Don't worry, you can have a better life because He will take excellent care of you. "It'll take some getting used to, but we'll make it work." were his final thoughts as he fell asleep affectionately sound asleep with you in his arms.

Am gonna dig a hole and hide. bye....👩🏽‍🦯

Update there’s a new hole to hide in now 🕳️ 👩🏽‍🦯

[eliza-and-her-monsters]

the tortured poets department

Info Post

Moodboards

Part I

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Contains/TW: depictions of autism ‘meltdowns’/panic and overstimulation, slight depictions of asthma. PSA i’m portraying amelia’s autism in similar ways to how mine works and what it does to me so if yours works differently that’s okay! ASD affects us all who have it in different ways 🖤

A/N: i will admit i struggled a bit with this one so it might not be as great. i hope you enjoy it regardless though :,) ALSO to those of you who loved Jinx and Millie’s friendship you’ll probably like this one! 🖤 (also another psa last chapter of 2024 🤭)

WC: 4.6k

Part IV

The Bolter

It felt like every inch of me was shaking as I speed-walked down the hallway towards the locker room. My arms tightly wound around myself as Vi’s words echoed in my head like an angry mantra. No, no no no… you will not victimize yourself right now. Take care of Ellie. For once just take care of someone else. It wasn’t to say I hadn’t been yelled at before, countless times I found myself on the receiving end of my parents frustrated anger or my tutors’ impatience. Even Caitlyn and I had for sure gotten into a few screaming matches before. But for some reason hearing it from Vi’s voice hurt more than anyone else’s.

I roughly wiped at my eyes before I could push my way into the locker room, momentarily forgetting about the contacts that had been shoved into them which caused me to grimace at the feeling of them shifting. I tried to blink away the blurriness as I stepped into the room. Ellie stood over the sink, already shrugged off all of her gear now clad in a simple black tank top as she carefully dabbed at the splotch underneath her eye with a wet cloth. “Ellie? A-Are you okay? How’s your head?” I questioned as I cautiously crept into the empty locker room.

“Haven’t had any complaints yet.” She joked with a shrug causing my expression to fade into a little scowl. “Relax, I’m fine. My ego’s more bruised than anything, I think.” She sighed as she whirled around to face me, cautiously pulling the cloth away from the glowing ice burn along her cheekbone.

“It’s gonna leave a sick scar, you should say ‘you should see the other guy.’” I teased, gently pressing on her shoulder to get her to sit down until she hoisted herself up on the sink.

Her lips upturned in a slight smile as she let out a little chuckle. “Except I’m pretty sure she looks a whole lot better than me.”

“Not whenever she made an ass of herself.” I spoke, eyebrows drawing together in a look of concentration as I stole the warm cloth from her hands to press to her cheekbone instead. Ellie hissed a bit in pain, curling her hands around the counter of the sink with a shuddering breath.

“Fuck, all this time out of service and it’s made my pain tolerance eat shit.” She remarked with a small cringe screwed on her face before it softened. “A-Are you okay? After what she called you? I-I don’t even know why she did it- that was so disgusting-“

“Els, I’m okay.” I confirmed, softly stroking her shoulder with my free hand. “I’ve been called worse.”

“You shouldn’t have been.” She spoke with a shake of her head, slowly and carefully the weight against my hand increasing as she leaned into my touch. “I’m sorry I- I should’ve known she was going to be an ass today after yesterday and I-I should’ve kept you from it I-”

“Ellie…” I frowned, my facial expression shifting into one that was slightly more stern as I took my other hand to hold the other side of her face with. Her green eyes were glassy, as if she was holding back an absolute avalanche of tears. So much more innocent than she would ever let herself show… except for maybe to me. “You’ve gotta stop blaming yourself for things that aren’t your fault.”

She let her eyes shift, a subtle understanding between the two of us as she peered downwards. “It’s not as if she doesn’t have a right to be angry. Her- Her dad- He was a civilian doctor on base with us.“ Her throat bobbed as she tried to recount the tale with as much strength as she could. “Some of the guys that were stationed with me were… these disgusting pigs that thought because they were in the army they had some sort of authority over civilians though and took to harassing the shit out of him basically until they were forced to move. I don’t know why she blames me… maybe I guess because I’m the only one left she can blame. Or just an easy target.” She ran a slightly shaking hand through her hair. “I’ve tried to be friends with her so many times but she just isn’t having any of it and takes so much of her anger out on me I-I don’t know what to do.”

I didn’t know what else to say, I seldom did whenever she told me some of the stories of her past. All of my own suddenly seeming to pale in comparison. She was never a fan of the narrative that it was selfish to be so depressed whenever other people ‘had it worse though. It was her who taught me that bravery came in so many different forms. Nevertheless I let my lips press to her forehead before pulling her into my arms, being propped up on the sink counter finally allowing her to snuggle her head into my shoulder as she wrapped her own arms around me.

“It’s much too difficult to not love you. I think one day she’ll see that.” I gave her another gentle squeeze, lingering there for just a second longer before I heard the swing of the door opening.

Ellie immediately slid down from the sink, moving in front of me almost protectively just before Vi stepped around the corner with that same scowl on her face, though she seemed to be trying to hide it more this time. “So, you gonna lose the eye?” She remarked with a hint of humor behind her tone as she pulled the gloves from her bruised fingers.

“Oh uhhh yeah, probably gonna have to amputate.” She teased mildly before making her way towards the lockers. “Where’s Abby?”

“Brief suspended absence… to get her shit together.” Her words seemed to hold more information than she let on. “Sevika wants you to take the rest of the day off though too since you looked pretty shaken up.”

“That’s humiliating.” Ellie huffed as she retreated back towards her locker to pull out a simple grey hoodie to pull on over her tank.

“Els, it isn’t so bad, I mean we have club rush later on today anyways, you could probably use the extra time.” I frowned once more, always trying my hardest to be positive whenever Ellie of all people couldn’t. She was always better at excelling with that kind of thing than I was.

“I guess, I just… I don’t know. How I long for ego dissolution.” She voiced with a shake of her head as she pulled a Carhartt beanie over her head. “I think I’m gonna head back to our place and hit the showers but I can meet you at club rush later on?”

“Sure, just text me.” I added just before she slung her backpack over her shoulder. Her eyes briefly glancing to mine as if she was hovering, wondering if she was safe to do our usual goodbyes. The forehead kisses and hugs, always remembering to tell each other that we loved one another. She decided against it though, just shooting me a weak smile before shuffling towards the door.

“See you, Mills.” She replied, my heart stinging in my chest as I caught my feet briefly trailing a few steps in her direction. ‘God, don’t pull away from me. Please don’t pull away from me.’

Meanwhile Vi’s presence felt like a looming ghost behind me, the burn of her eyes on my back lingering all the while. “Come here.” I heard her speak up with a clear of her throat from her spot on the bench.

My eyebrows furrowed together in frustration in response however, my arms folded across my chest as I whipped around to face her. “You know you don’t get to just tell me what to do, right? First you yell at me outside to leave you alone and now you’re actually telling me to approach you a-as if nothing happened?”

Vi started at me long and hard, eyebrows narrowing in a way that had me instantly regretting my sudden backbone. Nevertheless I tried to maintain my best Kiramman face, slanted eyebrows and darkened eyes that probably only resulted in me looking like an angry or sad puppy. “I was going to apologize.” She finally spoke up after a moment, dropping her hands to her sides as she slowly took a few steps towards me. “I just didn’t want your back towards me whenever I did.”

I drew backwards whenever her body approached mine, my breath hitching in my throat as my back suddenly hit the side of a locker even though she hadn’t even gotten that close. “I’m sorry, for raising my voice at you. I just wanted to protect you.”

“From what?” I whispered, hands shaking as I slid my arms back around my waist as if trying to give myself the illusion of someone else’s arms around me.

“From you seeing things if they went south.” Vi stated, finally dropping herself down onto one of the benches that wrapped around the lines of lockers. “Now… will you please come here?”

I probably shouldn’t have. I knew it wasn’t smart of me and I had probably well and truthfully lost the plot. Her history with my sister was enough of a reason but the addition of the other stuff, the fighting, the mysterious death that I had yet to learn about but was too afraid to ask about. It was all such a bad idea and I knew that. But every aspect of love that had ever been in my life so far had been a bad idea.

I let my feet shuffle towards her, muscular arms sliding around my waist the moment I got close and my breathing hitched in my throat once more as I felt her pulling me right onto her lap. “Does it make you uncomfortable? Me holding you like this?” She wondered, hands gently ghosting along the ends of my hoodie as if she wanted to slip them up the fabric. And I think I nearly wanted her to. “You’re always shaking.”

“No… I just- I- nobody’s ever touched me like this before.” I answered before settling my clearly trembling hands around her shoulders. I used to always shake whenever people touched me, and still did if they were new. Partially because I never knew if it was going to be a rough touch or a gentle one. The same could be said for intimacy, I had never allowed myself the graces of pleasure before. The idea of exposing myself to somebody was horrifying, being so vulnerable and laid out so bare whenever they could choose to be whichever version of themselves they wanted.

“Never?” She spoke, the smallest gasp slipping from my lips the moment I felt her hand sliding underneath the fabric of the hoodie. Calloused fingers dragging along my bare skin nearly causing me to whimper at the goosebumps that followed.

“Never.” I answered, gulping an anxious lump down my throat. My legs shook as they were practically wrapped around her waist. I wanted to tear off her jersey and feel her muscles underneath again. Trace every line of her biceps and the tattoos inked on top of them, her hands sliding up my spine nearly causing me to arch against them. “Vi- Vi, this can’t just be physical. I-It has to be more than that.”

“What makes you think it is?” She questioned, and I almost whined the moment her warm hand left my skin. “I’ve been trying to sneak into that pretty little head of yours for a while now.”

“My head isn’t a pretty place.” My eyebrows furrowed slightly as I peered downwards in what could’ve almost been interpreted as shame.

“The dark parts too then. I wanna see those too.” Vi whispered.

The look in her eyes was too soft to be insincere, and I caught myself searching her face for any sign of it. I came up empty every single time. And before I knew it I was swirling a strand of her pink hair around my finger just before brushing my lips to hers. Vi’s grip around my waist only seemed to tighten as she pressed me to her. I could’ve sworn I even heard a whimper from her lips as I entangled my fingers through her soft hair. It didn’t last nearly as long as our kiss last night had, though I still felt every bolt and zap of the electricity that seemed to connect through us. My lips pink and swollen as she lightly drug her teeth through my bottom one just before I was left breathless.

“I wanna see you tonight… not to do anything I just- I just wanna see you. C-Can I?” It was the first time I had seemed to catch her flustered as she stared up at me with red cheeks, and not just from the natural chill of the ice rink.

It was hard to say no to the look on her face, so with a delicate hand pressed to her cheek I nodded. “Okay.”

~

“Boo!” I heard Jinx exclaim the moment I stepped outside, suddenly feeling like the hoodie I wore wasn’t enough to beat the chill that ran through me as I only jumped the tiniest bit. “Ha! Made you jump!” She teased as she pointed a long purple nail my way. “So, did you guys kiss and make up?”

“Uhhh… I mean-“ I stammered, my own cheeks suddenly a bright red as I caught my bottom lip in between my teeth.

“Yeah, you totally did, it’s written all over your face.” She laughed once more before reaching for a bright blue bike chained up to the rack next to mine. “Relax, new girl, I’m not gonna go all guard dog on you because you’re totally into my sister.”

“How come?” I wondered, almost afraid of the answer as I shuffled up towards my own bike.

“Because no offense, you kind of don’t really look like you could hurt a fly.” She chuckled a bit as she hoisted herself up onto the seat. “Going to club rush?” She added with that same smirk-like smile she always seemed to have.

“I guess… my sister told me it was kind of, you know, mandatory unless I wanted to have a really lonely next four years.” I shrugged casually before hopping up onto my own seat and peddling off behind Jinx.

“You seem like you’d be okay with having a very lonely next four years.” Jinx remarked with another little laugh. “Not that being in the ‘esteemed Kiramman family’ could provide a lonely existence.”

“Maybe if you’re Caitlyn, no, she’s always been the one with all the social skills and the brains and brawn to boot. I mean, she’d always try and find ways to include me but whenever she went to uni it just, obviously complicated things.” I explained immediately feeling my face heat up in embarrassment as I shook my head, “Sorry, I-I don’t wanna trauma dump.”

Jinx’s bike suddenly skidded to a halt nearly causing me to jolt forward as I pressed down on my brake to not speed ahead. Her eyes seemed to peer directly into mine with a look I hadn’t really seen from her before. Was it… sympathy? Empathy? “You aren’t trauma dumping, and for future reference if you need somebody to talk to, I’m here.”

My lips slightly upturned in the corners, hands squeezing around the handlebars as I weakly nodded, “Thanks Jinx, that means a lot.”

“Of course it does.” Her typical grin stretched back across her face before she lifted herself from the seat once more to venture forward. “Now… try to keep up because I’m a fast peddler… and a meddler.”

“I could definitely see that last part.” I laughed just before quickening the pace of my own peddling to speed off alongside her. And for the most part I nearly felt like I was getting at least a small part of what was mostly a lost childhood back. Racing down the block and laughing with your friends on your bike. “So, ummm… you’ve asked a lot about me- what about you? How’d you make it to the UK?”

“Pretty epic twist of fate I guess you could say, dead parents for one.”

“O-Oh my God, I’m so-”

“Eh, it’s all good.” Jinx waved it off easily, “My brain’s blocked a good amount of it out, a ‘trauma response’ or some shit, I guess. But anyways, Vi’s always been a beast on the ice hockey rink and rich people love a good sob story so the second they found out she was an orphaned foster kid with an absolutely adorable and tiny genius little sister the sponsorships started pouring in. So- she played hockey all throughout middle school and high school, I got into robotics and then her senior year she got recruited to Oxford. Then… a few years later I come around and sweep the rug out from underneath her feet with an engineering scholarship.”

I was almost stunned into silence as we skidded to a stop at a pedestrian crosswalk. “Wow, sounds like literal inspiration porn.”

“Oh, you have no idea.” She said with a laugh almost making me sigh in relief that she wasn’t offended. Though it seemed pretty difficult to offend Jinx. “I mean, don’t get me wrong. It’s not like we didn’t go through a lot. The foster system is hardly a walk in the park but… having a super sporty older sister helps.”

“And being smart yourself too… you have to give yourself credit for that.” I suggested shyly with a casual shrug.

“Maybe… at least mildly. I’m a degenerate, but a pretty brilliant degenerate.” She grinned, causing me to let out a little laugh of my own as we continued to peddle along the path. “So, what clubs are you looking to sign up for? You should totally go for drama, the professor who runs it is a fucking lunatic.”

“I don’t know if I’m necessarily a, you know, drama club kind of girl-”

“And do I look like I’m a drama club kind of girl?” Jinx wondered with a lifted brow.

“Yeah, a bit actually.” I answered causing her to roll her eyes in a way that only proved my point. “I mean, maybe, but I’m not like… going for lead role or anything.”

“You know, isn’t it funny how the people who say that always end up being the lead in some way?” She spoke in a sing song voice as she twirled a strand of her bright hair around her finger.

“Do I even need to ask to know that ao3 is somewhere in your browsing history? Or tumblr maybe?” I teased with a snicker that faded the moment I heard the first telltale signs of Oxford’s club rush.

I’m not sure what I was expecting, I guess I should’ve expected exactly this. With over 400 clubs club rush spanned a week long and nearly took over the entirety of the main quad and then some. It felt like a weeklong party of freshers and curious and bored upperclassmen alike. I absolutely should’ve been better prepared for the boatload of people filing in and out of the massive courtyard completely taken over by white tents and set ups every club had probably spent weeks working on. For some reason though I had a feeling no amount of research or planning could’ve prepared me for it though.

“Oh shit.” I cursed, immediately skidding to a stop so fast I nearly launched myself over the handlebars this time.

“Hey, chill new girl, before we get matching concussions!” Jinx exclaimed as she pressed her foot on the ground to stop herself. Her expression softened slightly though once she took a look at my face. Probably as white as a sheet much like the knuckles that gripped my handlebars. “Hey, what’s up with you? What happened?”

“Uhhh… umm, autism?” I stammered simply as I nearly scrambled off of the bike, almost drawing blood from my bottom lip at this point. “Ummm, so- I-I can’t go in there but- don’t let me hold you from it.” My words were a shaking mess as I tried to drive the bike away from the commotion. Jinx only chased me down like the stubborn girl she was.

“Well, I’m sure as shit not leaving you out here to panic by yourself!” She voiced as she trudged off behind me to find a bench before my knees could give out from below me.

“That might actually be the best option for you in all honesty.” I answered in a shaking voice, finally giving up before I found subtle solace underneath one of the large trees to prop my bike up against.

“Okay, what would be the best option for you?” Jinx’s boots cracked underneath the fallen branches as she watched me drop the backpack from my shoulders. Every inch of me nearly felt like it was shaking as she cautiously approached me. “Because if you honestly want me to leave then I will but- don’t just say that because you’re trying to spare me from something. You aren’t a burden, Amelia.”

I tensed at first whenever I felt her cautious hand on my shoulder, it felt like every sound was getting louder and louder by the minute and I had to fight the urge to not launch myself into her arms right then and there. “C-Can we sit down?” My words shook nearly as hard as my legs did, threatening to give out any moment.

“Yeah, ‘course.” Jinx nodded quickly, already kneeling down to try and clear a spot underneath the tree even though it was already pretty clear. It was like she was trying everything she could to be helpful.

I guess you could’ve said my meltdowns were different than a lot of the ones you probably see portrayed. It was rare I ever yelled or expressed anger, I never hit anything, sometimes I would scratch at myself or pull my hair. But more often than not they were silent killers. The uncomfortable shaking, muscles giving out, the crying, oh god the crying was more exhausting than anything. If I was in public I tried my hardest not to, though most of the time that took more out of me than the actual crying did. All I knew was to retreat. Retreat, run, hide, curl up into a ball and hoped that eventually it would pass. Even though occasionally it almost felt like the aftermath was one of the worst parts. The depression that followed, the shame, the embarrassment, the apologies to everyone else even though I still didn’t know how I would’ve prevented it.

That was the worst part of all.

“What can I do to help?” Jinx asked as she placed a cautious hand on my knee that I was quickly hugging to my chest.

“C-Can you text Ellie and Caitlyn the code word, p-please? It’s pineapple. I-It shouldn’t have a passcode.” I questioned through my quivering voice, feeling like my lungs were already sealing shut in my chest much like they had last night. I could tell she was biting back one of her funny remarks as she slid my phone from my hoodie pocket, and I almost wished she would have before the tears started to fall and I became incapable of anything else.

“Inhaler- I-I need my inhaler.” I practically gasped out as I scrambled for my backpack. “P-Please tell me I brought it, f-for fuck’s sakes! H-How am I so stupid?!” I whimpered in frustration as I dug around through my backpack only to be met with no avail.

“Millie, Millie don’t.” Jinx gently slipped her hands into mine before I could start lashing out at myself. “We’ll find it, I promise we’ll find it.”

“I’m sorry.” I spoke through the sobs, apologizing prematurely before I could get any worse.

I clutched her hands for dear life it seemed. The sounds of various students passing by only got louder, the levels of shame coursing through my body causing me to squeeze myself into the same little ball I always did. Retreat, make yourself as small as possible. My breath came out in wheezes, a slow rattling beginning to increase in my chest until it felt impossible to talk. Stupid, stupid, stupid Amelia.

“You have nothing to apologize for.” Jinx spoke, sliding a firm arm around my shoulders until she was able to pull me closer. “Lean on me, I’ve got you.” A sob broke through the cacophony of wheezes as I burrowed my face into the crook of her arm. “Caitlyn and Ellie are on their way, just keep taking deep breaths for me, okay?” I forced a nod as I held onto her arm and let the tears soak into the fabric of her jacket.

It seemed like only a few moments later I heard the rushed sound of feet on the surrounding ground. My lungs only getting tighter and tighter by the second as Caitlyn nearly tripped over her own two feet rushing to the space underneath the tree. “I’m here! Mills, I’m here, I’ve got your backup.” She spoke in an out of breath voice as if she had sprinted the entire way here.

Immediately I forced my hands out to grip the inhaler and shove it in between my lips, sending a blast of the medicated air through my lungs. Afterwards I still held the device in my hands like it was the only thing providing me comfort. Caitlyn gently smoothed out my hair with a soft hand. “You can do a second one, if you need to.” She spoke as I sat there still, holding the device in between my lips even afterwards.

Sometimes I think the person who had supposedly ‘knitted me in my mother’s womb’ actually hated me. Autism wasn’t enough, so we had had to complicate things with severe hypersensitivity in my airways that could’ve been correlated to a development of asthma. Every time I thought I was moving forward and not becoming such a medical nightmare however it was usually squandered by an incident such as this one.

“Thank you for taking care of her, Jinx.” I could tell Caitlyn was biting back her pride as she promptly took me into her arms. For some reason the familiar feeling of my sister’s embrace making me want to cry a hundred times harder. She was always such a quick way to get me to calm down. I always felt bad whenever she had to drop everything and come running. Now for the second day in a row. “My place is pretty close if you want me to take you there. Get you out of here.”

I nodded against Caitlyn’s shirt before trying to pry my face from where it was hidden in her chest. “Jinx, can you text Ellie the address?” I asked, grateful for the stability that was somewhat creeping back into my voice.

“Sure- do- do you want me to come too?” She wondered almost hesitantly as she pushed herself up to her feet. Her usually playful eyes now softened as she still cautiously held onto my phone.

“If it isn’t too much trouble… s-sure.” I nodded with a tearful and weak smile.

Caitlyn hoisted me up onto my still shaking legs where I leaned most of my weight against her. I could tell part of her wanted to carry me like she had done in the past. Like she started doing the moment she hit her growth spurt claiming she wanted me to ‘see what it’s like up there.’ I almost even wanted her to myself, but not here. Not around so many people. I couldn’t make things even worse for myself.

“No, it’s not any trouble at all.” Jinx said sincerely before going to scoop up my backpack for me. “I’ll get all of our things.”

[banquetwriter]

୨୧ invisible scars ୨୧

this was the request sent via DM: 1.fluff

2. Johnnie Guilbert

Hey! I love your writing and I was hoping if you could do one about Johnnie Guilbert x reader where the reader has hyperesthesia and they are feeling sad because of how people don't understand her and take her condition seriously and Johnnie comforts her? It would mean a lot to me since I have struggled with hyperesthesia. Thank you for your time! xx @tacuuuu

pairing: Johnnie Guilbert ♡︎ Reader

warnings: ୭̥⋆*｡ Jake being a dick lol, mentions of pain, reader being sad

summary: ʚ Johnnie defends your invisible illness ʚ

Words: 950

An: so sorry I have been sucking lately I'm literally dying lol, also there is very little online for hyperesthesia so I did my very best haha 🖤

SUPPORT ME

Your whole body was riddled with the feeling of pins and needles. It was numb with pain, the occasional burning sensation coming in waves across your body. It was the third and last day of Coachella weekend two, and your body was wrecked.

You had more caffeine and boos than your body could handle. It was about 2:30 and it was time to start getting ready and pregame. Your muscles felt like they were guitar strings that had been played too much.

You took a deep sigh tightening the snuggly soft blanket you had wrapped yourself in. You sat not listening to the conversations around you. “Y/n!!” Tara shrieked looking at you. You reluctantly moved your head up to look at her. She was halfway done with her makeup already and had her hands placed on her hips.

“I'm sorry Tara but I'm probably not going to go tonight. I will just crash into Airbnb,” you mumbled with a sorry expression. “Y/nnnnn!” she whined, turning around to keep getting ready. “I know I know, I’m sorry Tara.” you apologized flopping back on the couch.

Suddenly you heard the door open, you peeked out of your blanket to see Jake and Johnie walking through the door. A small part of you was so relieved to see Johnnie. You knew he would understand like he always does.

He is always there for you, his touch seemingly a remedy for your pain. You sit up and pout watching Johnnie move his way to you. Jake opens the fridge and pulls out a drink. “Hey, sweetheart,” Johnnie mumbles, wrapping his arms around you.

You sink into his touch, feeling your nervous system calm down. “Bad pain day?” he asks as you close your eyes. You take a deep breath milking this moment in. “Yeah, not sure what brought it on,” you mumbled, Johnnie kissed your forehead humming against your skin.

You opened your eyes and smiled at your boyfriend. You took in his outfit. God, he looked so damn fine. “Shit, you're looking like a smoke show,” you remark, eyeing him up and down. He rolls his eyes with a grin.

Jake walks over to the two of you while wiggling his hips back and forth. “You two crazy cats ready to have one hell of a last day?” he asks while taking a sip from his drink. “Oh, I'm not going anymore,” Johnnie says nonchalantly. Both you and Jake snap your heads towards him.

“No way Jose!” Jake says, putting his hand on his chest in shock. “What?” you ask, pulling away from Johnnie’s arms slightly. “You're in pain. You need to be taken care of today. I'm not just gonna leave you.” he said, meeting your eyes.

“Nuh-uh, you're joining us!” Jake yelled out looking at Johnnie. “Johnnie, don't ditch them!” you whisper screamed. “Y/n you're having a bad day I'm gonna be here for you,” he promised.

Your heart swelled with adoration at his words, an equal part of guilt. Your worst fear was coming true. You were dragging others down with your disability. “Dude y/n says it's fine! Just come get drunk.” Jake says encouragingly.

“No dude,” Johnnie says calmly, just shaking his head. You felt a little awkward sitting there now. You had never ever wanted to make other people suffer from what you go through. Your heart clenched with anxiety.

“Jesus Johnnie it's not even that bad. Y/n still does stuff all the time! They went on a run the other day!” Jake moaned dramatically, bending his knees for emphasis. You cringed at his words. While it was true some days you had energy others you certainly did not and this was one of those days.

Before you could defend yourself Johnnie was quick to step up. “Dude that's not how it fucking works. Not everyone's issues are visible, you know that. They are at real risk with their blood pressure being so high. So no I'm not going I'm going to stay and take care of my girlfriend ok?” Johnnie says, his eyes open wide with anger.

Jake had looked like a kicked puppy. He looked over at you with a small sad smile. You had almost forgotten you were there for a second, finding it hard to believe anyone as incredible as Johnnie would defend you like that.

“Hey um, I'm sorry y/n I swear I didn't mean it like that. It's totally ok if you need rest some days, I was being a little bit of an idiot.” Jake sheepishly admits. You open your mouth to speak but no sound comes out. You shoot a quick glance at Johnnie before you look back at Jake.

You take a deep sigh before calming him down. “Don't worry man. If I could change it I would,” you mutter before standing up and making your way to your ‘bedroom’.

You sink into your bed, no longer feeling the comforting touch of Johnnie. And thankfully it wasn't long before he walked into the room. You didn't turn to look at him at all, you just let him walk over to the bed.

You hear shuffling for a minute before the bed dips down with his weight. His arms wrap around your torso pulling you into him. You let your eyes close as his comfort slowly dulls the numbness in your body.

“Thank you,” you mumble against the pillow. “Of course,” he says softly. “You will never be too sick for me. I'm always right here,” he mumbled a second later. Neither of you moved, but you could swear when you were having a better you would tell him how greatful you were.

[livindeadgirlgrav]

Hello!! Hope you're doing alright!

May I request headcannons or a story for Nubbins Sawyer about his female s/o saving him from his death? Like in that scene from movie when he's chasing Sally and then gets run over by an 18-wheeler, but his s/o saves him in time.

if you don't want to write about it, it's perfectly fine to ignore this request.

Thank you in advance and have a lovely day!! ♡

Why would I ignore this??? I LOVE IT! I LOVE NUBBINS!!! 🖤 Thank you tons for the request lol

Pairing: Nubbins Sawyer x fem reader

Warning: Violence, death, kidnapping, cannibalism, killing, blood, gore galore, hot sweaty cannibal man, slight NSFW, Kinda fluffy, etc

Tonight was just like any other night within the Sawyer house. You laid in Nubbins bed as you listened to the records his twin brother had gifted him. Adjusting the headphones you could still hear the actions happening below you. Nubbins understood you weren't the 'killing type' like Drayton puts it. But that doesn't mean Nubbins doesn't enjoy his time tormenting helpless victims whether you hear him or not. Reaching over to the diy skull table you turned the knob of the record player turning the music up so you wouldn't have to hear the howling pack of hounds called the Sawyers. You didn't mind being alone for a while, Nubbins tend to be very clingy and sometimes you just needed a little break so this arrangement was perfect! Nubbins got his play time and you got your free time. A win win for both parties but you wouldn't lie something about tonight felt weird..Something wasn't right and it was eating you up.

Tossing and turning you finally found a comfortable position and manged to fall asleep despise the nagging dread flowing through your body. After what felt like hours you woke up realizing Nubbins wasn't back upstairs besides what time it was. Pushing the headphones off your head you noticed everything was quiet. Listening to your gut you quickly got up throwing on a pair of you jeans and grabbed your boots shoving your foot in them as you nearly tripped out the bedroom door. "Nubbins?" you yelled but before you could call again you started hearing a female scream followed by Bubba's chainsaw. "Oh shit." You thought quickly running down the stairs nearly tripping again since your boots were a bit big-They were a gift from Nubbins, aka a pair of a victims shoes- Quickly you ran out the door following behind Bubba. You watched Nubbins run after the blonde girl as she screamed and tried limping away. You ran towards him but thanks to the over sized boots you fell face first into the Texas dirt. "Fuck!" you shouted but quickly you kicked the boots off, jumped up and ran after Nubbins.

Passing Bubba you finally caught up to Nubbins at the road. Nubbins grabbed the girl laughing as he sliced her back up. You watched him but your attention was grabbed by the sound of a very fast tracker trailer. "Nubbins!" You shouted quickly ran towards him hearing the truck horn blaring. The blonde girl wiggled out of Nubbins grasp and he quickly froze as he looked up at the truck coming right at him. But you grabbed his green shirt from behind and wanked him back hard just in time. Resulting in both of you falling backwards with a thud. Sitting up you looked at Nubbins seeing he was breathing hard but alive. Looking towards the blonde girl across the road made your blood start to boil, She nearly got Nubbins killed and you weren't happy. Hearing the trucks squeal as the driver slammed on brakes. You quickly reached over Nubbins, grabbing his razor before jumping to your feet. "You fucking bitch" You spat before running after her, grabbing her you shoved her to the ground. Proceeding to sit on top of her and slash her with the razor. Nubbins quickly got onto his feet watching you release your anger onto the girl. Stunned he stood there, not realizing the driver was getting out the truck. As you continued to slash at the girl the man quickly ran to you, trying to pull you off the girl, but before the man got you onto your feet you swung the straight razor one last time managing to slice the girls throat open. As you were finally pulled to your feet you fought against the man smirking once you heard the sound of Bubba's beloved chainsaw getting closer. "Get em Bubba!" You shouted, getting your wrist lose from the man's grasp and shoving Nubbins straight razor into the man's side causing him to let go of you. Thinking fast you quickly ducked down as Bubba swung his chainsaw over your head and into the mans chest. His blood spewed onto you as the chainsaw entered his body. The driver was early cut in half as he fell back behind you.

Standing up you wiped the blood from your cheek and adjusted into your stance..Catching your breath you looked down at the girl watching the blood spill from her throat. As you watched the dark liquid flow onto the ground you started to realize what just happened. Looking behind you, you saw the sliced up man seeing his blood seep out onto the road into a huge puddle that unfortunately you were standing in..barefoot. Feeling sick you stepped over them, back towards the house but stopped in your tracks as you started to gag. "Oh no..no." You stated as you started to panic, Nubbins quickly rushed towards you. "You're okay! d-don't cry, don't c-cry darling." He stuttered trying to calm you down before you exploded. Nubbins pulled you towards him and held your head to his chest trying to stop you from looking back at what you did. Stroking your head quickly he looked down at you. "You protected me! I-I would be flat!" He giggled like the little psychopath he was. Every time you would move your head towards the terrific scene he would push your head back into his chest, finally just covering your eyes with the hand that was stroking your hair. "Y-you saved me." He stated as he kissed the top of your head as he watched Bubba grab the man's foot dragging him towards the house. "Keep your eyes closed." Nubbins said letting go of you once he got your nod of approval. Nubbins walked to the girl and chuckled. He stuck his tongue out at her dead face before grabbing her ankle. Dragging her towards you. "D-don't look behind me! O-or in front of you! Just look down." You nodded doing what he said. You knew exactly what they were doing hearing the noise of shuffling gravel.

Once you got back to the house you sat down at the dining room table with grandpa. Holding your head in your hands, starring at the wall as you heard Nubbins and Bubba struggle as they dragged the bodies into the backroom. Drayton yelled as they dragged the bodies against the floor. "Look what you're doing to the floor!" He shouted in his thick country accent. Continuing to stare at the wall Drayton came into the dining room. "What's the matter girly?" He asked in a much softer tone. He was always sweet towards you surprisingly. "I killed her.." You stated emotionless, Drayton rubbed your back. "Aw don't worry about it none.." He stated. "She almost caused Nubbins to get hit by that truck..I was so angry.." Drayton laughed. "Well of course you were angry! That's you old man. Well don't you worry no, you should talk to grandpa he's the best killer around!" You smiled slightly at him. He rubbed the back of your head. "Now the saw is family just you remember that." He patted the back of your head and walked away. Nodding you looked at grandpa. Hearing Nubbins walk in you quickly stood up and walked towards him wrapping your arms around his neck. "I love you Nubbins..please don't leave me here alone." Nubbins hugged back not caring your back was nearly covered in blood. "I l-love you t-too." he responded his cute speech impediment causing you to smile. "I-i ain't going n-no where." He placed his chin on your head and held you.

---------------------------------------------------------------

Welllll I hope you guys enjoyed reading!! Thank you tons for the request!

[signedkoko]

GOSH, all your writings make me feel all bouncy and giddy I swear AaaAAAA

Feeling slightly inspired by your previous Lucifer and Lilith with a reader who ends up attacked, might I request a Vox X Reader, where while they're both out together, Reader notices someone apparently brave enough to attack Vox and just- autopilot takes the hit to protect him? Turns out afterwords it wasn't an Angelic weapon of any kind, so even though it's nasty and painful, they'll ultimately be okay...

But did Reader KNOW that? Nope. Could Vox have probably handled it himself with how powerful he is? Yep. Did either one of those thoughts even cross Reader's mind until after? NOPE.

Reader just saw harm approaching the one they love so much and just went into instant protect mode...

Vox X Reader [Romantic]

In which someone attempts an attack on Vox, but you decide to get in the way. Reader is genderneutral.

It was just another press conference, the same as all the others

VoxTek had a new announcement, and reporters flocked to be the ones with the most interesting story or the first, whichever got them more praise from their lousy boss

Both the CEO and spokesperson, Vox insisted on being the face everyone knew and saw, as well as the voice they all followed

You were a not-so-recent addition to his empire, and some cameras were sure to catch a frame or two of you as you waited on the side, smiling and waving to the crowd

You were only here because it made Vox happy and because you would rather be seen than not

VoxTek had some of the highest security, with mostly Vox himself watching over everything

You always wondered how he could keep track of so many tasks at once

But the screams of everyone sounded different, less like a thousand questions and more like terror, incomprehensible yells as someone broke through the crowd

They had a gun; it looked white and gold, you weren't sure if Vox hadn't noticed or didn't care

All you knew was that your body moved, and suddenly you were between the bullet and fov when it pierced right into your side

The space cleared of voices before one of the bodyguards tackled the man and wrestled the gun from his grip

While you stood there, clutching your abdomen, the lava-like pain burst through your abdomen

Before Vox could react, flashes began again, most of the crowd recognizing the occurrence or snapping photos of you stood there, still in shock from the shot

What did you expect from demons? They'd win a bonus if they caught the first image of you being shot

Before you can think much of it, Vox is running, carrying you, and applying pressure with his hand and yours over the bullet hole

Thank god the press release was in the Vees tower, he's laid you on a counter in the lobby, his jacket bunched up under your head and his claws tearing through your shirt to access the wound

There's no time for a hospital; besides, he knows everything, he can be the best doctor in the world in a second, and he's going to be if it means helping you

" Thank go- "

" Thank god what! I could take that shot! Shut up! "

You decide to listen because, well, you can barely speak through gritted teeth

He's calling Val to come down and bring any kind of anaesthetic.

He's able to fix you up more than enough, but just to be safe, he's called in his private doctor to come take a look at you

Once everything has calmed down and you're back upstairs with Vox, he's got a million different questions

Why? I mean, he could take a bullet with ease! hes moslty metal, everything can be replaced!

Even worse if you really thought it was an angel weapon, because that would have absolutely killed you!

" It's not like I had time to think, Vox. I just moved! "

He's frustrated that you'd ever be in harm's way, but it's hard for him to stay mad knowing you just wanted to protect him

Author's Note - I wasn't sure if I should go for an angst or romantic note on this one, but I felt a little humour coping was more like Vox so I went for romantic! Thank you for requesting 🖤

[babbymochiiii]

💋Tongue Piercing: NAKAMOTO YUTA

↪︎Pairing: idol!Yuta x female!reader

↪︎Genre: comedy

↪︎Warning: suggestive context about the piercing

↪︎ Synopsis: in which you’re on FaceTime with him, where you mention the speculations NCTzens have of him having a tongue piercing, and he confessed to you he does.

↪︎Word count: 560 words

divider credit @plutism 🖤

You were in your room laying on your bed while on FaceTime with Yuta once he finally got home from practice. Moments like these is where the two of you treasured the most considering how there isn’t always time and place for the two of you to be together in person.

“You know your fans are quite something.” You giggled as you remembered going onto Twitter today and seeing all of them freak out over the thought of Yuta having a tongue piercing.

“What has them freaking out this time?” Yuta asked with a smile on his face, as he knew you liked rambling about moments NCTzens have.

“The entire timeline was freaking out, because they believe you have a tongue piercing. One even had a close up of your mouth in the JCC video you were in.” You said as you shakes your head with a smile on your face. “Even if you did have one, you would’ve told me.”

“I do have one.” Yuta said bluntly.

“And if you did have one- wait. YOU HAVE WHAT?” You yelled out as you looked at your boyfriend with wide eyes.

“Yup, I got one see.” Yuta said before sticking out his tongue to the camera.

Seeing the shiny piercing placed perfectly in the middle of his tongue made your head feel very full with thoughts that you truly didn’t think could go the way they did.

“Y-Yuta when the hell did you get it done? And how the fuck did I not realize?” You said as you looked at him with a forming blush on your face.

Yuta smirks seeing you blush. “Is my princess thinking about the new ways I can pleasure her with my tongue piercing?” He coos at you. His smiling growing wider as he saw how truly flustered you got, as he knew he just confirmed the thoughts in your head.

“No.” You groaned out as you squeezed your eyes shut trying to get this man out of your head, cause he always knew what you were thinking.

“Don’t lie to yourself princess. You know it’s true.” Yuta laughed as he started to admire you.

“I’m not lying…ugh! Yuta you’re making me flustered!” You moaned out as you dropped your phone onto your bed, as you pressed the heal of your palms into your eyes while trying to hold in your laugh so it doesn’t provoke Yuta into laughing.

A chuckle was heard from the phone. “Baby, I’m just taunting you. Besides you’ll see me soon.” He said gently but the darken look in his eyes scream differently.

“Dude ima block you,” you laughed as you knew Yuta was only just starting.

“Block me? You know better than that, princess.” Yuta laughed.

“I’m not! I’m just kidding!” You said as you took hold of your phone again.

“Mhmm.” Yuta hummed, as he gave you an amused smirk.

“So how was—“

“You want to feel my piercing on your clit don’t you?” Yuta’s blurt interrupted the rest of your question, just causing you to blank and stare down at your phone.

“NAKAMOTO!”

The sound of Yuta’s laughter hits your ears, just as an intense heat took over your face.

“I can’t stand you man.” You mumbled out as you covered your face trying to calm down the feeling of the heat.

“I love you more, princess.”

note: I have had this little drabble in my drafts for like…2 years? 💀 it’s been sitting and waiting for it’s time to shine 😚🤌🏼 but I hope you guys enjoyed the little work here! Thank you for reading! 🥰⭐️

— mochi 🤍

[redstarwriting]

partners

hobie brown x reader

request?: yes

request: “Hello! Sorry if this request is really long ;-; okay so hobie and the reader are new recruits to the spider society and are partnered together at first was difficult to get along but as time goes on and they get the whole partner thing down an obvious attraction between the two, but no action was made until one difficult fight against an anomaly. While fighting pieces of a broken building had fallen on the reader, leaving them stuck while hobie went over to try and get them free but was struck by anomaly and the reader hated seeing hobie get hurt used all their strength got out from under the rubble and took care of the anomaly and realized that they could no longer stand idly by without telling hobie the truth. I'm sorry about the length and thank you if you chose to write it 🫡🙏 love your work !!”

requested by: anon​

word count: 2.7k

genre: angst(ish), fluff

Warnings: language, stab wound, broken ribs, panicked Hobie, mentions of blood, mentions of severe injuries, stitches, mentions of needles

A/N: ok so i got a little carried away with this one LMAO and NEVER apologize for a request being long! I appreciate all the requests i get no matter how short or long they are 🖤 please enjoy!

───────────────────────────────────

Hobie Brown was the bane of your existence. The most attractive bane of existence that there could possibly be.

And unfortunately for you, Miguel insisted on the two of you being partners.

The reasoning was because he didn’t trust Hobie to do any of his Spider Society duties — at least not in a smart way — and you were very… meticulous. You had a way you did things and didn’t like when your way was compromised. It helped that the two of you were the same age, so Miguel’s dad side popped out and figured the two of you could influence each other.

The first time the two of you went on a mission together, that was far from the truth.

Walking back into Spider Society, you would have thought the two of you didn’t complete the mission. You did, obviously, but the two of you literally looked like your asses got beat. Because you did. “What… happened?” Miguel asks, honestly a little concerned and shocked at the state of you two. “What ‘appened is ‘at I work alone, but you insisted I work with this bloody fuckwit.”

“I TOLD YOU A PLAN AND YOU SAID ‘Yeah, sure, mate, but I’m doin’ what I want’ AND THEN ALMOST DIED YOU ABSOLUTE FUCKING DUMBASS!” you yell and he rolls his eyes. “Well, ‘ave you ever considered your plan was shit, mate?”

“No! Because it wasn’t!”

“Yes! It was!”

“It was better than your fucking plan of jumping in and just winging it!”

“That’s rubbish! I—”

“Would the both of you stop?!” Miguel yells, and the two of you glare at each other before looking at him. “Hobie, listen to them next time. (Y/n), don’t be afraid to let some things be improvised.”

“Next time?” Hobie nearly screams, and Miguel nods. “The two of you are partners. You’re a team. It’s time to act like it,” Miguel says, and the two of you groan. “I don’t ‘ave to do anythin’ you say, asshole,” Hobie says to Miguel, and he frowns. “You both need to learn how to work with others.” “But we’re Spider-People! We’re supposed to work alone,” you say, and he shakes his head. “No. The two of you are partners. Learn to work together.”

From that point on, the two of you exclusively went on missions together. And you slowly started to learn how to work together. To the point where the two of you were nearly unstoppable. Miguel’s plan worked, Hobie learned some structure, and you learned to be a little more flippant in your decisions. To say he was a proud spiderdad was an understatement. He bragged about it to Peter and Jessica any chance he could get. Something he didn’t expect was the unwillingness from the two of you to then stop being partners. “You’re mental if you think ‘m not gonna keep workin’ with ‘em. Dumbass’ll die,” Hobie crosses his arms. “How to you expect him to survive if I’m not there to tell him what to do?” you roll your eyes.

Miguel was confused, but he didn’t hate the pair-up. So, he said fine and continued treating you two as a partner unit.

It was only later on that he realized why the two of you refused to stop working together. And it was thanks to Pavitr that he found out. “Miguel!” Pavitr yells, running over to him. “Yes, Pavitr?”

“How did you know?”

“How did I know what?” Miguel asks, already exasperated with the conversation. “About (Y/n) and Hobie!” Pav says, and Miguel raises an eyebrow at him. “What about them?”

“That they’re so obviously head over heels for each other! That’s why you paired them up, right?” he says excitedly, and Miguel just stares at him. “No.”

“Oh… well, forget I said anything, then. You had me worried there for a second, bro. I thought you could read people better than I could, and I couldn’t have that,” he trails off as he starts webbing away. Now that Miguel thinks about it, you and Hobie did have some sort of gravitational pull toward each other. He noticed that even when the two of you weren’t working together on a mission, you were constantly near each other. Even when the rest of the problem children weren’t around. And he never did quite see Hobie smile at anyone else the way he smiles around you. And you did tend to stare at Hobie for seemingly no reason. Damn. Guess pairing you two up was a good idea for multiple different reasons. Now he wasn’t just a proud spiderdad of the two of you, but of himself as well. “Good job, Miguel,” he nods, talking to himself.

However, while it was obvious for everyone, including the two of you, there was never anything pursued. No one could really understand why the two of you haven’t just been honest with each other, honestly. It was obvious to everyone the two of you cared more about each other than anyone else in the multiverse, but the two of you just continued saying you were merely friends and that there was no special relationship between the two of you. Which was a blatant lie, even to the two of you, but it continued to be the story told.

Until this latest mission.

The two of you were tasked with capturing an anomaly in your world. Of course, you were the only one told about it, but Hobie showed up anyways. It ended up being a Doc Ock variant, easy enough, but this specific one was tough. His arms were stronger and more technologically developed than others. Not to mention his annoying willpower to not give up. “Right, what’s the plan, then, love?” Hobie asks, and you frown. “We need to find a weak spot in his arms,” you say, and Hobie tuts. “And ‘ow are we gonna do ‘at?”

“Guess we’ll have to improvise,” you shrug, and he smiles at you. “‘ave I ever told ya I love it when it’s clear I’ve rubbed off on ya?”

“All the time, Hobie. Now, let’s go catch ourselves an octopus,” you say, and the both of you start fighting. And he was indeed harder to beat than the both of you expected. And it quickly becomes apparent to this Octavius that the two of you have feelings for each other with how often Hobie is trying to protect you, and how often you’re trying to protect Hobie. So, he figures it would be easier to take one down and distract the other long enough to take the other down. And that’s how you get thrown into the side of a building with so much force that it collapses around you.

Hobie, of course, immediately panics. He rushes over to you, frantically digging through the rubble. He sounds the most panicked you’ve ever heard him “(Y/N)? LOVE CAN YOU ‘EAR ME?!” You cough, yelling out a quick yes before trying to push as much of the rubble as he possibly can off of you. He manages to free enough of the rocks that he can see you, and you can see him. “‘m gonna get you out of there, love,” he mumbles, and you shake your head. “Deal with him first, I’ll be fi—”

“No.” Hobie doesn’t leave any room for arguments, continuing to throw rubble around to try and get you out. Unfortunately, he’s too focused on you and the worry that you might get severely injured to notice the mechanical arm about to smash into him until it’s too late. You scream his name as he gets struck, and flies into another building with a thud. He hears a sickening crack in his head and pain spreads throughout his torso. He groans, realizing his ribs just broke (again) and he can’t move for a moment.

He’s dazed, you can tell, and it just pisses you off. Doc Ock laughs, muttering something about how it was ‘too easy when it came to partners.’ You were enraged. You rarely use your full strength, in fact, nearly all the spiders try not to use their full strength for fear of what they might do to their enemies. But you’re too angry to think straight, and you just want this asshole to shut up so you can go home. You growl, beginning to lift the rubble off of you. The piece you’re lifting is a large part of the building, which is why you were trapped in the first place. Doc Ock glares at you, preparing to continue the fight. He didn’t expect you to fight back like this after the other had been struck down so violently.

You push the rubble above your head, casually holding a large piece of a building and breathing heavily. Not from overexertion, but from anger. Doc Ock extends his arms toward you, one opening to reveal a sharp dagger going directly for your heart. Before it can stab you where you would surely die, you’re able to twist your body to ensure it only goes through your shoulder. The pain is searing, but you’re too distraught to care about it. You rip the dagger out with one arm, somehow holding the building with one hand before you throw the rubble at him. He quickly brings up his arms to soften the blow, and even though they successfully make the rubble crumble around him, the kick you deliver to his face is enough to knock him back. Hard.

He looks up at you, dazed and confused about how you got to him that fast, before you deliver another blow, knocking him out cold. Your chest heaves as you raise your arm to strike him again before it’s held back by someone. Hobie captures him in one of Miguel’s specially designed prisons, and then opens a portal. He just tosses him in. He’ll show up in Spider Society one way or another. “Calm down there, sweetheart,” he says, and you turn, immediately checking over him to see how hurt he is. You can see some gashes throughout his suit, but he seems stable enough. All because he saw you get stabbed, and he’s pretending like his ribs aren’t in half. “I was just caught off guard, love, ‘m fine,” he says softly, slipping his arm behind your shoulders and slowly lowering you to the ground. “Wish I could say the same for you,” he mutters, staring at the stab wound pouring out blood. “Oh, this? This is nothing,” you grunt, the pain coming to the forefront now that the adrenaline is gone. He scoffs. “Yeah, ‘m sure,” he mumbles, unable to take his eyes off of your injuries. “Hobie… hey, my eyes are up here. Mask is on, so they’re so big you can’t miss ‘em,” you tease, and he looks up at you. “I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

“For bein’ soft in the ‘ead. Now you’re ‘urt cause a’ me,” he says quietly, and you shake your head. “You’re hurt because of me. I should have been paying closer attention to where I was going,” you mutter, and the blood loss begins to affect your head, “I kinda lost it when I thought about how your pretty face may have gotten fucked up.”

“Pretty, eh?”

“Mhm. So pretty,” you mumble, and he picks you up, carrying you with one arm and applying pressure to the wound with his other hand. You wince, and he frowns. “Sorry, love, can’t ‘ave you bleedin’ out on me after you admitted ‘m pretty,” he says. “Hold onto me best you can, yeah?” You wrap your good arm around his neck and your legs around his waist as he removes his hand from your wound and begins swinging to your place. He has one arm wrapped firmly around you to make sure you don’t fall, especially when he feels your grip loosening. “Stay with me, love,” he mumbles in your ear as he lands on your fire escape, hurrying up to your window and opening it. He steps in, carrying you, and goes straight to your bathroom. He props you up against your wall, sitting in front of you, and getting out the first aid kit all Spider-People are oh so familiar with.

You struggle to stay awake, but the stinging of the alcohol when he started cleaning your wound wakes you up and causes you to wince and whine. “I know, it ‘urts, I’m sorry, sweetheart,” he says, getting the needles ready to stitch you up. The pain of being a Spider-Person never quite lets up. You clench your teeth, and he works as fast and diligently as possible to get you fixed up. The whole time you just stare at his face. He’s so concentrated and worried that you can tell he’s gnawing on the inside of his cheek. He finishes up, looking up at you. “You’re starin’, love.”

“How can I not?”

“The blood loss must really be gettin’ to ya,” he says, setting your first aid kit to the side, and giving you a small smile. You snort and shake your head. “Thanks,” you say, and he nods. “’Course, (Y/n/n).” Then you frown. “You have a cut on your forehead.”

“I’ll live,” he says, and you motion him to come closer. He gladly scoots closer to you as you apply a butterfly bandage to his forehead. He stares at you the whole time, waiting for you to finish. When you do, the two of you make eye contact. “Ya really think ‘m pretty?” he mumbles, and you nod. “Have for a while.”

“Serious?”

“Mhm,” you process just how close the two of you are in this moment and feel your face heat up. He smiles softly. “Not as pretty as you, though,” he whispers, glancing at your lips before returning his gaze to your eyes. The two of your noses brush, and he gently puts his hand on your cheek. “‘m tired of runnin’ from this,” he whispers. “Me, too,” you say, closing the gap between the two of you. He wraps his free arm around your waist, gently pulling you closer to him as you place your hands on his shoulders. The two of you stay like that for what feels like way too short. He slowly pulls away, looking at you through half-lidded eyes. He strokes your cheek with his thumb. “Reckon we should go back to Spider Society,” he mumbles, and you sigh. “I dunno… I kinda wanna stay here. With you, no one else,” you say, and he chuckles. “Oh, me too. I don’t wanna go, but Miguel will call both of us if we don’t. We go, tell ‘im we didn’t die so ‘e doesn’t bother us, come back, yeah?”

“Deal,” you mumble, and he slowly stands, wincing. You frown. “You broke a rib, didn’t you?”

“Yeah, a few. I’ll be fine, nothin’ new,” he says, holding his hand out to you and helping you up. “Are ya lightheaded?”

“A little, but I’ll survive,” you assure, and he nods, wrapping his arm around your waist anyways to steady you. You wrap yours around his waist as well, offering him some extra support as he opens a portal to Spider Society. The two of you walk (moreso limp) your way there, and Miguel looks at the two of you. “What… happened?”

“Eh. Bloke was an ass,” Hobie says. “I was worried when he came through a portal but the two of you didn’t.”

“We had to stitch ourselves up. We just stopped in to say we didn’t die,” you shrug, and Hobie nods. “Well… alright, then. You can go to the hospital here if you need to,” Miguel says, and Hobie shakes his head. “Nah. We’re just gonna go sleep it off.”

“Yeah.”

“You’re even recovering as partners now?” Miguel asks, and the two of you look at each other. “We do everything as partners now,” you say, and Hobie smiles. “You mean…?” Miguel realizes the two of you have finally come to terms with your feelings. And finally told each other. “Yeah. We’re partners. In every sense of the word,” you grin, and Hobie nods. “Guess I should thank ya, Miguel. Don’t get used to it,” Hobie says as you pull up the portal to your world. Miguel watches the two of you disappear into it.

Hobie Brown was the bane of your existence. The most attractive bane of existence that there could possibly be.

And fortunately for you, Miguel insisted on the two of you being partners.

───────────────────────────────────

[circusmania]

Hello! Can I request Yandere romantic michael myers that know detective reader is secretly a Eldritch Abomination that showing or feeling no interest, enthusiasm, or concern?

Btw i love your writing😊

Yandere!Michael Myers x GN!Reader ꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷

Notes: Aww! I'm so grateful that you enjoy my writing! Hopefully, you enjoy this one, too. ♡ Also, I hope that it matches what you requested. :')

Muah Muah 🖤

꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷

WARNINGS: Gore, stalking, mentions of body mutilations (reader + corpses)

꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷

Amidst the rain, flashing red and blue lights could be seen. Haddonfield is quiet on this Halloween night, which is no surprise to the people who live there. No trick-or-treaters are seen on the streets, just police and their cars.

A car pulls up, catching the attention of the officers. Out steps the famous detective, You. You've impressed many with your skills and clue findings, no killer has ever been able to slip past you. Except for a particular man. The Boogeyman. You've been on his trail for years now, and you can't say that you haven't enjoyed the chase.

You step in a puddle, paying no mind to your wet shoes as your assistant scurries over with an umbrella.

“Detective!” He frantically fixes himself as he struggles to hold the umbrella over your head. “It's an 18-year-old girl. She was babysitting a young boy (who thankfully survived) when the killer forced himself into the house and stabbed her many times.”

You two approached the body of the girl. Your assistant turned his head, not wanting to see the gruesome sight. There's blood dripping from every open wound. Her face is twisted in agony and there's no light in her eyes.

“Do you think…. He did it? You know… the Boogeyman.” He whispered as if he was afraid of anyone hearing.

You didn't say anything. Obviously, it was, who else could it have been? You crouched down next to her, no emotion displayed on your face as you put on your gloves.

“Her parents are here…” Your assistant spared you a glance as a car pulled up not far from the crime scene.

“Don't let them come near.” You said, getting up after finishing examining her.

“Shouldn't we let her parents see her…?”

The screams and weeping of the parents could be heard from behind the police tape.

You sigh. “This is no place for a funeral. I don't want them touching the crime scene or moving anything.” You replied sharply.

Your assistant shivers at your coldness. He nods and moves to tell the officers. Suddenly, you notice something on one of the trees next to the body.

A heart had been carved into the trunk of the tree. You moved closer, straying away from the umbrella your assistant was holding. Now drenched in rain, you traced the carving with your finger. Whoever had done this knew how to handle a knife… The carvings were deep and done with passion.

Michael Myers was watching from afar, heavy breathing could be heard from under his mask. His grip tightened on his bloody knife as he saw your assistant yell after you for getting soaked.

Back home, your sanctuary, you finally felt relief. Your house was located deep in the woods to avoid any human interactions. The naked eye couldn't process your naked form.

The human skin stuck to yours. You peeled it off, layer after layer. You're careful not to rip it, as human skin tends to be too fragile for your claws. You laid your drenched skin suit on your chair.

You strolled over to your fridge and opened it. Your amalgamation of a hand reached in and pulled out some sort of meat. You engulfed it, not letting any of your teeth have a chance to penetrate it. You scarfed down any remaining bones on the plate.

All of a sudden, one of your many eyes picked up on a movement outside your window. Your eyes narrowed as you closed your fridge. You don't care if a human ever catches your form. Your bare body would make any sane man explode (literally). So you didn't worry about your secret getting out. However, this was different.

Your acute ears focused on any sounds that would indicate the presence of another being. Abruptly, you heard a twig snap.

You rushed out of your house at an abnormally fast rate. You were ready to confront your stalker, however, once outside, you were greeted with the dark, lonely forest and the song of the crickets you were accustomed to.

Whoever you were dealing with couldn't be human. You scoffed and went back inside, failing to notice the pale mask of the Boogeyman amidst the trees.

You were planning on relaxing the rest of your afternoon, but Michael had other plans. You were called in again when another body had been found dumped in a ravine close to your house. You put back on your skin suit, it was extra tight on you since it hadn't dried off yet.

Once again, you did your usual routine. Examine the body, look for clues and ask questions. Whoever this mysterious Michael Myers was, he sure knew how to put up a game of cat and mouse… And romance you in his own way.

The stab wounds on his victim were in a heart-shaped pattern.

“Ain't it too early for Valentine?” Your assistant attempted to (nervously) crack a joke, which fell on deaf ears.

You remained with a stoic face as you watched them place the body in a body bag.

Each year, the Boogeyman gets bolder and bolder. Yet, never had the guts to face you. Unbeknownst to you, tonight would be different.

Your assistant coughed to get your attention. “I've… got to go… family emergency.”

“Mm, okay.” You turned back to the crime scene.

Your assistant lingered for a while, expecting any worried expression or encouraging words. But was ultimately met with your usual uncaring tone.

Another hour had passed, and you were finally granted permission to go home. Home.

As you arrived home, you parked your car and got out. A beautiful stench filled your nostrils. Laying on your welcome mat was a human heart surrounded by a heart formed of drops of blood.

Your door was ajar.

A twinge of hope that today could be the day you meet him arose. But, it quickly died down as you entered your home.

The smell flooded your house as each step made it stronger and stronger. Like a game of hot and cold, each step you took was warmer and warmer.

Laying on your kitchen table on a fancy dish was the head of your assistant. His tongue was pulled out all the way through his mouth and his teeth were knocked out and laid next to his head.

You ignored him though, because your attention was focused on the giant man standing in the dark hallway. He was bloody, and heavily breathing, but somehow quiet…. He was awaiting your next move.

Perhaps the thing that sparked Michael's obsession with you wasn’t that you weren’t human, but the fact that you never showed any ounce of fear towards him. Or maybe because you both shared a taste for carnage.

Your human skin faltered as your smile stretched beyond human capabilities. Your eyes were gouging out of your sockets as your appearance looked less and less human.

In all of your and Michael's years, this may be the first time a spark of emotions illuminated in both of your empty bodies.

꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦��꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷

[itzsana-kiddingmenow]

𝙞𝙣𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙧𝙤𝙜𝙖𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣 𝙪𝙣𝙢𝙖𝙨𝙠𝙚𝙙:

𝙬𝙤𝙧𝙙𝙨: 2k

𝙖/𝙣: dunno how to feel about this one yall

𝙩/𝙬: use of restraints for jeongin’s part, but not heavily mentioned, rough tickles

𝒍𝒆𝒆: minho, jeongin

𝙡𝙚𝙧: chan, jeongin, minho

𝒕𝒂𝒈𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕: @someone-who-loves-kpop-saranghae @jeonginsdiary @leeknowstan33 @v--143 @wereallgonnadieonedaybutnottoday @inkytornpagess @lajanaa @a-wild-seungberry @channieissocute125 @soap143 @seungsluvv @skznccmlee @moony-9 @sunny-117

𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐟𝐢𝐜 𝐢𝐬 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐤𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠! 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐞? 𝐤𝐞𝐞𝐩 𝐬𝐜𝐫𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐛𝐮𝐛s🖤

No matter how many times he thought of it, Jeongin didn’t understand how bursting into his arch-nemesis’ lair would let them beat him. 

Although…Chan always had seemed fond of their rival…teasing, flirty smirks and quips exchanged between the two, but what Jeongin knew was that Chan cherished Minho’s smile more than anything else. 

It was pretty appealing to watch the two, even though in the end one would always end up bandaging the others’ wounds. It was a…complicated relationship. 

These thoughts raced through the sidekick’s head as he snuck into the familiar place through the back entrance, breaking the lock in. 

Jeongin assumed Minho would probably be asleep, considering it was 12:30 in the morning. 

He reached for his device in his pocket, intent on calling Chan and letting him know he made it.

Jeongin never got that chance. 

Lights switched on and he was thrown to the floor with a grunt as Minho raised a glass bottle over his head. Innie shrieked in fear and held his hands out in peace. 

After recognizing him, Minho relaxed a bit, still holding the bottle. Jeongin had time to notice the older wearing a comfy-looking hoodie except for his usual dark style. 

The two stared at each other, both lost in thought. “Why are you here?” Minho scoffed, setting the bottle down but keeping the younger still pinned beneath him. 

Jeongin gulped, staring up at the villain in fear. 

“Not spilling, huh?” Min suddenly stood up, pulling the younger along with him, and Innie struggled his hardest, yanking and tugging at his pinned hands in Minho’s. “L-Let me go!! Please!!” Jeongin shrieked. 

“Nope. I want to know where Chan’s place is. And you’re gonna tell me.” Jeongin could hear the sleepiness in the older’s voice, but decided not to act on it for now. 

“No, I’m not! There’s nothing you can do to make me spill and I’d rather die than betray him!” Innie yelled. “Now let me go!” 

Minho sighed a long, tired sigh and pulled the younger into a dark room, pressing him onto a flat table and latching his limbs into place. Even though Innie screamed for help and desperately tried to escape, it didn’t work. 

“Just shut uppp…” Minho groaned, jabbing the boy in the side and startling when the boy let out a small, cute shriek of laughter. And then went dead silent. 

“What was that?~” Minho smiled, a soft, gentle smile that Jeongin finally understood why Channie loved. The villain certainly didn’t act like one. 

“N-Nothing.” Innie blurted out and tried to clamp his limbs down protectively, just to be met with a smaaallissue. He was tied. 

“Why were you laughing?” Minho asked, poking the younger’s side again, earning a similar shriek. 

“That tickles!! Please, leave me alone!” Innie begged, just to let out an ungodly scream and loud laughter when Minho kneaded as his side experimentally. 

“Oh? So all it does is…make you laugh?” Minho wondered to himself, moving both hands to the younger boy’s sides and kneading unevenly, gently. 

However, for poor Innie, this only tickled more. “PLEHEASE!! Lehehehet gohoho!!” The boy angled his body away, just to be met with the other hand on his upper ribs. 

“No…noho—nohot thehehere please!!” Jeongin pleaded, frantically thrashing around and trying to escape. 

“Oh? Is this a bad spot?” Minho asked genuinely, pressing his finger pads against the area and watching Jeongin crash down onto the table with a squeal. 

“Hm. Okay.” Minho shrugged, turning away. Jeongin breathed a sigh of relief, just to let out a howl when the fingers returned just to tease him, kneading down the space and pulling the loudest of laughter from the poor lee. 

“That’s so cute~! You’re laughing so loudly!” Minho giggled, moving down to the poor boy’s hips. 

“Does this tickle?” Minho pressed down on the bone and relishing in the desperate scream Jeongin let out. 

“IHIHIT TIHIHICKLES!! IHIHIT TIHIHIHICKLES TOHOHOHOOO MUHUHUCH!! STOHOHOHOP THIHIS TOHOHORTURE!!” Innie frantically screamed, rattling the entire table with his thrashing as Min kneaded roughly into his hip bone. 

“Maybe I’d stop if you told me where Chan lives.” Minhos shrugged. “But who knows?” 

Jeonginnie gasped for air the second Minho let up for a break, moving towards his upper body again. “Wahahait…noho…”

“No breaks. You’re gonna tell me.” Minho threatened, but Innie shook his head, though a little slow in doing so. 

“Fine. Then no mercy.” Minho suddenly placed his hands on Innie’s underarms and went to town, and the younger was screaming again, loud cackles pouring from him endlessly, it never stopped, it never slowed down. 

Minho’s tickly fingers moved from his armpits to his neck to his sides to his belly, and Jeongin could never predict where they were going next, and he was completely helpless. 

“PLEHEHEHEHEASE OHO MY GAHAHAHAHAD!!” Jeongin pleaded, back arching as he tried not to break, he couldn’t say anything, Chan’s life….Chan’s life. 

Chan sent him here…on purpose. He wanted Minho to catch him and arrive at his place. 

All Innie knew was that he was breaking, and he finally gave in. “FAHAHAHAHAINE!! FIHIHIHINE IHIHILL TEHEHEHELLL YOU PLEHEEHEHEEASE STOHOHOHOHOP!!”

As per his deal, Min let go, watching Innie’s body crash to the table as the younger gulped in as much oxygen as he could. 

“That worked much better than I thought it would.” Minho declared, and Jeongin glared at him. “You suhuck.”

“You were the one who was laughing,” Minho retorted. “Now show me.” 

He unlatched Jeongin from the table, still holding the younger tightly but gently on the wrist to prevent escape. 

The two headed to Chan’s place…though Minho had forgotten to change from his dark blue hoodie, shorts and messy bed hair, he was ready to take down the hero who he had been fighting with…albeit playfully. 

Jeongin meanwhile, was wondering how Chan would react to him giving in just to some tickles. He thought Chan would be disappointed, maybe even upset with him.  

Jeongin unlocked the door and frowned when Minho told him to stay outside. 

“Chan?~” Minho sang quietly, entering the house and grabbing a bottle as a weapon. 

Suddenly, two hands wrapped around his waist and Minho squealed as he was hoisted bridal-style into someone’s arms. 

“Minho~” Chan cooed, snatching the bottle from the villain, whose cheeks were now a bright pink, although it was a little dark for Channie to see it. 

“This isn’t funny. Put me down. I’m here to defeat you.” Minho tried to sound threatening and scary, but the way his voice shook when Chan rubbed gently along his back or the way he yawned in the middle of the sentence wasn’t doing him wonders. 

“Cuteee~” Chan giggled, causing Minho to squeak. “Innie, you can come in now.” 

Minho squirmed and tried to leap out of the older’s arms, but Chan tsked and gently held on. Min whined and slumped like a tired kitten into Chan’s embrace, head leaning against the hero’s chest. 

“When did he become your damsel?” Jeongin laughed. 

“He was always my cutie. So grumpy, aren’t you?” Chan booped his nose. Minho just grumbled and didn’t fight back. 

“I…I thought he was a villain. You know, someone who was evil.” Jeongin trailed off. 

“Ohhh, yeah, um…Min’s not exactly a villain to me.” Chan explained, rubbing his thumb along the younger’s cheek while the kitten looked up at him with wide eyes. 

“He tickled me!! Just to tell him where you were!” Jeongin pouted. 

“Oh? You tickled my sidekick, huh?” Chan squeezed the younger’s cheeks.  

“Chan!!” Innie shouted. “Get him back somehow or something!” 

“Fine.”

Minho shrieked when Chan set him on the couch, kneeling in front of him. Jeongin walked behind the couch and grabbed Minho’s arms, leaving the middle sitting on the couch with his arms pinned.

“Ready?” Chan asked, and Minho didn’t respond, hiding his face in his arm. 

Chan sat gently onto his knees, placing his hands on either one of Minho’s sides. He frowned when Minho yet again, didn’t react. 

“Hey, kitten. You have to tell me if you’re okay…” Channie gently tilted Minho’s chin to face him, and was shocked when he saw the gleam of unshed tears in the younger’s eyes. “Hey, let go, Innie.” Chan ordered, the younger responding almost immediately and then sitting next to Chan on the couch. 

“What’s wrong, kitten?” Chan scooted closer. Minho’s lower lip trembled and he looked up at the hero with a truly vulnerable look that had Channie scrambling to pull the boy into a hug. 

“Why are you nice to me…?” Minho whispered, and Chan could feel his heart shatter. 

“Because you’re misunderstood, and I feel like even you deserve love.” Chan pressed a small kiss to his forehead. Jeongin rubbed along the kitten’s knee gently. 

“My sweet kitten. I’ll cheer you up, okay?” 

Minho was returned to his previous position, and Chan asked his question again. “Is this okay, sweet thing?” 

Minho nodded with a blush, squeaking when Chan’s fingers pressed into his sides. 

“I-I’m not ticklish…” Minho feebly tried to lie his way out of it. 

Chan raised his eyebrow disbelievingly. “Don’t worry, I’ll make you beg no matter what.” 

Minho crashed backwards onto the couch with a squeal the second Chan lifted his hoodie and snuck his hands onto the warm skin. 

“So ticklish~” Chan giggled, squeezing up and down the sensitive sides he had latched onto. 

“Pleheheheasee~!!” Minho giggled, and Jeongin was awestruck at how cute the normally stoic villain sounded. 

Chan admired the younger’s wide smile from his spot. Moving his tickling fingers along Minho’s ribs, the leader laughed along with the villain screamed with laughter, throwing his head back. 

“CHAHAHAHANNNIEE!!” Minho pleaded, suddenly trembling desperately when Chan pulled the middle down more to stretch out his stomach.  

Minho laughed a wild, bubbly laugh when Chan gulped in air to blow messy raspberries into his belly, the hero shaking his head to spread his stupidly ticklish hair all over the boy’s stomach. 

“STAHAHAHAHA—I CAHAHAHAN’T!!” Minho whined, jerking around desperately as Chan moved to his v-line, gently moving the pant line away to access the hypersensitive skin. 

“Wahahait…” Minho panted, suddenly letting out a high pitched scream when Chan attacked his lower belly. Jeongin watched in amusement as the villain who had so brutally attacked them just a few weeks ago was now thrashing around laughing on the couch. 

“How much does this tickle out of ten?” Chan cooed, leaning down to blow another messy, torturouslyticklish raspberry onto the sensitive skin beneath him. 

“TEHEHEHEHEN!! FUHUHUHUHUHUCK THAHAAT TIHIHICKLES!!” Minho wailed, struggling to pull himself out of the situation and Jeongin’s grip. 

“You’re so adorable, Min~” 

Chan reached down and skittered his fingers along the boy’s thighs, earning an out of breath scream and more cackles. “NOHOHOHOT THEHEHEHERE!!” It tickled too much, Minho could barely handle it. 

“OKAHAHAHAY!! OKAY OKAY!! PLEHEHEASEE!!”

Chan laughed as he continued to tickle Minho’s thighs, causing Jeongin to have to tighten his grip as Minho frantically cackled, flinging his whole body around, trying to clamp his thighs closed, but Chan’s body was in the way. 

“I CAHAHAHAN’T TAHAHAHAKE IHIHIT!!” Minho pleaded. 

Chan finally decided to let up, scooping the younger up and taking him to his room. 

Jeongin watched at the door fondly as Chan tucked the sleepy boy in with a kiss to the forehead, and Chan blushed when his sidekick sent him a teasing glance. “Not one word.” Jeongin headed to his own room. 

Chan clambered into bed beside the already fast asleep kitten, who smiled a tiny, cute smile when Channie wrapped his arms around him from behind. 

“My little villain~” Chan cooed, pressing kisses along the nape of his neck. Minho whined, reaching back to intertwine his fingers with Chan’s. 

“Maybe I love you too much to attack anymore.”

[cuverale]

Hii! If it's not too much trouble, could you do a smau with Timothée where y/n is like two or three years older than him and they went to the same high school together and he's had a crush on her for like forever but she's a little oblivious and thinks he only sees her as a friend and omg I'm rambling but she does eventually develops feelings for him. And she could be famous or whatever you want but with Suki Waterhouse as the face claim, please and thank you <33

a/n: you’re welcome, i hope you like it! <3

Face Claim: Suki Waterhouse

longing for you - t.c

yourusername

Liked by tchalamet, austinbutler, zendaya and 9,395,284 others

yourusername thank you all for your kind messages I really appreciate it! Still can’t believe I turned 29 tho 🥲

view comments

florencepugh we can’t believe that either!!

zendaya stunning “young” lady :) 🖤

yourusername not funny!

tchalamet but still, you’re the hottest of them all

yourusername making me blush 🤭

timofann I SEE YOU MY BOY I SEE YOU

yourfan385 Y/n for god’s sake-

finnwolfhardofficial hot mama ❤️‍🔥

noahschnapp the hottest ❤️‍🔥

yourusername STOP IT OMG

ynmybaby she looks 25 tho 🙌🏻

ynsbabygirl I ADORE YOU!!!!

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tchalametdaily

1,594,274 likes

tchalametdaily I’m sure if she reads this she’ll be like “aww that’s my bestie🥰”

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kissmeyn istg everytime she friendzoned Timmy i wanted to yell at her to look at his sad puppy eyes

ynmybaby we love our oblivious girl 😔🙌🏻

randomuser just say “i’m in love with you” my boy, she won’t get it otherwise

username59385 don’t get me wrong but isn’t she older than him? Why you guys want them to be together? Also I heard that she has a boyfriend 😵‍💫

tchalafann she’s just 2 years older than him. I don’t think he cares about that, once he hooked up with Eiza Gonzàlez, who is 6 years older than him. We want them to be together bc he is in love with her for years (he even admitted that he had a crush on her when they were in high school) And no, she and her boyfriend broke up 4 months ago, so she is single.

timmytimmy don’t remind me of Eiza ughh 💀

ynsbabygirl I remember the interview which she talked about her ex (they were still together) he looked at her with desperate eyes :((

chalamalabingbong i love how he blushes everytime he talks about her

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tchalamet

Liked by yourusername, harrystyles, hero_ft and 9,795,329 others

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sweetteaa loved the moment when he nuzzled her shoulder while she was talking about their relationship

timmyfan0 he calls her chica??

yourfan385 yeah since they were teens, he said he actually uses it to annoy her but she likes it now.

ynfan2 I’m still waiting for the good news 🤞🏻

sweettimmy check @yndaily’s post then

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yndaily

2,294,175 likes

yndaily GUESS WHO SPOTTED KISSING IN NYC 🔊

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ynmybaby YES YES YES YES YES

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timotea0 🥺💖

chalafann SCREAMING CRYING THROWING UP

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randomuser she’s old tho

sweettimmy stfu

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yourusername’s story

[jakeyt]

Covet: Chapter 9 (Part 1 of 2)

Pairing: Jake Kiszka x f!Reader

Covet Summary:

Life was good. No, life was great. 

Was. 

Until.

Jake Kiszka crashed into the picture.

You welcomed him into your life—your home. 

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

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

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

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

Chapter Word Count: 22.1k+

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

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

Please enjoy the playlist as you read 🖤

-🌼🌼🌼-

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

-Horace

-🌼🌼🌼-

October 30, 2022

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

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

All pink and white and golden rays of sunshine.

Then, it was gone. 

No. Not again.

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

All dark and dirty and ear-piercing screams. 

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

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

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

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

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

You studied her quizzically – why was she–?

“Wake up!”

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

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

Life was safe again.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-🌼🌼🌼-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And the back booth was open! 

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

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

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

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

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

Fuck that came out of nowhere. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

God, she was sunshine for you. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Very rarely had she been extremely judgemental. 

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

“Sis, what’s–?”

“I’m pregnant.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

Talk, Elsie. Fuck.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It’s oka–.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

Elsie spoke before you could. “What changed?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Then, you took your first sip of orange juice. 

Goddamn.

Fuck! Ew. Baby does not like orange juice.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Sure thing! Back in a flash!” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Not hungry?” 

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

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

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

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

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

“Does Jake know?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Dangerous territory.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Jesus, Elsie! I–.”

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

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

“Liiiiike . . .?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m going to puke on you.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Not possib–.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What?” 

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

Okay, these hormones can fuck right off. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Her chest was heaving. 

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

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

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

-🌼🌼🌼-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-🌼🌼🌼- 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Why in the hell? 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Wait!”

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

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

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

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

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

Seriously? He was stopping your pickle eating for this?

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

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

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

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

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

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

So, you did.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-🌼🌼🌼-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Stories? 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“So fucking cruel, babe. . .”

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

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

Had you ever been carrying it? 

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

- 🌼🌼🌼-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

- 🌼🌼🌼-

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

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

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

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

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

Then he was all you saw.

Jake.

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

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

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

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

Seriously, fuck these hormones.

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

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

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

-🌼🌼🌼-

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

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

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

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

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

And, of course, he had. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your tummy.

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

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

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

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

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

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

God. . . what is he about to sa–?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Do you think I’m brok–?”

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

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

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

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

“Expensive?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“And this type is. . .?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“How do I schedule the appointment?”

-🌼🌼🌼-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-🌼🌼🌼-

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

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

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

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

And you continued to wait. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Family?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-🌼🌼🌼-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“And if he asks what it’s for?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You knew that. 

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

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

-🌼🌼🌼-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m pregnant,” you sobbed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“How did you–?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I have to.

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

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

-🌼🌼🌼-

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

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[gobblinggojo]

On a Shinsou/Reader request, wondering if you could do a rivals to lovers prompt or maybe a first kiss one?

Idk just came up with some ideas, hope you feel better by now btw- 🖤🖤

No idea if it's already known or not, BUT I ADORE SHINSOU, UGH! And Shinsou with a rivals to lovers prompt AND A FIRST KISS? AHHHHHHHHHHHHH. I love this request so much omg.

And I'm feeling a little better! I'm really congested still and I have the WORSTTT I-Pad kid cough, but I'm getting better!

♡You Wanna Kiss me so Bad it Makes You Look Stupid: Hitoshi Shinsou x Reader♡ 

♡ warnings: rivals to lovers, cursing, use of the word dumb, shinsou’s a little shit♡

♡ requests are open♡

“c’mon, admit it. you wanna kiss me so bad it makes you look stupid,” his words were venom in the air; hitting me hard and making me more upset than i already was.

Hitoshi Shinsou was the one guy whom i loathed with every fiber of my being. It always got on my nerves; seeing him try to act all big and bad around the students of class A and act so nonchalant about every little thing. It annoyed me. How could someone who was obviously destined to be a hero be so goddamn annoying? And now, here he was, standing right in front of me, a shit-eating grin plastered on his beautiful face. I was wrapped up in his scarf, which he had used to bind me, upside down on a tree.

Today for class, Mr. Aizawa wanted us the train with a group of students to get a better understanding of other quirks; and lucky me, Shinsou was a part of the student group that would be training with us. The both of us never missing a chance to embarrass the other—or even trying to prove that one of us was better than the other, instantly went into a battle with one another--which resulted in my current predicament. I wanted to scream, to cry, to punch him in his stupid face. What kind of guy binds a person up and makes a comment like THAT to them? 

My face was on fire. “What the hell kind of assumption is that Shinsou?!” My words were yelled at an octave higher than my usual vocal range. I sounded embarrassed and I despised that. I was struggling against the white cloth, muscles tensing and untensing as I tried to get out of my current situation. Shinsou was dead wrong, DEAD WRONG. I have never once wanted to kiss him before in my life. Where the hell did, he get that assumption from?

“Just look at you Y/n. Look at your face--your dumb little face,” that shit-eating grin never once left Shinsou’s face as he stared into my eyes. His eyes were beautiful. A deep violet hue, enchanting all in all. Each time I looked into them they took my breath away, and that made me mad. 

“Look at you, you’re just starin’ at me, mouth wide open. Have nothing to say?” I wanted to beat his ass. “Am I that pretty, Y/n?” Shinsou tilted his head, a faux pout appearing on his face as he furrowed his brows into a worried look. Dammit he was so cute. 

A groan left my lips, the feeling of all of that blood rushing to my head was finally getting to me. “Shinsou let me down,” my words were a jumbled mess, I felt hot all over. Was I embarrassed? Flustered? I have absolutely no idea, but that and the combination of my head filling with blood was really making me dizzy. A worried look befell Shinsou’s face before he tugged on his scarf; instantly rushing over and grabbing a hold of my body as I plummeted down to the ground.

 “Did you have to make that scarf go so tight, idiot?!” I exclaimed as I finally shot up after regaining my sense of self. My eyes glared daggers right at Shinsou, wishing and praying that he would spontaneously combust right then and there. 

Shinsou stood there for a moment, staring at me--a blank look was on his face as he watched me closely, studying me. And then, a cheeky smirk slowly grew on that beautiful face of his--a smirk that could almost put the Cheshire Cat’s own to shame. “I guess you really fell for me, huh Honey?” My blood ran cold at that nickname. I wanted to throw up.

“You’re disgusting!”

“And you like me.”

“I do not!”

“Yes, you do.”

“No, I do not!”

“Let’s not lie now, Y/n.”

“I’m not lying!”

“Tsk, tsk, tsk,”

“OH! just shut up and kiss me!” As I said those words, my hands flew up to Shinsou’s face. Both were placed on his cheeks, instantly pulling him down into a very clumsily initiated kiss. Teeth knocked against teeth, noses against noses; I’m sure our lips would end up becoming bruised with how much force the kiss was initiated with. 

Moments passed as we stood there under that tree, pressing numerous different kisses against one another’s lips. Everything felt amazing--enchanting even. My first kiss, my first EVER kiss was everything and more than I had wanted it to be. After what felt like hours, we finally pulled away. Shinsou rested his forehead against mine, the mouth of us breathing harshly to catch our breaths. Soon, another smirk fell on Shinsou’s perfect face. “Told ya you wanted to kiss me,” he whispered in a hushed town. 

“Shut up, Shinsou.”